𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 y/n tries to win her boyfriend's attention away from his stream, but achieves her goal in a way she didn't expect.
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𝐚𝐤𝐚 "you better not call me needy ever again miss 'i'm gonna set the house on fire'
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, this fic includes (a small) accidental fire and the reader getting a lil hurt. if any of these might make you uncomfortable, please don't subject yourself to it! be safe darlings!
* .·. ✵* * ⊹ ˚ ✵.. ⊹ *✦ *
Y/n aimed her weapon carefully, pulling back her arm and preparing herself to let go. The fuzzy, recently laundered, balled-up pair of socks in her grip seemed to shake with anticipation, her fingernails lightly digging into the fabric. When the moment was right, she hurled it at her target, watching as the projectile landed exactly where she wanted it to: Dream's head.
The man in question flinched when he felt it bounce off of his hair, reaching up a hand to feel the spot it had touched, but pulling away quickly when he learned that it hadn't left a mess. Now that he had confirmed that whatever had hit him hadn't done any harm, he returned focus to the game ahead of him, voice making no indication that he'd even been bothered.
"Alright I think this could honestly be a good one, just need to find a lava pool."
Y/n wrinkled her nose at his lack of response. She squinted her eyes and settled her gaze on the monitors he was speaking to. On one side was the game, his lime-green character running around in third perspective, a timer counting down in the upper left corner of the screen. On the other monitor was his chat, moving at unspeakable speeds and seemingly unaware of her presence.
Y/n glanced to her left, finding the stack of fresh laundry that she'd claimed the first sock-ball from. Gently, so that he would be none-the-wiser, she picked up another pair and aimed.
This ball landed closer to his shoulder, rolling off of him and onto the keyboard. Unfortunately for Y/n, it didn't weigh enough to actually press any keys. It did, however, disturb his movements for a second.
"Oh whoops, finger slipped," Clay excused into his microphone, brushing the socks off to the side and pointedly ignoring the huff Y/n made on the other side of the room.
She looked to the laundry stack, scooping up all the socks she couch find, lightly tossing the first one at him again. Before Clay even had a chance to react, she threw the next, which was quickly followed by a third. Her new plan was to just throw so many that he couldn't brush it off.
The socks hit Dream in various places, most bouncing off of his head and back, but a few made their way onto his keyboard. He remained still, refusing to acknowledge any of them, simply flicking the ones that got in his way to the other side of the desk, where they couldn't be a bother. By the time Y/n had finally run out of ammunition, he was completely undisturbed, his chat entirely unaware that he had just been under attack.
