dnf one shots (mostly fluff)

in the freezer?

popo fic my best friend demanded I write

this is kinda a joke. not fluff, NOT FLUFF I REPEAT THIS IS NOT FLUFF. also no smut. just intense making out, and stuff, even though this was the perfect situation to write smut ;melts;

i proof read this like twice and absolutely hate it but oh well I am not writing it again, sorryyy <33

—

George cannot stand Dream sometimes, but it's awfully entertaining when he flushed bright cherry and red all because George said something along the lines of flirtatious. Even if it's just one word, a silly compliment doused in intentions left unnamed, he might as well be red in the face, flush down his neck in crimson hues.

Although, it's annoying when Dream does it back. But instead of simple, not so close to cautious, he says anything but. Rash, daring, in terms that change a deeper shade of strawberry and strangely, strangely infatuating. It could be how he talks, with melting venom on his tongue, flavored sweet and ivory, it could be that he's annoyingly attractive, but Dream could be a drug wearing navy for all George cares.

The brunette just really wants to kiss him. And it's worse, because they're coworkers, drive the same cruiser, with the same neon flashing blue-and-red lights.

So, it makes everything extremely hard for him to focus on, when the pretty blond stands or sits right beside him, towering and jade with intimidation that should scared George. At least a little bit.

It doesn't. Makes the craving increasingly difficult to ignore. Seriously; can one be that annoying?

Dream sure exists. So, yes, annoyingly enough, yes is the stupid answer.

And then he dyes part of his hair pink, and George could scream. He just keeps craving. Maybe, perhaps, a slight wish bathed in sin, he could tangle fingers there and dig painted nails into Dream's scalp. Maybe he could kiss that blond stupid, that stupid boy and his stupid mouth and stupid lips.

Stupid. George almost hates him for this innocently placed tourture, cast about without any sense to George and his undeniable craving he somehow managed to speak through. Even if he has to swallow away saliva far to much, choke when it gets stuck in his throat, even if he turns pink.

Stupid Dream.

He seems to enjoy their conversations, even if it's just petty insults and worse compliments, slipped and blushing pink.

Stupid.

George tries not to acknowledge the blond when they get called on some reckless driver, one rainy night, a hint of deja vu at the request. The lights on the police cruiser shine awfully bright, hurts George's eyes with neon inflictions he winces through. Having practically stumbled to the truck, he swings open the door and collapses in the drivers seat.

Dream is clearly annoyed when he grudgingly takes the passenger, door slammed in sync with George's. "I'm supposed to drive."

George manages to scowl at him. "No." And, with an unnecessary smirk that slips around crimson, "I am. Your to slow."

"You drive to fast."

George shrugs, foot hovering over the glass pedal, with the slightest hint of sour words. "Do you know what we're supposed to do?"

Chase down a driver who is driving illegally fast.

Dream stares, than blinks away. "Whatever."

The car lurches forward, and while George can only see Dream a little out of the corner of his eye, he can hear him grinning. "At least your hot when you drive."