Dream SMP Oneshots

happy little accidents [wilbur+tommy+dream duel angst]

"Poison up."

Tommy  couldn't help the instinctual flinch as the potion shattered on his uniform, particles bursting out of his jacket and billowing up into the air. 

Wilbur stepped forward, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes were blank as he stood between the two enemies, nodding at both before raising his hand.

"1. 2. 3."

Tommy's heart raced. The countdown was going way too fast, and his legs shook as he tried to step forward, counting his paces. Second-guesses and the beginnings of doubt race through his mind, and he could hardly put one foot in front of ht eother. 

"7. 8. 9."

Prime, had it already been that long?! There was no way, he needed more time, this couldn't be it he didn't want to die-

"10 paces, fire!"

Tommy's instincts kicked in despite his panic and he ducked. Dream always delivered the first blow in fights, so he was sure the masked man would shoot the first shot in this duel. 

His gut feeling was spot on, and he heard the whistle of a bow flying through the air a moment later. 

Tommy couldn't help but grin. He had the upper hand- a loaded bow an an extra arrow. He had maybe two, three seconds to fire before Dream could reload his bow, all he needed to do was turn, aim, and-

Something thudded to the ground behind him, a strange sort of gurgle coming shortly after. 

Tommy whipped around and saw Wilbur slump to his knees. He was facing Tommy, an expression of horror frozen on his face and hands clutching his chest. 

No. No, no no, he looked fine, there was no injury, there was no way he could have-

Wilbur fell forward, and Tommy could see the blood-stained arrow sticking out of his back. 

Someone was screaming, a terrible wail stricken with anger and grief and everything in between as Tommy rushed forward, gathering the much larger revolutionary leader into his arms. Distantly, he realized that he was the one screaming, and his voice was raw and raspy by the time it broke and be collapsed into sobbing. 

"...Oh." Wilbur said softly, a bloodstain blooming on his chest and spreading its crimson petals outwards. More blood dripped from his lips, trickling down his chin.

"Does this- does this mean you lost?" His voice was so, so small. 

Techno's words echoed through his mind, a memory from long ago. 

Sometimes, when someone's dying, they don't even feel the pain. He had said, sharpening a sword as Tommy watched with curiosity.

Their mind sort of... goes away, I guess, and they can't tell what's happening around them. 

Techno set down the sword, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Tommy watched, confused. 

I think it's more peaceful that way, at least for them. Still, it hurts ten times as much for you to hold someone who doesn't even know they've been stabbed and promise you'll be there when they wake up even though you know they never will. 

"Tommy?" Wilbur said, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Tommy opened his mouth, closed it, a torrent of emotions clogging his throat. 

"No, it's gonna be fine!" Tubbo was there, then, appearing next to tommy and kneeling by Wilbur's side.

"It's all gonna be alright, yeah?" 

Tommy grit his teeth. Because it wasn't fucking fine and Wilbur was dying, breath whistling from the puncture in his lungs and dribbles of blood sliding down his chin . 

Wilbur smiled at Tubbo, eyes almost completely clouded over.

"That's the- that's the spir-" he was cut off my a heaving cough, crimson spraying out and staining the path red. Tommy quickly helped him sit up a bit, still holding his left hand tightly. 

Wilbur was shaking, quickly going pale and clammy. His skin was already losing temperature, and hardly even felt warm to the touch anymore. 

"I'm- it's getting cold." He breathed, hardly louder than a whisper. It was the middle of summer, and though the sun had already set if was still relatively hot outside. 

"Here, you can take my jacket."

Tubbo removed the top layer of his uniform, laying his coat overtop Wilbur's limp body and tucking it around his arms with care. 

Wilbur was hardly conscious, eyelashes fluttering and breathing laboured. Tommy wanted to scream, to cry, to smash his fists through the stupid, ugly, piece-of-shit porcelain smile behind him-

He turned and Dream was there, nonchalantly picking at the string of his bow and dry-firing it. 

The masked man tilted his head. 

"I don't think you should be worrying about me right now." Dream said, voice even. 

And as much as Tommy wanted to over and pound him until he was nothing left but a pile of mush in a green sweatshirt, he was right. Wilbur was more important right now. 

Speaking of which, Wilbur was already gone. 

Tubbo looked up, eyes brimming with tears. 

"He's passed out. There's nothing else we can do, just make him comfortable." 

Tommy smashed his fist into the ground, wood splintering off the prime path and embedding itself in his knuckles. He bit back a scream. 

Wilbur was deathly pale, face calm and lips parted with blood still seeping out. He looked peaceful, calm, as if Tommy could lean over and wake him up with a well-placed nudge. 

He imagined him sitting up, pulling the arrow out of his chest, and gather Tommy into a nice, tight hug. He imagined Wilbur telling him how brave he was for fighting in the duel, he imagined Wilbur tousling his hair into a tangle and laughing his ass off. 

Maybe, if he imagined hard enough, Wilbur would wake up. 

He didn't.

kinda short but ehh its content take it or leave it besties