Dream has lived a long, Fae life- he's still living it. A couple centuries old, but still young, Dream is notorious for his line of work. He was once foolish and rebellious, but now, he knows better than to make mistakes. You can call him an assassin, a mercenary, a hitman, whichever one, it doesn't matter. What matters is that Dream does his job and he's good at it. When a certain mortal stumbles across his path, will Dream change his ways? Cover artist: sanek_molodes (on Instagram) Possible TWs: Swearing Blood Death Violence Abuse Gore Angst Sad warning- but also bunch of fluff too, so ya know, keep your head up :) 9/2/2021 - #9 in shipping!! <33 10/19/2022 - #1 in georgewastaken!

"a dnf (dream not found) fanfic about two boys in different times that will definitely leave you sobbing" Originally written by astronomika

When Dream feels his heart rate speed up at the end of George's Livestream, he knows he's too far gone. "This feels so wrong," George says and repeats. Dream clicks off the stream, the sounds of labored breathing filling the room as he tried to stem the panic he was feeling. The next day, after he had just barely dragged himself away from the edge of oblivion and heartache he would never return from, he felt the first tickle at the back of his throat. He coughed roughly, it sounded like he had fluid in his lungs or something. Pneumonia, maybe? But instead of coughing up mucus or phlegm, his eyes widened in shock at the taste of blood in is mouth. || Gream // DreamNotFound Hanahaki Story. There will be angst, slow burn, blood, vomiting, contemplation of suicide, anxiety attacks, and more. Do not read if this bothers you. You have been warned. ||

George is crazily known as a player, but so is Dream. Maybe that's what made this whole thing so hard to resist for the two. The fun in it. Almost like it was a game to see who's heart would end up broken.

For the past two years, the only dreams George has had the pleasure of having were horrible, horrible nightmares. These nightmares always had five things in common. In every one, each and every person he cared about died in an excruciatingly painful way. In every one, George was tied up, and there were lacerations all across his chest that bled but didn't hurt. In every one, there was someone cackling in the background. In every one, there was something there. Something he could never remember the details of when he woke up. And lastly, that something would always lick his wounds slowly, savoring his blood and fear before whispering a promise in his ear. "I'll see you soon, Georgie." [DREAM NOT FOUND FIC, INSPIRED BY WIZARDSTOVE'S DREAM DEMON DESIGN]