DreamSMP one-shots ||

// If I could see your face once more, I could die a happy man I'm sure //

Hey I'm rlly proud of this :)

Btw sorry the format is different than the usual chapters, I'm posting more of these oneshots to ao3 and it's much easier to write them this way to copy/paste them over 👍

Anywho here's some angsty hurt/comfort beeduo to fill the void (all platonic you fucks dont be weird)

Title inspired by "All I want" by Kodaline

TW/CW: Scars, execution, burns/blisters, death, PTSD, panic attacks, verbal argument
~

It was a night like any other. Tubbo had sat to the right of little Michael on his racecar bed, while Ranboo sat on the floor, leaning over the side to get a good view of the book Tubbo held in his right hand. The left half of the book splayed open over Michael's short legs as Tubbo read the book for what felt like the millionth time this month.

Today had been long, Michael had decided to wake them up extra early when he'd noticed snowflakes drifting from the skies onto a thick layer of snow outside his window. Snow wasn't uncommon in a place with it quite literally in the place's name, and even still, Michael hurried to put on his puffy jacket like the snow would disappear at any moment and he'd miss it completely.

Ranboo and Tubbo had taken him outside when they all had the proper attire, leaving the warm mansion for weather that was unforgivingly biting. Michael enjoyed it anyway, and Ranboo even helped him build a snowman.

Later once they'd all gone inside, they would drink hot chocolate and do activities in the comfortable confines of the wooden mansion. Tubbo would chase Michael down the never ending halls, they'd watch movies and play and be the family that Ranboo always wanted, the family Tubbo never knew he needed, the family that Michael absentmindedly, innocently cherished.

Tubbo loved days like these, where he didn't need to travel or work on anything important or worry. He could be with the ones he loved, even if it was pleasantly exhausting.

Soon enough Micheal would drift off into a peaceful sleep, and Ranboo and Tubbo would tip-toe out of the bedroom, flicking the lights off and making their way to their own.

Tubbo swayed on his feet halfway down the hall as Ranboo caught his arm. "Sleepy, I see." Ranboo says as he distantly thinks; maybe Tubbo was losing his balance from almost tripping over his own feet. After all, his brunette curls acted as a thick curtain that covered the older boy's eyes, and yet he refused to cut them.

"Ah, yeah. The snow wore me out." He forces a small laugh, and Ranboo doesnt let go of his hand. Deep down, he knew that Tubbo wouldn't get an hour of sleep. These days, Tubbo had insomnia gripping him in a fist so tight, so unrelenting and unforgiving. Why, exactly— Ranboo didn't know.

What he did know, was that he supposed he'd murder someone if it meant his husband could get even a single good night's rest.

The exhaustion showed; it always did. When the curtain swayed at the flick of Tubbo's neck, Ranboo could easily make out eyebags as dark as the night for only split seconds at a time. It showed in Tubbo's delayed reactions to Ranboo's horrible dad jokes. It showed in the way that Tubbo struggled to get himself out of bed every morning as if he was weighed down by bricks inside his chest.

But Ranboo wouldn't comment on it no matter how much it bothered him, no matter how much the fatigue radiated off him onto Ranboo like the sun's merciless rays to a desert.

"Michael seemed to have a good time. Maybe we should take him out more often, don't you think?" Ranboo suggests, closing their door behind them.

Tubbo hums. "I don't see why not, he is getting older after all. I just want him to be safe, you know?"