softhuesoflilac

[softhuesoflilac]

Must Have Been a Deadly Kiss (Only Love Can Hurt Like This) x DWT

Summary: Your first kiss with Dream causes some mild injuries

Cw: fem!streamer!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, minor injury caused by lovesick clumsiness

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[softhuesoflilac]

▸ REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

pairing: fireborn!sapnap x fem!l’manberg!reader

SUMMARY: sapnap cares for you— maybe more than he should. and he cannot bring himself to ruin one last good thing.

WARNINGS: angst, blood, injuries, general violence, implied wilbur x reader relationship but not really, dream being a sly manipulative ass + punz, swearing, enemies to lovers/star-crossed lovers, suggestive themes, wilbur’s an ass in this one sorry, it’s just sapnap going through the five stages of grief honestly.

WORD COUNT: 14.9k (my longest imagine to the date by a lot but it’s worth it I swear)

NOTE: based on this post! I’ve been wanting to do an imagine around that excerpt for a while so,,, here we are!!! It has a few additions made by me ;))

REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

ONE: This sort of love is not allowed. You are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and sharp teeth.

Sapnap recalls the days when they first founded the SMP — boundless lands, forests that seemed to stretch to places beyond their imagination. Rivers that flowed through the hills, weaving and curling beyond the realms of what they had discovered.

He recalls spending nights and days carrying bricks to finally finish the Community House. He remembers his first few trips to the Nether alongside Dream and George. He remembers catching Mars and Beckerson while gathering materials. And he remembers building his very first home from scratch.

What Sapnap doesn’t remember, however, is when he first started seeing walls rising over the horizon of their lands.

“We have a new visitor.”

He hears Dream’s steps before he hears his voice. There’s a certain familiarity to them— one that makes Sapnap’s shoulders drop instead of having his fingers reach for his sword.

Punz stands besides him, leaning against one of the tables from within the Community House as he picks at his nails in disinterest. Despite the relaxed air of conversation, Sapnap knows where this conversation is headed. He can tell by the way Dream’s jaw ticks, annoyed.

And before he even gets the chance to respond, George’s indifferent voice beats him to it. “Let me guess, friend of L’manberg?”

Dream rolls his shoulder, netherite chestplate making a metallic sound as he does. With a roll of his eyes he says, “Yeah.”

Punz quirks a brow, finally raising his blue gaze. “Do we know who it is?”

Dream’s jaw tightens at that, mask resting over the table as his head tilts to the side, thinking. “No.” He finally responds. Green eyes briefly meet with Sapnap’s amber ones. “We don’t.”

The nether-born quirks a brow at that, recognizing that look from a mile away. The corner of his lips twitch upward. “Sounds like you wanna change that.”

Dream’s solemn look shifts into a grin, lips curled with mischief. And as if posing a challenge, he smirks and says, “Only if you’re up for it.”

Despite the towering walls of obsidian and blackstone, sneaking inside L’manberg is not nearly as hard as Sapnap first thought.

He lands on the ground silently, weaving through the trees like second-nature. It’s an advantage they all have— they’ve spent enough time within these lands to know them like the back of their hands. Every vantage point, every blindspot. And, much to his satisfaction, it seems that Wilbur’s people happen to be strangers to the very soil they’ve named an independent nation.

This should be easy enough.

Sapnap halts on his path as soon as he hears voices up ahead, and like a knee-jerk reaction, he reaches for his sword and ducks behind an oak tree.

He waits a second. Two. Then, he peers over his hiding spot, wishing he could just barge in guns blazing as he usually does. But Dream was very clear with his instructions— he just needed to find information on L’manberg’s new possible ally. Verify how much of a threat they could be, and then report back.

It’s only once he takes a glimpse of the newly taken land that he first sees you.

The sound of your voice gets carried by the wind as you walk out of Wilbur Soot’s tacky van— and despite not being able to understand what you’re saying, Sapnap can’t deny that you’ve definitely caught his interest.

You look out of place— standing out due to your lack of a revolutionary uniform. There’s no coat wrapped around your frame, no hat atop your head, no sword by your belt. And, still, Sapnap can tell you could easily become an inconvenience. Because as soon as you step out, the so-called leader of the revolution follows.

Sapnap’s no stranger to Wilbur Soot— he’s had his fair share of encounters with him, and he’s been a pebble inside the SMP’s shoe ever since he first showed his face around the lands. One thing he’s noted, however, is how old Wilbur has always looked in comparison to his allies— not worn by war, yet still cursed with knowledge. Always looking after everyone like some mother hen, always dictating what should or shouldn’t be done. The way Sapnap sees it, it’s as if Tommy’s brother is constantly carrying a weight over his shoulders, never knowing when he’ll finally be able to set it down.

And yet, while you may not look like much, Sapnap doesn’t miss the way Wilbur seems… different. Lighter, if that makes any sense. Because as he steps off the van with a bright grin, he shakes your hand, before quickly wrapping his arms around you into a warm hug.

Sapnap doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t know your name, your skills, or how exactly you found Dream’s kingdom. But while he may not know you, Dream has already made his judgment on Wilbur after their first confrontation. And he looks rather… thankful. Almost at ease upon seeing you— certainly a strange sight when you find yourself in the midst of a war.

And, somehow, as Sapnap makes his way back through the trees, he simply knows he’ll be seeing more of you in the future.

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TWO: No one ever taught you how to love. Your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves.

The second time Sapnap sees you is when he’s walking down the prime path.

His netherite armor glistens underneath the sun, the enchanted glow creating a smooth violet reflection. His similar sword still drips with hoglin blood— something he’ll undoubtedly have to clean up later.

His original plan was to go stash his newly found materials back to the Community House— maybe even check Bad’s chests for any possible loot. And yet, as he strides down the worn wooden planks, with ash and a vague scent of smoke clinging to his body, he comes to a sudden halt.

Because, only a few steps ahead and standing in front of Tommy’s old house ( if you could even call it that ), he sees you.

Once again, you look oddly out of place. This time, however, he notes that you’re wearing a brand new L’manberg uniform— and for some strange reason he can’t seem to place, Sapnap’s first thought is, ‘Huh, pity.’

“Trouble in paradise?”

His sudden question nearly makes you jump, head quickly snapping in his direction. Your shoulders grow tense at the sudden interruption, fingers inching closer to your iron sword. And, at last, he finally gets to see you up close.

Pretty, he thinks almost instantly— and thank Prime he didn’t open his mouth to say it out loud. Instead, he simply tilts his head ever so slightly, an amused glint dancing in his amber gaze as he awaits your response.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, voice strangely even for someone who stands mere feet away from the very enemy of their self-proclaimed free nation.

And yet your stance doesn’t waver, shoulders dropping from their previous stiff state. It’s an unexpected reaction— definitely not one Sapnap was awaiting. Because the picture the two of you paint should seem threatening— you, with a mere iron sword and boots, while he stands with a full netherite armor suit and a bloody sword. It makes a dangerous curiosity brew within his chest.

You merely quirk a brow, e/c eyes flickering past him and towards the rest of Dream’s Kingdom. And then slowly, softly, as if it may get carried away by the wind, you add, “You’re a long way from home, Sapnap.”

So, you’ve heard of him. It makes a smirk curl onto Sapnap’s lips, interest spreading through his body like wildfire. Despite your first reaction, you don’t seem that intimidated. Strange, considering his track record and previous encounters with the other members of L’manberg.

You make him curious. The sort of curiosity that sets root within your bones and takes a hold of your clear judgment. And so, with the corner of his lips twitching upward, he decides that maybe, just maybe, he’ll play along for the time being.

“What can I say?” He begins slowly, yet it’s nowhere near as soft as your voice. He takes a swift step back, amber eyes doing a quick once-over of you. Then, he shrugs innocently, “A little something caught my eye.”

You furrow your brows briefly, head tilted to the side as you fold your arms over your chest. “Something?”

Sapnap’s features brighten deviously before he corrects, “Someone.”

His comment evidently takes you by surprise, impassive façade faltering as red creeps up your neck and cheeks. It makes Sapnap swell with something reminiscent of pride, smirk widening.

In a way, it humanizes you, if that makes any sense. After all, he’s only ever seen you as Wilbur Soot’s picture-perfect second in command. The one who, according to a trusted source, maintains the peace within the walls of the new country. And for Sapnap, knowing that even L’manberg’s should-be vice president isn’t immune to his advances, that you aren’t as idyllic as you were made out to be… well, let’s just say he relishes at the sight.

Yet instead of calling you out on the pink that dusts your cheeks, he simply opts to ask the question that first echoed within his mind. “You know my name.” And as it leaves his lips, he realizes it’s no longer a question, but a statement.

“That I do.”

Sapnap takes a prompt step forward, amber eyes carefully watching your expression. Much to his surprise, you don’t take a step back, and instead remain rooted to your spot.

Dark brown hair falls over his white bandana when he speaks. “I think it’s only fair that I learn yours too.”

His words spark a scoff from you, a trace of disbelief and annoyance dripping from your tone. “Right. As if you don’t already know it.” You bite, almost as if accusing him of some crime he’s yet to commit. He tilts his head to the other side, questioningly, ready to ask the thoughts lingering around his mind when you beat him to it. “I saw you spying on us the other day.”

Ah. There it is. Not a crime he’s yet to commit, but rather one he’s already pulled off, unaware that he had been caught red handed. Sapnap can’t help but wonder how he didn’t notice he’d been spotted. Did you see him right away, as soon as you stepped off Wilbur’s van, or did you catch a second-worth glimpse of his retrieving frame, blending in with the woods?

You’re smarter than he initially gave you credit for. That’s his mistake— he should’ve known what type of person Wilbur would choose for his second in command.

“You’re not getting any information from me.” You say definitively, making Sapnap furrow his brows, failing to conceal the sudden confusion etched onto his features. “You can tell Dream to try better next time.”

Dream? What does he have to do with anything? Why would he—

Oh.

Once he snaps back to his senses, cogs slowly beginning to turn inside his brain as he puts two and two together, he realizes you’re halfway out. Your back is already turned to him, Tommy’s hobbit hole left behind as you head towards the Prime Path.

And, as if he was running out of time, he quickly remarks, “Dream didn’t send me.”

Surprisingly enough, his words make you stop, at least falter for a split second— and, then again, a split second is all Sapnap needs.

He’s quick to catch up with you, voice teasing and body close as he murmurs near your ear, “But alright, I see how it is.” He hums in contentment when he picks up on the sudden stiffness of your body upon the close proximity. His amber gaze lingers on your side profile a moment too long, unable to meet your e/c, but wanting to see the reaction he caused. He enjoys it— maybe even more than he should. And yet the thought doesn’t stop him from prodding just a little more, the cadence of his voice dropping with a tinge of annoyance.

“Bet he told you I’m just Dream’s mindless soldier, huh?”

You whip your head towards him, the movement clearly without further premeditation. Otherwise, you would’ve thought of the lack of distance that would be left standing between you and the enemy— not that Sapnap can bring himself to care. Not when his fiery amber finally get to meet your e/c.

“He told me about the trees you burnt down.” You bite back, never missing the mirthful lilt to Sapnap’s actions.

To the accusation he shrugs nonchalantly, corner of his lip curving upwards. “Not my finest moment.” He says easily, and as soon as you start walking again, he chuckles. “But c’mon, are you really gonna judge me off someone else’s opinion?”

You don’t take another step, and instead offer a side-look to the stranger-now-made-acquaintance. You think about it for a second. Two. And then, with sincere yet vaguely amused tone, you ask,

“How do you know I’m not making my own judgement?”

Sapnap hums, the edges of his face rising in the slightest as mirth drips from his features. If the thought crossed his mind before, then it’s definitely sticking now— ‘cause somehow, underneath all that revolutionary bullshit, you’ve caught his interest. His nerves buzz alive when he cocks his head, tousled darkened hair falling over his bandana as he responds,

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

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THREE: Her heart is carved from gold, while your soul remains scarred and bruised. And why would you risk burning something beautiful when she’s already perfect from afar?

The inside of Dream’s chosen cave is cold. The air is damp, there’s a chill wind coming from somewhere, and Sapnap has to keep looking over his shoulder in case another creeper shows up.

( Not because he’s scared — trust me, he’s longed since outlived those days — but rather due to the big inconvenience they become sooner or later. )

Still, and rather reluctantly, Sapnap understands why Dream chose such a place. Why they showed up an hour before, mapping out the tunnels and memorizing every nook and cranny. For any places other spies could be hiding in, for any previously set equipment to conceal the presence of a third party. Which, if he may add ( and as George pointed out ), is absolutely stupid. After all, they’re the ones that chose the meeting place— not that any of their protests would make Dream change his mind.

Then again, the stakes are high. Which would mean — and not that he’d ever say it out loud— Dream’s paranoia is somewhat well-founded. After all, who’s to say that their spy on the inside won’t just double-cross them?

And so, after waking up at the early dawn, reaching the meeting point and searching every pathway, Sapnap stands besides Dream with a sword by his hand. A preemptive measure, he told George, as if neither of them were aware of the fact that Sapnap simply enjoys the intimidation factor a little too much.

They’ve met up with Eret before— so much so that it slowly became routine. As to how he excuses every scheduled disappearance to the rest of L’manberg, Sapnap can’t really bring himself to care. As long as he doesn’t cause suspicion to rise, then they should be good.

Sapnap’s bored amber drift away from Eret’s frame and towards George and Dream. The goggled boy appears about as bored as he currently is, yet the annoyance doesn’t take away from the daunting aura that seems to surround him. With his netherite armor looking pristine— save for a few scratches here and there— George’s apathetic attitude only seems to add to his little formidable image.

As for Dream, well— things are different, to put it simply. Sapnap often wonders what it’d be like to stand against the masked man— out of mere curiosity, of course. Because as much as Dream may make rising nations crumble at the seams, he still is Sapnap’s best friend. The same guy who he witnessed tripping to get out of a boat, and landing face first on a muddy swamp with kelp stuck to his teeth.

In short, Sapnap finds it hard to be intimidated by Dream.

He does, however, notice the effect he has over other people. Over ones he considers enemies. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the distance Eret puts between herself and the group— he’s certain Dream doesn’t either. It’s understandable, really. But as he glances towards Dream for a quick moment, he briefly realizes just how threatening his best friend appears. Standing in a dimly lit cave, with an axe in his hand and a blank stare hidden behind his mask. And that’s not even mentioning his armor which— unlike George’s— has dents and scratches, blood and ash, is dirty and clawed.

Eret, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say that the iron armor he put together isn’t exactly threatening. Sapnap’s gaze lingers on their aviator sunglasses— definitely an odd choice for a lowly illuminated cave. To each their own, he guesses, ignoring the curiosity that inches inside his chest. After all, he’s heard one or two rumors about the L’manburgian.

“—For the majority, none of them are a threat, really.” Sapnap hears Eret say, making him straighten. He zoned out again, he realizes, jaw tensing.

“L’manberg’s walls aren’t as impenetrable as they say.” He remembers Dream saying offhandedly earlier, as they searched the labyrinth of tunnels and caves. With his mask raised only slightly over his head— enough for Sapnap to notice the slight curve of Dream’s lips, bordering a smirk. “All it takes is the right person, and the right motivation.”

Sapnap narrows his eyes at the deserter. Everyone has a price. How can Dream be so certain that he’s figured out theirs?

The masked man huffs, green hood pulled over his head as he tilts it to the side. “I didn’t ask your opinion, Eret.” He states blankly, voice emotionless and cold. “I’m asking what their weaknesses are. What areas we have to press to get them to budge.”

Sapnap nearly scoffs at that. To get them to kneel. He’s been around Dream long enough to know how he operates— to notice when he’s speaking between lines. And he knows he doesn’t just want L’manberg to agree to their terms.

He wants to make an example out of them.

Eret raises his brow, almost surprised. He inhales sharply, hazel curls falling over his sunglasses before he decides to start over. “…Well, Tubbo and Tommy are kids.” He begins slowly, hand lingering near his diamond sword. It’s not enough to make Sapnap grow tense — he knows Eret’s not enough of a threat, much less against the three of them — but it’s enough to snap him out of his hazy state, carefully keeping an eye on him for any sudden moves. “Fundy’s just Wilbur’s son—”

Dream exhales, annoyance rippling from him in waves. “Weaknesses, Eret.”

Eret’s jaw ticks, and even though Sapnap can’t see, he can imagine them narrowing their eyes.

“Right.” They mutter stiffly. “Well, uh…”

Sapnap feels his back straightening. He recognizes that feeling— he’s seen it before in other people.

Is she having second thoughts?

Maybe Dream was wrong. Maybe, for once, he was wrong— and Eret isn’t as willing as she seems to give up her friends. It wouldn’t surprise him. After all, they’re the people she’s been working alongside with— allies, comrades, friends, family. It would make sense that—

“Wilbur’s a dreamer.”

The words echo and ricochet for a moment among the stone tunnels, bouncing off the walls.

Sapnap’s shoulders drop with something reminiscent of dissatisfaction, a strange taste seeping into his mouth. For some foreign reason, hearing their voice makes him stand ever so close to disappointment.

So, who would’ve thought? Dream was right.

Eret sighs. “He’s got his head looking too high to notice what happens right underneath his nose.” He pushes up his aviator sunglasses when they start to slip down the bridge of his nose. “But he’s smart. He has plans beneath plans, and he’s got a way with words.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Not so much with weapons, though.”

The masked man lets the new information sink in, taking mental notes of it, as he doesn’t doubt his two friends are doing as well. Then, a hum, “What about his second in command?” Dream asks, and Sapnap tries to stifle the way his whole body perks up with newfound interest.

You. He’s talking about you.

“Y/N.”

The three people in the room turn to Sapnap as the word impulsively leave his lips, more out of instinct than rationality. Once he voices your name, it echoes with an oddly proud undertone.

The sudden interruption earns him the most minimal glance from George, who quirks a brow, not out of confusion, but rather curiosity.

Sapnap merely shrugs, and leaning back against the stone cave wall, he attempts to downplay his piqued interest. “What? I’ve been paying attention.”

Dream chuckles at that, offering Sapnap a brief glance. “Okay, Y/N.” He corrects, dragging out your name in a way that makes a strange feeling set within his gut. It’s a foreign one, a new one— definitely not a good one. “What’s her deal?”

Eret straightens, trying to stifle any sign of hesitation. They clear their throat, folding their arms over their chest to stifle any fidgeting. “Old friend of Wilbur’s, apparently.” They say, as if reciting information that had been previously said to them. “She’s been training the ki— um, a few of us. Teaching the basics.”

George — not wanting to be left out of the interaction — finally opts to speak, arms folded over his chest with disinterest. “So, she’s a good fighter?”

“I would think so.” Eret responds, shrugging. “She keeps away from conflict for the most part. I don’t think I’ve seen her hold any weapon other than a wooden sword for training.”

Dream only hums, yet this time, Sapnap manages to miss it. You’re training the others— which should mean you know your way around weapons. Is that why you barely reacted to him back in Tommy’s old home? Why you didn’t tremble when seeing his bloody sword? He always thought himself to be intimidating— he’s bested several fighters in combat to earn that title.

“She keeps away from conflict for the most part.”

Huh. Interesting.

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FOUR: She belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. Look around you boy, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’.

The next time Sapnap sees you is by mere chance. A twist of fate. A right place at the right time type of deal— or wrong place at the wrong time. Truly, it depends on who you’re asking.

Sapnap deems himself a skilled fighter. He’s been like that long since he was a child— and has bested his friends more than once. And still, knowing he is a warrior at heart, he is well aware of the fact that his ability is nowhere near close to whenever he’s in the Nether. Sure, with the years he’s learnt to make home of the Overworld— used every edge, studied every spot that could be exploited. He learnt to make it work. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’ll occasionally — very, very rarely — feel like he’s out of his depth. Like despite all the time he’s spent living in the land of sea and sky, he’ll never be able to harness it to its full potential.

He inhales deeply, nerves buzzing alight beneath his skin. The warm scent of soot, ash and molten lava greet him home. It makes his lips twitch upward. Finally, he’s in his element.

The Nether greets him back, like a lost son finding his way home once again. He weaves through the different biomes with natural swiftness, most mobs straying out of his way with ease. It brings a grin to Sapnap’s face.

There’s another thing that the Nether has that the Overworld doesn’t. Back in the Dream SMP, mobs are a pest, a nuisance. But here? Not only do they live in peace with one another, but they can sense something around Sapnap— an aura of sorts. One that borders the line between friend and foe, and it’s enough to have them turn away from him. Whether its out of respect or out of fear, he can’t bring himself to care. All he knows is it makes adrenaline buzz beneath his fingertips, and he loves it.

As Sapnap strides through falling flows of lava — the scalding liquid feeling like a warm embrace over his shoulders — he sees it. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type moment. And with lava still dripping down his back, for a fraction of a second, he sees blue. A shade too cold, too unnatural. Blue— weaving through a crimson forest.

He rolls his eyes.

George.

Of course his friend was too stubborn to tell him that he was coming to the Nether.

With a tch sound escaping Sapnap’s lips, he makes a point to make his strides longer, quicker— after all, while he may be in his element, it doesn’t mean George is any less sly and swift. He reaches for his sword, and with a precise move he cuts through a few weeping vines that fell on his way.

“Alright George, what—”

His voice dies in his throat, the scene before him taking him by surprise— which is a lot to say, because Sapnap’s rarely caught off guard. And where he believed George to be, he instead finds you, clad in gold armor with three piglins lingering all too close.

Remember when he said that Nether creatures are more pleasant than Overworld ones? Well, he’d like to make a correction. Piglins — Sapnap finds — are more of a nuisance than they are helpful. One of the few species that can be stubborn enough to stand their ground to fireborns like him. And though he finds the sight to be pretty amusing, ( that with you futilely attempting to swat the creatures away from you ) he’s unable to ignore the strange bitterness yet acidic feeling that curls around his gut. He watches as the piglins’ prying hands try to reach for your armor while you gently try to back away, knowing better than to accidentally anger them. For a moment too long, Sapnap hesitates, remaining close to the edge of the crimson forest. It’s only once one of them tries to get close enough to catch your scent — the golden armor hanging from your body all too alluring for the mindless pigs — that Sapnap instinct kick in. And as if saying ‘Okay, that’s enough’, he swiftly heads towards the group.

Amber eyes briefly meet with your slightly panicked and apprehensive e/c pair. He ducks his head to his right, noting the way the piglins quickly dismiss him — too entranced with the gold reflection of the metal to pay attention to the new threat that has entered the scene. It makes Sapnap huff, feeling as a brash impulse rapidly takes hold of his body. And before he can help it or think this through, his hand is already latching onto a piglin’s shoulder, forcing him away from you and towards him.

The creature lets out an angered grunt, bones tensing until Sapnap wills his own eyes to glaze over. Call onto that sleeping fire that lies deep within his body. And, soon enough, the dim amber in his eyes turns a bright, borderline furious orange. It’s reminiscent of lava— a reminder of what Sapnap actually is beneath the human-looking exterior.

The previously surprised — and nearing angered — piglin halts. And for the first time since he showed up, the Nether-born animal finally realizes who— or rather, what stands in front of him.

Sapnap notes how the other two piglins — both evidently smaller in size, making him believe the one he stands in front of is the leader — seem to freeze, or at least tense noticeably. Sapnap’s now lava-like irises meet with yours as he offers a small nod, one you ( despite your current situation ) quickly reciprocate.

He turns back to the leader of this little troupe, allowing the molten color to fade from his eyes. The three must be scouts from one of the Bastions, or maybe just mere scavengers.

The taller piglin starts ranting in a gravelly, slightly distorted voice. It makes the fireborn straighten. Sapnap’s piglin is a little rusty— and though he picked up on it back when he was a kid, he hasn’t needed to communicate outside the realm of trading in a good long while.

He hears as the leader keeps ranting with a harsh tone — one typical of the piglin language — when he notes one of the other pigs starting to walk closer to you. Sapnap is quick to take a few steps and flick them away. The shorter one snarls, and Sapnap doesn’t miss how it was trying to lay its scent around the gold armor you donned.

He shoots it a glare, willing the glow back to his eyes as it stiffens. Even then, Sapnap can feel them lingering too close for comfort, and decides to put his arms around you for good measure. When he meets their eyes over your head, a scowl sets on his features, making them back away in the slightest. It almost— almost brings a smirk to his lips. And if some distant part of him vaguely feels you stiffening, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his now fading amber eyes remain glued to the leader.

The biggest of the three lets out a grunt and a snort— something he doesn’t doubt sounds like garbled nonsense to anyone from the Overworld. Despite the rustiness he holds over the language, he still manages to catch a few words here and there.

At one phrase in particular, Sapnap straightens painfully, eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. He can feel his jaw tensing, body growing rigid and arms tighter around you, dangerously nearing a protective manner. The impulsive, reckless part of his brain — the one that drives on pure instinct — calls for him to reach for his sword and leave their bodies to rot over the netherrack ground. And yet he keeps the fire at bay, opting to listen to the colder, more calculating side that still whispers to him to stand his ground in a less volatile way.

“No.” He seethes, venom dripping from his voice. It earns him a similar response from the leader, who squares his shoulders with a gravelly snarl. Sapnap glances towards the other two and decides to take a gamble— and if things do go sideways, using his sword is always a respectable plan. For the time being, however, he mimics a sound similar to that of the pink creatures, making the three stand upright.

The leader of the little pack narrows its red eyes, before returning to you— or more specifically, the golden armor you’re wearing. Sapnap’s gaze hardens. You shouldn’t be wearing as much gold, much less brand new armor— it’ll draw these greedy bastards out, you should know that.

The piglin’s eyes linger a moment too long, and before he can help it, Sapnap is reaching inside his bag and tossing him a couple of gold bars.

“There,” he huffs, squaring his shoulders. “now we’re even.”

The sun has long since fallen over the horizon, a dark blue — dangerously nearing black — paints the sky above you. Snow crunches beneath Sapnap’s boots, layers upon layers of hail melting beneath his feet as he heads south. His jaw is clenched tightly, his mind mocking him as he thinks of course it’s fucking snow.

For the first time in a while he thanks the dark cloak his dad gave to him, and although it doesn’t do much, it puts him the slightest bit at ease. Thankfully, he’s still coming off that Nether heat— otherwise he’d be struggling to keep a steady pace, that with the brittle cold nipping at his skin.

He’s gonna need to talk to Bad and fix the whole Nether portal network. He glances back to the tiny shape that was their gate to the Overworld. It was supposed to lead them to one of the many hills surrounding Dream’s Kingdom. Somewhere, he knows the gods are laughing down at him. And instead of finding himself home, ready to fall victim to sleep, he finds himself walking in a desolated land of ice and cold. Well…

The sound of footsteps falling heavy on the snow, shortly trailing after him remind Sapnap that this place isn’t exactly desolated. Slowly, he turns to face you— sneak a quick glance to check on you.

He doesn’t know why he decided to stick with you— or why you decided to stick with him. It was a sort of silent agreement, one neither of you wanted to speak of, apparently. You’ve both refrained from saying anything ever since your little encounter with the three Nether creatures.

You carefully watch your strides, and if Sapnap didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were simply minding your step. No— you’re avoiding his gaze. As to why, he’s not entirely sure.

“What did you tell them?” The sudden sound of your voice surprises him, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between the two of you. You will your strides to be longer, faster, at least enough to catch up to him.“The piglins, I mean. Back in the Nether.”

“Uh…” Sapnap quirks a brow, noting the pink blush that has taken form over your cheeks. It’s due to the harsh and cold wind, yet he can’t help but find it strangely endearing. “I told them to back off. Said I already had a claim on you.”

“A claim?” You ask, confusion etched onto your features as you draw your brows together. “What does that mean, exactly?”

His lips set into a line. “It’s…complicated.” He gestures with his hand, as if trying to find the right word. “It’s like…dating but for mobs— especially piglins.” He shrugs, ignoring the way his shoulders seem to tense. “They usually stick to their communities but they’ll occasionally stumble upon something— someone shiny and pretty enough to catch their eye.”

You flush a darker shade underneath his gaze, temperature rising within your body at his vaguely teasing accusatory edge.

“They were trying to leave their scent on you when I showed up.” Sapnap straightens, scrunching his nose. The lingering scent still wafts around you, making him stifle a huff. He hates that the higher temperatures have heightened his senses, the scent of the piglin pact pungent to him. A part of him — some deep, obscure, long since hidden away instinct — wants to take matters onto his hands. As he glances down at you, he feels the urge to try burying his face against the crook of your neck grow within his gut. To finally let the other scents fade out and allow them to be replaced by his. And he suddenly remembers why he doesn’t visit the Nether as often as he once did— especially around other people. Sapnap rolls his shoulders, shaking the thought away. Instead, his jaw and knuckles tense as he mutters “Fuckin’ magpies, that’s what they are.”

“You don’t seem to like them very much.”

There’s a slightly amused undertone to your voice that wasn’t there before. Sapnap raises a brow. “I’m surprised you do after your little encounter.”

You huff. “They were trading with me just before!” You exclaim defensively, “I even got a few—” And then, suddenly, the easy conversation is cut short. Sapnap watches as your shoulders drop, as if finally realizing who exactly you’re talking to. Now in a lower, softer, less excited tone you mutter, “A few things for L’manberg.”

“Right.” Sapnap nods, disliking the returning stiffness to the air. “Word of advice?” He asks, amber meeting e/c. “Next time, try going to the Nether in a group. Strength in numbers and all that.” Then, softer, he adds, “Going alone was a reckless thing to do.”

You think his words over for a second. Two. You nudge him. “Well, I got you, don’t I?”

You’re closer to him than you were before. Like ever since you started striding next to him, your body unconsciously drifts closer to Sapnap’s. And then, as sudden as a lightning bolt, it hits him— you’re cold. He’s nearly certain that his body is still giving off heat, and though it’ll be ephemeral, you can’t help but seek the warmth.

“Maybe counting on the enemy as back up isn’t the most thought-out plan, sweetheart.”

You look up to him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards as you try to seem nonchalant. “You’re the one who said I should make my own judgement of you.”

“Are you now?” Sapnap muses, feeling as your shoulder starts to brush against his. “How am I doing so far?”

As your e/c meet his amber once again, he finally sees the same devious glint he donned earlier. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we…” Your gaze drops, doing a slow once-over of his frame as a matching grin curls onto your lips. “…sweetheart?”

And, surely, the blush that threatens to burn his face is due to the arctic cold.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FIVE: She’s is all cherry blossom kisses and clear blue skies, and you cannot bear to watch the life fade out from another person’s eyes.

Hours have turned into days. Days have turned into weeks. And despite himself, Sapnap keeps finding himself having serendipitous encounters with you— some by dumb luck, and others… well, let’s just say he may have taken a liking towards you.

And so what, if he has slowly started to enjoy spending time with you? You’re something new— something he hasn’t seen in these lands before. So what? Blame him for having a dangerous curiosity always toeing around his thoughts— which, oddly enough, now always seem to revolve around you.

His excuses to cover for his continuous absences have started to run out. First it was keeping a closer eye on L’manberg, then it was gathering materials, exploring nearby lands, going fishing— he’s never even gone fishing before! Sapnap is almost fully certain that the others have started to pick up on his strange behavior, though none of them have mentioned it yet. He can only imagine how things are going over on your side.

Sapnap trails shortly after you, steps unnaturally light. His whole body seems as if it’s lighter, like the spring breeze that brushes against his cheeks could carry him away.

For someone who’s been around the lands as long as Sapnap has, he’s surprised when he looks around at the place you brought him to. A surprise, you teased, knowing just how impatient he is. Still, he waited. He waited solely because of the gleeful glint dancing in your eyes. He waited only because of the slight quirk in your lips. He waited because you told him to.

Worth it, he thinks, the corner of his lips pulling upward as he looks around. It’s a narrow piece of land, hidden from prying eyes by a clear river. Rows of trees stand on each side of the river, velvet petals blooming to welcome spring. Cherry blossom trees. So what if Sapnap’s never been an avid observer of nature? It doesn’t mean he can’t start appreciating it now. Still— trees are trees. Flowers are flowers. Moss is moss. And yet — despite having seen lands beyond his days — he can’t help but feel like this place is the most beautiful riverside he’s ever seen. There’s nothing particularly special about it. Just cherry trees, water, and tall grass.

He lowers his gaze from the branches and down to your frame. You walk with a steady pace, never too quick, never too slow. This time — and much to Sapnap’s delight — you’ve opted to ditch the revolutionary uniform, instead opting to choose a longer skirt that would be more pleasant underneath the sun. Your whole being seems to glow, and even when Sapnap’s face accidentally smacks against a stray branch, it’s all worth it to hear your laugh.

Ah, he thinks, revelation sparking inside his brain, it’s not the setting that makes the place so beautiful.

It’s the company.

The blackstone walls still serve as a heavy reminder of where he is. Just in the outskirts of L’manberg, hidden away from plain sight, and yet a world away from the places he should be at. He tugs his cloak closer to him. You asked for him to bring it, just to avoid any attention either of you could get from anyone passing by.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His gaze lingers on your frame a moment too long. Amber eyes meet a curious pair of e/c.

“Nothing important, doll.”

There it is again— a nickname that seems to roll off his tongue perfectly. he doesn’t know why— all he knows is he enjoys the sight of your flushed cheeks whenever he uses it.

“You’re quieter than usual, Sap.” You muse, e/c eyes carefully scanning his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing important on your mind?”

He has to bite his tongue down to prevent him from blurting it out. If he’s being absolutely honest, he does have a few things weighing within his brain, begging to be spoken for a while already. Because the past few weeks have been a bliss. From acquaintances to friends to this— because ever since that encounter in the Nether, he can feel something has shifted. Like the universe — for once — has finally tipped in his favor. He knows this isn’t meant to last. No— this is a transitory thing, but wouldn’t it be great if it wasn’t?

Sapnap’s stare briefly drifts to the towering walls. And, as if allowing himself a moment of weakness, he wonders.

Would you join his side if he asked? No more climbing walls. No more hiding in the woods. No more sneaking around.

His jaw tenses, inhaling sharply. It’s stupid— definitely not a good idea. Because beyond the fact that he does not want to wonder how things would take a turn if you said no— at heart he knows Dream’s Kingdom won’t be the best place for you. After all, he’s already seen it take effect on some of his friends. The way the light in their eyes seem to grow dimmer, harder to see. He doesn’t want to be the reason it happens to you too.

A cold, stinging feeling crosses his chest. Dream has grown distant and aloof. George apathetic. And he has the feeling the only reason Punz has stuck around is because Dream is willing to pay. Something sour, reminiscent of jealousy festers like a weed in his chest. How is it, that despite the feeling of war that hangs from the air, everyone in L’manberg remains bright?

“What’s got you so silent today?” You ask, and this time, he takes note of the slight nervousness that hangs from your voice. Oh— you’re worried he doesn’t like this. As if he could ever dislike the sight of you, with sunlight casting around you like an angelic aura. Pretty, that inner voice repeats. Pretty, pretty, pretty. “You can tell me, you know.”

What’s on your mind?

“It’s…” He purses his lips, and before he can help himself, he finds himself blurting out, “you.”

The expression that takes over your face is one Sapnap hopes to remember for the rest of his days. First, it’s surprise— an unexpected response. Then, it starts to sink in, and heat rises to your cheeks, reaching the tips of your ears. Your lips fall open ever so slightly, e/c eyes staring back into his amber. It makes his heart beat louder, faster.

His lips part to speak, a grin starting to take over his features when—

“Y/N!”

Tubbo’s voice rings out like a bell in an open field, making both of you stiffen. His shoulders tense and your back grows taut. Amber meet e/c for a brief second. “We were looking for you everywhere! Wilbur said—”Sapnap supposes the kid finally steps into your vision, your back growing as stiff as wire. “Oh, uh, who’s your friend?”

Before Sapnap can process what’s going on, make an exit, maybe stage a fight, his line of sight is suddenly cut short. You pull down the hood of Sapnap’s cloak up to his chin, completely covering his face, a nervous laugh leaving you.

“Oh, um, no one!” You exclaim, that flustered edge to your tone almost making him smile. “He’s no one.”

No one.

Maybe it would sting a little more, if it wasn’t for how beautiful your voice sounds.

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SIX: She’s an angel gazing below, and gods— you’d climb walls and burn the lands if it meant getting a mere glance from her. How could your bloodied and soot covered hands ever deserve to hold her?

It’s night time when Sapnap sneaks into L’manberg. The moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden away by stray clouds. In other words, it’s the perfect time to enter without being spotted.

The thought weasels its way to his mind before he can help it. Is this creepy? He winces, leather bag shifting with the movement. This is definitely creepy.

In his defense, he just wants to check on you quickly. In and out. Just a moment. You won’t even notice he was there in the first place.

Punz’ words from earlier echo and rattle within his ears.

“Where have you been?” Sapnap distantly hears George ask, and despite the way his spine stiffens, this time the question isn’t directed at him. Instead, mismatched eyes stare at a certain blond’s back. His mischievous blue meet with Sapnap’s amber, as if saying, I know something you don’t.

“Ah, just around.” Punz drawls, smirk etched onto his lips.

“If you’re gonna say something, just say it.” George bites in annoyance. Well, someone evidently didn’t get enough sleep.

“Saw something you might like to hear,” he continues, disregarding George as his icy blue turn to Dream. His mask lies by one of the tables, faint scars over his face now visible. The green eyed man quirks a curious brow, intrigued.

“Is that so?”

“Let’s just say, L’manberg probably won’t be much of a problem in the next few days.” Punz says, a troublesome lilt to his voice.

“How come?” Sapnap finds himself asking, suddenly intrigued.

“I saw Tubbo and Y/N by a Nether Fortress.” Punz shrugs nonchalantly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s heart has dropped to his gut. “Apparently, she got hit by a wither skeleton. And if L’manberg’s resources are as scarce as Eret claims, well…”

There it is again. That knowing, borderline irritating smirk. He’s toying with Sapnap, he’s sure of it. But he can’t know— he doesn’t know. “Let’s just say, Tommy might just get that second in command title sooner rather than later.”

Wither skeletons. Out of all the Nether creatures humans can come across, they are by far one of the worst. They leave nasty marks— in some cases, not even a health potion can do much. His leather bag seems to grow heavier at the thought. Sapnap conveniently happened to have a few spare golden apples with him. Casualty, of course. He obviously had them lying around— after all, how could he ever go harvesting apples and hunting for gold in mere hours? Psh, definitely could not be him.

It’s only once he draws near to the caravan that he first hears you.

“Why are you being like this?” Your voice, usually sweet and overall nice to listen to sounds… different. And as Sapnap strides become slower, he feels an acidic feeling settling within his body. He doesn’t like this sort of different— he’s never heard you like this before.

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/N.” The voice makes his back grow unbearably stiff, bones turning cold while fire buzzes over his nerves. What are you doing with Wilbur this late? “Have any of them approached you, yes or no?” Wilbur asks, tone as firm as steel. It doesn’t sound like this is the first time he’s asking. “I’m talking Dream, George, Sa—”

Sapnap straightens, shoulders bunching together as he leans against the side of the van. And before a coherent thought even gets the chance to fully form, you respond in a clipped tone, “None of them.” Then, your voice becomes softer— cautious. “You know I’m on your side. What’s this all about?” You wait a moment. “Wilbur.”

The self-proclaimed leader exhales sharply, tensely. “Tommy saw you talking with Sapnap a few weeks ago by his old house.” He says, voice now carrying an edge. “You know, one of Dream’s most trusted associates? His second in command?” With curiosity gnawing at him, Sapnap raises his head ever so slightly, just enough to see but avoid being spotted. Wilbur stands close to you, but there’s a distance— one that definitely wasn’t there a few weeks ago. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your features twist, and he can tell by the look on your face that it feels like the other shoe has finally dropped. “So, you’re spying on me now?” You ask, and neither of them miss the accusatory edge.

Wilbur pinches his brows together, cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. “What? No!” He shakes his head, disarray brown curls shifting as he does. “No, no, you know I—”

Then, suddenly, Wilbur freezes.

The blush fades away, and a darker look crosses his face. The atmosphere has gotten colder, he can feel it even from the outside. Sapnap noticed— and now he doesn’t doubt Wilbur did too. You’ve yet to give him a straight answer— the only question is why?

Wilbur Soot chuckles humorlessly, a bitter, sharp edge to his tone. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”

Your click your jaw shut, shaking your head, as if saying, I’m not dealing with this now. A sour presence remains etched onto your expression. “I’m leaving.”

You’re halfway out the van when Wilbur’s voice sparks to life once again, this time less leveled, less calculated.

“You walk out that door and you can forget about coming back.”

His words waver ever so slightly, and Sapnap holds his breath. Your limbs suddenly turn to stone, unable to take another step forward. The ultimatum — the promise — hangs in the air, looming over you like a pile of bricks that threatens to collapse on you.

It’s a bluff, Sapnao thinks. He knows it is. It should be— because, as much as he may dislike him, Wilbur Soot is a smart man. At least, smart enough for when to know he’s made a mistake.

“What?” You ask, and this time your voice is smaller, weaker.

Brown meet e/c. And although there’s an evident hesitation in his gaze, his words are cold. “You know what I said.” His jaw tenses, eyes avidly searching your eyes for the answer he seeks. He doesn’t seem to find it. “And you also know you haven’t answered my question.”

This time, a scoff escapes you, serving as a shield for the moment of weakness. Your body still feels cold, it still feels like it’s been shackled to a ball and chain. “I don’t owe you explanations, Wilbur.” You say, and Sapnap wholeheartedly agrees. His body itches to do something— to head in, maybe even cause a distraction to get you out. His mind shouts at him to just barge in, and still, he remains frozen on his spot. “But since you must know, we were just talking. He was being nice, so I returned the favor. Happy?”

Your words sting. Even when he knows — when he hopes — they are just a front for Wilbur, they still feel like a punch to the gut.

A borderline mocking chuckle leaves Wilbur and echoes within the van. He looks amused, in a strange, bitter sense of the word. “Being nice. Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilbur shakes his head, faster, with more determination than before. His jaw is tense, tense enough that it might just splinter. There’s a dancing glint in his eyes— one that looks so familiar, yet he can’t seem to place. And after a moment of scrutiny, it hits him— it’s familiar because he’s seen it before.

He’s seen it before in Dream.

Wilbur takes a step forward, frame looming over yours as he fumes. “It means he’s clearly trying to use you and you’re too blind to see it.” He says, and he doesn’t need to yell his point across. His voice is already cold enough, already spiteful enough.

You, on the other hand? You look like you’ve just taken a punch to the gut. It passes— quickly replaced by new, more dangerous emotions. You look like you want to yell. Like you want to punch him square in the nose. Hell, Sapnap would’ve kicked him to the curb ages ago. Set the rest of his fucking van on fire to make him apologize for treating you like that.

And yet that’s where the difference between the two of you lies. Where the line is drawn between sea and sand.

You surprise him once again by lowering and relaxing your squared shoulders. You take a deep breath. In. Out. You swallow, feeling as your chest slowly unwinds. As the knots become loosened, untangled.

“Look, Wil,” You begin softly, tentatively. He doesn’t deserve it, Sapnap thinks. He doesn’t deserve any of it. Wilbur visibly stiffens, brown searching your gaze for an ulterior motive. “We’re both tired, okay? So, I’m gonna go back to my cabin, we’re gonna get some sleep,” you lick your lips, inhaling a small breath, “and you can talk to me again once you’ve let go of your paranoia.”

The silence stretches a moment too long. You’ve left him speechless. You’ve left them both speechless. And yet there’s a fragility to your movements, to your words. Like if he had pressed just a moment longer, you would’ve finally cracked. Finally snapped.

Now, however, you take a hesitant step forward, briefly closing the distance between you and the brunet. But it’s no longer the same— and it doesn’t even begin to compare to how you both were when you first arrived.

Brown meet e/c. You sigh softly, and gently press your lips against his forehead, feeling as he grows tenser underneath your touch.

“Goodnight.”

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SEVEN: She touches you like you’re fragile, and if you break you won’t be able put yourself together again.

The sound of dripping water was long since faded away from Sapnap’s ears. It’s odd— that feeling of drifting away, of the buzzing world fading to black with him being unaware.

Sapnap has always prided himself in his sharp instincts, and yet you make it easy. You make it so, so easy to simply relax, to drop his shoulders, to lean back and let you guide his movements. It’s almost like falling asleep, like letting your body be guided by the flow of a current.

While he sits with his two legs spread out, you remain sat between them, gently leaning forward as you scan the side of his face. Sapnap carefully follows your focused eyes, then your hands, as they reach to inspect one particular bruise.

Like the flow of a current. And yet, even the calmest waters can have dangerous turns.

He feels his fists tightening over his own lap. He wants to confront you about Wilbur. He wants to ask you, to hear what you have to say. And it’d be so easy— because you deserve more than this. You deserve more than living in a tiny wooden cabin, than remaining trapped between four walls. Better yet, you deserve more than following him, than having to stand every fit, every accusation. And Sapnap knows— he knows you’ve been nothing but kind to Wilbur— and he has yet to have seen him return it.

But things are complicated ( hell, aren’t they always? ) because he wasn’t meant to be there— he wasn’t meant to listen to that conversation. He wasn’t meant to know. But he does— and that’s an issue, isn’t it?

“What is this?” You murmur, making the boy beneath you straighten. His dazed amber blink a few times as you lean back, putting some distance between you. His hand instinctively reaches for the spot you gestured, making him wince. As far as he can tell, it’s a pretty bad bruise— one by the side of his jaw. There’s a cut— one he hadn’t taken note of before he came here.

You shake your head, turning on the faucet by your side and dipping a piece of cloth. You exhale, leaning closer to clean the bothersome injury. “You should be more careful, you know. I can’t keep patching you up like this.”

His amber meet with your e/c as you look back up to see his gaze. You’re close— too close. Sapnap gently shakes his head, the corner of his lip curving upward as he chuckles. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to come see you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully as you slowly set the cloth down. “And yet you still visit.”

“Yeah,” he begins slowly, softly— uncharacteristically soft. You feel his fingers wrapping around your waist— and, strangely enough, you don’t stiffen this time. Because something has shifted— you both know that. It no longer feels like walking around broken glass, but rather a familiar path. Sapnap leans closer, carefully setting his chin over your shoulder. And with his lips ever so close to your ear, he hums, “but this way I get to be closer to you.”

Your cheeks explode with red warmth, heart stuttering within your chest at the words. Gods, he’s so— so—

“Idiot,” You mutter, matching his quiet tone.

You two remain in that position for a few moments, nestled against each other, basking in the seconds of peace— of silence. The ephemeral moments in which the world is asleep, when walls and alliances don’t exist, when it’s only you and him.

Sapnap inhales quietly, body relaxing as he leans against you. Amber eyes slowly flutter open after a few seconds, before they land on his bag. He bites his tongue before reluctantly shifting away from you, now face to face.

“I found a few golden apples in one of my chests.” He says after a beat. “I… thought you could give them a use.” He sees the way your brows furrow together, lips parting, about to protest. After all he’s the one with wounds being treated not you— which you should know is a pretext to see you. Because, yeah, maybe Sapnap is a little banged up, but he’s seen worst days. And, if he’s being honest, he couldn’t have cared less about his own bruises. Hell, add it to the list of untreated injuries he’s had during the past years and move on. And yet…

And yet here he is. Sitting in front of you like some banged up puppy— which should feel embarrassing, but somehow it doesn’t. Because instead of humiliating thoughts, Sapnap finds himself thinking about how warm and comfortable you feel next to him. About your conversation with Wilbur. About what Punz told Dream at the Community House. And, soon enough, he’s realizing every single one of those thoughts revolve around you.

And fuck, he should be kicking himself because shit he’s down bad— six feet under type of bad. And yet he can barely process the thought when a new one sends his mind is reeling back. His fingers tighten around your waist slightly, gaze hardening.

“I heard about the wither incident.”

You straighten underneath his grip, e/c gaze meeting his evenly. Something flickers within your eyes, a glint Sapnap doesn’t manage to place before it’s gone. You shake your head, the corner of your lips twitching upward. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Sap. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I want to.

Sapnap bites the inside of his cheek, turning to look away. When he leaves — which he’ll have to do before the sun rises, before the people of both L’manberg and the SMP wake up — he’ll leave his bag there. By mistake, he’ll tell himself, knowing those three golden apples will be put to better used by you than him.

But for now, he sits. He lets you clean and cover his bruises, offering a smile to wave off Sapnap’s concerns. And as you tend to his injuries, he notices your gaze is too gentle. That bright look in your eyes is too naïve.

He looks away, feeling as his insides curl with a sour feeling weeding there. Thoughts of tomorrow. Thoughts of the real world— the one that lies outside your cabin, the one that will await you both in mere hours.

Yet here you are.

And, gods, he will not be the one to tell you that not everything can be fixed with a smile.

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EIGHT: If you jump, she might catch you, and then you’d have to watch as she tumbled through the dark.

The sun has long since risen over the walls of L’manberg, and the country is quiet.

It’s eerie, strange, unseen. Because as soon as sunlight touches the land, L’manberg is already coming alive with its people waking up. It’s peaceful on occasion, sure, but its never quiet.

You turn to look around, wondering if you somehow missed something. Everyone— everything— seems to have fallen asleep without previous notice, even when it’s well past noon.

It’s as if the world around you is preparing, bracing for something. But for what, exactly?

“What the hell?”

The voice comes from the forest— the one that grows just by the west wall. It’s Tommy’s voice, that’s a given— yet it sounds different. It’s enough to send alarms through your mind, and with quick instincts you reach for Fundy’s axe and hurry to the trees.

“Don’t fucking move.”

You’re met with Tommy’s back, blond head of hair looking down at something. You can’t manage a good look, that with Tubbo and Eret’s backs facing towards you. You weave through branches, jaw tense. “Tommy, what’s—”

The blue eyed boy turns to face you, shoulders stiff and nostrils flaring. You move your head ever so slightly, gaze flickering back to Eret, who shares a similar stance to Tommy’s. “What’s going on?”

The boy moves to the side, and you swear your heart drops to your gut. Because standing in front of the three boys, with hands cuffed together with a pair of metal bands, is Sapnap. His hair is a mess over his white bandana, eyes dead set forward as he avidly avoids your gaze. His face is bruised with injuries you’re certain weren’t there a few night ago. There’s a cut by his cheek, a bruise by his jaw and an arrow by his shoulder. You take a hesitant step forward, eyes never leaving his frame. They look new— brand new. This isn’t— this wasn’t a fair fight.

Wilbur’s words from your first days echo within your ear drums. Everything’s fair in war, dove.

You should know that.

“We saw him climbing the wall.” Tubbo begins stiffly, sharing a look with Tommy. “He was trying to get into L’manberg.” He reports, voice uncharacteristically monotone.

You inhale sharply, finally taking your eyes off Sapnap and onto the other three. You nod at Eret, jaw tight. “I’ll take it from here.”

Tommy’s shoulder bumps against you as he once again takes a stance in front of you, snarl curling onto his lips.

“No, no, I will.”

Tommy glares down at Sapnap, and although his back is stiff and his shoulders are bunched, you can feel the resentment radiating off him in waves.

“Tommy—” Eret begins.

“No, no, you know what?” Tommy snaps, temper slowly getting a hold of him. And yet, despite the evident anger in his tone, its not directed at Eret— it’s not directed at you, either.

For the first time since you got there, Sapnap looks up. Not by choice, anyway. You don’t realize when Tommy unsheathed his sword. You only feel as needles of anxiousness prick against your skin all at once, watching as the boy uses the sharpened iron to lift Sapnap’s head.

“You’re the reason we had scarce food in the beginning. Why we had less access to resources from the start.” He bites out.“You’ve been a thorn at our side for long enough, bitch.” And despite the words are leaving his mouth, it doesn’t sound like Tommy at all. If anything, he’s starting to sound like Wilbur.

“Wilbur said we’d need something to assert that we’re not messing around. That we’re not pawns in a game Dream is here to play.” Tommy’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “This is war.” He says solemnly, finally. “And wars have casualties.”

The world warps around you, and if you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure what happens. One moment, you’re watching Tommy ( Tommy, the same boy that used to have bright blue eyes— eyes you don’t recognize anymore ) raising his sword. Time slows down. Then, you’ve risen your axe as well. Time speeds up. And then—

“Stop.”

You’ve risen your axe, yes— you’ve risen it against Tommy. You don’t know when— you don’t know how this happens. But it’s too late, and the damage has already been done.

“Tommy, drop the sword.” The boy freezes, as do Tubbo and Eret beside him. They both have swords, you realize, yet none of them dare to move. They can’t move. You inhale deeply, trying to hide the way your wrist trembles. “I’m only gonna say it once, Toms. Drop it.”

Tubbo scrambles to speak, unable to find the right words. He takes half a step forward, blue eyes confused. “Y/N, what are you—”

Tommy turns around, eyes equally puzzled as Tubbo’s— but there’s something different. Something you can’t— you don’t want to place. His chest rises and falls.

And then, he drops his sword.

“Now back away. Slowly.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, your knees want to give out, and your limbs feel as if they’re made of wire. Despite your throat feeling as if there’s stones lodged inside of it, you hold onto your axe like a lifeline. You hold it up to defend the same boy that you should be standing against. You hold it up to defend Sapnap.

And there it is— because he knew. All things burn out eventually and he knew. And like an long awaited omen, here it finally is.

Your own fall from grace.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

NINE: She is too good. She is so good, and you cannot bring yourself to ruin one more good thing.

Huffs and pants. Ducks and parries. Swings and misses.

Dream and Sapnap sparring was routine to them long before the war started— months before L’manberg even existed. Once, it had just been the two of them. Laughing, teasing, mocking, promising to make the other kiss the floor.

By now, they both have each other’s movements memorized. The way Sapnap is more brutish, while Dream is more calculating. How Sapnap will go for the chest, while Dream will aim for the legs. One will jump and the other will duck, one will pull and the other will push.

In a different world, they would’ve been each other’s perfect enemy.

Just as Sapnap is about to land another blow with his sword, amber eyes briefly catch sight of a silhouette outside. It’s a jarring sight, especially considering he’s looking right outside the Community House — ergo, their territory. Because there you are, underneath the glowing sun, sitting by the edge of the bridge with your feet inside the river water.

Dream hits the back of his knee, almost making him lose his balance. Amber eyes narrow at a smug pair of green.

“What’s got you so out of it today?” He asks as he takes another swing at Sapnap, who narrowly ducks before striking back. Metal clashes against metal.

Sweat clings to his forehead, dark brown hair falling messily over his white bandana. “Nothing.”

“Don’t worry,” Dream’s lips quirk upward into a knowing smirk, voice deceptively understanding. “She looks like she’s enjoying the new company.

Sapnap pushes Dream back with his sword, a pit forming within his stomach at his words. And, before he can help himself or even think better of it, his eyes are flicking towards the window. True to his word, you’re standing outside with Punz, who stands too close for comfort. The blond hovers near you, that damning smirk clinging to his lips as he tilts his head slyly. He mouths something that Sapnap isn’t quite able to get. What’s he saying to you? Why’s he—

Dream ducks and sweeps his leg, sending Sapnap straight onto the mat with a loud oomf. A groan escapes him at the sudden hit, though it’s not nearly as painful as his bruised ego.

Green eyes peer down at him with a grin, before offering a hand. Sapnap rolls his shoulders as he takes it, standing back up. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it, before his eyes return to you.

Dream raises a brow— not curious, but intrigued, if that makes any sense. Not unknowing, but rather wanting to pick Sapnap’s brain.

“You’re distracted.” He states bluntly.

Sapnap rolls his eyes, finally moving along and tossing the practice sword onto one of the tables. “Thanks.”

Dream chuckles, a similar sound echoing as he mimics Sapnap’s actions. He tilts his head to the side. “You’ve gotten soft, you know?”

Sapnap turns to face his friend, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?”

Dream only shrugs nonchalantly, golden hair and green eyes the picture of innocence— but he knows better. Because one of the many advantages of having someone like Dream as a friend is that, with time, you learn to read him. Not like an open book — Sapnap’s certain that’s not possible when it comes to Dream — but rather highlighted words in a redacted document. Not clear intentions, but enough to see the puzzle pieces of a blurred picture. Dream shrugs as he heads towards the window. “Gotta say, she’s full of surprises.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sapnap scoffs, and to any stranger, he would have sounded amused— like an inside joke between friends. But Dream hears the faint stiffness to his words, the sourness, the tentativeness.

It’s Dream’s turn to look down at you— in a literal sense, of course. You’re… intriguing. At least, in the same way a riddle is. His green briefly glance at Sapnap, who’s joined him by the glass pane. He’s interested as to the effect you’ve had on his friend— as to what you plan to do next. And Sapnap may have let his guard down already, but Dream? Well—

The freckled man drops his shoulders with a lazy smile. It’s calculated, meticulously designed— and this time, Sapnap misses the intentions behind it.

“Don’t know. I kinda always thought she’d end up with Wilbur.” He nudges his friend’s shoulder. “I mean, all it takes is one glance at them, well…” he notes the way Sapnap stiffens, making Dream quirk a brow. “They certainly look the part.”

Amber meet green. His voice sounds hoarse, unsure. “You think so?”

The green eyed one nods. “Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He gestures with his hand. “I mean, it only takes a look to figure it out, don’t you think? They look like they’re cut from the same cloth. Whereas us…” Dream’s gaze shifts down to the scars in their hands, before flicks his fingers against Sap’s chestplate, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Well, something tells me you’d much rather have a sword than a pen.”

Sapnap tightens his jaw, before pushing himself away from the window and towards the stairs. “Whatever.” He mutters, missing the way Dream’s lip twitches upward.

He hates it, but Dream has gotten into his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TEN: You will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. She is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart.

“Hey, you okay?”

You nudge Sapnap’s shoulder with your own, making him sag a little to the side. Curious eyes peer down at him, brows raised upward. The water of the lake kisses Sapnap’s ankles and legs, colorful fish close enough that if he wanted, he could reach over and touch them.

Sapnap hasn’t always liked water. In fact, when he first stumbled upon the Overworld, he found it repulsive, the mere sight of it making him want to back up. Now, however, he relishes in it. A small, fleeting semblance of peace in a world of chaos.

“Huh?” Sapnap shakes his head, snapping back to his senses. He licks his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.” He exhales softly, a bittersweet expression taking over his features, amber gaze drifting away from the lake and onto you. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that.”

Perhaps you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to hitch for a moment, a split second of tenseness before reverting back to an easy smile. He does— he always does. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, nodding your head slowly. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

It’s a lie. Even if you’re unaware of it, it’s a lie. Because, yes, Sapnap wanted you to come with him. Yes, he wanted you to leave those obsidian walls behind and join him. But he wanted it to happen under your own terms. He wanted it to be your decision, not your only option.

Sapnap’s jaw ticks. You deserve more— so much more. And it’s unfair that this happened to you— that it happened because of him. All because he wanted to take a risk and see you during the day, knowing, fucking knowing that it was a stupid call to make.

You look back at him, amber eyes conflicted. He inhales sharply. He wants to say something else, he does, but before he gets the chance, he hears footsteps behind them. They’re not light at all— if anything, they’re obnoxiously loud. As if they’re trying to make their presence known.

Amber eyes meet with Punz’s icy blue ones. His white hood rests over his head, yet still revealing stray blond tufts of hair. The mercenary tilts his head, axe slung over his shoulder with his other hand stuffed inside his pocket. “Dream wants to see you in the planning room.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, a light scoff resonating within his chest. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Punz raises a brow, almost amusedly. “I wasn’t talking to you.” His blue drift away from Sapnap’s now straight frame, and center around you. The corner of his lip twitches upward, and Sapnap’s jaw tenses. “He wants to see Y/N.”

“Me?” You frown, puzzlement etched onto your features. As you stare back at Punz, you manage to miss the way Sapnap’s hand inches closer to yours, almost as if wanting to reach for you and pull you away from the mercenary. “Why?”

Punz shrugs, almost too nonchalantly. It makes Sapnap narrows his eyes. “You know the ins and outs of L’manberg, don’t you?” He clicks his tongue, taking his hand out of his pocket and offering it to you. “All information is valuable at times like these… wouldn’t you agree?”

If asked to place the sourness that spreads throughout his chest almost instantly, Sapnap wouldn’t be able to answer. It’s… odd. Unfamiliar. It started spreading as soon as Punz began talking, and for the life of him, Sapnap cannot tell what it is. All he knows is that he hates it.

You hesitantly reach for Punz’ hand, reluctantly standing up from the lakeside, when Sapnap’s hand latches onto your other wrist. You turn down to look at him, only to find his gaze dead-set on the blond.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He says, voice cold. And surely, you agree.

Punz quirks a brow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?” He asks condescendingly. “I don’t remember asking.”

Sapnap’s body grows tense, and he’s ready to stand up and knock that cocky smirk off his lips, when you stop him. You simply offer a smile. It’s not a genuine one— he’s seen enough of those to know the difference. “It’s— okay.” You lick your lips, biting down your tongue. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the way your body looks straighter, stiffer. “I’ll handle this, yeah?”

He wants to say that no, it’s not okay. Because despite understanding Dream’s want for information, it’s too soon. You’ve barely joined a few days ago. The scars are still too new, too fresh.

And as he watches you walk away, Sapnap can’t help but think how fucking unfair this whole situation is.

And so, hours continue to pass, the sun already nearing the horizon once again, and you’re still nowhere to be seen. Something reminiscent of concern itches at Sapnap’s gut, fingers distractedly picking at blades of grass to try and ease his mind.

He has yet to move from the spot where you left him at. After all, you’re not all that familiar with the place. So, he agrees it’s a good idea to remain at a site he knows you’ll be able to find.

Then, as he lays against the ground, he hears it. Distantly, almost getting carried away by the wind, he finally hears your voice.

Relief and delight crawl onto his chest (and gods, is he really that smitten with you?), and before he can even make sense of his actions, he’s turning around, ready to stand up and greet you—

And then he sees it.

In the distance, maybe all the way across the Community House, he sees Dream walking beside you. It… it almost sounds as if he’s laughing, yet he’s wearing his mask. Which means he’s not letting his guard down— he’s using you. As for what, Sapnap can only imagine.

That sourness from earlier returns, except this time is more acidic, more dangerous. And just when he’s about to stand up and see for himself what Dream is planning this time, a voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“She can handle herself.” Bad murmurs, so softly, yet so unwavering. His dad barely even offers him a glance, eyes boring into a small book by his lap. The man raises his gaze only slightly, but it’s enough for Sapnap’s shoulders to slump at his sides. “There has to be a reason why Wilbur had her as his second in command, right?”

There’s truth to his words— there always seems to be. Much like you, Sapnap’s dad doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the people from the SMP. It’s… odd. Makes you wonder why he ever accepted joining Dream’s Kingdom, when he prefers to keep away from conflict. And there’s something so… calming about his presence. Like he always knows what to say.

Sapnap inhales sharply, and exhales softly. “Yeah.” He mutters, mostly for his dad to hear. He vaguely registers George lingering nearby, knee-deep into the lake, but opts to ignore him for the time being. Bad’s right. There’s a reason why you were Wilbur’s second in command— you’re quick, clever. And yet everyone can commits mistakes. Misteps. And in a new environment, surrounded by the same people you were told to stand against, well— that’s enough to throw anyone off balance, isn’t it?

Bad hums. “Something on your mind?”

Sapnap bites his tongue, turning to look away from him before nodding. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Bad nods with a small shrug, watching as his gaze turns back to focus on you. “Okay.” He says quietly, tilting his head curiously. “Well…” Sapnap’s gaze turns to Bad. “If it makes you feel any better, she looks at you the same way you’re looking at her right now.”

A pink heat creeps onto his cheeks. “What?” He asks, more out of surprise than an actual question. Bad simply returns to read the book by his lap, lips curled into a small smile.

Sapnap bites his cheek. Okay, now he sees it. He’s messing with him. Ha ha, funny. “How exactly, huh?”

George — who up until that moment had remained a silent listener — finally parts his lips to speak, before Bad swiftly cuts him off. “Ah, too complicated to explain.” He waves him off. “You’ll figure it out.”

Sapnap furrows his brows, turning to George, who shuts his mouth closed, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes— all as if to say, fine, suit yourself.

Eventually, Bad decides it’s time for him to head back home, and bids them goodbye before heading down the prime path. And yet, despite his absence, his words still create a weird echo in Sapnap’s mind. He tries to shake it off more than once, but it always ends up coming back to him.

“Alright.” George clasps his hands together, before reaching for a bucket with a tropical fish swimming inside it. “I’m going head back for now.” He turns to Sapnap expectantly, who still remains sprawled against the grass.

“What?”

George huffs. “Are you coming?”

Sapnap groans exaggeratedly, making George let out a vague sound of displeasure to hide his amusement. “Ugh, fine.”

The two head down the wooden path towards George’s still unfinished home. As of the moment, it only has one room with all four walls up— and there’s no one to blame except for George’s laziness.

You’ll figure it out. And just like that, that nagging echo is back. You’ll figure it out—that’s what Bad told him earlier, wasn’t it? Figure out what, exactly? Sapnap’s gaze drifts off to George. He looked like he knew what Bad was talking about, right?

Sapnap licks his lips, clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, what was that all about?” George’s apathetic brown meet with Sapnap’s amber. The former raises a questioning brow. “With Bad, earlier?”

Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Oh.” George says simply. “You mean about Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

George stares at him for a moment, ever so unreadable, before a snort escapes him. It makes Sapnap straighten, while the latter looks awfully confident— as if he’s certain he knows a secret Sapnap’s not privy to. “You’re a clueless idiot, you know that, right?”

Sapnap’s lips twist. “What the hell?” He shoves the brunet to the side, making him stumble. “Okay then, fuck you too, George.”

A laugh leaves George, as if the whole situation is so unbelievably entertaining to him. He covers his mouth to stop another fit of laughter. “Oh my gods, do you just genuinely not know?”

Annoyance creeps onto his tone. “Know what?”

George blinks once, twice. Then, he stares as his friend for a moment, looking at him as if Sapnap’s suddenly grown another head. “That girl literally turned her back on her friends, on her country for you.” He begins, shaking his head. “And you’re too much of a coward to accept the fact that you have feelings for her.” Then, he shrugs relaxedly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s ears have turned red with embarrassment and something he’s unable to place. “To be fair, she probably does too.”

George continues to walk, bucket hanging from his hand, barely acknowledging the fact that his Nether-born friend is no longer walking besides him.

Sapnap heart stutters inside his chest, a warm, familiar heat taking over his whole body.

“She what?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Sapnap comes back to the lake, he’s surprised to see you sitting by his previous spot, warm rays of sunlight against your back as you lean against your palm. He walks towards you rather hesitantly, this time with a flutter in his heart that he hadn’t noticed before. Or perhaps it always was there, and he just couldn’t tell what it meant.

Sapnap takes a seat next to you before he even realizes he’s strayed away from the prime path. He licks his lips before asking, “How did everything go?”

You inhale sharply. “Um, fine.” You bite your tongue, turning to face him— this time without a smile, neither genuine nor fake. You exhale. “I… I think.”

Sapnap licks his lips, watching as your hand falls besides you instead of your lap. It’s close to Sapnap’s hand— maybe too close. But this time, he finds he likes it. Even without touching, feeling that warmth he always finds himself chasing.

“Earlier you said you were okay.” Sapnap sets his lips into a line, shifting on his spot as he turns to get a better look at you. “It’s alright if you’re not… okay.” He’s awful at this. He can feel pink starting to dust his cheeks— because gods this is embarrassing. He clears his throat awkwardly. “What I’m trying to say is things changed. Quickly. But, um,” Sapnap inhales softly. “I just wanted to say, uh, thank you.” He nods slowly, as if in affirmation. “for what you did back in L’manberg.”

You don’t smile, he notices. Instead, you simply nod curtly before averting your gaze towards the lake. “Don’t take it to heart.” He frowns. “Tommy… he’s just a kid. Reckless, but still an impresionable one.” You scoff, shaking your head. “He was just reciting bullshit Wilbur’s said in the past.” You turn to him again. “It was… nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Stop doing that.”

You raise your brows, surprised by Sapnap’s sudden cutting tone. “Doing what?”

“Selling yourself short.” He shakes his head. “Playing it off as if you don’t do great things for others— for me.” He watches as your gaze softens, his voice nearly cracking. It’s a weight, a pile of stones, still on his shoulders, yet about to fall. “You could’ve chosen to stay quiet. To watch the others do whatever they planned on doing.”

He stops for a moment, and you watch as this boy — the same boy with those beautiful amber eyes and pretty brown hair — looks like he may just crack open in front of you.

Sapnap’s voice grows quiet. “And yet you helped me.” He says, slowly, unsurely. “And I don’t really think I deserved it.”

You turn your head, leaning closer to face him. “Sap…”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Just—” he stops, reconsiders, and continues, “I-I don’t know if you made the right choice, okay?” Your hand is close, so close— and this time, he decides to reach for it. It’s tentative, hesitant, and he feels as if his heart might explode when you intertwine your fingers against his. “There’s no turning back from here. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think this place is the best place for you.” He licks his lips. “What I’m trying to say is…” Amber meet e/c. And it’s different this time. Because things have shifted one too many times between the two of you, and yet this is different. A new sort of different.

“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, the corner of your lips curling into a small smile. “I know.” You murmur, eyes carefully scanning his face. “And you don’t need to worry about me.”

Your words ring a familiar tune. He remembers it clearly— back in your cabin. Back before everything went to shit. He remembers the warmth, the closeness, the you don’t need to worry about me, Sapnap.

This time, Sapnap doesn’t bite his tongue.

“But I want to.”

And there it is. That feeling stirring inside his chest— he doesn’t know what it is. But he’s felt it before. Almost like a swarm of butterflies in his gut, a heat in his chest. He knows it because he felt it when you encountered each other in the Nether. When you trudged back, perhaps too close to call each other the enemy. When you met by the cherry blossom trees, craving each other’s presence too much to be mere acquaintances. When he went by your cabin, wanting to stay close to you, near you— with you.

He’s leaning closer. His eyes shift from your eyes and down to your lips. He can feel your hand closing around his, and he’s certain his heart skips a beat when you do.

Not enemies, not acquaintances, not friends.

He swallows, remembering what George told him only less than an hour ago. There’s a blush on your cheeks— one he only notices because of your closeness — but it’s enough to make him smile. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

What does that make you?

The butterflies are there again. The skipping heart, the blush on his cheeks— he’s down bad. But it doesn’t sound too awful, does it?

Amber eyes meet your own. He’s close to you, so close in fact, that your nose nudges against his. Your e/c flutter closed as he inhales shakily.

He leans in, hoping, praying, that this isn’t him be misreading this whole situation.

Your lips meet his with a smile.

REASONS TO KISS HER

ONE: She loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didn’t your father ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting?

ADDITIONAL NOTES… thank you for reading!!! this one took over two months to finish writing so i hope you enjoyed! please try to leave a comment and reblog as they’re the main thing that keeps me writing <3 even if it’s just a keyboard smash, i love to read all of them :DD

GENERAL TAGLIST… @sushisoot @nonsensicallynarnian @krazykupcakes113 @god1ngs @incorrectarrowverse @scootersmccall @wingedghostpepper @bubblezbee (shoot me an ask to be added!)

[softhuesoflilac]

▸ REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

pairing: fireborn!sapnap x fem!l’manberg!reader

SUMMARY: sapnap cares for you— maybe more than he should. and he cannot bring himself to ruin one last good thing.

WARNINGS: angst, blood, injuries, general violence, implied wilbur x reader relationship but not really, dream being a sly manipulative ass + punz, swearing, enemies to lovers/star-crossed lovers, suggestive themes, wilbur’s an ass in this one sorry, it’s just sapnap going through the five stages of grief honestly.

WORD COUNT: 14.9k (my longest imagine to the date by a lot but it’s worth it I swear)

NOTE: based on this post! I’ve been wanting to do an imagine around that excerpt for a while so,,, here we are!!! It has a few additions made by me ;))

REASONS NOT TO KISS HER

ONE: This sort of love is not allowed. You are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and sharp teeth.

Sapnap recalls the days when they first founded the SMP — boundless lands, forests that seemed to stretch to places beyond their imagination. Rivers that flowed through the hills, weaving and curling beyond the realms of what they had discovered.

He recalls spending nights and days carrying bricks to finally finish the Community House. He remembers his first few trips to the Nether alongside Dream and George. He remembers catching Mars and Beckerson while gathering materials. And he remembers building his very first home from scratch.

What Sapnap doesn’t remember, however, is when he first started seeing walls rising over the horizon of their lands.

“We have a new visitor.”

He hears Dream’s steps before he hears his voice. There’s a certain familiarity to them— one that makes Sapnap’s shoulders drop instead of having his fingers reach for his sword.

Punz stands besides him, leaning against one of the tables from within the Community House as he picks at his nails in disinterest. Despite the relaxed air of conversation, Sapnap knows where this conversation is headed. He can tell by the way Dream’s jaw ticks, annoyed.

And before he even gets the chance to respond, George’s indifferent voice beats him to it. “Let me guess, friend of L’manberg?”

Dream rolls his shoulder, netherite chestplate making a metallic sound as he does. With a roll of his eyes he says, “Yeah.”

Punz quirks a brow, finally raising his blue gaze. “Do we know who it is?”

Dream’s jaw tightens at that, mask resting over the table as his head tilts to the side, thinking. “No.” He finally responds. Green eyes briefly meet with Sapnap’s amber ones. “We don’t.”

The nether-born quirks a brow at that, recognizing that look from a mile away. The corner of his lips twitch upward. “Sounds like you wanna change that.”

Dream’s solemn look shifts into a grin, lips curled with mischief. And as if posing a challenge, he smirks and says, “Only if you’re up for it.”

Despite the towering walls of obsidian and blackstone, sneaking inside L’manberg is not nearly as hard as Sapnap first thought.

He lands on the ground silently, weaving through the trees like second-nature. It’s an advantage they all have— they’ve spent enough time within these lands to know them like the back of their hands. Every vantage point, every blindspot. And, much to his satisfaction, it seems that Wilbur’s people happen to be strangers to the very soil they’ve named an independent nation.

This should be easy enough.

Sapnap halts on his path as soon as he hears voices up ahead, and like a knee-jerk reaction, he reaches for his sword and ducks behind an oak tree.

He waits a second. Two. Then, he peers over his hiding spot, wishing he could just barge in guns blazing as he usually does. But Dream was very clear with his instructions— he just needed to find information on L’manberg’s new possible ally. Verify how much of a threat they could be, and then report back.

It’s only once he takes a glimpse of the newly taken land that he first sees you.

The sound of your voice gets carried by the wind as you walk out of Wilbur Soot’s tacky van— and despite not being able to understand what you’re saying, Sapnap can’t deny that you’ve definitely caught his interest.

You look out of place— standing out due to your lack of a revolutionary uniform. There’s no coat wrapped around your frame, no hat atop your head, no sword by your belt. And, still, Sapnap can tell you could easily become an inconvenience. Because as soon as you step out, the so-called leader of the revolution follows.

Sapnap’s no stranger to Wilbur Soot— he’s had his fair share of encounters with him, and he’s been a pebble inside the SMP’s shoe ever since he first showed his face around the lands. One thing he’s noted, however, is how old Wilbur has always looked in comparison to his allies— not worn by war, yet still cursed with knowledge. Always looking after everyone like some mother hen, always dictating what should or shouldn’t be done. The way Sapnap sees it, it’s as if Tommy’s brother is constantly carrying a weight over his shoulders, never knowing when he’ll finally be able to set it down.

And yet, while you may not look like much, Sapnap doesn’t miss the way Wilbur seems… different. Lighter, if that makes any sense. Because as he steps off the van with a bright grin, he shakes your hand, before quickly wrapping his arms around you into a warm hug.

Sapnap doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t know your name, your skills, or how exactly you found Dream’s kingdom. But while he may not know you, Dream has already made his judgment on Wilbur after their first confrontation. And he looks rather… thankful. Almost at ease upon seeing you— certainly a strange sight when you find yourself in the midst of a war.

And, somehow, as Sapnap makes his way back through the trees, he simply knows he’ll be seeing more of you in the future.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TWO: No one ever taught you how to love. Your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves.

The second time Sapnap sees you is when he’s walking down the prime path.

His netherite armor glistens underneath the sun, the enchanted glow creating a smooth violet reflection. His similar sword still drips with hoglin blood— something he’ll undoubtedly have to clean up later.

His original plan was to go stash his newly found materials back to the Community House— maybe even check Bad’s chests for any possible loot. And yet, as he strides down the worn wooden planks, with ash and a vague scent of smoke clinging to his body, he comes to a sudden halt.

Because, only a few steps ahead and standing in front of Tommy’s old house ( if you could even call it that ), he sees you.

Once again, you look oddly out of place. This time, however, he notes that you’re wearing a brand new L’manberg uniform— and for some strange reason he can’t seem to place, Sapnap’s first thought is, ‘Huh, pity.’

“Trouble in paradise?”

His sudden question nearly makes you jump, head quickly snapping in his direction. Your shoulders grow tense at the sudden interruption, fingers inching closer to your iron sword. And, at last, he finally gets to see you up close.

Pretty, he thinks almost instantly— and thank Prime he didn’t open his mouth to say it out loud. Instead, he simply tilts his head ever so slightly, an amused glint dancing in his amber gaze as he awaits your response.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, voice strangely even for someone who stands mere feet away from the very enemy of their self-proclaimed free nation.

And yet your stance doesn’t waver, shoulders dropping from their previous stiff state. It’s an unexpected reaction— definitely not one Sapnap was awaiting. Because the picture the two of you paint should seem threatening— you, with a mere iron sword and boots, while he stands with a full netherite armor suit and a bloody sword. It makes a dangerous curiosity brew within his chest.

You merely quirk a brow, e/c eyes flickering past him and towards the rest of Dream’s Kingdom. And then slowly, softly, as if it may get carried away by the wind, you add, “You’re a long way from home, Sapnap.”

So, you’ve heard of him. It makes a smirk curl onto Sapnap’s lips, interest spreading through his body like wildfire. Despite your first reaction, you don’t seem that intimidated. Strange, considering his track record and previous encounters with the other members of L’manberg.

You make him curious. The sort of curiosity that sets root within your bones and takes a hold of your clear judgment. And so, with the corner of his lips twitching upward, he decides that maybe, just maybe, he’ll play along for the time being.

“What can I say?” He begins slowly, yet it’s nowhere near as soft as your voice. He takes a swift step back, amber eyes doing a quick once-over of you. Then, he shrugs innocently, “A little something caught my eye.”

You furrow your brows briefly, head tilted to the side as you fold your arms over your chest. “Something?”

Sapnap’s features brighten deviously before he corrects, “Someone.”

His comment evidently takes you by surprise, impassive façade faltering as red creeps up your neck and cheeks. It makes Sapnap swell with something reminiscent of pride, smirk widening.

In a way, it humanizes you, if that makes any sense. After all, he’s only ever seen you as Wilbur Soot’s picture-perfect second in command. The one who, according to a trusted source, maintains the peace within the walls of the new country. And for Sapnap, knowing that even L’manberg’s should-be vice president isn’t immune to his advances, that you aren’t as idyllic as you were made out to be… well, let’s just say he relishes at the sight.

Yet instead of calling you out on the pink that dusts your cheeks, he simply opts to ask the question that first echoed within his mind. “You know my name.” And as it leaves his lips, he realizes it’s no longer a question, but a statement.

“That I do.”

Sapnap takes a prompt step forward, amber eyes carefully watching your expression. Much to his surprise, you don’t take a step back, and instead remain rooted to your spot.

Dark brown hair falls over his white bandana when he speaks. “I think it’s only fair that I learn yours too.”

His words spark a scoff from you, a trace of disbelief and annoyance dripping from your tone. “Right. As if you don’t already know it.” You bite, almost as if accusing him of some crime he’s yet to commit. He tilts his head to the other side, questioningly, ready to ask the thoughts lingering around his mind when you beat him to it. “I saw you spying on us the other day.”

Ah. There it is. Not a crime he’s yet to commit, but rather one he’s already pulled off, unaware that he had been caught red handed. Sapnap can’t help but wonder how he didn’t notice he’d been spotted. Did you see him right away, as soon as you stepped off Wilbur’s van, or did you catch a second-worth glimpse of his retrieving frame, blending in with the woods?

You’re smarter than he initially gave you credit for. That’s his mistake— he should’ve known what type of person Wilbur would choose for his second in command.

“You’re not getting any information from me.” You say definitively, making Sapnap furrow his brows, failing to conceal the sudden confusion etched onto his features. “You can tell Dream to try better next time.”

Dream? What does he have to do with anything? Why would he—

Oh.

Once he snaps back to his senses, cogs slowly beginning to turn inside his brain as he puts two and two together, he realizes you’re halfway out. Your back is already turned to him, Tommy’s hobbit hole left behind as you head towards the Prime Path.

And, as if he was running out of time, he quickly remarks, “Dream didn’t send me.”

Surprisingly enough, his words make you stop, at least falter for a split second— and, then again, a split second is all Sapnap needs.

He’s quick to catch up with you, voice teasing and body close as he murmurs near your ear, “But alright, I see how it is.” He hums in contentment when he picks up on the sudden stiffness of your body upon the close proximity. His amber gaze lingers on your side profile a moment too long, unable to meet your e/c, but wanting to see the reaction he caused. He enjoys it— maybe even more than he should. And yet the thought doesn’t stop him from prodding just a little more, the cadence of his voice dropping with a tinge of annoyance.

“Bet he told you I’m just Dream’s mindless soldier, huh?”

You whip your head towards him, the movement clearly without further premeditation. Otherwise, you would’ve thought of the lack of distance that would be left standing between you and the enemy— not that Sapnap can bring himself to care. Not when his fiery amber finally get to meet your e/c.

“He told me about the trees you burnt down.” You bite back, never missing the mirthful lilt to Sapnap’s actions.

To the accusation he shrugs nonchalantly, corner of his lip curving upwards. “Not my finest moment.” He says easily, and as soon as you start walking again, he chuckles. “But c’mon, are you really gonna judge me off someone else’s opinion?”

You don’t take another step, and instead offer a side-look to the stranger-now-made-acquaintance. You think about it for a second. Two. And then, with sincere yet vaguely amused tone, you ask,

“How do you know I’m not making my own judgement?”

Sapnap hums, the edges of his face rising in the slightest as mirth drips from his features. If the thought crossed his mind before, then it’s definitely sticking now— ‘cause somehow, underneath all that revolutionary bullshit, you’ve caught his interest. His nerves buzz alive when he cocks his head, tousled darkened hair falling over his bandana as he responds,

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

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THREE: Her heart is carved from gold, while your soul remains scarred and bruised. And why would you risk burning something beautiful when she’s already perfect from afar?

The inside of Dream’s chosen cave is cold. The air is damp, there’s a chill wind coming from somewhere, and Sapnap has to keep looking over his shoulder in case another creeper shows up.

( Not because he’s scared — trust me, he’s longed since outlived those days — but rather due to the big inconvenience they become sooner or later. )

Still, and rather reluctantly, Sapnap understands why Dream chose such a place. Why they showed up an hour before, mapping out the tunnels and memorizing every nook and cranny. For any places other spies could be hiding in, for any previously set equipment to conceal the presence of a third party. Which, if he may add ( and as George pointed out ), is absolutely stupid. After all, they’re the ones that chose the meeting place— not that any of their protests would make Dream change his mind.

Then again, the stakes are high. Which would mean — and not that he’d ever say it out loud— Dream’s paranoia is somewhat well-founded. After all, who’s to say that their spy on the inside won’t just double-cross them?

And so, after waking up at the early dawn, reaching the meeting point and searching every pathway, Sapnap stands besides Dream with a sword by his hand. A preemptive measure, he told George, as if neither of them were aware of the fact that Sapnap simply enjoys the intimidation factor a little too much.

They’ve met up with Eret before— so much so that it slowly became routine. As to how he excuses every scheduled disappearance to the rest of L’manberg, Sapnap can’t really bring himself to care. As long as he doesn’t cause suspicion to rise, then they should be good.

Sapnap’s bored amber drift away from Eret’s frame and towards George and Dream. The goggled boy appears about as bored as he currently is, yet the annoyance doesn’t take away from the daunting aura that seems to surround him. With his netherite armor looking pristine— save for a few scratches here and there— George’s apathetic attitude only seems to add to his little formidable image.

As for Dream, well— things are different, to put it simply. Sapnap often wonders what it’d be like to stand against the masked man— out of mere curiosity, of course. Because as much as Dream may make rising nations crumble at the seams, he still is Sapnap’s best friend. The same guy who he witnessed tripping to get out of a boat, and landing face first on a muddy swamp with kelp stuck to his teeth.

In short, Sapnap finds it hard to be intimidated by Dream.

He does, however, notice the effect he has over other people. Over ones he considers enemies. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the distance Eret puts between herself and the group— he’s certain Dream doesn’t either. It’s understandable, really. But as he glances towards Dream for a quick moment, he briefly realizes just how threatening his best friend appears. Standing in a dimly lit cave, with an axe in his hand and a blank stare hidden behind his mask. And that’s not even mentioning his armor which— unlike George’s— has dents and scratches, blood and ash, is dirty and clawed.

Eret, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say that the iron armor he put together isn’t exactly threatening. Sapnap’s gaze lingers on their aviator sunglasses— definitely an odd choice for a lowly illuminated cave. To each their own, he guesses, ignoring the curiosity that inches inside his chest. After all, he’s heard one or two rumors about the L’manburgian.

“—For the majority, none of them are a threat, really.” Sapnap hears Eret say, making him straighten. He zoned out again, he realizes, jaw tensing.

“L’manberg’s walls aren’t as impenetrable as they say.” He remembers Dream saying offhandedly earlier, as they searched the labyrinth of tunnels and caves. With his mask raised only slightly over his head— enough for Sapnap to notice the slight curve of Dream’s lips, bordering a smirk. “All it takes is the right person, and the right motivation.”

Sapnap narrows his eyes at the deserter. Everyone has a price. How can Dream be so certain that he’s figured out theirs?

The masked man huffs, green hood pulled over his head as he tilts it to the side. “I didn’t ask your opinion, Eret.” He states blankly, voice emotionless and cold. “I’m asking what their weaknesses are. What areas we have to press to get them to budge.”

Sapnap nearly scoffs at that. To get them to kneel. He’s been around Dream long enough to know how he operates— to notice when he’s speaking between lines. And he knows he doesn’t just want L’manberg to agree to their terms.

He wants to make an example out of them.

Eret raises his brow, almost surprised. He inhales sharply, hazel curls falling over his sunglasses before he decides to start over. “…Well, Tubbo and Tommy are kids.” He begins slowly, hand lingering near his diamond sword. It’s not enough to make Sapnap grow tense — he knows Eret’s not enough of a threat, much less against the three of them — but it’s enough to snap him out of his hazy state, carefully keeping an eye on him for any sudden moves. “Fundy’s just Wilbur’s son—”

Dream exhales, annoyance rippling from him in waves. “Weaknesses, Eret.”

Eret’s jaw ticks, and even though Sapnap can’t see, he can imagine them narrowing their eyes.

“Right.” They mutter stiffly. “Well, uh…”

Sapnap feels his back straightening. He recognizes that feeling— he’s seen it before in other people.

Is she having second thoughts?

Maybe Dream was wrong. Maybe, for once, he was wrong— and Eret isn’t as willing as she seems to give up her friends. It wouldn’t surprise him. After all, they’re the people she’s been working alongside with— allies, comrades, friends, family. It would make sense that—

“Wilbur’s a dreamer.”

The words echo and ricochet for a moment among the stone tunnels, bouncing off the walls.

Sapnap’s shoulders drop with something reminiscent of dissatisfaction, a strange taste seeping into his mouth. For some foreign reason, hearing their voice makes him stand ever so close to disappointment.

So, who would’ve thought? Dream was right.

Eret sighs. “He’s got his head looking too high to notice what happens right underneath his nose.” He pushes up his aviator sunglasses when they start to slip down the bridge of his nose. “But he’s smart. He has plans beneath plans, and he’s got a way with words.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Not so much with weapons, though.”

The masked man lets the new information sink in, taking mental notes of it, as he doesn’t doubt his two friends are doing as well. Then, a hum, “What about his second in command?” Dream asks, and Sapnap tries to stifle the way his whole body perks up with newfound interest.

You. He’s talking about you.

“Y/N.”

The three people in the room turn to Sapnap as the word impulsively leave his lips, more out of instinct than rationality. Once he voices your name, it echoes with an oddly proud undertone.

The sudden interruption earns him the most minimal glance from George, who quirks a brow, not out of confusion, but rather curiosity.

Sapnap merely shrugs, and leaning back against the stone cave wall, he attempts to downplay his piqued interest. “What? I’ve been paying attention.”

Dream chuckles at that, offering Sapnap a brief glance. “Okay, Y/N.” He corrects, dragging out your name in a way that makes a strange feeling set within his gut. It’s a foreign one, a new one— definitely not a good one. “What’s her deal?”

Eret straightens, trying to stifle any sign of hesitation. They clear their throat, folding their arms over their chest to stifle any fidgeting. “Old friend of Wilbur’s, apparently.” They say, as if reciting information that had been previously said to them. “She’s been training the ki— um, a few of us. Teaching the basics.”

George — not wanting to be left out of the interaction — finally opts to speak, arms folded over his chest with disinterest. “So, she’s a good fighter?”

“I would think so.” Eret responds, shrugging. “She keeps away from conflict for the most part. I don’t think I’ve seen her hold any weapon other than a wooden sword for training.”

Dream only hums, yet this time, Sapnap manages to miss it. You’re training the others— which should mean you know your way around weapons. Is that why you barely reacted to him back in Tommy’s old home? Why you didn’t tremble when seeing his bloody sword? He always thought himself to be intimidating— he’s bested several fighters in combat to earn that title.

“She keeps away from conflict for the most part.”

Huh. Interesting.

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FOUR: She belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. Look around you boy, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’.

The next time Sapnap sees you is by mere chance. A twist of fate. A right place at the right time type of deal— or wrong place at the wrong time. Truly, it depends on who you’re asking.

Sapnap deems himself a skilled fighter. He’s been like that long since he was a child— and has bested his friends more than once. And still, knowing he is a warrior at heart, he is well aware of the fact that his ability is nowhere near close to whenever he’s in the Nether. Sure, with the years he’s learnt to make home of the Overworld— used every edge, studied every spot that could be exploited. He learnt to make it work. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’ll occasionally — very, very rarely — feel like he’s out of his depth. Like despite all the time he’s spent living in the land of sea and sky, he’ll never be able to harness it to its full potential.

He inhales deeply, nerves buzzing alight beneath his skin. The warm scent of soot, ash and molten lava greet him home. It makes his lips twitch upward. Finally, he’s in his element.

The Nether greets him back, like a lost son finding his way home once again. He weaves through the different biomes with natural swiftness, most mobs straying out of his way with ease. It brings a grin to Sapnap’s face.

There’s another thing that the Nether has that the Overworld doesn’t. Back in the Dream SMP, mobs are a pest, a nuisance. But here? Not only do they live in peace with one another, but they can sense something around Sapnap— an aura of sorts. One that borders the line between friend and foe, and it’s enough to have them turn away from him. Whether its out of respect or out of fear, he can’t bring himself to care. All he knows is it makes adrenaline buzz beneath his fingertips, and he loves it.

As Sapnap strides through falling flows of lava — the scalding liquid feeling like a warm embrace over his shoulders — he sees it. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type moment. And with lava still dripping down his back, for a fraction of a second, he sees blue. A shade too cold, too unnatural. Blue— weaving through a crimson forest.

He rolls his eyes.

George.

Of course his friend was too stubborn to tell him that he was coming to the Nether.

With a tch sound escaping Sapnap’s lips, he makes a point to make his strides longer, quicker— after all, while he may be in his element, it doesn’t mean George is any less sly and swift. He reaches for his sword, and with a precise move he cuts through a few weeping vines that fell on his way.

“Alright George, what—”

His voice dies in his throat, the scene before him taking him by surprise— which is a lot to say, because Sapnap’s rarely caught off guard. And where he believed George to be, he instead finds you, clad in gold armor with three piglins lingering all too close.

Remember when he said that Nether creatures are more pleasant than Overworld ones? Well, he’d like to make a correction. Piglins — Sapnap finds — are more of a nuisance than they are helpful. One of the few species that can be stubborn enough to stand their ground to fireborns like him. And though he finds the sight to be pretty amusing, ( that with you futilely attempting to swat the creatures away from you ) he’s unable to ignore the strange bitterness yet acidic feeling that curls around his gut. He watches as the piglins’ prying hands try to reach for your armor while you gently try to back away, knowing better than to accidentally anger them. For a moment too long, Sapnap hesitates, remaining close to the edge of the crimson forest. It’s only once one of them tries to get close enough to catch your scent — the golden armor hanging from your body all too alluring for the mindless pigs — that Sapnap instinct kick in. And as if saying ‘Okay, that’s enough’, he swiftly heads towards the group.

Amber eyes briefly meet with your slightly panicked and apprehensive e/c pair. He ducks his head to his right, noting the way the piglins quickly dismiss him — too entranced with the gold reflection of the metal to pay attention to the new threat that has entered the scene. It makes Sapnap huff, feeling as a brash impulse rapidly takes hold of his body. And before he can help it or think this through, his hand is already latching onto a piglin’s shoulder, forcing him away from you and towards him.

The creature lets out an angered grunt, bones tensing until Sapnap wills his own eyes to glaze over. Call onto that sleeping fire that lies deep within his body. And, soon enough, the dim amber in his eyes turns a bright, borderline furious orange. It’s reminiscent of lava— a reminder of what Sapnap actually is beneath the human-looking exterior.

The previously surprised — and nearing angered — piglin halts. And for the first time since he showed up, the Nether-born animal finally realizes who— or rather, what stands in front of him.

Sapnap notes how the other two piglins — both evidently smaller in size, making him believe the one he stands in front of is the leader — seem to freeze, or at least tense noticeably. Sapnap’s now lava-like irises meet with yours as he offers a small nod, one you ( despite your current situation ) quickly reciprocate.

He turns back to the leader of this little troupe, allowing the molten color to fade from his eyes. The three must be scouts from one of the Bastions, or maybe just mere scavengers.

The taller piglin starts ranting in a gravelly, slightly distorted voice. It makes the fireborn straighten. Sapnap’s piglin is a little rusty— and though he picked up on it back when he was a kid, he hasn’t needed to communicate outside the realm of trading in a good long while.

He hears as the leader keeps ranting with a harsh tone — one typical of the piglin language — when he notes one of the other pigs starting to walk closer to you. Sapnap is quick to take a few steps and flick them away. The shorter one snarls, and Sapnap doesn’t miss how it was trying to lay its scent around the gold armor you donned.

He shoots it a glare, willing the glow back to his eyes as it stiffens. Even then, Sapnap can feel them lingering too close for comfort, and decides to put his arms around you for good measure. When he meets their eyes over your head, a scowl sets on his features, making them back away in the slightest. It almost— almost brings a smirk to his lips. And if some distant part of him vaguely feels you stiffening, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his now fading amber eyes remain glued to the leader.

The biggest of the three lets out a grunt and a snort— something he doesn’t doubt sounds like garbled nonsense to anyone from the Overworld. Despite the rustiness he holds over the language, he still manages to catch a few words here and there.

At one phrase in particular, Sapnap straightens painfully, eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. He can feel his jaw tensing, body growing rigid and arms tighter around you, dangerously nearing a protective manner. The impulsive, reckless part of his brain — the one that drives on pure instinct — calls for him to reach for his sword and leave their bodies to rot over the netherrack ground. And yet he keeps the fire at bay, opting to listen to the colder, more calculating side that still whispers to him to stand his ground in a less volatile way.

“No.” He seethes, venom dripping from his voice. It earns him a similar response from the leader, who squares his shoulders with a gravelly snarl. Sapnap glances towards the other two and decides to take a gamble— and if things do go sideways, using his sword is always a respectable plan. For the time being, however, he mimics a sound similar to that of the pink creatures, making the three stand upright.

The leader of the little pack narrows its red eyes, before returning to you— or more specifically, the golden armor you’re wearing. Sapnap’s gaze hardens. You shouldn’t be wearing as much gold, much less brand new armor— it’ll draw these greedy bastards out, you should know that.

The piglin’s eyes linger a moment too long, and before he can help it, Sapnap is reaching inside his bag and tossing him a couple of gold bars.

“There,” he huffs, squaring his shoulders. “now we’re even.”

The sun has long since fallen over the horizon, a dark blue — dangerously nearing black — paints the sky above you. Snow crunches beneath Sapnap’s boots, layers upon layers of hail melting beneath his feet as he heads south. His jaw is clenched tightly, his mind mocking him as he thinks of course it’s fucking snow.

For the first time in a while he thanks the dark cloak his dad gave to him, and although it doesn’t do much, it puts him the slightest bit at ease. Thankfully, he’s still coming off that Nether heat— otherwise he’d be struggling to keep a steady pace, that with the brittle cold nipping at his skin.

He’s gonna need to talk to Bad and fix the whole Nether portal network. He glances back to the tiny shape that was their gate to the Overworld. It was supposed to lead them to one of the many hills surrounding Dream’s Kingdom. Somewhere, he knows the gods are laughing down at him. And instead of finding himself home, ready to fall victim to sleep, he finds himself walking in a desolated land of ice and cold. Well…

The sound of footsteps falling heavy on the snow, shortly trailing after him remind Sapnap that this place isn’t exactly desolated. Slowly, he turns to face you— sneak a quick glance to check on you.

He doesn’t know why he decided to stick with you— or why you decided to stick with him. It was a sort of silent agreement, one neither of you wanted to speak of, apparently. You’ve both refrained from saying anything ever since your little encounter with the three Nether creatures.

You carefully watch your strides, and if Sapnap didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were simply minding your step. No— you’re avoiding his gaze. As to why, he’s not entirely sure.

“What did you tell them?” The sudden sound of your voice surprises him, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between the two of you. You will your strides to be longer, faster, at least enough to catch up to him.“The piglins, I mean. Back in the Nether.”

“Uh…” Sapnap quirks a brow, noting the pink blush that has taken form over your cheeks. It’s due to the harsh and cold wind, yet he can’t help but find it strangely endearing. “I told them to back off. Said I already had a claim on you.”

“A claim?” You ask, confusion etched onto your features as you draw your brows together. “What does that mean, exactly?”

His lips set into a line. “It’s…complicated.” He gestures with his hand, as if trying to find the right word. “It’s like…dating but for mobs— especially piglins.” He shrugs, ignoring the way his shoulders seem to tense. “They usually stick to their communities but they’ll occasionally stumble upon something— someone shiny and pretty enough to catch their eye.”

You flush a darker shade underneath his gaze, temperature rising within your body at his vaguely teasing accusatory edge.

“They were trying to leave their scent on you when I showed up.” Sapnap straightens, scrunching his nose. The lingering scent still wafts around you, making him stifle a huff. He hates that the higher temperatures have heightened his senses, the scent of the piglin pact pungent to him. A part of him — some deep, obscure, long since hidden away instinct — wants to take matters onto his hands. As he glances down at you, he feels the urge to try burying his face against the crook of your neck grow within his gut. To finally let the other scents fade out and allow them to be replaced by his. And he suddenly remembers why he doesn’t visit the Nether as often as he once did— especially around other people. Sapnap rolls his shoulders, shaking the thought away. Instead, his jaw and knuckles tense as he mutters “Fuckin’ magpies, that’s what they are.”

“You don’t seem to like them very much.”

There’s a slightly amused undertone to your voice that wasn’t there before. Sapnap raises a brow. “I’m surprised you do after your little encounter.”

You huff. “They were trading with me just before!” You exclaim defensively, “I even got a few—” And then, suddenly, the easy conversation is cut short. Sapnap watches as your shoulders drop, as if finally realizing who exactly you’re talking to. Now in a lower, softer, less excited tone you mutter, “A few things for L’manberg.”

“Right.” Sapnap nods, disliking the returning stiffness to the air. “Word of advice?” He asks, amber meeting e/c. “Next time, try going to the Nether in a group. Strength in numbers and all that.” Then, softer, he adds, “Going alone was a reckless thing to do.”

You think his words over for a second. Two. You nudge him. “Well, I got you, don’t I?”

You’re closer to him than you were before. Like ever since you started striding next to him, your body unconsciously drifts closer to Sapnap’s. And then, as sudden as a lightning bolt, it hits him— you’re cold. He’s nearly certain that his body is still giving off heat, and though it’ll be ephemeral, you can’t help but seek the warmth.

“Maybe counting on the enemy as back up isn’t the most thought-out plan, sweetheart.”

You look up to him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards as you try to seem nonchalant. “You’re the one who said I should make my own judgement of you.”

“Are you now?” Sapnap muses, feeling as your shoulder starts to brush against his. “How am I doing so far?”

As your e/c meet his amber once again, he finally sees the same devious glint he donned earlier. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we…” Your gaze drops, doing a slow once-over of his frame as a matching grin curls onto your lips. “…sweetheart?”

And, surely, the blush that threatens to burn his face is due to the arctic cold.

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FIVE: She’s is all cherry blossom kisses and clear blue skies, and you cannot bear to watch the life fade out from another person’s eyes.

Hours have turned into days. Days have turned into weeks. And despite himself, Sapnap keeps finding himself having serendipitous encounters with you— some by dumb luck, and others… well, let’s just say he may have taken a liking towards you.

And so what, if he has slowly started to enjoy spending time with you? You’re something new— something he hasn’t seen in these lands before. So what? Blame him for having a dangerous curiosity always toeing around his thoughts— which, oddly enough, now always seem to revolve around you.

His excuses to cover for his continuous absences have started to run out. First it was keeping a closer eye on L’manberg, then it was gathering materials, exploring nearby lands, going fishing— he’s never even gone fishing before! Sapnap is almost fully certain that the others have started to pick up on his strange behavior, though none of them have mentioned it yet. He can only imagine how things are going over on your side.

Sapnap trails shortly after you, steps unnaturally light. His whole body seems as if it’s lighter, like the spring breeze that brushes against his cheeks could carry him away.

For someone who’s been around the lands as long as Sapnap has, he’s surprised when he looks around at the place you brought him to. A surprise, you teased, knowing just how impatient he is. Still, he waited. He waited solely because of the gleeful glint dancing in your eyes. He waited only because of the slight quirk in your lips. He waited because you told him to.

Worth it, he thinks, the corner of his lips pulling upward as he looks around. It’s a narrow piece of land, hidden from prying eyes by a clear river. Rows of trees stand on each side of the river, velvet petals blooming to welcome spring. Cherry blossom trees. So what if Sapnap’s never been an avid observer of nature? It doesn’t mean he can’t start appreciating it now. Still— trees are trees. Flowers are flowers. Moss is moss. And yet — despite having seen lands beyond his days — he can’t help but feel like this place is the most beautiful riverside he’s ever seen. There’s nothing particularly special about it. Just cherry trees, water, and tall grass.

He lowers his gaze from the branches and down to your frame. You walk with a steady pace, never too quick, never too slow. This time — and much to Sapnap’s delight — you’ve opted to ditch the revolutionary uniform, instead opting to choose a longer skirt that would be more pleasant underneath the sun. Your whole being seems to glow, and even when Sapnap’s face accidentally smacks against a stray branch, it’s all worth it to hear your laugh.

Ah, he thinks, revelation sparking inside his brain, it’s not the setting that makes the place so beautiful.

It’s the company.

The blackstone walls still serve as a heavy reminder of where he is. Just in the outskirts of L’manberg, hidden away from plain sight, and yet a world away from the places he should be at. He tugs his cloak closer to him. You asked for him to bring it, just to avoid any attention either of you could get from anyone passing by.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His gaze lingers on your frame a moment too long. Amber eyes meet a curious pair of e/c.

“Nothing important, doll.”

There it is again— a nickname that seems to roll off his tongue perfectly. he doesn’t know why— all he knows is he enjoys the sight of your flushed cheeks whenever he uses it.

“You’re quieter than usual, Sap.” You muse, e/c eyes carefully scanning his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing important on your mind?”

He has to bite his tongue down to prevent him from blurting it out. If he’s being absolutely honest, he does have a few things weighing within his brain, begging to be spoken for a while already. Because the past few weeks have been a bliss. From acquaintances to friends to this— because ever since that encounter in the Nether, he can feel something has shifted. Like the universe — for once — has finally tipped in his favor. He knows this isn’t meant to last. No— this is a transitory thing, but wouldn’t it be great if it wasn’t?

Sapnap’s stare briefly drifts to the towering walls. And, as if allowing himself a moment of weakness, he wonders.

Would you join his side if he asked? No more climbing walls. No more hiding in the woods. No more sneaking around.

His jaw tenses, inhaling sharply. It’s stupid— definitely not a good idea. Because beyond the fact that he does not want to wonder how things would take a turn if you said no— at heart he knows Dream’s Kingdom won’t be the best place for you. After all, he’s already seen it take effect on some of his friends. The way the light in their eyes seem to grow dimmer, harder to see. He doesn’t want to be the reason it happens to you too.

A cold, stinging feeling crosses his chest. Dream has grown distant and aloof. George apathetic. And he has the feeling the only reason Punz has stuck around is because Dream is willing to pay. Something sour, reminiscent of jealousy festers like a weed in his chest. How is it, that despite the feeling of war that hangs from the air, everyone in L’manberg remains bright?

“What’s got you so silent today?” You ask, and this time, he takes note of the slight nervousness that hangs from your voice. Oh— you’re worried he doesn’t like this. As if he could ever dislike the sight of you, with sunlight casting around you like an angelic aura. Pretty, that inner voice repeats. Pretty, pretty, pretty. “You can tell me, you know.”

What’s on your mind?

“It’s…” He purses his lips, and before he can help himself, he finds himself blurting out, “you.”

The expression that takes over your face is one Sapnap hopes to remember for the rest of his days. First, it’s surprise— an unexpected response. Then, it starts to sink in, and heat rises to your cheeks, reaching the tips of your ears. Your lips fall open ever so slightly, e/c eyes staring back into his amber. It makes his heart beat louder, faster.

His lips part to speak, a grin starting to take over his features when—

“Y/N!”

Tubbo’s voice rings out like a bell in an open field, making both of you stiffen. His shoulders tense and your back grows taut. Amber meet e/c for a brief second. “We were looking for you everywhere! Wilbur said—”Sapnap supposes the kid finally steps into your vision, your back growing as stiff as wire. “Oh, uh, who’s your friend?”

Before Sapnap can process what’s going on, make an exit, maybe stage a fight, his line of sight is suddenly cut short. You pull down the hood of Sapnap’s cloak up to his chin, completely covering his face, a nervous laugh leaving you.

“Oh, um, no one!” You exclaim, that flustered edge to your tone almost making him smile. “He’s no one.”

No one.

Maybe it would sting a little more, if it wasn’t for how beautiful your voice sounds.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SIX: She’s an angel gazing below, and gods— you’d climb walls and burn the lands if it meant getting a mere glance from her. How could your bloodied and soot covered hands ever deserve to hold her?

It’s night time when Sapnap sneaks into L’manberg. The moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden away by stray clouds. In other words, it’s the perfect time to enter without being spotted.

The thought weasels its way to his mind before he can help it. Is this creepy? He winces, leather bag shifting with the movement. This is definitely creepy.

In his defense, he just wants to check on you quickly. In and out. Just a moment. You won’t even notice he was there in the first place.

Punz’ words from earlier echo and rattle within his ears.

“Where have you been?” Sapnap distantly hears George ask, and despite the way his spine stiffens, this time the question isn’t directed at him. Instead, mismatched eyes stare at a certain blond’s back. His mischievous blue meet with Sapnap’s amber, as if saying, I know something you don’t.

“Ah, just around.” Punz drawls, smirk etched onto his lips.

“If you’re gonna say something, just say it.” George bites in annoyance. Well, someone evidently didn’t get enough sleep.

��Saw something you might like to hear,” he continues, disregarding George as his icy blue turn to Dream. His mask lies by one of the tables, faint scars over his face now visible. The green eyed man quirks a curious brow, intrigued.

“Is that so?”

“Let’s just say, L’manberg probably won’t be much of a problem in the next few days.” Punz says, a troublesome lilt to his voice.

“How come?” Sapnap finds himself asking, suddenly intrigued.

“I saw Tubbo and Y/N by a Nether Fortress.” Punz shrugs nonchalantly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s heart has dropped to his gut. “Apparently, she got hit by a wither skeleton. And if L’manberg’s resources are as scarce as Eret claims, well…”

There it is again. That knowing, borderline irritating smirk. He’s toying with Sapnap, he’s sure of it. But he can’t know— he doesn’t know. “Let’s just say, Tommy might just get that second in command title sooner rather than later.”

Wither skeletons. Out of all the Nether creatures humans can come across, they are by far one of the worst. They leave nasty marks— in some cases, not even a health potion can do much. His leather bag seems to grow heavier at the thought. Sapnap conveniently happened to have a few spare golden apples with him. Casualty, of course. He obviously had them lying around— after all, how could he ever go harvesting apples and hunting for gold in mere hours? Psh, definitely could not be him.

It’s only once he draws near to the caravan that he first hears you.

“Why are you being like this?” Your voice, usually sweet and overall nice to listen to sounds… different. And as Sapnap strides become slower, he feels an acidic feeling settling within his body. He doesn’t like this sort of different— he’s never heard you like this before.

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/N.” The voice makes his back grow unbearably stiff, bones turning cold while fire buzzes over his nerves. What are you doing with Wilbur this late? “Have any of them approached you, yes or no?” Wilbur asks, tone as firm as steel. It doesn’t sound like this is the first time he’s asking. “I’m talking Dream, George, Sa—”

Sapnap straightens, shoulders bunching together as he leans against the side of the van. And before a coherent thought even gets the chance to fully form, you respond in a clipped tone, “None of them.” Then, your voice becomes softer— cautious. “You know I’m on your side. What’s this all about?” You wait a moment. “Wilbur.”

The self-proclaimed leader exhales sharply, tensely. “Tommy saw you talking with Sapnap a few weeks ago by his old house.” He says, voice now carrying an edge. “You know, one of Dream’s most trusted associates? His second in command?” With curiosity gnawing at him, Sapnap raises his head ever so slightly, just enough to see but avoid being spotted. Wilbur stands close to you, but there’s a distance— one that definitely wasn’t there a few weeks ago. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Your features twist, and he can tell by the look on your face that it feels like the other shoe has finally dropped. “So, you’re spying on me now?” You ask, and neither of them miss the accusatory edge.

Wilbur pinches his brows together, cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. “What? No!” He shakes his head, disarray brown curls shifting as he does. “No, no, you know I—”

Then, suddenly, Wilbur freezes.

The blush fades away, and a darker look crosses his face. The atmosphere has gotten colder, he can feel it even from the outside. Sapnap noticed— and now he doesn’t doubt Wilbur did too. You’ve yet to give him a straight answer— the only question is why?

Wilbur Soot chuckles humorlessly, a bitter, sharp edge to his tone. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”

Your click your jaw shut, shaking your head, as if saying, I’m not dealing with this now. A sour presence remains etched onto your expression. “I’m leaving.”

You’re halfway out the van when Wilbur’s voice sparks to life once again, this time less leveled, less calculated.

“You walk out that door and you can forget about coming back.”

His words waver ever so slightly, and Sapnap holds his breath. Your limbs suddenly turn to stone, unable to take another step forward. The ultimatum — the promise — hangs in the air, looming over you like a pile of bricks that threatens to collapse on you.

It’s a bluff, Sapnao thinks. He knows it is. It should be— because, as much as he may dislike him, Wilbur Soot is a smart man. At least, smart enough for when to know he’s made a mistake.

“What?” You ask, and this time your voice is smaller, weaker.

Brown meet e/c. And although there’s an evident hesitation in his gaze, his words are cold. “You know what I said.” His jaw tenses, eyes avidly searching your eyes for the answer he seeks. He doesn’t seem to find it. “And you also know you haven’t answered my question.”

This time, a scoff escapes you, serving as a shield for the moment of weakness. Your body still feels cold, it still feels like it’s been shackled to a ball and chain. “I don’t owe you explanations, Wilbur.” You say, and Sapnap wholeheartedly agrees. His body itches to do something— to head in, maybe even cause a distraction to get you out. His mind shouts at him to just barge in, and still, he remains frozen on his spot. “But since you must know, we were just talking. He was being nice, so I returned the favor. Happy?”

Your words sting. Even when he knows — when he hopes — they are just a front for Wilbur, they still feel like a punch to the gut.

A borderline mocking chuckle leaves Wilbur and echoes within the van. He looks amused, in a strange, bitter sense of the word. “Being nice. Right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilbur shakes his head, faster, with more determination than before. His jaw is tense, tense enough that it might just splinter. There’s a dancing glint in his eyes— one that looks so familiar, yet he can’t seem to place. And after a moment of scrutiny, it hits him— it’s familiar because he’s seen it before.

He’s seen it before in Dream.

Wilbur takes a step forward, frame looming over yours as he fumes. “It means he’s clearly trying to use you and you’re too blind to see it.” He says, and he doesn’t need to yell his point across. His voice is already cold enough, already spiteful enough.

You, on the other hand? You look like you’ve just taken a punch to the gut. It passes— quickly replaced by new, more dangerous emotions. You look like you want to yell. Like you want to punch him square in the nose. Hell, Sapnap would’ve kicked him to the curb ages ago. Set the rest of his fucking van on fire to make him apologize for treating you like that.

And yet that’s where the difference between the two of you lies. Where the line is drawn between sea and sand.

You surprise him once again by lowering and relaxing your squared shoulders. You take a deep breath. In. Out. You swallow, feeling as your chest slowly unwinds. As the knots become loosened, untangled.

“Look, Wil,” You begin softly, tentatively. He doesn’t deserve it, Sapnap thinks. He doesn’t deserve any of it. Wilbur visibly stiffens, brown searching your gaze for an ulterior motive. “We’re both tired, okay? So, I’m gonna go back to my cabin, we’re gonna get some sleep,” you lick your lips, inhaling a small breath, “and you can talk to me again once you’ve let go of your paranoia.”

The silence stretches a moment too long. You’ve left him speechless. You’ve left them both speechless. And yet there’s a fragility to your movements, to your words. Like if he had pressed just a moment longer, you would’ve finally cracked. Finally snapped.

Now, however, you take a hesitant step forward, briefly closing the distance between you and the brunet. But it’s no longer the same— and it doesn’t even begin to compare to how you both were when you first arrived.

Brown meet e/c. You sigh softly, and gently press your lips against his forehead, feeling as he grows tenser underneath your touch.

“Goodnight.”

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SEVEN: She touches you like you’re fragile, and if you break you won’t be able put yourself together again.

The sound of dripping water was long since faded away from Sapnap’s ears. It’s odd— that feeling of drifting away, of the buzzing world fading to black with him being unaware.

Sapnap has always prided himself in his sharp instincts, and yet you make it easy. You make it so, so easy to simply relax, to drop his shoulders, to lean back and let you guide his movements. It’s almost like falling asleep, like letting your body be guided by the flow of a current.

While he sits with his two legs spread out, you remain sat between them, gently leaning forward as you scan the side of his face. Sapnap carefully follows your focused eyes, then your hands, as they reach to inspect one particular bruise.

Like the flow of a current. And yet, even the calmest waters can have dangerous turns.

He feels his fists tightening over his own lap. He wants to confront you about Wilbur. He wants to ask you, to hear what you have to say. And it’d be so easy— because you deserve more than this. You deserve more than living in a tiny wooden cabin, than remaining trapped between four walls. Better yet, you deserve more than following him, than having to stand every fit, every accusation. And Sapnap knows— he knows you’ve been nothing but kind to Wilbur— and he has yet to have seen him return it.

But things are complicated ( hell, aren’t they always? ) because he wasn’t meant to be there— he wasn’t meant to listen to that conversation. He wasn’t meant to know. But he does— and that’s an issue, isn’t it?

“What is this?” You murmur, making the boy beneath you straighten. His dazed amber blink a few times as you lean back, putting some distance between you. His hand instinctively reaches for the spot you gestured, making him wince. As far as he can tell, it’s a pretty bad bruise— one by the side of his jaw. There’s a cut— one he hadn’t taken note of before he came here.

You shake your head, turning on the faucet by your side and dipping a piece of cloth. You exhale, leaning closer to clean the bothersome injury. “You should be more careful, you know. I can’t keep patching you up like this.”

His amber meet with your e/c as you look back up to see his gaze. You’re close— too close. Sapnap gently shakes his head, the corner of his lip curving upward as he chuckles. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to come see you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully as you slowly set the cloth down. “And yet you still visit.”

“Yeah,” he begins slowly, softly— uncharacteristically soft. You feel his fingers wrapping around your waist— and, strangely enough, you don’t stiffen this time. Because something has shifted— you both know that. It no longer feels like walking around broken glass, but rather a familiar path. Sapnap leans closer, carefully setting his chin over your shoulder. And with his lips ever so close to your ear, he hums, “but this way I get to be closer to you.”

Your cheeks explode with red warmth, heart stuttering within your chest at the words. Gods, he’s so— so—

“Idiot,” You mutter, matching his quiet tone.

You two remain in that position for a few moments, nestled against each other, basking in the seconds of peace— of silence. The ephemeral moments in which the world is asleep, when walls and alliances don’t exist, when it’s only you and him.

Sapnap inhales quietly, body relaxing as he leans against you. Amber eyes slowly flutter open after a few seconds, before they land on his bag. He bites his tongue before reluctantly shifting away from you, now face to face.

“I found a few golden apples in one of my chests.” He says after a beat. “I… thought you could give them a use.” He sees the way your brows furrow together, lips parting, about to protest. After all he’s the one with wounds being treated not you— which you should know is a pretext to see you. Because, yeah, maybe Sapnap is a little banged up, but he’s seen worst days. And, if he’s being honest, he couldn’t have cared less about his own bruises. Hell, add it to the list of untreated injuries he’s had during the past years and move on. And yet…

And yet here he is. Sitting in front of you like some banged up puppy— which should feel embarrassing, but somehow it doesn’t. Because instead of humiliating thoughts, Sapnap finds himself thinking about how warm and comfortable you feel next to him. About your conversation with Wilbur. About what Punz told Dream at the Community House. And, soon enough, he’s realizing every single one of those thoughts revolve around you.

And fuck, he should be kicking himself because shit he’s down bad— six feet under type of bad. And yet he can barely process the thought when a new one sends his mind is reeling back. His fingers tighten around your waist slightly, gaze hardening.

“I heard about the wither incident.”

You straighten underneath his grip, e/c gaze meeting his evenly. Something flickers within your eyes, a glint Sapnap doesn’t manage to place before it’s gone. You shake your head, the corner of your lips twitching upward. It doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Sap. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I want to.

Sapnap bites the inside of his cheek, turning to look away. When he leaves — which he’ll have to do before the sun rises, before the people of both L’manberg and the SMP wake up — he’ll leave his bag there. By mistake, he’ll tell himself, knowing those three golden apples will be put to better used by you than him.

But for now, he sits. He lets you clean and cover his bruises, offering a smile to wave off Sapnap’s concerns. And as you tend to his injuries, he notices your gaze is too gentle. That bright look in your eyes is too naïve.

He looks away, feeling as his insides curl with a sour feeling weeding there. Thoughts of tomorrow. Thoughts of the real world— the one that lies outside your cabin, the one that will await you both in mere hours.

Yet here you are.

And, gods, he will not be the one to tell you that not everything can be fixed with a smile.

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EIGHT: If you jump, she might catch you, and then you’d have to watch as she tumbled through the dark.

The sun has long since risen over the walls of L’manberg, and the country is quiet.

It’s eerie, strange, unseen. Because as soon as sunlight touches the land, L’manberg is already coming alive with its people waking up. It’s peaceful on occasion, sure, but its never quiet.

You turn to look around, wondering if you somehow missed something. Everyone— everything— seems to have fallen asleep without previous notice, even when it’s well past noon.

It’s as if the world around you is preparing, bracing for something. But for what, exactly?

“What the hell?”

The voice comes from the forest— the one that grows just by the west wall. It’s Tommy’s voice, that’s a given— yet it sounds different. It’s enough to send alarms through your mind, and with quick instincts you reach for Fundy’s axe and hurry to the trees.

“Don’t fucking move.”

You’re met with Tommy’s back, blond head of hair looking down at something. You can’t manage a good look, that with Tubbo and Eret’s backs facing towards you. You weave through branches, jaw tense. “Tommy, what’s—”

The blue eyed boy turns to face you, shoulders stiff and nostrils flaring. You move your head ever so slightly, gaze flickering back to Eret, who shares a similar stance to Tommy’s. “What’s going on?”

The boy moves to the side, and you swear your heart drops to your gut. Because standing in front of the three boys, with hands cuffed together with a pair of metal bands, is Sapnap. His hair is a mess over his white bandana, eyes dead set forward as he avidly avoids your gaze. His face is bruised with injuries you’re certain weren’t there a few night ago. There’s a cut by his cheek, a bruise by his jaw and an arrow by his shoulder. You take a hesitant step forward, eyes never leaving his frame. They look new— brand new. This isn’t— this wasn’t a fair fight.

Wilbur’s words from your first days echo within your ear drums. Everything’s fair in war, dove.

You should know that.

“We saw him climbing the wall.” Tubbo begins stiffly, sharing a look with Tommy. “He was trying to get into L’manberg.” He reports, voice uncharacteristically monotone.

You inhale sharply, finally taking your eyes off Sapnap and onto the other three. You nod at Eret, jaw tight. “I’ll take it from here.”

Tommy’s shoulder bumps against you as he once again takes a stance in front of you, snarl curling onto his lips.

“No, no, I will.”

Tommy glares down at Sapnap, and although his back is stiff and his shoulders are bunched, you can feel the resentment radiating off him in waves.

“Tommy—” Eret begins.

“No, no, you know what?” Tommy snaps, temper slowly getting a hold of him. And yet, despite the evident anger in his tone, its not directed at Eret— it’s not directed at you, either.

For the first time since you got there, Sapnap looks up. Not by choice, anyway. You don’t realize when Tommy unsheathed his sword. You only feel as needles of anxiousness prick against your skin all at once, watching as the boy uses the sharpened iron to lift Sapnap’s head.

“You’re the reason we had scarce food in the beginning. Why we had less access to resources from the start.” He bites out.“You’ve been a thorn at our side for long enough, bitch.” And despite the words are leaving his mouth, it doesn’t sound like Tommy at all. If anything, he’s starting to sound like Wilbur.

“Wilbur said we’d need something to assert that we’re not messing around. That we’re not pawns in a game Dream is here to play.” Tommy’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “This is war.” He says solemnly, finally. “And wars have casualties.”

The world warps around you, and if you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure what happens. One moment, you’re watching Tommy ( Tommy, the same boy that used to have bright blue eyes— eyes you don’t recognize anymore ) raising his sword. Time slows down. Then, you’ve risen your axe as well. Time speeds up. And then—

“Stop.”

You’ve risen your axe, yes— you’ve risen it against Tommy. You don’t know when— you don’t know how this happens. But it’s too late, and the damage has already been done.

“Tommy, drop the sword.” The boy freezes, as do Tubbo and Eret beside him. They both have swords, you realize, yet none of them dare to move. They can’t move. You inhale deeply, trying to hide the way your wrist trembles. “I’m only gonna say it once, Toms. Drop it.”

Tubbo scrambles to speak, unable to find the right words. He takes half a step forward, blue eyes confused. “Y/N, what are you—”

Tommy turns around, eyes equally puzzled as Tubbo’s— but there’s something different. Something you can’t— you don’t want to place. His chest rises and falls.

And then, he drops his sword.

“Now back away. Slowly.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, your knees want to give out, and your limbs feel as if they’re made of wire. Despite your throat feeling as if there’s stones lodged inside of it, you hold onto your axe like a lifeline. You hold it up to defend the same boy that you should be standing against. You hold it up to defend Sapnap.

And there it is— because he knew. All things burn out eventually and he knew. And like an long awaited omen, here it finally is.

Your own fall from grace.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

NINE: She is too good. She is so good, and you cannot bring yourself to ruin one more good thing.

Huffs and pants. Ducks and parries. Swings and misses.

Dream and Sapnap sparring was routine to them long before the war started— months before L’manberg even existed. Once, it had just been the two of them. Laughing, teasing, mocking, promising to make the other kiss the floor.

By now, they both have each other’s movements memorized. The way Sapnap is more brutish, while Dream is more calculating. How Sapnap will go for the chest, while Dream will aim for the legs. One will jump and the other will duck, one will pull and the other will push.

In a different world, they would’ve been each other’s perfect enemy.

Just as Sapnap is about to land another blow with his sword, amber eyes briefly catch sight of a silhouette outside. It’s a jarring sight, especially considering he’s looking right outside the Community House — ergo, their territory. Because there you are, underneath the glowing sun, sitting by the edge of the bridge with your feet inside the river water.

Dream hits the back of his knee, almost making him lose his balance. Amber eyes narrow at a smug pair of green.

“What’s got you so out of it today?” He asks as he takes another swing at Sapnap, who narrowly ducks before striking back. Metal clashes against metal.

Sweat clings to his forehead, dark brown hair falling messily over his white bandana. “Nothing.”

“Don’t worry,” Dream’s lips quirk upward into a knowing smirk, voice deceptively understanding. “She looks like she’s enjoying the new company.

Sapnap pushes Dream back with his sword, a pit forming within his stomach at his words. And, before he can help himself or even think better of it, his eyes are flicking towards the window. True to his word, you’re standing outside with Punz, who stands too close for comfort. The blond hovers near you, that damning smirk clinging to his lips as he tilts his head slyly. He mouths something that Sapnap isn’t quite able to get. What’s he saying to you? Why’s he—

Dream ducks and sweeps his leg, sending Sapnap straight onto the mat with a loud oomf. A groan escapes him at the sudden hit, though it’s not nearly as painful as his bruised ego.

Green eyes peer down at him with a grin, before offering a hand. Sapnap rolls his shoulders as he takes it, standing back up. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it, before his eyes return to you.

Dream raises a brow— not curious, but intrigued, if that makes any sense. Not unknowing, but rather wanting to pick Sapnap’s brain.

“You’re distracted.” He states bluntly.

Sapnap rolls his eyes, finally moving along and tossing the practice sword onto one of the tables. “Thanks.”

Dream chuckles, a similar sound echoing as he mimics Sapnap’s actions. He tilts his head to the side. “You’ve gotten soft, you know?”

Sapnap turns to face his friend, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?”

Dream only shrugs nonchalantly, golden hair and green eyes the picture of innocence— but he knows better. Because one of the many advantages of having someone like Dream as a friend is that, with time, you learn to read him. Not like an open book — Sapnap’s certain that’s not possible when it comes to Dream — but rather highlighted words in a redacted document. Not clear intentions, but enough to see the puzzle pieces of a blurred picture. Dream shrugs as he heads towards the window. “Gotta say, she’s full of surprises.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sapnap scoffs, and to any stranger, he would have sounded amused— like an inside joke between friends. But Dream hears the faint stiffness to his words, the sourness, the tentativeness.

It’s Dream’s turn to look down at you— in a literal sense, of course. You’re… intriguing. At least, in the same way a riddle is. His green briefly glance at Sapnap, who’s joined him by the glass pane. He’s interested as to the effect you’ve had on his friend— as to what you plan to do next. And Sapnap may have let his guard down already, but Dream? Well—

The freckled man drops his shoulders with a lazy smile. It’s calculated, meticulously designed— and this time, Sapnap misses the intentions behind it.

“Don’t know. I kinda always thought she’d end up with Wilbur.” He nudges his friend’s shoulder. “I mean, all it takes is one glance at them, well…” he notes the way Sapnap stiffens, making Dream quirk a brow. “They certainly look the part.”

Amber meet green. His voice sounds hoarse, unsure. “You think so?”

The green eyed one nods. “Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He gestures with his hand. “I mean, it only takes a look to figure it out, don’t you think? They look like they’re cut from the same cloth. Whereas us…” Dream’s gaze shifts down to the scars in their hands, before flicks his fingers against Sap’s chestplate, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Well, something tells me you’d much rather have a sword than a pen.”

Sapnap tightens his jaw, before pushing himself away from the window and towards the stairs. “Whatever.” He mutters, missing the way Dream’s lip twitches upward.

He hates it, but Dream has gotten into his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

TEN: You will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. She is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart.

“Hey, you okay?”

You nudge Sapnap’s shoulder with your own, making him sag a little to the side. Curious eyes peer down at him, brows raised upward. The water of the lake kisses Sapnap’s ankles and legs, colorful fish close enough that if he wanted, he could reach over and touch them.

Sapnap hasn’t always liked water. In fact, when he first stumbled upon the Overworld, he found it repulsive, the mere sight of it making him want to back up. Now, however, he relishes in it. A small, fleeting semblance of peace in a world of chaos.

“Huh?” Sapnap shakes his head, snapping back to his senses. He licks his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.” He exhales softly, a bittersweet expression taking over his features, amber gaze drifting away from the lake and onto you. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that.”

Perhaps you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to hitch for a moment, a split second of tenseness before reverting back to an easy smile. He does— he always does. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, nodding your head slowly. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

It’s a lie. Even if you’re unaware of it, it’s a lie. Because, yes, Sapnap wanted you to come with him. Yes, he wanted you to leave those obsidian walls behind and join him. But he wanted it to happen under your own terms. He wanted it to be your decision, not your only option.

Sapnap’s jaw ticks. You deserve more— so much more. And it’s unfair that this happened to you— that it happened because of him. All because he wanted to take a risk and see you during the day, knowing, fucking knowing that it was a stupid call to make.

You look back at him, amber eyes conflicted. He inhales sharply. He wants to say something else, he does, but before he gets the chance, he hears footsteps behind them. They’re not light at all— if anything, they’re obnoxiously loud. As if they’re trying to make their presence known.

Amber eyes meet with Punz’s icy blue ones. His white hood rests over his head, yet still revealing stray blond tufts of hair. The mercenary tilts his head, axe slung over his shoulder with his other hand stuffed inside his pocket. “Dream wants to see you in the planning room.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes, a light scoff resonating within his chest. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Punz raises a brow, almost amusedly. “I wasn’t talking to you.” His blue drift away from Sapnap’s now straight frame, and center around you. The corner of his lip twitches upward, and Sapnap’s jaw tenses. “He wants to see Y/N.”

“Me?” You frown, puzzlement etched onto your features. As you stare back at Punz, you manage to miss the way Sapnap’s hand inches closer to yours, almost as if wanting to reach for you and pull you away from the mercenary. “Why?”

Punz shrugs, almost too nonchalantly. It makes Sapnap narrows his eyes. “You know the ins and outs of L’manberg, don’t you?” He clicks his tongue, taking his hand out of his pocket and offering it to you. “All information is valuable at times like these… wouldn’t you agree?”

If asked to place the sourness that spreads throughout his chest almost instantly, Sapnap wouldn’t be able to answer. It’s… odd. Unfamiliar. It started spreading as soon as Punz began talking, and for the life of him, Sapnap cannot tell what it is. All he knows is that he hates it.

You hesitantly reach for Punz’ hand, reluctantly standing up from the lakeside, when Sapnap’s hand latches onto your other wrist. You turn down to look at him, only to find his gaze dead-set on the blond.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He says, voice cold. And surely, you agree.

Punz quirks a brow, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah?” He asks condescendingly. “I don’t remember asking.”

Sapnap’s body grows tense, and he’s ready to stand up and knock that cocky smirk off his lips, when you stop him. You simply offer a smile. It’s not a genuine one— he’s seen enough of those to know the difference. “It’s— okay.” You lick your lips, biting down your tongue. And Sapnap doesn’t miss the way your body looks straighter, stiffer. “I’ll handle this, yeah?”

He wants to say that no, it’s not okay. Because despite understanding Dream’s want for information, it’s too soon. You’ve barely joined a few days ago. The scars are still too new, too fresh.

And as he watches you walk away, Sapnap can’t help but think how fucking unfair this whole situation is.

And so, hours continue to pass, the sun already nearing the horizon once again, and you’re still nowhere to be seen. Something reminiscent of concern itches at Sapnap’s gut, fingers distractedly picking at blades of grass to try and ease his mind.

He has yet to move from the spot where you left him at. After all, you’re not all that familiar with the place. So, he agrees it’s a good idea to remain at a site he knows you’ll be able to find.

Then, as he lays against the ground, he hears it. Distantly, almost getting carried away by the wind, he finally hears your voice.

Relief and delight crawl onto his chest (and gods, is he really that smitten with you?), and before he can even make sense of his actions, he’s turning around, ready to stand up and greet you—

And then he sees it.

In the distance, maybe all the way across the Community House, he sees Dream walking beside you. It… it almost sounds as if he’s laughing, yet he’s wearing his mask. Which means he’s not letting his guard down— he’s using you. As for what, Sapnap can only imagine.

That sourness from earlier returns, except this time is more acidic, more dangerous. And just when he’s about to stand up and see for himself what Dream is planning this time, a voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“She can handle herself.” Bad murmurs, so softly, yet so unwavering. His dad barely even offers him a glance, eyes boring into a small book by his lap. The man raises his gaze only slightly, but it’s enough for Sapnap’s shoulders to slump at his sides. “There has to be a reason why Wilbur had her as his second in command, right?”

There’s truth to his words— there always seems to be. Much like you, Sapnap’s dad doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the people from the SMP. It’s… odd. Makes you wonder why he ever accepted joining Dream’s Kingdom, when he prefers to keep away from conflict. And there’s something so… calming about his presence. Like he always knows what to say.

Sapnap inhales sharply, and exhales softly. “Yeah.” He mutters, mostly for his dad to hear. He vaguely registers George lingering nearby, knee-deep into the lake, but opts to ignore him for the time being. Bad’s right. There’s a reason why you were Wilbur’s second in command— you’re quick, clever. And yet everyone can commits mistakes. Misteps. And in a new environment, surrounded by the same people you were told to stand against, well— that’s enough to throw anyone off balance, isn’t it?

Bad hums. “Something on your mind?”

Sapnap bites his tongue, turning to look away from him before nodding. “Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Bad nods with a small shrug, watching as his gaze turns back to focus on you. “Okay.” He says quietly, tilting his head curiously. “Well…” Sapnap’s gaze turns to Bad. “If it makes you feel any better, she looks at you the same way you’re looking at her right now.”

A pink heat creeps onto his cheeks. “What?” He asks, more out of surprise than an actual question. Bad simply returns to read the book by his lap, lips curled into a small smile.

Sapnap bites his cheek. Okay, now he sees it. He’s messing with him. Ha ha, funny. “How exactly, huh?”

George — who up until that moment had remained a silent listener — finally parts his lips to speak, before Bad swiftly cuts him off. “Ah, too complicated to explain.” He waves him off. “You’ll figure it out.”

Sapnap furrows his brows, turning to George, who shuts his mouth closed, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes— all as if to say, fine, suit yourself.

Eventually, Bad decides it’s time for him to head back home, and bids them goodbye before heading down the prime path. And yet, despite his absence, his words still create a weird echo in Sapnap’s mind. He tries to shake it off more than once, but it always ends up coming back to him.

“Alright.” George clasps his hands together, before reaching for a bucket with a tropical fish swimming inside it. “I’m going head back for now.” He turns to Sapnap expectantly, who still remains sprawled against the grass.

“What?”

George huffs. “Are you coming?”

Sapnap groans exaggeratedly, making George let out a vague sound of displeasure to hide his amusement. “Ugh, fine.”

The two head down the wooden path towards George’s still unfinished home. As of the moment, it only has one room with all four walls up— and there’s no one to blame except for George’s laziness.

You’ll figure it out. And just like that, that nagging echo is back. You’ll figure it out—that’s what Bad told him earlier, wasn’t it? Figure out what, exactly? Sapnap’s gaze drifts off to George. He looked like he knew what Bad was talking about, right?

Sapnap licks his lips, clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, what was that all about?” George’s apathetic brown meet with Sapnap’s amber. The former raises a questioning brow. “With Bad, earlier?”

Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Oh.” George says simply. “You mean about Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

George stares at him for a moment, ever so unreadable, before a snort escapes him. It makes Sapnap straighten, while the latter looks awfully confident— as if he’s certain he knows a secret Sapnap’s not privy to. “You’re a clueless idiot, you know that, right?”

Sapnap’s lips twist. “What the hell?” He shoves the brunet to the side, making him stumble. “Okay then, fuck you too, George.”

A laugh leaves George, as if the whole situation is so unbelievably entertaining to him. He covers his mouth to stop another fit of laughter. “Oh my gods, do you just genuinely not know?”

Annoyance creeps onto his tone. “Know what?”

George blinks once, twice. Then, he stares as his friend for a moment, looking at him as if Sapnap’s suddenly grown another head. “That girl literally turned her back on her friends, on her country for you.” He begins, shaking his head. “And you’re too much of a coward to accept the fact that you have feelings for her.” Then, he shrugs relaxedly, as if he’s not the reason Sapnap’s ears have turned red with embarrassment and something he’s unable to place. “To be fair, she probably does too.”

George continues to walk, bucket hanging from his hand, barely acknowledging the fact that his Nether-born friend is no longer walking besides him.

Sapnap heart stutters inside his chest, a warm, familiar heat taking over his whole body.

“She what?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Sapnap comes back to the lake, he’s surprised to see you sitting by his previous spot, warm rays of sunlight against your back as you lean against your palm. He walks towards you rather hesitantly, this time with a flutter in his heart that he hadn’t noticed before. Or perhaps it always was there, and he just couldn’t tell what it meant.

Sapnap takes a seat next to you before he even realizes he’s strayed away from the prime path. He licks his lips before asking, “How did everything go?”

You inhale sharply. “Um, fine.” You bite your tongue, turning to face him— this time without a smile, neither genuine nor fake. You exhale. “I… I think.”

Sapnap licks his lips, watching as your hand falls besides you instead of your lap. It’s close to Sapnap’s hand— maybe too close. But this time, he finds he likes it. Even without touching, feeling that warmth he always finds himself chasing.

“Earlier you said you were okay.” Sapnap sets his lips into a line, shifting on his spot as he turns to get a better look at you. “It’s alright if you’re not… okay.” He’s awful at this. He can feel pink starting to dust his cheeks— because gods this is embarrassing. He clears his throat awkwardly. “What I’m trying to say is things changed. Quickly. But, um,” Sapnap inhales softly. “I just wanted to say, uh, thank you.” He nods slowly, as if in affirmation. “for what you did back in L’manberg.”

You don’t smile, he notices. Instead, you simply nod curtly before averting your gaze towards the lake. “Don’t take it to heart.” He frowns. “Tommy… he’s just a kid. Reckless, but still an impresionable one.” You scoff, shaking your head. “He was just reciting bullshit Wilbur’s said in the past.” You turn to him again. “It was… nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“Stop doing that.”

You raise your brows, surprised by Sapnap’s sudden cutting tone. “Doing what?”

“Selling yourself short.” He shakes his head. “Playing it off as if you don’t do great things for others— for me.” He watches as your gaze softens, his voice nearly cracking. It’s a weight, a pile of stones, still on his shoulders, yet about to fall. “You could’ve chosen to stay quiet. To watch the others do whatever they planned on doing.”

He stops for a moment, and you watch as this boy — the same boy with those beautiful amber eyes and pretty brown hair — looks like he may just crack open in front of you.

Sapnap’s voice grows quiet. “And yet you helped me.” He says, slowly, unsurely. “And I don’t really think I deserved it.”

You turn your head, leaning closer to face him. “Sap…”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Just—” he stops, reconsiders, and continues, “I-I don’t know if you made the right choice, okay?” Your hand is close, so close— and this time, he decides to reach for it. It’s tentative, hesitant, and he feels as if his heart might explode when you intertwine your fingers against his. “There’s no turning back from here. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think this place is the best place for you.” He licks his lips. “What I’m trying to say is…” Amber meet e/c. And it’s different this time. Because things have shifted one too many times between the two of you, and yet this is different. A new sort of different.

“I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, the corner of your lips curling into a small smile. “I know.” You murmur, eyes carefully scanning his face. “And you don’t need to worry about me.”

Your words ring a familiar tune. He remembers it clearly— back in your cabin. Back before everything went to shit. He remembers the warmth, the closeness, the you don’t need to worry about me, Sapnap.

This time, Sapnap doesn’t bite his tongue.

“But I want to.”

And there it is. That feeling stirring inside his chest— he doesn’t know what it is. But he’s felt it before. Almost like a swarm of butterflies in his gut, a heat in his chest. He knows it because he felt it when you encountered each other in the Nether. When you trudged back, perhaps too close to call each other the enemy. When you met by the cherry blossom trees, craving each other’s presence too much to be mere acquaintances. When he went by your cabin, wanting to stay close to you, near you— with you.

He’s leaning closer. His eyes shift from your eyes and down to your lips. He can feel your hand closing around his, and he’s certain his heart skips a beat when you do.

Not enemies, not acquaintances, not friends.

He swallows, remembering what George told him only less than an hour ago. There’s a blush on your cheeks— one he only notices because of your closeness — but it’s enough to make him smile. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

What does that make you?

The butterflies are there again. The skipping heart, the blush on his cheeks— he’s down bad. But it doesn’t sound too awful, does it?

Amber eyes meet your own. He’s close to you, so close in fact, that your nose nudges against his. Your e/c flutter closed as he inhales shakily.

He leans in, hoping, praying, that this isn’t him be misreading this whole situation.

Your lips meet his with a smile.

REASONS TO KISS HER

ONE: She loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didn’t your father ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting?

ADDITIONAL NOTES… thank you for reading!!! this one took over two months to finish writing so i hope you enjoyed! please try to leave a comment and reblog as they’re the main thing that keeps me writing <3 even if it’s just a keyboard smash, i love to read all of them :DD

GENERAL TAGLIST… @sushisoot @nonsensicallynarnian @krazykupcakes113 @god1ngs @incorrectarrowverse @scootersmccall @wingedghostpepper @bubblezbee (shoot me an ask to be added!)

[softhuesoflilac]

The month of the gays! Happy pride month everyone :) here's some art (clic on pic 4 better quality)

[softhuesoflilac]

Unrequired, somewhat (GeorgeNotFound x Reader)

GN!reader

genre: angst? unrequired love (but not really)

tw: trauma with relationships? Insecure reader (and George), George is a bit pushy (with no bad intentions ofc)

George is in love with you, head over heels, deeply enamored for you. Everyone knows that, damn, even you know that.

But that didn't change the fact that you rejected every one of his advances.

The man knew you like the back of his palm, he knew you liked him back, but maybe the statement above was incorrect, maybe he didn't know you as well as he thought.

Because why the hell weren't you accepting his invitations to go out? Alone? It's not like he was inviting you into a motel to fuck your brains out (even though he would be lying if he hadn't dream of having you under him, no, you weren't wrestling, I assure you), he wasn't inappropriate, and you weren't uncomfortable with the small actions of affection he decided to display for you.

Flower shopping, gift giving, warm (yet short) embraces, soft smiles, warm cheeks, lingering giggles. He did all of these daily, and you would smile back with that grin he so much adored, but every time he requested something else in return (not gifts or bright 'thanks!', you gave him those, he thought it was because you felt guilty or something), you backed away respectfully, trying not to hurt his pride or feelings.

He knew he shouldn't insist, it was rude and inconsiderate, but all the times Sapnap and Quackity (two of your best friends) would complain for hours about your attitude towards George, even though they recalled countless times spent with you going on and on about how much you liked the brunette, he couldn't help himself.

Why were you so stubborn on saying no?

Until Niki brought it up after streaming. She said it so effortlessly, so casually, that if the subject hadn't been you beforehand, he would have certainly missed it.

"Maybe they're scared of commitment you know, or of being in a relationship with someone as famous as you, Gogy"

George's world stopped spinning for some seconds, the words 'scared' and 'commitment' ringing a bell really loudly, all the conversations with you about past bad experiences with your exes filling his brain in an instant, leaving him light-headed and furrow-browded.

'My last relationship ended on a bad note for me and him, I felt so guilty breaking up with the guy, he was so sweet too, and I tried to tolerate the relationship for so long! But, I just got bored I guess- god even thinking about the face he made makes me depressed, how can I be so selfish?'

The question now is, how could he be so blind?

'What if I'm in the middle of a relationship and I start crushing on someone else? You can't love two people at a time you know? Does that mean that I stopped loving my partner?'

How could he be so ignorant?

'I feel lonely sometimes, but the thought of disappointing someone else makes my stomach do a flip, you know? A bad flip'

Why did he brush those anecdotes off?

'I can't bear with the thought of making other people sad, or angry, I'm starting to feel kinda nauseous just mentioning it! Haha-'

Idiot.

"George?"

The man snapped out of his trance, Niki calling him pretty loudly one more time. George shook his head, his eyes watery for some reason.

"Are you-" "Yeah, sorry, I just need to log off, thank you for being on the stream" he cut her off, his heart squeezing uncomfortably inside his chest.

Niki nodded slowly, not uttering a word after saying goodbye.

He was alone in the vc now.

"I didn't consider their feeling huh?" he mumbled, finishing the call and turning off his computer with loopy eyes and a lump on his throat.

He didn't feel like editing right now.

[softhuesoflilac]

Unluckily Lucky (Jack Manifold x Reader)

tw: mentions of injury, no use of pronouns for reader (I think), Gender-neutral reader.

genre: fluff, friend to lovers? Jack is whipped (you are too but you're more subtle)

When you first met, Jack brushed off your comment of being unlucky, thinking it was an exaggeration (and maybe he was too focused on your sweet smile and kind eyes to process what you just said).

As days passed, weeks became months and your relationship bloomed into a more intimate one, he beat himself up for not paying more attention back then, because damn you sure didn't have luck on your side.

Well, apart from being really clumsy and your head being on the clouds 90% of the day, the amount of times you cried in frustration about loosing documents and material one hour before your assignment was due, or spilling wine all over your new white blouse when you went out (as friends, much to his disappointment) was growingly concerning, at least to him.

You fell down countless times in front of him and your friends, somehow tripping over your own feet and hitting your knees against hard concrete, he even had to open up a whole account on the pharmacy so when he went running inside while yelling for another pack of band-aids or alcohol wipes, he didn't spend so much time paying for the amount of supplies. Even Niki suggested he had a first aid kit in every corner of every room.

He knew you were ashamed of it, but he really didn't mind, he even found it nice, treating your wounds while you pouted cutely at your own lack of luck or stupidity, being so close to you, while you fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he wrapped your elbow up while trying to stop the bleeding.

"Jack?" you called from the other room of your shared apartment after some annoyed sighs and groans, your voice laced with a feeling he knew very well.

Or your computer shut down over nothing or your essay magically translated to a language you didn't recognize and didn't know how to change it back.

He stood up and walked to your room, resting his elbow on the door frame, watching amused as you ran your fingers through your hair.

"What-"

"It's all in Russian now- I don't-" You sighed again, clicking a few keys on your keyboard.

Jack laughed, walking your way and standing besides you. "At least you recognize the language, you're getting better".

Your glare faltered a bit.

"I guess," you chuckle, patting your lap to gesture him to sit. "Help me?"

Jack flushed red, adverting his gaze quickly, accepting your invitation and sitting on your legs, knowing you could handle his weight, he was a light boy after all.

"So, hoW-" his voice cracked when you wrapped your arms around him, but tried to relax, he should be used to your affection, after all, your love language was physical contact.

"Um- *cough*, how did this happen" he couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips, and by the look you gave him, he figured you thought he was mocking you.

In reality he really liked being hold by you.

"I don't know, I clicked space to separate a photo I attached to the text, and suddenly", you gestured the text on the document. "This".

Jack nodded, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"Yeah- I don't know how this happens so often," his fingers hover over the keyboard, scanning the screen to then click a few keys. "What the hell".

You often ask him to teach you how to fix things like this, but every time it needs a new solution, because you somehow change the inner coding of the program with only one click.

"I know, I'm sorry" you mumble against his shirt, your forehead resting near his nape.

Jack giggles strangely, and he flushes instantly in embarrassment, but he feels you smile through the fabric of his shirt.

How cute can one man be, seriously.

"No worries, just let me-," he pauses, opening up the tab of coding of the program. He tried copying the text and putting it on google translator, even though you reassured him it didn't work, which was proven correct, he couldn't even select one word to copy.

After ten minutes of trying different solutions, being guided by you while you read what the web suggested useful, the text was back to normal, but the images somehow dissapared.

"Oh for fuck's sake" he groaned, and you laughed lightly behind him.

"That's fine, I can do that on my own, thank you so much though, I'll take you for dinner as a thanks," you cut him off as he begins to open his mouth. "I'll pay".

Jack huffs in fake annoyance, his cheeks burning softly.

"Sure, yeah-" he stands up from your lap. "If you need anything else-"

"I'll shout your name-...don't look at me like that, you know what I mean".

You both laugh, him a bit more nervously.

"Be ready at eight thirty, yeah?"

You didn't miss his pink cheeks, his ears starting to dye the same soft hue too.

"Yeah- thank- I mean, see you"

You didn't miss the squeal of excitement as soon as he closed your door either.

[softhuesoflilac]

Art I drew recently

[softhuesoflilac]

Poses for Ranboo (animatic planned) Dsmp

what is he talking about?

[softhuesoflilac]

pls tell me you’re gonna write that manjiro idea 🥲

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎.

it’s quiet, late, and manjiro figures you’ll be in bed by now. he makes sure not to be too loud as he tiptoes into the house, making his way to the living room to collapse after a long day. but there’s a sound that makes him pause, and he almost panics for a moment, but then it sounds all too familiar.

he hears a giggle, then two, and then there’s a soft, goofy little smile spreading across his face as he listens to the sound of two voices and their joint laughter in the living room.

“that tickles, mommy!” your son laughs, small legs kicking around as you grin down at the small boy, fingers harassing his sides. manjiro drinks in the sight for a moment, heart clenching a little in his chest. he sees a mop of locks that mirror his own, and he sees you, looking happy and content and here.

he thinks he’s done something right for once—so right, so pure, so raw, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever do something this right in his life again.

“gotta tire you out, you little runt,” you laugh, tickling away as your son pleads mercy. “it’s way past bedtime.”

“i’m not tired!”

“oh yes you are,” you squint, frown curling on your pretty lips, and manjiro bites back a chuckle as he feels the urge to kiss your lips into a smile. “i can see it in your eyes.”

“but i wanna wait for daddy!” and by now, with that one measly sentence, manjiro’s heart is aching even more. it’s an ache that runs deep—so deep, it seeps into the years of his childhood, ones where he wondered why his mother’s gentle fingers didn’t soothe through his hair as he fell asleep, or why his father’s strong arms didn’t haul his tiny figure on top of two shoulders to peer down at the rest of the world.

but now, he has his shoulders to set a tiny body on himself, and your fingers thread through both his and your son’s heads and lull them to sleep. there’s a feeling that bubbles deep within him that he has this to return home to, two people that await for his return just as he awaits for his arrival.

“he’ll tickle you worse if he finds out you’re still up,” you warn, and finally, you relent. with a pinch to his chubby cheek, you pick him up and set your son on your lap, smiling down at him with a soft grin. “you can sleep with me tonight,” you murmur, “daddy will join us when he comes back.”

and if his eyes are a tad bit wet, and his lips wobble the slightest bit, manjiro pays it no mind. he has a family now. he has a son, who has two parents, and some day, he wants to hear the pitter patter of more than one set of little feet hitting the ground. he wants mornings of tiny bodies jumping onto bed to wake him up and land on his chest, he wants to read a bedtime story that turns into two more when soft voices plead with pouty lips, and he wants to wake up every morning and know he’s not just sano manjiro.

because right now, to the small child sat in your lap, he’s daddy, and some day, he’ll be just dad when his son grows out of his youth, but he’ll still be manjiro’s son. and manjiro will still be his father.

and you’re here too, and he wonders what he’s done to deserve you, but when your eye meets his from his spot at the living room entrance, he doesn’t care. he just knows he did it, and he’s glad.

“always knew i was his favorite,” manjiro says with a smug grin. if you hear the slight waver in his voice, you choose not to mention it, and he’s grateful.

“you’re no one’s favorite,” you roll your eyes. he pouts, stalking over to where you sit on the couch, collapsing beside you and leaning into your side.

“i’m your favorite,” he insists, hugging your waist. pressing a kiss to your shoulder, he turns his attention to your son. “tell mommy i’m your favorite too, buddy.”

“mommy will be sad,” you son pouts softly, eyes wide as he stares up at his father, and manjiro shifts to make it easier for him to climb onto his father’s lap.

“you’re right,” manjiro whispers. “mommy will be sad. can’t have that, can we?”

“nuh uh,” your son shakes his head.

“nuh uh,” manjiro agrees, smiling and poking the tiny dimple on your son’s cheek. “wanna sleep in our bed tonight?” and when the little boy in his lap squeals in glee, you think maybe your smile is a bit wobbly too, leaning into manjiro’s side and feeling him hug you tighter. “i call being in the middle.”

“no, i want middle,” your son whines.

“too late, i said it first,” manjiro teases with a laugh.

“i’ll send you to the couch,” you warn, but despite the sternness in your voice, you lean in and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

and even if your son makes a sound of disgust, manjiro is glad that he’ll grow up to witnesses this—this love, and this home, and this family.

“so mean,” manjiro huffs, “isn’t mommy so mean?” he turns to the boy on his lap, and even though it is way past bedtime, manjiro thinks he’ll stay up with you both a little longer, holding your figures close to his chest as he cherishes his childhood dreams finally in his grasp.

sobs loudly. dad manjiro. that’s the idea. that’s it.

[softhuesoflilac]

Rouge lets it slip, she didn't mean to...really...

some Knuckles x Rouge comic / fanart :) by me

or Knuxouge

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Okay, Rouge tickling the shit out of Knuckles in Sonic X is officially adorable

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A lil comic of Kokichi and my self insert :) He was asking her ultimate but she's a little confused

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Take My Money! - irl! Quackity x Reader ♤

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genre: fluff, crack? love at first sight, slightly cheesy

summary: you bump into a certain boy at the entrance of a coffee shop :)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You were entering the shop way quicker than you should have had, your gaze stuck to your feet as you tried to successfully skip through two stair steps and not fall over, but the rush and the lack of attention ended up in a mess; you flying backwards, a wet and extremely hot sensation soaking your white sweater, eyes widening in confusion while you looked down at the brown-ish stain on the fabric. Gladly you didn't end up on the floor, the fall would have been really painful, but you quickly ignored the quick burn itching in your skin when you noticed the boy in front of you. 

He, sadly, had fallen down on his butt, cup lid forcefully open and a growing speckle of coffee on his light blue zip-up. 

He almost gave you a glare, but seeing the sparkle of regret in your eyes made him stop in his tracks. He was about to apologize, but you beat him to it in a blink. 

"Oh! Sorry! That was so much my fault! Um-here-wait...", you picked at your back pocket for your wallet, your free hand extending towards him to help him get up. 

"Here! 10 dollars- I'm really sorry for ruining your zip-up! I should pay attention next time- are you hurt? Did it burn you?" 

Quackity was speechless, already on his feet looking at you with an unreadable expression. Well, maybe not unreadable. He felt his cheeks burn, hotter than what the coffee spill had felt. 

"...what? No -haha-  It's also my fault, I should be asking the same! Are you- are you ok?" He blabbered, dazzled with your kindness and preoccupation for a stranger. 

He glanced at your arm again, still outstretched and holding the 10 dollars, making him raise his hands almost in surrender, shaking them rapidly. 

"No! Please take this," you stepped a bit closer, placing the money on his palm quite aggressively, which he instinctively grabbed. "Have a great day! I'm sorry again!". 

And with that, you turned around on your heels and dashed out in embarrassment, your own face blooming pink. You were supposed to enter the shop and buy a hot drink, but you decided to be a pussy and run away once you bumped into one of the cutest guys you've ever seen not even before entering. 

Quackity, on the other hand, stood still on his spot, the money still on his left hand while the half-empty cup rested on his right one, dumbfounded and flustered. 

His bubble popped some seconds later, getting out of the way of the fucking exit of the Cafe. 

The man stared at the money, then to his cafe, the price tag big enough for him to shriek. 

'Fuck the coffee was two dollars! He should probably go after you to return the money". 

And he did, not before bumping into your distracted back and flying across the street of course.

[softhuesoflilac]

Ranboo x P!Reader || From My Point of View

genre: fluff, platonic, hurt-comfort

summary: ranboo is having a bad image day, you comfort him and try to cheer him up, reader is an artist (implied)

tw: mentions of anxiety, intrusive thoughts and face dysmorohia

His eyes spoke for himself, gaze tilted downwards with a small frown on his lips. He kept staring at his phone, hand occasionally going upwards to touch his cheek, under his eyes, trailing a finger down the curve of his nose and jaw, tracing his thumb over his pimple scars. 

"Are you ok?" 

Ranboo almost jumped out of his seat, dropping his phone on his lap accidently. His watery eyes met with yours just for a split second to later dart away in panic and shame; you scooted closer. 

"Talk to me, Ran" You kept your tone soft; not as soft as you would when talking to a small child, but soft enough to let him know that he was in a safe place, safe enough at least for him to speak his mind without judgment. 

The boy pulled a strand of fluffy hair under his ear, his eyes bickering from corner to corner, not ready to face your worried gaze. 

"It's- you know...just some face issues". 

You blinked. "Dysmorphia?" 

He stayed quiet, but his silence spoke everything you needed to know. 

You exhaled, trying to choose the correct words to comfort him without telling him something he already knows. You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, choosing to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"I'm not going to repeat the whole 'it's all in your head' thing. But from my experience, I believe that the mind is our worst enemy and ally," you stopped when he shot you a glance with raised eyebrows, trying to mock you over his discomfort. "I know! I know it's cheesy, but it's the truth! Intrusive thoughts are the worst man, they are unwanted, they come without warning, they make us view ourselves differently, and, most importantly, they're made up, by this one". 

You tapped your finger on the left side of your skull, and he agreed quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You made him look at you, shyly grinning. "Hey, if it means anything, from an artist, a person with good taste and a friend, you're really pretty! Or handsome-," he laughed. "You know what I mean". 

He didn't seem uncomfortable with the compliment, so you continued. 

"We sometimes look at our features individually and compare them to the rest of the people, 'oh I wish my nose was smaller like theirs' and all of that bullshit , but most of the time, the combination of said features just works! And I believe it works just beautifully on you, and for example, your eye shape-" 

You began rambling, analyzing the characteristics of his face that intrigued you or that you admired, often going back to art, your passion, and utilizing words he didn't quite understand. 

Despite it all, Ranboo's face started blooming into a faint hue of pink, head bowed and lips pinched.

You forced your tongue to stop producing more words, fearing that you went overboard with the compliments, but as soon as you searched for any sense of discomfort in his eyes and only were greeted with gratitude and  warmness, you deflated. His playful smile making you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry" you almost squealed anxiously, trying to contain a giggle at the way he seemed to glow under your gaze. 

"It's cool, I needed that, thank you" He responded, tone sweet yet timid. 

You shook your head, patting his shoulder "No problem man, now, let's check up on twitter and see who's being cancelled today" 

[softhuesoflilac]

💵 THIS IS THE MONEY NICK 💵 REBLOG FOR GOOD FORTUNE AND WEALTH. If you don’t reblog you’ll get shorter and in return your mom will have elf ears.

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Blackout (Sonny De La Vega x fem!reader)

Warnings: a little bit of spanish (duh) but it’s translated in brackets so it’s cool.

FLUFF

Masterlist

———

(Y/n) (Y/S/N) was alone in her house when the blackout happened. It was so sudden that the darkness made her fall off bed and her back crashed into the discoloured and mistreated tiles of her bedroom floor. She groaned lightly before standing up into her bare feet and sighing endlessly. It was going to be a long night.

-

She knew that the streets of the small town were dangerous when everything was pitch dark, but she ignored the consequences of going out on her own and began pacing rapidly to a familiar coffee store that was six blocks away from her apartment.

She quickened her pace until one moment that she began running helplessly through the cold concrete pavement of the sidewalk of the street, her worn out sneakers crashing under her feet and squeaking each time she hit the floor.

She tightened her grip on the pan she held with her right hand.

When she finally spotted the humble but still outstanding and colourful building of coffee she stopped her legs and began walking cautiously, looking over her shoulder and turning her head from side to side to see if she saw something out of place.

She turned again to the building and noticed a small figure standing on the steps of the porch of the shop.

Her eyes widened sightly as her fingers pressed tighter over the metal of the handle.

When she was close enough to throw the pan into the strangers face if he tried to attack her she recognised the figure instantly.

(Y/n) sighed in relief and was about to greet him but the person stood up abruptly, feeling her presence, and raised a bat he had on his trembling hand.

“S-stay away or i’ll-“ the young boy was about to threaten but was cut off when he noticed who she was.

“(Y/n)” he breathed relieved and dropped the bat onto the floor.

“Sonny, gracias a dios” (...thank god) she whispered, copying her action of throwing the pan onto the floor and hugged the boy tightly.

He let the brunette melt into his arms while his face started to burn, he felt even hotter than before but who could blame him, it was probably 30*C degrees.

“T-tranquila” (It’s ok) he whispered against her hair as he hugged her back with his sweaty arms wrapping around her waist.

“God! the power came out out of nowhere, and i was at home, and i knew that Usnavi had went to the club to try and get Vanessa to go on a date with him, and that Benny would probably accompany him and that you were ‘too young’ to go to the club so you were probably staying alone on the shop and i-“ she started to ramble with a worried tone, her hands leaving the tape of his neck and traveling gently to cup both of his reddened cheeks.

“Hey, hey! It’s ok, i’m ok! See? Nadie nos va a lastimar, no voy a permitir eso, esta bien?”(...no one is gonna hurt us, I won’t permit it, ok?) Sonny spoke slowly to try to calm her down.

“S-si” (y-yes) she stuttered and sighed deeply, leaning her head against his chest.

They both sat back down on top of the stairs and stayed like this for a while, (Y/N)’s head resting on Sonny’s chest while he had his arms wrapped around her with a protective grip. His slow and steady breathing almost lulling her to sleep, but she forced to stay awake so she could enjoy the moment.

Sonny smelled like a mixture of caffeine, sweat and something else she couldn’t put her finger into, but the smell was pleasant, familiar.

She unconsciously put one hand under his shirt and began to draw circles on his hip, making him tremble.

It wasn’t anything lustful, just a small caress that wanted to transmit a lot of things.

“Hey (Y/n)?” He asked quietly, his voice coming out muffled.

“Que pasa?” (What is it?) She answered, lifting her head from his chest but her fingers never leaving his hip.

“Thanks for keeping me company” he grinned, the corner of his big brown eyes wrinkling lightly.

She smiled softly at the beaming boy above her and leaned in again, but this time near his face.

His cheeks flushed as he saw the proximity of their faces.

Her eyes sparked with admiration and innocence, making him melt under the strong gaze of the beauty.

“Sonny?” (Y/n)’s voice was faint, almost ghostly.

“Y-yeah?” He nervously spoke.

She hesitated for a moment before brushing some locks of his hair out of his forehead.

“Can i kiss you?” Her tone sounded so vulnerable but cute that it made goosebumps run down his arms.

His eyes widened at the unexpected question.

“W-what?” He wasn’t sure that he really heard her right or his brain was playing tricks with him.

“Puedo besarte?” (Can i kiss you?) She asked again, but this time it was clear as the water. (Y/n) (Y/S/N) wanted to kiss him.

“Y-yeah” he replied airily but soon his breath hitched as he felt her pink lips brushing softly against his own before giving it a little more pressure, they pressed together. He closed his eyes immediately and ran a hand through her jaw and then through her hair, her dark brown locks interlocking with his fingers.

She tasted like everything he had ever imagined. There was a little bit of cheap blueberry chapstick, a little bit of regular tea (she was one of the only ones of town who didn’t like coffee) and-was that cigarette?!

“(Y/n)! I told you to stop smoking!” He protested against her lips and she giggled in response.

They finally pulled away from the lack of air.

“I’m serious! My abuela will kill you if she finds out!” He said, gripping her shoulders as she stared at him with loving eyes and a soft smile.

“Bueno”(ok) she whispered before pressing their lips together again and moving them in sync.

What the couple didn’t know was that while they continued kissing, Usnavi watched them from afar with an amused expression.

His little cousin was a grown up now.