DSMP Fanfiction Recommendation Center (and Archival)
welcome! there’s currently one mod right now, @keyriingz, but I plan to try and post a fic at least twice a week, on Fridays and Tuesdays.
you can help out by putting a rec in the inbox, though do note that anons are off as of now. ask a friend to submit for you if you don’t want your name attached.
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Guidelines
(subject to change)
to submit, please format your ask as such:
Trigger warnings for (implied) suicide, self-harm, eating disorders, or any other topics you think may need to be covered.
The fic’s title and the author’s name.
A working link to the fanfiction.
A brief summary of the fic, without spoilers. This would include things such as main characters, any crossovers, and the general plot.
Blog Rules
For the sake of staying out of controversy, please do not submit explicitly RPF fics. All fanfictions should be about the roleplay characters on the DSMP only.
Fics surrounding mental health topics such as suicide, self-harm, and eating disorders will be allowed, but they will tagged accordingly; “trigger warning: [topic]”.
E-rated works, works containing NSFW, and works involving adult x minor and/or incest are disallowed.
Fics in explicit support for either William Gold or the Dream Team are not allowed. However, depictions of their roleplay characters are welcome.
In the end, please understand mod is not obligated to post your recommendation.
DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 4 --- c!Dream
Part 4 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”:
Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned)
Warnings: cursing, fight scene (implied), description of wounds, death, grief, threatening, panic, weapons
Words: 1.8+
The list:
c!George
c!Bench Trio
c!Wilbur
c!Dream - (you are currently on this post)
c!Technoblade - (on hiatus)
Dream was officially the enemy of the server. He was public enemy number one. Large bounties had been placed on his head. Several manhunts had been conducted in an effort to find him. But Dream was too skilled. He could evade all of the hunting parties, all of the bounty hunters will ease. He made a game out of it, even. You specifically remember him going so far as to spend days making an elaborate trap to lead a hunting party to their doom.
The whole server believed your boyfriend to be this heartless, sadistic, monster who delights in causing harm. But he wasn’t like that. Sure, Dream loved revenge and vengeance. But so did you. I mean, if you were trained for years by the infamous Blood God himself, you were bound to like those sorts of things.
Dream did everything he could to protect you. You tried to protect him too. But at the end of the day, no matter how skilled, one person simply isn’t capable of fighting off a whole squad of soldiers and living to tell the tale. Both you and Dream learned that the hard way.
The love of your life had gone out to do a routine check, to mislead some hunting parties, and get some food for you two. It was your task to brew healing potions, prepare mobile rations, redo enchantments, sharpen weapons, and train.
You were sharpening your set of enchanted diamond daggers when a knock sounded at the door. That wasn’t strange at all. Dream always knocked. In fact, you and he had set up a specific code so that you could communicate using just knocks.
What was strange was that this knock didn’t match any of the patterns you two had set. Heart beginning to pump faster, you pocketed two daggers, slipped one into a boot, and palmed the last two. Just as you practiced, your steps were soundless as you crept to the door.
“Babe?” you called hesitantly.
But as the door was violently thrown open, you realized that the person - persons, actually - were not Dream. Not even close. Just outside your home stood a group of the people who had been hunting your boyfriend for so long. Quackity, Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, Fundy, Niki, and even your former friend. Technoblade stood proud as ever. Looking regal despite not being a king.
You assumed a fighting stance, knuckles almost white as you tightly held the handles of your prized daggers. You plastered a smirk on your face, if only to trick yourself into being confident.
You could feel the flash of determination in your e/c eyes as you spoke. “I’m not dying today. Not without one hell of a fight.”
To everyone’s surprise it was your ex-best friend who proposed a more peaceful option.
“Y/n, we don’t have to kill you. You don’t have to get hurt. Just hand Dream over to us and you can go free,” Techno said in his monotonous voice.
You scoffed. “’You can go free’ my ass,” you shot back. “I’m not a fucking coward.”
Tommy spoke next. “Dream needs to pay. Last chance to spare yourself, Y/n. Turn in your boyfriend and we’ll leave you alone.”
You just set your jaw and nodded your head, gripping your daggers a little bit tighter as Techno’s hand rested on his axe, and Quackity’s on his diamond sword. Everyone else put a hand on their weapons too.
You smirked, tilted your head to the side and challenged them. “Come at me, bitches.”
Dream was just about to head back to your guys’ home when he received a message.
Y/n whispered to you: come home now. I need help.
He never got messages like this from you. He never heard you ask for help like this. Something had to be wrong. Concern and panic taking over every fiber of his body, Dream sprinted back in the direction of home.
Chills ran down his spine at the sight of the door that had been left ajar. Never, never, did either of you leave the door open. He slowed his pace and hesitantly stepped inside.
The sight that greeted Dream made him gasp with horror. Everything had been destroyed. Glass was shattered, tables upturned and splintered, chairs in pieces, paintings ripped off the walls.... It was all a mess. And there was blood. Everywhere. On every surface. Clearly, a brutal fight had taken place. And you had been in the middle of it.
He took another step inside, wincing at the sound of crunching glass when the sound of a pained groan made his breath catch. Turning to where the sound came from he called out. “Y/n? Babe? Are you there?”
He heard a soft crash, another groan, and then finally, your voice. “I’m- I’m here.”
His heart broke at the pain in your voice. He tried to go as fast as he could, but with the disrupted furniture, broken glass, and not-yet-dry blood everywhere, he was slowed down significantly.
“I’m here, Dream.”
And there you were, sitting on the ground slumped against a wall. The sight of your beautiful face filled him with immeasurable relief but that was quickly squashed when he saw the state you were in.
Your clothes were ripped. Every visible part of your skin had bruises and deep cuts that were still gushing blood. One of your cheekbones was so badly bruised it was as purple as the violet flowers that had once sat in a vase on your table. But worst of all, was the wound in your side. It was ghastly. Dream didn’t need his years of experience to know that you had been stabbed with a sword.
He dropped to his knees at your side, almost gagging at how he could feel the puddle of your blood soaking through the knees of his pants. With violently shaking hands, Dream lifted the hem of your shirt to get a proper look at your wound. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the sight of it.
You let out a laugh too weak for your boyfriend’s liking. “Dream, I’m not dumb. I know it’s bad.”
He fumbled with the buckle on his mask. The server’s most wanted threw the iconic white mask to the side. The one with the eerily smile black smile drawn on. He ripped off a section of his shirt, pressing it to your wound in an effort to stop the bleeding.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he let them fall; let them flow like rivers. Dream’s worst nightmare was coming true. You were dying, being taken away from him. He was going to lose you.
No! he thought forcefully. I am not going to lose them!
He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your forehead, movements rushed with panic. He tried to rub away some of the dried blood and grime, but it wouldn’t come off.
Still applying pressure to the stab wound in your stomach, Dream tried to distract himself. “What happened?” he breathed. “Who did this to you?”
Your eyes closed for several heartbeats in a blink too slow for normal standards. The blood loss was really starting to get to you. “It was Quackity, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, and Niki. Techno too.”
Dream swore colorfully under his breath. You coughed, body jerking with each cough. You hissed in pain as you tried to readjust yourself on the wall.
“I’m so tired,” you mumbled as your eyes started to close. You shivered. “And it’s so cold.”
Your boyfriend shook his head emphatically. “No, darling. You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, okay. Just keep them open while I go get one of the healing potions you so helpfully brewed for us.” He moved to get up, but your hand on his knee cap made him freeze and return to your side.
“Stay, please? I don’t have much time left.” You hated saying it. Absolutely hated it, but deep down, you both knew it was true.
“I- you- Y/n! Don’t talk like that. I’m gonna help you. You’re gonna recover. We’re gonna be fine.”
You squeezed his knee as much as you could with your waning strength. “Don’t-” you were cut off by another painful bout of coughing. This time, much to Dream’s horror, you coughed up blood. Small scarlet droplets on your sleeve glistened. “Don’t try and fool yourself, my love. We both know I don’t have much time left. Please, listen to me.”
Dream swallowed down the painful knot of emotion bubbling in his throat. “Okay, baby.” His voice was soft, showing just how scared he was. “I’m listening.”
You held out one of your prized daggers. Your lover didn’t even notice you’d been clutching it in your fist in the first place. You placed it in his hands and folded his fingers over the intricate handle. The one with the silver grip and emeralds set in.
“Take it,” you mustered weakly. With every time you spoke, your voice got weaker. You needed to maximize your words. “It’s yours now.” He pocketed the dagger without protest.
Dream let himself sob now. A tear from his face fell onto your blood-stained shirt. He held your hand, tracing your fingers. He wanted to memorize as much of you as he could. Remember everything before you were gone.
“I love you so much,” you began, tears beginning to sparkle in the corners of your own eyes. “I always have and I always will. I may not be physically with you, Dream, but you always have me in your memories. Never forget me, but be happy.”
“Y/n, I-”
Your eyes took on a pleading look. “Please, babe. Just be happy. That’s my dying wish. Just be happy.”
You reached up a weak hand to wipe a tear from the love of your life’s cheek. He closed his eyes as your soft thumb brushed over his cheekbone. You started to guide his face close to yours. Understanding, Dream leaned close. You kissed him and he kissed you back.
Memories of all the kisses you had shared came flooding back. Under the night sky, with the sunset in the background, gentle kisses, passionate kisses rough with desire, tender ‘good morning’ pecks, and a lingering ‘good night’ brush of your lips. This kiss was different, though. Still filled with love, it was plagued with anguish. Weighed down with grief and with mourning for what could’ve been.
Even after you broke the kiss, Dream kept his head close to yours. Still holding your hand, he rested his forehead against yours. He stayed there even as your breaths grew shallow and uneven. He stayed there even when you spoke your final words.
“Be happy, my love.”
And you went still. Your heart stopped, your chest stopped rising and falling with your breaths, and your hand went slack in his.
Dream pulled away to look at you. You looked so peaceful. If it weren’t for your injuries, he could've tricked himself into thinking you were asleep. And maybe you were. But this was a different kind of sleep. A forever sleep that you would never wake up from, could never be woken from.
Dream placed a feather-light kiss to your forehead before standing up silently.
