#so i relish in whatever delights of my life i get bc i know how much i fought for them. how much i need them

[toomuchracket]

The detail of Ross holding his hand open for reader to squeeze as she walked past… I’m obsessed. I have 2 things to say.

Ross’s girlfriend in a girl group. They release a song and the lyrics are very much about Ross (talks about his height. How big he is. How GOOD he is in bed). And Matty delights in quoting the lyrics to Ross on stage. I like the idea of Ross posting a pic of him and his gf to ig w a caption related to the song.

My other thing to say is pls can you write a whole blurb ab subtle PDA between u and Ross, similar to the hand open thing bc oh my god that ruined me.

this has so much potential to be another ross universe... much to think about and Ponder hmmmmmm. also initial thingy can be found here! and yes i'll answer both things here

first part: obsessed with this, and obsessed with the thought that you rocked up to a writing session the day after the best sex of your life and went "i have an idea". also obsessed with you having to tell ross about the fact that you've written a song about him (not for the first time, to be fair) and how sexy he is, because if he's not cool with it then it'll go unreleased - he blushes like crazy when he reads the lyrics, but he secretly loves it, and even from a rough demo he's like "no this is a hit you have to release this song babe". i'm not going to attempt to write it, but i'm imagining the lyrics being chock-full of sex references (charli's like "this makes my banana split lyric look TAME" when she hears them), with a lot of them being really quite intricate metaphors and some others just like on the vibe of "yeah i'm getting bent over daily" - george and matty are simultaneously scandalised, jealous of how good these lyrics are ("we've been writing sex shit like this for twenty years and you outdo us with it on your first attempt smh"), and deeply deeply in love with the song and the way it's constructed/performed. as you said, matty (who is a known stan of your band btw) relishes the opportunity to pester ross with the lyrics onstage; when he introduces/credits the band, he starts singing one of the lyrics from it before he says ross's name, and ross just smirks and raises his eyebrows while the crowd go nuts (like i said, ross secretly loves it). and the fans (and your friends) go even more nuts when ross posts a pic of you and him all sexy and ready for date night on insta with the lyrics referenced or paraphrased in the caption - the best thing about it, though, is that he posts it the morning after date night, from bed, where the two of you are curled up sweaty and exhausted after a looooooong moment of ross proving your lyrics right lmao

second part: i think the subtle pda thing started because you and ross didn't make your relationship public until you had been together for a while, for whatever reason, but the nature of your job meant you guys would run into each other at events and you needed a little way to show affection while still maintaining your privacy. little squeezes of thighs under tables, three little tiny taps on the other's hand to say "i love you" when passing drinks to each other, trapping the other's leg between yours under the table to keep them close... a lot of stuff like that. and there were less subtle moments as you got drunker - ross resting his head on your shoulder to snuggle you under the guise of being tipsy and tired, asking about new developments in each other's careers (that you already know about lol) in order to give yourselves excuses to give long "congratulatory" hugs, cheek kisses hello and goodbye that accidentally seem to land on the corners of lips. obviously now you're openly a thing, you don't need to do all that, but the quick little touches are great for red carpets and moments where you have to be a bit more professional as members of your respective groups. but you can't go without touching ross, and he's the same with you - you just love each other too much to let it go unaddressed at any point lol <3

[queenmylovely]

Hello! I was just wondering if I could request something? I know it’s silly to feel bad about it but basically, I’m 20 and I’ve never had a partner, never had sex, never been kissed etc. so I was wondering if you could do something where Ben maybe finds out and takes the reader on a date to show her how she should be treated then teaches her how to kiss and maybe takes her virginity and it’s all just really sweet and loving and gentle? Sorry if it’s too much 😅 thank you!! ❤️❤️

Definitely don’t feel bad bc i’m 21 and in the same boat. I did most of this but bc it’s a blurb I couldn't fit it all. Thank you for the request, lots of love (warnings are a little bit of cussing; 1.5k words) 

Masterlist

☆☆☆

“Well what do you mean you’ve never done anything?”

“I mean I’ve never done anything, can you not make me spell it out?” you sighed, feeling a flash of nervous adrenaline as Ben asked you about a topic you didn’t often talk about.

“So you’ve, like, only made out? Over the clothes stuff?” Ben asked, trying to clear it up.

The only reason you were even answering is that Ben seemed genuinely confused and curious. A lot of the time when someone learned about this, they were judgy or teased you, so this was refreshing at least. And Ben really wasn’t the type to judge or tease when it was something so personal as this. You knew that much from your half year or so of friendship.

You looked at him across your kitchen table where you had been eating lunch before the subject of that new coming of age movie came up and Ben started talking about the beginnings of his sex life and asking about yours.

“Ben,” you said quietly, making sure he was looking at you. “I have not made out with anyone, I have not touched or been touched by anyone, and I have not kissed anyone. Ever.”

“Oh,” a look of slightly stunned realization crossed Ben’s face. A few beats went by of you looking at Ben and Ben looking off into the distance.

Suddenly he looked back at you, and the abrupt eye contact made you jolt a little.

“Wanna go on a date with me?”  

You blinked, “Um, that’s a hell of a non sequitur.”

Ben shrugged, “Well I was just thinking–”

“Hold on, is this some sort of virgin kink?” you asked, starting to lament the fact that you were about to lose a friend because as nice as he seemed, he was actually a total weirdo.

“No, no! Oh my gosh, not at all. I actually only really brought up that movie to bring up the idea of us dating,” Ben explained frantically.  

“How would talking about teenagers having sex for the first time lead to a conversation about us dating?” you questioned disbelievingly. Not to mention your disbelief at the idea of Ben wanting to go on a date, or multiple, with you.

“Well, if you’ll remember, the main characters are friends first who then start dating,” Ben reminded and now that you thought of it, you were the one to bring up the funny and awkward after-sex scene.

Now it was your turn to say, “Oh.”

“Yeah, so… how about it?” Ben smiled at you, that bright smile that reached his eyes and made you feel excited all over.

“But, why do you want to go on a date with me?” as much as you wanted to, it was hard to just trust Ben and agree.

“Well, first of all, I know we get along great. You’re funny, we always have a good time, you’re incredibly caring and kind to me and to everyone. Not to mention you’re super smart and always teaching me about obscure things I never would’ve known about on my own. And oh yeah, you’re gorgeous,” Ben said, and the sincerity and meaning of his words hit you like a ton of bricks, but in a really, really good way.

You were too flustered to even speak for a few moments.

“So did I make a good enough case?” Ben prompted. With a little chuckle, you nodded, “Yes, those were all fine reasons.”

_____

Two days later, you were walking into an Italian restaurant after work for your first date together. You were so nervous it felt like you were sweating bullets. Not only was this your first date in a long time, it also felt like your first date ever that had real potential. Which was nerve wracking.

Ben had texted you that he was already sitting down, so you told the host that you were meeting someone and started looking around. You found him next to the stained glass window on the left side of the restaurant. As you walked towards him and he stood up to greet you, you couldn’t help but admire how good he looked. Sure, he was handsome and conventionally attractive, that was obvious to anyone who looked at him, but knowing that he looked this particularly good because of you was something else entirely.

Ben reached for you as you got closer, pulling you towards him and towards his face. You panicked for a second, but he was just going for a cheek kiss and quick hug, which you were familiar with, and returned happily. Then he offered for you to sit down and you did with a smile.

“I just got here, but I ordered us both Negronis, I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, you know it’s my favorite drink,” you reassured him, reaching across the little table to touch his arm.

You were used to casual physical contact with Ben as friends, but now even touching his arm made your skin feel electric and your nerves came back, like your body knew where this kind of touch might lead at the end of the date. Still, you waited a few seconds before pulling your hand back, enjoying the moment between you and Ben.

There were a lot of moments like that throughout the meal. Cheersing with strong eye contact when your drinks came, offering bites of food of your meals to each other, dabbing at a bit of sauce that got on Ben’s chin, and Ben damn near lasciviously eating a maraschino cherry that came with the dessert, all the while looking to the side innocently.

The tension grew as the night went on, and soon the nerves from the beginning of the meal were replaced by a desire for any sort of closeness or contact with Ben that was currently being prohibited by the table you were sitting at.

When the check came, you didn’t put up a fight at Ben paying (other than to say you would pay next time) because you wanted to get out of the restaurant as quickly as possible. As you left, Ben was right behind you, his hand on the small of your back, making your skin unbelievably warm.

The fresh breeze as you walked outside helped to cool you a little, but Ben’s hand dropped down to grab yours, and your face heated again. The two of you picked the river, only a couple blocks away, to stroll along.

You walked for a ways, chatting about what you saw: the people, birds, water, and sky. As the sun began its descent, you relished the last rays of warmth since you knew the dark would start you walking back and the date would be all but over.

Hearing the call of a bird, you spun to watch it land on one of the riverside trees, smiling and pointing it out to Ben. Turning back to look at him, you bumped into his chest and tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised at his closeness.

“Hi,” he murmured with that grin of his.

“Hi,” you returned, a grin of your own painting your lips.

You didn’t know what else to say, or whether to say anything at all, not wanting to ruin the moment, but also not sure this was the moment you thought it could be.

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to think about it or say anything, because Ben leaned down towards you. His smile lessened bit by bit, until he was only an inch or so from your face, pausing there to look down at your lips and move his free hand to the side of your face. You waited for him to close the gap, waited, waited, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips to his.

His lips were warm and soft against yours, and you delighted in the feeling of kissing Ben. He pulled back a little, adjusted the angle, and this time he kissed you, using a light touch on your jaw to move you. Ben was unhurried, gentle, and sweet, letting you get acquainted to the feeling at the speed you wanted.

Parting your mouth, you ran the tip of your tongue on the center of his lower lip and he smiled before parting his own. He kept letting you lead the way, try whatever you liked, and when you accidentally knocked your teeth together, all he did was squeeze your hand reassuringly; you could’ve sworn your heart melted right there.

Of course things couldn’t go on too long, since you were in public and it was now dark save for the streetlights. Reluctantly, you broke away, a warm look passing between you. As you walked back, you let go of Ben’s hand, but only to grab it with the other and wrap his arm around your shoulders. Ben’s eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, and you returned his smile as you squeezed his hand.

★★★

tagging for the length: @riseetothesun @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows  @buckyluvrs @im-an-adult-ish @sleep-i-ness (unable to tag italics)

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 06

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual content (18+)

A/N: i’m so happy you guys are enjoying this reader specifically. i have a soft spot for ingenues mostly because i was always type casted as the ingenue when i used to be in musicals and love to defend ingenues (mostly cosette bc everyone hates cosette FOR ZERO REASONS STOP HATING COSETTE).

 i was a bit afraid she would come out as very annoying (once again she is heavily inspired by cosette and christine and everyone hates cosette for, and i shall repeat again, no reason) but i’m rly glad everyone seems to enjoy this version if y/n. hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

White. That was the very first thing she saw, the pure white, unspotted celling of her bedroom as she woke up. The sunlight warmly caressed her skin, reminded her that she did not remember when or how she had fallen asleep. If she had purposely done so, she would’ve closed the curtains but the warmness of her face told her otherwise. 

Lazily, she raised her chest from the bed, sheets bunched up in one of her fists pressed against her chest. Y/N glanced over to the alarm clock on her nightstand, 5 AM, and then to her figure, she was still to get out of her undergarments and petit coat from last night. She guessed, she must’ve fallen asleep waiting for Gwen. As that came into her head, she rushed out of her bedroom, her feet padded over the dark floors until she reached her friend’s room, gently and slowly opening the door. Her worries subsided once she saw her friend sleeping on top of her duvet, dress and shoes still on. Well, at least she was home.

      - I’ve already checked on her. - Y/N slowly closed the door, her breathe getting stuck in her throat as she recognised Sebastian’s voice. In all honesty, she still did not know how to react around him, specially after last night. 

Nevertheless, she turned around, her body facing his despite the distance between the both of them. He was in much more casual wear, a far cry from the constantly pristine pressed suits he wore, wearing a loose white tee shirt with some grey sweatpants. Still, despite being dressed in approachable clothing, he still looked more intimidating than every man she had ever met. Who was she kidding? Even the loose tee and sweatpants were probably more expensive than everything she owned all together. 

Sebastian, on the other hand, felt his throat and mouth water up at the sight in front of him. The once very polished hairstyle had collapsed, probably during her sleep, and she was bare faced, rid of any makeup. However, it wasn’t that which sparked wild thoughts in his mind, it was what she was wearing. A white lacy bustier met by a voluminous white petticoat and a garter holding her stockings in place. She looked straight out of his wildest fantasies and he had to clear his throat before he could say anything else to her.

     - I can get the maid to prepare you some breakfast, if you wish. - he tried to look at anything but her body but god, did she looked like the most delightful thing he’d ever set his eyes on. - Anything you want. 

     - I think I’ll just sleep for a little longer. - she gave him her signature sweet and soft smile. He just nodded, afraid his voice would fail him as she passed by, her floral scent invading all his senses. She always smelled nice and he felt like a teenage boy admitting just how her scent alone drove him wild. Flowery, fresh, exactly what he expected someone of that level of naiveté to smell like. Innocent. 

As she disappeared from the hallway onto her bedroom to sleep until a regular hour, Sebastian bolted into his and from there straight into his own personal bathroom. Taking his clothes off, he stepped into the shower and turned the cold water on. He knew better not to think that way about her, specially her of all people who’d probably be by his future wife’s side for the rest of her life. Yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking of her plump lips, her polite sweet little smile and how the lace stood against her skin. Fuck. She was the most gorgeous little thing ever created.

The water rushed down his back, pooling at the porcelain floors of his shower while his hands were held up against the dark marbled walls. His lips were slightly parted as his mind took him back to her, her breasts caged by her bustier, her slightly parted plumped lips she would bite on whenever she felt any sort of embarrassment ... god did he want to bite that lip himself. At this point, half his mind was telling him to go for it while the other half was telling him he was going to hell for this, for thinking about such a precious thing is such a dirty manner. Hell didn’t scare him, he already had a first class ticket there so he might as well relish into the sins of the flesh. 

His hand lowered down from the wall down to his bulge, mind fixated on Y/N, on the memory of when he had first meet her. God, she looked even more stunning on her knees and he couldn’t help but imagine her plump lips around him, taking all of him with those innocent eyes starring up. 

He gripped his cock, taking a long initial stroke up and down and then a few more times. A loud groan escaped his lips as he pictured her on his bed, how pretty she would look moaning and squirming under him as she brought her to the best type of pleasure possible.

     - Fuck, Y/N ... - he moaned, thumb swiping over the red tip and threw his head back. He stroked himself a couple of times more in corkscrew like motions, groaning as he reached his release. - Fuck. 

He leaned his head against the wet marble walls, feeling the cold water rush down his back. Fucking hell, how was he gonna cope with her constantly padding around his house with an innocence of a Disney princess come to life. As he stepped out of the shower, he heard a knock on his door. It better not be fucking Gwen, he thought to himself. The last thing he needed was for Gwen to come over and annoy him with trivial questions. 

Sebastian pulled his underwear and sweatpants from the floor, putting them on before walking to the door of his bedroom, opening it to see a very concerned Y/N standing there. 

    - Are you alright? I heard you calling out for me? - god fucking damn it, he thought to himself. There she was standing worried about him and all he could think about was picking her up and throw her into his bed. - You have very thin walls. 

    - I think it might just be your lack of sleep playing tricks on you, angel. - Sebastian glanced at her face wondering if she had bought it, yet considering she was very tired and it was 5.30, she did. However, there was a hint of worry in her eyes. 

   - Are you sure? You look really red. - she raised her hand, moving it to touch his forehead which she would’ve done successfully had Sebastian not grabbed her wrist mid air. He knew that what he needed the least right now was for her to touch him. If she did, he would’ve probably need to jump back into the shower and stay there for a good hour. 

    - I’m alright, Y/N. Go back to bed and sleep. - Y/N wasn’t very convinced he was alright but decided to return to her bedroom nonetheless. She sat on the edge of her mattress, wondering if sleep was ever gonna come back. 

After a few minutes rolling around in her sheets, she came to the conclusion she couldn’t go back to sleep. Y/N got dressed in some leggings and a big hoodie, finally getting rid of the petticoat and the bustier that was starting to make her rather uncomfortable. Opening the door to her bedroom slightly, she peaked her head out, watching Sebastian walk into his office followed by a couple of men, already fully dressed up. She preferred him in his casual wear but by the sheer amount of men following him into his office, she guessed he was about to have a meeting. She sighed, grabbed her phone from the dresser by the door and went down the stairs to the kitchen where one of the maids, Amelia, was. 

   - Good morning, Miss Y/N. - the middle aged woman smiled at the handmaid, the first person she saw today. - What would you like for breakfast?

   - It’s okay, Amelia. I can do it myself, you don’t need to tire yourself. 

   - Miss Y/N, it is my job to take care of you and Miss Gwen. - she turned the kettle on before standing on the opposite side of the balcony. - I can cook you whatever you want.

   - I don’t wanna be a bother.

   - Miss Y/N, if you don’t ask me for food, then what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day? Mr. Stan doesn’t take kindly to people slacking off.

   - Could I get a poached egg on toast, then? - Y/N still didn’t feel comfortable asking for stuff. Technically and contractually speaking she was an employee like Amelia and the other bodyguards yet she still got treated like Gwen. Her mind kept screaming at her it wasn’t exactly fair. - But I do the dishes later, deal?

   - If you insist, Miss Y/N. - Amelia turned the toaster on, slicing two slices of sourdough bread and sticking them in the device before setting the water to boil in order to poach the egg. Y/N just stared, enjoying the low sounds of the kitchen appliances until screams started coming from Sebastian’s office which made her skip a breathe, not expecting the loud noise.

She could hear him scream at his men from his office in a language she had never heard. She wasn’t afraid of him screaming, the time to be scared of him was long gone and she would fear him more whenever she disobeyed him rather than when he screamed at his goons. Y/N was more than used to hear powerful men scream at their employees. She sipped on her tea, eyes moving from his office’s door at the top at the stairs to Amelia who was equally drinking the hot beverage, ignoring the noise. 

In the middle of all the noise, a very annoyed Gwen, still wearing her red gown, came down the stairs. Her eyes were still filled with sleep and laziness while the rest of her features showed a completely lack of ignorance towards the noise that probably woke her up.

   - Amelia, get me the greasiest plate of bacon you can manage and a cappuccino. - Gwen muttered, her head pounding at any amount of noise as she took a place next to Y/N. - This house fucking sucks. 

   - Maybe if you didn’t get drunk that wouldn’t have happened. - Y/N raised from her seat to help Amelia with Gwen’s breakfast order, turning the coffee machine on. The heiress just scoffed, leaning against the plush leather seats of the high chairs standing by the balcony. Who needed a mother’s reprimanding nature when Y/N was around? 

The handmaid placed a cup of coffee in front of Gwen who immediately downed half of it, along with some pain killers to take care of the impending headache caused by too much fine wine and champagne. Nevertheless, much to Gwen’s annoyance, the screams got louder as the door to the office opened and a bunch of very grown yet very scared men walked out still being screamed out by Sebastian who then closed the door with a bang. 

Gwen waved at the men as they entered the lift, her flirtatious nature still shining over the impending doom of her hangover. She was flirty and no matter how engaged she was, she was still gonna be herself and Y/N had to applaud her for that. 

  - I’m gonna take Sebastian some tea. Gwen, please make sure you take those and drink plenty of water, please. - she warned, silver tray in hand. 

Mr. Forrest always enjoyed a nice cold glass of whiskey after a blown out fight with his associates, however, Y/N thought that alcohol wasn’t something Sebastian should be having after last night. Despite him not showing any signs of a hangover, he still had downed a significant amount of champagne flutes while she was by his side and what he needed right now was some nice chamomile tea. 

Filled with courage that was slightly wavering, Y/N climbed the stairs up to his office, fist lightly knocking on the wood of the door. When no answer came, she knocked again but this time she got a very arrogant “What?” back.

  - Sebastian? - she opened the door up to a fringe, eyes roaming inside the office.

  - Y/N, what is it? - his tone seemed to soften as she walked into the room, closing the door behind with her foot. He had to say, he was rather disappointed she was no longer wearing the lacy undergarments. - Is that for me?

  - Yes. - she placed the silver tray on top of his desk. - I thought you would need something to calm you down.

  - The sentiment is sweet, angel, but I severely doubt tea is gonna calm me down. - he sighed and she furrowed her brows. No problem or worry was big enough that it couldn’t at least be temporarily forgotten with a nice warm cup of tea. 

  - Is everything alright? - she asked, concern on her voice. He bite the inside of his cheek lightly before replying to her questions, wondering if he really wanted to explain mob business to her. - Sebastian?

  - Just need to get some affairs in order. Take this as a lesson Y/N, if you want something done correctly do it yourself.

  - I’ve known that since kindergarten. Did they not teach you that? - he chuckled, not being used to hearing her joke around.

  - Please warn Genevieve that I’m going to Paris late this evening to get it sorted. Not that she cares very much about my whereabouts but just in case she wants to smuggle someone else into my home. 

  - You’re going to Paris? - her eyes lit up at the mention of the French capital. She had gone there once with Gwen but she mostly hanged around the resort flirting around with as many men as she could and, as per usual, Y/N had to follow her around to ensure she didn’t get kidnapped or taken advantage of. Not that it was easy to take advantage of Gwen, she just ... needed constant supervision to make sure she made the safest and soundest decision possible. 

   - Don’t get so excited, angel. It’s an highly overrated city filled with people that can’t do their job correctly. - even with the backhand comment, there was still a sparkle in her eye. - If you’d like, you can accompany me but I assure you it won’t be as fun as movies make it sound.

   - Oh no, I can’t ... - she played with her fingers, looking down at her shoes in disappointment. - Gwen is a bit ... sick from last night and I have to take care of her.

   - So? - he lifted an eyebrow at her statement. - Ask her to come too. I’m sure she won’t deny a free trip to Paris.

tag list: @sideeffectsofyou​ @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea​

[chrysalizzm]

i uh. realized people follow me now because of uh. you’re human tonight on ao3 asdjgfs

i have content!! behind the scenes content as promised. i do outlines for my fics as a general rule of thumb just because i personally can’t write things to a satisfying finish if i don’t Do That, and so - here are my chapter/plot outlines for you’re human tonight ^^ (i have no idea if this is interesting content or not i thought i’d put it out there because i think outlines are kinda fun hhhh)

chap 1 fundy

subtitle: an inkling

fundy makes an iron golem gone wrong, dream makes it go boom

chap 2 purpled

subtitle: uh oh social interaction

purpled shelters a fugitive, gets his house explosion-proofed as thanks

this is probably gonna be the only chapter with a funny title hh oh well

update: it’s not and i’m pleased with myself for branching out with my dry humor

chap 3 sapnap

subtitle: dust to dust

sapnap’s dying via wither effect, and he knows respawn’s around the corner but goddamn if it doesn’t hurt til then. dream skids in around the nether fortress corner, drops all his weapons cradles sapnap’s head in his hands, has always taken death much harder than anyone sapnap’s ever met. at the last few seconds, when death creeps up like a shroud, dream starts to hum to him hoarsely, pressing his forehead to sapnap’s, and in the final moments sapnap doesn’t hurt at all. the last thing he hears is dream whimpering. he visits dream’s bunker the next day, knocks on the door over and over, but there’s no sign of life there. sapnap shrugs, bites his lip out of guilt for forcing dream to sit there watching him die (if temporarily), and moves on.

the chapter that introduces dream’s primary ability of soothing hurts. put a lot of emphasis on the fact that sapnap ached up until the moment dream started humming, because for dream to do that is pretty frivolous considering once sapnap died he’d respawn and the hurt would just disappear but dream wanted sapnap to have a peaceful last few seconds. emphasize how abnormal it is that withering stops hurting. 

chap 4 ponk

subtitle: beaches dry of sugarcane

dream visits ponk after george burns down the first tree. when ponk arrives to the second tree to move in, he realized dream made the tree flourish, grow healthier and bigger. 

chap 5 sam

subtitle: fuck this shit i’m out (edit: the official subtitle is “oh god oh fuck”, i changed it last-minute)

dream picks sam’s brain for manhunt strategies while the latter is mining for redstone. sam stumbles upon a spawner and reels back, trips, nearly misses the moment dream sweeps him behind him and his eyes flash beneath the mask and when sam gets back up, dazed, there’s nothing but the splay of cobwebs all over the walls. 

chap 6 punz

subtitle: lines drawn

in an unrelated skirmish, punz drives his sword up to the hilt in dream’s chest, relying on respawn for dream to not feel any pain and for punz to get paid. dream doesn’t die. this is understandably alarming. 

can we get some funnies in chap? just a few laughs?? a lil funny for mr luke punz man?

can we get some panicky dry humor for real tho because punz strikes me as someone who copes with morbid humor and dream spluttering up blood is def a situation that punz would not know how to deal with

chap 7 wilbur

subtitle: so about that date

wilbur makes platonic moves on dream while dream fake texts his fiance under the table. wilbur also accidentally vents to dream about his little brother tommy and how afraid he is that tommy will get himself hurt for how reckless he is. dream siphons some of his anxiety from him, smiles as they depart from one another. wilbur notes that dream is shaking when they leave. 

chap 8 skeppy

subtitle: get wrecked noob

dream walks skeppy through some pvp. when skeppy demands a rematch w tommy and gets a lil stage fright kinda sorta thing, dream siphons his anxiety and his nerves and goes full soccer mom with bad and skeppy loses 5-2 but like!! he won!! against tommyinnit!! HH

is there any mental image nearly as powerful as dream wastaken, the soccer mom

chap 9 jack

subtitle: mandatory volunteering

after tommy goes on another one of his destructive rampages lmao, dream enlists jack, newest-comer, to help him rebuild stuff bc underclassmen have to do whatever upperclassmen tell them to do thems just the rules. after rebuilding a statue near the community house, dream pats it fondly, and when tommy sneaks back to set in on fire for shits and giggles, he finds that it’s fuckin fireproofed AGAIN

rebuild efforts, i promised monuments rebuilt so thats what theyre gonna fuckin Get

chap 10 antfrost

subtitle: twist the knife

ant on what ends up being an unpublicized manhunt: dream stops the manhunt because he’s triggered a raid and by the time the hunters get there, alarmed by the screaming and the fire and dream’s unresponsiveness, the villagers are all dead and there are raider corpses everywhere and dream is lying near the bell on his side, whimpering. (what the hunters don’t know - dream tried to fight off the raid but was overwhelmed and witnessed the village get slaughtered, he took the pain of the villagers that weren’t dead but were dying.)

segment: There’s a reason they do the manhunts, and it’s not just for them to horse around and try to kill one another for a few days. Antfrost is the newcomer but he’s always been good at reading people and from the outset he knew that Dream was someone filled to the brim with the restlessness that characterizes humans, that never-settling wanderlust, and his brain works too fast for the rest of his body sometimes, and he just needs an outlet. It’s part of why he eggs Tommy on in their little war games, why he holds onto those discs even though he doesn’t need them, why he gets that delighted look on his face when someone tells him that Tommy’s griefed them or stolen from them or otherwise ruined their morning. Antfrost thinks the only times he’s ever really seen Dream silent, Dream waiting, Dream unmoving, are when Dream is 

chap 11 karl

subtitle: head in the shallows

karl, sapnap, george, and dream have a sleepover after mcc 11. karl, nearest to dream, wakes up when dream starts tossing and turning from a nightmare. when he tries to shake dream awake, dream’s eyes fly open and he slams his fist into the wall behind him and the earth, the literal earth, the entire slab of it, shudders like an earthquake. sapnap and george sleep like the dead, so it’s just karl and dream staring at one another. finally karl asks, concerned, “do you want some tea or water or anything?”

chap 12 hbomb

subtitle: a maid’s burden

“i want to dress up as a maid for fundy,” says hbomb with false bravado. fundy’s fiance levels a very impassive look at him for an awkward minute or two and just when hbomb thinks he’s misread dream and fundy’s relationship dream says “i’ll get you a wig” and the entire chapter is just dream idly twisting the fabric of reality to get hbomb the items he needs to put the outfit together

pranks, i promised pranks, theyre gonna get pranks

chap 13 alyssa

subtitle: message in a bottle (edit: official subtitle is “ship in a bottle”)

alyssa’s leaving, at least temporarily. 

alyssa tells dream it’s getting dangerous on his server, doesn’t relish the expression that brings to his face, but he holds her hands and nods and bids her safe journey. when alyssa returns, running for something (later we’ll learn she had heard that dream was bad, that he might be dying), she finds that her house is completely inaccessible by everyone save her, placed in complete stasis by someone. 

start of the chapters leading up to festival arc. build unresolved tension in this one. 

chap 14 niki

subtitle: life doesn’t discriminate

wilbur and tommy are relentless, they waste no time; niki is willing to wait for it. 

the night before the duel, she goes to dream and holds a sword to his throat and demands he call it off, even though she knows it’ll mean little because of respawn, tells him she won’t stop hunting him down until he gives up l’manberg. dream smiles a little sadly and pats her hand and her fright, her rage, it simmers back down, and the anger that had swarmed her and made dream out to be the devil dies down until it’s just her friend, who was playing along with tommy til it got serious and he got cocky, who’s just as in over his head as she is, and maybe niki’s soft but she likes that about herself, that she’s always the first to forgive. niki is looking at the healing cut on dream’s neck, uncovered by any bandages, when dream shoots tommy, a clean shot that causes no suffering.

a long chapter, probably. i think at some point in this i want to mention niki’s respect for dream for apologizing during the first pet war, for not letting things get any bigger until fundy came back. some parallels can be drawn here - that dream let the fire die down in the initial stages of the pet war, that dream won’t let go of the l’manberg war now, and it occurs to niki that she doesn’t know dream nearly as well as she thinks she does if she expected him to act exactly the way he did during the pet war. she’s got what she’s wanted - dream’s remorse, proof of dream’s humanity - even though it’s not in the form niki wanted it. 

chap 15 eret

subtitle: crown of thorns

the king in name only consults with the true leader. 

they’re both upset about pogtopia’s exile, eret arguably more so because they think their early betrayal of l’manberg somehow butterfly-effected into the current dumpster fire, and as they talk eret works themself into a full panic attack reflecting on things that were, things that could’ve been - and the tide washes out all of a sudden, and eret’s left with the same looming hollowness they’d been feeling before, no dregs of the panic, they’ve never had a panic attack that left them feeling normal after - but dream is now wheezing like he’s about to die and eret immediately walks him through the panic attack, levelheaded even as they’re confused out of their mind. 

chap 16 quackity

subtitle: water to blood

quackity is a snake in the grass. 

quackity at schlatt’s side during the few weeks of his presidency. he knows schlatt from before, has been his friend, so he knows when his friend is acting off. the cynical, straight-faced humor is still there, his completely bland delivery and brazen showmanship, but it’s twisted to the left somehow, to make it so that those qualities that make up his friend have rotted, hurt people. quackity eventually goes to dream after schlatt first overdoses with a lot of questions, maybe even to confess that his allegiance has begun to shift because he can’t go to pogtopia and he can’t go to schlatt - and dream just gives him a long, sad look before lightly patting quackity’s shoulder and says “i can’t guarantee anything - just that you’ll be safe” and shooing him off and as quackity heads back to manberg he realises all the hostile mobs are avoiding him like the fucking plague. 

it’s big q!!!! fattest ass in the cabinet!!!!! pog!!!

fun fact this chapter’s subtitle was almost “chekhov’s gun” until november fucking 16th of 2020

chap 17 tommy

subtitle: most disputes die and no one shoots

tommy learns how a legacy dies.

a compendium of tommy watching the madness consume wilbur. it needs to be emphasized in this chapter that wilbur becomes an entirely different person when they’re ejected from manberg, that he becomes obsessed with the legacy he’s created and watching it crumble is what twists him; when dream gives tommy his crossbow, tommy, out of desperation and a need to have an older sibling again, asks what’s wrong with wilbur; dream’s face hardens and he asks tommy to take dream to wilbur. it’s a terse meeting, the only one they have before techno and before wilbur completely loses it and demands the tnt; wilbur says a lot of things tommy doesn’t understand (it’s complex mythological jargon hinting at dream’s status as a god but could be misconstrued to refer to dream’s status as simply the world owner) and at one point wilbur sneers, “are you trying to play god, dream?” and dream lurches forward and grabs wilbur by the wrist, and there’s a completely silent moment where tommy feels the air suck out of his lungs and there’s an off buzzing in his ears and he fancies he hears something that sounds, just a bit, like dream, whispering desperately wilbur wilbur wilbur it’s me it’s me listen listen listen then a shrieking, acrid wave of no and tommy reels back and when he looks up dream has staggered back, his hand to his mouth, blood dripping from somewhere beneath his mask, sounding like he’s gagging or maybe he’s sobbing, as wilbur shrieks in a voice that is entirely not his “get out get out if i can’t have l’manberg...” and tommy understands, finally, as dream sprints out. that’s not wilbur.

a distinction needs to be made perfectly clear in this chapter, as with schlatt’s chapter: it’s not them. they’ve been twisted out of control by something bigger than them, something that wants to toy with the young god running an oasis of peace for his people. it doesn’t need to be outright said in this fic; in another we can delve into the madness and who did it and why. for now, just make it clear it’s not explicitly anyone’s fault.

chap 18 techno

subtitle: colosseum

dream had to let techno in first, you know. 

techno and dream have interacted often - the duel, the championships, they’re friends more than acquaintances now. but techno was called in by someone wearing his brother’s face that he honestly doesn’t recognize from his voice and when he arrives at spawn, before tommy fetches him, he sees dream sitting cross legged waiting for him and they talk about the situation, dream giving techno a quick brief. when tommy comes, crying “techno, this way, this way to pogtopia”, and crossbow bolts are being fired at techno, dream gives him a lil wave goodbye (or what techno thinks is a lil wave goodbye but what actually turns out to be putting a swiftness effect on him).

“that’s not my brother, dream,” says techno, and dream’s mouth wobbles and he says, hoarse, “i know.”

techno Suspects, but only knows that dream has world-manipulating powers and thus standard minor god powers. he doesn’t let dream know he suspects. 

chap 19 bad

subtitle: run devil run

bad trusts dream, perhaps against his better judgement. 

dream comes to visit bad and skeppy on neutral grounds in the interim leading up to the festival that everyone on the server is side-eyeing and side-stepping. bad considers his friend and the owner of the world as he gives dream an impromptu tour through the escape route he and skeppy have dug out, wonders with a little reproach how dream could let things get to this point, then, soft, gentle as always, acknowledges that dream is only human kindly. when he says that, though, dream’s face crumples, as though those words hurt him more than any criticism bad’s given him in the time he’s known him, as though bad had driven a blade into his heart, and bad doesn’t understand but he lets dream run away from that. when a small flock of creepers explode over the tunnel the night before the festival and bad grumbles that he has to fix it, he learns dream left him with a fortified escape tunnel.

a/n: i’m sure the irony isn’t lost on you.

chap 20 tubbo

subtitle: cadmean victory

what say the sacrificial lamb?

tubbo is coming to terms with the fact that he might not make it out of office in one piece and it’s not his first time respawning but the older members of the server always, always did their best to shield the younger ones from death. he runs into dream by complete coincidence while he’s avoiding pogtopia (mostly wilbur) and manberg (mostly schlatt), caught between two strangers wearing his friends’ faces. he looks at dream, who looks back at him impassively, and tubbo starts to cry, because it finally hits him that even with his death and respawn nothing will be fixed, nothing can change, the poison’s run too deep into the veins of dream’s beautiful little world and now nothing can be right anymore and it feels like he’s shattering into tiny, aching shards - and then dream kneels before him, takes his hands, presses his forehead to them, sighs like his heart’s breaking, and tubbo feels a small calm thread back into him as dream stands abruptly, jittery. dream, with hands that shake, grips tubbo’s shoulder, hovers for a second, then his head jerks up and he bolts into the forest, clambering up a tree with admirable ease and disappearing away into the leaves as schlatt suddenly emerges from the bushes nearby with a joyous, plastic “hey! tubbo!”

chap 21 george

subtitle: lantern burns low

a moment in the night; george is visited by a specter. 

dream comes, pale, and asks george if there is anything wrong, is everything okay with you? takes george’s caught-off-guard face in his hands and says george george george, are you - and george catches a glimpse of dream’s powers (is he safe safe does he hurt no but fear but anxiety there are dregs hush now quiet now he is safe all quiet quiet quiet he’s safe) and he says, stricken even as the constant thrum of nervous energy he’d kept with him fades out, “dream what was that,” and dream presses his hands to his mask where his eyes are and says, despairingly, “they don’t get to have you too,” and staggers back out. 

george is the first person dream overtly “comes out” to. this is also why george doesn’t see dream til the festival. 

chap 22 schlatt

subtitle: the empty throne

dream visits schlatt in his office. 

schlatt, possessed by madness, has no idea what he’s saying but it feels right, it’s exactly right, everything is in his hands, and when dream approaches, his hands facing up, is he there is he there yes yes yes tainted polluted this is twisted this is madness madness madness dream reels back, shaking, and schlatt leans in and leers, not even knowing what he’s saying, “you can’t even fix it, young god,” and relishes the way all the color drains from dream’s face.

=)

chap 23 dream (edit: this monster ended up being split into three for pacing purposes and also if i left it together it was gonna be. h. 14K WORDS. also the drama of a cliffhanger at what most people thought was going to be the last chapter was too good to pass up don’t @ me

subtitle: do you feel like a young god?

running, running, running again

finale!! dream takes everyone’s old hurts into himself, takes the madness from schlatt and wilbur, promptly passes the hell out because no one should be doing that, wakes up, gets the shit hugged out of him, and explains a little, and gets told that he’s loved over and over. 

i uh! take questions! i like talking about this story, there’s a lot i still want to show, and even apart from that i just really love mcyt haha

[drewbarymore]

just us

Summary: Bucky feels good about himself for once, and then he doesn’t.

Word Count: 2.3k+

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning(s): self-deprecating thoughts

a/n: theres no reason for this. i just love bucky with my whole ass heart so theres that. and lowkey i was listening to If I Ain’t Got You by Alicia Keys while writing this so yeah. just throwing that out there. (and again this is supposed to be just a little something. little. short. and its not that short bc)

—

It’s crazy, because this night started out with him actually feeling great about himself.

He remembers looking at himself in the mirror a hundred times, surprised by the fact that his first instinct wasn’t to avert his eyes or step away from it each time. For the first time in decades, he doesn’t recoil from the monster he sees.

It’s not as if he feels like his old, more bearable self again— god knows that’s probably never going to happen— it’s that he doesn’t feel like the other old self that he abhors. He doesn’t quite see Sergeant James Barnes, but he doesn’t see the Winter Soldier either.

It’s just him—Bucky. And it felt good.

It’s crazy, because even then, as he looked at himself straight in the eyes in that mirror, seeing certainty and confidence for once, there was still a nagging voice at the back of his head that told him this was too good to be true. He ignored it at the time, unwilling to let his demons trample on the ease he was feeling.

He should’ve known not to ignore them, because while his demons are ruthless, they’re realistic. Sometimes he thinks they’re just the rational part of his brain, and that makes it harder to ignore them. His therapist tells him that’s what’s tricky about voices in your head; they make you think they’re right.

But looking all around him right now, it’s easier for him to think that maybe the reason why they want you to think they’re right is because they are.

He watches for another moment as you spin around on the dancefloor in your deep burgundy dress that makes you look like something he doesn’t have words for. Gorgeous, splendid, stunning, breathtaking, and a whole lot more, but nothing will give what he sees justice. You fit so well in this kind of place, reminiscent to the ones built during the Renaissance— royal, ethereal. He watches as people look at you in an almost entranced manner, and he can’t blame them. It’s hard not to love you. He out of all people should know. He watches for another moment as you smile at whatever your dance partner is telling you. Your dance partner, all in an elegant suit that actually fits his persona—luxurious and sophisticated, screaming money and a great and easy life ahead if you choose him.

Greg. Jake. Drake. He’s not really sure what his name is. He avoids anything involving him at all costs. He had to fight the urge to do a full on background check right down to his third cousin’s best friend’s daughter’s dog on more than one occasion, trying to reason with himself every time that that’s just plain intrusive and creepy, and that it doesn’t matter that this guy’s been sending you expensive gifts for the past month after you met at an event much like this a few months back. He told himself every single time, he had no right.

Because while you’re gorgeous and kind and gentle and the only real thing that grounds him, you aren’t his. And he isn’t yours either, no matter how much he wants to be.

Natasha, however, did a background check and assured him discreetly that your suitor has a clean background for the most part. Bless her heart for feeding his curiosity, but honestly, when he found out that he actually is a good man, he didn’t know whether to feel assured or terrible.

(Of course he felt fucking terrible. He felt like you’re being taken away from him, and it’s irrational, but it doesn’t stop the twisting feeling from crawling into his heart and fucking squeezing it.)

“Mission complete,” he hears Sam say from his earpiece, reminding him of what he and Nat are actually here for.

They were given a mission to gather intel on one of the guests. Nothing too risky, but you all have weapons on you just in case. You and him, however, are here to socialize and form alliances as to avoid situations like the Accords all over again. The higher ups figured that it would be wise to send the two of you, given that you’re new, and Bucky’s… well, they figured it would be wise to build a new image for him, somehow get people to see that he’s not what was made of him anymore.

“Party time,” he hears Nat speak into the comms, “looks like Y/N already started without us.”

The teasing lilt in Nat’s voice makes him want to rip the device out of his ear. It’s already bad enough that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you dancing with someone else. He knows that the sight makes him feel like he’s caving in on himself, but he can’t look away. As if it’s a need to look at whatever’s hurting him dead on.

A delighted laugh from you is the last thing he hears before subtly taking the device from his ear and turning it off.

He feels silly. So he slips out of your table discreetly, eyes scanning the interior of the venue for the restrooms and practically dashing to it once he sees it.

He feels silly as he looks at himself in the mirror in a stupid tie and a stupid suit that’s meant to make him look like he’s something when he’s not. He feels silly thinking about how good and proud he felt earlier in his bedroom seeing Bucky.

The good thing about being just Bucky is that he’s new. Being just Bucky is a clean slate, a fresh start, which also means he doesn’t really have anything nor is he sure where he stands. He’s something in between; both innocent and guilty. Innocent enough to be considered a part of a team that’s fighting for the good, but far too guilty with too much blood on his hands to ever be considered a hero.

He’s something in between, and there are times where he could trick himself into thinking that being in between is good enough and that he shouldn’t ask for more after all that he did. But there were times where he desperately wished he was more.

He feels silly because now he realizes that no matter how new Bucky is, he’s still nothing.

He goes back outside after a few more minutes, not really wanting to alert anyone by disappearing so suddenly. He keeps his head down as he tries finding his way to the bar, his earlier realization still heavy on his heart.

A hand on his arm stops him and somehow he knows who it is immediately even when he hasn’t looked yet.

“Hey, I-I’ve been looking for you…” you trail off, looking over at his slumped shoulders and hollow eyes that can’t quite meet yours. “Steve said your earpiece turned off. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, that was just me,” he replies quietly. You want to ask so bad, what made him feel like this, but not with other people listening on your side. So you remove your own discreetly, turning it off. To others, it might’ve just looked like you were tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Sorry, you can go back to the dancefloor now.” he says, walking past you, but you stop him again with a hand on his chest.

His heart flutters, and he resists the urge to close his eyes from the feeling of being close to you. He’s trying his best to slow his heartbeat down, fearing that you’ll feel it underneath your fingertips. He swears his heart comes to life whenever you’re near him.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you whisper, trying to get him to look at you by keeping your eyes on him.

You’re so close—body pressed to his, your breaths fanning on the side of his face, and he can hear your heartbeat too, and he tries not to perk up from that alone. Your thumb moves to brush over his chest, and he caves just like that, hand coming up to your back as he turns his head to look at you.

You smile at the warmth of his hand, relishing on the burst of serenity it brings you. Before you could stop yourself, your mouth’s moving.

“I knew the suit would fit you,” you tell him as your other hand moves up to straighten the lapels of his jacket a little bit.

“Y-You chose it?” he asks, and it’s a mystery to him, how he managed to talk given how close you are to him. So close that if he leans in a little more, he could kiss you.

The mere thought of it makes him want to shout in absolute delight.

“Yeah, thought the color would make your eyes pop…” you look back and forth between his eyes, and he feels his heart practically jumping out of his chest. Like it knows it doesn’t really belong to him anymore and wants to go to the one who really owns it. Like it wants to burst out of his chest straight to you.

“I was right.” You smile, brushing your index finger under his chin ever so lightly. It didn’t even last a second, but what small part of him you touched sent his whole body into a state of euphoria he knows he never wants to get out of.

It’s fucking ridiculous, the control you had over him. And it’s supposed to scare him, having someone else have control over him again after decades of that very same thing, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because you’re everything good and gentle and kind and—

Maybe just because it’s you.

“You look handsome, Bucky.” you tell him, hand coming up to brush a strand of hair that came lose from his low bun behind his ear.

He could only give you a pained smile. It feels so fucking good hearing that from you, he just wishes he can believe it. He sees it in your eyes, how much you mean it, but he can’t quite convince himself that he deserves that look from you, so he looks away and scans the crowd instead.

Some people are already looking at the two of you, and he doesn’t miss their gazes trailing down to the exposed metal hand by his side, doesn’t miss how they look up at him one more time, only a quick glance screaming discomfort and then to you with pity before going back to their conversations. It makes him feel exposed and judged and wrong, and they all looked like they belong here and he just…doesn’t.

He pulls away slightly, feeling the chill of the air run through him as he loses your warmth. “Where’s…Greg?” he asks apprehensively.

“Craig,” you correct, eyes still set only on him, and it makes him feel incredibly exposed. “Around, I guess. I don’t care.”

He nods, moving to step around you, but for the third time that night, you stop him.

“Will you dance with me?” you ask gently.

His heart halts in his chest, and he wants so badly to say yes because hell, it’s his dream standing right in front of him just waiting for him to take her hand. He wants so badly to say yes and just spin around the marble floors with her in his arms feeling like a million bucks, but he feels the stares around him, poking and prodding, and he knows they’ll just worsen if he says yes.

You see the hesitation in his eyes, see it cloud his mind as he looks up at the people around you. You can hear him almost hear him thinking, and you want to help quiet down the voices in his head.

“Hey, look at me,” you whisper as you hold his face in your hands, willing him to look at you. “Just us, Bucky.”

He finally looks down upon hearing your words, letting out a shaky sigh. You feel his hands come up to your waist, and he nods, murmuring a small ‘okay.’ You smile, leading him to the dance floor.

The lights aren’t dimmed, and you’re in the middle of the venue for everyone to see. Panic starts to rise up in his chest again when the weight of fact that you’re practically the center of attention settles on his shoulders, and he raises his head to look around again.

“Wh-what about… Y/N, he likes you and he’s a nice guy—”

You take his face in your hands again, looking deep into his eyes. “I don’t care, Bucky. It’s just us.”

One of your hands travel to the back of his neck, and the other to the back of his head, gently pressing your forehead against his as you sway to the music. He lets out another shaky breath as his eyes fall closed. His grip around you tightens a hair, growing more certain, more steady and assured.

“Just us.” you repeat, moving your face closer to nuzzle his scruffy cheek and press small kisses on his jaw, praying that these little things will help him realize what you’re trying to get across—something you don’t have the words for right now.

You just know that love comes the closest to it, but still, it isn’t quite enough.

He nods, heart jumping out of his chest. This time, he doesn’t stop himself from pulling you closer by the waist, practically hugging you to him. You relish in the feeling of his warmth and scent surrounding you, knowing right off the bat that this will always be your safe place.

He moves a little bit, and you fear it’s him starting pull away again, but he only moves until the tips of your noses are touching, only enough to look you in the eyes. It’s the clearest you’ve seen them tonight, his blue ones, and you feel like a weight was lifted off of you— as if his pain is yours, and when that pain alleviates, yours does too.

“I-I like how this feels,” he murmurs shyly, making you smile.

“How what feels?”

“Just us.” he answers.

“Well, it can always be like that from now on,” you quip, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Really?” he asks, hope lighting his eyes up even more.

“Depends on you next move, Mr. Barnes.” You smirk.

“Well, I hope this does it.” he says, right before pressing his lips to yours.