#this is probably out of character but whatever

[esote-rika]

Red is Your Color | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: You just committed perhaps the most atrocious wrongly sent message ever. By some trick of nature, your coworker is more than willing to play along. (This is from @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient prompt list. Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker; check out her prompts, they're really fun!)

Content: softdom!spencer, fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), p in v, creampie, reader is on the pill, Spencer calls reader a naughty girl and pretty girl, tenderness and lots of checking in, vaguely Christmas themed. 

Word count:  3.1k

A/N: I read something really poetic and profound yesterday and it inspired me to write, but my mind was in the gutter, so this happened. lmfao happy holidays. UNEDITED, I wrote this at 2 in the morning T.T

Do you think Santa would bend me over and punish me?

Spencer Reid was almost too scared to even open the following messages—he’d already made the mistake of opening this one. And there was a barrage of them, sent a few minutes after the very first one, in quick succession, one right after the other. His phone buzzed and buzzed, matching the distracting hum in his brain at the moment. He should probably read the next messages, because surely, surely those contain the explanation to this one.

Unfortunately, his eyes were glued on this first one—it seemed like it was the only one that contained a picture, after all, and what was that they said about a picture saying a thousand words?

What could it mean then, this picture his coworker had sent to him? What did it mean that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it? (What did it imply if he didn’t want to? That he liked the picture? That it made his pants uncomfortably tighter?)

He stared at the picture, his eyes greedily taking every inch of smooth skin exposed by the short, strapless sexy Santa dress his coworker was wearing. It wasn’t explicit—she was fully dressed, after all, but the caption, paired with the way she had been posed… Sitting on what he presumed was her bathroom counter, her legs artfully crossed, the fabric of the dress hiked up to reveal long, luscious thighs. With her pursed lips painted crimson, it was obvious what the message was meant to imply and Spencer felt his mouth grow dry. He shifted on his seat, both hands gripping his phone because he didn’t trust them not to wander down, to give himself relief.

No, he should not be jerking off to his coworker. He shouldn’t even be fucking looking at this photo. He should delete it, call Penelope and ask her to rewire his cloud or memory or data or whatever it was called. Just to get rid of it from his phone. That would be the decent thing to do, and Spencer had always prided himself on being a gentleman. 

He knew that would be futile; knew his mind would be treacherous and have the image of her with those supple thighs, and red mouth in his dreams, his nightmares, in every fantasy—

His phone was ringing.

He stared at it, wondering how she was sending so many messages so quickly, before he realized that she wasn’t texting anymore.

She was calling.

His thumb found the answer button without his consent. The next thing he knew, her voice was pouring from his phone’s speaker. Soft. Contrite. Embarrassed. He frowned. What on earth was she embarrassed about, he wondered. She, who looked stunning, who looked good enough to be worshipped—

“—Please say something, Spence.” she was saying, pleading, and something in his gut clenched. That nickname, coming from her lips. That nickname, coming from her lips, while she was wearing that dress.

“Spence—”

“It’s all right,” his voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, “It’s all right. I’ve deleted it.” Lie, what a liar, she deserved better than hastily told lies.

“Okay,” she sighed, relief palpable even without seeing her face to face, “I just didn’t want to get in trouble with HR, on top of everything.”

HR. He almost laughed. They wouldn’t care (unless someone blabbed, like what happened with Derek and Penelope, but he would never do that to her, not in a million years.)

“You wouldn’t, I promise… it wasn’t even that explicit, if I’m being honest.” he heard himself say. He rubbed his eyes in frustration—why did he have to add that?

Her laughter floats from the phone, nervous and low. “I guess not. I wasn’t about to send a complete nude to my friends.”

He straightened up, confused. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice still wavering nervously, “Like I said in my texts, it was wrongly sent to you, I was talking to my friends.”

In other words, it wasn’t for him. He would have known that, had he opened her texts, had he not been too busy ogling the picture she had mistakenly sent, the picture that wasn’t even for him. Something unpleasant burned in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of the curiosity that lingered.

“You send explicit pictures to your friends?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that explicit,” she chuckled, “But, uh, yeah I do… I dunno, maybe that’s weird, but we were joking around.”

That was something new he learned today. That friends could casually send sexually charged photos to each other. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So you don’t actually want to be bent over and punished?”

Dear heavens, sometimes he understood why his teammates gave him weird looks. If he had a mirror, he would give himself a weird look. Still, he held his breath for her answer, surprised by the wave of disappointment at the thought of her saying no, it was just a silly text.

The pause grew between them, and Spencer was almost about to apologize, when she spoke again.

“I mean, if someone were willing to do it…”

He swallowed. His pants felt tight once again, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. This was not an invitation, he thought, she had not asked him, she was not saying if you wanted to do it (which, he does, desperately so.)

“Right.” he managed to croak. Another pause, as if she was contemplating. 

“Spencer,” she was whispering now, “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

You’re not sure what possessed you into inviting your coworker over, but you did. And now, you’re sitting in your living room, in that blasted sexy Santa dress, panic texting your friends about it. He had said fifteen minutes. Eight minutes had gone by, and you knew he would fulfill his promise. He would be here in seven minutes.

Perhaps you weren’t expecting him to agree. Your perception of Spencer Reid has always been of a sweet genius, wholly brilliant and too preoccupied with academics to even give a second thought to sex and romance. He was a germaphobe, for crying out loud, you had thought it would make him have some sort of aversion to the inevitable sticky, sweaty mess of two bodies coming together. 

But you’d heard it in his voice. Strained, low, and riddled with desire. 

So you had mustered enough courage to ask. And now—

Your doorbell cut through your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into a drawer, not wanting to see the offensive piece of technology for the rest of the night. You looked out through the peephole, and there he was, still in his office clothes. Tall, and slender, and dishevelled and yours for the night.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heavy thump in your chest. 

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You’re early.” You teased, standing aside to let him in. His eyes were glued to you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

“You’re still wearing the dress.”

Right. Once you had realized you sent the text to Spencer instead of your friends, you had spent the next several minutes in agonizing anxiety, sending text after text to Spencer in an effort to explain. In your utter mortification, you had forgotten to change out of it.

He seemed to like that. It gave you enough confidence to surge forward, blindly, recklessly.

“I am.” You said, red lips tugging into a smile you reserved for handsome strangers at a bar. You lowered your voice, just enough for the next words to come out breathless, “Honestly, it’s a little itchy.” 

“Is it?” He stepped forward, crowding you into the door. It creaks as it moves with your weight, the knob clicking in place. He reached forward, and you held your breath, anticipating his hands on you, gently running over your skin, but instead they closed over the doorknob, locking it. He didn’t miss your reaction, though, his eyes a glittering night sky of sweet, utter want. “Maybe I can help you with it.”

You nodded, mouth parted in silence, whatever words you wanted to say have died in your throat.

He brought his hand up, caressing your jaw, and you marvelled at how large his hands are, long fingers reaching the nape of your neck. “Red is your color.” he murmured, before leaning in to capture your lips.

His lips were cold and chapped, and you returned his kiss eagerly in an attempt to warm them. Your mouth opens at one swipe of his tongue, moaning as he leans his whole body into you, pushing you harder against the door. Tonight, you learned that Spencer Reid, the sweet, unassuming genius, kisses like he wants to crawl into you. It’s a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth, and a whimper escaped your mouth as he bit your lower lip.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away for a moment. 

As an answer, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and returned the fervor of his kisses. You heard him chuckle, felt it on your own tongue as it happened and it made your knees buckle from sheer want. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up into his embrace. You felt him move, stumbling across your apartment before setting you down again. The blunt edge of a drawer hit your lower back, just as he pulled away. 

A whine left your lips. You didn’t know if it was from the pain, or the loss of his kiss.

“Turn around, darling.” he murmured, but your brain was so damn distracted you just stared at him blankly. He grinned, hands at your hips gently maneuvering you to face away from him. “You said you wanted to be bent over.” 

Chills went down your spine as he pushed you forward, elbows landing on the smooth, wooden desk. 

“Y-yeah, I did say that.” you managed to reply. This time, the breathless quality in your voice was not an affectation. You felt his nose on your neck, pushing away the stray locks of hair, before his mouth landed over the skin, open and wet, traversing the expanse of your flesh with reckless ardor. You moaned, craning your head back in a wordless plea for more.

You felt teeth, the sting of it clamping over your flesh. You didn’t even realize you’d yelped until he stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soothing the bite with his kisses.

“It’s okay,” You replied, one hand reaching up, running through his hair. “Do it again.”

The rumble of his laughter made your stomach warm. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucked at the spot he bit, and you would have face planted into the desk had it not been for his hands holding you up. 

“You’re a naughty girl,” he purred against your skin, “Aren’t you? Sending that picture to me, I bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

“It was,” you protested, but then he grinds his crotch into your ass and any indignation was stifled by the feeling of how damn hard he was. “It was - I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to make me this hard?” he asked, rolling his hips against you, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing, naughty girl.” Before you could answer, you felt something digging into your ass. He was tugging at your panties. To the side, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to strip it off of you. 

It was hot as all hell.

“My god, you’re absolutely soaked for me.” he groaned into your ear, and you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers ran through your cunt. Somehow, his fingers have remained cold, and the sensation sent a shudder down your spine.

“S-Spencer,” you whined, knuckles finding leverage at the edge of the desk you’ve been sprawled over.

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“M-more.”

His laughter filled the room once again, “And I thought I was being needy.” he said, but he obliged your request easily, slipping two fingers into your pussy. His breath fanned over the overheated skin of your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips against his hand, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. You’d never enjoyed this by yourself; your own fingers were thin, too short to cause any sort of pleasure when you touched yourself. But Spencer’s hands were large, his fingers long and elegant and perfect. They curled inside you, hitting a spot you’ve never been able to with your own hands, and you cried “Oh, fuck yes!”

It was everything. Quite literally. His arm was holding you against him, his body a solid, lean mass behind you, pressing into the slopes of your own, digging in wherever your softness yields to his hard angles. You moaned and moaned again, as his fingers quickened, as his thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles until your arms gave out and your entire upper half was splayed on the desk. 

He didn’t stop, cooing soft words into your ear, his tongue and lips and teeth a whole other dangerous territory of its own. You knew you would have hickeys tomorrow. You knew the team would ask questions. You didn’t particularly care.

“Can you take more?” he asked, and you nodded, eager to take whatever he was going to give. A third finger slid into your dripping cunt, stretching you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time and you groaned, head buried in your arms. He paused, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, “Are you all right, darling?”

“Yes.” you sobbed, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you because you sounded sad, and everything that Spencer has done up until this point proved that, despite it all, he cared. 

“You can tell me if it’s too much, you know.” he murmured. His lips laved featherlight kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, bucking your hips. The idea of being slightly incoherent from the pleasure he’s been giving you was a little too enticing, and you were in no mood to stop, “Please.”

“Okay,” he resumed his ministrations, slower this time, dragging his fingers in and out of you with a precise rhythm, now that he’s figured out your weak spots. “You are so pretty like this, darling. Dress hiked up, your lipstick smudged.”

A mewl came out of your throat, and you would have been embarrassed if you still had the presence of mind to feel an ounce of shame. He coaxed a second orgasm from you, and you marveled at the fact that he could elicit responses like these with just his fingers. It seemed unfair, but a large part of you reveled in it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out, “That’s my pretty girl.”

You lifted your head from your arms. The sight that welcomes you is a blurry one, impeded by the clumpy eyelashes and messy tears that had gathered in your eyes. You knew you looked a mess, far from the pretty girl he kept repeating, but you ate up the praise all the same.

As if by their own accord, your hips move back, grinding into his erection. You wanted more. You wanted him to be in the same daze you were in right now, wanted to be one. “Spencer,” you whined, and he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he replied, playfully chastising, but the sound of his belt buckle reached your ears and you grinned.

“Just wanna make sure you get something too.” you mumbled.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I had forgotten a condom?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, bracing yourself on your elbows again, and looking over his shoulder.

“Wow, isn’t your whole thing the complete opposite of forgetting?”

“I was a little distracted.” he said, his smile sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” you replied, “I’m on the pill.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You nodded, one arm moving and blindly grasping for the zipper of your Santa dress. His hand gently encircled your wrist, placing it back on the desk.

“It stays on,” he said, as the blunt tip of his cock pushed past your pussy, “I told you, red is your color.”

Your mouth dropped open as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, and wordless expression of pleasure. He had spent a large chunk of time fucking you with his fingers, and the necessity of it dawned upon you now.

He was big.

The stretch made you groan, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy fluttered around him. He pressed his body over yours, pushing you into the desk as he began to rock, in and out of you. Involuntarily, you clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, holding you tightly around the waist with one arm. The other went to the desk, steadying himself as he found a rhythm that made you writhe beneath him, “Oh god, yes.”

You couldn’t even respond, your body moving on autopilot, meeting his every thrust with your hips. The sounds your bodies made were obscene, wet, sloppy noises of flesh meeting flesh. It filled your head, made you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Spencer,” at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated his name. The world has anchored all meaning to that one sound, and you said it, over and over again, “Spencer.”

“Mhm,” he responded by snapping his hips, pushing his cock so deep into your toes curl, “That’s it, darling, say my name.”

“Spencer,” you said in your broken voice, every repetition turning higher and higher in pitch, and it seemed like the higher your voice went, the harder he fucked you. Your desk banged against the wall from his rough thrusts, joining the cacophony of sounds from your coupling. 

His pace grew rougher, faster, his grip on you reaching the point of painful and bruising, but it made your head spin in the most delicious way possible. You clenched around him, squeezing his cock in an attempt to find your peak, and instead initiating his.

“Fuck—” he groaned, as his load exploded inside you, somehow filling you even more, and you dropped your head to the desk again as your own body shuddered with release. 

Panting, and exhausted, you both stayed there, bent over the desk half upright, like a tower about to topple. He kissed the back of your neck as you fought to catch your breath. Looking over your shoulder, the sight of him fills your vision, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, his lips smudged with your lipstick, and you couldn’t help but think that red is his color too.

[acid-ixx]

last night, i just had a terrible nightmare where someone sent in a really long ask that was straight up hating and criticizing every part of my writing. calling out the insecurities/faults, plot inconsistencies, and insulting my writing style—

which i admit: yeah, it's wordy and really long, sometimes i focus too much on one scene or on the emotions solely, and i focus on every single detail; i'm a very emotional and hypersensitive person who likes to overanalyze on the scenes and characters. i acknowledge that it's unconventional and unprofessional at times; but it's what makes me happy and it's up to readers to continue reading or not despite the length. it's my own writing, i write content for free and everything i post are indulgent on my part, hence why i explicitly state i don't really wish for constructive criticism since again, it's all for free and it's all done for fun.

though, in that dream, it came to the point where the ask straight up told me i should just quit writing, that whatever i'm writing for is utter trash (overrated, it says. there are better writers out there and, yeah, i agree. i've the passion and drive but not so much for talent) and not worth the effort to read. so i did what was told and deactivated my account and went on to never write anymore fanfics after just how shaken up i was, then i woke up HAHAHAH.

and it genuinely felt so real, ngl. i couldn't get it off of my mind even until now, so here i am rambling about it. sorry if anyone expected me to post a drabble, or a fanfic; but right now i need more time to ponder upon whether or not i should change my writing style 'cause chapter five pt 2 will be posted soon but it's longer and who knows? maybe my worst nightmare may come true if i post it and it's subpar, not up to expectation.

and if people don't really wish for something long that borders on boring or filler scenes, then maybe, maybe not i will change how i write (but i probably won't lmao). either way, i have to remind myself that i am writing for myself, and posting it to simply archive in this account. i just hope people won't be as cruel as that mystery person in my dreams if i ever do

it's genuinely the audience's choice to read my works or not if the length or style bothers them. and as entitled as i may sound, i wish to remind some that writing a chapter with more than 10k words is my choice, and it's an arduous process too that takes hours of my time. writing fanfics is for me is purely indulgent and are reflections of my real life experiences, if it's lengthy, then yes i chose it to be, but it's not like i'm writing a thesis or an essay, i'm writing a goddamn fanfic with stereotypical tropes (most especially yandere) because it what makes me enjoy my passion as an author.

i apologize again for the long ramble, i really just need this out of my thoughts. this is my own blog too so yeah 😭. if you guys follow me solely for my fanfics, then filter out the "🍨... yael's talking" tag if you wish to avoid these types of talks.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU

Just a random idea I had: what if Magolor and Hyness traded games with each other? Like, their character/personality remains the same, only now they each have the other’s roles and goals. I thought it would be fun~

-So making Magolor the main antagonist of Star Allies would be a trip; I feel it would change the whole ambiance of the game…probably in a detrimental way, from a gamedev point of view. You don’t really wanna put the super cute and charming new character with the most memorable heel-turn in the series…at the center of the “nostalgia” game. ^^; With the return of the Helpers and a dozen familiar faces cameoing as Dream Friends, Magolor’s theatrics would be too much of a distraction.

But whatever, let’s say we put him in anyway: now Magolor is the leader of Jambastion, trying to resurrect a god of emptiness and despair. I predict he snaps immediately. XD

I just think handing that kind of leadership role to an obviously power-hungry character like Mago would grow worms in his brain incredibly quickly. ^^; That isn’t to say that he’d do the cuckoo-4-coco-puffs schtick that Hyness does– I think instead he would be a sort of annoying “chuunibyou” character; constantly popping up to ramble about being Void Termina’s chosen one, destined to succeed because he’s the specialest and bestest ever, so you might as well give up now.

And he’d give off this completely unserious vibe like, “...Are you just making this up? Is this god you’re trying to resurrect actually real; or are you just a very lonely, understimulated, disturbed little egg…?”

And then by the end of the game we realize that he *wasn’t* making it up, and as he starts abusing the Mage Sisters (who probably hate working for him to begin with...) and rapidly becomes a real threat, suddenly we’re forced to take him seriously. ^^; We’ll rescue him from Void Termina’s innards anyway, though, because we’re nice, and similarly to his true character arc; he’ll probably realize that he got in over his head and beg to be saved.

-Hyness in Return to Dreamland would be interesting…primarily because he doesn’t seem like the ‘manipulator’ type to me. I think he’d be more of an ‘absentminded professor’ type: enthusiastic and silly but in an awkward, understated way. He’d just come right out and tell us he wants help to find the Master Crown, but he’d present it as a mysterious object of limitless possibilities that we should ALSO be interested in…y’know, just for curiosity’s sake. Conveniently leaving out the fact that he’s taking it for himself, and he’s more than just curious– he already knows exactly what he wants to do with it. ^^;

And similarly to *his* true character arc…I think Hyness would go all in. ‘_’ No hesitation, no regrets; he’d dive right into Mistilteinn’s clutches and become its twisted avatar, forcing us to literally carve him out of there if we want to stop him. This would probably call for a much tougher boss fight, with a more serious ambiance– none of Magolor Soul’s cutesy juggling; let’s aim for something more like Zero’s eyeball exploding out of his face, but in 3D~. Or all the horrific stuff Fecto Elfilis had going on, since we have the benefit of hindsight. XD

As for the end…this may hurt some folks, but I think it would make sense for Hyness to die, like the devs originally planned for Magolor before they decided to have mercy on him. The thing is, without the Mage-Sisters to highlight Hyness’ changes in behavior, there’s not as much to gain from redeeming him…maybe that’ll be part of his character arc too; seeking to become the instrument of the Master Crown because he has nothing and no one else. This version of Hyness still has his empty heart, devoid of care, but without Void Termina to pledge himself to, the tree-demon is the best he can do. ^^; And with a little fleshing-out of his backstory before he goes (perhaps a chance to learn more about the magic vs. science users…?) he could make a good tragic antagonist, the first of his kind in the series.

-...Seeing as RtDL was supposed to be like a fresh start for the Kirby series, though, all this lore and sadness would be a little heavy for that concept…from a gamedev point of view, I would reject the idea. But if we did go with it, I shudder to think how it would influence the rest of the games to follow…perhaps the franchise would actually have taken the grimdark turn that people like to think it has. ^^ Which would be cool to see, admittedly.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

TokRev Christmas HCs

♡ SFW, fluffy, final timeline au, gn reader (mostly about the characters and less about reader lol) ♡

note: A day late but Merry Christmas (and whatever other holidays y'all celebrate 💕) hope everyone had a good time yesterday and it wasn't too stressful, now let's jump into a lot of headcanons lol

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🎁 Mikey goes outside as soon as it starts snowing, he could spot a little snowflake out the corner of his eyes and he's immediately calling everyone outside

🎁 Takemichi used to go outside without a jacket all the time and always regretted not listening to his mom when she told him to put one on

🎁 If Pah is standing under a mistletoe he won't even notice, Peh has to explain (and scream) what the mistletoe means

🎁 Kazutora and Hanma carry around mistletoe and hold it over your head to get you to kiss them

🎁 Baji and Chifuyu dress up Peke J in a little elf costume and end up with multiple cat scratches (worth it tho)

🎁 Peke J also loves messing with the decorations on the tree, twice as annoying as any toy with a bell in it

🎁 Shinichiro always decorates the Christmas tree in the Sano household (with Izana and Emma's help ofc) and one year, Mikey was half asleep and walked into it, knocking the entire tree over and putting a hole in the wall

🎁 Mikey can never reach the Christmas decorations, so he throws his sandal at the box and knocks it off the shelf (and it falls on him lmao)

🎁 Koko and Inui (and Akane) always spend Christmas with Taiju, Hakkai, and Yuzuha, even when they tell Taiju they have other plans (loyalty to the boss fr)

🎁 Mitsuya makes Taiju a shark plushie and he almost cries

🎁 Mitsuya makes scarves, hats, and gloves for a lot of Toman members (even when he knows they probably won't wear them)

🎁 Mitsuya also makes stuff for his sisters and mom because he's just an absolute sweetheart

🎁 Izana and Kakucho still make snow forts like they did when they were younger, except now they do it with the rest of Tenjiku and the kids they take care of

🎁 Takemichi and Hina have accidentally gotten each other the same thing at least three times and they pretend that they planned to match

🎁 The Toman captains and vcs do a secret Santa gift exchange and Nahoya and Baji just steal stuff from the person they have to get a gift for and give it back disguised as an actual present

🎁 Nahoya and Souya bake cookies for the Toman captains and vcs and put them in cute little gift bags

🎁 Takeomi doesn't really like Christmas (Grinch ass mf) but he tries to make it fun for Senju and Haru

🎁 Wakasa loves Christmas because he always gets gifted fancy candy and chocolates

🎁 Benkai puts Waka on his shoulders so he can put a star on top of the tree

🎁 December is Akkun, Chifuyu, and Makoto's birthday month, so they all get double presents

🎁 Kisaki buys Hanma a new motorcycle and Hanma never lets him live it down

"Aww, you do love me Kisaki ♡"

"Shut up you freak." - a flustered Kisaki

🎁 Everyone goes to Takemichi's for Christmas and damn near wreck his house (Michi just can't get a break can he?)

🎁 One Christmas, Kazutora got a letter from his father and proceeded to burn it (as he should), then him and Baji tracked him down and busted his car windows out

🎁 Toman always takes a bunch of pictures during Christmas and Emma prints them out and puts them in little photo books to gift to them

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 5 + ep. 6) [rewatch]

Rewatching is hard :D I got so sucked into the show (again!) that I didn't even bother stopping to process it (again!).

But this scene/sequence/episode in particular is so precious - not only do we get to meet Li Lun again, but he establishes himself as ZYZ's rival and the enemy of their whole little team for the nearest future.

We also see him get hurt by Zhao Yuanzhou's words and, what's even more fascinating, we see ZYZ and Zhuo Yichen work together in such unison against him, effortlessly and quite naturally like they've done it their whole lives.

Zhao Yuanzhou doesn't even think twice about protecting Zhuo Yichen, having already noticed Li Lun's presence at the end of ep.5 (and he may not have the Truth Eye, he may not be tuned into Li Lun with his heart like before, but he spots Zhuo Yichen's sword glow and he does realize it must be him before anyone else can, and that still speaks volumes about how much that man meant to him, at least, before).

This episode has that extra layer of depth because Zhuo Yichen gets to dream for the first time in a long while, and what a dream it is! That whole Inception-esque sequence of going deeper into his psyche and his very soul using water as a portal (so cool!) until he reaches not even his own dreams, but a variation of Wen Xiao's memory (so meta!) where he witnesses her being killed by Zhu Yan and he can't save her (probably one of his biggest fears, to not be able to save the person he cherishes the most, again, just like it happened with his brother).

But that last dream must have a deeper metaphorical meaning because when he realizes that Zhu Yan isn't the ultimate evil that he has to fight outside of himself, but merely a representation of his own helplessness and fear and that malicious energy that was his own and not something created by Zhu Yan, then he gets his moment of epiphany and, maybe, as I imagine it, that is also a major shift in his understanding of life and fate and what role Zhao Yuanzhou played in all of it, which later helps him forgive ZYZ when he finds out that it wasn't actually him personally who killed his brother and father, which makes all the difference.

Like, it's such an important moment for him to be able to dream and to find himself again, and truly meet with his darkest fears inside of that dream, that I can only applaud the showrunners for putting this extra layer of depth into the development of Zhuo Yichen's character.

And, of course, there's the notion of Zhao Yuanzhou sacrificing himself just to help Zhuo YIchen see, to show him the truth, whatever it was, like he was already tuned in so much into Zhuo Yichen and what was happening to him that he could at least guess even without using the mind-link about what horrors would torment this young man in his dreams. And knowing very well that he's pretty much on top of the list of his possible nightmares.

And making the other see is such an important theme in this show. Because some people just see the truth naturally (like Zhuo Yichen) while others stay blind while even having the Truth Eye (like Li Lun).

That it is Zhao Yuanzhou who lets Zhuo Yichen pierce his heart and uses his blood to wake up the sword and, subsequently, wake up ZYC and bring him back to life from the death-dream, already speaks volumes about the bond they are already sharing and what it would turn into later. Wen Xiao wouldn't have been able to bring Zhuo Yichen back from that dream, and no one else could. It's such a shared fate/destiny moment, especially knowing that it was Li Lun who created this whole situation to begin with and gave Zhuo Yichen his dreams back. So many layers, oh my god.

[stuckinmymind22]

zoro x gn! reader

wc: 663

this is the first part of a series "you're in love with me" where you realize that they are in love with you can call them out on it

thanks for voting on this one, i had fun with it, sorry it took so long, i got busy with the holidays, but it’s here now 💕

ace's is done and will be up probably tomorrow and i'm gonna start on sanjis, but lmk if you are interested in any other characters

not proof read lol

this goes one of two ways, in both you're being called stupid, both included

it's a chose your own adventure babe!

zoro has been acting strange recently- he was almost too quick to come to your aid, even if it was something you both knew you could handle alone. he’s also been making sure that you eat. recently he brought up a plate for you when you were on duty in the crow’s nest. sure, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink, but that was easy to write off as a consequence of the alcohol that was surely in his veins. but he didn’t leave right away like you thought he would, he stood on the ladder without moving until he saw you take your first bite. on the last island there had been a miscalculation in your provisions and the ship was running dangerously low on alcohol. there was no doubt that the crew was going to run dry shy of meeting their next destination, which was a bigger deal to some of the straw hats than others. it all brings you to the moment he offers you a sip of the last bottle of sake. you’re speechless. you always thought that hell sure would freeze over before he shared his booze and here he is willingly offering you some. you’re trying to figure out what was going on in his head, why he has been acting so strange, then it hits you.  “you’re in love with me.”

denial is a river in egypt

“did you hit your head or sum?” he asks, trying to remain as impartial as possible, but you didn’t miss how he nearly choked at your words. “no, zo, this makes sense,” you say connecting the dots, "you've been acting real weird about me recently, this explains it." you aren’t about to back down from this, not after you wanted this for so long, not until he admits it to himself. “you’re being an idiot,” he rolls his eyes, “do you want some or not?” with a smile you grab the bottle out of his hand and take a swig, sitting down next to him. “i don’t mind you know,” you say taking another sip, “that you love me that is” zoro is confused why he is so drawn to the dangerous smile that plays on your lips. he shakes himself out of it snatching back the bottle and taking a long gulp. you get pulled away by luffy wanting something, but he still feels your presence.  little do you know how those words haunt him for the rest of the night. fuck, you might be right

he's down bad and he knows it

“n-no I’m not,” zoro sputters, his face alight, “are you stupid or something?” “no, no, this is why you’ve been acting strange,” you say, the weight of your revelation still sinking in. “that’s why you haven’t let me out of your sight for the past week, right?” you don’t give him time to respond (not that he would be able to formulate a coherent response anyway). you continue listing all of his abnormal behaviors and fail to notice how his face grows redder with your every word. poor zoro is sinking into his seat hoping to disappear he’s so uncomfortable. he’s certain that he messed everything up and has no idea what to do now. he knows that you’re right of course, it’s kept him up at night, kept him from his precious naps. it took him a while to realize why you never left his mind, and the determining factor came from the fucking cook spewing some bullshit to a pretty woman on the last island. just when he is certain that he ruined whatever relationship you could ever have you turn to him with a big smile.  “it’s a good thing you are though, or else this would be awkward,” you tell him, before he can even think to question what you mean your lips are on his and his brain malfunctions.  maybe it’ll be alright.

masterlist

[ilikekidsshows]

I've seen people said Adrien doesn't have motivation to be a hero but Marinette does, which is weird because I feel like it's Marinette who doesn't have a motivation to be hero beyond "people listen to Ladybug". Her lack of motivation is what confused me because as a protagonist, she's inevitably become a role model for the young audience and I find nothing about her is likeable, even more so after she become a guardian. It's as if being a guardian inflate her ego and she forgot that everyone else is a human with feelings, not just a pawn or a doll for her to play and ordered around.

Recently I found out a website that contain the concept plot and it confused me more because I feel like concept Marinette is a more grounded character than she is in the show.

Marinette's goal isn't just to be Adrien/Felix's girlfriend but she also need to collect the kwamis that she accidentally releases and she become a guardian not because of luck or favoritism like how it is in the show, it's because her grandfather is the guardian. Adrien/Felix doesn't even become Chat Noir because he's chosen by the guardian, it's Plagg who chose him. It's actually much better than the whole "I choose you but also I'm not going to do anything with you" that Fu pulls in the show.

i don't understand why the higher up/the sponsor reject this plot because I think this much better than whatever we have now. If they have a problem with Chat Noir being an anti-hero, then why do they accept Marinette being written like one while also hailing her as a hero?

---

“Adrien isn't motivated to be a hero” he actually likes being a hero, unlike our role model protagonist, who’d rather do anything than be Ladybug even when she's being lauded for her heroic deeds. Is this based on Adrien trying to quit when Fu or Marinette is making his job needlessly more difficult to do? Because, like, that's the only thing that he seems to dislike about being a hero, which, like, makes Marinette an even worse hero. She’s so bad at her job, she makes otherwise eager heroes lose their motivation.

I’m gonna be very honest here; Marinette becoming Ladybug because she accidentally released a bunch of magical creatures and Adrien/Félix being more of an anti-hero rival than a full-on ally would have been copied straight from Cardcaptor Sakura’s starting setup. Like, I’m not surprised that even the rejected ideas for Miraculous are copied from other properties, but it just proves that regardless of any other variables, Astruc’s creation was always going to be highly derivative. Regardless, I do feel that Fu being her grandfather instead of a stranger would have gone a long way in justifying Marinette’s special treatment both in-universe and to the audience, but that’s probably why it was rejected.

Like, we can mock the fact that Marinette isn’t actually within spitting distance of being a “normal girl with a normal life” all we like, but that doesn’t change the fact that, from a purely on-paper angle, she is pretty average. She’s a middle-schooler with pretty average hobbies who deals with normal teen problems like bullies and a crush on a boy she doesn’t know how to deal with. There’s a reason it’s the opening line for the show’s opening. It's marketable. A special chosen one from the start wouldn’t have been as marketable in the same way. Especially when we take into account how hypersensitive Astruc is to Marinette being less liked than he’d want. He’d do whatever he can think of to make sure Marinette isn’t immediately judged a “Mary Sue”.

The thing with executives is that they don't watch the shows they fund. They read the pitch, synopses, and maybe the scripts if they can find the time. And even then, they might not want to put in the money to get a script revised even if they paid enough attention to tell it was dogshit. They wouldn't be interested as long as the different Miraculous bedsheets and shampoos keep selling and as long as the show isn’t too gay to sell to other countries. Like, the show bible that Gloob leaked? The one full of inaccuracies because it was outdated? That was what the executives were most likely given when the retool went into development. In addition, corporate oversight on the show has actually decreased the longer it’s gone on, because the show’s proven itself to be a success. I’m pretty sure the higher-ups were not asked: “hey, is it okay if we make Marinette an entitled jerk who gets validated at every turn while she starts treating people worse and worse?” I’m pretty sure no one okayed Marinette’s “villain arc”, it was just allowed to pass because it didn’t make the show less marketable.

That’s the thing with any property that becomes “too big to fail”. Less oversight means less quality control. It’s like one anonymous Gamefreak employee said about making Pokémon games: “It’ll sell anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s bad.”

[commsroom]

What is it you love so much about Eiffel? Asking as a fellow Eiffel Lover, I'm just interested in your response!

i've been holding onto this one for a while, in part because i know there's no complete answer to this and i could probably just talk forever, but it's almost his birthday, so... in the spirit of dougmas:

what i love about eiffel as a character is that he feels like a real person. he's full of these very human contradictions: he's a coward, he can be exceptionally brave, he's considerate and thoughtful, he's got his head up his ass, he's a mediator by nature, he's frustratingly stubborn and will dig his heels in about the pettiest things, he's very technically capable, he's a master of weaponized incompetence. he's stupid in ways only a very smart person can be, and has a certain kind of self-hating self-centeredness. he has very firmly held morals and wants to do right by people, and he struggles to reconcile those beliefs with the unforgivable things he's nonetheless done; he has very real and serious flaws that the narrative doesn't flinch away from, but neither exonerates nor condemns him for. he's so entangled with the heart of the show, its themes and relationships, that you couldn't have wolf 359 without doug eiffel, and - as a friend of mine once said - if you put eiffel in any other show, he'd turn it into something resembling wolf 359 as well. and as gabriel urbina said about pan-pan: "he's the communications officer; without him, they stop communicating." he's a compassionate portrayal of an addict, and a very real and nuanced example of a kind-hearted man who's still used to thinking of himself as the "default" kind of person, and is still learning how to deconstruct the biases that come with that.

what i love about eiffel as a person is that he's someone i'd want in my life. he's a very sincere and emotionally honest person; he doesn't have hidden agendas, and you know exactly where you stand with him. he hates authority, he hates work, and he won't suck up or pretend otherwise - in fact, he'll create more work for himself if it means he can avoid doing his job, on principle. if he has a grievance about something, oh, you'll know. at the same time, he has this infectious enthusiasm about the things he loves, and the things that excite him, and he's a geeky guy into primarily 80s/90s nostalgic media who doesn't feel the need to gatekeep. i love his voice, i love how expressive he is, i love how you can hear the same mannerisms you can see in the live show just in the very open-body-language way he emotes. he has a very distinct former class clown type of energy, and i think that goes hand in hand with an underlying loneliness. he can be pretty clueless, he speaks before he thinks and has chronic foot-in-mouth disease, but… doug eiffel is the kind of person who would notice if someone was standing alone in the corner at a party, and would go out of his way to make them feel included. he's good at getting people to open up, even if it's in spite of themselves, even if it's while they're rolling their eyes at him. he's a staunch pacifist who - even when things piss him off - doesn't react to conflict with violence or threats of violence, and he can't stand to have things stay bottled up: if there's one thing eiffel wants everyone to do, it's talk about it. whatever it is. he has a good balance of traits that make him feel genuine and warm without coming across preachy or suspiciously softened; he's also very much still a gross dirtbag with a lot of annoying flaws typical of some average guy, and that's a huge part of his appeal to me. he's good with his hands. he likes building stuff and taking things apart. he's rough around the edges in ways that reflect his life experience, and he's just… a guy who has lived a life, who has a lot of life experience, but hasn't made a lot of true friends in the process. he's gotten used to being lonely, and gotten used to telling himself he's fine with it, and something in me really aches for that.

his birthday is a good - and timely - example: he's a man in his 30s still holding onto childhood hurt, having his birthday forgotten and overshadowed by christmas. i'm also a christmas hater, so it's nice to have something else to celebrate and prioritize, and i like imagining his disgust at all of the unavoidable holiday trappings; it makes me feel less alone. i wouldn't say i relate to eiffel, more that i feel we have compatible issues, and it's not a secret that he's the type of guy i find attractive. he feels like a real person that i already know and love, and at the same time he's representative of the kind of person i'd like to know, like his life would fit comfortably into mine.

[moonchild701]

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Merry Christmas

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Summary: It's Christmas day, and you exchange gifts with your boyfriend

Pairing: Dabi/Fem Reader

Content Warning: Suggestive but nothing explicit, Fluff, Possessive Dabi, he's slightly unhinged but it's okay, You match each other's freak, SFW

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 12th & last part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas ❤

Prompt: Opening presents

My Masterlist

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

On Christmas morning, under fluffy blankets, cuddled up with Touya, his arms wrapped around you, the distinct festive, joyful feeling in the air, you wake up warm.

His snowy white hair shimmers in the morning light filtering through the curtains, his staples glittering.

You wake him with kisses peppered wherever you can reach, and he returns the favour doubled.

Most of the day is spent just enjoying each other's company. After a late breakfast, more of a brunch really, you mostly cuddle on the couch, watching Christmas movies, with hot chocolate and cookies in hand.

As the sun sets, you cook and eat dinner together. You both dress up for the occasion, him in black slacks and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you in a little red sweater dress. In your little bubble of joy, it's just the two of you and nothing else matters.

After dinner, it's finally time to exchange gifts, and you struggle to hide your excitement.

The gifts, small as they are, sit under the Christmas tree which twinkles in a variety of colours. The fireplace in the corner crackles, casting playful shadows and warmth around the room, and the entire place smells like cinnamon and pine.

It’s cozy and warm, mirroring the way he makes you feel almost perfectly.

"You first, baby. Merry Christmas." Touya smiles, holding out a small box to you. It's about the size of your palm and the wrapping paper is a shining sliver, wrinkled and slightly messily wrapped, but you can tell that he tried his best, and something within you goes warm and gooey.

You take the gift gently, carefully peeling the wrapping paper off. The meticulous process is probably driving the man crazy, but the paper is so pretty, and you can tell he worked hard to wrap it as best he could.

When you finally open the box itself, you can't help the small gasp of awe that escapes you.

A gorgeous necklace with a thin silver chain and pendant. The charm is a silver, hollow heart, with a small flame made of blue fire opal, an exact match to his own flames, hanging from the middle, and you love the way it sparkles under the warm glow of the fireplace.

It's very clearly a representation of himself, and something about that makes you giddy. Like a claim, like he's always with you, like he's showing that he himself is a permanent fixture within you, within your heart and life, and it's so perfect, you can't help the tears that trickle down your cheek.

"It's beautiful. Put it on me?" Your voice trembles with emotion, and Dabi feels his heart stutter when pretty, teary eyes look at him with such awe.

He takes a breath to try to steady his heart, swallowing around a lump in his throat as he nods, gesturing for you to turn around.

His fingertips are warm where they brush your skin, moving whatever stray hairs that are in the way, the metal cool against you where it rests. "I can't do it legally, so I need to show you how much I love you and what you mean to me any other way I can." He murmurs, voice low and warm. Goosebumps appear where his breath hits and where he touches as he clasps it around your neck, and you melt into his touch when you feel mismatched lips press to the nape of your neck.

You turn back around to face him, and your breath hitches a bit at the raw love and adoration held within his azure gaze, so soft on you, with a hint of something darker, something possessive at the sight of it around your throat.

You shiver at the slightly crazed look in his eyes, loving the way he shows his love, borderline obsession with you, even in these small ways. "I love it, thank you Touya." You say, voice all soft and sappy as you touch it gently, like it's something so very precious, because it is.

"You're welcome baby, Merry Christmas." He smiles so sweetly, you have to lean over to press a kiss to those lips.

"Okay your turn!" You clap excitedly, leaning over to get your gift to him.

You hand it to him, practically vibrating in your seat as you watch him open it.

Touya unwraps his own gift quickly, to the point you're worried he might give himself a papercut on the dark blue paper, to reveal a ring box.

"You're not proposing, are ya Doll?" He says playfully, smirking at you, and you grin.

"Something like that."

His expression changes, from playful to confused shock as his eyes dart to the box before back at you. You can't help but giggle at his reaction, knowing it's not negative, it's just that it legally can't happen and you both know it. "Just open it, Tou."

He rolls his eyes fondly, easing it open, and his expression crumples into something sappy and adoring as he looks at the ring within. It's black with a thin sliver band carved around it.

"It's tungsten, so it can withstand your hottest temperatures, and I know you always wanted rings but you don't wear them because they'll melt, so I got you this and—" your nervous rambling is cut off when he cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss.

"I love it, Dolly. Thank you. Just know

that you're stuck with me, yeah?" He murmurs against your lips. You smile into the kiss and whisper softly, "I love you."

You feel him grin as he whispers back, just as soft, "I love you too", before deepening the kiss, licking his way into your mouth.

You kiss like you're sealing a promise, like it's final; like it's until death do you part.

It's loving and possessive, complete adoration and obsession, and you can never get enough of it, of each other.

When you pull away, you're both panting softly, lips swollen and pupils dilated.

"I think I have another present to open up, hm?" His eyes are hot on you as heated fingers trail up your thigh.

A coy smile plays on your lips as you stand and start walking backwards toward the bedroom, teasingly pulling the collar of your dress to the side to show off the white strap of your lacy lingerie beneath. "Come get it then."

His eyes darken as he playfully chases you to the room, shrieks of your laughter echoing through the apartment.

That Christmas night, you both thoroughly enjoy your presents, wrapped up in each other's arms, with the silver and blue of your necklace bunched together at the base of your throat, and the silver and black of his ring on his finger, glinting in the bright moonlight.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[ink-stainedkiss]

This isn't necessarily a request (unless you like the idea😍) but i am WEAK for saiki kusuo being happy and laughing, as ooc as it sounds IDC HES MY BABY AND HES HUMAN THEREOFRE I CONCLUDE THIS BOY CAN HAVE HIS DAILY DOSE OF GIGGLES.

Like, i read the fic you made on saiki finding readers thoughts funny, and i BAJDJSJAJDBS I SQUEALED.

Just imagining him breaking character, or AUDIBLY laughing, is so so sweet bro im not even joking. He'd only ever be comfortable doing it infront of his mom probably, or his close friends. EVEN SO.

Just needed to get it off my chest. 🙂 if you ever make more fics with happy/giggly saiki i might actually marry you. 🙂🙂🙂

This one goes specifically to you queen😍 and No. I’m going to marry you🫵😼

Missing You

Synopsis: Saiki starts to feel a bit weird when you are out and he realizes he misses you. Now to find a way to get you home faster…

Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I hope you all had a great time because I sure did. Sorry my activity has been a little slow these past days have been busier than expected, so this one’s going to be a bit short. Also thank you all for the likes on my later posts! It feels so amazing to see you guys enjoying my other works. Anyways, please enjoy this tooth-rotting fluff of our beloved Saiki💕

“You on the phone”

“Saiki on the phone”

*Saiki is wearing his telepathy blocking ring in this, so he's speaking normally*

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.2k

Everyone knew that Saiki was not a dependent person. He was the furthest thing from it. He loved his alone time- actually scratch that. He craved alone time. It was just his luck that he was always surrounded by people that caused him so much mental pain. To Saiki’s surprise, he had found someone he tolerated. Well it was more than that, but you guys were just friends, so he couldn’t say anything. He realized you were the only one that didn’t put Saiki through a problem which he had to solve. There were no long adventures when you talked to him in the halls. No using his powers to fix something you had done. He was able to act perfectly normal around you. Which is why he grew such an affection toward you. He grew so comfortable that he told you about his abilities and like he expected you took it well.

Today was one of his favorite days. Where he was able to hang around your home without a care in the world. Whatever his friends were up to outside of your house was not Saiki’s business, nor did he care about it. He had developed a routine when you text him to come over. He would arrive at your house, wear his germanium ring and let his worries wash away. It was the closest thing he could get to being a normal teenager and he was damn sure going to use his time wisely. Whenever Saiki stayed at your home, you would ask to do something, nothing crazy. Something simple like baking a batch of cookies, watching a movie on the couch, or if you were very bored, you would ask to do Saiki’s hair, which he never denied. Because, well, it was you. How could he say no?

Today was a bit different. You had mentioned you needed to run some errands and you promised you would back around noon. Saiki was fine with this since it meant he would have the house to himself. You trusted him greatly so you didn’t mind if he stuck around while you were out. When you left he gave a small nod and then the house was silent. Today was very different because something felt off. He had been reading a book on your shelf out of interest, but for the past five minutes, he had been rereading the same sentence over and over. Something was tugging in his head, but he wasn’t sure what was wrong.

Today was different because he felt so off without you in the same room as him. He checked the clock, realizing I had only been an hour and a half since you left. You wouldn’t be back until later, so Saiki had to find something to distract himself. Today was different because tried to cure his “boredom” with his powers. He turned on your kitchen sink, watching blankly as he made shapes and animals out of the liquid. When that didn’t stop the tugging, he moved onto your room. He felt slightly better resting on your bed and he played it off as being tired, but no. When he kept checking the clock to see if it was any closer to noon, he came to the horrifying conclusion that he missed you.

It was such a foreign feeling. Saiki? Wanting someone to be around him? Well that’s what happens when you sneak your way into his heart. The psychic couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed his phone, clicking on your contact and placing the device to his ear. The small buzzing reached his ear and he felt a small fragment of relief when you answered after the second ring.

“Hey Saiki, what’s up?”

He sighed, a bit humiliated he felt this way.

“Nothing.”

“Then did you need something?”

“When are you going to be home?”

He said home like he lived here with you, but if you minded, you didn’t make it obvious.

“I should be there in maybe three hours.”

That did not help.

“Can you get here sooner?”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

Might as well since there isn’t anything else getting you here faster. Saiki thought.

A small gasp sounded through the speaker, “I thought you said nothing was happening?”

“Just get here fast.”

And with that he hung up the phone.

—

You raced to your house, hoping you wouldn’t find it in ashes or hit by a tornado. Maybe you were being dramatic, but why would Saiki call you and tell you to come home quickly? It was shocking that you didn’t get pulled over at the pace you were driving home. When you pulled onto your street, you were thankful to not see any smoke, but that didn’t make you slow down. You slammed to a stop in your driveway, panic flooding your veins. You unlocked your door at lightning speed and the second it was open, you called out,”I’m here! What happened?!”

You shut the door behind you, scanning for some sort of danger, but you find your house was still intact. You were so confused. You were expecting some sort of freak accident with Saiki’s powers, but everything was in place.

“Nothing wrong.”

You whipped around, finding Saiki had teleported behind you. You blinked in confusion,”What are you talking about? You told me to get here quick and I-“ “I lied.” Your arms dropped at your side in defeat,”Then why am I here right now?” He gave you an emotionless stare,”Because I wanted you to be.”

Still in shock, you looked around, finding a scattered book on your couch. It was odd because Saiki is always the one to be neat. You turned to the boy, noticing how he was hardly making eye contact with you and he clearly wanted to say more. You recalled his words over the phone, then it all clicked.

“Saiki,” your words were barely above a whisper,”Did you miss me?”

The things that happened next were a blur. In the blink of an eye two arms were wrapping around you and you could feel Saiki’s head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t respond to your question, but this was enough to answer it. Honestly, you were a bit nervous. Was this really the same Saiki? The one who barely let people stand close to him, was holding onto you like a lifeline. You felt a long sigh escape his lips and instinctively you reached one hand up to rest in his pink hair and the other embracing him over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know how else to get you here.” He confessed gently, making your heart melt,”You could have just asked, Kusuo.” He tucked himself more into your neck, almost hiding his face from you,”But you were busy.” You rolled your eyes, “It was just getting groceries, I would have dropped everything if I knew you wanted me here.”

Saiki didn’t know how to respond, instead he used his teleportation to take you both to your room. You let out a grunt as you back hit your mattress, but your attention changed to the boy resting on you. He looked so at peace and you couldn’t believe this was still the same person. (It’s not like you were complaining.) As you softly played with his pink hair, a small idea popped into your head. Maybe I should go out more often if this is what I get to come home too…

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Christmas Kindness Letter: (hope I'm doing this right)

To Dandylovesturtles,

Where do I start? I have so much I could praise you on. I have read pretty much all of your Rise fics, and you’ve written several favourites that I continue to return to. I particularly love Sharing Ice Cream, and Other Dad Things, Tapping Out, and I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good— God, I could praise that last one ALL. FREAKING. DAY. I’ve read through the whole thing… what, twice? But have also come back to read particular parts and scenes. I was absolutely blown away by it. I laughed, I almost cried, and I felt so much on the first read and the re-read, and I WILL be reading Leo’s journey again— it’s so funny, how Donnie is also your favourite and you targeted Leo. Judging by the existence of Say Something True and Emotional Support Water Bottles (hilarious name, by the way), you seem to like going after Leo quite a bit (I did also read Corrupted Upgrade, so I did not forget about that one, either, another great fic!)

I won’t lie. To me, I May Be Invisible is the unofficial sequel to the Rise movie— with it calling back to lessons that should be learned (particularly the “next time you think of doing something dangerous, stop and look for us first”), how the fan-created lore fits in perfectly with what’s already canon, and how you write the characters— which I CANNOT praise enough. It feels like you yoinked them straight out of the show. It’s absolutely incredible, how intimately you seem to understand them, and how you captured their voices so perfectly. I hope to one day have that ability myself.

But so they aren’t left out, a few words on the the other fics I mentioned! Sharing Ice Cream is such a cute little story that honestly tackles Donnie’s insecurities so well— and I LOVE how you wrote Splinter. He felt so in-character, and I HEARD his voice in some of the lines you wrote (especially with him talking to the door, that was amazing!). It’s so sweet!

Tapping Out? That’s definitely influenced how I view Donnie and Leo’s relationship— especially the part about them being equals. Neither is older or younger. They’re just brothers, and that’s all. The point of twins are for them to be the same age. Not to mention, their SYSTEM is SO SWEET. It’s cute how it was created for Donnie, probably because of his disability, but eventually came in clutch for Leo, too!

And Corrupted Upgrade, since I brought that up? The first part HURTS bad (that was the first fic I read where the brothers were actually cruel to each other, and it made me realise just how important their love for each other is to me) Donnie makes an excellent super villain, in that. I’d say he enjoys it too much, but it’s all an attempt to get his family’s attention and make him miss him. Which is sad… anger born of pain— an interesting route, too, since it’s probably super easy (and tempting) to write him spiraling emotionally. An interesting twist on the story!

There’s a ton, ton more that I could say, but I don’t have the words (nor the patience) to type a college-worthy essay. I certainly hope you get the point, and I look forward to whatever you have in store for us, next! You are truly one of the greats, in my opinion. I wish to be like you, one day, in terms of ability.

I’m eager to see what you share next! Have a great Christmas (if you celebrate).

@dandylovesturtles

Christmas Kindness Event Post

[project-sekai-facts]

what gets me the most is how ass this lineup is for the collab. like, okay, rui/natsume was a given. tsukasa/chiaki makes sense, but... they could've done better. same goes for akito/jun. and then toya/izumi is pulled out of their fucking asses 😭 no logic there. it also uses no rhythlin character, so it's leaving out a whole ass agency in favor of.. whatever was going through their minds on that one.

honestly chiaki tsukasa is perfect. to me. i need it to be known that at midnight 8th december 2021 i was scrolling through the units while downloading the game and the very first thing i thought of when i saw tsukasa was "he's giving that guy [chiaki] from enstars". that was my only first impression of him other than his outfit is dumb.

TOYA/IZUMI IS CRAZY LIKE. i don't remember much enstars character lore but i just??? don't see those two matching well???? i barely know jun but he doesn't give me akito vibe so i'm just gonna assume they saw the images with project sekai music post of the hiyojun kiss with fragile put over the top of it (they probably went with the customer service persona vs reality thing i think jun has? idr but this explanation is way funnier)

[youre-ackermine]

Happy Holidays from your Secret Santa @theysangastheyslew 🧑‍🎄

This is my gift to you for the Levihan Secret Santa Exchange hosted by @levihanweek ❄️

This fic is set a few weeks after Belated Birthday Hope you'll like it!

Characters: Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoë, Erwin Smith

Content: Modern AU / Established relationship (they're engaged your honor) / Tooth rotting Fluff / Non-binary AFAB Hange / Swearwords

Wordcount: 6.4k approx.

A/N: English is not my usual language / Huge shout-out to my proof reader Terra @dont-f-with-moogles Thank you for your help & constant support! ilysm ❤️

Hange stopped abruptly in front of a small shop filled with colorful treats and festive pastries. They squinted at the display window before turning to Levi with a grin.

“What now, Four-Eyes?” he asked with a scowl, trying to force back the irritation in his tone.

Hange clasped their hands together, eyes wide and imploring.

“Levi, please!” they whined, fluttering their eyelashes in that ridiculously cute way they both knew he couldn’t resist.

“They sell those amazing candied chestnuts, the best in town really, and I need them to snack on tonight, you know. Could you buy me some while I... well, while I handle something else down the street?”

Levi raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What kind of ‘something else’?”

They leaned in with a playful smile. Their voice dropped to what they thought was a whisper, their breath tickling his ear. “It’s a secret!” 

“Fine,” Levi muttered with a sigh. “But be back soon or I’ll leave you here.”

Hange beamed at him, kissed his cheek and, before he could protest, slipped into the crowd.

⋆⁺₊❅.

His errand quickly taken care of, Levi decided to wait for Hange by a lamppost adorned with garlands next to the candy shop.

Scattered snowflakes drifted lazily in the cold air, delicately dusting his nose and eyelashes. With the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts wafting from a stall nearby or the distant echo of Christmas carols, the holiday cheer was slowly taking over him, more than he cared to admit.

He let his eyes wander over the busy street for a while.

A young boy bundled in a thick coat tugged at his grandfather’s sleeve, pointing excitedly at a toy shop, his big blue eyes full of dreams.

A few steps away, a couple was sitting close together on a bench, sharing a red scarf and laughing softly, their cheeks flushed from the cold or from something else, Levi couldn't tell.

He fished his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans as soon as it buzzed with a call from his best friend.

Erwin: Hey Levi! How’s your weekend so far? Are you busy?

Levi: Trapped in Hange’s holiday frenzy. Shitty snow everywhere. Fucking crowded. Your boy-scout’s ass would probably love it

Erwin: So, gift shopping it is?

Levi huffed, glancing down the street where Hange had disappeared.

Levi: Dragged me around town all afternoon, then sent me to buy some fucking treats

He snorted.

Levi: Got diabetes just looking at those by the way

Erwin: Come on Levi! Don’t pretend to be pissed, we both know you’re exactly where you want to be!

Levi rolled his eyes. He could hear the smirk in his friend’s tone but decided to ignore it.

Levi: They're plotting something. Probably buying more junk as we speak

Erwin chuckled.

Erwin: Be nice every once in a while, I promise it won’t kill you

Levi: If “nice” means standing around in the cold carrying a shitton of paper bags like a pack mule, I’d rather not be

Erwin: Never took you for a drama queen before

Levi clicked his tongue.

Levi: Drama queen huh? Well now, all I know is that I’m freezing my ass off waiting for them to finish whatever shit they’re up to

Erwin: Same old story for years. Let me guess -you didn’t want to go out, Hange insisted, and you gave in

Levi: Easier than arguing. You know how fucking stubborn they can be

His voice softened imperceptibly.

Levi: Besides, it’s just a few gifts. And candy.

Erwin: You’ll never admit it but you’re a softie, Levi

Levi: Just…shut the fuck up, dumbass

Erwin: All right, all right! See you tomorrow at the gym then?

Levi: Yeah, see you tomorrow

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Levi adjusted his scarf and scanned the crowd again.

His fingers clutched at the bag holding the sweetmeats, and the corners of his lips twitched upward when the thought of Hange’s happy grin crossed his mind.

He glanced down the street again, finally spotting Hange weaving through the crowd, a red bag in their hand.

“What took you so long?” he asked gruffly as they finally joined him.

Hange plucked the bag of candy from him with a wink but didn’t reply.

“Thanks, Levi. These are gonna be perfect for our Hallmark movie night.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before you get any more stupid ideas,” he muttered, falling into step beside them.

Hange looped their arm through his, chattering away about the movies they had already picked for later.

⋆⁺₊❅.

The cold bit at their cheeks as they strolled through the snowy streets, their breath fogging in the crisp air. Twinkling lights lined the rooftops and shop windows, reflecting off the icy sidewalks.

Hange clung to Levi, their boots crunching in the snow. They had forgotten their mittens back home -again- but they were bundled in their usual chaotic style -layers upon layers of mismatched clothes topped with an absurdly fluffy, reindeer-themed hat. Its floppy antlers bobbed with every enthusiastic step.

He gave their head a flat look and tugged at the ear flaps. “That crap on your head looks ridiculous.”

“You mean ridiculously warm!” Hange replied with enthusiasm. “You’re just jealous you don’t have one.”

“Over my dead body,” he deadpanned.

Hange laughed, a boisterous, cheerful sound that always stirred something warm in his chest.

His gloved hand tightened slightly around theirs, his fingers curling to shield them from the cold, his thumb brushing the ring on their finger.

“Do you think Moblit will like the sketchbook? The leather cover is so beautiful.”

“It’ll suit him,” Levi said. His tone was flat, but Hange caught the faint note of approval.

“I can’t wait to hang the ornament we picked! It’s so pretty!”

“Should stop swinging your shopping bags then for fuck’s sake, Four-Eyes. Y’gonna break it before it even makes it to the tree.”

“Ok, I'll stop, I promise, Shorty!”

They turned their face toward the glowing shop windows, cheeks and nose pink from the cold. They beamed as they took in the festive decor.

“Isn’t this the best time of year? Just look at all these lights, Levi!”

He grunted but his pace slowed to keep in step with them.

“Not bad,” he conceded.

⋆⁺₊❅.

They strolled at a leisurely pace, Hange darting from one shop window to the next, their excitement bubbling over in a string of delighted “ohs” and “ahs.” Every so often, they dragged Levi along, pointing out the displays -a miniature train circling a snowy village or dolls and plushies all dressed up for a tea party.

Levi followed, his usual grumbles shushed by their enthusiasm.

When Hange stopped in front of a window, he paused, letting them press their nose on the glass. Inside, a collection of elegant scarves and gloves were neatly arranged, one catching their attention.

“Do you think Nanaba would wear this?” Hange mused, their breath fogging up the glass. “She loves practical gifts, but this one is also stylish.”

Levi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on them -the way the soft lights danced across their face, the way the sparkle of excitement lit up their eyes. And for some reason, their ridiculous hat somehow made them look endearingly cute.

He felt something swell in his chest, a comforting warmth pushing aside the winter chill.

Hange turned abruptly, catching his gaze. They smiled, wide and unguarded. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, his hand tightening slightly around theirs.

Their grin grew, but they didn’t press him further, their fingers squeezing his back.

Hange leaned in suddenly and pressed a quick, warm kiss to Levi’s cheek, the chill of the night momentarily pushed further aside.

Levi froze, his ears turning faintly pink beneath the streetlights.

“Tch. What’s that for?” he groaned, shooting them a sideway glance.

“For being adorable,” Hange teased.

“I’m not-” he started, but the words caught in his throat as Hange squeezed his hand and kissed him briefly on the lips this time, their laughter ringing softly in the frosty air.

He sighed, shaking his head, but his lips twitched ever so slightly. The warmth from their kiss lingered, spreading through his chest.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softening. “Gotta walk or we’ll freeze to death.”

Hange laughed again, their breath clouding between them, and let Levi tug them away from the window.

“I hope Erwin’s going to like the book,” Hange said. “He always had a soft spot for poetry.”

“He’d better,” Levi muttered. “You spent twenty minutes debating between that and the essay about war strategy.”

“It was a tough choice!” Hange defended, their voice rising in mock indignation. “You can’t rush picking a gift for a friend, Levi.”

“Pretty sure he’ll just squeeze it in his shelf,” Levi shot back, but there was no bite to his words.

Hange laughed, turning to face him as they walked backward, gesturing animatedly. “You’re so-”

Their words cut off abruptly as their foot caught a patch of hidden ice. They yelped, arms flailing, but before they could hit the ground, Levi moved instinctively, catching them in one swift motion.

“Hange-” Levi uttered in a breath as he steadied them against his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around their waist.

For a moment, Hange had frozen, their hand clutching at their coat near the middle of their body as they regained their balance. Their face had paled slightly, but they quickly managed a shaky laugh, brushing it off. “That was close.”

Levi’s brows furrowed with concern as he studied their face.

“I’m fine,” Hange said quickly, their voice a little too light as they straightened up. A faint, sheepish smile crossed their lips, but their usual energy seemed slightly subdued. “Guess I got distracted.”

Levi didn’t look convinced. His grip lingered for a bit longer, his concerned gaze flicking over them before he finally let go.

“Watch where you’re stepping next time, idiot,” he scolded, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Hange gave a small nod, glancing away as if to gather themself. Levi’s focus shifted briefly, catching the warm glow spilling out from a nearby window.

“Look,” he said quietly, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

Hange turned, realizing they were standing directly in front of the café where their first date had taken place. Its golden light spilled out onto the snow-covered street, just as inviting as it had been back then.

“You think they still have those weird drinks on the menu?”

Hange’s eyes lit up. “You mean the one with cinnamon and hot peppers? I’m still convinced it was a prank to be honest.”

Hange laughed, their breath misting in the cold air. “Well, I’m freezing and I’m sure you too. Since we’re here, might as well go inside.”

⋆⁺₊❅.

The door jingled as they entered, welcomed by the cheerful chatter and the clink of cups. The warmth of the café enveloped them instantly. It was crowded, but not enough to stop Hange from spotting their old table near the window.

Without hesitation, they started weaving through the maze of chairs and patrons. “I call dibs on the table!”

“Wait, there are still cups on it-” Levi tried to protest.

But Hange was already sliding into the booth, grinning as they sat down. “It’s the same table, Levi. We have to sit here.”

Levi frowned, glancing at the mess of empty cups and stained napkins left by the previous customers. “Really? Looks like it’s been hit by a tornado.”

“Don’t be such a grump.” Hange grinned, shoving their paper bags under the table. “Come on, it’s the perfect spot. It’s nostalgic!”

Levi sighed, but despite his grumbling, he sat down on the chair across from them.

“Nostalgic my ass.”

Levi got rid of his coat and scarf, folding them in a neat pile beside Hange.

His eye twitched as he looked at the scattered cups, their contents long gone but the mess still there. He let out a heavy sigh and immediately started to gather the dirty cups, sliding them to the side.

“Levi, seriously? It’s not like anyone cares,” Hange said, watching him with an amused grin as he stacked the cups into a pile.

“Well, I care,” he muttered, flicking a napkin out of the way. He wrinkled his nose. “It’s disgusting.”

Hange leaned back in their seat, watching the subtle twitch of Levi’s fingers as he rearranged everything to his liking. “You’re the only person I know who would willingly clean up after strangers in a café.”

“I’m not cleaning,” he grumbled. “Just... organizing.”

Before he could finish, the waitress arrived, smiling brightly as she swept the mess away effortlessly. “I’ll get these for you,” she said, flashing them a warm look.

Levi barely glanced up, his face already in its signature scowl. “Fucking finally,” he groaned under his breath.

The waitress wiped the table down, handing them menus with a cheerful “Here you go!” before turning to leave.

Hange chuckled. “You’re such a clean freak, you know.”

“Obviously not, since I live with a slob,” Levi muttered. “Just didn’t want to sit at a garbage dump.”

Hange tugged off their ridiculous hat, letting out a satisfied sigh. But when they ran a hand through their hair, Levi couldn't help but snort.

“Now your hair looks even worse than your hat,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Hange chuckled. “Hey, no need to be so mean.”

Levi just clicked his tongue in response, casting an unimpressed glance at the wild mass of hair.

Hange raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think it’s cute?”

Levi didn’t answer, but he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape. Unexpectedly, he leaned over the table, reaching for their hair. With soft, careful gestures, he began to smooth out the tangles, his fingers gently carding through the tousled locks.

Hange blinked in surprise at the unusual display, but as Levi’s focused expression softened, a real smile spread across their face -genuine and bright, something that lit up their eyes.

Levi’s nose and cheeks were flushed, his ears red from the cold -though Hange couldn’t help but hope the icy weather was not the only cause. They felt a wave of affection surge through them, their heart beating a little faster as they watched him.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Hange said softly, barely a whisper, as they let their smile widen.

Levi, completely unaware of the adoration in their gaze, mumbled something that sounded like a protest but didn’t pull away.

Just as he tucked a strand of hair behind Hange’s ear, the waitress came back to their table with a bright smile.

 “Well, aren’t you two the cutest lovebirds,” she said, teasing, as she set a small notepad down the table.

Hange giggled at the nickname.

“Lovebirds? How sweet!” they cooed, their face lighting up.

Levi, on the other hand, was clearly annoyed.

“Lovebirds? What the hell?” He grumbled under his breath. “What are we, spotty teens?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mea-,” the waitress started.

Hange kicked Levi’s ankle under the table and smiled brightly at the waitress. “Don’t mind Mr. Grumpy Pants,” they said with a chuckle. “He's a decent little dude once you get to know him.”

Levi let out an exaggerated sigh, but Hange could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

The waitress scribbled down their orders. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As she turned and walked away, Hange and Levi locked eyes, reaching out over the table to intertwine their fingers.

It seemed it had been ages since their first date. Yet, in this very moment, in this very place, everything just felt the same as it had that day.

The golden warmth of the fall afternoon sun bathed the café in a welcoming atmosphere. Outside, the air was crisp, with a faint chill that only seemed to make the cozy place more enjoyable.

Levi had been sitting at a small table by the window for a while now, his expression unreadable, but his gaze soft as he stared outside.

Along the street, beeches and pin oaks were shedding their leaves, fiery reds, oranges, and yellows drifting down in the cold wind to the sidewalk below. A few passers-by, wrapped in their jackets, occasionally paused to admire the beautiful display of fall colors. Levi’s eyes briefly lingered on them in the same detached way he observed everything around him.

Only a few customers were scattered throughout the quiet café. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wafted to him from time to time.

Levi looked effortlessly handsome, in his simple but elegant outfit, his well-cut jacket fitting him just right.

He glanced at his watch for the third time since he arrived and sighed.

He leaned back in his seat and grabbed the menu, his gaze momentarily shifting to the words printed on it. He wasn’t hungry, not really, but the menu offered a distraction while he waited.

As he scanned the list, he remained blissfully unaware of the admiring glances exchanged between the waitress and the cashier girl, both of them casting furtive looks at him from behind the counter.

The café’s door swung open in a burst. Levi jolted in his seat, startled by the sudden ringing of the bell, and his eyes immediately shot up from the menu.

Hange.

A gust of cold air followed them as they stepped in with sparkling energy. A whirlwind.

Their messy hair fluffed by the wind and a wide smile on their lively face, they bounced into the café and scanned the room with excitement.

The waitress and cashier exchanged a quick, amused glance before giggling softly, their eyes trailing over Hange’s disheveled state.

Levi, however, frowned as he watched them, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Hange’s hair sticking out in every direction.

As Hange spotted Levi at the table and waved at him, their smile widening, the girls’ mouths dropped open in surprise.

Their eyes flicked between the two of them, slowly realizing that this was the person Levi had been waiting for. It hit them both at once, their expressions shifting from curiosity to astonishment as they witnessed the connection between Levi, who seemed so quiet and composed, and the exuberant person now making their way toward him.

Hange almost tripped over their own feet as they made their way to Levi’s table, narrowly catching themself before they stumbled. They plopped down dramatically into the seat across from him, speaking loudly as though the entire café needed to hear.

"Sorry I’m late! The wind’s insane today," Hange said in an animated tone.

Levi didn’t reply immediately, but a hint of disapproval flickered in his eyes as he took in their unkempt state, spotting leaves stuck in their wild hair, a tangled mess of autumn colors.

Completely oblivious to their own disarray -and to Levi’s softening gaze- Hange reached into their pocket, pulling out a heart-shaped golden leaf and holding it out to Levi with a grin.

“For you!”

Levi took the leaf, his expression neutral.

“You’re a mess,” he muttered, “and you’re late.”

"So sorry to be late but those leaves are so pretty! I had to find the perfect one for you! You see, the heart shape? This is basically nature’s way of blessing our date.”

Levi looked down at the leaf in his hand, then back up at Hange, his lips twitching ever so slightly as if he held back a smile.

The waitress joined them as he thanked Hange for their unusual gift.

Hange leaned forward to make their order. “I’ll have the pumpkin chai latte, with extra sugar and extra whipped cream, and, oh! Do you have any sprinkles?”

They looked at the waitress with wide, sparkling eyes.

Levi didn’t even blink as he ordered, “Black tea. No sugar.”

Hange raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You're just gonna drink... sadness in a cup?”

Levi glanced at them, trying his best to suppress the slight irritation creeping into his voice. “Says the one ordering dessert instead of coffee.”

“Oh, come on! It's fall! It’s a vibe!" Hange insisted, grinning. "What’s better in life than whipped cream and sprinkles?”

Levi scoffed, shaking his head. “Not getting diabetes every time you drink coffee?”

“Just let me enjoy my dose of comfort while you sip your bland, depressing beverage,” Hange teased.

Their drinks arrived shortly and Hange started to tell one of their passionate stories, waving their arms dramatically. “Okay, so the other day I was reading this book about quantum physics and-”

Levi listened quietly, drinking in their animated features as he took a careful sip of his hot tea.

“-it’s fascinating!” Hange continued, oblivious to his lingering gaze. “So, what if we could shift our density to one similar to gas and phase through walls?”

Levi rolled his eyes. ”Who the hell would care about something that useless?”

Hange grinned widely. “Well, I find it fascinating. And fun! What about you, huh? What’s your idea of fun?”

“I don’t know… Cleaning, maybe…”

Hange chuckled, but before they could reply, Levi reached across the table, his fingers brushing through their tousled hair. “Got a leaf in your hair,” he whispered.

He gently pulled the golden leaf from the mess of hair, his touch surprisingly delicate, as though he had done this a hundred times before.

Hange froze, blinking up at him, caught off guard by the sudden attention. Their heartbeat quickened. He had never been so close to them, and this all felt somewhat… intimate.

Totally unaware of the effect his small gesture had, Levi sat back to sip his tea.

A blush crept up their neck, but before overthinking Levi’s gesture, they cleared their throat and went back to their story, gesturing wildly as if nothing had happened.

“So, yeah, imagine if we could just phase through walls! The possibilities would be endless!”

Eager to return to their usual chatter, Hange went on blabbering about physics with animated gestures until their hand, in the middle of their rambling, swept across the table, knocking their pumpkin chai latte off.

The drink toppled over, splashing onto the table and spilling across Hange’s sleeve.

“Oh, crap!” Hange grabbed a napkin and immediately started scrambling to clean up the mess, though all they were really doing was spreading the stain.

Levi sighed, pushing his tea aside, then reached into his pocket for his neatly folded handkerchief. Without a word, he slid it across the table toward them.

Hange looked at the handkerchief before meeting Levi’s eyes with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Levi, I swear I’m not usually this clumsy-"

Clearly not convinced, Levi raised an eyebrow.

“And I don't want to ruin your handkerchief.”

“Don’t bother. You’ll probably spill something else on it anyway,” he deadpanned.

Hange chuckled nervously. "Fair enough… I’ll wash it and return it, of course."

Levi leaned back in his chair as Hange wiped their sleeve, and his gaze briefly drifted out of the window, his fingers tracing lightly the rim of his cup. He thought of Erwin, who had been so sure he would get along with Hange.

"Seriously, Levi," Erwin had said a week ago, when Levi hesitated, "I can tell you two are going to hit it off. Just say yes to the invite. You’ll be glad you did."

Levi had been annoyed by the unsolicited advice at the time, but now, as he looked at Hange across from him, he told himself that maybe… Well, maybe Erwin had been right.

His hand brushed against Hange’s briefly as they both reached for the napkins at the same time. A small spark of warmth radiated from the touch.

He glanced over at Hange, still too caught up in cleaning the last traces of whipped cream from their earlier mishap. Levi would probably never admit it aloud, but Erwin was right. He was glad he had said yes.

The conversation resumed, Hange trying to act like they weren't mortified over the spill.

When the waitress returned to clean the table, she winked at the cashier girl who stood by the counter, both of them exchanging a knowing look before focusing on their task.

They had noticed the soft way Levi and Hange’s eyes lingered on each other, the small, unspoken moments that they weren’t quite aware of -the way Levi’s hand brushed Hange’s, how Hange’s smile widened when their eyes met.

It was obvious that something was shifting between the two.

The waitress quickly cleared the last of the napkins and mugs, trying to remain professional, but a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

When she reached the counter, the cashier girl leaned over, still watching the couple from afar. “Something’s going on, huh?” she murmured.

The waitress shook her head with a chuckle. “They don’t even know it yet.”

Hange pushed their chair back abruptly, their usual whirlwind energy somewhat coming back. “Let’s go for a walk,” they proposed, tugging at their coat. “I know a park nearby.”

“Ok,” he muttered, rising to go and pay the check.

Levi soon reached the counter and handed over the cash, his eyes drifting toward Hange as the cashier counted out his change. They were near the door, fumbling with their scarf as it caught awkwardly in their coat. However, their smile, bright and unbothered, lit up their face.

He turned away, walking a few paces to the side to slip his wallet back into his pocket.

His fingers brushed the soft edges of the leaf Hange had given him earlier. The absurdity of it -a heart-shaped leaf, of all things, really?- should have annoyed him. But instead, he felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in his chest.

“They’re cute together,” the cashier whispered as he put on his gloves.

“Definitely mismatched,” the waitress murmured, lowering her voice. “But, somehow, it works. He’s all gruff and serious and handsome; and they’re... well...”

Levi caught enough of their comments to make his brow twitch.

The waitress smirked. “Maybe he has a thing for chaos.”

“The way he’s watching them?” the cashier continued,”Bet he doesn’t even realize he’s totally smitten.”

The word made Levi’s jaw tighten. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and turned abruptly toward the door.

He muttered something under his breath as he walked across the café, his ears burning faintly.

Hange had finally managed to get their coat on and grinned up at him, oblivious to the way he was still recovering from the girls’ words.

“All set?” they asked cheerfully, entirely unaware of his internal turmoil.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Levi pushed the door open for them, the sound of the two girls’ muffled giggles following them as they stepped outside.

⋆⁺₊❅.

The brisk air was refreshing. As soon as they entered the quiet park, Hange veered off the path, scanning the ground. They crouched to pick up a golden leaf, then another, holding them up to study their shape and texture.

Levi watched them from a step behind, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The cold wind didn’t bother him when a faint warmth crept up his neck as he observed their overwhelming, almost childish enthusiasm. It was chaotic, messy, yet oddly endearing.

They reached a small pond and Hange stopped, gazing at their reflection in the water with an unusual frown.

“I’m terrible at this,” they said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Dating, I mean. I’m... too much. People don’t usually stick around.”

Levi stopped beside them, glancing at their solemn expression before speaking in a gentle tone. “Maybe you just haven’t met someone who can handle it.”

Hange’s head turned toward him.

They locked eyes and silence hung in the air between them for a while.

Then, a mischievous smile curled on their lips. “Handle it, huh? Are you volunteering for the job?”

Their eyelashes fluttered playfully.

Levi rolled his eyes, but his faint smirk betrayed him. “Tch. Don’t read too much into it.”

They continued walking along the park path, the autumn leaves crunching softly under their feet. Hange slowed every so often to examine a particular leaf or to show him the different species of trees, rambling enthusiastically about them.

Levi followed silently, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze never leaving Hange.

They passed a vendor selling small trinkets and plush toys. Among them, a chubby titan plush caught Hange’s eye, and they froze.

“Levi!” they gasped, pointing at it with childlike excitement. “Look at this cutie! I need it.”

“A plushie, really? What are you, five?” Levi deadpanned

He glanced at the stuffed toy. Of course, it was ridiculously huge. However, he thought, he hadn’t brought flowers to his date after all. So, he couldn’t do otherwise than oblige now, could he?

When he handed the plush to a beaming Hange, they hugged it like it was the most precious treasure in the world.

“This will go perfectly with my collection!” Hange exclaimed.

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Collection of what? Ugly monsters?”

“Hey! It’s cute,” they protested, holding the plush protectively. “And you got it for me, which makes it extra special.”

Levi scoffed but glanced away, embarrassed by the warmth creeping up his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “We should go, it’s getting dark out here.”

They crossed the park at a leisurely pace.

“You know, when I told Eyebrows I was asking you out, he gave me this weird smirk, like he’d predicted it or something,” Hange blurted out after a while.

Levi side-eyed them, hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Sounds like him.”

“Actually, he told me, ‘Levi would enjoy your company more than he lets on.’ I think he oversold it.”

Levi chuckled.

“Did he bribe you to say yes?” Hange asked.

“All he said was that you were tolerable,” Levi replied with a smirk, his tone deadpan. “He left out the part where you’d try to drown the table in chai latte.”

“So he did scheme!” Hange exclaimed. “I knew it! Not that I’m complaining though…”

Levi glanced sideways at them again, noticing the faint flush on their cheeks.

They had reached the edge of the park when Hange stopped suddenly at the corner where they had to part ways.

“Thanks for walking me,” Hange said. “I’m this way.”

They gestured toward their street, their hand lingering mid-air as if unsure whether to wave or stay still.

Levi shifted his weight, smoothing down the golden leaf still tucked in his pocket.

 “You’d probably have tripped and stumbled in the mud otherwise.”

Hange laughed, their voice warm. “Sounds like something I could do, yeah.”

The street felt quiet for a moment. Hange looked at Levi, their usual confidence shifting into something hesitant, almost shy.

“Well…” They tilted their head, a small, nervous smile forming.

Before Levi could think it through, his hand moved, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair away from their forehead. The gesture was brief but tender, catching Hange off guard. Their eyes widened slightly, their cheeks warming as they stood frozen for a second.

Levi pulled his hand back, his expression unreadable except for the faintest hint of something soft in his gaze. “Your hair’s a fucking mess, Four-Eyes.”

The tension just vanished and they both laughed softly.

As Levi was about to turn to leave, Hange surprised him, leaning in and brushing the lightest, most hesitant kiss against his cheek.

“Thanks for today,” they said quietly, stepping back before Levi could reply.

Levi stared at them, momentarily at a loss for words.

His face burned, whether from the cold or something else entirely, he couldn’t say.

“Just don’t be late next time,” he replied, walking away before Hange could see the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Hange watched him go before turning and heading home, their smile never fading.

Levi and Hange were lost in their own small world at the corner table, the humming of conversations and the occasional clink of porcelain blurred in the background. Steam curled up from their drinks, warming their cold hands and flushing their cheeks.

Hange took a generous sip of their overly sweet concoction and sighed contentedly.

“This really takes me back,” they said, their voice tinged with nostalgia. “It feels like nothing’s changed here.”

Levi hummed quietly in agreement, his black tea cooling in front of him. His eyes drifted to Hange’s hand resting on the table, fingers drumming absently against the wood. Without thinking, his own hand shifted closer, brushing against theirs in a fleeting touch.

Hange glanced up, surprised by the uncharacteristic gesture, but Levi kept his gaze fixed on his cup. “I still have it, you know,” he confessed, his voice low, almost reluctant.

“Have what?” Hange tilted their head, their curiosity piqued.

“The leaf,” Levi said simply, his thumb lightly grazing over Hange’s knuckles now. “The one you gave me that day. Pressed it in a book.” He paused, feeling the heat rise to his face. “Still there.”

Hange blinked, their expression softening into something unmistakably tender. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Levi grumbled, finally meeting their gaze.

Hange’s face broke into a radiant smile, one that made Levi’s chest tighten in that familiar, inexplicable way. “Levi Ackerman, you always surprise me,” they teased.

“Tch. Don’t get used to it,” he deadpanned. However, he didn’t pull his hand away, his thumb slightly brushing their ring instead.

Hange hesitated, their fingers curling around the edge of their mug as they shifted slightly in their seat. Their eyes flickered between Levi’s face and the steam rising from their drink before finally settling on the view outside the window..

“That first date. I still think about it often.”

Levi watched them quietly, his brow furrowing slightly at their uncharacteristic hesitation. “You do?” he asked softly, as though he wasn’t sure if he should press.

Hange nodded, their gaze dropping for a moment before they bit their lip, a faint smile playing at the corners of their mouth.

“Yeah. Especially…” Their voice trailed off as they glanced again toward the window to watch the soft snow falling outside. “The plushie you got me.”

Levi’s lips tugged upward as he thought about the ugly stuffed toy sitting in Hange’s office. “Don’t know why you’ve kept that thing all this time.”

“It’s sentimental,” they add in a whisper. “You got it for me and I love it.”

They fell silent, the weight of their words hanging in the air for a while.

Levi gently squeezed their hand and their eyes met.

Then suddenly, as though deciding something, Hange leaned down, fumbling among the paper bags resting by their feet. They picked up the red one, their fingers tightening on the handles as they placed it on the table in front of Levi.

He blinked at the bag, then at Hange, who was now watching him with a nervous expression.

“What’s this?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I was going to wait until Christmas,” Hange began quickly, their words tumbling over one another. “But this… this just feels like the right moment.”

Levi raised a skeptical eyebrow but pulled the bag toward him, carefully lifting out the contents. His movements stilled when he realized what it was: a soft, absurdly detailed titan onesie.

For a moment, Levi said nothing, simply staring at the tiny outfit in his hands. His thumb brushed over the fabric, lingering on the little details -the ridiculous hood, the tiny mittens. Then his eyes flicked up to meet Hange’s.

Their heart pounded as they studied his face for any reaction, their own nerves fraying with each passing second. “It’s, uh, a little… symbolic,” they started, biting their lip again.

His lips parted slightly, and for a fleeting second, Hange swore they saw a flicker of emotion in his usually composed expression. 

He cleared his throat.

“You… You’re serious?” he asked, almost breathless.

Hange simply nodded, their nervous smile giving way to something warmer, more certain.

Levi’s gaze dropped back to the onesie in his hands. He clicked his tongue, but the corners of his mouth turned upward, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through.

“A titan onesie. Of course you had to make it weird, Four-Eyes.”

Hange laughed, their shoulders relaxing as relief and joy washed over them. “Would you expect anything less from me?”

Levi didn’t answer, but smiled instead, his eyes still on the onesie as his fingers brushed over it again, this time more gently.

The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the bedside table. The flickering glow of the street lights peeked through a crack in the curtain, painting patterns and shadows on the walls.

Levi lay behind Hange, his arm draped protectively over their side. They were sound asleep, their breathing slow and even, their hair a messy halo over the pillow.

He could feel the gentle rise and fall of their chest beneath his arm, a steady rhythm that usually lulled him to sleep.

But tonight Levi’s eyes remained open, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His mind raced with a muddle of thoughts he couldn’t quite organize.

A dad. He was going to be a dad.

The thought alone sent an odd mix of feelings coursing through him -anticipation, fear, uncertainty. What the hell did he know about being a father? Could he even do this?

His chest tightened, but before the doubts could spiral further, he shifted closer to Hange, burying his nose in the crook of their neck. The faint earthy scent of their skin and the warmth of their body slowly shushed his anxious thoughts.

His hand brushed gently over their belly. He let out a quiet breath, and started to whisper in the dark as if the baby could somehow hear him.

“Oi, brat. Hope you get the color of their eyes. Or their brains. Or maybe their enthusiasm, I don’t fucking know…. Whatever, you’ll be amazing like them anyway.” He chuckled. “Don’t tell them or Four-Eyes will never let me hear the end of it.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of Hange’s neck, soft and lingering.

“Don’t know how that works but I’ll do my best. We’ll do our best. And I’ll love you just as much as I love them. I promise.”

As he kissed their warm skin again, Hange stirred faintly, letting out a quiet sigh before settling back into sleep. Levi closed his eyes, letting their presence soothe him.

For now, he would let the worry go.

For now, he would just hold them and cherish this moment.

All graphics by me

🎀❤️ REBLOGS APPRECIATED ❤️🎀

[cozymochi]

With all this Nyoka talk, are you lowkey tired? I fear with all these Nyoka asks might become annoying to you. 💔 Or when there’s too many asks about a specific thing or person.

WAAAAA?? If anything, I have the exact opposite fear. Everyone else being annoyed by seeing him so much from me.

I bring it up and allude to it sporadically, but It’s not like I’m unaware that the majority of people would much much rather have me go back to posting art about the canon cast. It certainly has more mass appeal.

Though if anyone followed my bluesky or looked at my kofi they would see all the WIPs of that exact thing. But, that’s not my main, so it probably doesn’t count, does it? (I don’t really like posting WIPs on main.)

It’s a very VERY high privilege to be able to indulge in a non-canon character at all, more specifically at the behest of other people asking for it. Like, genuinely.

I never really bought the idea from a few people calling me “big” or “popular” given I never really talk to anybody off my own posts (sans IRL friend), and the only art that ever seems to truly pop off and cycle everywhere that I can see tends to only happen when when Malleus or Leona is in it (mainly the former, regardless of the quality im disatisfied with). In a way, I still don’t fully buy it.

Those two are already popular with built in fanbases, so that’s a given.

But then Nyoka dropped and he’s popping off to nearly their levels and I haven’t gone too long without somebody asking about him or his mouth

SO THAT’S A WAKE UP CALL.. Something that made me go “huh. maybe they were right about me…” or at least… Something happened with him specifically that clicked for whatever reason. I MEAN. MY TOP POSTS SPEAK FOR ME.

LOOOOK! He’s playing with the big boys??

One oF MY FRIENDS WROTE AN “X READER” FIC UNDER MY NOSE. AND IT DID WELL ouTside of our goofy asses. ThAT’S INSANEEE

Understand this though, while I do have the autonomy to not answer asks about him— If I was really tired of it, I wouldn’t keep answering. I answer so long as I receive them.

Cuz, Idk if anyone’s noticed, but I’m not the best at bringing up my own stuff on my own accord. If I do, there was a high chance I was pushed into it by somebody else, or I might have liked the art a little more than I should have to the point I think giving it it’s own post is justified.

I’ve always had Tia as my defacto Prefect, but she’s the Prefect. A character that can be anything and anybody (and almost everyone has one). And I never really brought her up willingly too much. I don’t even bother making her cameo in scenarios where she could be there. I just use Grim as a stand in. I don’t even post or talk about 80% of her junk out of nervousness and fear.

I AM GRATEFUL AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE ASKS I RECEIVE AND THE ENTHUSIASM 💖 I know I’m not the best at showing it since I haven’t ascribed to the keyboard smash + crazy image in a while, but i AMMMM. I go feral.

(ALSO bear in mind, I had Nyoka for almost two years before he ever went public. 😭👍 I think we’re good.)

…Still, with all that said: The self-inflicted-but-possibly-justified pressure still exists. With every new ask I answer about Nyoka or some other non-canon guy, I feel like the others who only really followed me for the more canon specific art are certainly getting annoyed watching it unfold and are just waiting for me to get back to it.

(Again, haven’t stopped. Bluesky/Kofi.)

I mean for example, I doubt it was intentional, but I got one reminder the other day when I was asked about updating a Leona WIP after that whole gacha pull bet thing.

That shows me somebody is waiting for something not Nyoka related. Though, given the nature of the material, they’ll probably be disappointed (its not even all that big). I took it in stride the other day but upon reflection it’s starting to gnaw at me. I only really posted the WIP to break up all the Nyoka stuff so people don’t get upset. Otherwise, I would have kept it under wraps properly.

So, I can only imagine what others are not saying.

And if I’m paranoid enough (which i am), it’ll only be a matter of time before somebody hits a wall and decides that enough is enough on my behalf. Hype backlash is a real thing, and while I don’t know when it’s coming, It’s inevitable. So, if anything I should slow down.

But then I get left in a position where I’m not posting any art at all.

Granted, not posting enough art and especially ones that are more generalized gnaws at me all the time regardless.

Getting Nyoka or other non-canon character stuff is honestly the most freedom I can get. There’s a lot less stakes involved, and I just have an easier time. I do genuinely like thinking about them!!! I LikE DRAWING THEM!! Again, being prompted by OTHERS IS especially a high privilege to be able to do.

Don’t get it twisted though (no pun intended), I also enjoy the canon cast and I put them above my own junk any day. Heck most are easier to draw than the non-canon freaks, but... Idk I do more self comparison to other artists more than people think, and it mostly comes down to me believing that I can’t draw them that well nor can convey anything high-concept or even LOW concept about them in an appealing enough way.

There’s just sooo many other artists to choose from. And better stuff at that. It’s also why I don’t fully believe people if they value me above other ones. With the stuff I put out, it doesn’t make any sense as to why that would be the case.

And while I am trying to compile a bunch of work *cough kofi/bluesky cough*, I get stumped really quickly while working on them. There’s a bar of quality I want, and with each characters built-in fanbases and stans it’s very taxing trying to not potentially let anyone down.

With Nyoka and the others no such bar exists. He and the others fall into a category that most people don’t put much stake in to begin with.

I think it’s a different beast when following an artist who sticks to drawing or writing about the same canon character all the time. There’s a niche for it and a built in audience who wants that, so nobody is going to get up in arms. (Well except maybe a bad apple who gets territorial about two cakes.)

As opposed to a non-specific artist/writer who suddenly posts an OC and for the next few weeks that’s seemingly all they post about, even if it is mostly from asks. There’s nothing backing that up. They came for cakes, why tf is this chef making stir fry?!

Yeah, some people may be cool with it since it keeps being asked for and I like making it. But, sooner or later someone is going to go “when are you go back to baking cakes? Wasnt this the whole point?”

TL;DR: NO, IM NOT TIRED OF HIM. I don’t exactly lose drive for my own little batch of chaos and I’m super thankful for it 💜💜💜💜💜 But I do have a very real fear of others getting annoyed by it.

Even this ask has me raising my eyebrow a little. I can’t imagine anyone being tired talking about their own stuff.

…But I can imagine the opposite.

And I know I get this reply constantly with “Oh just post what u want it’s your blog” I can only give a look that I can’t translate into text. 💃

[bumblecrisp]

the problem i have with arcane viktor isn’t that he’s no longer the machine herald we know from league, it’s that it is no longer a story ABOUT viktor. it’s a story about the arcane. ok does that make sense. stick with me here

viktor in s2 is taken over by the arcane. transformed by it. changed by it physically and mentally. it literally cleaves his mind in two to realize its form in his body. right? and that’s great! that’s genuinely really cool! BUT.

old lore viktor is taken over by OBSESSION. his own desire for improvement, for perfection, his hunger for progress. that is IMPORTANT. it is important to his character, it is very very important to me that we understand that viktor in s1 is by all appearances progressing along that path. viktor is dying, viktor is out of time, viktor is DESPERATE. he wants to save his own life, but crucially not as a selfish act. he sees himself as a VESSEL FOR PROGRESS. ok? that is so so important. viktor does not value his life as a human life, he only needs to remain alive so he can be a VESSEL FOR PROGRESS. i am dancing around yelling and waving my arms. this is SO crucial to his character and its like . so poorly handled in s2 it makes me INSANE i mean neurodivergent. i get that they were trying to do some evangelion thing but AAAAAARGGGGH they’re so WRONG about him.

ok? ok? do you see where i’m going. viktor is a desperate desperate man with a brilliant mind and shaking hands and he is working and he is working and he is out of time and he is going to do whatever the fuck it takes to give himself the chance to save his people. he is going to replace his flesh with silver and steel for sinew and platinum in his veins and he is going to tear out his own heart and replace it with a machine just for a little more time. he is absolutely selfless, and he is extraordinarily arrogant. ok? ok?

he is exceptional. he is a zaunite prodigy. he is the only hope.

he is a genius. he is a genius. it has to be him. his gears are softly turning and he is going to save his people. no matter what cost. no matter what cost. he is going to save his people no matter what cost.

and that is lost, in s2! it is so important to me. one of my favourite champion stories. and it’s gone. poof. what they have in s2 is just echoes. one-off lines about uniting the people, tossing out a “glorious evolution” to humour the old fans. it’s heartbreaking! he’s gone! the thing arcane fans don’t understand is that this isn’t just a rushed storyline, it’s a fundamental change to his character! don’t even get me STARTED on the whole thing with skye. the POINT!!! is that he makes SACRIFICES in the name of progress - himself! others! it’s all necessary evils for the greater good! they are so wrong about him im gonna lose it!!!!!!!!!

s1 viktor was beautiful, perfect, a wonderful WONDERFUL representation of the human he used to be, everything was in place, and then the whole character was sacrificed for a narrative tool to force a piltover/zaun reconciliation speedrun so they could keep it to nine episodes. it’s genuinely heartbreaking.

anyway. i should probably stop yelling at the wind and go write some fanfiction huh