#i really just need to upload this damn playlist

[etherealising]

miss you by aaliyah is so carmy x baby coded i’m crying : (

[skyeet-the-writer]

hey, coyote

1.3 - Blood Upon the Snow

"hey, coyote" playlist!

heyyyyy i've totally had this finished but school started up again and i forgot to upload despite the fact that i've been writing more of it. that's probably a good thing. let me know what y'all think so far, send me asks or messages or something! hope you enjoy! x.

arthur morgan x female!reader

summary: the van der linde gang exchanges blows with their sworn enemies, the o'driscolls once again

word count: ~ 6.3k

warnings: cursing, violence, mentions of killing, alcohol, hope you guys like a slow burn and tension bc that's what this is turning into

<previous next>

The gang heads southwest. That O’Driscoll you encountered did say their camp was near a lake and that lake was southwest. 

“Let’s go find these bastards before they find us, and rob this score they’re planning,” Dutch exclaims from up ahead.

You all ride in silence, not like there’s much of anything to talk about. You’re just glad to be in the action again. Micah was right about one thing, you did love action. You never turned yellow per se, you were just out of commission. But now you weren't sick and honestly feeling better than before. You felt stronger, more alert and ready. Maybe your body got sick to let you get a breather. 

You had missed the wind on your face, even if it was blistering cold. You missed being outside in the fresh air and you hoped the sun would come out, though it was unlikely the storm would break any time soon. You missed sitting on your horse, feeling her legs move and thump under you as she ran. You missed the feeling of her leather reins in your hands, of the comfortable weight of your revolvers and rifle on your back. You missed this, being a true outlaw, being a cowboy. 

After a while, Dutch slows down a bit, looking at something to the side. “Tracks…horses, quite a few of ‘em. Far as I can tell, the only fools out here are us and them. They must be this way.”

The gang picks up the pace again and Arthur asks, “You good, Dutch?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Listen, I know you don’t think much of my ideas recently, but this is the right move.”

“Okay,” Arthur says, casting a wary glance at you before looking ahead. “You know I got your back.”

“I learned a long time ago that you hit Colm O’Driscoll, wait for him and people you love die.” That hits a bit hard, considering Annabelle was part of the reason their feud started. You did like her, she was always nice. 

You sigh. “This feud between you two needs to be put to rest, one way or another.”

“It will be,” says Bill from beside you. 

“Some things I can forgive, others I can forget,” begins Dutch, “But what he did to Annabelle, I can’t do neither.”

That was a rough time for the gang and you don’t blame him for wanting revenge. But he always, always said that revenge was something you couldn’t afford. That was really the only thing that was stopping you from going home and blowing your dad’s head off for a while. It was odd for him to be going back on his word now. 

“You killed his brother, Dutch,” Arthur points out. 

“Yes,” Dutch answers, clearly still angry. “I did. And I hope the bastards’ll be reunited soon enough. That’s how this’ll end.”

“Damn right, boss!” exclaims Micah. 

You scoff and share a look with Arthur, who is beside you. You shake your head. Micah, you can’t stand him. Dutch, he’s not right. He said that this wasn’t a revenge mission, but he was beginning to make it sound like it was. Still, you’d ride beside him. 

Soon, Dutch points ahead and begins to slow down. “See that smoke? Let’s cut up here and take a look. They said it was near the lake, we must be close.”

The horses trudge up a hill and soon you can see the black smoke he was talking about. 

“Hold up here!” 

You pull back on Hazel’s reins and she slows to a stop. Your hand goes to scratch behind her ear, you know she likes that spot. 

“Alright, gentlemen, this is it,” Dutch says, his head slightly lowered. “Are we goddamn ready?”

“Ready!”

“Ready, Dutch.”

You nod, slowly. 

“Good. Now, Mister Morgan and I, we’re going to head up here a little, see if we can’t get a sense of the layout of the camp. Mister Williamson, Mister Bell, you two take up a hidden position just outside the camp. Mister Summers, Mister Escuella, Miss L/N, you three hold position here.”

You nod along. 

“Let’s go.”

All of you dismount and head to your positions. Micah and Bill head down the mountain while Dutch and Arthur head up to a ledge. 

You’re left with Lenny and Javier. You like both of them, much more than Bill and Micah. They’re just generally nicer, especially Lenny. He’s one of the newest members, but he’s good at what he does. 

You always check your guns before a fight, and you do so now. You check to make sure your pistols are fully loaded and so is your rifle. They’ve been cleaned properly, that was one thing you did while you were sick. You also have enough ammo on you, so you don’t need to worry about that. 

“So what’s this whole thing about Colm and Dutch?” asks Lenny, arms crossed. 

You sling your rifle over your shoulder and say, “Dutch and Colm used to work together, believe it or not. I mean, they was both outlaws at the time, neither of them trusted the other, but, you know. They never liked either, though. Colm treated his own men like shit and Colm just didn’t agree with Dutch’s views.” You adjust your hat to scratch at your temple. “At one point, for reasons I don’t know ‘cause I wasn’t there, Dutch killed Colm’s brother. That made Colm mad and so he killed Annabelle, Dutch’s girl. And bam, blood feud.”

“Damn,” Lenny says. 

You spot Arthur and Dutch heading back down and shrug. “Yeah, well, if you ask me, it’s getting all drawn out at this point.”

“It must’ve been hard,” Javier says. “Losing someone like that.”

You just scratch at your nose. “Probably. Last guy I loved tried to stab me on multiple occasions, so.”

Lenny and Javier chuckle as Arthur and Dutch return. 

“You two.” Dutch points at Javier and Lenny. “Get up there and keep us covered.”

“You got it, Dutch,” Javier says and begins to walk up. 

Arthur goes to grab the rifle from his horse and quickly comes back. 

“What’s the plan?” you ask as you begin to walk down the mountain. 

“We’ll circle around the far side and go down that way, same as Micah and Bill. Like you said.” He looks at you. “Revenge is a luxury we can’t afford.”

You nod, slowly. “Yeah. Just…didn’t seem like you held the same sentiment for a while.”

Dutch shakes his head. “Y/N. Y/N, have you completely lost faith in me?”

Your heart stings again and you shoot Arthur a pained look before turning away as Dutch continues. 

“Our needs right now are supplies, equipment, and a way out of here. Everything else, including Colm, can wait.”

“Okay,” Arthur says and you nod in agreement. 

Dutch peers over the ledge and says distastefully, “There’s enough of those bastards down there to deal with as is.”

When you follow his eyes, you realize he’s right. There are plenty and one might think that the odds wouldn't be in your favor, but your team was good. Still, it would be hard. Not like you expected it to be easy, per se. 

You three make your way down the switchbacks that get steeper the further you went down. You yourself almost slipped once, but Arthur took your hand and held onto it as you wobbled. Heart pounding, you thanked him. He held onto it the entire rest of the way down. 

When you reached the bottom, Arthur continued to hold onto your hand and asks, “Maybe I should take the lead on this. They’re going to be gunning for you.”

“They ain’t got me yet,” Dutch simply says in a low voice. 

“No,” you say, swinging Artuhr’s hand just a bit absentmindedly. “But with the way our luck’s been…”

“Hush. Let’s just get down there, first.”

“Yeah, shut up, Arthur,” you tell the man beside you, smirking. 

He just rolled his eyes, bumped your head gently, and let go of your hand so you could catch up to Dutch. 

“Down these trees, quick.”

As you approach the base and a wooden structure, you three crouch and kind of waddle the rest of the way there. You enter the structure and you can spot either Micah or Bill waiting down at the end. You take cover behind part of a wall with Arthur directly next to you. Your rifle is out and you thank God you have gloves because your palms are sweaty. It’s not like you’re afraid of dying, you’ve never been scared of that. You’re just nervous something will go horribly wrong and someone else will die. 

“What are we doing, Dutch?” Arthur asks quietly. “I can take this if you want.”

“Just make the call,” says the older man. “You wanna take the lead? Go.”

You look at Arthur and he looks back at you. He’s never particularly been a leader-type, but he does know how to make good moves. He’s smart and he’s careful for the most part. He’s led a couple missions himself. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth. If he wants to do this, he can. And you tell him with a firm nod and a small smile. 

He gives you one of his half-smiles and turns to Dutch. “Okay. I’ll go first.”

You watch as Arthur aims, cocks his gun, and fires a bullet right into an O’Driscoll’s head. The gunshot rings loud and that’s all you need for everyone else to know you’re there. 

“You’re dead, you sons of bitches!” you shout, shooting one in the side of his mouth. Blood flies and he falls to the ground. 

“They’re under that walkway, there!” you hear one nearby shout and you yourself quickly silence him before the gang moves out to make for better cover. You dive behind a crate and push your back to it, a bullet whizzing past. 

“Everyone, push up!” Dutch exclaims.

Insults are being hurled between gunshots, but you never waste your breath. They’re really just wasting the last of theirs. Often, you don’t even let them finish their sentence. 

You shoot man after man down, and if you really had any moral compass left, you’d think it was wrong. But hey, they hated you, too. 

A corner of the box you’re hiding behind blows off and you scoot over before looking up and searching. You spot a few men standing by a house and set your sights on them. One is foolish enough to be standing out in the open, but he soon falls. Typical O’Driscoll. 

Another piece of your crate is blown to bits, and you realize you have to move. Upon scanning your surroundings, you see a couple of metal carts. Quickly you make a break for it, and just in time too. The moment you take cover, another shot falls to the crate and it splinters into hundreds of pieces. You breathe a sigh of relief, quickly reload, and get back to what you do best. 

You’ve always had one of the best shots in the gang. There’s a reason you and Charles often go hunting together. He enjoys your company, but also because you’re good at it. You grew up in a small, rural town and your father knew how to hunt. When you were young, he took you with him on good days. Those were one of the few good memories you had of him. Part of you craves to get a sniper rifle, but it’s somewhat useless. Dutch hardly ever needs a sniper, you’re just as good on the ground. 

“Y/N!” Bill shouts, moving out slightly from his cover before quickly being brought back by a ping of a bullet. “Up top, on the water tower!”

You see the water tower, and you see the man on top. With a smirk, you say, “I got ‘em,” and aim. Your hands are never shaky when you’re aiming and they’re not now. You see the man on the water tower and he doesn’t see you. In seconds, his arms drop and he falls from the tower into the snow, a hole in the front of his head. 

“Suck it,” you mutter, sitting back down to reload. You knew it was a good idea to pack more rifle ammo than pistol ammo. 

Your lot seems to be winning. Dutch warns of more in the cabins, and you decide to set your sights on them. You need a closer shot, though, and turn to Arthur, who is taking cover behind you in his own metal cart. “Arthur, cover me.”

“I always do,” he says and shoots another man down. 

There’s not much cover between where you are now and the cabins, but you’ve got to make do with what you’ve got. So, you throw your rifle over your back and make a run for a low-lying water trough, or at least that’s what it looks like. You crouch down low, up to your calves in the snow, and take your rifle. 

There are two cabins before you, one directly in front, the other parallel to you with a broken and rotting wagon in front. You spot an O’Driscoll slowly coming out of the cabin, crouching, but the moment a spot of skin appears, you shoot at it. He screams and falls to the ground. He’s better in your sight and you finish him off quickly. 

You catch sight of someone in the cabin parallel from the window and he gets a couple good attempted shots before you kill him. His head smacks on the windowsill and you cringe. “Sorry.”

The gunfire comes to a stop and Bill shouts, “I think that’s all of ‘em!”

“Search the bodies!” Dutch shouts, standing up. “Strip everything we can find from them!”

You stand and head for a nearby body as other members of your gang loot what bodies they can get to. These men don’t seem to have much, but you manage to steal a few bucks from a few of them and they have plenty of bullets you need. 

“You recognize any of them, Dutch?” asks Bill. 

“Of course not,” Dutch answers. “Colm doesn’t give a damn about his men. All he cares about is numbers. If you can shoot a gun, ride a horse, and kill without thought, you’re in. Think how long some of you have been with me? I imagine Colm doesn’t even have the names of these fools.”

It’s a lot of names to remember, you think as you take the rifle cartridges off of another man. Suddenly, there’s the crack of gunshots from behind and a bullet whizzes right past your ear. In instinct, you fall to your stomach, eyes wide. 

“Heads up boys! We’ve got more coming in from the forest!”

You groan and haul yourself up to take shelter behind a crate. “Goddamn, how many men does he have?”

Many of their men come in on horses, but you take care to avoid shooting the horses and just the men riding them. It’s not like it was the animal’s choice to get roped into all of this. But they just keep coming and coming, it doesn’t seem like there’s an end to them. Every time you take one down, two more show up. 

“Shit, there’s a lot of them,” Dutch says from on your far left, also hiding behind a box. “What do you think, Arthur? Should we hold ground here, or go at them?”

“I say we go at the bastards,” he answers, picking another one down. 

Dutch nods. “Come on, then. Everyone with me!”

You do one final reload and advance with Dutch to pick off more O’Driscoll’s. 

“There’s more in the forest!” you shout, shooting another one down. You take quick cover behind a tree and peek around to see an O’Driscoll pointing his gun at you just a few yards away. You yelp and turn to the other side, shooting him in the ear. Blood splatters against the tree and into the snow. 

You pick off a few other ones that are seen running between trees or behind the grasses and soon the sound of gunfire comes to an end again. With a sigh, you lower your gun. Despite it being so cold, your hair is sticking to the back of your neck. 

“The cowards are running away!” exclaims Dutch. “Good work, boys. Back to the camp. We’ll get what we need and clear out.”

You regroup around the center of the camp and you loot a few bodies along the way. You find a bit more, a platinum pocket watch, some health cures, even some horse stimulants. Finally, you make your way back and sling your gun over your shoulder. 

“Good work, boys,” Dutch says once everyone has arrived. “Now, let’s tear this place apart.” He whistles and mounts his horse. “Bill, you go search that wagon there. Micah, search that building. Y/N, you go with him. Arthur, you take that building to the left. Alright, men, quick! Find those detonators, explosives, anything you can. Let’s go.”

Part of you is reluctant to go with Micah, but it’s what Dutch wants you to do. So you and Micah walk into a building together with a few bodies. Micah searches the building while you kneel down to search the men. 

“How did ya fair in that fight, L/N?” Micah asks with his back to you. 

You pause and look at him. “Well, I ain’t dead, so.”

“You ain’t got shot?”

You fix him with a confused glare and reply, “Clearly, Micah.” You scoff and take some health cures before moving on to the next body before quickly realizing there was little there that you wanted. “Shit, these fuckers don’t have anything useful on them.” You stand and step over the body to approach the last one on the other side of the room. 

Micah shuts a cabinet door. “They ain’t got anything useful in here, neither.”

You sigh and say, “I wonder where their plans would be. I mean, they must be around this camp somewhere, right?”

Micah just grunts and leans on the side of the doorframe, hands in his pockets and his head tilted low. He asks, “How come you never like me?”

“You’re mean,” you answer, searching his pockets and finding a few boxes of shotgun ammunition. 

“We’re outlaws.”

“Sure. Don’t mean you have to be a dick all the time.” You roll the man over and rifle through his back pockets. 

“I ain’t a dick all the time.”

Suddenly, in the man’s back pocket, you pull out a large and thick folded square of paper. “Sure you are.” You lean back on your heels and unfold it, eyes widening at what you see. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Micah asks, walking over to see as well. 

You tilt the paper to him, smirking. “Think I just found their plans.” You roll the paper up and stand. “Come on. This is the only useful thing in this cabin.”

You make your way back to Dutch with Micah beside you. The sky had gotten darker between the time you arrived and the time after the fight. 

“Did we get everything?” Dutch asks, rubbing his hands together. 

“Think so, boss,” Micah answers as you both approach. 

“I found this on one of them,” you add and hand him the paper. 

“Thank you,” Dutch says as he takes them from you. He unfolds it and scans it before nodding. “Oh, yeah, interesting… this is something about the train they was gonna rob. A Mister Leviticus Cornwall.” He nods and rolls it back up. “Mount back up, let’s keep moving.”

Lenny and Javier had brought the horses down and you mount Hazel. She whinnies and flicks her tail and you give her a slight tap on the hindquarters as Dutch begins to move. 

“Proud of you boys,” Dutch says as you begin to ride out. “All of you! Not a man down.”

“Good work, fellers.”

“Not bad for some starving down-and-outs. They can pummel us as hard as they like, but we will always get back up and fight,” Dutch says. “That’s who we are. Outlaws for life, fellers.”

You nod, wiping at your nose. Outlaws for life. 

“Wait until we have John, Mac, Charles, and Sean back riding with us, and I believe, I know, they all will be back.”

Arthur, who is nearby you in the front, says, “Well, you didn’t get Colm, but this hit will hurt him a lot more than any bullet in the head.”

“Especially when we rob this train, too,” Dutch adds. 

Arthur laughs. “Yeah, I guess we’ll see about that.”

“Oh, indeed we will.”

After a few moments of silence, you call up and say, “You know, Colm will come after us for this.”

Dutch nods, slowly. “Oh, of course he will, just like all the rest. But we’re gonna stay a step ahead of them, make sure we always know where they are before they know where we are. We allowed ourselves to get a step behind in Blackwater. That won’t happen again.”

You sure hope it doesn’t. You all travel at a slow pace for a while longer, but as Dutch realizes it’s getting dark, he shouts for you all to dig in and you all pick up the pace. The sky gets continuously darker, but you figure you’re making good time. 

Then, you spot something up ahead. You squint, for a moment thinking you spot a figure on a horse in the distance. Then, as it moves, you know your suspicions are correct and shout, “Dutch! I see something!”

“What is it?”

“Looks like one of the fellers that was at the camp with Colm,” you say. 

“Leave him to me,” Arthur says and you look back at him. 

“Alright, we’re heading back,” Dutch says. “Just bring him back alive. He could be useful.”

“You got it,” Arthur says and veers off the trail and into the water to chase after the man. You watch him as he goes, always feeling a bit sad when he leaves. But you know he’ll be fine, he can handle one man. It’s not that you worry, you just miss him. 

The gang makes it back to camp just as it gets dark and as the storm picks up more. You hitch Hazel up and give her some food while the gang disbands. You announce that you’ll wait for Arthur and Dutch nods before walking over. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. “You look a lot better.”

You smile. “Feel a lot better too.”

“You had us worried. You had me worried.”

Your cheeks heat up. “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry, Dutch, I didn’t mean to get sick.”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “No one ever means to get sick, Y/N. It ain’t your fault.”

“You needed me.”

He shakes his head. “No, not really. Things were slow for a few days, everyone is resting up, gettin’ stronger. You didn’t miss anything.” He puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, well, I’ll see if Charles is up for hunting tomorrow or something. We need food.”

He nods. “Sure. Hey.” His tone catches your attention and you look up at him. “You did good today. You did some mighty fine shooting, you did some good looting. You found their plans.” Dutch gives you a smile and his hand moves up to rest on your cheek. “I’m proud of you, girl.”

Man, any time Dutch says that he’s proud of you makes you break into tears. No matter how many times he says it, it still has the same effect. So you take a deep breath and give him a tight hug. Dutch wraps his arms around you and squeezes. After a minute, you let go, eyes slightly wet. Hastily, you wipe them away. 

“Thanks.”

Dutch nods and in the moonlight, you swear his eyes are misty, too. “Of course. Don’t stay out here too long.” 

“Arthur should be back soon,” you say as he walks back to his cabin. “I’ll let you know.”

Dutch nods and soon you’re left alone in the snow with just your horse for company. So you turn to her and give her a few more oatcakes, knowing they’re her favorite. By the time Hazel is done eating, Arthur has yet to return, so you figure you’ll make a tiny snowman to pass the time. You have gloves on and you’ve always liked making tiny snowmen as it snowed. 

When you were younger and it snowed around camp, you spent your free time making them and placing them around the camp. When you were bored and looking for attention, you’d send Hosea to try and look for all of them. 

So you pack three different-sized balls of snow and stack them on top of each other. The wind blows past your ears and you’re thankful for your hat to protect you. After making the snowman, you go to place it on the fence by the horses and even find a couple little splinters to stick in it for arms. 

As you bend down to make another one, you hear the sound of hooves and look up. Arthur has returned with a man on the back of his horse. 

“Here we are, you sack of shit,” he says, coming to a stop. “Let’s introduce you to the boys.”

You hitch his horse while he drags the man off. “Damn, you’re just about as ugly as all the rest of your cousins,” you tell him with a smirk. 

“Don’t hurt me, please,” he begs as you and Arthur walk to the cabin. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” you tell him as you walk behind Arthur. “We’re real nice.”

The man is able to move his head just a bit and a look of confusion crosses over his face. “You’re a lady?”

“Sure am!” you say, perhaps too cheerfully. “And I know how to cut your intestines out with a spoon and play jump rope with ‘em. So don’t fucking try me. Or do, because that sounds like a lot of fun.”

Dutch opens the door with the plans in his hand and lets out a mild laugh when he sees what Arthur has. “Found the little shit, did you?”

“Yep,” Arthur says and drops the man to the snow. “I got ‘em.”

“Very good,” Dutch replies. “Welcome to your new home. Hope you’re real happy here.”

Arthur drags him up with a groan and you stand beside Dutch. The man isn't particularly attractive, at least not by your standards. His hair is a bit long and his beard is scruffy and his eyes are wide and full of fear. 

“You want me to make him talk?” Arthur asks. 

“Oh, no, now all we’ll get is lies.” He turns to the side and shouts, “Uncle! Mister Williamson. Tie this maggot up someplace safe. We get him hungry first. I got a saying, my friend.” Dutch continues in a quiet voice, “We shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need savin’...and feed ‘em as need feeding. We are gonna find out what you need.” Then he backs away, smiles, and turns back to the cabin. “I can’t believe it! An O’Driscoll in my camp.”

“No, I ain’t an O’Driscoll, mister!” shouts the man as Bill and Uncle drag him away, struggling to little avail. “I hate that feller!”

Dutch just waves him away and says, “Oh, whatever you say, son.” Then he turns to Arthur. “Well done, Arthur.”

Arthur shrugs. “I’m just sorry we missed out on Colm.”

Dutch opens the door partially and waves the paper in his hands. “Oh, well, there’s time enough for that. Now, I gotta go figure out if we can hit that train.”

“Okay.” And after that, you and Arthur are left alone outside. 

Your friend looks at you and asks, “You know how to cut someone’s intestines out with a spoon?”

You shrug. “Not yet. Can’t be too hard, though. Just gotta find a strong enough spoon.”

Arthur just laughs and takes your hand, pulling you a bit closer. “You know, you can be scary sometimes, Miss L/N.”

“I mean, I am an outlaw,” you tell him, smiling. He looks…nice in the moonlight. “It’s kind of my job.”

“You do a fine job at it,” he replies. “I mean, not as good as me, but.”

You scoff and smack him with your hand. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Morgan.”

He grunts but smiles. “Can’t be full of myself if it’s true.”

“Tell me, who shot that guy off the tower today? Oh, right, it was me.”

“I didn’t see it. Can’t believe it if I didn’t see it.”

“Bill can vouch for me!”

“I don’t trust that man’s word more than I trust Micah.”

“Wow, that’s insulting to Bill.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit far. Still, I don’t believe you.” He tries to sound convincing, but he’s got that half-smile he always has when he messes with you.

So you just roll your eyes and smile. “Okay. Believe whatever you want, Morgan. I can’t change your opinion.” You make to turn, but Arthur grabs your wrist and spins you around to his chest. You let out a breath, taken by surprise and look up at him. 

“Seriously,” he whispers to you, leaning forward while his hands wrap around your waist. “You did good today. Glad to see you better.” Then he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. 

You shut your own eyes, smiling. Your hat is a bit messed up and so is Arthur’s, the brim poking your hair in a weird way. But you don’t mind because Arthur is holding you, something you missed while you were sick. He’s warm, despite the cold, and your stomach flips. 

Arthur gives you a squeeze and pulls away a little bit and stares at you. You look back at him, just barely able to see his blue eyes in the shadows. His facial hair is a bit overgrown and he’s sort of shaggy, so you lift a hand up to his cheek. 

“You gonna shave when we get outta this?” you question softly. 

He blinks. “You want me to?”

“I don’t care, it’s your face.”

“Do you want me to?” he questions again. 

Though you’re confused, you slowly nod. “Uh, sure. But not all the way. Like, not clean-shaven. Just, like, trim it.”

Arthur smiles some. “Alright.”

“Why you want my opinion anyways?”

“Cause I don’t want you to think I’m ugly.”

“Arthur, a shave won’t help. I’m afraid you’re too far gone,” you say sympathetically. 

Arthur laughs. “You’re an asshole, Y/N, you know that?”

You cheekily smile. “You love me anyway.”

“I do.”

The two of you are silent, just kind of looking at each other. It’s odd, you’ve never stared so…intimately at each other. His hands are on your hips while one of your hands is on his face and the other on his shoulder. But you don’t hate it. In fact, you kind of like the way he’s looking at you, looking over your face. Normally, if any man stared at you so deeply, you’d feel uncomfortable. But not around Arthur. No, you’ve never felt uncomfortable around him. Hell, you were more comfortable when you were with him than anyone else, even Abigail. You acted like your own unapologetic self when you were with him and he never judged you. He liked you for who you were, that’s what made him such good company. 

Arthur takes a deep breath before breaking away, perhaps a bit too soon for your liking. He drags a hand down your arm and steps back. Is his face red? No, it must be the cold.

“Come on,” he tells you, nodding his head towards the boy’s cabin. “I’m thirsty.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

Arthur turns his back to you and heads to the cabin. You follow behind him, a bit slower, still a bit confused as to what just happened. 

But you have little time to think about it before you’re in the feller’s cabin, surrounded with loud talking and warmth. Silently, you make your way to a chair sitting beside the fire with the back against the window and sit down. Arthur sits in a chair nearby. 

“I heard you caught that O’Driscoll, Arthur,” Micah says. 

Arthur nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yep. Said his name was Kieran Duffy. Insists that he ain’t one of them.”

“If he ain’t one of them, why’s he with them?” asks Bill with a scoff. 

Arthur just shrugs. “Dunno. Guess we’ll have to wait a couple days before he says anything.”

“Y’all think Dutch is really thinking about robbing that train?” Lenny wonders. 

“Probably,” you answer, sinking down a bit and stashing your hands into your pockets. “I mean, it’s good. I think I’ve heard of this Cornwall guy, owns a lot of businesses and companies. He sounds rich. Could be a good score after Blackwater. We need it.”

There are a few grunts and nods in agreement. Bill then begins to talk about something, but all of a sudden, you don’t feel like talking. Your mind is still consumed with Arthur outside. He hadn’t ever looked at you like that, at least not that you could remember. What made him start now? And what did it mean, really? 

Bill’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “How’d you get to be such a good shot, Y/N?”

“What?” you ask, confused by the question. 

“You shot a guy off a tower from far away. How’d you do it?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Shooting that guy wasn’t that big a deal, at least you didn’t think so. But you just shrug and answer, “My father taught me how to hunt since I was little. It was the only nice thing he ever did to me, so, I don’t know. He taught me how to shoot, so I suppose I got it from him.” Again, you shrug. “Not sure. I’ve just always been good at shooting.”

Javier has a bottle of whiskey in his hands and you ask if you can have it with raised brows. He hands it to you and you take a sip, uncomfortable talking about your father. 

“She’s so modest,” teases Arthur and you kick him in the foot, glaring. He winces and rolls his eyes, handing his hand out for the bottle. 

But you keep it close to your chest, trying not to smile. “No, fuck you.”

Arthur shakes his head and looks away. And then you feel better. What happened outside likely meant nothing, you shouldn’t dwell on it. 

For a couple more hours, you and Arthur sit up and talk with the boys. You exchange stories, hurl insults at each other, just things you all typically do together. It’s nice to relax for once in a couple of weeks and you didn’t realize how much you missed it until you had it back. 

“Say that again, Micah, and I’ll skin you alive and then sew it back onto you backwards,” you tell Micah with a fake glare and a playful smile. 

Charles whistles from where he sits near you. “Oh, that’s a new one.”

You look at him and nod. “Yeah, I just came up with it.” 

“You should save it,” he tells you. 

“For a woman,” Micah begins, ever the antagonizer, “you’ve got some creative insults.”

“I can get more creative, if you’d like,” you challenge the man, fixing him with a stare. “Trust me, Micah, there’s plenty I’d like to say to you.”

“Try it.”

But before you can even get started, Arthur stops you, standing. “Alright, I think you’ve had enough to drink, Y/N.”

You stare up at him, vision swimming a little. “How does my being drunk have anything to do with me chewing Micah’s ass out?”

Arthur takes your arm and hauls you up. “Because you get freakishly descriptive. Come on.” He gently nudges you outside. 

Lenny hands you your hat back from where you threw it at him earlier and you take it, placing it on your head. “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, sure.”

When you’re outside, you stumble. Your brain is a bit foggy, perhaps you did have too much to drink. Arthur takes your arm and helps you walk straight. 

“I told you you’d get drunk if you tried to out-chug Bill,” Arthur chides, holding your hand.

“I won, didn’t I?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and you two quietly make it back to the cabin. You both part ways and Arthur wishes you a good night. You wish him the same and make your way into the room. In the lantern light, you can see Harold sleeping on your pillow. You shoo him away and he instead sleeps at the foot of the bed, his face buried into his tail.

Slowly, you undress, taking off your hat, boots, and coat before getting into bed, exhausted. At least you’re not sick anymore, that’s a plus. 

Just as you’re about to doze off, there’s a quiet knock on the door. Instead of getting up and answering it, you just groan loud enough for them to hear. The door quietly opens before quietly shutting again. You hear footsteps go around the other side of the bed and there’s movement behind you before warm hands are on your arms. 

It’s Arthur. You should have known. 

“What you want?” you ask in a mumble, eyes still shut.

“I’m cold.”

You smile a little and scoot back. “Fine. You can spoon me.”

“Is this the same spoon you’re using on Kieran?” Arthur asks as his arms wrap around your waist and pulls you back into his chest once again. 

“Huh?”

He sighs. “Nevermind. Just go to sleep.”

“Was about to before you showed up,” you mutter, shifting a little. His head goes to rest against yours again. 

“So sorry.”

Your hands drift down to grab his fingers. “Nah. Don’t be.”

After that, you pass out, with Arthur behind you breathing deeply.

[xoxoemynn]

Was tagged by @wistfulcynic to share my writing process, fun! Tagging @abigailpents, @red-sky-in-mourning, @montygreen, @gayhoediaz, aaaaand....I think I've already seen all my writer mutals active on Tumblr tagged in this BUT if you have not been, please consider yourself tagged.

Do you write in order? I do. I have to. I will happily tell other people that if they're stuck, they should skip the scene and come back later, but when I try to do it, I fail. My brain just won't let me proceed with the next until I know exactly what happens in the moments leading up to it, because WHAT IF SCENE A INFLUENCES SCENE B? I do wish I could jump around, but I can't.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try? Pretty damn finished. I may go back in and add some flourishes, but overall, I'd say it's about 95% there.

How many drafts do you go through? Depends if it's a one shot or something like WTDB. One shots usually it's first draft, possibly pass it off to a beta reader, revised draft, and then I do another round of editing once I upload to AO3 because I swear I always find new things to fix once I see it in a totally new format, bringing us to a total of three. WTBD? Depending on the chapter, but usually looking at five or six.

Tell me about your process. I've realized I have two non-negotiables. The first is music. Sometimes I don't have music on because I feel like I need to Focus and it turns out I just don't write anything. I created a writing playlist for WTDB that basically just became my writing playlist, period, because my brain now associates it with writing. Other non-negotiable is an outline. I need one. Even if it's just bullet points. Every time I try to pants it I just end up spinning my wheels until I give in and jot at least a few notes down.

Again, I'd say one shots are different than a longer piece like WTDB. One shot I come up with an idea, write down the gist of the idea and maybe key lines/details I want to include because my memory is shit and I WILL forget. Then I just open up the ole Google doc and get going. I'm a simple lady.

WTDB was a totally different ballgame. I used Scrivener for that, and I can't imagine writing something of that length without it. I had a tab for each character, as well as pages for key settings, descriptions, references, etc. before I officially started writing. Especially with the intro character background stories, I was often shimmying sections around, and Scrivener made it really easy to do that. Then I'd write a chapter, immediately send it off to @margotandthefox for a pulse check off "does this make sense, does this work, does anything stand out to you as off?" Get it back, make edits. Once I had a nice chonk together, I'd send off to @monksofthescrew to beta that entire section of chapters. I'd then do some initial revisions, then another round when it's actually time for the chapter to go up, and a final one on AO3. (Although with ch. 5 I skipped AO3 because I had already been looking at it so much and it was weirdly liberating.)

Also I'd be remiss if I didn't mention I'd be lost without @margotandthefox, who frequently lets me just throw half-baked ideas at her, sometimes via rambling text, sometimes rambling audio message, and work through areas when I'm stuck. Highly, highly recommend you get a friend like that. 💕

Only other note I thought I'd share is I read my writing out loud as I edit, which was a trick I learned from my days as a writing tutor. And when I read along in my head, the voice narrating WTDB, especially the intro scenes, is the voice of God/the narrator from Good Omens. Now you know.

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 11: Foreign Material

*nervous laughter* I'M SO SORRY I KNOW ITS BEEN LITERAL MONTHS. I swear to god I'm still in love with this series, and trust me when I say I'm getting more and more dedicated to forming a proper upload schedule.

As a gift to make up for my absence, I wanted to give y'all some extra content so...I kinda sorta made a character playlist for Min? Just a collection of songs that reminded me of her/I think she'd like! Hope this helps makes up for me being a terrible writer to all of you.

Masterlist

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Sewer Fish?” Benzo’s question should have been some comfort, but it wasn’t. Looking up at the towering structure in front of you, a large concrete structure with smokestacks reaching up to the cloudy sky above, dark smoke billowing out of them and across the river, you felt nothing but anxiety.

You flattened your hair for the hundredth time, the hair gel you had slathered into it feeling alien to you. “Can I be honest?”

“Would be pissed if you weren't."

“Not really.”

Benzo chuckled, but it wasn’t out of humour as he slung an arm around your shoulders outside those giant metal doors. Feeling the strong, miner arm of your best friend, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply; the topsider air tickling your lungs.

“You’ve got this. If anything happens, you have your escape routes. Just make a distraction and you’re gone.” Benzo attempted to comfort you.

“But…what if I don’t get the job at all? Then what? All this stress and planning for nothing? Getting Vander mad for no reward?” You sighed deeply. “I wish I had my dagger. I feel naked, and not in a fun way. If I get killed, my mom’s going to kill me..”

“Something tells me your new boss wouldn’t appreciate his new street-rat brandishing a weapon.” As Benzo let you go, you began fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. “Niya said the job was pretty much yours, guaranteed. Just don’t show off how much smarter you are than all of them and you’ll be golden, Sewerfish. And don’t worry about all the rest of that; planning is a part of life, and Vander’ll cool down soon.”

The air seemed to get a little bit colder as you thought about your brutish friend. “He hasn’t said a word to me since I told him about this damn job!”

“Man has the attention span of a goldfish, soon he won’t even remember why he was upset to begin with." Benzo chuckled. "Since when are you so bothered by a guy, anyway? Aren’t you the one that’s always warning me about getting attached?”

“But-” “Look, if we go through every possible scenario, we’re going to be out here all week.” The deadpan look on his face reassured you that he was right. You couldn’t stand here overthinking all day, you had a job to get to.

“You’re right.”

“When am I not?” You slugged him in the arm for that one, but to his credit, it did make you giggle.

“Thanks for walking me, and for the shirt.” You offered a smile, and Benzo nonchalantly shrugged back.

“Thank Luoi, he’s the one that lets me take long lunches if I need to.” As he began to walk away, he pointed at you one last time. “Tell you what. If you survive today without pissing anyone off, we go out for drinks tonight. Your first round’s on me.”

You feign shock, moving your hand in a clutched-pearls expression. “You saying you wanna buy me a drink, Benzo? How forward.”

Rolling his eyes, Benzo turns his back and continues on his way. “Save the charm for your new boss, Fishie!”

Then he turned the corner and he was gone. And you were alone in front of the factory doors.

Meeting with Niya to tell her you wanted to accept the position had been bad enough for your anxiety, but crossing the bridge and travelling to the factory itself? To say you’d been sweating buckets as you walked in the heavy metal doors would have been an understatement. You weren’t sure what you’d be met with when you got there, as you'd only been told to look presentable and to bring your work papers.

The latter hadn’t been a problem, just a case of using the fake work papers you usually kept on-hand. ‘Looking presentable’, however, had been a completely different ballgame. You had nice clothes, but what did someone wear to a job interview on the rich side of town? For a factory job? Eventually, you wound up raiding Benzo’s closet and borrowing one of his good work shirts and a pair of simple trousers.

That was nice enough right? You hoped so, at least.

Taking one final deep breath to steel yourself, you opened the door and strolled in.

Being escorted from the front reception to the head supervisor’s office, you were struck by the notion that no factory had any business looking as nice as this one did.

The clean air was one thing, you'd left your bandana in your pocket because you’d expected the lighter air quality. But the whole damn place practically glimmered, not a drop of oil or rust in sight. The entry was decorated with framed photos of the factory over the years, leading to a heavy wooden desk where a receptionist sat on the other side. You barely spared the images a passing glance as you introduced yourself, affirming the time for your appointment. The assistant-a young girl-was prim and pretty, that much you could have expected. Speaking politely with a neutral expression, her hair was placed in a tight bun that pulled all her features up and back.

Then, before you could really even catch your bearings, you were escorted up to your new boss' office. As you climbed the spiralling staircase, you couldn't help but marvel at the polished hardwood that you stepped on. Hardly the right substance for heavy foot traffic. But the wood paled in contrast to the railings that kept the staircase in place; intricate spiralling patterns were woven with a shiny black metal that you weren't quite familiar with. It was beautiful, deep black similar to a starless night sky, that had seemingly been moulded and smithed to perfection as the patterns danced around one another until tying off at the end of the ascent. As much as you found yourself gawking at the masterful artistry, you couldn't help but wonder why someone would put so much effort and resources into a place like this. After all, it was a factory, not an art gallery. Who came to an industrial building expecting glamour?

Just as you thought you couldn't be anymore awed, you were let into a big-looking office, seemingly that of your new employer, and all your preconceived notions of what a factory should look like flew out the window. Light hardwood floors spanned the floor, save for a plush rug in the center, which drew the eye to the heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room. Above the desk was a giant crystal chandelier, something you'd only seen in ballrooms during big jobs. This was smaller than one you may find in a ballroom, but it was nonetheless spectacular and gaudy as it cast little glimmering lights across the walls and furniture. Your eyes tried to take in all the sights, assaulted by the sheer amount of belongings put into the room. Plush couches, beautifully crafted tables, a bird cage of some kind.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

Stepping into the room of riches, you were welcomed by the superintendent and subsequently had to hold back a laugh behind a polite smile. The fact that he looked exactly as you’d expected was completely humorous in your mind, and you’d only wish the boys had been around to share in your amusement. A fat, white, and balding man in a fancy suit, smoking from a fancy pipe, sitting at a fancy desk with a bunch of fancy, useless paperweights on it. Suddenly, the room was beginning to make much more sense.

“Minerva, I presume.” The man called to you, tapping the end of his pipe into an ashtray. Looking at the pipe, which you could only assume was an antique based on the shape and design, you wondered if it was actually practical to use. But the subtle yellow staining in the man's otherwise silvery white mustache spoke for itself.

“Yes, Sir.” You nodded, making your way over to his desk with an extended hand. “Mr. Morichi, nice to meet you.” As you spoke, you were careful to hold your chin up and keep a watch on your accent.

He shook your hand, a tight but casual grip as a metal ring with his family crest dug into the meat of your fingers. “Morrison, please. Mr. Morichi was my father.” He had an easy smile, and you were reminded of the businessman smirk that Benzo often used when making deals.

“Morrison.” You corrected off-handedly.

He gestured to a soft leather seat across from his desk. “Please, sit.” You accepted the invitation, actively sitting on the edge with your stiff spine refusing to lean against the back. “Ms. Minerva, I’ve heard good things about you. One of my managers knows a friend of yours? Tells me you have quite a bit of experience in the field.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you have a polite back and forth discussing all the places you’ve worked over the years. Over 13 years, you'd made up an impressive resume working in just about every factory, blacksmith, and vendor shop in the Underground. This was only more remarkable thanks to the fact that practically every boss you'd had had nothing but good and kind things to say about you. This, you knew, would come in handy during this hiring process.

As you name a few of the more well-known places you'd worked, he nods and asks about the bosses working there, seeming to recognize them through business dealings.

“So you’re familiar with parts of the metal industry in the Fissures?” You ask politely.

He shrugs, taking a couple of puffs from his pipe. By now you’ve got a full smell of the tobacco between his lips, and recognize that it’s much lighter and smoother than the stuff you’re used to. “It’s a small city, Piltover. Even between the two ends, Top and Bottom side, people forget that sometimes. But when you’ve been working in this field for as long as I have…you make yourself familiar with every piece of possible competition that stands in your way.”

That was an interesting answer, knowing full well that the Morichi metal monopoly had bought out several of the larger factories in your home city. One of their bigger buy-outs had put about 4,000 people out of work. But you chose not to bring that up just yet

“Such an impressive resume. You've got the experience, and the references to prove it." Your smile grows, if only a little. "So why venture away from the Underground?”

Squaring your shoulders, you recalled your practiced answer in your mind’s eye. “I wanted to broaden my horizons...sir. Maybe by working here, I hope to encourage more collaboration between topside and the Underground, specifically when it comes to industry.” A generic interview answer, but Morison didn’t seem to mind as he just absently nodded while studying the paper in-hands.

“You’ve uh,” The man, Morrison, continues; “neglected to mention your skillset in this impressive resume of yours.”

Biting your lips, you clear your throat and continue; praying you sounded more confident in this whole thing than you felt. “If I may ask, what’s your opinion on mages, sir?”

He chuckles a bit at this. “Pretty sure you’re the one supposed to be interviewed here, Ms. Minerva.”

“Would you prefer not to answer the question?”

He smiles for a moment, holding off on his answer as bright blue eyes scan you over. You don’t flinch from his gaze. “You have backbone, kid. I appreciate that. But you got to be careful on this end of the city, you know. A lot of people see some little girl from the Underground and are going to misconstrue backbone for arrogance.”

“Not you though?”

“Lucky for you, no.” He puts down his pipe. “As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been in this business quite a while. My father owned this factory, and his father before him. I plan on retiring soon and passing it down to my son. And if there’s one lesson I want him to learn from me…is that business opportunities come in every shape and size.” You hesitate, waiting for this anecdote to lead somewhere notable...but it doesn't. You realize that, much like many Topsiders, this man just likes the sound of his own voice.

“And that’s what I am after all,” a sarcastic note slipping into your tone, “a business opportunity.”

“You’re a smart girl. You know better than to think this situation is anything otherwise.”

“To be frank, Ms. I want to be clear that this isn’t an act of charity or some sort of diversity ploy for good marketing,” Morrison explained. “Rest assured, this business holds no loyalty to you. If any of my staff finds you being light-fingered with the merchandise, you start causing conflict with the other employees, or you get on the wrong side of the law-” again, you had to hold back a smirk, “you will be sent out of here faster than a bat out of hell. Frankly, I don’t care that you’re a mage or whatever filthy, inbred, slum you come from, Politics is for the council to worry about. If hiring you means I get to pay fewer wages? Fantastic! But I will not tolerate Trencher Trash in my family’s factory, do I make myself clear?”

Trencher Trash, there it was.

Your teeth grit at this, and you could feel your nostrils flare angrily, but you remained still. Breath even, eyes locked on the man across from you as he raised his eyebrows expectantly. After a long, tense moment, however, your gaze softens and your lips pull into a polite smile.

“Crystal clear, Mr. Morichi.” You nodded. “And, as for my skill set-” with a singular beckoning motion of your finger, his pipe flies out of his hands and into yours. You catch it easily, smiling as his eyebrows shoot up ever so slightly at the sudden motion. “-I’m sure you will find them satisfactory for the job.”

After watching you with steady eyes for just a second more, Morrison reaches into a pile of paper, pulling out a few sheets you recognized as Piltover work papers and a proper liscence to use your mage powers on company grounds. You’d never had one of those mage licenses, never needed one in the Underground, and the whole concept felt very uncomfortable to you, like a leash. But with a heavy ‘thunk’, he presses a rubber stamp of his family crest onto the loose-leaf paper and then hands it to you.

“Glad to hear it! Welcome aboard, Ms. Minerva. I’ll call up your floor manager to give you the rest of your orientation.”

“Okay, okay.” Niya hiccuped, her face (much like your own) pink at the cheeks as she giggled slightly to herself. Leaning into her giggles, you muffled your own behind a closed fist. “But, like, seriously, Girlie! What was he like?”

“Morrichi?” You clarified, puffing a breath up to brush your hair out of your face. “Same generic self-entitled, full-of-himself, Topsider snob. Definitely hasn’t ever missed a meal before, if you know what I mean.” Despite being in a quieter corner of the pub, you still had to yell quite a bit so that Niya could hear you over the loud conversations and jukebox music. The place was packed for a weeknight, crammed like a can of sardines, and smelled just the same. The scent of body odour, ale, and smoke filled the air and created a rank atmosphere.

Niya rolled her eyes, finding your answer completely unhelpful. “Was he handsome? In his correspondence with the paper, I always imagined him as a silver-fox type.”

You made a gagging motion, face curling up into a cringe. “Niy’! He’s, like, 60!”

“Some 60-year-olds can be sexy!” She exclaims, lifting her hands defensively. “What about that, uhhh, floor manager you mentioned? Would you consider it?”

Yet again, you cringed before taking a sip of the ale you held in hand. Even the thought of possibly romancing any of your new ‘coworkers’ was enough to create a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. “Sure, Niya. Dorian could be considered attractive…if you could ignore the blatant prejudice against us Fissure-folk. He only referred to me as a 'sumprat', never by my name! Everyone in that factory is the same, that’s why I never fuck Topsiders…unlike some people.”

After another hiccup, Niya swayed in her seat and pointed an accusatory finger at you. Her dark skin was shiny with sweat, bringing out the natural glow that always seemed to encapsulate her. Even when she was sloppy-drunk…“Hey! Heyyyyy~ don’t be mean to meeeee! You said he was good when he was showing you the furnace-thing, right? That means he’s good with his hands! Plus...nothing like a prejudice-fueled hate-fuck, amIright Babes?”

You gapped at your friend for a long moment, utterly speechless, before reaching over and grabbing her half-drunken glass of wine. “Aaaand that’s enough for you tonight. You're ridiculously stupid-horny when you're drunk, you know that?”

Niya made a sort of half-hearted groan of disapproval as you set the glass away from her, leaning more onto the table. She may be an Underground native, but Niya was never able to drink with the rest of the Fissures, couldn’t hold her liquor to save her life. Two glasses of wine and she was done. Shaking your head, you downed the rest of your own ale and felt the heat in your cheeks grow and migrate down to the tips of your ears. Maybe you should think about slowing down yourself…

Feeling a soft touch on your shoulder, you turned to see the beautiful face of Felicia, her long and silky purple hair draped over her shoulders and hooded eyes smiling at you as she floated to the corner table. Despite being clothed in just a ragged blouse and plain jeans, the way she carried herself had always struck you as nothing but graceful and elegant; almost akin to Topsider beauty. Behind her, Silco crept over and stood closer to where Niya was now fully slouched over the table. Upon seeing the two, Niya exclaimed their names excitedly, causing Silco to pat her head like a toddler.

“I didn’t know you were here tonight!” You smiled back at Felicia, welcoming the friendly hug she offered. Back in their teens; Niya and Felicia had been great friends, only for them to naturally grow apart when Niya took more of an interest in working topside, while Felicia was more interested in getting married and settling down. They were still friendly these days though, as far as you knew.

“I just wanted to pop in for a little while and say congrats on the job. Benzo told us this morning on his rounds. I gotta say, was not expecting you to be the type to take Topsider cash.” You heard the inquisitive tone in her voice.

“Trust me, I’m not just doing it for the pay. Never hurts to have another pair of ears when it comes to those elitist sons-of-bitches, right?” You winked at her. “For Zaun.”

She smirked back. “For the rebellion.”

“You should tell her about the uniforms,” Silco smirked from his place across the table.

The woman’s eyebrows flew up. “Uniforms? What kind of factory is this?”

You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t even get me started. The damn place has me wearing a fucking dress, for Lady’s sake. I mean, talk about impractical.”

“Fucking Pilties.” Felicia cursed, laughing dryly. “It’s kinda funny picturing you waltzing around a workfloor in a ballgown.”

“Oh fuck off, I may be a damn-fine dancer, but I don’t ‘waltz’ for anyone. I don’t care how good the pay is.” The three of you continued, discussing your various places of work (with the odd slurred mumblings of Niya thrown in every once in a while). After a while though, you began looking around the room.

“Speaking of factory workers though, is Connol here too? I haven’t seen him. I’d love to talk to him about some of the metals I was working with today.”

Felicia shook her head. “Nah, he’s on babysitting duty for the night. When Benzo was telling everyone it was a pub night, I tried to convince him that Violet was just fine with my mom, but…one sad look from that girl and he refused to walk out the door. She has that man wrapped around her little finger, let me tell you.” After laughing a bit at her joke, she eyed Niya with concern. While you’d all been talking, the reporter had begun childishly poking into Silco’s ribs, much to the man’s annoyance. “How much has she had this time?”

“Two glasses of wine, not even.” You laughed and watched Silco slap her fingers away yet again. You tilted your head up to him. “How have you been making out tonight? You see where our boys wandered off to?”

“I think I saw Benzo leave with someone, didn’t see who though. Typical.” Silco explained. “Niya, Would you please stop–as for Vander…” His eyes danced behind you, and-somewhat hesitantly-you followed his gaze only to regret it a second later. Sitting at the bar, Vander was seated next to a guy you didn’t recognize. He was young, maybe a couple of years older than you lot, and very pretty. He also seemed to be laughing quite heartily at what Vander was saying. In return, Vander was smiling quite heartily as they chatted, not a care in the world. Stubbornly, you turned your head away, looking at your glass and wishing it wasn’t empty.

“Uh oh…” Felicia muttered, squeezing your arm. “Do I sense some trouble in paradise?”

“Shouldn’t be.” Silco shrugged, although the twinkle in his eye made your skin crawl uncomfortably for some reason. “Right, Min?”

You paused for a second, staring angrily at your glass as though it was the root of all your problems, before swallowing the lump in your throat and looking back up; a smile now plastered on your face. Logically, you knew you shouldn’t be feeling mad right now. You and Vander weren’t together, never were. You’d chosen that path a long time ago, and both of you had had plenty of partners since. So why bother being upset about something like this?

Because the stupid, stubborn arsehole hadn’t spoken a word to you in days, that’s why.

“Right then." Your accent slipped for just a second, causing you to clear your throat before continuing. "Nothing to worry about. Can I get you guys a drink? A pitcher for the table, maybe?”

“Another wine!” A now very sleepy Niya exclaimed, but you just ignored her.

“I’ll take the house whiskey if you don’t mind.” Silco shrugged. “A nightcap. I think I should probably take our lovely Ms. Niya here home in a minute.” Looking down at your girl friend, you weren’t surprised to find her falling into slumber, lightly drooling on the table.

“Nah, I’ll do it.” Felicia volunteered.

You frowned. “But I just bumped into you! You can’t leave yet!” But she just shook her head.

“It’s probably for the best… This may not be the best time to bring this up but-” her hands landed on her abdomen, a smile lifting the corners of her lips “-I can’t drink right now anyways.”

Your and Silco’s eyes sprang open, looking quickly to each other for confirmation before looking back at the purple-haired woman in front of you, who was now full-on grinning.

“You’re pregnant again?!” You exclaimed, rushing to hug her, all previous issues now wiped from your memory. “Since when?”

“Three months now. We wanted to tell everyone ASAP but Dr. Yan was real strict about waiting 'til the first trimester before telling anyone, just to be careful.”

“Congratulations!” Silco grinned, leaning in to give her a congratulatory handshake. “You two seem to be popping them out like rabbits, huh? Connol’s got to be thrilled.”

“You have no idea. He’s hoping it’s a boy this time.” She laughed. “And I don’t know if I’d say three years was ‘popping them out like rabbits’.”

You shook your head. “We’re just thrilled. It’s not common that kids in the Underground grow up with one awesome parent, never mind both of them. If more kids get to experience that then we’re excited for all of you.”

Felicia smiles, shrugging modestly. “Ah, we try our best.”

“If you need anything, at all.” Silco eyed her seriously. “You let us know, alright? We’re always here to help.”

“Thank you, both of you.” With another smile, she made her way over to the passed-out Niya, scooping her up in her arms and propping her up straight as the other girl whined in partially-conscious complaint. “That’s the main reason I wanted to come out today, just to get a start on the announcements. But Niya really looks like she needs to get home now.”

“You sure you’re good to do that on your own?” Silco asked, eyebrow raised. But he was just met with a passive handwave.

“I’m pregnant, not weak. Besides, Niya’s, what? 90 pounds soaking wet? I’ll be fine. See you guys soon?”

“You better.” You smile. “Come by sometime! I’ll make something pregnancy-safe for dinner!”

“We may just take you up on that.” Felicia smiled and waved to the two of you before walking off towards the exit.

“That’s awesome.” Your own smile is seemingly glued to your face, eyes following the two women as they disappear into the crowd. “She and Connol make such adorable parents.”

“Two little ones is quite the handful though. I would have waited a couple more years, personally.” Silco notes, taking Niya’s half-drunk wine and swirling it in the glass. You can’t help but laugh, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He’s wearing one of his nicer outfits, as he tends to do when you all go out. A light purple button-down, billowy with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, layered underneath a cheap-but-nice-looking grey blazer that you’d all bought him for his last birthday. His hair slicked back to reveal his angular features, you notice that his nose is just slightly pinker than normal, a sign that he had been drinking lately as well. But based on the fact that he wasn’t swaying or slurring his words, you guessed that it hadn’t been very much.

“I’m sorry, how many of you did Mikael raise again? You guys are, like, a few months apart between the three of you, and he seems to have done just fine.”

Silco, half smirking, nods and downs the mouthful of wine. “Fair point.” As he reaches into his pocket, he pulls out a box of what you recognize as his home-rolled cigarettes. “I know you said something about a drink, but how would you feel about a smoke instead?”

For a moment, you’re hesitant. There are more people here you haven’t said hello to yet, and you can still hear another bottle of ale calling your name. But one look back to the bar, and you see that mystery guy has stepped closer to Vander now. Suddenly, the anxiety from before returns tenfold, watching with unmistakable envy as you watch the man's hand reach out to touch Vander's bicep. 

“Count me in.”

Taglist (if you want to be added just lemme know!) @the-lake-is-calling @conretewings @officialjellydoughnut @ladyoakenshield @lovesleepybearwriter @pinkrose1422 @pinkheartfleece

[moonandsunwoo]

permission to dance. e.s

# — pairing: eric sohn x reader

# — genre: fluff, IdolAU, established relationship

# — warnings: none, just clingy bf!eric

# — listen to: permission to dance by BTS

♡ requested by the sweet @mingiandbaconjam ! Thank you so much for you lovely lovely ask, I hope you like this! Have a nice day! ♡

🪴

When you entered the practice room, you felt like a wall hit you. A very comfy wall, dressed in baggy clothes and a quite nice smelling wall but a wall none the less.

“I missed you so much.” Eric, formerly known as that very wall, mumbled against the crock of you neck, giving you approximately two and a half seconds to catch your breath before pulling you even tighter.

“Hello to you to babe.” Your voice was swallowed up by his oversized shirt but Eric didn’t seem to mind. He just relaxed in your arms for a moment, dramatically sighing when you moved back a bit.

“Damn you act like we didn’t see each other for months.” You laughed, letting your hands drop from hugging his chest into his hands. Eric just shrugged, a tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

“I mean, that’s how it does feel sometimes. Most times, especially when I’m conscious.” He shot you a cheeky wink before you swatted his arm lightly, pulling him down momentarily to press your lips to his.

“Cheesy.”

Eric helped you put away your bag and dimmed the lighting a bit, nodding towards the lose AUX chord.

“Any specifics you wanna practice today?” he asked, pushing an abandoned water bottle to the side before grabbing two fresh ones from the minifridge. You shrugged, connecting your phone to the speakers.

“Nothing specific really…we don’t have a stage coming up or anything. And even if we had,” you gave him a small grin, “I wouldn’t be the one to spoil it.” Eric gripped his chest in mock pain, throwing you a pained glance.

“Not even to your boyfriend? The one providing you with free hugs and food?” you shook your head.

“Nope. And your heart is on the other side, you idiot.” he just waved it off, walking up on you before dramatically pulling you into his chest.

“My heart is right where you are.” Not even Eric himself could hold back his laughter when your eyes met through one of the large mirrors on the wall.

“Can you just not.” Was all you huffed trying to suppress your laughter, leaning back into his touch nonetheless.

“My heart is crying.” Eric countered theatrically, arms tightening around your waist, face once again resting against your neck.

“Better make it stop. Someone could slip on your tears and then what. Are you even insured?” he just giggled before spinning you around so you’d face him.

“Feisty.” You decided to retort with kiss, an answer Eric accepted without hesitating.

Warming up with Eric was as messy as expected and you weren’t sure if you were actually out of breath because of the muscle exercise or because of your laughter since Eric never failed to make an absolute fool out of himself. Besides not being able to keep his hands to himself for longer than five minutes and pecking your cheek about one million times in between.

The moment you probably absolutely lost it, was when Eric tried to show off the splits (and failed miserably) and when you teased him for it, decided to play “Penalty”, screaming along to the chorus. It resulted in you crawling into his lap, covering his face with small kisses to make the yelling stop. He accepted them with a small pout that disappeared fairly quick and let you take your phone out of his hands to find a next song to actually dance to.

He just wrapped his arms around your body and scooted back until his back hit the mirrors, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

“What you wanna have next?” you mumbled absentmindedly, scrolling through one of your shared playlists with him. There was a suspicious high amount of slower tunes and you knew for sure that Eric was responsible for all of them.

“You don’t really add upbeat songs, just spicy stuff.” You turned to him, eyebrows risen. “Alina Baraz, Show Me?” his grin turned almost unbearably smug. “Any ulterior motives, Sir?”

“Never baby. Why, you like the song? I should add more The Weeknd, you remind me.” you just hummed, scrolling past it quickly.

You probably spent the next ten minutes like that, you cuddled up in his arms, going back and forth between various songs and genres, when someone knocked at the door.

Eric immediately tensed up at the disturbance, still not used to the fact that the company had in fact approved of your relationship by now (if kept low-key. Which was probably why Eric kept making the biggest fuss over reunions even if you were apart for just a few hours.)

“Yeah?” You called out, drawing soothing circles over the back of his hand.

“It’s just me, Kev! Forgot my water bottle and I wanted to do a live before going to the dorms.” Kevin’s bright beanie came into frame first, before a mildly tired face followed.

“Sure, it’s over there. We’re just practicing some more.” Eric relaxed again, pressing a quick kiss against you neck.

“Yeah I see, you two are super busy practicing.” Kevin huffed, stalking towards the fitted kitchen in the corner of the practice room.

“We were just trying to find a good song to dance to.” Eric whined at the accusing tone of his older brother, pulling you closer against his chest.

“Sure.” Kevin grinned, grabbing the lonely bottle of water before making a bee line for the door.

“Don’t let me bother you two. Just don’t be nasty.” Eric let out an embarrassed yell before aiming with his shoe at the now laughing Kevin. The shoe hit the quickly closing door with a muffled thud, the sound of it falling to the ground drowned out by your laughter.

“So annoying…” Eric just mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder again.

You just grinned, scrolling aimlessly through your playlists.

“Let’s see…oh what do you think about that one…?” Eric lifted his face from his nuzzled position to peek over your shoulder.

“Permission to dance?” you nodded, finger hovering over the bright orange cover.

“Alright let’s go!” he exclaimed, slipping away and scrambling to get up to get his shoe.

A few ungraceful hops on one leg into your direction and some fumbling with his shoe he came to a halt right when the first chorus of the song sounded through the speakers.

“Permission to dance?” Eric asked with a small bow, a grin on his lips. You took his offered hand and let him pull you up on you feet.

“You don’t need permission to dance Eric. Especially not with me.”

also dedicated to all deobi who recognize the spicy songs Eric always plays during his lives, whilst acting like he's totally not doing it on purpose

⌕ m.list

© written by moonandsunwoo on tumblr. do not copy or re-upload.

[yourlunarspice]

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

ooohhhhhhh, Kiya what have you gotten yourself into? Lolllljkjk 😅. These answers are so long, I'm putting them below the cut. Hopefully you don't mind ^_^!

B. Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

A lot, actually! The most recent one was my story Here For You. The day in question, I'd been feeling really touch-starved and drained and I'm on the other side of the world, so I wasn't with anyone I knew super well. I had a ton of meetings that day and just felt so drained, I ended up having a panic attack completely over text with my boyfriend. A few days later, I wrote that oneshot in only a couple hours. I tweaked some of the dialogue, but all of the texts are directly from our conversation. The only thing I added was the hug at the end because I'd been missing his hugs. It was cathartic, in a way. And people really seem to like it.

I try to take from my personal experiences for scenes for my fics (like the ghost hunting scene in this chapter of Those Damn Flowers), but I think that Quiet Day is the first fic completely, 100% inspired by a personal experience. Every so often, I'll wake up and can't speak. I don't usually want to be around people, I don't even want to listen to music. I'm not energetic like Present Mic usually, but I thought that he was the perfect character to highlight how I was feeling.

D. Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [any fic of your choice]?

I have a lot of albums dedicated to fics, but only two of them are for my own! I made an album for Those Damn Flowers, but I also made one for Tidal Wave! I modified some of the songs by adding voice clips and making them even more true to the story. There was one song where I added one of Kaminari's electricity sound effects at the beginning, then sprinkled in Shinsou saying 'no!' throughout the song, sort of trying to emulate how Shinsou felt at the end of Tidal Wave. I'd share them, but I don't know how to upload .mp3s to Tumblr 😓.

(Because I can't control myself, I took screenshots of the albums I've made inspired by fics. Click for better quality, and I've renamed some of the songs to better fit with the themes)

Violent Delights, Virtuoso, Nyquil™, Those Damn Flowers, and Tidal Wave

L. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

It really depends. If the fic has a specific day when it needs to be posted, then I'll write it as soon as possible, and reread it almost obsessively until it comes time to post it. If it's something that doesn't have a set posting date, I'll usually just post it as soon as I feel the story is done. I may revise a few things after posting, but not a lot. I do a lot of rereading while I'm writing, so that might play into it as well.

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Three)

Summary: Steve drops by the VA and listens in on one of Sam’s meetings and later that evening, (Y/N) reflects on her unusual day with the super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Previous Chapter)

After placing sugar packets and stirring sticks next to the coffee maker, (Y/N) took a seat beside the refreshment table and watched as Sam took his place at the front of the crowded room and began the meeting. One by one, each person would share their struggles with PTSD and how it had affected their lives as civilians; with each person’s story, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy. These vets have put their lives on the line to protect us, they don’t deserve to suffer, she thought with an inward sigh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken Sam up from a nightmare or had seen him suddenly grow silent and have to distract him from his memories of war. But it was wonderful that people like Sam, people who face the same exact struggles, run programs to help each other out.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) turned to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the meeting. Smiling and tugging her sweater tighter around her, (Y/N) turned her attention back to the woman speaking. “The thing is I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

Sam nodded. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.” Everyone clapped and began standing, so (Y/N) jumped to her feet to man the table. She greeted each person with a smile as they grabbed cookies and filled their cups with coffee, delighted to see so many new faces among the usual crowd. After about twenty minutes of mingling and making small talk, the crowd started to leave so she decided to begin packing up the refreshments as Sam bid them goodbye out in the hallway.

“Don’t take those away those cookies just yet, darlin’, I wanna bring one home to my gran’daughter.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Gary, an older man with an incredibly bushy grey beard and a Vietnam War veteran’s baseball cap, and she smiled brightly before offering him the half-full container. “Take the whole thing if you’d like, Gary, and be sure to say hello to Katie for me!”

That made Gary grin toothily as he took the container. “You know, darlin’, you’re sweeter than this whole damn box of cookies. I’ll be seein’ you next week!” (Y/N) gave him a small wave and resumed cleaning as he limped away.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She turned away from the coffee pot and smiled when she saw Steve standing before her, his blue eyes glimmering and his hands shoved in his pockets. “If I am, it’s only ‘cause I give away free cookies; the vets that visit all have a massive sweet-tooth, you know.”

“Are you a vet, too?”

“Nah, I just work here.” She tossed several used paper coffee cups into the trash and chuckled. “A year ago, when I finally graduated with my master’s degree, I started writing my novel and since I was writing about soldiers and government agents I needed to interview some about their personal experiences. So, I decided to come down to the VA. I met with Sam, who had just started working here, and asked if I could interview some people for my writing. He agreed, and I spent the whole day just talking to the vets. All sorts of vets, too; men, women, old, young, you name it. And at the end of the day, after hearing about their struggles with PTSD and how hard their lives became once they returned to civilian life, I went back to Sam and asked if he needed any part-time employees. He said yes, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Steve smiled, and the impressed look he was giving her caused her to blush so she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, did everything work out earlier? It’s just that it seemed a little serious, so I hope that everything’s okay.”

Steve’s smile fell a little but he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine…I was just visiting a friend who hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

(Y/N) impulsively placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult. I hope they get better soon.” The ghost of a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and Steve’s eyes softened after a moment; realizing that her hand was still resting on his arm, she hastily withdrew it and began folding the tablecloth to keep her hands busy. “Um, Sam and I were planning on going out to dinner after we finish packing up, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

She glanced up at him and saw a glint of something in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could get a closer look. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to pass; I’ve already got some plans later…”

“That’s okay, maybe next time!” (Y/N) smiled, but inside she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Just then, Sam walked into the room with a stack of pamphlets in his hands. “Pretty good turnout today, huh? Five new faces and Captain America!”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that I stopped by.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing, “I should probably get going, but it was good to see you two again.”

(Y/N) shook his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing you in your own exhibit earlier but it was great hanging out with you!”

“You too, and good luck with For Queen and Country, I’ll keep my eye out for it in the bookshops.” His bright smile caused her heartbeat to once-again quicken as their hands dropped.

“It was good seeing you too, Cap, you made me look really awesome in front of Maria, so thanks for that.” Sam grinned and shook his outstretched hand.

“Glad I could help, Sam; see you two around!” Steve gave them a small wave before turning and walking out of the room.

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway, (Y/N) resumed her cleaning and glanced at Sam. “What do you feel like tonight, Thai or burgers?”

Sam grinned and began unplugging the coffee maker. “Burgers. So, did you have a nice day chilling with your new boyfriend, Booksmart?”

“Sam…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) sat down at her desk and put her music on shuffle before flicking through her notebook to the pages of notes she’d taken that day at the Smithsonian. She bit back a smile when she recognized the difference between the carefully printed notes she’d taken by herself versus the illegible scribbles taken from the elderly security guard’s long-winded explanations. He was kind of a fast talker, wasn’t he, she thought to herself; as a way of honoring the enthusiastic old man, she ultimately decided to name one of her minor characters after him.

“Stan.” She sounded out the name and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it…”

(Y/N), now finally having all the information she needed to best describe Soviet Cold War missiles, wrote for nearly three hours straight, only taking breaks to skip songs or to glance down at her notes. She would’ve probably continued writing well into the next morning except that her eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges, an unfortunate symptom of exhaustion.

Well, you have had a pretty busy day today, (Y/N) silently reasoned as she saved her evening’s progress and booted down her laptop. Since Sam was already fast asleep in the room across the hall, she went about her bedtime routine as quietly as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth before tiptoeing back into her room. She slipped on her mismatched pajama set and was about to crawl into bed when the record player on her bedside table caught her eye. Making her way over to what Sam affectionately called ‘The DJ Bookcase,’ she scanned the shelf devoted solely to her record collection until the right one stood out to her, and then she carefully placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle. After a moment, the soft tones of Glenn Miller’s ‘Stardust’ filled her room and with a smile, she finally got into bed and turned to watch the record spinning on the turntable.

Thoughts of the super-soldier who’d inspired her choice in bedtime music began to fill her mind, making her smile softly to herself. (Y/N) had enjoyed seeing Steve again, even if it had been in a highly unconventional place like the Smithsonian, and she quietly marveled at how effortless it had been to talk to the larger-than-life man. He really was different from how the history books portrayed him: not only was he kind and polite, but he was also intelligent, sarcastic and extremely understanding. Also a little lost, I expect, (Y/N) thought, remembering his guarded expressions and withdrawn replies whenever she’d ask him a personal question; it couldn’t be easy adjusting to a brand-new reality, especially without a fixed support system to rely on.

“Hopefully he ends up getting the help he needs.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, her sleepy eyes continuing to watch the rotating record as more thoughts of Steve Rogers filled her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked my little Stan Lee cameo in this chapter and the last :) I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Four

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[andthatsonasahi]

Friends: Asahi x Barista!Reader

A/N: Hey guys this is the first fic that I’ve written that I’m actually uploading onto tumblr so like, pls comment and lemme know what yall think! <3

-

“Asahi we barely see you anymore!” complained Suga, as they walked towards the gym to practice.

“What do you mean?! I’m always here for practice!” he argued.

“Yes but we don’t see you before or after, where the hell have you been?” questioned Daichi suspiciously.

The trio had been best friends for years, and they’d spend a majority of their free time together. Lately however, the tall ace had been MIA, rushing out of every practice the second everyone finished cleaning up. They weren’t the only ones who noticed it either, the entire team had several conversations about his possible whereabouts, Tanaka even suggesting the possibility of a secret girlfriend, which everyone brushed off almost immediately as Asahi was far too shy. It even got to the point where Coach Ukai had noticed a change in his playing style, he was more focused and driven to succeed regardless of him having seemingly less practice, a fact that he was unsure whether to be glad or worried about.

“I’m okay! You guys are just being paranoid, please,” Asahi noted with a roll of his eyes, as he opened up the gym doors, earning a confused look from both boys.

“When did you start speaking like that?!” rushed out the gray-haired boy.

“This is what we mean! You’ve changed!” noted the captain.

“Is that such a bad thing? I’m happier! I’ve even learned how to word my emotions!” defended Asahi.

“No but we’re your best friends, Asahi, we just want to know what or who is making you so happy,” teased Suga, earning a blush from him almost immediately.

“It is a girl! I knew it! Tanaka was right!” yelled Daichi victoriously, as he fist bumped Suga.

“Or boy let’s not assume, Daichi!” added the setter.

“Shouldn’t you be yelling at us to do drills by now?!” exasperated Asahi as his face continued to redden, rushing away to get the equipment they needed, in disbelief at the fact that everyone was discussing his personal life.

“Should we-” began Daichi.

“For sure,” nodded Suga.

-

The boy sighed as he ran out of the gym, constantly checking the time on his phone. Practice had gone a bit late and he didn’t want the girl to think that he didn’t like spending time with her. He shook his head as he noted how his friends kept pestering him about her throughout the practice. He wished that he could gush about her with them but, what was there to tell? They were just friends anyway, she hadn’t shown any sign of reciprocating his growing feelings. Or was that just an excuse? Maybe he liked keeping her a secret, keeping their conversations about absolutely anything to himself. Factually, it wasn’t anything scandalous, it was just two friends keeping each other company at a coffee shop. Yet...it was special. The connection they had, to him anyway, was almost...cosmic. He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite describe, not that he was any good with words anyway. A smile began to form on his face as he saw her through the glass windows of the shop, seeing her laugh with a customer as she handed the drink to them. He was only a door away from the girl he had missed throughout the day, and the idea of that, made his heart soar with joy.

“Welcome to Cioccolato Cafe- Oh ‘Sahi! Hi!” she beamed as she started making his standard order.

“Sorry I’m late,” he began, setting his gym bag beside him as he sat down on the usual table- his table as he liked to think of it as.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s been a busy day anyway, your timing is technically great since we’re about to close up,” she reassured, humming a song as she poured the milk into his cup.

“What are you singing?” he asked curiously, wanting to make a note of it to add to his playlist he made for her. 

“Oh it’s just ‘Loving is Easy’ by Rex Orange County; it’s been stuck in my head all day!” she expressed with a giggle, earning a blush from the boy as he contemplated asking her if there was a reason she was humming that song in particular, but before he could even muster the courage to ask, he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell clinging.

“Welcome to Cioccolato Cafe! I’ll be with you in just a second!” she announced, finishing up the milk tea for Asahi and handing it over to him.

“Take your time,” replied the customer, earning a sharp head turn from Asahi.

“W- what are you guys doing here?!” exasperated Asahi as he facepalmed and began muttering under his breath.

“We just wanted to see where you’d keep going!” defended Suga as Daichi smirked at the boy’s flustered face.

“You don’t mind, do you?” asked Daichi in mock innocence.

“Of course not,” he shot back harshly, his tone being an obvious contradiction to the words themselves.

The setter and captain sat down with him, as they briefly looked over the menus on the table.

“Are you still going to deny that you’re whipped?” whispered Daichi, earning a loud laugh from his partner in crime.

“Sorry to interrupt but I wanted to know what you two wanted to order?” asked Y/N sweetly as she walked over to the table.

“Y- you’re not interrupting anything!” rushed out Asahi, facepalming yet again as he internally screamed at the sheer awkwardness of the entire situation, earning a soft laugh from the girl herself.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate please!” asked Suga politely.

“And I’ll have a piece of coffee cake,” added Daichi.

“Alright sounds good! I’ll be here with your stuff in just a few minutes, but before I do, would you like to pay now or after you’re done?” she questioned.

“We’ll pay after,” responded Daichi, earning a nod from the barista as she walked over behind the counter to plug in the order.

“She’s cute, I get why you’re here all the time Azu,” teased Suga.

“I hate it here,” muttered Asahi under his breath, as he wondered how he was going to survive this for the rest of the night.

-

“Wait he really did that?!” giggled Y/N, as she sat next to Asahi sipping her white chocolate mocha.

“Mhm! His face when we found out was priceless!” chuckled Daichi.

“Okay but that’s so cute! Using your height for good!” teased Y/N as she leaned into the ace with a giggle.

“Such a cliche though,” joked Suga.

“Listen, he saved a KITTEN! I don’t care how much of a cliche that is, please!” commented Y/N as she gazed at Asahi, earning laughter from the pair as they realized where his new vocabulary was coming from and a light blush from the ace.

“Honestly, this boy is a saviour on all accounts! Graveyard shifts were usually hella boring until ‘Sahi started coming around at night too,” reminisced Y/N as memories of them began playing in her head.

“We knew he was disappearing for a reason when he stopped staying late at the gym to practice,” noted Daichi.

“Oh God I’m sorry! Don’t cut practice time for me! I’ll feel too bad honestly!” rushed out Y/N with a furrow of her eyebrows.

“No no please don’t! I come here for a reason,” piped up Asahi, as he turned to the girl to ensure that she knew that he meant the words he was saying.

“Okay but still! I know how much you love volleyball!” she whined.

“If it makes you feel better, his playing has actually been getting better,” reassured Daichi.

“Yeah, he barely misses his serves anymore!” added Suga with a smile.

“Damn, guess it’s my influence!” joked Y/N as she giggled, earning a laugh from everyone, but for a different reason.

In a way Y/N was right, the only new factor that entered his life was her, and the pair were certain that if they had asked when the two lovebirds had met that the dates would match up. Even just talking to her for one night, the boys understood what their friend saw in her. She shined with positivity and joy; her genuinity and kindness were refreshing. 

“It’s getting a bit late now, shouldn’t you be sleeping soon?” asked Daichi.

“Technically yes, but I still have homework to do anyway,” responded Y/N with a shrug of her shoulders.

“What are we still doing here, then? Let’s pay so you can go home, the sooner the better!” declared Suga, already getting up and pushing back his chair.

“Guys it’s honestly fine, I’ve stayed up far later!” she reassured, getting up herself and walking towards the cash register.

“Still, we wouldn’t want to keep you up,” commented Asahi meaningfully, as he gathered his things and hers.

“You guys are the sweetest, ugh! I lowkey don’t want to even let you pa-” she noted, interrupted by the money already placed on the counter before she could finish her sentence, leading her to add a “I hate yall” jokingly.

-

“You didn’t have to walk me home again, ‘Sahi,” sighed Y/N as she ignored the butterflies in her stomach.

“It’s unsafe for you to walk alone, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he replied honestly.

“I would’ve taken the bus though!” she shot back with a laugh.

“And? Like that’s any less safe? The possibilities are endless!” he expressed, then whispered, “Besides I- uh- like walking with you.”

“Even if you have to slow yourself down so I can keep up? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that by the way!” she teased, earning a soft chuckle from the ace himself.

He didn’t know how to respond, how could he? His mind was racing as his heart rushed to match the rhythm, both almost in a race, competing to see who could say the sentence that least gave away his true feelings. None of which ended up winning, as they had both seemingly come to a compromise that anything would be too risky.

“Y’know...I’ve never really felt as safe with you as I do with anyone else,” she expressed quietly.

“Because I’m tall and look scary?” he questioned, already preparing himself to hear yet another joke about how his physique didn’t match his personality.

“No, though that does help!” she replied with a giggle, then cleared her throat as she played with her hair, a nervous habit that Asahi had picked up on.

“It’s because you make me feel comfortable, like, I don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or annoying you or anything. With you I can just- be me I guess,” she admitted, before adding, “That’s such a cliche thing to say please! Tell Suga and Daichi that you have some competition for being the most cliche!” she joked as she shook her head.

“In your words, ‘I don’t care how much of a cliche that is’, that’s the sweetest thing that’s ever been said to me and I’m beyond happy that I make you feel like that,” he replied joyfully, chuckling softly.

Her heart began beating faster as she smiled brightly at his words. She had acknowledged a while back that she had a crush on him but she didn’t realize how easily the boy could make her melt. There was something about his honesty that she admired greatly; she had been surrounded and used by people, both platonically and romantically, who had never reciprocated her compliments, so to hear something back was wonderful. Was it the bare minimum according to others? Of course. Doesn't make her feel any less elated, though.

“Well looks like that’s my stop,” she finally let out, as they approached her house.

“Y/N I-” he began.

He couldn’t take it anymore, she had to know how he felt about her. His hands began to shake as he looked around nervously. What if she didn’t like him back? What if she ran away from him? Was he willing to ruin their friendship over his selfish feelings? His eyes fell upon her as he noted how cold and exhausted the girl looked, failing to see the hope that shone behind her eyes, as she prayed that the words she craved to hear would slip out.

“Nevermind, have a goodnight and please don’t stay up too late,” he said simply with a sad smile, beginning to turn around and walk away.

“Wait!” yelled Y/N suddenly, forcing him to come to a sharp halt.

Was he...going to say what she thought he was going to say? Surely not right? Yet she recognised that look, that was the very same look she gave in the mirror when she would practice telling her crushes how she felt. Did he like her? No no that would be ridiculous, she was...well, her and he was him. They were on two opposite ends of the spectrum, there’s no way in hell he’d reciprocate her feelings.

“...You too, ‘Sahi, I’ll text you before I sleep so you can not so subtly hint at me sleeping earlier tomorrow,” she teased with a chuckle.

“I’d love nothing more,” he expressed with a louder laugh, walking away as he placed his hands in his pockets and sighed.

He really thought for a second there that she was going to tell him she liked him. How could he be so naive? Of course she didn’t, after all, they were just friends.

-

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[socratoteles]

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor. 

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

[regrettablewritings]

Preferences: Guilty Pleasures

Characters: Okoye, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Peter B. Parker, Ahkmenrah

Okoye

Okoye is straightforward and stony upon first impressions. And, admittedly, even afterward. The only real difference is that, if one gets to know her better, they might find shock in the fact that in spite of her appearance, she Dora leader actually likes sweets. However, it’s not sweet things in general that Okoye feels guilty for enjoying: It’s Starbucks.

Starbucks is the antithesis of everything Okoye is associated with: Supremely un-Wakandan, a chain establishment, and overall just not worth the absurd cost. Not to mention superbly unhealthy when compared to the rest of a fighter’s typical diet. But yet you can bet that every time she needs to go out of the country or off-continent, there’s an invasive shout for joy at the possibility that she might be able to get her hands on a Frappucino (followed by an internal scolding).

She can’t even explain exactly why she likes it; there are plenty of good, even healthier sweet things back in Wakanda -- heck, back anywhere else!

But it’s a bit like when someone craves the cheap taste of school pizza over a legit pie cooked in a stone hearth: She just loves the sugary sweetness, the application of whipped cream to an already tooth-rottingly saccharine icy drink, the addition of chocolate. But Bast, she also hates it. But ever since T’Challa practically shoved a grande cup of caramel frappucino into her hands, she hasn’t felt entirely the same.

Against her better judgement, she’s more or less unintentionally tried 45% of the menu drink-wise. She doesn’t particularly care much for the food part of the establishment, though if she should ever find herself in one during the fall, she might indulge in a chunky slice of pumpkin bread under the conviction that it’s healthy enough for being gourd-related. Never mind that it’s just a cinnamon mixture with more sugar than actual pumpkin-derived anything.

Really, of all those mentioned on this list, Okoye is the one who probably feels the most disappointed in herself whenever she indulges in her guilty pleasure: It’s a betrayal to her patriotism, to her dignity, and to her attempts to eat healthy. But damn, if this type of betrayal doesn’t taste so addicting . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

The thing about Lucifer is that it’s actually a bit hard for him to feel any regrets over liking anything; he’s the Devil, after all, so his whole thing is about embracing the things that make you feel good. And even besides that, he’s mostly managed to skate by in his time on Earth by categorizing things as Stuff He Likes, Stuff He Tolerates, Stuff He Doesn’t Bother With, and Stuff Humans Seem to Enjoy But He Doesn’t Quite Get. It’s a tad restricted of a system but you can’t argue with results.

However, just because something is difficult doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. The Devil can, in fact, recognize absurdity in liking certain things. Hence why, to a point, he’s fallen prey to his own bizarre pleasures: The Devil has guilty pleasures, and it’s in stupid YouTube videos, Vine, and TikTok.

After he finally drank the Kool-Aid and got himself a smart phone, it was only a matter of time before Lucifer fell down the rabbit hole that is YouTube prank videos and strange uploads about nonsense and animal humor. It was also only a matter of time before he found himself stumbling into Vine compilations. The Celestial is terrifically mystified by the creative power of humans, managing to tell entire stories and peak comedy in only a span of seven seconds. But he’s also quite loathe to have realized it’s been long defunct by the time he’s discovered it.

He’s even more loathe to find himself making references in his daily life: He has actually quietly blurted out, “I sure hope it does” in response to seeing a Road Work Ahead sign, causing Chloe some confusion (and Lucifer lots of embarrassment). He has referred to a culprit as “Jared, Age 19″. Since discovering Vine, there has been at least one night wherein he and a bed mate were sitting there with barbecue sauce on his tiddies, but that was by sheer coincidence.

But eventually the Vine compilation well dried up, and the inevitable transfer over to TikTok happened. And Luci honestly doesn’t know what to make of TikTok. He would describe it as Vine’s Molly-addicted cousin based on its obsession with dancing, but the dances are so stationary that even that doesn’t seem quite right. The videos on the platform are also much more . . . bizarre. And some of them admittedly trigger a fight-or-flight response in him, to which he always chooses the third option of freezing if only so he can keep watching the train wreck unfold before his eyes.

The trouble with TikTok, he’ll admit to himself, is that it’s not as easy to find iconic content the same way he could with Vine. However, this isn’t to say that he hasn’t found anything worth watching over and over and over again . . .

(Let’s just say the “Wolf Pack Compilation” lives in his head rent-free, and he’s both too amused by it and too overwhelmed by its vibe to try and evict it.)

Dewey Finn

Dewey is . . . a special case. Given that he associates messy living and indulging in one’s pleasure a part of the rocker lifestyle, he’s generally quick to embrace whatever makes him happy. He’s very upfront about his interests and is arguably almost incapable of feeling shame. But it’s in there: Deep down. No, not in himself -- in his Spotify. Specifically, a Spotify account made on an email he never uses because it was made specifically to create this separate, uber secret playlist.

One marked “Actual Musical Bops.”

Dewey hates musicals: They’re cheesy, uninspired, gaudy, ridiculous, totally aimed at chicks with weird fantasies that he could never aspire to, and the music is just overall unimpressive. And yet, somehow, against his music elitist nature, a handful have managed to slip through the cracks. At the very least, a handful of numbers have clawed their way past his defenses and into his ear, where they now live rent-free.

In spite of his best efforts, the problems are that he’s a New Yorker, so it’s inevitable that he hears a song or two; and also that, as an instructor (to wealthy New York tweens whose families can afford frequent tripes to the Great White Way, no less), he’s definitely going to wind up hearing about some shows and their stand-out numbers: Against his will, he knows the lyrics to “My Shot”; he has cried in the secrecy of his apartment to “When I Grow Up”; in the never-necessary reason he needs to remember how many minutes there are in a year, he sings it inside his head; hell, he’s even found himself trying to figure out the electric guitar riff from “The Phantom of the Opera” during his down time.

What’s all the more embarrassing is that, given how he presents himself as a music elitist, there’s just no way he can come back from this if anyone were to know. He has to catch himself when he finds himself humming “Johanna” in the teacher’s lounge. He scowls at himself when he can’t sleep and gives in and starts playing “No One is Alone.” He wants to kick his thick ass every time he realizes he’s excited to have stumbled across a “slime tutorial” on YouTube, this one with better quality than the last. The reason he actually put a password on his phone wasn’t out of privacy like a sensible person would, but out of a need to make sure that no one ever found out that he had downloaded the entire Beetlejuice soundtrack, including jankily-recorded songs that never made it to the official cast recording for whatever reason!

And should anyone ever find out about any of this, Dewey has a plan: “Oh, I’m doing research. I’m studying these songs so I can give the kids a lesson on what not to do as actually competent musicians.”

But the lesson would never actually come. Mainly because he keeps prolonging his “research” . . .

He’s also developed a bit of a soft spot for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic due to some students gushing about it, but he would rather sooner die than ever be associated with the term “brony.”

Peter B. Parker

Peter is at a point where he’s too tired to really care about the idea of guilty pleasures. The way he sees it, there are bigger priorities at stake than worrying about someone finding out about your love of some hokey activity or food or form of entertainment.

Besides, he’s a New Yorker: There’s way weirder stuff for people to just not pay any real attention to. Hence why he thinks nothing of his bizarre eating habits. And no, this isn’t referring to his disastrous appetite: This is about his tendency to eat food with his hands. Foods that, well, he really should probably utilize eating utensils for.

To be fair, this habit has always existed in him in some form or another, especially since, as Spider-Man, he often needs to eat food on the go. But during the time he spent living the life of a depressed bachelor, it came out in full force. On the rare occasion he wasn’t eating a food that deserved to be eaten by hand, he often found himself loathing the idea of doing the dishes afterward. There would be days he’d feel only slightly less depressed; enough to make a box of Kraft Mac n Cheese in the pot, but not enough to avoid cutting out the middle man.

He’s thankful the craptastic apartment wasn’t also see-through because if it were, he’s positive his neighbors would’ve thought they were bearing witness to a man’s breakdown as he wept into a pot of macaroni and cheese, his hand full of the stuff, while wearing a Spider-Man costume. (And, to be fair, they actually would be.)

In addition to this, there were also those nights where he would be prepared to actually tuck in to a plate of spaghetti, only for some crime going on elsewhere in the city to drag him away. By the time he’d return, the plate would’ve been cold and his energy too depleted to want to even dream about cleaning more than he already had to.

The great news is that he’s thankfully done a 180, now able and willing (if begrudgingly) to clean up after himself. But bad news is that this feral man will still eat a fully-loaded baked potato like an apple. In a park. In front of women and children. He’s just too tired to care anymore. He’s aware of the guilt in this as a concept, but he’s also aware that he needs to take whatever happiness he can get out of whatever he does. And if that means eating everything by hand, then so be it!

Ahkmenrah

Funnily enough, Ahkmenrah doesn’t seem to experience much of any shame for enjoying the things most might feel the need to hide: He’s constantly curious and has missed out on a lot over the centuries, so why should he feel bad for wanting to indulge in them? Celebrity gossip is just a more fun version of the palace gossip he’d grown up hearing as a boy; reality TV is like watching a play, but with much more fights, less deaths, and more faulty romances; and sloppy meatball subs are like a feast for a man of his time!

Besides, he’s a king: Kings shouldn’t have to feel embarrassment over what the common folk might think.

And yet . . . It took some time, but eventually Ahkmenrah did experience it: Guilt in his pleasures.

He couldn’t even recall where it had all started. Maybe he was searching for more content to swallow after the most recent season of his new favorite show had ended? Whatever the case, he wound up biting off more than he could chew when he stumbled upon . . . fanfiction.

The adorable yet sad thing is that he didn’t even think anything of it at first. It wasn’t until he brought up a ship he’d invested his last few nights awake exploring on the computer: Nobody knew what the crap he was talking about, so of course he felt the need to explain it. But the more he talked, the more perplexed his friends looked. And the more he could feel his cheeks and ears burn.

Oh, he thought. Is this . . . embarrassment? Is that what this feels like? Oh, this is just foul.

Thankfully, nobody pressured him to keep talking about it, but the poor king sure as heck didn’t feel much of a desire to talk any further about it. But he needed to talk to somebody about his newly acquired “feels” as those online were calling them.

Joining fanfiction-oriented sites was the next obvious step, of course, but he’s experienced mixed feelings about it: On one hand, it’s nice to talk with people who share similar views and excitement about a fictional couple. But on the other, the digital wars that have broken out both disturb him and bring out the worst in him.

Like, of course there are bigger things to deal with than whether or not So-So is better off with Him-Ham, but if you truly think that Blah-Blah and Himhaw are a healthy relationship, then you can go do a service and bury yourself in the desert sands to provide substance to the hungry beetles with your flesh --

Suffice to say, a lot of the guilt in this pleasure seems to come from the fact that Ahk can get a little too emotionally invested if the work is really good. He tries to limit his interactions to commenting and praising certain works, and encouraging content creators. However, he’s also contemplated contributing his own pieces of fiction to the fandom . . .

[nobody-knose--archive]

yknow how i go on about not having listened to the solo albums? it’s nat day. i listened to nat. liveblog below

-spooooky ghoooooost

-you know technically this is my first & only 100% complete & utter blind tally hall experience + liveblog. everything else has been an album i've already heard or variations thereupon

-alright well this doesn't sound like tally hall

-hi rob

-boy man this is poppy but it sure is rob's voice singing

-"he don't wanna lose" damn is that a tally hall reference????????/ /j

-this ghost sounds pretty damn relatable

-still sounds like something i'd hear on the radio (derogatory (affectionate))

-does this one have a music video? i'll have to get to those eventually won't i

-oooh funky pronoun shenanigans one of my favorite types of shenanigans

-what baby did rob pick up off the street to provide these backing vocals

-white star??? is that a dw reference???? /j it'd be almost relevant by the time this came out

-i don't know anything about imagine dragons but this reminds me of them

-this is an 80's-ass fadeout

-oh so he's namedropping every track here? just planting the words old bike right in the first verse

-wahoo audio channel shenanigans

-oh there's the hum biddy biddys i heard about

-this is distinctly much less like bicycle race (queen) than i was expecting

-then again i mostly know bicycle race (queen) from lemon demon's cover of it so.

-this does indeed sound like the hawaii part ii of rob cantor

-classic acoustic guitar use. minimal percussion

-nevermind there's the drums & rock guitar everything's changed

-now it sounds like some actual tally hall stuff

-whomst

-guest vocals? i should've seen them coming but didn't expect any in this song at least

-oh there's that lyric. i've seen it plenty of times & always had to imagine what it sounded like

-this in fact indeed giving me 1985 vibes

-is that the year rob was born? it'd be near then at least

[following that comment was an exchange between me & june about birthdays. it told me rob’s born in 1983 but ross was born in 1985 so maybe rob made a tribute to his old bandmate. who knose <3]

-those drums. those synths. he's really going for the 80s alright

-i feel like i'm gradually forgetting this is an album by rob cantor, yellow tie of tally hall

-see, hawaii part ii was produced to the point of feeling unfeasible & unintended for live performances. but this album hits a middle ground where it's like, if this were done by anyone other than rob cantor of tally hall, it could be done live, but it's just rob cantor, not of tally hall, making an album himself, so i just know nothing about this would ever be done live. it's an interesting effect

-this album needs more tmbg influence

-this sounds less like going purple than i was expecting, which can apply to both the whole album & this song right here

-i recognize that voice from hawaii part ii

-i think? i need to check the credits

-stephanie? no not her. the lady from black rainbows?

-i'm blanking on her fuckin name it's on the tip of my tongue

-madison?? alison??? no alison hanna is from another song god what is her name

-yeah madi diaz thanks june

-i don't even know if that's actually her that's just who she sounds like

-what's interesting about this song is (just like hawaii part ii) tally hall didn't do duets very much but this actually sounds like one

-i promise i won't do hawaii part ii comparisons the whole way through it's just what comes to mind

-good god madi has some good range those are high fuckin notes

-OH GOD

-this is faster than i was expecting

-wow okay. this is no longer a jh song alright

-sounds like some terraria synths in here. they could actually be in terarria for all i know

-this is the song they've been putting on all these villain playlists?? i couldn't think of a less villainous song if i tried

-oh thank god the tambourine is back i've been starved for it

-i wouldn’t know, i go on even though

-oh this is the one with that really wild music video isn't it. good old acoustic guitar

-i can actually picture this one on a tally hall album. he's being kinda silly with the percussion but the vocals at least. hm

-honestly what intrigues me most is how it's nothing like the asteroid musical pieces + going purple. those are all i knew of rob's solo stuff until now & i'm not picking up on many similarities. oh and the shia labeoufs/christian bale

-damn he's doing the vocal filters again

-i keep thinking i'm hearing zubin somewhere in the background- wait no that's my cat at the door now

-how many shrimps do you have to eat

-alright now this one's just silly. congrats to it for making me laugh

-if that's real whistling in the background there it's just gotta be bora i know this

-if that's real accordion in the background then it's surely also bora

-this sounds damn near like nonsensical spanish- i thought la telanovela was after this? /j

-he just pulled out all the stops for this album. everywhere.

-you know i kinda thought of extreme vibrato/reverb as a joe thing but i'm really hearing a shit ton of it here so maybe it's a rob thing too. or maybe i should listen to jhjh before i make any conclusions

-who. who's this? i absolutely don't recognize this guest singer. not from hawaii part ii presumably then

-if i can say one thing about this album it's that it's absolutely living up to its cover

-so what does this have to do with telanovelas. i watched que hora es in 9th grade spanish i know what they're like /hj

-oh this is the one about that guy who isn't actually dead. epic

-now this sounds more like the solo viral pieces of his

-i'm pretty sure laughter is the intended reaction to have here so good on rob  for achieving that- wait it's over?

-oh. guess he was taking more influence from tmbg than i thought

-let your mother know is the song i've heard absolutely nothing from other people about. and now. i suppose i can't blame them

-oh you know what my complaint about this album is? it's very little like lemon demon. too many mundane 2nd person ballads, not enough 3rd or 1st person stuff about absolutely nothing

-also from a musical standpoint he doesn't make things stand out super well. it feels a tab bit sanded down. like there are bits in the vocals & instrumentals that feel like they're meant to be a big change, but there's no notable emotional shift in the tone

-ayyyyy this is the one andrew worked on!

-yeah fuck with the tonality of it mess shit up go ham

-i mean if you're going to include flute in a rock album you've got to make it worth it

-i've not heard that song but i think this is meant to be the spiritual opposite to special by jh

-you know what i want from this song? andrdew vocals. it can do whatever it wants i just want to hear my man sing

-definitely bora's whistling no way it's anything else

-showing off your vocal range there mr cantor?

-oh hey this is the one that makes my friends cry

-i've not listened to songs about girls but this is reminding me of it anyway

-this feels like audio taken from a music video that had sfx added to the original song

-like bro. you can let your lyrics stand for themselves. you don't need to dangle me on a rope from a bridge over a highway

-i mean he might as well end the album this way. he might as well.

-ending thoughts, i guess. rob does what he does well but i think he ought to be doing something slightly different

also look at this yt comment i found on the comprehension amalgamation upload

[enviedear]

dracodear’s lucky number sleepover & writing challenge !

alright y’all... this is just too adorable. 

first ⌙ thank you all so much for following me and sticking with me. i know i kinda suck at uploading sometimes but everytime i do you guys are so supportive. i can’t believe all of you actually want to be a part of my rambling lol.. but nevertheless i am so damn touched. thank you to everyone who’s following me.

second ⌙ this truly is so stupid of me but 444 is my luckiest number. i love the number 4 and idk to just come across this was adorable to me. also it’s an angel number and i really need some of that in my life rn lol. 

third ⌙ welcome to the sleepover! stick around a while ;) under the cut will be everything i’m doing for this sleepover as well as my writing challenge ! don’t worry the rules will be under as well. i really hope you participate :)

all the kindness,

dracodear

 ⇣ sleepover ⇣

send as many as you’d like, loves 🥺

🦋 ⌙ headcanon request 

🐨 ⌙ i’ll make u a mini playlist

🐬 ⌙ ask me anything (about myself, fics, or the world)

🍄 ⌙ i’ll ship you with a character from mcu or hp (add a few things abt yourself pls)

🪐 ⌙ send a character from mcu or hp and i’ll give u a fic rec

⇣ writing challenge ⇣

RULES ⇢

⌙ you don’t have to follow me to partake (but i’d love for you to)

⌙ reblog this post if you’re participating

⌙ fics can either be reader insert or oc’s

⌙ can be one-shots, series, or drabbles

⌙ please tag me ( @dracodear​ ) in your completed fic, along with the hashtag #dracodears444challenge. just so i can keep up with everything.

⌙ if you’re writing on mobile pls disregard this one. but if your fic is 1k words or more try and use the keep reading tab.

⌙ if you’re going to write nsfw content that’s perfectly ok ! just make sure to tag accordingly and nothing that goes against my guidelines

⌙ you can write for any harry potter or mcu character you’d like

⌙ send me an ask or pm detailing which prompt you’d like and for whom. 

⌙ once your fic is done and i’m tagged i’ll reblog, comment, and like + add u to this post

⌙ it’s two people per prompt and two prompts per person

⌙ once a prompt has reached the limit i’ll mark it out so make sure to look at the updated list

⇣ prompts ⇣

fluff ⇢

1. “i’ve loved you the entire time!”

2. “your eyes shine like the stars.”

@letssingintherain ⇢ draco x reader

- starstruck

3. “you’re perfect. in every way.”

4. “i’m going to kiss you if you don’t listen.”

5. “you’re too good for the world.”

@rip-us​ ⇢ george x reader

6. “sorry.. i can’t take my eyes off of you.”

7. “your lips are softer than this blanket.”

8. “my heart only beats for you.”

9. “i can’t feel my arm but i’m glad you slept well.”

10. “you’re my sun and i revolve around you.”

11. “there is no greater honor, than to be yours.”

12. “i’m so in love with you it scares me.”

13. “your wish is my command.”

14. “do you know how much you mean to me?”

15. “kiss me again and i’ll tell you.”

@boyruins ⇢ harry potter x reader

angst ⇢

1. “you’re not sorry.”

2. “i can’t believe i trusted you.”

3. “i moved on a long time ago.”

4. “you’re not who i thought you were.”

@louvrr​ ⇢ draco x reader

5. “don’t you dare tell me you ever cared.”

6. “even with all this you can’t see how much you’ve hurt me.”

7. “she/he isn’t just a friend.. is she/he?”

8. “i’ll never speak to you again.”

9. “no one cares. no one has cared. can’t you see?”

10. “you’re pathetic.”

11. “just let me help you!”

12. “i don’t believe you.”

13. “i’m leaving because of you.”

14. “you’re hurting me.”

15. “you were gone and i never missed you.”

songs ⇢

1. don’t wanna fall in love ⇢ kyle

2.  everytime ⇢ ariana grande

3. vienna ⇢ billy joel

4. mr loverman ⇢ ricky montgomery

5. 20 something ⇢ sza

6. big god ⇢ florence + the machine

7. moon river ⇢ audrey hepburn

8. fortress ⇢ lennon stella

9. back of a cab ⇢ king princess

10. supercut ⇢ lorde

11. seventeen ⇢ troye sivan

12. malibu ⇢ miley cyrus

13. james joint ⇢ rihanna

14. ghost town ⇢ kanye

15. teenage fantasy ⇢ jorja smith

tagging moots... i love y’all 

@louvrr​ @fanficflaneuse​ @malfoys-demigod​ @imintoodeeptostop​ @slut4draco​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @blondiewholovestowrite​ @reidemandweep​ @remmyswritings​ @assemblemotherfuckers​ @letssingintherain​ @darlingdittany​ @rip-us​ @sxpphire-skies​

[miah-pooh]

Day 1 Christmas Sleepover

A/n: Heyy everyone its December 1st which means It’s the first day of “A Very Merry Christmas with the MHA Characters”  I will be uploading a new story everyday for the students, you can find the Christmas Masterlist on my Main Masterlist at the bottom. After the 25 days are done I will be posting my Open series and my regular content. The reason I haven’t uploading is because I been in the process of moving but hopefully after New Years i can start back uploading on my regular schedule. I hope you Enjoy and Happy Holidays.

Uploaded: 12/1/2020

Word Count:1.2k

Class 1-A Girls x Reader

It was a Thursday night in the dorms and everyone was in the common room. You were talking with Mina and Momo about what yall would be doing during the Holidays and the boys were playing the game like aways. “ I just wish there was something we could do before we go back home to be with our families'' You say slouching on the counter “That would be nice do something with the girls” Momo said “Well we could have a last minute sleepover with just the girls.” Mina said while tapping her chin. You sat up thinking about what Mina said “Mina that's a great idea let's have a christmas sleepover just for the girls!” you say screaming catching the attention of the boys “ We should start preparing for it tomorrow since it's a Friday and we should tell everyone now” you exclaimed pulling out your phone to send a text to the girls group chat. ‘We're having a Christmas sleepover tomorrow, sorry it's last minute me, Mina and Momo came up with it.’

After the text was sent everyone texted what they would be doing to help out. It was early Friday Morning when all the girls were getting ready for tonight's event. Momo was preparing the common room for the movies, you and Mina were preparing the snacks and trying to plan what to eat, Jiro was creating a christmas dance playlist and the karaoke set, and Tsuyu, Ochaco, and Toru were out getting more food and christmas accessories to wear. “ Okay so we have the cookies, hot chocolate, the finger foods and extra snacks for the movies. What else do you think we need?”  you questioned. “We could go prepare my room for the sleeping part of the sleepover.” Mina wondered “Because I do need help moving things around to make more room.” “alright let’s get to it then. You and Mina rush to the elevator when you are stopped by Kirishmia, Bakugou and Kaminari. “Hey what are you in the hurry-” Kaminari spoke but was interrupted “Hey guys, Bye guys” You and Mina say in unison. The boys looked at each other in confusion but continued doing what they pleased to do. The sun was setting and everything was set up perfectly, you had already got into your pajamas and put on the headband accessories Ochaco, Tsuyu and Toru had got everyone. You heard your phone buzz and saw it was a text from the group chat telling everyone where to meet so we can vote on what to do first. After reading the text you made your way down to the common room, you were greeted with christmas color pajamas, lights and decoration. “Wow Momo this is so pretty I like what you did here.” say sitting on the sofa. “Thank you y/n i really appreciated it but let’s get started what should we do first” “Let’s play some games first” Mina said excitedly everyone nodded their head in agreement “Okay what is the first game we're going to play.” “I have an idea” You pick up a bag of candy canes and dump them on the table. “Okay so what we could do is we put the candy canes in two pile and take turns to see how many candy canes we can move to the other side of the room one by one, but the only thing about is no hands are allowed.” you expressed with a smile on your face “That's a wonderful idea y/n” tsuyu responded. Everyone got ready and started to think of different ways to move the candy cane to the other side of the room where Momo was standing. First was Mina and Kyoka, “Ready, set, GO!” You screamed Kyoka used her ear jacks to pick them up and Mina tried to use her horns. After the 30 seconds was up Momo counted who had the most and Kyoka won with 13 and Mina with 9. Up next was Tsuyu and Ochaco, Tsuyu won by using her tongue and had 17.  Up next it was you and Momo, You had won by taking a candy cane in your mouth and using the hook to hook on to other candy canes,you had 15. Then it was Ochaco and Toru, Ochaco won by using her pockets and moving them to the other side of the room, she won by 8. “That was fun.” Momo said as everyone was giggling. “I think we should do karaoke next.” Mina cheered. Everyone was scattered throughout the common room setting up the karaoke machine. “Who’s going first?” Kyoka asks. “Ohh lets make y/n go first” Ochaco and Mina  screamed in unison you look up and asked “hey why me?” “because you're the one that came up with the idea to have a sleepover so you’ll go first” signing in defeat you got up and went to the machine to pick out a song “What song are you going to sing” Tsuyu asked. “You’ll see” you say with a grin on your face. The music starts and you start to sing “I don't want a lot for Christmas,There is just one thing I need,I don't care about the presents,Underneath the Christmas tree,I just want you for my own,More than you could ever know,Make my wish come true oh, All I want for Christmas is you…” Once everyone got a chance to sing and dance to the song of their choice you guys had decided to eat and watch Christmas movies.During the breaks in between the movies you had put some cookies in the oven for everyone. You walked out the common room and went to get them out the oven. “I’m surprised the boys didn't come down and bother us” Tsuyu stated “Hah that’s weird of them but i'm not complaining.” Kyoka claimed. You leave the kitchen with a tray of piping hot cookies and sat them down on the table “I’m kind of glad we had the whole night to ourselves in peace, even Mineta didn’t come and bother us. Before you knew it the elevator opened with the boys in it “ Speaking of the devils” You mumbled “What was that you damn nerd” Bakugo hollered. Denki hopped over to where Mina was a grab a cookie not thinking twice he bite the cookie and burnt his tongue “Owww did you even let these cool down first” he exclaimed rubbing his tongue, everyone started laughing “first they weren't for you and that's what you get messing with something you had no business messing with and yes i just got them out the oven.” You say getting you. You check the time and see it's late “Are you guys ready to head to bed?” All the girls nodded their heads and started to clean the common room moving everything back in their rightful place. All the girls headed to Mina’s room with their covers and sleeping bags. You were lying one the floor on your back with your hand behind your head “That was an amazing night.” you exclaimed “Yea it was i think that was the best sleepover we planned” Ochacho stated. Out of all the sleepovers you had with the girls this was the best on yet because everyone was in the Christmas sprite and had fun planning something so last minute but that didn't bother you. You were just happy you got to spend time with your friends before you head back home to your family. You closed your eyes and smiled at the thought of hanging with your friends during the holidays.

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Four)

Summary: (Y/N) and Sam worry about their new super-soldier friend after it’s revealed that he’s on the run and wanted by S.H.I.E.L.D., the very agency he’d dedicated himself to.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Four (Previous Chapter)

“It’s such bullshit! Captain America’s a criminal now?!”

“I know, Greg.”

“They haven’t even said what he’s done!”

“Yep, it’s ridiculous…”

“How can they organize a manhunt for him but not say what he’s supposedly done?!”

(Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a frustrated groan. “Greg, you’re my friend and I love you but I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

The line was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been having the exact same conversation for almost a half an hour! You can’t believe that Cap’s a criminal, I agree, you complain that they haven’t said what he’s wanted for, I agree, then you start going all ‘Law and Order’ on me!” She exclaimed, immediately regretting her outburst; with a sigh, she sat down in her desk chair and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Greg, that was rude. I don’t like what’s going on either; Captain America stands for freedom and honor, he always has, and it just seems…wrong that he’s the subject of a manhunt. I seriously doubt that Captain America of all people did anything to break the law.”

“Wow, when did you become such a big Cap fan?”

“I went to his exhibit when I was at the Air and Space Museum yesterday, and I guess it got me interested.” (Y/N) half-lied, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater as she pressed her phone closer to her ear. “Anyway, the reason I called was to tell you that it might take me a little longer to get the draft of my book to you; I still need to look over the last couple of chapters and with everything happening…it might be hard to focus on writing today.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike’s busy reading through a nine-hundred-page thriller that was sent in this morning so that’ll give you some time. Sorry to cut this short but I’ve gotta go, I have to check on mine and Mara’s dinner reservation for tonight, so I’ll talk to you later, (Y/N)!”

“Talk to you later, Greg!” (Y/N) hung up and set her cell phone down on the desk with a sigh. Ever since she and Sam turned on the television at breakfast and saw the breaking news, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong; Steve Rogers wouldn’t be on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D. unless he had a damn good reason to be. I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably been through much tougher scrapes than this, she thought to herself with forced optimism as she turned on her laptop and began typing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Humming along to Billy Joel’s ‘Movin’ Out’, (Y/N)’s fingers flew across her keyboard as she typed and she smiled, proud of the fact that her writer’s block from the week before was now officially over and that she was so close to completing her very first novel. Not bad, not bad at all, she thought, hitting the ‘save’ button and stretching her arms over her head to relieve the build-up tension in her shoulders.

“Now this is good music, Booksmart!”

She spun her desk chair around to see Sam standing in the doorway of her bedroom and raised her eyebrow as she turned down her music. “Oh, so Billy Joel’s okay but everything else I listen to is garbage?”

Sam gave her a teasing eye-roll. “I never said that your music was garbage, I just said it was weird. How’s the writing going today?”

“I edited twelve pages and just spent an hour trying to describe a Soviet Cold War-era missile, so it’s been okay. How was work?”

“It was good, I didn’t have any meetings scheduled so I spent most of the day playing chess with the old timers. I swear, I think Gary cheats but I can’t figure out how he does it…”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Or maybe you should just accept the fact that you’re terrible at chess and the old timers take great pleasure in seeing you lose.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. You still cool with driving me to the shop to pick up my car?”

(Y/N) got up, turning off her computer and unplugging her MP3 player from her speaker with a grin. “Of course! Driver picks the music, though!” She laughed and practically skipped out of the room as Sam let out a groan of defeat and followed her. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Birdbrain, it’s not like I’m making you listen to a CD of ambient throat singing!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if you had some of that…”

Five minutes later, they were on the road and the two of them were singing along to her one of Panic! At The Disco’s newest singles at the top of their lungs; out of the corner of her eye she could see other drivers shooting them odd looks but she couldn’t care less, she was enjoying herself far too much.

Sam chuckled as the song came to a finish. “Damn, their new album is good. You know, I didn’t start listening to alt-rock until I met you.”

“Then you should be thanking me for bringing such good music into your life!” Giggling, (Y/N) turned down the volume and glanced over at the cheerful man sitting beside her, her smile faltering as she asked, “Do you think he’s okay, Sam?”

Her roommate’s expression grew serious and he shook his head. “I really don’t know. I saw on CNN earlier that inside sources claim he’s wanted by S.H.I.E.L.D. in connection to the assassination of their director, but I don’t buy it. The guy we’ve met, who’s so dedicated to his job that he hasn’t bothered getting a life outside of it, wouldn’t be a part of something like that. I think something else’s up and I’ll bet anything he’s out there trying to figure it out.”

(Y/N) bit her bottom lip, nodding after a moment. “Yeah, me too.”

“Just you wait, this whole mess with S.H.I.E.L.D.’ll be cleared up in no time. I’m calling it right now, Steve’s gonna ride up to the VA on his motorcycle and dramatically whisk you off your feet, and the two of you are gonna ride off into the sunset together while one of those sappy love songs you pretend not to like plays in the background.” Sam's teasing smirk widened when her cheeks flushed. “C’mon, Booksmart, you both were mooning over each other like teenagers after the meeting yesterday; I felt like I was in the live studio audience of a soap opera taping.”

“You know, I could always kick you out of the car and make you walk all the way to the shop, if you'd prefer.”

“And I'd still get there before you ‘cause you drive like a grandma...”

Soon after, she pulled into the auto repair shop’s lot, parking under the shade of a tree before turning to Sam with a smile. “Did you want me to stay just in case your car isn’t ready yet?”

“That would be great, actually, thanks!” Sam gave her a grin before getting out of the car and heading into the shop.

(Y/N) rolled down the windows and sighed when she felt the soft spring breeze against her skin. Taking advantage of the peaceful moment, she let her imagination wander and began brainstorming different stories and characters in her head. You should probably finish the book you’re writing before you start on another one, she thought with a playful eye-roll. Her childhood dream of becoming a published author was in the middle of coming true, and she couldn’t be any happier about it.

Just then, her eyes drifted to a silver truck that was driving past the parking lot. It was going fast so she couldn’t get a very good look at the driver, but for a split second she could have sworn that the man driving the truck had the same blonde hair and chiseled jaw as Steve Rogers. Chalking it up to worry for the runaway super-soldier, she closed her eyes and murmured, “Whatever he’s up to, I hope that he’s staying safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Five

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[loreweaver-universe]

And that’s the episode.

HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS

THAT WAS...HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT

YOU WEREN’T KIDDING THAT THIS ONE WAS A “HOLY SHIT” EPISODE

That was intense.  Oh my god.  Oh my god!

That’s an all-timer.  That really had me going.  The suspense!  The execution!  I was really strung along!  And watching Steven really get into the fight was horrifying all on its own!

That was intense.  Holy shit.

So!  Steven just killed somebody.  He brought her back to life after, but she was dead, and by his hand.  That’s some heavy shit.  It’s also, like...not to downplay what he did, because he did that and he needs to face up to that as a consequence, but this is definitely not what our boy can deal with right now.  And on top of everything else, Jasper is treating him like her Diamond now!  That’s going to screw with his self-image even more, since he associates diamondhood with nothing but bad stuff.

I don’t want to make this all about his issues.  He killed someone, and I don’t know how to process that yet.  This is such a complicated thing.  He’s done something horrible.  Accidentally, yes, but...still.  It’s going to take me some time to really process that this went down.    How are the other Gems going to react?  This is crazy.  What a turn this has taken.  And it occurs to me as I write this that the last four episodes will probably deal with closing Jasper’s arc, too!  It’s about damn time, I think.  Time to break her of her notions about her place in the world.

What’s not complicated is how good this episode was.  Fragments comes in at my new #2 for Season 6 (between Bismuth Casual and Snow Day) and my new #7 overall (between Last One Out of Beach City and Reunited).  That marks the third episode of Future to crack my top ten.  This season has had some low lows, but holy hell, when it’s on its game it’s on its goddamn game.  I’m looking forward to seeing if the last four episodes can do the same.

The last four episodes.  We’re almost done with Steven Universe.  For real, this time.  Last time I thought it was over...well, those were real tears I cried.  I don’t know how I’m going to react this time.  But...I’m sure it’ll be a hell of a ride.

The last four episodes air tonight, but we’re taking a short break from Steven Universe for a few days.  I’m going to do an episode of She-Ra next.  I need the break, and some time to process this.  Episode 11 of She-Ra will begin on Monday.

As for streams, we’re a few streams into Nier so far, and I’m enjoying it, mostly!  I don’t know if I have a stream in me tonight, but you’ll get a notification on here and the community Discord server if I do.  If I don’t stream tonight, I will probably stream tomorrow, but the new Borderlands 3 DLC came out this week and my buddy Eddie and I may be playing through it over the weekend.  You can click here for my Twitch channel, or click here for the playlist of Nier streams I’ve done so far.

I’ll see you wherever you plan to tune in, and thank you for continuing to support me!  The amount of support you guys have shown after I asked for more patrons has been wonderful.  Thank you guys so, SO much.  That’s going to give me some room to start saving up money, I think.

Anyways, until next time!  See you there!

IN OTHER NEWS:

I recently completed my playthrough of the second story campaign in Fire Emblem: Three Houses!   You can view all the streams of the Golden Deer and Black Eagles routes I have done by clicking here!

I recently completed a blind playthrough of Hollow Knight on Twitch!  You can watch all the Hollow Knight streams I’ve uploaded to Youtube by clicking here!

If you’d like to help me pay my rent, buy me some food, or help with my bills and medicine, please use my direct donation link!  If you’d like to support me per liveblog completed every month, please pledge to my Patreon! Becoming a patron not only allows you to vote on what shows I do whenever I choose a new one, but also grants access to the community Minecraft server to $5 patrons or higher!

You should also go pledge to Gio’s Patreon–our Discord server maintenance tech, creator of Rubybot, and community Minecraft server overlord deserves far more than I can afford to pledge to him by myself.

If you’d like more of me and my content:

My Episode Lists master page, where you can find every show and liveblog I’ve done!

My Discord server, where you can come hang out with me and other fans, check out member liveblogs, and join community gaming guilds!

My Twitch channel, where I stream variety games every so often!

My Youtube channel, where you can check out past streams!

My ask blog, where you can send me questions and comments!

My Twitter, where I make announcements about liveblogs and streams!

It’s your kindness and support that lets me do this stuff, and I wouldn’t be where I am without all of you to do it for.  Thank you all so much for your support, and for tuning in every episode!

OTHER PEOPLE YOU MAY ENJOY:

I may have been one of the earlier Steven Universe liveblogs, but a whole community of livebloggers has sprung up over the last five years!   I linked to a bunch individually for a few wrap-ups, but honestly, this end-slate is already eight billion miles long, so I’m just gonna link to my links page.  Click here if you want recommendations of other livebloggers, or other neat people, or webcomics and podcasts that I recommend.