#first pro-wrestling and now this

[pulsarex]

Remind me to write about the concept of moe and its relation to RGU. Specifically about how "moeru" is a homonym that can both mean "to sprout/blossom" and "to burn" and the slang meaning for something that is cute and inspires protective feelings, and how that connects to the rose and general flower motifs, how Anthy is portrayed throughout the series and her relationship with Utena, Mikage's whole...thing (especially with (the way he remembers?) Mamiya also paralleling the idea of a helpless moe anime character, which also relates to the "Rose Bride"), etc etc.

[itachaaan]

maybe they're not maineventing today

but they have definitely been the main event of my year 🤭 joking not joking

[dynamitekansai]

[the-kipsabian]

[espioakakeith]

The Harlem Heat tribute gear kinda crazy!

[degenderates]

Jon Moxley is a wrestler who is insanely hot and amazing in the ring

jon moxley do u like boypussy and are u free this evening

[gifsbysimplysonia]

LOVE Mina's hair but I've never been brave enough to try bangs

[wileys-russo]

are requests open? if so could you do a comfort blurb the prompt “i could really use a hug right now” with alessia? thanks!

need a hug II a.russo

"oh for fuck sakes!" you swore as you knocked over a pot plant, dirt and rocks spilling out everywhere, groaning as you flicked off the vacuum.

the house falling you silent you gingerly moved the vacuum out of the way, sighing as you hunted around in the cupboard beneath the sink to try and find the dustpan and broom.

"where has she put it?" you huffed, your girlfriend having an infuriating habit of using something and never placing it back where she found it, eventually fishing it out from the bottom of the pantry.

squatting down you began to sweep up the mess, only you'd barely begun before the brush promply snapped in half. "are you joking?" you had to laugh in disbelief, now only holding the handle.

"how does that even happen?" you grunted, grabbing the jagged brush and trying to sweep up as best you could, dropping it into the garbage and vacuuming up the rest before trying to repot the poor plant as best you could and setting it aside.

you were interrupted by a few short sharp knocks at the door, grateful you hadn't started the vacuum yet and hurrying over, well aware you currently looked an absolute state.

thankfully it was only the post man and with a smile you collected the few packages addressed to your girlfriend, closing the front door and leaving them on the corner of the bed for her to deal with once she got home.

you knew alessia had been stressed lately, she was so close to finally finishing her studies but juggling that, the podcast, brand deals, appearances and football, she did well to hide it but you knew her well enough to see how thin she was wearing.

the blonde was already gone before you'd woke up, having a photo shoot and interview before training and you knew she had a rather large assignment looming over her which she'd spend hours doing once she got home.

so you'd elected to work from home today which consisted of two meetings you'd moved to the morning and an hour of admin, and freed up your entire afternoon to try and make the house as lovely and tidy as possible.

your girlfriend proudly half italian had taught you how to make pasta many times only you'd never attempted it by yourself, but you'd ducked out to the grocery store to make some for the pair of you for dinner, determined for her not to lift a single finger tonight.

only your grand plan of this large self care evening in which you'd oh so keenly do whatever your girlfriend needed to unwind was being apprehended by one thing, the fact that someone, somewhere, with some unknown grudge against you seemed to have cursed you the most rotten luck in which nothing was going to plan at all.

the tipped over plant wasn't even the start of it, accidentally near blinding yourself with a bottle of toilet bleach as you'd wrestled to get the cap off and slipped on your freshly mopped floor, almost tipping it all over your face as you'd just capped it.

then there was your coffee, a slight lapse in your concentration meaning you'd burnt your milk and then had no more left to remake it, struggling through a very unwelcome long black instead.

thankfully the next hour passed incident free, a satsified click of your tongue as you arranged the lilies you'd gotten for your favourite blonde in the crystal vase which was a present from her mum on your first christmas with the russo's.

but now perhaps the biggest mission of all, dinner.

a brief glance at your phone and you smiled seeing a few messages from your girlfriend, fingers flying as you shot back a reply and tucked your phone into your pocket.

for some extra support you'd found a video online to run you through making the dough, which you knew would be the hardest part of it all as you'd watched even your semi pro pasta making girlfriend mess it up before.

your first attempt, was an absolute dud and the only thing it would be feeding was the garbage bin.

you were beginning to get the hang of kneading while also being acutely aware that any minute now alessia would be home, and you wanted as much of this done as possible because you knew your girlfriend well enough that her first instinct would be to takeover.

sure enough not even a moment later you heard the keys in the door, almost done with putting the dough through the pasta roller and withholding a laugh as you heard a thump and a curse ring out.

"welcome home clumsy!" you called out, the blonde appearing with a playful glare and blowing you a kiss, holding up her gym bag which you knew no doubt was full of dirty laundry she'd want to put on soon as possible.

it all seemed to be going well, dough rolled and ready to be shaped, but alas, your rotten luck struck again.

you rounded the counter to grab something, but having just washed your hands and not drying them they'd clearly dripped onto the floor and before you could even blink you'd slipped and your back hit the floor.

but no, of course that wasn't it, your hand collecting the half full bag of flour and sending it toppling down on top of you, a squeal leaving your lips and footsteps thundering toward you as your girlfriend skidded into the kitchen, concern clearly plastered all over her face.

"what happened?" alessia breathed out, eyes wide at the sight before her and you buried beneath a small mountain of flour, hand smacking over her mouth as you exhaled sending a puff of white up into the air.

"i could really use a hug right now." you mumbled, grateful somewhat for the flour smeared across your cheeks covering how red they'd flushed with embarassment.

"oh baby." alessia bit her lip clearly trying to conceal a grin, gingerly treading her way across the kitchen toward you. "c'mere." the striker stood over you and offered her hands, taking yours within them and very carefully pulling you up to your feet.

you exhaled tiredly into her chest as without a second thought the taller girl wrapped you in a hug, holding tightly as her hand rubbed up and down your back soothingly.

"i was just about to say everything is so clean." the blondes body vibrated with laughter against yours as you let out a pitiful whine. "i was trying to give you a lovely clean home and hot dinner to come home to." you sighed, words a little muffled against her jumper which was now covered in flour. "hey." you looked up as hands cupped your cheeks.

"i'm coming home to you, and that's always more than enough." your girlfriend spoke firmly, bright blue eyes locked with your own as you could only nod. "i love you." you leaned up to kiss her, frowning when the blonde craned her chin away.

"hey! kiss me." you scowled, a grin curling into her lips which again dodged yours. "you are covered in flour." alessia laughed as you rolled your eyes. "so you don't love me, noted." you sighed dramatically, pulling away from her.

"oh no no no, don't you be like that." your girlfriend was quick to capture you back in her arms, spinning you around so your back was pressed against the counter.

"kiss me then." you challenged with a sly smile, the footballer sighing dramatically as if you'd just asked her to build you a house, a scoff leaving your lips before they were promptly pressed against her own.

"i love you too pretty girl."

[lightseoul]

Hello! For your event can i get #11 ?

hello, sure! this took quite a while for me to get around to doing, but i hope the wait was worth it <3 thank you for playing!

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

warnings. minors dni, please!

11. "IS THAT MY SHIRT?" (1.4k)

under other circumstances, today would’ve been filed under the non-descript mornings with which you start your unremarkable days.

the sun is barely peeking through the curtains, the temperature is not too cold but not too hot, and you’re buried in freshly washed bedding that smells divine.

and so it’s not really your fault for thinking for a modicum of a second that today was just like any other day.

if it weren’t for the muscled arm slung across your bare waist.

you’re yanked from your half-asleep stupor the second you see it, and you jolt in shock before you can stop yourself. the man beside you, thankfully, doesn’t stir awake.

with wide eyes, you chance a glance at the decidedly naked person next to you (if your sense of touch wasn’t betraying you), and the sight that greets you nearly makes you faint.

because what the fuck are you doing in bed—naked—with the bakugou katsuki?

suddenly the areas where your skin meets his are becoming way too hot, and you’re hit with the visceral urge to get away from the man.

and so as discreetly and quietly as you can, you lift the arm that’s wrapped around your midriff, but freeze when his grip tightens and he shifts every so minutely. sneaking a peek again, now at his face, you study the man with caution as his eyebrows furrow for a beat before they relax along with the rest of his features.

you don’t allow yourself to revel in how peaceful he looks, or dwell on the fact that you may have just fucked this man last night, choosing to try again and wrestle yourself out of his hold. to your relief, he doesn’t resist, even in slumber, and you’re able to slide out of the bed with minimal noise and motion, thanks to his firm, exquisite mattress.

you wonder how firm it proved to be last night…

you mentally slap yourself.

now is not the time to be horny.

it instantly dawns on you how naked you are, standing in this man’s bedroom fully bare, and so you scan the room for any sign of your undergarments and clothing. it doesn’t take you a while to spot your panties, and then your bra a few seconds later—both of which are notably plain and not at all sexy. you try to fight the cringe as you shimmy into them—obviously, you didn’t anticipate getting any action yesterday—eyes darting across the area in search of your shirt. they finally land on the black article that’s unceremoniously sprawled across near the foot of the bed, and you waste no time putting it on.

and as you find your trousers and squeeze yourself into them, you let your brain wander to what got you here in the first place.

you remember being strung along by your girlfriends into that exclusive bar that’s said to be frequented by many pro-heroes. you don’t know how your designated planner friend managed to get you guys entry, but you didn’t question it, choosing to just enjoy the atmosphere and drink good booze with good company.

in fact, you may have drunk too much good booze because your memory drifts in and out a few hours into settling into a booth in the bar. you recall one friend pointing to a group of three men who looked suspiciously like pro-heroes cellophane, red riot, and dynamight, as well as you laughing at how it couldn’t be.

you wince at the memory of said friend, who knows about the big, fat, embarrassing crush you have on the ash-blonde hero, dragging you to where they sat and introducing yourselves to the men.

at that point, you were tipsy and bordering on drunk, and dead convinced that they were just wannabes who wanted to look like their hero idols. but the guy with the crimson eyes that were notably boring into you looked too much like bakugou that you threw all caution to the wind and just went along with it, too curious about the person in front of you.

but now, as you stand smack dab in the middle of this pristine bedroom that can only belong to a very highly-paid, famously all-might-loving hero, you’re flooded by a wave of dizzying nausea.

dizzying nausea that doubles up when your eyes catch the ridiculously sculpted arms of the man who’s still lying on his stomach, seemingly fast asleep.

you can relive and fact-check your fantasies later, when you’re alone and in the safety of your much more modest apartment unit, but not now.

and so with a slightly heavy heart, you turn around and silently twist the knob, ready to tiptoe the hell out of his room with your purse in tow.

but all hopes of making a quiet exit get thrown out of his bougie-ass windows when the door fucking creaks so loud, that you don’t have to look behind you to know that the man just shot awake.

you stand there, frozen with your back turned against him, for what feels like forever, before ultimately deciding that you can’t just walk out the door now like nothing happened lest you come off as a fucking lunatic.

and so with a deep inhale, you steel yourself for the incoming shitshow, and turn.

you try not to stare at his crazy, stupid, built torso or his beautiful face that’s looking all too stunned as you awkwardly gesture to the door.

“you ought to lubricate this door of yours,” you quip, capping it with a laugh, although it comes out stilted.

and when he doesn’t say anything, “…sorry i woke you up.”

that must’ve been enough to sober him up, because he finally speaks up. “shit—no, i—”

he cuts himself off as he scrambles to get up, and you turn around just in time to not see his dick dangle as he searched for his boxers. you hear rustling and things being turned upside down as you wait for him to get dressed.

“just a sec,” he calls out, before: “have you seen my—is that my shirt?”

before you can think better against it, you whip around to look at where he’s gesturing, only to be met with him, now in his boxer shorts, staring straight at you.

“wha—?”

you look down to where his gaze is fixed, and sure enough, the shirt you’re wearing is decisively not yours.

“fuck—” you start, flaming in embarrassment, “i’m sorry, i thought it was mine. i—let me just—” you trail off just as your eyes land on another black shirt near your feet, and you’re about to scoop it up and turn and hurriedly strip off his shirt when he speaks up.

“no, it’s okay.” you freeze, bent over and hand just barely having grasped the shirt off the floor. and when he doesn’t say anything, you slowly straighten up, fighting to maintain eye contact.

he’s scowling now.

“you don’t have to scurry like a fucking rat, dumbass,” he spits, although there’s not much bite to it. he’s looking a tad bit embarrassed, too. hesitating for a second, he diverts his gaze, before: “can’t i at least cook you breakfast?”

you pick up your jaw that just dropped to the floor as fast as you can. “you—you mean you don’t want me to leave just yet?”

at that, he scoffs. “what do you take me for, a fuckboy?”

he says it so incredulously you almost snort. instead, you cock your head a bit to the right, not entirely able to deny your impressions of him.

“seriously?” he splutters for a beat, before sighing in resignation. shaking his head, he finally shifts to meet your eyes and regard you, the switch in the air to that of palpable seriousness so potent.

“i don’t normally do this,” he states, gaze remaining fixed on yours, as if he’s trying to communicate the rest with just his eyes.

you don’t have to ask him what ‘this’ means.

and so you reply just as honestly. “me, neither.”

neither of you says anything for a brief moment, the revelations from both of you taking up the small space between.

“so,” bakugou breaks the silence eventually, “breakfast?”

[mariacallous]

Not long after the November election, new members of Congress gather for a couple of weeks of orientation. Consistent with that tradition, Sarah McBride, a Delaware Democrat, made the short trip from Wilmington to D.C. to meet with her fellow first-termers. At a hotel in the capital, she learned about the lottery for office space, how to assemble a staff, and the intricacies of the legislative process. As the first transgender member of Congress in history, she also experienced an orientation in naked aggression. Within days of her arrival, Nancy Mace, a Republican from South Carolina, introduced a resolution that would restrict access to all “single-sex facilities��� on Capitol Hill to those of the “corresponding biological sex.” In other words, Mace sought a bathroom bill—and made clear that she “absolutely” intended it as a reaction to McBride.

“I’m not going to stand for a man, you know, someone with a penis, in the women’s locker room,” Mace, who had claimed to be “pro-transgender rights” as recently as last year, said of her new proposal. She also added an odd, pseudo-feminist twist: “It’s offensive that a man in a skirt thinks that he’s my equal.” Mace found support among Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson and Marjorie Taylor Greene, who, according to Politico, told colleagues that she would fight McBride were the two of them ever to meet in a women’s bathroom on the Hill.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was among those who leapt to McBride’s defense, calling the bill “disgusting.” McBride, for her part, refused to take the bait, saying that she would “follow the rules as outlined by Speaker Johnson, even if I disagree with them.”

McBride was born in Wilmington; her father was a lawyer and her mother a high-school guidance counselor. At American University, she was active in Democratic politics and worked on Beau Biden’s campaign for Delaware attorney general. In her senior year, she served as student-body president, and ended her term by publishing a moving coming-out article for the Eagle, the A.U. paper, called “The Real Me.”

McBride had been hesitant to acknowledge her trans identity, she explained, because that might prevent her from pursuing a career in politics. “I wrestled with the idea that my dream and my identity seemed mutually exclusive; I had to pick,” she wrote. In the end, she realized that she would have to embrace both: “My life was passing me by, and I was done wasting it as someone I wasn’t.”

In 2020, McBride was elected to the Delaware State Senate. And this November she was elected to the United States House. At the start of our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, she seemed determined to keep her cool, despite the insult she had just suffered. “I think in many ways I got a fuller orientation this week, where I actually got to see not just the nuts and bolts of Congress,” she said drily, “but also some of the performance of Congress, too.”

Well, let’s talk about that. Nancy Mace, one of your colleagues now, immediately came forward and decided that this would be a good time, a perfect time, to introduce a bathroom bill, all directed at you. How did you take this piece of what can only be called aggression?

I always knew that there would be some members of the Republican caucus who would seek to use my service representing the greatest state in the Union in Congress as an opportunity for them to distract from the fact that they have absolutely no real policy solutions for the issues that actually plague this country. And, in some cases, to grab headlines themselves. I was not surprised that there was an effort to politicize an issue that no one truly cares about—what bathroom I use. I did think that it might wait until January. It happened a little earlier than I anticipated. I was still getting lost in the tunnels of the Capitol when we got the news that this was coming.

What was your first reaction to it?

“Here we go.” Throughout the campaign, I really focussed my campaign on my record in the Delaware General Assembly: of passing paid leave, expanding access to health care, and the kitchen-table issues that I know keep voters across Delaware up at night that I will be working on in Congress, like lowering the cost of housing, health care, and child care. But, as I got questions about the added responsibilities that sometimes come with being a first, the first thing I would always say is that I know that the only way I can do right by any community I’m a part of is to quite simply be the best member of Congress for Delaware that I can be, to be an effective member working on all of the issues that matter.

When I was watching this play out on television, reading about it, in the past week or two, I looked up how the first Black member of Congress was received, Hiram Revels. This is in the nineteenth century. He was treated with a great deal more respect than you were. I understand your desire to be poised about this, and straightforward, and to move the issues to the issues you ran on. But I wonder what your emotional reaction was to what you could only have taken as an enormous gesture of deep disrespect.

Look, I’m human, and it never feels good to be used as an opportunity to get headlines. It never feels good to have people talk about deeply personal things. I think I knew what I was signing up for, though; I know what the Republican Party in this country, in Congress, has become.

Which is what?

A party that is more interested in performance art and being professional provocateurs than being serious legislators and a serious governing party. I think they have come to the conclusion that they are able to get enough votes if they occasionally throw red meat to folks, because that red meat might satiate what is an authentic crisis of hope that I think people across this country face right now.

I think we have to be crystal clear in calling them out on what they are doing, and pull the curtain back to really dull the effect that these manufactured culture wars have on the American voter. Some people do receive this red meat, and it resonates with them—it makes them feel better, but it doesn’t actually address the real pain in their lives. And I think we should be calling that out and obviously modelling an approach to governing that genuinely solves the real problems that people are facing that create a level of insecurity and fear that allows for culture wars to satiate at least something instantaneously.

But I truly believe that if we solve problems, if we are serious, people respond. I’ve seen that in Delaware as we have passed paid leave, raised the minimum wage. Voters here in Delaware are sort of bucking this national trend. We’ve expanded our majorities both in 2022 and 2024 in the Delaware General Assembly, I believe, as a byproduct of a record of results that voters are responding to, and a message focussed on kitchen-table issues and economic issues. And it’s allowed us to not only expand our majorities but to break through the culture wars that the Republican Party has pursued. Because we’re in Delaware, in the Philadelphia media market—we are getting those anti-trans Trump ads pumped into our state like we were in Pennsylvania. And yet, despite that, running on a message of paid leave, higher minimum wage, union protections, a trans candidate not only won here in Delaware but actually outperformed every major Democrat running for major office in Delaware statewide.

And yet the notorious ads that ended with “Kamala Harris is for they/them, President Trump is for you”—ads that were oriented around anti-trans sentiment—not only did they occur, they worked. Certainly, they worked in the interpretation of not only the Republicans but the press at large. They ran them over and over again and poured millions of dollars into them.

So, first off, I think there are two things. One, this country is still entering into a conversation about trans people. This country still is at a Trans 101 spot. And one of the things I think Democrats have to be more mindful of is that leaders should always be out in front of public opinion, but, in order to foster change in public opinion, we’ve got to be within arm’s distance of the public so that we can pull them along with us. If we get too out ahead of it, we lose our grip and we’re unable to pull the public with us.

Is that what’s responsible for your calm in talking about this? I remember very well that Barack Obama, when he was running for State Senate in Illinois, got a questionnaire, and one of the questions was “Are you for gay marriage?” He didn’t say yes. Now, everything I know about Barack Obama tells me that, at that time, a clear “no” was not his real sentiment, but that he didn’t want to get too far out ahead, for political reasons. He clearly changed later on. Is that part of your calculus in the way you talk about this? Because Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez answered Nancy Mace in much more vitriolic terms.

I think there is a space for diversity of messengers and a diversity of message. I would never presume what was in Barack Obama’s heart and mind on the issue of marriage equality. Many people authentically evolved. What we do know is that, as the movement for marriage equality moved forward, the most effective messengers for marriage were not same-sex couples, were not parents of same-sex couples or kids of same-sex couples. The most effective messengers for marriage equality were those who evolved. And they were effective because they gave a permission structure to people who had not yet gotten there that it was O.K. to be uncomfortable, it was O.K. to be on the other side of the issue. You weren’t a bad person; you weren’t wrong.

My motto has always been: I’ll extend grace so long as people demonstrate growth. But that is a two-way street. And I think that we are shooting ourselves in the foot, as people who believe in progress, when we create no incentive for people to grow, because they perceive that they will be permanently guilty for having been wrong. We create no space for them to grow by extending no grace for them to actually walk there. I think one of the reasons why we see people pushed into their respective corners is because you say something that’s deemed problematic, and you are immediately hounded by one side and immediately embraced by the other side. Human nature is to—when faced with that degree of extreme binary reactions—go to the people who are validating you instantaneously. We unintentionally actually push people further and further into their own corners and into their negative opinion by responding with a degree of condemnation and vitriol that creates no incentive and space for them to grow.

But I actually want to say something on those ads, because you did say the key sentence in that ad. It wasn’t the surgery point, it wasn’t the undocumented-immigrant point, it wasn’t the trans point, it was the concept in that line that Kamala Harris, according to the ad, was for a small group of people, and Donald Trump was there for “you.” The lesson of this moment, of this last week, is that we should be flipping that script. Because that’s the authentic thing—Kamala Harris was for everyone. And Democrats are for everyone. And every single time Republicans focus in on a small vulnerable group of people, not only are they trying to distract from the fact that they have no real solutions—not only are they trying to employ the politics of misdirection, to move your attention away from the fact that in that same moment they’re trying to pick the pocket of American workers, undermine union protections, and fleece seniors by privatizing Medicare through the back door—but every bit of time and energy that is diverted to attack trans people, that diverts the attention of the federal government away toward attacking trans people, is time and energy that is not being spent on you. It’s time and attention that’s not being spent on raising your wages or improving your benefits or lowering the cost of living. These attacks have costs. Republicans are focussed on attacking a small group of people, and we are here to actually address the issues that you care about.

You’ve now had a week with your new colleagues, and I wonder what kind of support, or the opposite, you felt in your orientation sessions after Nancy Mace made the statement she did.

I have been overwhelmed and heartened by the love and the support of my Democratic colleagues. It was stunning. I got to Washington, and I’m at orientation. I’m grateful that I had a week before all of this started, because I had a week to just marvel at the fact that I was there. I had a week to marvel at the fact that I am serving in a body that Abraham Lincoln served in. One of the first nights we were there, we gathered in Statuary Hall, which is the Old Hall of the House, which is where Abraham Lincoln served. And then, after we gathered there, we walked onto the floor of the United States House of Representatives, where they moved in 1857, just before the Civil War broke out. And we sat in the chairs and I thought, This is the space where the Thirteenth Amendment and the Fourteenth Amendment were passed. This is the space where women got the right to vote. This is the space, these are the chairs. This is the job of the people who voted to pass the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. And you feel this awesome responsibility, not just to deliver on the tangible policies for the constituents you serve in that moment, but you also feel that deep responsibility as you realize that you are one of a little more than five hundred people who have the responsibility to be stewards of a democracy—of the longest ongoing democracy in the world. That is an awe-inspiring responsibility.

I’m really grateful that I had that opportunity. But what was made that much more meaningful was that in that second week, as all of this noise happened—as I continued to be focussed on the actual work that I was there to do—the love and the support that came in from my Democratic colleagues really reinforced what I had already been hearing, which is that that caucus is a family.

And what about the Republican side? Did you get any support from there?

Yes. Look, there was a lot unsaid, but there was kindness and clear intentionality to say, “Welcome to Congress. It’s wonderful to serve with you.” That was quite a contrast to some of the other behavior we saw that week.

People actually coming up to you from the Republican side and embracing you in one way or another?

Yes. Staff and members.

The Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, released a statement that said all single-sex facilities are for people of that “biological” sex. You responded to this on X, formerly Twitter (it’s interesting that you’re still on Twitter!), by calling this a distraction and saying that you’ll follow the rules as outlined by Johnson. But what do you say to people in the trans community who think you didn’t go far enough?

I understand that, at a moment where you are scared, you want to see someone fight. I understand that when you are a first, there are a lot of people who never dreamed that something like this would be possible, who are living on that journey with you. And so they feel very deeply the experience of discrimination. They feel very viscerally the experience of disrespect. I think what I would say is, This was not done to bar me from restrooms. This was done to invite me to take the bait and to fight. I am maintaining my power by turning the other cheek and doing what I promised Delawareans I would do, which is to focus on the job in front of me. Yes, when that calls for me to defend my L.G.B.T.Q. constituents, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend workers in my state, I will do that; when it calls on me to defend retirees in my state, I will do that. But I should not be the issue.

You must have anticipated, if not this, then something like it. And of course you are a first, a historical first. Do you face a lot of threats?

I think one of the problems in our politics right now is the level of toxicity has resulted in far too many people seeking to solve political disputes not at the ballot box but through violence. I am certainly not alone in Congress in having to think through that. I think it’s very early. There have been moments throughout my life where I have had to be cognizant. I’ve never had a job where I have not received death threats. Literally, I have never had a job—even when I was in my first, junior-level position.

How do you handle them?

Well, fortunately, we’ve got great law enforcement here in Delaware that I have worked with over the course of this campaign and throughout my time in the State Senate. Look, one of the things that I grappled with when I decided to run for this position is the risk that comes with being a first at this level. Even though I didn’t run to be a first, there’s obviously risk that comes with it. And there was a moment where I almost didn’t do it. Because of the fear.

Tell me about that. Was it a specific incident or just a generalized fear?

There were some rumors about what some far-right-wing groups might try to do, should I run.

When did this come up?

This was before I announced. There was a lot of speculation about me running.

So what within you allowed you to make the leap and declare yourself a candidate for Congress?

A couple of things. First off, I think that we delude ourselves into thinking that people don’t take these types of steps without fear. People aren’t fearless. Bravery only comes into play when you face those fears, when you pursue something despite the fears. I really do believe that we are at an inflection point where we need a politics of grace in this country if we are going to have any chance at not only restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue, which is fundamentally necessary in a democracy, but actually making government work better. I genuinely felt like I had something to contribute in that respect. I think I know how to get things done. I know how to legislate.

But you’re going to have to embody grace—and there’s every sign that you already do—but with a President who says, publicly, something like this: “Your kid goes to school and a few days later comes home with an operation.” That’s the President of the United States, come January 20th. How do you combat that, and all that’s behind it, and embody grace?

I think a couple of things, and I think this extends beyond Donald Trump. So I’m going to step back a little bit. I think Democrats struggle with extending one of our basic principles—which is that no one is their worst act, no one is their worst belief—to people on the other side of the political divide. I’m not talking about Donald Trump right now. I’m talking about Republicans. The question here is not how do I demonstrate grace in the face of Donald Trump; it’s how do I demonstrate grace in a world where people that I work with—where even people that I represent—hold positions and beliefs about who I am that are personally hurtful, potentially.

I think all of us need to do a better job of seeing the humanity of people on the other side of the aisle. Because I think what happens in this country right now is: The left says to the right, “What do you know about pain, white straight man? My pain is real, as an L.G.B.T.Q. person.” And the right says to the left, “What do you know about pain, college-educated, cosmopolitan élite? My pain is real, in a post-industrial community ravaged by the opioid crisis.” And I know that, when I am upset, the worst thing that someone can say to me, even if it is said with the best of intentions, is “It’s not as bad as you think.” Any therapist will tell you that the first step to healing is to have your pain seen and validated. And I think all of us have to do a better job of recognizing that people don’t have to be right in our mind for what they’re facing to be wrong. And people don’t have to be right in our minds for us to try to right that wrong. That comes down to sort of a core recognition that every single person is more than just one thing about them. And every single person is more than even beliefs that might personally hurt many other people. And the other thing I’ll say on that is to a similar point: early on in my career, I went viral for something.

Do you remember what it was?

Ironically enough, I was an advocate. It was a selfie in a bathroom in North Carolina that I was technically barred from being in.

I see.

The vitriol that came back to me as a twentysomething-year-old was so dehumanizing and so cruel and so mean. It was the closest in my life that I have ever been to suicide becoming a rational thought. I wasn’t suicidal, but it was the first moment where I just went, I want to end this miserable experience.

What was coming at you?

I mean just the level of online bullying and harassment. It was amazing to me that people—person after person—telling me to kill myself could actually hurt me. But it was an onslaught. And, again, I was twenty-five. I was new to all this, and I thought, Maybe I don’t have skin thick enough for this. I sort of went on a journey to understand the psychology of trolling and bullying. I think it was a “This American Life” podcast by a writer who talks a lot about her own weight and grapples with her own body image in a really public and vulnerable way, talking about the experience that she had writing about that hurt and getting outreach from one of her worst bullies and trolls online—someone who had created a Twitter account as her deceased father to troll her from—who opened up to her about what was motivating him. And, listening to that conversation, it really helped me internalize a truth that has allowed me to find balance and grace in the face of hatred or cruelty. And that was: Everyone deals with an insecurity. Everyone deals with something that society has told them that they should be ashamed of or that they should hide. And the thing about me is that I have taken that insecurity, that thing that society has said you should be ashamed of and you should keep quiet—and I’ve not only accepted it but I walk forward from a place of pride in it. Bullies see that. They see that individual agency and conquering my own fears and insecurities, and they’re jealous of that. That has allowed me to find compassion for folks who respond to me in sometimes the way that they do, to recognize that I hope, too, they can find the power to overcome whatever pain is plaguing them.

And so much so that when Nancy Mace made the comments that she did, and put forward the bill that she did—are you able to see it in those terms and not receive the attacks with the same despair that you did when you were in your twenties?

Yes. Yes.

That’s an enormous transformation.

I won’t say that it doesn’t hurt, but, yes, I am not distracted in the same way that I was.

“Distracted” is a small word for it. I mean, what you felt in your twenties must’ve been a lot worse than “distracted,” no?

Yeah. I am able to contextualize it and not feel the pain as much. Again, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, but I am able to work through it.

How? That’s a very hard thing. Is it therapy? Is it maturation? Is it living in your skin ten years longer? What is it?

I think the last two: I think it’s maturation, and I think it’s just finding a confidence in myself that allows me not to internalize. I really do seek to find compassion for the people who are acting out, who say the things that they do, because that does help me. That does help me to try to see and understand where a person is coming from, even if the action itself explicitly or implicitly is not well-intentioned, even if it’s being done for cynical purposes—to try to understand that there’s still a person behind that and maybe there’s something in their life that has pushed them to engage in the way that they’re engaging.

In a certain number of weeks, you’re not only going to have to hear about Nancy Mace, you’re going to have to work with her. And you talk a lot about “working across the aisle,” which is a phrase that we hear from politicians all the time. This takes on new levels of meaning—“working across the aisle with Nancy Mace.” Can you do it?

Well, I look forward to working with colleagues on the Republican side of the aisle who are serious about the work that they’re doing. Who have disagreements with me, perhaps profound disagreements with me, but who are serious about getting things done.

For the first time in our conversation, I sense you’re reluctant to answer the question directly. With all respect.

I will work with anyone who’s willing to work with me. And I don’t know this individual member of Congress—I had barely heard of her before this. I will never say that anyone is beyond redemption.

I want to zoom out a bit now and talk about your own unique path to politics and congress. Your late husband, Andrew Cray, was an L.G.B.T.Q.+ health advocate and attorney. What kind of work did he focus on, and what of his legacy can be seen in your own political career and direction?

Andy was the kindest, smartest, and—this is very important for me in a partner—the goofiest person that I had ever met. Just a really good and decent person.

How did you meet?

We bumped into each other at a White House Pride reception during the fourth year of the Obama Administration, 2012. After that, he reached back out to me on social media, on Facebook, and he said that he thought we’d get along “swimmingly.” I thought, Who the hell in their twenties says the word “swimmingly”? But clearly someone I want to spend some time with. So we went out on a date, and I fell in love pretty quickly.

Was he already sick?

No. He was an attorney, as you mentioned, working on health policy, and he was actually working on the implementation of the Affordable Care Act. He was a brilliant mind, but also—and I think this goes back to our conversation about grace—he was so principled. I remember we had a debate once where he won me over—where we had a debate about whether it was appropriate to out anti-L.G.B.T.Q. politicians who were in the closet themselves. I was of the mind that their hypocrisy called on us to out them. And he was of the mind that the principle that we are fighting for—that everyone should be able to live their life fully and freely, be able to live their sexual orientation and gender identity, the way they see fit and the way they need to—if that is not an unbreakable first principle, then what is? And principles only matter when you have seemingly altruistic reasons to violate them. He was someone of just immense grace, principled grace.

He got sick about a year into our relationship. He developed a sore on his tongue and went in thinking it was just a benign growth. He had a little minor surgery to remove the benign growth, which was aborted in the middle of the procedure as they realized perhaps that it was something more. About a week later, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. It was a shock to both of us. I mean, we were both young invincibles, something that he had written about as he worked on the A.C.A., right? We never would’ve imagined that cancer would enter our lives in our mid-twenties, but we knew from the very start how lucky we were. He knew in particular, given his work, how lucky he was to have health insurance. And we were both very lucky to have flexibility with our jobs that allowed Andy to get care: a twelve-hour surgery that left him having to relearn how to talk, how to eat, how to breathe. I was lucky to be there by his side to care for him, to suction his tracheostomy tube, to tend to his wounds, to hold his hand through the absolute fear.

And then eventually, when his cancer turned out to be terminal, to be there by his side, to marry him, and to walk him to his passing, which happened a couple of days after we were fortunate enough to get married in our building. My brother, who’s a radiation oncologist, said to me, “I’ve seen a lot of people pass away from cancer. And one thing you should try to take stock of over the weeks ahead, as Andy’s health deteriorates, is that you are going to bear witness to acts of amazing grace that will fill your life.” And truly that grace and those miracles were everywhere. I think it has fundamentally shifted my perspective on the world and my ability to see that grace, to see beauty and tragedy, and to recognize that hope, as an emotion, only makes sense in the face of hardship.

In other words, you’re thinking about him all the time through this?

Yes. Yes.

And what does that do for you?

It makes me feel less alone in navigating this. It makes me feel more confident in what I’m doing and how I’m trying to go about this. There’s certainly things that I wish I could talk to him about and get his perspective on, but I try to take the lessons from our couple of years together and try to draw those lessons into action in this moment.

We began our conversation with you talking about how moved you were to be in the halls of Congress for the first time as a soon-to-be member, and seeing and sensing all that had happened in progressive terms, in liberatory terms, over time and in previous centuries. My guess is that this is not going to characterize the next two years for you in Congress. The Democratic Party, in large measure, will be fighting a rear-guard action against all kinds of initiatives by a Trump Presidency in a Republican Congress. How do you anticipate the coming next two years? What kind of role will the Democrats and you play? What will be your day-to-day life, do you think?

Well, there’s no question that we’ve got our work cut out for us. There’s no question that we’re going to have to push back on a lot of damaging and dangerous policies.

But, look, I think the biggest challenge for us is not that we understand that there’s a fight. And we will do the work. The challenge is going to be to summon the hope necessary to see that fight through. I think that one of the challenges that we have in this country right now, particularly for Democrats, is that, really since the nineteen-sixties, it has felt like if we simply work for it, if we vote for it, if we volunteer, if we share our stories, if we lift our voices, that we can then inevitably bend the arc of the moral universe toward justice. And we felt that, I think particularly, in 2008 and when we elected Barack Obama, and then A.C.A. passed, and marriage equality became a law of the land. It just felt like there was this sort of unfolding sense of great progress.

It feels different right now. It doesn’t feel like, if we simply work for it and fight for it, that change will come, that things will work out. We can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. But the other thing that I thought about, as I sat in that chair on the floor of the House, was about not only the elected officials that served there but all of the advocates and activists and citizens who lived through those different chapters in our country’s history. We have to recognize that that sense of inevitability with hard work that we felt twenty years ago, thirty years ago—that’s the exception in our country’s history. Every single previous generation of Americans has been called to conquer odds much greater than the ones that we’re facing right now. And they had every reason to believe that change would not come. They could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Enslaved people in the eighteen-fifties had no reason to believe that an Emancipation Proclamation was on the horizon. Unemployed workers during the early days of the Great Depression had never heard of a New Deal. Patrons at the Stonewall Inn never knew of a country where they could live openly and authentically as themselves. And yet they persevered. They summoned their hope, they found that light, and ultimately they changed the world.

The narrative you describe is very, how do I put it—Obamian? It reminds me of Obama’s speech in Selma, the last one he gave there as President, about a kind of parade of American heroic advance. And when I talk to a lot of younger people in my office, in my life, in my family, they don’t all share the sense of determined hope that you do. There’s a good deal of depression—if not giving up, then a kind of sense that these are going to be very dark times to come. And with all the emergencies surrounding us, at home and abroad, and environmentally, it’s very hard to muster hope. As a politician, as a member of Congress, what do you tell them?

You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the reasons for hopelessness of an enslaved person. You cannot tell me that the reasons for hopelessness now are greater than the insecurity and the fear of workers in the midst of the Great Depression, and a country that very easily could have fallen into totalitarianism and fascism, as many liberal democracies around the world were falling into that, in the early thirties.

Hope is not always an organic emotion. Sometimes we have to consciously find it and consciously summon it. And, yes, there are big challenges right now. Maybe those challenges are insurmountable. Maybe we will be, because of social media, incapable of restoring our capacity to have a national dialogue. Maybe because of the culture that we live in right now, we will no longer be able to have conversations across disagreement. Maybe because of unchecked wealth and corporate power, we won’t be able to conquer climate change. The list goes on. Maybe. But we would be the first generation of Americans to give up on this country, and we would be the first generation of Americans who were unable to find the path forward. And I just don’t believe that we are. And I certainly believe that we don’t have to be.

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

this is for @nessieartss!! based on this (it was me that asked, surprise) and also the first part of this art

i hope you enjoy!! older brother sukuna lives rent free in my brain right now and i love him being a bastardman

---

“Ay, what the fuck was that?!” Sukuna shouts as Yuuji cackles in glee. His character races into first place, winning the Grand Prix. Sukuna' goes from first place to fourth. “You threw a red shell right after a blue shell! That's fucking cheating!”

Yuuji shrugs, lounging back against the couch and drops the controller next to him. “Don't hate the player, hate the game,” he says with a grin and pulls out his phone. “Those dishes aren't gonna wash themselves.”

Sukuna grunts as he tosses the controller onto the coffee table. “I hate both the player and the game.”

“And the game hates you!” the younger boy calls out after his brother's retreating figure.

Turning his attention back to his phone, Yuuji’s grin melts into a soft smile when he sees Yuko's name on a Snapchat notification. He glances over his shoulder to make sure that Sukuna is still in the kitchen before tapping on the notification. It won't be anything inappropriate, but he knows for a fact that if Sukuna saw that his younger brother was texting a girl, Yuuji wouldn't hear the end of it. 

The Snapchat shows a picture of a latte with the classic tulip foam art and a caption that reads: ‘I think I'm finally getting the hang of this latte foam art!’

Yuuji holds his phone out to take a picture of himself, giving Yuko a big smile and a thumbs up. 

‘That's so good!! Ur a professional now. If I ordered one, would u make me a cat???’

“Yo! Can I put this cast iron pan in the dishwasher?” Sukuna asks from the kitchen. He waits for a response and gets nothing. “I’m about to put this pan in the dishwasher!” Again, no response. Rolling his eyes, Sukuna makes his way back out to the living room. “Dude, if this pan gets ruined, it’s gonna be your fault—”

Sukuna cuts himself off when he catches sight of a picture of a girl on his little brother’s screen. Immediately, he reaches over the couch and snatches the phone out of Yuuji’s hand. “Oh! Who is this?” he gasps, bringing the screen closer to his face for a better look. “Do you have a girlfriend little bro?”

“Hey!” Yuuji scrambles, turning around to lean over the back of the couch in an attempt to grab his phone back. Sukuna places his hand on Yuuji’s forehead, keeping him at arm’s length as he looks over the picture. “Give me back my phone!”

Smacking Sukuna’s arm away, Yuuji vaults over the back of the couch and decides to try and wrestle his phone back from his brother. It doesn’t work, however. The two grapple for a few moments and the next thing Yuuji knows, Sukuna has his arm wrapped around his brother’s neck, holding him in a firm headlock. It isn’t enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to keep him from trying to escape, knowing that it’s futile. 

“Who is she, huh?” Sukuna presses as he slides Yuuji’s phone into his pocket and begins rubbing his knuckles on the top of Yuuji’s head. 

“I’m not gonna tell you!” Yuuji laughs, trying in vain to smack Sukuna’s hand away from his head. 

“Well, I’m not letting you go until I get some answers,” the older boy states, rapping his knuckles against Yuuji’s forehead. Then he pinches Yuuji’s nose. 

Weighing his pros and cons, Yuuji relents. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you! Just let me go.”

Sukuna snorts. “Nah, if I let you go right now, you’ll just try to punch me and I won’t get what I asked for.”

Yuuji groans. His brother knows him too well. “Her name is Yuko. She’s just a friend. I haven’t asked her out��� yet,” he grumbles the last word.

Satisfied, Sukuna releases his hold on his brother and hands Yuuji's phone back. 

In the midst of the struggle, Sukuna hadn’t noticed his own phone had fallen out of his pocket. It dings and Yuuji is the first to snatch it off the ground, curious to see who would be texting Sukuna. His jaw drops at the name displayed on the lock screen.

Sukuna quickly plucks his phone from Yuuji’s hand and goes back to the kitchen as Yuuji shouts after him, “Dude, why is Megumi texting you? And why is there a heart next to his name?!”

[lilliancdoodles]

FitMC quote book (feel free to add on) Inspired by @hepbaestus

"Your ass is grass and Ramon is the weed wacker"

"im not white im olive"

"I know the Geneva Convention is more like a Geneva Suggestion but.."

"im just a silly little bald boy"

"IT MEANS PUSSY?????????"

"if you disable mines you are disrespecting the entire Hispanic community"

“ARE YOU TRYING TO GIRLBOSS GASLIGHT ME?”

"when im cold I don't joke about murdering children, but thats just me"

"Fit it's time to sin with me" -Phil "you're acting like it's the first time" -Fit

"so much sussy Baka activity"

"I broke Jesus's face.."

"Think of me like an American Philza but im bald and a little more fucked up"

"we got spawn camped by tony the fucking tiger"

"I love balls so much"

"im pretty sure if I tried to do puppy eyes I would look like a crack addict"

"Bad, take your shirt off"

"What did kelp stand for again? 'Kill Every Living Person'?"

"I see TNT explosions that are sexy"

"Sneeg, shut up, im doing gay roleplay right now"

"Ill stop shaking my ass ramon, don't drown yourself please"

"I need my gay support slug"

"No one loves lesbians more than fitmc does"

"My sexuality is wario"

"I want to thank my 𝐵𝓇𝒶𝓏𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝐵𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹"

“The IRS was like ‘We saw you had a new source of income in 2023, care to explain that?’ And I’m like ‘Yeah, gay minecraft roleplay!’”

"Maidenless runt? I HAVE A BRAZILIAN BOYFRIEND BITCH"

"this cave is full of children and I'm god's hungriest Pitbull"

"do emo kids still exist?"

"Pro-wrestling is Hillbilly Shakespeare"

"i'll be a monkey's bare assed uncle"

"Just think about this Phil, in a few days im gonna get my hands on you"

"Hotdogs are gender-fluid in a way"

"guuuuuuurl same"

"I am crazy, and sexually ambiguous enough to do it."

"You know, just... just raw-dogging life with a smooth brain. It's not easy sometimes but someone's gotta do it."

[msbigredmachine]

You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 2

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Smut, stalking, bullying

MASTERLIST

The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago. 

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close when they hugged, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt. 

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day. 

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years. 

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not from seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more. 

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped. 

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?” 

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin. 

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to find an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Now go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room. 

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe asserted, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching. 

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face, the impact rocking him a few steps back.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?” 

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out. He deserved every blow; his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

It was bad enough that she was crying in front of him. Now her whole body was warm and her loins were pooling from the desire that blazed in his irises. Why was this happening? Why did he still have such an effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. It made her heart skip and drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. Backing her up against the wall, he licked at the seam of her lips, her sigh giving him the opening to slip his tongue inside her mouth. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

Joe's expression softened as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. "Because I can’t help myself around you,” he confessed, his breathing as ragged as hers. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you." 

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he added, a low groan accompanying his kiss on her cheek. “Tell me. Say it to me.” 

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her against the wall as he released her mouth to kiss her neck, suckling her soft brown skin. Evelyn closed her eyes and tilted her head with a soft bite of her lip, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss and what was coming next.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them, and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before slinging it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease. 

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her. 

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled. 

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt over his head, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber. 

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her. 

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that spot no one else seemed able to locate. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him with each thrust. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"I never hated you. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from the fullness of him. 

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The husky growls that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music. 

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams, it never looked this good. 

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling himself in the tight warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach. 

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, pounding her out with fierce, needy ruts of his hips. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a satisfied groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, hold on…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "Baby, hear me out." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I wanna make things right. Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, his soft lips moving sensually against hers. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.” 

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken and where it would lead her. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.” 

THE END.

------------------

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[agendabymooner]

MASTERLIST: A-N F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO MASTERLIST: O-Z F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO SOMETHING SINFUL (SMUT) MASTERLIST by agendabymooner (MINORS DNI)

note: I CANNOT OFFICIALLY FIT MY WORKS IN ONE POST 😭 so here is my alphabetical f1 masterlist!!!

legends/genre:

a = angst g = general fic hc = hurt/comfort h = humour

s = smut (minors, dni) mc = mature content (minors, dni) f = fluff

★ - newly added ♡ - favourite piece

ALSO CHECK OUT:

MOONY'S CHARACTER DIRECTORY

MOONY'S FILIPINO CHARACTERS DIRECTORY

alex albon (aa23)

front page lover (thai!kpop idol!ofc)

keeper, smau: polly berkshire has obscure interactions with her thirsty boyfriend and it's safe to say that they love each other.

fashion week, smau: the williams driver and polly always got something for everyone to talk about.

double aa, socmed snapshot: a series of instagram stories in which alex is a dad to alice albon

own it, smau: alex's hidden talent is being a good boyfriend with a dash of photographer. ★

fernando alonso (fa14)

the breakup and makeup series (pro wrestler!ofc)

time to rock and roll, fic: the first time beatrice staedtlander and fernando alonso had broken up. (hc) ♡

heaven, smau: back in 2000s, fernando alonso and beatrice anastasia 'trish' staedtlander were every racing and wrestling fans' couple. years after, trish alonso became a mother and a wife... and the grid's crush of the season. fernando was certainly not happy so what's a better way to remind everyone that he was hers? (f, g, h)

from the ground up, smau: tino and tiago alonso were the twins that trish had given birth to at the age of 40, and everyone understood now why she didn't make it to the 2024 canadian gp. (f)

look what god gave her, smau: beatrice 'trish' alonso survived fernando's messy image better than anybody did. (f, g, h)

bonnie and the fame

maneater, smau: bonnie catherine sutton was carlos sainz's ex-girlfriend who returned to the f1 scene as a different woman. turns out, she's fernando alonso's fiancée (f)

ego, smau: never underestimate a woman's self-esteem, it might end up wounding you more than it would her.

oliver bearman (ob8)

ice ice baby, smau: kimi raikkonen's daughter romania raikkonen debuted in formula one with her friends AND it's safe to say that the iceman doesn't like ollie that much.

icy in saudi, smau: aroma raikkonen was ollie's biggest supporter in his f1 debut. plus, she also had her personal 'reverse harem' consisting of her best friends in the f2 grid. ★

ollie on thin ice(man), scenario: kimi raikkonen had proven himself to be oliver bearman's biggest hater at some point. ★

jenson button (jb22)

pride and pettiness (x british!actress!ofc)

one, 2004: in which, ada and jenson met for the first time.

the mr. darcy type, smau: much like the popular love interest, jenson should have known better than to say things that wouldn't impress a woman he grew interested in. OR ada abbott made sure that he worked hard for her time and attention. (f) ♡

shunt the hell up! (x hunt!driver!ofc)

shunt your lovers, kiss your enemies. smau: it was funny how enemies can be your teammate AND your lover at the same time. OR jj hunt, the daughter of the late james hunt, was jenson's biggest rival until a certain baby predicament cost her her entire racing career. (g) ♡

better enemies than strangers, smau: the brawn gp docuseries discussed jj hunt and the surprising turn of events in her rivalry/partnership with jenson in 2009. ★

other works

affection, blurb: in which, jenson learned that he should just say it without being a little too drunk.

pierre gasly (pg10)

newsflash, smau: ensley soleil doesn’t like playboys. too bad, pierre gasly’s down bad for her (attention and love). (f, g, h)

odds, fic: their timing was always wrong, maybe that's why pierre should consider making it even for the two of them as she writes songs about him and their courtship.

lowkey, smau: fans thought that pierre moved on from ensley four months after publicly declaring his (love?) for her. funnily enough... (f, g, h)

indigo, chatfic + smau: there's really no reason for pierre gasly to be jealous over some man that ensley wrote 'high school in jakarta' about. not when she wrote one or more songs about the frenchman. (f) ♡

high school in jakarta, fic: meeting ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember. ♡ 

dancing with the devil, smau: ensley soleil doesn't care about what people are saying about her relationship with pierre especially now that she's married to him. (f)

vintage, smau: pierre gasly is a husband and a fanboy of ensley soleil gasly amongst other things. (f)

hot dad era, socmed snapshot: pierre gasly. 30% f1 driver 70% dilf.

other works

do i make you nervous, blurb: lesson learned: just date her first rather than being friendly in the bed.

lewis hamilton (lh44)

stevie and lewis (hearth sister!ofc)

thick and thin, smau + fic: lewis should know better than underestimating her and her capabilities to yearn for him for years. (hc)

hands on and paws on, socmed snapshot: lewis is a stay-at-home dad to lottie hamilton and his best boy, roscoe, happens to watch his mummys everywhere she goes as she carries baby hamilton #2.

the hamilton daycare, fic: lewis is already a stay-at-home dad so what makes his day out in monaco with his two kids any different? (f) (2/3 of daddy, debriefed!)

where the bad girls are (kpop idol!ofc)

lifted, smau: lewis is married to a kpop idol who happened to be one of the girls to shape the image of female groups in the korean pop community.

crowned couple (x miss universe!ofc)

the couple of the universe, smau: lewis is a careless being this season and everyone's wondering why.

melody series (x performer!ofc)

summary: with her sharp eyes focused on her audience, a burlesque performer who went under the name of melody returned to rythme romantique, an entertainment lounge which exclusively caters to the wealthiest people of monaco — or in this case, to the people with a status that are recognized by all. her three exclusive performances were meant to be a closure for her connections in the principality. still, a certain formula one driver saw it as an opportunity to reconnect with his former flame after two years of her absence. felicity vos learned that this was a rich man’s world and that he could do whatever he wanted, but she also realized that the agreement they settled on years ago was corrupted the moment he expressed his love for her. 

one, million dollar man: monaco was a world of glitz and glamour that she left two years ago. returning to the principality clearly was a huge mistake as she found herself talking to the man who swore to nothing but his love for her.

two, this is what makes us girls: "decorum isn't something you can buy with money or fame." or what did lewis really want from her and why did he show up on the second night of her performance?

arthur leclerc (al12)

the scheming schumachers, smau: sunny schumacher is mick's cousin and what does a family do? they attract arthur leclerc to get him away from his best friend, who happens to be mick's girlfriend. thankfully, the schumacher cousin is something of a welcome distraction for the monegasque.

charles leclerc (cl16)

the leclerc boys series (x hearth sister!ofc)

debunking drama, smau: prequel to of long lines and names; aimee hearth, the mclaren media manager and one of the famous hearth sisters, was rumoured to be dating lando norris. a certain monegasque's baffled reaction became a trending topic in twitter as he counteracts the rumour with an instagram post of his lover. (f, h)

many kids with many names, smau: everyone found out that aimee and charles were having not only one but two babies. turned out, those two babies have at least a million name. (h) ★

of long lines and names, fic: five kids with (almost) five names under six years. OR the three pregnancies that charles had witnessed told him how motherhood and memories could come in two sets of twins and a boy that looked so much like him. (f)

the leclerc daycare, fic: before his last set of twins were born, charles had to watch his boys on his own- not exactly by himself when he's got esteban and pierre acting as his right hand men. (f) (1/3 of daddy, debriefed!) ♡

about names, scenario fics

summary: extension to of long lines and names and the leclerc daycare; charles and aimee's boys and their names go hand in hand OR times when the couple had to tell their kids that their names were signs of love and respect for their namesakes.

one, an amazing boy with an amazing name: hervé's anger left his parents confused after he refused to be called by his first name. thankfully, his mamé pascale had an easy access to his heart that eventually led to an answer to his sadness.

two, the wingman of maranello: jules leclerc learned two things as he travelled to italy with his father: he had an uncle named uncle teague and uncle teague had a best friend that was once charles' godfather.

other pieces

"slut", smau: charles' ex trashed his new girlfriend a while ago, but too bad he wasn't really into the thought of making music with anyone but lou villar.

breaking curses not hearts, smau: frankie bardot atkinson was also known for her curse in the film industry. after breaking her long streaked curse and finally won an oscar, was it finally charles' time to break his curse at monza gp?

kevin magnussen (km20)

family ties, smau: lando norris forgot that his brother-in-law is in the grid with him and lola norris magnussen couldn't help but make of her brother for it.

lando norris (ln4)

lover era (x alessandro sister!writer!ofc)

london boy, smau: nicola 'cola' alessandro moved to britain and what's a better way to introduce yourself to england than taking a trip around with a certain mclaren driver? (f, g, h)

i think he knows, smau: grazia nichols published her debut novel based off formula one, and a fan could have sworn that the the book bf - nolan langford - was based off of lando's character as a driver altogether. (f, g, h)

✿ honey, honey! series masterlist - lando norris x ofc (honey-sue lewis) ft. sidemen

other pieces

too good to be true, smau: just a brief overview of lando’s relationship with a countryside girl who, beyond her introverted tendencies, was an unhinged, unserious yet amazing mother and girlfriend. ★

f1 drivers (general)

✿ 9 to 5 series masterlist - f1 grid x ofc (lester alessandro) ft. fictional wolff kids

✿ f1 voicemail blurbs - series of blurbs with voicemails left by the drivers. ★

too much caring, smau, sv5 + jb22: kpop idol juno was assumed to have cheated on retired driver jenson button with his best mate sebastian vettel. oh how wrong those people were...

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: The Realness in Wrestling - Marky Mark v Dan Donovan (bgeast.com)

Wrestling is real. Someone had to say it and now everyone knows it.  Are the moves real? Is the pain real? When you're a pro wrestling fan, people like to shout at you how fake it all is even though nobody asked.  So whatever those haters have to say, to them I say, it's all real to me.  

Marky Mark v Dan Donovan (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory

Two young studs enter the ring looking for some action and soon they are off.  These two head straight to it and take full advantage of this 16 minute match.  Yes, 16 minutes which is normal by pro standards but brief by gay pro wrestling.  

Poor Dan tries to compete with rowdy Marky

Dan the man with a ton to prove

Marky sporting that sexy undeserved confidence that is so damn intoxicating 

The guys are brimming with so much nervous energy that you can feel it. 

The Action

Take this match for what it is - two amateurs in the pro ring for the first time, and I swear you'll enjoy yourself.  Mark's over-the-top machismo grunting and Dan's submissive groaning will all make this worthwhile I promise.

Dan gives it his all and tries to ground the stud but it's only a matter of time before he's out muscled

Dan, exposed and flaying on the mat when here comes Marky with the big boot

Not sure what Dan's trying to prove here but I can't blame him for wanting to straddle sexy Marky

Nor do I know what Marky has planned with this sort of leg lock. But whatever this is, Dan sells like a good jobber.

And well, if you don't like any of that, at least get a kick out of all the times Marky looks directly into the camera with the cocky, 'Could care less' attitude.  Good looking people definitely get a free pass - I could care less about him breaking the forth wall when he gives me that male gaze.  

Marky shows off how much he dominates Dan

The guy could careless if you think this is a technical move okay?

I mean the guy is having a blast and it's infectious.

Oh Mark we forgive you for breaking the forth wall, there's not a whole lot we wouldn't forgive honestly. 

The Moment 

Now, as a kid I would get irritated when people would tell me that pro wrestling wasn't real. They'd point out they were all acting, throwing punches, making larger-than-life gestures, all of it faked for our entertainment, but to all that I'd say flat out that wrestling is real to me.  They'd laugh and walk away thinking I believed in the violence rather than believing in the performance.  You see, cocksure Mark and dominated Dan hurling their testosterone at each other sure brought out something real in me.  Now that's the truth, no matter what the hatters have to say.  

Dan smashing is fist and screeching to the heavens in frustration is real. 

The look of agony on that tight lean body is worth the price of admission. 

The arrogant, confident for no reason Mark totally made me feel real things.

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To... Forget? Ch. 2

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! Reader

Part 1 | Part 2!

(Notes: Jackson Wang is a side character LMAO [ i needed a non-pro hero buddy for reader.]

Slow burn for sure but there's some tension brewing ~~ (smut soon to follow)

Tags: jealous aizawa, mentions of masturbation, mentions of alcohol, hopeless pining by both reader and aizawa, drunken flirting, slowww burn, some established history between aizawa and reader, reader is in their early/mid 20s, aizawa POV at end(mainly SFW, but NSFW next chap most likely)

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

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

WARNING: jackson wang is a character LMAO

It’s impossible to focus. You’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your law textbook for 15 minutes now, trying your best to ignore the steady pounding in your skull. When you initially arrived, 20 minutes late, the two friends waiting at the reserved table gave you an immediate look of pity; hair unwashed, sunglasses on, and a matching sweatsuit from the university merchandise clearance rack. Your usual hangover uniform.

You peel your eyes off the textbook and reach for your water bottle, silently wondering how long you had to wait in between pain killer dosages. For your own sanity, your cellphone is on silent and tucked in the very bottom of your backpack, which is also placed under your chair.

God this is impossible.

Keigo was absolutely NO help this morning. After the initial panic of not being able to recall anything beyond being let in by the bouncer and then seeing the message from Aizawa, the both of you stopped breathing. At first, you both just stared at the message, ignoring the sluggishness of the acute alcohol poisoning, before Keigo snatched your phone and took off to the other side of the couch.

“Give it back asshole!”

“No way!” Keigo moves around the couch to mirror your efforts, one hand pointing at you with the other holding the phone “You would send something dumb back, I would actually help you get in his pants.”

You shuffle from one side to the other, making a few dives to reach your phone, but falling short.

“What if I just want to get to know him first? Huh?”

Keigo begins typing something and your efforts get more desperate, “You already kinda know him and he sucks, trust me - just get it out of your system and get over him.” “You don’t know that! You barely work any cases with him!”

Keigo ignores you and continues drafting something, with one last effort you climb over the arm of the couch and jump onto his arm. The phone is squished between you both as the two of you begin wrestling over the furniture.

“I’m helping-”

“No, you’re just gonna fuck it up!”

PING!

The two of you stop short, your first holding his hair and his arm in a half-headlock around your neck; your phone glows on the floor with the screen ‘message sent’. Silently, both you and Keigo step off the couch and crouch down.

To: Aizawa Shouta

FeliN-g a litL3e uder the weather Hoe about u?

Mybe wwe shold me5t up n recoverr?

Your leg is bouncing up and down in anxious energy and you resign to leaning back in your chair and looking around the library. That fucking idiot.

It’s the only thing you can think about, that stupid message and the fact you will NEVER be able to forget it until you die. After Keigo accidentally sent it, you both spent the next 20 minutes arguing, trying to unsend it, and then arguing some more; eventually you shut it off, kicked him out, and ran to the library in an attempt to salvage your scheduled study time.

Can’t the world just swallow me whole? Seeing Keigo beat up after a mission would be nice too.

You sigh and turn back to your book, fiddling with the edges of the paper and resting the fat of your cheek in your hand. The words are boring and unimportant, and in this moment you’re beyond grateful for your quirk. Concentrating a little bit, you scan the page line by line, committing each phrase to memory for use later.

The library is mainly empty on this level, the loft overlooking the main floor and entrance doors. Some students come in and out; most are carrying coffees and are dressed for an early morning cram session on a Saturday, forgoing social events for upcoming exams.

You have your own finals coming up alongside several new cases your externship mentor has set aside for you. At least a dozen new case files had been forwarded to you overnight, a few requiring you to stop by UA and speak with the heroes who were involved with the villain’s arrest.

“You look more hungover than usual. You’ve barely finished the first chapter...”

You look over to your friend on the right side, Dru, she doesn’t even look up from her book while she speaks, too focused on getting the material down.

A slight rumble emits from your stomach and you fidget in your seat, “Yea I’m just hungry and… can’t think straight.”

She hums and continues reading, the conversation could end there but the anxiety of the situation makes you wanna yap.

“I may have also sent a drunk…? No, just a very poorly worded text to a guy..”

The words get quieter and you sink into your seat as you talk, though the sentence is enough to make both of them look up from their books and stare at you.

“Huh?” They say in unison.

“Who?”

“What did you say?”

“This morning or did you send it last night?”

“Is he cute?”

You lean forward onto the table and rub your eyes under your sunglasses and sigh, “My coworker. It was a very poorly misspelled text asking to meet up. Sent it this morning. And uhh..” your cheeks burn from under your hands, “yea..”

The two look at each other and then turn to you, forgetting the material in front of them and demanding to know more. Dru leans in, “Ok come on, you have to show us.”

Jackson, the friend on the left, leans in and pushes his textbook back, “Where did you even get drunk? I didn’t throw a party yesterday.”

You keep your head in your hands and refuse to look up for a moment, now staring at the mess of words underneath your elbows, “It was after yesterday’s sentencing, Keigo dragged me out.”

They both wince and Jackson shakes his head, “Now your outfit makes even more sense.

I don't know anyone who can survive his drinking games without getting shitfaced.”

You sigh and look off into space, resting your chin in your hands and silently wondering if this could all just be a sick dream and you’ll wake up back in bed. Dru, who’s been silent for a moment, traces her jaw with her finger absentmindedly in thought.

“Well you said no one leaves his game without getting fucked up?”

Jackson whines and rolls his eyes, “Yea, it’s fun in the moment but a total headache the day after,” he rests his hand on your shoulder, “stay strong.”

She stops mid trace and looks at you, “Well did this guy you texted play too? That would mean there’s a chance he also doesn’t remember last night.”

Your eyes widen and both you and Jackson look at her in awe, the tension on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter.

“You’re right!”

“You’re a genius!”

She smiles and shrugs, “Well I suppose it doesn’t really help the issue of the text you sent though.”

The smile from your lip fades and you shrug forward again, your hands now picking at the loose frays of the crew neck sleeves. Jackson turns between both of you and offers an apologetic smile before pulling his textbook back closer to him.

Dru follows suit and flattens the page of her book before adjusting the ponytail of her hair to remain out of her face, “Just explain the misunderstanding in person and don’t bother opening your phone. You’re both adults, it shouldn’t be too weird.”

You sigh as the task-oriented lawyer-prepping version of your friends creeps back over them and studying for the upcoming final takes priority from your shitty love life. The group is silent now and you dejectedly flip the page of the book and scan the first few lines, silently counting down the next 246 pages you have to complete.

*******

The air outside is cold and the sun is still annoyingly bright when you all break from the exam review session. Nearing 1pm the campus is livelier, but still quieter on the weekend than it usually is in between classes. Your backpack is heavy and the straps dig into your shoulders with uncomfortable force; 2 textbooks, a laptop, pencil case, notebooks, wallet, and filled metal water bottle create an awkward weight.

“Ok, let’s resume at 3:30? I gotta run back to my apartment and grab the next textbook.”

Dru nods at Jackson and stretches from side to side, “Yea, I think I might take a nap.”

You look between the two of them and before you can mumble a phrase a pair of boots approaching cuts you off promptly, “Geez there you are. I’ve been calling you all morning.”

Spinning around you immediately look eyes with Keigo and notice the fact he’s completely not beat up before raising an eyebrow at his hero uniform. He saunters up as if he was just as close with your friends as you were and nonchalantly pulls out his phone to review his unanswered calls, not bothering to look up.

“13 missed calls, seriously, I was beginning to wonder if I needed to ditch parole to make sure you were still alive.”

A scoff leaves your lips and you turn to your friends with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, guys, I’ll meet up with you later.”

You wave off to them and examine Keigo closer, still hiding behind his phone, but you can see the facade behind the screen and glasses. Dark circles dust a purple under his eyes, his lips are chapped and cracked from the wind, and there’s a twitch in his left eyebrow from a residual headache. He’s still just as hungover as he was this morning.

“Didn’t you leave for parole right after I kicked you out? How are you already on break?”

The two of you start an easy walk down the campus brick path and towards the main road leading to some cafes and restaurants. Leaves crunch under his boots and you play with the tension straps of your backpack, attempting to find a better distribution of weight.

“It’s lunchtime, and besides, you can do a whole lot when you’re ranked as highly as me.”

You shove him to the side and groan, not in the mood for his ego or voice this early, well maybe not early early. There’s a comfortable silence in the walk, one you’ve done a million times before on the days where your break between classes aligns with his lunch recess.

“So..” Keigo rubs his temple in light circles, squinting as the sun’s glare beams into his glasses at an off angle, “remember anything yet?”

“Nope.”

There’s an exasperated sigh that leaves his lips and you both turn the corner out of the campus gates and start down the main road. A few cars pass, but the traffic is light as most people are probably already inside enjoying their lunch on a day off.

“I remember the message perfectly though, so it’s not like my quirk has just vanished.”

Keigo hums and continues with a dejected face towards your usual lunch spot, only stopping to open the door for you once you arrive.

Sliding into the booth seat across from him, you don’t even bother to open the menu; already knowing what you’ll be ordering. He sits uncomfortably across from you, more so than he usually would with a hangover.

“Ok spill, why are you acting so weird? I’m the one who has to deal with this stupid text message.”

Keigo rolls his eyes and pours water from the decanter on the table into each of your glasses,

“Apparently I called Tokoyami last night.”

You sip your water and raise an eyebrow, “The student you’re interning? What’s wrong with that?”

Keigo rubs his temples annoyedly, “I supposedly told him to go deal with some paperwork involving an arrest I made… but I think I sent him your files to retrieve by mistake.”

Your eyebrow twitches and the water in your hand is now forgotten as you glare at the man in front of you. Working in support for heroes, especially in prosecution, you know how annoying it is to chase heroes down and do the legal paperwork for their actions; making a high school student do the same is cruel.

“Ok I’ll yell at you later about making him do your busy work. But why did you even think about mentioning my cases to him?”

Keigo huffs dramatically at the raise of your voice and places his chin on the table of the restaurant, “Not so loud ok?” he looks off to the side, “It’s because you kept yapping about your cases and they got stuck in my head. When I reviewed my call log I noticed he had called me at some point last night and even sent a confirmation text that he had secured the files.”

Before you can strangle him from over the table and wish nothing but misery on him for years to come, a waitress approaches the table. She’s a bit flustered for a moment seeing Keigo, but he pays no mind to her and recites both of your usual orders to her without even looking up. You settle for a kick in the shin and sink your face into your hands. “Do you know what hero’s files you sent for him to grab?”

Keigo scratches the light scruff of his chin and thinks hard, his eyebrows forming a slight ‘V’ in focus.

“Nah. No idea.”

Any remaining oxygen in your lungs is pushed out with a huff and you rub your temples in annoyance.

“Great. I guess I’ll have to head by UA and pick them up from him.”

Keigo slides his phone on the table to the side touching the wall, making room for the plates of food being delivered by the waitress. He shoots her a wink when she blushes and walks off; you roll your eyes and take a bite, happy to finally eat.

You sit in a loud silence, eating becoming the priority and focusing on recovering from the hangover as fast as possible. Though thinking over the plan of stopping by UA makes your blood cold at the realization.

“Wait- doesn’t Aizawa teach Tokoyami? How the fuck am I supposed to grab the files without bumping into him?”

Keigo looks up at you, his mouth open for another bite despite food nearly falling out unchewed, “Uhhh,” there's a half smile painted on his lips.

You take another bite and kick him from under the table.

“You asshole. Can you at least come with me to get them?”

“Hmm no can do. I got parole followed by a few meetings. I’m totally booked.”

“Why are you smiling then?”

Keigo chuckles and drowns the food in his mouth with water before leaning back in his seat and smirking at you, “Well…I wanna see how this plays out.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and take a smaller bite, grunting a small ‘hmm?’ and waiting for him to continue.

“Oh come on. This is the chance to actually have some sort of conversation with him.”

“Is that what we are calling this now? I didn’t even respond to his texts, how am I supposed to show my face on the school campus?”

Keigo snaps his fingers and points to your backpack, “Ok then it’s time! We have to answer.”

“One: we? Two: No way.”

He rolls his eyes and you watch him incredulously while continuing, “You’ve done enough damage already.”

Sturdy arms cross at his chest, “Come on, you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, we’re both basically back to sobriety at this point.”

Well he isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t take away any of the anxiety that’s been built on your shoulders. You wait an extra moment and slowly unzip the small pocket on your backpack and dig your hand to the bottom, feeling for the cool screen of the phone.

Keigo slides both of your plates to the slide, making room when you place the phone face up in the center of the table. A small look of acknowledgement is shared between you both; taping the screen and unlocking it, you take a breath and open the ‘message’ application.

There’s a dot next to the contact ‘Aizawa Shouta’ and a preview of the message can barely be seen. It hurts to watch and your face contorts into a wince without even opening it. Keigo’s silent but gives a small nod before tapping his finger on the notification and opening the message. Well messages.

From: Aizawa Shouta

Are you alright? Hopefully not too sick...

Regardless, I’m glad you got home safely.

From Aizawa Shouta

I’d like to meet up and talk if that's ok.

He double texted. He DOUBLE TEXTED. It’s almost sad how exciting it feels to receive a message from him twice, like he actually cared. God you really needed to get out more.

“Ok that’s good! Send something casual back, head to UA, grab the files, and fuck!”

You roll your eyes at Keigo but can’t help the slight increase in your heart rate. It was exciting that he wanted to see you but there was no guarantee it wasn’t to reprimand you for something that might have happened last night.

“What if-”

“No. No what if. If he was pissed or annoyed, he wouldn’t make an effort to reach out,” Keigo leans back into the booth again, “Trust me.”

You’ve given Keigo too much trust considering the success rate of his actions, but you don’t care enough to remind him at this moment. Instead, you spin the phone to face you and quickly draft a message in reply; after your companion gives a nod of approval you hit send.

To: Aizawa Shouta

Sounds good!

I’ll be in the area today if you’re free

Though the reply is sent, you can’t help the nerves that begin to eat at you. Keigo slides the plates back over in front of you both and continues his meal, “It’ll be fine ok?” You take a breath and pick up from where you left off on your lunch.

********

The security to UA is smooth and easy to pass through, the guards recognizing you by now and handing you a ‘visitor’ lanyard to hang around your neck. The main classroom building is dead ahead, though Keigo knows Tokoyami’s schedule enough to remember that weekend training for students doesn’t resume until 3pm.

Massive hero training grounds and buildings border the brick walkway you trend down in the direction of the ‘Hero’s Alliance’ student dorms. It’s a bittersweet feeling, seeing the next generation of heroes taking water breaks while dressed in their new outfits. Part of you always wondered what it would’ve been like to follow alongside your friends, fighting villains on the frontline with them instead of sitting in an office doing paperwork and wondering if they were going to survive the next fight.

The melancholy passes and you resume your focus on the path ahead, looking for signs indicating the building for ‘class 1-A’. A cool breeze blows through the thin fabric of your university sweatshirt, and you instinctively hug your arms into your body. Leaves scatter the walkway a colorful orange and red, though you can make out a small blip of golden-yellow from the head of Toshinori just up ahead.

Perfect! He was sober all night, I’ll just ask him to tell me what happened.

“Toshinori!”

You break into a light job to catch up and cringe at the smack of your backpack into your tailbone with every step.

He turns around instantly and smiles, “Oh Y/N! Nice to see you here.”

You meet him and match his walking pace, acting as inconspicuous as possible.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I’m taking Midoriya out for his ultimate-move training. He’s progressing faster than I expected!” He laughs awkwardly at his excited outburst and scratches the back of his head, “And what about you?”

“Oh, just grabbing some files from Tokoyami, Keigo had mixed up some of the paperwork he requested him to collect.”

Toshinori hums and continues walking alongside you, the dorm buildings now coming into view.

“So… I actually had another question to ask.” He hums and gives you a patient look.

“I’m having some trouble remembering everything that happened last night... Of course, I’d like to apologize to you if I did anything strange. I’m also here to see Aizawa to do the same.”

Toshinori laughs and waves his hand, “Oh there’s no need to apologize to me Y/N! I left shortly after the game ended, and I don’t recall you acting strange with me in any way.”

A light sigh escapes your lungs in relief, but Toshinori shifts awkwardly to the side now avoiding eye contact.

“That’s nice to hear. But… do you know if anything happened between Aizawa and I? I feel there’s a bit of awkward tension.”

Coughs escape his mouth and his face is lit up in a bright red, he instinctively turns his head to the side in a poor attempt to hide his fluster.

“Well.. that would be inappropriate to recount.. certain events on school grounds”

“All might!”

You wish you could be smite down by lightning in that moment and be reduced to a useless pile of ash and textbook embers. Midoriya makes no connection in your face of horror when he runs down the steps of the dormitory to greet his mentor. With legs made of lead you watch Toshinori give a warm smile to the young man and awkwardly swallow when his attention glances past you again.

Inappropriate? INAPPROPRIATE??

Midoriya eventually turns to you and either ignores or doesn’t recognize the self-loathing currently taking place within your mind and offers an excited ‘hello’. You force out a greeting through grit teeth and wave off to the two as they head towards a training facility.

You stand outside nearly a whole minute before trudging up the short staircase and opening the large doors to the lobby. A variety of students sit around the common room in their hero uniforms, relaxing until their scheduled training and enjoying each other's company.

“Need help?”

You stand awkwardly in the entrance and notice who you vaguely remember as being Todoroki now standing nearby.

“Oh yea. Keigo- or uh Hawks, sent me here to grab some files from Tokoyami.”

Todoroki nods and you continue casually, “Is your teacher here…?”

The young man examines the room and gives a light shrug, now motioning you to follow him to the elevator, “If he’s not down here he might be sleeping in all honesty. Training doesn’t resume for a little while.”

You nod to a silent beat and peer around once more before stepping into the elevator with

Todoroki. “You work in law, right? I think you’ve done a case for my father before.”

“Oh yes, I have a few times with my externship mentor.”

He nods silently and the conversation is effectively ended. You make a mental note and rock on your feet lightly; the silence isn’t forced and it’s clear that his personality is simply more reserved.

With a ‘ding’ of the elevator opening, Todoroki leads you to Tokoyami’s door and returns promptly towards the lift in an effort to resume his break in the common room. You peer down both ends of the empty hallway and knock twice against the wood before the door is opened as thinly as possible.

“Yes?”

“I’m here-,” you pause and notice the dark aura of the room and soft purple lights emitting barely a glow, “-here to pick up the files Kei- Hawks had mentioned.”

Tokoyami glances at you from the crack in the door, “Alright, I’ll hand them to you out there.”

The door closes in your face and you blink a few times in confusion before eventually backing up into the center of the hallway. The carpet is plush under your feet as you distribute your weight from hip to hip waiting for the door to open once again.

“Here,” Tokoyami slides out from his room, an arrangement of manilla folders in tow, and hands them over to you. His hero uniform is on but disheveled, clear you had caught him off-guard.

“Sorry about the mix-up.”

“It’s no worry, I’m sure you know more than me just how easy it is to get lost amongst those papers.”

A light exhale leaves your lips and you offer the young man a smile, “I’ll let Hawks know to lighten up on this kinda work ok? A kid like you in this school shouldn’t be doing my job,”

Tokoyami blinks and tilts his head to the side despite being halfway back into this room again, “It's important though. Just because I’m not training for the same profession as you doesn’t make the work you do any less important than the one a pro-hero does.”

He shuts the door and leaves you in the hallway with four case files and a small mixture of existential relief and anxiety. Cutting your losses, you head back for the elevator and take it down to the lobby, silently thanking your luck for the lack of Aizawa’s presence, especially after Toshinori effectively put you into cardiac arrest with his warning.

Groups of students are still idly chatting away while others finish up their snacks and begin to stretch lightly in preparation for training. Todoroki looks up from his conversation with an extremely passionate boy with glasses and gives a slight wave goodbye.

“Y/N.”

Ok nevermind, there’s no such thing as luck and I’m cursed to live an unfortunate life.

There’s no need to turn around, the voice obviously belonging to Aizawa as his footsteps approach from behind you. Picking at the strings of your sweatshirt you spin and drink in his hero uniform, silently admiring the tousle of his long hair.

“Oh hey.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you on campus at this hour, but..” he shifts for half a second, “if it’s alright I’d like to speak with you before you go?”

“Sure,” you reply as casually as possible and appreciate the background noise of the students drowning out your conversation.

Aizawa nods and motions you to follow him outside and down the entrance stairs to the small courtyard. Nervous sweat builds on your palms and you awkwardly wipe it on your sweatpants, now hyper aware of your hangover outfit and disheveled appearance.

There’s an awkward silence between the both of you.

I just need to apologize. Whatever I did must’ve been fucked if Toshinori reacted like that. I just need to grow up and face the fact any chance I had is gone and move on with my disappointing life.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait-”

“What-?”

Aizawa and you stumble on your words after speaking simultaneously, his eyes widening and cheeks becoming slightly pink. Your own face heats up and every time one of you tries to speak, the other is attempting to as well.

He raises a hand, “Ok, you start.”

“Well.. I came to apologize,” you awkwardly look off and fiddle with the backpack straps on your shoulders, manilla folder tucked under an arm, “For the stupid message I sent this morning, well Keigo kinda sent.”

Aizawa sucks in a short breath at his name but remains silent as you continue, his shoulders stiff.

“And for whatever I did last night... In all honesty I don’t actually remember any of it..”

A long silence follows and you peel your eyes off the sight of students walking around the school grounds and face him. There’s an expression you can’t quite read but his shoulders are more relaxed, and the tenseness of his muscles seem released; nearly relief.

Aizawa notices your finished statement and coughs slightly, looking around the courtyard with his ears dusted in pink, “Oh I see.”

“Well... what were you sorry for…?”

He shifts lightly, as if the script he had mentally prepared himself for has gone out the window and he’s left on stage improving his lines, “Just the same thing of course. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable last night… or when I messaged you this morning.”

The behavior is awkward and unfamiliar, it’s obvious there’s more than what he’s letting on. You shake your head ‘no’ and before you can push further, he notices the folders in your possession and changes the topic.

“I heard from your externship mentor you might be dropping by for a few cases, if there’s one in there with Vlad King I’ll be involved in the case as well.”

You blink and look down at the folders, “Yea I believe that one is going through our office-”

“-Great,” he moves towards the dorm entrance abruptly, eager to get out the conversation, “I’ll be seeing you on Tuesday then for the debrief.”

Your eyes go wide at the sudden change and there’s a small tug in your heart in disappointment from lack of closure. Watching him ascend the stairs, he pauses halfway up and turns to you, “I have your blazer still, let’s meet Monday so I can return it? There’s a good coffee shop nearby.” “Sure..”

He disappears into the building without any further explanation and you’re left standing in the courtyard unsure of what just happened. Robotically, you slide out your cell phone and answer a few ‘where are you’ texts from your friends who have resumed their study session at the library. Walking towards the exit gates, you open Keigo’s contact and begin drafting a novel of what just happened, unsure of exactly how to interpret the entire conversation.

“Ah, leaving already?”

You whip your head up and look at Toshinori waving at you and casually approaching; Midoriya stands in an open field practicing his jump kicks, unaware of the conversation.

“Yea,” you lift a few folders, “Got what I needed.”

“And did you resolve the uh... issue?”

Well no, not really. I still don’t know what even happened.

“Kinda, we cleared the air and acknowledged we’d be working on closing a case together. I’d say that’s a resolution for now.”

Toshinori nods and laughs, “I'm glad! I didn’t think it would be too awkward considering you both couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Huh?... HUH?

“Huh..?” your voice is weak and Toshinori immediately raises his hands apologetically. “Oh I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to be rude. To be honest everyone was wondering when you both would work it out.”

There’s no language in which a single coherent thought could form into a sentence; your mind is completely blank.

“I don’t.. I don’t understand.”

Toshinori tilts his head to the side, now just as confused as you, “Isn’t that what you talked about? I left right before 12am, but you both were playing billiards and making dinner plans. Normally speaking about a teacher and prosecution support dating would be inappropriate to bring up in front of students,” he turns to Midoriya, “but I’m glad you worked it out!”

. . . .

What? I don’t-

He looks at you and smiles genuinely as if this was something that had been eating at him while you stand motionless and without flinching in the cold wind. Your throat is dry and you can feel your lips getting chapped from the air.

“All might! Did you see that one?”

Midoriya yells from the center of the field and Toshinori waves back at him before turning to you one last time, “If you want more specifics on the evening to reminisce on, you should ask Midnight. She was taking tons of videos at the time.”

********

AIZAWA POV

She doesn’t know? She doesn’t remember…?

Aizawa holds back any emotion on his face while he pours a mug of coffee in the dorm kitchen, relief and gratitude rushing through his veins. It seemed luck truly was on his side this past week, not only did he get the phone number the girl he was pining over thought was cute and made coffee plans with her, but she didn’t remember a thing about the night before when he made a complete ass of himself.

Guilt also gnawed at his gut as he sipped the warm liquid and watched his students chat amongst themselves in preparation for training to resume. He should come clean and tell you exactly what happened, but the idea of getting a fresh chance was almost too refreshing.

I’ll come clean over coffee. Yea. I’ll do it then.

He lets himself relish in the idea of being safe just a little while longer and pushes down the nervousness of rejection that still resided deep within him. Sure, when you’re both drunk in a bar you’ll admit to a lot of things, but that doesn't mean you actually felt them sober.

The hand you kept firm on his bicep while he tried to teach you how to play billiards, as if you even cared about the game, burned a mark into his skin. The way you leaned over the green of the table and hit any ball you felt like, regardless of stripe or solid, took all the willpower within him not to admire the swell of your ass in front of everyone. And every time you would stare from eye to eye to lips was nearly enough for him to lose all resolve and admit his stupid pathetic feelings right there in the bar. Instead, he resorted to casually asking to see your phone and adding in his contact ‘just in case’, the liquid courage making him smoother than any other time he’s talked to you.

This is ridiculous.

Aizawa sips his coffee and stares down into the liquid with a slight forlorn look, hating the way his warped reflection stared back at him. As if you really wanted him? The thought hurt enough to laugh so he settled to take another sip from his drink instead. You, an ace law student bound to be the country's next best prosecutor, who’s smart and charming and beautiful, and who was way out of the league of a sleep-deprived unshaven high school teacher.

He’d spent countless cases avoiding you, thinking if he kept enough distance the feeling would go away and not grow into the suffocating fixation it inevitably became. Maybe he would use the coffee date to just end the whole game altogether and get some closure. End it before he looked like an idiot and tried to make room for you in his already hectic schedule. He would go back to the plaguing dreams that left him feeling even shittier for the thoughts of you that would swarm his brain and always end with his hand shoved down his boxers.

It wouldn’t be fair.

It’s the same line he always told himself. It wouldn’t be fair to make you wait long nights for him, unsure of his condition after a fight. It wouldn’t be fair to try and make room for you when his students had become a priority. It wouldn't be fair to chain you down to a nobody hero like him when your best friend was admired by so many more.

Aizawa sipped his coffee one more time and placed the mug on the counter, enjoying the few hours he had of your blissful ignorance before he eventually came clean. He silently thanked his luck one last time before clapping his hands and approaching the couch full of students, eager to resume training and shake the thoughts of you out of his head

ty so much for the support for this series! i still have some finals so my upload schedule is annoying af, but i promise i'll keep writing when i have time!

let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for this~~ also if u have any requests in general

Tags: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05