#brave women photographers

[photo-art-lady]

Fine Art Photography - Portrait Of A Female Warrior With Sword And Armor By Laura Sheridan

[kaelaheartsyou]

FEVER DREAM

caitlin clark x reader type | 5.1k words, 19k characters

warnings:

literally pure smut idk guys wtf

mentions of connor mccaffery

it honestly felt like a fever dream.

you had made your way into a small bar in downtown indianapolis with your friend jess.

it was an average friday night, you guys always went to the same bar, on the same day, at the same time.

the warm atmosphere of the place was alive the dim lighting of the downtown bar illuminated swathes of wood and metal, r&b music softly playing in the background. the walls were decorated with framed photographs of local athletes, and the chatter of people filled the air, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. it was a typical friday night, and the place buzzed with energy—especially after a victorious game by the fever.

even if you didnt follow basketball, you knew who the indiana fever were. who caitlin clark was.

it was here that you found yourself, perched on a stool at the bar, sharing a moment with your friend, jess. you both had decided to revel in the post-game buzz that encapsulated the entire venue. there were fans that had came straight from the game, wearing fever gear to celebrate the win.

from across the bustling space, your gaze landed on what you would've never expected to see. the whole team there, gathered around a few couches playing pool.

sitting next to who you knew was her boyfriend connor, was none other than caitlin clark. you scoffed looking at her, she was dressed quite casually. her athletic build was hidden by a crewneck with the words 'indiana fever womens basketball' splayed across it and simple black cargo pants that spoke both of comfort and style.

you sighed before turning back to jess "look." you said motioning your head to the group.

her eyes widened momentarily before speaking "quite brave of them to show up to a bar, where tons of their fans are"

a small chuckle escaped past your lips "do you think they're actually together? or maybe some type of stunt to prevent people from questioning her?" you asked, shifting the conversation to connor and caitlin.

she thought for a moment before a sly grin appeared on her lips "either way people question her. but you should find out"

you found her words almost comical. ALMOST. instead she just sounded downright ridiculous. idiotic even.

you laughed dryly "you're funny you know that?" you said, but you couldnt help turning your head back to caitlin who had what looked like a forced smile on her face as she watched connor talk to another girl, occasionally saying a word or two.

jess followed your gaze before responding "im not joking though. i mean, how fucking cool would it be to say you hooked up with caitlin clark!" she said a little too loudly for comfort

your eyes widened, not just at how loud she was, but at her words themselves. "oh my god you're being serious?!" you whispered shouted.

she smirked at you "oh cmon whats the harm, shes clearly not enjoying herself"

you assumed from videos and pictures you'd seen online that she was quite literally the embodiment of confidence, though looking at her sitting on the couch with her boyfriend, it was hard not to notice how she seemed to lean away from connor, who was engrossed in conversation with some other girl standing nearby. an amused smile crossed your lips, and you turned to jess to share your thoughts. "god, that’s pathetic," you laughed, shaking your head slightly. you both chuckled at the amusing, albeit unfortunate, dynamics of relationships, not realizing that caitlin had momentarily glanced in your direction.

for a split second, the bustle around you fell away. then jess, still giggling, suddenly stopped. she hit your arm lightly, eyes wide, and motioned towards caitlin. you turned back to see her actively staring at you now, her expression hinting at an undeniable intrigue. there was something in they way she looked at you that made your heart race unexpectedly... or maybe you were just delusional.

but when she glanced away briefly and suddenly stood up, you definitely felt your heart rate pick up a little. you watched as she skillfully navigated through the crowd and towards the bar where you and jess were sitting. you turned your attention back to jess, a small part of you hoping she would come up to you. but unsurprisingly and to your luck, she didnt. instead she ordered a round of shots for her team.

you watched secretly as she leaned against the bar looking around and jess nudged you, raising her eyebrows. you simply scoffed muttering a quiet "stop." to which she put her hands up in surrender, dropping the topic at hand.

after caitlin walked away with the shots, getting some help from connor, jess got up to order a drink and you realized you needed one of your own.

"can you get me something? something strong." you asked and she nodded

after a good 5 minutes she returned, sliding your drink in front of you. you eagerly took a sip, cringing slightly at the burning sensation.

"dude what the fuck is this" you groaned taking another sip.

"long island iced somethin, i dont know! the bartender recommended it" she shrugged before sipping her own drink.

you just sighed, before reluctantly finishing the drink as the night progressed. you knew you were drunk when you allowed jess to pull you to the dance floor without complaining. you danced along side the other people on the floor when you caught a glimpse of caitlin walking into the bathroom. and before your drunken mind could think twice about it, you found yourself following her.

inside the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms, the noise of the bar faded into a faint murmur. you hesitated briefly before entering the women’s restroom, where caitlin was already fixing her hair in the mirror.

you were already regretting your decision as you cleared your throat awkwardly, standing a safe distance away from her before pretending to adjust your outfit in the mirror.

she was focused on her hair for a moment before glancing at you in the mirror, giving you a once over. “you stalking me?” she asked slightly amused and your heart nearly stopped.

"no- um..no i just.. needed to fix my outfit" you said quickly. internally groaning at how nervous you sounded.

she chuckled, raising a brow. “uh huh.” she replied, turning to lean against the sink. “and i assume you weren't staring at me earlier either?”

"staring? i wasnt staring, my friend noticed you were here so i simply looked. i didnt stare" you lied straight through your teeth as you turned fully to face her.

a soft smirk played on her lips as she hummed. “right. not staring.” she teased. “so, why did you follow me in here then?” she followed up

and for a moment you completely forgot she was fucking caitlin clark. in your defense you were slightly drunk, not even thinking when you spit out your next words

"nobody followed you in here. i came to fix my outfit thats all" you scoffed, simultaneously rolling your eyes. you hadnt even noticed that she had taken a few steps closer to you. you glanced up nervously, only now were you realizing the insane height difference between you two.

she smirked softly, stepping away from the sink and slowly walking over to you, the smirk still on her lips. “right, right.” she said, nodding. she stopped in front of you, her eyes glancing you up and down. “your outfit looks fine to me.”

you furrowed your brows. what does one even say when they're caught in a lie? "um- yeah, because i fixed it" i said in an obvious tone

“mhm.” she hummed, nodding. she took a glance to the bathroom door.

you bit your lip looking up at her, you were still leaning back against the sink. "you having fun with your boyfriend?" you asked

she raised a brow, stepping closer again, now standing in front of you. her expression was unreadable, but the smirk on her lips told she was amused.

“why do you care?” she asked, her eyes scanning your face, studying your body, slowly.

"just wondering, didnt look like you were having a good time" you shrugged

"oh? so you were watching me the whole night?" she said in a teasing tone, lifting a brow. she let her eyes slowly rake over your body once more, her tongue slowly licking her lips.

your eyes widened momentarily at your slip up "not.. the whole night, i just.. noticed." you said looking back up at her

“righttt.” she hummed, not buying it. she took another step forward, now basically trapping you up against the sink.

“i didn’t think I’d have someone so fixated on me.” she said in a teasing tone, that smirk still tugging at her lips.

"you cant be serious.. you're caitlin clark.. in a bar.. full of your fans" you said amused. nonetheless you couldnt help but nervously look at down at where your bodies practically connected.

a soft chuckle left her lips, her eyes still on yours, taking in your reaction. her eyes flickered down to where your face was fixated and that smirk just grew again.

her smirk widened. “oh, so you're a fan then.” she teased, cocking her head to the side again, her eyes still studying your body.

one of her hands slowly slid up your waist and slowly around to the small of your back, pulling your hips to her.

your breath hitched involuntarily "um..no?" you honestly werent, but you weren't complaining about the position you were currently in.

caitlin chuckled softly, noticing the way your breath hitched. she slowly leaned forwards, her body pressing against yours. “you're not? so you wouldn’t mind if I did…this?” she asked, gripping your hip with one hand before leaning in, her lips hovering over yours

you glanced down at her lips before back up at her "no" you whispered

that was all she needed, her smirk turning into a devilish smile before she pressed her lips to yours. the kiss wasn’t shy or tentative, she was dominating and in charge, nipping your lip before slipping her tongue into your mouth.

you moaned softly into the kiss, your hand coming up to tangle in her hair

she pulled you impossibly close, backing you up so you were pressed against the sink, her hand gripping your waist as if to pin you there. her tongue exploring your mouth, she let out a soft moan as one of your hands tangled into her hair.

slowly she turned us around to back us into the bigger sized stall at the end, pulling away for a second to kick close and lock the door before pulling you in for another heated kiss

her hands were on you in an instant, exploring your body. she let out a another soft moan against your lips, pushing you up against the door, her body pressing against you. she slowly lifted your leg up, resting it against her hip as she slowly broke the kiss to kiss down your neck.

you threw your head back against the door, exposing more of your neck for her. your hand coming to tangle back into her hair

she kissed down your neck, nipping softly as her hands began to roam. exploring your body, they slowly ran up your thigh to your hip, her tongue sliding along your pulse point. she bit down on your neck, sucking on the skin there.

"fuck caitlin" you sighed biting your lip. one of your hands sliding underneath her crewneck, feeling her exposed skin.

she groaned against your neck, her fingers digging into your hips as your hand slid underneath her crewneck, the feeling of your fingers making her shiver. she nipped your ear, and spoke in a low whisper, “you like that?”

"yeah..i do" you said slowly "can i take this off?" you said pulling at the hem off her sweatshirt

she nodded as her lips connected to your neck again, her tongue licking at the sensitive skin. “go ahead.” she mumbled, pulling away to help you pull off the crewneck.

you tossed it on the small counter connected to the wall, glancing down at her body clad in just a black nike sports bra. you let out a slow shaky breath and for a moment you remember that you're literally pinned against a stall door by caitlin fucking clark. her words snapped me out of my trance

her hands were back on your body instantly, the feeling of your eyes roaming her body making her shiver. she smirked in satisfaction, leaning forwards so that she was right in front of you, her hands roaming. “see something you like?”

you simply hummed before pulling her back in for another kiss

she smirked against your lips as you pulled her back in, her body pressed flush against yours. one of her hands slowly went back down to your hip, pinning you against the door as she deepened the kiss. her tongue exploring your mouth, she moaned softly, her hands making their way behind your back to unzip your dress, letting it fall off your shoulders and pool at your feet.

you gasped softly before pulling away to look up at her

she pulled away from the kiss to catch her breath, her eyes raking over your body, taking in everything before her. she bit her lip to hold back a smirk, her eyes slowly meeting yours. “fuck, you’re so hot.” she said in a low sultry whisper, her eyes studying your face and your body.

"thanks.." you muttered as if that was an appropriate answer to being told you look 'hot' by caitlin clark.

she suddenly dropped to her knees her hands running over my thighs, holding your legs apart. she bit her lip, her eyes raking over your body. “you're so gorgeous.” she hummed, her lips trailing up your inner thigh, kissing the sensitive skin.

"oh fuck.. dont tease me please" you bit your lip stifling a moan that threatened to escape past your kiss bitten lips

she glanced up at you, noticing the way your bitten lip was failing to hold back a moan. she smirked again, her eyes darkened, taking in your expression. her hands slowly ran up your thighs, her lips getting closer and closer. "don't tease you?" she repeated teasingly, her nose brushing against your core through your underwear.

"caitlin please" you said gripping her hair tightly, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.

she groaned, letting out a soft moan as you tugged on her hair. the sound of you saying her name like that combined with the sound of you moaning, was almost enough to make her give in.

“you want me to stop teasing, hm?” she asked in a soft whisper, running her tongue slowly along your thigh, tasting the skin there.

"yes please. please stop.." you managed to get out through moans

she groaned again at the way you begged, her fingers slowly hooking into the hem of your underwear. her tongue running along your thigh, she slowly began to pull them down. “you have to be quiet though…can you be quiet for me?” she asked again in a low whisper, looking up at you as she tugged your underwear down your thighs.

you all but fucking whimpered at her words, the feeling of her tongue, her hands pulling your underwear down "yeah i can be quiet. please." you got out

she continued nipping at your inner thighs, her tongue soothing over it

"caitlin please. i promise ill be quiet, just please stop teasing" you whimpered softly

she let out another teasing chuckle, her hands slowly running down from your hips. “well because you’re being so good, i guess ill give you what you want.” she smirked

“what do you want, baby? Tell me exactly what you want.” she groaned

"want you to fuck me.. please.." you said looking down at her, tugging her closer to where you needed her

her breath hitched before her mouth connected to your core, groaning as she tasted you on her tongue. she moved slowly, letting her tongue tease you for a while, taking her time. her hands slowly trailing up your thighs, gripping them as if to hold you in place. “god…you taste so good…” she mumbled against you, her eyes slowly flickering up to yours

you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a guttural moan. your hand tugged at her hair, pulling her impossibly closer as you arched into her touch

her hands came up to hold your hips, holding you in place as you arched into her. the sounds coming from your lips were driving her crazy…she needed to hear her name pass through those lips. “look at me.” She said, her tongue slowly tracing circles around your core.

you fluttered your eyes open to look down at her "fuck caitlin.. dont stop please" you begged absentmindedly

that’s all she wanted…to hear her name coming out of your lips, the needy, broken tone. she groaned, her tongue slowly picking up speed, her hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. “think you can take my fingers too? hm? tell me.” she mumbled, looking up at you.

you moaned before nodding quickly

she groaned at your reaction, “use your words…you have to beg for it.” she said, still moving her tongue at a fast rhythm, her eyes dark and blown out as she looked up at you, taking in the perfect sight before her.

"yes.. yes please fuck me caitlin.." you moaned out and it isnt until she slowly pumps her middle finger into your cunt, that you feel the coil in your stomach on the verge of snapping

"ooohhh fuck.. oh god just like that." you moaned out as she added another finger

she pumped her fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way your thighs clenched around her face as she brought you to your climax "you gonna come for me?" she muttered against your core

"mmhm yeah.. fuck im so close" you rambled before she sped up her actions, pushing you closer to the edge

her eyes darkened at the way how close you sounded, how wrecked she was making you feel. she curled her fingers, pumping them quickly , enjoying the way you squirmed under her touch. “come for me” she demanded, eyes trained on your face

"oh my god-" you moaned out as you came undone on her tongue, her fingers not slowing, instead helping you ride out your high

she watched you come undone, slowly bringing you back down to earth. once she knew you were done, she slowly pulled back, a small smirk appearing on her face as she took in your now wrecked expression. “you okay?”

you took a shaky breath fluttering your eyes back open.. "yeah.. holy shit" you managed to get out

she let out a small chuckle, slowly standing back up until she towered over you again. she bit her lip, her eyes slowly raking over your body before coming back up to your face. “you look fucked out…I did that.” she said with a cocky smirk.

you rolled my eyes "no way thats what you have to say after that."

she chuckled softly "i should get back out there, my team and.. connor.. are probably wondering where i went.." she said sighing

you narrowed your eyes before reluctantly pulling your dress back up your body "yeah you should.."

"you owe me though" she mumbled "give me your phone"

you furrowed your brows before unlocking your phone and handing it to her. she quickly typed in her number, adding her contact, her name simply said 'cait'

she helped zip up your dress before throwing her sweatshirt back on and walking out of the stall, where ironically she went to fix her hair and you your outfit.

"text me yeah?" she spoke up suddenly, turning to you

"yeah.. yeah i will" you said before she smiled and nodded before walking out of the bathroom. you smiled to yourself before walking out a few minutes after her to meet back up with jess.

lord knows you slept real good that night

[thepencilgirlsv]

This illustration is for Motaz Azaiza, one of the many brave palestinian journalists that have constantly risked their lives so we can see the truth.

While I admire him for his resilience and strength, which has turned him into a real-life hero to our eyes, I truly pray for a future where he can be just a photographer, free from the tragedy and violence that has constantly surrounded palestinians.

That wish is the same for all journalists, children, women and men of Palestine, which is why I urge everyone to keep demanding and fighting for a permanent ceasefire and freedom of Palestine.

Thank you to Motaz Azaiza for being a source of hope in the middle of chaos.

[otmaaromanovas]

A French writer recalls meeting the Romanov sisters

During WWI, French journalist and writer Amélie de Néry, who went by the pen name Marylie Markovitch, was invited to have a private audience with Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna. During this meeting, she was introduced to the four Grand Duchesses by the Tsarina.

In January 1916, her recollections were condensed and published in multiple newspapers throughout America and Europe. She wrote:

With a charming smile she took my hand and told me she was very happy to receive a representative of the women of France, who, like their sisters in Russia, had so bravely borne their burden of anxiety during this cruel war. 'Let me introduce you to my daughters,' she said as soon as I thanked her for granting me an audience. 'This is Tatiana.' Grand Duchess Tatiana also shook hands with me and said she was very much interested in meeting a woman journalist for the first time. She is a beautiful girl, with big blue eyes, full of life, illuminating her fair, young face. At this moment the door opened and a young girl, also in the garb of a sister of mercy, entered the room. 'And here is Olga, my little French daughter' said the czarina. Grand duchess Olga is no less beautiful and charming than her younger sister, but she is more calm and there is something of the serenity of the mystic about her. As the czarina referred to her stay in Paris, it seemed to me as if a dreamy expression came into the daughter's dark soulful eyes. ‘Colonel de Vitchkowsky will introduce you to my two other daughters,' said the czarina, as she parted from me to take up her duties in the operating room; and once more I felt the firm grip of her hand. The two little grand duchesses, Marie and Anastasia, were in the convalescent ward. I found that both, wearing plain white dresses and red hats, standing close to an officer who, seated on the window sill, was playing the balalaika. They both shook hands with me and the music went on.

📍SOURCES: Amélie de Néry; LA Raconteuce, ‘Find Writer Finds Czarina Hard At Work’, El Paso Herald newspaper, 6 January 1916. Her full recollections can be found in Amélie de Néry, ‘L’Imperatrice en Voile Blanc’ in Revue Des Deux Mondes, (1916), p. 566

📍PHOTOS: Photograph albums of the Grand Duchesses, public domain; Photographs of Amélie de Néry: Portrait de Mme Marlie [sic] Markovitch, Femina publication, 122, February 1906, p. 75, public domain

[featherandferns]

daylight - six

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 6 of the daylight series | read part 5 here

content warnings: sexual content (m receiving)

word count: 2.8k.

blurb: seemingly not put-off from your last encounter, JJ comes by your house and studies your photographs. There's one within the mix that makes something click in JJ's head.

“Mimsy, it was humiliating,” you groan through the camera. 

She cringes. “I mean…yeah, that is pretty rough.”

“Ah!” you cry, tossing your head into your hands. 

“What was up? Were you not turned on?”

“Of course I was!” you argue, offended at the insulation that JJ wasn’t sex walking. “I just got all in my head, and the dark and Tyler and–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mimsy interrupts. You brave a glance at her on the facetime call. “You were thinking of Tyler whilst hot-mechanic-man was going down on you?”

“Well, we never got that far,” you mumble. 

Mimsy silences you with a look. “Why were you thinking of Tyler?”

You sigh and shake your head. Once more, your eyes dart down to the shoebox. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I just felt like I was back in that room with him all over again in December. The confusion and the–”

“Are you sure Tyler never assaulted you?” Mimsy checks. Despite her careless questioning, you know it comes from a place of concern. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say. “I mean, his emphasis on consent was honestly one of his finer features. One time I nodded and he went ‘no, no, you gotta use your words’.”

“Condescending prickhole,” Mimsy mutters bitterly. 

Eyebrows raised, mildly alarmed, you say, “well, yes, he was, but he was an consent advocate.”

“Gee, someone give him a gold medal. The bar really is on the fucking floor.”

You click your fingers. Mimsy could get lost in her anti-Tyler spiel easily. “Can we stay on task, please? What the hell is wrong with my body!?”

“Alright, one sec,” Mimsy says. You watch as she types away on her laptop, halfway in shot. “Okay, Google, what have you got?”

Waiting anxiously as Mimsy puruses the web, she makes a ‘eureka’ type sound. 

“Well if it makes you feel any better, apparently around seventeen percent of women aged eighteen to fifty experience vaginal dryness problems during sex. So you’re not a freak - yay!”

“Thank you for that,” you grumble. “What else does it say? Does it say why it happens?”

“Not being turned on enough is the leading cause. Insufficient foreplay type things,” Mimsy reads. 

You shake your head, fingers pressed to your lips in thought. “No, I was definitely turned it on. It was only when he was no longer kissing me and stuff…”

“Is that when the Tyler thoughts started?” Mimsy wonders. 

You nod. 

“Alright, well, other reasons are psychological. Stress, anxiety, that kind of thing. You think that might be it?”

“Maybe,” you muse. Before you can try to expand your thoughts, Mimsy’s phone chimes. She momentarily disappears as she reads the text, and you watch as she gets up in a rush. “You good?”

“Darren hit me up. He said he’ll be here in five.”

“Wait, Darren?” you gape. “Since when were you hooking up with Darren?”

“Like a week ago, at this beach get-together. He’s gotten cuter, y’know? Works out and stuff now,” she grins cheeky at the camera, licking her teeth.

It's times like these that you realise how much your lives are already changing without the other knowing. Most of the time it's easy to ignore, but every now and then the FOMO is relentless and jealousy tries to rear its ugly head. 

“Right, I gotta dash. I need to check I’m nice and clean shaven.”

“T.M.I. Mimsy. We need some boundaries."

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mimsy says before deadpanning: “have fun navigating your dry vagina.”

“Fair point,” you mumble. With that, Mimsy disappears from your screen.

You mindlessly meddle on Instagram, editing your latest post - a picture of the Pogues you took a few weeks ago - and scrolling through the feed. A text notification appears. It’s JJ.

Let me in. 

Frowning, you reply. 

Hello?? 

I’m outside lol. Let me in. 

Frown deepening, you ditch your phone and rush down the stairs. Sure enough, when you open the door, JJ’s there. He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and those same damned combat boots. No cap, messy tendrils of hair sticking out any which way. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored.”

“Oh,” you reply. JJ had never come into your house before. Always picked you up or dropped you off outside. “Well, come in, I guess.”

JJ gladly does so. Wanders through the doorway, hands in his pockets. 

“What you been up to today?” you wonder. 

“Went to Heyward’s with Pope to earn a couple bucks,” JJ says as he eyes up the decor. Most things are unpacked now, having been in Kildare for almost two months. Faux family photos line the mantle of the fire which doesn’t work. JJ peruses them. “You were a cute kid.”

“Thanks,” you say. “You want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, pulling out his flask. You roll your eyes as he takes a swig of what you assume is whiskey. “Where your parents at?”

“Trying to rekindle their romance on a weekend trip to my uncle’s place,” you say. “I was just gonna edit the last lot of photos I took at Kook Club.”

“They any good?” he asks. 

The two of you had worked the latest Gala dinner. It had been to “raise money” for the already pristine, state-of-the-art tennis courts. Whilst they were charging guests a thousand dollars per ticket, you and JJ left with less than a hundred bucks for ten hours worth of work. 

“They’re alright. Rafe and his posse are in the back of a bunch, sneaking drinks, so I need to edit that crap out,” you huff. You start up the stairs and JJ follows. Opening the door, you guide JJ into your bedroom. 

“Ta da,” you say. “My humble abode.”

“Cute bear,” JJ teases, pointedly looking at your well-cuddled stuffie.

You rush to grab him, hiding him under the pillow and nervously laughing when you turn back to him. 

His eyes gravitate to your pinboard of pictures. A collection of your favourites. Friends mostly, with about two of your parents. Lots of Vancouver. The Pogues. JJ. Things you took whilst people-watching. Most of the photos are pictures of the neighbourhood and town. Beaches and trees and people going about their days. Boats bobbing on water and fisherman dragging up crab-cages. Children biking down the street and old couples sat on their porches like something from a Suburbia advert in the fifties. There’s an intrigued slant to his brow as he takes in the world you see. 

Then, JJ plucks one from the masses and holds it with care, something seemingly unnatural for someone so energetic. You can’t help but study him as he studies your picture. It’s one you took almost two weeks ago, of a man that you saw smoking a cigarette outside of a dive bar. There was something about him that seemed so tired and worn, like he’d wasted his happiness on something unforgiving. JJ’s smile fades. There’s an urge to ask him if he's okay, though you’re not sure why. 

He returns it to the board and deliberates over some more. You try and think of something to say but come up with nothing. 

“These are really good,” JJ absent-mindedly tells you, eyes trained on the pictures. 

“Thanks.”

JJ smiles at the one you took of him. It’s a strange smile: like he’s surprised by his own candidness. Then he physically freezes. You follow his trained vision to a picture hidden under layers. Oh no. 

“Is that…”

JJ takes it from the board, careful not to disturb the others, and stares at it for a painful length of time. All you can do is fidget nervously, eyes wide, and watch him piece together the picture. Frowning, he holds it up to you as he turns. 

“When did you take this?”

“Um…”

It’s of him, laughing from afar, standing before a sunsetting sky, the sea in the distance. You try to grab it off him but his reflexes are too fast. JJ holds it above his head, out of your reach. 

“Just one time at the beach.”

“Nuh-uh,” JJ says, a grin starting to unfurl. “You’re lying. When’d you take this? I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Just a dumb candid I got at this kegger one time. It was ages ago,” you hurriedly say. 

And all the puzzle pieces click in JJ’s mind. The grin comes through in full effect and he points a finger in your face. Your stomach sinks through the floor. 

“It was you!”

“W-what?” you stammer.

“You were the peeping Tom at Chloe’s kegger! I knew I didn’t fucking imagine it!” JJ announces. 

No, no, bad, bad, bad. 

“Holy shit! I’ve been trying to figure out who it was and it was you the whole time!”

“Don’t be a dick, okay? I just like people-watching. Clearly!” you defend, gesturing to the pictures. 

“I’m not being a dick,” JJ says, enthusiasm dwindling. He lowers the photo and looks at it again. A smile returns, sweeter this time. “It’s a really good photo.”

“Course you’d say that,” you snort, taking it back. “You’re in love with yourself.”

“Damn straight,” he gloats. He watches you place the photo in your bedside drawer. “Putting that in your wank bank for later, then?”

“Careful,” you snarl, shooting him a glare. He cackles.

ADHD brain in full swing, JJ takes to investigating your cameras. “You ever take photos of yourself?”

“No.”

“Ever had people take them for you?”

“Look, some people photograph well,” you say, gesturing to JJ, “and some people don’t.”

JJ quirks a brow. “Are you saying you’re not photogenic?”

You make a face of ‘well, duh’ and JJ laughs incredulously.

“Oh, bullshit. You’re smoking! You’d take a great picture.”

“Well, history proves otherwise,” you laugh, flopping onto your bed. 

JJ looks back to the cameras. At his extended quiet, you gain the sense that he’s plotting something. Concocting. “What?”

“Just thinkin’,” he hums. He grabs your Polaroid camera, turning to you. “This charged?”

“It’s battery powered, JJ,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Got paper in it?”

“That little dial on the right will say.”

JJ checks and a grin reappears. “Lie down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Humour me,” JJ says, “lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you comply, lying down like a corpse. “Happy?”

“No, fucking…” JJ poorly  imitates a sensual pose. You giggle. “Give it some effort.”

Sighing, as if it’s some great effort, you do as he asks. JJ grins and lifts the camera. With that, you crack up and raise a hand, trying to push the lens away. He snaps a photo before you can. 

“JJ!”

“Come on, come on! Pose it up, girl,” he urges. 

Aware that he won’t quit, you sit up and smile reluctantly with a lopsided head tilt. JJ takes another photo. 

“Okay, gimme something sexy.”

“Sexy?” you guffaw. 

“Yeah! Something for my wank bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. You tug your shirt off before you can overthink it and lean back on your arms, dressed in pyjama shorts and bralette. JJ’s grin takes up half his face. “Happy?”

“That’s it baby, work it…”

At his compliments and praises, you entertain him further. Your confidence blossoms under the lens and you start to understand why people like being photographed. It makes you feel important. Beautiful, like you’re something worthy to be captured. You find yourself grabbing at your tit with one hand, staring doe-eyed into the lens. Another photo has you teasing at showing your nipple, pulling down the lip of your bra.

As JJ continues to snap away, you see his dick getting harder and harder under his shorts. When the camera runs out of film, JJ dumps it on your desk and he practically pounces on you. Consumes you with a heady kiss, a hand reaching up to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen it. You’re obsessed with the way JJ kisses. It’s so forward, unapologetic and proud. Tender and telling, dominating and delicate.

When his hands palm at your crotch over your clothes, your heart sinks. Using all the strength you have, you grab his shoulders and force him down onto his back, on your bed. An impressed, bewildered smile lights up his face. It’s quickly overshadowed with lust.

Now straddling his chest, JJ pulls you back down with both hands, bringing your lips to his. You both grin into the messy kiss. 

“Don’t think I forgot what you said during hot seat,” JJ mumbles out through the kiss. You don’t bother to answer. Start making work of his throat, empowered by the new position. “About your favourite position.”

Your only response is to rut back against his hard-on. JJ stammers out a groan which seems to quiet him. You push his shirt up just as he did yours the other night, and take to praising his toned chest. Lightly trace your tongue over his nipples. Who would have thought JJ was a switch? Not you. 

“Please, baby, fuck,” JJ stammers. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, rubbing him through his shorts. 

“God, yes, yes,” he begs, eyes closed tight with pleasure. 

You drag it out. Leisurely free him from his shorts and boxers. Take long, slow kisses right up from his calves, guiding your trial with your nails. When you finally take his leaking tip in your mouth, JJ grabs at the sheets with a moan. You go down on him, varying between fast and slow, deep and shallow. Suckle at the tip just to hear the sounds he makes, sat up on his forearms to watch. 

“Takin’ me so well,” JJ groans. One of his hands fists into your hair. “Fuck…That’s it.”

You hum around his dick, grabbing at the flesh of his thigh for purchase as you work him closer and closer to the edge. He pulls you off him before he comes, spilling onto his chest with a shuddering groan. You sit back on your haunches, wiping at your mouth, as JJ sits up. You grab the box of tissues from beside your bed and offer them to him. He’s almost blushing as he takes them, cleaning himself up. 

“Christ, you Vancouver girls are built different, huh?” he says. 

You laugh, flustered. “Well, I can’t speak for all of us.”

“Don’t need you to,” JJ smirks, reaching out for you by your hip bone. “I got the perfect one right here.”

He easily pulls you into his lap with one arm. Dumbs your thoughts with a kiss, tongue swirling deliciously in your mouth. But when one of his hands ventures lower, you pull away with a small smile. He tries to chase your mouth with his but you place a hand to the apex of his neck, keeping him at bay. He frowns.

Tracing the pad of your thumb under one of his eyes, you quietly say, “maybe another night.”

JJ’s reaction mirrors that of a child being told they can’t have a candy bar. “Wait, seriously?”

“I’m tired,” you lie with a laugh. Pecking his lips, you smile. “Worn me out.”

“Barely fucking touched you,” JJ grumbles, disgruntled. You move off him and grab the mess of tissues, filtering them into your bedroom bin. You can feel JJ watching you as you gather the polaroid photos from the floor. “Is this about the other night?”

Your lack of reply is reply enough. 

“That was probably a fluke! I read somewhere that dehydration can cause it,” JJ tells you. You make your way back over with a small smile. JJ reaches out a hand and grabs you by your hip. He leans forward and places a kiss to your stomach through your t-shirt. Looks up at you, innocent through his lashes. “Just let me at you and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“As romantic as that is,” you sardonically say, looping your fingers through his hair and gently easing him away, “I just wanna go to sleep. You staying over?”

“Is that cool with you?” JJ checks. 

“Mhm,” you say. “I’m gonna go wash up, yeah?”

“Alright,” JJ replies, already tugging off his shirt. 

When you’re finished in the bathroom you find JJ under your sheets, scrolling on his phone. You settle in beside him. Your bed is just slightly bigger than a twin. It gives you a good excuse to cuddle up against him. Sighing, JJ clicks off his phone and lays back. 

“You wanna get the light?” he wonders, absentmindedly stroking your shoulder.

“No,” you mumble against his sturdy frame. “I sleep with it on.”

“Oh. Alright.”

JJ coils an arm around your midsection, bending to your form like ivy wills to a building. And how strange is it to think, that as you and JJ fall asleep tangled up with each other, that a box of your ex-boyfriend's things lies under the bed.

read part seven here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200

[pacifymebby]

Summers in the Air Baby Heavens in Your Eyes

Oblivious Danny X Oblivious Reader, no warnings just pining

You watched him from across the field not realising the melancholy sulk you wore on your face. Your lips a sullen pout, a little frown on your brow, tiny wrinkle at the bridge of your nose.

He was photographing Cathy again. You felt like he was always photographing Cathy, or Betty, or Gale. He never took photos of you.

Not that you blamed him, how could you blame him for anything? But especially not this. Not noticing you, when you were just one in so many women who were older, hotter, more life experience and substance. More intelligent things to say. More insight into the Vandals than you could have offered.

No, you couldn't blame him for paying more attention to them than you.

And yet it pained you still, when you had to watch him watching them. The way he'd rest his head to one side in the palm of his hand, his cheek squishing against his fist. The way he'd get that quiet smirk on his lips. The depth of his gaze when he was listening intently, taking every word in.

How could the boy who sees everything, never even notice you.

It broke your little heart.

Especially today.

Because you'd tried so hard to get his attention. You'd worn your prettiest white sundress, spent too long on your hair considering you were to spend the day sat in a field drinking beer with a bunch of rowdy bikers and their wives. You'd spent too long on your make up too, your lashes long and dark, your eyeliner delicately winged. Your lips a faint kissed cherry shade. And yet Danny had all but stared for a moment and turned his head swiftly away. Busied himself with prettier, more interesting women. Because of course he didn't have time for dumb girls like you.

At least that's what you were thinking as you watched him from across the field.

"Hey y/n." Johnny raised two hands in a still wave greeting you as he wandered over to your perch on the edge of a picnic table. "Whatcha doin sittin all alone for over here?" He asked, "y'know the girls are all sitting over there with Danny..." He said nodding behind him to where he already knew you knew the girls were sitting with Danny.

After all he'd been watching you pouting over at them all for the best part of half an hour now and if he was being honest, Johnny was getting tired with the sulk on your face.

"Y'know y'too pretty to waste your time sitting around with that sad little look on you all day..." He carried on. Johnny was a man of few words, tended to stay quiet unless he had something he needed to say, tended not to say things for the sake of it. So you knew he meant it when he teased you, knew he was talking to you now with intentions.

Still that didn't stop you rolling your eyes.

"Oh sure..." You replied with a sarcastic whine. You were trying to be more like Cathy, cause Cathy seemed to hold everyone's attention when she spoke. She was more grown up, more sure of herself. Everything you weren't and no wonder Danny was always pointing his microphone in her direction, listening to her with those deep, pensive eyes. He was always thinking about something and what you wouldn't give to have him share his thoughts with you. Better yet, be the one that so occupied his mind.

"Y'know I'm sure he'd love to be rescued by the prettiest girl at the picnic..." He said then, not even smiling at you, simply knocking your elbow with his to force your sullen glare back to him.

If you hadn't known better you'd have told him to fuck off. But you didn't get to swear at Johnny. Not just because you didn't want to disrespect him when your place in the gang was so flimsy anyway, but because over the time you'd known him, Johnny had become a bit of a father figure to you. Even if it did come across as merciless teasing you knew his remarks were supposed to be taken as friendly advice.

"He's workin..." You shrugged him off, wishing that you were brave enough to take Johnny's advice.

"Nah, he's heard every story Cathys got to tell... I'm sure he'd appreciate some new material to chew on..."

You gasped then, astounded he would dare say something so loaded to you, so heavily burdened with double meanings.

"Johnny!" You yelped, your cheeks burning scarlet as you whacked his arm and shook your head at him. "I can't believe you!"

"Oh come on honey you're smarter than that... You ain't shocked..." Chuckled Johnny, letting out a sigh as he stood up, "but hey, I'm just an old man, can't make you kids listen to me can I..."

And with that he wandered off, back to Benny and the boys, back to the bikes ready to rev an engine and start another deadly race around the homemade dirt track they'd all been busy carving out for themselves all day.

And you, well, you let your cheeks squish against your fists and let out a sigh, your eyes returning with longing to Danny. Danny who for a moment you could have sworn, had been looking at you.

For a moment your heart threatened to jump right out of your throat but when you took a breath and gathered composure you saw that he had returned his attention to Catchy and her cigarette as she waved it around and spun him another yarn about her beloved Benny and the trouble he was always causing her.

You knew you shouldn't have felt so bitter, Cathy had always been so kind to you. A real girls girl who had taken you under her wing, welcomed you into the fold. You just got jealous sometimes when you saw the girls with their men. How they had that one thing you wanted so badly. A pair of arms to wrap around your body when the sunset and the chill began to settle around you. Someone to kiss your neck by the fire, tickle their fingers over your waist until you shrieked and caused a scene and made the others laugh. You wanted to be the woman all the other women rolled their eyes at. Just once.

He's taken too many pictures of you for someone who hasn't yet said two words to you. Too many beautiful pictures, and none of them, can he honestly say, are for the book. Not that he doesn't think the whole world would love to look at your sweet smile, your dewy dark eyes gazing just past the lens, just past him - much to his dismay. Not that he doesn't think people would be as mesmerised by you as he is... No. It's just that if he's being honest, even though you're not his girl, Danny has already decided he doesn't want to share you with anyone.

If only he could work up the courage to speak to you for once then perhaps he could tell you that himself.

He sat in the grass, elbow resting on his knee, chin resting on his closed fist as he held his microphone out to Cathy Cross and forced himself to tune back into another story about Benny. Fuck how he wished he could be more like Benny.

This was a story he was pretty sure she had told him before, about when her and Benny first met. How she'd given him the cold shoulder and he'd persisted. Danny could hardly get his head around that. The confidence, the self-certainty that Benny must have possessed to know that if he just kept trying he'd win a woman like Cathy over. A woman who was almost, almost as beautiful as you.

Benny who had the looks, those pretty boy puppy eyes that women loved, but with all the rugged edges of a man who worked with his hands and knew how to use them. A man with no fear, unscathed by anxiety. A man who knew exactly how to smile at a woman and slip so casually into her heart.

Danny wasn't that kind of guy at all. In fact ask any of the guys he was riding with what they really thought of him and he was sure he knew exactly what they'd say.

"He's cool yeah, for a pinko college boy..."

Yeah, he could dream, he could wear the colours and tear the sleeves off his denims all he wanted but at the end of the day that was what he was. A pinko photography major and that, that was why an absolute dream girl like you would never look twice at him.

"And 5 weeks later... I married him..." Cathy grinned, her voice singsong teasing, her hand on her heart as her eyes lit up with mischief.

Danny smiled, grinned along and tried to think of a question he could ask to keep her talking... To keep giving him an excuse to stay sitting there, pretending to look at her, when in fact he was really watching his periphery for little glimpses of you.

But in the end Cathy got tired of talking. She did as she always did and dusted herself down, gave him a wink and told him to ask some of the other girls what they thought of the boys and their "toys" as she always referred to the bikes.

"You should try asking y/n a thing or two, get a couple of lines to accompany all those pretty pictures you been snappin of her all day.... Yeah, I noticed that..." She grinned, "you boys think I don't notice anythin well, you're all dumb... Especially you honey, you're the worst..." She teased as she walked away with all the confidence of a woman about to wrap her arms around Benny Cross and demand a little attention knowing she'd get exactly that.

Danny watched her in disbelief, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Stealing a nervous glance in your direction to try and gauge whether you'd heard Cathy's remark. Her voice carrying in the way it always did.

But you seemed oblivious. Actually you seemed exactly as you had done all day. Completely lost to the world, lost in your own thoughts. Sulking and pensive, real sorry looking. It made Danny want to drop his camera and his recorder and snake an arm around your waist. Ask you what was troubling you so that you might lean your head on his shoulder and let him tend your aching heart.

He wondered which of the bikers had broken your tender heart, tried to glance around them to see if he could see where your melancholy gaze landed. But he couldn't tell.

Every now and then he thought you might have been looking at him. Sometimes when your dark lashed fluttered slowly, your eyes glistening with a sulk, he was sure it was him you were gazing at from across the field. But then someone would pass behind him, one of the guys and he'd decide that Corky or Cal were a far more likely candidate for a girl like you's affections.

"Hey Danny..."

Danny heard Johnny before he saw him. Saw his dirty boots stop just in front of his before he looked up and saw the older man standing there in his deep blue denims, his hands waved in a still greeting. "Y'know I been thinkin you ain't gonna be able to keep riding with us..." He said. His words hanging in the air for a moment, not a hint of amusement.

Danny looked up at him with his head cocked to one side, trying to work out whether he was joking or not. Deciding very suddenly that he might not be. Scrambling to his feet to speak to him.

"What? I mean w...why Johnny?" He asked, trying not to reveal his panic, knowing however that he couldn't hide his racing heart and the sick feeling in his stomach. Not to mention the terror which had shot through him at the thought he might have earnt himself a fight with Johnny Davis. Fists or knives he couldn't take on Johnny and he didn't want to either!

"Well," he sighed with a unnerving smirk, "if you insist upon breakin my little girls heart I just don't see how you can... Ride with us no more... Don't see how that's gonna work?" He said, his smirk only confusing Danny more.

"What?" He asked, his eyes flickering between Johnny's and the space just over his shoulder where only moments before he'd had a perfect view of you sulking at the edge of that picnic table but didn't anymore.

"What's confusin you Danny? You seem confused?" Asked Johnny cocking his head to one side. His pout almost certainly mocking him.

"Uh... Well I uh, I don't know who you're talkin about Johnny..." He said scratching the back of his neck nervously, "I don't have nothin to do with any of the girls... Except when I interview them but I promise you I ain't been foolin around with nobody..."

"Yeah, yeah I know you ain't... That's half the problem..." He replied, turning over his shoulder to scan the crowd for you. "I mean look at her Danny boy, don't you think she's sweet? C'mon kid, I know you college boys ain't stupid..."

But when he turned around to nod Danny in your direction he found that you'd disappeared and he knew with a sinking heart that he'd acted too late. That you'd probably given up once again, gone and found Cal or one of the others to give you a ride back home where you would no doubt be crying your little babydoll eyes out into your pillow for the college boy who was proving to be more stupid than Johnny had imagined.

"Well," said Johnny, "you don't need me to tell you that... You been snapping plenty enough pictures all day..." He said leaving Danny to frown, his brow knitted as he watched the empty picnic bench mournfully.

"Oh well, too late now..." Teased Johnny, "she'll be off with one of the boys... Why don't you grab yourself a beer, drink yourself a bit of fuckin courage..."

And well, in your absence that was all that Danny could do. Rejoin the men who were all gathered around the fire with their girls. Drink a couple beers and try to nurse his pitiful heart as the night and his jealousy grew. Because all those other boys sitting round the fire had someone to hold onto, someone to tease and kiss. Someone to lean against them. Make them feel like a man.

And Danny had fumbled yet another picnic, let you slip between his fingers once again.

If you would like a less tragic part two please let me know x

[luminalunii97]

I've seen non Iranians admiring the Islamic Republic national football team for not singing the national anthem. And then they were confused as to why iranians were happy that the team lost. Yes not singing the anthem might have consequences for them, but it won't change the fact that these people went to visit Raisi, the Islamic Republic president and bowed to him, posed happily for pictures while we were dealing with Kiam Pirfalak news, and said they don't care about politics and what's going on Iran in an interview, stating that they will focus on the game only. Not singing the anthem is nothing in comparison. And you might think they were under pressure. So were other athletes in Iran, let's see what they did:

Picture on the right is Elnaz Rekabi, an Iranian rock climber who was the first athlete to take off her hijab during Mahsa Amini protests to show her solidarity with people. She's currently under house arrest. she wasn't the first Iranian woman ever doing that. On the left, that's Shohreh Bayat, her story is so sad.

In many interviews I've seen of her, she always cries when she says her story. She was to referee the final of the Women's World Chess Championship a couple of years ago. While in another country she decided to wear her hijab loosely in an act of rebellion. She got warning from Islamic Republic twice and everytime she made it worse. She was asked to apologize but she refused, saying that she wouldn't apologize for what she believes in. At last, even though she wasn't ready to leave everything behind and start from scratch in a foreign country, she decided to ditch the compulsory hijab completely and never come back to Iran, because her life would be in danger if she did. Because of her choice she can't come back to visit her family anymore. her family supported her which made the authorities to force her father to resign (her father was the president of chess association in Gilan, Iran).

Then we had Iranian national beach soccer team. I think they were the first group who refused to sing Islamic republic national anthem. And after they got threatened to sing the anthem, they did something even more iconic. One of the players cut his imaginary hair after he scored.

Then we had these two scenes after scoring. They were recreating an inhuman thing Islamic republic did. The guy on the right is Khodanoor Lajei. He was murdered on bloody Friday in Zahedan. He was a Baloch guy. I'm going to post about Balochs and the thing that's been done to them by Islamic republic in details. For now know that this guy got killed in protests but this picture of him is for a couple of months back. He insulted a Basiji guy or something, Islamic republic police chained him to a pole in the middle of the city to make him an example for others, after beating him. When he asked for water they brought him a cup but they put it out of his reach in front of him and laughed at his thirst. (You see why we hate Islamic Republic, IRGC and Basij?!) The picture got out only after his death because Baloch people didn't think the rest of Iran would care about them enough to react. That broke my heart unspeakably much.

With so much bravery, our national girl's basketball team has been posting photos without mandatory hijab ever since the protests have begun.

Last but not least, Parmida Ghasemi, iranian archer ditching mandatory hijab inside of iran. She took it out for receiving the prize and while she was being photographed.

(Btw, non of these women "forgot" their hijab accidentally. If you're iranian you learn to never forget your hijab since you're 7, the age you start school. Without a formal head wearing you won't be allowed to attend school classes. When you grow up with it, you'll get used to it. You have no idea how weird it feels to not wear a veil in public, I'm still getting used to it.)

we've witnessed many iconic brave moves by our athletes but non of them said we don't give a shit about what's happening in Iran before the game. I'm not saying they won't be redeemed one day, I'm just saying they should work to win their respect back.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Now that we are speaking about the old timey pixie cut, I was wondering if it is somehow related to people who were selling their hair for wigs. I guess some of them would sell their hair, specially if it was long before the cut, but do you think it could be one of those fashions where the rich notice the poor looking a certain way because poverty and going "well, if it isn't A Look" and copying it? I don't know the social perceptions of selling your hair, but do you think there is an intersection here somehow?

Interesting thought, especially because fashion rarely moved upwards from the bottom in that way during the 19th century

Selling your hair was seen as terribly noble and Romantic...if done for reasons almost nobody ever had in real life. literary heroines of the time sell their hair to feed their children (Fantine in Les Mis- written later but set around the Directoire era), to bail out an unjustly imprisoned fiance (a magazine story I read once), etc. whereas in real life, the thriving human hair market among hairpiece-makers usually sourced its raw materials from "hair fairs" around the European countryside. peasant women would sell their hair for money to augment their usual incomes- I've read a few cases of women doing it to fund travel to a city, for better job opportunities. some women were even serial hair sellers, growing it out again each time for the sole purpose of cutting it for sale when it was long enough

how aware upper-class women would be of this, when their sole experience of the idea was Selling One's Hair For A Noble Cause, I'm not certain. and it WAS seen as a tragic sacrifice in most of those stories, with commentary of the aftermath confined mostly to the lady's Poor Shorn Head and Steadfast Love rather than "omg so cute! a Lewk!" so it's possible the thought would have held cachet for them based on a fantasy, but that fantasy did little to proclaim the aesthetic qualities of short hair. and to notice it on a poor woman and think positively of it would have required some other inducement from a pre-existing source they had positive associations with, if that makes sense? so I'm personally skeptical that that could have been the origin

apparently, when a brief short hair craze arose in the US and specifically Chicago in the 1880s, there were newspapers theorizing that some lady of fashion may have been ill and cut her hair in the throes of fever, as was commonly thought to vent heat from the brain back then, and either liked the result or put a brave face on to pretend she did. It's possible that that had something to do with the Titus making its jump to women as well, earlier on? or it could just have been getting lost in the neoclassicism sauce, as the name of the style suggests

it's interesting too because it's a unisex style, but you see it in fashion plates and portraits (and later, photographs) of women who are NOT masculine or androgynous at all- to me that's what differentiates Ye Olde Pixie Cut from A Woman With A Men's Hairstyle. it's a different mindset; not trying to look masculine, but adopting an unconventional fashion popular among decidedly feminine women

[heli-writes]

Heartbreak and other nuisances, part 2.

Pairing: Pro-hero!Deku x female!reader

Summary: Love is never easy, especially when you're the number one hero of Japan. After getting dumped by his childhood love, Deku just can't seem to get it right, much to his mother's disappointment. When he meets y/n, he is convinced it will just be a one-night stand. Or being fuck buddies. His broken heart stands in his way. And you've got your own demons to fight.

Disclaimer: nsfw, smut, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, angst, heartbreak, bisexuality

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Note: I finally got around to write a second part of this!

Part 1, Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku massages his temples. It's been just a couple of hours but the day is already too long. Izuku considers himself the kind of hero who prefers working outside, on the street. Patrolling, taking on missions, actively helping and saving people. That's why he became a hero in the first place.

He's shy by nature and therefore working with the press and fans is not really his thing. Over the years, he learned to play along. Smile at fans, give funny answers in interviews and always seem collected and content. Truth is though, most of these times he feels rather uncomfortable. Despite his reputation, it's still hard to believe that people look up to him, and idolize him even. Inside, he's still that weird quirkless nerd Kacchan always made fun of.

Interviews are even worse. He feels like these interviewers are always out to get him. Try to squeeze something juicy out of him, something scandalous, something that could potentially ruin his career.

“Mr. Deku, you're almost up.”

A worker from the TV station rips him out of his thoughts. He puts on a brave smile and gives her a nod.

“Alright, I'm ready whenever!”, he tells the worker.

The worker disappears and Izuku can hear the TV host introduce his appearance.

Time to put on a show, he thinks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So far the questions have been tame. Mostly, the male host asked him about his work on the street and some upcoming fan events. Stuff he feels comfortable talking about. The female host chirped in here and there asking about his costume and the heroes that he teams up with from time to time. Izuku is very glad she didn't ask about his rivalry with Dynamight.

“So while we're talking about fans. We all know you are very popular with the ladies. Tell us, Deku, can you give our viewers some hope? Would you ever be open to dating a fan?”, the female host flashes him some pearly white teeth. Deku doesn't like where this is going. Predictable, expectable? Yes, both. Uncomfortable? Also yes.

“Well, I don't see why I wouldn't. I used to be a huge fan of All Might and he's basically my dad now.”, Izuku chuckles. He hopes mentioning All Might and his relationship with his mother is enough to divert the interviewer's curiosity. He rarely talks about them publicly. So, basically, he's throwing her a bone.

“I bet that's a huge relief for our viewers. But would any of them even have a chance? Are you open to date at the moment?”, the hostess continues her prodding.

An image of you pined beneath him flashes through his mind. Is he ready to date? He doesn't know.

Izuku gives her an awkward laugh.

“I guess I have to disappoint. The job is filling my days, thoughts and heart. I'm afraid there is not much room for anything else.”, he tells her.

When the woman gives him a Cheshire cat smile, he knows she's about to say something bad. Bad for him, but good for her.

“Yes, I bet serious dating must be hard in your line of work. But what about casual dating? There have been reports of you being seen with different women over the last year.”, she tells him innocently.

Izuku wants to roll his eyes. Really? That's where she is going? As if being photographed with someone means he's dating them.

Another image of you is flashing through his mind. This time you're sitting across from him in that bar. Looking all pretty in that dress, giving him bedroom eyes.

He's sure no one took pictures of you. His PR team would've given him hell if an image like that was leaked. Also, he's not dating you, not even casually. He slept with you one time.

And yet you left your contacts at his place.

“I'm afraid I'm not the type to date causally.”, he tells the interviewer and flashes her one of his signature smiles. Checkmate. Izuku feels triumphant when he sees the hostess's disappointed smile.

It disappears when the camera zooms in on her. “Well, ladies, you've heard it here! If our favorite hero falls for you, he's all in!”, she tells the camera with a booming smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku feels more exhausted than he usually does. After he was finally allowed to go backstage again, people swarmed him. His PR team clapped him on the back, praising his witty answers. A backstage worker asked for an autograph for his kid. When he finally can retire to his dressing room, he's spent.

He slumps down in the chair in front of the big mirror with the big, round Hollywood-style lightbulbs around it. The bright light burns in his eyes. He takes a look at the reflection that stares back at him. The light makes him paler than he is. His skin looks almost ghostly and the makeup on his face suddenly does very little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. But, hey, at least his hair still looks perfect.

He can't seem to look away from his own image. For a moment he wonders if it's self-conceit so many heroes seem to carry. He watches his eyebrow furrow. That's not it. It's more like... looking at a stranger and trying to figure them out. What are they thinking? Do they have good intentions or bad ones? Can they be trusted? He scans his face like he does with villains and people in the street when he's patrolling.

He comes up with nothing.

He sighs and pushes a hand into the pocket of his pants. His fingers brush over the rough edges of the paper that's been sitting there for a couple of days now. By now the card must be bent and cracked. He pulls out your business card and looks at it.

Tutela Idumentis LLC Y/N L/N y/n.l/n@tutela-idumentis.com +1 711 23456

Of course, he's been nosy about the company on the card, so he googled it. Very quickly he ended up at an online store of a workwear clothing brand. Turns out, there's also a store of the brand here in Musutafu. Considering the lack of a title on your business card, he assumes you must work there as a store worker or something. Seems as if you aren't even a store manager.

He turns the card over and back to the front. He's tempted to send a text to the number on the card. That's why you left it, right? He sighs and shoves the card back into his pocket. Like he's done quite a few times before.

He doesn't need to text you. It's a bad idea. You both made it clear that you don't want a relationship. A hookup is fine, but turning it into a regular thing? That's the way you get caught by the press. Also, he's not sure if he can trust you. You had this aura around you. Kind of sneaky. And there's a devilish spark behind your eyes. He feels like it's best not to mess with you. He had a good night, you left and kept quiet about it. No big deal.

He decides that it's best to go home now. He gathers his things including a duffle bag with his hero costume and makes his way to the door. Usually, his security team would make sure that there is a car waiting for him but today he drove himself to the TV station. It gives him a certain authority over his own day instead of being dragged from one place to another. Lately, he's been feeling that most things lie outside of his control, so he enjoys these little decisions he can make for himself. Even if his head of security isn't always happy about them.

He manages to avoid most people on his way to the parking garage. After he's put his bag into the trunk, he slides into the driver's seat. He takes out his phone to put in the route back home. When he activates the mobile data on his phone, a flood of messages comes in. He's ignoring most of them but something catches his eye.

📷 @dynamight posted a new picture

He clicks on the notification and is led to Katsuki's Instagram page. He swallows hard when he sees the image Kacchan posted. It's a young woman in a white summer dress turning her back towards the camera with her arm outstretched behind her holding Katsuki's hand that can be seen at the bottom of the photo.

Izuku has met Kacchan's girlfriend before, even if it was only in passing. And yet the image of her burned itself into Izuku's mind. He's certain that it's her in the picture. Obviously, they are still together. But more importantly: Now they're officially together. That's more Izuku ever got from Katsuki.

Katsuki kept his relationship under wraps. Of course, there were rumors that he was seeing someone because the press always finds out. But he never commented on it, not even to deny the allegations.

And now he posted her. For the whole world to see. Telling everybody proudly: “That's my girl!”. No “We need to be careful.” or “Can you imagine what happens if this gets out?”. Izuku tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He feels betrayed. It's unfair. Why does this woman get what he wanted? What he waited for for so long? And she gets it this quickly? It makes him want to hate Katsuki. He's not sure what is boiling in his stomach, hurt or anger. Maybe both.

Quickly, he swipes the app away and opens maps.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He thought about it the whole way home. He was brooding over the implications of the picture Katsuki posted. About how it will change Katsuki's life and his work as a hero. From now on, he probably will bring his girlfriend to every red carpet event. The same events Izuku is invited to. Pushing the image of him and her further down his throat.

The silence of his apartment welcomes him. He doesn't turn on the big lights just yet. Instead, he opens the refrigerator and stays in the cool, dim light of it. He rummages through it to find something edible but nothing seems to raise his appetite.

He opens his phone again. Stares at the picture for a while. Then, he pulls out your business card. He puts the card and the phone next to each other on the counter. Stares at them until they blur together in his vision. His heart is pounding.

Finally, he picks up his phone again and types in your number.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To say you're surprised to hear from the Nr. 1 hero of Japan again is an understatement. After a couple of days have passed without him texting you, you actually forgot about him. You don't dwell on hookups very long, even when they're rich and famous. You've met quite a few rich and famous people in your lifetime and you have to say that most of them are absolute pricks. Especially the male ones.

So, you were quite surprised when Izuku texted you inviting you for dinner. You find that invitation rather odd. Didn't he just recently say in an interview that he doesn't date? Casually or otherwise? And if he wants to hook up again, he doesn't really need to take you out first. After all, you know where he lives and you most certainly are down to go again.

He may be a rich famous prick, but at least he knows what he's doing in bed. Well, to be fair, he didn't strike you as a prick. Maybe a bit desperate for praise, but all in all he was quite respectful. At least he didn't use your contact info to force a signed NDA out of you.

You wipe at the side of your eye. Your eyeliner didn't turn out the way you want it to look like. You contemplate wiping it off completely but you decide it's probably not worth it anyway. It's likely your makeup won't stay in place this evening anyway. At least, that's your intention.

It'd be kind of funny if Izuku had serious intentions with this date. Well, not really, but it's always funny to you when men are easily wrapped around your finger. It's funny to see men's logical thinking going out of the window when a female body is involved.

You slip into the fancy dress you picked for tonight. Izuku told you that the restaurant he's taking you requires formal wear. You find it comical that he invites you out to such a fancy dinner. You wonder if letting him come inside is enough for him to fall in love. It makes you think he's a little bit pathetic. You're not interested in a relationship. You've got work to do and high ambitions. Romantic relations tend to stand in one's way. Moreover, you never were the relationship kind of person.

Your phone rings and you see that Izuku texted you that he's waiting for you downstairs. You grab your purse and make your way to the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku expected you to live in a small apartment in the city. Probably in an area with cheap corner stores and buildings that have long passed their prime days. Somewhere cheap, but not run down. Somewhere where people with normal jobs or many children live.

However, you live in the suburbs. In a nice neighborhood with families that have two cars in their driveways and a simple, but modern architecture. Apparently, you have a whole house to yourself. He wonders if it's your childhood home.

He parks the car in front of your front door and shoots you a text. Waiting for you, he feels kind of nervous. He wonders if this is really a good idea. He's not sure what he hopes to come from this. He's not ready to move on and he's sick and tired of superficial meetings and onenightstands. He concludes he must be trying to numb himself from the fact that he won't find love anytime soon or ever for that matter.

He swallows hard when he sees you stepping outside the door. You're wearing a long, red dress with a slit that goes up to your hip leaving the plumpness of your upper leg exposed. He did tell you that the place he's taking you requires formal wear but this dress looks like you certainly had something different in mind than just grabbing dinner. You're stunning and Izuku suddenly feels intimidated by you. Clearly, you're dressed to kill, or rather to fuck.

You walk up to his car and get in at the passenger side.

“Hey.”, you greet him with a toothy smile and Izuku has to admit that the smile makes you look even more stunning.

“Hey”, he tells you back. He knows he must sound a bit stiff, but to be fair he has no idea where he is going with all this.

An awkward silence befalls the car as he starts the engine and pulls out of your street. You can see how tense Izuku is. Clearly, he's nervous or at least highly uncomfortable. You wonder why he invited you in the first place. Also, you find it strange how the usually confident, sympathetic hero is reduced to... this. Somehow you doubt it's due to him being intimidated by your sex appeal.

When Izuku doesn't start a conversation, you do. You attempt to make some small talk with him.

“So, how was work today?”, you ask him. Izuku takes a moment to answer.

“It's been alright, I guess.”, he replies vaguely. Internally, you want to groan. You opened up the stage for him to boast about his work. That's what men like to do, right? Especially men who work in his field! You manage to avoid rolling your eyes.

“Alright, how are things on the street then? Patrol keeping you busy?”, you continue to ask him. You can hear Izuku breathing in in relaxation.

“It's been alright. Some villains here and there but mostly things are quiet.”, he tells you.

“Really, I mean that must mean you can relax a lot, right?”, you say teasingly. Izuku lets out a laugh and you think it's a nice sound.

“I wish that was the case. But a hero's work does not stop at patrolling.”, he tells you.

“I bet. All that press work. And do you not also lead charity for the quirkless? I've always wondered what that is about. Since when do quirkless people need charity? Just because they're quirkless, doesn't mean they can't have a job and life like normal people.”, you say.

“Of course!”, Izuku replies feverishly, “That's not what the charity is about. It's about integration into society, about perspectives.”

You notice that Izuku's whole body language shifts. His chest is all puffed and he pushes his chin forward. You have to smile smugly. Seems like you've found something to poke him with.

“Integration? Perspectives? Sounds to me as if you consider the quirkless as some second-class citizens.”, you tease him. You try to make your voice sound all serious.

“No, not at all! But it's just a fact that the quirkless are treated differently in our superhero society. They're often excluded, are not given the same chances as others.”, he tells you. There's a passionate look in his eyes and you start to feel soft. It's sweet how passionately he feels about the situation of the quirkless.

“And your charity tries to do something against it?”, you ask in a kinder voice.

“Yes, we do. I know there's only so much we can do, at least until the rest of the people change their minds, but still... I think it's important. It shouldn't matter if a person has a powerful quirk or none at all. We're all people.”, he tells you.

You keep looking at the profile of his face. Izuku's eyes are set on the road ahead, but the look in them is stern and determined. Clearly, this topic is important to him. You wonder if it's alright to reveal something real about yourself.

“My mother is quirkless.”

You study how his facial expression changes. For a second, his eyes widen. His grip on the steering wheel loosens a bit.

“Oh, I didn't know that. I'm sorry if I talked about this as if I know more than you.”, he says a bit more quietly.

You shrug and laugh a bit.

“It's alright. My mother has a good life. She married wisely, I guess.”, you ponder. From the corner of your eye, you can see that Izuku gives you a side-eye.

After that, silence befalls the car again. This time you don't attempt to make conversation. The topic dimmed your mood.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the restaurant, the staff shows you to your seats. The waiter shows you two to a private booth out of sight by most people in the restaurant. You conclude that Izuku must've chosen this place in order to have some privacy. He probably couldn't take you to many other places. Suddenly, you feel sorry for Izuku not being able to just go on a date without having to think too much about it. Then again, he chose this life and that's just one of the many negative aspects of being a hero. Grimly, you think about how you are glad to live a different life.

“Have you already chosen, ma'am?”

The waiter rips you out of your thoughts. You blink a couple of times and turn your attention to the menu card that you are holding in your hands.

After the waiter takes your orders, Izuku and you are left alone in the tiny booth again. Again, an awkward silence befalls you. Izuku clears his throat.

“So... um you work in the clothing industry?”, he asks you. You give him a court nod.

“Yes, we opened a store here in Musutafu recently.”, you tell him. He nods. Seems as if he was right when he assumed you worked at the local store.

“You like working here?”, he continues to ask. You shrug.

“I guess. My family's originally from Japan, so I guess it's nice being able to see that side of the family more often.”, you ponder.

“Oh, you didn't grow up here?”, he wonders and you shake your head.

“Nah, I grew up in America. Moved there because of my dad's job.”, you say. Izuku nods understandingly.

“I wish I could've spent a semester or so abroad, like All Might. But in the end that wasn't possible.”, he laughs awkwardly.

“Well, you didn't miss much. America isn't as great as everybody makes it out to be. Especially when you work in the hero business. The paparazzi are hell there.”, you say sympathetically.

Izuku rubs the back of his head and laughs again.

“Well, they're not great here either. Can be a real pain to be honest.”, he replies.

You were just about to answer him when the waiter arrived with your food. Once the plates are set in front of you, the conversation dies down as you two eat. This time a comfortable silence surrounds you. After dinner, you two stay for another round of drinks and the conversation flows more easily. You ask him about what he likes to do after hours and his time at U.A. He asks questions about your life in America. He notices how you only vaguely answer them. Eventually you two pay and make your way back home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku parks in front of your house again. It's already dark outside and only the streetlights illuminate the inside of the car. Izuku's turned to you and you can barely see the freckles on his cheeks.

“I had a good time.”, you say and you mean it. Despite the occasional awkwardness, it was a nice date. And to be fair, Izuku's kind of cute when he's flustered. You teased him on purpose from time to time to bring that flustered expression out of him. You know it's probably a bit mean but you enjoy it too much to stop. Maybe it's your kink to see powerful men in weak positions.

Right now, Izuku wears exactly that expression and you can't help but smirk.

“Y-yeah... it's... it was nice. Maybe we could-”, Izuku can't finish his sentence. With a firm hold on his shirt, you yank him forward and press your lips against his. For the first few seconds, his brain barely reacts to what is happening. Then, he slowly puts his arms around you and kisses you back. You run your hands through his hair and deepen the kiss. A pleasant shiver runs down Izuku's spine. He places a hand on the back of your neck and pulls your face back onto his when you try to break the kiss apart.

You try to press your chest against his but the interior of the car is in your way. Suddenly, a light down the street gets turned on and you two quickly fall apart. It's a dog walker activating a porch light. Izuku pushes your head down. You stay like this until the walker has passed.

“Y'know if you wanted my head in your crotch, you could've just asked.”, you tell him grinningly.

Izuku lets go of your head and straightens his posture. He lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding.

“I'm sorry... it's just...”, he starts.

“It's okay. You don't want to get caught. Career and everything.”, you say understandingly and Izuku is glad you get it. Then there's a mischievous gleam in your eyes and you grip onto his shirt again.

“But y'know... There is no such thing as bad press.”, you say and pull him back into your mouth again. Izuku groans and then pushes you away.

“We really shouldn't... not here...”, he trails while his eyes are fixated on your lips. You can already see his self-control slipping.

“Come up with me then.”, you invite him.

Izuku hesitates. You reach out your hand and lightly push your hand through the sides of his hair. Then, you cup his cheek. Softly, you trail his lips.

“Please.”

Izuku lets out a shaky breath before sighing. “You're a devil”, he tells you and you laugh.

“So, you're coming up then?”, you grin.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku didn't expect your home to look so... homely. He lowkey expected either very modern furniture that has a lot of flat surfaces with nothing on it or very old furniture that you inherited from your parents (like the house most likely). However, the inside of your house is tasteful. Soft beige and blue pastel tones dominate the rooms. The décor is feminine and simple. Dried flowers in vases, fairy lights, and soft blankets. He wonders what's it with you and blankets. You seem to keep one in every room.

You lead him through the living room to the staircase where you take him upstairs into your bedroom. Your bedroom is in the same style as the rest of the house. Izuku admits it's very cozy. He much rather slip under your bed's covers underneath the fairy lights and fall asleep than do whatever you've got planned.

He's still looking around the room when you start to take off your shoes and dress. He's taken aback when he notices you undressing and tries to avoid looking in your direction. As if he hasn't seen you naked before.

You catch his awkward look and have to chuckle. “Can you help me with this?”, you ask and point to the back of your bra. There's no denying it. You love teasing him. Swiftly and precisely, he opens your bra and you slip it off. You feel sorry for the man, so you pull a T-shirt over your head.

“Metalon? You like old-schooled heroes like that?”, Izuku asks teasingly. Only then do you notice the shirt you pulled over your head. Immediately, you're embarrassed.

“No, not really.”, you quickly say and pull the T-shirt over your head again. Izuku watches you with furrowed brows. While you are rummaging through your wardrobe for another T-shirt, he wonders if his comment made you feel so insecure that you felt the need to change clothes.

“You know, you didn't need to change it. It was just a joke.”, he tells you. You pull a sour grimace. “Yeah, I know.”, you answer him courtly. But nothing is more off-putting than wearing your dad's clothes before having sex with someone, you think.

Quickly, you dive under the covers on your bed and get cozy. You wave for Izuku to join you. Izuku slips out of his pants and shirt and joins you in the bed. Your blankets feel as soft as they look, he decides. You slide closer next to him. Your skin feels warm underneath his and he puts an arm around you. He's sure he could fall asleep then and there if it wasn't for you kissing up his neck.

He groans when you suck on that sweet spot just beneath his ear. He turns his head and meets you in a kiss. The kiss quickly becomes heated and he can feel your tongue begging for entrance. At the same time, your hand trails a pattern on the skin of his chest. A shiver of anticipation runs down his spine as he feels your fingers trail lower with each passing second. His left-hand finds its way to your breasts as well. Gently, he massages one of them through the plain black T-shirt you're wearing. Carefully, you break the kiss apart.

“You can take it off, you know?”, you say while looking at him with hooded eyes. Carefully, Izuku lifts the shirt over your head. He takes a moment to take in the sight in front of him. You're beautiful. Part of him wishes you'd take off the panties as well. Before he can dwell on the sight too long, you shuffle closer to him. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and push your breasts against his chest.

Izuku pulls you closer, softly petting the skin of your back. It's been a while since he felt as comfortable and warm as he does now. It doesn't even bother him that you two are about to turn things sexual. Actually, it excites him. Usually, he's in for a quick fuck. Trying to ignore the person in front of him, just chasing his own release. It makes things easier. Easier to not get attached. He doesn't care about this this time. He longs for that closeness. That closeness he used to have with...

He pushes the thought out of his mind. He's with you right now. And right now you're sucking and biting on his earlobe which gets harder to ignore with each passing second. He lets his hands wander into your hair. Gently, he angles your head in a way that he can kiss you again. While he kisses you this time, you hold onto his arms. He can feel you rocking your hips against his. Seems as if you're already in the mood. Carefully, he breaks the kiss apart.

“You want it? Then you need to work for it.”, he tells you huskily. You groan and roll your eyes.

“You're mean.”, you reply. Then, you give him a devilish smile and disappear beneath the blanket.

Izuku leans back in anticipation. He can feel your hands running up and down his legs before pulling his boxers down. He puts his arm underneath the blanket and scratches the back of your head. It isn't long before he can feel you licking a stripe up and down his half-hard member. You take the still kind of limp dick in your mouth and gently massage it with your tongue. You can hear Izuku groan above you. It doesn't take long before Izuku's fully erect. Only then, you start bobbing your head up and down his length. The muscles in Izuku's legs tense up and you notice how he fights the urge to thrust up into your mouth. You contemplate whether Izuku's able to get another one up if you finish him like this. Eventually, you decide it's not worth the shot. You do want to get some tonight as well.

Luckily for you, Izuku must be thinking a similar thing since he pulls you up from his dick at some point. You crawl up Izuku's body and place both hands on either side of his head holding yourself up. That position only lasts a few seconds as Izuku pulls you down against him. He kisses you again and gropes your ass. You run your hands through his hair. You can feel him slide his dick over your clothed pussy and you have to break the kiss moaning.

“You think we can take this off?”, he asks you while pulling on the elastic band of your panties.

“Definitely.”, you pant.

Deku holds up your hips with one arm and uses his other hand to pull down your panties in one swift motion. Carefully, he places your hips down again and runs a hand up and down your leg.

“You're beautiful.”, he says in a soft voice and leans down to kiss you again.

Somehow this feels different, you decide. The way he lightly pushes you down into your plush pillow. How he caresses the skin of your hips. How he lets his lips ghost over your shoulder up to your neck before carefully sucking on the sensitive skin on your throat.

It's so different than last time. Everything feels softer, but more firmly too. As if Izuku thinks exactly what to touch next. It's a stark contrast to the needy heat of last time. You bask in the anticipation Izuku builds up with his soft but determined touch.

Finally, Izuku's hands dip in between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers running through your slick folds. Gently, he massages the wet flesh carefully avoiding your clit and hole. The skin on the back of your neck starts to itch. You need him. You need him to finally give you satisfaction. You groan in frustration.

“What is it, princess? Are you not feeling good?”, he asks you.

You bite your lip before answering: “I'm feeling good, Izuku. Just... just please!”.

He doesn't tease you. Doesn't say something along the lines: “Use your voice. Tell me what you want”. No, he leans down to kiss your mouth again. While kissing, he finally touches your clit. You thrust your hips upwards to his hand. Gently he rubs circles on the sensitive bud. You break the kiss moaning.

“Shit.”, you curse. You can't help but look down. Where his hand meets your womanhood. You can feel the wetness pooling between your folds. Izuku kisses the side of your face.

“Focus on me.”, he tells you and you look up to him. He leans over your side and you stroke the side of his face. His green eyes capture yours and you can't seem to look away. One of his fingers finds your hole and enters you. Again, you gasp gently but you don't look away.

There's something sensual and intimate about looking into somebody's eyes while they're inside you. You can feel your heart beating out of rhythm with Izuku's fingers entering and exiting you. You can't help but want more. You want him hovering above you, your hands running down his sweat-stained chest and his cock inside you in the same rhythm as your heartbeat.

“Izuku”, you pant, “Don't you want to fuck me?”

Izuku groans and leans down to suck on your nipple. When his eyes find yours again, he says “Desperately so”. He pulls his fingers out of you and you rummage to find a condom.

Once you pulled it over his dick, you get in position. He's taking you missionary this time and you think it's fitting for tonight. Gently, Izuku spreads your legs apart and you lead him to your entrance. Slowly, he enters you while leaning down to your face again. He gives you a moment to adjust before setting a slow pace.

You wrap your arms around his neck and enjoy just how deep he reaches you. Goddamnit, he's so sexy, you think. The way his green locks fall into his face. The way his face contorts in pleasure. The way short, sharp breathes exit his mouth. You want to watch him fall apart.

You stop his thrusting and push against his chest. Izuku stops and gives you a puzzled look. “What?”, he asks you.

“Sit up and lean against the headboard.”, you tell him. Izuku follows your order and sits at the head of your bed. You crawl up to him, gently kissing his leg before sitting up and hovering over his dick. Gently you touch his cheek before sinking down on his cock.

Izuku lets out a long moan and pants when your pussy is finally fully stretched above him. Carefully, you start rocking your hips. Izuku's hands immediately fly up to your sides helping you with your motions. You lean back, steadying yourself with your hands on his legs. You give him a full display of your tits and the way his dick slides in and out of you. His eyes almost bulge out of their sockets and you need to suppress the urge to laugh at him.

You fuck him like this until his head falls back against the headboard. Only then, you sit up again. You continue rocking your hips but you lean towards him wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“I-i don't think I last very long anymore...”, he tells you panting and you have to smirk.

“Good.”, you whisper back at him.

You start a faster, more grinding pace on him and Izuku throws his head back again in a choked moan. You grind on him harder than before and you enjoy how the base of his cock stimulates the hard bud of your clitoris. Keeping the pace up, you start chasing your own high.

“Sh-shit, y/n...”, you hear him groan and you can feel his cock twitch inside you. You rock your hips harder into him getting more friction to your clit. You feel how his hands grip your hips but you're too lost in your own pleasure to care what he's doing. You can feel the heavy feeling in your stomach building up indicating that an orgasm will hit you soon. You grip onto his shoulders and blend out his moans and heavy breathing. Finally, you fuck yourself over the edge and your pussy starts spasming around his member. Izuku lets out a “Fuck, yes!” and comes with a shudder.

You stay on his cock trying to catch your breath. Izuku's head lolled onto your shoulder when he came. He stays nuzzled into your neck, softly caressing the skin of your lower back. You can already feel Izuku's dick softening inside of you but you don't want to get off yet. The expectation for this night was to have steamy, hot sex with him. Instead, you fucked more like lovers than strangers.

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You don't want a lover. You tap his shoulder and Izuku looks up with hooded eyes. Carefully, you slide off of him. The feeling of him slipping out of you leaves you feeling empty. It seems as if Izuku is brought back to reality as he clears his throat.

“Where's your bathroom?”, he asks and you point to a door at the side. He slides out of bed picking up his boxers on the way to the bathroom. You lean back against the headboard.

“Shit.”, you mumble. Quickly, you get up and open the window as wide as possible in hopes that some cool, fresh air can order your thoughts. What was I thinking fucking him like this?, you ask yourself. Izuku strikes you as a man who falls in love quickly. You don't want to give him any false hopes.

But it felt so good. Being held like that. Being worshipped like that.

You rub your temple and start looking through a drawer. You pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You rarely smoke and if you do, you do it with a purpose. To piss off your parents. To impress someone with smoke rings. To calm your head when stressed. You light up a cigarette and take in a deep breath.

“Care to share?”, Izuku's voice can be heard behind you. You don't respond but lift up the half-full cigarette pack up to him. You feel him stepping closer to you and taking the pack from you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body on your back. He's not touching you but he's awfully close. You hear the clicking of the lighter and Izuku taking a pull of his cigarette.

A smoke ring wavers outside the window beside you. Then you feel his hand on your hip.

“That was intense.”, he tells you and you have to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess it was.”, you reply and take another drag.

Izuku snips some ash from his cigarette and you can't help but lean back against him. He presses a kiss into the base of your neck. His green hair tickles your skin.

“I wonder...”, he starts and you want to cringe. Izuku clears his throat.

“I wonder if you'd like to make this a regular thing.”, he says and you halt.

“What do you mean?”, you ask unsurely. Please don't ask me to start dating you, you beg internally.

“Us. Fucking.”, he replies and you turn around to him in disbelief. He must've noticed the surprised look on your face and he shrugs.

“You want good sex, didn't you say that? And I need to blow off some steam once in a while.”, he explains. A smirk blooms on your face.

“Wow, you're that confident in your expertise? Think you can keep me satisfied longterm?”, you tease him. Izuku lets go of your hip and puts a hand under your chin raising it a bit.

“Believe me, I haven't even started to show you what I can do.”, he tells you with darkened eyes. You raise your eyebrow challenging.

“I guess that means I have to find out.”, you tell him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @yupsthings @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @scrumptiouslampwobblercop @sillycattie @tiredjuniper @nine-lives715 @dinorawrss @tomiokasecretlover @kousloverr @whippedbyikemen @potatocatsan @orgasmofwine @otakukittyowo

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in possible future parts. If you're already on the tag list, you don't need to comment again.]

[amandapalmer]

Sexy new author photo time! I never wear my hair down but I’m getting brave so you better believe I’m serious about getting back into being an author this year. And…while I have you here, a great excuse to talk about my upcoming book-y events. ✍️

Fate dealt me a great hand when I was working away in the Porter Square Books café a few months ago and I ran into the photographer Mark Ostow, who asked if he could take my portrait.

And boom, beautiful new author photo for me!

I am working on deals for several new books and it’s VERY EXCITING!!

And at the same time, I’ve been steeped in so many incredible and inspiring new books and made friends with so many POWERHOUSE GODDAMN WRITERS from the NY area…and hell, I have my own venue….

…so I decided to connect all the dots and I’m hosting three salon-style “in conversation” events this month at Graveside Variety, my little crowdfunded hidey-hole in Woodstock, NY.

Co-presented by our local indie The Golden Notebook Bookstore, only 50 tickets for every conversation (all tickets are $25 and help keep the venue afloat) and will include a Q&A with me and each author.

We are also curating a special book sale table for each event! There’ll be coffee and tea and tears and truth and I hope you all make the trip. This is the way I really wanna say goodbye to this iteration of this venue: with stories that don’t usually get told. With stories that matter. Come share in the moment.

I’ll be throwing down with authors:

Elizabeth Lesser (bestsellers “Broken Open” and “Cassandra Speaks: WHEN WOMEN ARE THE STORYTELLERS, THE HUMAN STORY CHANGES”)

May 12th - 12:30pm

Katherine Yeske Taylor (author of brand-new “SHE’S A BAD ASS: Women in Rock Shaping Feminism”)

May 18th - 1pm

Leslie Jamison (author of best-selling “The Recovering” and the new - incredible - “Splinters”)

June 1st @ 1pm

Get tickets FAST. Leslie’s day is nearing sold out. These are gonna be so so cosy and good. Read the books and come armed with questions !!!

All tickets here:

Gravesidevariety.com

We are at 33 Rock City Road, in Woodstock, NY

📚♥️🙏

[photo-art-lady]

Fine Art Photography - Portrait Of A Medieval Female Warrior With Sword And Armor By Laura Sheridan

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

the reporter woman has truly big pussy energy. and the photographer woman she interviews is like the coolest woman i have ever seen. we barely hear about iran anymore… the brave women who walk around without hijab despite the severe consequences deserve so much more attention.

[leftistfeminista]

1974 photograph of a Chilean Communist Party woman political prisoner subjected to sexual humiliation at Venda Sexy or Sexy Blindfold torture center for women. This was a systematic policy to debase revolutionary women to terrorize them out of politics. To objectify women and take away even their dignity of being taken seriously as a political enemy. Junta guards took these photographs as trophies and delighted in degrading women leaders especially. They would mockingly claim that these practices were done in the name of security, as women comrades had bravely hidden papers in their clothing in the past. The intense patriarchal, misogynist hatred for "shrill" leftist women militants lead to these abuses as a way of showing machismo power over them.

[meowzfordayz]

when they're athletes — shinobu, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: disclaimer that ~my sport (growing up) was gymnastics 😅, but heyyy my ex played basketball?! 🤪

when they’re athletes — shinobu, kyojuro, sanemi, giyuu

Kocho Shinobu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,300

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Imagine Sanemi, Giyuu, Kyojuro, Shinobu (but really you can imagine whoever) being really good at sports while in school/university, so good they're probably popular af and team captain. I imagine Shinobu and Kyojuro playing baseball, Giyuu playing basket and Sanemi playing soccer hehe I love the idea of a s/o being there to support them, maybe someone that's not as talented/popular (cheesy but I'm a sucker for clichés) who gets embarrassed when they win a match and just run to them to kiss them in front of everyone! 

~faqs, image~

I ended up choosing diff sports than the prompt suggested, mostly bc Idk a lot about a lot of sports 💀

Anywho-

Onward! 😆

(college au btw)

Diver ?? 💧

Lokwey struggling to think of a sport where you can be both short + weak 🫠

No hate to Shinobu, but it’s literally canon that she isn’t ~especially strong 😅

That being said, she’s so elegant and precise and fast

+ brave, so she would totally be awesome w/ 10m (33ft) diving 😍

You go to all of her meets, and only feel a lil envious when she waves @ you from the bubbling warmth of the hot tub

Like, do you feel like flinging yourself off a 10am platform?

No 💀

But do you wanna join her in the hot tub?

YES 😌

You’d also be 100% willing to pat her down w/ a fluffy towel in between each incredible dive 🙃

You’re her #1 photographer/videographer

She uses your vids to study her form + improve her technique

Her coach has actually patted you on the back before 👍

“Thank you [y/n], Shinobu’s lucky to have you!”

11/10 Shinobu (lovingly) embarrasses you whenever she makes it on the podium

Heart hands in your direction, and your direction only 🫶

Will shout your name if it’s a smaller meet 🗣

There’s no escaping the swivel of amused, endeared glances 🫣

“THAT’S MY WONDERFUL PARTNER!” 🗣🗣🗣

Bonus? She def has a towel w/ your face on it

Will occasionally make a (subtle) show of patting her breasts + butt (w/ aforementioned towel, ofc) 😇

#fuuuck 😏

—I’ll actually do baseball hcs for Kyojuro, bc Ik ~stuff about baseball (I think) ⚾️

You have a poster that consists only of photos of his ass in his scrumptious baseball uniform 😌

Do you bring it to every game?

Maybe

Do you receive glares from parents w/ young children?

Yes 😬

Do you care?

Not particularly 😃

Kyojuro pretends to be embarrassed, but he’s also totally pouted post-game about, “While I appreciate my favorite person attending my game, where was my favorite poster?” 😭

If he’s invited somewhere post-game, then he always invites you to join

Do his teammates tease him?

Of course 😆

Does he mind?

Not at all❣️

Do you mind?

A little, but it’s hard to feel too self-conscious when he’s squished happily and hot into your side, one hand feeding you fries off his plate, the other intertwined sweaty and content w/ yours 🍟😋

Kyojuro 11/10 has a fanclub (not started by him, but by the swarm of—mostly—women who religiously attend his games)

Surprisingly (bc let’s be positive for these hcs lol), they’re relatively accepting and supportive of you

Sure, you might be known as Kyojuro’s Partner™ (nobody’s bothered to learn your name)

After all, they’re there to see him, not you 🤪

But w/ the constant grins, waves, hearts, and winks directed toward you (by him) throughout his games, it’s impossible to deny the position you hold in his life ❤️‍🔥

And his fans would rather be on his good side aka respect you than upset him

When you’re absent from a game, he’ll more often than not be asked, “Kyojuro !!!!! Where’s your partner ????? Are they okay?! Tell them to feel better soon!” 🥺

Bonus? He likes when you smack his butt and leave your handprints in the dirt and dust on his pants 😂🥰

GYMNAST

—I am biased (as an ex gymnast heh), albeit men’s gymnastics is pretty diff from women’s

—But come on 😤

—The man already goes practically shirtless in canon, so why not have him do a sport where he can still be mostly shirtless ????? 🤠

Sanemi’s tough, fearless to the point of recklessness (thank fuck for his strict, supportive coaches), and muscular af

Absolutely an all-arounder

He’s got the power for vault and floor, the strength for rings, the precision and agility for parallel bars and high bar, and the balance for pommel horse — plus #endurance for days

Prob excels a tad more on vault, floor, p bars, and high bar (more dynamic/high energy), but he’s still ART to watch on any event 😍

Could care less about his scores — he just wants to have fun doing dangerous stuff 😎

Ofc, he’d be pissed if he lost by a slim margin 😑

But if he obvi won or obvi lost, then he’s more chill

Like: “Cool, what’s next?”

Makes him enjoyable to watch bc he focuses primarily on performing entertaining/thrilling routines

Not a stress ball about results or perfection

When he does win a medal/trophy, he gives it to you for safe keeping 🏆🥇🥈🥉

If you don’t want it, then he offers it to someone else from the meet that he admired

“Awesome double double on floor bro”

“Sick landing on vault dude”

“Your flexibility is insane”

—How realistic is his offering-his-medal/trophy-to-another-competitor? Not super realistic (at all 😆), but it’s the thought that counts, and this is fanfiction teehee

LOVES bringing you to the gym

If you’re also a gymnast, then he totally tries to teach you men’s skills, and ~demands to be taught women’s skills

Is salty af when they’re much harder than he anticipated 😒

If you’re not a gymnast, then he’s surprisingly patient w/ you

Is happy to teach you basic skills, or just set up a cozy, safe spot for you to watch him practice 🤍

Will occasionally pretend to fall/mess up bc he lowkey adores you fussing over him

If it will get him kisses, then he does not care about maintaining his angry, buff facade 😌

On that note, his teammates know better than to even fake flirt w/ you

Sanemi will legit growl

And if his shirt was on before, well, now it’s off 😶

And his abdominals, pectorals, everything are no joke 😵‍💫

On the flip side, you don’t have to worry too much about ppl fawning over him (despite his looks + constantly breaking university records w/ his scores), bc 99% of the time he’s so damn glower-y/unapproachable 💀

Bonus? When they get too thick, he lets you pick off his callouses #oddly satisfying 😂

Dancer

—I was originally going to do Rock Climber!Giyuu hcs, but decided I shouldn’t indulge myself too much 😅 (I rock climb 🧗🏻‍♀️)

From tap to jazz to hip-hop, salsa, and a lil bit of ballet, Giyuu’s fluent in most genres of dance 🕺🩰

Even w/ niche genres, he’s able to learn combinations fairly quickly

Doesn’t consider himself particularly ~swaggy, but you swear he slips into a diff persona when he’s on stage

Aka, he’s 110% swaggy 😎

Joined the university dance team as a freshman, and was co captain by sophomore yr 👌

Ironically shy about dancing in ~general public, but encourages you to let loose when you go clubbing

He swears you’re better (at dancing) than him, but you suspect that has something to do w/ how most of your dancing together involves grinding 🫢 (as well as adorable dancing-in-the-kitchen-@-2am 💙)

That being said, if a dance circle forms, and you ~gently push him into the center (while ignoring his look of betrayal ☹️), then he will be devastatingly smooth and beautiful w/ whatever move he pulls off 😍

Has been scouted by professional dance companies, but is committed to finishing his degree first

Your future matters to Giyuu as much as his own, and signing professionally would be a huge change + opportunity that he isn’t willing to make/take unless you’re on board 🥺

And dw, he would never resent you if you weren’t ready

As much as he loves dancing, he cherishes you equally — prob more 🥰

Doesn’t mind ~intimate dances, but communicates openly and immediately w/ you about them

He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea about the months long project he’s working on that involves him shirtless ~most of the time 🙃

And he highly values your opinion, so including you in choreography sessions, rehearsals, etc is special to him 😁

Doesn’t like using social media himself, but is totally comfortable w/ you running his Instagram 📱

You always choose the best photos from photoshoots, treat his followers to the occasional thirst post 🤤 (that only you, his dear partner, could ever come up w/), and reading NSFW DMs from random ppl in his inbox somehow makes him adore you more 😆💘

Bonus? He’ll frequently drape his dance team jacket across your shoulders — he appreciates knowing you’re warm AND wearing his name 😇

[thealogie]

girl help the tinhaters are so very proud of their boys for fighting back against PR. the fact that they weren't seen together in public since the oliviers is because they didn't want to have be forced to push the hetero agenda anymore.

but gosh these brave boys, michael hasn't been sick he's been sticking it to PR and "those women"! david hasn't been taking a needed break he's making sure that his wife stops bullying him on instagram!

and now they heroically step into the limelight again to prove their love. by going to a play. with their significant others. and not be photographed together.

this proves "something" is coming. the next goal post is the baftas. can't wait.

until then, beware of PR. their power and influence is fathomless.

Usually when they’re not calling women wh*res and other sexist names I find dispatches from that side to be entertaining at least and the stories inventive/creative but they’ve even lost the plot in their fictional universe like….excuse me most workaholic man on earth Michael Sheen missing WORK to spite a PR company he personally hired with his own money to micromanage his every move? girl (<-michael in the fictional universe) just fire the PR company and move on with your life. -1000/10 terrible plot development, the made-up protagonist of this story are unlikable

[mercurygray]

The Breakfast Club

Ugh, finally! This only took me the better part of a week but I like what's here, and I hope you do, too. A huge thank you to everyone who contributed some new girls to this project - I didn't quite get them all in just yet but we've got all kinds of time.

It's 7:30 on a mission morning, and now that the flights are out, the second shift is eating breakfast.

---

It was a good thing that there weren't as many of them on a shift as the pilots, or they'd never fit at the breakfast table.

"Spare a little room there, Nina?" Cord asked, as politely as she could, looking for a space to at least put down her coffee cup.

Nina, a young woman of twenty with straw-blonde hair, nodded absentmindedly and moved her plate of toast slightly to the left to vacate a post-card sized plot of tablecloth, making no effort whatsoever to relocate the extremely large copy of Life magazine she was currently reading from the middle of the table.

Cord looked at Mae, sitting just to Nina's left, and the two women shared a small amused shrug. Nina was one of the younger girls in the group, and a lifetime spent on a big family farm in New Hampshire hadn't done a whole lot for her table manners. (And for a girl who professed to be small and shy, she sure did a lot of taking up space sometimes.)

"You not eating anything?" Mae asked, passing Cord the milk before she even had a chance to ask for it.

"I had some oatmeal before wheels up," Cord said, accepting the milk and pouring a very long dollop into her coffee, stirring calmly.

"You know, you're going to get in trouble one of these days, sneaking into that kitchen," Mae said wisely, taking a sip of her own cup.

"I'm not sneaking kisses, Mae, just a bite to eat. And none of them ever touch the oatmeal." Cord took a sip of her coffee and smiled, closing her eyes over the hot cup and cradling it in both hands. "Besides, I want to make sure I'm awake for takeoff."

"So when do you think they'll send a reporter to cover us?" Nina asked, still very deep in her magazine and a full page photospread of some WACs on bicycles, somewhere deep in the British countryside.

"Do we want that?" Netta asked, glancing at the magazine over Nina's shoulder, carefully spreading a thin layer of margarine over her toast and cutting into perfect, elegant triangles. (Everyone else tended to give the margarine a wide berth, but Netta was forever on about 'slenderizing' and no one wanted to tell her she was plenty thin already.)

"Have your name in Life Magazine so everyone at home can see it?" Ethel reached across the table for the pepper shaker and vigorously dusted her hashbrowns. "Who wouldn't? At that point you're practically famous."

"They're not going to send a reporter here, Nina. We're not interesting enough for that," Mae said with a practical smile, sitting back in her chair.

Nina looked up at Mae like the older woman had just told her they'd kicked a puppy. "We're plenty interesting! Colonel Huglin said last week we were winning the air war!"

"Not us personally, Nina," Mae specified, patient to the last. "It's more of a group effort - the whole 8th Air Force."

Nina sighed heavily and went back to mooning over her magazine photos. "They must be so brave," she said, clearly addressing the woman in the photographs. She turned over the next page in the photospread, the top image a sky white with parachutes. "I don't think I could ever do that."

Cord glanced down at the photo and shrugged. "It's not hard." Nina looked up dramatically. "Parachuting," she specified. "I've done it a couple of times. It's not hard, once you get used to it."

Ethel looked up from her potatoes. "Where did you ever jump out of an airplane, Lieutenant?"

Cord laughed. "Back home, in Dayton."

"Quit bragging, Cord," Mae said with a long-suffering grin. "Not all of us grew up with daddies in flight suits."

"Your dad's a pilot?" Nina looked impressed. "Why didn't you ever say?"

"More of an engineer," Cord specified, a little cagey. "But he's got his license - taken me up a couple of times."

"And Cord does, too," Mae revealed, having far too much being a fountain of information across the table.

Ethel put down her fork. "Now, why'd you ever sign up for this gig if you can fly?"

It was a serious question, and deserved a serious answer. Cord looked down at her coffee, considering her options. "Didn't think they'd let me get close enough to matter," she said, drumming one finger on the handle of her cup. "They only let girls fly stateside - and some transatlantic ferries. It'd be a lot of flight hours but…no action. At least here I know I'm doing some good."

"Captain Brennan, what do you think about it? " Nina flagged down the passing officer, already finished with her own breakfast and obviously on her way to her next assignment. "These gals in the paratroopers that everyone can't stop writing about."

"Like they invented joining the army," Ethel added with a disdainful huff.

Brennan, a good ten years older than the rest of the table, glanced down at the article, her eyes skating over the pictures of the women at calisthenics, and spilling parachutes, and fixing their hair. "I think it takes a great deal of courage to do something different. Combat's not something they've ever allowed women before, and that's a big change."

"Why would you even want to?"

"Because it's a challenge," Brennan said with a slim smile. "And they're women who like challenges - who want to see real change. Because if they can prove themselves out there, maybe one day the Army Air Force will let Lieutenant Callaway into a B-17." She smiled around the table and glanced down at the article. "I might not be able to do what they do, but I doubt they can do what I do, either. There's space in the army for all kinds." She glanced up at the clock. "Except anyone who wants to be late. I'd hurry along, ladies, we don't want to leave the third shift waiting for breakfast."

"Yes, Captain Brennan," came chorused from the table, and Nina finally packed up her magazine while everyone took last bites and drained coffee cups and set down napkins.

"Lieutenant Callaway." Cord stopped in her tracks. "Master Sergeant Knox said you were in the kitchen again this morning eating with the crews." She paused. "When you've all been told the ground staff eats second."

Cord looked guiltily at her commanding officer, caught out. "Yes, Captain."

Brennan's face had the slightest of smiles. "I told him that I didn't like tattle-tales, and if one of my officers wanted to make sure she was sharp for wheels up then he'd better accommodate her."

Cord let out the breath she'd been holding in, relieved as anything, and allowed herself a smile. "Yes, Captain."

Brennan nodded, implacable. "Don't miss your transport, now, they'll need you back at Tower."

Cord nodded, double-timing for the door and the waiting pair of trucks outside, ready to carry the morning crew back to their assignments.

"I told you she'd chew you out about breakfast!" Mae said quietly, as the rest of the truck chattered and gossiped while the engine idled and they all settled onto the bench seats for the five minute ride to the other side of the airfield.

"She didn't chew me out," Cord said quietly. "Told Knox I had a pass for it."

"And what do they always say about Irish luck?" Mae asked with a grin. "I want to see Knox's face the next time you do it. He'll be steamed."

"Get up at four-thirty and join me," Cord replied with a smile of her own.

Mae laughed out loud as the truck coughed into motion. "As if! A girl in this man's army's got to have her beauty sleep!"