#c!dream fluff

[undonerhapsodize]

Mask Off

Act 2 - Pt. 1 out of 3

DSMP C!Dream x g/n!reader, ft. Quackity TW: Generally triggering content: suspense, dread, horror, threats of violence, arguing, fluffy for half but it goes away quickly, not a happy ending Word Count: 7,233 Summary: You and Dream were together. Your cabin held the both of you nicely, away from the chaos of the SMP. Yet, the very roof seems to cave in when a certain visitor suddenly comes knocking on your door. What could he want?

Side Note: So my imagination decided to run a bit wild and now there’re parts 2 & 3 as well as act 1 in the works. Yup. I’ve given myself more work. Yet again. But listen it’ll be a while until I finish this act, nevermind the first one x-X. Just a heads up. Anyway, enjoy!! I had fun writing this :)))

The swinging of the wooden cabin door whined at the newcomer, complaining loudly at the disturbance. It announced the presence of the individual daring to use it, echoing throughout the house, not letting up for even a moment as he stepped through. It shut just as boldly, even with his attempt of easing it closed with a soft click. 

Not usually the type of person to state his arrival, Dream carried on without a word. He stepped through the foyer with practiced ease, navigating the semi cluttered area as best he could with an armful of firewood and his ax in the hand he wasn’t using. Taking care not to let the bundle of wood topple onto the ground, he sets the weapon down to lean against the counter, leaving it to rest. He stepped away from it, again side stepping around the room, not wanting to bump into any of the goods that lay on the small kitchen table or stumble down the stairwell, its opening laid against the farthest wall from the front door. 

Making his way to the fireplace, Dream could feel the heat intensify, even through the mask he wore on his face. It grew with each step, hotter and hotter, only for its change to become stagnant as he crouched in front of it. He took a moment to feel its warmth, to take in the comfort it provided as opposed to the chill of the autumn breeze. Though Dream was not a man to hold such sentiments to a high value, he gladly accepted the feeling as he began restocking the fire wood, placing it on the melt rack beside the fireplace for later use. Whatever was left over he chose to re-inflame the fire with, seeing the once lively, now smothering embers, in need of the fuel. Conscientious of the heat, he plied on more wood, poking around at the base of the fire with one of the longer, thicker sticks. It quickly caught fire, and began to build the flame back up to its former glory. Bingo

Dream continued to work as footsteps began to sound from the basement, leisurely ascending the stairs that lead up to the ground floor. Of course he heard it, his ears were as keen as ever. He wasn’t warry. He knew who they belonged to.

Eventually, the footsteps reached the top of the stairs. They stilled for a second, feeling the familiar presence behind him. But with nothing being said, he grew confused. Dream was about to turn to face them. Only, they spoke first. 

“Why hello to you,” they said. Their footsteps started up again, yet this time, to the kitchen.

The corner of his lip curled up in amusement. “Hello~.” He continued to stoke the fire.

“Now, why aren’t you using the fire iron?” They asked with an accusatory tone. There was a clamor made towards the backend of the cabin, one that Dream recognized as a box coming in contact with something hard: probably the floor based on the vibrations he felt. A ‘ping’ sounded just afterward: of glass hitting glass.

Dream shrugged, to no one but himself. “Cuz,” he spoke simply. “It’s pussy shit.” Another ‘ping’. “The fuck do you mean it’s pussy shit?” They spoke with the same tone, yet there was a small chuckle tacked on at the end of their sentence. “That’s it’s whole job.”

Dream threw what remained of the stick, which had at this point shortened greatly, into the fire. He was satisfied with how the fire now sprang back to life. “‘just don’t need it.”

He stood up, knees popping quietly. Shifting, Dream turned to face the person he was talking to. There they stood, just in front of the kitchen sink, an assortment of glass bottles inside a wooden box on the floor to their side . They spoke again, “Still,” a little softer this time, “you should use it. Give it more purpose.”

Dream smiled, if only a little. “Really?” He began to make his way over to them, maneuvering around the overflowing table once more. He passed over into the kitchen space just as they gave a ‘yea’ in confirmation. 

Dream slowed as he got closer, almost about to close the distance. “Well,” starting in a light tone. Gently, he stepped into them, snaking his arms around their midsection and tightening, holding his own arm in order to secure them in place. He continued, “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

At the response, you breathe out a laugh through your nose, though don’t say anything else. The atmosphere grows quiet for a couple seconds, save for the clinking glass bottle as you continue to work. Dream modestly stands, hugging you from behind as he drinks in the warmth you provided, chest pressed surely against your back. A very grounding thing beyond all else. Definitely for him.

It doesn’t take long for Dream to pier over your shoulder to gaze at what you were working on. Though it's obvious from the movements themselves, he asks anyway. “Whatcha workin on?”

“Getting these potions into their proper bottles,” You say. “I saw we were running out a couple days ago and decided to make some more.”

Dream let out a ‘hmm’, content with the answer. He dropped his head onto your shoulder. Angling his face into the area of your neck and the back of your head, he breathed you in. Or, as much as he could with the mask on his face. Though it only covered the upper portion of his face (mouth still visible), it obstructed a lot of his movement. But, luckily, not so much this.

He enjoyed the faint scent your hair gave off from this morning’s shampoo. It set him at ease when not many other things could. The feeling in his heart grew, reaching from the pits of his stomach to the tips of his ears. He closed his eyes at the emotion blooming within. You, on the same page, sighed in content. The clinking of the glass bottles continued.

He couldn’t help but untangle one of his arms from his embrace. He took it, raising it up to move the fabric of your hoodie away from the nap of your neck, clearing the area for him to access. He didn’t get a chance to.

You jumped, something akin to a flinch. Stopping all motion, Dream froze. He already had an apology ready to go, but before he could, he heard your laughter. 

“Haha… sorry, that spooked me. Also kinda tickles.”

Dream blinked, processing. A grin made its way onto his face, stretching from something passive, into something much more… cunning. “It what?”

You stopped. Hearing the tone in his voice was not a good sign. It wasn’t the sound of someone asking just an innocent question. “Uh, yeah?” You braced the edge of the kitchen sink, a bottle still in hand.

“Yeah?” he repeated, almost mockingly. The same hand had risen again, elbow bent, ready to strike.

Dread filled you at the realization. The missing arm. “Dream no-”

You barely could get another word in before the man in question pulled your hoodie back, starting his vicious attack. He dove in head first, literally. 

Relentlessly, he kissed, nipped, and tickled the area with skin-on-skin contact. His lips, along with the stubble of his upper lip and jaw, not doing you any favors. You burst out laughing against your will. 

He grinned borderline maliciously, happy to see his hunch had been right. And relentlessly, he laughed, abet muffled by your skin. Your reaction was far beyond calm. To put it plainly, you thrashed, trying to muscle out of Dream’s grip, but to no avail. Even with a single arm, he held you in place, refusing to let you go from his front until he’s had his fun. Shouts of protest rang throughout the house, as well as giggles of joy. Ones that fueled Dream’s rampage as he continued his onslaught. 

Though it didn’t last forever. 

The sound of glass shattering made Dream stop every movement. The sound of the shocked noise that left your throat made Dream unlatch himself to look over your shoulder and at your face. Your eyebrows were set downturned, yet your eyes were wide, fixated on whatever was in front of you. Dream turned a cheek to look at the scene, only to make the same face himself. His jaw even dropped, fully aghast at the sight.

There, in the bottom of the sink, was the remains of what used to be an invisibility potion, glass shattered and sitting on the metal. Though that wasn’t the best part, oh no. It was the fact that the concoction had splattered up, and onto your hands. Only making selective parts invisible. Not the whole hand, just dots.

Your hands were that of a dalmatians' coat, yet instead black, the bottom of the sink filled the space.

Expression frozen, Dream slowly turned his head to face you, wanting to get a read for your reaction. You just starred, and blinked. It was dead silent for a few seconds before you finally looked at him. You only had one thing to say.

“Bruh.”

Dream cracked.

Taking a step back, and letting go of your waist, he uses his arm to clutch his own stomach, letting out a wheeze of laughter at the mere sight of your hands. It apparently was the most hilarious thing to him. He slouches at the feeling of his stomach tightening at the exhilaration, shoulders turning into themselves. Eyes squinted, mouth agape, teeth showing, he let out buckets full of boyish, hearty laughter. He was tireless in his own humor. Even when that giggles stopped, he still pushed it out, squeezing out air from his lungs that sounded awfully almost like a kettle.

Meanwhile, you stood at the sink, arms crossed at the sight of Dream losing his shit over the sight over a fucked-up invis pot. Yes you thought it was funny. But was it that funny? Like, ‘laughing my ass off’ funny? No. That was just too much. Was it what you said? Maybe. You couldn’t know.

Dream continues to laugh as you turn back around to the sink, flipping on the sink to run the excess potion down the sink and wash your hands. “Just let me know when you’re done,” you call over your shoulder.

Dream runs a hand through his hair. He struggles to speak through his convulsing diaphragm, but muscles through anyway. “I-it…”

You turn your head, shutting off the water, “What?”

He tries again, giggling throughout. “I-It… they-y look la-like…”

You raise a brow. Already expecting something outta left field. You take the towel from the oven to palm your hands dry. “...What?”

He points weakly to your hands, chest expanding and shrinking with air. There, he makes an impeccable observation. He grins.

“Like… sw-iss cheEESEEeee…”

Once again the man doubles over, comically stumbling over to the fridge, using a free hand to lean against it in support. There, he confines himself, designating it as the resting place for his hackling.

You, at this point, can’t help but laugh with him. Leaning against the counter top, you chuckle softly, admitting that yes, they do kinda look like swiss cheese. 

It takes a good couple seconds for Dream to calm after that, the last of his enjoyment dying out at the push of his body from the fridge, and an adjustment of his posture. You don’t even have to ask before he’s opening said fridge, and pulling out the milk. It just stands as a reminder that even as distracted as possible, he’s still thinking ahead. Even for simple things.

“I can get that.” You said instinctively.

Dream brushes it off with a sarcastic comment, as per usual. “Oh really? I didn’t know.”

You roll your eyes, but say nothing. He continues his path, plucking an empty glass from the cupboard, filling it halfway with the milk, side-stepping to return the milk to the fridge, and approaching you with it. The grin he wears is still cheeky. Not surprising.

He stands before you once more, presenting the glass to you. You take it easily, not hesitating to drink, taking small sips. He lets his hand fall to his side. You look at him, and into the porcelain white of his mask. For anyone else, it might’ve been intimidating to stand in front of him. One so tall, mysterious, dangerous, as you’ve heard. Yet, you were not afraid. Maybe you should be. But you weren’t.

You think to continue the conversation. “I can’t believe you would laugh at my suffering.” You take another sip to allow him a chance to speak.

“I won’t call that suffering, love.” He says easily, gesturing down with his head at the now fading remains of the invisibility potion. “You weren’t hurt or anything.”

Tipping your head up you’re beginning to finish the glass. Swallowing, you go on. “True,” you admit. “Though I could’ve been.” Dream’s grin drops a little in confusion. You elaborate. “It could’ve been something bad, like a harming. I also made some of those.”

“Why’d you make those?” He can’t help but ask. You shrug. “Had the ingredients. Thought, ‘why not?’ Just in case.” Dream’s enjoyment finally fades at the admission: at the realization that that spill-up could’ve been a lot worse. That depending on what kind of potion it was, the evening could’ve turned into a particularly awful one. Dream frowned.

You were about to ask about the change in mood, before he took a step forward. He raised both hands, tenderly placing them on your biceps. His thumbs started to rub into your hoodie, comforting in its motion. Even through the fabric, you knew the reason for his hands was rather to have, than to hold. He angled his face up, above and to your hair. A sign for you to tilt your head down, which you did. What you weren’t expecting was the feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. It was as soft as the moon-light that peaked through the closed curtains from the window. You could’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. There he held you, and spoke words you would cherish for years to come.

“I’m sorry. ‘Wasn’t careful.”

You’re confused. “I was kidding.”

He reports back, albeit softly. “I know you were.”

You pause for a mere moment to think, then it comes to you. Melting at the earnesty, you smile, chest warm. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t mean to.”

He continued to speak, protesting your attempt of comfort. “That’s the problem.”

Still, you shook your head, encased as it was. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dream chose not to respond. You didn’t make him.

Instead, you lightly tapped on his chest with the glass, which had been empty of milk for some time now. Chuckling at the way you chose to get his attention, Dream took the glass from you and side-stepped to the sink, going to wash it. He flicked on the sink.

You protested, “Ey-”

Dream interrupted you.. “Go sit down. I’ll join you after I clean this up.” He was referring to the broken glass still sitting at the bottom of the kitchen sink. 

You protested one more, “I can get th-”

Dream countered, biting back with his back still turned. “No. I got it. Now go sit down.”

You tried again, “Dream, I can-”

He turned around. He decided to kick a leg out, and lean against the counter, glass still in hand. He tilted his head down. If you could see his face, you could guess the kind of face he’s making at you right now. 

“Y/N.” He says with the patience he doesn’t have. “I’ve. Got. This. Please. Go still down.” He pauses once more, maybe to let the silence speak for itself. “Think of it like a favor.” You huff after a few solid seconds of a disconnected staring contest. “Fine,” you give in. Turning on your heel you make your way to the plaid coach sat by the fireplace. Before you get too far, you decide to call one last thing over your shoulder, “You’re impossible, you know.”

Dream audibly laughs, deep and true. “It is said to be one of my best qualities.” He pauses before adding. “As is yours.”

You huff again, though it ends in a chuckle you can’t hold back. You sit yourself down on the coach as he finishes his task. “Oh shush.”

The crackling of the fire’s flame filled the quiet of the cabin, as well as the sounds of heavy footfalls, and of clinking glass. From what you could tell, Dream made quick work of the clean-up, swiftly wiping down the counter of any remaining potion residue. The sound of a muffled slam made it known that he had finished, the disposable bin shutting for the last time that night.

From your position on the couch, you sat in your thoughts. Quietly. You tilted your head back until the back of your neck reached the curve of the cushion. You sighed out, letting your eyes flutter shut.

When you first found Dream, caked in dirt and grime, coated in both dried and fresh blood, he was in your barn. Hearing the alarming sounds of an intruder at one o’clock in the morning, you set out to investigate, seeking out whatever animal you thought had weaseled their way into the rickety old thing. What you did NOT expect to find, however, was the form of a tired, worn man on the brink of exhaustion. It was quite a sight if you were to be honest. The picture of what is probably the closest person to the antagonist of the Greater SMP, struggling to get himself to stand against you, hissing out insults and threats of violence all the while. It would be imprinted in your head for as long as you lived. It would remain in the same way as your first seated dinner with the villain after patching him up as he hunched over his bowl of soup, as would the time he threatened to kill you when you snuck up behind him by accident.

From the start of your relationship, you didn’t expect it to go far, either. Not at all. You knew what he was. He knew what you were. The both of you didn’t expect to change in the way that you had, to evolve in ways that went beyond your outstretched hand of empathy, or the soothing touch of the healing man you didn’t think he could possess. Yet, fate surprised you. He surprised you. It's predictable that way, unyielding in its course of amazement and the unanticipated. Even now, it baffled you. How could such a man, a man just as Dream, decide to share his company with you in the ways that he has. Ways even he probably thought himself incapable. 

You weren’t one to tempt fate. Not at this part, at least. Here, in your cabin, you were content to sit, and wait for him. You had the patience. You had the time.

Though not much.

A scuffled sound, of rubber against tile, alerted you to something you had not yet processed. You opened your eyes, craning your head up to look at the person in question. “Do you still have your boots on?”

Dream made a noise close to what a horse would make, except distantly human. “Yeah.” He patted his hands dry with the dish towel, just having finished washing them thoroughly.

Your face scrunches up in disgust. “Take them off.”

At that, the masked man openly chuckles, placing the dish rag back from whence it came, beginning to take steps closer and closer to where you sat relaxed on the couch. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you’re weird.” 

His mouth opens, agape with fake offense. “I am not weird.” He toes off his shoes at the front door, not bothering to set them up properly before padding closer with deathly quiet footsteps.

You almost make a face at the act, though you’re quickly distracted by the looming figure of Dream over the coach. A shadow could’ve casted over you. Your seated position only increased the height difference between the both of you. Mans is tall.

Yet, you are not afraid. “You kinda are.” You speak casually.

Dream scoffs, a smile visibly growing below the face, teeth showing. He’s a little more insistent this time as he takes a knee on the couch. He chooses not to lower himself. “I am not.”

You shrug. “You definitely are.”

Dream tilts his head. The whites of his canines peek out from his lips. He doesn’t move. Not a single inch. It makes you freeze as well. You go to say something else to get him to do something, but before you can, he pounces.

Leaning down and taking both his hands around your waist, he turns you sideways, nearly picking you up in the process. With an exaggerated grunt, Dream maneuvers you so your body faces longways down the couch. Rightfully caught off guard, you’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing. But before you can, Dream turns himself longways as well, and topples down, collapsing onto you with his weight. It effectively knocks the wind out of you, huffing out an “oof” at the impact. Dream laughs quietly all the while: a mix between a rumble and a chuckle. 

There he lays on you, turning his head to the side, ear pressed to your collarbone and arms sandwiched between you and the couch. He gets comfortable, shifting against you to find the best position to lay. He stills after a minute. Then, as the grand finally, Dream speaks, smoothly yet clear. “Well… I guess I am.”

The feigning of innocence gets a laugh out of you. You breathe out, shifting on your own to try to get comfortable. Well, as best as you can with a six foot, well built man on top of you. Like your body moved on its own, your arms came up to wrap securely around the back of Dream, hands running along the expanse of his shoulders as you do. He visibly shivers at the contact. You stop, cautious in your movements. 

Dream notices, and acts. He struggles to pull an arm from wherever it has wedged itself. He takes it, and twists his shoulder, maneuvering his hand to touch your own, which was held in the air, hovering over his back. Straining a little, he pushes it down, making contact with his back once more. He returns his arm, easily tucking it back into the space it had come from.

If he was phased by the touch, he didn’t show it, nor speak it. Smiling, your pride in him swells, and your apprehension leaves, just as quick as it came. Continuing, you tighten your arms, which find their resting place with ease. 

There they stay. And there, the both of you sink into one another, melting into the cushion of your furniture and the comfort each other gave. Its warmth was unrivaled by anything, going beyond normal heat and into the very personification of a glow. And my, what a cozy glow it was. Oh how lovely.

The rarity of the moment did not escape you. How foolish could you be, to forget who exactly, you held so closely? How dismissive could you act, to not?

Dream and you. Together. A recipe for disaster. That was certain.

Take a seesaw. On one end, the man sat. The other, you. The balance was level, despite it all. Your feet floated, a foot or so above the ground. His did as well. If you listened close enough, you could hear laughter, light and unburdened. You can hear a heartbeat, strong and resilient. You can hear silence, unseen and unbothered. You can hear it all.

That is, if you can hear it past the rumbling of the thunder, just a matter of miles away.

A storm was brewing. How would the seesaw take it? Could it withstand the pressure?

KNOCK KNOCK

Both you and Dream tensed immediately. The silence of the cabin suddenly became too much for the both of you. Dream whipped his head up to face you, a look of confusion and panic plastered all over it. You didn’t have to see it to know it was there. You gave the same look back, just as shocked as he was. 

At that unspoken agreement, a realization washed over the both of you.

You didn’t plan on having any guests over. You didn’t know anyone in the area who you were close enough to that could possibly come over at any random time. Especially at this time, when the night had just fallen upon the land, and the creatures of the world began to emerge from their slumber.

In that moment, the serenity had abruptly, and brutally been replaced with danger.

Wordlessly, Dream sat up, and rose from the couch. His eyes were trained on the door, never once leaving, even as you got up as well. “Invis.” You say quietly, looking at him with nervous eyes. “By the counter.” He nods once. Only once.

You make your way to the door, the sounds of your footfalls as bold as they could’ve been in the rigid atmosphere. Dream on the other hand, you can barely sense move into the kitchen behind you. He’s like a ghost in these kind of scenarios. Unseen and untouchable. 

Placing your hand on the door, you lean in, peering into the peep hole to get a glimpse of your unexpected visitor. Though no matter how brave you think you are, nothing prepares you for what you see on your front step, only accompanied by the darkness of the sky.

You’re horrified.

Slowly you turn around. Dream had picked up his ax, and was moving it, taking it from where it was to where he now places it: on top of the cabinet and out of sight. His height works for him in that way, where he can easily reach up and grab his prized tool whenever he would need, and nobody would even know it was there. An invisibility potion in hand, it was already uncorked and ready to drink. He stills afterwards, straightening. He stares, unblinking. You can guess the expression: eyes wide with anxiety and adrenaline. His eyes only seem to grow wider at the look on your face, pupils shrinking to an almost inhuman size.

You have to command yourself to speak, the lone word not wanting to leave your tongue. For both of your sakes. 

“Quackity.”

You whisper it into the density of the air, breathless with unease. You can only imagine the thoughts that go through Dream’s mind, as he continues to stand there, unmoving. You can see the hand that holds the potion tremble, even as the grip tightens. 

Oh how you want to turn your back on the door and comfort him, to reassure him with every promise that you can. I’m sorry honey.

KNOCK KNOCK

You jump. Dream doesn’t. Instead, he lets his eyes ease shut. He seems to breathe deep, nodding to no one but himself, before bringing the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back, and drinking the entire potion in one go. If you had the time to think about it, you would be jealous of how quickly he can find resolve. Even in the face of such an enemy.

You watch him swallow the substance and how it goes into effect instantaneously. His body begins to fade, spotty at first, then partially, then completely, as the mask man disappears from your view. Nothing remained, not a shred of clothing, not even a shadow.

Your own resolve is shaky as you place your hand on the door handle. Before you lose your nerve, and before this visitor can lose his patience, you turn it, and brace yourself. With a tug, the door opens, about halfway, where it reveals none other than the President of Las Nevadas, Quackity. The vile torturer in the flesh.

He snaps his head to you. His body isn’t facing the door, more so to the side as he looked to be gazing out into the forest. He looks worn, though not overly so. The white of his shirt was muddled, its purity now appearing dirty. It looks as if he hadn’t properly washed it in forever. He had what looked like an ax secured to his belt. You try not to look at it too long. The scar along his face was as prevalent as ever, along with the blind eye. It matched the propaganda posters you’ve seen relatively well. Though its roughness was missed in translation.

He blinks. Then smiles. 

“Oh hello!” Quackity greets, golden tooth peeking through his lips. One hand comes up to straighten a suspender that had been starting to slip from his shoulder. He turns to face you fully at the same time.

“Ah, Hello?” You ask with a question. You have never met this man before. Only heard stories. You could only wonder, what was he doing here? What did he want?

“Ha ha, I guess this is a little weird huh?” The President chuckles to himself. “You probably weren’t expecting someone on your front door at this time of night.”

You remain still, prompting him to continue. He straightens up, taking his collar in two hands, and pops it. Dramatically.

 “Well… I’m Quackity, President of Las Nevadas, Big Q, blah blah blahahaha…” He trails off in a laugh, one that makes you shuffle your feet. It wasn’t a nice one to hear.

He does the same, but takes a wider stance. “Aha… whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ve heard of me, hmm?” He raises his unmarred eyebrow.

Seeing him stand there without continuing prompts you to speak. “Umm… yea… I think so.” You talk softly on purpose, influenced by your confusion and nervousness.

He grins again, dimples forming on his cheeks. He shuffles once more. It's almost fidgety in how he moves. Instantaneous, and unexpected.

“That's good, that's good,” He nods, muttering before clearing his voice. “I was just wandering around and saw your little cabin, and figured, why not ask a few questions.” He looks to you, making eye contact with a small bow of the head, smiling cheekily all the while. “If that’s alright with you, Mx?...”

“Y/N.” You finish lightly.  “Just Y/N is fine.”

“Ah, Y/N. That’s a nice name!” He declares, almost excited. You force a polite smile on your face in flattery.

He gestures with a hand suddenly, pointing to the open part of the door. “May I come in?”

A flash of alarm flows through you, running all the way from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet. Dream is in here. As cautious as you are in your presentation, you can’t help but stammer out a decline. “Ahaha, I’m sorry sir, but it is the middle of the night, and…I-I don’t think I would be comfortable with that…”

His smile falls a bit at the rejection. “Are you sure about that Mx Y/N?” The look he gives is less than pleasant, a far cry from the almost blissful look he wore only seconds ago. 

As unnerving as it is, you stand your ground, now putting on the best performance of ‘innocent bystander’ as you can realistically manage. You hope your face beams with courtesy, as does your voice as you reply sweetly. “I am, Mr. President.”

You can tell he’s annoyed by the decline as he attempts to move on. He sighs. “Well, I guess I won’t be long.” He says to himself, as his eyes glance down at your porch deck for a moment before they return to your face. 

He opens his mouth to begin. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Greater Kingdom, haven’t you?”

You nod. “Yeah I have.”

He goes on, “Are you aware of the most recent events?”

You pause for a second, internally debating on what to say. Knowing Quackity is watching your every move, you answer casually. “Uhh, no? I don’t think so. What recent events?” You quirk a brow, honestly wondering what he's referring to.

Quackity breathes in deeply, as if the floodgates are about to open. “Well…” He starts, careful this time. Different than before. “There’s been an incident, and… there’s a prisoner on the loose.”

You don’t move. Quackity stares you, dead in the eyes, searching, inspecting. You don’t give him a thing. He shuffles again.

“What I’m interested in, quite frankly, is if you’ve seen anyone… suspicious over the past few weeks.”

You turn your head, bringing a hand up to rub your chin, the crease of your brow deeps as you pretend to think on the matter. You wait a second or two before letting up, shaking your head. “Uh, no. I have not. Well, I don’t think I have. Then again, I don’t really see anyone out here, especially so late in the year. That is, except for you of course…”

“Then let me ask you something else!” Quackity cuts you off, raising a finger to you in the universal ‘wait’ signal. He counters with a smoothness that comes off more as desperation. You can see it in his eyes.

They narrow a fraction as he cocks his head to the side. The dim lighting of the torch that rested on the wall only made the man more menacing. The shadow that casted over his eyes made a portion of his scar disappear, and the milky gray of his blind eye glow. You have to command yourself to match the stare of the dead tissue.

“Have you seen anyone around with a white mask? What with a smile drawn on?”

You breathe. In. And out.

“N-No?” Calm down. Try again. “What? A smile? On a mask?”

Quackity blurts out a cackle, clutching his chest. It reverberates throughout the house . “I know right?! HAHAHA… fucking stupid…”

You laugh with him, as much as you can for your sincerity to appear true. You grab the door frame with a hand to stabilize yourself.

He coughs inwardly, calming himself from the outburst. “Hehehe.. he.. it's just that, I mean…” He stands solid again. Except, it's different this time. He turns sideways, his shoulders pull back, looking the most square they've been during this whole interaction.

He clicks his tongue. “Anyone who knew anything would have to speak up.” His hand drifts down to the weapon by his side. Your heartbeat jumps to your throat. It decides to sit there, waiting, watching, as you do at the threshold of your lonely cabin.

A slimy grin takes over his face, though his brows tilt downward, almost saddened. Remorseful even at his own thoughts. “Conspiring with a convict? Jeez…” His grip tightens on the head of his ax. Your confidence betrays you. Your face begins to fall. Pupils the size of pebbles, they await. In fear.

“What a terrible way to go.”

You’re deafened to everything. Your vision narrows to only the man in front of you. The distinct sound of the blade being unsheathed is the only thing you can hear as you watch the distinct blue of the diamond ax reveal itself. It’s slow, calculated almost. Quackity is deliberate with the movement as he stares you down, the sneer making his show all the more intimidating.

Stomp

Stomp

Stomp

It comes fast and sudden: the sound of heavy footfalls approaching from within the house. The tile of the kitchen floor did nothing to muffle the sound. It was as clear as day. Dream approached swiftly from behind, certainly set off by the sound of an unsheathing blade. Each step hit hard, punishing the floor with the force of Dream’s instinct to fight.

If you had more time, you would think more of his spring to action: the reason as to why he chose to give himself away. But you would think about his protective deed later. Not here, not now. There was a sound in the house.

You heard it.

Quackity heard it.

With a similar thought, his eye twitched. Quickly, he shoved his way into the house. Past you, past the door. You didn’t have time to prepare. He effectively pushed you back, making you stumble further into the house and away from the door. 

Dream’s muddy shoes had perfect timing. Because of their haphazard placement, they were able to find the opportune moment to make the situation worse. Your feet failed you as they got caught on the leather, your balance lost to the wind that whipped just outside the house, which could clearly be heard from the now wide open cabin door. You started to fall.

Except you didn’t.

Except your back hit something sturdy. Something soft even, as it absorbed your impact. While it didn’t catch you, it broke your fall, letting you hit two things easier instead of one thing hard. You would have to thank him later for his affinity for placing himself in the exact location needed.

You hit the floor with an ‘oof’, your bum making an impact before your hands came to the ground to stabilize yourself. 

You didn’t dare look up to Dream. You wouldn’t give his presence away. Instead you locked your eyes on Quackity, who was currently scanning the house. His one eye darted around in every direction possible, his blind eye following with the muscle memory. He made several rotations, twisting and turning every which way, frantically searching for the source of the noise. He looked and looked, stepping around the table, moving back and forth countless times, never once ceasing his search. He was too occupied to bring attention to the fact he had pushed you down.

Before you make to get up, there is a pressure on your back. It’s feather light, you can barely tell it's there. It was spotty, not solid, for there were multiple points of contact. They were warm, unlike any inanimate object you knew. It's a reminder. It's a warning. It urges you to still, to sit tight where you were.

You sensed him behind you, as clear as day. He was crouching from what you could tell, his height would not allow his hand to rest where it was if he wasn’t lowered in some way. You wondered absentmindedly just how close he was. Was he more beside you, ready to spring into action at any given moment? Or was he more behind you, wanting to keep clear of the intruder more than anything? You didn’t know. You wouldn’t dare check. Not with Quackity acting so brazen.

He snapped his head around to you, a gnarly sneer of his lip commanding the tenseness of the moment. “I HEARD SOMETHING.” He barks. ”I FUCKING HEARD SOMETHING.” The grip on his ax is tight as it stressed the wood of the handle. 

You only stare back, a mix of shock and offense. Nothing is said as the two of you are locked into a staring contest. You, on the floor, your blood rushing through your veins at an abnormal speed, like every platelet in your body was racing for the finish line that seemed oh so near. Quackity, standing on edge, outraged to find himself empty handed, just a matter of feet away. Clearly Dream isn’t visible to him. The potion is doing its job, and well. 

The breeze outside picks up. The forest nearest to your cabin groaned at its strength, its own bark resisting with an agitated creaking. The leaves of the trees were restless, helpless to the forces of nature. Some were strong enough to stick to their branches. Others were not. They were tugged from their stems, picked up to only be dragged against the house, scraping against the shingles of the side, shuffling and grinding along the floorboards of the porch just outside. Some even ventured inside, the ajar door doing nothing to stop the visitors.

The civility of the situation was hanging in the balance. 

You chose to take action.

Slowly and surely you begin to move, not wanting to startle the man, who seemed too on hyped up on his own concoction of adrenalin for your taste. He watched you carefully, though not with fear. With anticipation. 

Leaning forward, you put more weight on your legs. Using some momentum, you get onto the balls of your feet, pushing upright. The pressure on your back leaves. You dust your pants off, hoping the action conveys some sense of ease to Quackity. You keep your gaze on him, not wanting to lose sight of the man for even a second. You dare to speak, words slipping from your tongue before you can fully understand their irony. They’re devoid of any special emotion. Your speech remains faithful to you.

“Must’ve been the wind.”

Quackity starts, blinking a few times. He’s still suspicious as he looks around the house, this time scanning attentively. He’s slow, making sure to not miss a thing that could potentially give him a reason to act. He turns as he does, doing a full circle before making eye contact with you one more time.

He gives you a once over. Up and down his eyes rake up your form. The touch returns to you, this time on your shoulder. You expect it this time.

Quackity’s gaze would’ve made you uncomfortable if he was looking at you with more lust. But no, this was different. He was memorizing, not checking out. You could see the gears turn in his head as he stuffed new information into the depths of his brain, mentally accounting for something that remained unseen. 

He scoffed suddenly. Shaking his head, before moving to the door. A little caught off-guard, you follow right after him, leaving the touch once more. He shoulder checks the edge of it, nudging it open to make room for himself. He walks on, at a rushed pace, passing through the threshold of the door as the DONK of his boots hit the wood of the front porch, never once looking back. You only watch from the doorway as he steps down the stairs of your cabin, hand once again finding purchase on the knob.

You ponder calling out to him. To ask him for the reason of his assault, as well as the quick departure. But he stops first, right in his tracks. Right in the grass of your front yard, about ten feet or so away from the house. The words die in your throat before they can even begin to be uttered.

Quackity cranes his neck from where he stands, looking over his shoulder with his good eye. He speaks disturbingly composed. A far cry from the erratic man that forced his way into your home. 

Though it's not the tone he uses that makes your breath caught in your throat. Oh no. It’s his words. So brutal and so jarring, that you don’t know how to comprehend them. Like a viper, they attack with the element of surprise.

“I know he’s been here.”

You don’t speak. You can’t. Not even if you tried. The poison of the viper is too much.

“Don’t make an enemy out of me Mx Y/N.”

Author's Note from the Future: I’m sorry to say but this fic is on Hiatus until further notice. I may come back to it, but I’m not very sure as of now. Apologizes, and happy reading :)))

#rhaz’s works #dsmp x reader #dsmp dream #dsmp fic #dsmp imagine #c!dream x reader #c!dream #c!dream imagine #c!dream fic #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken fic #dream x reader #c!dream angst #c!dream fluff #c!dream x y/n #c!dream x you

[https-yeonjun]

[1:30am] (l.mk)

wc. 397

genre. angsty fluff

tags. mark x fem!reader, established relationship, long distance relationship, pet names (baby, babe, my girl)

a/n. repost; happy mark day!!!

more of my work

you found yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, the soft glow of your closet light gently illuminating the otherwise dark room. it had been two long weeks since you and mark had spoken, and the pain from the argument that triggered this silent period was still fresh. taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to click on his name in your contact list, your fingers trembling with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

your heart raced as the phone rang on the other end. finally, mark’s groggy voice resonated through the line. “hello?” he answered.

a tense silence hung in the air as you tried to find the right words to say.

“s-sorry,” your voice shook, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have called you.”

“y/n? babe, what’s wrong?” you could sense him straightening up, concern evident in his tone.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“i don’t care that you woke me up. where are you? are you okay?”

the warmth in his voice pulled at your heartstrings. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your emotions were overwhelming. “i’m home. i’m fine,” you choked back sobs, trying to speak through your tears. “just wanted to hear your voice.”

“a mixture of relief and worry flooded mark’s voice, “please, please don’t apologize.”

“i just feel bad about how everything went down. i didn’t mean anything i said.”

“it’s not your fault at all.” mark reassured you.”i haven’t been making you a priority. i could feel it too, that we were drifting away, but i don’t know. i guess i was stressed about work and everything.” he confesses. “i should have been honest with you and spoken with you. i never want to make your feel like you’re doing this by yourself.”

his vulnerability tugged at your heart. this was what you wanted from the start: for him to be honest with you. for a moment, there is another long silence on your line. “baby, are you there?” he asks softly.

“yeah,” your voice cracked. “yeah, i’m here.”

“please don’t cry, baby.” i never want to make my girl cry.”

“i know. i’m trying to not cry.” you wipe your tears with the back of your hands. “i just missed you so much.”

“i miss you too. i promise baby, i’m going to try and be there for you.”

fill out this form to join my taglist!

#fay's works #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct dream x reader #nct 127 c reader #nct dream #nct 127

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Harry was right, after all. He didn't feel. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita. But then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was smart if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bore into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted. Bold. If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

#dexter morgan #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan/reader #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter fanfiction #dexter fandom #dexter morgan x you #dexter x reader #dexter tv #dexter tv series #dexter #x reader #fanfic #reader #fanfiction #debra morgan #michael c hall #michael c hall x reader #dexter imagine #dexter morgan imagine #angel batista #fluff #first kiss #tension #dexter fanfic #dexter morgan fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher fic #slashers #darkly dreaming dexter

[justcallme-ange]

What it means to be in your twenties to a person who’s lived a few centuries.

As for the ages, if you know you know~

#c!dream #c!techno #dsmp #c!phil mentioned #I don't think Phil is the serial adopter here Tech #a little fluff #as a treat #technoblade #rivalstwt #rivals duo #rivalsduo #my art

[pomellon]

When I mentioned Dream and Sapnap bonded when they were really young in the dtk+ dragon au, I mean that Dream woke up one night to the sound of Sapnap’s egg hatching, went to check on him, and found a little baby hatchling blinking up at him. The bond was instant, and Dream just picked lil baby Sap up and tucked him into his nest before curling up around him.

Sapnap literally imprinted on Dream.

Dragon imprints last for a couple of years and are there so hatchlings have an adult to run to and rely on in case of danger and to care for them. Obviously Bad was meant to be the dragon Sapnap imprinted on, but even tho he wasn’t he still of course was the one who took care of all of Sapnap’s needs. Sapnap would just fuzz and struggle if Dream wasn’t around and the moment he was set free to do as he pleased he would be toddling after Dream. The moment he got spooked he would dive under Dream’s baby fluff and he was generally pretty much attached to the older hatchling.

Dream didn’t at all mind, he’s just a couple of years older than Sapnap and was mostly just excited to have a new potential friend, taking his role as Sapnap’s “protector” very seriously. 

They practically did everything together, and twenty-something years later Sapnap is still following after Dream, and Dream will still curl up around him when they sleep <3

#dreamnap #dreamwastaken #sapnap #c!dream #c!sapnap #dtk+ dragon au #pom talks #Bad was very distressed when he found Sapnap's egg empty after he hatched #and everyone was looking for a lost lil hatchling #until Dream woke up and drowsily sat up to reveal the lil ball of fluff under him #many text posts today excuse me while my brain goes brrrr!! about all me aus #I might have centaur au thoughts for later

[hellothereimaloser]

dad bird with his son 😍

good news fellas im officially back in my dsmp phase haha haha ha also experimenting with my style again cause i was bored :((

#sbi family dynamic #sbi #philza minecraft #philza #sbi fluff #family #family fluff #sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois inc #dadza philza #tommyinnit #c tommy #C philza #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp fanart #illustration #tommy innit #tommy fanart #philza origins #origins smp #commission #drawing commisions #taking commisions #digital commisions #art commission sale #art commissions open #art comms open #artistsoninstagram #artists on tumblr

[mushyruuu]

c!dnf brainrot before season 2 wooo

#dsmp #dsmp fanart #dsmp george #dsmp dream #georgenotfound #georgenotfound fanart #george lore #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken fanart #dreamnotfound #dreamnotfoundfanart #dnf #dnf fanart #dnf fluff #c!dream #c!george #dream smp #dream smp fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #my art

[nerdywriter36]

POTO Fluff Week 2024, Day 5 - So Familiar a Gleam

AO3

Day 5 of POTO Fluff Week 2024 is a Crossover AU! This Sleeping Beauty "crossover" idea came to me one day upon seeing a friend's brand new Sleeping Beauty Disney backpack, so this has been in the works for a couple of months now. I think Erik and Christine lend themselves very well to this situation, so I do hope you enjoy!

#poto #poto fluff week 2024 #my writing #phic #crossover au #disney #sleeping beauty (1959) #once upon a dream #e/c #erik #christine daae #nadir khan

[dreamcatcherrs]

all too well; c!technoblade x reader

!PLEASE READ!

this is an incomplete story I started on last year, and I never managed to finish it and probably won’t as I find it hard to write for techno anymore. but I figured I wouldn’t let the stuff I wrote go completely to waste, so here you go :)

+ based on taylor swift’s “all too well” ten minute ver. but techno actually has a reason to be an asshole unlike jake :)

++ if you know the song, you already know it’s gonna be an angsty and fluffy mess

stepping through the door to his cabin you let out a sigh at the feeling of the sweet warmth of his home surrounding you, quickly closing the door behind you to prevent the cold air from crawling up your neck. the cold from the snowy biome he chose to live in was no joke.

a pair of arms snaked around you from behind, cold lips placing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you giggled.

"mmm, I’m thinking rabbit stew for dinner tonight, whaddya say?" you turned around to face him, swinging your arms over his shoulders with a smile on your face.

"that sounds wonderful." your lips met his, cold and a bit chapped, but soft nonetheless, pulling away shortly after. he pressed his lips into a thin line, blood flowing to his cheeks as the voices went crazy for you in his head. luckily, for him, you couldn’t hear them, or else he’d probably die. he shedded himself from his cape, your eyes lingering on him as he did so, admiring his effortless charm, wondering how you could ever be this lucky.

once shaking yourself out of your daze you reached for the red scarf around your neck, unwrapping it and letting it hang from the railing attached to the stairs along with your thick and wooly coat that protected your body from the icy air outside.

walking into the kitchen, techno was already chopping up the potatoes, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied into a bun. the sight alone was breathtaking to you, and he didn’t even know it. you walked over to stand by his side, grabbing the carrots on the counter to start chopping them up. techno glanced at you without moving his head so you wouldn't notice, and you didn’t. 

you didn’t notice.

you grunted as you failed at your second attempt of mounting the horse, your leg just not long enough to swing over the saddle. about to try for a third time, a pair of hands landed on your waist, making you halt your movements.

“here, let me help you.” the warmth of techno’s fingers melted through the material of your clothes. you felt your blood rush to your cheeks. you uttered out a small “thanks,” letting him lift you onto the horse with little power needed from you.

you grabbed a hold of the rope attached to the horse to lead and stop him, waiting for techno to get on his horse again, watching as he does so with ease.

“alright, let’s go.”

you wanted to go for a ride together in the forest a few miles away from the snowy cabin you were held up at most of the time, for a change of scenery, or just to spend some peace and quiet time together if you will.

techno turned his head to look at you, seeing if you’d found your way around on the horse, meaning for it to just be a quick glance. but when he saw how you smiled sweetly at the horse as you ran a gentle hand over his fur, he couldnt help but to admire you. your were so… kind-natured. innocent, sweet. completely different from him, yet here you were - his. his heart tugged in his chest as the voices in his head kept repeating compliments aimed towards you.

“techno!”

with a last minute jerk to the rope, techno just about managed to miss falling down the deep ravine one block away from him. he swallowed, looking over at you again as you giggled at him. he recollected himself, moving on ahead of you casually to look calm and collected.

you reached the woods, the snowy path you’d been following slowly disappearing and being replaced by the beautiful array of colours from the autumn leaves. your eyes widened at your colourful surroundings, not having been used to this type of biome since you got into a relationship with techno and stayed with him. and as much as you loved staying with techno in the snowy biome, you still missed what you were used to.

distracted by the scenery, you didn’t notice the creeper sneaking up on you from between the trees.

but your horse did.

kicking his front legs in the air, you screeched, holding on tight to the rope as your horse started running with full speed down the path and away from the creeper. away from techno. now was the time you really wished you knew more about riding a horse. you probably should've listened more when techno helped you learn.

your hair blew back from the powerful wind, eyes squinted as you tried your best to make your horse stop, but despite your effort, nothing seemed to work.

suddenly, a hard tug to the rope you were holding, and everything stood still again, no more cold wind. techno appeared on his horse beside you, pink braid messy from the wind blowing into his face and brows furrowed. he quickly got off his horse, keeping a hold on the rope as he approached you.

“come on, boy, it’s okay. that nerd is far gone.” you laughed a little at his choice of words, noticing a little gunpowder on his hand as he reached out to you. “you okay?” his eyes drooped, a sincere look crossing his face as you placed your hand in his. warm, as always.

“yeah, I’m good. y’know, just glad I didn’t die from that,” you smiled, letting him help you down. he rolled his eyes.

“maybe you're being a bit overdramatic. I don't think you could die from that.”

your brows furrowed, arms crossed over your chest. overdramatic?

he swallowed.

“I mean, y’know, you’re the lover of the blood god, I think you're too strong for such a weak death.”

you squinted your eyes at him and shot him a small glare. he shot you a lopsided smile, letting out a breath once you turned around to get on the horse again.

victory.

he watched you struggle mounting the horse again. “d’you need help with that?”

“no!”

“ah! this is you?”

you picked up the photo from the counter, just in time before he could snatch it away from you. you quickly held it to you, sending him a mischievous smirk as you looked at it. he sighed.

it was a picture from when he was little, barely taller than wilbur who stood beside him in the photo with his arm slung over his shoulders, little tommy peeking at the camera between the two brothers. you felt a pang in your chest as your eyes softened looking at the photo. techno had his long hair in a braid, hanging from his shoulder and down his chest, tusks peeking out from under his upper lip, glaring at will as he pulled him close, a bright smile on the brunettes face. techno’s glasses were the same, but the scar that usually ran down the middle of his eye was yet to be seen.

it was… so precious.

“aww, look at you tech! even back then you hair was in a — braid…”

you turned, looking at techno with a faltering smile, watching as his cheeks and ears glowed a bright red. he itched his neck, keeping his eyes glued to the ground.

“tech? you okay?” you reached out, gentle fingers pushing a strand of hair out of his face, same hand cupping his face to make him look at you. he did, eyes gloomy and brows upturned.

“they hate me.”

your face fell, breath hitching at his words. how could he say that?

“what? honey, they don’t hate you. you’re their brother-“

“brother? what kind of a brother am I, y/n? a good one? a brother who leaves his family behind? I would understand if they aren’t very fond of me.”

your lips parted, eyes open wide as you listened intently, observing his icy orbs.

techno didn’t mean to suddenly unload his emotional baggage on you, but you seeing that photo - it reminded him of why the ones he loved were not in his life anymore, and it reminded him that you might become an addition to that list. as a man known for control and power, he has little of that in his head. he has no idea if the voices are gonna betray him again like they’d once done before and leave you, abandon you. lose you. his fears were coming out, crawling out of his mouth in no words and-

he sobbed.

head landing on your shoulder, he hunched over and clung to your body, releasing the tears he hadn’t cried for so long, years, into your shoulder. you found it hard to take in his sudden outburst, not having ever seen this side of the piglin before.

you quickly shook off your own feelings, knowing that now was a time where you had to think of him and only him. you placed your hands on the back of his head, over his hair as you held him close to you, kissing his temple. looking down at the photo still in your hand, you wondered what kind of past he must’ve had to feel this way, to feel so… alone. even when he still had so many people who loved him.

“techno.” you managed to pull him slightly away from you, teary eyes staring into yours as you wiped his tears on his cheeks away. “tell me what happened.”

he sniffed, unbuttoning the top button to his shirt for air. “which part?”

“all of it.”

they deserve nothing. they’re merely just another peasant who’s gonna end up stabbing us in the back.

techno stared at you as you slept peacefully beside him, hand still resting on his bare chest. he swallowed, eyes clouded with darkness. he squeezed them shut to get the voices to stop.

do it now. while they’re weak, disadvantaged. one stab through the neck and we’re safe, free. alone.

techno shot up from the bed, panting and clutching a hand over his heart. he groaned, wiping the sweat off of his forehead, but to no avail - his whole body was completely covered.

he hadn’t even heard you stir awake, the only thing he’d been able to hear being the voices, murderous, merciless voices roaming his mind.

“techno, what’s wrong?” you asked, but received no response other than the loud breathing he was letting out as he heaved. “hey.” you placed a hand on his shoulder, to which he immediately flinched away from your touch, as if you’d burned him with your fingertips. he stared back at you with wide eyes, backing away from you on the bed. your slight feeling of worry turned into a feeling much worse.

“get away from me,” he panted, moving further away from you once he noticed you trying to get closer.

“techno what’s wrong? talk to me, please! I’m only trying to he-“

“please just get away from me, y/n…”

you gaped at him as he stood up from the bed, claws scraping his scalp as he held his head, facing the ground. he heaved, shoulders moving up and down to his breathing as it grew louder along with the voices. he grunted, placing a hand on the wall as if he couldn’t stand up straight.

ignoring his words, you stood from the bed too, finding his health and happiness much more important than whatever reason he had for asking you to stay away from him. your heart started beating faster, anxious about him. what was happening? why was he acting like this? you’d never seen this happen to him before, and you were too desperate to know what was going on in his head to listen to his desperate words.

you grabbed his forearm, trying to get him to turn to you, but as soon as you did, the air from your lungs left your body as he pushed you harshly against the wall. a cold feeling on your neck, and without being able to move you could feel the blade pressing into your skin, a drop of warm blood running down your neck from where the blade had broken skin. you stopped breathing, looking into his eyes as tears fell from yours. he was still heaving, eyes black and hot breath fanning your face as he showed off his tusks from his open mouth.

“I said get the fuck away from me,” he growled, eyes unrecognizable as they stared into yours. you whimpered, clenching your hand around the wrist holding the blade to your neck. your nails dug into his skin, not wanting to hurt him, but fearing that not doing so would end up getting you even more hurt. though nothing felt as painful as what you were feeling right now. this man- beast, before you was not techno. it couldn’t be…

you cried out his name, closing your eyes in fear of what would happen. and then, the pressure was removed from your neck, a shaky pair of arms embracing you as the clang of the blade hitting the floor surrounded the room.

“y/n I- the voices I can’t-“

you gasped for air, pushing him off of you with all of your power and sobbing as you looked at your lover, disbelief coursing through you. your bottom lip shook as you cried, shaky hands clinging to your own body in a way to try and cope with what just happened. blood was smeared on your neck from the cut he made with the blade, his soaked eyes widening at the sight. he huffed, heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. what had he done? the one thing he’d ever wanted to do was protect you, and now he was the one hurting you. “y/n please, I’m so sorry. something took over me I- you know that I’d never try to hurt you, right?”

he inched slightly closer to you, tears that were forming in his eyes finally falling when you backed away from him in fear. you just cried harder at his words, smearing blood on your face when you placed your hands over your eyes, sobbing into your hands. words couldn’t explain how you felt - betrayal? shock? anger? sadness? none of them felt like the right word. all you knew was that you didn’t feel good.

and neither did techno.

he backed away from you, realizing that the only way for him to make you feel at least a little bit better, safer, was if you were far away from him. far, far away.

he was out of the bedroom before you had the chance to stop him, looking up from your wet hands to see him gone along with his red cape and sword. wide-eyed, you looked around the room, contemplating wether you should go after him or not. the man you loved, your soulmate. the man who just attacked you.

techno left hooveprints in the snow as he ran, away away away. as far as his legs would let him. he didn’t know what his mind could do now without his control. he didn’t know if he was capable of keeping you safe from himself. all he knew was that he could never hurt you again. not like this.

he reached the woods, huffing out a breath as he stopped by a tree to catch his breath. the need for oxygen in his lungs blocked out the sound of loud gallops coming his way.

you spotted his blood red cape, royal colour standing out from the dull trees. “come on, Carl. we’ve gotta get him,” you mumbled to yourself and the horse you were sat on, speeding up as you entered the forest. “tech!”

turning around with wide eyes, techno’s heart sped up as he saw you there, getting off the horse with ease. he took a step back. “y/n, please, I don’t wanna hurt you again,” he pleaded, holding his hand out to prevent you from coming closer to him.

you signed sadly, heart glowing with love so powerful that you swear he could see it through your skin. unfortunately, he couldn’t. so you needed to tell him, or else you were scared you’d never see him again.

“honey, please. let’s talk about this,” you stepped closer to him, attempting to get close to him without scaring him off. he didn’t step back this time. instead, he faced the ground, ears downturned in shame. he watched a tear fall from his eye and melt into the snow below him. “I know you’d never try to hurt me, tech.”

your hand was on his cold cheek now, lifting his head up to look at you. he did, tearful and pouty. it almost made you cry. you know he didn’t mean to hurt you, you could see it. but that just left you confused with what had happened. and something told you he was just as confused.

“please,” you begged, running your fingers through his hair. “I love you.” techno closed his eyes shut at your words, giving into your touch as he melted in your arms, crying softly into your shoulder. you let your tears fall silently as well, watching as the sun started rising in the horizon as you stood embracing your broken lover in the middle of the snowy woods.

he hadn’t answered you back then. he wished he’d been different.

your eyes lit up in excitement as you spotted a green and red figure from the window despite the blaring sun shining onto the snow, blinding you. you bursted out of the door, running towards the two men wearing barely any clothes. but you didn’t care. because he was back. techno was back, after a whole month since that night.

you threw your arms around him, crashing into his body. his usual warmth surrounded you. oh, how you’d missed that warmth. you shut your eyes, trying your hardest not to cry as the piglin embraced you back, bearing the same expression on his face as you did.

phil continued walking to the cabin, muttering a small “hey y/n” and then leaving you to it.

“you’re back earlier than expected,” you said, running a finger over his spine as you took him in.

“yeah… puffy said it seemed like I was getting better faster than we’d thought. so she sent me back,” he explained, monotone yet heart pounding incredibly hard for you.

you pulled away from him, cupping his face to get a look at him. he looked… calm. better. sending him to puffy’s therapy must’ve done something by the looks of it. but of course you couldn’t know since you hadn’t talked about it yet. but all you could think of right now was how much you’d missed him.

you placed your lips on his, kissing him gently to get used to his lips again. you’d missed his kisses, his presence, him him him. he kissed back, pulling your chest against his as he soothed his thumb over your chin. he tilted his head for a deeper angle, letting his tongue run across your bottom lip. you let him in, electricity shooting through your body, leaving you with a fuzzy feeling.

he pulled away and wrapped his red cape around you, resting his chin on your head. “I missed you so much, kid.”

and the words he spoke were true. he’d missed you so much that when he left you it felt like his lungs would collapse and his blood would run dry and like his whole body was shutting down. he loved you more than he’d ever thought he’d be capable of loving anyone or anything. like you were the sole purpose of his life, the end goal. you were everything to him.

and yet he had this feeling that he shouldn’t be with you. that he should stay far away from you, like you weren’t meant to be. it was draining and it was there with him whenever he thought of you or was in your presence - this breathtaking and anxious feeling ripping the love right out of his heart.

he squeezed you to him, kissing the top of your head. you smiled into his cape. “I missed you too. so much.” 

#technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade fanfic #c!technoblade x reader #c!technoblade #technoblade fluff #technoblade angst #technoblade imagine #dream smp imagine #dream smp fluff #dream smp technoblade #dream smp angst #dream smp fanfic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fluff #mcyt angst #mcyt imagine

[bleue-flora]

Mmm… snippet of future Musical Chairs?

“Thinking about him hurts like a kick to the gut. He hasn’t seen Sapnap since he… died. Since he drowned in poisoned blood. Since he limped through the snow, a bloodied trail behind him, knowing the way and yet feeling utterly lost, wondering if he’ll ever forget the cold look in Sapnap’s eyes and the apathetic greed of his voice when he too asked about the book right before swinging a sharp sword (his sword!) into his flesh just like his fiancé had so many times before. If he’ll ever lose the frost freezing his heart as Sapnap, his friend, his brother stood there in the last possession to his name, denying Dream that small mercy of having what is his. If he’ll ever forget the sound of Sapnap’s disbelieving words as he questioned if the torture really happened as if it wasn’t clear as day from his appearance. As if he wasn’t leaning to one side, standing on a knee bent in the wrong direction. As if a vast spread of scars didn’t sprinkle across the patches of his exposed skin. As if his once dirty blonde hair wasn’t crusted in layers of blood. As if his words meant nothing, weren’t worth enough to even consider. As if he didn’t lie the last time they spoke saw eachother about coming back to visit him.”

#ah and this is what I write as Sam works on removing my will to live… freaking Sapnap… #in other words if life was nice to me I’d finally be able to write the fluff I have planned for good cop bad cop but until then…. aaaannngst #c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #mmm more musical chairs… referring to of course when Sapnap killed him… brutal… #I’d post the next chapter but I’m not happy with the dialogue…. Sam is the utter worst and I hate writing him so much… #so I guess enjoy this for the moment until I stop falling asleep which editing chapter 3 🤦‍♀️… #musical chairs #crows nest #dsmp fanfic #happy angst month #don’t judge too hard it’s my first draft literally written a handful of minutes ago #dream smp #c!dream and c!sapnap #dsmpblr #c!sapnap #dream fanfic #fanfic snack #sigh ​why is it so much to ask for some nice peace and quiet to sleep…. :’( #and for something to work properly like it should…

[disturbed-and-depressed]

5 Years

CC!Ranboo x GN!Reader

Song: 5 Years by Bo Burnham

Warnings: None

Y/n fiddled with the phone in their hands, still contemplating as to whether or not to actually make the call to their longtime boyfriend, known as Ranboo. Today was their anniversary. Five years to be exact. The two of them were only 18, but they’ve known each other their whole lives, and they’ve been in love with each other for 6 years, that one year was spent silently pining over each other until the h/c teen mustered up the courage to actually confess.

“Oh my gosh, just call him and tell him you wrote him a song!” Tommy exclaimed, laying on his stomach across from his nervous friend. “It’s that simple.”

Y/n shook their head. “Shut up Tom, it’s not that simple. What do you know? You’ve never been in a steady relationship because you can’t get a girl to fall in love with you.”

“Woah! What the hell?” Tommy frowned and sat up. “What did I do?”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their hands over their face. “I’m sorry Tommy. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just…What if he doesn’t like it? What do I do then?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away, trying to find the right words to say so he wouldn’t say the wrong thing and risk getting another blow to his ego. Thinking back on it, he really didn’t know how much the two meant to each other. Him and Tubbo had asked how the two of them had gotten together one night when they were all at Tubbo’s house in England, back when they were still 17 and stupid, but the couple was pretty much vague when it came to their answers.

But the one thing he did know was that Ranboo loved Y/n, and Y/n loved Ranboo. That was enough for anybody wasn’t it?

“Well I know that Ranboo loves you.” Tommy talked slowly, trying to make his words sound a little more meaningful. He wasn’t good at things like this. Y/n would have gotten better advice if they went to Aimsey or Niki instead. Hell, even Billzo or Freddy would be better than him. “If it comes from you, Ranboo will love it. I know that much.”

Y/n peeked through their fingers. “You really think so? Seriously?”

Tommy nodded and held out the phone. Biting their lip, Y/n grasped the object between their fingers.

“Okay. I can do this.” The nervous teen went into their contacts and tapped on their significant other’s profile, pressing the call button and brought the device up to their ear. “It’s ringing.”

They waited and slightly winced at the beeping. “Oh…It went to voicemail.” Y/n informed the blond.

“Just say what you were going to say.”

The e/c person nodded. “Hey Boo, uh, it's me, Um, our anniversary is coming up, it's a pretty big one, and, um, I wrote a song for you. So I'm just leaving you this voicemail because, um, I want the song to begin with this voicemail…”

“...Um, so just, figure it out and text me the voicemail, um, immediately, if you wouldn't mind…Like, right when you get this. Thank you, um, I love you, bye.”

Ranboo smiled as he listened to his lover’s voice fill his ears. He was upset because he hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with Y/n. Ranboo had become increasingly busy with his streams while Y/n had spent more time on their album, just recently releasing outtakes and such.

Ranboo had not forgotten their anniversary but was slightly worried about it slipping Y/n’s mind, not that he would have minded too much, but he would be lying he said the thought wasn’t upsetting. So he knew he was lucky that she remembered.

That was the way their relationship worked. Ranboo was the hopeless romantic while Y/n was the realistic person. Ranboo was a live in the moment and Y/n was a plan ahead type. They balanced each other out and that’s why the couple was able to stay together so long. So with the way Y/n wasn’t big on affection all that much, it wasn’t a surprise she made a song, nevertheless, the thought could not be appreciated enough.

Y/n and Ranboo had been best friends since 5th grade, and the only reason it began was because Y/n had accidentally tripped Ranboo and he had been so forgiving, which was something that still confused the h/c teen to this current day and age.

Secrets have been shared between the two on late nights when it was school the next day. Secrets that they had originally vowed to take to the grave but allowed themselves to slip when speaking to the person who meant everything to the other.

They both had their problems, and they helped each other with their problems, whether it be mentally or physically. Ranboo had always had trouble with the way he looked, never liking his appearance. It had been something that he had confessed to Y/n around 2 years into their friendship. Y/n didn’t like the way other people perceived them, more often than not believing that they were a very tiresome person, and that people are usually annoyed with them.

The two of them were messes. Huge unlabeled weird messes. And even though together they were a bigger mess, it was a mess that just seemed to go unnoticed by most because it was so natural.

It’s been 5 years and things have not changed by much. The pair were still with each other, and things would not be changing anytime soon. Not a big change anyways.

It was around 10 pm at night, and Ranboo and Y/n had just finished a 5 hour long stream and they were starving from having not eaten anything all day, so they agreed on ordering some Chinese food. While Ranboo ordered for them, Y/n searched on tv for a show or movie that would occupy a good amount of time before their dinner arrived and chose to settle on some sitcom that was on its reruns.

The young couple sat on the couch, with Ranboo sitting near the armrest and Y/n right by him, letting their shoulders touch, eating their meal. Y/n was watching the people on the screen move and listening to them talk and the laugh track that would occasionally ring out.

Suddenly, Y/n’s attention was pulled away as Ranboo wordlessly reached over to her plate and grabbed a dumpling before popping it into his mouth. The e/c teen stopped her movements and stared at their boyfriend. Y/n scoffed and shook their head. Like, Ranboo didn’t even ask if he could. Yeah, they’re dating each other, but it should be a known fact that you do NOT take your significant other’s food unless you know they’ll be okay with it.

Ranboo stopped chewing as he caught Y/n’s gaze and stared at her questioningly. “Why are you looking at me like that? What the fuck did I do?”

The teen rolled their eyes. “You know, if you really wanted some dim sum then you should have gotten some when we place in the order dude.”

“You’re a psycho.” Ranboo jokingly told Y/n. “I don’t wanna fight, okay? So let’s just drop this, it’s not a big deal.” He turned back to the screen.

Y/n sighed, “Fine, but for the record you owe me a dumpling, I mean it, I won't forget. You owe me a dumpling or a dumpling equivalent.”

Ranboo bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at his partner's words. It was really moments like this that made him love his best friend even more.

Ranboo walked across the slightly cluttered floor that had a few papers, pencils, and a couple sweaters scattered around. It is a calm day.

Or it was.

Y/n’s head snapped up when they heard Ranboo let out a loud screech, watching him clumsily jump on the couch, looking batshit terrified. “Hey what’s wrong!?”

Instead of answering, Ranboo shakily pointed at the ground. Confused, Y/n’s eyes followed his finger and saw the culprit. It was a fucking spider, and it was the size of a nickel.

Y/n let out a panicked gasp and clambered off the chair they were sitting on to stand on the coffee table. They swallowed the lump in their throat and looked at their boyfriend. “You should kill that.”

Ranboo looked Y/n in the eyes as he shook his head. “Um, no, fuck that.”

“Come on, be a man.”

“What?” Ranboo squinted his eyes. “You're a total anti-sexist, a patriarchy fighter. But your whole worldview collapses.The moment there's a spider.” He glanced back down at the eight legged creature. “I get it, this is the real you. It's a pleasure, nice to meet you.” Ranboo held his hand out for a handshake despite the fact that him and Y/n were like 4 feet apart. “Shit like this brings the movement down.”

Y/n scoffed. “Well, haven’t you heard the saying?”

Ranboo picked his head up again, “What saying?”

“Everyone's a feminist until there is a spider around.”

Y/n stood up from their spot on the couch and started walking towards the hall.

“Where are you going?” Ranboo asked from behind them.

“Just to the bathroom.” Faintly, Y/n could hear shuffling from the couch, but brushed it off, assuming Ranboo had gotten up for more popcorn or another drink or something. They were not expecting to be picked up by the waist and moved to the opposite side of where they were originally heading. “What the hell?”

Y/n turned back around in time to see Ranboo dart to the bathroom as well. “Hey! No! Don’t you dare!”

Getting a loud laugh in return, Y/n was unfortunately slower than the giant ass teen and ran into the door as Ranboo abruptly shut it. “Too slow!”

Y/n groaned and hit their head on the wooden door. “Bruh, why didn’t you just use the guest bathroom? This is why we have two bathrooms in the first place!” Y/n whirled around and stalked off, only pausing once to shout one more time. “And I know that you know!”

“It’s fun messing with you!”

“Fuck off!”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their eyes, trying to get all the eye crust off, still groggy from the long nap. They sat up, looking around the room, remembering that they had spent the night at Tommy’s since it was too late for Y/n to leave for the house that they and Ranboo shared.

Y/n sat up and picked up the note that was on the dresser. They recognized the sloppy handwriting as Tommy’s explaining that he had gone to the store and would be back soon, also explaining that there was food in the fridge if they were hungry.

They pushed the covers away and stood up, leaving the guest room and walking down the hall, coming out into the front room, seeing it empty. They moved over to the couch and sat down, leaning back against the cushions and pulling out their phone.

The silence that had taken over was interrupted by a knock on the door. Y/n groaned, standing up and walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it, realizing at the last second that they should have at least looked out the peephole first. They got lucky though, seeing as it just turned out to be Ranboo.

Ranboo stood in front of his partner and smiled nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Y/n breathed out, surprised he had shown up. “Sorry, come in.” They moved out of the way.

Ranboo strolled inside, glancing around the apartment. “Is Tommy here?”

“Umm, no, he’s out shopping. Who knows what he’ll come back with.” They chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“It feels like we had a fight, even though we didn’t.” Ranboo mumbled. He held out his arms and pulled Y/n into his chest, breathing in their signature scent. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time for each other because we’ve both been busy with our own things, which also means we didn’t get to have our anniversary yesterday.” The words were muffled, but it was still easy enough for Y/n to understand.

“It’s no one’s fault.” Y/n whispered. “We can just hang out today, and go do something if you want.”

Ranboo shook his head. “No. No, I just want to be around you. I don’t want to do anything today, please.”

Y/n tightened their grip on their boyfriend. “Then we don’t have to. I promise.”

“I really loved the song.” Ranboo muttered gently.

Everything was silent between the two lovers. It was perfect even.

“Happy five years.”

#ranboo x y/n #ranboo fluff #ranboo x reader #ranboo imagine #ranboo #ranboo x you #c: ranboo #cc!ranboo #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #bo burham inside #bo burnham

[the-final-sif]

Also I don't remember if I said it anywhere here, but it's important for everyone to know that ew!c!Ranboo lost at least one of his canon lives falling down the stairs while hanging out with an-only-mildly-possessed c!Dream. Dream teases him about it sometimes.

#Dreamon #endersmile #c!ranboo #c!dream #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #my headcanons #sif speaks #dreamon improv au #this seems like fluff but its Secret Angst

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

bestie bestie have you seen the poltergayst art :D? the sillies!!! ive drawn them!!

im thinkin about drawing killer having like just weird or disturbing features, like his jaw hanging barely attached or something cuz he doesn’t understand Skeleton Monster anatomy and i honestly have so many ideas for this au cackles

yes!!! yes i've seen them >:D

i just arrived home so i'm reblogging them all simultaneously but waa these beans are so interesting to daydream about...

Like look at him look at our ghostie killie omggg<33333

#ask #my art #poltergayst au #i'm unwell when it comes to kross and kross aus in general but this? aughghg the fluff potential is immense...... #i do wonder if killer can leave the house? yknow for very valid reasons like dates and stuff >;D #cross is like 'you need some clothes' because he can't go out naked smh look at how bad killer has it in this world 😔</3 #i'm guessing he can't even after getting his physical form? idk but one thing i will say is that he probably like. begs cross to get a cat #even if the apartment has no pets allowed he would find a way to smuggle a kitten like cmon this is killer we're talking about HHH #i want them to watch a movie and have them curl around eachother (killer with his eight limbs or smthing) and just. stay like that forever #waghgh the dream....the goal >:')c <333 #anyways be right back imma reblog the ones i didn't see yet!!! thanks for passing byy and don't think twice about tagging me in any updates #muah muah have a nice day))<3333

[calmthefuckdownalright]

Hi! Mag I request a C!Wilbur x Half Blaze reader? Like they can’t touch water, snow, is from the nether, etc

So like a Blazeborn reader! Awesome dynamic with the opposites attract thing (yknow Phantombur can't touch sunlight and he's dead which means cold so-) yeah you get what I mean!

I didn't really know if you meant Phantombur specifically as one of the C!Wilbur's or just C!Wilbur from the Dream SMP so I did what was easiest to think of and that was a weird combo of the two Bursonas. Hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: C!Wilbur x Blazeborn!Reader

AU: Dream SMP & Origins SMP crossover (??)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It wasnt exactly easy being a being such as yourself in a world full of Normals and Humans. Your brother from the Origins dimension, Jack, had fucked you over and sent you to another Nether on accident so now you were stuck in this one without a clear way home.

Which sucked because you had a date with Phantombur that night. If one could call it that. The Phantom man of the world had invited you to go monster hunting with him, but him being the sly tongued man he was made it sound like an occasion to look forward too.

Now you were trapped in the new Nether with no way out. Your chatter didn't work here and you sure as Hell didn't speak Blaze in this dimension. They all made guttural groans instead of throaty ones like your dimensions so getting directions from your kind was pointless. And they were very rude as well.

Piglins weren't much help either so wither skeletons were your last option.

Yeah those guys went extinct a while ago due to a mass hunting apparently. The piglins told you that.

"Does anyone know how to get OUT of here?!" You asked in what rough piglin you knew. They eyed you curiously. The embers embedded in your skin flared with sparks as no one answered you. The gold of your eyes burned and you huffed out a puff of smoke from your lips.

"When I get back home I will murder you Jack I swear." You growled in your native tongue and stormed off into a crimson forest. The warmth of your home, albeit not your dimensions, welcomed you even if you were not its own. Your hissing and blazeish curses grew few as you wandered on. Hoping for a portal. Ruined or working it didn't matter. You had a diamond pick axe so nothing should be too big a problem.

A snap of a twig split your senses into fight or flight. Blazeborns didn't fly. Ever.

"Who's there?!" You called out and pulled your ax from your inventory.

"Easy now don't kill me!" A man stepped out. A tall one with a white flash in his hair.

"Wilbur?" You recognized the man you had meant to be hunting with tonight.

"Sorry, you know me?" This world's Wilbur looked confused. Different. He wasnt pale cold grey in complexion but a sandy beige. His hair wasn't the color of the night sea but really like the cocoa beans that grew in the jungles of the Overworld. And his eyes...your Wilbur's eyes were an emerald green that pulsed and smiled with each sly comment. This Wilbur's eyes burned like dying coals of Hell's fires. Red overlaying a dark brown like freshly filled soil.

"No, not you. It's a little complicated. Name's Y/N Blazeborn. I'm not from here you could say." You smiled and outstretched a smoldering hand. The embers flickered under your skin as Wilbur accepted the handshake. A flush ran up his face as your eyes met.

"Right well, you already know my name so why don't we get out of here before the Piglins come back for my head?" Wilbur suggested and only then did you notice his attire. What kind of mortal fool didn't come into the Nether without gold armor.

~~

"Right here we are!" Wilbur gestured to the landscape that filtered into your vision. A crowded place of buildings and words written in the sky.

"This is the community portal of the Greater Dream SMP. Dream runs this entire server but a King named George runs the country. I once tried to establish my own country called L'manberg. Ended up blowing it up myself in the end but I've made my peace with that." Wilbur continued on in his explanation of his past and you couldn't help but listen.

This Wilbur was so much more interesting than Phantombur. Perhaps you were only thinking that because this Wilbur was new. This Wilbur was excited to show you things. He wasn't sly or manipulative like the son of the great Crowfather. This Wilbur was...different. A good different.

"Anyways yeah I've kind of just over shared my entire existence to a beautiful person such as yourself so I think I deserve maybe a little explanation as to what the actual fuck you are." Wilbur's face turned bright red and his tongue twisted over his breath causing him to cough.

"Well-" You were about to speak and then thunder rolled above. "Ah!" You yelped and ran for the nearest treeline. Wilbur didn't follow you but saw how you cowered as the rain came down.

"We you alright?" He asked and held out his hand to the rain as the droplets coated his clothes.

"I am now. In Hydrophobic. Rain hurts me." You explained and flinched as a water droplet dripped from a leaf onto your skin causing a hiss and small piece of steam to come off your skin.

"Really? I was like that for a while but it didn't really hurt. It more so just sort of melted my skin." Wilbur ducked under the tree with you and watched the rain fall from under the branches.

"What do you mean you WERE like this?" You questioned.

"Oh I died and came back as a Ghost. He was a real pain in my ass just saying. Sweet fellow apparently though. People called him Ghostbur and they call me Revivbur." Wilbur explained.

"Neat." You uttered. "The Wilbur of my world is dead but he's not allergic to rain. He is to sunlight though. Man lights up like a torch at the smallest ray." You chuckled remembering the time Phantombur accidentally caught himself on fire. You had laughed as he dove for the lake which only resulted in water being splashed on you.

"So you really can't touch the rain? Or water at all?" Wilbur asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah sucks I know." You sighed and sat down in the grass, watching as the near by blades blackened from your heat.

"What're you supposed to be?" Wilbur sat beside you.

"I'm half blaze. My brother Jack is one too. He sent me here on accident." You huffed and lit a small twig on fire with the embers along your fingers. The wood smoldered before fuzzing out to dark embers.

"That's hot." You heard Wilbur utter out and followed by several coughs. "I-I mean your fingers. They're hot that they can light a twig on fire!" He rushed to explain and you let out a laugh.

"You're a funny man Revivbur." You snickered and watched the rain pitter down from under the tree.

"You think so?" Revivbur smiled and rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"Much funnier than my version of you. Phantombur is a bit of a prick most of the time." You sighed remembering the emerald eyes of the potions master.

"I'm a prick in your world?" Wilbur seemed a little confused.

"A charming one at that too." You leaned your chin on your palm before smiling half-heartedly at the man beside you. "Are you charming, Wilbur?" you asked.

"Let me take you on a date and you can tell me." Wilbur offered and you chuckled.

"Alright fine. I've got a feeling I'm gonna be here a while." You huffed and leaned back on your hands causing another patch of grass to burn under the embers.

"Wonderful." Wilbur smirked at you and sparks flew off your embers.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

#wilbur soot #origins smp wilbur #c!wilbur soot x reader #c!phantombur #c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #requested #fluff piece #Tw cursing #dsmp #ghostbur #dream smp #phantombur

[cryptid-brainrot-o7]

they’re dancin’

#bedrock bros #bedrock duo #cryptid’s art tag #clean style #? #tommyinnit #technoblade #fluff #I completely forgot how to tag oh no #tommyinnit fanart #technoblade fanart #bedrock bros fanart #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fanart #dream smp fanart #c!bedrock bros <3

[thotforcsy]

white lies

(♡) fandom: skz (♡) pairing: jisung/felix (♡) rating: mature (♡) WIP

THE PROBLEM: Operation Get Jisung A Romantic Friend, a mission that all of his friends at SNU have pledged their hearts to, is turning Jisung's life into a living hell. If he has to go on one more blind date, he's going to fucking scream.

THE SOLUTION: make out like he's already dating someone else. The fake-boyfriend of choice? Lee Felix: cute, plausible enough to be dating and – most importantly – currently studying in Australia where no one from SNU can sniff him out.

Has Jisung talked to Felix since graduation? No. Is Felix aware of the fact that he’s Jisung’s fake-boyfriend? Also no. Will that stop Jisung from telling everyone that he’s dating Felix anyway? Of course not. What’s the worst that could even happen? It’s not like Felix is ever going to find out about any of this, right?

Right?

Shit.

link

#jilix #c: han jisung #c: lee felix #stray kids #skz #skz fic #s: jilix #pseud: flying dream #jasmine's skz fics #ao3 link #fake dating #friends to lovers #college au #fluff #humour