for the @dreamteamfanficarchive prompt swap, and for @monifoundlove :D
To Be Loved and Found Magical
“So when you say investigate…?” Dream says, cocking his head.
George shrugs. “We’ll go look through the woods. See if we can find tracks or something.”
“I’m terrible at hunting.”
“Well, I’m not going into the woods alone. So.”
“I- I’ll be a liability. I’m clumsy, you know I’m clumsy, George. I’ll probably- step on the tracks. If there are any.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” George says dryly. It is a little strange, how Dream nearly looks sick at the notion. Maybe it’s the thought of being around George for so long. Maybe he just doesn’t like blood, or death. Whichever it is, George isn’t letting him out of it.
Dream’s shoulders slump. “Alright, fine. When do we start?”
George purses his lips like he’s really thinking about it. “Better get out there bright and early tomorrow.” He’s never seen Dream outside of his house before noon. “I’ll meet you at yours- say, an hour after dawn. Dress for walking.”
or; something is killing the village sheep, and it's up to dream and george to get to the bottom of the mystery
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
George drops his head into his hands, digging the heels into his eyes in a futile attempt to chase away the lines of code swimming in his vision. It helps a bit, the pressure a grounding distraction from the floaty feeling of staring into a screen, and he rolls the motion into a stretch of his arms above his head, kicking his legs out until the muscles strain and his toes brush the bottom of the bench opposite him.
This is, of course, the exact moment that the world falls off its axis.
my fic for the community house big bang!! childhood friends to strangers to lovers dnf inspired by skinny dipping by sabrina carpenter :D
my fic for @karkatminecraft for sappy's halloween exchange!!
sorry this is so late >_<
true love and other terrible things (2888 words) by cqfnce
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Video Blogging RPF
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Characters: Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Additional Tags: POV Outsider, Arranged Marriage, crack fic lowkey lmao, Falling In Love, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Summary:
And now, he’s looking at George, knife and all, with hearts in his eyes, and the fluffy ears that give away his wolf perked up like he’s smelled a steak cooking. He’s swooning, over the prince he’d introduce to Sapnap as a man he hates, holding a knife to his throat. Sapnap is trapped in a shitty romance novel—and he’d thought he was in for his own odyssey, like a damn fool.
or; dream and george hate the arrangement of their marriage, and they hate each other, so they decide to run away together with sapnap along for the ride
“Did you catch anything?” Dream asks, and George shakes his head. Dream frowns, mouth opening to ask another question, or maybe suggest a new spot to try—he’s taken to asking his family for their secret places, which melts George into an irreparable puddle of goo—but George kisses the words from his tongue with an easy slide of his hand down Dream’s face to tilt his head at the right angle.
They don’t talk more of fishing, or anything at all. The bag lies nearly forgotten, save for the soft press of it against George’s memory, a sister awareness to the physical press of Dream’s body to his as they sink into sleep.
George dreams often of things he once desired.
or; george catches memories lost to time instead of fish
read on ao3
my fic for @dnfity’s exchange!! written for @sappymix1 :33
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
George stretches languidly on the prop bed, naked save for the light gold jewelry that adorns his body. A chain around his neck, pooling in the dips of his collarbones. Dainty anklets that catch the light should his alpha positions him with his legs in the air. A heavier bracelet around his right wrist that he idly brings to his mouth now, fitting his teeth to the metal in a show of boredom.
It’s all part of the act, of course. A pretty omega dressed like something precious, just waiting for an alpha to come along and save him, or whatever the plot of today’s video is meant to be. Dream likes to get creative with them—says it makes their content stand out. George indulges him if only to see the excited shine in his eyes when the numbers climb and climb.
He rolls onto his stomach now, breathing in the pillows like he’s trying to catch a hint of alpha in them. They’re just as fake as the rest of the set, smelling only of laundry detergent and whoever had fluffed them up before the cameras started rolling. A beta, their scent hazy and indistinct.
George wonders if their eyes are on him now. Wonders how many views this video will hit when it goes up—they only ever seem to grow, and George preens a little at the thought, letting it burn through him as he rolls his hips into the bed.
He’s not meant to get too far along on his own—god forbid an omega take their own pleasure—so he keeps his movements small, almost hidden, if he weren’t under bright lights, captured by the hungry eyes of cameras greedy for his every move.
1.5k words of soft dnfies and George's new fishing vest ;3
🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟
Dream has been contemplating getting up, leaving his bedroom, being productive, for at least an hour when George walks into the room.
The blue crate in his arms gives away the purpose of the visit, and Dream immediately puts aside any stressing about getting work done—this is a ritual that requires his full attention.
There are many small habits that go into living together, ways that the three of them orbit around each other. Sapnap and George have all kinds of deals about making content together. Dream and Sapnap take over the theater room for big sporting events, and Dream and George do things like this.
The box George carries is one of three, usually kept near the front door. Dream’s mom comes over once or twice a week to fill the boxes—green, blue, orange—with sorted items from the PO box. Dream tends to pick his own up as soon as they’re dropped by, and Sapnap’s is often emptied in the afternoon when he comes back from the gym and thinks to grab it. George likes to bring his into Dream’s room, where the two of them can look over everything together.
No offense to the fans, but Dream thinks George probably gets the best stuff out of the three of them. It probably helps that he makes it easy to associate things with him, and Dream has never related more to people he hasn’t met when he sees all the thoughtful little gifts they find for George.
He swings his legs over the side of his bed, shoves his comforter back to make room for George to sit beside him, box balanced carefully on his lap. Dream leans in, trying to get a preview of it, but George elbows him away immediately.
“Leave it,” he says, on a kick with the dog jokes recently, for some reason. “I haven’t even looked in yet.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“It could be,” George says. “Maybe I was waiting to look with you.”
“But you won’t let me look.”
George ignores him, instead sticking his hand in the box. Dream makes a point of not letting his eyes drop, instead staring intently at the side of George’s head. He forgets his original purpose in an embarrassing amount of time, thinking about how kissable George’s cheek looks. He gets an unimpressed glare and a hand to his chest when he leans in a little bit, George’s first prize lifted in the air between them.
It’s, predictably, a minion of some kind. George squeezes it, the material giving a little around his fingers. “You’re mum put batteries in already,” he says, fingers finding a switch on the bottom that turns the thing on—some sort of nightlight, very yellow and blue.
Dream rolls his eyes fondly. His mom has such a soft spot for George.
George hands the nightlight to Dream, and he dutifully places it in his own lap, waiting for the next item to emerge.
As is usual for this activity, Dream spends most of the time watching George’s face. He reacts visibly to every item, eyebrows raising in joy and lips always tugged up in a smile. When Dream isn’t looking at his face, he watches careful fingers feel soft shirts and poke at the little rock statues that haven’t stopped appearing in either Dream or George’s piles since the PO box was opened. They could probably start a glass animal army, at this point.
One of the items is still in its package, though it’s clearly been placed back in after being opened. There’s a note left on it in Dream’s mom’s neat writing. No idea what this is!
George opens it warily, handing a piece of paper to Dream and fiddling with some sort of keychain, judging by the flash of metal. “Omegaverse fragrance diffuser,” Dream reads. He thinks he knows what all of those words mean on their own. Not by his own free will. “What- my mom read this,” he groans, dropping the paper to the floor and his head into his hands.
“It says good omega,” George reads, in an American accent for reasons Dream can’t decipher. “It’s like one of those Andrew Tate things.”
He swings the keychain once on his finger, which Dream sees after lifting his head, not wanting to be deprived of prime George viewing time by his torment. He holds out a hand, and George drops the keychain on his palm. It does say good omega.
“Anything else left?” he asks, trying once again to get a look in the box. His lap is pretty much entirely covered in stuff, and they’ve been at it for the longer end of how long it usually takes. Not that Dream is complaining—he could do just this for the rest of his life and die so, so happy.
“One more thing,” George says, pulling the crate out of his lap and out of Dream’s sight, and grabbing the last thing from it. “I think I was meant to see this last.”
And Dream would believe it. The last item out of the box is a vest, tan and very rich in pockets. Most intriguingly—and what makes both Dream and George stare for a moment in awe—are the patches and pins decorating it. Dream hardly gets a chance to take them in before George is standing, working the button open and unzipping it to slip his arms through. Absentmindedly, Dream grabs the box back to tuck all the items carefully back in while George has his back to him, zipping the vest over his shirt.
He turns back with a little flourish, and Dream can’t help the silly grin that takes over his face looking at him.
“Look, they like, thought everything out,” George says, fingers running over the patches and pins. “There’s minions,” he taps the pocket with a Minions patch, “and my pins.” Dream sends a silent thank you to his past self for starting a merch company, if only so he could see the absolute delight in George’s eyes now as he taps a nail against the pins on the lower pockets.
“It looks good on you.” Dream pushes himself to his feet, steps close enough that he can touch for himself—the soft skin of George’s neck first, and then a fish patch that sits on his collarbone. “Have you caught all of these?”
“No,” George says with a quick shake of his head. “And I could be wrong but I think they’re all Florida fish. So, in theory, I could-”
Dream cuts him off with a kiss. It’s not that he wants George to stop talking, ever, but he wants to taste the words on his lips, to feel George’s excitement buzzing against his skin as he slides his hands up to George’s neck, tangles his fingers in his curls and tilts his head up.
George huffs a little into the kiss, but he presses back into it, his own hands falling to Dream’s waist and yanking him closer in a move that almost takes both of them down with the way Dream stumbles over his own feet.
“Idiot,” George murmurs into Dream’s mouth, chasing his words with a bite to Dream’s lower lip.
“Tell me more about the fish.” Dream grins, trailing his fingers down George’s spine, over the cotton of the vest, and back up.
“No.” George gets a hand on his chest again, pushes him back a little. “You are not allowed to be a freak over this. It’s my fishing vest.”
Dream tucks his chin close to his chest, flutters his lashes. “I’m not being a freak. I just want to learn about the fish. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” George scoffs.
“Can I at least take it off?”
George looks at him with narrowed eyes, shaking his head as if entirely baffled. As if Dream has ever hidden how much he likes all of George’s clothes. “Fine,” he says after a few moments. “But be careful.”
Dream scoffs, stepping forward again. “Of course,” he says, softer than he’d meant for it to come out.
He undoes the single button in the middle of the zipper first, careful not to tug too hard at it. With a quick flicker of his eyes to George’s, he smooths back the bit of fabric with the hole out of the way as he uses his other hand to drag the zipper down. And it’s not sensual in a heated way, but Dream does glow with at the chance to take care of George, to show devotion to something that he loves. He leans forward for another kiss when the zipper slides all the way down, helps George shrug the vest off with a kiss to his cheek that brings forward a splash of color on George’s skin.
“You can hang it in my closet for now if you want,” Dream offers a little shyly, holding the fabric out for George to take. He does, their fingers brushing, and Dream follows him in to point out a hanger for him to use—and to admire George’s clothes nestled in with Dream’s.
