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Camille Abily OL Night Systems Interview (October 24, 2023)

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply; @OL Comms there's another heatwave and it's still PSL season so really whichever one you wanna chip in for is fine with me; be a stan, get banned xoxo; OL Night Systems translations is a genuine cause for sleep paralysis but it's also how you get cool insights as a team - a moral dilemma if there ever was such a thing; y'all know the speech by now.

Jules > your club's "journalist".

I know Le Sommer and Dumornay have done OL Night Systems interviews this season but I really can't emphasize enough how time consuming these are to translate, so the order for the translations of OL Night Systems is directly related to whom I feel most like doing.

In which Camille Abily takes shots at the WSL and the D1 Arkema play-offs, contemplates the roster, and contemplates the UWCL draw. Pour yourself a decent glass of wine and sit down while the adults have a good and proper football chat.

You could play stupid games and win stupid prizes. Or, in the alternative - explain why a team is the way they are. As I like to say - just tell me why your eyes change, we can talk about the rest later.

To know this team is to understand them. This is how you get to that.

CAMILLE ABILY OL NIGHT SYSTEMS INTERVIEW

[Show introduction]

Jules: We're playing Drake music because we like it. As we told you yesterday, we haven't talked a lot about women's football recently because of scheduling. But now we're going to talk about it a lot because we have a really special guest, I guess I should say a really special regular. Welcome, Michael. How are you doing, Michael?

Michael: Hi, Jules. Hello to everybody. And hello to our special guest.

Jules: Our special guest, you've obviously seen her on the social media accounts for Lyon Feminin or OLPlay. It's Camille Abily who is with us. First of all, thank you, Camille, for having accepted the invitation.

Abily: Good evening. It was a pleasure.

Jules: We see you every three, four months on OLPlay but it's always nice to see you. We do a little recap each time, a progress report on how the season is going. So we're going to look back at the start of the season.

Abily: So we're discussing hindsight.

Jules: There'll be some good things. You'll see. Here's what is coming up: we already won a trophy, but we know we want to win everything when you're Olympique Lyonnais Feminin, there was the Trophee des Championnes won on September 10; we'll be talking about the almost perfect start to the season, we'll explain to why we said "almost"; the changes within the team; changes in status; the competition between the players who are in form; and especially, the objectives for the season. But before we get into all that, I found out we have something in common, Camille. We both play paddle tennis. We also don't have something in common: you lose in paddle tennis.

Abily: It depends on who you're playing against.

Jules: Exactly.

Abily: Jeanne [Lyon Fem's social media admin] told you that, that's not very nice.

Jules: I will never disclose my sources. But indeed -

Abily: Look, we played a session of paddle tennis this morning. It was my second time playing. First of all, I had a lot of fun doing it even if I didn't win. I didn't win, I didn't say I lost. I just didn't win. It was fun. Honestly it was really cool.

Jules: It was the second time playing with the players, I imagine?

Abily: Yeah, of course. We have very few players. We only have four players at the moment because it's the international break. So some stayed behind for rehab, notably Ada [Hegerberg] and Perle [Morroni]. We played with Maro[zsan], who plays really well, and Laura [Benkarth]. They both enjoy paddle tennis, it was cool.

Jules: You were talking about it being a particular situation since it was the break. It's already the second international break after maybe a month and a half of competition. How do you handle it? Because it must be complicated. There was the first day of the league, the Trophee des Championnes, then the break right after. Then we play three, four more games, another break.

Abily: It's complicated. After, we don't have a choice. It's complicated especially because the players have to play so much. They don't really have time to recover. For us, the advantage of having the few players who stay behind, we can give them proper recovery time but also keep them focused on the field, when you have four players, that's difficult. We have to do different activities, like we did this morning. And that allows us to switch things up a bit.

Jules: This paddle tennis activity, you couldn't have done it with the usual team and all of the players.

Abily: It would have been more complicated. But we could do it for team bonding, for example. But there's work involved as well. It's true that when we play, there's a lot of running involved, and that's nice. And it does allow us to do a different activity, change things up a bit.

Jules: As soon as you've had it a bit more practice at tennis paddle, we'll play against each other.

Abily: We'll see what happens. But you'll see, I'll get my revenge. Play against me, we'll see if you win.

Jules: Okay. We'll set something up.

Abily: Are we talking about football, Jules?

Jules: Paddle tennis, paddle tennis. I'm going to launch PaddlePlay. It's much easier for me. We were talking about the international break. There are a lot of them who left the Groupama Training Center, Michael. I don't have the numbers in front of me, but it's between - I'm going to say between 10 and 15, I'm not going to take any risks.

Michael: Yeah, a lot of players were called up to their national teams. So as Camille [Abily] said, there were only four players at the Groupama Training Center for this international break. I imagine it's a little bit difficult to get into the rhythm of things, especially as we know there is a big, big game coming up after the international break.

Abily: Yeah, it's difficult. For the last international break, we had the U-17 boys come train with us. But as it's also school break, they were on break as well, so we couldn't have them this week. That's why we decided to do other activities. And tomorrow - tomorrow, Thursday, Friday, we'll do work on the pitch, try to work per position.

Jules: And last year, the international breaks were cursed for you with the injuries to Griedge M'Bock and Ada Hegerberg. Here things went well for you during the first international break, we hope that the same will happen this time.

Abily: Yeah, we almost have the whole team available. Obviously there's still the longterm injuries like with Delphine Cascarino, but otherwise we have the whole team available. And we hope they will be in - they're back - I hope they will return in good physical health. I finally managed to get that out. In good physical health. Especially since we're playing Paris FC right after, as you said.

Jules: Yes, it'll be the big clash. We'll have the opportunity to talk about it later when we talk about the schedule and the results of the international players a little later. But first let's talk about the start to the season. One of the objectives has already been accomplished, it's the Trophee des Championnes, Michael, on September 10 against our favorite enemy, Paris Saint-Germain.

Michael: Exactly, it's a trophy. We're going to watch the highlights right now of the first trophy, the Trophee des Championnes. It was on September 10, Jules, as you pointed out, against Paris Saint-Germain. A 2-0 win with goals from Melchie Dumornay in her first official game with Olympique Lyonnais, and a second goal by Eugenie Le Sommer in the 67th minute. I imagine, Camille, that that first game, right at the beginning of the season, it's always a little strange. Trophee des Championnes, there's a trophy at play, the teams are immediately competing against each other.

Abily: Yeah. It was difficult because they [the players] came back from the World Cup really late, we didn't have a lot of time - but that goes for both teams - to prepare for this game. But it's important from the start of the season to show our supremacy, we can say. We know the season is going to be very complicated but even mentally just showing to Paris [Saint-Germain] that we're going to show up, that's really important.

Michael: Yeah. And it was a game that Lyon controlled pretty well, 2-0. The games are often pretty close, but you were in control pretty much all game. I saw the statistics, 25 shots for Olympique Lyonnais, it was a good showing from the beginning of the season.

Abily: Yeah, it was important. As we said, often the games are really close. We managed it pretty well. It's true that second goal was a bit lucky. Eugenie [Le Sommer] was opportunistic. But it allows us to manage the load a little better. It's really important that Paris [Saint-Germain] doesn't think they can beat us.

Jules: And it's also the third Trophee des Championnes. The third won against Paris Saint-Germain. There was a second clash a few weeks later, if we can say that, in the second day of the league. Another win. You said that it was important to remind them from the beginning of the season that "this is Lyon", as the saying goes.

Abily: Yeah, exactly. That being said, that was a trophy. In the league, with the playoffs, and I'm sure we'll talk about that, it changes things completely. But in any case for us, for our confidence, for the team dynamics, it's important to win there.

Jules: It's interesting that you brought up the playoffs. It's rare to have a Lyon - Paris Saint-Germain or a Paris Saint-Germain- Lyon so early in the season. Before it was the unofficial final in the league. Now there's this new formula with the playoffs. Are the clashes against Paris Saint-Germain still important, or does it become more of a game like any other?

Abily: No, it's always going to be important because it's a big game, it's the type of game we like to play. However, there's much less pressure. We can say as much as we like that, but because of the playoffs, even though Paris lost they can still be champions. But before in the league, if you lost just one of your head-to-head clashes, it could make things much more complicated.

Jules: Exactly. And with this win so early in the season, the direct rival is the other club based in the capital, Michael. We didn't have time to do this in depth yesterday but it's not Paris Saint-Germain who is hot on our heels.

Michael: No, it's Paris FC. We'll see it right now with the ranking. Paris FC have also won all of their matches, five wins in five games. 15 points and a nice goal differential as well, they're +17. We're still first with +19, but it's true that this year, Camille, with this early win against Paris Saint-Germain, it's Paris FC who is right behind us.

Abily: Yeah, and Paris FC is having a really good start to the season. I think everyone knows their results in the Champions League. They shone against Arsenal, against Wolfsburg.

Jules: Semi-finalist and finalist last year.

Abily: Exactly.

Michael: Did those wins surprise you? They were against two big teams who are used to the Champions League.

Abily: Not with Arsenal, no, because that was predictable. That being said Paris FC had more time to prepare, Arsenal had some players in the World Cup, they started the preseason really quickly. So it was a bit more complicated. But I wasn't really surprised. However against Wolfsburg, I was pleasantly surprised. When you look at their start of the season and how they're playing, it's really, really high quality football. So that's why the game coming up in two weeks for us is going to be really important.

Jules: We know that typically the most important game is against Paris Saint-Germain. Paris FC was part of the group of clubs behind, like Reims, Fleury, Montpellier. Is it surprising - well maybe not to be second, five wins out of five maybe. But are you surprised that their start of the season is that good?

Abily: No. They're a hard working team. They're really - well without putting down the others down, the three teams who are really ahead are Lyon, Paris Saint-Germain and Paris FC. I think that Montpellier and Fleury have already dropped points against small teams. So it's really that trio who will be fighting for first place. So it will be important to finish first, because we know the second place team will play the third placed team. So that could be a really important semifinal.

Jules: For the moment we have a six point lead over Paris Saint-Germain, but Paris Saint-Germain has a game in hand because of that incident with fireworks in the game against Reims. There was a similar incident in the men's game, now it's affecting women's football as well. You were talking about the playoffs. Eugenie Le Sommer was on the show a few weeks ago. She told us that it didn't really change anything for her, the goal is to be first at the end of the regular season because as you said, it's usually easier to play the fourth placed team than the second or third.

Abily: That's for sure. It doesn't change things that much for us, but that being said, Eugenie [Le Sommer] is a competitor. She wants to win everything. However, it's obvious that it's a different system. We won't be allowed to make any mistakes [in the playoffs]. It's true that playing the fourth ranked team at home always helps. But what surprises me the most is that it's done over 90 minutes. There's no extra time, it will go straight to penalties. So it doesn't leave - we know that in football, it's difficult. It's not always the best team who wins. So there can be surprises. Now it will be up to us to prepare the best that we can, manage them - win, too - but manage them the best that we can.

Jules: Normally that should work out. But does it mean that if Lyon doesn't finish first at the end of the season, would that be considered as a failure or, since there are the playoffs and that "catch-up", I'm going to put that in quotes, it's all good?

Abily: It's all good. It's acceptable. What's important is to win at the end, even if of course we want to finish first. As I said, we can finish first in the league then lose in the playoffs, we don't score, you lose on penalties, there's a penalty in the last minute. There's - we've been there before [controversial loss against Chelsea in the UWCL]. But things can happen, whereas in a [regular] league -

Jules: It's a bit of a Russian roulette.

Abily: Exactly. Usually in league play, it's always the best team who wins. When there are playoffs, that can be different. But we're lucky to have a really good team, there's a lot of quality, and we'll need to prepare properly. After, it's the type of game as players we like.

Jules: Do you like this playoffs system, that we haven't yet - that we're going to discover.

Abily: No, because there's too much uncertainty. And what it bothers me the most is the qualification for the Champions League. You can finish first in the regular season, you play the fourth placed team, for whatever reason you don't win the game, they can be in the Champions League and not you. You can be Olympique Lyonnais and not play in the Champions League. Now of course we don't think like that, because we can win and we're competitors, obviously, but it's a reality. So it's not a system I like the most, however where I get it, it's in terms of the appeal for the league. For us it's a disadvantage, however for the league it's an advantage because everything gets put back in play. Everything is put back in play, and I think it will be more difficult for teams to be champions like Lyon has done.

Jules: That's the point of view of Camille Abily, the coach. What is the point of view of Camille Abily, the player, on the playoffs?

Abily: It's similar. It's similar. After, there's the excitement for the playoffs, because there's the adrenaline rush for those types of games. So obviously I would like to play in a final.

Jules: I know you're not going to tell us everything because you're focused on the game against Paris FC. We've already said it's an important game. It's right after the international break. Is that not the worse moment to play Paris FC?

Abily: Yeah, it's never - we always get our players back really late after the international break. There are players who were on the other side of the world. There we have a bit of luck, I would say, with the Chilean National Team and the Australian National Team. We released the players early in order to get them back early. That will allow us to have Ellie [Carpenter] and Christiane [Endler] back a little earlier, because sometimes we only get them back on a Friday and there's a game on Sunday. So we know it's not easy. But it's true it's not the best time to play Paris FC.

Jules: Especially as up until now the calendar was pretty light, you were playing every week, sometimes there was even a bit more time in between because of the international break. Now, as of the month of November, there will be the UWCL, which we will talk about in a bit. Now you're going to be playing every three days. It's not going to be the same thing.

Abily: Yeah. But we also have the team to be able to do it. We have a lot of quality players. Sometimes there are some frustrated players, they're not playing a lot, they're not getting a lot of minutes. And I get them, that's normal, they all want to play. But here we really will need everybody, that's why it's important to have the team that we have.

Jules: We're going to talk about this team and managing game time. But we're going to stay on the almost perfect start to the season. It's what we said in the preview. Why almost? Everything is going well so far, nothing but wins, a trophy.

Abily: We conceded a goal.

Jules: She knows. We have high expectations.

Abily: So do we.

Jules: We both have to be. Michael, we have a statistic. We conceded a goal. We could say, "ah, it's okay." It is okay, because it had been a while since we conceded a goal.

Michael: Exactly. 480 minutes since Olympique Lyonnais Feminin had conceded a goal. We'll see it on the screen. That's why we said almost perfect, because one goal conceded. The last goal we conceded, it was also against Reims, it was May 27th, 2023. And it was a goal from Melchie Dumornay, who is now playing for Olympique Lyonnais. 480 minutes without conceding a goal. Now you did end up conceding, but it's a flattering statistic for your team.

Abily: Yeah, we were still frustrated though. And I think the players were as well, because they wanted their clean sheet record to last as long as possible. Especially as it was a goal we could have avoided. That made it even more frustrating. So yeah. But now, we still won, so we're satisfied. But it's true we would have liked to have a clean sheet a little bit longer.

Jules: I remember, you came on the show last February. Everything had been going well in January. There was a new formation, the 4-4-2 diamond. You hadn't conceded a goal. You said you had a goal, it was to do clean sheets for the rest of the season.

Abily: I jinxed it. It was my fault. We're going to play Paris FC soon, what are you getting at?

Jules: I didn't say anything. But jokes aside it's obviously something you're interested in. Everyone is always interested in the team's offense, you've been scoring a ton since the start of the season. But only have conceded one goal, it's pretty impressive.

Abily: Yeah, of course. But after when we look at the quality of the team, obviously we don't want to concede any goals. We want to leave as little chances as possible to the opponents. And it's important to put forward this defensive solidarity.

Jules: We also had Simon Pouplin on the show, he's the goalkeeper coach and also in charge of free kicks. We asked him how he handled the cases of Christiane Endler and Laura Benkarth, who sometimes don't really have a lot to do over the course of 90 minutes, same as with the defenders. So how do you keep them motivated and tell them, well a little bit like we saw against Reims, it just takes one ball, one minor error, and it can be super costly.

Abily: Yeah. That's the top level, and that's where you be super concentrated, and stay focused throughout the entire game even if you don't see the ball very often. That being said Chris[tiane Endler] is a bit more used to it, because she's been here for a few seasons. Laura, it's her start with us, she's maybe not used to having so little to do. But those are margins of progression for her.

Jules: We'll talk a bit more about Laura Benkarth and the other arrivals. It's a good opportunity to talk about the changes to the team. There were some modifications, shall we say, to the team's roster. There were quite a few departures, a few arrivals. Well going to go into detail about all that and do a recap. Michael, do you want to start us off with the players who left?

Michael: Yes. We saw a lot of changes this summer at Olympique Lyonnais Feminin. We'll talk about the departures first, with the departures of Janice Cayman, Signe Bruun, Catarina Macario, Amandine Henry, Emma Holmgren and Alyssa Paljevic. All those departures, I imagine it was a lot of change at once, even if there were two goalkeepers on that list. It's still players that you have to replace.

Abily: Yeah of course. They were also really quality players, we know that. Now, some were at the end of their contract, they wanted to experience something else. Others, it was just the end of a cycle at Lyon. It's also - it's really important that both parties want to stay.

Jules: A common agreement.

Abily: That's it. That's the most important thing. Now there were also players who wanted more playing time. Last year, we had a lot of players who were injured at the start of the season As such, when everyone came back, some players really didn't get much playing time. That caused them a lot of frustration, they wanted to go play elsewhere. So that's also why they wanted to leave.

Jules: Speaking of players who had playing time at the beginning of the season and then when players started coming back didn't get as much, it's the case of Ines Benyahia, who went out on loan. She isn't the only one. Some players - well, one player - crossed the channel.

Michael: Yes, we're going to see it on the chart we prepared. Two players went out on loan for Olympique Lyonnais. Melvine Malard went out on loan to Manchester United and Ines Benyahia who went to Le Havre. I imagine those are two players who you count on but who wouldn't necessarily get a lot of playing time.

Abily: They are two young players. For Melvine, she's a bit older, she had a season with us a couple of years ago where she was starting a lot, she was really important for the team. Last year it was a bit more difficult for her. There's a lot of competition. I think for her to get going again, it was important for her to regain confidence elsewhere. And that's going really well for her, because she is scoring for Manchester [United], she's been the deciding factor on several occasions. So I think it will be good for her. And as I said, she's a young player who is under contract with us, she needs to progress more to come back stronger.

Michael: Ines?

Abily: And for Ines? For Ines, with her case, she's much younger. She's really part of the future [is she though...] and it's important for her to experience the D1 Arkema, to be an important and major player in a team, because we know that when you're young and a midfielder, there's a lot of competition here at Lyon. It would have been difficult to give her the playing time she deserved.

Michael: How does it work when players go out on loan? Do you watch every game, do you follow everything? Do you have discussion with the other coaches?

Abily: It's more Theo, Theo Rivrin, the assistant coach, who has relations with them and discussions with the opposing staff. Now Ines, she's in the D1 Arkema, so it's easier to follow her. We see a lot of her games. I have to follow the English league, and we saw Melvine in the games against PSG. If I'm not mistaken they just played against Tottenham and she scored there, I think they won 5-0.

Jules: Why did you choose to send Melvine out on loan to England rather than in D1 Arkema?

Abily: That was more her. It was the player's choice. On our side, we didn't want to strengthen a direct competitor. In France there weren't a lot of clubs - Melvine is still an international player who has shown a lot of things. It's not like a young player, like Ines, who just arrived. So it was good for her to see other things. And as I said, mentally it will be good for her to see another work method.

Jules: That being said, what had worked in previous years, it's the case of Vicki Becho, she went out on loan to Reims and came back as a transformed player. It was a loan that was really beneficial for her and for you as well in the mid- and long-term.

Abily: Completely. And I hope it will be the same thing with Ines. Vicki, when she went out on loan, it did her a lot of good. We saw a completely different Vicki afterwards.

Jules: Is that what you quickly tell the young players on the team - I'm thinking of Ines Benyahia, but there's also Alice Sombath who is a bit more settled in with the first team, Alice Marques, Liana Joseph. Is that something you bring up to them yourself "hey, why don't you try and get some experience out on loan" or if they want to push themselves and try to beat the competition, then go for it?

Abily: We try to be as honest as possible and we try to see what the possibility of playing time is. That's what interests us, their progression. If we think that they can progress with us and have playing time, then they have to stay with us, obviously. They're with us on a daily basis, we can really work with them. However, last year, Ines was already with us daily, she had a little bit of playing time, but she deserved even more because she is really a quality player. But we couldn't give it to her because we have a lot of players, and other players were in front of her. So it was time for her to go [on loan], and then next year, maybe after some changes in the roster, she'll be able to install herself a bit more [Lyon doesn't have any midfielders up in 2024 so curious on how that will work]. That's also how we work with the young players.

Michael: I imagine that for Melvine and Ines, who already had a good resume - I don't think it's the case at Olympique Lyonnais, but I imagine that for the younger players, the fact that the third division exists and that we have a team in D3, it allows you to give young players some playing time and eventually move up.

Abily: Exactly. Exactly. It's super important to have that team - it's our second team in the third division - because it's those players, it's the U-19s like Liana Joseph, Alice Marques - so if you look at it, they're training daily with the best players in the pro team, and the weekend they can go play in the D3. It's top. It's really top.

Jules: It's a new thing, the D3. Michael told me it started this season. Before the young players, or "reserve" players I could say, they were playing in the R1 or with the U-19s, and that's not best for you. I know that a lot really wanted the creation of this D3. It works out for you.

Abily: Oh yeah, yeah. It was really something Olympique Lyonnais was pushing for. If it had happened, it's because we had been pushing for it for a while, and the fact that the former president, Jean-Michel Aulas, is now at the federation, that helped a lot as well to have that team in D3. It was really something we had been pushing for. And now they can play against more senior players in a national league, and that's interesting for them.

Jules: Do you follow the games in the D3?

Abily: Yeah, of course. Of course. We try to follow along, but we're often playing the same day. But in any case we watch [the games], and we do an analysis at the end of the game.

Jules: Who handles the transitions between the D3 and the D1? Do you make the calls, is it -

Abily: It's Theo [Rivrin]. It's always Theo. Theo does everything. I'm joking but Theo really has that role with the players out on loan and the young players, so he's the one in permanent contact with the academy, his contact there varies depending on what he is after. And we often see each other - well Sonia [Bompastor] used to be Director of the Academy, so she obviously has that relationship with the academy. We often interact.

Jules: We've been talking about the departures, permanent departures, departures on loan. But there were also some arrivals. Three arrivals this summer, well, two plus one, because one was made official in January.

Michael: Yes, one was made official in January, as you said. It was Melchie Dumornay, who came from Stade de Reims. But there were two more arrivals, Laura Benkarth, the backup goalkeeper for Olympique Lyonnais, and the big transfer of the summer, that was Kadidiatou Diani, who came from PSG. How did the players adapt? We saw very quickly for Diani and Dumornay, for example, they were immediately starting in the Trophee des Championnes last September.

Abily: Yeah, well, Melchie Dumornay, Kadidiatou Diani, those are world class players, it must be said. They're part of the best players in the world. So those were two big, big arrivals. Regarding Laura [Benkarth], it was a really nice surprise. In my eyes, she's a really, really top level goalkeeper and we're really happy to have her with us, because we know that if for some reason Chris[tiane Endler] is injured, we have a goalkeeper capable of replacing her. So we had a transfer season with few players but there were really really big players, and we're really satisfied.

Jules: I was going to say that. We saw six departures, they were all at the end of their contract, departures on loan as well. Only three arrivals. I imagine that was a choice based on what you've said. Was it to give the academy players playing time or was the roster enough as it was?

Abily: Both. A little bit of both, a little bit of both because as I said, we had a lot of injuries about a year and a half ago, so obviously -

Jules: There was that game against Arsenal where there was basically an entire team missing.

Abily: Jules likes to bring up bad memories. He really likes to get those digs in.

Jules: Would you prefer talking about that or paddle tennis?

Abily: Paddle tennis. I don't care about what happened in paddle tennis. Losing 5-1 to Arsenal, I do care about that. Anyway - I lost my train of thought.

Jules: There were a lot of injuries.

Abily: There were a lot of injuries, we had a team with 28, 29 players under contract, which is a lot, especially as we knew we had a 2006 generation coming up who had a huge amount of potential, so we wanted to make sure there were spots for them, it's important for us to give them the opportunities to express themselves [I say this as a longtime fan of Alice Marques: no, it's not], have them train with us on a daily basis, and why not try and get some minutes.

Jules: We saw some of the young players play in the preseason, I'm thinking of Liana Joseph who you know quite well, Michael, since you've commented some of her games with the U-19s.

Michael: Yes, I've seen her a lot with the U-19s. But when you see Julie Swierot, Maeline Mendy as well, there's a lot of young players with a bright future ahead of them.

Abily: With a lot of potential. As I was saying before, we're lucky to have top quality players. That's why it's important to open the door for them. We need to find the middle ground. We have a team with a lot of experienced players, huge talent, but to have those young players who have the opportunity to come train and try and get some minutes, that's important.

Jules: You've heard it here first. You have to start when you are seven.

Michael: How does it go with the group then? I imagine the older players must help the younger players a lot. I imagine that's really, really good for them.

Abily: Oh yeah, it's great. We've talked about the three you mentioned, there's also Sangare, she's training - she's a central defender and she's in practice next to Wendie Renard, Griedge M'Bock, Vanessa Gilles.

Jules: There are worse out there. There are worse role models.

Abily: It's exceptional for them.

Jules: I'm not going to name my role models.

Abily: As I was saying, it's exceptional for them. The older players. the more experienced ones, they're top, because they really try to install the team's values, because that's important, but also to give them a lot of guidance on the pitch.

Jules: But it's important to talk about the academy, because we talked about it a lot with the men's team, but not a lot on the women's side. There are quite a few products, if I can say that, which are coming out of the academy. And as you said, the fact that Sonia [Bompastor] was the Director of the Academy, that helps and that aids that transition. We've talked about the arrivals, we're going to see what it looks like on film. We're going to start with Melchie Dumornay, who came on the show with two trophies - Trophee des Championnes and Player of the Game - and a third trophy, herself. Those were her words, I'm just paraphrasing Melchie Dumornay.

Michael: And we're going to watch Melchie Dumornay's highlights since the beginning of the season. Melchie Dumornay, who started four times this season, scoring twice and three assists. She's already a deciding factor, she adapted extremely fast.

Abily: Yeah, yeah. She's a world class player as I've said. So when you understand football it's easy to adapt to the great players around you. She's a simple girl who wants to learn, which is important because you can't forget she's a really young player as well. So it's gone really, really well.

Michael: She was already performing miracles with Reims. We said it earlier, she was the one who scored the last goal against Olympique Lyonnais, and we see it now, she's really decisive in every game, she really has a capability of eliminating players, her speed really makes a difference.

Abily: Yeah. Her mobility is impressive, she has both power and technical qualities. And she's able to play in different positions, so it's super for us in the staff.

Jules: And she already has an understanding with Eugenie Le Sommer, with her two assists in the derby against ASSE. You were talking about how polyvalent she is, it's just part of Melchie Dumornay's qualities. You recruited her in January, she finished the season with Stade de Reims. How long were you following Melchie?

Abily: Well she had already been with us in the academy. So that's to say it's been a while. She already came to train with Lyon what, five, six years ago maybe. So we had already been following her. But we couldn't do anything because she was too young, she wasn't 18 yet.

Jules: She went back to Haiti.

Abily: Exactly. I followed the U-20s in England in 2018 where she was already exceptional, people were already talking about her and the club had already been following her for a while. And to be honest she's a super, super recruit.

Jules: And you said, Michael said it as well, she adapted super quickly. You can see it with her statistics. You almost get the impression when she's on the field that it's just a game for her. Everything is so easy. She's young, she's 20 years old, same age as Rayan Cherki, but there's an almost carefree aspect to Melchie. Even when she came onto the show, she was enjoying herself. There's no pressure, everything is cool, everything just washes off her. She's nice, Melchie Dumornay.

Abily: The type of carefree that comes with youth. But she's someone who works very hard, who has high expectations for herself. Even if you get that impression from her, she can get very frustrated when she isn't managing to do something on the pitch. We talk about it, sometimes too much, she's very demanding of herself. Unfortunately mistakes happen in football, that's part of football. She has to be able to mentally accept that in order to come back stronger.

Jules: So she's a laidback perfectionist.

Abily: Very laidback off the field, but she can get very frustrated on the field when her performances aren't working out for her.

Jules: The other star recruit this summer, Michael said it, it was the transfer of the summer. It was the case of Kadidiatou Diani who left Paris Saint-Germain to join Olympique Lyonnais. The adaption was a bit more complicated, we're going to put it down as because of the World Cup. But if you look at the statistics, it's going really well.

Michael: Yes, statistically it's going very well for Kadidiatou Diani. Five games played since the start of the league, one goal and three assists. She's also - maybe not yet at full potential but she's already one of the difference makers and is doing a lot of damage.

Abily: Yeah. As I said, Kadi[diatou Diani], it's exceptional that we got her. She had a season last year with PSG which was extraordinary, she kept PSG alive the whole season.

Jules: She was PSG's attacking force, simple as that.

Abily: Exactly. Now it's true that with us, there was an adaption period as well, because it's not the same system, she's playing against teams with a lower block, Paris [Saint-Germain] played more in counter. So it's different. However, I think - and we saw it especially against Reims - we got back a Kadi who was back in form. There was the hangover from the World Cup, physically she wasn't at her best, which is normal. Now it's what we tell them, the most important thing is to be ready now. It's important now but what matters is what is coming next. We're happy to have Kadi back at that level and it must be said, Kadi is really a deciding factor. Three assists, one goal, it's already some nice stats.

Michael: How did the transfer go down? Did you, with Sonia, did you talk to her directly? How did it go?

Abily: Yes, we had her a little bit on the phone. Kadi and I know each other well, we played together on the French National Team and she would be right next to me in the lineup, so I could annoy her a ton. But I called her, we looked back on all that. I still annoy her sometimes.

Jules: It's okay, she signed with us, that doesn't matter now.

Abily: It's all good, it's all good. But it's true we talked a little bit, but we knew she is a world class player. We think she can still progress, and she can still bring a lot of things to Lyon.

Michael: Was it easy for her to integrate the group? I imagine that she knows a lot of the players, both because of the French National Team and because of the D1 Arkema. Did she integrate the group well?

Abily: Yeah, of course. It's easy, she already has all of her national teammates with her and she got along really well with them. It's true that in the beginning it must have been a bit strange, when you come from PSG it's always a bit particular. I think she has integrated the team really well. She's also back with Perle Morroni, who she got along with really well at Paris [Saint-Germain]. So it's going really well.

Jules: You were talking about the World Cup effect with maybe a physical aspect because she played a lot with the French National Team. We said that it was the transfer of the summer. Wasn't there a bit of pressure for Kadidiatou Diani?

Abily: I don't know. I don't think she's really the type to put pressure on herself, Kadi. She's really someone calm -

Jules: Maybe not put pressure, but maybe there was pressure surrounding her. There was a media storm, I've never heard people talk about a transfer as much as they did Kadidatiou Diani's this summer.

Abily: Yeah, even if I think she processed it well. Beyond that, I would say it was more of a physical setback than anything in the mental aspect. But yeah, as I was saying, she's getting better and better, and we're really happy.

Jules: Indeed, Kadidiatou Diani is going to do us a lot of good. She hurt us - I'm going to stop myself there.

Abily: We haven't lost a lot of games, but each time Jules brings up games we've lost.

Jules: It's like that, I'm here to heckle you. Camille, we're going to stay with the recruits. Laura Benkarth arrived. She was in a bit of a difficult situation. She didn't speak any French but she has been taking lessons and she is improving, we can tell. How does that work, the integration of a backup? Because I imagine that when she came in, you didn't give her any false hope, Cristiane [Endler] was the starter.

Abily: Yeah, of course. After, Simon [goalkeeping coach] would be able to answer this better because he talked with her before and works with her daily, but what I will say is that Laura has an exceptional mentality. She's learning French very quickly. We're lucky to have Maro[zsan] and Sara [Dabritz] who are German as well, they help her a lot with the integration. And we can see, she's a really top person, calm, and she wanted to integrate with the group immediately. Laura had the advantage of coming in at the start of preseason. Since the players were coming back one at a time, she really had the time to get to know everyone a little bit. Because when you come in and there's the entire group, it's harder. That was the positive thing about the World Cup, she was able to integrate the group progressively.

Jules: And the status of backup, she accepted it pretty easily? Even if she has played already, there were the game when Christiane Endler was out on international duty. And you rotate a lot as well, we'll see it later, so she will get playing time.

Abily: Of course she will get playing time. Not really to the detriment of Chris[tiane Endler] but because we know we need to prepare her in case there is a problem. Chris could have gotten a red card, could have gotten injured. So it's important to keep her focused. There is a hierarchy with the goalkeepers, so obviously they know that. But I think there's a good relationship with Chris and also with Laurine - umm, Feerine. Feerine Belhadj, who is also our third goalkeeper and who is a really good goalkeeper and that's top.

Jules: You were speaking about a turnover with the goalkeepers. We're going to look at the turnover since the beginning of the season with the number of players used. There aren't a lot of surprises there, Michael.

Michael: No, not a lot of surprises but a lot of players used. There's a stacked roster. And we use the players. There's names like Christiane Endler, Selma Bacha, Perle Morroni, but then you have younger players like Alice Sombath. You rotate a lot. There's a stacked roster and you make the most of it.

Abily: I think it''s important to have everyone involved. There will be periods where we don't rotate as much because your "main 11" need to actually play. But we're lucky to have lots and lots of quality on the team. The main 11 isn't always easy to find, because a lot of them deserve to play. Unfortunately, as we sometimes tell them, we can only put 11 players on the field. So there are choices to be made. But we know we can count on the entire team and we have a lot of quality.

Jules: The advantage is that it's a turnover that's chosen and wanted. There aren't really any injuries at the moment. So what is it? Are there tests? Is it load and/or ego management? Which philosophy is it?

Abily: A little bit of everything, honestly. There's a bit of everything in that your game management is about avoiding injuries. That's the most important thing. There are players who play a lot with their national teams, when they come back - we were really scarred by all the injuries we had in the past. So our objective - as an example, Wendie [Renard] didn't play this weekend. She had been playing a lot, it was clear she needed a rest, she had been playing so much since the beginning of the season.

Jules: The international break is coming up.

Abily: The international break is coming up. We know she is going to play 2x90 minutes with the French National Team, and then we have a lot of games scheduled. So it was the only moment - and if we know we can do it, it's because we know we have the quality behind. We have Griedge M'Bock, Vanessa Gilles. You could have even done it with Alice Sombath, who in this case played on the right. We have the quality. So already you have load management. Then you obviously have things you want to see, even if you won, there are things - the main team isn't the best yet, there's still choices to be made. And that's why as well we want to see certain players at certain times.

Jules: And you also have players who can play in different positions. We talked about Melchie Dumornay, who can play on the wings or in a central role, same thing with Kadidiatou Diani, with Selma Bacha who can play as a left back or left winger. So this is more of a test period for you then.

Abily: When we have them play in different positions?

Jules: Yes.

Abily: Yes, a little bit. That being said, Selma, we saw what she was doing with the French National Team, so we know she is capable of playing there [left winger]. We have Perle Morroni in defense as well, who is doing really well. Perle deserves to play, Selma deserves to play, so it does allow us to test both of them together. What we don't want them to think is that it's one of the other. That's not the case. And I don't know if we will talk about it later, but it's like when Eugenie Le Sommer performs well, if Ada [Hegerberg] performs well - the two can play together. What we want is to have the best players to create the best team possible. If in the best eleven there are Perle and Selma, then they will play together.

Jules: Is the starting eleven flexible depending on the opposition or do you have your idea as the staff and that's final?

Abily: No, on the whole we have our firm belief within the staff. That being said, we'll make the decision more based on the space the opposition is leaving us, which we will need to exploit, to give us indications on the game. For the opposition as well, it's where we can hit them the hardest. But on the whole we won't change.

Jules: Right now you've been playing in a 4-3-3 formation since the beginning of the season. There was an experiment with a 4-4-2 diamond in the middle of last season which worked out, here you went back to the 4-3-3. Is it set in stone or can we imagine it will change with the return from injuries? I'm thinking of Delphine Cascarino.

Abily: When - to be sincere, when we changed formations, it was because of the players we had available. What's important is to put the players in the best position possible. When we went to the 4-4-2 diamond formation, we had a lot of midfielders who were performing really well, and we didn't want to pass over those players because they were playing well and deserved to play. For the offense, we had more injured players so it was a little bit harder. So it's mainly for that. Now, we've been playing in a 4-4-3, but there's also a 3-5-2, there's the 4-4-2 diamond. There's a lot of interesting formations and we have the players to be able to do them.

Jules: Problems only a rich team can understand, as we like to say. Staying with players playing in different positions, Alice Sombath played this weekend as a right back. Her natural position is a center back, but there's stiff competition, there's Griedge M'Bock, Wendie Renard, Vanessa Gilles. Could it be an actual solution to have Alice Sombath as a backup for Ellie Carpenter? Janice Cayman left and you didn't buy any right backs.

Abily: Yes. She already did it last season, I don't know if you remember. Alice played a fair amount of times on the right side. We knew that with Alice, we wouldn't have a lot of worries with the defense. Now obviously she doesn't bring the same offensive threat as Ellie Carpenter, because she doesn't have the same qualities. But in any case it's one of the possibilities. And Griedge M'Bock has also played sometimes in that position, because we don't have any pure right backs [other than Carpenter]. However we do have two center backs who can play there. And I like a little bit - well it's in our head at least - Vicki Becho, even if she really doesn't like it. We've already done it on certain plays, she could always help out if we need to be very offensive-minded.

Jules: Doubling as a winger then.

Abily: Yeah. When we're really high up, I think she can bring something as well.

Jules: You were talking about the offensive aspect with Alice Sombath. She scored this weekend, didn't she Michael?

Michael: She did score. She celebrated her 20th birthday on October 16th. She scored her first goal in the D1 Arkema, it was her 30th appearance, which is something, and she scored her first goal. Well you were talking about her being less of an offensive aspect than Ellie [Carpenter], but she is still capable of scoring.

Abily: [laughs] Yes, of course. That being said her vision for the goal was exceptional. She saw the goalkeeper completely anticipated the cross so she decided to take a shot. It was a good play. But it's true that she has less power, she's less capable of doing overlapping runs. But as I said, she has other qualities and she is a player we're working with a lot because she can improve so much more.

Jules: Alice Sombath is also a huge Disney movies fan. I'm not going to tell you why I know that but you'll find out very soon. We were talking about the competition within the team, there's competition in one position, one area, and that's the attack. Michael, I said that when Eugenie [Le Sommer] came on the show that it might be the best offensive line I've seen at Lyon. I'm going to ask you the same question, Camille. I'll give you a second to think back on all of Lyon's offensive lines.

Abily: That's what I was trying to do. I have to think about it.

Jules: There's a lot to think about. Here's the list for this year. Seven players for three spots, Michael.

Michael: Yes, seven players for three spots if we're playing in a 4-3-3. There is Eugenie Le Sommer, Ada Hegerberg, Kadidiatou Diani, Melchie Dumornay, Delphine Cascarino, Vicki Becho and Liana Joseph. Since the start of the season it's been Diani, Dumornay and Le Sommer who have started more, but when you look at the bench and you see Hegerberg, Cascarino when she returns from injury, Vicki Becho, and Liana Joseph who is coming up as well. Those are good problems to have, I imagine.

Abily: No, yeah, it's true that it's truly an exceptional attack. Now Delphine [Cascarino] is unfortunately still injured and isn't available, but when we add Delphine to that offensive line, choices will have to be made. It's true that Ada was a little bit injured so the three who have played - who have performed well especially, because we got a Eugenie Le Sommer who is on an incredible run and is more than performing well. And as I said, we had two top recruits, be it Melchie [Dumornay] and Diani, so yeah, it's a really, really good offensive line.

Jules: And when I ask you the controversial question - well it's not really controversial - is this not one of the best offensive lines in the history of Olympique lyonnais Feminin? You who have played for a bit longer than I have.

Abily: [scoffs disapprovingly at being called old] In terms of the numbers and the team, yes. That being said, I think there was a period with Lotta Schelin, Lara Dickenmann, Elodie Thomis as well. That was really top level as well.

Jules: Was there as many [top attacking players] though?

Abily: There weren't as many. There weren't as many, and that's why I said that in terms of the team, then yes [it's the best].

Jules: Was there as much flexibility as well? Because here we have players who can play a little bit anyway.

Abily: Yes, because Melchie [Dumornay] can play in the midfield as well, she does it a lot with the Haiti National Team. She was originally a midfielder at the academy. Eugenie has also played as a 9 1/2, she can do that as a player. So yeah. With that much adaptability, we really have an incredible offense.

Jules: When you look at those seven, we could have also added Amel Majri if we wanted to be selfish. You've been in a 4-3-3 since the start with two true wingers, is that the best formation for that list?

Abily: It depends. No. Because if we're talking about Ada [Hegerberg], when she gets all of her fitness back, because we're being careful with Ada, we're slowly bringing her back. So we know that if Eugenie keeps this up, then we have two central attackers, they're both world class. So we'll see. As I said, we're not dismissing any possibility. The most important thing is that they perform well and that they are in the best positions.

Michael: In any case, I wouldn't like to be in their place. When you look at the list, to only have to choose three names.

Abily: What about ours? Do you think it's easy?

Michael: Exactly. I wouldn't want to be in your place.

Abily: Sorry, I thought you meant you wouldn't want to be in the player's position.

Michael: Choosing between those seven players, well, choosing three out of those seven, it's complicated. Well here you just said that Ada is lacking match fitness and coming back from injury, but putting Ada Hegerberg on the bench, putting players like that on the bench, I can't imagine that it's easy. Tough choices but only one a rich team can have to make.

Abily: It's not easy. We know at Lyon, and they know this really well as well, it's competitive, this is a quality club, we have objectives. We said it before, the calendar is going to have a lot of games and a lot of important games. So we will need everything. Now of course there will be moments - I was a player, I know what's like, you're frustrated because you didn't play a game - but when you have the chance to play, you need to perform well, and that will allow you to play more. But we have a lot of players for sure.

Jules: We said there are seven players in that position but really there are six for the moment because of Delphine Cascarino. You said she's rehabbing. How is she doing? We last saw her last season against Paris Saint-Germain, she missed the World Cup. So there was the injury and then having to miss the World Cup. Did she have a setback, is it going well, where is she at with her rehab?

Abily: No, it's going well. I think mentally she is very, very strong. It's true that she's very positive, she can feel the progress being made. I sometimes ask her "are you okay? it isn't taking too long?" And she tells me "no, it's okay, it's going pretty quickly." So that's cool because sometimes there is that longing for the pitch. And we count on Delphine enormously, she's a player who - and I keep saying this - is a world class player. We have a lot of world class players, both in our offense but also in our midfield and defense. There are choices to be made there as well.

Jules: Lindsey Horan, Damaris, Sara Dabritz. It's pretty good.

Abily: There are a lot. There's a lot of great players and we're eager for her [Cascarino's] return. It's going well.

Jules: Another special case, it's that of Vicki Becho. We were talking earlier about players who went out on loan, she was on loan at Reims, that went well. She came back, but now she has a different status. She's no longer the "young" Vicki Becho. Now she's Vicki Becho, international player. Vicki Becho, who took part in the World Cup. We don't manage her the same way.

Abily: Who performed well at the World Cup. That's what changed. It's true that Vicki participated in the World Cup but she also played and performed well. After, Vicki, we talked about it with her so we can talk about it here. She's a player who each time she comes on is very important and very decisive, and is good when she comes on as a substitute. She still needs a bit of time to be consistent throughout a game. The games where she has started, I've been less satisfied with her performance. But -

Jules: She's often used as a sub.

Abily: She often comes on as a sub, yes. Because each time she comes on she performs well. But it's true that she's a really good player with a lot of qualities, and is capable - it's important that now she processes the World Cup, and keeps improving.

Michael: Were you surprised by her performance at the World Cup?

Abily: Surprised? Yes and no, because I see her daily. And remember last season when we played in the 4-4-2 diamond, she was often in front with the two forwards. And she was really good there.

Jules: It worked really well.

Abily: It worked really well even if she had the tendency to drift out wide on the right. But it worked really well. Not surprised, because she had a really good season last year. Where I was pleasantly surprised was that Herve Renard, the first substitutions he made was always her. He had other players on the bench, Clara Mateo, Amel Majri, which meant that she was performing really well with the French National Team. That's where her status changed for me, because she went from "I'm playing from time to time" to "I'm always coming on [with the National Team]". That's where it happened.

Jules: We're not making things up, the numbers speak for themselves. She was the 12th player used by Herve Renard, 12th player used by Sonia Bompastor as well. We're going to move on to some more individual cases. We looked at the attacking line, with one player whom you had already brought up -

Abily: We have a good communications department, they told me which subjects we would be discussing on the show.

Jules: It was a compliment.

Abily: I was just happy it wasn't a dig for once.

Michael: One player who has been performing really well, who performed really well during the World Cup as well, that's Eugenie Le Sommer. We'll see it with the highlights since the beginning of the season, Eugenie Le Sommer, it's five games played, five league goals and one assist. She turned back time.

Abily: Yeah. She's exceptional really. I'm happy for her first of all, because there were some difficult moments for her last year. We talked about it, she wasn't getting as much playing time, it was a little bit more difficult. But it really shows her mental strength and all her qualities. We all know Eugenie and how good she is, she got her confidence back. The World Cup did her an enormous amount of good. She came back in the same form she was in at the World Cup, she's scoring some great goals, that's important as well.

Michael: I imagine that her return to the French National Team gave her a boost, which explains why today she is back to her best.

Jules: We really see a before and after.

Abily: I would say she rekindled her passion. It's really that. She always believed, but it was difficult. Of course she loves the club, but she had objectives with the French National Team. When it ended the way it did, that was difficult. But now it's as if she rekindled something inside of her, and it's top because she's performing so well with us.

Jules: Because statistically, it's going so well. We can see she is building off her performance at the World Cup. But even on her face, in her body language, we can see she is a player with the weight off her shoulders. When you are talking about having turned back time, it's a little bit that as well, I feel like. The light is back in her eyes. The passion is back for Eugenie Le Sommer. And that works out fine for us since she can't stop scoring.

Abily: Exactly.

Michael: We saw her goal against Reims. I just want to point out that against Reims, that was her 300th game in D1 Arkema. She had done 35 with Stade Briochin, she has played in 265 games with Olympique Lyonnais. And another status, 222 goals in D1 Arkema.

Abily: It's not bad.

Michael: It's Eugenie Le Sommer.

Abily: She's an attacker. We can see it, she's capable of scoring with her right foot, with her left foot, headers even though she's not very tall. She has a really good aerial game, very good timing. Very complete player. And full of confidence. So really firing at the moment.

Jules: 300th game in D1 Arkema, and soon the objective of 300 goals. It seems crazy that's achievable. 300 goals. Now we know now that it's a possibility, but when you say you could score 300 goals with Olympique Lyonnais, that's Messi, that's Maradona, that's Ronaldo. It's -

Abily: It's enormous. But she has the quality to do it.

Jules: But does that mean that the main competition for Eugenie Le Sommer is Ada Hegerberg?

Abily: If we stay in that formation, yes.

Jules: If we stay in that formation. But in any case the two central attackers who are No. 1 and I guess 1(b), I don't know how to classify it, it's either Eugenie Le Sommer or Ada Hegerberg. Indeed I really wouldn't want to be in your shoes. We know all about choices at OLPlay, it's between Ivan, Michael, and myself. I feel the producer might not be under the same amount as pressure as Camille. We're going to drop down to the midfield now. You said there is also stiff competition there. We're going to talk about the American player who is performing well and is even scoring as well. It's getting a bit complicated, she has everything going for her, Lindsey Horan.

Michael: Yeah, she has everything going for her since she arrived. It's clear that she has established herself in Lyon's midfield. And since the start of the league, it's four games played and four goals. She is getting 100 percent marks as well. And she's simply shining in the midfield.

Abily: Yeah, she makes - when she's performing well, she makes the team better. She's really the driving force behind the team and is capable of making the team play better. When we play badly it's often because Lindsey isn't playing well. Ever since she arrived - I said it the day she arrived, she immediately made the team better. She makes the players around her better. So we're really happy to have her and that she maintains that level.

Jules: There's also a certain stability in the midfield. We know that Lindsey is often a starter, along with Damaris and Danielle van de Donk. They're basically the core, just like the three in front of them. Last week we were talking with Timothee Piron, who comments the women's games, and he used the term "driving force". He also used it to describe Damaris who was really good in the derby [against ASSE]. It's a bit like three similar profiles but complimentary profiles as well. I don't know if you get what I'm saying.

Abily: Ummm -

Jules: Say yes, that will make me happy.

Abily: I see what you mean about complimentary but I don't see the similar in profile, not really.

Jules: Okay maybe less Damaris, that's a bit more difficult, but more for -

Abily: They have different qualities. They have different qualities. It's true that Damaris is really a DM whose role in the team is really important, because she's the first to launch something but also has to stop a lot of the attacks from the opponents since we have a really high block. She is often really well positioned. After, for Lindsey and Danielle -

Jules: I was talking more about Lindsey and Danielle, Sara [Dabritz]. More those profiles.

Abily: Yeah. Lindsey, Sara, Maro[zsan], Danielle. Those are players who have more of a similar profile with different qualities. And there are a lot of choices that have to be made because there's so much talent. There's two German internationals, Lindsey is an American international, and Danielle is an international Dutch player. So lots and lots of quality. But we know at Lyon there has to be competition. Since the start of the season it's been more Lindsey and Danielle who have had more of the playing time. We'll see later on. We aren't closing the door on anybody. If someone is performing well then it pushes the level of the team up even more.

Michael: Circling back to Lindsey, you were talking about her level on the field. But in the locker room I feel she is also someone who really has a leadership role. And since her arrival she has really integrated well with the group, and brings an enormous amount of experience.

Abily: Of course, a lot of experience. She has won the World Cup, she performed really well with the national team. So obviously when those players come into the locker room, they have to bring that experience with them. So yeah. And when you are a technical leader on the field, then it's important to be a leader in the locker room as well.

Jules: You were talking about the World Cup being a factor. Lindsey's World Cup didn't go particularly well. How did she feel about it? Did she say "forget about it, we're starting a new season" or is it still in the back of her mind, because it was really seen as a failure over there?

Abily: It was hard. It was especially hard because she is the captain of that team, and it was the first time she was captain in an official competition. So she really considered it as a failure on her part. So it was hard, we talked about it. Now she is lucky because the club season started really quickly after that, the club has a lot of objectives, we talked about the Trophee des Championnes. So you have to know when you're a player and there's a failure, the best way to get over a failure to keep working and move forward. And to have short term objectives as well, with your club that's important, but also with your national team as well. There's still the Olympic Games in 2024. So it's important for her to perform well and immediately switch over.

Jules: And when we're going to drop back even more and talk about the defense. We've talked about the only goal conceded this season. We're going to talk about one central defender who is playing extremely well at the moment and is also scoring goals, that's Vanessa Gilles.

Michael: Yes, Vanessa Gilles, who also since her arrival last year, who came in to cover for Griedge M'Bock's huge injury. Since the start of the season, it's four league games, two goals. She also experienced a failure at the World Cup with her country. Unfortunately - well watching those clips, I get the impression that she's already moved on to other things.

Abily: Yes, as I said, it was difficult, the return was difficult. Luckily they had some vacation time so they could really disconnect, clear their heads and come back mentally fresh. Because that's what's the most difficult. But yeah, it's true that Vanessa, she's also a great recruit we got. It's not easy to find cover while Griedge M'Bock is injured. She did it really, really well. And now it's up to Griedge to get her old level back because Vanessa has established her place [in the starting 11].

Michael: And when you see Wendie Renard and Vanessa Gilles, who are our center backs, and who score so many goals, it's extraordinary.

Abily: Yeah, we're lucky. We have two really top level center backs. Their aerial play is exceptional. And it's true we often thought of Wendie, but Vanessa, we can see she can be decisive as well. And there's a lot to be happy about.

Jules: From what we understand by listening to you, it's that the starting pair is Wendie and Vanessa.

Abily: As things stand right now, yes. But I think Griedge knows that. She's coming back, she had her first 90 minutes. She still needs match fitness. However, Griedge is an exceptional player. When Griedge is at her best level she's amongst the best center backs in the world. But when you've been out for more than year, you need a little bit of time. And as I said, we're going to have a lot of games coming up, so she will be getting playing time. So she will get her rhythm and her level back. And that's what we want, that she gets back to her level as fast as possible.

Michael: I imagine that when you have three players like that for two spots, three players as talented as they are. It's like with your offense, it's nice to have to make those kind of choices.

Abily: Yeah, of course. After, we can - if all three deserve to play, there's a 3-5-2 which exists, there's different systems. And it depends on how they are performing at that moment. After, you also need stability. The players need a system which they're used to playing in, because what's really important is that we're performing well as a team.

Jules: We're going to talk about objectives now. We've done the recap on the almost perfect start of the season. And amongst the objectives there is obviously the Champions League. There was the elimination last year after the quest to regain the title in 2021-2022. And a few days ago the draw came out, we're in probably the easiest group. We're going to go over it with Michael. It would have been complicated to have an easier group than this one.

Michael: Yes, it's true that we were very lucky with the draw with this group composed of Olympique Lyonnais, Slavia Prague, St Polten and SK Brann. Is it a group where we should have wished for another team closer to our level so it would be a bit more challenging and prepare the players a bit better for the quarter finals? How do you feel about it?

Abily: As soon as Paris FC knocked Arsenal and Wolfsburg, that meant that already in Pot 2, we couldn't play Paris, the other only big team left is Real Madrid and then Rosengaard. By getting Slavia Prague, we got the easiest team in Pot 2. After, we haven't yet studied all the teams, Prague we know a little bit, St Polten is improving, and the Norwegian team, Brann, we'll have to see. Now we're not going to complain, we'd rather have this group than a Group of Death especially as I said we're going to be playing a lot of games. It's going to be important to perform well.

Michael: Yes, it's what we were saying with Jules earlier. Last year we struggled to qualify, we had that -

Jules: It's okay, the group from last year has already been knocked out. I don't mean to bring up bad memories. But we qualified, so that's good.

Abily: Yeah, it was hard.

Jules: So you prefer the group we have this year to what we had last year where it came down to the last day?

Abily: It all depends on how you look at it. As a coach, of course I know this group is easier, as a competitor we have a greater chance of qualifying with this one than the one last year. However in terms of attraction for women's football but also for us in terms of marketing, of course Arsenal, Lyon, Juve is more interesting than Brann and St Polten.

Jules: But in terms of preparation. Do you think - do you prepare as well for the quarterfinals when you're with Arsenal and Juventus than when you're with - in all due respect - the other teams?

Abily: No, for sure. I want to wait and see, because I don't want to speak too soon. We have to play them first and after we've played the games then we can talk about whether there really is a difference. Women's football is evolving in every country. But I hope that we will finish first, and the advantage of finishing first is that you play the second. So your quarterfinal could be more accessible, though once again as you saw with Arsenal, we were up against Chelsea in the quarters. So it's more difficult.

Jules: But when you look at the other pots with the other French teams, Michael, those are really the Groups of Death, especially - maybe Paris Saint-Germain's group is worse.

Michael: Yes, Paris Saint-Germain, who is with Bayern Munich, AS Roma and Ajax. That's a really competitive group and it's not going to be a simple task for the Parisian team.

Abily: No. Especially because I think AS Roma is a really interesting team, we saw it in the past, even though I do think PSG will make it out of the group. But it will be more difficult.

Michael: To come back to our group, there's one thing which is interesting, it's that Ada who will see her sister again and will return to Norway. I imagine that's pretty nice for her.

Abily: Yeah, it's funny because when we were talking about it the night before, I said "I hope we won't have to go to Norway when it's cold and snowing." And I think we're going December 21, December 22, I forget which one. December 21 I think. It's right before the break as well, so Hegerberg was like "well at least I don't have to fly home." That's the only positive.

Jules: We'll need to bring proper clothing.

Abily: Exactly.

Michael: There will be a lot of travel involved with this group.

Abily: Indeed, indeed. And after - as I was saying, for sure on paper it's an easy group, but after - we haven't studied all the teams yet, we'll do it during the international break - and it will be interesting to see the level, how it has improved, because we can see it. Paris FC in principle wasn't favorite at all, managed to eliminate both Arsenal and Wolfsburg. So we still need to take this group seriously.

Michael: You brought up Paris FC. When we see three French teams out of the 16 European teams, the country most represented is France. I imagine that's nice to see.

Abily: I'm so happy. Sincerely, I'm super happy because everyone is talking about the English league, blah blah, Spanish league. It's all we hear about, even when it comes to recruiting players. "Ah but blah blah." But in the mean time, the only country with three teams in it is us. Of course there is a ton of progress to be made in the league, but we can see there is quality in France. And what Paris FC did, as I said, it's exceptional.

Jules: I said that there could be three French teams in the quarterfinals. Do you think so as well? Paris FC's group is Chelsea, Real Madrid and Hacken. They're in Pot 4, Paris FC.

Abily: Yes, it's normal that they're in a group that difficult. But - well, Chelsea could be difficult, even if they did beat Arsenal and Wolfsburg. But however against Real Madrid and Hacken, I think that's doable.

Michael: It's true that when you look at the group, you could say it's complicated for Paris FC. But after having eliminated Wolfsburg, last year's finalist, and Arsenal, semi-finalist, you could really say anything is possible. And we could potentially have three French teams in the quarterfinals.

Abily: After, the hardest thing is for that kind of team, they're not used to having to play every three days. Whether their team - and that's something we will find out - whether they will have a roster capable of playing every three days, I don't know.

Jules: You're playing Paris FC right before the first day of the UWCL, so there wouldn't be that impact yet. And if Lyon goes all the way, which we hope they do, then we can thank Paris FC for taken care of the nuisance.

Abily: We can thank them enormously. As I said, they - when we saw the draw and the pots, knowing that we can't play a French team, the biggest team left was PSG. So they eliminated two favorites in the competition. It's exceptional what they did.

Jules: So really quickly. The objective is the D1 Arkema with these playoffs, the UWCL, and the Coupe de France. That will come a little bit later. This is a bit of a traditional question, but is the objective to win all four titles? There's already one down, only three left.

Abily: Of course. We know that when you're at Olympique Lyonnais Feminin, be it as a player or part of the staff, we know the objectives are to win everything. That's it. Last year it was difficult in the Champions League because the manner in which we were eliminated was difficult, but we have to take our revenge this year.

Jules: We hope to get our revenge this year. In any case, thank you, Camille, for having come on the show. Thank you, Michael. We'll see you tomorrow.

Abily: Always a pleasure.

#all good love stories start in the rain #Camille abily #god I need a glass of wine #and by glass i do mean bottle #if you think this takes forever to read try being the one translating it

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mikoriin · 2 years

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I want to dissappear from the internet but I also want to start selling commissions for a little back-up-plan money for Reasons... idknoww what to do 😔

thats rough im sorry :((( the internet can be a very stressful place with....literally everything going on all the time haha but i think whats important to do to curate your own online experience is to:

use the sites u actually like and prefer. i use tumblr primarily because i can manage my social media experience the way i want to.

shape your page/timeline/feed/dash into what you want. unfollow people who dont post things you like or even want to see, block people freely even if u just dont agree with something they said in their post or for just rubbing you the wrong way. you control your experience and if you dont like what youre seeing and not enjoying yourself, then u can always find something new or get rid of the things u dont want to see. for me, i dont like using twitter because its got a lot of weirdos on it and then some and i dont like seeing every horrible political event going on at all times. not because i dont care, but because its so much all the time that it gets so draining and overwhelming. with sites like tumblr, you cant necessarily avoid it depending on how big or impactful the news is (i mean ofc, we're a social media site after all) but at least if u dont like seeing a bunch of real world events that upset you then u can always block those tags or posts or unfollow the people who put it on your dash.

remember that the internet is a place to escape. yes it is a place to store information and knowledge, but it is also full of so many wonderous dangers because it is so vast. dont take it too seriously, dont get too invested in things that are out of your control, and i honestly dont think its healthy to be chronically online either. so just remember, be safe, be mindful, and have fun.

if u wanna start some commissions i also have some advice for u there!!

keep posting your content! and make sure you tag it! exposure is the BEST way to get traction and attention.

keep your commission sheet pinned to your blog. its good that its the first thing people see when they visit your page

DO NOT underprice your work!! do not do not!! u are creating something from your mind with your hands and your creativity alone, your art is special and unique no matter your skill level! never charge under $20 for even your most simple art. (ik ik my kofi comms are only $9-$12 but thats different i have a job that brings in steady money haha...and i also am a hypocrite that doesnt value my art enough) but i am SO SERIOUS when i say that every art piece is worth so much! if $15 or $10 makes you more comfortable to charge people then i encourage it, just as long as you dont go below double digits and are getting some money in!

if your commissions are lower than say...$30 or $40 then make sure you get them done in a timely manner. i know im DEFINITELY not one to talk about being quick on commissions, im so slow, but i try to get smaller pieces done first. i dont go by first come first serve, i do what it easiest to me in the moment because i have horrible time management skills thanks adhd but really just do whatever works for u! but from a money and business standpoint, i would try to get the smaller pieces done as fast as you can. bigger pieces have more leeway to take longer.

HAVE BOUNDARIES WITH UR CUSTOMERS! if you are uncomfortable drawing something, say so. decline the commission. its not worth the money if u are bothered by the content, you clearly dont want to make it therefore the art wont be satisfying to you anyway because your hearts not on it. also its better for your mental health. if a customer is being too friendly or too comfortable for you, make sure you keep it business. let them know it is just business. you do not owe anyone your friendship just because theyre giving you money. theyre paying for a service, its just as an other transaction at the store. if they are asking you to draw something youve already stated in a commission sheet that you wont draw, block them. they clearly dont know how to read or respect your boundaries because they asked you for a service you already stated you could not provide. not a good customer, move on.

uhhh i cant rly think of anything else at the moment but i hope this helps!! this has gotten pretty long so ill leave it at this, but also if you genuinely just wanna take a break from the internet to live life and decompress from it all, i say go ahead. do you. do what makes you happy.

#sorry its so long!#wish u luck tho anon <3

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 2 years

Text

15. Candle

A/N: This is part 15. I really wanted to try my luck and write for Jason Todd. I started to read DC comics and I really like Jason. Hope I did him justice. Enjoy!

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader Warning: swearing, fluff, making fun of Jason

31 Masterlist

You came home with groceries in both your arms. Work wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t bad either. “Babe, I need help. Really bad. Jay? Help! Jason!” You heard movement from the bedroom and saw your boyfriend emerging with a hoodie on. The hoodie wasn’t anything fancy but the hood was a little bigger, hiding Jason’s face a bit. “Hey, you. Take this please, it’s the heaviest.” Jason nodded and took it.

He turned around and walked into your kitchen. The movement made the hood slip from the vigilante’s head.

After you kicked off your boots and hung up your coat you made your way to Jason to help him put away all the groceries you bought. You looked over at your right were your intimidating teddy bear stood. You had to double check but you were fairly certain that there was something missing. “Babe, your eyebrow. Where is your left eyebrow?”

Jason looked everywhere but you. He grabbed the flour and put it into a cabinet. While the door was open he mumbled something you didn’t quite catch. But it sounded like he burned it off. You turned to him and narrowed your eyes, “Did I hear you right, You burned them?” He closed his eyes and the cabinet door at the same time. He nodded and murmured a quiet, “Yes.”

You began to laugh softly. Jason’s face hardened. You picked up the strawberry yogurt you bought and opened it, “How?” Jason sighted and brought over two small spoons. He gave you one and you both started to dig in. You raised your eyebrow to signal him he wasn’t out of the loop. Your boyfriend took a deep breath, his chest raising high, “I may have been a little too close to the flame.”

You felt sorry for your boyfriend. You really did but the whole situation was so hilarious at the same time. Jason burned his eyebrow at a candle. Your boyfriend burned himself on a small flame while he literally walked through flames and not even his jacked caught fire.

Jason scowled and pouted around a spoonful of strawberry yogurt. “Jay, How you gonna hide this from Harper?” The man before you closed his eyes, “Fuck!”

While on patrol with Red Arrow

Jason decided to wear his helmet once again to hide his accident. But he really needed fresh air and not the filtered, warm one through his mask. In the moment he took off his helmet Roy had to look at him. “Looking good, Todd.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Roy liked to tease him every chance he got. And this was the perfect opportunity. “Shut up, Harper!” The other man snickered next to him.

After a while Red Arrow turned to his friend and colleague with a shit eating grin on his face, “What happened?” Jason only crossed his muscular arms over his tactical vest clad chest and looked into the night sky.

You used his silence to make yourself known. Roy heard the familiar clicking of his earpiece, “He got too close to the flame of a candle in our apartment and burned himself.” Roy couldn’t hold back his barking laugh. He leaned back and fell from the edge of the building the sat on. With a fud he landed on the ground. He laughed so hard he began to roll on the ground.

Jason rolled his eyes at the other vigilante. He tapped his comm, “Thanks babe. Way to throw your man under the bus.” Red Hood heard you snicker on the other end.

Next day

Bruce invited you to a family gathering. You finished your make up while Jason leaned at the bathroom door and watched you. You touched up your eyebrows when you caught your boyfriend’ gaze in the mirror, “Want me to draw on fake eyebrows?” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. When you were finished you turned to him and crossed your arms to mirror his stance, “So, what do you want me to tell them? A villain fought with a knife and removed your eyebrow mid fight?” Jason huffed and nodded, “Yes! And nothing else.”

After an hour drive with Jason’s motorcycle you reached Wayne Manor. Alfred stood outside to great you. He raised an eyebrow at Jason’s missing one. The man growled a “Please don’t ask, Alfred!” and walked on into the house and straight to the living room.

Tim was the first to look up and notice the missing brow, ”How did you remove your eyebrow, Jay?” At this everyone looked up from their activities and looked closely at Jason’s face. While your boyfriend had all eyes on him you made your way to Steph. She turned to you and raised her brow questioningly. You smiled evilly and began to whisper the truth.

Jason took a deep breath and began his ruse, “A thug from yesterday’s patrol. He nearly cut off my skin if I wasn’t faster.” Damian raised a black brow at his older brother, “Liar! Tell us the truth, Todd.” Jason raised his hands defensively, “That’s the truth!” Damian shook his head disappointingly. He pointed at you and Stephanie on the couch, “No it’s not. Or else (Y/n) and Stephanie wouldn’t cackle over there.” Both of you were cackling away at the expanse of Jason. The betrayed man looked at you disappointed in your betrayal, “Thanks, babe!” You send him a kiss.

While Jason was sulking away on one of the couches Dick entered the living room. Immediately he chooses to sit next to his little, sulking brother. E looked confused into the round, trying to detect what happened mere minutes ago. “What happened? Why is (Y/n) nearly lying on the floor and Jay’s left eyebrow is missing? What am I missing”?

Stephanie was the first to answer with a straight face, ”He burned it off. He got too close to a candle flame in their apartment. He wanted to know what the candle scent was.” Dick tried to school his face and stay a little serious, “Oh, little bird.” Jason’s frown deepened, “Shut up, Dickhead!”

What no one expected was for Bruce to make a comment on his second eldest son misery, “I told you, Jason. Don’t go near open fire. Now you have the aftermath of your recklessness.” At this everyone lost it. Bruce smirked while Jason shook his head. The young man tried not to grin but he failed. After all it was a little hilarious.

Wanna join my taglist?

@jolovesfandoms

#jason todd x reader #31 days of december #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Text

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi)

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete.

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now.

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news.

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright.

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now.

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots.

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine.

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?)

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all.

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen.

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it.

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs.

“Michael!”

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air.

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!”

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves.

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands.

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly.

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?”

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.”

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice.

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices.

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return.

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest.

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all?

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands.

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team.

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs.

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!”

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation.

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return.

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak.

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?”

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time.

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?”

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?”

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in.

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?”

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud.

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.”

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.”

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter.

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.”

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream.

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for.

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena.

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops.

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again.

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!”

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up.

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge.

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway.

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.”

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.”

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out.

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best.

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail.

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly.

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.”

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions-

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?”

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut.

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps.

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well.

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to.

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before.

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“Like you did that much.”

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye.

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs.

“Fair.”

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow.

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future.

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever.

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team.

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits.

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?”

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they?

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body.

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well?

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further.

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him.

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own.

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?”

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words.

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?”

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.”

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?”

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red.

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?”

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome.

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break.

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain.

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.”

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own.

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake.

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point.

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.”

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.”

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time.

Keep your head down.

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.”

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race.

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!”

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.”

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again.

“Thanks, guys.”

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings.

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?”

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.”

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs.

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?”

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back.

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?”

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!”

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition.

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down.

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it.

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap.

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter.

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own.

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it.

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off.

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off.

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak.

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod.

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams, watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team -

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena.

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?”

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners.

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route.

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out.

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused.

“Gottem.”

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting.

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them.

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby.

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?”

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective.

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second -

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!”

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own.

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue.

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

The smile slips off his face.

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on.

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what?

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply.

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all.

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it.

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity.

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all.

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow.

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down.

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red.

---

“What the hell was that?”

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence.

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?”

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes.

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-”

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?”

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter.

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-”

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?”

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?”

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features.

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“...liar.”

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down.

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward.

“Quackity!”

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-”

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops.

“LET’S GO!”

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows.

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time.

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself-

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.”

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?”

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze.

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.”

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder.

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp.

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention.

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.”

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..”

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.”

“Thanks for everything, Scott.”

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.”

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing.

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?”

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?”

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.”

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him.

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.”

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached.

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.”

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.”

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure.

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?”

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head.

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.”

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly.

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.”

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.”

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life.

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.”

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow.

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?”

#-> my writing #my writing :D #c!Quackity critical #tw trauma #tw abuse #tw torture #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw needles #tw hospitals #tw emotional distress #pandora's vault #prison arc #god this was so fun #hope you all enjoy !!#long post

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deadbiwrites · 4 years

Note

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term.

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual.

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why?

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?”

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist.

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh.

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

“Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-”

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

#supercorp #prompts!#asks open #ask response #supergirl fanfic #kara x lena #humor #idiots #international news about idiots #kara danvers #lena luthor #i'm also deeply sorry that this is so long on mobile #i swear there's a read more that's supposed to be there #but alas

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mqgriett · 3 years

Text

Hunter- Senator?

Requested by @shadow-hyder ! Thank you so so much for the request :)))))

Prompt: “You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet did you?”

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Hunter is wee bit jealous when the target gets too close to you.

Note: I’m so sorry if this is rushed, school is kicking my ass

You methodically twirled your hair between your fingers, making it seem as if it was just for fun as you listened to the story being told. Little did the man in front of you know, it was a signal to Hunter that it was almost time for him to make his move.

“And then the ship crashes.” Bardu Kevol said, making an explosion with his hands.

You giggled, “wow. You’re so brave.” you playfully pushed his shoulder back, biting your lip in the process. Maker, this man was boring- but it was your job to distract him just until Tech had gotten the safe open to retrieve the item that had been stolen.

The Naboo Gala wasn’t the ideal place for a heist, but the Bad Batch had to make it work. When General Kenobi commed in to say that an arms dealer had stolen his lightsaber, your team was prepared to do whatever it took. The scenery made this mission slightly more bearable, but you didn’t know how much longer you could up the dumb-blonde act, your tight dress making it exponentially difficult to breathe as the night went on.

Kevol leaned forward, placing a hand on your exposed knee as he spoke, “well this has been one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in a long time.” he said, waving the bartender over. He immediately ordered two more shots of Mustafarian liquor and slid one of the small black cups to you. As he tilted his head back you did the same, only you poured the liquid behind you instead of actually drinking it.

You made a sour face, mimicking the expression someone would have after downing a shot. Wrecker was sitting behind you and quickly dropped a rag on the ground to conceal the disposed liquid, allowing the cloth napkin to absorb the alcohol before picking it back up and setting it on his lap.

“You know I’m shocked that we haven’t met before, where were you from?” Bardu questioned, his hand slowly making its way up your bare thigh. He thumbed a piece of your dress, rubbing the dark green fabric between his grubby fingers.

Batting your eyelashes, “Coruscant.” you said and placed your hand on top of his in an attempt to keep him from moving anymore up your leg. The ballroom was crowded with people, so you knew he wouldn’t dare to try anything. The feeling just made you uncomfortable, his hand slightly moist.

Hunter watched from the corner of the room, his eyes trained on you as you worked your magic on this buffoon across from you. He brought two fingers to his ear, pressing down, “What’s the status of that safe, Tech?”

A few seconds later Tech’s voice responded, “got it.”

Crosshair chimed in, “get ‘er outta there Sarg, he’s going in for a kiss.” The sniper was situated inside of an air vent, scope aiming right for Kevok’s head just for good measure.

The sergeant of Clone Force 99 made a beeline for you, and was just in time too. Truth be told he had no kriffing idea on what he would say, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of the lips of that nerfherder touching yours.

He used his shoulder to wedge his way between Bardu and you, his back facing the arms dealer. Hunter put a small smirk on his face, enjoying being only inches from your body, “You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet did you?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair.

You raised an eyebrow, knowing that that was not what he was supposed to say when he came over here. The plan was thrown out the window now, and all you could do was play along, “my apologies, Senator.”

Kevok peered over Hunter’s shoulder, looking down at you, “Senator?” he questioned.

Pushing Hunter aside, you smiled sweetly, “Did I forget already, oh silly me.” You hooked your arm within his and stood up, nudging for him to make the next move.

“I am Senator Luntrao of Bardotta.” he said cooly, “and this beautiful lady promised me a dance before the night ended.”

You tried not to let your surprise show on your face, and laughed through clenched teeth as he bowed towards the arms dealer. “This has been such a pleasant evening, Mr. Kevok. I hope to meet with you again soon.” you said kindly, turning on your heels and preparing to leave before Bardu could object.

Once you were no longer within ear-shot of him you relaxed, bringing your free hand to your tonsils and gently massaging them, “Maker it’s difficult to keep that tone of voice. My throat is killing me. My feet are crinking killing me.” you coughed, starting to veer left to leave the Gala.

The more you pulled to the left the more Hunter tugged you to the right, earning him a confused expression from you since the dance floor was to the right. You cleared your throat, “Senator, we should be leaving.”

“My apologies m’lady,” he said sarcastically, “but I still fully intend on getting that dance.” Hunter couldn’t even hide his smile at this point, very happy to take any opportunity alone with you and run with it. He was practically drinking in your appearance due to how gorgeous you looked in your long green dress. It hugged every curve, two slits up the thighs to show off your toned legs. He had been the one to pick it out and subconsciously patted himself on the back for it.

You didn’t object, despite your feet throbbing from the tall heels. Any moment alone with Hunter was a blessing, especially since you had been going on mission after mission and hardly got to see each other. Another bonus was the way his all-black suit fit him, the buttons on his shirt almost popping off of his broad chest.

Were you dating? No. Was it obvious you two had feelings for each other? Terribly.

Beautiful classical music filled the room as Hunter unhooked your arms, using that same arm to reach out to you with his palm facing the ceiling and his other hand bent behind his back. You rolled your eyes at his over dramatic entrance, placing your fingers on his palm. He lifted it in the hair, thumb folding over your knuckles as his other arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into him.

You started off in a regular waltz, moving in slow circles and occasionally spinning. Hunter’s eyes never left yours, completely entranced with the moment. As the music sped up he lifted his arm up in the air, allowing you to swiftly turn until you were back in his grip. Your dress fluttered as you spun, a nice breeze of air following.

Hunter moved his hands to your waist and you placed yours on his forearms. He effortlessly lifted you off the ground, moving in a quick circle before setting you back on the floor. You traced your fingers along his torso while walking around him and he gazed at you with loving eyes once you were in his view again.

The music slowed and so did the two of you, Hunter pressing your chests together and placing his chin atop yours. You sighed longingly, closing your eyes and simply listening to his heartbeat as you calmly swayed from side to side. A small whisper escaped your mouth, “I love you.”

He let out a long breath of air, moving his right hand under your chin and tipping it up. “I absolutely adore you.” he said softly, eye twinkling from the chandelier.

“Dank Farrik will you two just kiss already?” came Wrecker’s loud voice over the comms.

Hunter rolled his eyes, dipping you as low as he could without drawing too much attention. He brushed your hair behind your ear, running his thumb along your bottom lip as you cupped his cheek. He craned his neck down, gently pressing your lips together.

If time had permitted, he could have stayed there with you forever.

#clone trooper crosshair #clone force 99 #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper echo #bad batch #the bad batch #hunter x reader #bad batch x reader

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ohnopoe · 3 years

Text

Main Attraction | Jack Daniels

Ship: Jack Daniels x afab!Reader Summary: Going undercover can be fun, but sometimes the target isn’t the only one you find yourself distracting Word Count: 2.5k+ Author’s Note: This is my INSANELY late entry for the wonderful @din-damn-djarin‘s Song Prompt Writing Challenge! My song was, of course, Main Attraction by Jeremy Renner. Also, super sorry, I do try and keep my readers as gender neutral as possible, but this one just kinda happened!

The job was simple, well, as simple as it could be when partnered with none other than Jack Daniels himself. You’d been briefed, of course, taken note of every detail Champ had thrown in your direction, but the truth of it was, you hardly needed it.

Your role was one you’d played before, hell, you’d played it so damn often that it was practically second nature at this point.

You were the distraction.

So many times you’d been tasked with the role, especially as one of the very few female agents at Statesman, and often it was a lot of fun. High class, expensive balls, exclusive events you’d never attend otherwise. It had left your wardrobe bustling with beautiful dresses and outfits that Champ saw no reason for you not to keep, each attached with memories of fun filled nights where you kept the bad guys captivated as whichever agent you were partnered with did the heavy lifting, searching for whatever it was you were after.

There was something ethereal about standing before your wardrobe, running your fingers over gowns you could never dream to afford otherwise, they were a hint at another life, the life of your covers, of something luxurious and exquisite, something many dreamt of.

But those gowns remained exactly where they belonged tonight, on hangers and dust covers, safe at home and far from the dangers of your job.

No, this distraction asked for something very different. It wasn’t about long flowing gowns, or diamonds that caught even the subtlest of lighting, shining their brilliance throughout the room. Tonight called for something far from all of that, but just as captivating, if the glances Jack had been throwing your way were anything to go off.

The drive had been surprisingly quiet, in fact, you would have been worried that Jack was actually nervous, had you not caught the way he quickly glanced away when you caught him staring at the high hemline of your skirt out of the corner of his eye.

You’d been on missions like this together plenty of times before, with plunging necklines and slits up your thigh that were meant to keep the gaze of anyone who so much as glanced past you. And every time that you did, he would be there with some flirtatious comment that would have had your cheeks burning if you didn’t know he did the same to just about anyone with legs.

But this was different, it was as though the tight little dress had stolen not just his words, but his ability to think straight.

It had been almost amusing as you arrived at the secretly shady club. The way he refused to meet your gaze, the way his hand hovered against the small of your back as you entered, where he would usually happily use the excuse to play to the role, his hand slipping just a little lower than necessary.

But, that was then.

Two hours ago.

You’d been in the club for two damn hours, with all manner of lecherous men taking in what they could of your rather exposed body, and if that wasn’t getting old quick, the lack of progress certainly was.

Surely, he had to have found the papers you were after by now, it wasn’t as if the secretive sub-basement was even that big to begin with. But still, your comms remained irritatingly Jack free.

Songs bled from one to another, without any real hint as to where one ended and another begun. And you continued to dance, continued to throw just enough flirtatious glances over to the men you knew were using the club as a front for, well, let’s say nefarious activities, to keep them where they were, to keep them well away from the mission Jack was on.

But then he was there, lingering off to the side, against a wall; as if he could ever truly blend in. How no one else noticed a fucking cowboy in a club, you had no idea. How none of the women that passed him by bothered to give a second look, well, that astounded you. Even in the most ridiculous of outfits, he stole your attention at every turn, yet there he was, the covert agent of the two of you. Champ must have been losing his damn mind.

Catching his gaze, you raised a brow in question, hoping he had what you were after so you could get the hell out of there, but he gave nothing away as his lips slowly drew into a smirk, eyes drinking you in as you continued to dance amongst the crowd.

“Jack,” your voice was low over your comms, a warning tone, but the way his gaze instantly met yours gave you no sense of accomplishment, no, he was enjoying this too much. “Please tell me we can move soon.”

And there it was again, that damn silence that had your skin crawling.

It felt unnatural for Jack to be so damned quiet. Where were the quips, the quick flirtatious lines? Hell, you’d even take criticism if it just got him to say something.

But instead he just watched and, was that a drink in his hand? Oh hell no! The bastard had clearly gone up to the bar at some point to order a drink, and there you were, still putting on a show for men who made your stomach curl.

“That drink better mean you got it,” you muttered once more, watching the way his lips curled into a more prominent smirk as he took in your words. But still, he didn’t respond, simply watching you over his glass of whiskey as he took a long, slow sip of the watered down liquor.

Damn that man.

If he didn’t have it, you were going to have to think of something, and quickly. There was only so long you could keep the targets on the perfect level between intrigued and not actually trying anything, without losing their interest all-together.

But if he did have it, oh, you were going to kick his ass when you got out of there.

Movement at the booth before you captured your attention. Some of the group were on the move, and it looked awfully like they were getting ready to go back to business, to go downstairs… where Jack was meant to steal the papers you needed.

Glancing back towards where Jack had been lingering against the wall, you were met with an empty space that had you gulping nervously. Hopefully, he had noticed they were on the move, hell, hopefully he’d already taken what he needed to so you could be out of there already.

In your panicked thoughts, you didn’t even notice the way a new body shifted through the dance floor until the warmth of their body radiated through the thin fabric of you little red dress.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jack’s voice was like velvet, that southern twang drawing out each word languidly. It was the same tone he used when you needed to calm down, when your fears and anxieties got the best of you. The same tone he used when convincing you to rest, to let him take the first shift and just get some sleep while he looked after you both. It was the same tone he used when the others couldn’t hear him over the comms, when work slipped away, and Jack was just- Jack.

And it worked, for all of a few seconds. Your shoulders dropped, your body unwinding from the tight coil it had wound itself up in defensively. It worked, until you remembered the bastard still hadn’t actually told you if he’d got the damned papers.

“Jack, if you don’t have-”

“Relax, I got it,” he interrupted, each word dancing over your skin, his lips so damn close to your ear that there was no way anyone could over hear him.

Humming in approval, and finally feeling the calming effect that having Jack by your side on the job always seemed to bring, you began to turn towards him, only to have him stop you.

His hands were playing against the fabric of your dress, so light you could almost believe you were imagining the gently caresses, were it not for the warmth he emanated.

Your words were oddly reluctant as you spoke again, your mind desperate to remind you of the job at hand, no matter how much your heart and body wanted to lose themselves to the man behind you. “Then can we go?”

“Don’t wanna rush off too quick, do we? Might cause a fuss,” and while normally you might argue, might point out that every minute spent in the humid club was another minute for the target to realise what you had taken, you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to fight him.

Not when those large hands spread out against your waist, holding you with that same lingering care that had you catching your breath when you arrived. Not when his breath danced over the bare skin of your neck and shoulder, so light that you worried it would draw out goosebumps. Not when the smell of his cologne was filling your senses, intoxicating and captivating.

No, maybe one dance wasn’t the worst idea, especially as it gave you an excuse to raise your hands behind you, to sink your fingers into the small curls at the base of Jack’s neck as he hummed happily against you.

Even the music, grating and loud, seemed more acceptable with Jack swaying behind you. And, sure, it was still part of the show, an excuse to leave the dwindling audience without being obvious, an out before any of them got too possessive of what they thought was all for them, but with your eyes closed, and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, for a moment, you could pretend.

You could pretend that it was real, that you were just out for a night off with the man that had captured your attention the moment he tilted his stupid hat in your direction. You could pretend that his hands wandering against you reverently were truly filled with the care and devotion that they played at. You could pretend that this was completely normal.

It was over too soon, but even in your blissed out moment of daydreaming, you couldn’t begin to pretend that it was still the same harsh electronic beat that had begun when he had sidled up behind you, even if it seemed Jack was in no great hurry to leave either.

But you had to, especially now that the group you had been keeping an eye on was dwindling even further as you found yourself distracted by Jack’s touch.

Pulling your hands from him felt like a magnitudinous feet, something you ought to be proud of as you turned in his hold. He didn’t back away, didn’t remove his hands from your waist, he merely stood there, staring down at you with a look in his eyes that- no, that was a trick of the fluorescent lights. There was nothing there, but the usual mischief that always lingered beneath the surface.

“We should go,” when had your voice turned so soft?

“We should,” he agreed, but made no move to leave, lingering there in the moment, until it seemed as though a switch had been flicked within him, and he was pulling away. “Come on,” he nodded towards the doorway, hand taking yours so gently that it had your heart thumping away in your chest almost violently.

The cold air of the night hit you the moment you made it outside, and with it came your wits. Jack’s hand was dropping your own in an instant, as if it had burnt him, and any feelings of warmth that had been brewing within you left at the movement. And then those thoughts were there, questions and irritations, bubbly away below the surface, now taking centre stage as you searched your bag for the keys.

It wasn’t safe to linger on the softness you felt towards your fellow agent, it would only end in heartache, only cause you issues on the job. But anger, irritation, that was much safer.

Your steps were fast, desperate to put as much distance between you and the club as possible as you focused on the brewing rage.

You could focus on the way he waited, stood on the sidelines as you distracted the target, as he took his time when you should have been making your way far from the club. You could focus your attention on the completely unpredictable manner his personality seemed to shift, emotions flaring from playful and light to silence in a matter of seconds, without a hint of explanation. You could focus on your damn job, the reason you were there in the first place.

“You want to tell me what took you so damn long?” you were fuming as you started the car, not daring to look towards the source of your irritation.

“What can I say, I was distracted,” he answered so easily that it only stoked the fire within you.

“By what Jack?” your tone was harsh, harsher than it had ever been directed towards him as you peeled out of the carpark, ready to merge amongst the masses and lose any trace of you in the crowd. “You were standing there for god knows how long, and you must have found the papers beforehand- so I don’t see what-”

“By you sugar,” he interrupted with a warm chuckle that fought to melt the icy barrier you had placed around your heart once more. And it was working, hell, it always worked. It was like he was your own personal kryptonite, and it left you floundering.

“By- what are you- Jack, this isn’t funny. If I’m going to have to report to Champ about why it took us a damn hour longer than expected, I want a serious answer.”

Silence answered you, filling the car just as it had on the way to the club, but it was different now. Emotions fought against one another, and it was stifling.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t take another damn second of his silence, he spoke, humour and something you couldn’t quite place filling his tone, making it softer than you had expected. “You’re kidding, right?”

You didn’t reply, only throwing a deadly serious glare his way to show just how much you were not kidding, before returning your attention to the road.

“We’ve done a few of these now, you distracting, me going in… Don’t get me wrong, you look downright gorgeous in those gowns of yours, but this-” he paused, nodding towards the dress you were sporting, the dress that hadn’t come from Statesman, but was something you had bought yourself, albeit some years ago. “You’re stunnin’, and I don’t just mean because I can get a good look at you.”

You almost hated the way your body betrayed you at his words, your glare softening, a smile beginning to play at your lips at him just being, well, him.

“This is more you, and you, well, you’re the perfect distraction, darlin’.”

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman #my fic

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]

a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.

Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.

Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.

His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.

Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.

It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.

Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you.

You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.

Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.

There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment.

It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious...

You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.

What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance.

How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment.

He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.

The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were.

When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way.

Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.

It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing.

The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.

The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.

Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up.

You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting.

Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood.

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #my stuff #commissions

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combat-wombatus · 3 years

Text

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Warnings: brief cursing (mostly just bakugou being bakugou), some suggestive humor (m*neta is involved too)

Genre: fluff (a lil bit of crack bc why not)

WC: a bit over 8k? went slightly overboard with this idea and not entirely happy with the ending but i already rewrote it like 5 times so it is what it is-

(A/N): heya! so this is my first fic and i was kinda nervous about posting it...

it started out as an idea on @todorkihoe’s discord server but then it evolved into this monstrous nightmare so...it took me like a whole week to hash everything out and the logistics of the secret santa thing was an absolute nightmare. but it was worth it!!

It was the holiday season. Most people were taking time off of work to hang out with their friends and family. You had wanted nothing more than to relax in your hot tub with a glass of sparkling cranberry juice and scrumptious holiday cookies, but being a pro-hero meant sacrifices.

You were signed on as a sidekick in the UA Hero Agency’s Tokyo branch. The UA Hero Agency was exactly that: a hero agency formed by the most illustrious graduating class at UA. Not everyone from their class eventually went into the agency, but they were a large agency, with around 36 pro-heroes working full-time. This meant that they had several branches. You, a recent graduate from UA, knew these heroes who were a year above you at UA. They were special. When you started at UA, there were already whispers about “the Class of Legends”. Every single person who graduated the year after had been through enormous trauma during their years at UA. You thought that they were true heroes: strong, unbending even in the face of overwhelming adversity. They were only in their first year when they had been attacked by villains: twice. One of them had even been kidnapped. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard they must have worked to get to where they were today. They were resilient, and it showed. The UA Hero Agency is now one of the top Hero Agencies in not only Japan, but also the world. In fact, with their combined power, you wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to make an international branch. You knew that some of the heroes at your agency, Can’t Stop Sparkling and Pony, wanted to start something overseas but didn’t yet have the manpower to make it happen. You were sure that within a few years, their ranks bolstered by new graduates, they would take UA to the international stage.

So it was Christmas Eve. Even though you wanted the chance to chill out at home with some relaxing instrumental jazz and freshly baked sweets, you were out patrolling Tokyo’s vibrant shopping sector instead, on the lookout for villains who wished to ruin everyone else’s holiday fun. The mall was abuzz with shoppers, some hanging out in the verandas with cup of hot cocoa in their hands, others hurrying through, their arms loaded with shopping bags, searching for last-minute gifts they had previously forgotten to purchase. It was definitely not the worst patrol ever. The cozy atmosphere almost had you sighing in contentment, before you heard a voice shout, “thief!”

Of course a villain had to ruin the fun. They had a tendency to do that. You weren’t very comfortable using your quirk in such a loud, crowded area, but you bet that you could catch a small-time shoplifter without it anyways. You raced through the crowd, tracing the voice that had called out moments earlier. You saw a tuft of orange hair weaving unnaturally through the crowd of shoppers, and sprinted forwards, your eyes locked on the target. You followed the path they had created unknowingly for you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It would only slow you down and light a fire under the criminal, which was exactly what you didn’t need.

Within moments, you caught up to them. Sneaking up behind them, you snatched their wrist and smacked your quirk-suppressing cuffs on it.

“Fuck!” He swore. How did he get caught so quickly? He could have sworn that there was no one chasing him. Pesky heroes. Relying on the comparative lack of heroes patrolling during the holidays, as well as the customary holiday shopping rush, was a sound strategy. He had done the same in previous years without getting caught. If only that damned, nosy civilian hadn’t shouted…

“Please do not resist arrest. It will be easier for all parties involved. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. There are eyewitnesses to your crime. Please drop your bags and hold out your other wrist.” You said calmly. You had a beautiful voice. It was calming and had a lilt to it that was a byproduct of your quirk. The villain did as you said, knowing that there would be no escape.

You sighed. Pressing a button on the comms situated in your ear, you reported the situation back to your office. You then called the nearest detective station and waited until their patrol car got here so you could hand the man over. Glancing at your watch, you realized your patrol was almost over. You did one last sweep of the premises, then headed back to the agency.

Today, the agency was the emptiest you had ever seen it. It was a large building, with 20 above-ground floors. In fact, it was essentially a mini-city. There was a heated indoor pool, a sauna, an elite gym that would make fitness junkies drool, a massage and spa, three verandas, and a rooftop greenhouse. It had a café reminiscent of the UA cafeteria, and all types of cuisines were available. In fact, Lunch Rush’s niece was working in the café, and the food was always heavenly. Sometimes, heroes from other agencies would drop off at the UA Hero Agency just for a bite of food after a long patrol. It was the unofficial headquarters of all the hero agencies in Japan, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Thinking about the café, you were suddenly hungry for some pad thai. Arriving at the door, you dropped off your comms and cloak at the door to your office and headed down to the café for some food.

“(Y/N)!!! You’re back!” Your friend squealed.

“Yeah Mina, just got off of patrol. Arrested this shoplifter trying to take advantage of the holiday chaos.” Spying her coat in her hands, you realized she was on her way out.

“Cool! You’re always so efficient with your arrests. Anyhow, I’m going to head home. My parents and I are getting some dinner together. I’ll be back for the party, yeah? Don’t open any presents without me!” Mina waved, a grin on her face. You assured her that you would make sure everyone waited for her to celebrate. You wanted to see your parents too, but they were currently on an international tour. They were famous singers, pioneers of a new genre of music. It was a sort of lullaby, but it wasn’t meant to put people to sleep. It was more of an enchanting, calming kind of music present only in fantasy books before your mother brought it to life. She was wildly popular, and your father was only too happy to support her. Speaking of which, your phone rang in your pocket. You took it out and accepted the video call.

“(Y/N)! It’s so nice to see you baby! How’s it going? I know you had patrols today but I forgot about the time difference and your father had to stop me before I called you and distracted you during patrols! He’s always so paranoid you’ll hurt yourself, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?” Your mother was always cheerful.

“Yeah mom, I know. I’m doing pretty well, actually. I arrested a shoplifter today,” you replied, recounting the same story you just told Mina. “Everything’s pretty calm here. How’s your tour going? I missed you,” you asked her.

“That’s good to hear sweetie!” You mom smiled. “The tour is amazing. I’ve never had such an international turnout before! Maybe I need to start considering singing in other languages! Everyone’s always so supportive.” You smiled at her, happy that she was enjoying herself.

“You deserve it Mom. I’m glad that your music is appealing to an international audience. You always work so hard. It’s nice to see that people appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Thanks sweetie. Here, I’ll let your dad talk to you for a bit.” There was a bit of shuffling on her end as she handed the phone over to your father.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father’s voice boomed through the phone. You held your phone away from your ear, wincing a bit. Quickly dialing the volume down, you responded.

“Hey Papa. Mom said the tour was going well.”

“Yeah, it is. How’s the holidays going for you?” You heard the slight sadness in his voice. You knew that he wanted Mom to take a break in the middle of the tour and spend Christmas with you, but Mom was adamant about it. It was a holiday tour, after all, and tickets had already been booked. Some people were going to see her concerts as a way of celebrating, and she wouldn’t let them down.

“I’m doing good. It’s pretty peaceful here. No big missions or anything,” you say, in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ok, that’s good to hear sweetheart. We miss you.”

“I miss you too, Papa. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here when you guys get back. Have fun in Paris!” You replied, suddenly feeling sad. “Bye Papa! Bye Mom! I’ll see you guys soon!” You blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sighing a little, you trotted towards Emiko, the revered chef.

“Can I have a pad thai please?” You asked, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“One pad thai, coming right up!” Emiko beamed. “So, I hear there’s a party tonight. Should I make anything special?”

You thought about it for a bit, then shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s mostly just for the presents. We already have the booze covered. I think Momo is ordering some special hors d’œuvres already and Sato is taking care of the cookies. Are you coming?”

Emiko shook her head. “I’m spending the night with my family and my boyfriend. I think I might make you guys some tiramisu though. I have all the ingredients and I don’t want them to spoil since I’ll be gone for a few days. Desserts are my specialty anyways,” she added. Then, with a knowing smirk, she prodded your arm. “Do you have anyone on your mind? You know, Mina and Ochaco hung some mistletoe up before they left…”

You blushed. Of course they did. Your friends knew all about your one-sided crush. You also knew that he would still be working here. He was always working. You were pretty sure that he had the mind of a robot, focused only on his work and his legacy. With those hand motions he made, you weren’t surprised if he actually was one. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. Emiko didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think she knew. You really regretted telling Mina about your little crush. With her tendency to run her mouth, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire agency knew already. With the exception of your actual crush, of course. He was simply too socially dense to see the signs and too uninterested to pry.

Taking your pad thai, you scurried away from a smug Emiko and plopped yourself down at a table. You dug into your noodles and sighed in contentment. Maybe working during the holidays wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like you had friends who weren’t as busy as you were anyways.

You finished the last of your noodles, then got up and took your tray to the recycling area. Heading up to your office, you paused by Ingenium’s office. His door was cracked open, and you peeked inside. You had to muffle your giggles at the sight.

He was wrapping presents with such a focused look on his face that you found absolutely adorable. His brows were furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He had a spool of ribbons laying on the floor next to him, as well as elegant white-and-gold wrapping paper and a roll of tape. What really amused you was the pile of paper, ribbons, and tape that was bunched together and tossed aside, obviously a result of trial and error. Iida looked frustrated. He had already put his presents in boxes so that they were almost uniform in size and easier to wrap, but he was clearly struggling. You estimated that he had forty boxes littering the floor, but he only had five wrapped. You watched as he ripped off the wrapping on the newest box he had started on, muttering about how hard it was to get straight edges with the wrapping paper. Knocking lightly on his door, you stuck your head around the doorway.

“Need some help?” You asked.

Iida looked up from unspooling more wrapping paper. His face brightened at your offer.

“Yes please, (Y/L/N)-san! I would greatly appreciate your aid. I seem to be having trouble folding the paper and trying to tape it together without it sliding from its position. If you could hold the paper in place while I tape, that would be wonderful!” He looked so excited, almost like a puppy.

You smiled at his eagerness. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

You sat down across from him and held the wrapping paper in place while he tore off a piece of tape. The two of you worked in tandem for around an hour, until you finished wrapping all the presents. You sat back, face flushed, and surveyed your work. All forty presents, wrapped with elegant paper and tied up prettily with a gold organza ribbon, were laid out neatly on the floor. It was a satisfying sight. Rolling out your back and cracking your knuckles, you got up from the floor.

“Those were a lot of presents, Iida-san,” you yawned, stretching your arms back like a cat. “Do you want to go down and get some hot cocoa? Emiko already left, but I can make us some.”

Iida got up too. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, and he had a dazed look about him. “That would be greatly appreciated, (Y/L/N)-san. Thank you very much for helping me wrap my presents. It was irresponsible of me to leave them until the last minute.”

“Of course, Iida-san,” you replied. “We were all so busy before the holidays I’m surprised you wanted to wrap everything as fancy as you did. I know that I just stuck my presents in bags, covered them with tissue paper, and called it a day! You didn’t even buy those sticky bows, you tied them with real ribbons. That’s dedication!”

Iida blushed furiously at your compliments. It’s the perfect time to confess to her, he thought. We’re alone, and there’s no one here to see if she rejects me. He took in a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to say something to you, but before he could, you grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway for some much-desired peppermint hot cocoa.

Humming lightly to yourself as you lead Iida down the halls, you entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Releasing his hand, you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they were shaking slightly. Wow, you thought. I really did that. I really just snatched his hand like that. Ugh, he probably hated it every second of the way, he’s just too polite to say anything. God, my palms are so sweaty. Why did I do this to myself?

Unbeknownst to you, Iida was having a mental freak-out of his own. Ahh! She grabbed my hand! And she didn’t seem to hate it! Does this mean she really doesn’t mind my company? Maybe I actually do have a chance with her! No, stop, he told himself. She was probably just tired of how I was staring at her and decided to do something about it. Ugh, I was staring at her, wasn’t I? God, I’m such a creep. Iida wiped his palms on his slacks, then reached up and adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the obvious blush on his face.

“Ding!”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby. The decorations had been up for two weeks already, but it still took your breath away every time you saw it. There were garlands of lights strung high all over the ceiling, and dainty little ornaments hung from the chandeliers. There was a huge Christmas tree next to the fireplace, the floor around it coated in snowy fuzz. You had to resist the temptation to jump in on multiple occasions. You couldn’t help yourself! It just looked so fuzzy and comfortable, like clouds of cotton candy…

The Christmas tree was decorated tastefully. There was a surprising lack of hero-themed ornaments, mostly due to Momo’s elegant decorating. You had all been in agreement when you refused to let Kaminari or Mineta even touch the tree.

Making your way to the kitchen, you relaxed a little when you breathed in the apple-scented candles. It was a surprising choice for a holiday scent. Usually, pine or cinnamon were much more popular scents. You had gotten the privilege to choose the candles though, and although you almost fainted sniffing at every single scent in the candle store, you decided on apple. It was nice and refreshing, with just a subtle touch towards the holiday season. You liked the change of pace from the usual holiday scents, and it seemed it was growing on everyone else too. You stopped at the cabinets that contained the hot cocoa bombs. Emiko had seen these as an online trend with the food community, and she had made dozens of them “as an experiment”. Everyone fell in love with them (because heroes are allowed to be childish!) and they stuck. Now, the agency had an entire cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to the delightful goodies.

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

Iida had, unfortunately, spaced out again. He was thinking about how cute you looked, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet.

“Hello? Earth to Iida-san,” you turned around and waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay there?”

Iida blinked and had to recompose himself again. He kept getting distracted. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Regular is fine,” he replied, his face flushing once again. He really needed to stop daydreaming.

You poured out some milk into a jug and heated it. Then, you placed a hot cocoa bomb in each mug, licking some sprinkles off your fingers as you did so. Once the milk was ready, you filled each mug to the brim, careful not to spill any. It smelled absolutely delectable. Taking a spoon from the cabinets, you stirred both cups slowly, letting the chocolate melt at an even pace.

Iida was watching all of this, and he was still having an internal debate over when to confess. Would it be better to wait until you both finished the hot cocoa? Should he even confess to you on Christmas? What if his confession ruined your holidays? He began to sweat a little, his anxiety rising with each thought. Before he could come up with an excuse to escape, you stuffed a mug into his large hands.

“All done!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your own cocoa, careful not to burn yourself.

Iida was not so lucky. Distracted by his thoughts, he raised the mug to his lips and gulped.

“Shit!” Iida swore. You blinked at him, a little shocked since he never swore, then immediately put your mug down and raced to the refrigerator to collect some ice cubes. Iida promptly put his offensive mug of cocoa on the counter, glaring at it like it just murdered his dog. Dumping some ice cubes in a glass, you hurried back towards Iida and popped one in his mouth.

“You really should be more careful next time, Iida-san,” you chided. “I just made it! You shouldn’t take such large swigs of a piping hot drink!”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Iida replied absentmindedly.

“Distracted? By what?” Your curiosity was now piqued.

Iida’s face turned ever redder than before. He averted his eyes and mumbled out some quiet words that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” You gazed up at him. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Iida’s hands were stuck to his thighs to prevent himself from freaking you out with aggressive hand gestures, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his entire life. He cleared his throat. “I said that I got distracted by you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Really?” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You weren’t sure if you heard that right, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid that he’d hear it.

Iida finally looked at you. “Really,” he confirmed.

You wrung your hands and stepped towards him. Raising your eyes to meet his, your voice a half-whisper, you gulped before your next words.

“I like you.”

Blinking twice, Iida unclasped his hands and pinched his forearm. He winced in pain, then blinked again. You laughed at his antics, then clapped a hand playfully on his bicep.

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

Slowly, a grin crept up Iida’s face. “Really?” He mumbled, obviously still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

You chuckled at how you had just asked the same thing moments earlier, but then you grabbed his large hand with your smaller one and squeezed.

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, then Iida spoke up.

“I like you too, (Y/L/N)-san.” Feeling bold now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he drew his other arm across your shoulders and drew you into a tight hug. You sighed, feeling comfortable and safe in his arms. A part of you wanted to stay like this forever and never wanted him to let go.

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Saturday afternoon at 3?” Iida’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You were bursting with excitement. A date! A real, formal, date! “I’d love to, but why so specific?” You giggled.

“Ahh, well, my patrol ends at 2:30, so I thought-”

Of course Iida volunteered for patrols the weekend after Christmas. Did this man ever take a break?

“No problem at all, Iida-san. That sounds lovely.”

Iida released you from the hug and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck. “You can… you can call me Tenya, if you’d like.”

You were smiling so big that you feared your face would split. “I’d love that, Tenya.” His eyes crinkled when you called him by his first name. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

Iida nodded his head. “(Y/N). I like that,” he said to himself. He muttered your name a few times, getting used to the way it rolled off his tongue. You blushed and hugged him again, pressing your nose into his chest. He was just too adorable.

You wanted to stay like that, but your phone dinging incessantly in your pocket made it uncomfortable.

Mina

(Y/N)!!! my parents ordered this WHOLE-ASS TURKEY for dinner with JUST THE 3 OF US!!! how we gon finish it all?!?

Mina

*burps* we did it. we finished all of it. the whole turkey. (Y/N). we. finished. a. whole. fucking. turkey. pls send help i can’t walk (Y/NNNNNNNN)!!!

(Y/N)

want me to call u an uber … mina mina MINA MINA DID U PASS OUT im calling an uber mina istg

Quickly sending an Uber to the restaurant Mina was at, you put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Tenya.

“Hey. Do you wanna get your presents and put them under the tree?” You asked.

Tenya quickly straightened up. “Thank you for reminding me, (Y/N). I had almost forgotten about them!”

“No problem!” You chirped. “Let’s go!” You took his hand in yours again and lead the way to the elevator. As the elevator chimed, the two of you waltzed in, hands still clasped together.

Humming a little tune to yourself, you stepped out of the elevator. You and Tenya entered his office, and each returned with an armful of presents, carefully stacked as to avoid damaging the delicate ribbons the two of you had spent so much time tying.

It was a tradition in the agency to get everyone something small. However, you participated in gift exchanges every year. This year, it was a Secret Santa-type exchange, but the UA Hero Agency did Secret Santa’s a bit differently. Instead of giving your partner the gift on Christmas Eve, the gifts were labeled with typed name tags in generic Times New Roman font. Then, there was the guessing portion. Everyone got 3 guesses at the party when they first open it, and after that, they get one guess per week. Whoever held out the longest (avoided being guessed) would win a batch of Sato’s homemade cookies, a week of free food from Emiko, and two patrol coupons (basically the adult version of homework passes). This year, you had drawn Bakugo as your partner. You’d decided to get him a ¥4,000 gift card to his favorite ramen restaurant, as well as a high-quality leather jacket. The gifts were pretty generic, and you thought that you had a chance at the prize. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered that last year, Momo had been so frustrated when she hadn’t figured out who had given her a pretty earring and necklace set after two months that she’d used Creation to make fingerprint dust and swiped it all over the box. It had turned out to be Todoroki. Needless to say, he’d won the prize that year.

The two of you made a few more trips, carrying gifts from his office to the tree. Checking the time, you saw that it had been an hour since Ochaco’s patrol ended. Right as you were about to call her, the front door to the lobby burst open.

“(Y/N)!!!” Your friend screeched, holding up a kitten with fur the color of cinnamon. “Look what I found on my patrol! I had to take her to the vet really quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and she didn’t seem to have an owner. Just look at her!”

You beamed. The kitten was absolutely ADORABLE. And not only was Ochaco safe, she brought a kitten back with her!

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

“Duh!” Ochaco passed the kitten from her arms to yours. Behind her, you saw Bakugou walking sullenly, arms drawn tight across his chest. You stifled a giggle at the sight. He obviously wanted a turn with the kitten too, but his pride wouldn’t let him as for it.

“We were coming back from patrols and I saw this little one stuck in a tree! And when I floated up to take her down, she just looked so sad. There wasn’t a collar on her or anything, so we took her to the vet. It seems like she was abandoned,” Ochaco pouted. “And so we asked the vet to vaccinate her and everything, and we brought her back here! Can we keep her? Mr. Grumpy over there already said yes.”

Tenya looked like he was about to object, seeing as this building had a no-pets policy, but then he saw how your face lit up and the idea and changed his mind. Maybe having a pet on the premises wouldn’t be too bad, he conceded. It’s not like there were other people sharing the building with them anyways.

“Of course we can keep her!” You squealed. Bakugou huffed a sigh. He’d have to deal with all these idiots fawning over the kitten for weeks, and he wasn’t happy about that, but there was no denying that the thing was cute. He’d mellowed out since his high school days and seeing a therapist for anger management classes certainly helped.

The kitten felt warm and fuzzy in your arms, and when you stroked it down its back with the palm of your hand, it let out a satisfied purr.

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, since you found her, and her fur is brownish, why not Coco?”

“Coco! I love it!” She beamed. Coco purred again. “It looks like she likes it too!”

You smiled and looked down on the kitty. “Coco,” You murmured. “Welcome to the family.”

Just then, Mina burst through the doors, brimming with energy and not looking at all as if she’d fainted from turkey overconsumption.

“Mina!” You ran towards her. “I thought you fainted or something!” You accused, poking her in the chest. “You didn’t even leave me on read!! You just LEFT!”

“Chill, chill, girly, I’m alive and kicking! Just had to take a quick nap because of my digestive woes,” She flashed you a big thumbs-up. “And what’s this I see? Do we have an agency pet now? Did Shinso sneak it in his pocket from the cat cafe?”

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

“I KNEW there was something fishy about his jacket the other day!”

You, Tenya, and Ochaco said at the same time.

Mina stared at all of you, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Turning around, you looked at Ochaco. “I wanna hear about this later, you hear?”

“Alright, alright!” Mina shouted. “Change into your holiday gear! Let’s get this rolling!”

You had made a sweater especially for tonight. Knitting was a great way to relax, and huddling up in a cozy armchair with the soft yarn, some hot cocoa, and your favorite book, you had finished your holiday-themed sweater in two weeks. Now, you would finally get the chance to wear it. The sweater you made was white, a soft gold-and-silver threading woven through in the pattern of snowflakes. It was a basic winter pattern, but you were proud of your work.

Setting Coco down on the couch, you headed into the locker rooms to change into your sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. Walking out, you noticed Tenya was still in his business attire, which looked pretty uncomfortable by your standards, although it did fit him nicely.

“Tenya,” you called out. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

He turned around at your voice, looking slightly taken aback. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” you replied. Good thing that your present to him was a nice, cozy, hand-knit sweater. You may or may not have thought about making him a matching one, but then you’d decided that it was too forward.

“You look…” Tenya stared at you. “You look…cute,” he said, with a small blush on his face.

Blushing at his compliment, you smiled and ducked your head. “Thanks.”

“Your sweater…it looks nice,” he added.

Playing with the hems of your sleeves, you smiled up at him bashfully. “Thanks. I made it myself. I really like knitting. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

“Oh, wow. You are truly very talented, (Y/N)!” Tenya praised.

“Thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. It seemed like you had lost the ability to say anything else. Why did you suck so much at making small talk?

Just then, Mina stepped out from the locker room and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Hey, has Yaomomo come down yet?” Mina asked.

“No, she hasn’t. Do you want me to go get her?” You answered.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just text her real quick.” Mina pulled out her phone, fingers dancing rapidly across the screen, then put it back in her pocket. Minutes later, Momo stepped out of the elevator, already dressed in a red sweater and white jeans. She always looked so put-together. You were sure that she had a second quirk.

“Yaomomo!” Mina screeched, running up to her friend. “You’ll never guess what I ate for dinner!”

You groaned as Mina recounted her dining disaster. You loved Mina, but her tendency to tell her experiences to everyone multiple times could sometimes get a little annoying. Trying your best to tune her out, you tapped Tenya’s shoulder and moved to settle on the couch with Coco.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mina shouted. “Come here!”

Begrudgingly, you stood up again, having just sat down moments earlier. “What is it, Mina?”

“We forgot to introduce Coco! Yaomomo hasn’t seen her yet!”

Oh right. You did forget. You lifted Coco with both hands, then scurried over to where Ochaco, Mina, and Momo huddled. Momo let out a quiet “aww” when she saw the kitty and lifted her manicured hands in a silent invitation to hold her.

You gently placed Coco in her outstretched arms and was about to turn and leave when Mina grabbed your elbow. “Not so fast, (Y/N),” she scolded you sternly. “Picture time!”

Mina took out her phone and swiped open the camera app. You girls all huddled together as she snapped a picture for the fans.

Settling back down with Coco on the couch, surrounded by your friends, you didn’t think that you had ever felt happier. One by one, more of your friends and coworkers began to trickle in, until finally, when a disgruntled Jirou arrived with a protesting Kaminari in tow, Mina stood up.

“Alright! Everyone’s here now, so let’s get this party rolling!”

She bounced off to the kitchen to grab plates for everyone. You could smell Sato’s freshly-baked cookies from here, and your stomach growled in response. Remembering the tiramisu that Emiko had made, you followed Mina into the kitchen.

Mina held a stack of plates that covered half her face. It was wobbling slightly, the entire thing almost toppling over multiple times. You had gotten out the fancier cake platter and was currently in hyper-focus mode, carefully moving the tiramisu from its cake mold onto the crystal platter. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the process was finally completed and the cake hadn’t been ruined.

Holding the crystal tray with both hands, you stepped out into the lobby, marched over to the coffee table in the center, and slowly set the tray down.

“Hey guys, Emiko made us some tiramisu,” You called out. “Come here if you want some.” You held a cake knife in your hand and began serving everyone.

Tenya watched all of this with barely-hidden admiration. You were just so competent. So hard-working, so kind, and so wonderfully skilled at everything you do. Even the things that you weren’t good at, you tried your hardest to learn and to improve. He was definitely in deep, and to be honest, he didn’t mind a single bit. You were worthy of being admired, and he vowed that he would let you know in all the ways he could.

As you served the last slice of tiramisu to Ojiro, you carried the cake platter back to the kitchen and sat down next to Shinsou, who was, not surprisingly, hogging all of Coco’s attention. Seeing you, Coco scrambled over Shinsou’s lap and faceplanted into yours. You laughed at her enthusiasm and snorted when you heard Shinsou mutter “traitor” underneath his breath.

“So Shinsou,” you started casually. “What’s this I hear about you stealing cats from the cat café?”

Shinsou’s face immediately turned a tomato red. He put his hands up defensively. “No, wait, you have it all wrong- I swear- who told you about it anyways? Never mind,” he stopped his waving motions. You snickered. You were definitely getting the full story out of him later. For now, you had things to do.

Strolling over casually to Tenya with Coco still in your arms, you very sneakily dropped her, front paws landing gracefully, onto Bakugou’s head.

“Hey! What’s this damn cat doing here!” Bakugou yelped. Coco also yelped, and it came to you that dropping her on Bakugou’s spikey hair was probably not the best idea ever. However, as Coco quickly scampered down and curled up on Bakugou’s shoulder, and Kirishima was sitting next to him to make sure he didn’t kill the cat, you felt a sense of triumph. Bakugo was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning maniacally as he beat someone up, but genuinely smiling. You gave yourself an internal high five as you moved onto your next goal.

You walked hesitantly towards Tenya, and when he turned his head towards you, about to ask what you were doing, you quickly linked your hand with his and started leading him towards the rest of the group.

“(Y-Y/N) ?” Tenya sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You replied cheekily. “I want to hold hands with you!”

“B-but, do they know?” Tenya gestured nervously with his free hand.

“Nope, but they’re about to,” you grimaced, thinking about all the teasing you’d have to endure from your friends later. Better to just get this over with during the party, when everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and any embarrassing moments would hopefully be forgotten moments later when more exciting things came along, such as Mineta’s annual lingerie gift. Whatever the powers that be were doing, they were definitely not doing the world any favors when they let Mineta draw a girl for the Secret Santa every single year. But, for all the bad things you could say about Mineta, he definitely consumes enough material to have at least semi-decent taste in lingerie. Surprising, and sometimes gross, but not entirely unwelcomed if you could manage to forget who gifted it. The most disturbing thing was he knew all the girls’ sizes. You tried your hardest to not think about that. It’s not like you could erase his memory anyways.

You settled down with Tenya on a vacant couch, inwardly counting the minutes until someone noticed your position. Tenya looked vaguely uncomfortable, his posture ramrod straight, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“No one’s going to judge or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered into his ear. “And besides, at least half the girls already knew I had a crush on you, so this won’t entirely come as news to them.”

Tenya relaxed slightly at that, then stiffened again when he noticed a pair of eyes glancing his way.

Midoriya had been excited at seeing Ochaco for the first part of the evening, but then had wondered where his other friend had gone. He knew Tsu was in southern Japan, as she couldn’t stand the cold and was operating in the warm coastal areas instead, but Iida being absent was strange. He had searched around the lobby, and when his eyes descended upon you and Iida cuddling on the couch, he was intrigued, to say the least.

He stared at the two of you for a solid minute, not wanting to disturb your peace. Slowly, he turned back to Ochaco, thinking that it wasn’t his place to draw attention to the two of you.

Ochaco, however, had no such qualms. Noticing how Deku began to space out during their conversation, she followed his line of vision to the two of you, blinked twice to check if she was seeing it right, then immediately let out a squeal.

Heads turned at the sound, and in moments, everyone was staring at you and Tenya curiously. You hadn’t noticed the attention yet, but Tenya had, and he grew stiffer and stiffer until you finally looked up at his face with furrowed brows.

“Tenya, what’s wrong?” You whispered. “Do you not enjoy cuddling? I can stop if you’d like,” your lips were pressed together in concern.

“I-it’s not that,” Tenya whispered back. “Look.”

You finally raised your head from his chest and saw thirty pairs of eyes staring back. After a few moments of silence, the room erupted.

“Iida-kun! Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya was the first to raise a question.

“(Y/NNNNNN)!!!!!!!!!!!” Mina practically screamed as she ran towards you. She clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. “YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOU DID IT OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE EEEEE!!!!!!”

Half the room winced at her loud tone, and you quickly moved Coco from your lap to save her from the incoming bear hug.

Mina launched herself in your arms, then stepped back and shook your shoulders until you felt your brain rattling around in your skull like soupy mush.

“(Y/N)! What did I say, huh? Bitch I TOLD you that he liked you too, and you wait three goddamn months to finally make a move!?! Honey-”

Your face flushed red. Gently, you pushed her away. “Mina, stop,” you whispered, horrified that she was making a scene. It was too late. Ochaco and Hagakure rushed towards you, Momo trailing more slowly behind them. The boys were stunned for a bit, since you had always seemed so quiet and shy, much less Iida’s feelings towards you. As their initial shock wore off, Midoriya trailed after Momo to approach Iida.

“Congratulations, Iida-kun!” He held up his arms in front of his chest. “You and (Y/N) are really cute together!”

“Yeah bro! That’s so manly that you finally confessed!” Kirishima added, with a quirk of his lips and a thumbs-up.

“Tch. Fucking coward. Took you idiots three fucking months to confess, huh.” Bakugou smirked, but you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. You actually somewhat got along with him, due to all the times Mina would drag you to hang out with her friends.

You struggled vainly against the arms of your friends encasing you. “Guys,” you pleaded. “Let me out, please.”

Reluctantly, the girls let go, and you immediately tried to redirect their attention. “Shouldn’t we start opening presents?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, you sneaky little thing,” Mina wagged her finger in your face. “Don’t think we’ll forget about this, (Y/N), but you’re right, we should start opening presents or we’ll be here all night.”

“We’ll be here all night anyways,” Todoroki pointed out.

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

Mina enlisted the help of Ojiro and Shoji to pass out the Secret Santa presents; you’d all open the rest of your personal presents later.

The best way to go about this, after years of trial and error, was for everyone to open their presents at the same time. It would simply take too long for everyone to open theirs one by one, and you’d all realized that the people who opened theirs first had a significant disadvantage when it came to guessing who their partner was, as the ones who opened theirs later had the benefit of some options already being eliminated. When you opened your present, you tried your hardest to hold back a squeal. It was a limited-edition album from your favorite artist! You hugged it close to your chest, and immediately knew who gave it to you. Jirou. Her parents were musicians too, and you had bonded over your love of this artist. It was a thoughtful gift, and you were glad that she had given it to you, even though it immediately gave her away.

The rest of your friends opened their presents. Poor Momo. No wonder Mineta had looked so gleeful earlier. He had been her Secret Santa and had gotten her a lacy black lingerie set. Her face was so red you were beginning to get scared that she would hyperventilate, but you had to admit that it was a pretty nice set. Mineta was basically drooling at this point, and Jirou was trying to comfort her while sending a death glare towards Mineta. Mineta, meanwhile, had received a new video game. Sero had received a large pack of farmer’s market coupons, as well as some homemade mochi from Ochaco, who had blushed and apologized profusely for not being able to afford something better for him. Sero just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, saying that it was completely okay and that he appreciated her effort into gift-giving. She had brightened up a bit at that.

Koda had received a new hamster wheel along with some toys for his various pets. Shoji had been gifted a comfortable-looking poncho, as well as three pairs of matching gloves. Ochaco had received a generous sum of money, Midoriya had gotten a new set of comic books, and Iida had received a beanie and a multiflavored pack of tea. Aoyama had received a makeup set, and had gifted a makeup set as well, evidenced by his inability to contain himself and pounced on Hagakure, asking if she liked it. Hagakure was ecstatic, babbling about how she could finally show her face and how she’d never really been able to afford a full set before and how Aoyama was so considerate.

Sato had received a new baking pan, as well as cute mittens and a trending recipe book. He had given Setsuna a batch of cookies, as well as a gallon of frozen cookie dough with instructions on how to make it. There wasn’t really a point in him trying to win the contest, since he would be one of the people providing the prize. Mina had gotten fuzzy socks and a blanket, Kirishima had received a new pair of tennis shoes, and Jirou had been gifted a new pair of headphones. Ojiro had received some sort of custom tail armor with spikes along with an Amazon gift card, and Todoroki had gotten a hand-made red-and-white sweater with a red reindeer nose smack in the middle, along with a gift card to a hair salon, tucked into a bouquet of red-and-white candy canes. The only person you could think of that would go so far into the color scheme was Hagakure, who seemed like just the type to make an ugly sweater for fun. Shinsou had received earmuffs, a silk eye mask with a note (“to help you sleep”), and some gourmet coffee beans (“in case you still can’t”). Mina had seen the little notes that came with his gifts and started teasing him relentlessly about how sweet his Secret Santa was and how it was so cute that he had a secret admirer. Shinsou looked very nonchalant about it all and grumbled about how he just wanted to pet Coco and then go to bed.

Finally, Kaminari received some Pokémon cards to add to his collection (yes, he collected Pokémon cards, what was wrong with that?) along with another Pikachu plush, as per usual. It was an unspoken tradition that whoever drew Kaminari for their Secret Santa would get him a Pikachu plush along with whatever else they decided to give him. He had about twenty, collected over various years from birthdays and holidays. If this kept up, he’d be able to fill an entire closet with them once he retired.

As the chatter slowly died down, you snuggled into Tenya again. At some point during the present exchange, Shinsou had stolen Coco from the couch you occupied. Stifling a yawn, you pulled out a bag and handed it to Tenya.

“What’s this?” He asked, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s your gift, silly,” you booped him on the nose with your index finger.

“Ah, I see,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Duh,” you giggled into his chest. “What else would you do with it?”

Chuckling lightly, Tenya removed the tissue paper from the top of the bag. He stuck his hand inside, then pulled out a sweater. The sweater that you’d knitted for him. It was navy, the color of the yarn matching his hair, with gold and white snowflake detailing. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you had made this especially for him, with your own hands. Putting the sweater down beside him, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face to your hair.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I love it.”

You flushed, but you hugged him back. “You’d better,” you teased. “I spent two weeks on that.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” Tenya ruffled your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the pleasant atmosphere. Yawning, you stretched out your arms, careful not to hit Tenya in the face. You gently pushed his arm off of your torso and got up to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, Tenya was nowhere to be seen. You searched around the common area and stepped briefly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, you grabbed your parka and padded outside.

“Tenya?” You called out as you stuck your head around the doorframe. He was with Kirishima and Todoroki, clearing the entryway of the building of snow. You leaned back along the handrails of the stairs and watched. Your friends were all just so nice. So caring, so wonderful, so kind. As Todoroki evaporated the last bit of snow, you stepped aside to let them all head back in. As Tenya reached you, he paused briefly, looking up.

“What?” You tilted your head up also, curious to see what he was staring at. Oh. So this was where Mina and Ochaco had decided to hang the mistletoe. If Tenya hadn’t looked up, you would’ve missed its existence entirely. You looked back down at Tenya to gauge his reaction.

He gulped, and softly taking your chin into his hand, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. You leaned up to meet him, rising slightly on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and sweet, and you were both a bit breathless when you let go.

You smiled sweetly up at him and took his strong hand in yours. Standing on your tiptoes again, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

134 notes · View notes

quidfree · 3 years

Note

hello ! just wondering, how are warlock and adam doing ? any hcs that didn't make it into the fic? or any thoughts on them that you haven't mentioned? it has been a while since you wrote them so i understand if there's nothing that comes to mind !! just searching for maybe a few crumbs bc i haven't found anyone who writes them nearly as well as you do.

haha, wow, i haven't properly thought of that fic since i wrote it but i do love warlock and adam. let's see what i can offer.

updates on warlock and adam:

they've been fucking around trying to test adam's subconscious control over his powers, with varying degrees of success. adam's longest stretch a full week without any supernatural interference of any variety, but for the moment they are decisively not trying to replicate that success because once the week ended adam's powers went into overdrive and caused global upset as well as leaving warlock thoroughly disney-fied for weeks after the fact, to his profound irritation and adam's supreme amusement. brian enjoyed the veritable zoo of animals tailing him around, though. pepper did not enjoy the constant musical cues. wensleydale thought it was kind of cute. adam insisted that he was powerless to fix it after the 'exhaustion' of fixing the global upset part, which warlock absolutely did not believe given the absolute smugness on his face whenever warlock started sparkling.

on a less consequential level adam and warlock enjoy messing around trying to see to what degree adam can suppress his powers without concentrating on it too hard, but no one else particularly enjoys this because (as pepper puts it) 'you are not fooling anyone into thinking this isn't some kink thing'. warlock pleads the fifth. adam doesn't even bother.

adam is extremely intrigued by warlock's misappopriated demonic/angelic powers, which warlock finds supremely embarrassing given that they can do almost nothing, leave him with a horrible headache, and are in any event completely ineffective on adam himself. adam finds it fascinating, though- for one because despite angels and witches he's in short supply of supernatural friends, for another because he can actively feel that the power does not belong there and adam quintessentially enjoys prodding at a bruise, and of course because he finds warlock's embarrassed pride about his repertoire of tricks suffocatingly adorable. despite warlock's reluctance he does at least appreciate the ace he has, because even though his powers don't work on adam whenever he gets to the point of using them adam knows he's serious, and also adam will inevitably stop being mad at him in the face of his subsequent nausea. never let it be said he's above naked manipulation. gotta make nanny proud.

they've definitely had some extremely melodramatic fights since the fic ended, as is the nature of two antichrists(ish) dating each other. a lot of it is predictable- adam tries, but his powers have less of a conscience than he does, so there have been Incidents, like the time the oxford rowers capsized violently during a race. on a lesser scale the demonic powers are jealous to a fault, which adam really actively isn't (or at least not consciously), which warlock knows full well he should find less charming. it's just sometimes they kind of feed into each other's vices- adam doesn't keep a tight enough rein on his powers and warlock gets mad but also kind of maybe encourages it and then adam gets irked at warlock and...

adam takes great pleasure in being the boyfriend-iest boyfriend of all time, naturally, so reality bends for warlock's convenience if he so much as frowns to himself. warlock is really trying to be less flustered every time because he knows full well it only encourages him, but he's kind of a complete sucker for attention and affection, so it's not going very well for him. he would hate himself more if he wasn't so busy trying not to melt into the floor. adam is horrible and will fully just sit there chin in hands observing him dreamily as warlock fights to regain his cool. still, warlock gets him back as best he can- he's starting to combine crowley's vicious revenge plans with aziraphale's 'kill em with kindness' moves, which results in him darkly plotting just for the purpose of doing something nice that'll catch adam off guard. adam is always thrilled by being hoodwinked, and then also not actually all that used to people making a concerted effort to draw emotions out of him, so he falls prey to these shenanigans more easily than you'd expect. unlike warlock he never offers any resistance, though, so warlock has to content himself with the victory of watching his powers go wonky- blossoms bursting out of the walls or fireworks outside the house or the whole room going sort of liquid and pink.

crowley and aziraphale are both horrible teases with regards to the boys (as they should be, since they get it far worse in return). crowley likes to make pointed comments about lustful auras or needle them about the freudian implications of their behaviours, whereas aziraphale will just go on at length quoting love poetry or asking them about their feelings with the utmost tenderness until crowley takes pity and informs them he's doing it on purpose. they both find them intensely cute, though aziraphale is just delighted by this where crowley is trying very hard to appear less thrilled than he is. warlock is mostly weirded out about their commentary about the supernatural aspects of the whole ordeal, where aziraphale will be like 'oh, my, that poor demon fellow who hit you really seems to be taking badly to the dismembering and hot pokers in the pits of hell. could you pass the ladder?' and crowley will be like 'unholy hell, adam, control yourself, if i have to see one more demonic apocalypse murder-beast turned into an adorable stray cat i'm going to be sick'.

the them, obviously, are also weirdos and like to observe the whole warlock-adam dating debacle with the interest of scientists observing an experiment in a lab, mainly in terms of adam's never-ending capacity to reveal new and exciting facets of his personality and/or powers. brian takes it all in stride the easiest, so he'll just be like 'oh, neat, a peach tree' and take himself a peach when it erupts in the middle of the library. wensleydale somehow winds up playing confidante so he sits through all the over-sharing and also all the fighting details and then does deep research to attempt to provide them with a helpful answer. sometimes he just reads cosmos. he thinks warlock is onto him. pepper's very secret and very dark fear is that one day adam will decide kids would be fun and hellspawn will just pop into existence fully-formed and dangerously adorable. they are all very impressed by the odd occasion on which warlock actually gets adam to decide he was wrong about something, though pepper is firm that it does not count when adam is only agreeing because he's too blissed out to pay attention.

i hope that you enjoy these crumbs-and thanks, incidentally <3 comms are always open, if you're looking.

#qui parle #qui repond #anon #good omens #qui ecrit #hcs #warlock dowling #adam young

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Telling Tales.”

This story came as a suggestion from someone on the discord server, so I hope you all enjoy a break from some of the heavier stuff I have been doing lately.

The room was large and filled with noise, mostly the clinking of glasses and the clattering of voices, but on occasion the comm systems echoed with a cool female voice broadcasting announcements across the entirety of the station.

There were at least forty tables inside the room packed in close together, with a long bar at one end where men and women alike stood standing and chatting to each other as they took their drinks. Below that was the low rumble of music, and up on all four walls, large projection screens broadcasted earth sports in delayed time.

At the far end of the room a large viewing window looked out on a wide view of space and the rest of the station. The station itself was huge, stretching out for what could have been miles and miles of tightly packed corridors and branching rooms. The station itself was a mesh of Tesraki and human technology and had been built right here in orbit….. In orbit of the thing staring at them from out in the darkness.

A supermassive black hole ringed by a disk of bright light and a halo that cut across the middle.

Honestly as McCaster stepped into the room, he found the view very disconcerting, and had the sudden worry that…. Inexplicably they would start slowly drifting towards the black hole until they succumbed to a horrendous and terrifying death. Looking around though, it seemed that no one else seemed to think so, and he ushered himself inside and over to the bar hoping that a drink might calm him down.

He sidled up to the bar leading against the metal countertop and motion for the bartender with a hand.

She slid over to where he was. She was dressed casually, though the bearing of her chin told him that she was one of the soldiers working on the station and not just a civilian. He ordered something to drink, and he came back a moment later with a metal tankard. He took it surprised to find that he missed the bright amber liquid inside cool glass covered in a layer of condensation, but he supposed having breakable drinking vessels wasn’t going to do for a ship like this.

Still, the liquid inside his mug looked a sort of muddy brown rather than a pleasant amber.

He took another sip.

Still tasted fine though.

He turned to look around the bar watching as groups of people chatted to each other , drank and ate.

Not all of them worked here, some of them, like the crew of the Omen, had stopped by for supplies and to give their men and women some time to relax and have a little fun before they had to ship out again. McCaster felt this was really his only chance for a while, to meet people off the ship.

He sidled forward eyes scanning over the room and falling on a woman. She was pretty, young about his age with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Couldn’t hurt right?

Unfortunately, just as he was sidling up, some other gus seemed to have the same Idea, and he sat down at her table just as two others did pausing to stare at each other across the table.

McCaster looked at the young woman, “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”

She tilted her head at him in near amusement, “I can’t control where you sit.”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind if we join you.” The other man added receiving a glower from McCaster across the table.

“You work here.” The other man asked her

“Yes.”

“Well me and the boys here are just off from The UNSC Pioneer, finest ship this side of the quadrant.”

McCaster snorted into his glass, not trying to be a dick this time, but he knew THAT was a lie.

The other man glared at him, “What, you disagree.”

“Frankly, yes. Our ship is Objectively the best and that’s not even me bragging.”

“Oh really, and what ship is this.”

McCaster smirked, “The UNSC Omen, but I bet you’ve heard of it.”

There was a chorus of disbelief up from the other men.

“Right, and I bet you are personal friends with Admiral Vir too, right.”

McCaster frowned, “Maybe not personal friends, but I did fly with him once.”

More disbelieving booing.

He crossed his arms, “Don’t believe me huh well what about this.” he reached into his pocket to snag his ID card and then pulled it out, holding it up for the entire table to see, “See Lt McCaster of the UNSC Omen. I fly a Thunderhawk, and sometimes the shuttles.” This time the men could hardly argue, his iD said as much, at least as much about which ship he worked on and what he did.

THere was a light murmuring around the table.

“That’s right, so like ninety precent of my friends are aliens.” He was exaggerating just a little bit, he didn’t really interact with the aliens on the ship all that much accept for the Celzex that fixed the weapons on his jet, and the Drev he liked to play" pool with.

But the blond was looking at him with interest, so its not like he could squander this opportunity

He nodded glancing sidelong at the girl.

“Yeah, like I said, its not like the Admiral and I take lunch together or anything, ‘but’ the ship is small enough that I do run into him on a daily basis, cool guy, a bit weird though. I actually flew with him during the burg war on the Gromm home planet.”

A chorus of disbelief.

Behind him someone chimed in, “Bullshit.”

He turned to see that another table behind them had overheard his claims. There was a pretty redhead sitting there, and so he wasn’t likely to let go of his momentum. He raised his ID badge for all to see, “Not lying.” He raised his mug to his lips and took a long satisfied sip, “Disbelieve me all you wan’t but it’s true.”

“Well don’t just sit there all smug, tell us about it then.” Someone urged, and he was more than happy to oblige.

“Well, we had just been informed of the eminent Burg attack on the Gromm capital city below. I had been being debriefed by the Commander, at the time, and went with him to the bridge as we were debriefed. The Nexus was down and Burg ships were descending in swarms. They were unprotected on the planet below, and it was clearly up to our crew to stop the attack.”

His little crowd was drawing even more eyes, and he found himself with a small crowd of skeptics sitting around him listening to his every word.

He found himself speaking faster with excitement and nerves.

“I was on the bridge and watched him survey the scene, when out of nowhere he hands the captain chair over to one of his lieutenants and orders me out with him. They had orbital defences, but he knew that they had no chance in atmosphere since they didn’ have any fighter jets to push back the invasion.” he puffed out his chest, “Admiral Vir handpicked me to accompany him as his copilot and gunner.”

Another chorus of disbelief.

He shook his head, “Disbelieve me all you want, but it’s true. He knew my talents, and he knew I could keep up with him. And I tell you I have never seen a man or woman that could fly like he does.”

He had them now leaning forward in their chairs.

The best part is all of this was true…. Mostly.

“Of course, I was ready, solid as a rock, I have been training for just such situations for the entirety of my career, and I had no hesitations about what I was going to do. The Admiral was relying on me to be his copilot and damn straight I wasn’t going to let him down.” He grinned in a self satisfactory way, “He gave me charge of all the important stuff while he was flying combat…. And he made it sure in no unclear terms that if he couldn’t handle the flying, I was going to take over for him.”

Ok that was sort of a lie, but only a little one.

“I knew as soon as we were coming in that Admiral vir had an idea brewing. We didn’t go for an angled entry but instead piloted our jet straight down. I thought that the re entry was going to rattle my teeth out of my head. But as I said before I had no doubts about the Admiral. I knew we were going in, and I had inklings of what the admiral was about to do. I never questioned him.”

Also kind of a lie, but it's not like it mattered.

“We were plunging from the sky, fire spitting off our wings, going so fast it makes your insides feel like they are on your outsides. Picture the sky fading to blue behind you, fire is benign thrown off your wings like water from a waterfall, the G force is so powerful that it compresses your chest and makes it hard to breathe,” he was standing now gesturing wildly, “We plummet from the sky, and fire our guns exploding a burg ship just before it takes out one of our other fighters. We pull up right before the ground, must have been nine ten maybe even fifteen Gs.” Okay he was exaggerating, “But I stayed conscious through the whole thing.” That was also kind of a lie.

“We broke into combat with the burg drones, and I shot down at least three of them as the Admiral piloted. He said afterwards that he had never seen someone take the shots I did and make it.” Okay yes he had been passed out for half of this, but again its not like any of them were going to know.

What harm was a little exaggeration.

“I caught one burg as we were coming out of a sharp dive, my hand felt nine times heavier than it should have, but I nailed it in the engine compartment and it exploded into a ball of fire. I was still shooting them down when the Admiral orders me to take control of the ship. Of course I wanted to ask what was going on, but there was no time, I grab the stick and manuver us into a tight barrel roll. A ship explodes behind us. I have control of the jet now complete control and I pull us up into tight pursuit of another. I avoid two missiles and in a moment of genius, I drop all of our flares, which collide with at least four burg ships exploding on impact. What I hadn’t known is that the Admiral’s hand had cramped from all that earlier flying, and if I hadn’t been there he would have died. But at that moment I had no idea and proceeded to clear enemy skies over the capital city. I dived so close to the ground that we might have crashed if I hadn’t pulled us into an inverted upwards pull for the last few seconds”

He continued to speak and as he did the fight grew even more excessive and heroic. He detailed in exquisite and colorful imagery as he single handedly flew them to safety pulling off near impossible maneuvers, crack shots and many more outlandish happenings as he and Admiral Vir valiantly switched back and forth on the controls, equals in every way.

He was just describing their great and climactic fight scene where, he had to take command of the ship once again, when he finally noticed no one was really paying attention to him. He saw their eyes, looking past him.

His voice slowed, as he looked around eyebrows furrowed.

He turned where he stood and cut off mid sentence as his eyes fell on a familiar face in the crowd.

Admiral Vir sat behind him in a chair balancing on two legs, head tilted to the side. His eyepatch covered one of his eyes, but the expression on his face was one of great and abiding amusement.

He leaned forward in his seat, “Don’t let me interrupt you lieutenant. I believe you were just getting the the part where you pull an inverted double helix back loop and I pass out drooling in the front, you just manage to pull us out of that dive, and the two burg ships are so confused by the manuver that they crash into each other and explode catching the attention of all the other stunned burg in the area and allowing the other pilots a final push in clearing the sky?”

McCaster’s mouth opened and then closed and then opened again .

Admiral Vir continued to smile as McCaster stammered and gurgled like an idiot.

“So…. what actually happened.” Someone asked

McCaster plopped shamefacedly down in his seat. Admiral Vir paused tilting his head in the other direction as if thinking. A good portion of the room had gone quiet as they shuffled closer to hear the stroy. He stood after a moment and walked over to where McCaster was sitting placing his hands on the back of the chair.

“Well The first part of the story wasn’t wrong. I had been debriefing McCaster and the other recruits on a few aspects of my ship when we got the call in that the Gromm homeworld was being attacked. I DID give up command to the ship of one of my lieutenants, and I DID as McCaster to fly with me as copilot.” he smiled and easy smile that seemed to light up the room around him.

Everyone within a twenty foot radius shifted forward in an effort to be closer to the man and the magnetic nature of his personality and charming smile.

“McCaster was top of his class in flight school, and I wanted an extra pair of eyes, that is true. We did take a vertical dive into the atmosphere instead of an angled entry. Yes there was fire spitting off the wings, and yes we did pull out of a vertical dive after saving one of the other fighter jets. All of that is pretty accurate.”

HE smiled and McCaster wilted.

“He did embellish a few things.” he rested a hand on McCaster’s shoulders, “But what is a good story without a little bit of embellishment? I’ve certainly never told a story that didn’t sound about ten times better than it actually was.” There was a small laugh from the crowd, “Point being that I would certainly fly with McCaster again, he is a brave, talented, and honorable member of my crew even if he is a colorful storyteller.”

McCaster looked up at the Admiral, still leaning on the back of his chair, and watched as the man made subtle eye contact with the blond girl just a few feet away.

McCaster blushed As Admiral Vir pushed his chair forward across the ground to sit next to her.

She was smiling in some measure of amusement, and Admiral Vir winked at him as he backed away. Either that or he just blinked, it was hard to tell with the eyepatch.

He turned back to look at the woman who was looking at him in some measure of amusement.

He rubbed the back of his head.

“He seems to be one hell of a wing man, in and out of a jet.” She commented

He stammered stupidly glancing over his shoulder to where Admiral Vir had retreated to the bar, ignoring the eyes on him, hungry expressions from both men and women as he ordered a drink and sat down.

Bless the Admiral, number one for being a good wingman for sure, and two…. For not totally calling him out on all his bullshit.

Granted everyone probably guessed, but at least he could keep some of his dignity with plausible deniability.

He was able to work himself back into a state of cool suave composure, enough to learn that the woman’s name was Emily, and that she worked as a data analyst for the big black hole thing. It had a lot to do with math and physics which he totally didn’t understand, but certainly tried to because he knew she liked it.

Across the room, Admiral vir attracted ebbing and flowing waves of people coming to listen to his own stories which were mostly modest and self deprecating depictions of what really happened. Being the first person to fall flat on his face on an alien planet, how he had scared the shit out of the bran the first time he met them, how he ended up in a Rundi prison because he was being a dumbass.

There were a few times where he too tended to embellish the stories, only to preface later by saying, but what actually happened was this.

As soon as the man stepped into the room he seemed to change the whole gravity of it like a wandering star collecting satellites.

He supposed that’s what happened when you were famous.

Thanks to him though, it turned out he got along really well with Emily, and despite knowing he was a complete moron, she seemed to like him too, and he scored her number and a surreptitious invitation to accompany her on a walk to somewhere quieter.

As he was leaving, he turned back to look at the Admiral, making surprise eye contact with him as he did.

He raised his glass minutely to McCaster before turning around and continuing his story.

He grinned as Emily took his hand,.

“So….. tell me really, how many times did you pass out when flying with him.”

He snorted, “Please, I spent more than half of it passed out, like I can’t remember shit. I don’t even remember where the sky or ground was relative to each other for most of the time. The man can fly…. Like all that stuff I was telling you, just replace my name with his and you might have yourself a believable story.”

She laughed at his expense and he laughed too

Thank you Admiral Vir.

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rivertoasty · 3 years

Text

Star Wars: Revelations Tech x Natelyte

Now Revised

This is the first sexual encounter between these two characters in a series I am writing based on the aftermath of TCW.

I revised this encounter because after re-reading it a few weeks later it did not capture the vision that I have for the start of their romantic relationship.

WARNINGS: Rated MA +18, Explicit, NSFW, P in V sex, protected sex, during office hours, Auralism (sound kink), recorded encounter, feelings.

5K Words.

Norslyr Translations

Sonval: Sun drop in Afrikaans

Sonskyn: Sunshine in Afrikaans

Lokacinka: your turn – Hausa

taa ya nyota: starlight – Swahili

Zub da hasken rana a cikina: Pour your sun flares into me - Hausa

Haskaka ni da farin dodo: Spark me with a white dwarf (baby) – Hausa

Gee nog een uitbarsting my sonskyn: Give one more eruption my sunshine – Afrikaans

Star Wars: Revelations: Tech x Natelyte

Tech turns on his helmet audio function to listen to Natelyte’s special recording. The audio is Natelyte masturbating, moaning, and whining his name as she uses a high-powered vibrator on herself.

“Tech...!” She whimpers. His eyes widen at the sound of her voice calling his name. This recording was unexpected, it appeared in his room upon the Solar Scourge before leaving to complete a job. Tech knew well enough to listen to the audio in private in case it was something meant just for him. Nat’s voice breaks again as she nears release.

Tech checks over his shoulder to confirm the door is locked and proceeds to remove his cod piece. He takes it a step further and removes all his armor except his helmet, he lays out on his bed. He pulls up innocent images of Natelyte on his screen to look at as he strokes himself. Tech isn’t one to take this kind of time to himself while on a job; but the crew are already on their way to return to Norsik. He isn’t going to be needed anytime soon. Tech let’s out a groan at the lack of fluid friction he could do to himself alone. He grabs a sock from his bed side and slicks his cock with lube and proceeds to jerk himself with the sock around it. The vibrator takes on more of the volume in the background of Nat’s whimpering. Tech begins to visualize how she does it to herself, just from this audio clip alone he can deduce that Natelyte is more about clitoral stimulation than penetration.

“Make you...cum on my piece...”. He goes on babbling about all the dirty things he wants to do to Nat.

“Nat...!” He yelps at the violent ejaculation that glazes the inside of the sock. Feeling himself need more of her to get his nerves right he continues listening to Nat. Her voice breaking in high pitches that he has never heard her voice achieve before, at least not around him.

“Tech.! Oh, I miss you already.” She coos, he can envision the devious smile on her lips. Then she orgasms whining his name. He sits up tossing the sock to the floor.

“She’s so enthralling”. He sighs still thinking about Natelyte. All the things he wants to do with her...and too her. Thinking of the moans and whines she let out while calling his name, the actions she took to make this for him. It all started so innocently, she is making it clear that she’s not teasing anymore, she wants Tech.

Both of these geniuses make a schedule nearly every morning to let the others know when and where they will be throughout the day so if and when anyone needs their help, they can always find them based on the schedule. When they put it together that they both do this type of time management technique they began to plan their days to intersect every now and then just to get some time to work together, take breaks that overlap with one another’s time. Then one day, Tech cleared his schedule and he sent just ‘Natelyte’ for the whole day, to not only her but to everyone in the crew. When she saw this, she too just wiped the day away and plastered Tech’s name across the planner and they went out together for the day doing fun things instead of work. Then this job came up a few weeks later and he had to go with the Scourgemen, she slipped this audio recording in his room before they departed. Now he isn’t going to hold back what he wants to do with her. Natelyte is a beautiful and intelligent woman, a rebellious danger, something he admires most about her. The ship came out of hyperspace, Tech redresses and went out to the bridge. The crew is eager to get back to the surface to see their perspective counter parts. None of the women came along for this delivery job, it wasn’t out of disinterest, they just have much more pressing matters that require their presence to maintain at present. Hunter walks out onto the bridge to oversee the dissent to the surface being performed by Wolffe. He looks Tech up and down with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow, knowing full well that Tech is a horny little bastard right now. Tech shrugs the look off, at least he is getting something from his girl.

The crew land at the platform and Tech was off the ship and dashing towards Natelyte’s office building. Assuming she would be walking from that direction, he turns a corner and there she is. Her face brightens with a smile to see him alive and in one piece. They briskly walk towards each other and embraced. Their armors clad against each other couldn’t stop the feeling of the other’s warmth.

“I listened to your message.” He says with a soft smile.

“Oh ja? Did you enjoy it my sonval?” She asks and leans into him with her breast plate more against his chest plate. His hands move further down her back to hold her more closely.

“I loved it so much that I want to participate with you my sonskyn.” He rasps lowly in her ear and nibbles at her lobe, wasting no time as always. Nat breaks away from him still grasping his hand to walk to her office together. They continue to converse about the job he returned from and high lights of events happening on Norsik.

Her office is open and organized, Nat closes the door behind her and activates the glass clouding feature so no one can see through the glass. Tech steps forward and cups Natelyte’s face, their eyes transfix on each other searching for the next move. Nat takes notice of Tech’s posture, now straightened and taller due to the posture correction patch Ottehok slapped between his shoulder blades to correct his hunching. Their lips connect, her arms wrap around his neck, she introduces her tongue into the mix and Tech hums with delight. Tech steps forward to press Nat to the glass wall and the kiss deepens, their heat begins to overtake their minds, instinct begins to override logic and focus.

Heat swells like a roaring star.

“Tech….” Natelyte moans when their lip’s part for just a moment. Her lust lidded hazel orbs focus on his wide brown irises shielded by his specs. “We should move from the glass. I heard someone enter the lab. People can see our figures against the glass wall…” She speaks with a reluctant smile. She did not want to pause in the moment, but privacy is priority in regard to this encounter.

He is a Voider after all.

“Ah well, to your nook then?” He smirks and pushes his frames up his bridge. He takes a few steps back to get distance from the glass. The disinterested look in Natelyte’s eyes is quickly noticed by Tech. He comes forward to take one of her hands to spin her around the space between them, so her bottom is pressed against a desk that was behind Tech. “Or I should we continue right here?” He queries in her ear with his crotch piece pressing against her apex.

“Ja right here, sonval.” She mewls as he nips at exposed flesh on her neck. His hands come down to her thighs to lift her onto the desk. Her hands push aside monitors and a keyboard to make room for their encounter on the desk’s surface. Teck kicks away a swivel chair just a foot away from their coupling. “I’ve always wanted to be taken in this office.” She lets out as Tech sucks away at her neck leaving hickies carelessly across her supple flesh. “To be railed by a man of your faculty.”

“You give me too much credit my taa ya nyota.” He smiles as his hands come down to unhook his utility harness and comm link. Nat follows suit and begins to unclasp her armor plating. They strip down to their under clothes and eagerly entangle once more to explore each other’s forms.

Natelyte’s full feminine curves draw the attention of his hands immediately. First her thighs to then fearlessly cupping her breasts. Her hands roam over his upper body memorizing every muscle groove, feeling his solid frame tensing beneath her touch, she catches notice of his flushed complexion, how pink his ears get when he blushes, it’s adorable. He is touch starved, ravenous for physical contact of any manner possible, his throbbing member sandwiched between both their thighs is evidence of his physical needs. His unbashful expression to her acknowledgement of his arousal has him take a moment and clear his throat.

“Ahem. With your permission Natelyte, I would like to record our coitus?” His query is collected and serious. She knows damn well that Tech exhibits Auralism; where one is aroused by sound; not that just any sound arouses him of course, but just the sounds that he desires to hear when in need. Hence why he has a habit of recording nearly everything; he does it for his own reasons, from safety to necessity for assignments, for proof or for study. But of course anything remotely having to do with sex, you best bet it will grab his attention for a moment before he remembers his surroundings and task at hand. Nat knows all too well he is not referring to just audio recording their encounter, he will be recording everything.

“Ja, the more angles the better actually.” She halts her movements across his body and reaches back behind herself to activate a monitor. Tech’s eyes narrow in bewilderment before she speaks again. “I can capture more than just the angle of your frames.” She speaks in a low sultry tone that rivets in his ear canal sending shivers down his spine and goosebumps to rise across his body. She opens an application that allows her to wake all of the surrounding monitors in the office, activating a recording feature. The cameras all blink with a red light signaling the start of their first coitus session. Tech stares in awe at Natelyte’s expanded reach into this kink, and his cock throbs with gratitude. “Perspective on all sides…” her tongue slips into an ear, her hands return to his body with a fiery intensity making Tech’s knees weak. His fingers brush along his goggles to begin recording their steamy encounter, and for Tech to get to work on his sonskyn.

“May we disrobe?” Nat nods and lifts the hem of his shirt first; she wants to see what this Techno Master looks like underneath everything. She is not disappointed. Tech is sporting a healthy muscle tone, a cog and skull tattoo on a shoulder and left pectoral muscle, several others accented with blaster scars and a stunning set of abs that has Nat bite her bottom lip in arousing admiration of Tech’s physique. Tech’s hands come back to Nat’s body, he lifts off her shirt and pulls down her pants, panties, and socks. His darkened brown eyes scan across her chestnut skin, her red curls complement the flecks of green in her brown pools. Navy blue and crimson red runes line across her body, markings of achievements and lessons she has mastered throughout her life. Her body is a sculpted masterpiece, Tech is far from being a religious man, but he’d be dammed it he didn’t want to worship the ground that this woman walks upon.

He worships her in a different manner.

Tech lifts her left foot into his mouth, slipping her toes between his lips, his tongue sweeping between her toes. Nat slips onto her elbows to watch Tech do his thing. He sucks on her big toe and releases it with a pop.

“That was really nice.” Nat says with a pleasant smile.

“Your clitoris looks much nicer…” Tech purrs planting a kiss to her lips first to then trail down her body. Kissing each dark nipple, her pierced naval, down to her darkly pigmented clitoris. Spreading her opening with his thumbs he inspects her coloring; it becomes pinker towards the center, her skin is smooth and tender, with arousal dripping from her. His hands glide along her thighs, his warm breath fans over her apex, he witnesses her opening contract, the slit rising and falling in a slow motion, his places a slow wet kiss to her button. Nat’s head falls back, she lowers from her elbows, to lay flat on the desk, she props her legs wide on the desktop. His hands come up to her torso, pinching and rolling her nipples with his skilled fingers, burring his face between her legs focusing all of his affections on her clitoris. Slow and featherlight ministrations, spelling his name and number in her folds, drawing all the sinful noises from Nat.

“Aw jaaa…” She drabbles on babbling words in Norslyr, pleading for Tech to go just a tad lighter when pressing onto her clit. His hands freely graze along her body, memorizing her form, her curves, down to the last scar. Heat begins to form in her core, quickly building from Tech’s touching. She takes one of his hands and sucks on the fingers, drenching the digits with her saliva for her own benefit. Tech knows exactly what she wants him to do now, and he does it when she releases his fingers. He fills her opening with one finger with a few pumps for her to adjust, to measure her readiness, and then he adds the second and her moans grow louder. With raised brows he looks over his shoulder to look at the door, but what does looking at the door solve? So he reaches up and covers her mouth to hush her lewd noises from prying ears. Natelyte giggles and sucks on his fingers again whilst hooking a leg over his shoulder to lock his mouth back onto her clit. “No one can hear us. Not behind this glass. I promise...!” She sucks in air through her teeth and lets out a choked cry, her hips buck against his face. Nat stands to her feet with Tech plastered against her clit from below. His brown orbs open wide to take in the sight of her standing over him, hands fisting his hair to pull him into her with more pressure as his mouth opens wide to swallow her pussy. She pulls on his hair from side to side to have his mouth swipe her opening, his hands come to her ass to hold himself steady on his knees. Then she gushes with slick from above and he gulps down every last drop like a parched man drinking from a spring.

The light of the amber screens drapes her body in a golden light personifying her as the physical embodiment of solar radiance.

Nat’s legs shake, Tech’s strong hands support her at her rump, he pants for air and rises to his feet to seal their lips together. Tongues dance frantically as she takes in her own taste glistening across Tech’s face.

“That was an exquisite view, Nat.”

“Lokacinka.” She says breathlessly and pushes him down into the swivel chair behind him. Tech scans the monitors around the room, he rolls the chair pushing with his heels to the center of the room, so each screen has an angle on them both. Nat smiles with his attention to detail, but now she wants all his focus again on her instead of the technology around them both.

All. On. Her.

Nat crawls between his legs and rubs his clothed bulge straining to be set loose from its prison. The heat radiating from his crotch is intoxicating, drawing her in, mouth pooling with saliva, with want. “Take this off.” She pats his thighs and Tech stands before her and peels off his blacks. Tech catches this next moment on his lenses, Nat’s eyes wide with shock, and an ambitious smile spreads across her face taking in the sight of Tech’s massive cock. The veins raised almost perceived as being angry, but Tech is far from any sort of antagonized emotion. His cock twitches at the first sight of Nat’s tongue darting out to swipe across her lips. She presses his thighs for him to sit back down in the chair

“Are you hungry my sweet?” Tech rasps as his hands find purchase in Nat’s thick curls.

“Ravenous.” She sighs and wastes no time in drooling over his cock. She pumps him a few times, feeling the girth, watching a bead of hot precum spill from the tip down the shaft to mix with her saliva to be smear by her chestnut hands along his tan meat. Sweet soft sighs leave Tech’s chest. She brings the hot tip to her plump lips and kisses it a few times. Dragging her lips down the shaft, licking her way back to the tip, slipping it between her lips for her tongue to swirl around the head. Tasting his early seed and the salt of his skin.

“Please…”

“Hmm?” She hums with a full mouth sending vibrations around his solid member making his toes curl at the sensation.

“Please be sloppy. Make it loud and messy ta ya nyota.” His grip tightens in her hair. Nat knows what he wants, how he wants it, and she will do it only for him. Nat chuckles with him in her mouth and she slides down his shaft swallowing him whole.

Natelyte can deep throat.

Tech’s eyes fixate on her motions. Her head bobbing up and down to suck him from tip to base, nose pressing to his pubic bone, throat expanding and contracting around his cock. She gags and coughs while still managing to keep him stuffed inside. She slurps and sucks loudly, her tongue swirls around the head and base. She has his tip hit the back of her throat; she opens her mouth wider to let the wet sloshing sounds of her throat to echo within the room and fill his ears.

And for the cameras to hear.

Tears fall from the corners of her eyes; Tech pulls her hair to have her face look up at him, snot drips from her nostrils. He can feel her swallow, it causes her to cough, she pulls off him, so she does not bite him. As she coughs Tech stands up and takes her hand to have her sit on the desktop again, he separates from her as she wipes her eyes and nose. Tech reaches down to pick and open a condom from a pocket of his belt and rolls it on. Natelyte watches him do this and the puzzled look on her face has him smile in slight embarrassment.

“Is that the fabled con-dom I’ve been hearing about from you Voiders?” She smiles bringing a hand down to his now covered member to feel the rubbery barrier for herself.

“It is not a fable if it is real, my sweet.” He smiles whilst cupping her face and kissing her deeply to commend her erotic blowjob.

“What is a con-dom?” Her accent while speaking Arubesh made it hard to speak that unfamiliar word.

“It is a thin latex polyurethane barrier that goes on a male’s member to capture the sperm.” He smiles at her with a flushed expression. Drunk with need. Burning with desire. Yearning for release.

“Oh…will it...still feel the same or?”

“Yes, yes it will still feel the same for you. I will lose much of the sensation, but it is worth it. I wouldn’t want to risk impregnating you, Natelyte.” Their foreheads pressing together, staring into each other’s eyes with understanding and adoration.

“I could take my own protection. An after pill. That way you don’t need to miss out…” She says pumping his shielded cock, gathering the strange lubricant that covers the outside.

Tech wants to, he wants to feel her from the inside, her hot moist walls clenching around his throbbing mass. But he cannot. He must do it this way, he cannot risk the possibility of spreading his genes among the Norsik population, not even if it is with Natelyte.

He just can’t.

Nat sees his internal confliction, then his resolve as he clenches his jaw and lines himself up with her entrance. Pumping himself and coating his cock with her juices. “I want to, but I cannot.” He says and cuts off any more of her pleas as he plunges inside her warm depths. A loud moan escapes her chest as Tech thrusts inside her a few more times to sheath his piece within her, coating every last inch he has to give with her slick. Then he holds himself still to look upon Nat, to see her already ruined around him. Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms tighten around his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck groaning from the stretching pleasure of his cock.

“You feel so good sonskyn.” He purrs in her ear and begins moving a fast pace. Every time he bottoms out inside her a beautiful gasp leaves her chest. The sting of her nails digging into his broad shoulders fuels his need to fuck her harder. Demanding that he fuck her hard as to wash away her previous thought of the barrier affecting her end of the pleasure between them. His pleasure is surely dulled, but he uses that dullness as an advantage to last longer. To fuck her for all that she is worth here and now.

Nat’s heels dig into his lower back, her breathing is ragged, she peels an arm from around his shoulder to vigorously rub her clit. Tech growls at this action and replaces her hand with his own thumb. She mewls at the harshness of his touch, she lays flat against the table, her breasts bounce in rhythm of his thrusts. The monitors all shifting from the weight of his pounding, moving their angles around without touching them, it’s maddening.

“Don’t stop!” She cries out as her legs begin to tense around him. Her hands come down to grasp his forearms to anchor herself to him. Tech leans back with their arms locked together to press as deep as he can reach within her. And she cums with a mighty cry as a wave of the most intense internal orgasm crashes within her. Tech fucks her through it, unable to yield to his better judgement to slow down or cease his movements to allow her to settle once more. He presses on, heeding her command, doing what she says, what she wants, he’ll do anything, everything for Natelyte’s pleasure.

She deserves the stars.

Nat’s legs go limp around his waist, his arms release hers and return to the underside of her thighs to keep her legs at his sides. Her eyes return from the back of her skull and come to refocus on the man fucking her into oblivion. The aftershocks of electricity brought on by his unyielding movements makes her back arch and body jolt. She whines his name and praises, how perfect he is, what he does to her, and how he keeps fucking her with a pleasant ferocity. Her body returns to be flush against him, her hands combing through his hair, licking his neck, biting along his structures, marking him in the same careless manner he had done to her in the beginning. He lets out sweet moans and sighs at her efforts. Then Nat pulls herself close to his ear and speaks in a complete wrecked manner that has him obey every next word.

“Sit in the chair and let me ride you like a wild Scorp.”

Tech pulls from her and finds his place in the swivel chair quickly to be mounted by Natelyte’s thick thighs. Her body is so soft and supple, covered in a sheen of sweat that has her glowing in the amber light of the screens. She lines herself up and sinks down on him quickly to regain the fullness that he fulfills within her. Tech can feel her entire body working on top of him, all of her weight, her skin, her scent, her muscles.

“Da rana! Zub da hasken rana a cikina! Haskaka ni da farin dodo!” Nat shouts like a battle cry. Her movements are rocking the chair, making it squeak with every harsh landing of her hips against his. The chair begins to feel as though it may break from their use of it. Tech hopes that it does, all for that camera value. How hard she can fuck him in return. Her walls clench around him, her nails dig deeply into his shoulders to then release him and run her hands through her hair. She leans back to give Tech a full view of the goddess riding him as she takes another orgasm for herself.

“Cum my darling. Cum all over my cock again. Take it all for yourself!” he babbles. His hands gripping her sides to support her as her bounces begin to become uneven and ill timed. The tight coil within her snaps and her walls quiver around his shielded cock again. This time she stops to take it all in, lifting her feet from the ground to have all her weight fully bare down on Tech which he handles with ease. She sobs into his neck, holding her he stands with her in his grasp to lay on the floor, this will be his last bout, he is nearing his own limit now and wants to ejaculate while drowning in her hazel pools. In missionary he begins to move slowly, pumping in and out from tip to base, scooping her out with his cock. Her back arches from the tender aftershocks that sweep across her nerves, which he attempts to drown out with sweet kisses.

Tech removes his goggles for this last bout, placing them near their heads to continue filming, but he wants to see her face to face.

Nat is moved by this action, a clammy hand comes to cup his face, fingers tracing along his temple without the interruption of his goggles. He is handsome. Her hands come to wrap around his back, a hand grazes over the posture patch between his sharp shoulder blades. His sweat drips down onto her which she revels in; the fact of knowing how hard Tech works in all aspects of his character in everything he does, it is admirable. He plants kisses to her forehead and cheeks, nibbles at her neck as his chest falls to rest upon hers. Natelyte takes a moment to acknowledge how Tech’s frame can easily cage her in beneath him, his heat enveloping her body, his sweat claiming very square inch of her body, as his cock lays claim to her internally. Tech can feel her depths, no longer limited to physicality, but intellectually, emotionally…he can see it all in her eyes. How much he means to her, the mark he has left on her brain, her heart, and now all over her body.

“Gee nog…een uitbarsting my sonskyn…” He speaks with a heeding tone to what is coming soon. Nat reaches down to rub her clit, hearing the sounds of their wet skins squelching drives Tech up a wall. Her moaning increases with pitch, her breathing quickening as she cums again on his cock.

“Jaaaaa! Ja! Ja-ah-aah!” He fucks her again through another deeply felt orgasm which spurs him finally into his own.

“Ah, yes! Oh yes! Karking hell!” He shouts into the air with quick deep jabs into Nat’s core. Pouring his unfelt seed inside of Natelyte, a Norse Valkyrie. As they cum together, they kiss.

They lay in heaving silence for a few moments before Tech pulls from her and rolls the condom off. He reaches out for her canteen that had been knocked to the floor from off the desktop earlier and takes a sip for himself then relinquishing the rest of its contents to Natelyte. She takes a few savoring gulps and hands it back to Tech. They sit up together and lean against the desk for support.

“That was awakening.” Nat chuckles breathlessly looking to Tech for affirmation.

“I agree. I wonder how the recording is going to turn out.” He says dryly and glances down at Nat with a teasing smile.

“Oh I promise you it will turn out grate after I’m through with it.”

“Just you? I assumed we would both work on it together…” His voice cracks from parched vocal cords.

“I think that is the first time you included someone in your assumption Tech.” She looks him in the eyes with surprise. He stares back at her; filtering through his stored memories like a data bank to find any other instance he had done this. Assuming people already knew what was going to happen but did not know anything until he explained it aloud. For once he hopes that this assumption would be correct. Natelyte caresses his cheek fondly and places a chaste kiss to his lips to break his filtering. “Of course we will work on it together, sonval.”

#bad batch smut #clone trooper tech #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #tcw fanfic #smut #tcw smut #tech smut #clone trooper tech smut

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underworldobsessed · 3 years

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Burn the World for You ll An Obitine Fanfic

Title: Burn the World for You Rating: T Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Anakin Skywalker/Padme Amidala Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Padme Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Bo-Katan Kryze Series: ABO Obitine (Part 8 out of ???), TAS Week (Omegaverse week) (Part 5 out of 7) Summary: Temples and Sabers Week: Day 5 Omega Auction ll Satine and Padmè are enjoying an afternoon together when a surprise visitor tells them of an Omega Auction ring, and when they try to comm their respective Jedi, they find that they had already gone to investigate and hadn't been heard from in a few days, since they were supposed to check in. Those running the ring quickly learn what happens when someone harms their omegas, as they will burn everything down to ensure they're safe. Author’s Note: This quickly spiraled out of control, but in a good way! I hope you all enjoy! Mando’a translations: Cyar'ika - Beloved Vod - Sister K'oyacyi - Come Back Safely, or Survive.

Read here or under the cut

Having Padmé over for tea was always such a treat. Satine and her both had been so busy lately that the time to just see friends and relax seemed far in the past, but they did always try to make time to see one another. It was sort of fun to engage in just idle gossip and spend time with those who didn’t have ulterior motives.

“So Obi still has no idea about you and his padawan, does he?” Satine laughed, shaking her head. She adored her jedi, but she absolutely knew that he wasn’t going to notice the obvious. After Obi-Wan had faked his death, Satine had grown closer to Padmé and confessed to her one night that she had been mated to Obi-Wan for years, after which Padmé had confessed to being married and mated to Anakin, which had only caused the two of them to grow closer.

“Not at all, it’s almost funny. Obi-Wan is smart, but he can’t see what’s in front of him. I love Ani, but he really has no idea how to be subtle about our relationship.” Padmé laughed and sipped at her drink, spiked with a little something that Satine had lying around. Neither woman was drunk, they both had high tolerances, but they were relaxed.

A knock on the chamber door tore their attention from their conversation and Satine stood, putting on the familiar mask of Duchess as one of her guards entered the room.

“Forgive the intrusion, Duchess,” She sounded apologetic “But there is someone here to see you. I wouldn’t have given permission but you said that this is one of the few people to allow access…”

The guard moved out of the way and in walked a woman in full Beskar’gam.

“Death Watch!” Padmé moved to stand in front of her friend with her blaster raised. “I won’t let you hurt the Duchess!” Satine reached and lowered her friend’s arm as the woman removed her helmet, revealing a young face with red hair, chopped almost sloppily above her shoulders.

“Bo!” Satine moved forward, but stopped not far in front of her estranged sister. “What are you doing here?” She glanced behind her momentarily to make sure no other Death Watch members were waiting for her to let her guard down, before she looked, truly looked at her. She had never seen such fear on her face before, not even when Satine had to flee their home after their parents had been assassinated. She knew Bo-Katan to be a hardened warrior, to wear her emotions under the surface so no one would see how she truly felt, but whatever this was, really terrified her.

Bo-Katan glanced over at Padmé, as if she was judging whether or not she could trust her, but she ended up just moving to lean against the wall. She tried to school her expression, but Satine could still see the fear in her face. She knew her sister well, even after all these years.

“You know I wouldn’t come to you unless I was desperate.” Bo’s voice was even as she looked over at her sister. “But something has come to light that Death Watch is doing that I can’t stand to see. I’ve tried to convince them to stop, but they refuse to listen to me. I think they suspect that I’m not an alpha like them, because why else would they not listen to me on this?”

“Bo, you’re rambling.” Satine gently told her, moving closer to her to squeeze her hand. “What is Death Watch doing?”

“...Omega auctions..” Bo’s face turned white as a sheet as she told her this, and for a moment, Satine thought her sister was going to be sick. “They’re taking Omegas from their homes and auctioning them off to either other Death Watch members or just to the highest bidder. I know I’m on blockers; both Pheromone and Heat blockers, but Satine, what if they discover me? These poor Omegas… They don’t deserve what they’re going through.”

Satine felt ice run through her veins. Omega auctions were illegal in all parts of the galaxy as far as she was aware. So the fact that Death Watch was running one was enough to get the attention of the Jedi Order, and get them to put a stop to it. But the question remained, why was Bo telling her this?

“Bo, why are you telling me this? I can’t do much here. I only handle the neutral systems.” She didn’t understand where her sister was coming from.

“I couldn’t go to Pre. He doesn’t know about my presentation, and I didn’t want him to find out and… send me to auction with the rest of them, and I know about your mate being jetii. I know that you have connections that I don’t, and that you could maybe help. Please, Sat’ika..” The childhood nickname caused a lump to form in Satine’s throat. She hadn’t heard her sister call that in so long, and knew she had to help her if she was that desperate.

“Of course, Bo’ika.” She promised, moving to her commlink to try and connect to Obi-Wan, noticing how Padmé had gone to reach out to Anakin at the same time. When neither of their communications were answered, they shared a worried glance. “Did Master Skywalker tell you he was going on a mission where he wouldn’t be able to be reached?”

“No, did Master Kenobi?” Padmé asked, which only got a shake of Satine’s head in turn. “Do you have Ahsoka’s frequency?”

“I do,” Satine let her worry slip through as she went to reach out to Ahsoka, who picked up really quickly.

“Duchess, thank the force you called,” Ahsoka sounded worried “I may need your assistance.”

“Padawan Tano, what’s going on? Where’s Obi-Wan and Anakin?” Satine didn’t need the force to know that something was off, that her mate may be in danger again.

“They… they went on a mission to stop what was rumored to be an Omega Slave Ring but that was days ago and they haven’t returned to Coruscant yet. Master Yoda won’t let me go after them, but I think they’re in danger.” Ahsoka glanced at her lap. “I’m not an Omega though, but the two of them both are… What if they were found out?”

Possessiveness flared in Satine, turning her skin hot and one hand clenched in a fist. “I’ll make sure they’re alright, Ahsoka.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice as she spoke, the tone unnaturally angry for her. It wasn’t even like the anger she felt towards Obi-Wan when he had faked his death, no this was primal and she knew she would raze down the entire galaxy if it meant bringing her Omega home to her. From the look in Padmé’s eyes, she knew that it would be the same for her as well. “Everything will be alright, I’ll contact you when I get them.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” Ahsoka asked, ready to tell Satine the details if it came down to it.

“Don’t worry, I have a source.” She hung up the commlink, before looking to her sister. “I suggest you tell me everything, Bo, because if Obi and Anakin have failed, we may as well be their last hopes.”

The whip was sharp against Obi-Wan’s back, and he did everything to prevent them from seeing his pain. There was a part of him that wondered why they were damaging what he knew was the merchandise. He and Anakin both had been captured as they were investigating an underground omega slave ring. He didn’t know how they knew that the two of them were omegas, but they knew.

And now, they were on the sales floor as the hottest merchandise.

“Well, look what we got here,” Obi-Wan looked up and saw a man in full Beskar’gam. So Death Watch was involved… fantastic. “A Jedi Omega… pity you’re already marked. We can’t sell a marked Omega easily. Your friend on the other hand…”

“No!” Obi-Wan thrashed against the chains that were holding him. He glanced to Anakin… poor Anakin. The poor man had been through so much in terms of slavery, and to use his secondary gender as another excuse to put him in chains. Even now, his head was down, looking so lost and broken. “Remove my mark, make me unmarked, just let Anakin go!” He didn’t want Anakin to go through that again. He didn’t deserve that to happen to him. At the revelation that Obi-Wan was marked, Anakin’s head shot up and he looked over at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan tried to remember if he had ever told Anakin about his mate, but he was drawing a blank. Now was not the time to consider that.

“Hmm… too bad, not going to happen, though we can remove that mark and fetch both of you for a fitting price. And how ironic, that the mate of the Duchess Satine will help us fund our efforts to dethrone her.” The whip came sharp against his back once more, and he didn’t make a sound, though he could feel the blood drip down his back. He had been taking every strike, and thankfully, because he had been vocal about it, they were diverting their attention to him. Anakin had been receiving minimal blows, but nothing compared to what Obi-Wan had been dealing with.

“Now let’s see our other prize,” The Death Watch member walked over to Anakin, and sliced off his shirt, armor long since being removed. “You’re marked too? What happened to the Jedi not taking mates.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, shocked that Anakin had also taken a mate. But judging by the look of defiance on his face, Anakin’s had been done on purpose. He had knowingly taken a mate. Part of him wanted to scold Anakin for his blatant disrespect for the Jedi Code, but this was not the time for that, and it would sound incredibly hollow with what he knew was his own disregard for it when it came to Satine.

“No matter, we can sell you both and after you’re purchased, just remove that mating mark of yours. You’ll both still be worth plenty of credits now that I think about it. A jedi omega. If your new alphas can break you, you will be a fine pet for them. Now, it’s your time on the sales floor.” Even behind the helmet, Obi-Wan could hear the smirk in his voice. He thrashed against the chains, wanting to do anything to wipe that smirk off his face but the chains were designed with holding a Jedi in mind, unwilling to bend with the use of the Force. The whip hit his back one last time, and Obi-Wan felt his body just go slack. He couldn’t take anymore pain.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin called, wanting him to respond but his fighting spirit had just… snapped. Or rather, his energy had faded. He had lost a lot of blood because of this, and the last whip against his skin, tearing at the flesh, was enough to cause him to give him. “Obi-Wan! You need to keep fighting, please.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, not wanting to let Anakin down, but he felt himself giving up. The Jedi Council didn’t know they had been taken. Their commlinks had been confiscated and he knew they had lost. At least they didn’t die at the hands of the war. For a moment, his mind flickered to Satine, his beloved. He didn’t want them to remove his mating mark, but because of what he knew it would do to her. Their bond had already been severed once before, but a purposeful removal of a mark was different. A heat and a rut would trigger in each of them, and nobody would be there to help her. He wished it had been different, they had been more careful. They should have been more careful.

“I’m sorry, Anakin.” Obi-Wan finally spoke, lifting his head to look at his former apprentice. “I failed you. I should have protected you from this, and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail me, we’ll find a way out of this. We always do.” Normally, Obi-Wan would agree with his optimism, but something like this wasn’t going to be easy, and with the chains preventing him from using the force, he knew there was nothing he could do. “... I suppose my secret’s out in the open now.”

“Is it Senator Amidala?” Obi-Wan asked, and watched as the color filled Anakin’s cheeks, turning him a bright red. Ah, so he was right in his suspicions that they were closer than they let on. “I’m not a moron, Anakin, I can see how you feel for her, feel it in the force. And honestly, who am I to scold you with the fact that you’re mated when I am too. You deserve to be happy, my friend.”

“When did you and the duchess…?” Anakin was almost afraid to ask, but they were being open with each other, laying their cards on the table. Anakin knew that it was because Obi-Wan thought they wouldn’t get out of this situation, but he hoped that Ahsoka would come, bringing their clone troopers and make a daring getaway.

“When I was still Qui-Gon’s padawan, when we were protecting the Duchess from bounty hunters. My blockers had been left at our previous camp and I went into a heat, a terrible thing at the most inconvenient time. During one of the times I was lucid, I asked Satine to… to…” His voice quieted, now it was his turn to blush “And she did, but we both got lost in the passion, and she marked me. She apologized but I was okay with it. I thought maybe it would make things easier, and I… honestly had become tired of denying how I felt. It did, until I had to leave. Leaving the other half of you is not easy, and I didn’t see her again until the council asked me to investigate Death Watch on Mandalore and then we became her protection detail on the Coronet.”

Before either of them could speak again, the platform they were on began to rise, and they found themselves in front of a small audience of, from the smell alone, Obi-Wan knew to be exclusively Alphas, many of which wearing Mandalorian armor.

“Alphas!” A voice boomed around them “I present to you two new options for sale, and they are not just any options, but they are Jedi as well!” A murmur rippled through the crowd, especially upon seeing both of their mating marks. “No worries, when you purchase these two find specimens, we will be more than happy to pay for their mark removal.”

A chill ran down Obi-Wan’s spine, and he wanted to fight against the chains, but he couldn’t. He was trapped in there, and his body was still aching from the whips. He didn’t want another alpha. He wanted Satine. No other.

He didn’t hear how much either of them were going for, focusing on the fear on Anakin’s face, the stress, and the smell of that stress in the air. He tried to use the force to calm Anakin down, knowing this was incredibly traumatic for him.

As the crowd started to bid on him, there was suddenly an explosion from behind the crowd. Emerging from the rubble was Satine, Padmé and a woman in full Mandalorian armor… another member of Death Watch? Then why was she fighting alongside Satine.

Alpha ! Obi-Wan’s inner Omega sang, and instead of being as excited as that part of him was, his body grew more limp. The blood loss was getting to him more and more each second. The last thing he remembered was Anakin calling out his name, and Satine pulling out a small trigger from somewhere before his consciousness finally faded.

Satine knew that she would regret what she was doing once she really thought about it, but seeing Obi-Wan and Anakin there, with Obi-Wan losing consciousness, chained up as they were about to be auctioned off… Well, rationality left her mind.

“You really thought two Jedi could go missing and no one would come looking for them?” Satine’s voice was angry, the calm and collected Duchess taking a back seat to the angry alpha in her mind. “You really thought you could take the mates of a Duchess and a Senator and not assume we would burn the world down looking for them?”

“You? The weak willed, pacifist duchess wouldn’t raise a finger,” A member of Death Watch spoke up as they landed in front of her “And you, Bo-Katan, I should have known you would betray us. You were always so weak when it came to your sister. Besides, you think you’re so good at hiding your weak nature, but nothing could keep the stench of Omega off of you. You’re lucky Pre is in the dark, otherwise you would be on that stand as well” Satine could feel her sister preparing to launch herself at the warrior, so she raised an arm to keep her where she was.

“I won’t raise a finger to hurt you, you’re right, but the same cannot be said for this place. And you act like I came without preparing for every circumstance. You see, you harmed my mate, and I won’t let that sit.” She passed the trigger over to Padmé with a smirk. “You know Senator Amidala, yes? That man right there is Anakin Skywalker, her mate, and unlike me, she doesn’t have a problem with violence. If I say the word, she will press that trigger, and a bomb will go off underneath your feet. The fall and the explosion won’t kill you, and we have members of their Clone Troopers on their way to arrest you all for your crimes. However, my darling sister,” She glanced at Bo, who had her blasters in her hand. “Is entirely willing to blast your heads off if any of you try anything. And well, if I don’t see her do it, who’s to say what she did.”

“You don’t have the guts to try.” The Death Watch member sneered as he pulled his weapon on Satine.

“You forget, I may be a pacifist, but I am also a Mandalorian, just as much as any of you are.” She turned her head away as Bo fired off a single shot, knocking them down. Many of the crowd quickly moved out of her way, and she stalked forward, her gaze on the unconscious form of her mate. Not long after they had made their way forward, the sound of Clone Troopers boots rang out and they came in to arrest many of the Alphas there.

Both she and Padmé came to a stop in front of their chained up Omega’s. Padmé moved first, moving to hug Anakin and pulled out a vibroblade to cut the chain that was holding him.

“Angel..” Anakin mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her scent and allowing it to surround him. It took a moment for him to remember, and he pulled back. “Obi-Wan, we need to help him.”

But he didn’t need to say anything, because Satine was already trying to get him out of the chains, taking the blade from Padmé to cut them and catching Obi-wan as he fell forward. Her heart broke at the sight of the whip marks lining up and down his back. “Oh cyar’ika..” She mumbled, looking up as Bo moved forward.

“The clones have arrested many of them here. I… need to go before they think I’m involved too..” She glanced around for a moment before she looked down at Satine. “Thank you, vod, for helping me.”

Satine set Obi-Wan down for a moment before she got up and hugged her sister. “You are always welcome with me, Bo-Katan, if you ever choose to return to Mandalore, you will be welcome. You are my sister, and I will never turn you away.”

She felt Bo shudder in her arms before she wrapped her arms around Satine briefly, but then pulled back. “Not while you're the leader of Mandalore, Satine. We are not a peaceful people… and I can’t bear to see us like that…” She took a few steps back before she got her jetpack going and she flew off and out of there.

“K’oyacyi, Bo-Katan…” Satine mumbled, before her attention immediately went back to her mate. He was definitely looking worse for wear and she didn’t know how long he had been bleeding. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him back to the ship, but she looked over at Anakin. “Help me carry him.” He nodded and moved to lift up Obi-Wan, both him and Satine flinching at the pained moan he let out.

The four of them went back to the ship, in silence. As soon as they were back on the ship, Anakin sent Obi-Wan down on a bed, and went to aid Padmé in the take off. After grabbing some bacta to put on his wounds, Satine moved to brush a strand of hair out of his face, relieved as his eyes finally opened.

“Cyar’ika… thank the stars you’re okay.” Satine smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead “You scared me.”

“Hello, my darling.” Obi-Wan gave her a pained smile “If you are not the most beautiful sight I could have laid my eyes on.” Satine wanted to roll her eyes, deflect his attention, but she felt her skin heat and she smiled. She was hopelessly in love with this man.

She didn’t say anything at first, moving to start applying the bacta to his bare back. Even with it, it was going to take some time for him to heal. She glanced towards Anakin and Padmé for a moment, but realized that their secret was out in the open now. Anakin knew, truly knew, and they didn’t have to hide their relationship from him anymore.

“I want you to stay at my apartment on Coruscant with me for a few days,” She said, knowing that the fire that burned within her when she learned of Obi-Wan’s predicament still burned. She wanted to keep him close at least until she needed to return to Mandalore. “I need you by my side.”

“Satine, I…” He moved to sit up but quickly fell back to laying on his stomach at the pain. “I need to be at the temple. We can’t…”

“Please, Obi,” Her voice became slightly pleading. “I cannot begin to describe the way I felt when I heard that you went to investigate an Omega Auction ring, and seeing you chained up, unconscious, turned me into a woman I never wanted to be. The reason I want you by my side is entirely selfish, but I need to be sure you’re alright, that I haven’t lost you..”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and Satine was certain that he was going to say no again. She wouldn’t hold it against him. She knew just how important this was for him, to keep up the facade of the two of them not being together. If he said no again, she would understand, but she would still stay on Coruscant until she was certain he was okay. However, after a moment, she saw him nod.

“Okay, Satine, I’ll stay with you.”

She had to contain her emotions, but she moved to kiss his cheek. She would care for him there as an alpha should, help him heal before he would go back to his jedi duties.

It was the least she could do as she thought that she failed to protect him before.

#TASweek2021 #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #Obitine #Jen writes #Anakin Skywalker #Padme Amidala #Anidala #I wrote a ship I haven't before :D #Bo-Katan Kryze

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Do It Yourself Hauntings

Summary: You and Terry get extremely bored while on a group date as you walk through a haunted house. Terry has a brilliant idea that’s sure to chase away your boredom.

masterlist

a/n: Guess who is flagrantly avoiding homework to write a fic? So this is Cat!Reader x Terry McGinnis. Reader is still as gender neutral as I can make them so I went with the name ‘Stray’. A tid bit I could not write in organically is that reader is painfully shy in their civilian identity but has little to no inhibitions when in their night time persona. Another clarification is that this is the outfit I had in mind. It was legit the thing I had my heart set on when my lizard brain said Catwoman character.

Warnings: Adult language, clowns, clownery, and this maybe a tinsy bit spicy at one point (I tried) (kind of? Look, I just don’t want anyone going all mother superior on me. Just in case. ).

You were incredibly, stupidly, magnificently bored.

You shifted on your heels, letting them click and echo trying to distract yourself from the thrum of excess energy surging through your body.

It-It didn’t work.

The clicking only made you more anxious, plucking at your taut nerves like well-tuned guitar strings.

It probably didn’t help that you just came back from a dazzling night of heists and getting shot at. Adrenaline still flowing through your veins like molten ichor. Heart still floundering in your chest as if- at any moment- the cops would come rushing in and you would have to make your daring, if not dramatic, escape.

Between this and the sorry attempt at jump scares the poor underpaid actors subjected you to, your head started aching and your mood plummeted into something vile. Thankfully, your group was none-the-wiser unless all of them spontaneously decided to master micro-expressions then you were the picture of an apprehensive young adult trekking through a cheap haunted house.

Why did you agree to this again?

Pulse still pounding loudly in your ears and content with letting the others have their fun, you silently fall into the back of the group. There was a higher chance that you would encounter the cringe-inducing scares but you weren’t too concerned. Nope. You were more worried about the very real possibility that you might deck Nelson or Chelsea or Blade or whoever the fuck decided that girls need to play scared to make guys feel cool. Ok, yeah, the last one.

When Chelsea did another ill-timed flinch, scrabbling for Nelson’s arm, and Nelson ate it up, you swore your eyes would roll their way out of their sockets. Whoever popularized this needed to be shot. Twice.

There was always a possibility that they weren’t faking it, that they were genuinely terrified but you highly doubted it considering if anything actually scary happened, Nelson would be the first one to run.

Neck deep in your musings, you hadn’t noticed as Terry slowed to keep pace with you. He leaned down close enough to brush his lips against your skin and blew a light gust into your ear. You jumped clutching your ear feeling the heat spread through your body. You twitched away. The memory of his lips against your ear making your stomach dance. Your skin prickled with curiosity-

You glowered at him. You prayed that the embarrassment plain on your body language did not dampen the venom in your eyes.

“Told ya I could be scary,”

He winked.

You sighed.

Of course, he hadn’t let that go.

You rolled your head to the side and shrank into your puffy leather jacket trying to hide the bright flush of your cheeks. From the absolutely smarmy grin he gave you, he was enjoying this. Was this payback? It was probably payback. Payback for all the slag you said over the comms, the flirty little touches, or all the little kisses you dealt him every time you encountered him in the field.

Here’s a novel concept! Maybe don’t dish out what you can’t take.

“Compared to this place? Yeah,”

“Ouch, what’s got you in a mood?”

You leveled him a look. Terry leveled you with his own. You tilted your head ever so slightly to show the bruise blooming on your collar bone. He winced. His jaw clenched. You instantly regretted showing him when his brows were carved with guilt. Normally, you liked looking at Terry. Easy on the eyes kind of handsome. He only looked punchable in the Batsuit. But you could never stand the guilt and worry on his face, especially when you were the cause. It wasn’t even his fault. You took the blow knowing your armor wasn’t quite as enforced. That was on you.

You sucked in a breath and rolled your shoulders contorting yourself away from the ever-present need to apologize. Instead, you waved your hand vaguely at the cheaply constructed haunted house. “Admit it, this place is-”

“isn’t that-” He looked around rubbing the back of his neck. “-bad?”

“Terry, the scariest thing about this place is how many credits I wasted,” you deadpanned looking down at your, now, lighter wallet. It wasn’t physically lighter but you were a drama queen and you had a point to make.

Terry chuckled at your antics and rolled his eyes. “It’s got its charms,” You raised your brow and crossed your arms. His shoulders slumped then straightened, a teasing quirk to his lip curling. “Still better than doing that family studies paper,”

Ok, that you could agree on.

The rest of the walk was marginally bearable with you and Terry providing quiet commentary on each scare. It was hard to hold back laughter. Your body shook, nearly falling into a giggle fit several times. You got dirty looks from the others several times for the transgression of ‘ruining’ the mood. You were a little impressed that they had managed to make a mood for you to ruin. After all, what’s more romantic than zombie clowns and warehouses?

Your sides ached. You really wanted to just let out a laugh, a real full belly laugh but you hated your laugh. Terry, you thought, was aware of your broken plate laugh. Why did he keep trying to draw it out?

Your group made it into a large clearing. Your anxiety immediately ratcheted up with the wide-open space but relaxed after scanning the room. There was nowhere to put

Creaking and scraping of old rusty metals resonated in every corner.

Terry nudged you and pointed upward, directing your attention to the silhouette moving around in the rafters.

Your heart stopped momentarily but picked back up again as soon as you saw the graceless way the figure moved around.

A clown covered in gore and shards of metal jumped down from the rafters landing in the middle of your ragtag group. You scattered. You heard a few gasps. You even saw Nelson flinch. You took some petty satisfaction in being right.

You yawned less concerned with the crazy act he was putting on and more with how the hell he hasn’t landed on a single patron. You made your boredom plain. You’ve seen crazy. Your sides throbbed in protest of the reminder.

You looked down to distract yourself only to be met with the sight of floppy red clown shoes. Genuine, floppy, red clown shoes. You pinched the bridge of your nose and bit your lip. Your body trembled from trying to contain the laughter roiling in your stomach.

The man continued to spout something about keeping you all here for his entertainment. Blah. Blah. You crossed your ankles and leaned ever so slightly into Terry’s space, cocking your head to the opposite side. You yawned into your hand muffling the sound as best you could in an attempt to be polite. Terry had other ideas.

Terry leaned down into your ear making an exaggerated snoring sound. An ugly snort tore its way out of your nostrils loud enough to be heard over the clown’s overly dramatic soliloquy. You felt everyone’s eyes on you. You clamped your hand over your mouth to stifle the onslaught of snorts rising up from your chest. You narrowed your eyes at Terry who, at the moment, was also fighting his own fit of laughter. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you, in solidarity, tried not to laugh too hard at the expense of the wannabe Shakespeare actor.

You kind of felt bad.

Maybe.

Ok, you did. But not nearly enough to actually stop laughing. In your defense, Ace had more acting chops than this guy. But kudos, he was really into the bit.

He lunged at the two of you, fuming with smoke coming out of his ears. Terry grabbed you pressing you to his side and wrapping a protective arm around you. You let out an embarrassing little squeak. You witnessed as he cataloged it into the ‘stuff y/n is never gonna live down’ part of his brain. ‘Cute’ he mouthed silently. You cursed yourself. You turned to cuss at Terry-

The clown lunged at you again, murderous intent plain as day on his face. He snarled as you two dodged him easily with a quick sidestep. In the corner of your eyes, you could see the other actors look on in bewilderment. One of them shook her head clearly exasperated. Ok, so you unintentionally pissed off one of the actors. Great. Now, what?

The man lunged for you again. Dodging gracefully, you two turned on your heels and bolted leading him away from the group. You could hear the group collectively cheering him on behind you as you made your escape.

Technically, you could just knock him out and maybe go back to the group. One of you was the goddamn Batman while the other was Stray, thief extraordinaire, after all. But between the gasp of laughter and the playful grin stretching across Terry’s face like hell that was happening.

You two ducked into a corner tired and panting. You press yourself against the cool metal of the wall with Terry shielding you from view.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You whisper, shrinking into your leather jacket feeling keenly aware of your lack of undershirt as the heat radiating from his skin pressed against yours. He leaned against you, closing the gap between the two of you. His panting breaths fanning against your skin, lips brushing against the bare skin of your collar. You bit out a curse as the color on your cheeks darkened. You swallowed a lump, heart floundering again. You felt him smile against your skin.

You like to say it was anger that flared up in you. You really would but the heat suffusing in your body said otherwise. You pushed at him weakly. “We have to get back,”

Terry stepped back giving you space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“You sure you want to? Bozo is still looking for us. That and you’ll probably still be bored,”

You tapped your foot and tilted your head considering it. You looked into his face searching for something. You sigh inwardly. “Yeah, no. I really don’t wanna go back. The scariest thing is still the amount of money we wasted and I have yet to be scared shitless,”

He smiled at you victoriously. “I have an idea,”

You blinked at him.“Ok, great job! Now, I’m pissing myself with fear,” You teased. You weren’t a fan of Terry’s ideas half the time but hell if they weren’t entertaining.

Terry rolled his eyes at you holding out his hand. “You brought your goggles, right?”

“McGinnis, I didn’t exactly have time to go home and-” You stilled, feeling his eyes trail down your chest before darting back up. Normally, when you were in costume, you left the zipper of your jacket open showing tantalizing glimpses of your soft flesh. Terry was absolutely not opposed to your costume choice unless you were in danger which was rare (thank you very much). This was what led to your current blushing predicament not that the other aspects of your costume were any less complementary. You sighed inwardly before stammering out “Yeah, I have my goggles,” Fishing them out of an inner pocket of your jacket, you waved them around half-heartedly.

“Schway! Come on follow me,” He said grabbing your wrist before you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

You rounded a couple of corners before stopping at a beam. He looked from left to right brow furrowed. He tapped his foot twice then somehow decided to go left. How the hell Terry managed to find his way around in the dark was a complete mystery to you. Your first guess is echolocation but the second, more logical guess, was that Bruce was a paranoid old man. Like a normal human, you were entirely dependent on the night vision mode of your goggles.

You stopped when Terry stretched his arm out in front of you. You squinted seeing another group of bored-looking patrons. You turn to Terry who was looking at them and seemingly analyzing the group and it clicked.

“Oh,” you whispered quietly as you understood what he was planning. He threw you a playful smirk knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist this golden opportunity to fuck around.

“I would like to go on record and say this is a terrible idea,”

“And yet you’re going along with it,”

You were about to protest but couldn’t really think of a good defense.

“You know, if you really wanted to scare them you could have just dressed up as old Brucie,”

You huffed and put your goggles on before crouching low. He followed suit bending low.

“Weeell, sorry. Your gremlin mug was the best I could do on short notice,”

You made a face of mock hurt which made him chuckle. “Am not,”

As it turns out, two vigilantes well-trained in sneaking around are actually pretty good at scaring people. In the last 5 minutes, you’ve scared four different groups of patrons all with varying reactions but all equally hilarious.

“Yanno we could probably scare Nelson,” Terry hummed innocently trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. You answered him with a vicious smile. “You just want payback for the prank he pulled yesterday,”

“And you want to see him piss himself,”

This was true.

“Ok, fine. What’s the game plan?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Terry chuckled knowing he’s got you hook, line, and sinker. You scoffed but let him lean closer to you to whisper his maniacal scheme.

“If this works I am going to cry-” You crowed ducking behind another row of boxes as you quietly trailed your group. “-Hand me your jacket,”

Completely avoiding your outstretched hands, he draped his jacket over you like a strange leather veil before giving your head a quick pat. “Hope you brought tissues then,”

“Like slag, this is gonna work,” You said quirking your brow and tilting your head to make the doubt plain on your face. Even with your vision impaired by your new headpiece, you could still admire how nice he looked in his shirt. Not that you let it show. You hoped.

“Just watch and learn nonbeliever,”

“Oh god he thinks he can pull off miracles now,” You sneered climbing on to his broad shoulders.

“Shhhhhhhh”

You pouted down at him crossing your arms. He shrugged his shoulders, the movement drawing a surprised yelp from you in turn making him snicker. You were about to open your mouth when your smoke trap was triggered.

Ok, this was a blatant abuse of your equipment but who was gonna tell you off? Bruce? Probably but the man was allergic to fun so being at a Halloween fair was, likely, safe.

Thick waterfalls of white smoke cascaded down from the rafters, blanketing the floor with a thick mist of curling smoke. The group stopped almost mystified by how well-timed the eerie effect was. You had to hold back a derisive snort when they all turned to each other confused.

Because, yes, this is what your hours of booby trap training have been leading up to.

Truly, a magnum opus of spite.

You could already see Nelson readying himself to bolt even as Blade and Chelsea hung off his arms. Petty satisfaction bloomed in you.

Ok, you may be a gremlin.

You threw your voice in a shrill cackle letting it echo and bounce in the room over the too slow circus music playing in the background. It was a chilling sound, the kind that rattled in bones and traveled up the spine. One that you’ve only ever used for pranks during long nights at the lab. You even felt Terry freeze up beneath you. His grip on your thighs getting tighter. How on earth you didn’t yelp or squeak or make any other little noise at that was the true miracle.

“Wha- what’s going on?“ Blade squeaked, pressing into the group.

"Didn’t we just pass the last attraction?!”

“Are you sure it was the last?”

“I don’t know man!”

The group shrank in on itself as the conversation grew more panicked. You felt Terry shaking from holding in laughter. You nudge him softly with your heel. He took a breath and nodded to tell you he was fine.

“Oh children, there’s no need to fuss,” You coo sickeningly sweet. You see them swallow taking in your presence heavy as it was.

“The fun’s only just beginning!” You shriek flicking on the orange lights of your goggles. Your shrill, shrieking voice transmuting over the speakers filling the room.

They screamed, scrambled, and scattered. Your nearly 10-foot silhouette hovering over them. They tripped over each other. Some of them pulling at each other. Some stepping over feet in their haste to get away. Pure terror etched themselves on their faces.

You let them all sprint to exit, watching their forms all disappear before bursting out into laughter.

“Did- Did you see their faces?!”

“Please tell me you were recording,“

“wait-” You choked grabbing for your goggles. You made a show of checking and letting your shoulders fall in disappointment.

Terry looked crushed. A vicious grin carved across your face. “Relax, I was,”

Terry’s slumped against the crate as he leaned back. He ran his hand through his black hair and began to laugh again.

You put your goggles back to your jacket pocket. You clutched at his jacket letting your ugly laugh tumble out of your lips. Terry planted a kiss on your nose making your breath hitch.

"What was that for?!” Your hands flying to your nose. Your fingers traced the small patch of skin he touched.

“You were just too cute,” He laughed ruffling your hair.

How do you respond to that? How could he say things like that so casually? Does he not know how many heart attacks it gives you?

“Jerk”

“PFFFFT”

“Don’t ‘pfffft’ me!” You bit out, throwing his jacket at him.

“Pfffft”

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“I-”

“Ahem!”

You both looked up to see a security guard and Bozo glowering down at you. You gave them both what passed for a sheepish, but not exactly, apologetic look.

The burly guard picked you both up by the scruff of your necks and hauled you out of the building. He tossed you out back as Bozo yelled “stay out” from the comfort of the guards back.

“Kick us out yourself, coward!” Terry yelled, shaking his fist like an old man. You slapped your forehead in an effort not to encourage him. Bozo glowered at him from behind his meat shield. Terry snarled. You grabbed his arm to stop him from doing anything stupid.

“I knew it was you two,” Max sighed, hand on her hip.

“How’d you guess?”

“Circus music,”

You looked at her uncomprehendingly before remembering your well-documented discomfort with circuses. You slapped your hand against your forehead. Terry, helpful as usual, snickered at you.

But before you could throw hands, Max spoke cleared her throat.

“You dumbasses are lucky they don’t press charges,” Max aggravated pinching the bridge of her nose. You had the decency to look a little sheepish at the accusation but Terry looked pleased which earned him a chastising look.

“Sorry, ma’am” You both grumbled as she pulled you both up.

All three of you walked in tandem. Max let up the responsible act.

“Not the worst group date you’ve been on, right?” Terry nudged.

“No, guess not,” You scoffed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Stiiiiill not as bad as that time you got us caught by the Joker Gang~”

“That wasn’t even my fault,”

————————————–

Thanks for reading! Also please do not do this in real life. They will get mad at you even if their haunted house does stink.

taglist: @batarellabatarella (YOU BITCH I GOT ANOTHER BATBOY FOR YOU), @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

#batafm #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis #october #my writing #batboys #spooktober

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