Okay so I have a few unfinished Kreme drafts of things I've never published cuz they're not big enough/developed enough to be their own chapter

Like I did in the crossmare oneshot book, you'll get a chapter of drabbles 😍

There is:
- Stalker killer
- Angst??? Soft?
- Soft smut

🌦The man on the TV🌦

-So this idea was formed with Zye, about Killer becoming obsessed with someone on Tv
-He becomes so obsessed that he bases his every day schedule around when this person appears on the TV
-The obsession starts off innocent, but soon develops into something much more dark as he craves to hear the man speak of him.
-So he commits crimes, all with the motive to hear the man on the TV speak about them in that perfect, silky voice of his.

The room was dark. Curtains pulled shut, lampshade empty, windows closed. The only source of light came from a small, widescreen TV perched in the corner of the room atop of an old wooden stand. It played with loud volume, pixels dragging behind as the house hunting show ended.

It was 8:58 pm.

The clink of cutlery rang from a separate room, followed by the sound of running water. And then footsteps. Grey trainers shuffled across the floor, pointed fingers tapping at a plate. The figure sat down, sinking into the sofa with practiced precision. Silver eyes flickered to the clock, waiting.

8:59 pm. One more minute.

Cutlery scraping across china, the first mouthful was swallowed, jaw working slowly to chew as he watched the TV. It was nearly time..

Todays activities were still plastered across his clothes, crimson stains on his white shirt, scraping fingerprints across his shorts, matted hairs at his fingers. But he didn't clean up. No, not yet. He couldn't. Not before 9:00 pm. Maybe there would have been time - if he were fast enough, jumped in and out of the shower. But he didn't want to risk it. He could miss the show. He could miss him.

9:00 pm.

The TV screen flashed to a new colour and his posture straightened, food all but forgotten as he stared. BBC news. That was the station. The nine o'clock news happened every week, every day, every time the clock hit nine. And he was there for it. Every single time.

His focus glazed over the introductory transition, mouth twisted in a scowl as a woman appeared on screen. She wasn't who he wanted. He didn't listen to a word she said, waiting.

Then, finally. Him.

He couldn't help the way he leant forwards, tongue darting over his lips to dampen them as he watched, listened, absorbed.

The man was perfect. Skeleton, sharp features, serious expression, pretty eyes and deep voice. He sat in his suit, papers spread before him. Golden eyes flickered up to the camera, and he felt his soul freeze. He was looking at him. Him. Millions of people watching the news right then but he was watching him.

It made him giddy.

Dream Joku. That was his name. A news reporter. He wasn't sure how the attraction to him had started. He'd never often bothered with the news much, more prone to watching the sport. But then one day the news channel had popped up, and the remote was too far away for him to change it like usual. He had zoned out and looked to his phone but suddenly- he'd seen him. Him. This angel- this god-sent creation of perfection. He was so.. pretty.

The way he spoke had an air of confidence, he never stumbled, never faltered, never paused. To the public he was simply the perfect news presenter. But to him he was the perfect person.

Shifting on his seat he leant closer, plate beside him now as the man spoke.

"Police are currently amidst an investigation following the death of two teenage girls aged.."

His voice disappeared into a dull buzz for a moment and he gasped, knees hitting the floor as he crawled to the TV, bloodied hands cupping at the screen as he stared with wild eyes. Dream stared back.

"ThhAt was me- aangel I did that- I did that-" A rabid hiss. The presenter continued to talk, and every word ignited a groan at the back of his throat, skull nearly brushing the screen as he listened. "III do these fffor you, angel- ssso I can hear mmy actions come from your pretty lips."

That's why he did it. Killed. Not for fun, or for sport, or to collect vengeance. He did it because he wanted- needed to hear that man speak about him. To hear him tell millions of people his sins.

In his sick, twisted mind, he was a private audience. Dream spoke to him, and him only.

God how he longed for him.

The man on the screen.

—————

-killers so quirky omg 😍😍
-So romantic
-Definitely hasn't forgotten to take his pills
 
   
   
  
🌼In an alternate timeline of Guardian Angel where killer dies and goes to hell so Dream, burdened with desperation, joins him. Yet has to give up the ultimate sacrifice to do so🌼

The angel cried out in delight at the feeling of the wind rippling through his feathers, each beat bringing him higher and higher up in the air. He felt as if he could touch the clouds, reach the sun. He could go on forever.

Flying was his absolute favourite thing to do ever. He'd do it all the time, so frequently in fact that he preferred to fly around his house instead of walk. It wasn't because of laziness or for practicality, he just loved it.

The adrenaline rush you'd get by flying always sent his mind dizzy, soul fluttering in his rib cage and aura positively glowing. His wings weren't as big as some of the older angles he knew, and hardly as well preened. But he loved them all the same.

They were a part of him after all. A status of who he was. And he loved them.

"...Do you regret it, cutting them off?" The demon murmured, looking down at his partner and resting his hands on his shoulders. They were sat on the bed, the angel's legs hanging off of it and brushing the floor. Killer sat further back, looking at him.

Dream stared down at the floor blankly, his pupils grey and dull. He tensed as he felt light fingers trail down to the scarred stumps on his shoulder blades, thumbs rimming round the edge of where his glorious wings once grew.

Yes.

He regretted it with every day that passed, every hour, every minute he walked through the dark and twisted labyrinth of Hell, his back still aching with the agonising phantom pain he'd felt when he'd done it.

He wished he hadn't been so stupid, looked into the future to see what would happen if he brought the blade down and hacked off his beautiful wings. If he'd realised the true consequences while tearing feathers in fistfuls and casting them into the flames that he felt now consumed his gut. His wings had been beautiful. And he'd left them discarded somewhere in the depths of hell. They were gone, and he could never get them back.

Visiting heaven was now impossible - not that he was permitted to go back there anyway - and instead of feeling free, reunited with his lover, he'd become trapped.

Sometimes he felt like he still had them, momentarily forgetting the wings weren't there. Those moments had started ending in tears more frequently than not, but he always tried to make sure that Killer didn't see.

After all, he'd done it for him.

The wings had never weighed much, looking much heavier than they actually were. Yet he could always feel the soft weight of them resting on his back, like some sort of comforting blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Now he felt too light, constantly stumbling and tripping over everything. He'd lost his grace. He'd lost what made him an angel in the first place. It was as if he'd lost a part of him.

The demon gently nudged him, obviously wanting a response from the other.

Do you regret it?

Dream shivered and leaned back into his arms, eyes fluttering shut. He listened to the others soul pulse, felt his frigid bones beneath his fingertips, the heat of his breath on his neck.

"No."

—————

-Okay funny story time this used to be an unpublished crossmare oneshot from 3 years ago and I just changed Cross and Nightmares names to Killer and Dream because it fits 💀

😈☁️Soft Smut☁️😈

Killer's breaths were shallow and quick as he shifted on the bed, his naked back sliding over the crisp silky sheets beneath him and sending shivers down his spine. His entire body felt hot, as if his bones were slowly being filled with boiled water from a steaming kettle. Fingers helplessly clenched and unclenches into the pillow behind his head and his toes curled in. His cheeks were scalding hot, his black tears leaking down them messily and dribbling along his neck stickily along with his saliva.

The room was dim, only the only light coming from the half shut curtains that dragged across the large glass doors that opened to the royal balcony with the best views. The air was surprisingly warm, alive with little sparks and tingles that rippled from the skeleton above him.

Dream gave a soft coo, one hand tracing along Killer's delicate frame and tracing over each bump, scratch and scar. He found his body so pretty. The scars didn't bother him like Killer often worried, in fact he though they were one of the many things that made the skeleton so gorgeous.

Trembling softly Killer looked up at him, his silver pupils shining and wavering under the guardian's oddly hot stare. He felt so so warm, every touch from Dream sending deep shivers along his body that shot straight to his soul; which - much to his embarrassment - had already twisted into a scribbly heart above his chest.

Soft whimpers came from him every now and then as Dream twisted the two fingers inside of him, the occasional cry or gasp spilling from his lips as they rubbed against the perfect spot. Black tears leaked from his eye sockets, that feeling alone being so much. He'd never been touched like this before. Never.

"MhAah..! D-Dream- mnh.." His voice was drowsy and soft, more of a whisper than anything else.

"Shh.." Dream gently cupped his cheek, the fingers curling slowly inside of him. "You're doing great, Killer.."

Shifting softly Killer gave an out of breath whine, his eyes widening and rolling back in his skull as he felt the intrusion of a third finger. It felt like such a huge difference and he felt like he could pass out, the waves of pleasure rushing through him until his mind spun. And when Dream started thrusting them quickly inside of him? He nearly lost it.

"MnGhaAH~! D-Dream- I-I cANT~!"

"Don't be silly." Dream twisted the fingers back and forth inside of him, pushing apart his dangerously tight walls and probing them as deep as he could to where he knew Killer liked it best. "After all, you're doing so well, sweetheart, I'm sure you can take a little more, cant you~?"

Through blurry eyes Killer stared at him, panting. Dream looked messy and shaky, like a smudged oil painting. But even then he looked truly majestic, an incredible god stood over him. He felt so small, a pathetic mortal beneath almighty celestial being. Heaving up under his divine touch, he felt the last of his sanity flee from his fragile mind.

"GgONna- o-oh god Dream-" He whimpered his name over and over like a prayer, his body being consumed by flames that licked at his gut, dragging upwards until they consumed his whole being.

"Go on, Kills. You've earned it.." Those soft words were all it took for him to tumble over the edge and he sobbed, the sound echoing across the walls of their shared bedroom. Fingers swallowed by his walls Dream cooed, thrusting the fingers slowly through the orgasm. Leaning down, a soft kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth, smile ever so soft. "You did so well.. so so well for me."

Hiccuping messily Killer gasped, back finally relieving itself from the relentless arch it had wound itself into, mind scattered. Sinking into the plush pillows he felt a familiar warmth wash over him, Dream's fingertips leaving a trail of magic at his wake. Swallowing the saliva thick on his tongue, he smiled. "Fffelt good.."

"Only the best for you, my precious Killsy." His hand brushed over the others forehead, smiling. "I think that's enough for tonight, don't you?"

Whether Killer had expected more or not didn't matter, he felt pleased and sleepy, the aftershock of the orgasm lulling him into a gentle haze. He nodded, smile wonky. "Okay."

Burying the other in a tangle of legs, arms and blanket, Dream let the smaller press to his chest, hand absentmindedly stroking the back of his skull. It was only when he finally felt the other drift off to sleep, that he too allowed his eyes to close.

—————

-I realised that this book only has rough, primal smut so like- I wanted to show the boys can still be soft too??? 🥺🥺🥺
-Unrelated to any previous oneshot timeline, just the boys being in love

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OKAY AND THATS ALL FOLKS

I have exams soon and they're really important so if updates stop for 2 months then yeah, you know why 💀

Hope you enjoyed, tell me if you want more of certain scenarios OR give me little prompts to write more drabbles on

Next update will most likely be the final ever chapter of Guardian Angel 😱😱😱😱

And then there'll be Kreme week and I'll start wrapping up some of the plots in this book because when I eventually leave the fandom I'd rather leave with finished stories rather than broken plots and cliffhangers. We'll see

Rip zye this is the first chapter you haven't been first to 😞

-Jess-