21 - 40 of 75 Works by NETHERW4RT
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In the small hours of the morning, George finds himself lonely.
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“It’s like everything else has disappeared,” George whispers.
“You’re right.”
He takes a breath, eyes falling shut to the sound of the wind rustling the treetops. “The world is full of things I hate and things I don’t need,” he says carefully, as if the words were made of glass, “but if there’s nothing when I step out of here…I wouldn’t want that, either.”
Dream looks up at him for a moment, then shifts back to rest against the leg George has propped up. “I didn’t know you were so romantic,” he teases, softer than any of the surrounding flora and fauna.
When George only smiles and turns his head to the sky, Dream reaches his arm out and levers himself on George’s shoulder; it catches his attention away from the twinkling stars. He pulls himself up, slower than time itself, and presses the softest of kisses into the flaming pink of the brunet’s cheek.
He laughs, childlike and carefree, shimmering in the moonlight as Dream moves back, and says, “That tickles.”
Or, the DNF A Whisker Away AU.
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“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, directed partially at the plan and partially at Dream, “and so, so cliché.”
“A little predictability never hurt anyone,” Dream replies, wringing his hands together around themselves; the nerves are already getting to him, but it’s not like he’s going to be going back on anything anytime soon.
“Except anyone who’s ever lost a war or something.”
“You’re comparing my proposal plan to a war?”
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Apparently his weak and shaky begging (pitiful, even—if only he had the voice to plead for more without it breaking and cracking in such a miserable form of desire) isn’t enough to satisfy Dream; his hand remains there, fingers ever so slowly and gently tapping in unknown rhythm against his thigh. He doesn’t move it further, doesn’t squeeze around the flesh or dig his nails into it—he simply keeps it there, dormant in all but his fingertips. It goes on and on and on, a seemingly endless loop of skin pressing into skin, fuzzy numbness seeping into a feeling of static in George’s knees until he’s even more shaky than before. His head is spinning so, so fast, but there’s not a single useful thought inside of it; everything is screaming Dream and please and fuck me.
“Show me,” Dream whispers, finally, all rasp and floating with the high of a sin he shares with George. “Show me how you can fall apart—how you can break.”
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It’s a joke, really, even as he slides soft fabric over his head and lets it bunch up around his waist before evening out with gravity. The cloth is form-fitting—a large—and Dream chuckles to himself at the thought of the same size falling all the way to George’s thighs. He stares at himself in the mirror, fixing the sleeves and continuously flattening the rest of the hoodie against himself.
Nothing special, he muses, just a hoodie.
illecebrous - (adj.)
alluring, attractive, enticing. -
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“George?”
“Mmh?”
A hand leaves George’s hair, much to his lighthearted chagrin. “Awake enough for a New Year’s kiss?”
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I Think We Should Kiss (My Friends Do, Too) by NETHERW4RT for crimsvn, eveluvspatches
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF
26 Dec 2021
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George glances up and offers a friendly smile. “Hello Dream.”
The same time Dream stiffens, Sapnap raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, uh, hey—hi, uh, George Davidson. Hello. Haha, uh, yeah. Cool. You—I mean—never mind. Hi.”
“Nice save,” Karl mouths sarcastically and Dream wishes he had missed it out of the corner of his eye. He’s rightfully elbowed in the side by the blond as divine punishment (or something like that).
Or, Dream is head over heels for the smartest kid in his grade and his friends are tired of hearing about it. So, with a little inside help, they give him a much-needed push in the right direction.
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Sapnap cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “You’re dressing up too? I thought you hated Halloween.”
The blond scoffs. “I don’t hate it. It’s just…kinda childish, I guess.” He pauses, running his tongue across his bottom lip. “But you like it,” Dream adds, “so we should dress up together. That’s what I think.”
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“You just have no shame.”
“Maybe,” and Dream brushes a few hazel swirls away from pools of sparkling golden, “or maybe I’m just in love with you.”
In place of the silence, George kisses him again.
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In Starlight (I Could Call You Mine) by NETHERW4RT for fawninq
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF
17 Sep 2021
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A breath pushes out of George’s lungs—something fragile, in between a laugh and a scoff. “We were supposed to be watching the stars,” he says, “but all you’ve been doing is looking at me.”
Or, a night of stargazing with Dream and George.
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“So why did you?”
The words George has been dreading since Dream stepped foot into his house. “Why did you let me stay?” Dream takes another step forward, and George is hyper aware of how close they are to each other. If George really focuses, he swears he can feel the heat from Dream’s arm against his own, from inches apart.
“Because you…looked like shit,” George says, meeting his eyes.
Dream stares unwaveringly back. “What’s the real reason, George?”
The rise and fall of the Dream Team hit Dream hard—harder than it did George and Sapnap.
Maybe here, in the pouring rain, on the front doorstep of the house that belongs to someone who might want him dead more than anyone else, he’ll get a second chance.
And Dream is certainly not opposed to groveling or begging.
Series
- Part 1 of Ad Lib to the Upbeat
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A Wild DREAMNOTFOUND Appeared! by NETHERW4RT for shiyunn, cosmofire, moonlvster
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF
04 Sep 2021
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“Uh, so, sorry to bother—”
“Oh, uh, oh my god, you’re—you’re not Sapnap.”
“—you? What?”
EISGC and their weird encounter with DNF in the wild (or just at DreamCon)!
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“I’ll belong to you so long as you belong to me; you’re—” his heart falters and for a brief moment he feels lightheaded “—you’re all I want.”
In the distance, he can hear the roaring of thunder clouds rolling in as the wind picks up around them; Dream’s lips are moving, forming addictive words that are much softer, much sweeter than the husky rumble of “I’m all you have.”
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“I want to kiss you,” Dream announces suddenly, then frowns at the sigh that drags between George’s teeth.
“It’s too early for that, darling,” he responds, disheartened, fingers slotting together over his torso whilst fiddling and tapping at his knuckles because he knows if left alone for too long they will start to reach out for Dream on their own. “It’s not our fault that we’re bound to the cosmos.”
“I wish we weren’t.”
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Day 1: Meet-Cute Day
“Right.” He stiffens a little as he shuffles a few of his things through the door. “Mind the noise and…whatever,” he mumbles, pulling a hand through the front of his golden bangs. “I’m not really one for formalities. I’m Dream, you’re my roommate, blah, blah, yeah?”
Sapnap snorts a bit and absentmindedly gnaws the oncoming grin off his bottom lip. “Yeah, sure, gotcha. Sapnap, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you then,” the no-longer-a-stranger says, seeming to be fighting off a grin of his own (spoiler alert: he’s not doing as great of a job as Sapnap is).
“Yeah, you too, dude.”
Or, Sapnap and Dream are mildly annoying roommates. Things work out just fine.
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All at once, Exdy drops to his feet and the wings retract into his back. The terrifying aura vanishes and his body even shrinks until he’s only a few feet taller than George, rather than a building’s size. “Hi, George,” he says, voice echoey and spacy.
George can’t help but grin the tiniest bit; watching the god go from terrifying to this state of reserved power was always rather amusing, especially when he knew it was because of him. He knew Exdy was terrified of scaring him, so he made himself seem as human as possible. It was sweet, really. “Hi,” the Brit replies. “Any particular reason you’re here, or just to say hello?”
“I missed you,” Exdy continues, and it catches George off-guard. “It had been a few days since we had last spoken.”
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George is fairly proud of himself today—not only are the tickets he bought cheaper than usual, but the movie is practically abandoned during his chosen showtime. It’s the perfect movie date, catering especially to his distaste for large crowds; a godsend, one might call it.
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Silly grins, boisterous laughs, and flushed cheeks are not for him; they are not Dream’s to claim and they are not directed his way. He wishes they were—he truly, desperately wishes—but the stars will not fall to his whim and the moon will not shine for his pleas.
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This is where everything crashes and burns. George knows that. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe as the younger scans his eyes across the page, seemingly taking in every word. He can’t blame him, either, there’s certainly a lot there that he wouldn’t have told Dream at all, even if he had gotten to a point where he felt like confessing was a great idea (he is—was—a firm believer that it never would be).
“George, is this—?”
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Dream thinks that it’s perfect—though he thinks everything about George is perfect—but this is different and better in every way. The fireworks fizzle away into sparklers, ever-glowing and crackling with affection, yet it’s softer now; there’s no eruption, there’s no booming burst that shakes the ground or vibrates through the air. There’s only Dream and George and the accumulation of their shared love and it’s perfect.
It’s love.