Dreamnoblade one shots for funsies

Masque of the green death (Pt.2)

Dream woke up with a sigh. He had another job today, which was never fun. His profession was cathartic, yes, but not particularly joy inducing. After getting ready, donning the flashy green cloak he was known for, as well as the mask that helped him cover his suspicious eyes, he stood outside the mansion. Inhaling, he soaked up the beautiful scenery, savored the feeling of snow delicately falling on his hair, the fresh frost nipping at his ears. Exhaling, he prepared his mind for what was to come.

Once he slipped in, it was just as he expected, the same stench of alcohol mixed with sweat, the same humid crowd of bodies draped in money, his only hope was that tonight would be quick. Instantly, he found his target, Technoblade, who was hosting the party, and stared him down. Others had different methods to draw attention, but this was his preferred one, a technique that just slowly unnerved them. Staring drew less attention from the useless crowd anyways.

Catching his target's eye, he prepared to be confronted, that's what usually happened, but Technoblade was doing no such thing, he was only standing there, looking at him, probably judging him if experience was anything to go off of. It wasn't that rare for a target to be too haute to initiate the conversation, especially if he suspected Dream to be a peasant, so seeking to get this over with, he approached the host.

Looking closer, Technoblade wasn't looking at him with disgust or contempt, it was closer to curiosity, maybe even fascination. Which, interesting. Did that mean he didn't perceive Dream as a threat? Dream had been told many times that his presence caused targets to get vague premonitions about how dangerous he is, a chill down their spine when they made eye contact, perhaps Technoblade doesn't get that feeling.

Either way, it wouldn't erase the fact that the jewel encrusted man was his target, and therefore must be put down a peg, so Dream used his tried and true strategy when his target wouldn't immediately yell at him, taking away their power. He extended his hand, the traditional offer to dance. A few would scoff at even the suggestion, but Technoblade took his hand. Beneath his mask, he smirked. This would be fun.

Dream virtually dragged Technoblade into position, forcibly taking the lead from the oh so powerful manly man in front of him. When Technoblade didn't immediately back away in humiliation, Dream lead him, rushed and free form, or rather, Dream danced and pulled Technoblade through it like a rag doll. The more he didn't resist, the greater it became as Dream ran wild on the dance floor, not shameful as he let out his daily frustrations through movement. He assumed that Technoblade was being dragged around, stumbling through the steps, and only staying upright because of him, but once he paid attention, he realized that he was wrong. Technoblade, however clumsily, was dancing with him, feet finding their places on the ground and torso twisting to emphasize the motion. Soon the dance became truly fun.

They spun through the crowd, who flowed around them like water around a boulder, bodies pressed together intimately in one moment, then feet away the next. Dream was in full control as they ebbed in and around each other, but Technoblade never slowed down, always intent on keeping up with their dance. It was exciting, it was exhilarating, like little else had been before.

Unfortunately, all things must end, so when the music he had barely paid attention to eventually came to a dramatic conclusion, Dream gave their dance a conclusion as well, bringing Technoblade into a low dip, beneath him, completely at his mercy. The heavy breathing from below betrayed the significant difference in stamina, perhaps his exhaustion was why he hadn't snapped yet. Part of Dream wanted to keep dancing, but it would be better to not drag this on, he still despised the party after all, the dancing only moderately helped.

Leaning close to Technoblade's ear, he used the menacing whisper he had perfected. The only one who had heard it other than Dream's targets, was George, a close friend and coworker, who, upon hearing it, had immediately jerked back in an animalistic display of fear, frantically advising Sapnap to not subject himself to it. "Dream." He prodded. His name. The proof he wasn't invited, that he doesn't belong.