#emily write fic

[testarossa]

accidentally signed up for omegafest by writing a prompt. will i write anything? unlikely but at this point i cannot outright say "no" and honestly. even that is a phrase i never thought i would say.

[testarossa]

a hatchet in the sand 👀 fun title

ah thank you! i just renamed that one from its working title "bendy" the other day. it's a carcar regular guys au and. i don't really know how to describe it so i will just give you a snippet

Up ahead, in the same spot he’d been the last time, is Yoga Guy. 

If it wasn’t such a cloudy day, Carlos would think the guy was trying to get a tan. He obviously isn’t, because he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. He’s lying on his back on his yoga mat with his feet planted against the sand and his knees bent, letting his shorts fall all the way up his thighs to reveal pale, surprisingly lovely legs. Carlos wonders what else the guy does, because there’s no way he gets that kind of muscle tone just by doing morning yoga. 

As Carlos gets closer, he wonders if the guy is actually asleep, and then the guy turns to the side, his knees falling to the opposite side in a twist.

Carlos swerves to the right, his feet slipping as he runs through the softer sand farther up the beach. He looks down at the ground, focusing on his footsteps. Every time he blinks, he sees the shape of the guy’s legs behind his eyelids. It should be impossible for anyone’s ass to look so good in fluorescent orange shorts.

By the time Carlos has run up the ramp and back down, Yoga Guy has twisted the opposite direction, with his knees pointing up the beach and his face to the water. Carlos doesn’t swerve quite as far away this time – he can’t, not without splashing through the tide as it rolls in – and as he jogs past him, Yoga Guy splutters.

Carlos glances back. Yoga Guy is sitting up, making a face as he brushes sand from his cheeks. He looks up at Carlos and frowns. 

Carlos shrugs, turning around and veering up the beach a few paces, onto his usual path. That’s what that guy gets for lying down in the middle of the best running path on the beach.

[testarossa]

a playlist for a fic; for warm summer days and handfuls of fresh berries