#but i should have at least one of em finished later today

[drpeppertummy]

in retrospect i probably couldve just given him like. normal indigestion to appease the tummyache people. but anyways Holy Water-Induced Val Tummy Event

[extreme tummyache essentially from being poisoned, brief emeto moment but not graphic, tummy rubs]

Val: A little snack to get you through your day. 

"Huh. Wonder who that's from," Val pondered aloud as he read the note. The day, as it happened, now seemed a distant memory, and he was currently gearing up for a long night of work. It didn't matter if the cookies had been sitting for a while, though; they were neatly wrapped up in a little plastic goodie bag.

Val didn't mind working late into the night. Sure, it could be lonely with next to nobody else in the building, and his heart often yearned to be cozied up at home with Connie, but it was nice sometimes. Quiet, peaceful. Time almost didn't seem real, at least until sleepiness came creeping in and pulled him from his focus. Either way, he was grateful for the sweet little snack. He'd have to remember to track down whoever left it in the morning and thank them.

With a sigh, Val sat down at his desk, and his belly rumbled softly. He glanced at the clock. It was after ten, and he hadn't eaten a thing since four. He stretched, joints crackling as he did, then opened the little plastic bag and took out a cookie.

They were chocolate chip cookies, one of his many favorites, and they were fantastic. There was an odd tang to them that Val couldn't quite place, but he didn't mind. His stomach protested at the first cookie, but he supposed it was just because he was so hungry, and gladly followed it with a second one before setting the bag aside. The second cookie didn't settle his stomach, though. In fact, it only made him feel worse. His belly cramped up with a whining gurgle and he doubled over in his chair, hugging his middle tightly.

"What--" Val groaned, shutting his eyes as the pain intensified. His stomach was in absolute turmoil, tossing and turning with an awful burning sensation, and as he desperately clutched his aching belly, he realized what that strange taste had been: holy water.

"Shit," he gasped. His stomach cramped sharply again and a soft cry escaped him. Shit, shit, shit. He was completely doubled over, trying desperately to find some position that would miraculously ease the pain, but as his stomach began to bloat, he was forced to sit upright once more. He grasped at his now distended belly, unable to hold back a pained moan as it swelled tightly beneath his trembling hands.

Bolts of searing pain shot through Val's belly like lightning, and for a moment he nearly passed out. A wave of nausea bowled over him and he dropped to his knees on the floor over his little garbage can, still clutching his bloated middle. The pressure was horrific; his stomach felt like it was stretched to its limit, and he could feel the turmoil bubbling away inside. Desperately, he tried to force up its contents, but the effort was in vain; his body seemed unable to let go, like a hand helplessly grasping the source of an electric shock.

Utterly overwhelmed by the agonizing reaction, Val toppled over, curling up on the floor like a dying spider with his arms wrapped tightly around his belly. He wondered, through the pain clouding his thoughts, just how much holy water those cookies had been made with, and it briefly occurred to him that it just might kill him if he'd ingested enough. He tried to push himself upright beside the garbage can again but couldn't find the strength to do it.

Val lay there for some time, whimpering through his shaky breath like a wounded dog, shivering feverishly. Finally, mercifully, miraculously, the pain began to plateau, and then, not long after that, it slowly began to ease up. He remained still on the floor, afraid to move, not wanting to reignite the turmoil in his aching stomach. It still hurt, and he felt horribly nauseous.

Eventually, Val mustered up the courage to push himself upright. Almost immediately, his stomach jolted, and he barely had time to grab the little garbage can before it ejected the poisoned cookies. He clung to the garbage can for a few minutes after, trembling, unable to bring himself to move. He felt cold and dizzy and dazed, and his stomach was filled with a dull burning sensation. Finally, he set the can down.

He remained on the floor for a few more minutes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When it did, he remained a few minutes more, then, slowly, carefully, he grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled himself up. His legs felt weak, and the awful tightness in his distended stomach hit him like a truck upon standing. Groaning, he doubled over again, holding one arm around his belly and leaning against the desk with the other. Another wave of nausea rolled over him, but it wasn't nearly as intense as the first. He held still for a moment, waiting for it to pass, and then stood upright once more.

Working through the night was no longer the plan. Val stumbled out of the building, still holding his sore tummy, and fell into the driver seat of his little car. He sat there until he was sure his head was clear, then, with a shaky sigh, he started the car and drove home.

"Val? Is that you?" Connie's voice, confused, as he came through the door. She appeared in the kitchen doorway and her expression quickly turned to shock and worry at the sight of her haggard little husband.

"Jesus Christ, Val, what the hell did you come down with?" She hurried over to him and he fell into her arms, clinging weakly to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat felt like it had been sandblasted, his mind was utterly blank, and he couldn't find the strength to pull up his voice. Holding him tight, Connie led him to their bedroom and helped him into bed.

"Honey, what happened?" she asked softly, sitting beside him. Carefully, she leaned down and took off his shoes, setting them beside the bed.

"Someone..." He paused and swallowed dryly. Connie listened patiently. "Someone...left cookies at my desk...don't know who...they had holy water in them...didn't notice..."

"Oh, god, Val," Connie gasped. "Are you going to be alright? Do you need a doctor?" He shook his head.

"I'm...I'll be okay," he said quietly, taking her hand.

"Who the hell would do that? God, Val, they could've killed you!" He shrugged weakly. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he sighed. His stomach gurgled miserably. Connie placed a hand on it and winced at how tight it felt, still painfully bloated from the irritation.

"Jeez, your poor tummy," she said, gently rubbing his sore belly. She laid down beside him and carefully took him into her arms, and he nestled his face against her shoulder with a shaky sigh. He still felt horribly sore and feverish, and he didn't think he'd be able to eat for a week, but having Connie by his side was the greatest comfort in the world.

"Poor sweetheart." Connie pressed a kiss into his forehead, gently stroking his thick, dark hair. Cautiously, still not wanting to move too quickly, Val wrapped an arm around her. She kissed him again, then returned her hand to his tummy, rubbing softly until he finally drifted off to sleep.

[todayisafridaynight]

heyyyyyy snap how are we this fine *checks nonexistent watch* 10:42am?

well today we're talking about insane people so write that down

[zentriii]

atsumu groans when light fills up his room. his head's submerged in the clouds and all he knows is that he's going to have to call out of practise today. fuck.

the sheets beside him are barely warm so he forces his eyes open and rubs the crust out with the back of his hand. what kiyoomi won't see can't hurt him. his phone reads 6:23. at least he's awake early enough that kiyoomi hasn't left yet.

the process of brushing his teeth and throwing a pair of clean, non-sweaty pants on feel like they take up five years. there's a fit of nausea trying to make itself known in his stomach but he wants to see kiyoomi off.

"how're you feeling?" kiyoomi asks, filling a plate up with eggs.

"like i wanna be run over by a car." atsumu finds that to be more of an honest statement than he thought it was. he can barely stand up but the unsteadiness of walking over is daunting.

"do you think you can eat some eggs?" there's a small gesture towards the plate in his hands but fuck – the thought alone of how greasy the butter is, the strong flavours of salt and pepper – he could puke.

"i dunno if i could keep 'em down t'be honest," he mumbles, shame churning in his gut. it's not the first time kiyoomi's seen him sick – but it's the first time since they started living together. there's nowhere to hide in their apartment.

"try?" and it's that classic Omi-Pout™ that has him folding. a little because it's cute. a little because he still feels like he's imposing sometimes. a little because he refuses to live with regrets – if all there is, is here and now, atsumu knows he'll be upset if kiyoomi becomes upset too.

there isn't much else for him to do but shrug helplessly and unstick his feet from the ground. walking isn't too bad after the first step – or with company.

the toaster pops off and kiyoomi quickly adds those to his plate before atsumu can even finish washing his hands – as if he'd refuse anything more once he sat down. kiyoomi's not wrong, but still! it's the principle of the matter – wait is atsumu internally trying to convince himself that kiyoomi should consider him a simp? that that's how he wants to be seen?

does he? he does not. (does he?)

atsumu is very confused on which side he's on right now and comes to the conclusion that his head hurts so he will not be thinking further on this matter. he sits down.

kiyoomi's long since scurried off to grab his gym bag and change out of his pjs but despite atsumu's 23 years of life – he misses him. his company's a quiet but solid one and the warmth that atsumu always feels from beside him leaves in exchange for a cold chill. the egg starts tasting more bland.

surprisingly enough – flavour-wise it isn't all that rich to begin with. kiyoomi's the type to overdo quite literally everything when it comes to food, and even though atsumu was expecting something more mellowed out in terms of taste, it's super easy on his stomach.

he wants to ask but kiyoomi beats him to it, walking out of their room and ready for the day. "i used less salt and pepper and cooked it on oil instead of butter. are you alright to finish it?"

atsumu's stomach turns into a mess for a whole new reason and there's tears pricking at his eyes that he ignores. "yeah," he croaks, voice far too fragile to say any more.

"i called coach already, i left some medicine on your nightstand and – rest well okay?" kiyoomi's brows furl and it rushes into atsumu all at once how far kiyoomi's going for him.

kiyoomi who hates being sick, hates the idea of even getting sick. kiyoomi who's been playing nurse since atsumu woke them both up in the middle of the night with a sudden fever, not once complaining about being in close contact with him.

"omi-kun–" atsumu's voice warbles. he's gonna regret this later but he's. he's not even sure what he wants to say but he feels steady enough on his feet thanks to the food kiyoomi carefully made.

"i'll be back soon yeah?" and it's the way kiyoomi doesn't make a step to the door that brings words flooding out of atsumu.

"i'll be waitin' at home for ya." there's a silent moment where he wonders if he chose wrong, if kiyoomi wasn't really ready to refer to his apartment as theirs. it's only been two months since he–

"yeah, love you." atsumu hates how he can't smother kiyoomi's stupid pretty little face in kisses so instead he engraves the curve of kiyoomi's pleased and wobbly smile into his mind.

atsumu knows his face is just as sappy. he can't quite find it in himself to care.

"love you too."

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Leather Bar Swap

Today's my 21st birthday and you know what that means! I'm finally able to take my first sip of alcohol…well legally anyway! But I didn't want to go to just any gay bar, I wanted to go to a leather bar in the city! I'm a leather fetishist for sure, even though I don't own any real gear. The only leather item I own is a jacket I got at a thrift shop awhile back. I want to buy better gear, but it's not the best idea since I'm still closeted to my judgmental family in the small town I live in. I do have a car and license though, so I'm happy to be able to escape all that when I need to.

I drove to the nearest city to find the leather bar, a super tall building that you could see from the distance. I've always wondered why it was so tall; it had to be at least 5 stories! If it's just a bar, it shouldn't have more than two floors though right? I was about to solve the mystery because, proudly wearing my leather jacket, I walked up to the bouncer at the door.

"Hey kid, can I see some ID please?" I was a little intimidated, but knowing that I am in fact old enough, I was reassured. I proudly presented the ID to the bouncer. He gave one long look at it, then beamed at me.

"Hey, happy birthday kid! Hope your first legal's good."

"Thanks!" He opened the door for me.

"Enjoy Swap Night too! It's really fun."

"Oh…yeah I will!" I had no idea what Swap Night was, but it must be some kind of event.

Walking in was amazing. Everywhere I looked, there were hot leather guys in all shapes and sizes, with the fresh scent of leather in the air. I felt a little awkward though. Not only am I the youngest one there, but lots of guys were wearing kinky fetish gear too. When it wasn't a BLUF type uniform, it was harnesses and jockstraps. I really wish I owned their gear!

Walking through the crowd of sweaty leather men, I arrived at the bar. I sat on the stool and the bartender came over.

"What'll it be kid?

"Hmm." I'm not really sure actually. Thankfully he seemed to have read my mind.

"I get you, it's your first time right? Simple margarita it is."

"Sure." As he poured, he made eye contact with me.

"So, you excited for Swap Night? Should be starting pretty soon."

"Er, what exactly is it anyway? I didn't know about this."

"It's a whole lotta fun. Everyone in the bar swaps bodies with a partner."

"Really? Body swapping? That's so cool! Do you get to choose who?"

"Unfortunately not, it's random. But you do get to choose who to fuck!"

"Wait you can fuck?"

"Yep! It's an amazing experience."

"That sounds so cool! How do I sign up?"

"Over there." He pointed at the nearby table that had a stack of papers on it, along with a box. "Just sign there and put it in the box."

"Alright!” I finished my margarita, paid, and quickly headed over to the table. I filled out my information, signed the paper, and placed it in the box. A few minutes later a really hot guy walked onto the stage and took a microphone. He was wearing a leather jacket over a harness, along with a pair of chaps over his leather briefs. I swear he looked directly at me. I really hope I'm able to swap with him - or at least someone as hot as him!

"Hey all you leather men! It's time for Swap Night!" The crowd cheered. "Now if you just walk through that door, you'll find a bulletin board with a room number listed next to your name. In these rooms, you'll find the body swapping helmets. Put 'em on, wait until everyone's ready, and boom! New body! Now if you wanna fuck, there are plenty of playrooms to have some fun in, as well. You'll be body swapped until midnight, so when the clock strikes twelve, you'll automatically be put back in your original bodies. Any questions?"

Nobody had questions so we headed over through the door. We all crowded around trying to look for our names and I found mine - Room 503. The map on the wall nearby indicated that 503 was on the 5th floor so I walked in the elevator, standing behind a few other guys. The smell of leather and sweat filled the air and I could feel myself getting hard.

I reached the floor, found my room, and walked in. It was about the size of a typical hotel room but without furniture. There was a large window in the back. Looking through, I could see a good portion of the city. I turned to my left and saw the helmet sitting on a small side table, so I grabbed it, pushed the only button on it, and placed it on my head. Nothing happened at first but after about a minute, it started lighting up, and making buzzing noises. A blinding flash of light hit me in the face and when I opened my eyes, I was in another room.

I looked down to see my new body, excited to be swapped with a hot guy, but was met with a surprise. I was wearing a leather shirt with light blue stripes down the side, but it was bulging out in a ball shape. The blue tie I was wearing highlighted the curve even more, by arching over a shiny black balloon. I have a fucking ball gut! I poked it with my newly gloved hands, to prove it was real and…it was real all right! I grabbed it with both hands and shook it up and down, feeling vibrations throughout my body.

I'm fat! I've never been fat before, not even a little bit! At least I'm wearing leather gear. I took one hand and put it up to my nose to smell the glove. It was fucking amazing…the leather scent made me go stiff immediately. I couldn’t even see my own dick past the gut, but I sure could feel it! As I held the glove closer, I noticed my face felt a little fuzzy. I brushed under my nose and felt some facial hair. Oh god, I have a mustache! I looked around to find a mirror and saw one on the wall.

I looked at my reflection and was shocked at the sight. I'm not only fat, I'm old! I inspected my face closely, touching the mustache that spread across my face in an arch shape. This is weird but incredible! I’ve never been able to grow more than peach fuzz before and now I have a whole damn mustache! I had wrinkles under my eyes, on my forehead, and under my chin…actually no. That's a double chin! Even though I was grossed out, I started playing with it, pinching both my chins and neck. It was surreal.

I can't believe out of all the hot leather men I saw, I had to end up in the body of some fat old guy! Is this really supposed to be random? I couldn't have had worse luck! I've always wanted to own new gear but not like this! I turned to the side, staring at my new belly and holding it, jiggling it slightly as I grimaced at how far it stuck out. The leather shirt hugged it tightly in a way that no matter how much I tried to suck it in, it was still obvious. I took a moment to check out my entire leathered up body. In the mirror I could finally see the leather pants and boots I was wearing, along with a muir cap on top of my head.

So is this what it feels like wearing full gear? It really hugs my body…though maybe that's because I'm so big. I started to feel stiff, but this time, I think I was turned on by my body instead of the leather. That's funny though. I'm usually into younger to mid age fit guys, not silver daddies and bears, even if they're in leather. There's no ignoring the horny urges, though. I may not be able to see my dick but I can feel it! Maybe the body swapping causes an increase in sex drive? Well, whatever it is, I can't wait to try out this senior bod on some other guy…

[instructionsnotincluded]

True North - Sneak Peek (John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character)

Ok so after a handful of messages yesterday, I was feeling inspired and a little excited about the possibility of a new fandom and may have binged some of Masters of the Air late last night. I'm not quite sure where it's going to end up, but here's part of the first chapter. Testing the waters (or clouds?) to see if there's even any interest in it. OR if it's just total shit, since it's a new era I've never written for before. (If so, we can just pretend this never happened, hahaha.)

Pairing: John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character

Length: 1935 Words

Warnings: Language, military inaccuracies, writer flying by the seat of her pants as she tries to research more about WWII and pilots, mentally cursing herself for not paying closer attention in history class, 18+, MDNI.

“You’re flyin’ today, Frank!” 

The loud accented voice filled her ears, the brunette squinting her eyes closed tightly as she heard footsteps echoing all around the shared room, the sounds of trunks opening and closing joining in a moment later. She’d just been on the verge of a delicious dream with Gary Cooper’s character from The Westerner when Dorothy Skylar’s voice interrupted their suggestive conversation, her friend rudely butting into the fantasy.

“If you don’t get up, they’ll give your spot to the boys!”

“Ok!” Frank lifted her arm into the air, waving it around to signal she was, in fact, alive, “ok! I’m up—I’m getting up. Keep your panties on.”

“We call ‘em knickers ‘round here, love!” Dorothy’s laughter bounced along the walls, mixing in with the various posters, postcards, photos, and letters pinned above each of the beds, “if you’re going to talk about them, get it right!”

“You are all so irritating,” Frank shifted into a sitting position, the thin strap of her silk tank-top falling over her shoulder as she pressed the heel of her palm into her eye, “does no one like to sleep in anymore?”

“Haven’t had the luxury in years, darling,” Dorothy finished buckling her belt, pausing briefly in the full-length mirror as she adjusted the pins in her curls, “while you Americans have been ignoring what’s been going on across the Atlantic, we’ve been living this nightmare for years.”

“Well—at least it’s a shared one now,” Frank rested the back of her hand against her mouth as she stifled a yawn, “alright, I’m getting up. Where am I going?”

“Thorpe Abbotts,” Dorothy glanced over her shoulder to look at Frank as the shorter woman moved around her bed and over to her trunk, pushing aside piles of unfolded clothing to find her uniform, “should be a quick flight, you’ll be back before dark.”

“Maybe,” Frank disrobed and redressed once her undergarments were secured, Dorothy averting her eyes as Frank changed before messing with her hair, “we’ll see—last time I flew the airfield manager wouldn’t let me off the plane until he’d spoken to at least three men, one of whom was ranked lower than me.”

Dorothy only hummed, both women more than aware of how difficult it could sometimes be ferrying planes to and from airfields and bases, especially if the Americans were involved. It was still shocking to most men that women flew—and while the program in the US was slowly getting off the ground, the British had fully embraced female pilots, the Air Transport Auxiliary allowing women to help ferry new, repaired, and damaged aircraft between factories, plants, airfields, and squadrons. Frank had jumped at the chance to fly, to do something for the war effort that wasn’t working in a factory—she had well over four-hundred hours of flight time in the US, and while the United States Army Air Forces wasted time debating on whether or not you needed a dick to fly, she bypassed the red tape and joined the ATA shortly after Jacqueline Cochran led the first group to England. Fast forward two years later and Frank found herself an active member of the No. 6 Ferry Pool, doing whatever she could, whenever she could. 

“Are you going to see that boy of yours?” Dorothy asked, nodding towards one of the folded letters on Frank’s nightstand, the corner of it peeking out from under one of her journals.

Frank shook her head as she finished buttoning up her flight suit, the material heavy, thick, and too big for her frame before sliding on the sheepskin jacket. That was another thing about being a female pilot—there weren’t any uniforms to fit the female body, the material often baggy on her arms and legs, but tight across her hips. “He went down a few months ago over the North Sea,” Frank mentally scolded herself for not tossing the letter after she heard the news. They hadn’t been that close—a few afternoon dates when she found herself on overnight trips to London and he happened to be there, brief memories of them sneaking around hallways, bodies pressed up against walls as they sought comfort and distraction in one another. He was from Texas and smelled like home, reminding her of easier times when she was away at college, just trying to find direction in life. But like that experience, he was gone and she was left to figure out which way was North once again. 

“Frank…”

“It’s fine,” Frank reached for her bag, Dorothy pausing at the doorway, eyes cloudy with regret as she watched her friend pass her, pressing the heavy wooden door open as both women stepped out into the hallway of the dormitory the ATA housed them in, “it’s war.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t mean something…that it doesn’t hurt…”

“I thought you were British,” Frank pushed the emotion and tears away, scolding her heart for clenching as she turned to walk backwards, pressing a finger onto Dorothy’s badged chest, “aren’t you supposed to ‘stiff upper lip’ everything?”

Dorothy only rolled her eyes, the girls exiting the building a few moments later, the cloudy gray English sky greeting them as they crossed the pathway towards the waiting trucks, “have I ruined your flight time?” Dorothy asked quietly once they were in the back of the jeep, eyeing her friend as Frank leaned heavily against the side, “you’re not going to be distracted are you? You’re flying a Class 5 aircraft today—you need to be focused.”

“I’m fine,” Frank waved her off, “and even if I wasn’t, I’d be fine once I’m in the air. Trust me, that’s the only place my mind doesn’t wander.”

Dorothy didn’t appear convinced, but didn’t push the matter, the girls sitting in silence the rest of the ride to the airfield. Planes dotted the landscape, the tower looming in the background. Most of the planes would find homes on other bases or airfields, another tool for the boys to use in their battles. For a while it felt like production was stalling, they had so few to ferry around, but it seemed in the last year or so it had definitely picked up, so many different classes of aircraft ready to be delivered to the Allies. Frank hadn’t yet flown into Thorpe Abbotts, the Royal Air Force station just a handful of miles to the east of Diss, Norfolk. It was fairly new, having been built the previous year, but once the United States Army Air Forces took possession of the airfield, it seemed like activity was picking up. 

The boys at Thorpe Abbotts seemed to be going through planes like candy, and Frank was pretty sure this was their fifth ferry to the airfield in less than two weeks. Typically they flew to the smaller satellite bases once a month, maybe twice if there were mechanical issues, but five times in two weeks? Something was definitely going on in East Anglia. She’d heard low rumblings of the amount of planes that went down during their missions from the British pilots—the men criticizing the Americans for bombing during the day rather than waiting until evening. One conversation she overheard at dinner a few weeks ago seemed to be about the recently arrived 100th Bombardment Group and how they kept losing men to dumb tactical decisions. “It’s war,” one of the heavier accented men had said, slumped backwards in his chair as he rested a beer on the table, “you do what you need to survive.”

“...are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

Frank’s eyes snapped back to those of Commander Dorothy Skylar’s, the three gold stripes she wore on the shoulder strap of her jacket seeming to catch in what little sunlight they had today, making Frank’s two stripes seem even less important than they already felt. “Yes, sorry,” Frank shook her head and the memories away, forcing herself back into the present, “I was just thinking about Thorpe Abbotts and some of the conversations that I’ve heard in passing about it.”

“They’re losing men and planes at a rapid rate of speed,” Dorothy nodded, glancing down at the folder of papers Frank just realized the woman was carrying, “I don’t think this will be your last ferry there.”

“No,” Frank turned her head as she watched the massive Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress come into view, eyes slowly taking in the matte green of the plane, white lettering and stars decorating the wings and body, “no, I don’t think it will be either.”

The girls scrambled out of the jeep when it came to a stop, their male driver neither acknowledging nor checking with them before he sped off, Dorothy just barely clearing the rear left bumper as he turned. “Fucker,” Dorothy whispered under her breath as they crossed the tarmac, “we fly planes and he drives a jeep—yet we’re still the gum under his shoe.”

“Men are babies,” Frank said as she approached the plane, left arm extending to slide across the edge of the wing, “they move from one tit to another, starting with their mother’s, until they die.”

Dorothy laughed, shaking her head as she watched Frank move through the checklist she had memorized by now, a few of the engineers hovering nearby if needed. A younger woman, who appeared to be just barely over eighteen approached quickly a handful of minutes later, clipboard pressed tightly to her chest, “Stella Frank?”

“Captain,” Frank corrected her, the girl almost shrinking back in on herself as she looked over at Dorothy for approval, but the higher ranked commander only stared back blankly, “it’s Captain Frank.”

“Yes—yes, Captain Frank,” the woman shuffled a few papers around as Frank came to stand beside Dorothy, both women waiting as she handed over a thin packet of instructions, hand shaking as she did, “here are your pilot notes, I’m so sorry they weren’t delivered sooner.”

“Thank you…” Frank waited expectantly but the girl didn’t appear to catch on that Frank was waiting for her name, and instead smiled politely at both women before scurrying off. 

“Must you be so brash all the time?” Dorothy asked once the girl was out of ear shot, “I think today’s her first day.”

“Then she’s lucky she stumbled across me,” Frank flipped open the folder, eyeing the notes that gave her heading and speed instructions, as well as landing information, “if it’d been Ryan or Phillips she’d be on a plane back to the states right about now with wet knickers.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dorothy squinted up towards the sky, “you better get on with it—you’re due at Thorpe Abbotts in a few hours. You might get held up for a bit after you land, I think you’re ferrying back one of the planes that took heavier fire, so be safe.” Frank saluted her commander and Dorothy only rolled her eyes, “and watch for the fog, alright? I don’t know if Carol put it in the notes, but the fog around the airfield is sometimes incredibly thick. The boys may not see you until you’re landing.”

“And they have seen a woman before, right?” Frank lifted her eyebrows and Dorothy only shrugged playfully, “this isn’t one of the groups where there’s hardly any women on base and I’ll feel like a monkey at the zoo, right?” Dorothy took a few steps back in the direction of one of the metal buildings along the tarmac, a wide smile across her face. Frank only raised her voice to be heard, “right?”

“Don’t fall in love, Captain!” Dorothy called back, “we’ll see you back later tonight.”

[the-himawari]

A3! Usui Masumi - Translation [R] A New Use for a Crown (2/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Izumi: (What great weather! Let’s dry the laundry quickly.)

Masumi: I’ll help you, Director.

Izumi: Oh! Masumi-kun, thank yo—ah.

Masumi: …

Izumi: Whoops… I’ll give you 100 yen later.

Masumi: …Sure.

Izumi: In any case, switching the way you call someone is pretty hard… (Seeing Masumi-kun with a crown on is pretty refreshing though…)

-pause-

Masumi: Great job today, Director. I made tea, so have some.

Izumi: Ah, Masumi-kun…

Masumi: …

Izumi: Oops, I did it again… (I’m glad that he’s helping me out like this, but I can’t stop myself from calling him by his name.) (Plus there a penalty, so it kind of feels like I'm being subjected to the carrot and stick approach...)

Masumi: Sorry, Director. It’ll just be a little longer.

Izumi: O-Okay? (Just what in the world is he up to?)

-pause-

Izumi: (I still call him Masumi-kun a lot, but since then, I’ve gradually grown used to calling him “prince”). (Today, I’ll call him prince from the get-go…!)

Masumi: Director.

Izumi: (And here's my chance!) Good morning, prince.

Masumi: …! Good morning, my princess.

Izumi: (I got a response I didn’t expect. W-Welp, I’m feeling kinda embarrassed…)

Masumi: Today marks a week passing, so you don’t have to call me prince anymore.

Izumi: Oh right, you’re not wearing the crown right now… (Urgh… now I feel even more embarrassed.)

Masumi: …But I got to hear a nice line to finish it off. By the way, I’m sorry for imposing a penalty on you.

Izumi: Don’t worry about it… what was the thing that you wanted to do though?

Masumi: Wait in the lounge for me.

-pause-

Izumi: (I was so busy these last few days, but it looks like I’ll be able to relax today.)

Azami: Oh, your skin's lookin’ brighter now.

Izumi: Azami-kun. Maybe the face masks you gave me the other day were effective! Not to mention Masumi-kun also helped me out a ton.

Azami: I see, that’s nice.

*door opens*

Masumi: I’m back.

Izumi: Welcome back, Masumi-kun.

Azami: Hm? Is that bag full of ice cream?

Masumi: I bought them because I want Director to eat them.

Izumi: Gudiva, Baagen Dazs, and Madam Borden*—all of the ice creams are expensive, seasonal flavours…!

Masumi: You seemed really busy lately, so I wanted to give you something that would cheer you up. You probably would’ve liked curry, but it’s hot out right now.

Izumi: I can’t believe you were thinking of that… Thank you, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: Here’s your money back too.

Izumi: Huh?

Masumi: I wanted to give you something that covered your penalty fee, so I just used it as reference for the amount I should buy.

Azami: I see. It was like a surprise then. Nice goin’.

Izumi: Yeah, I’m really happy. Thank you so much.

Masumi: You’re very welcome.

Izumi: Alright, I suppose I’ll have one right away then.

Masumi: They're all yours, so you’re on break until you finish every last one of them. Stay here.

Izumi: Wait, what!

Azami: He went from 0 to 100 real fast… Anyways, eatin’ too much isn’t good either, y’know?

Masumi: But there’s guys who will take them if we leave them in the freezer.

Azami: True. There might be some people who’ll eat ‘em without checkin’ whose they are first.

Izumi: In that case, can we at least eat them together? We can scoop out all the different flavours onto a plate.

Masumi: Sure.

Izumi: Even then, it might be too much to finish… (I’m on break until I finish eating this ice cream… if that’s the case.) Say, Masumi-kun. If you don’t mind, why don’t we make it “ice cream time” together until we finish eating everything?

Masumi: Ice cream time?

Izumi: Like Azami-kun said, I don’t think eating too much is a good idea either. So let’s make some time everyday to eat this ice cream as a break. And for that, let’s put them in a bag with our names written on it and place it in the back of the freezer so it won’t get swiped.

Azami: I see. I agree no one’s gonna overlook the bag. And it’ll be fine if you just get through ‘em little by little each day.

Izumi: Even so, I think it’s going to take quite a while to finish them all. Masumi-kun, if you happen to have some time as well, then why don’t we eat them together?

Masumi: That sounds good. Just call me, and I’ll come over right away every day.

Izumi: Fufu. Alright, then we’ll make today the first day.

Masumi: Once we run out of ice cream, I’ll go buy more. I can do ice cream time with you every single day.

Azami: Err, there’s somethin’ called a limit, y’know?

Izumi: Ahaha…

---

*Parodies on the brands Godiva, Haagen Dazs, and Lady Borden.

previous |

[princessphilly]

Hello, love! A little birdie told me you have a big day ahead of you today, so I wanted to drop a little something off as a pick me up for later. It’s a little different than my usual, but I wanted to try something new. Sending you good vibes and some love from Bob and me! <3

- tazer anon

You had picked him out at the bar that night. He was sweet, a little geeky and shy, but polite. His gentle, hesitant touch and soft, southern drawl stood out from the other patrons. You figured he would be a safe bet to go home with at the end of the night. He had such good manners, you could blow his mind if nothing else. Be a story for him to tell and let you blow off a little steam.

He told you his name was Bob, and he was a Naval pilot. Another surprise. You’d met pilots before. They were notoriously cocky, and— at least the one you had the misfortune of knowing— didn’t satisfy.

You told him as much, watching the flush spread across his cheeks and redden his ears. Bob explained that he was a “wizzo;” he wasn’t actually flying, he was manning the weapons systems. He answered all the questions you asked that night, jumping when you danced your hand up his thigh. Turning that lovely shade of pink again.

Like a gentleman, he picked up your tab and insisted you switch to water after a few drinks. Bob asked all sorts of questions about you: hobbies, music, movies, work. After a 20 minute recount of the chewing out you got from your project manager for HIS mistake that afternoon, you noticed how attentively he was listening to you and how easily you’d opened up. It made you flustered, apologizing for dumping that on him when he was just out looking for a good time.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I’m sorry you had such a rough day.” He dropped a warm, reassuring hand to your exposed knee. The rasp of his rough palm tickling your velvety skin. Bob asked another question, fingers playing idly with the hem of your dress.

You talked, he made you laugh, and after you’d finished your waters, Bob asked if he could escort you home. He was so sweet, you resolved that yeah, you were going to blow his mind. You should have remembered to look out for the quiet ones.

It had been you to push him back into your door. You that initiated the kiss, sinking your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You who started plucking open the buttons of his neatly pressed shirt. You had a plan: suck him off enough to get him pliant, then ride him hard. Watch his eyes grow wide behind fogging glasses and see how far you could get that pretty flush to spread. Maybe in the afterglow, see if you couldn’t talk him into letting you ride his face, too. You had a plan, but the firm grip on your wrists halting your progress at four buttons threw a wrench in that plan.

“You sure you want to do this, darlin’?” He asked, blue eyes pinning you in place as if amplified by the lenses in front of them. You nodded. “If you want me to stop, you say the word, and I will.” His voice, once timid, now sincere and intense.

“Okay.”

“You promise, darlin’?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.” He stroked the rough pad of his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and that’s when you realized that Bob had been in control from the moment your apartment door clicked closed behind you both. Maybe even from the moment you approached him at the bar. You thought you’d lured him into your honeysuckle trap, but it had been the other way around. You weren’t mad about it, either.

Even during sex, he kept up his manners, checking in and asking if things were okay.

“Spread your legs for me, please. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

“Can you keep ‘em open nice and wide for me? Thank you.”

“Can I touch you like this? Is that okay?”

“Such pretty tits. Can I suck on these, baby? Would you like that?”

“Open your mouth for me, please. Good girl, get my fingers nice and wet.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

It seemed so silly, but you wanted to please him and you wanted his praise. You wanted to hear him groan while he swiped his tongue in broad strokes through your glistening folds. You wanted him to work you open with three of his thick, callused fingers. You wanted to hear him praise you when you came so hard you squirted all over the front of his crisp button down.

And when you begged and pleaded, he always gave.

“Please, I need your cock inside me.”

“Faster, please, faster!”

“Yes, I love your hand around my throat. Harder, pleasepleaseplease, I need it harder!”

And with every mind numbing orgasm, you shook and shivered, keening his name and “thank you, thank you, thank you, fuuuuuuuck!” Whining and whimpering under every praise hitting your ear in that soft drawl.

Rolled on your side, with Bob tucked close behind you. His cock stuffing your spent pussy, puffy and pulsating. He rocked into you gently, knowing how overstimulated four orgasms would leave you. He cradled you, wrapping you in his arms, planting kisses along your neck, shoulder, jaw. Bob’s breath was ragged in your ear. Senses hazy, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweet girl?” The rhythm of his hips starting to pick up. You gave a broken moan as the hand under you covered his own on your breast and squeezed, the other flying back behind you to sink your nails into his ass.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweet girl?” He asked again, pounding into you properly this time. Every thrust jiggling your ass and jolting the mattress against its frame.

“Inside!” You whined, “please cum in my pussy!” He growled in your ear, bringing a hand down to work frantic circles over your aching clit. Desperate to feel you clench around him one last time.

Your voice broke in a moan of thank you’s and sobs, while your hot, wet walls locking around him like a vice sent him straight over the edge. Bob moaned, deep and guttural into your neck; panting and pressing his hips as flush to your ass as possible. You felt the heat of his release fill you from the inside, the twitching of his length matching the anemic fluttering of your walls. “Thank you, darlin’.”

The next morning you woke, half expecting Bob to be long gone. Instead, you found him half-hard inside you still, stroking the baby hairs at your temple; urging you gently back to the land of the living. You offered to wash his shirt and he offered to make you breakfast. After round two.

I was blessed two days ago and now I’m sharing with everyone else. I love you, Tazer anon.

@withahappyrefrain @writercole @wildbornsiren @iguana-braces @imjess-themess @sebsxphia @thesluttyarchivist @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @thedroneranger @roosterforme @fuckyeahhangman

[formula-fun]

Em, do u happen to have a snippet/deleted scene for us today? 🥺🥺

Hi hi hi!! I do not have any from if i had words! Still working on writing everything I want to get down so that I can start cutting stuff later. I do however have this very long snippet from a fic i will probably never finish wherein Max announces his retirement and Charles goes through the 5 stages of grief.

“So,” Charles says on the phone that night, “when are you back in Monaco?”

“In a few more days,” Max answers, distracted. He has an airpod in one ear, the ancient pair of Beats that Daniel gave him while they were still teammates perched on the top of his head just close enough to the other ear that he can hear the sounds of the engine revs from the sim. It’s a completely convoluted setup, but it at least allows him to talk to Charles as he drives. “How’s Maranello?”

“About the same as always,” Charles replies. He sounds happy, and Max wonders distantly if he means it in a good way or a bad one. His tone sounds almost fond, and Max nearly bins it into a wall as he focuses on the sound of each syllable. “I went to visit the academy drivers, and they are staying in the same house I used to live in. It is strange to go back. Nothing really has changed.”

“Yeah?” Max asks him. “Are they any good?”

He hums. “Maybe in a few years,” he answers.

Not yet, then. Not good enough to replace Charles, should he decide to switch teams next year. Max wonders at that; wonders if that’s what was on Charles’ mind during his visit. Surely it’s early to be thinking about such things. Maybe it’s right on schedule. He doesn’t know.

“The food has not gotten better,” Charles continues. Through the line, water starts running. It sounds like he’s doing dishes. “A new restaurant has opened, but it's very controversial because it is not the regional cuisine. The team are very angry. We are not supposed to go, but the only other restaurant near the factory is a Michelin star…bar thing. I do not know how to call it. It is like a pub, but very fancy and with no beer.”

Max grunts. He doesn’t either.

“I cannot eat foam and cheese crisps all day,” Charles continues, giggling. “Andrea hates it. He says it is all air. I cannot build muscle eating this.”

“The food in Milton Keynes isn’t better. You would be eating Pizza Express up here,” Max replies, perhaps a bit cruelly. This isn’t the time to bring up Charles’ flirting with a Red Bull contract—not flippantly.

Charles doesn’t seem to notice. “Mate, we should get dinner when you are back,” he says instead. “When do you come in? I am back on Thursday.”

“Thursday for me too,” Max answers.

“Alright, let’s go. I will call that place on your street so they save us a table.”

The place on Max’s street happens to be the only restaurant in Monaco that serves anything remotely resembling Dutch food. It’s where Max always ends up after a bad week, and Max thought they were highly discreet until he’d brought Charles in and watched the owner practically fawn over him in what Max assumed was Monegasque while Charles flushed pink all the way down to the collar of his shirt. He’s fairly certain for that reason that the owners have absolutely no idea who Max is, which he loves. He’s also fairly certain he’ll never have to make a reservation as long as Charles is with him, not that he points that out.

“Sounds perfect,” he says. “Text me the details.”

“Alright, will do,” Charles replies. The water flicks off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You sound a little…”

“What?”

“Different. I don’t know.”

“I’m fine, Charles. I’m on the sim.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles teases. “You don’t even have time for a full conversation anymore, you’re so busy. The life of a champion.”

“You’ll know all about it soon enough,” Max answers. “I’ll see you.”

“Alright. Ciao.”

It’s only after he’s hung up that he registers what he implied; the way it could be construed. He hadn’t meant Charles would be a champion soon with Red Bull. Would Charles take it to mean that? Does he know what Max knows?

Max had meant Ferrari, of course.

Charles probably knows. After all, he can now apparently tell how Max is feeling just based on his voice. Max isn’t sure he has anything left to hide from him.

[joeyschick]

Chapter 1- Joe Cool 😎

Joe

I danced a little gig as I walked into my penthouse apartment carrying a case of beer.

As most of you probably know, I am Joe Burrow, rookie quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals.

Who Dey!🧡🖤

Anyway, if you have kept up with me at all you probably know that this season has been rough for me starting out.

I mean, today we got our FIRST freakin’ win of the season against the Jacksonville Jaguars.

And it is week 4. 🤦🏻‍♂️

Folks ,as you know , I had an undefeated season and a natty Championship win during my last year at LSU,

So, needless to say, losing is not in my vocabulary and most definitely something I am not used to

AT ALL. 🥴

But what can I say? It was bound to happen because I had been warned that during my rookie NFL season I would probably take my fair share of lumps.

Just call me Mr.Lumpy. 😂🤦🏻‍♂️

Anywho, moving on.

I have other issues at the current moment.

I rubbed my swollen jaw.

Yes I said swollen jaw.

Yes, I got sacked a few times during the game but that has nothing to do with the swelling of my jaw.

I was interviewed by the lovely,vivacious Linsie Wellington after the game.

Ah,miss Linzie.

The most respected sports announcer in Florida.

And the hottest.🔥❤😜😎

I mean,dayum. Boys, the woman is smoking.

I'm so damn sorry but when a woman looks like that I just gotta say something.

Okay, so normally Miss Hottie(I mean,Linzie ) is an announcer but tonight she did an interview.

An interview with yours truly. (Pops collar)

So.....anyway......when she was finished asking me all those beloved things an interviewer asks.....I just couldn't stand it anymore. I just had to say something.

And this is what I said.

I gave that black haired bombshell my million dollar sultry smile and said this little piece right here.

"Give me your car keys so I can drive you crazy." 😉

Yeah, yeah, crazy pick up line,I know.

But hey it works.

A lot.😎

And boy would I like to drive this woman crazy. 😍

I think miss Linzie liked it just a little.

Ah,hell who am I kidding? I KNOW she liked it.

I saw her blushing.😎

However, there was someone who didn't like it.

That someone was her boyfriend. 🥴😎

Damn, that man can swing a fist.

Hell,I didn't know she had a boyfriend.

Or did I?

😂😂😂😂😂ahem

So there you have it,folks. The story of my freakin bruised jaw.

What can I say?

I'm a hot mess.😎

I sighed as I dragged myself to my fridge and pulled out a beer.

Ahhhhh....smooth as hell. Already made me forget about my damn messed up jaw.

I know I shouldn't be drinking but hell, we freakin' won today!

A man's gotta celebrate.

Yeehaw!

Anyway........twelve to fifteen beers later, I'm pretty sure I was on the verge of passing out.

Just as I leaned back on my huge designer couch and shut my eyes,my doorbell rang

Awww hell no!

I groaned and I stood up with my head absolutely swimming,and trudged over to the door.

How I made it without falling on my ass i will never know.

Anyway.....when I opened the door....there stood a girl with bleach blonde hair and a skirt on up to her rear end.

Mmmmm......mama mia😍

And no, I don't have a damn clue what her name is .

She's a chick I met at the bar the other night.

I'm pretty sure I've already had at least one round of wild and crazy sex with her.

Or was that her sister?😎

Hell, who am I kidding? I probably had em both.

"Hey stud.....good game today." The woman said,batting her eyelashes at me.

"Thanks" I said,smirking and winking.

"I think we should...ya know.....have a little fun ."She said,with a wink.

"Hell yeah" I said,smirking.

The next thing I knew we were in the floor,heavily making out.

I am a worn out ol boy but I am NEVER too tired for some poontang.😎

So....with that being said.....scram...ya filthy animals! 😎

However,please do visit tomorrow.

I'm sure I shall have a ton of things to talk about if ya know what I mean.😎

Song of the chapter -Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth

Hey guys! I know this is definitely a different Joe than we are used to seeing but hey, I find this side of Joey B rather hot 🥵 myself.

As I’ve said, this is my story from Wattpad but I will be changing it slightly.

Thanks so much for reading!

Will update soon!

Much love,

Leslie ❤️

[guavagyu]

blush - y.jh

this is part 3 of the eyeshadow series!

request: “request: jeonghan fanfic where new stylist/makeup artist and jeonghan fall in love? slow burn, sexual tension, secret relationship typa thang ;) <3!”

smut probably next or 2nd next part? idk

ITALIC WORDS REPRESENT THOUGHTS!

[prev.] [next]

wc: 970

contents: slice of life ig, fluff, humor (im such a comedian el em eff ay oh), afab!reader, tall!reader (178 cm or 5’10), stylist!reader, makeup-artist!reader, model!jeonghan, swearing, non-idol!au, swearing, lmk if there r more!

recap:

yup. this is great. gotta clean. ugh why did i agree to my place?? you just decided to let later-you to worry about it and prepared for bed.

——

friday - y/n’s pov!

——

@hannie_hae:

hi! you still up for 3:00? :)

fuck. your phone read 2:17 pm. you had gotten distracted from all of your other friday endeavors, and jeonghan’s visit totally slipped your mind. you rushed to get off the couch, and begin to clean. you had until 2:30, and then you’d take the shortest shower of all eternity, and then hastily make yourself presentable. ‘A+’ for planning skills, a big fat ‘F’ for time management. and so, all that planning was what you did. you practically ran around your apartment with a vacuum whilst spraying the couches with leather cleaner. after grabbing two rags, one to wipe the tables and the couches down, you moved on to the mop for the kitchen. you clorox-wiped more than anyone had ever clorox-wiped. the clock read 2:27. wow, i probably broke some sort of record. so, you had an extra 2-ish minutes to waste in the shower. just kidding, you had to be as quick as possible, it’d be horrible for jeonghan to arrive before you were ready.

god damn, the clock read 2:54 and you were more finished than gordon ramsay’s beef wellington. your hair was dry, and looked amazing. your makeup was subtle, and your tshirt and sweatpants were..okay maybe not the best wardrobe choice, but it’s not like you’re visiting a 3 michelin star restaurant, allow yourself to be comfortable in your own home!

the clock just turned to 3:01 when jeonghan knocked on your door,

“hi! come in,” you smiled, silently relieved for him to be just as casual as you were. a black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and some sneakers. he gave you a small "hi!" and took off his shoes, "uh, you can sit on the couch, please make yourself at home! ill be right back, ill get some makeup stuff," you walked back to your bathroom while jeonghan unpacked the things he brought with him and settled down on the couch, looking around everywhere, tapping his fingers on the arm, waiting for your return. and a few minutes later, you returned with..a lot of makeup, to say the least,

"woah, that's a lot," jeonghan giggled, making you laugh,

"yeah,"

"um..how long do you think we'll need for all of this?" he asked,

"oh, we don't have to do all of this, just more options," you gave a small smile as you organized them into their respective categories,

"oh okay, i mean i have time, i was just curious, it's not that i dont want to be here i-" he rambled on, clearly a bit flustered, his ears and cheeks tinting an adorable pink,

"jeonghan, you're fine, let's just get on with it, alright?" you put your hand on top of his, calming him down a little bit,

"o-okay," he smiled, blushing harder but giving a small thumbs up, cute,

"awesome, where should we start? what concepts should we practice?" you looked through the outrageously large pile (that had been organized by you),

"let's start simple, maybe let's just work with colors for now, how about blue?" jeonghan suggested,

"whatever you feel like is fine by me," and you started on a simple blue themed look,

----

2 hours later, 5:09 pm

----

after 2 hours of trying out makeup looks, palettes littering the table, a pile of used makeup wipes in a trash can,

"alright, i think that's enough for your skin today," you smiled, noticing his reddening face, "did i do too much?"

"no no, you're fine, don't worry," jeonghan reassured you, giving the cutest giggle ever,

"okay, if you say so. can i get you some water or anything? we've been sitting for a while," you asked, realizing you forgot to offer when he first arrived,

"yeah, some water would be great!" he smiled, leaning back into the cushions,

"sure!" you headed to the kitchen, soon returning with a glass of water, "that good?"

"it's awesome, thanks!" ugh, is he always this cute? it makes me want to pin him down and- woah. that was, um, wow. that was quite the intrusive thought if i do say so myself. ha. ha. ha. during this thought segment of yours, you ended up zoning out..directly staring at jeonghan, causing him to be flustered, confused, then concerned. he thought there was something on his face, but after calling your name out a few times,

"hey, y/n?" he waved a hand in front of your face, knocking you back to reality,

"huh? what? im so sorry, just zoned out for a bit," you awkwardly laughed, flustered from your thoughts,

"you're good, but i think i'm going to head out now, thank you so much for having me over!" he smiled again, ugh that smile is going to kill me,

"no problem, anytime! make sure you don't forget anything here," you said as you prepared to open the door,

"yup, got everything, thanks again!" he gave the most adorable wave as he walked through the door, leaving, making you return to gather your makeup, put the trash can back, and collapse on the couch. you sigh, a smile settling on your face from what seemed to be a successful meeting. but..those thoughts you had were quite interesting.

--

jeonghan's pov!

--

holy shit. thank the lord i was able to leave before i had a meltdown. why did i think that me being close to y/n for so long would be okay for me to handle? wait..when they stared at me..were they actually starting at ME? or..did they actually zone out? fuck, why am i stuck with y/n? it's only sooner or later they find out about my dumbass crush on them

--

y/n's pov!

--

what the hell was i thinking? zoning out like that while staring at him? jeonghan probably thinks he’s stuck working with a creep. this is great.

--

© guavagyu 2023. all rights reserved. plagiarization, reposting, translating, and/or rewriting ANY and ALL of my works is prohibited.

[watercolor-hearts]

So if you can answerr the ao3 wrapped: 5 6 15 and 29 please 😊

[Ao3 wrapped – Ask me about my stories/writing this year.]

Hi 😊 Of course I can. Thank you so much for asking. Long post ahead because... I love talking about writing/my stories. 😂❤

5. Has a work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Yes, Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams: 14 subscriptions, 2875 hits, 131 kudos, 5 comments, 9 bookmarks.

When I posted my first Lestappen story (not this one) I was surprised how quickly the hits and kudos count climbed. And then I realized Lestappen was the top ship. (For me it's always Maxiel so that's why it was surprising.) And in case of this story the big amount of feedback was also surprising because it's about non-planned pregnancy, abortion and it's... not about easy topics. But it was nice to see people liked it so much. (It's my number one story if we view them by hits count.)

6. Favorite title you used

I don't have artsy titles, I usually just pick something from the story and make it the title so they're really basic but I still can't choose only one so here are all my faves:

Battle scar; Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams; In Sickness and In Health; Blood, sweat and tears; and Home.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

For sure I'm gonna take In Sickness and In Health/Depressed Seb AU with me into next year because I still have a lot of story ideas for it. I'm planning to finish at least one this year but I'm sure I'll write for this au next year too. Having this little universe means a lot to me. ❤

And I think I'll also take my Charlos mpreg/premature birth/male lactation story into next year because even though I stopped talking about it, I still want to write it (uni was a bit too much and I had no time to write. But tomorrow (now today because it's now past midnight as I finish this post) is my last day so I hope I'll be able to write again soon.)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Now this is a difficult one because so far I've written 47 stories this year. (Big big thanks to Em and Nyx for sending me my first ever prompts and giving me a chance to start this amazing journey. ❤ And also big thanks to everyone who has ever sent me a prompt. It means a lot. ❤)

Now I'm gonna try and list as few of my fave lines as I can because I don't want to copy and paste all of my fave stories here but it's not always easy. 😂 (Mission (kind of) failed. Sorry.)

In Sickness and In Health

In sickness and in health, they say. Seb and Kimi knew it well.

•

“Just a little snack,” Seb said, heading to the kitchen. He knew he needed to eat but there were times when it wasn't that easy. But for Kimi, he tried. Kimi saved him, he’ll always try for him.

•

Seb was holding on to Kimi’s upper arm like he was scared Kimi would leave him alone. Not that Kimi wanted to do that. He would never leave Seb alone.

•

He knew his back would be dead if he slept there but, to be honest, the only thing he cared about was his lover on top of him, sleeping peacefully; a calm moment after all the storms of the last few weeks, even months. Therapy sessions, arguments, struggles with the food he was supposed to eat, and long nights filled with crying; it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy but now there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. 

Maybe I deserve all of this

“You know, when people see someone crying, they usually say something like ‘please don’t cry, it’s going to be alright’ because they… they don’t really know what to do when someone cries. Nobody really teaches you what to do.

•

“Can you… Can you take off your t-shirt?” George asked a few moments later.

“Already want me half naked, I see you, Georgie,” Alex teased, giving a quick kiss on George’s head before taking off his t-shirt.

“Just want to feel your skin,” George murmured, “And your heartbeat.”

•

“I wouldn't compare pain,” Alex said, “because it’s not something you can or should compare. It’s not about whose pain is worse. Everybody’s pain is valid and they deserve to get comforted if they want to.

•

We all have moments like this; when we’re vulnerable and just want someone to hold us.”

“And it’s one of the best things in the world when you have someone to hold you.”

I will kill you (but I will kill André first)

“Fuck,” Sam muttered under his breath, finally giving in and leaning back.

“Please wait with that,” André said, jokingly, making Jev laugh and Sam smile in disbelief. “I'm sure you could give a great lap dance to Jev but I don't want to see it. At least not this close.”

“I can't believe you, Lotterer,” Sam shook his head, laughing, “I fucking can't believe you.”

I'm breathing...

“Lewis, do I have to call a doctor?”

Lewis immediately shook his head. “No, it's okay, it's just… I just…” Lewis huffed as he tried to tilt his head back to open his airways more and let the air fill his lungs. He tried hard not to let panic fully take over his mind as the anxiety reached the top.

“Try to sit up,” advised Bono and tried to help Lewis by putting his hand on the driver's back, between his shoulder blades, to support him. “I know it's not easy now but try to breathe slowly,” the engineer advised as he caressed Lewis' back. “You can control your body. Trust yourself.”

The driver nodded, tilted his head back again, and closed his eyes to concentrate on his breathing. He felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs no matter how hard he tried or which breathing technique he used.

“You can do it, Lewis,” said Bono in his usual calm voice, “I know you can do it. Try to make these small breaths a little longer. If you manage to control your breathing, your heart will slow down too and then the strange feeling in your chest will go away.”

Home

“Your heartbeat sounds like home,” Seb said, breaking the silence a few moments later.

“Really?” Kimi asked, surprised. Seb has always been the cheesier one, but after everything that happened, this hit really close to home for Kimi. 

[soupsspoons]

24. Ugly

Maggie was working in the garden when Hannah found her. It wasn't that she was looking for her necessarily, but Hannah was glad to see the woman.

"I heard about that guy Daryl and Rick brought back," Hannah spoke as they knelt in the dirt, pulling weeds from the soil. It wasn't Hannah's shift in the garden, but she knew how Maggie could overwork herself, even with her baby on the way. Hannah decided that, after everything Maggie had done for her, it was the least she could do.

"Jesus?" Maggie said, her voice heavy with an accent.

"That's his name?" Hannah stopped pulling at the weed she was working on, "Really?"

Maggie gave a light chuckle, "He says that's what they call him at his colony"

"That's where Rick and everyone are headed today, his colony?" Hannah asked as she went back to the weeds.

Maggie nodded at her words. The two became silent as they focused on their work, but Hannah continued to think about what was to come. She had yet to meet this 'Jesus', but she wanted to believe in what he had said. If there really was more out there, Hannah hoped that they could find it through him.

She went home after finishing up in the garden, only to come out moments later with two proudly wrapped sandwiches in her hands. Hannah felt a little embarrassed at the idea, but she wanted so desperately for something good to come out of this trip. So, she would do what she could to help.

"Hey, kid," Daryl said without turning from the trailer as Hannah approached. He was hauling a box of different weaponry into the back, locking it in place before turning to face the girl.

"Watchu got there?" He asked, wiping his hands off and pointing to the wrapped food in her hands.

"I made you some sandwiches. You know, for on the road or whatever." She spoke nonchalantly, holding out the packages to Daryl. He took them from her hands and inspected them for a moment.

"There's two of 'em," Daryl said bluntly and Hannah's brows furrowed.

"Yeah," She told him, "One for the way there, one for the way back."

Daryl let himself smile at her words, something she knew he didn't do very often, and he moved both sandwiches into one of his hands.

"Well, let's hope they taste better than they look. Cause it looks like shit," Daryl said lightheartedly and Hannah laughed.

"Okay," she said before turning away to help the others. Before she could leave though, Daryl called her name.

"You know, if you ever want to come out on one of these runs or something, I'm sure it wouldn't be too bad. You're smart."

Hannah smiled. She looked around for a moment, noticing how almost everyone she knew was outside, helping to send the group off to Jesus's colony. Just behind Daryl, Hannah could see Carl knelt beside some red jerrycans he must have just filled with gas, talking with his dad. Hannah looked back to Daryl.

"I'll think about it," was all she told him. Daryl nodded at her words.

"Ok," He spoke, opening the passenger side door of the trailer, "Thanks Hannah," He raised the sandwiches that were still in his hand. She gave him a wide smile before leaving him to finish his work on the trailer.

Rick had left Carl by the time Hannah got to him. He was standing now, putting his final plastic container into one of the cars.

"Hey," Hannah spoke and Carl turned his head to her.

"Hey, Hannah."

She knelt down beside Carl, picked up the last container, and lifted it up by the handle, carrying it to the car. It felt extra heavy on her arm, forcing her to strain as she pulled it up to the trunk of the car. Hannah paid no mind to the sensation, but she took note that it was the arm on the side of her body that had been injured all that time ago. It felt like forever since the attack, Hannah thought, look how far they had come.

"You going with your dad?" Hannah asked once her hands were empty.

Carl now leaned on the closed trunk, facing Hannah who was standing just in front of him.

"No, I don't think I should," Hannah cocked her head, questioning what he meant, "I mean, someone's gotta take care of this place while everyone's gone." Carl paused, dropping his eyes from Hannah's before giving a soft smile and a shake of his head, "Besides, a kid with a fucked up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway."

"Carl," Hannah rebuked his words as if it were a reflex. Carl shrugged, not meaning it as anything more than a joke. Still, Hannah hated to hear him say it. He wasn't fucked up. And even if he was, weren't they all? Wasn't she? The jagged scars across Hannah's own body almost burned at the thought. Did he think that of her? She never saw Carl's injury as something shameful, but rather a reminder. It was a reminder of all that he had been through, what they had all been through.

"Well, you can't protect this place all by yourself can you?" Hannah smiled at the surprise on Carl's face.

"You don't have--" Carl began to speak before they heard Abraham yell out from beside the trailer.

"Let's chew up some asphalt!" He called, his gun tucked into his arm.

Before Carl could continue his sentence, Hannah gave him a small goodbye and returned to Daryl, who was readying himself to get in the trailer with the others.

"Hey," Daryl said when Hannah came beside him, "You coming with us?"

"No, I think I'm gonna stay here," Hannah told him. Though she couldn't see it, Daryl looked past her, making eye contact with Carl.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Daryl gave Hannah a knowing look that she didn't quite understand, "It's probably better you don't see me gagging on those sandwiches."

Hannah smiled at the man before wrapping her arms around his torso, pulling him into an unexpected hug.

"Good luck," she said.

---

After the group left, it began to rain. Hannah had wanted to go to her gazebo, hoping to reread one of her books once more, but instead, she found herself hiding from the weather inside the infirmary.

She expected to see Denise inside, which she wouldn't have minded but found the room completely empty when she arrived. The first thing Hannah noticed when she stepped inside was how quiet it was. She hadn't been back since Carl was hurt, but Hannah had always been a little weary of the building since her own attack. However, as she let her hands run over all of the equipment that was still strewn about, gauze, scissors, and needles, Hannah realized how peaceful the infirmary really was.

Quickly, though, that peace was disturbed by someone heavy-handedly opening the door.

Hannah turned swiftly, surprised at the sudden noise, and saw Carl standing in the doorway.

"Oh, sorry," He spoke, "I was just looking for Denise."

"Don't worry about it." Neither of them spoke after that. The room was silent, save only for the sound of Carl shuffling farther into the space.

"Um, I don't think Denise is here. Do you need something?" Hannah asked, filling the air.

"Oh no, um... I just, Denise usually helps me change my bandages," Carl said almost nervously, gesturing to the wrap around his face.

"Oh," Hannah thought for a moment, "Well, I can help you. I know where Denise keeps the gauze and everything."

Carl immediately dismissed her, shaking his head as she spoke.

"Really, I don't mind. I know how to do it if that's what you're worried about." Hannah tried once more, pointing to her own head. She had wrapped her own bandages after the attack.

"No, no it's not that, it's just, " Carl paused, leaning his body against the wall behind him, looking at Hannah who now stood by the gurney in the center of the room, "It's pretty gross."

"Okay," was all Hannah said, so Carl continued.

"I don't want to scare you," he said it softly like he himself was scared.

"You couldn't scare me, Carl."

"Hannah--" Carl sighed, but she wouldn't let him disparage himself.

"Really," She assured the boy, "Even when I first met you, I mean I thought I was scared of you, all of you. But I wasn't scared of you, I was scared of what you represented, what you reminded me of. But look at us now, I mean, we go outside the walls, we--we tell each other things. I trust you, Carl, I--" Hannah paused her ramble, sighing, "I could never be scared of you."

"And hey," She continued, her voice lighter, "I've seen some pretty nasty stuff," referencing her own injuries once more.

Carl was silent at her words, but Hannah could see his thoughts running quickly. His brows were furrowed slightly and he couldn't quite look her in the eyes. It wasn't until he finally spoke that Hannah could see his face again.

"It's really ugly, Hannah," His voice wavered as he said it, and Hannah remembered how young he really was. How young they both were.

Before she could think to do anything else, Hannah turned from Carl and walked to where she knew the gauze was kept. She came back with a roll and handed it to Carl. He looked at the white material in her hands and then back to Hannah.

"What?" He breathed out. Hannah only gestured to the gauze again, and Carl began to understand what she was doing for him. Slowly, he took his hat off and placed it down on the gurney beside Hannah. He then turned, his back facing the girl, and began to unravel the old bandaging from around his head. Hannah watched as his hair moved with it, getting caught slightly in the fibers of the material. She then saw him lower his head, unraveling the gauze she had given him. He made a small square and held it to his face, before wrapping a new piece around his head. When he was finished, he turned back to Hannah, who hadn't moved at all.

The first thing she noticed when he turned was the way the gauze was twisted just over his ear, causing it to bunch around the square on his eye. Slowly, Hannah moved closer to Carl, who could only watch her.

"Can I at least fix it," Hannah asked hesitantly, a soft smile on her lips.

Carl nodded. He moved past her, sitting on the gurney she had been leaning on.

Hannah neared the boy, just to the side of his knees, feeling his eyes follow her as she moved. Carefully, Hannah let her fingers fall on the gauze, holding it in place over his eye as she re-wrapped it around his head. When it lay flat, Hannah tucked the end back into itself, carefully so as not to tug on his long hair.

As Hannah finished, Carl looked up at her, and Hannah was forced to look back.

"You're not ugly, Carl," Hannah whispered, not looking away from his brown eyes. Almost immediately, Carl's head turned, embarrassed at her words, but Hannah put her finger to his chin, turning him back to face her. "You're not. I think you're really pretty."

As if to solidify her point, Hannah bent her neck and kissed Carl's cheek. It was soft and warm and smelled so very him.

"So are you," He spoke just as softly as she had.

"Even with this," Hannah mimicked his tone, reaching her fingers to carefully touch the etching on her face. She said it lightly, but Carl could see the truth in her words. He began to regret his words from earlier, not thinking about what they might have meant to her. They were the same, both so deeply messed up, and yet she was beautiful.

He said nothing as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her soft torso. Like a magnet, Hannah rested her head atop his, feeling his thick, and yet so very soft, hair caressing her neck.

Carl smiled deeply into her chest, breathing in her warm smell, and spoke, "Thank you."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Hiiiii Loveliessss!! Ahhhhh I really like this part. I have so many exciting chapters planned ahead of this, and I'm so excited to start writing them for next time. I hope you all enjoyed this one!!

Look at our girl making moves! How do we feel about that little moment they had???

Thanks for Reading!

EDIT: For reference, here's some poorly edited pictures of how I imagine Hannah's scar looks

[thelongestway]

FFXIV Write 2024, Prompt #3: Tempest

Later, Erenville would say he'd not seen such a storm before - or since. I'd met a number that were its equals previously. One crucial thing had been different, however. Never before had I gone into one on a civilian ship.

And I had no idea how they would survive all this. If worst came to worst, I could teleport, but the rest of the people here?.. With the levins striking water all around us, it was only a matter of time until the masts went down.

There's only so much redirection of lightning-charged aether I can do before even my soul crystal gives out...

"The crystals, damn you!" someone screamed at a fellow mate. "Haul the crystals!"

"I've got 'em!" A Roegadyn shouted, unbending her back from the crates glowing with a familiar burnt orange. "Bosun, ready!"

Those pillars. They were dull the entire journey, and I'd assumed they were merely lights so that the larger ships could avoid each other close to harbor. Could it...

I was running for the Roe and her crate well before I finished the thought. If I was right, we needed the shield up now, and if I was wrong... Well, we were in for a rough ride.

The crystals were positioned correctly, and when I reached for them, the lines did not feel broken. But the shield was still down, and we were running out of time.

"The converter?" I yelled through the howl of the wind.

"Quarter deck! Bosun's got it!" the shiphand yelled back. "You can work one? Then go, GO!"

The bosun was indeed working the converter, but even he was having trouble. Our initial makeshift device had easier, more visible inlays; the artisans knew I'd need it mid-fight. This one? More sophisticated; created to handle not one element, but at least three... And damned if you could see which of the identically-dull stones was the right one in this weather.

I was as impressed by the engineer as I was irked. Did they have any idea of the conditions operators would be facing when they made this? Cid and Nero...

Aren't here. I am.

"Llymlaen's salty loins!" the bosun looked up at me and snarled: "Landlubber, below decks!"

"I'm a mage!!" I did not wait for him to respond, but he'd gotten the message and moved as I laid my hands on the console, forcing my senses into the gems. A moment - and I found the one that shielded us from the levin.

The pillars lit up: one, two, three... Shield! Shield operational!

Giddy, I laughed up at the stormy sky. "Good show, Llymlaen! But not today!"

...And got a smack up the head for my trouble.

"Are ye daft, mage? Do NOT taunt her!" The bosun snapped.

"Well, she started it," I grinned at him, and at the sea. The rush was giving way to memory - and sadness. The Navigator had never been my goddess, but I respected her, and right now - I missed her.

"Ye are daft," the bosun said, giving me a stare. "Get below decks!"

"I'll stay," I said, meeting his eyes. "Should your towers fail, I'll be able to restart them."

He gave a grudging nod.

"Jus' don't go tauntin' the Twelve any longer, hear?"

"Your ship, your show. Wouldn't dream of it."

[snowmuttgetsweird]

7/29/24, witching hour

Eatin' dinner. Tried to approximate a sorta beef and broccoli thing with ground beef. Was too lazy to make the broccoli though so I basically just threw in the ground beef, seasoned it, browned it, added a couple handfuls of frozen green bellpepper and frozen onion (I buy them cheap and then chop 'em up and freeze them for future use), made a sauce out of worcestershire, soy sauce, a LOT of black pepper, red chili flake, and I think just a sprinkle of sugar, and then threw in like a handful of frozen green beans I've got a big already-open bag of in the freezer. Threw it together with some rice, lil furikake, lil sriracha, boom. Food. Tonight I also added some edamame beans to the mix.

Gym was enlightening. Turns out I struggle on a 3x8 set of lateral side raises with 10lb weights. My shoulders are shiiit. I'm told their development is heavily linked to your testosterone level. Well guess who had a rock-bottom testosterone level at his last physical? This guuuuuy. But that'll kinda get repaired as I keep up the weight lifting- at least that's the hope. Compound exercises, like squats especially, are great for boosting your testosterone. Just gotta keep lifting heavy and soon I'll be moving up to 15lb dumbbells like the big boys :D :D :D

No but really though I do hope my testosterone shoots up to normal levels by doing this. I've mentioned that I have like, very low sex drive and low interest in sex in general, and it's got me thinking I'm demi, but it could ALSO just be that I'm depressed and my hormones suck shit, but exercise helps with mental stuff and should theoretically fix my hormones. If it DOESN'T, well, I know that it's something else and I'm not JUST fat.

That's right folks, I'm NOT just working out to get huge or whatever- we're eliminating VARIABLES, BABY!

At least the way I figure, I can't afford therapy, or doctor visits, or medication, or anything like that, but maybe I can at least do this. At least I can say I'm doing as much as I can, making as much as an effort as I possibly can, to do right by myself by giving my brain the best foundation it can hope for to do what it's SUPPOSED to do- a functional, healthy body.

On that note I should get some metamucil. Regulating my digestion would probably help my body absorb nutrients way better.

Also side note I think I've perfected the dry to wet ratios on my overnight oats, but time will tell. I've been measuring my oats by weight to 40g but honestly I think being THAT specific is kinda cringe, so I just went for the full half-cup instead, and then did slightly UNDER a half-cup of milk, doubled the chia seeds to a full tbsp, and kept everything else the same- big spoonful of yogurt, rounded scoop of protein powder. No sweetener, but this time I added a rounded tsp of instant coffee and about the same in cocoa powder, and then this morning I added, like, literally like a tsp of this coffee creamer my roommate's nana recommended I try, and it came out really good, so I'm trying to recreate that tonight. We'll see what happens!

Uh last thing I guess, I made an impulsive purchase I probably shouldn't have. Monday nights where I work, I'm basically babysitting the place while it more or less runs itself, so once any tasks I need to get done GET done, I read a book. I had meant to bring an extra book with me today cause I was like a 10-15 sitdown away from finishing my at-the-time current book, but forgot, so I ran down to the closest book store and picked up one that I've had my eye on for a WHILE and have just never found at my local discount book shop: Slewfoot by Brom. I've read from Brom before and enjoyed his work, so I'm looking forward to digging into this one more- I already like what I've read so far. I feel like I'll finish this one quickly. Twenty bucks is a little steep for me as far as books go since I'm used to like, old beat-up $2 dollar paperbacks off the clearance rack of discount book shops, but I think it's gonna be worth it, and I think I deserve a treat now and again.

Actual last thing I've been playing Golden Sun. I've played it before but I didn't get very far in that run so long ago so I'm experiencing a lot of it for the first time and it's actually really good. I actually /love/ the Djinni system and the way that your moveset changes as you cycle them mid-battle, it's really cool. Looking forward to more of that.

NOT looking forward to the DOMS I'm gonna have tomorrow or the next day, but AM looking forward to drawing. I have some ideas. Here's hoping the whole "exercise helps you focus" thing holds some truth. Wish me luck.

[caitwrites]

A Girl's Guide to End Rape Culture - Chapter 6

In the week after I agreed to join the band, we had been practicing so much, I could hear guitar chords playing in my head at night before I went to sleep.

It hadn't been all practice, though. Something was happening in the streets of Minnesota.

I first heard of the Riot Grrrl movement when I saw a newscaster talking about it on the small TV in my apartment. It started small, like a spark that wasn't extinguished quickly enough and soon caught the wind, spreading like wildfire.

I didn't know much about the movement, other than that it looked like a kind of feminist movement.

When I went to practice next, though, I was surprised that no one was talking about it, given how it had seemed like a popular topic.

Even the drummer, who was also a girl, didn't bring it up.

We went through some songs, practicing them until my throat was sore. At the end of practice, I decided to bring up the Riot Grrrl movement to see what the others thought.

"Hey, have you guys heard what's going on in town?"

Ian was the only one who looked at me. Perks of being the new girl, I supposed. "What's going on?"

"All that's going on with the Riot Grrrl movement."

"I hadn't heard of that."

"I don't know too much about it, just that it seems like a new feminist movement.

I thought I saw one of my band members roll his eyes, but I didn't give it any mind.

"That sounds interesting," Ian said, in a way that sounded like he wasn't sure what he thought of it.

"I thought so. It'll be cool seeing what happens with it."

No one said anything after, but when I started putting my things away again, I noticed the drummer send a small smile my way.

~

Leaving the studio, the streets looked the same as they always did, but there was something different. The air felt charged with a certain energy, something powerful, like change.

I took my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. It wasn't too late, I figured there was probably time to hang out with Lucas and Ani if they weren't busy.

I dialled Ani's number first, and she picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, what's up?" Her voice filled my ear.

"Did you wanna go out for a coffee? I'm gonna call Lucas and see if he can come too."

She groaned. "I'd love to, but I can't. I'm stuck studying for a test. You have fun with Lucas, though." I could practically hear her grinning.

"Okay," I said, though I probably sounded uncertain. Ever since Ani had found out about my feelings for Lucas, I had felt awkward talking about him.

"I should really keep studying, I'll talk to you later though."

"Okay, talk to you soon. Bye."

"Byee!"

I ended the call and dialled Lucas's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, Em. How's it going?"

"Good, I just finished band practice. I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?"

I realized I could hear him doing something in the background.

"If you're busy though, it's no problem."

"No, no. We can hang out for a bit."

"You're sure?"

"100%."

"Okay. I was thinking we try out that new cafe, the one with all the art pieces."

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll come pick you up shortly."

"Oh, you don't have to. I'm fine with walking."

"Don't be silly, it's no trouble."

"Okay. Well, thank you."

"Of course."

There was a silence on the phone for a minute or so, which I interrupted. "Um, okay. I'll see you soon. Bye."

"Bye, Em."

I ended the call and put my phone back in my pocket, allowing myself a small smile.

Even if I wouldn't let us be together, it was still nice having a crush on someone.

~

The cafe was fairly quiet for a Friday, and once we ordered our drinks, we found a booth in the corner.

"How was practice today?" Lucas asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, it was good. It was a bit of a longer practice today, so I was a little tired after. Coffee's helping though."

He smiled. "That's good at least."

"Yeah. How was your day?"

"It was okay, I just had a class this morning and after I was just doing some cleaning around the house."

"Oh, is that what you were doing when I called?"

"Yeah, I'd let the house get a little messy and figured I had a mostly free day so I may as well clean a bit."

"Fair enough." I took a sip of my coffee. "Did you hear about what's going on in town? The Riot Grrrl movement?"

"Yeah, I did actually. I think it's great."

"What's it about? I haven't heard much about it, other than what I saw on TV. It looks like a kind of feminist movement."

"Yeah, it is. From what I heard, it's a movement that's meant to be addressing issues like patriarchy, gender inequality, and sexual assault. There's also been some bands that are using their music to address those issues."

"Wow, it would be cool to be a part of that."

"Maybe you can bring it up with your band."

"I brought up the movement today, they didn't seem too interested. Maybe they just didn't know a lot about it, though."

"Yeah, I would try learning more about it, and then try bringing it up again."

"That sounds like a good idea. I'm curious now, how did you hear about it?"

"Oh, just on the TV. I tried to research a bit more about it, though, and I talked to some people who seemed to have some ideas and thoughts on it."

"Oh, that's cool."

"Yeah, it'll be cool seeing what happens in the future with this. It feels like something that could be important in changing the way society is right now."

"It almost feels like we could be living in a history-changing moment ourselves."

He nodded. "Exactly."

[emersonxcassidy]

Emerson had been excited to read fairytales to little kids with her friend. She was excited to essentially play dress up and just have fun for the next week, especially since she felt it'd be a good thing for Jameson to do with his daughter and then them three could spend some more time together. In fact, once she was done with today's reading she fully planned on buying some props and things to pout and bribe Jamie into coming (and if not, she could at least definitely get her niece on board with the bribery of pretty princess dresses and flower crowns). It would be great! And that thought kept a smile on Em's face as she and Eden finished up for the afternoon and then started cleaning up, all the while speaking to an adorable little boy with a toy sword and a crown.

The smile on her face though didn't stand a chance when she heard that voice. Emerson didn't even have to look up to know it was him, not after days they'd spent together that bled into nights. A label-less relationship that spanned years off in their own little world in Manhattan. Away from her brother and their friends, away from Aurora Bay. On the other side of the country no one knew them, and they were free to be together whenever Jace was in town, free to fall for one another...and then free for Jace to throw it all away, to insist that they weren't right for each other and that they should see other people, even if he'd been the first and only one who ever really had her heart.

A small part of her never thought she'd see him again, and Emerson never knew if she was relieved with that thought or if she hated it.

But yet here he was now, making her heard skip a beat just by looking at her, even two years later. "Jace..." She breathed, eyes slightly widened and looking up at him in disbelief. "What--I... what are you doing here?"

closed starter w/ @emersonxcassidy. where : the ren faire.

Jace had never intended for it to come to an end, nor did he ever wish for it to do so. However, his mother had taught him not to be selfish, which is why he had to break her heart, as well as his own, in the process. Over the last two years, he had endured the consequences of his actions. His mind continuously haunted by memories of their time together, never fully moving on from the one person who had became his new home - his old one holding far too many painful memories to even be consider.

That's likely why he felt so uncomfortable returning to Aurora Bay, a town he had once loved, now filled with unfamiliar people and places. His home at Fisher Cove felt like a haunted house, filled with the ghosts of the past. It's why he poured so much of himself into his work, aware that if it consumed him, he wouldn't have to dwell on the things he had lost or the people he had left behind.

It's when he spotted a familiar name on a flyer posted next to his stand, a singular ounce of hope rekindled within him. With his feet carrying him over to a nearby pavilion, small children nestled into their parents' arms, listening to her read from a children's book. Seating himself at the back, he watched the woman in all her glory, still awestruck after being apart for two long years.

As soon as she finished reading, he began to make his approach, gently pushing past the children in their knight and princess costumes. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, or even if he should say anything at all. Perhaps an apology for lying all those years ago and insisting on seeing other people. Or maybe just a simple 'Hello, how are you?' But he was well aware that they knew each other too well for shitty small talk.

As he finally approached, he watched her finish an interaction with a small child before finally speaking. "Em," the nickname rolling off his tongue, "Is it really you?" he questions, his voice soft.