wanna bet? | dream x Reader

September 9th 2021 | y/n

8:12 A.M

Dweamy Wittle Pissbaby🤡

Wake up come play with
me!

I groan and put my phone down. I didn't even have to look at it to know who and what it was. He texted me the same thing yesterday.

He texts me something else. I don't have the energy to look. Then my phone rings. God, can he just not care for like twenty waking minutes? I whine and stick my head under my pillow.

The vibrate is still loud next to me. He continuously calls me over and over. No matter how much I ignore him. "Dream..." I grumble. I rip the pillow from my head and answer.

"What do you want?" I ask in a sour tone. "You have to get up and eat. Now." He says softly. But it's clear how serious he is. "I don't feel like getting up," I say and bury my face in my pillow.

I hear him open and close a fridge. "That's because you have no energy. Because you haven't eaten." It comes out like a scold. "Y/n, if you don't eat I'm going to call 911. Just to make sure that you eat." He sounds like he means it.

I sit up. I swing my legs over to the side. "And turn your camera on so I have proof." I roll my eyes. I stand on my weak legs. They wobble and my stomach gurgles.

I turn my camera on and make my way to the kitchen. "I don't have anything to eat. Can I just-"

"You're not Doordashing quick food. You need to eat real food." He says to me. Not that there is any way he could stop me. "And if I do?" I open my fridge. "I don't talk to you. At all. For a while."

I set my phone on my counter. I prop it up so he can see my fridge. "Good?" I ask him. "It's good." He tells me. I stare into the fridge. I get lost in thought.

No thought in particular really. Just lost in my stance. Unable to think of the task at hand. The days when my best friends were alive. When I had someone I could trust with anything undoubtedly.

"Y/n, your fridge." I blink my eyes. The fridge beeps, letting me know it's been open too long. I close it, then open it again. I sigh and look down.

"What's that?" Dream asks. If I had any clue what he was talking about, I'd already have seen it, right? I look around the fridge once more. "Top left." He says to me.

I see a pan I recognize as my mother's. "It's my mom's lasagna she made, but..." I taper off. "Put it in the microwave." He says. I pull the pan out and set it on my counter. My head fucking throbbing.

"Mm.. Dream, my head." I brace my elbows on the cold counter to hold myself. He shifts in his chair. "That's what you get for not eating for days." He says worriedly.

He's being chill about all this, but firm too. He needs to make me aware that I have to eat and take care of myself. He's also not pressuring me to do anything like shower or stream, which is nice, because I'll probably just get mad at him.

I walk to my cupboards and take out a small plate. I open one of my drawers and grab a fork. I cut out a medium-sized piece in the pan and stick it on the plate. I set the timer for twenty-five seconds.

"Make sure I can see you." Thanks, dad. I walk over to the phone and grab it. I put the pan back in the fridge and then stop the microwave with two seconds left.