Dreamwastaken X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Never Letting Go - Dream x Reader

Remember when Dream said if he did a meet and greet, that he wouldn’t let go until you did when hugging? Yeah, me too. Anyway small writing bit to feed yall while I work on more content.

Theme: fluffy!!! whoo

Warnings: none. If I miss somethin’, don’t be afraid to tell me!

Characters: Dream, Y/N

Dream had finally gotten to the point where he was comfortable and wanted to do the meet and greet he’d talked about in the past. While he made his regular videos and played games with his good friends, and spent time on calls with his partner Y/N, he had been planning this meet and greet. 

Eventually, the news came out, and immediately Y/N saved money to go. It would be a fun surprise for the both of them to see each other in person.

On the way to the place that was picked for the event, they blasted one of their favourite playlists in the car, glad to be the only one in it. That was because they were belting the lyrics to every song. They were excited, but also a bit nervous. Mostly excited, though.

The crowd was huge, and loud, and tightly packed together, but slowly the line dwindled down, and Y/N got closer to seeing their boyfriend in person. They couldn’t stand still, switching their weight from foot to foot, jumping a little in place, and any other movements to get their nerves to wear off. 

When Y/N was finally next in line, they ran to their boyfriend and wrapped him in a tight bear hug. Dream barely had time to register that his partner, the person he loved more than pretty much anyone in the world, was here to see him for real. He wrapped his arms around them just as tightly, swaying back and forth and kissing the top of their head. 

“Didn’t expect you to be here,” He teased quietly, as fans took pictures of the two as they held each other. 

“Couldn’t pass up on this opportunity,” Y/N replied. “We can hang out some more after all of this. Go get some food. Whatever you want.”

After another long pause of the two just hugging, Y/N spoke again. “If it weren’t for there being tonnes of other fans waiting to meet you... I would never let go.” 

puzzles [dreamwastaken]

pairing: dreamwastaken x gn!reader

pronouns: they/them (none mentioned)

synopsis: two puzzle pieces slot together to form the beautiful picture that is love, until they don't.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i have no idea what this is or what i was trying to accomplish with this but my brain said dream angst brainrot and i haven't posted in a bit so here u go!

tw: one swear maybe? angst, that is all.

think of two connecting puzzle pieces.

originally, they slotted together perfectly. no force, nor wiggling was required to connect the two, as they were made to be placed together.

as time went on, and the pieces were connected time and time again, the edges began to wear down. they began to come undone at the ends, but still, the pieces fit together well enough to keep the puzzle whole.

eventually though, the bit that slotted the two together broke off, leaving two single pieces. there was no longer a connection between the two, and the picture they created would be forever unfinished.

over time, you’d learn to think of your relationship as this puzzle.

before you met him, you’d known there was something missing in your life. your matching piece. and then he walked right into your life, quite literally.

headphones blasting in your ears, you hummed along to the song as you swapped your books for your next class. you gently bounced your head to the beat, completely lost in your thoughts. which is likely why when you finally closed your locker and stepped in the direction of your classroom, you were hit with a sheer force that sent you and your books flying towards the ground.

an arm quickly shot out, wrapping around your waist and catching you in astounding reflex. you opened your eyes, which you’d shut in pure shock, and looked into the most beautiful green eyes and softest-looking dirty blonde hair you’d ever seen. “shit - are you okay?” he asked, and you almost choked at how soft his voice was.

“yeah. yeah, i’m okay.” you managed, and the two of you stood in that position for a brief moment, simply looking at each other, before you cleared your throat and he flushed, letting you go. “sorry, i wasn’t watching where i was going.” you apologized, and he shook his head.

“no, it was totally my fault. my name’s clay, but everyone calls me dream. what’s yours?” he flashed you a charming smile, and that’s all it took. you were totally his.

maybe it was cliche to say that it was fate that he’d crashed into you on that ordinary day in your freshman year. you’d wholeheartedly believed it though, because that boy changed your life. he was the piece you’d been missing all along.

“hey dream! hey y/n!” sapnap greeted, and you smiled, returning the gesture. dream’s arm was steadily wrapped around your waist as always, and you leaned into his side as the boys launched into some discussion about sports you really had no interest in tuning into.

from the day you’d been so abruptly crashed into, you and he were inseparable. you instantly became “the power couple” according to the whispers in the halls (whatever that meant), but you didn’t care for the gossip. you didn’t care what people thought of you as long as you had him. he made you feel special, like a better version of yourself.

as though he read your thoughts, he tightened his grip on your waist, glancing down at you with that boyish smile of his. and everything was perfect.

just when you felt complete, when the picture you’d formed with dream was ready to be framed and set in stone, senior year rolled around.

with the weight of pending college applications and ap classes, you were finding yourself constantly drowning in work. meanwhile, dream was focused on his sports, for the most part. he was relying on his exceeding football skills for scholarships and you both understood the gravity of each other's endeavors, and you promised that no matter how busy, you’d make time for each other.

it started with every weekend, both saturday and sunday, you both set aside time to spend with each other. a few weeks later, it became one day or the other. a few weeks after that, it became every other weekend.

before you knew it, you and dream hardly saw each other. lunch was probably the longest time you’d spend in the same room, and sometimes even then he had a team meeting, or you’d be studying in the library.

the edges of your pieces were wearing thin.

“what do you mean you’re leaving?” his voice broke, and you frowned, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of the brokenhearted boy in front of you. you sighed, reaching out and grabbing his hands in your own, gingerly placing soft kisses on his knuckles.

“i got into my top school, dream. you know how hard i’ve been working for this.” your soft voice came out much sadder than you’d hoped - you wanted to stay strong for him. you really did. he sighed, nodding halfheartedly. he opened his arms for you, and you walked in gratefully accepting his embrace.

“we’ll figure this out. we’ll make it work.” he mumbled, and you nodded against his chest. at that moment, you truly believed he was right, and that you would make it through this. you could only hope.

four months of facetime calls and lonely nights, your relationship was holding on by mere threads.

“i miss you.” you muttered, and he only nodded, his focus somewhere else, probably editing. you frowned, but said nothing. recently, he dropped out of his schooling to pursue youtube full-time, and he was doing surprisingly well for himself. you didn’t really understand it, but you were supportive of him and his career. it drew most of his time and attention, but who were you to say anything. he was pursuing his aspirations, and so were you.

you babbled on about a random assignment you were putting off, when dream spoke up, cutting you off completely. “what if i came to visit you?” you blinked, processing his words. “i have more than enough money, let me come see you.” you almost burst into happiness, the two of you quickly diving in to plan the details.

a week later, you stood in the airport. you saw the familiar head of dirty blonde hair towering over the crowd, and rushed over to him immediately. he opened his arms for you, you launched yourself into them, sinking into his familiar frame. something felt different, but you brushed it off.

however, during dream’s stay, he was constantly on vc with his friends, and barely paid you any mind. you would work all day in the same room, eat together, sleep in the same bed, but it felt so inexplicably strange. he was right next to you, yet it felt like he was further away than ever.

facetimes became less frequent after he returned home. his youtube took off even more, and you threw yourself back into your studies. your connecting piece had finally broken.

“what did you just say?” you were fighting back sobs, looking into the searing green eyes you once got lost in through the bright screen. you heard him perfectly clear, but you didn’t want to believe it.

“i can’t do this anymore.” he repeated, but his voice was barely above a whisper. you weren’t surprised, you both knew it was over long ago. dream glanced up from his phone, smiling at something, and your heart sank. you knew that look. it’s the way he used to look at you.

“there’s someone else.” you stated, and dream tensed, seemingly forgetting you were still on the line. he looked guiltily at your expression, and you sighed, forcing a small smile. “i’m happy for you. goodbye dream.”

you hung up then, allowing the reality to sink in and the tears to flow freely. it was over. four years down the drain like nothing. you’d worn yourselves so thin, until you couldn’t hold onto the past anymore.

you no longer fit together like the perfect pair you once were. the picture you’d painted together had faded.

dream had already found a new piece for his puzzle. a replacement. yet, you were a broken piece. and it was much harder to find a match for a broken piece.

perhaps your picture would be forever unfinished.

goodbye [dream]

pairing: dream x gn!reader

pronouns: they/them (none mentioned)

synopsis: “please don’t make me choose”

wc: 1.3k

a/n: here's my entry for @dreamcatcherrs 5k special! congratulations again <3

tw: angsty, use of dream's real name

his spike in views was abrupt and without warning, and though he had been strategic about analyzing and optimizing the youtube algorithm, nothing could’ve prepared him for the millions of subscribers he’d maintain in a matter of months.

it was like his life had changed overnight.

in the beginning, he would play video games with his friends, record occasional videos, and spend time with his amazing s/o and family whenever he pleased - he hardly had any commitment to uploading, but he continued to do it because he loved it.

now, he’d receive millions of tweets wondering where he was and what he was doing at all times. the thousands upon thousands of kind messages he received daily about how his content bettered his viewers’ lives drove him to constantly be making, editing or uploading content in some way.

he accepted more invites to appear on his friends’ streams, and put as much time as he could into his editing until it was pure perfection. he had always been a workaholic, but now it was fueled by another wish: to keep his viewers and supporters happy.

you began seeing him less frequently once his channel took off, being completely understanding that he was basking in his prime time as an influencer, and supporting him fully. you grew accustomed to falling asleep in an empty bed, and getting up for the day just as he was about to end his.

for a while, you were okay with it, because you could see how happy he was that he finally got his chance to make people smile.

at a certain point, however, you realized his incline in viewers wasn’t faltering, but only getting bigger as time went on. he was surpassing milestone after milestone in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t even keep track of which he’d passed last anymore.

you wanted to be happy for him, you really did. you tried so hard. but the larger his platform grew, the less you saw him at all.

when sapnap moved in, despite your idea that it couldn’t, the loneliness managed to get even worse. the two of them locked themselves in their respective offices, the closed doors doing nothing to drown out the screams and laughter that seemed to never end. the only comfortable silence you were able to find in your house was with the aid of some form of noise cancelation, whether it be ear plugs or headphones.

at this point, you were losing your mind. you couldn’t sleep through a full night without being woken up by a scream, and when you’d tried to confront them, they’d both sheepishly apologized, but had lasted about an hour before they were back at it once more.

the best way to describe the way you were feeling was like a ghost wandering around aimlessly, no one paying you any mind as though they were looking right through you. you didn’t even get a good morning text to wake up to anymore, you had been isolated and were simply forgotten.

it wasn’t getting better, and it wasn’t going to. so one day, when sapnap had left to go visit his family, you decided it was finally time.

you pressed your ear to his office door, and upon hearing nothing, knocked gently. you heard shuffling before the door opened, and once his eyes landed on your figure, a bright smile illuminated his face and he surged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“i’ve missed you.” he mumbled into your hoodie, but you shuffled awkwardly, and he seemed to realize you weren’t embracing him back. he pulled back, eyes dancing over your solemn expression. “is everything okay?” he asked, nervously.

you sucked in a deep breath, swallowing your nerves. “i can’t do this anymore.” you told him, trying to hold your voice steady. he blinked, his face falling into a frown.

“what?” he breathed, and you sighed. you had dreaded this conversation for so long, but you needed to do this.

“this. us. i can’t do it anymore.” you gestured between your two bodies, glancing towards the ground in shame. “you’ve been so busy with your streams and uploads, we haven’t seen each other in months. can you even remember the last time we went out together?” you stated, your question hanging in the air, leaving a heavy silence looming over the two of you.

“i-” he tried, but after a long moment, he seemed to clue in - he had no idea. “i’m sorry, i didn’t even realize. i can change! i can do better. we can go out tonight, even-” he babbled, but you smiled sadly, shaking your head.

“you can’t have both, clay. your job is demanding, and you have so many people waiting on your every move with baited breath. they need you.” you explained, a sad smile making its way onto your expression.

“but i need you.” he whispered. “you know how much this job means to me, and how much you mean to me. please don’t make me choose.” his quiet voice broke, a choked sob following shortly after.

“i’m not making you choose. i already made the decision for you.” you stated, trying desperately to hold yourself together for him.

“you can’t give up on us so easily, you can’t just leave me.” he replied, reaching for you. once more you stepped back, and you couldn’t help but let a small tear finally escape.

“i didn’t give up on us easily. we haven’t been a real couple in months. i tried to wait for you. i just don’t have any time left to give.” you choked back a sob, and he completely broke. he crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking his body.

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry-” he sputtered, and you forced yourself to look away, unsure of how strong you could be if you watched the love of your life pleading for you to stay. “please don’t leave me. you- you can’t leave me. you’re my everything. i need you!” he begged, and you turned away fully, grabbing the bags you’d packed and wiping away the freefalling tears from your cheeks.

“you might not realize it, but you haven’t needed me for awhile, dream. you’ll be fine. i promise” you mumbled, and you headed towards the door.

“but i love you.” he tried, one final time, and you turned your head, looking at him sadly.

“i know.” you muttered, and without another word, you left the broken shell of the man you loved.

as you opened the door to your car and slid in the driver’s seat, you could feel your heart shattering in your chest, but you knew in the long run, this was what was best for both of you. you backed out of the driveway, glancing once more at the place you once felt at home, before driving away.

you weren’t sure how long you were driving, but soon the stinging in your eyes became too much and you pulled over, and let sobs wrack your body, allowing the weight of your situation to dawn on you.

it was over, months of pain and suffering in silence, only for your relationship to fall in the end.

maybe a part of you always knew things would end like this, but held onto the hope that your love was stronger than that. that despite it all, he’d come back to you one day and realize the neglect he’d put you through.

instead, the two of you sat in shambles, sobbing until you physically couldn’t. sobbing until you couldn’t feel anymore. sobbing until your mind ran blank, and you could forget, even just for a moment.

because nothing could prepare you to say goodbye to the love of your life, even if you knew your relationship was over long before you made it official.

just because you know something is for the best, doesn’t mean it always feels like it is.

it would take time, but someday you would be whole once more.

today was simply not that day.

hello! i was wondering if you can do a dream request?( whichever gender) reader’s love language is like being mean? and everything thinks that the reader is just mean in general but dream clears things up.

i've put this off for so long because i tried to long to manage a fic but i think a blurb would simply work better for this, so blurb under the cut :]

also i have no idea what you meant by mean love language but i tried my best <3

there were 5 ‘typical’ love languages, though none really resonated with you. you expressed your love through sarcastic comments, often of which are mistaken for you being blatantly mean.

to outsiders, it was seen as toxic. it was unheard of to speak to a significant other the way you talked to dream. however, you and he had a mutual understanding that through teasing and harsh words you expressed your feelings. he didn't care what others thought, because he knew you.

his fans were not quite as understanding.

you knew with dream being a large streamer, sometimes your interactions would come off the wrong way and his fans were quick to jump to twitter with their opinions on you and your relationship.

you tried to ignore them, the endless comments about you bullying your boyfriend and how “you must be using him for money, since there’s no way you actually care about him.” they didn’t know you or your relationship, and for a while, you had yourself convinced it was okay.

as time went on however, things only got worse, the comments getting harsher and you getting more and more upset about it.

you weren’t a mean person, that you knew, but his fans had even you questioning if dream felt as they did; that because you were always poking at him, he thought you didn’t love him.

all things went to hell during a particular jackbox stream though, when one of your answers was somewhat of a blow to dream’s song, roadtrip, basically calling it a ‘wannabe chainsmokers’ song. your friends laughed, dropping simp comments.

they all picked your answer easily, yours obviously better fitting to the prompt, but you had only accumulated about 10% of the audience vote, causing your friends to boo and exclaim about how you were robbed.

the other 90%, however, had taken your insult to heart, and taken that to twitter. your phone lit up, quackity’s name illuminating the screen. you frowned, confused. he was in the call with you, why was he texting you? you grabbed the device, heart dropping at the words on the screen.

‘don’t read this out - but you need to check twitter.’

you panicked, swallowing as you pulled up the app, eyes scanning through the app trying to find what quackity had asked you to look at. you opened the tagged tab, seeing your mentions flooded with insults and clips from the stream of your continuous jabs at dream.

hundreds of tweets about how you didn’t deserve him, about how he should leave you. you felt sick reading them, and you had a feeling if you weren’t already trending, you would be soon.

“y/n?” dream called over the call, and you blinked, almost forgetting you were still streaming. “are you still playing?” he seemed slightly concerned, but moreso probably because you hadn’t been responding.

“actually guys, i think i’m gonna call it a night. i have a paper due.” you lied, hoping your voice wouldn’t break and they wouldn’t catch onto you being upset.

you weren’t sure they were convinced, but luckily, quackity cut off anyone else with his loud, eccentric voice and wished you a goodnight, before changing the topic swiftly, and with that you said a final goodbye and left.

tears pricked at your eyes, breathing deeply as you attempted to calm down. almost instantly, your phone began to ring, and you sighed as dream's name lit up the screen. you hit the answer button, pulling your phone up to your ear.

you didn't even have a chance to say anything before dream's worried voice asked "what's wrong?". you sighed, knowing you were unable to avoid it now.

"check twitter." you mumbled, hearing some clicking of his keyboard as you assumed he searched it up. "they hate me." you felt the tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, dream falling quiet. you heard some aggressive typing, before he let out a huff.

"that should do it." he mumbled, and you frowned, pulling up twitter on your own monitor quickly.

dreamwastaken tweeted: hey guys! it's come to my attention that some of you have been targeting y/n and calling them out for being rude to me and such. as much as i appreciate you all looking out for me, that's just how y/n expresses their love! please stop sending them hate, especially on my behalf. i love them very much and it makes me very upset to see this kind of behaviour. thank you!

"i love you." you smiled, and dream smiled too, sighing in relief.

"i love you too. next time, just tell me if anyone is giving you a hard time. i mean it when i say i hate to see you upset." he told you, and you nodded, despite him not being able to see you.

"i will, i promise." you paused, "by the way, you're totally a simp, and a loser." you teased, and as dream's signature laugh rang through the headphones, you felt completely at ease once more.

ozymandias | w.s.

Pairing: college student au!Wilbur Soot x reader; no Y/N, gender-neutral (no pronouns mentioned)

Synopsis: In class, your eyes spot a handsome stranger. Distracted, you try to pay attention attention to Professor Technoblade and his teaching assistant Nihachu, but you can’t seem to focus on anything but that student.

Warnings: some cursing, cameos from Technoblade and Niki, oc friend called Jamie, failed attempted British slang terms from an American author

Word Count: 3.0k

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Masterlist

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Professor Technoblade begins the second lecture of the year for European Literature with an unwavering smile. His eyes wander across the room. Internally, he begins a psychoanalysis of his students. It’s only natural, really, since the young professor also teaches Intro to Psychology. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. Technoblade turns to his teaching assistant Nihachu, who goes by Niki, and says, “I was wrong. Remember my hypothesis about half of the students leaving by the second lesson? Only around a quarter of the original class left.”

Niki, who stands closer to the students sitting in the rows of the small auditorium, makes sure to keep her voice low as she replies, “You have too little faith. Besides, around half a dozen students are already watching you, waiting for class to start.”

When she scans through the students in the center of the seating area, she adds, “Look at the people in the middle row. They’re all staring at that one student with the beige tote bag.”

Technoblade stares at how the student in question waves their arms in the air to exaggerate whatever they are discussing. It's quite an animated gesture, but it gives him a little more information about their personality. Since not many college students take European Literature at the level he teaches, the classes are often small. And so, Technoblade finds himself making meaningful academic connections with his students every term; he’ll get to know his students’ individual behaviors long before exam season.

“They’re having quite the heated conversation,” the professor says, all the while observing how a student clad in a beanie has been staring non-stop at the one making overt hand gestures.

Suddenly, Niki corrects her previous hypothesis. Squinting her eyes at the students before them, she says, “You know what? I take back when I said that it's everyone in the middle row, because I think that the only person listening to the one making hand gestures is the other student sitting right next to them. You know, the one with the pink headband.”

“You’re right about that, but I think you’ve missed something,” Technoblade says, thinking back to his previous observations of the boy staring at the expressive student with the tote bag. “Look at that guy sitting in the row directly beneath them.”

“The beanie-clad student?”

Technoblade nods. “I wonder if the one making hand gestures knows that the one in the beanie is listening.”

It's a rhetorical question, so Niki doesn’t answer him. Instead, the teaching assistant glances at the large analog clock that hangs on the wall just to the left of the blackboard. It’s fifteen past two o’clock in the afternoon. Technoblade’s gaze follows Niki’s.

Niki asks, “Well then, should we start now or wait in the hopes that more people will walk through those doors?” 

She points to the doors, located a yard or two away from their spot of conversation by Technoblade’s desk.

“Thanks for keeping me in check,” Technoblade says with a laugh. “The school would put me under if they discovered that I people-watch more than I teach these college students,” he pauses, then renders the next phrase sarcastic as he inflates his voice, “the profound literature of Europe.” 

And so, before you can finish your harsh opinions regarding the five-page essay your Greek Mythology professor assigned the day before, Niki clears her throat. It’s a rather loud action, too, and so it has an immediate impact of piercing the noise of the room. 

You whisper to your friend from high school, Jamie, that you’ll fill her in later as Technoblade stands up from his desk. As the professor walks over to the large blackboard at the front of the room, you shove your phone into your beige tote bag and glance down at the professor and teaching assistant standing a few meters away from you.

“Good afternoon.”

You and the students before him echo the introduction in a monotone manner. 

He continues, “Last class was for introductions and the syllabus. From now on, we’ll delve into actual content. Today, it’ll be ‘Ozymandias,’ a poem which I’m sure you all are quite familiar with.”

The students in the rows above him groan. Your ears pick up on how a particularly deep voice is amongst the voices, but you decide to shove those thoughts away. Instead, you try to focus on analyzing the personality of Technoblade to see how you should behave in his class.

Unsurprised at the reaction, the professor says with a shrug, “Well, your responses sure aren’t unique, I hear this every year. I guess you know of the poem from high school?”

Most of the people in the room nod. Just as you attempt to nod as well, your attention is suddenly caught by a student sitting in the row below you, a mere three seats away. The angle that you’re sitting at is perfect to take in their side profile and attire.

They’re wearing a burgundy beanie and a pair of thin-framed, round glasses sits on their nose. And what a pretty nose it is, sloped at a straight angle that disappears under their mask. Oh, and their hair, wavy with a fringe that half-falls out of the front of the beanie, so long that it nearly covers their eyes. Their clothing matches an aesthetic that your brain can only label as academia, one that screams of all kinds of brown trench coats and beige button-ups. 

You close your eyes to avoid getting caught staring in the rare chance that they look up in your direction. You inhale rather sharply, muttering under your breath, “Christ, they’re fit.”

Before you can get infatuated, you rip your gaze away from whoever they are and drop your right elbow onto your lap, leaning over to press your cheek against your right hand so that your hand effectively blocks your view of the pretty stranger. Of course, you can still see them if you turn your head a few centimeters to the right, but you choose to ignore that by focusing on the lecture for once.

Technoblade is in the middle of a sentence when you redirect your attention to him, but you can gather that he’s recited the poem from how it is plastered over the wall that the projector to the left of his desk faces. 

“Now, from the nods I’ve received earlier, I can gather that most of you already know about what ‘Ozymandias’ means in terms of the words in the poem. But it’s probably to a very superficial extent, but that’s fine since that’s going to change after today. You see, ‘Ozymandias’ is a poem that describes the Egyptian pharaoh Ramesses II. Why, then, are the poems dubbed ‘Ozymandias’ and not ‘Ramesses II?’ Well, the name Ozymandias is Greek for Ramesses II, that’s why.”

Niki walks over to the computer that Technoblade is using to project “Ozymandias” and scrolls up. She highlights the name “Percy Bysshe Shelley” and then the year 1818, both facts displayed under the title. 

Once Niki’s finished, Technoblade adds, “In order to dissect a poem’s meaning, you cannot solely look at the words. Context, specifically historical context, is what you should all be focusing on. European Literature is a class involving studies of written works throughout history, and those works have been written by authors who drew upon the history known to them at the time of their writing and emulated opinions regarding those events in their writing, which we examine today.”

In your overflowing binder which you still haven’t cleaned out since last semester, you flip to a random page and write “Ozymandias” on the header. You draw a bullet point with the words “historical context” and nothing else.

You look at your paper with the slightest of smiles, amused by your lack of care. You send a silent thanks to your guidance counselor, whether it was an intentional move or not, for creating a schedule with many courses that reflect the timetable of your college friend, Jamie, who sits in the chair to your left. 

When Jamie looks up, you say, “Look at my half-assed attempt at notes.”

She shrugs and says, “It’s better than no notes.”

“Touché,” you say, staring at her lack of material. “Well, at least we’re here at all. I mean, if I’m paying nearly 30 grand for a college education, I might as well not skip.”

You and Jamie are startled out of your short side conversation when the horrendous sound of chalk scratching against the blackboard begins to ring throughout the classroom. Technoblade, whose handwriting is notably just as bad as the sound of the chalk, has written: Diodorus Siculus. 

With the name written down, the professor continues his lecture. He says, “I’ve written the spelling of Diodorus Siculus out for future reference. Who was he? A historian. An ancient Greek one who reported in his Bibliotheca historica that at the base of a statue of Ramesses II, there was an inscription. The engraved words stated: ‘King of Kings Ozymandias am I. If any want to know how great I am and where I lie, let him outdo me in my work.’”

Niki taps on the professor’s shoulder and begins to whisper something in his ear. You take the interruption in Technoblade’s lecture as a reminder to continue taking notes. 

As you jot down a few bullet points about Diodorus Siculus from Technoblade, your eyes can’t help but wander. It’s as if they have a mind of their own, honestly. But on second thought, you think that even if you did have firm control of your eyes, you would choose to ogle at the cute stranger anyway. 

Your center of attention, the pretty student, shifts out of the corner of your eye. Subsequently, your hand momentarily stops writing to stare at a particularly interesting piece of their wavy brown hair. It juts out of the beanie and obscures their vision. Although they move to shove the hair out of their eyes and back into the beanie, it falls back down again until they give up and let their hair win the battle. 

“Good grief,” you sigh. The sound is accompanied by a much stronger swear as you mull over your actions for a few more seconds. 

Jamie furrows her brows and tilts her head.

In response to her visible confusion, you say, “I’ve spent a good two minutes just staring at that hair.” 

You nod toward the student who has caught your affection attention. Jamie squints, then lets out a sigh as she shakes her head. 

Following the slightest of an exasperated smile, Jamie says, “Okay?”

“You have nothing else to add?”

“No.” 

“Really?”

“Mate, it’s good hair, but they look like every other white boy.”

You can’t deny it.

From Jamie’s tone of voice, you could tell that she is aware of your fascination with the handsome student. Unlike you, your crush seems to be paying proper attention to Technoblade. You follow their gaze back to Technoblade’s collared dress shirt and freshly pressed navy trousers. Although you’re not opposed to his professional attire, you can’t help but decide that the beanie-clad student below you is dressed far better. Unfortunately, Technoblade does not wait for you to finish your silent comparison of his clothing to the pretty stranger. 

The professor continues his speech, saying, “Shelley, the aforementioned author of ‘Ozymandias,’ was inspired by Siculus. Oh, and before I forget, I mentioned before that there were two Ozymandias poems. It’s true, since Shelley and his friend Horace Smith indulged in a writing competition together where they both described Ozymandias. Anyway, side note aside, Shelley was trying to convey a particular theme through his words. What was it, then?”

Technoblade pauses in his verbal explanations and picks up the chalk again, much to his students’ collective exaggerated despair. You copy what he’s written on the blackboard onto your notes without a verbal complaint this time, writing, “theme: all power is temporary, regardless of a ruler’s extensive ego or control.”

The professor drops the chalk down and returns to his initial spot by his laptop. He scrolls down to the bottom half of the poem and reads some lines aloud. “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains.” 

Technoblade gazes into the crowd of students before him, and asks, “Can someone take a shot at explaining the juxtaposition here?”

When no one offers to do so after 11 excruciatingly long seconds, you pity the professor and raise your hand. Technoblade’s sour expression turns grateful and he nods for you to state your opinion.

You say, “Well, Shelley paints Ramesses II out to be prideful. After all, Ramesses calls himself a ‘king of kings’ in the inscription described on the pedestal of the visage, and yet, the previous theme is reflected in that there is ‘nothing beside’ the visage to ‘despair’ as Ramesses claimed. So, the juxtaposition is that Ramesses brags about being great, yet his legacy gave way to nothing that has withstood the test of time. Additionally, the statue is described to be ‘half sunk’ and ‘shattered,’ and therefore ruined and forgotten, which is another set of contrasting qualities.”

Silence stretches across the classroom, and then slow applause comes from Niki. 

“Great interpretation,” Technoblade says, with nothing else to add.

“For lack of a better word, I think he got startled at my talented analysis,” you whisper to Jamie. 

“Talented, my foot,” she responds, and the two of you attempt to hold back your laughter with poorly-disguised coughs.

Suddenly, the deep voice from earlier says, “If I may add?”

Your brows furrow, as you have no idea who just spoke.

Technoblade replies, “Of course.”

“While the poem focuses on Ramesses II or Ozymandias, there lies a greater implication that it is all rulers who will undergo the same fate, including political authorities and monarchies. Like King George III, for example, who had a reputation for tyrannical behavior. I mean, it was around the end of George’s reign that this poem was written.”

The speaker trails off, glancing at Technoblade for approval to continue.

“Holy shit, the pretty stranger is the deep voice from earlier!” You swear under your breath, tracing the voice back to the beanie-clad student that you’ve been attempting to avoid looking at. You’ve been failing, of course, and this newfound discovery of their objectively nice voice stirs your impression of them further. 

When Technoblade nods for them to continue, they say, “At the time, George really could have been considered the most powerful man alive, with the 13 colonies spread across North America and other smatterings of colonies across the western hemisphere. Of course, his name was smeared by the ultimate success of the American Revolution by Americans who did not ‘despair’ in the face of his ‘works,’ thus rendering George’s legacy as nothing but a sign of failure.”

As if right on cue, smoke detectors begin to ring just as the pretty stranger’s response ends. There is nothing you wish more to do than get to know the well-dressed student who you’ve been obsessing over throughout the lesson. 

“Damn, must be that culinary class again.” Technoblade bites his tongue to avoid saying any stronger swears. “And with that, I’m taking that as a sign that our lesson is over. Nothing’s due for next class. Office hours are open today at 4, but don’t come unless you bring me a cup of earl grey. No sugar or milk or cream, just black. If the building burns down, there will be no office hours. Au revoir.”

With that, students around you stand up, lugging their bags over their shoulders for lunch. The attractive student is among them, and as you realize how tall they are, you fall even more for them. 

“Blimey,” you say, unable to hold yourself back as you turn toward Jamie. If you could inconspicuously fan yourself right now, you would. “The super low voice is the handsome stranger? And the handsome stranger is smart as hell? Intelligence has never looked this,” you pause, then settle for the word “delicious.”

“You’re so fuckin’ weird, you know that?” Jamie says with her back turned to you. She’s sorting the items in the chair to the left of her, where her jacket and other objects lay. After shrugging her jacket onto her shoulders, she grabs her backpack and faces you as she stands up.

“Oh, but you love me, Jamie. You’re my person, my best friend. Your only friend, really.” You do not pause to let her refute your claims and instead shove your notebook and laptop into your shoulder-destroying tote bag. “Besides, I’m hungry. Food is on my mind. Lunch in the city?”

“Lunch in the city,” she affirms with a nod, then with the slightest of smirks.

Your brows furrow at her expression, wondering why Jamie has such a dastardly smile plastered over her face. 

Suddenly, someone taps your shoulder, and you turn around. Your eyes meet chocolate brown ones. 

“Wilbur Soot, he/him.”

Your eyes widen at the pretty beanie-clad student, shocked by his forward behavior. Internally, you question why the cute stranger before you would want to talk to you. It would have taken you several classes in order for you to muster the courage to ask when an assignment was due. 

Spluttering due to your juvenile crush, all you can say after sharing your name and pronouns, is, “I thought you left.”

With a grin, he says, “Couldn’t leave you without your deep-voiced, intelligent, handsome stranger now, could I?”

When he steps forward, you can see his light brown eyes glitter, highlighted by the weak glow from the dull lights in the classroom. A gorgeous smattering of freckles lies across his cheeks like the stars in the night sky. His cheeks are reddening by the second and his lips are turning up at the corners. If a smile could melt you, it would be this one. 

Wilbur Soot is even prettier up close. 

“I know, love,” he says, with a cheeky smirk that causes your heart to spasm. “Go on a date with me?”

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Next on the semi-related Wilbur Soot series: Perennial Pages

Masterlist

perennial pages | w.s.

Pairing: college student au!Wilbur Soot x bookstore employee/college student!reader; no Y/N, gender-neutral (no pronouns mentioned)

Synopsis: You’re working at a bookstore when your favorite British man bursts in with two plane tickets to travel the world. 

Warnings: one (1) passing ref. to prev. fic Ozymandias, some cursing, cameo from Tina except she’s an old woman, one (1) dirty joke from Wilbur but what did you expect, failed British slang from an American author

Word Count: 2.2k

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Prev. on the semi-related Wilbur Soot series: Ozymandias

Masterlist

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You’re working alone today, but you don’t mind. You have classical music to accompany you, playing from the cheap speakers around a meter above and to your left. 

When you move to lean back against the wooden stool you’re sitting on, multiple synthetic leaves fall onto your face. You scowl, splitting the part that got into your mouth. 

“Plastic does not taste good,” you mutter under your breath. 

You shake your head to force the leaves off. The ceiling and most of the surrounding walls of this shop are adorned with the fake vines that Tina purchased at a yard sale with you around a month ago.

Tina founded the dual bookstore and plant shop Perennial Pages at a rather rough stage in her life. She had married young and been a trophy wife till 37, then divorced her wretched old money husband after discovering his mass tax fraud; it was a way out of the marriage. She clung onto his illicit economic activities as a subtle form of blackmail, threatening that she would expose him for it if he didn’t sign the divorce papers. He was a cheating bastard anyway.

Following the split, Tina used the cash from the split to make her childhood dream a reality in Brighton, England. 

Tina is a shorter, stout woman nearing her sixties with a personality that others might call downright appalling for someone born at such a conservative time. But you love the straightforward yet free approach that Tina takes on life. 

As your boss, Tina is nothing short of delightful. Well, except when she isn’t there. Then, you have no one to talk to but stone-faced customers who wish to release some stress by feeding their book addictions. All you’ve been doing today is watering plants, shelving and organizing books, and making a point to ignore the unhappy teenagers who come to Perennial Pages to escape from other people. 

Tina never fails to take at least one day off every month. The philosophy was to make as many memories as possible before she runs out of time. The thought brings you back to memories from the month before. 

A few weeks ago, Tina had announced that she’d continue to pay you for your normal hours if you accompanied her to a spontaneous four-day getaway to New York City, even though there was no one else to manage Perennial Pages in the meantime. Well, you didn’t argue with the prospect of a fully-paid vacation with someone who acts more like an older sister than an employer to you. 

The two of you had spent your first afternoon in New York shopping around Manhattan, browsing through vintage clothing—and the vines that attacked you—at various thrift shops across the borough. 

As you shopped, you discussed deeply philosophical topics, just because you could. It was during that trip that you had an epiphany; you prefer deep conversations over small talk. The gritty ones that expose personal trauma and bare core beliefs are much more fulfilling and fascinating to listen to than superficial complaints about professors who cannot teach well.

Mulling over it, you realize that it’s probably because you find conflicting opinions to be intriguing. It’s interesting how and why a person comes to form their beliefs regarding controversies. People, after all, are merely mosaics of the different ideas they come across. Learning which ideas created the mold that a certain person emerged from is a fascinating way to sincerely get to know someone and empathize with the experiences that shape their central ideals. 

The chimes tied in fuchsia yarn to the topmost hinge of the front door ring, jolting you out of such reminiscing. 

“Welcome to Perennial Pages, let me know if you want a specific book or plant and if you have any other questions,” you state with as little facial movement as possible, not bothering to look up to identify the figure stepping inside. Your shift began not that long ago, but without Tina there to entertain you with other arguably deep conversations, you’re too tired to give anything but a blank expression to customers today. 

Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule (it’s more of a common occurrence than a rule, really); some people are far too captivating to demand anything lesser than your utmost attention. 

“Hello, darling.”

Case in point. 

Your head snaps up to meet the gaze of the familiar voice. The height of the man before you is quite towering, even more so since you’re sitting down on the rather stout maroon stool behind the cash register. 

But you know better than to be intimidated. 

He’s dressed particularly well today. He dons a plain red beanie covering that mess of curls and what has to be a receding hairline—you’ve previously attempted to whisk it off of him, but he refuses to give a forehead reveal—but the beanie is slipping slowly away from his hair and closer toward the carpet made of fake moss.

“Well, well, well, isn’t it Mister Soot? My most loyal customer.”

“For Christ’s sake, call me Wil,” he says as he rolls his eyes. But he’s smiling all the while. 

He shakes his head and the outside fringes of his hair sway as he does so. The beanie slips a centimeter more down his right ear. When he meets your mock unapproving gaze, a chuckle escapes his mouth even though he’s bitten the inside of his cheek to prevent such an action. When you hop off the stool and fully stand up, the grin on his face widens even more than you thought possible. 

That smile never fails to not catch your eye. He’s always grinning whenever you’re around, so much that you’d think his cheeks would hurt. But you’re not complaining, as you’d be a hypocrite to comment about his smiley tendencies without addressing your own. 

If Tina were here, she’d elbow you and say, “The rascal makes you happy, that’s why you get all smiley.” 

Then Tina would return to humming an obscure Elvis song and walk away into the storage room. It would be just as if she hadn’t left you all alone in your thoughts with heat rising to your cheeks as you think about him. 

He’s made a beeline for the historical bookshelf today, near the peonies and sunflowers. 

“You should fix that,” you say, nodding toward the beanie that is half-falling off of his face. 

There’s quite the pause and it’s as if you can see the gears in Wil’s head shifting. Then, his grin has turned into a smirk.

“Fix what? I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You think you’re so sly, don’t you? I can tell you’re faking confusion,” you respond, lips curling upward despite your attempt to remain impassive. 

Granted, it wasn’t a very good try at concealing your happiness, but, then again, it’s always hard to hide your emotions around Wilbur Soot. He can read you like an open book, even if you’d like to think of yourself as one of those locked childrens’ princess diaries with voice-activated codes in them. 

“Cheeky bastard,” you mutter. 

But even as you’re complaining, you’re walking to the left of the counter and using your hip to push open the small door beside the counter. 

Honestly, curse the man’s charms. 

You make a come-hither motion with your hand, but the 6’6” man refuses to bend his knees or lean forward so you can properly adjust the beanie. 

“C’mere,” you insist, stopping right beside the nonfiction aisle, which is about a yard away from the plaque titled “HISTORY” in bold.

He crosses his arms and fervently shakes his head like a dog shaking water off of its fur after a bath. You have to bite back a laugh at his played-up mannerisms.

“No.” He frowns, then lights up with another eager smile. “If you call me Wil, though, I’ll consider your offer.”

“You’re a real drama queen, you know that, Soot?” 

You speak with as much force as you can muster, channeling stoicism, but your face betrays you. And your body too, which moves forward to meet him until you’re less than a meter apart. 

“Why won’t you just call me Wil?” He flashes the eyes of a sad puppy. 

“Whatever. Bend down so I can fix your stupid beanie for you.”

The man immediately begins to cough. It’s a shoddy attempt at covering his initial reaction.

All you do is roll your eyes and shake your head in disdain.

“What, it was funny! ‘Bend down,’ you know what else you can do when you bend down?” 

You’re pursing your lips, glancing around the room to see if anyone has heard. Of course, no one is in the room. Why would anyone be browsing for books or plants on a Tuesday morning at 9 o’clock in the morning? Well, anyone other than Wilbur Soot, that is. And he doesn’t even count, because you know that he’s only here for you. 

“Well, you’re the only one laughing,” comes your monotonous reply.

“Won’t you say ‘Wil’ and not ‘Well’ for me, love?”

All of a sudden, heat rises up your body, spreading like a wildfire underneath your skin. Unfamiliar to such a reaction, you clear your throat to break the odd silence between his question and your lack of a response. 

“What is with you and your odd infatuation with me calling you by your name? I think calling you Soot is–”

When Wil walks toward you, you immediately stop speaking. Your head tilts in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. It’s no secret that the man has an ego; he never submits to your will like this. 

You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t, so you say, “Go on, then. Tell me, why have you dragged yourself all the way out to the middle of Brighton? I assume it isn’t just to have me fix your beanie up.”

You fail to mention that you still haven’t shifted the position of his beanie yet. Partly because you’re afraid of how you’d feel if you touched him that closely, and partly because you think you already know how you’d feel. 

A smile stretches across his face for what must be the twentieth time since he’s walked in; actually, you don’t think that he’s truly stopped smiling, except for his fake frowns to coerce you into walking closer to him.

He doesn’t answer you verbally. Instead, he reaches into the right pocket of his trenchcoat and pulls out two slim sheets of paper. Curious, you step forward until you’re less than a meter apart. 

“Florence? You booked two tickets for Italy?”

Bewildered, you take a step back. Wil walks forward to keep the previous distance, and maybe even closer because now you’re just a few centimeters away from his face. He’s sheepish now, biting on his bottom lip in anticipation. 

“Haven’t we been talking about traveling the world in the Blade’s class? I don’t want to leave you. Will you come with me?”

“Wil, of course I will.”

Before he can make a comment about the pun in that sentence, you embrace him in a hug. On reflex, he rests his chin on top of your head. Although his trenchcoat is cold from the weather outside, his breath is warm. Fearing that he’ll be able to see the rather embarrassing happiness plastered on your face that you can’t seem to pat down to a cool neutral position, you shove your face into his chest. 

He smells like coffee and sandalwood, like home and something more. 

When your hand reaches to grasp his hair, with his arms still wrapped around your lower back, you’re met with the soft fabric of his beanie. Finally, you adjust it so that it’s not exposing his hairline anymore. 

A laugh escapes your mouth as you tug the beanie down over his ears, the tips of which are bright red. He looks ridiculous like this, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Huh, a hug right after we got on first name basis? Seems like you’re moving too fast,” he jokes.

“Sod off,” you say as your cheeks heat. “You’re the bloody one who bought plane tickets without asking me first. What if I said no?”

“You wouldn’t have,” he says, and he states it like it’s a fact.

Lacking a rebuttal, you shove your face in the crook of his neck. And the two of you stay there, content because you’re in one another’s arms.  

When your supposedly absent boss Tina walks into Perennial Pages an hour later with a half-eaten bagel and a cup of chai tea from the bakery next door, your mouth hangs open in shock.

“I thought you were visiting your sister in Carlisle?” 

Tina looks at your hands, which are entwined with Wilbur’s. Her initial reaction is a soft smile, one that hints at knowing that this would happen before you did. When she looks back up at his face, she confirms your suspicions. 

“Congratulations. I told you she’d say ‘yes’ anyway.”

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Masterlist

my attempt at a mystery fic has turned into fucking romance i cannot why does this always happen to me 😭

’*•.¸♡ 𝗖𝗘𝗢! 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 ♡¸.•*‘

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I wrote this over the course of a couple days. Very sleep deprived on some of the said days. sorry if it doesn't make sense!

Let me know if there should be anything else in the content warning. Or correct me if i'm wrong :))

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Gender-Neutral reader! Word count: 3.1k CW: Mention of unsupportive parents, insinuation of a bad ex, embarrassment, anxiety, cussing (Once)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It's fine. You're fine. Stop worrying. You've got this.

You're attractive, smart, and confident, and.. And.. fuck.

I'm gonna butcher this. It was only basically a life changing moment. If I got this job I could finally prove to my family and my ex my roommate that the 4 years at college was worth it. The endless nights… studying. God, I don't miss it. According to my parents, a computer science degree was a

“waste of your time! You could be studying liberal arts! Getting an english degree!! Become a teacher! Not some useless.. Computer.. Person. What are you going to do? Spend your life in a dark basement in “I.T.” ridiculous. Get a grip”

They had never supported anything I did that wasn't advised by them. They don't even know the title! “Some.. computer person” Please. Why can't they understand that computers are the future? This IS the future. Coders are more important now than they ever have been before.

My roommate, Karl, has been nothing but supportive. As expected from someone whose whole life is dependent on computers. But, I still feel like I have some point to prove to him. Like if I don't, all of the sleepless nights he spent helping me when I had to cram, comforting me when I got a grade that was less than perfect, forcing me to eat, shower, drink water, and take a break and have a day to myself, was all for nothing. I definitely wouldn’t be here without him.

“Um.. excuse me?” Looking up from my lap where my fidgeting hands had finally come to a stop. The receptionist, or is he a personal assistant? It’s hard to tell. He could be anyone. Whoever he is, he is deathly attractive, but also staring at me impatiently. I couldn’t help but stare back. Taking note of every detail I could find. His downturned brown eyes burning holes into my own as he waited for a response, his seemingly perfect eyebrows knitted together, the freckle on his left cheek which was very faint but noticeable. Which i'm sure if exposed to the sun would darken. Which leads me to his skin. Pale, and white. Almost paper white. I wonder how much he is truly exposed to the sun or if he is just always stuck in this god forsaken office. His cheeks were slightly rosy though. Cute. His lips, although thin, were full, almost. As if he was pouting. They were a pale pink, matching the rosiness of his cheeks. His hair. Gosh his hair. It was so fluffy and dark, it was hard to tell whether it was black or a deep brown in the lighting provided. I just wanted to run my hands through it and feel how soft it truly was. One thing stood out though. One annoying detail that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

A piece of hair sticking up in the middle of his head. It looked so out of place compared to the cute, fluffy curls of everything else. It was embarrassing how hard it was to hold myself back from walking over to him and fixing it myself.

He coughed.

How long was I staring at him?

Standing up, I brushed myself off. Getting rid of any stray hairs or balls of material that had stuck to me. I took a hesitant step forward towards the man in front of me. He swung his arm out and motioned me to go into the main office. The whole reason I was here.

“He is ready for you. Don’t keep him waiting any longer. He will take your tardiness out on us” He mumbled the last part of his sentence not meaning for me to hear. He turned swiftly on his feet before speed walking back to his desk situated next to the elevator. He was very lanky. The black t-shirt he wore was… Baggy? His pants were black jeans, pairing them with his all black converse. Was I overdressed? Or was he too casual. Panic immediately started to rise within me. But the moment he sat down back at his desk, he looked at me once more sending a glare my way, annoyed I still haven’t made the effort to make my way towards the office.

I nodded at him. Turning slowly to take in the giant double doors in front of me. A bit extreme for a small hallway I think personally. I walked towards them and held the door handle. Do I knock? That'd be polite right? No but he's expecting you, he's aware of your presence so there is no need to. But what if he had gotten a phone call between the time of alerting the man behind the desk and now. But what if he gets annoyed at you for knocking. What if he finds the sound of knock-

Before I could even finish or process my thoughts, the door in front of me flew open. I stumbled slightly as the handle was torn from my grasp. I looked up and. Oh. Holy shit. Attractive was an understatement. The lanky dude behind the desk was attractive. The man in front of me was. God like? No, that would probably feed into his ego. Hot. Hot doesn’t describe it well enough. He was… Alluring. Alluring was the best way I could put it. He was lanky like the assistant (? I still don't know) but he was tall, and slightly bulkier. Broad shoulders, covered by a black dress shirt, that fit him oh too well, and a dark forest green vest. A silver chain was hung around his neck tucked underneath the shirt. It was barely visible, the intent to hide it was obvious. His jaw was- don't get me started. His eyes were an emerald green, matching his vest perfectly. But that was as far as I got before he started talking.

“You’re here for the interview aren't you?” Voice was like butter, it was smooth but had a slight rasp to it as if he hadn’t used it all day. I stared at him for a minute too long before nodding my head and muttering out a quick yes, my eyes meeting my shoes.

He hummed before taking a step back, opening the door wider. Silently asking for me to walk in and take a seat. I took a few steps forward, far enough for him to shut the door and walk around me to sit behind the desk.

His office was beautiful to put it simply. Simple but welcoming. The left wall had bookshelves lining the whole of the wall. The bookshelves wrapped around the wall behind me, only stopping once it reached the door. The back wall, if you could even call it a wall, was a giant window. Looking out upon the city of Orlando. The right wall was lined with computers, which I'll admit was a bit confusing. You'd think in an establishment like this, they would be able to afford a server room instead of keeping it in the bosses office. This room was the biggest liability. As if reading my mind, the gorgeous man sat at the desk in front of me, answered my question.

“We do have a server room. Just to let you know” I turned to look at him, mouth open like a fish. I’d close it if I could. But my body has betrayed me and I can't seem to control any part of me at this moment. He chuckled. God, that was hot.

“I could see the confusion on your face when you were looking at them… Don’t worry they don't hold any sensitive information” He was no longer looking at me, instead highlighting some papers in front of him. I nodded and cleared my throat before walking towards the desk, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. He looked up at me through lidded eyes and chuckled again at my hesitancy to sit down. When will he stop doing that. Without a second thought, my mouth had opened and words came tumbling out.

“Genuine question. If you do have a server room, and the computers don't hold any sensitive information,” I pointed at the wall to my right. Which, now thinking about was stupid, what other computers could I possibly be talking about. “Why are they in your office. And how are they surviving the changes of temperature within your office? I wouldn’t say it's particularly cold here. Not how server rooms are meant to be anyways.” He paused, capping his highlighter and putting it down before looking back at me. His hands were clasped together in front of him as he leaned forward.

“I won’t lie. You’re the only person that has ever pointed that out. Besides George of course.” George? Who is George? He looked at the computers, before looking back at me with a smug smile sitting upon his face. “Decoys. To put it simply. I would say they’re for personal use but you seem too smart to fall for that.” His arms left the table before leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms. And lord do I wish he didn't. I couldn't help but stare at his arms as they pulled against his shirt. “They are real computers, yes, just before you question me about the blinking lights..” He paused and took a deep breath in. Contemplating what his next words would be. “... Why do YOU think I may have decoys displayed in my office?” he questioned me, the smug smile returning to rest on his face. I raised my eyebrows in shock, I knew this was an interview but I wasn’t expecting a question like this.

I shifted in my seat, before clearing my throat again. I looked down at my hands and started fidgeting with my fingers.

“Um. I mean one would assume the reason why anyone would have a decoy of.. Well anything. Would be to trick someone else into thinking that it was something that had importance.. And/or meaning. “ I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. I looked up. He no longer held a smug smile, nor did he have his arms crossed. But, his hands rested on his thighs and he held my gaze, silently urging me to continue talking. He was truly intrigued by what I had to say over such a simple question. I looked away back towards the computers. It was hard to keep eye contact when his eyes were so mesmerising. “In this case, the information stored within the computers in the server room are sensitive and are at risk of being exposed to people who don't need said information. So, decoys are displayed in your office, to trick anyone who comes through, to believe you were idiotic enough to keep your servers out in the open for anyone to access.” I was going to continue but thought against my better judgement. I looked back at the man at the desk. Instead of being serious, as he was mere moments beforehand. He looked… amused? My eyes widened as I realised what I had just said.

“Not- no uh- not that i was calling you idiotic sir! I was just uh… it was more an.. Um. example? Of what others may think? Not that i think people think you're idiotic!-” he had cut me off when he started to laugh.

Oh my god. I just called my possible future boss idiotic and he started laughing at me. I cowered in my seat, sinking lower. This was the most embarrassing thing to happen all day.

Tears were pricking the corner of his eyes as he continued to laugh. Once he opened them and saw how embarrassed I had become. He started to calm down. I straightened the way I was sitting, fidgeting with my hands once again.

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter himself. Hands crossed, he leaned against the desk once again.

“I would like to apologise for laughing at you. Truly. It had just… caught me off guard. I haven't laughed like that in weeks.” A soft smile sat upon his face staring at me with glossy eyes, still teary from his burst of laughter. “Other than your comment about idiocy. You were spot on. You’re right when you say that they’re there to trick people into thinking that they hold sensitive information. Although it seems obvious to people like you and George, many fall for it. I can't explain how many people we have caught tampering with the computers here at 2 am.” He ran a hand through his sandy hair as he huffed. Obviously annoyed with the thought of how many people had tried to take him down. He brought up George again. Who is George?

“I do have another quick question..” He looked away from the computers and back at me. Nodding his head slightly to indicate he was willing to listen to what I had to say.

“You… you keep bringing up someone named George. Who is George? if you don't mind my asking” I spoke quietly and nervously. If he did end up hiring me. I don’t know how I will be able to cope. Maybe I should have missed the interview today. I would be fine with disappointing everyone around me if it meant I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing his face every day.

He smiled upon hearing my question. Almost eager to talk about his best friend.

“George was the man that greeted you outside my door. He’s my best friend and employee.” He continued to smile as the confusion was slowly cleared off of my face. I nodded slowly before looking around the room again awkwardly. A couch sat opposite the bookshelf, a small round table sat next to the couch, a book left open, a corner of the page doggy eared, making me cringe inwardly. Turning back around to the man in front of me, did I only notice how cluttered his desk was. There was a lamp sitting on the corner of the left side of the desk. A monitor sitting opposite on the right side. Papers were scattered across his desk, a multitude of folders towering slightly on a tray sat next to his lamp. Pens and highlighters littered his desk, some without caps. The ones that were capped were very obviously on the wrong pen. The man followed my eyes, soon noticing himself how messy his own desk was.

“Oh my... i'm so sorry i didn’t realise how messy things had become” He quickly picked up all of the papers, stacking them neatly and pushing them to the side. Before scooping up all of the pens and highlighters, capping them correctly and disposing them into a cup that had sat next to his monitor. He looked at me sheepishly, sticking his arm out in front of me. I grabbed his hand and shaked, assuming that is what he was asking of me.

“Clay, my name is Clay. Apologies yet again. This Interview has been somewhat of a disaster.” I shook my head and smiled, retreating my arm and telling him my own name. Clay… that's a really nice name. Genuinely,

He smiled, an amused expression on his face yet again.

“I am aware of your name. It was on your resume and application” A goofy grin was on display. Blush seeped up the back of my neck, settling in the tips of my ears. I was thoroughly embarrassed.

“Oh right.. Sorry. I forgot you had access to that.” I rubbed the back of my neck taking a few deep steady breaths to calm myself down.

“Don’t worry about your desk, by the way. Trust me when I say I have seen worse.” He laughed slightly and shook his head, amused. He stopped abruptly, face turning into a hard expression. Suddenly becoming serious.

“Look uh. We have run out of time for the interview today.” His voice no longer sounded smooth, but was gravelly almost. “You took your time entering my office and kept me waiting.” Oh god. Here it is. He’s going to reject my application. Panic immediately settled in my stomach. It began churning, I felt like I was going to throw up at any second. Why was he suddenly stoic. Did I do something? Was I mucking around? I didn't mean to if I was. I thought I was pretty calm. He took a deep breath in. The anxiety was like a volcano. It felt like it was about to erupt. The shaking being the voices of worry filling my mind, the lava rising being the anxiety attack that was slowly settling in.

“But. Considering you did take notice of the computers, and questioned me about them instead of just ignoring them. And you did answer the one question I did ask you.”

Here it comes. Any moment now. He’ll break the news and tell me to get out.

“I will keep in touch with you” what? “I will let you know if you have gotten the job in around a week's time.” Oh. My. God. The volcano inside slowly started dying. The shaking coming to a stop, the lava settling back down into the pool of my stomach.

He pushed the chair back from his desk and stood up walking towards the door. I followed suit, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than I already had. When I had reached him he stuck his hand out waiting for me to shake it once again. I gripped his hand firmly and shook. Feeling more confident now than I had all day.

“Thank you for taking time out of your day to interview me sir. Even if it wasn’t the interview either of us were hoping for.” He nodded, smiling slightly at my words, the smile didn't last long before it returned to the position it was previously in. He reached to open the door, stepping back in the process to make room for me to leave.

“Of course. Until next time. We’ll keep in touch.” He responded bluntly, looking at me once more before shutting the door the moment I left the office. What the fuck kind of interview was that? I looked around the room, my eyes settling on the man I now know as George. He rolled his eyes before nodding his head at me. I nodded back, swallowing the bump that had found its way into my throat. Making my way to the elevator I thought about everything that had happened today. Only one detail sticking out more than the others.

How attractive Clay was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I'm not the best at writing and contemplated uploading this, so I hope you enjoyed whatever it was lol. - Birdy

Has anyone wrote a c!dream x reader where the reader looses all their lives. And he goes apeshit over it and revives them back no matter what? And clings onto them desperately as the reader weeps or something. I dunno it seems fascinating to do.

Like a snippet of what I'm thinking is like

Dream thrash and fling his arm off his desk in fury, letting out an anguish scream. Grabbing his bloodied dirtied mask off his face snapping the string off. Discarding it aside as he softly weep , lowering his head down as tears drop onto his desk. Punz looked at him from across the room " I'm sorry, I tried to prevent it dream really I did. " Dream raised his head and looks at him hood on. " I'll deal it it punz... continue your work . " Punz nods and swiftly left the room.

Dream had his hand across his face "you'll come back no matter what little flower....I'll make sure if it...I'll make them pay all of them... especially you...Sam..." His eyes lit up green as a book suddenly appear infront of him hovering.

The revive book.

Has anyone wrote a c!dream x reader where the reader looses all their lives. And he goes apeshit over it and revives them back no matter what? And clings onto them desperately as the reader weeps or something. I dunno it seems fascinating to do.

i am here with another post about people constantly breaking some kind of boundaries.

STOP writing romantic fanfics for minors

STOP using sapnaps real name in fanfics

fucking hell it cant be that hard to respect that

check @/smp-boundaries before writing im literally begging you

edit: i just put these two since these are the ones that are very commonly ignored, seen wayy too many sapnap irl name fics and tommy /rom fics

❤ Travel Pack

Request by @blynxism: “woaaohhh :O wtf bad is so cute 😭 literally everything you do is awesome. wouldnt mind if i had to wait for a part 2” Part 1

[3300+ words]

[He/him pronouns]

Description: You and Cairo decide to continue traveling with the muffinteers. But you never expected to be so soft for them. (Romantic Muffinteers x M!Reader)

[Read more under the cut]

You had woken up bright and early, still hovering around until Cairo had woken up, stretching xyr arms and hitting the tents walls. She started crawling to leave the tent, hair still fluffed up, messy with the signs of xyrs long rest.

You followed after her, doing a small stretch of your own. Tents like those were nice enough but they still left such a crick in the neck. Patting down some of xyrs hair for xyr, she batted your hand away before you both started walking towards Bad and George, who were poking at a fire.

"Good morning," She said mid-way through a yawn.

"Good morning!" Bad smiles widely, straightening his back and tilting his head up to smile at you too.

"Morning," You say back, taking a seat next to George who offers you a small smile but seems too tired to do anything more. Cairo takes the seat next to you, bodily leaning against you with xyr feet propped up on the trunk across from you.

"What's for breakfast," She asks.

Bad shrugs, looking at the food tucked neatly into one bag. "Probably eggs and some berries from the forest. Dream and Sap went foraging maybe 20 minutes ago? They should be back soon."

You gave him a nod as your sister combed down xyr hair with xyrs hand. Cairo blinked over at George, who blinked back. "You're pretty."

George shrugs, "I know."

Cairo nods, turning to talk to Bad. You look over at George, brow raised. The brunet smirks at you, rolling his eyes softly. "I get a lot of compliments. Although I haven't gotten one from you yet."

"Do you want me to tell you something you already know?" You lean closer, until your lips brush past his cheek and your breath heats up his ear. "Sounds likes someone's a little cocky."

When you pulled back, George's cheeks were tinged pink with a deep flush that spread all the way to his ears. You smiled and turned back towards Cairo, who was at Bad's side, poking at the eggs.

"Get away from those before you burn them," You say, nudging her with your foot, even if it was a bit of a stretch. Cairo scoffs, kicking you right back.

"I try doing something nice for you once," She pouts, turning to Bad to get him on xyr side. "I might've burned his tent down but I was trying to be nice for his birthday! It cancels out! Right?"

"Uhm," He looks between the two of you, obviously torn. Slowly, he looks over at George, who offers absoloutely no help, and back at you. Finally, relief bursts over his face. "Dream! Sapnap! You're back!"

"Yeah?" Dream stretched out, eyeing the demon curiously. He turned to George as he got closer, handing off a bag half-full of sweet berries. "Why do you sound so happy?"

"No reason, none at all!" Bad says with a rapid nod of his head. You snicker a bit, trying to hide a grin behind your hand. Cairo turns to you with the same grin, one that catches George's attention, who rolls his eyes with a smile. He turns back around, cheeks flushed. "I can hear you two."

"Whoops," You shrug, moving to make space for Cairo to sit. She takes the seat happily, a plate of eggs that she had definitely stolen from Bad's pan.

"Wha-!" Bad drops down into his seat by the campfire, pouting. "You're all a bunch of muffinheads."

"Muffinfucks," Sapnap mocks in a high-pitched voice.

"Language!" Bad gasps, snatching the bag of apples out of Sapnap's hand, swatting at his arm. Sapnap takes the seat across from you with a sweet smile, waving quickly before Dream sits down.

The voices are oddly quiet today, even as Dream offers you a polite good morning and his face lights up when Sapnap ropes him into talking over sword strategies. It's weird but you won't look a gift horse in the mouth, wrapping an arm around Cairo's shoulders as xyr takes the opportunity to make fun of George.

You pop a few sweet berries in your mouth and relax. You still have to ask Cairo about traveling with the group but something tells you xyr is going to agree.

{《☆》}

After you talked with Cairo and she gladly agreed to travel with the group, it's been interesting to say the least.

Traveling with the "Muffinteers" (their self appointed and very odd name) was nice. Not overly amazing. They managed to rope you into arguments every 5 minutes and Dream still got inbetween you and Sapnap whenever you talked. But it was definitely not your worse experience. It couldn't be that bad with Bad and you bonding over limited medical knowledge and when you teased the group with Cairo's help.

Your voices were a lot quieter around them, which you have yet to decide was good or bad, but they always did agree that the group was good for you. (Also that they were unfairly good looking, which you decidedly agreed with.)

It was almost depressing when you finally arrived at the Antartic Empire, Cairo on Bad's back and George at your side. Sapnap and Dream followed behind you both, carrying most of the luggage after you and George managed to sweet talk them enough. The look on Bad's face when you made a few shameless remarks to Sapnap was enough to make a god laugh.

You set up in a motel for one final night, fixing up the room you had gotten. There was a door connecting you to the Muffinteers room, one that was lockable from both sides (though you were close enough now that it didn't really matter to lock it). Cairo had knocked out on one bed instantly, leaving you on the other, staring at the ceiling in restless focus.

You got up, cringing at how cold the floor was but slowly starting toward the shared door anyway.

When you opened it you came face to face with Bad, who was seemingly just stood in front of the door, contemplating. "Bad?"

He jumped, barely registering that you had opened it. Too lost in thought, apparently. He cleared his throat softly, cheeks flushed an adorable pale white. "Y/N, I didn't know you were awake."

"Couldn't sleep. And you...?"

He clasped his hands together in front of him, hesitating. "I couldn't sleep either. I kinda got used to sleeping near you muffinheads."

Now that he brings it up, you had gotten used to it too. After traveling for weeks together it felt odd not sleeping near at least two other people. Or hearing Sapnap's obnoxious snoring even through the tents. You kept the door propped open, leaning to make room for Bad to walk in. "The bed in my room's pretty big, we could share. Wouldn't do us any good to lose a night's rest, would it."

"True," Bad muttered, face still flushed. Softly you both walked back to your bed, peeling back the blankets. Bad hesitated before lying down, not looking anywhere near your face. "Goodnight."

Shifting your shoulders slightly you melted into the bed. Softly you mutter back, "Goodnight."

{《☆》}

"Whose going to wake them?" Someone whispered.

"I'm not doing it!" Another voice harshly chimed in, quietly yelling.

"Geez you guys are cowards," A third voice said. So many voices talked back and forth around you. You groan, pressing your face into your pillow. It's very warm but not super comfortable, you can't find it in you to care, pressing your cheek into the rising surface.

"Move out of the way," The third voice says and finally they fall quiet. With some shuffling, you can rest without the background noise bugging you.

"WAKE UP!"

You jerk upwards, pushing off your pillow with no resistance. It feels like whiplash how quickly you turn to face your michevous friends with an ever present scowl. "Wha–!"

"What were you muffinheads thinking!" Bad yells next to you. You cringe away, shock flooding your veins before you reel yourself back to the present. Bad looks similarly put off, though he's more focused on scolding the idiotic boys.

Ha the dream team look like pissbabies

Bad's kinda... ya know?

all of us are going to hell

we're already dead dumbass

poor bby sapnap looks like a kicked puppy ;-;

KekW

You look over and Cairo is still dead asleep, not rustled one bit. Turning back, George gives you a wicked grin, ignoring Bad. "Welcome back to the land of the living, sleeping beauty."

"Aw you think I'm pretty," You stretch your arms up, mid-yawn. The group is politely looking away from you, faces pink (or in Bad's case, pale). You try to pretend that it's easy pulling away from Bad's oddly magnetic warmth and smile at Sapnap and Dream. "Morning, did you need something?"

"Not really just... wanted to know if you were coming down for hotel breakfast?" Sapnap says, glancing over at the other two for help. When they offered none he just smiled wider at you to cover his nerves. "I mean,, you're a snack but breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

You roll your eyes with a laugh, the dream team shuffling back as you stand. "Yeah yeah, sure. Lemme just wake Cairo."

{《☆》}

There is a moment when you're standing at the top of the world, flying through the clouds. it usually comes right before the world remembers you need to follow the laws of gravity, a brief second of flightlessness before you're dragged down.

You've been on top of the world since the voices started quieting down. Cairo's been looking happier in the last few weeks than she had been in months. Everything was good. So good in fact, you forgot there'd have to be a fall.

It started after breakfast, you were being dragged by Cairo to a market stand because they were selling socks and she was insistent on having new ones. If you weren't sure that your family in the city would have a room for you, you would've saved it for restocking food.

While you were haggling for a lower price someone bumped into your back. The crowd is full of people and bumping into people while walking isn't uncommon but it's something about this time that made your skin crawl. Voices pounded your head, overlapping with hundreds of different thoughts until one struck gold.

LOOK BACK

You whirled around, foot skidding a bit before you catch yourself. The thief pretends not to notice, they must've thought they got away with it.

RED WOLF

You take a step forward, hands wrapping around a thin pale wrist. You hold even as they twist, realizing you knew. The voices won't let you let go. They look scared out of their wits for a second, pale blue eyes glimmering with tears.

HE IS NEAR

"Y/N?" The thief says hesitantly. "I didn't..."

They don't look familiar to you but your name from their lips, voice smooth and knowable, knocks sense back into your brain and you let go. They reach up to rub at their wrist, Cairo's pink pouch dangling in his fingers.

You reach out to grab it, fingers skimming the fabric before you're thrown to the ground.

ATTACK.

RETREAT.

ATTACK.

RETREAT.

The voices fight in your head, only disorienting you further. Two voices call your name, too muddled in the cacophony that's pounding your ears.

GET UP

The world is blurry, black dots staining your vision. Your fingers dig into dirt as you get yourself on your hands and knees, heaving.

DODGE

You drop your arm and roll to the side, narrowly missing a thin silver blade that cracks the ground where your chest once was. The world shifts again and you're a lot less balanced against the ground than you should be.

RED WOLF. RED. BLOOD. CLAWS. MOVE. BLOOD. RED WOLF. MOVE. TEETH. BITE. RED. SHARP.

MOVE!

You lose feeling in your fingers and kick up your feet, you push off against someone's chest and roll to a kneel. People are talking, screaming maybe, you can't tell when the voices in your head scream louder.

There is a stand next to you selling decorative weapons and you pick up a gold sword. It's pretty shabby, wouldn't last long with actual use, but it's enchanted with sharpness 2. You palm the handle a bit, hands sweatier than they've ever been before.

They're a blur of motion and you raise your sword and blunt their attack with a strangled cry. You can hear Cairo and Sapnap yelling for you. They must have lost you in the commotion. The brief distraction let's your attacker slice a thin line into your shoulder and you kick their leg out, stumbling to get back to Cairo.

When the person who attacks you gets to their feet they follow in second. They manage to whirl you around. Your heart stops for a second, stinging with phantom pains. They huff in place, face stony as it looks over yours. Red eyes meet yours with a knee-buckling lack of recognition.

"Technoblade," You mutter to yourself as a last observation before the world tilts to the side and you crash into the weapon stand.

{《☆》}

"Who the fuck do you think you are you," A voice, familiar British tilt bristling with venom. They're oddly close, smoothly pressing into raw ears. "You were the one that attacked him in the first place. You think you have the right-!"

"George," Bad cuts in, voice just as stone-cold but softer still. He's so close that the water that's been clogging your ears clear just to listen. "Don't be too loud, you'll wake him."

"He's got a point," Dream pipes in, farther away. It makes something in you croon sadly. Soft steps get further away from you before stopping suddenly. "You hurt Y/N. Why would we trust you're being truthful. I mean, cousins? Don't make me laugh."

"I didn't know it was Y/N, I just saw him hurting Tommy and I-"

"Tommy stole from him!" Dream scoffs, voice heavy and loud. It drops suddenly and there are footsteps coming closer until a hand is hovering over yours, hesitating. "You caused this, Blood God."

Things start going fuzzy again and you don't like it. You reach up to Dream's hand and tighten your grip. It's nice, it feels like a tether. Still, you're cold though so you whine. Something to be embarrassed about when you're fully awake, of course. "Co—ld..."

"Aww isn't that adorable," George coos mockingly. His voice gets further away as he walks away, another pair of heavier footsteps seemingly dragged behind him. "Let's go Blood God."

"I'll go get another blanket," Bad says, fixing your two blankets to be tucked around you. You still haven't opened your eyes but you can imagine the look he shoots Dream. "Have fun cuddling."

You can also imagine Dream's response vividly, a roll of those pretty green eyes while his lips tug into a small smile anyway. He doesn't say anything, simply settling in a chair beside you, hand still tight around yours.

"I thought we were gonna cuddle," Your words are a bit loopy as you turn on your side to face him, eyes barely peeking open. The world is a lump of colours and yet you could not see him more clearly.

"Oh come on," Dream scoffs and this time you can see the way he rolls his eyes, freckled cheeks puffing out in embarrassment and exasperation, lips tilted into a thin little smile. You pull your blankets up and gesture to the empty space. He shakes his head but you know he's already broken. With a bit of struggle, he clambers into your bed and retucks the blankets around the both of you.

As he settles into the cozy space, you're both facing each other. Maybe it's the loopiness still messing with your brain but he looks adorable with his hair tousled like this. You can't help yourself from reaching up to touch the fluffy blond strands but Dreams hand reaches for your wrist, holding it gently inches away with flushed cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"You look soft," You mumble and without more preamble reach for his hair again. Miraculously he doesn't stop you this time, a large bridge of blush spread over his nose all the way to his ears. Dream closes his eyes, holding his breathe as you slowly card through his soft hair.

You drag your nails across his scalp lightly and he physically melts, face unfurling with a soft trust like a flower in bloom. You smile, closing your eyes and continuing to run your hand through his hair. You don't remember how, everything feels just a bit disconjointed, but your legs are tangled up with Dream's, one hand resting gently on the back of his neck and the other on his chest. You can feel nothing but warm when he wraps his arms around you, holding you for no reason but he can.

You're still soaking up the touch, lounging across him with a languid body when Sapnap, and Cairo walk in. You peaked your eyes open to see who it was and then went back to resting next to Dream.

"Alright Y/N, we've got you a..." Sapnap's jaw was on the ground, his brain fumbling so hard to remember what he was doing. "Blanket. Got you a blanket."

"Wow Y/N," Cairo says, walking over. You can hear the grin in her voice and so you open your eyes as she steps up to Dream's side of the bed. Xer eyes are puffy and red, cheeks wet with tears. "Never thought I'd see the day you and Dream made up."

Wordlessly you reach out and cup her cheek, cooing at how easily she melts into. Xyr lips tremble softly. Slowly, like she's nervous about speaking, she starts. "Sorry I didn't... You— looked dead. We got there and I thought you..."

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm okay," You shush xyr, brushing soothing lines on xeir cheek. She sniffles heavily, taking a deep breath in. "I'm alive, Cairo. I'll always be here, sweetheart."

"Yeah," She nods after a second. "Sorry just give me a second."

"Sooooo," Sapnap starts in the lull. He lifts the blanket with a bit of effort, showing off the softness. "Blanket or no blanket?"

You roll your eyes, relaxing back into Dreams chest. His arms reflexively tighten and you realize distantly that he's asleep. "Yes, Sapnap. C'mon over."

He seems to bounce over happily, throwing the blanket over the two of you and moving to tuck you guys in.

"Nope," You happily say, grabbing Sapnaps wrist and dragging him over to sit on the bed. You throw a leg over him and his face is already ablaze with a harsh blush. "Cuddle time."

"Wha—dude!" He frowns, looking awfully shy for someone like him. "You're already cuddling with Dream. This bed isn't big enough."

"We'll squeeze in," You say pushing his shoulder down to rest on the bed. When he still doesn't look completely convinced, you pout. "C'mon Sap, you're not really going to tell the injured guy he can't get any cuddles. Please, Sappy."

"Aww okay," He huffs, not looking at your face. "As long as you guys don't mind."

"Just go to bed, Snapmap," Dream groans, turning to hide his face in the back of your neck. You open your arms and Sapnap burrows himself into your chest, mumbling something softly under his breath before he relaxes.

You drift off to sleep again, brain humming in satisfaction.

{《☆》}

[I wanted this to be longer but I had to keep the Tumblr line limit in mind ueueueu]

[I spent so long working on this because I procrastinated and hit a major writers block until yesterday. But yes I fit in a bunch of flirting this time, yay, and also managed to fit in the subplot of SBI being your distant family you haven't seen in ages :D.]

[The amount of cuddling in this is because I crave physical contact rn so I'm projecting. Anyway have a great day, have water, eat something, get some good dozing in. I love you all /p!]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

meeting them for the first time

pronouns: they/them summary: how you met the different members of the dream smp. requested: no a/n: my first mcyt preference! + i'm vv tempted to write lil imagines about these! tw: couple swear words and slight tw on wilbur's one for creepy ass pervs :) wc: 0.7k including: dream, george, sapnap, quackity, karl, wilbur (might include more later)

dream:

you were a big streamer and referred to as 'dream's competition' since you also speed ran minecraft, and were doing v well on twitch and youtube. the whole internet compared you two to each other, and basically declared you as enemies

he had heard of you but never really looked into your content, but one day he decided to check in, expecting you to be a stuck-up, cocky bitch, but he was surprised af! you were so nice!! and wholesome!! how could people assume he hated you?!

he messaged you after your stream telling you how he actually enjoyed it and that he in no way, shape or form hates you, and you told him how you loved his content too and found him to be super cool!! so technicallyyyyy it wasn't meeting face-to-face, but you felt a connection straight away!

george:

you were online friends with badboyhalo and skeppy and there was a running inside joke that you were in a poly relationship with them. so one day, bbh and skeppy asked dream if you could hang out in the smp for a bit. dream of course said yeah :)

you were on call with bad, skeppy, dream and george, giving you a tour and having an overall good laugh! and poor little gogy started gaining feelings for you out of the blue but he was convinced you were dating bbh and skeppy, and when he brought it up- oh boy, did dream LAUGH!!

you basically explained how the whole poly thing was a joke :) so maybe george does have a chance after all ;)

sapnap:

he met you at a book store, he was looking for some manga that was very rare and the only place he saw it was at this small book store. as you were looking for a text book for school since you were starting your first year of university and you knew the kind, old man that ran the shop

sapnap was struggling to find the manga and you offered to help. he was shocked that a super pretty person just approached him!! vv flustered :)

he wimped out and didn't ask for your number but he kept going back to the book store in hopes of finding you and he wasn't disappointed !!

candle girl type beat

quackity:

he was starting law school and alex was vv nervous. his leg was bouncing up and down at his desk, waiting for the teacher to walk in and start the lesson already. it seemed like no one wanted to sit near him, but maybe he was just being paranoid??

he heard his voice being called as he looked up to see you! you looked different, very different. you looked gorgeous! you used to go to his high school before you moved, but he remembered you as the quiet kid in the back of the classroom, but he was thrilled that someone he knew was there!!

you sat in the seat next to him and he was genuinely so happy! you started talking and agreed to hang out and catch up some more after class :)

karl:

you were around eighteen when you joined the mrbeast crew, you were seen as the 'adorable-comicrelief-wholesome-amazing-hilarious-brilliant-memberofthecrew' or just simply the 'favourite' :)

karl was just the camera man when he met you. you were just doing one of the 'last to leave' challenges and karl was getting some close-ups, but you just started having a whole ass conversation with him because you were extremely bored and wanted to know more about the cute camera man :)

he pretty much just recorded you the whole time since he was so distracted <3

wilbur:

he was on the empty tube late at night, earbuds in, listening to music, absolutely tired. a couple meters away he heard two voices talking making him look up. a creepy ass man was talking to a very uncomfortable you. he was slowly edging closer to you as you were trying to get as far away as possible

wilbur was immediately on alert mode and decided enough was enough and stepped in. wil pretended to know you, making the man back off. you were a bit emotional so he stayed by your side

he walked you home since you were visibly scared. overall, wilbur felt like he needed to protect you at all costs straight away

how they asked you out

pronouns: they/them summary: how the different members of the dream smp asked you out. requested: no a/n: tysm for 200 followers! + preference requests are open! tw: some swear words wc: 0.6k including: dream, george, sapnap, quackity, karl, wilbur

dream:

it was obvious dream was into you, anyone could tell, he just acts vv different with you compared to how he acts with everyone else

he decided to give you a challenge!! if you beat him in bed wars he would do whatever you wanted, but if he won, you would go on a date with him. clay had NEVER been so focused in his entire life

you lost (oh well, it's not like you did it on purpose... right?) and he was like "well, about that dateeeeee ;)" and you could just tell that he was being serious

george:

bby boy was v nervous and had to call dream and sapnap before he told you for an extra boost of confidence (dream wasn't much help, but nick tried his best)

you were staying with george for a while (alex/karl meet-up type beat) and it was going good but he didn't want to ruin it :( but when you finished your first of many livestreams, you both sat down and started watching a movie. you were both sitting awfully close and he sort of just spurted it out by accident

he was vv flustered, but luckily you felt the same <3

sapnap:

ngl, out of everyone, he would be the most anxious to tell you he likes you and i stand by that

you were both spending a night out in the town and sapnap was debating if it was a date or not, he kept zoning out (which definitely concerned you) but he was just vv deep in though and kept overthinking ever little thing

towards the end of the night he straight up said "thanks for the date" and his face FELL and he was just stuttering out apologies, but you were vv happy that he saw it as a date bc you did too!! that was his way of telling you his likes you <3

can you tell that i love him?

quackity:

we can all agree that alex gives MAJOR jealous vibes (seen on the stream he did with bad recently) and when he saw you on call with bbh in your OWN free time- he flipped!

you were a bit upset and confused to why he was being so hostile and he was pissed that he had to spell it out. so quackity sat you down and told you how he felt, and how he felt when you were talking with darryl :/

it was a very angst to fluff moment, but it all worked out in the end!!

karl:

after a while of being an official member of the mrbeast crew, karl decided that he wanted to tell you how he feels since chris convinced him that you may feel the same

jimmy made this whole ass plan (great wingman) as a way for karl to confess to you !! he wanted it to be big :) fireworks! lights! the whole eight miles! and when you arrived, chris, chandler and jimmy launched the fireworks which spelled out 'i like you! - k' and you just KNEW what the 'k' stood for

very giggly hugs and cheek kisses!

fuck, i've made myself sad with my own writing

wilbur:

this boy KNEW you liked him but was just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you that he felt the same!!

it was on a road trip, (stream now!) his hand was on your upper thigh and the music was softly playing on the radio and he sort of just glanced at you and told you how he felt. SUPER nonchalant about it, but inside he was nervous

it was a very memorable moment and overall adorable <3

he's so cute pls-

Masterlist

Ranboo

Board Game

Movie Watching

Tubbo

Board Game

Movie Watching

Technoblade

Board Game

Movie Watching

Karl

Board Game

Movie Watching

Dream

none yet

Georgenotfound

none yet

JackManifoldTV

Baking with The Manifold

Corpse Husband

none yet

Fundy

Movie watching

oodles-o-noodles masterpost

requests are open

about me — hi, i’m oodles or mj! (any pronouns.) the dsmp has been on my mind for the longest of times, so i decided to start an ‘x reader’ and sometimes 'x cc!,/c!/au!' blog.

about this blog — in this blog, i’ll be writing for the dsmp men that includes imagines, scenarios, blurbs, headcanons, etc.

dsmp people i write for — dream, sapnap, george, corpse, tubbo, tommy, ranboo, jack, quackity, fundy, c!techno, and foolish <to expand>

If anyone is uncomfortable with being written for, I will need where they said that, and I will remove it immediately!

requests are open! so, feel free to send in any you have. anything i am not comfortable with writing will be on my rules!

Here is my masterlist

c!Dream Masterlist

Request Here! | Berry Rules! | Masterlist Navigation

~ Reader Insert Works ( c!Dream x Reader ) ~

Twin Flames (Request) GN!Reader Dream finally finds someone who makes him feel alive.

Jailbreak (Request) - GN!Reader You missed your boyfriend. Too bad he had to go and get himself in prison. Well… Nothing you couldn’t fix.

Manhunt (Request) - Fem!Reader First impressions aren’t always correct…

Closer (Enemies To Lovers - Request) - GN! Reader Knowing your enemies, and the consequences that came after that.Under The Weather (Headcanon) - GN! Reader How they react to you being ill

~ Headcanons ~

Do You Need A Place To Stay“ - GN! Reader - Platonic

Forger/Blacksmith!Reader - GN! Reader

Snippets In Time  - GN! Reader

Incorrect Dream Smp x Reader Quotes

Rainy Day - GN! Reader - Can be read as Platonic

Breathless

Pairing: Dream / Clay x asthmatic!gn!reader

Summary: Life with a chronic illness isn’t always easy, and some days are more difficult than others, but you always manage to find yourself breathing a little easier with Clay by your side.

Warnings: tw// depiction of asthma & asthma attack

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: my second commissioned story! this work has been altered from its original form so that everyone can read it, but the plot and writing remain largely the same. this was more specific and required more research than the stories i typically write, but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless! <3

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