gardener // y!dsmp x reader

EPILOGUE IX : FUNDY

key
trigger warnings!: mentions of death, triggering behavior from ptsd/trauma.

AS FUNDY WAS ON STAGE, he felt a bit paranoid. he kept shifting around in attempt to stop the tingling down his spine and his shaky hands, having to be comforted by tubbo. one thing about him that he noticed was that his instincts and his gut feelings were always accurate. so why was he feeling sick to his stomach? did he eat something that he couldn't take?

despite the festival's activities appearing extremely plain and normal like every year's festival, fundy felt something... different.. maybe even abnormal. like something bad was going to happen.

luckily for his gut feelings, they were spot on just as he'd suspected. he didn't expect king's speech to turn out the way it did, nor did he sense tubbo's execution happening in front of his very eyes. yet the feeling was lingering prior to these events, and he couldn't do a single thing about it until it happened in front of him.

and even then it made him paralyzed, standing backstage like a dumb statue, not knowing what to do. the knot in his stomach only tightened. this isn't the only bad thing, isn't it?

he slowly backed off the stage, not wanting to witness techno shoot his long time friend. he couldn't watch it at all. it only made him more sick, especially of king. fundy's been looking up to king like his father figure, in-spite of the manipulation and backhanded power struggle that was going on. he kind of realized it but pushed those feelings aside, craving any parental affirmation that he never got from wilbur.

now this was his breaking point. he was going to quit working at the presidential house. maybe move to a new kingdom... maybe even yours. oh what a dream it would be to live with you, away from everyone else. you two could have your own little cottage in the middle of the woods, waking up everyday next to one another, smiling. oh how he would love that.

he sneaked away from the stage, his back turned to the crossbow techno was wielding. his gut feelings were definitely right. he should've left earlier. he began to feel the ground rumble below him, making his eyebrows furrow. then the familiar sound of sizzling TNT, faint in the distance, made his heart fully stop beating. it reminded him of l'manberg all over again, his surroundings suddenly morphing and melting into that terrible obsidian control room, the sharp ridges of its walls and the lids of the deceitful supply chests dripping venom.

I HAVE TO RUN.

——- ——- ——-

Y/N STUMBLED ON THEIR OWN FEET while sprinting, frantically trying to get away from the flames that were making its way towards the exits just like the crowds of elite class all dispersing like mice that have been caught stealing food.

explosions easily drove people forward, propelling bodies and increased chances of death from falling rubble. it only made you more determined to get out. but something... someone in particular made you stop.

"Y/N! Y/N WAIT!" you heard your name being called from behind you, prompting you to slow down and whip your head around, spotting a frightened fundy.

"fundy!?" you let out, both of your hyperventilating becoming synchronous. "c'mon! i know a shortcut!" fundy hurriedly grabbed on to your hand and bolted, making you keep up with him.

he took some turns, having to go back towards the explosions for a brief moment before heading to an underground maintenance tunnel which led into the presidential house and towards a close exit.