Little!Sapnap CG!dnf
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Sapnap blinked at the screen, his fingers moving slower on the keyboard. The soft, rhythmic clicking of George’s mining, the quiet hum of Dream’s voice giving directions—it all felt warm, familiar. Safe.
“Okay, Sap, you get wood while I—” Dream paused. “Are you even listening?”
Sapnap made a small noise, staring at his hotbar. He had already forgotten what he was doing.
Dream sighed. “Dude, you’re acting kinda spacey.”
George snorted. “Yeah, what’s new?”
Sapnap chewed his lip, curling into his chair. He felt small. The comfort of the game, the familiarity of their voices—it made his head fuzzy. He didn’t need to think, just follow their lead.
“’M fine,” he murmured, but his voice came out softer, almost unsure.
George stopped mining. “Wait.” His tone changed—gentler now. “Sap, you good?”
Dream went quiet for a second. Then, softer, “You’re slipping, aren’t you?”
Sapnap nodded, even though they couldn’t see him. His fingers barely pressed the keys, his focus dwindling. It wasn’t bad, though. Not scary. Just... safe.
George hummed. “That’s okay. We got you.”
“Yeah,” Dream added. “Just stay with us, okay?”
Sapnap made a small, happy sound, his chest feeling lighter. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to worry.
“Come on, little guy,” Dream said. “We’ll build a house. You can help pick the colors.”
George chuckled. “And no, you can’t make it all orange.”
Sapnap pouted, but his heart swelled at the teasing. His fingers moved again, slow but steady, following their voices like a guide.
Sapnap's avatar stood still on the grassy plains, the blocky sun dipping lower in the sky. Dream watched the unmoving figure, his fingers hesitating on his keyboard.
“Sap?” Dream tried again, voice soft.
A little hum came through Sapnap’s mic, barely audible. His movements in-game had slowed, his jumps uneven, like he was forgetting how to press the keys properly. Dream glanced at the Discord call. Sapnap was still there, still with them—but slipping deeper.
George noticed, too. “Sap? You there, buddy?”
A soft whimper crackled through the mic.
Dream’s chest tightened. He’d seen Sapnap like this before—seen him go quiet, get all fuzzy and small. It wasn’t bad, just different. And right now? Sapnap wasn’t all the way there anymore.
“It’s okay,” Dream murmured. “You’re safe, Sap.”
Sapnap made a tiny, content noise, the sound of his breathing evening out. His character started moving again, but not smoothly—he was pressing keys clumsily, jumping when he didn’t need to, walking into blocks like he wasn’t fully focused.
“Dream…” His voice was small now, almost unsure.
Dream softened. “I’m here, buddy.”
George lowered his voice. “You wanna just follow us?”
Sapnap’s character turned toward them, wobbling slightly before nudging into Dream’s side.
Dream huffed a quiet laugh. “You wanna stay close?”
A tiny, bashful giggle. “Mhm.”
Dream’s heart melted. “Okay, little guy. You can stick with me.”
George smiled through his words. “You can be Dream’s little shadow.”
Sapnap’s avatar pressed against Dream’s in-game, like he was trying to be as close as possible. The sun fully set, stars blinking to life overhead. Dream crafted a bed, placing it down carefully.
“C’mere, Sap,” Dream coaxed. “You can sleep now, yeah?”
A small pause. Then Sapnap’s character clumsily walked over, curling up in the bed block.
Dream smiled. “Good job, buddy.”
George’s voice was fond. “Sleep tight, Sapnap.”
Sapnap made another tiny noise, happy and safe. And as the Minecraft world turned to morning, the three of them stayed close, their voices soft, their friendship steady.
Dream watched Sapnap’s character stay curled in the Minecraft bed, unmoving even as the sun rose over the blocky horizon. His own hands hovered over the keyboard, waiting.
“Sap?” he tried gently.
Nothing. No movement. Just the soft sound of Sapnap’s breathing over the mic. Slow. Deep.
Dream exchanged a glance—well, more of a feeling—with George. They both knew.
“He’s all the way gone now,” George murmured. His voice had lost its teasing edge, turning softer, careful.
Dream nodded to himself. “Yeah.”
The game didn’t matter anymore. Sapnap wasn’t playing—wasn’t even trying to. He was just listening now, his mind fully small, fully slipping into that headspace where words were harder and thoughts were simpler.
Dream leaned back in his chair, pressing his mic closer. “Hey, Sap,” he said softly. “You comfy?”
A tiny, barely-there hum.
George smiled. “That’s good, buddy. You don’t have to play right now, okay? Just listen to us.”
A pause. Then a tiny, sleep-heavy, “’Kay.”
Dream’s chest ached in that warm, protective way. “Good job, Sap.” He glanced at the screen, at Sapnap’s still figure. “You wanna stay with us for a bit?”
Another hum. A little more content this time.
George chuckled. “We’ll just talk, yeah? Keep you company.”
Dream nodded. “Yeah. Just relax, Sap. We got you.”
And so they did. They kept talking, their voices weaving a soft, steady rhythm—about the game, about random things, about nothing at all. But always with that same warmth, that same quiet understanding.
Sapnap didn’t need to answer. He didn’t need to think.
He just needed them. And they were there.
Like always. Like home.
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