#had to do two for today because i had to include this!

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids - Valentine's Day Headcanons

ᡣ𐭩 pairings: OT8 SKZ x fem!Reader

ᡣ𐭩 genre: fluff, smut

ᡣ𐭩 wc: 1.5k

ᡣ𐭩 cw: smut, dacryphilia, oral, mentions of bondage/d!ldos, dry humping, unprotected s3x (pls don't unless you want STD's for Valentine's Day)

↪author's note: hello! sorry I've been gone so long and not finished my NingNing fic, but to make it up to you I've whipped this up. happy Valentine's Day and hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

ᡣ𐭩Chan

His dad always taught him to be a classy man–and so he's gonna make sure you're well taken care of for such a special day.

He bought you that long red dress you've been eyeballing for a while and adorned you with shiny pearled jewelry. (And a giant bouquet of flowers)

He takes you to the most high end restaurant in the city (which took 6 months reservation in advance) with a staff member dressed all nice like a chauffeur.

Expensive steaks, lobster tail, or even chicken nuggets. Whatever you want, he'll get you.

Lots of food in your belly to prepare for…y'know, the baby he's about to put in you.

What, like he wasn't gonna fill you to the brim with cum after you looked this good for him?

It's almost as if he knew that you were planning on skipping your birth control that day in the hopes you'd finally get to be filled.

Oh and you're up for hours, he's not stopping until your poor cunt is leaking with all his babies, and he'll get a few more loads in just to make sure it stays put in your cervix.

“C'mon baby, you don't want anything leaking out d'ya? Right, now stay still and let daddy give you that baby you wanted~.”

There's nothing more romantic to both of you than being given a cute little symbol of your love in 9 months.

ᡣ𐭩Minho

The bad news is that he did not, infact, get the day off work. There's lots of love he has to send to STAY before he can get home to you.

The good news is that now that Idol Minho is off work, Chef Minho has arrived!

He always keeps your favorite dish in the back of his mind and he knows you've been begging him to make it these past few weeks, but he wanted to save it today to make it extra special.

You'll smell it from a mile away, but as soon as you walk in the dining table is lit with candles and a big flower centerpiece to top it off.

Looks at you with so much love as you absolutely devour your plate like a wild tiger.

Speaking of absolutely devouring

Normally you and Minho have a strict dom/sub relationship with him asserting and taking control.

But today he just wants to show you that despite all the harsh punishments he has to give you, you're still the love of his life.

And that includes devouring your cunt for hours.

“Mmmh, my precious little pussy. You're this wet just for me?”

ᡣ𐭩Changbin

CRUISE TIME BABYYYYY

No but fr he wasn't sure what to do and even asked Chaeryeong what kind of stuff girls like.

Eventually he settled on taking the week off and spending time with you by the seaside, providing both a relaxing and loving vacation.

You two get to explore some cute islands and eat feasts of chocolate alongside a paradise of other loving couples.

And sometimes you'll spend alone time too! He'll work out at the cruise gym while you relax by the poolside soaking up the island sun.

Oh and it's a good thing it's a honeymoon cruise (even if you two aren't married)

God bless whoever decided to make all the rooms on the ship soundproof because you're definitely gonna need it while he's rearranging your guts.

But let's be honest, the whole ship can still hear your strangled moans and the plap plap plap sounds coming from your room.

“Anngh, yeobo, you're so tight, I love this pussy.”

At least you can tell your kids they were created by the sea.

ᡣ𐭩Hyunjin

You can expect nothing but the sweetest from your lover boy.

He had Versace create a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers in a beautiful signature gold wrap.

His first thought on a date was doing the painting swap challenge from tiktok and seeing what the two of you could create.

There's paint on both of your noses by the end and kkami with an accidental blue spot on his fur from the crossfire of your paint war.

He tried to salvage your original drawing to no avail, but he still insists that he thinks it's perfect because it came from you.

His next surprise was a custom mold of his cock for you to play with whenever he was away on tour, but he insists on trying it on you first for “Quality Assurance” as he calls it.

It feels almost exactly like the real thing and reaches into your favorite spots exactly like his.

With his new ability to use the dildo AND his mouth simultaneously, you cum so many times that you're brain dead.

“You're so gorgeous, my angel. You look so pretty cumming on my cock–God, I love you so much.”

And he may have snapped a few photos of you like this to help him when he's not there next to you.

ᡣ𐭩Han

Have you ever dreamed of having a whole mixtape/album come out all about you?

Cause Jisung's got you covered

He'll have a whole listening party with some of his friends as you sit there trying not to cry from how sweet he is.

You can't stop kissing him and adoring him the rest of the night, it's like your wildest dreams have come true.

How could you not reward such a good boy?

Oh you both are getting the NASTIEST sex tonight.

Dildos, cuffs, chains–every toy gets brought in out of desperation.

You're both just so desperate to fuck eachother before you even leave that he's pressed up against you on the subway humping your ass like a dog.

“Mmmph, please! I-I need more!.”

You're in for a long night of multiple orgasms from both of you.

ᡣ𐭩Felix

You've been eyeballing the amusement park 2 towns over for a while now, and what better time to take you than now?

The illuminating fair lights turned pink for the special day makes you both giddy.

The first stop is obviously the Rollercoaster, you're having the time of your life while Felix is fighting off demons trying not to pass out.

Then you'll get to go on the new pink ferris wheel and give your lover a kiss at the top.

Alongside buying you all the fair food you can eat, he spots a pair of gold rings from a vendor that he just HAS to buy you.

After coming back from buying them and watching you struggle on the shooting game for a giant teddy bear, he steps in and uses his gamer experience to win it for you!

And he's gonna make you hump it for him as soon as you get home.

Don't worry, he'll fuck you eventually, but watching you desperately get off on the fluffy fabric while staring at him with teary puppy eyes makes his dick throb.

“Fuck you look so sexy like that. Keep going so I can cum on your pretty face, mkay?”

ᡣ𐭩Seungmin

Since your first date was at the vintage arcade down the street, he decided to bring you right back to where it all started.

Life's been a total dream since you two started dating, but you're reminded in times like these why he's such a tease.

He'll never let you forget how much better he is at video games than you are, especially Guitar Hero and the OG Sonic.

You're also getting your ass whooped at Dance Dance Revolution too.

He'll let you win at 1 or 2 games though just so you don't pout at him later.

You know what his favorite game is though?

Edging you, duh.

You swear you have no idea where he learned to use his fingers so skillfully. He's throat deep in your pussy while his fingers twist your nipples to perfection.

“Why are you squirming away? I thought you loved it when I broke you down jagi.”

And you do, there's no better gift you could've gotten today than being nothing more than a brain dead fuckdoll for your sweet boyfriend.

ᡣ𐭩Jeongin

You guys are still fairly new to your relationship and it's your first Valentine's Day.

So he wants to make it as perfect as possible. He asks Chris and the rest of the boys what kind of stuff he should do for you and tries to pack it all together in one night.

Unfortunately for him the place he wanted to take you caught on fire, the flowers got delivered to the wrong address, and the ring he ordered you was smaller than what he wanted.

The poor boy can't even look you in the eye as he’s telling you all of this, but you reassure him that none of the material stuff matters–as long as he’s by your side.

The two of you settle for takeout and a movie at your place with lots of cuddles and kisses.

There was still a chance for him to have one thing he planned go his way though.

While the two of you have dealt in the occasional oral/fingering, he wanted to overcome his fear of intimacy and actually have sex with you.

Thankfully all his wildest dreams came true the moment he slipped into you and was immediately sent straight into Heaven.

“F-fuuuuck, you’re everything–so beautiful, perfect and tight.”

Even if Valentine's Day didn't go the way he originally wanted, he wouldn't ask for anything else–bring inside of you and feeling your love was all he needed.

[auvrorsa]

if i didn't know better - r.c

pairing: rafe cameron x ex!reader

warnings: death of a child, grief counselling

prompt: two estranged lovers join the same support group. this is the first meeting.‍

author's note: this is my first time writing fanfic so pls be kind!!

It's been exactly six months since your daughter passed away.

It's been exactly five months and thirteen days since you had last left your house, until now. Here you stand, like a fish out of water, outside the community centre that holds the grief support group once a fortnight.

It's taken all this time for your friends to manage to convince you to at least try it out. That's the only reason you're here. You didn't believe in any of this therapy shit, but you promised them you would try.

Taking a deep breath, you step inside the building. Now or never.

The room is heavy and you find yourself overwhelmed. This is too much. Too soon, You think to yourself. Just as you turn to leave, someone who you assume is the leader of the group announces it's time to start.

It's busier than you thought it would be, you think as you all take your places in the school chairs that have been placed in a circle. There must be at least twenty-five people here, including yourself. It almost makes you feel less alone.

"Hi everybody, my name is Linda and I'll be hosting this weeks' support group," the woman introduces herself. She must be in her sixties. She has dark brown hair that sits in ringlets and her skin looks almost sun-kissed. You notice that she has soft wrinkles from smiling, although there's no sight of a smile when you look at her today. Immediately, you recognise her as one of your own. You may not know Linda, but it's obvious to anyone who has experienced loss that this woman has been there too.

She continues, pulling you away from your observation. "I wanted to start this session off by saying thank you. Thank you for trusting me and everyone around you with this and thank you for coming. I hope that you all are able to find some semblance of peace after your time here."

Everyone acknowledges her statement with a nod. You swear you even hear a sniffle from across the circle.

"To start off with, we're going to be-" Linda is interrupted by the door bursting open.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I, uh-traffic was a bitch."

Your head immediately snaps up. You would know that voice anywhere. After all, you have spent the best part of your life in love with it and the person who owns it. Sure enough, your eyes lock onto the father of your daughter.

Rafe Cameron.

Seeing him here threw you through a loop. Of course, Poppy was his daughter too but… Rafe had never exactly been the type of person to sit down and talk about his emotions. It's partly why you two ended. That and losing Poppy. Neither of you were the same, you never would be. Your daughter had taught the pair of you the most valuable of lessons and now she was just… gone. It was cruel. Soon enough, you started arguing and he started staying out late drinking with his friends. In the end, you both realised you needed to separate. You both reminded one another of what you had lost and what you could never get back.

He breaths out your name, breaking you out of your stunned daze.

Linda looked between the pair of you, clearly confused. "Thank you for joining us, Rafe. It is so lovely to have you here. Do you two… know each other?"

Rafe looks at you for a second, trying to determine whether or not to open up the bag that you've both spent the past six months trying to close. He must see something on your face because he shakes his head, "Not really, just both from the same side of town."

"Oh, okay. Anyways, take a seat and we'll get started," Linda says with a warm smile on her face.

Once Rafe takes the last seat, which just so happens to be directly opposite you because of course it is, Linda explains how the session is going to work. Starting with herself, she will introduce herself with a fun fact about herself and then explain why she's here.

"Hi everybody. My name is Linda and I also teach yoga outside of this group. I'm here today because almost five years ago, I lost my husband of thirty-one years to a heart attack."

After Linda, the person to her right introduces herself and so on. It's mainly people who have lost their grandparents or parents. You feel eyes on you and immediately know who it is. When you meet Rafe's gaze, you know you're both thinking the same thing. You're both thinking about how unfair it all is.

Maybe that makes you both horrible people but it's what grief does to you. It takes the person you once were and tears you apart, right through the middle, until you're nothing but a scrap piece of paper.

When it gets to your turn, you're shaking. Somehow, you manage to stand up.

You begin by introducing yourself, "I don't really, uh, have any cool facts about myself. I'm here today because six months ago today I, uh," tears well in your eyes. "I lost my daughter. She, uh, had an allergic reaction at her friends house and she- she didn't have anything to help her." You look at Rafe, seeking that same source of strength from him that you always have, but find nothing. He's simply staring back at you with tears rolling down his own face. The pair of you must be a mirror of each other.

Linda hands you a box of tissues and apologises to you quietly whilst the next person takes their turn.

Eventually, it's Rafe's turn. He rubs his hands on his jeans as he stands.

"Hi guys. My name is Rafe. The coolest thing about me is that I was Poppy's dad. And that's why I'm here today. Because I'm nobody now that she's gone." That's all he says before he sits back down and once again looks at you. A silent conversation being had with just your eyes.

I'm sorry, you say. Me too, he replies.

You both stay like that whilst the rest of the group takes their turns. Simply staring at each other, tears in both your eyes.

Finally, Linda's voice brings you back to reality, announcing that the session is over. You and Rafe stand at the same time and slowly walk over to the door.

Once you both get outside, you head towards the car park. As fate would have it, you find that Rafe has parked next to you. Of course he has.

"This is me," you explain, waving your thumb in the direction of your car. "I know. I remember," is all he says.

Rafe turns towards his own car. He has his hand on the handle when he stops and turns his head towards you. "I miss her. Every single day."

You physically feel your heart crack even more at the crack in his voice.

With tears rolling down your eyes, you reply. "I know, Rafe. So do I."

The next thing you know, Rafe's strong arms are wrapped around you. This is the closest you two have been since you broke up and fuck have you missed it.

"I'm so sorry. It was my job to protect her and I didn't-"

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence, "No. No. We did everything we could and- fuck, no one could have protected her from that."

He holds you for what feels like hours, until your sobs turn into mere sniffles.

Pulling back slightly so he can look down at you, "Are you sure you're okay to drive yourself home?"

"I- uh- I should be. Thank you, though."

"Always. Text me when you get home."

You nod softly at him as you get into your car.

When you get home, you pull up Rafe's contact on your phone.

YOU: home.

He reads it almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for your text.

Rafe: good. Rafe: i'll see you at the next meeting.

[theemporium]

[5.1k] the thing between you and leon was just for convenience sake. that was all it was and all it ever would be. obviously fucking the same person for a prolonged period of time wouldn't lead to feelings or anything like that. right? (smutty themes included)

.

Look, Leon never claimed he made smart decisions off the ice. 

It was different when he was on the ice. He was good on the ice, excellent even. He had shelves of trophies to prove as much. There was a reason he won those trophies, there was a reason he had earned his contract and there was a reason he was seen as one of the best players in the league, even whilst playing with Connor fucking McDavid every single night.

Leon was really fucking smart when it came to hockey. It was just everything else he seemed to have a problem with.

Case and point? The fact he was currently driving one and a half hours after a late afternoon game to meet you at some dodgy motel where there would be less of a chance of him being recognised than he would in Edmonton. 

Not the smartest decision. 

The fact this had been an ongoing arrangement for the last few months also further proved this was not a smart decision in the slightest. 

But truthfully, Leon could not bring himself to regret his far-from-smart decisions because the pros definitely outweigh the cons, quality over quantity or whatever the saying was. Because god knows the relationship between the two of you came with way more cons: the distance, the commute, the fact you were a fucking Flames fan.

It was, by all definitions of the word, the furthest thing from convenient for him and yet he was still making the drive to Red Deer against his better judgement. 

You were already there. He had just gotten out of the shower, the exhaustion from the game and the press conference already settling deep in his bones when he opened his phone to find a picture waiting for him, one of you sprawled out on a bed—a bed which he recognised easily by the same ugly sheets the motel used in every room.

Leon hated the way his stomach flipped at the sight of them, at the knowledge that you were there waiting for him. 

He had tried not to think about what he was doing too much, but it was hard to avoid when Connor gave him an odd look after he phoned his dog-sitter and asked if he wouldn’t mind popping over to make sure Bowie got his afternoon walk and some dinner. He also tried to ignore the looks of confusion he got from the rest of the team as he waved off the offer of celebratory drinks after a shut-out win against the Blue Jackets. 

If he was being honest, Leon’s way of coping with this whole thing was to avoid a lot of details. 

It seemed to be working so far. 

The drive to Red Deer felt like muscle memory by this point. It was almost therapeutic, to let his brain mostly shut off and relax after such a fast-paced, high adrenaline game. It was nice to just clutch the wheel and follow the signs down, knowing that you were waiting for him at the end of the journey. 

He could have snorted the second he walked through the motel room door, the key still in one hand as he pushed it open and found you sprawled on the bed—unfortunately clothed, unlike the photo you had sent him earlier. 

“Playing hard to get?” 

Your lips twitched as you pushed yourself to sit up on the bed, shuffling until you were perched on the end. “Not everything is about you, Draisaitl,” you mused, watching as he closed and locked the door behind him. “You were taking your time and this room is fucking freezing.” 

“It’s almost like the only thing I had planned in my diary was a game today,” Leon deadpanned. “No secret meetups penciled in.” 

“Hm, should have guessed you would want your ego stroked after a game like that,” you retorted, watching as he began to shrug off the suit jacket he wore with his game day suit. “Want me to tell you how good you did, baby?” 

Leon rolled his eyes. “You watched?” 

You shrugged. “I got curious, wanted to see what all the hype was about.” 

“Hm,” Leon hummed, tugging impatiently at his tie until he was able to pull it over his head. His fingers were already moving to the buttons of his shirt. “And what was your conclusion?” 

“You play alright,” you commented, your lips twitching like you were trying to fight back your own grin. “Slightly disappointed by tonight’s performance though.” 

Leon raised his brows. “Two goals and an assist weren’t enough for you?” 

“I was looking for a hat trick,” you said, and this time you did grin.

“Brat,” Leon huffed, not quite fond but something else positive, lustful, desired even.

“You love it,” you countered, eyes sparkling.

He didn’t even bother to deny it as he leaned down, both hands engulfing your face as he kissed you, hard and fast and desperate, like the long drive down had finally caught onto him and his patience. 

“Clothes off,” he muttered between kisses, hissing a little when your teeth playfully nipped his lip. 

“Gonna warm me up?” You taunted, leaning back enough to pull your hoodie over your head and throw it somewhere on the floor beside his abandoned tie and shirt. 

He groaned, his nose scrunching up. “That was a horrible line.” 

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna fuck me,” you retorted, looking far too smug for his liking.

The worst part was that you were right.

…

“Leaving already?”

“I need to get back to Bowie.” 

“Give him my love.” 

“I will not be doing that.” 

“Rude.” 

…

Leon wasn’t exactly going out of his way to hide the fact he was sleeping with someone on a regular basis. 

It would be a stupid thing to try and hide when he knew each of his teammates had working eyes and would very much be able to see the scratches and marks left all over his body following his latest meetup with you.

“Oi! Oi! Someone had a fun night!” 

Leon barely reacted anymore, simply letting the cheers and catcalls echo through the locker room as he focused on gearing up for practice. It was inevitable, it was something he had dealt with since the start of his relationship with you—if whatever the two of you had could even be considered a relationship. 

“I’ve been looking for a new place to take Lauren for date night.” 

Leon paused, turning to look at Connor with his brows furrowed together. He waited for the boy to continue but he never did. “Okay?” 

Connor was still looking at him expectantly. “Any recommendations?” 

“No?” Though, it came out sounding like a question. Mostly because it was a question, because Leon was kind of confused why this was a necessary topic of conversation before early morning skate. “Am I meant to know a place?” 

Connor blinked. “I assumed wherever you went after the game on Tuesday.” 

Leon frowned. “I didn’t go out to eat after Tuesday’s game.” 

“But you phoned your dog-sitter,” Connor pointed out, though he didn’t sound accusatory. He had that look on his face, the same one that Leon often saw on the ice when he was trying to work out a play before it even happened. 

“I did,” Leon nodded, because there was no point in denying it when Connor had overheard the conversation. “Pretty sure he doesn't have any date spot recommendations either.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed and Leon swore he could hear the cogs in his brain whirling and turning. But Leon was stubborn and a little petty and he didn’t give handouts, not even to Connor. So he stood there, staring back at his friend with a fairly blank expression.

“Interesting,” Connor said eventually before turning back to his stall to get ready for practice.

Leon pretended to ignore the way the tightness in his chest loosened when Connor dropped the topic.

…

“The motel could be a good date night spot, you never know.” 

“I know for a fact we saw a rat in the bathtub once.” 

“Yeah, and you screamed like a little girl.”

“I screamed the appropriate way for a rat the size of a small dog.”

“Bowie could take that rat.”

“I would never let Bowie near that monster.”

…

Despite every piece of advice he had ever been given from the veterans before him, roadies didn’t really get easier.

After a while, the non-descriptive hotel rooms with scratchy sheets and stiff pillows became a part of the routine. It was a part of his job, the same way early morning practices and bag skates were. He didn’t like it, he could do without it but he had learnt to accept it very early on in his career. 

Still, there were some nights on the road where the room was too uncomfortable for Leon to settle down. 

They had flown in early for their east coast roadie, having a full day and night in Florida before their game the following night. The others had headed out for dinner, wanting to enjoy the heat whilst they could but Leon had waved them off when they extended the offer to him. He was tired and still a little grumpy from the small nap he managed on the turbulent flight down. He wanted his bed more than anything, but the hotel one would have to do. 

Except, Florido was humid. 

It was humid and hot and his clothes were sticking to his body. But the air conditioning in the hotel room was stuck at a temperature that made the room frigid. And the fucking feeling of the sheets against his skin made him feel like he was seconds away from biting his own arm off if the starchiness didn’t stop feeling so starchy against him. 

He hadn’t even realised what he was doing until the rings were going through. 

“I hope you’re wearing something sexy for me.” 

Despite his pissy mood, Leon did find himself snorting a little. 

“Put on my tightest pair of boxers just for you,” he mused, swallowing back the biting complaints as he tried to settle back onto the bed. 

“Yeah? Gonna mess them up for me, big boy?” 

“God,” Leon groaned but he was smiling. “I don’t even know why I bother sometimes.” 

But you laughed and the sound settled something inside him. “I bet they have little Oilers logos on them too.” 

Leon grinned a little. “Is that something you’re into? Want me to dress up for you?” 

“I would burn them if you wore them in front of me.” 

“If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask,” Leon retorted, his eyes falling shut as you scoffed on the other side of the phone.

“Are you naked now?” 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“Do I want to listen to you jerk off to my fantasies of burning your Oilers boxers? Can’t imagine anything hotter, Draisaitl.” 

Leon hated the way his dick twitched at your words anyways, the way something stirred in his stomach at the idea of you being so desperate to get his clothes off and to have him sprawled out naked and waiting for you. He didn’t tend to like handing over control, but he thinks his curiosity would win out when it came to you. 

“Talk dirty to me, baby. Tell me your sexy, arsonistic dreams.”

…

“Be honest. Do your boxers have little Oilers logos on them?” 

“I am not even dignifying that question with an answer.” 

“I’ll wear a Flames thong, we can match.” 

“I promise you I will not fuck you if you wear any sort of Flames merchandise around me. Instant turn off.”

“Liar.” 

…

Even though Red Deer was a beloved meet up spot for the both of you, Leon wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the obvious opportunity to meet up after a Battle of Alberta game.

Your apartment was one Leon had become familiar with, even though this was technically the first time he had ever stepped foot into it. It felt a little surreal as he walked through the doorway, sliding off his boots and looking around at the apartment that had been the backdrop for more Facetimes than he could even remember. 

His eyes lingered on the couch as a vague memory came to mind, of seeing you sprawled over it with your hand between your legs and your head thrown back as you came for him over the phone after a particularly rough game against LA.

“You just gonna stand there all day?” 

“Maybe,” Leon answered, not seeming to be in any rush as he continued to glance around your apartment before turning to face you. “I wanted to see what my options were for the night.” 

You raised your brows. 

“What? Backing out of our bet now?” Leon mused, feeling his stomach twist in delight at the way your eyes instantly narrowed in defiance. You were going to be difficult tonight, bratty even. 

Good. He liked that. He wanted that.

“You were so confident your Flames would win,” Leon continued, the name tasting like acid on his tongue as he hissed it out. His eyes were glued to you, taking slow steps towards you and feeling a thrill of excitement at the way you refused to back down. “A shame they couldn’t win.” 

“They would have,” you said, just to push his buttons, just to piss him off. “Bad calls can really determine a game.” 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Bad calls don’t mean shit when they can’t get the puck in the back of the net.”

Your eyes darted down to his lips as he stood in front of you. “And you did?” 

“Twice,” Leon grinned, sharklike and dangerous and yet, it still didn’t stop you from darting forward to press your lips against his.

Leon was shameless with the groan he let out as he pressed you against the wall, as he tucked his leg between yours and wound his arms around you so he could press you against his body. He was shameless in the way he kissed you, fast and passionate and needy and desperate. He was shameless in the way he muttered what he wanted to do with you, in the way he wanted you, in the stupid deal you had goaded him into a few hours before the game.

It was a herculean task to pull yourselves away from the wall and let you pull him towards your bedroom, but it was worth it once the two of you had managed to tear your clothes off and get on the bed. Leon allowed himself one, two, three seconds to stare at the sight of you spread out on the bed before he crawled over you and completely engulfed your body with his own.

“And that—” You let out a small whine as his teeth nipped the spot behind your ear. “—power play in the second was a bullshit call and we both fucking know it.”

“Fuck,” Leon groaned, his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the length of your neck. “Do you ever shut up?” 

“Thought you liked my mouth open,” you retorted, breathless and smug and, fuck, if it wasn’t infuriatingly hot to him. As if it wasn’t that damn mouth that was the reason he kept this going when it was far from easy or convenient. 

“I like it full,” he corrected, lifting his head to watch the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “I like it when you’re too fucked out to talk.” 

Your eyes gleamed with interest. “Then guess you better hurry up. I’ve been hearing a lot of promises since you walked through that door.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Keep your hands above your head. Don’t move.” 

“Is this you cashing in your reward from the bet?” You asked, playful and teasing but still obedient as you reached up to grip the wooden bars of your headboard. “That's all you want from me? To not touch you?” 

Winner gets to do whatever they want for the night.

Leon grinned and it made your stomach twist in delight. “Be good and you’ll find out just what I want and what I will get from you.”

…

“Is that a teddy?” 

“Don’t judge Quacks, he’s been with me through a lot.”

“He is staring into my soul.”

“He is a good judge of character and he says you’re pissy.” 

“Sounds like a very judgemental duck.”

“You two can bond over it.”

…

Somewhere along the line, the visits to that dodgy motel in Red Deer started to lessen.

Leon wasn’t sure when or why but…it just started to happen. It almost felt natural though, something he tried not to think about too deeply. He had just come off one of their longest roadies of the season yet—one that unfortunately resulted in more losses than wins—and he was keyed up, pissed off and in desperate need of some sort of distraction. 

But despite the two days off following the roadie, the idea of sitting in his car to drive down to Red Deer and back just for the sake of a few hours (at most) felt tiring and annoying and just…so much work. 

You had laughed over the phone when Leon had said as much, not sounding all that bothered or surprised by his pissy attitude. If the messages and late night calls shared during the roadie were anything to go by, you had watched the games and knew just how bad the team was playing lately. 

“Want me to come up and kiss the shitty games better?” 

“That’s a three hour drive,” he found himself saying in response. “Both ways.”

You snorted. “Wow, you wouldn’t even let me stay the night? Maybe chivalry is dead.” 

And that…fuck, Leon didn’t realise how badly he wanted that until you said. 

“You should come,” he blurted out. “Come and stay over.” And after a few moments of silence, he added, “I don’t have anything for a few days either.”

Leon wasn’t sure what he expected to come of the offer, but it was a little too late once you had accepted the offer. You messaged him once you were on the road. You sent another when you briefly stopped at Red Deer, taking a picture of your usual motel and sending it with a ‘missing the musty smell already’. You ended up sending your location for the rest of the journey, claiming you couldn’t be bothered to message when you were nearby and that he could just watch your location if he was that desperate to know. 

He didn’t admit that he watched your pin move closer and closer to his house for the last fifteen minutes of your drive. 

Leon kind of expected it to be awkward when you arrived, for the regret to hit and for the heavy realisation to settle that he had let someone else into his space for a prolonged amount of time. 

That never happened. If anything, it was more unsettling to realise just how easily you slipped into his life at home, to see how quickly Bowie accepted you. 

If anything, it made him realise how much he wished the two of you had done this sooner.

…

“Never took you to be the kinda guy to wine and dine a girl.”

“Fuck off.”

“Do you kiss Bowie with that mouth?” 

“No, but I did make you come three—”

“Nuh uh! Not when Bowie can hear, he has innocent ears.” 

…

The trips to Red Deer became nonexistent and instead were replaced with a back and forth of trips between Edmonton and Calgary.

Now, as stupid as his decisions off the ice may be, Leon wasn’t oblivious. He knew that this went beyond the original convenience excuse the two of you had thrown around at the start of this relationship. He knew that no normal person in a ‘sex only’ relationship was driving three hours just to spend a few days with their ‘sex only’ partner. He knew that this was far beyond the original agreement the two of you had agreed to in that dingy Calgary bar after the Oilers lost abysmally. 

But Leon was more than happy to avoid voicing those realisations out loud for as long as he got to keep everything going the way it was. 

Because he liked how things were, despite the initial confusion, and he was unashamedly selfish like that to know that he wasn’t letting it go until he had to. 

And if lying to his teammates to get out of team bonding after a ten day roadie so he could be home when you came over was a part of that? Then so be it.

He missed you. 

“You’re acting like it’s been a million years,” Leon commented, closing the door behind you and placing your bag to the side (rather than the spot in the middle of the entryway you had chosen). 

“It has been a million years,” you said from your spot on the floor, your legs crossed and Bowie happily licking your face. “I’ve been deprived of seeing my favourite boy.” 

Leon rolled his eyes, though it seemed fond. “He misses you too. Pretty sure he recognises your voice through the phone now. He looks extremely disappointed when he goes to the door and you’re not there.”

“Because he’s the smartest boy!” You cooed at the fluffy dog on your lap, grinning widely as he continued to whine and yip happily at you.  

Leon chose to ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. 

“Did you only miss him?” Leon found himself asking, because apparently he had reached the point of being jealous of his own damn dog.

The amusement was clear on your face when you lifted your head, that grin now directed completely at him. “I never took the Leon Draisaitl to be one to go fishing for compliments.”

Leon all but huffed. “I am not fishing, I am asking.” 

“Because you missed me?” You asked, sounding even more amused. 

“I regret opening the door.” 

“Liar,” you beamed at him, moving Bowie off your lap (who was not happy with the sudden shift in attention) and pushed yourself back onto your feet until you were in front of Leon, arms wound around his neck as you placed an obnoxiously loud, smacking kiss onto his cheek. “Better?” 

“You’re getting there,” he said, trying to sound dismissive and unbothered but the smile growing on his face didn’t help. 

You shook your head, almost looking as fond as he felt. “Hurry up and kiss me then, Draisaitl, it’s been a million years.” 

Leon rolled his eyes, but he happily complied. 

…

“That goal in the third against the Kings was hot.” 

“You watched?” 

“You sound surprised whenever I tell you I watch your games.” 

“The game was on at the same time as the Flames game.”

“Yeah but the Flames game didn’t have your grumpy face on the screen.” 

…

Leon realised that things had to change when Connor, of all people, was the one pointing out just how long this stupid thing between the both of you had been going on.

Not on purpose, which somehow made the whole thing ten times worse. 

The thrill of hate sex hadn’t been a solid excuse for the relationship between you two after the third or fourth hookup. No hate sex was that good to commute for it, no matter what anybody says. And the convenience argument quickly followed, even if the two of you clung onto it with both hands in the early months of the relationship.

And as the relationship grew and bloomed, you both seemed happy enough to ignore labelling it all together. 

Which was pretty fucking stupid, when Leon really thought about it. Even more so when Connor was the one connecting the dots for him.

“So.” 

Leon didn’t even bother looking up, his gaze focused on his skates as muscle memory took over, looping and tightening the laces on his skates before practice. “So?” 

“It’s almost been a year,” Connor said, standing in front of Leon’s stall with half of his gear on and his hands on his hips. “And I respect that you want to keep your privacy but…”

Leon paused, looking up at Connor with his brows furrowed. “What?” 

“I thought we were friends,” Connor frowned. “Good friends.” 

Leon blinked. “We are? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Connor stared at him like he was the one going crazy. “So you’re going to finally bring her over for dinner on Sunday? Lauren wants to meet her too.”

Leon blinked again. “Who?” 

Connor sighed, heavy and exasperated. “Your girlfriend, Leon. The one you have been hiding away for the last year.”

And, in that moment, Leon had come to a handful of realisations that were not ideal to deal with a few minutes before a hard practice on the run up to playoffs. Especially not when it had been triggered by words from the ‘more robot than human’ Connor McDavid.

He hadn’t realised the whole thing between you both had been going on for almost a year. He hadn’t realised the people around him were that observant, that they figured out he had been seeing the same person rather than random flings during the season like he had done in previous years. He hadn’t realised how much he wanted to call you his girlfriend until he realised he couldn’t look Connor in the eyes and say with conviction that yes, you were in fact his girlfriend. 

Leon realised a lot. 

“Raincheck?” Leon blurted out before he could stop himself, filing away the epiphany and Connor’s disappointed captain face to the back of his mind for the remainder of the practice so he didn’t deck it on the ice. 

He was the first one out of the locker room after practice before Connor could catch him again.

…

“Hey, you’re still coming over this weekend, right?” 

“Uh, yeah, just like we planned. Why? Did something come up?” 

“Yes. No! No, it didn’t. I just…I just need to talk to you about something.”

“How ominous.”

…

Leon had probably paced the distance to Germany and back around his living room by the time you arrived, much to Bowie’s displeasure as he watched from his spot on the couch with only slightly judgemental eyes.

In the days since his conversation with Connor, most of his thoughts had been surrounding what he wanted to say to you. He wasn’t stupid enough to think you didn’t feel something for him, he knew you had to or you wouldn’t be driving up to Edmonton every other week to see him. But he didn’t know if you would want more, he didn’t know if you would want a label.

He didn’t know if pointing out the very thing the two of you had been ignoring for the last year was going to completely fuck it up and, selfishly, he really did not want to lose you. 

It was almost ironic that you didn’t even knock on the door when you arrived, using the damn spare key he gave you to walk straight into the house like it was normal. Because it was normal for the two of you, it had been normal for months.

And yet, the only thing Leon could say as you walked through the door was, “where is your bag?” 

“In the car,” you said as you closed the door behind you but made no move to take your jacket off or even pull your boots off.

Suddenly, Leon felt on edge. “Why didn’t you bring it in?” 

You stayed where you were, too far away from him, too far away for him to reach out for you. “Is there a reason for me to bring it in?” 

“I—” Leon frowned, his chest twisting uncomfortably. “What? Of course there is. You’re staying the weekend, no?” 

“Am I?” You asked, your hands clenched into tight fists by your side. Your voice was shaky, unsure. He had never heard it like that before, and he never wanted to hear it like that ever again. Especially when it came to him. “Because from the way you’ve been acting the last few days, it feels like you are just trying to let me down nicely and it’s—”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Leon blurted out.

You stared at him, lips parted in surprise.

“I—fuck, I had a whole thing I was meant to say before that,” Leon grumbled to himself, shaking his head as he closed the distance between you both. And for the first time in days, his head felt clear as he stood in front of you, his hands cupping your face because he needed to be touching you before he felt like his whole body would explode. “We are so far past this whole convenience bullshit.” 

You snorted despite yourself, your lips twitching upwards as your hands reached for him. “Yeah, I think we got past that after the reception lady at the Red Deer motel asked us if we knew we had collected enough membership points to get a room free for a whole weekend.”

Leon didn’t even bother holding his smile back. “I want this. I want you. I want to tell people that you’re my girlfriend.” He paused, his nose scrunching up a little. “Well, not everyone. They can mind their own business, but the people that matter. I want to tell them that you’re my girl, even if you’re a fucking Flames fan, and I’m yours.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a Flames fan. Not really. Not anymore.”

Leon raised his brows. “Finally joined the better side?” 

“My boyfriend put up a really convincing argument,” you said, your hands twisting the fabric of his hoodie between your fingers before you pulled him closer.

“Your boyfriend sounds like a smart man,” Leon murmured, surprised he could even hear himself talk over the sound of his thumping chest.

“Eh, I’m only really with him for his dog,” you teased, laughing as Leon groaned and tugged you closer.

“Brat,” he grumbled against your lips, trying (and failing) to hide the fondness in his voice as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You love it,” you retorted.

Leon’s face softened as he pulled back enough to look at you. “Yeah. I do.”

…

“Let me get this straight, you only realised you wanted me to be your girlfriend because of Connor?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Wow, baby, you got love advice for McJesus.” 

“Please stop talking about Connor whilst you are naked in my bed.”

.

[aheckinmess]

Redamancy: A Mighty Valentine's Day

Part of @prominencesmashers Valentine's gift exchange! @actuallysaiyan was my valentine! I hope it fills your heart with so much joy!

Read on AO3.

Tags: Toshinori Yagi, All Might, Smol Might, Small Might, Reader, All Might-centric, Fluff, A Little Angst, And Everything in Between!, Nemuri Kayama Mentioned, Shouta Aizawa, Eraserhead, Hizashi Yamada, Present Mic, Thirteen Mentioned, All Might x Reader, Present Mic x Thirteen, The Three Dumbigos Included, Toshinori is Bad at Feelings, 5 + 1 fic, The five times Toshinori tried to confess his feelings to you, + the 1 time he succeeded, Gift Fic, Prominence Smash Valentine's Day

Word Count: 4,200 words

Summary: Valentine's Day is right around the corner, and Toshinori wants to admit his feelings for you before it's too late! Though he's got the spirit, he'll quickly learn that life knows how to throw some unexpected curveballs. Does that stop the Symbol of Peace? Absolutely not. OR The 5 times Toshinori tries to confess his feelings to you, and the one time he succeeds.

Author's Note: I've given the reader the name "Yin" (for, Your Name) and "Lyn" (for, Last Name) because I think it looks better than writing "Y/N," "L/N," "Name," or any other alternatives.

Attempt No. 1

All Might can do anything.

No matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent, All Might perseveres and always comes out on top with a mighty fist raised high. 

Toshinori, on the other hand, is beside himself trying to wrangle the tangled knot of feelings in his chest. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and he’s determined to ask you out before Snipe tries pulling out his rugged cowboy charms on you.

Considering he has zero experience with women and little to go off of aside from Midnight’s salacious soliloquies, he opts for a more classical option: flowers – which is why he’s currently thumbing through a bouquet catalogue with the local florist.

“And you said this one will be sure to catch her attention?” He points in the catalogue at a colorful arrangement themed with red, white, and pink flowers. 

“Oh, certainly!” The lady beams as she ties a bow around the stems of another bundle. “She’ll know what you’re trying to say for sure. This bouquet is well known in this area as the Matchmaker.”

“It is? Perfect! I’ll take these then.”

. . . . .

Toshinori sets up a time for the two of you to meet in the park as the venue for his timely confession. The wait for the bouquet isn’t bad, but actually having it in his hands prompts the Symbol of Peace to start pacing. Over and over he runs through what he’ll say, fumbling over his words even as he mutters them to himself. After a few moments, however, he’s worried he’ll ruin the bouquet and takes deep, cleansing breaths to center himself and pause.

Just be honest, like Aizawa said.

By the time he makes it to the meeting place in the park, he’s at his wit’s end. Facing villains suddenly seems much easier than this.

“Hello, my dear.” He plasters on a smile as his hands shake around the bundle of flowers behind his back. “I’m glad we could meet today.”

“Toshinori! I’m glad, too! It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper hang out.” The way your face lights up erases every single thought and essay he’d prepared this morning and the night prior. “What’s that you’ve got behind you? Is it a present for me?”

“Yes! W-Well, it’s nothing much. Just–”

BOOM!

An explosion rattles the ground beneath you both and screams in the distance send All Might on autopilot. If only he could think to hand you the damn bouquet in the meantime. 

But no. Instead, his fist tightens around it as he turns to you with frantic, blue eyes.

“Don’t move! Stay safe right here and I’ll go check it out!” He instructs.

The flowers disintegrate the moment he zooms in the direction of the blast, two blocks over. With a growl, he leaves them crumpled in the nearest blue bin as he sets his sights on the large bank robber sporting a hockey mask and massive paws. 

“You look like you could use a full serving of justice !” All Might laughs, whizzing over to the bank thief in record time, hoisting him up by the collar.

“A-All Might?! What are you doing in this district?!” The man squirms in the No. 1 hero’s grasp.

“My ears are always alert to the sound of villainy, no matter the distance!”

The bank robber is quickly subdued, as well as his lackeys trickling out of the bank behind him. By the time the cops arrive, a large group of grateful bank tellers and gawking civilians gather to watch their Symbol of Peace usher the culprits into the back of a police cruiser.

“Your finances are secure now…because I am here !” He grins wide while sporting a thumbs up.

When the cameras begin flashing, All Might knows he has to make a quick escape if he wants to conserve energy. “Thank you all for your continued support!”

In a flurry of wind, he jumps up to find the park again and stares at his empty palm. Damn. So much for the bouquet. His eyes land on the park and he drifts closer to the ground when another scream fills his ears.

“HELP!” A voice shrieks another block over. “Somebody help me!” 

Adjusting his course, All Might lands behind the offender, eyes glistening with determination and exuding a blue aura of menace as his feet stomp against the asphalt.

“Taking what doesn’t belong to you, hm? Looks like someone failed to teach you boundaries!” All Might’s dark smile paralyzes the fiend holding a stolen purse.

“All Might!” The victim chokes on a sob. “Thank you, oh, thank you!”

“Have no fear, ma’am. For I am here !” 

. . . . .

One hour turned to two until All Might’s watch flashes 12:00. He groans when he makes it back to the park and sees you’ve already left. To top things off, he’s used all but one hour of his energy, so he finds an alleyway to transform back to normal in a puff of steam. Shit.

He opts to walk home, having nothing else on the docket for the day and needing a much needed nap. On his way, he pulls out his cellphone.

I’m so sorry, Yin. Can we reschedule another meeting time and place? He sends the message all while kicking himself for the missed opportunity.

But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave others in harm’s way for a date. What might have happened if I hadn’t intervened? His mind wanders and worries until your text tone jingles in his ear.

Of course! I understand, Toshi. I had a meeting at noon, or I would have kept waiting for you. So don’t worry!

Toshinori sighs, both reassured and deflated at the sight of your message.

I’ll just have to set up another meeting and try to tell her again.

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

Attempt No. 2

“You’re trying to confess to Lyn?” Hizashi doesn’t know ‘quiet.’ He simply can’t help himself as he walks with Toshinori to the nearest arcade and whoops, “My MAAANN!”

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” Toshinori hisses, eying the arcade and feeling his ears ring. “Is there a subtle way I can let her know how I feel?”

“You’re talking to the King of Courting himself, Mr. Yagi!” Hizashi laughs. “But in all seriousness, it’s all about being honest and poetic. Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they’re…” Hizashi gestures for Toshinori to complete the phrase.

“...exquisite?” Toshinori rubs the back of his neck.

“No! Well, yes, but you’ve gotta dig deep, man! Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they sparkle like a million stars! Her smile isn’t just radiant, it…”

“...puts the sun to shame?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Hizashi exclaims as they step into the glowing arcade. “Good luck, good buddy! Just speak from the heart.”

With a clap on Toshinori’s shoulder, Hizashi disappears towards a group that is unmistakably Aizawa, Kayama, and Shirakumo. Now, Toshinori is left to find you himself, so he takes a deep breath as his eyes skim the many different game systems while brainstorming different compliments to give you.

As soon as his eyes find you, however, all flirtatious comments vaporize from his mind. Not one coherent thought remains when you turn to him with a wide grin sporting an All Might dress completed with white leggings.

Ten silent seconds pass by, and then your cheeks turn rosy while he stands ogling like an oaf.

“I’m sorry. Is this too weird to you? I almost talked myself out of wearing it. I figured it was too weird or fangirly, but I’d been hoping it seemed more appreciative…”

“No, no! You look amazing! It looks better on you than it does on me!” Toshinori blurts, his own face exploding in shades of red. “N-Not that I’d wear that…I meant my colors…or um, ah. I-I just didn’t expect it to look so perfect on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now.” You snicker, finding him endearing. “Come on. Let’s go see if anyone has beaten our high score on Galaga.”

The bells and whistles of pinball machines mingle with speaker sounds of gunfire, space blasters, and racecars screeching around a pixelated track. As it turns out, you reach Galaga and a new set of initials sits at the top of the leaderboard.

“Oh, no way! This means war!” You pretend to roll up your sleeves before pulling back your hair and grinning up at Toshinori. “We’ll reclaim the title!”

“With your spirit and determination? It is impossible to lose!”

. . . . .

You’re far too gracious, in Toshinori’s opinion, when you type his initials as the “New High Score!” icon flashes celebratory gold. Even though he urges you to take credit where it’s due – he didn’t even touch the console! – you dismiss him with a wave and nudge his shoulder.

“What’s important is that we have fun together.” You laugh, leaning your head on his arm and looking up at him with wide, dazzling eyes. “Don’t you agree?”

Toshinori can’t possibly refute it. Just your expression alone clasps his heart in an iron-grip. He knows in that moment he would do anything for you; you make Toshinori feel just as valuable as All Might. 

Like he could do anything no matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent.

You make him feel like living .

This is the moment. He’s sure of it.

“Yin,” He begins, clearing his throat. “Do you think maybe we could–”

“Oh my gosh, Yin! Hey!” A girlish voice screeches and suddenly he’s torn apart from you. 

The moment fades as a sinking feeling is ushered into his gut. Of course, he delights in seeing you so happy reuniting with some old friends, but he can’t help but believe he’s missed his chance. One glance around the arcade shows him an entire dating pool entirely in your league and out of his. Could you possibly even want him? 

“Toshi?” Your voice breaks through his spiraling internal monologue.

“Hm?”

“You don’t mind if I hang out with them for a bit, right? You can tag along if you’d like. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen them.” You reach across and squeeze his hand.

“You go have fun.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I have matters to attend to anyway, so it all works out. Be safe, wherever you decide to go.”

“Thank you.” You surprise him by rushing into his side for a swift hug. He can only stand there, semi-startled as he blinks and you pull back. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Likewise.”

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

Attempt No. 3

When you invite Toshinori out for a picnic three days later, he’s determined to suppress his feelings after two bitter failures. Or perhaps just letting his emotions bubble up to the surface naturally will yield better results than his previous two attempts?

That doesn’t mean Toshinori slacks in putting together his appearance, however. Normally wily locks of blonde hair have been tamed flat against his temple, complimented by a silky yellow button-up that accentuates his lanky frame. Pressed brown trousers lead into sleek dark loafers.

With one final look in the mirror and a glance at his watch, Toshinori hops up and down a few times to hype himself up before grabbing his phone, his keys, and starting a brisk jog to the beach. Come on. You’re the Symbol of Peace! You can have a cordial picnic with the woman you secretly adore.

Your blanket and large beach umbrella is impossible to miss on the searing sand. You’ve set up a dark wicker basket on a plaid blanket as you lay back in a lounge chair to soak up the sun. When you hear Toshinori approach, you crack open an eyelid with a shit-eating grin.

“Toshinori, you will never guess what I learned yesterday.”

Something about the way you’re looking at him prompts him to loosen another button on his shirt – or maybe he’s just winded from the jog over. 

“What’s that?”

You pull out a folder and open it, revealing a weathered news article with a picture of All Might face-planting into the streets of Shibuya. Immediately, Toshinori grimaces at the memory and turns to look at the ocean instead.

With a hefty sigh he grunts, “Okay, you’ve got your blackmail, what do you want?”

Laughter bubbles from your chest and you fall back against the lounge chair, pulling your sun hat over your face to muffle the snorting that follows.

“I don’t want anything!” You cackle. “I just thought it was funny! You’re always portrayed as this big hero who never misses a beat, never trips over his own feet; it’s nice to appreciate your humanity every now and then. I think it’s endearing. It makes you more approachable.”

“I’m not sure eating pavement would qualify as approachable.” Toshinori scoffs, taking a bite of strawberry as you both enjoy each other’s company.

“You don’t know that. Maybe someone with a really weird quirk out there has this very news clipping taped up in their room!” You taunt, ruffling his neat and tidy hair.

“Hey!”

“What? It’s too flat. I prefer it more when it’s a fluffy mess.” You shrug.

“I…wait, really?” He pats his hair and combs four large fingers through the wispy strands. “I didn’t know. I thought maybe I’d try to tame it since we were having a nice picnic – it seemed a formal enough occasion to me.”

“Toshi, I’ve seen you hold press conferences with a messier style.”

“Yes, but…I don’t know! I just wanted to see if maybe you’d like it better flattened down.” He grants you a smile. “But I’m glad you like it messy. It was starting to get suffocating.”

“No need to act out of your comfort zone for my sake.” You giggle, setting your chin on your palm as you smirk at him. “Though I’m flattered you did all of that for me.”

Toshinori meets your eyes and he wonders if he should seize this opportunity. This time, he just manages to open up his mouth when a gust of wind sends your hat flying across the beach and soaring towards the crashing waves.

“Ah! My hat!” You lurch up to run after it with Toshinori quickly taking point beside you.

Sand showers between the two of you as the hat glides and flutters on a different course every few seconds, always a fingertip away from your grasp. Toshinori nearly secures the prize when he trips and, in a fit of irony, lands face first in the sand.

He lifts his head, sputtering and spitting out grains of sand as you fall back, hat in hand, howling and holding your sides as you’re overcome with mirth. Once you calm down, belly still shaking with aftershocks of giggles, you help him blow out the remaining debris in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He exhales, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all while he dries his eyes on his shirt. “We speak of this to no one.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping this experience all to myself.”

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

Attempt No. 4

One week remains until Valentine’s, and Toshinori knows that if he wants to stand a chance in hell at getting heartfelt chocolates from you, he needs to step up his game. He’s tried flowers, he’s tried flirting, he’s tried a friendly outing on the beach, and now he’s got to resort back to basics again: dinner.

He follows the proper procedure, toeing the line between continued friendship and secret admirer as he holds your chair out for you and tells you how radiant you look this evening. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Toshi. This week has been insane and I need a good meal.”

Once he pushes your seat in, you roll your neck around and allow your muscles to relax and settle. The way your shoulders slump and your face smooths out leaves no question in Toshinori’s mind that tonight is the right decision.

“I’m glad to be of assistance. You’ve been looking overworked.” He admits, sipping from his water glass before the waiter comes to take his order. “Is there anything specific that’s been weighing on you? I-If you feel comfortable sharing, of course.”

You don’t miss a beat.

“Ugh, it’s just the kids have been crazy , lately. I swear there’s a full moon on the horizon.” You lean forward on the table as you invest yourself in the conversation. “Most of them are starting to understand press conference etiquette and I can see their progress. It’s just, I think they know the break is coming up and it doesn’t help that I’m at my wit’s end and getting burnt out.” 

Both of you pause as the waiter sets your orders in front of you. Toshinori waits for you to continue, except you’ve already dug into your meal. He chuckles when your eyes roll around in your head.

“I’m glad you like it. This place has udon that’s out of this world.”

“If I weren’t already so emotionally pent up, I would cry.” You admit between bites. 

Enraptured by your every word – and thoroughly impressed with his food – Toshinori sits across from you for an agreeable meal, offering himself as your ranting soundboard since you seem to need the release. Once he’s paid after dessert, the two of you stroll arm in arm towards your apartment. 

“I hope I didn’t steal the spotlight this evening.” Your hair curtains your blushing cheeks as you stare at your feet. “I didn’t intend to go on a whole tirade. You know you’re allowed to do the same thing with me, right?”

“Of course. My week has been amiable, and this week you needed me. So, I’m more than happy to be a safe place for you to fall.” He stretches a hand out to rest at your back, but clenches his fist as he thinks better of it and never makes contact. He stops outside your door while you fumble with your keys. “Have a good night, Yin. I,”  adore everything about you “hope you rest well and feel refreshed in the morning.”

As your gazes finally meet, unspoken tension crackles in the air. You rock forward on your toes and part your lips. Toshinori’s lashes flutter and cranes his neck toward you. Then, you tuck under his arm and squeeze him in a hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Toshinori. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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

Attempt No. 5

Empty cupboards and a scarcely filled fridge convince Toshinori to make a grocery trip after a fruitless search for eggs. The removal of the majority of his stomach might have shrunk his appetite, but didn’t erase it. He’s scouring the aisles when a flash of orange blossoms in his peripheral vision.

He lays eyes on a cute Valentine’s bear that he tosses into his basket without hesitation.

Hey, Yin! I was in town and figured I’d swing by, if that’s okay? I found something that made me think of you and I’d like to drop it off. Toshinori uses his white tee to clear the smudge from his screen as the grocery bags rattle on his arm.

Now free from the stuffy atmosphere in the store, he glides through the streets of Japan, bobbing and weaving through the clogged crowds in a race to reach your apartment. He’s just outside the door when your text tone chirps in his ear.

Hey, Toshi. I hate to tell you this, but I’m sick. Feel free to stop by if you’d like, but I don’t want you getting sick, too. Thank you so much for thinking of me!

Could this be it? His perfect chance to take care of you and demonstrate his affections, served up to him on a silver platter? Toshinori can hardly believe it, but he knocks on your door and steps inside anyway when you bid him to come in.

The pitiful display in front of him tugs at his heart, and he finds himself on autopilot when he sets down his grocery bags and strides over to press his palm to your forehead as you lay buried underneath a mountain of blankets on the sofa.

“You’re hot. Have you taken a fever reducer?” He chides, combing back a sweaty lock of hair. 

“Yeah, just a minute ago.” You reassure him, caressing his hand while leaning into his palm. “Don’t stay long if you don’t have to, Toshi, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to make you sick.” 

“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” He tuts, shaking his head before remembering why he initially came in the first place. “Oh! That’s right, I’ve got something for you.”

He pulls out the orange bear with hearts sewn into his feet and a larger, matching heart tattooed into his tummy. The large golden text on his belly declares, “FUR-EVER YOURS.”

“Aww, Toshi! You didn’t have to do that.” You squeal, forgetting yourself for a moment and coughing so hard your chest aches. “Sorry about that. I love him. I’ll let you know what I name him when I’m coherent enough to give him a proper name.”

“I’m glad you like him!” Toshinori perks up, heading into your kitchen to search for tea-making equipment. “Would you like me to make you some tea for that cough?”

“That would be heavenly.”

You’re nearly fading when he returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea, complete with honey and lemon to help your, presumably, sore throat. Though your eyes fight to stay open, you have no problem taking the mug and setting it on the side table nearby.

“Thank you so much. I can’t stress enough how lucky I am to have you.” You sigh, readjusting your head against the pillows and succumbing to the heavy weight of your eyelids. “Lock the door behind you when you go, ‘kay?”

“I will.” He promises.

In another breath, you’re snoring, and since you appear fully submerged in your dreamland, he risks a kiss to your forehead before he leaves.

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

Attempt No. 6

Over the course of the month, it’s become obvious to you that Toshinori is interested in you. Well, at least, you think so. The bashful comments, attempted gifts, and overall pleasant moods and outings you’ve shared within these two weeks guide you to one, daunting and exhilarating conclusion: your affection for Toshinori seems like a mutual one.

So, with the might of a thousand suns and the determination of an Olympic gold medalist, you pour all of your efforts into making him one of the best, and only, heartfelt chocolates you’ve ever made. You try the recipe not once, not twice, but three times to make sure they’re as delectable as possible. 

By the time you make it to the staff room on Valentine’s Day, your stomach ties itself in knots as the limited number of females exchange their own chocolates. Recovery Girl has polite chocolate for everyone that’s wrapped in cute, pink little mesh bags. Thirteen offers some heartfelt chocolate to Present Mic with blushing cheeks over in the corner, while Midnight offers a small bag of cheese to Hound Dog. 

“You giving Toshinori some heartfelt chocolate, Lyn?” Aizawa asks and scares the shit out of you in the process.

“I’m…gonna try.” You hope you sound more confident than you feel.

“Good for you.” It’s as much encouragement as you’ll get from the erasure hero. “For what it’s worth, I’m hoping I’ll get some from the librarian.”

“Oh, really? How sweet!” You beam, before turning to find Toshinori. “I’m going to go find–eep!”

The tall behemoth in question stands in front of you, blonde hair wily and fluffy as always. A plot twist you hadn’t expected? In his hands, he holds his own package of chocolates.

“Yin,” He greets you. “I know it’s not traditional for the guy to give chocolates until next month but…” He extends the small package of chocolates with shaky fingers. “I hope you’ll accept this as an expression of my affections.”

You accept the package and exchange it for your own, wrapped in his signature colors. He takes it and your smile illuminates the room so much it could be a new point of orbit.

“I have some for you too, Toshinori. I wanted to make sure they were perfect for you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time, but it never felt like the right time.” You confess, looking away.

His large hand comes under your chin to make you look at his luminous eyes, blue and twinkling in the light from the window. 

“I guess the right time found us, then.” He laughs, glancing down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “May I?”

“Please.”

Your hand comes up to rest on his chest like it was always meant to be there. His thumb caresses your neck so tenderly, as though he’s done it a thousand times before. Electricity sparks between the two of you even before your lips ever touch, and the world falls away in a swirl of desire and unrestrained need. 

In the quiet sanctuary of Toshinori’s cubicle, after immense effort and copious failed attempts, you both indulge in the shared reward of a final, successful confession.

[king-candybug-backup]

What’s your favorite scene so far? Like not just to write but just in general.

Sad, happy, funny whatever, what’s your all time favorite? :D

OOOOHHHHH MAN. I HAVE AN EXACT SCENE IN MIND, BUT CAN’T SHARE IT YET BECAUSE IT’S IN ONE OF THE LAST CHAPTERS. 😂 I’ll give a very brief overview of what it entails, because I feel like the fact that it happens isn’t exactly a spoiler since it’s kind of inevitable given all of Candybug’s general assholery, though I’ll put it in small text in case people want to gloss over it, but basically *cough cough* Vanellope flips her goddamn lid at King Candy (long overdue and well-deserved ofc lmao) and I just can’t wait to get to that part, she tells him off VERY HARD. My favourite scene for sure. :3 (tbh there’s a lot of emotionally painful shit that comes up in that particular set of chapters that I’m just so unhinged and not normal about lmfao CAN’T WAIT TO HURT YOU GUYS MORE <333)

AS FOR SCENES OF THE ALREADY-COMPLETED CHAPTERS THOUGH, MAN, THAT’S ALSO TOUGH TO DECIDE TBH 😂 Chapter 3 and Chapter 8 have been my favourites overall of the published chapters so far, and a couple of my fave moments from those ones was a) Ralph finding out that Candybug’s still alive and the general fallout from that, and b) Candybug reminiscing to Felix and Vanny that he went through Ralph’s mud pile on purpose before coming inside the penthouse specifically to annoy Gene ghfdsgxdhcfgvhbjnkvgf

I also like these two a lot, idk exactly how to explain why I like the second one tbh, but the first one I just find fun and silly lol: 

“Alright, pipsqueak, what exactly did you mean by Cy-bug-related–” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the beastly hybrid in front of her.  “Hello there!” King Candy chipperly greeted her, adding on a friendly wave. “Why, aren’t you looking lovely today! Is that a new hairstyle? It suits your character model wonderfully.” “Layin’ it on a little too thick, there.” Vanellope whispered to him, an anxious grin plastered across her face. “Hmm, you think so?” He tapped his chin with one claw, eventually nodding in agreement. “Perhaps the hair comment was a tad much.”

I just like the whole vibe of like…

Vanellope: For the love of mod, please be nice.

Vanellope two minutes later: NOT THAT NICE.

Oh, KCB and his fake-ass bitch energy. 😂

And then this one:

For the longest time, it had been so hard to look at him and see anything aside from Turbo, the monster. The arcade’s personal boogeyman. The bitter, vile, heartless fiend that gleefully stole the lives away from so many people, herself included. But, with each passing day, it was becoming easier and easier to see him as Turbo, the person. Someone with feelings and interests and problems… Oh, so many problems. But still a person, like anybody else in the arcade. If she were being truly honest with herself, she hated it. She hated the dichotomy that came with seeing him in this light. She hated the ways in which she could find sympathy for him despite knowing just how undeserving he was of it. Knowing full well all the wrongs he’s done.  All of it rooted in that one particular wrong so many years ago. That one choice that she had never been able to wrap her head around, no matter how many times she’d heard the story. Now, it was time for her to understand. 

BUT HONESTLY I JUST LOVE THE WHOLE ROADBLASTERS CONFRONTATION IN GENERAL AGHSFDGJVBJNK, I LIKE DOING “NARC CRASH” STUFF WITH KING CANDY, IT MAKES MY BRAIN GO BRRRRRRRRRR

There’s also some fun Calhoun + Candybug interactions coming up eventually, and even though they don’t interact a whole lot as compared to the other characters, I love their stupid dynamic and I’m gonna share this one scene from one of the later chapters of Calhoun completely trolling him because it makes me giggle 😂

They sat in silence for a minute or two longer, Calhoun’s head tilted slightly to the side as she watched the Cy-bug eat. One more question had popped into her mind, and though she already knew the answer, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have a little fun at this bastard’s expense. “So… Haven’t laid any eggs, have you?” King Candy immediately choked on his food, hacking and coughing while he tried, unsuccessfully, to regain whatever sense of composure he had five seconds ago. Turning away to jot something into her notebook (and hide the smirk on her face), she commented, “I’ll take that as a ‘not yet’.” “What do you mean ‘yet’?!” Candy’s distraught voice sputtered back, Calhoun trying very hard to muffle her snickering.

I JUST THINK THE FACT THAT SHE KNOWS WAY MORE ABOUT CY-BUGS THAN THE ACTUAL CY-BUG COULD MAKE FOR SOME VERY SILLY TROLLING SHENANIGANS. 😂

[dresshistorynerd]

@bubbletea4ever I'm responding to your comment in a separate post since my answer got too long and I then just decided to properly make my case.

(For anyone else stumbling here, here's the post in which comments we were discussing. There's couple of comments before this, so if you want more context, you are free to check them out.)

So here's @bubbletea4ever 's comment:

so you can understand that regimes can control and influence how people dress, but you can’t see that a culture does the same? If you ask women who veil their faces why they do it, how many of them do you seriously think are going to say ‘to protect me from the sun’ ? covering your face is dehumanising to yourself. you can pretend it’s neutral but it’s not. there’s not a world where this means nothing, it’s inherently oppressive that women just so happen to be the sex whose awra seemingly includes everything but the face and yet even some believe they should cover that. It is inherently oppressive that there are women who choose to swim in clothes that puts them at further risk of drowning in the name of piousness. And I said it’s cultural imperialism because that’s precisely what it is. Not every niqabi is from the specific region of Saudi where this began. This sort of regression only had a resurgence because of petro-Islam.

Of course people don't usually actively think about their clothing's origin or practical purpose. Culture forms around the practice and assigns symbolism and meaning to it. If you ask most people of the world "why are you not going out in your underwear?" they will probably not answer by "because of western hegemony we are all wearing clothing that originates from Europe and in European climate layering is the best strategy to keep you warm but not overheated or sweaty". They will most likely answer "it's not appropriate". Yes, the reason today many Muslim women wear any kind of veil, including niqab, are usually religious reasons (weather by choice or not), but my point in my original response was to show that these clothing are not just tools of oppression or just religious symbols, they are also practical useful garments which have long history, just like any other traditional clothing item from different cultures. My point was that while they can take different meanings, none of those meanings are inherent to them.

When I mentioned enforcing and controlling how people dress I of course mean also other means of control than just legal means. But there is a difference in controlling societal structures and cultural norms, though the line between those two is often hazy. All cultures ever have had some social standards and norms for dress. My previous example works here as well. In modern globalized culture it's deemed inappropriate to be naked or even in just the underwear in public. However, there is nothing inherently inappropriate in it. In many cultures thorough history, mostly those originating from hot and at least semi-humid climates, it has been entirely appropriate to appear almost or fully naked in public, and the concept of underwear itself is not even universal. Even in Early Modern Europe it was very appropriate for certain women in certain situations to appear in public their breasts fully exposed (I have a post where I explain the phenomena). However, in modern globalized culture it's not. I wouldn't call that inherently oppressive though. Historically using veils (even face coverings in desert climates) was often more of a neutral cultural norm like the one I just described rather than a tool of societal control, including in Europe, where veils and other head coverings were for a long time part of the standard dress (also originally for practical reasons). (I'm not saying this was always the case thorough history, I can already think of some examples which cross the hazy line to more of an oppressive standard, but broadly speaking.) Of course, I do know that in many modern Muslim societies, even when there's no outright laws enforcing it, there is very much societally enforced pressure especially for women to wear certain clothing, which is oppressive. Still the garments themselves are not oppressive.

I think it's interesting you say covering your face is inherently dehumanizing. Why is that? What makes covering your face specifically dehumanizing? Is covering your eyes dehumanizing? For example would you consider using sunglasses as dehumanizing?

I'll give you an example to better explain how I see this. In Victorian Era western societies it was societally enforced standard for women to only wear skirts and never pants. That was oppressive. Are skirts then oppressive? I certainly wouldn't agree with that. Some feminist women did push against this oppression and wore pants. There were also women who agreed that it's oppressive to control what women wear but still choose to wear skirts. Was the only reason they choose to wear skirts because of this oppressive standard? For some it certainly was because they were afraid of the backlash, which was severe at first. But for others it clearly wasn't, because some of them did dress in very unconventional manner directly contrasting the contemporary beauty norms, but still wearing skirts. Would it have been a good way to dismantle this norm by demanding that no woman ever wears a skirt? Absolutely not. There would be just another type of control. (I write a bit more on that history in this post.) Another example. At the same time men were not allowed to wear skirts in public (outside very specific situations like when they were small children or when they were a Scott wearing a kilt). During Victorian Era many countries had laws against cross dressing, but even to this day it's not socially acceptable for men to wear skirts in western and most westernized countries. Even if there's no longer laws against it, our oppressive social structures still enforce that. So are pants then oppressive? Of course not. Should all men stop wearing pants? No, they should be allowed to wear skirts or pants. Should I assume that every man ever wearing pants is only doing it because they are oppressed by the societal standards of dress? I do not think so. My thinking is exactly the same about niqab and other Muslim and Arab garments.

In your previous comment you said the prevalence of face covering as a whole is due to imperialism, which is what I disagreed with, at least with the "as a whole" part, because as I said, face coverings have long been used in many arid, especially desert, environments, not just Arabia. Niqab term and the specific form comes from Arabia, but very similar types of face coverings are not exclusive to Arabia nor even to Islam, nor do they originate with either of them. There's even historical examples from Europe of the practice of face coverings in certain areas (for example in parts of Germany during the Renaissance, but this is veering quite off the point). Face coverings have been recorded in Levant in pre-Islamic historical accounts as well, as this academic article on the misconceptions about nicab explains (this paper informs my opinion in this subject a lot). Coptic Orthodox women, who are Christians who originate around Eqypt, traditionally wore black veils and face coverings as seen in the photo from 1918 below. Tuaregs (one of the Amazigh peoples of North Africa), both men and women, but particularly men, have also worn face coverings called Litham for centuries, as seen in the second image from 1897. Litham is a veil that also covers the face, and is often worn by men as a turban. In Central Asia face coverings have also been used for a long time, chaderi has been used in Afghanistan for several hundred years, as seen in the third image, an illustration from c. 1840.

These are just a few examples and my point with them is to illustrate niqab style face coverings are not exclusive to Saudi Arabia, and certainly not to Najd alone, so calling all face coverings outside Najd Saudi imperialism is simply not true. Saudi Arabia is certainly an imperial entity and historically Arab imperialism has been in a cultural hegemony position in the MENA area. However, Arab imperialism is certainly not the only kind of imperialism effecting MENA societies. Similarly as Arabic cultural products are pushed on many Muslims outside Arabia and even Arabic countries, so are western products. Would you think the only reason an Arab or a Muslim more broadly, man or a woman, would wear jeans or other western clothing is that they are oppressed by western imperialism? Would you condemn that usage of jeans?

It was also the western colonialism which enforced western cultural norms in many Arab and other Muslim countries, which led to the wave of westernization across MENA in the 20th century and the decline of the usage of traditional clothing, including veils and face coverings. Western world of course framed it as progress, because in the colonial framework the burden of the white man was to "civilize" non-white non-western societies. Everything non-western was then backwards and uncivilized. The Islamic backlash against this led to another kind of oppression, which is fueled by the continued western imperial presence in the area. Even Saudi Arabia is in the end just an arm of American imperialism. My point is traditional Islamic or Arab garments are not inherently more oppressive than western garments, what is oppressive when either is forced upon a culture and upon it's people.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 48

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Cheers echoed through the vast hall of City Hall. The Minister of Economy had just finished his speech, addressing an enthralled and electrified crowd on this first day of July. 

“Mr. Lavilliers! Ms. Bronze!” journalists shouted from the foot of the stage, clamoring for photos.

I exhaled deeply; the day had been exhausting.

The Minister had traveled here for the inauguration of a new cutting-edge industrial hub, bringing together numerous high-tech companies. It was a project I had developed with my team throughout my two terms, and today marked a real milestone. In a challenging economic climate, the visit allowed the Minister to showcase zones of job dynamism and prove that the fight against unemployment was ongoing. At the same time, it helped burnish his reputation—such was the nature of politics. 

The day had been long. Hosting such a high-profile figure demanded flawless logistics, and being tailed by a horde of relentless journalists all day left no room to breathe.

Now, in the late afternoon, the Minister had concluded his speech, praising the vitality of the municipal team while seamlessly highlighting his own national economic record. One announcement, in particular, thrilled me: confirmation of the airport expansion. 

I had won this battle after relentless determination, countless high-level calls, and persuasive trips. 

It was now my turn to speak and wrap up the event. I never used notes; I hated them. Though I always prepared my speech and read it over multiple times, once on stage, I wanted to be free—not tied to a piece of paper. 

I began, addressing the large and imposing crowd. I loved public speaking—felt no fear, no apprehension. I delivered heartfelt thanks to my team, the government, and economic partners while highlighting future opportunities. I sprinkled my speech with light humor to amuse the audience and even the Minister. 

Scanning the room, I sought to connect with every face, making each listener feel included. 

Suddenly, amidst the dense crowd, I caught sight of those green eyes I knew so well. It was her—Ona. 

I faltered, losing my words, my breath momentarily stolen.

She stood slightly off-center at the back of the hall. Her tanned skin glowed against the white dress she wore, looking absolutely radiant. 

I hadn’t seen her since that April morning on the train. As agreed, we had no contact. Countless times I’d wanted to reach out, but I hadn’t. She had been on my mind constantly—the woman who had disrupted my perfectly ordered world. 

I had initially tried to push her away, provoke her, because there had been something from the start: an indescribable energy, a magnetic pull. The construction site, where our games began, had become the backdrop of a love so complex. 

I exhaled and refocused, doing my best to finish the speech, carefully avoiding her gaze. Thunderous applause erupted once more, accompanied by the flashes of cameras. I waited for the commotion to subside before finding her. 

I smiled—a superficial one—as I scanned the room for her. My focus was entirely on Ona now. I spotted her chatting with Alexia. 

Determined, I stepped down from the stage and began weaving through the crowd toward her. Like an automaton, I shook hands here, offered smiles there, but my destination was singular: Ona.

She was only a few meters away when she turned and smiled at me. I reached out and touched her forearm, yearning for the warmth of her skin.

“Ona…” I began.

But I was swept away by the crowd, the Minister following behind me with the press in tow. 

I lost her—her touch, her gaze.

[cardinalbiggles]

Hangman Page Birthday Week

Day 4: Favorite NJPW/ROH/indie Moment ROH Manhattan Mayhem 2018

@swervestrickland

[cisthoughtcrime]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

This is the spiritual successor to Four Seasons Landscaping. To me.

[insipid-drivel]

"Biz, what would you like for your birthday this year?"

"For nobody to misgender me for a day."

Turned out too much to ask (:

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Head in my hands wondering if I'll have to cut the entire Chume Labs section out because it's more suited to being a different chapter, but also knowing the next chapter can't have it either so I might have to cut it from this fic entirely aaaAAAAAAAAAA

[lavenderyoonji]

okay just coming back here to sadpost because i’m needing to rant about feelings

[poisonedfate]

literally in distress over my job rejecting my availability

[prozach27]

.