#Four is literally so miniscule trust me

[kheprriverse]

Had to doodle Time a bit, give me a break from my height sheet. Also lets me use the new designs I made :)!

Dumb little bonus below :>

Wars making fun of Time for their hair turning white.

They’re so fed up with Wars but in like… a bestie kinda way.

[oreomonsterhunter]

“I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight”

Pairing: Johnny x reader (or OC)

Word Count: 3988

Genre: fluff, not smut but they both really wanna toe the line

Warnings: language, some sexy kisses (cover your eyes kids)

Summary: Johnny takes his best friend on their first date

A/N: this has absolutely morphed into a long term couple, because apparently Princess has taken the reins 😂 if you like this, check out the rest of their story so far on my masterlist!

You were nervous.  Friends with Johnny since diapers, and somehow you were nervous to meet him in five minutes.  You glanced at the time—make that four minutes.

Pacing back and forth in front of the door, you smoothed down your dress again.  All Johnny had told you was to dress up.  He might be a fashion king, but he wasn’t exactly the best at sharing details.  You’d teetered between twenty different outfits before finally settling on a happy medium.  Couldn’t show up to a museum in an evening gown.  Well, you supposed you could, if you even owned one.  So the little black dress at the back of your closet was the final choice.  Safe enough for just about every venue, since Johnny hadn’t told you where your date would be.

You sucked in a breath, fighting against the nerves tight in your stomach.  Your first date, oh my gosh.  How were you supposed to date Johnny?  You’d done practically everything together already, what made this different from going to the movies together last week?  Aside from the obvious—last week, you didn’t know what Johnny’s lips felt like on yours.

Then you groaned at your sudden realization.  Jeez, you couldn’t do anything right in this relationship with Johnny.  You were about to have your first date but you’d already had a hot and heavy makeout session at an unmentionable hour of the morning.  So much for “will I kiss him afterwards?”  Dating for five seconds, and everything was already out of order.  You wanted to scream, but before your thoughts could really start spiraling, you heard a knock at the door.

You were sweating, oh gosh.  Did you need to reapply deodorant?  You froze, staring at nothing.  Until another knock sounded, this time accompanied by Johnny’s familiar voice, “Yo, are you ready to go?”

You sagged in relief.  Nothing else would have snapped you out of the nervous cycle better than Johnny being….well, Johnny.  And when you finally convinced yourself to open the door, the sight of his easy smile was enough for yours to appear, too.

“Well, uh, hi,” he stuttered, making you giggle.

You slipped on your shoes, grabbed a small purse, and locked the door behind you.  Then you linked arms with Johnny, “Alright, where to, mystery man?  You haven’t told me anything.”

“That’s mostly because I didn’t figure anything out until today.”

Biting your lip to hold back a giggle, you tugged him down the hallway.  “No wonder you didn’t share much detail.  I should’ve known.”

Johnny tightened his grip on you when you stepped out of the elevator, leading you to the car.  He didn’t say much, which was a bit out of character.  Frowning up at him, you tried to meet his gaze.  He finally looked down at you when he opened the passenger door for you to get in.  “You, uh, you look really nice tonight.”

A small smile bloomed, “Not looking so bad yourself, hot stuff.”

* * * * *

Apparently Johnny had picked out a restaurant for dinner.  A fancy restaurant.  You read through the list of entrees with a barely-concealed grimace.  “Do you know what any of these words mean?” you asked him.

Johnny beamed at you, “Nope, that’s half the fun.”

A waiter walked by with a tray destined for another table, and you both gaped at the miniscule portion sizes.  “Those look like appetizers,” Johnny said, goggling at the tiny salad. “Maybe I can order several steaks. I’d need about five of them.” He started eyeing the menu again.

“As long as you’re picking up the tab,” you joked.

“Oh, I thought you were,” he said, all wide eyed innocence.  You smacked his arm with your menu, fighting a grin at his usual antics.  The couple at the next table shot you a look, and you hunched back in your seat.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying.  Order whatever you’d like,” Johnny said, still puzzling over the ridiculous dinner options.

You frowned, reaching for your water.  But shoot, it probably cost five bucks for tap, you thought with no small amount of horror.  You set it back down before you drained more of Johnny’s wallet.

After a few more minutes of torturous silence, trying not to fidget too much, you leaned forward.  “Do we even have a waiter?”

Johnny jerked upright, looking over his shoulder at the man in question.  “I don’t know?”

“I’ve been trying to make eye contact with the staff for five minutes and they’re all ignoring me.”

Johnny blinked at you.  “Wait, are you ready to order?”

“No, I wanna ask if they charge for water.”

“No one charges for water,” he chortled.

“I bet it’s five bucks a glass,” you said, crossing your arms.

Now Johnny was really laughing, and half the restaurant was staring at your table.  “Only if it’s imported from the crystal springs of Iceland,” he said, grinning.

“Wait, really?”

“Hell if I know,” Johnny said, making you snort some of your water.  You shrunk down in your chair, hiding your red face while he kept laughing.

“I don’t know this man,” you said to the people at the next table. They stared at you, whispering among themselves.  Pouting, you turned back to Johnny.  “I can’t believe you booked a table here,” you cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I thought we were burger joint people, not escargot snobs.”

“Do you really not wanna eat here?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your waiter finally showed up to take your order.  “Good evening, can I interest you in anything else to drink?”

“Any Icelandic sparkling water?”  Now Johnny was the one snorting inelegantly.

The waiter laughed, despite not knowing the joke.  “Can I interest you in a bottle of red?  You seem like a red wine woman.”

You smiled politely, reaching for the wine list when he offered it to you.  “Sure, I’ll take a look.”

The waiter smirked, eyes landing on you.  “I’ll have to card you, miss.”

Your brows raised, but you complied, digging out your wallet.  Across the table, Johnny cleared his throat, “Do I look like a red wine guy?”  But the waiter barely glanced at him before his eyes were back on you.

“Your photo doesn’t do you justice,” the waiter commented, handing your ID back.

“No one looks good in those pictures,” you chuckled.

“I beg to differ,” he said, then nodded at the wine list.  “What can I get you?”

You glanced over at Johnny, who was fidgeting enough to shake the table.  Curious.  “What do you recommend?” you asked, twirling a strand of hair around one finger.

“You might be interested in one of our finer vintages,” he began, leaning over your shoulder to point out a few wines on the list.  You heard a subtle sound, and out of the corner of your eye, saw Johnny’s fingers rapping the table at a rapidly increasing pace.  You bit your lip, focusing on the wines again, but not before adding a little more fuel to the fire.  Time to test your theory.  You crossed your legs, brushing one foot up Johnny’s calf in the process.  The man jumped as if electrocuted, his knees banging into the underside of the table.

“How about this one?” you asked innocently, looking up at the waiter again.

“A lovely choice, though it is on the higher range, so I’m not sure—”

“We’ll take it,” Johnny announced, plucking the wine list from your fingers and shoving it at the waiter.

You raised an eyebrow, but the waiter simply smiled at you, apparently unbothered by growly Johnny.  “I’ll bring that right out for you,” he said, taking the wine menu and leaving you to suffer over dinner options.

Johnny cleared his throat, leaning towards you again.  “That waiter’s a bit weird, huh?” he asked, watching the man walk away.  “He didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

You donned your best sparkly-eyed expression, “But he’s being so friendly!  He really deserves a nice tip, he had some helpful suggestions.”

Johnny frowned, “He’s obviously flirting with you.”

“No way,” you laughed, waving him off.

Johnny rolled his eyes, “Trust me.  He’s flirting with you more than I am, and I’m the one taking you on a date.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table.  “Maybe you should start flirting with me some more, then.”

Johnny sent you an indecipherable look.  You wondered if your teasing had worked.  But Johnny seemed to have calmed down some, now that the helpful waiter was out of sight.  

You shrugged, sitting back in your chair.  You changed the subject, giving the man a break.  “Seriously, we don’t need to spend this much on dinner.  I feel bad.”

“I thought you’d like this place,” Johnny said, brows furrowing.

“I will literally go anywhere with you, it doesn’t matter, I just….I dunno, I feel like I don’t fit in here.”  You weren’t quite sure how to express your fear that people would call you a gold-digger or something, only dating Johnny now that he’d achieved success.  Even if the two of you knew better, it still made your stomach twist.  And not in the nice way it did while watching Johnny’s hands playing with his water glass.  Shoot, shoot, shoot, now his fingers were wet from the condensation.  You really didn’t need to know what that looked like.  Had his hands always been that large?  You shifted in your seat.

Johnny’s mouth twisted in a wry smile, “I don’t know if either of us really fit in with the rich old person vibe, but I heard the food is good.”

I’d rather have a bite of you, you thought to yourself, twisting the napkin in your lap.  You’d never seen him in a suit before.  Or at least, not in person.

Johnny coughed suddenly, staring at you with wide eyes.  “What?”

Oh shit, did you say that out loud?  Your cheeks burned.  “Um, I’d be, uh,” you stuttered, trying to cover your mistake, all confidence extinguished.  “We could get burgers, or something.”

Johnny sat back in his chair, eyes on yours.  He smirked, and you wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground.  Oh no, he definitely heard you.

“As long as I get to keep watching you,” Johnny said, voice low.  “You really are beautiful, not just tonight.  Every night.”

You opened your mouth, not sure what to say, but knowing that you wanted Johnny to keep looking at you like that.  Like you were the main course.  “Johnny, I—”

“Your wine, miss,” the waiter had returned.  You bit back a frown, knowing he was just doing his job.  But he seriously couldn’t have waited another minute?

“Thank you,” you murmured, sampling the first sip before allowing the waiter to pour both glasses.

“Can I interest you in any appetizers?” he asked, pouring Johnny’s wine.

You blinked, having forgotten the menu entirely.  Across the table, Johnny pulled out the menu, but before he could point anything out, the waiter was hovering over your shoulder.  “Might I recommend the cheese board?  It will pair beautifully with this bottle.”

“Might I tell you my order?” Johnny said.  His smile was sharper than before.  You might have teased him some more, but you got a bit distracted by Johnny’s jawline as he turned to speak to the waiter.  Honestly, you were having trouble tearing your eyes away from him all night.  It felt like seeing him for the first time, and in a way, you supposed you were.  You’d always known Johnny was attractive, since the time all boys started to look cute.  You’d just never let yourself think about it too much.  Best friend mental boundaries and all that.

Maybe if Johnny hadn’t said anything on that night, you wouldn’t have ever seen him like this.  You wouldn’t have allowed yourself to admire the column of his neck, or his long fingers as they unbuttoned the top of his shirt.  It would’ve been you and your stupid butterflies trapped in the friend zone forever.

Thoroughly distracted now, you bit your lip as you wondered what Johnny’s neck would look like with some new decorations.

“You realize they sell food here, right?  You don’t have to look at me like I’m an appetizer,” Johnny whispered across the table dramatically.  You startled, looking around, but the waiter had left at some point during your daydream.  Oh gosh, did you drool?  You pressed the back of your hand to your face discreetly, relieved to find nothing of the sort.

Then your brain caught up to Johnny, and you looked up at him with a smirk, “You’re too big to be an appetizer.”

Johnny choked on a laugh, covering his mouth to hide his smile when the other diners looked your way.  When he appeared to have himself under control again, he eyed you from head to toe—or at least what he could see from across the table.  He shot you a grin, “You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

You watched him through your lashes, not quite sure what to make of him anymore.  You’d had your fair share of fun with other guys, but never in a million years had you imagined flirting with Johnny so blatantly.  Let alone in a fancy five star restaurant like this.

A sudden presence at your side startled you, and you jumped a little when the waiter reached over your shoulder to set a dish down.  “Sorry for startling you,” he murmured, moving away slightly, but not before brushing your shoulder in apology.  “Should I leave you with this for now, or are you ready to order?”

Johnny’s eyes flashed, and you bit back a curse at the waiter’s truly stellar ability to interrupt.  “We’re fine, thank you,” you said, unable to stop watching Johnny.  Or his hand, slowly tightening into a fist on top of the table.

“Would you like to hear the specials tonight?”

You donned a polite smile, nodding at the waiter to continue.  While he read down the list of fancy-sounding entrées, you turned your smile on Johnny, who was vibrating in his seat again.  You could’ve sworn your water glasses were shaking, and you held back a giggle.  You uncrossed and recrossed your legs, extra slowly to make sure he got the message when you “accidentally” brushed his knee this time.  The vibrations stopped, and his eyes burned into you.

“Thank you, we’ll keep looking over the menu,” Johnny interrupted the waiter, his voice deeper than before.  Your smile only grew.

Once the waiter was out of earshot, you leaned in.  “Can we leave?  I can’t even kiss you here.”

“Yep, yes, absolutely,” Johnny said, standing up the second the words were out of your mouth.  He nearly upended the table, making you snort.  “Right now,” he nodded, striding for the exit.

You scrambled out of your chair, rushing after him.  “Johnny,” you hissed, grabbing his sleeve.  “We didn’t pay yet.”

He came to a halt in the hallway, and you nearly ran into his back.  Then Johnny turned around, and you became very aware of the semi-secluded location as he moved closer.  You squeaked out a panicked, “Not here!”  You backed away until he finally reached out, one hand circling your waist to reel you in.

Johnny’s eyes moved over your shoulder, then back to yours.  He smirked, leaning in close enough for you to feel his lips brushing your cheek as he murmured, “Tell the valet to get the car.  I’ll grab the wine.”

You could’ve sworn you felt his hand brush down your back, lower.  Your cheeks burned hotter.  But when you turned, Johnny’s broad shoulders were disappearing around the corner, and the waiter was hurrying in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

You ended up ditching the car and walking around the neighborhood.  You only looked slightly out of place with your high heels and makeup when you ended up at a tteokbokki joint.  You’d played rock paper scissors between that and burgers, and Johnny won, as usual.

After dinner, you were reasonably close to your apartment, so Johnny offered to walk you home. It felt like another one of your late-night adventures, except you were usually in sneakers. When your feet got tired, you stopped in the middle of the block to take off the killer heels, sighing in relief.  You slung the straps over your wrist, prepared to keep trudging along, when Johnny swooped in.  One second, you were on the ground, the next, you were admiring the top view of Johnny’s ass from where you were dangling over his shoulder.

“Johnny, what the fuck,” you asked breathlessly, dying of laughter.  And from his shoulder digging into your diaphragm.

“Are you crazy?  You could cut your feet open,” he scolded you.

“At least there’s a nice view,” you sighed, reaching down to pat his butt.

Johnny put a little bounce in his next step, and you grunted at the impact.  You could practically feel his smug little grin.  “Hands off the merchandise.”

“How is that fair?  You totally copped a feel back at the restaurant.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” you said.  “You went all ‘alpha male’ with that nice waiter.”

Johnny huffed, “I wasn’t jealous.”

You grinned in victory.  “I never said you were, mister offering-up-information.  Now put me down, you caveman.”

Johnny’s grip on your thighs loosened, and his hands slid up to your waist, holding you tightly as he helped you back down.  You froze for a second when your feet hit the ground, not expecting to be face-to-face with him so suddenly.  “Wait right there,” Johnny said firmly, finally releasing your waist.

You blinked at him in confusion, watching as he slid his suit jacket off.  Your eyes widened when he reached for you, but it was only to wrap the jacket around your waist, tying the sleeves into a knot to hold it in place.

“There,” Johnny said, nodding at his handiwork.  Then he turned, crouching down slightly.  “Alright, princess, hop on.”

You beamed at him, not that he could see it.  It wouldn’t be a walk with Johnny if he didn’t end up carrying you at the end of the night, you chuckled to yourself.  You were fiercely grateful to Johnny for thinking of his jacket—you weren’t quite sure how long your skirt was, now that you were wrapped around him like a koala.

“Thanks, Johnny,” you mumbled, burying your face in his neck.  “You’re the bestest.”  You left a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he laughed, tightening his hold on your legs.

Finally, you arrived at your apartment building.  You slid your heels back on, balancing with one hand on Johnny’s arm.  “I’ll walk you up,” he said once you straightened.

But when you got to your door, you hesitated, unsure what to say.  Was this the part where you kissed him goodnight?  You were torn, so at odds with the way the night resembled your old friend dates, only now things were different.  What were you supposed to do?

“So,” Johnny drawled, leaning against the wall.  “Where’s my tip?”

You stared at him, incredulous.  “Your tip?” you repeated.

“Johnny’s chauffeur service isn’t free,” he said.  “And if I remember correctly, you still owe me for last time.”

You cocked a hip, smirking slightly.  “Any preferred payment methods?”

Johnny blew you an air kiss, and you made a show of catching it.  “I take cash or card,” he informed you.

“What a shame,” you murmured, dropping your purse in front of the door.  “I seem to have lost my wallet.”

He watched you carefully, barely blinking as you approached him, one slow step at a time.  “Apps?”

You stopped mere inches away, “Not a single one.”

He swallowed, and your eyes tracked the movement.  Your daydream from before came back with a vengeance—you bit your lip at the thought of marking him up.  Then you leaned in, resting one hand on his chest.  His heart pounded through the thin dress shirt.

“Will this do?” you asked, lips just barely brushing his.  Nothing else touched, aside from your fingertips on his sternum, but you could’ve sworn you felt him shiver.

Oh so slowly, Johnny reached out, hands ghosting over your hips.  You smiled against him, then melded your lips to his, bypassing whatever hesitations were holding you back.  What was the worst that could happen?

You felt Johnny teasing at the seam of your lips and gratefully opened for him.  He inhaled sharply when you inched forward, your chest brushing his.  You couldn’t hear anything but your heart racing.  And when his fingers dug into your hips, you fell into the kiss.  He pulled you in like a magnet until every part of you aligned with him.  Your limbs felt molten, burning at the contact.

Johnny pulled away, but not for long.  You gasped for air as his lips traced over your jawline, making their way to the delicate skin beneath your ear.  He pressed hot kisses there until your neck arched back obediently.  And when he nipped at your throat, you whimpered.  Thoughtlessly, your hips rocked forward.  Johnny gave voice to a deep groan, so you did it again.

Growling lightly, Johnny curled an arm around your waist to pull you harder against him.  All of the breath left your body at the feel of his growing hardness against your belly.  You fisted your hands in his collar, tugging him away from your neck.  You caught a glimpse of his kiss-swollen lips and blown out pupils, then dove back in for more.

While your mouth danced with his, your hands dragged southward.  Your fingernails caught on a button or two as you traced the muscle beneath.  Now Johnny’s hips were bucking into yours.  You grinned savagely into the kiss.  You’d just reached his belt when Johnny ripped his mouth away from yours.  “Woah, woah,” he gasped.  “Slow down, there.”

You panted for air, “What’s wrong?”

Both of you were breathing hard, and you were having a hard time ignoring the elephant in the room.  Er, hallway.  “You’re not trying to take advantage of me on the first date, are you?” Johnny asked with a breathy chuckle.

You laughed softly, tilting your chin back to get a good look at him.  “Is it really taking advantage if you want it, too?”  You smirked at him, rolling your hips forward to emphasize your point.

He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and you could’ve sworn you felt him throb.  But Johnny, ever the gentleman, smoothed his hand down your back, resting his head back against the wall rather than picking up where you left off.  “Cut me some slack, I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight,” he said with a crooked smile.

Oh no, now you had heart eyes for the man.  You pecked his chin to hide your cheesy grin.  “You let me know when you are, hmm?” you hummed, placing another kiss to the base of his throat.

“Princess, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for you.”

You giggled, leaning back in his arms.  “Am I so scary?”

Johnny sobered, meeting your gaze.  “I just don’t want to mess anything up.  Not with you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you smiled at him.  “I trust you too much.”

“Oh yeah?  You still haven’t told me what you wished for on your fourteenth birthday,” Johnny taunted.

You tilted your head, thinking back.  “I didn’t tell you because I was hopelessly in love with you at the time,” you confessed.  “Now that’s out in the open, I guess you can know.”

Johnny blinked, taken aback.  “Even then?”

“Johnny, I think I’ve loved you forever,” you said, staring up at him.  “So of course I wished for the same thing every year.”

“What was it?”

Your smile widened, “Well, it already came true.  You said it, too.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

[manikas-whims]

Recently, I'm seeing a rise in the most awful misinterpretations of some characters in Six of Crows, so I'm gonna address how wrong they are.

Before I start: if you haven't said any of what I'm going to mention here, then it means I'm not pointing fingers at you. Don't take offense for something you didn't do.

Now I'm gonna try to keep it as short as possible...

Part 1

"I don't think Inej loves Kaz." "Inej doesn't love Kaz as much as he does her." "Inej is ignorant." bla bla bla...

A cousin of mine (15 yo) read the books and said the same things as above.

I asked her what does love mean to her and she responded it meant "two people showing their emotions by acts like kisses, cuddles, etc." and "by being together with that person by the end of the story".

Obviously, that's not all to love. Younger audiences tend to not take note of the faint nuances the same way grownups do. Its just like watching disney movies and only later realising the ambiguous meanings in certain dialogues. But we can't simply say that age plays a major factor here.

While SoC is a YA novel and aimed for age groups 13-17 mostly, many adults enjoy the books.

I myself read the books this year (23 yo) and my perception of love is different from my cousin's. Love isn't simply an emotion or feeling or gestures. LOVE IS WORK. It requires both the parties involved to put in equal effort.

And so, when Inej says "I will have you without armor." , she isn't being ignorant at all. She does mean it in the literal sense. But also more than that. Inej is an honest person and says whats on her mind freely. She expects the same honesty in return. She says this dialogue because while Kaz seems to know a good amount about her— her full real name, how she was taken to Ketterdam and sold to Tante Heleen, etc. Inej knows nothing about him, not even his real name. The first thing she learns about him is that he had a brother and a vague "i had a lot of things."

And even with things Kaz doesn't know about her, she's ready to share. She tells him that it was easy for her to entirely dissociate when seeing her clients but she couldn't do it with one guy, the guy who'd seen her perform on the high wire as a kid. She shares this deep, awful experience with him and says its not easy for her either. In doing so, being honest about her past, she encourages him to take a step as well. To try and be a little honest about himself, share a small part of himself. She wants him to put some effort into their relationship because a simple "i want you" isn't enough. They both need to work on a lot of things to reach that "i want you". SHE ISN'T IGNORANT.

Later on, Inej realises, she can't ask so much honesty of Kaz because that one bathroom scene is an eye opener for both of them. She realises that she may have handled that kiss on the neck but what if she couldn't have? What if she had dissociated on instinct, as her defense mechanism? What if? Kaz adds to all that when he tells her to take the money and leave, forget him. But does she do that? NO. She thinks whether it would be better for her to find a kind man, bear his children and then sharpen her knives at night. And she realizes she doesn't want that because she can only be her true self (a kind woman who wields knives) with Kaz. She can only be her genuine self with Kaz. She thinks "he'd tried, they'd tried. They could try again." She wants to try again with Kaz. SHE WANTS HIM JUST AS MUCH.

Now for a moment, lets consider the other female character in SoC— Nina Zenik. We all call her an "Unapologetic Queen" for being herself, being proud of her body proportions and such. But if Nina was a woman of color, would she get the same hype? Don't say "Yes" because we know that won't be the case. Nina wouldn’t get the same hype for her plus sized representation if she was a poc.

And this, I'm speaking as a Desi. I know what I face in real life from people of other cultures. I've experienced a lot of stereotypes about myself as a South Asian woc. And while not everyone treats me the same, I do encounter alot of obvious stereotypical assumptions about myself.

Similarly, so many people when they read the "I will have you without armor" dialogue, completely stop looking further into Inej. Age factor is very miniscule. Most of this, whether you like it or not, stems from the internalized stereotype that "brown girls are mean and insensitive". Thats how we've typically seen them portrayed in majority of media and that's where many readers' thoughts immediately head to when they read the "without armor" dialogue. Those of you who say the quoted things mentioned at the top, don't bother to look as deeply into Inej's perspective as you do for Kaz or Nina or the others. You simply settle for calling her ignorant.

Did you ever give her more thought instead of reducing her to the stereotypical brown girl?

Did you ever consider that this girl has her own demons? That this girl was captured forcefully and sold into prostitution at 14!? That this girl sometimes even gets scared of touches from her own friends? That this girl finds it harder to handle contact that she doesn't see coming? That she suffered abuse and was rewarded with kindness by the same hands that touched her at the Menagerie!? That at some point she just fearfully anticipated for whatever was to come, be it a gentle caress or a harsh slap across her cheek? That this girl was raped again and again and again every single day when she was only 14? That she was violated and touched in places too private without her consent? That she was continuously treated so by men twice, thrice, even four times her age!?

Did you ever consider that this girl who struggles with so much didn't let her suffering define her!? That she rises above these atrocities and finds a purpose!? That she chooses to pursue her own goals and save any other kids from whatever horrid things she went through!?

Did you ever consider that despite everything this girl suffered at the hands of innumerable people, she wants to try again with Kaz?

For a girl like her to let Kaz kiss her neck completely unguarded (she doesn't have her knives with her in that scene)..to still be able to give her heart to Kaz, is a very beautiful thing. It means she trusts him so much more than she'll ever trust any other person..

Everyone expresses themselves in different ways. Thats what makes each human so unique. Just because Inej isn't saying poetic things in her pov chapters, doesn't mean she loves Kaz any less.

Inej Ghafa loves Kaz Brekker. And she always will. But her love doesn't mean she must give up on her own purpose. Kaz doesn't ask her to. And she doesn't ask Kaz to give up his position as the new King of the Barrel. They're equals who support each other in their goals. They're two people in love who will take their baby steps towards healing together.

Inej and Kaz love each other.

Inej and Kaz are together.

Inej isn't ignorant, just misread.

Rant over for now. Next I'll be talking about Matthias Helvar..:)

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] All Demon Brothers + Undateables as Babysitters (Part 1)

Scenario: For the sake of the exchange program (probably), the entire cast is now in charge of taking care of kids ranging from infants to pre-K children at a daycare with you. Headcanons on what type of babysitter they would be + whatever cute shenanigans that may occur

Note: Baby fever!! Inspiration is the entirety of Gakuen Babysitter/School Babysitter. It is literally the cutest anime I have ever watched in my life and I highly recommend it if you want a cute feels-good, slice of life!! Some of the kids I may have based off of them, but you don’t need to watch it to understand this! :))

why do i always make my headcanons so long

Part 1 has the 7 Demon Brothers

[Part 2] has all five Undateables

--

Lucifer

This was probably Diavolo’s idea so he has no choice but to go along with it, much to his dismay

He already thought humans were fragile, and now they were going to take care of the smaller, younger ones? 

His face scares 90% of the kids on his first day as a babysitter, which kind of hinders his job because every time he tries to help them clean up or change diapers, the kids start crying 

The other 10% who are not intimidated by him claim him to be the Big Bad and play fight with him all the time, and considering his attitude, he’s a pretty perfect villain in their make-belief play so he’s won their hearts IMMEDIATELY 

Generally a pretty strict baby-sitter who is listened to without having to repeat himself; his power and authority is unyielding (and also he’s just plain scary even if he doesn’t mean to be, and lowkey he likes the power he has because the kids remind him of Mammon sometimes) 

It’s honestly a big debate whether he should just give up and ask for help or power through, but if he’s just babysitting with you, pleads with you to please help him because he’s so lost and why do they scream so loud and not that he would ever admit to it, but he is a tiny bit hurt that he can’t seem to have the kids trust him

Once he’s told that he should smile more and speak more gently, he implements it with mixed results (at first), but it’s a significant improvement from the first few days

During a moment of rest, he’s sighing when a baby crawls up to him and sits in his lap without warning, and he’s a goner 

Literally has the hardest time trying to train his face not to look so pleased or happy, but his smile is so soft (and he will not hesitate to kill any of his brothers that see him like that, but for you and the undateables, he’ll just be embarrassed) 

Loves infants and how trusting they are of him despite how scary his face may seem sometimes-- the epitome of unconditional love and he’s just… very tender

Probably ends up being the respected babysitter who’s super cool to all the kids but slightly unapproachable (unless you’re a babyyyy) but eventually climbs the ranks in terms of babysitters because he vouches for them if they do need him

Mammon

The kids have decided that he is the biggest kid on the playground and now to assert dominance, they must beat him up

Which is what they do-- or as much as they can with their tiny fists and miniscule strength and the fact that Mammon is a literal demon

You just stare at Mammon as he cries on the ground, whining at how the kids ganged up on him and you’re just like…. They’re literally <4 years old. 

Despite that part, Mammon gets along with all the kids really well!! 

He talks to them as normal and calls them ‘brats’ but they all know he’s soft for them so they kind of take advantage of that? But only a little bit because they don’t like seeing Mammon cry either

You forget who comfort the other more at this point, the kids or Mammon

Mammon is the best person to call for if the kids want to play around because he’s pretty animated himself and goes along with whatever the kids want to do 

You might have to reign them in a little yourself, because you’re not quite sure Mammon really knows what’s actually dangerous for them

“Mammon, please only carry one kid at a time please, you’re scaring me”

“Huh? You know I can carry all four of them on my head--”

“Please”

Suuuper popular with the kids even though he kept complaining about them to anyone who would listen that he had to look over these tiny humans

But the moment any of the kids ask for his help or do something cute, he’s the FIRST one to go and help because ‘you need the GREAT Mammon’s help? Guess you can’t help it after all…” and he just likes the fact that he feels reliable to these kids

He might… actually save money to buy these kids Christmas gifts?? Will maybe cry if they bring little Valentine's Day candies (that their parents probably told them to give but shhh let him dream)

Leviathan

May or may not be hyperventilating as he hypes himself up to go into the daycare and meet the kids

He tried to brush it off to his brothers that they’re just kids and he doesn’t care if they like him or not because it doesn’t matter to him because he’s just an otaku-- but my god he hopes they like him 

Little does he know, the fact he lets them play on his game consoles (whether or not they actually know how to play) wins them over immediately and breaks the ice

They find him super interesting to talk to and he ends up a pretty popular babysitter because he talks to them like adults (yes, even to the babies) 

Catch him giving a bottle to a baby while talking to them in baby-voice (that he adopts not on purpose) about his favorite TSL season 

One of the biggest reasons why the kids love him is because he really listens to them even though their rants and blabbing doesn’t always make sense

When he does talk about his interests (or it slips out, as it does), the kids are genuinely interested in what he has to say and that’s when his mission to convert all of these kids to watching anime and reading manga started

“Reading manga is going to help them develop reading comprehension!!”

Probably brings his entire stash of (kid-friendly) manga-- probably the magical girl anime with Ruri-chan-- and has the kids dig in 

It does have some negative repercussions because kids aren’t exactly good at handling precious material, so things do rip and break and Levi had to excuse himself to go outside and mourn his lost

But the fire of his mission burns brighter than the sadness over what he has lost (besides, he would never bring limited edition/1st edition things outside his room so these things are replaceable) 

If Halloween rolls around, the kids will exclaim that they want to be [insert character] from TSL or another anime and Levi may shed tears of happiness right there and then

Will make it his side quest to make costumes for ALL the kids-- especially if they can’t afford their own and will encourage them to be whatever they want to be!!!

He’s literally leading an army of newly-created weebs/otakus that look up to him in the daycare and the power he has over these kids is so formidable some of his brothers are actually a little jealous HAHA

Satan

Acts casual about the whole thing and is actually casual about it

He hasn’t necessarily spent much time with kids, but he figures he’d be able to do it-- and he’d be right; considering how natural he is with people in general, I doubt kids would be much different, especially if he talks to them like adults and respects their opinions 

Is definitely the type of babysitter some of the kids end up having a little baby crush on, considering how charming and prince-like he can be with his gentle tone of voice 

Not that he’s perfect-- some kids are just brats and he does get angry at them but he only needed to snap once before the troublemakers all learned not to mess with him

Despite that, he would most likely be the ones to keep an eye on the troublemakers, because it may be a sign of a troubled home (not always, but… well, he would know best, wouldn’t he?) and he’d want to reach out to them if he can help them in any way

What he loves to do with the kids-- and you can probably guess-- is have Story Time!!

The kids are so excited to circle around him before naptime and listen to him read storybooks, doing voice overs and dramatic/animated readings; the kids are so intently listening and giggling at the funny parts

At first, he attempted to bring all his books over to the daycare, but he had to put some back when you tell him these kids are literally three and probably don’t have the reading comprehension required to read Quantum Physics-- so he provides picture books instead; anything he procured from the human world

Really encourages the kids to try their best to read and, if he has the time of day, tries to teach them basic things like the alphabet, how to spell out each words etc (you may call him…. Sensei) 

Adores their imagination too because he knows adults could hardly compare at times and he encourages them to make up their own stories and he’d help them write it down 

Uses a lot of tactic like these to encourage their education and their development-- he loves books and the impact they’ve made on him and he wants these kids to be able to experience the same things

Asmodeus

A little hesitant at first because kids can be super cute and great for pictures but… they can also be super gross and kind of mean; and he’s seen both ends of the spectrum so he’s not really sure what to expect

Then one of the kid compliments his hair clip shyly and shows their own similar hairclip and he’s sold because obviously they have the cutest kids in the world

Hair undone? He’s there

You wanna try out painting nails? Oh hun, he’s got you-- free make-overs for EVERYONE-- except maybe the infants, he doesn’t wanna ruin the natural baby smell and softness they have going for them

He wants to encourage ALL the kids to express themselves so he sometimes brings old clothes he doesn’t wear anymore so they have a fashion show/runways

ALWAYS encourages the kid to wear what they want because gender norms who???

If ANY and I mean ANY parent comes up to him and talk about him letting them wear non-gender conforming clothes he WILL go off on them because they are LITERALLY KIDS-- let them express themselves and have fun

Kinda grossed out by snot and diapers tho so you’re gonna have to help him with that; and since the universe knows that he hates getting dirty, he’s probably the brother most likely to get peed on while changing a diaper

You have to force him back into the daycare after that incident because he refuses to come out of the bathroom after changing into clean clothes 

But he is so captivating that the kids usually don’t cause trouble when he’s around, and also similarly to Levi, he talks and listens to them blabber while he’s doing their hair so it’s always pretty soothing 

Probably ends up in charge of the creativity hour and cooing over everyone’s art project, encouraging them to sprinkle as much glitter as they want, use as many colors as they want-- as long as it makes them happy! 

Beelzebub

Considering he’s the sweetest and physically the strongest, he’s actually pretty concerned about hurting them, and asks you to help him adjust to this new role so that the kids will be okay (you know he’ll be fine, but if saying yes to helping him will make him feel better, you say it)

Beel keeps to himself as a babysitter for the first few-- oh idk-- hours before some of the kids figure out how STRONG he is and he’s the best thing since sliced bread

The kids start to literally hang from him, testing how strong he really is, and are all delighted that he can hold all of them in and from his arms; he’s a little worried he’ll drop them, but since the kids are so excited about it, decides to lift them only a little high just to please them

Happily, he eventually gets used to knowing how to deal with them, and it helps that the kids are so polite to him

He’s the ultimate Big Brother figure to them, much to his surprise since he’s used to being the younger brother, and it makes him really soft inside that these kids actually look up to him and rely on him 

During free play, he has definitely carried at least six kids on his back when they play horsey and not break a sweat and throws the babies up in the air playfully (and carefully) and let them pretend they were flying

He’s their protector, making sure that they’re playing safely, even though he went a little too ham on the protection, grabbing a kid by the scruff of his collar because he was running and beel was afraid of him falling and scraping his knees

“It’s okay Beel, they can handle it--”

“Are you sure?? But they’re so tiny and fragile--” 

Changes diapers pretty handily after the first time; has definitely tried the baby formula and ate the entire bottle by accident before feeding a baby

Makes sure the kids are nice to each other, especially siblings, and that they eat; you tell the kids that if they eat their vegetables they’ll grow as strong as Beel, and that’s the FASTEST you’ve ever seen picky kids eat them in your LIFE

Belphegor

“Alright, nap time, everyone!”

“Belphie, they just arrived;;;”

Honestly just thought this entire thing was a hassle because kids in general take a lot of work and he just doesn’t want to put that sort of effort into something he didn’t sign up for

But since you’re there, he may as well try to be proficient enough to be well-liked enough to not cause a fuss and be able to babysit with you

He’s the type of babysitter who converses with the kids and pretends he doesn’t know something so the kid tries to teach him-- and honestly this give the kid a chance to be confident in their skills and also lets Belphie not do as much work to keep the conversation alive so win-win

As you can probably guess, is definitely in charge of enforcing nap time… by napping with the kids-- gotta learn by example right?

There are probably mats that the kids lie on but whenever Belphie lies in the middle of them, they all end up rolling and curling near his side; when he wakes up he’s always surrounded by a sea of kids and he’s so confused and he can’t move unless you wake up the kids for him 

The most efficient babysitter out of all of them because efficiency means less effort and time taken to change a diaper, clean up a spill, or wipe a kid’s nose 

Doesn’t understand why the kids keep wanting to interact with him but he’ll always indulge them in the end regardless of his nonchalant attitude

He actually finds a lot of them endearing when they talk about the things they like to do and about their daily life because it’s always interesting to learn about their perspective on things

When it’s creativity hour, the kids like asking him to doodle something on their paper (it can be a small chibi or caricature or just some animal) and it always makes them super happy; you watch him crack a smile as he sees the kids try to copy his drawing right next to it

If any of them are interested in stars, will gently show them the constellations in books and watch as they fascinate over them as he did before

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “The Reunion”

Oh hey- it’s been a minute since I last posted one of these, huh? 

As I’ve kinda been alluding to, this isn’t the segment that I’ve been needing to write, but it’s the one I felt like writing over the past few days. So it just so happens that for once in my life, I’ve actually written something chronologically relevant to the last segment I posted! As in... this literally takes place almost directly after “Willful Disobedience.” 

I’ll admit I kinda rushed the ending of this one a bit, and I think it shows, but it does what it needs to do so I’m just gonna keep it as is for now.

I can’t think of any serious warnings necessary for this one, but feel free to ask me to add warnings/warning tags if you see anything that you think should be warned about!

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated and encouraged!

It was a nightmare that awoke him that dreary, stormy night. Though he knew logically that there was nothing to fear, now that the thing he had created had been missing for at least four months, still he couldn’t help but feel those same eyes watching him from the shadows. Shuddering at the thought of that disturbing dark-lipped grin and the strange garbled sounds that had roused him from his slumber on the fateful night of its creation, he lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You have nothing to fear,” he muttered aloud, repeating the phrase in his mind hoping that maybe if he said it enough times, it would be true. Yet a sudden bolt of lightning and crash of thunder caused him to yelp and hide under the covers, trembling in a cold sweat. Only one thought eased his troubled mind, and though he resented the idea of once again bothering Henry so late at night, he felt he might go mad if he stayed in his room alone for any longer.

When he silently opened the door to Henry’s room, he fully expected to find him asleep - instead, Henry was sitting upright with his journal and quill in hand. He had been staring out into the storm, but as Victor opened his door his attention snapped away. Though at first he appeared surprised, the expression of shock faded into one of concern. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly, shutting his journal and setting it along with his quill aside. Victor didn’t answer, simply nodding silently while standing shakily in the doorway. Henry moved over on the bed, and gently pat the place beside him, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Victor unsteadily strode over, sitting in the place beside Henry but turning his face away. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Victor shook his head, clinging to himself and holding back tears. “Is there anything I can do other than just… be here?” There was no reply from Victor except a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders. The pouring rain pounded at the glass of the window like some unwanted stranger begging to be let in, a deafening sound in a moment of silence between the two of them. “Would it… help to be held?” Victor gripped at himself tighter and clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he nodded. When he felt the warm embrace of Henry’s freckled arms wrapping gently around him, something inside him shattered and he burst into a fit of sobs. Henry gripped him tighter, hushing him softly as he wept. Another roar of thunder caused Victor to jump and grab hold of Henry, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. They stayed tangled in each other's arms until Victor’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and the rain turned from violent downpour to a gentle, steady fall. When Henry released him, he sat back and reached out, carefully wiping the tears from Victor’s pale cheeks. “Better?” he asked with a kind smile and compassionate gaze. Victor nodded, sheepishly smiling himself, though his smile quickly faded and he shuddered at the thought of once again being alone with his thoughts.

“Better for now, yes, but... would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

“Not at all! Bring a blanket and make yourself at home-” He paused, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Are you ok going back and grabbing one on your own or…”

“I’ll be fine,” Victor answered, waving his hand dismissively and hopping down from the bed.

What happened then was a blur, a faded memory with only fragments remaining. He ran after exiting Henry’s room, back to his own to quickly grab his favorite wool blanket and nearly panicked at the sound of a tree branch tapping and scraping at his window, Somehow from there he ended up back in Henry’s room, making a cozy nest for himself on the floor where he decided he would sleep for the night - complete with extra pillows that Henry provided him with, and it was there with his blanket wrapped tightly around himself that his eyes began to close. When they opened, however, he was no longer on the floor but instead lying in bed next to Henry, who slept soundly with his face turned away. Victor’s eyes opened wide at the sudden realization that somehow, in his sleep, he must have climbed up into the bed. As he tried to remember why or how it happened, his memory flashed with tiny glimpses at some other horrifying nightmare, and he realized all at once that in his fright he must have come to Henry for comfort, only to find him sleeping. He stirred, slowly trying to move toward the edge of the bed, but as he shifted, Henry turned in his sleep, now facing him, and he froze. Unwilling to wake his host, Victor lay perfectly still, moving only to shift back to laying with his eyes to the ceiling. He stared upward, but he felt no fear there lying next to Henry. His breathing was slow, his heart calm, and his mind at peace. Yet still, he found himself entirely unable to sleep. Henry shifted and murmured something beside him that sounded like it might have been a name - his name. Victor turned his face toward him, partially curious to see if Henry had awoken or was beginning to wake, and soon turned his entire body on his side to face him as he realized his eyes were still closed and his expression was that of someone peacefully sound asleep.

Something about that moment took Victor’s breath away. He had long known that what he felt when he was with his dear friend was something far deeper than a general platonic affection, but the pieces of his affections suddenly seemed to click together as they lay together in simple silence. His brown eyes began to well with tears once again. “I have searched so long for greatness and power, hoping that it might fill some final void within me,” he whispered, though he knew Henry couldn’t hear him, “yet all this time, all I needed to feel whole was this - just to be here, just to be with you.” He turned himself onto his back again, staring upward as tears slowly streamed down his face. “Why can we not just stay like this? Why can we not just be this - be us?” His gaze fell back onto Henry, and he felt a dull pain from deep within him that throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Would you even want that? Or is this wrong? Am I wrong?” Henry shifted in his sleep, and it seemed for a moment that his eyes might dare to blink open, which frightened Victor into silence at the thought that he may have just bore his entire soul to his most trusted friend. He didn’t wake, though, instead simply heaving a soft sigh in his slumber as he went entirely still once again. The sky outside began to lighten as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon and filtered through the window, some soon resting upon the fiery waves of Henry’s hair and revealing the dormant ember-like brightness that had been concealed by the darkness of night. As dawn passed, Victor stayed staring at his dearest friend’s fair face, and as he stared he reached out, tracing the air over a cluster of freckles with a smile. “Andromeda,” he breathed, recognizing the latest in a series of constellations he had discovered over the years. He wanted so badly just to reach a little further and touch him, as though he were afraid that maybe it was all some illusion, some cruel trick that he could be so close and yet so far from where he wanted to be - from who he wanted to be. Instead he retracted his hand with a gentle sigh and lay there in silent wonder, letting his mind wander with visions of what could be, or what could have been. Henry stirred beside him once again, his eyelids twitching. Victor felt himself freeze again. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be angry? Would he pull him closer? Would he do nothing at all? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall shadow on the wall beyond, looming ominously. He felt his stomach churn and his heart race with both fury and fear, until suddenly everything stopped. Everything was still - too still. “This isn’t right,” he whispered to himself. “He wasn’t there.” Just as Henry’s eyes slowly opened, he blinked.

Tiny shafts of sunlight filtered through miniscule cracks in the wooden log walls, illuminating particles of dust that floated through the air. Victor squinted as his eyes opened. For a moment, he smiled, half expecting Henry’s hazel eyes to be gazing back at him, but instead there was the bare wood of the cabin walls and the small stream of light that aligned directly with his sight and blinded him despite its meager size. He pulled his wool blanket over his face with a groan to block out the light, and though he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, there was an aching in his chest that kept him awake. Though he knew it was impossible, he kept hoping and wishing that somehow, some way, he could simply will Henry into existence there with him. Finally growing exhausted of his pining, he slipped out of bed, pinning his blanket around himself as a cape, and stepped out of his room. The creature lay sleeping soundly on the floor in front of the fireplace, that being the only place he ever slept despite having a room of his own. Victor paused, staring down at him for a moment, suddenly envying him. After having been calmed from another night terror, the creature seemed so peaceful and at rest in his sleep, while Victor seemed to be cursed only to dream of memories that pained him and made him feel all the more lonely and lost, twisted and changed by fears he so desperately tried to suppress. Cautiously stepping over his creation’s outstretched leg, he made his way to the door and stepped outside into the light of dawn. At first he shielded his eyes from the light, but as they adjusted, he strode toward the edge of the ledge and paused just before the rock dropped off into a steep cliff, just so most of his feet were still on solid ground though his toes hung over the edge. It was a dangerous place to stand, especially with the strong breeze that pushed its way through, but the danger of it was the last thing on his mind as he stared ahead, his hands clasped behind his back.

A feeling of homesickness flooded through him, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was for. Was it for Geneva, for the lake and the forests and the view of the mountains from below? Was it for the home and family he left behind so many years ago? Or was it just for Henry himself- He shook the thought from his head. "That's silly," he muttered aloud. "You can't feel homesick for a person." Yet when he thought about his soothing voice as he read some ancient poem or story, or the way he held him when he was scared or sad; when he thought about the way he could paint a picture with words or tell a story through sketches, that feeling of homesickness only grew more prevalent. In his heartache, he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, nor had he heard when they stopped, followed by the clattering of a walking stick and pack being dropped to the ground. Instead, it was a voice that broke him from his thoughts, sending both a wave of heat and an icy chill through his veins.

“Victor?” He turned his head, and swore he was hallucinating. Standing there bathed in the golden light of the morning sun was the exact person who had been consuming his every waking thought. In a moment of something between blind panic and overwhelming joy, Victor thoughtlessly fully turned to face him while stumbling backward - except there was nothing to stumble back on. One foot slipped from the edge of the cliff, and he flailed his arms, trying to push his balance onto the one foot that still remained on land despite that one beginning to slip as well. Just as he was about to fall back to what would most certainly have been an inevitable death, a hand grabbed one of his flailing arms by the wrist and stopped his fall. He glanced back as fragments of stone tumbled off the cliff, falling through the air until they could no longer be seen. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that he could have just perished due to his own carelessness, but when he looked back up he felt his heart flutter. Henry was staring down at him with a look of both terror and relief in his eyes, wisps of his orange hair that had escaped being tied back drifting over his face and catching the sunlight like thin streams of fire, gleaming and shifting in vibrant shades of auburn with each waving motion of the breeze. 

“H-hi Henry,” Victor managed to stutter breathlessly as he gazed upward with wide eyes. The grip on his wrist tightened and he felt himself blush, so he turned his head away as Henry hoisted him back up onto solid ground, only to blush harder as his friend suddenly pulled him into so tight of an embrace he thought his frail ribs might crack. Though it was slightly painful, the sudden rush of euphoria from being once again wrapped in Henry’s arms overrode any pain he felt. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, but whatever the case, he clung to Henry tightly in return, silently hoping that this was in fact reality and not just some waking dream. Henry pulled back, placing his hands on Victor’s shoulders as Victor reluctantly released him.

“My dear Frankenstein,” Henry murmured. The words shot straight through Victor, words he had been longing to hear for the months he had been away, words that only Henry ever spoke, and he felt as though he might faint at the mere sound of them.

“It’s… it’s been far too long,” Victor managed to whisper, leaning his head to one side and resting it on Henry’s hand. Henry returned the gesture with a comforting smile.

“It has,” he concurred, seemingly searching Victor’s face for answers to some unspoken question. Victor looked back up at him, his own eyes wandering for want of answers, and as he stared, his gaze turned to a sudden look of confusion and concern as reason and logic began to overtake his senses.

“How did you find me?” He paused, then stepped back and pulled fully away from Henry’s touch. “Why aren’t you still at Ingolstadt?” Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m taking time off,” he answered simply. “After you left I was so worried - about you and your family, I guess - I just… couldn’t keep my focus on my studies, so I decided it might be best to come home and take a break.” Victor was about to reply, but went silent as Henry suddenly went rummaging through one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “As for how I found you,” he began, waving it in the air, “I got your letter!” Victor gave him an odd look.

“...Letter?” Henry unfolded it and looked it over.

“You don’t remember sending this?” Victor thought long and hard, trying to consider all of the possibilities - maybe he had sent something and forgotten? Or maybe he had written and sent something in some daze of confusion and lost all memory of it? Neither made much sense, but they were the only answers that seemed to come to mind.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” He reached out. “Do you mind if I take a look?” Henry laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course not! You’re the one that wrote it, after all,” he replied as he placed the letter into Victor’s hand. Victor read it over, growing more confused and concerned with himself. Henry was right - it looked exactly like his handwriting and the tone of voice in the letter seemed to match the tone he so often used in his typical letters to Henry from his time in Ingolstadt before that same fateful day that he arrived there. “Whatever the case, whether you wrote it or not,” Henry began, smiling and resting one hand back on Victor’s shoulder. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.” Victor hid his blushing behind the paper as he inspected it closer.

“More like you have no idea how delighted I am to see you again,” he mumbled. The letter certainly seemed flawlessly his own creation, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recall when, or frankly how, he would have sent it. “When did you say you received this?”

“I… hadn’t said, but it was yesterday evening.” Victor’s expression became even more contorted with confusion, and Henry himself began to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Henry… I never wrote you a letter.” Henry stared.

“I’m not sure if I should be more offended or concerned by that sentence, but I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle.” The thought that he might have offended him sent a twinge of guilt through Victor, and he glanced up with a sigh.

“That’s not to say I didn’t want to write to you. It’s just… I can’t leave this place. It’s a long story.”

“You did mention that in the letter, something about how you were unable to leave. That’s part of why I left as soon as I received it - I figured you might be in trouble, but you look perfectly well, other than perhaps a bit thinner than usual.” 

“That’s just it-” Victor began, looking back down at the letter. “If I’m stuck here, then how would I have gotten this letter to you?” Henry thought for a moment.

“Well, it was delivered by someone who wished to remain anonymous if that makes any difference. Perhaps there was someone who had come here that you forgot and had asked to deliver the letter?” Victor shook his head.

“Impossible. I would have known if someone else had come. There’s no one here except me and-” He paused, his eyes catching on to something strange, a pattern in the way each character was written. He knew his own handwriting - it was sloppy at best, yet typically at least legible, and he never wrote one letter the same way twice. That was the problem, though - the handwriting looked nearly identical, yes, but it was too perfect. Each letter, though sloppily written, was written in nearly the exact same style, as though it had been copied. It was such a small detail, something he himself with his ever observant eyes barely caught on to, but it was enough to alert him that he was right - he never wrote a letter. “It was forged,” he said out loud suddenly. Henry took the letter from his hands and gave it a closer look. “You know my handwriting, Henry. It’s imperfect. I’ve always complained about how imperfect and inconsistent it is. But this? It’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect,” Henry muttered, finishing his sentence for him. “Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. How fascinating… whoever wrote this put a lot of time and care and effort into trying to make it look and sound like you, and certainly nearly managed to achieve it.” He folded the letter back up and returned it to his pocket, but as he did, he repeated Victor’s own words in his head. “Did you say there was someone else here?” Victor didn’t answer. He barely heard him, as he became lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher who had written it and how it could have been delivered, and how the author would have known his whereabouts.

Perfectly imperfect, he thought to himself. Perfectly imperfect… His eyes went wide and he felt as though his blood was draining to his feet as he went pale and his stomach seemed to twist itself in knots. “Perfectly imperfect,” he repeated aloud, as though in a trance. Henry gave him a concerned look, and reached out, taking his hand gently.

“Victor? Is there something wrong?” Victor trembled, then suddenly tore his hand away and made his way over to the belongings Henry had dropped, gathering them up and placing them back into Henry’s hands.

“You need to leave,” he demanded, his tone hoarse yet dark. Henry blinked.

“I’m… are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” He wasn’t sure - but all he knew was he suddenly felt a surge of fear and fury rising through himself. Henry stared, seemingly analyzing him, then gently placed his things onto the ground again.

“No you’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Victor interrupted. His breathing quickened as his heart began to race. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to appear as calm as possible, he rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You need to leave, Henry. You’re not safe here.” Henry’s hand dropped to the rapier he kept sheathed at his side.

“Victor, I can protect myself - you know that. Whatever it is, rest assured, I will be fine.” He reached up, placing his hand over Victor’s hand. “What I’m more concerned about is you and your safety.” Victor looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” he uttered, his voice almost like a low growl as he suddenly pushed Henry back. “One that I don’t have the time to tell. Go, Henry. Leave, and don’t come back - for your own sake.” Henry stumbled back as Victor pushed him, and though he desperately wanted to refuse, he sighed and began retrieving his things.

“If that’s really what you want, then I’ll go,” he answered quietly, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice. His tone sent Victor’s mind reeling and a sudden shock of pain in his heart, but he strengthened his resolve and continued to hurry Henry along. Exhausted from his journey and now pained by rejection, Henry trudged along, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that made him stop and raise his head. It was the cabin he saw, quaint and carefully constructed of logs likely found from the mountain forest. “Oh!” he exclaimed, causing Victor to pause as well. “Did you build that?” he asked, glancing back toward his friend.

“No- well- I- It’s not important. Time to go,” Victor grumbled, pushing at him again. Henry stepped away from him, nearly causing him to fall forward, and walked toward the little dwelling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice, actually,” he complimented, looking it over and glancing at his surroundings. “Must be pretty wonderful to be living in such a beautiful place with such an incredible view.”

“No, it’s a living hell of my own creation. Come on, Henry,” Victor pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm and trying to pull him away. Just then, the door to the cabin creaked as it opened, and Victor froze. He dared not to look, and a million scenarios raced through his mind. Had that demon lured Henry here to hurt him? Would Henry attack it out of fear of its hideousness? Would it attack him back? Panic began to course through him, but as the door closed, it wasn’t chaos that ensued, but instead Henry’s kind voice and cheerful disposition that rose over the mess of disastrous thoughts that tumbled around in his head.

“Oh, hello there! And who might you be?”

[peaches-writes]

felix’s arts and crafts!

skz of christmas day 2: handmade presents with felix

member: felix wc: 1.6k genre: fluff, roommates au, preparing for christmas w no plot lmao

the brownies

“Y/N, does two cups of flour make more brownies?”

“Ah, I really do think we should’ve bought more of these chocolate chips!”

“Y/N, can you look at my mix? Does it need more flour? I just think it kinda does.”

“Aah, I still haven’t finished everyone’s amigurumi—“

“Felix? Felix!” Having had enough of your roommate’s incessant worried monologue over your Christmas playlist, you finally rush over to your roommate on the other end of the kitchen island and grab him by his shoulders with a chuckle. Held down in place now, the doe-eyed boy is quick to comply and stares back at you curiously. “Can you slow down a bit? Relax!”

“B-But—“ He fumbles over his words at your sudden comment, raising an eyebrow before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I—I’m just—just a bit worried!”

“A bit worried.” You roll your eyes playfully, moving your hands down to his and taking his first batch of brownies. “You should’ve thought more about that when you started promising everyone stuffed toys and food, hm?” You then return the brownie mix back on top of the island. When your gaze naturally glances down on the recipe he’s been trying to adjust, you then continue, “Okay, how about we start with this recipe first? How many did you put in already?”

Felix follows your eyes with a pout, taking a seat on a nearby high stool. “Just the flour and sugar.” He sighs when you take a longer peek at his bowl. “I only managed to put in two cups of flour and half a cup of sugar when it started overflowing.”

“The wet ingredients over there?” You pointed to another bowl on his side, extending your hands out to which he immediately replied by handing you the bowl. “It looks a bit lacking compared to the dry bowl.”

“It’s just one and a half stick of butter and three eggs then I gave up measuring.”

“And how much yield do you want? Compared to the original recipe?”

Felix’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar term before his brows naturally furrowed down in thought. “Huh?” He asks, a gesture that definitely makes you giggle.

“It means your recipe makes 16 brownies in one go so how much are you trying to achieve with more of the ingredients?” You elaborate more in answer, laughing even more as realization dawns on him. “Help me out here, I suck at Math too.”

The boy runs a hand through his blonde hair once with a hum. “A-Ah, well around 60? Or more? Something like that?”

“So four?” You ask next, more to challenge him now with his new knowledge.

“Yeah?” Your roommate slowly nods, still a bit unsure. When you nod back almost teasingly, he then repeats his gesture with more conviction. “Yup.”

With this, you then turn around to the overhead cabinets by your stove, taking out your extra supplies of the same ingredients. “Then we’ll have to add just a bit more in your mixes. Thank God we don’t have to reduce anything or it’ll be a waste.”

Felix is quick to follow you, trailing right behind you like a lost puppy while taking the heavier ingredients from your arms. “And the same goes for the cookies later, right?”

You nod again with a hum. “We’re going to bake for a whole army, Lix!” You joke, returning to the kitchen island once you’ve got everything on hand and placing them next to their respective wet and dry ingredient groups. “Now, we should multiply everything by four in the ingredients list—and maybe take out extra trays for later.”

“Even the fractions?” He frowns, picking up his recipe again.

“Yeah, I guess even the fractions.” You sigh back before giggling at his distressed face. “We might have to call in Changbin from next door later.”

-

the cookies

“You want to what?” 

Felix looks up at you with his best puppy eyes, his plastic gloved hands clasped together to his chest as he juts his lower lip down in a seemingly quivering pout. “Trust me on this one, please?” He asks while blinking rapidly. 

You swear if he was anyone else, you would’ve smacked him in the arm for trying to look cute. Instead, you rub your temples and tear your gaze away from him to the big lump of cookie dough melting on one of your last kitchen bowls. “I mean, adjusting the brownie and cookie recipes was one thing. Now you want to freestyle the cookies?” 

“Yeah, well, it’s just the shapes! I’m sure it’ll still cook the same!” He repeats, pouting even harder and even clinging to your arm this time when you try and turn away. “Please, please, please? Pretty please with all the cherries you want on top?!”

“But Changbin and Hyunjin have cookie cutters next door.” You point out, letting him cling onto you and even rest his chin on top of your shoulder anyway. “I can go and borrow some if you w—” 

“But Binnie and Jinnie only have those weird heart-shaped ones! I want to do cookies that look like the Gingerbread man!” 

You quirk an amused eyebrow at this. “Then shouldn’t we just stuck to an actual Gingerbread recipe?”

“But I want it to taste like cookies.” He argues back.

“It’s from our Shrek movie night last week, isn’t it?” You stifle a laugh, placing a hand over your mouth when he starts sulking while nodding slowly. “Fine, because you’re cute and Chan will can sense when you’re sad from the next building, we can try one first. Just one!”

Your roommate’s face lighten up once more, clapping his hands in delight. “Yay, thank you!”

“But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be a weird-looking cookie when it comes out.”

“It’s fine, we can just eat it for later!” Felix assures with a dismissive wave, finally letting go of your hand to pick up enough cookie dough for his little experiment. “I’ll make a big one that we can share for crocheting later, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll just go and check the brownies.”

-

the amigurumis

Your little cookie Gingerbread man, comically named Yongbok II when you sent a photo of it to all of your friends, lays on the coffee table with all of his limbs and a chocolate chip button on his button up ‘shirt’ eaten. As you’ve predicted, the big misshapen cookie came out looking weird and feeling crusty but it made Felix smile and laugh anyway.

That’ll have to do with letting your roommate experiment for today.

“Wait, pause!” You exclaim when your work-in-progress stuffed fox starts looking weird on a particular row, holding it in the same hand as your crochet hook before pressing pause on your phone with your freed hand. “Did I miss something?”

Felix tilts his head over to your direction, squinting his eyes playfully as he surveys your work up and down before resting his cheek on your shoulder blade and shrugging nonchalantly. “Looks fine to me.” He huffs, scooting closer to you to press play on your phone. “Why?” 

You hold your palm up in between the two of you and place your work on top of it, demonstrating the miniscule defect on the pattern. “It won’t flatten.” You point out, letting him poke the orange and white yarn a few times. “It’s not supposed to close in on itself until the tenth row.” 

“Have you tried counting the stitches?” He then asks and when you shake your head with a pout, you hear him chuckle and take your work from your hand gently. “Here, let me.” 

“It’s at least a hundred stitches now, I don’t want to start all over again.” You sigh in defeat, leaning back on the couch once Felix starts counting the stitches carefully under his breath. “Not to mention, we still have to do five more stuffed toys for the guys.” 

You see Felix wave a dismissive hand to you as he counts, holding the crochet circle so close to his face while his current work, an amigurumi stuffed toy puppy for Seungmin, rests on his lap with its tongue poking out. “I’ll do it for you if you want but just this row!” He assures you. “Only if you do a row of my puppy toy, though.” 

“But you’re almost done!” 

“And it’s only fair!” 

Your roommate then looks up at you with a teasing glare, holding our stare until you scoff and give in. “Fine.” 

“Justice.” He sticks his tongue out before his eyes suddenly widen, realizing that he didn’t take note of the last number he was counting on. “Wait, I lost count!”

- 

the gift wrappings 

“I just think it’s more economical to put them all in the same bags instead of having them separate for each guy.” Felix repeats his argument, eyes darting everywhere on the busy coffee table. 

“I’m telling you, Lix, literally putting them in one bag with no divider or anything will spoil the food and get yarn shedding all over it.” You scold him as you continue packing the brownies and cookies in small goodie bags. “Besides, we’ll pair the goodie bags with the stuffed toys in bigger paper bags for each of the guys later. You didn’t have a problem with this a while back so why are you complaining now?” 

“Well...” He trails off with a pout, reluctantly going back to wrapping the stuffed toys in red and green Christmas wrapper. “I don’t want to wrap these anymore.” 

“You’ve only wrapped Chan’s wolf toy so far.” You roll your eyes. rummaging through the mess of haphazardly cut gift wrappings and old ribbons for the only present he’s wrapped so far. As you find it next to the Tupperware of brownies, only then does a realization dawns upon you and you immediately ask, “Hold on, did you buy the greeting cards?” 

“Ah, well, Y/N, you see...” 

-

december 18 (yang jeongin)

skz of christmas (masterlist)

m.list

@skzwriternet

[londonfog-chan]

Glitter Freeze: Kakyoin x Reader Part 2

Spot the Disney references.

“What in the goddamn hell...”

“I... we didn’t think it would affect either of you. But now that we know you’ve manifested, we aren’t so sure.”

You’re not sure what to do. The one who had been holding you when you woke up (the very handsome red head with a bandage on his forehead), was dragged off by your brother to another room. Your mother won’t let you go, she holds you tightly and keeps kissing you and you’re simply too tired to fend her off. And then there’s the issue of Frosty sitting next to you, the woman made of ice with a veil that doesn’t seem to want to let your mother shower you in warm kisses. It turns out the cold was just a cold. It happened before the big disaster, some dude woke up and took the body of one of your descendants, but the thing with the lady made of ice was exacerbated by your sickness. When she woke up, her first instinct was to take care of you. The stranger, Avdol, told you that she hadn’t been working against you completely. She was just a little misguided. Overly emotional, she let her better judgement fall by the wayside and just did what she thought was best at the time. She didn’t understand that she was hurting you instead of helping you. But before his own fiery power could melt the ice, it was Jotaro’s classmate that stepped in, taking you up in his arms while some of his power calmed down yours any way it could. Apparently that involved his own weird dude thing getting frisky with yours.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You look at your grandpa. The lady made of ice honest to god hisses at your mother, pulling you out of her arms and into a frigid embrace. She presses a cool hand to your forehead, your fever is still high enough that you can almost hear the sizzle of her cold hands melting.

“Excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but where the fuck do I even begin to explain what’s wrong?” You growled. “I can think of twenty fucking things off the top of my head. Pick one.”

The porcupine quills are out. You can feel yourself bristle with your usual ice cold attitude. The ice lady (Avdol calls her a Stand and you think that’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever heard) softly hums, clicking her tongue as if she’s rebuking you. Your entire body is shaking, seized by the cold and the fear once again. You found out there actually was frost growing on your skin during the time you were getting cold, frozen fractals were currently blooming on your fingertips whenever the ice woman got particularly upset or felt you were in danger. That would explain why you felt like you had hypothermia. You basically did.

“But for functionality’s sake, let’s start with this bullshit. This is what’s been wrong. I get told I could have fucking died if your friend hadn’t thought it was odd there was ICE creeping out from under my door.” You show them the frost creeping up over your palms, and immediately Avdol approaches.

“Hold out your hands and breathe.” He commands.

It takes a lot for you to hold in the smart ass remark that wants to come out. The ice stand at your side hisses again and seems like she is going to do something to take care of the stranger, but the cold compels you to hold out your shaking hands to Avdol. You’re so tired of this. You want the cold to give way to warmth. This isn’t funny anymore and you want out of this shit.

“I want it to stop.” You hiss.

“I know.” He insists. “Breathe.”

His hands are warm under your palms, he guides your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Hushing you and calming you down like you’re a toddler about to explode with a tantrum.

“Look.” He speaks and you obey.

Sure enough, you’ll be damned. Your stand calms down, the frost retracting from your hands and returning to being small glittery specks on the tips of your fingers. Miniscule snowflakes, beautiful and each one is completely different from the other in small ways. His breathing technique has worked. Quelling the rage that threatens to boil over in your blood.

“Thank you…” you breathe. “That’s… that’s better. Much better.”

“Honey…”

This time the ice lady lets your mother take your hands in hers, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen her gently but firmly nudge someone aside as she pushes past Avdol to get to you. He yields obediently, both his eyes and the eyes of your grandfather tamed on your mother as she breathes her hot breath onto your cold fingers. Jotaro returns, his narrowed gaze on you both. You meet his gaze halfway, daring him without words. You feel like the ice is going to come back but it doesn’t. It seems like there’s someone else watching from his side. Something hidden that you’ve still got that childlike fear of.

It pisses you off that he has the capacity to intimidate you like this, and you hear your Stand hiss under her breath.

“I know you’re probably scared…” your mother’s gentle voice startled you out of your staring contest. “But you’ve got to trust your grandpa. He’s going to help you and your brother, and it’s going to be all better soon. Mommy won’t let anything happen to you either, ok?”

All you can do is let her hold you tightly against her chest. No one says much of anything. The long winded explanation that your grandfather threw at you isn’t even worth the brain power it takes to absorb it all. Vaguely you nod when your mother asks if you’re hungry. Running on autopilot, because the only thing you can think of regarding this whole thing is the fact that Avdol told you there was a good chance you could have died. Your grandfather Joseph doesn’t stay. He’s got to have a talk with Avdol, no doubt it’s a worry about what should happen to your mother. He mentions something about a fighting spirit before they exit the room, and you’re left with your brother.

“… jeez…” he sighs. Annoyed.

Bristling, you think that mother fucker has no right to be annoyed.

“You’re always causing trouble.” He mutters.

“What the fuck did you say?”

He looks at you sharply, but you don’t care. Suddenly you’re bristling again. Porcupine quills out. Ready to scream. That familiar tension in your shoulders builds up, and before you know it you’re shouting at the top of your lungs.

“I was causing trouble?! I was scared you big dumb fucking bitch!”

Despite your anger, you’ve begun openly weeping. Tears fall and your voice cracks as you continue to scream at your brother. Every little miniscule thing. The way he avoided you when you first got sick, and then how he neglected you when there was this horrible thing, like a cancer, building up inside you all this time and you couldn’t even get him to look at you. But that wasn’t anything new. Ever since he grew a few pubes and his balls dropped he treated you like a disease. It never used to be that way. He used to care, he used to walk you to school every day and cut up your katsudon pieces in your bowl because he loved you. He used to fill the void in your heart because your father was never home. Jotaro used to play catch with you, and dress your dollies up and sing to you and make you feel as though life was beautiful and worth living. And these last few days, you felt trapped in your kingdom of isolation.

He stands there unmoving as you let it out. You can’t believe it. He has little to no reaction to your outburst. For once in his miserable life he doesn’t turn the screaming back on you. Are you fucking winning this argument??

“You left me all by myself! I didn’t even have anyone come in to check on me when I was freezing to death all alone in my room! Do you have any idea how scared I was?! I thought I’d been forgotten, especially when I had this fucking dumb thing inside me stifling my screams… Your dumb fucking ass was in the slammer and I was probably going to die and a literal stranger had to be the one to bring me back! Now I think of it, I’m not scared, I’m fucking pissed off! F... FUCK! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCK!”

The use of the word fuck is like a mantra when you’re arguing with Jotaro. From insults ranging to fucking cunt, fucking pig whore, you’ve called him so many filthy things involving the word fuck that it’s lost all meaning to you. But still, it’s so interesting that you suddenly feel like you’re shouting at two people all by yourself. Your stand has faded away, evidently too scared to face your brother, she lets you scream to your heart’s content because you can feel she’s scared to face the ramifications…

But you could give a shit less.

“You always took care of me... and I kept calling for you and you didn’t come and get me! You fucking promised-”

“ENOUGH!”

Your grandfather is at the door. Before you can continue he bullies your brother silently out of the room and is at your side, holding your trembling shoulders and trying to talk you down from turning the house into Disney on Ice…

You wake up four hours later, exhausted, wrapped in the arms of your grandfather as he snores without a care in the world.

At least you’re not alone, and it’s a double whammy to turn over trying to get up to pee only to accidentally roll onto your mother. Well, you’re certainly not alone anymore. You’re unsure how to feel now, the inner bitch of your soul screams too little too late, but now you realize that they must have heard everything and felt guilty for neglecting you.

Well… you think, It’s sweet but, they’re not the ones I want to feel guilty for this.

It takes a lot of effort. Your Stand comes out in a flurry of cold and you have to really get it under control to prevent your loved ones from waking up, but she does help lift you over their bodies and out the door silently. Her hands are frigid. Icicles pressing against your soft skin as she guides you down the dark hallway and into the bathroom where you sit thinking on the heated toilet for a lot longer than would be necessary. But now that you’re at least having a few moments of clear thought, you can’t help but wonder how the fuck you have anything to do with all this.

You heard your grandpa before he left the room the first time, Her fighting spirit is strong but… What the fuck is he talking about fighting spirit? What the fuck does this have to do with the snowy woman standing in front of you while you take a leak, like this is a group effort and she’s there for moral support? It leaves you with more questions than answers. Maybe if you had fighting spirit you wouldn’t have passed out and missed the entire thing, and then maybe your Stand wouldn’t be hovering over you while you flushed and washed your hands, pushing soap into your palms because you only rinsed.

Better yet, whatever happened to that hunk whose Stand wanted to go to pound town on yours?

“I’m sorry… Did I wake you?”

The voice is so gentle, so sincere. It’s nothing like the sounds you’re used to in the house so it’s startling to hear. It’s coming from the room right across from the bathroom, and when you slide open the door, you see the red head all nice and cozy under his own duvet on a futon.

“Hey.” You murmur. “You didn’t wake me up. Are you ok?”

His head is wrapped in bandages and you kneel down to his level. You’re still in pajamas, an old shirt and overly large pajama pants that once belonged to Jotaro. He’s outgrown so many clothes that you have all these pajamas to steal from him whenever you run out.

“I’m perfectly fine.” He insists. “I… I didn’t mean to impose.”

“Impose on what? You look like you’re just as fucked up as me.” You point to your forehead. “Is that because of your Stand too?”

“No… That comes courtesy of the man who almost made your stand kill you.”

“Dude…” you groan. “Where does this cunt live? Because I’m about to fuck his shit up into next week.”

He is dead silent while you laugh, and you realize that it must be because of your mouth. You blanch when you see his blank face illuminated by moonlight peeking from a crack in his screen door. An uncomfortable silence passes between the two of you. What else can you say? Nothing you have on your tongue seems fit for your ears, and it’s honestly like talking to Grandma Suzi when she ignores you until you clean up your language.

“All your ice is melted.” You huff, looking at the neglected ice pack by his side.

“Yes…”

“Do you… do you want me to fix it?”

I mean… you yourself are an icemaker yeah? Technically?

The hunk takes a while, but eventually nods his consent. Your Stand places her hands on the ice pack. You can hear the crackly squeeze as the water solidifies, and when you place it on his head he sighs in relief.

“Thank you…”

“No… I should be thanking you.”

He looks at you. Even though he’s just as ice cold as you are, those beautiful eyes that greeted you when you woke up hold you tightly in their gaze. He’s intently listening. All of his focus is trained on you. For the first time you feel almost embarrassed that he’s just staring you down.

“You saved me right? I… I remember you kissing me.”

“P-please understand… I didn’t set out to take advantage of you like that.”

He explains that it wasn’t completely him. For some reason, his Stand acted out on its own, clutching yours and lavishing her with affection.

“It was very strange…” he murmured. “For once it didn’t want to destroy. It seemed to want to draw out your Stand, the way she hovered over you, her frosty breath coating you in layers of ice… It was too much.”

“I… Well shit dude… I guess I’d rather thaw out by macking than die alone in my room like a human popsicle.”

Finally, he laughs, and your heart skips a beat because god dammit. He’s just so handsome. Total beef, more defined muscle than your grandfather and brother combined, and his gaze is just so captivating. He has those big puppy dog eyes, and he looks like he could bench press ten of you.

“I don’t hold it against you.” You tell him softly. “I… I was really scared. I could feel like I was slipping away into the cold. I wanted to give up. No one came for me. I couldn’t even cry for my mother… And then you came.”

You smile gratefully at him, swiping at a strand of hair that’s in your face.

“Thank you... um…”

“Noriaki. Kakyoin Noriaki.”

“Thank you, Noriaki-kun, for coming to my rescue.”

Unfortunately you will never know what it does for your features when you smile, and you miss the red dusting across Kakyoin’s cheeks as you exit the room.

[an-ambivalent]

Can you please do more Sasuke headcanons with his s/o😀

sure :) since it is Sasuke’s birthday today, I decided to make headcanons about his birthday ! I haven’t written cute shit for a long time so I’m a little rusty but this lowkey made me embarrassed at some parts 😩 hope you like it ! 

~Being the lone wolf Sasuke was, it would be no surprise that he would not want to spend his birthday in a crowded party, or even wish to celebrate it with his friends. For the most part, he would prefer it if it was just a casual day like any other, and he was simply more than happy to spend time with you, by yourselves like you always did. 

~However, that was not something that sit well with you though. A birthday was a once in a year opportunity that gave one a reason to celebrate themselves. You loved planning surprises for someone’s big day celebration (respective to what they felt comfortable with) so of course, you were going to plan something special for Sasuke too. 

~Evidently, it was not going to be anything too grand; just a day out where you would force him to go out and do stuff and have fun. Of course, his birthday surprise was going to include only a few people who he was close to. 

~Sasuke’s birthday began with you waking him with deep and long kisses which had actually left him quite flustered. And when he sat up, only to see that you were serving him his favourite breakfast in bed while wearing only his shirt that was a tad too long for you, and in your underwear, caused a miniscule hint of a red blush to coat his cheeks. Receiving such a reaction from someone as stoic as Sasuke, was a big deal, and so, pride swelled in your chest. 

~Since this was a rare occurrence, Sasuke knew right away that he was in for a celebration. And although he did not really want to bother with it, he knew from experience that when it came to celebrations, it would be pointless to argue with you. Besides, you knew him well, and he trusted you. He knew that you would never plan anything he wouldn’t like. If you were the sort of person to, then he wouldn’t be dating you in the first place. So, dare he say, he was looking quite forward to it. Especially since the morning had started so wonderfully – with your kisses, and his favourite food. 

Slyly, he raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched upward in a coy smirk. 

“Are you my meal~? You are looking rather delici–” The moment those words left his mouth, and before he could even finish his sentence, the roles had reversed – so now, you were feeling embarrassed by his implications. This caused you to shut him forcefully by shoving food into his mouth. 

“S-Shut up and eat the meal I actually made you!” You exclaimed, before switching from shoving food down his throat, to feeding him gently. 

~Once the morning ordeal was done and over with, and both you and Sasuke had received the same amount of chances to embarrass one another, you two ended up walking around the main streets of your city. While doing so, you took pictures of one another at aesthetically pleasing spots, and took pictures together. 

~After two or so hours of walking and indulging in each other’s company, your body prompted you to rest. So, you ended up getting a scoop of your favourite ice cream in a cone, while Sasuke I’m too cool for sweets Uchiha, just sat by your side and watched you. 

After a few minutes of just watching you, he started to feel bored. And it seemed like luck was on his side, because he got the perfect opportunity to mess with you once again. 

Your eyes widened and your cheeks felt hot. You yelped in surprise when Sasuke had licked off the ice cream stain on the corner of your lips. Immediately, you turned your head towards him, and your embarrassment worsened as he looked at you with his oh so familiar teasing smirk. 

“I guess sweet things aren’t too bad~” He teased, and in that moment, all you could do was simply cover your face with your hands while it felt like literal steam was coming out of your ears. 

~Before the day ended, and you would reveal to Sasuke his final surprise, you ended up dragging him to an arcade so you could play a round of laser tag. Itachi, and his best friend Shisui Uchiha ended up joining you. It was two against two, and while you did want to make Sasuke happy as much as you could on his birthday, a competition was a competition. You ended up on Itachi’s team, and together you two swept the floor with Team S&S – which was an acronym for Sasuke and Shisui. 

~The entire ride to his parent’s residence, which consisted of you four riding in Itachi’s car, Sasuke was being a sore loser bitch, and refused to talk to you. You had tried to get his attention, but each time, he just pouted, and Shisui and Itachi only chuckled at his childishness. 

~Lastly, when all of you entered the main Uchiha household, Sasuke’s parents, and few other relatives switched the light on while yelling a loud ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY.’ Needless to say, Sasuke was definitely surprised. Subsequently to this, as people wished him individually once more, and greetings were finished, the real party commenced. It was a big dinner with a massive variety of foods that everyone ate together, and chatted happily while doing so. The cake was cut, and some dancing ensued. 

~By the end of the night, when things settled and everyone was sent off to their assigned rooms to sleep in for the night, Sasuke and you were laying in the same bed with the lights off, ready to sleep. But before you did enter your slumber, Sasuke moved closer to you and kissed the top of your head lovingly. 

“Thank you for today, I had a lot of fun. It’s the best birthday I’ve had so far. I love you [Name],” He whispered softly, and started to caress your hair.  

You smiled, and before you slipped into a peaceful slumber, you returned his words of affection.

“I love you too Sasuke.”

(damn this bitch barely smiles–

I couldn’t find any cute and fitting gif for him) 

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (23/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I wrote this entire story in some kind of pregnancy-fueled Mexican-food-craving haze, and I didn’t realize just how much time was between some certain big plot points until I was proof-reading this. That said, I’m not changing any of that and am literally impatient to share all of the upcoming chapters with you wonderful people! @resident-of-storybrooke​ has assured me that they’re actually good. lol. Not entirely sure that I trust her 😉

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list:  @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ 

-/-

I need your post-series comparison report by nine this morning.

You were late with it last time, and that made me late with my report. This is why you should probably stick to on-air reporting instead of continuing to write articles when we have people for that.

W.O.

“Asshole,” Emma mutters to herself after reading that blatantly condescending email from Walsh.

She’s been in the office for approximately fifteen minutes, most likely a little less than that, and the first thing that Emma saw after logging into her computer was an email from Walsh about her report on the difference between playing at home and away, specifically when it comes to playing the Red Sox. Two weeks ago, the Yankees lost every single game they played in Boston, especially that epic game where they lost 3-17 the night Killian was the starting pitcher, and then over the last four days, they’ve won every game while in New York.

Home team advantage taking on a whole new meaning because it is seriously in play this year.

And Emma doesn’t want to get too excited, doesn’t want to get too ahead of herself because anything can happen for the rest of the season, but only a month and a half of the regular season is left and there’s no way the Yankees aren’t making the playoffs. Once they get there, who knows if they’ll make it to the Series?

There’s a chance, though, and that’s all that matters.

As a fan, she’s excited. As Killian’s girlfriend and a reporter for the team, she’s over the freaking moon. It would be insane for them to back it up, but she’s got to slow her roll.

Slow her roll and send Walsh this report so that she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore today. Working with her ex is fine since it’s not an everyday thing, only an office day thing, but the man has got to get the stick out of his ass. He cheated on her, belittled her out of jealousy for her success in her job, and yet he acts like it’s an inconvenience for them to have to spend a miniscule amount of time together. He’s probably sitting at his desk thinking of ways to torture her while drinking a giant bottle of Mountain Dew. She always hated that he did that. He could have at least had the diet version instead of consuming all of that extra sugar.

But whatever. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.

Ruth: Do you think you’d like to come to Portland in October? Or maybe sometime before Thanksgiving? I was thinking you could bring your boyfriend so that I can meet him.

Emma reads the text, but she doesn’t answer it quite yet. She needs time to look at her calendar and have time to ask Killian if he wants to go. Hell, she needs time to figure out if that’s what she even wants because, wow, bringing a boyfriend home is not something she’s ever done. Neal literally never wanted to come home with her, never wanted to go to David’s, never wanted to do anything that wasn’t in his control, and Walsh was just…

Shit. She needs to email him now and stop letting her mind go down this path.

Today is a good day. Nothing is going to ruin it. If she repeats that enough times it’s sure to come true.

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans as she steps into Emma’s office, barely able to squeeze in past the chair that’s keeping the door open before sitting in it, “I am ready for this season to be over. Why is it always so jam-packed? Do people really need to watch this much baseball? There are so many damn games.”

“Nope. They really don’t.”

“I feel like you should not be able to say that because of your job and the fact that your boyfriend is a freaking baseball player.”

“Rubes,” Emma hisses, twisting in her chair and looking out the small glass window in her office, “shut up.”

Ruby’s eyes widen, her hands immediately going to cover her mouth, and that might be the fastest Ruby has ever stopped talking in the entirety of her life.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes before getting up from the chair and moving it so that she can shut the door behind her. Damn this small office. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you have a giant poster saying that I’m dating him. There are just a lot of people constantly walking by this door, so we can’t really talk about it with the door open.”

“My lips are sealed. Also, are you ever going to get a bigger office?”

“I don’t even know why I have an office. Like, honestly. I keep waiting for them to realize that I don’t need it and to give it away to someone who works here more than once a week. Then I could do all of this stuff from home.”

“That is the life. Though, I think you would probably never put on real pants again.”

“Yoga pants are real pants, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“Whatever,” Ruby yawns, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m ready to go home already. Do you think we have time to go home before the game?”

“Considering we have to get out to the stadium in less than an hour and I still have to finish this report for Walsh, I’m thinking not.”

“Ugh,” Ruby groans, propping her feet up against the walls like she owns the place, “why does he continue to exist? Can’t he go work in another department or something?”

“I imagine,” Emma sighs, twisting back in her chair to actually get work done on the report, “that he stays simply to annoy me, but I tend not to think about him too much.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re getting fucked much better now.”

Emma huffs. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“You know, I think it comes from being raised by my grandmother instead of my mother, and I –”

“Rhetorical question,” Emma hums, pulling up her file with her notes from the last few games up so that she can fill the last bit of information in while they talk. “So, Ruth has asked me if I want to bring Killian to Portland.”

“I thought you just said that we couldn’t say his name.”

“We can’t yell it with the door open. We can say it quietly in here.”

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Ruby sighs as Emma keeps working. “How do you feel about the boyfriend going home to meet Ruth? That’s kind of a big step. I mean, he’s already met David and Mary Margaret, but that’s different. They’re more like friends than anything else.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“This is, like, ‘I see a future with you and want everyone I love to love you’ kind of stuff.”

“Are you trying to freak me out?”

“Only a little. I could have brought up marriage and babies, but I figured that would have you jumping through the ceiling to escape the conversation.”

Emma’s heart kind of feels like it’s going to jump through the ceiling of this conversation. Why did she even bring this up? Probably because she does actually want to talk about it, and Ruby will be the most honest with her because she doesn’t seem to have any kind of filter in that wonderful brain of hers.

‘Yeah, let’s avoid the marriage and babies stuff.”

“Okay, so barring those things,” Ruby sighs, getting up from the chair to perch herself on the edge of Emma’s desk so Emma can actually see her while talking, “how do you feel about this? I know you love Killian because you guys are ridiculously adorable together, which makes me happy for you even if I sometimes find it disgusting, but I also know that you like to freak out about relationship stuff.”

“I’m…” Emma rolls back in her chair and tilts her head up to look at Ruby while she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really, because Killian has met everyone else and we do travel pretty often together. But that’s for work, you know? This is…this is moving forward in a way.”

“That’s a good thing, hon. People in good relationships move forward. Graham and I dated for awhile, then moved in together, even if you do live with us because rent is ridiculous, and then one day we’re going to get married. When you love someonesomeone,who is good to you, that’s what you do, even if every relationship roadmap is different with different destinations. It’s scary as hell, but sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.”

Sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.

“You sounded really philosophical until you got to the end there.”

“Eh,” she scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulders, “I think all great philosophers should talk like me. It’s real. Good advice doesn’t have to be poetic. It’s just got to be good.”

Emma hums in response, crossing her legs over each other and readjusting her position while she thinks over everything that Ruby has just said. “So, you think I should talk to Killian about it and then text Ruth back?”

“That’s exactly what you should do. And then you should finish this damn report, send it to your asshole ex with a picture of a middle finger attached, and then we should get something to eat on the way to the stadium.”

-/-

The Yankees win an easy game against the Orioles that afternoon, as they usually do, and it’s a smooth day at the office for all involved. Killian is particularly cheeky in his post-game interview, he and Will bantering off each other, and Emma has to bite her tongue to keep herself from telling Killian that she loves him live on-air.

Talk about a disaster waiting to happen there.

-/-

“Darling, can you get me a napkin?”

“Get it yourself, Jones.”

“Emma is literally standing in the kitchen.”

“You are a big boy. You can get your napkin yourself.”

“You just asked her to bring you a glass of water.”

“That is different.”

Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby and Killian bickering with each other. It’s honestly how they talk. Emma doesn’t think that they’re capable of speaking in normal terms, and as obnoxious as it can be, it’s kind of hilarious. Those two are pretty much a friendship made in heaven because of their wit and ability to make anything a dirty joke, but it results in a hell of a lot of bantering.

Or bickering.

Emma’s not sure which one, but if the look on Graham’s face is any indication, it’s a combination of both.

“We’re going to have to stop allowing them to spend time with each other, aren’t we?” Graham asks as he reaches over her to grab a napkin that the restaurant provided them with when they ordered take-out. “I think they might kill each other.”

“Eh, it might just be the natural progression of things.”

“True. Might as well just let it happen.”

“I can hear the two of you,” Ruby huffs, leaning over from the couch so that she can get a handful of chips out of the bowl before standing and walking to the kitchen, “and it’s totally not cool that you’d just let the two of us die. You are supposed to love us.”

“To be fair, I just met Killian, so I’m not sure that we love each other quite yet,” Graham teases.

Killian winks, the biggest smirk stretching across his lips, and it makes Emma’s stomach flutter. “Give it time. I’m irresistible. Ask Emma.”

“He’s not,” Emma sighs, taking the napkins out of Graham’s hands and walking them the few feet over to Killian before sitting down next to him on the couch, plucking a chip from his plate instead of the bowl. “He pretty much had to beg me to get me to date him.”

“Um, no, you definitely asked me out, Swan.”

“Only because you wouldn’t ask me out.”

“We have talked about this,” Killian breathes, scooping up a forkful of his rice. “And besides, it’s a moot point now.”

“Maybe. Are you going to eat the rest of your queso?”

Killian hands her his bowl in answer. Him watching his eating habits more carefully is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to her even if she has to cut down on the pop-tarts in the morning. That’s probably for the best. She’d rather waste her calories on things like queso and grilled cheese. Killian has learned to make a really good grilled cheese sandwich, and that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her.

Obviously she has some really high (low) standards, but it’s the little things.

Cheese is the way to a woman’s heart. At least to hers. There are some crazy people out there who don’t like cheese.

Crazy.

“Why didn’t we get margaritas with our food again?” Ruby asks as she and Graham both settle back into the living room. They barely have enough room for the three people who live here, let alone four. “I really want a margarita.”

“We’ve got an eleven o’clock game tomorrow.”

“You two do. I don’t.”

Emma reaches to the side to slap Killian’s shoulder, nearly spilling her queso dip, and what a tragedy that would be. “You have training.”

“Not at eleven in the morning.”

“Poor people having to wake up and be at work before nine in the morning to start work at eleven. However do all of you live?”

Everyone’s eyes move toward Graham, evil stares likely there, and instead of backing away, he shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his taco, completely unbothered.

“Shut up and eat your tacos, babe.”

He holds up the taco he just took a bite out of. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Killian chuckles beside her, lifting his arm over Emma’s shoulder so that she can lean into him and into his warmth. “And you say Ruby and I bicker.”

“I’m starting to think maybe it’s Ruby that’s the problem.”

“I,” Ruby scoffs, reaching forward to grab the remote to turn the TV on, “am picking the movie we watch tonight because all of you are assholes, and I deserve this.”

They watch Pride and Prejudice because it’s the first thing Ruby finds on TV, something that Emma definitely isn’t going to complain about. She’s usually not one for period romances, most of them a little too damsel in distress with no backbone for her, but this is one that she can appreciate. Plus, Keira Knightly is pretty much the greatest at being in movies that aren’t modern. The woman wouldn’t know how to act in a movie where cell phones exists.

(Okay, maybe she would, but that’s entirely beside the point.)

Ruby and Graham go to bed before the movie is even over, Ruby falling asleep on the couch with chip crumbs on her shirt, and Graham has to coax her into getting up, telling her that she’s not going to be able to move her neck in the morning if she doesn’t move. Ruby pretty much tells him to fuck off in that charming way that she has, but she does get up, slowly wandering back down the hallway to their bedroom until the door shuts behind her.

She and Killian manage to make it until the end, and even though she’s been up since early this morning and spent so much time outside, Emma’s not tired. She’s not tired as she and Killian move to clean up their food, wrapping up the leftovers and putting them in the fridge, before moving back to her own bedroom so that they can go through their routines to get ready for bed. Emma kind of feels like they’ve been spending most of their nights together even though she knows that it’s not true. It’s been two or three times a week, mostly depending on her schedule or Killian’s game schedule, and it’s not something they ever really plan.

But she likes having him here or likes being over at his place, even though she isn’t the best at sharing the comforter or not sprawling out in the middle of the bed, and it’s a nice thing to get to have someone to spend time with like this.

Today has been a good day.

Killian is in bed before her, the white of her comforter pulled up over his lap to cover his sweatpants, and instead of getting under the covers herself, Emma moves to straddle his lap, placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her hand plays with the chain around his neck, moving the cool metal back and forth in her palm.

Killian arches his right brow at her, that side of his lips tugging up to, and it makes her laugh before she places her hands on his bare shoulders all the while Killian reaches up to tuck her loose strands of hair behind her ear, thumb running across her cheekbone in a gentle motion.

His eyes could not possibly be more blue.

“What is it that you think you’re doing, Swan?”

“What do you mean?”

A low hum comes from Killian as the hand that’s not caressing her cheek moves to her waist, snaking up underneath her t-shirt to rest against the bare skin of her stomach.

“This position isn’t exactly indicative of us going to bed.”

“Is it not?” Emma teases, dipping her head down to press her lips to the tip of his nose. “Because I’m very comfortable right now.”

She does a pointed roll of her hips and revels in the way that Killian’s eyes shut at the movement.

“I think the queso is getting to that head of yours.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

And then Killian is tugging her closer and moving his lips over hers, soft and slow and completely and utterly thorough while his hand tangles into her hair, fingers pulling at the strands, and her hands move from his shoulders to his neck, holding him steady. He tastes like her toothpaste, far too minty, and his skin smells like the soap she keeps next to her sink that definitely should not be used for skincare. It’s weirdly refreshing for him to smell like her things, if not a little overwhelming. Last week she used Killian’s bodywash when she was at his place because she didn’t have any of her own, and while she used to be entirely attracted to the smell, carrying it around on her all day was far too overwhelming.

How do men live smelling that strongly of some kind of Irish spring or mountain brook?

That’s not how either of those things smell either. Or, at least, she thinks.

But that’s entirely beside the point when shivers are spreading across her body at the feeling of Killian’s tongue moving inside her mouth. It’s warm and wet against hers, the feeling that same high that she always seems to be chasing with him, and her fingers inch up his neck to curl into the thick strands of his hair while she groans.

“Bloody hell do I love that sound.”

Heat immediately rises to her cheeks, but it’s also curling between her thighs at the heady sound of Killian’s voice and the demanding pressure of his kiss as his legs shift beneath them to move the two of them until Emma’s back is pressed against the mattress and Killian is hovering over her, his lips trailing across the expanse of skin at her neck that has the simmering heat between them continuing all the while Emma tries to catch her breath.

Every time she thinks she’s got it back, though, Killian nips at her collarbone or nibbles on her ear, and it all evaporates into thin air.

“Oh fuck,” Killian grunts, and Emma takes it as an invitation to trace her nails along his back, pressing her hips up to his to get a little more friction. “No, love, fuck.”

Her eyes snap to him at the more pained exasperation in his voice, and it’s then that Emma realizes that he’s stopped kissing her neck and has his forehead pressed there instead, his body not moving over hers.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“My,” he grits, his voice dark but not in the way that she wants it to be, “leg is fucking cramping.”

Emma doesn’t mean to, not really, but the laugh bubbles from deep within her belly until it’s passing through her lips and she can’t contain herself. It’s not really even funny. Cramps and weird noises and all of that jazz are as normal as can be during sex – don’t even get her started on lock jaw – but it’s usually not when they’ve only been making out for five minutes. This is some kind of new record.

“I’m glad you’re so amused by my pain, love.”

“No, no,” she laughs, wishing that she hadn’t but still not able to stop herself, “I promise you I’m not.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

“Your pain.”

Killian groans before rolling off of her, the loss of his body heat immediate, and she watches as his arm reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes still shut so tightly that those little crinkles have shown up around his skin. It’s adorable even if he’d probably like to chop his leg off right now.

“I hate you.”

“That is entirely untrue,” Emma sighs, leaning down to brush her lips over his cheek before moving across the mattress so that she can grab onto Killian’s leg and rest his calf on her lap, fingers digging into the flesh to start to massage it. “I have it on good authority that you love me in spite of all of the weird things about me like the fact that I laugh at your cramps.”

Killian’s hand moves from his face until his arm is flopping against the mattress in what has to be the most dramatic fashion in the world. “That’s probably the least weird thing about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the weirdest?”

Killian props himself up on his elbows, his eyes obviously taking her in as he thinks, and she squeezes his calf a little bit too hard in response. “You put too much creamer in your coffee.”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Nope. It’s my honest to God answer, love. That is the weirdest thing about you.”

“The weirdest thing about you is the fact that you organize your t-shirts by year that you got them instead of color or putting your favorites up front.”

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on that.”

“No,” Emma shrugs, squeezing his calf where she can see the muscles twitching, “you didn’t, but I thought I’d give you my opinion anyways since you’re not being honest with me about what you find weird about me.”

Killian rolls his eyes before falling back down to the mattress, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “You have too many blankets. It’s not…I mean, you do a million little things that are different or quirky, but I don’t find any of them weird. Not really. But you collect a hell of a lot of blankets. You’ve probably spent thousands of dollars on them. I swear, you’ve brought a different blanket on every road trip we’ve had this year.”

“That is not weird.”

“Neither is my t-shirt thing.”

“Agree to disagree,” she sighs, pulling a pillow behind her back so that she’s not hunching over. “And you have never complained about having use of one of my blankets before.”

“Nor you my t-shirts.”

“This is true.” Emma keeps working at Killian’s calf, feeling the muscled skin under her fingertips, and she figures now might be the time to talk to him about Ruth. It’s not like he can run away. Well, he could, but she could probably run faster than him now. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Killian’s body stiffens. “And you saved it for when I can’t run away?”

Great minds think alike.

“Yes, because I knew you were going to cramp while we were making out.”

She rolls her eyes but still smiles at the way Killian’s forehead is wrinkled with the raise of his brows. His face can hold so many different expressions – from soft to broody and from sexy to amused – and she likes that he often gives away what’s going on in his mind through them, even if he doesn’t always.

“You are evil like that.”

“I know,” Emma shrugs before putting a little more pressure on Killian’s calf so that he groans. Definitely a different groan than what was happening before. “So, Ruth texting me today and asked if when I wanted to come visit. She’s been on me about it for a few months now even with her coming here, but I probably should go home when the season is over. And I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

They’re simple words, but the weight behind them makes Emma feel like she’s just been run over by a truck.

She’s absolutely great at being an adult.

The best.

Her heart is probably going to implode.

“Well,” Killian sighs, propping himself up on his elbows again, “I’d have to check my calendar. You know, I am a very popular man, and many women ask me to go home with them to meet their mothers. I have to make sure that I’m not scheduled to do that with someone else.”

“Asshole,” Emma huffs as she slaps Killian’s leg and pushes it off of her lap so that she can get off the bed. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m feeling a little bit of de ja vu with you calling me that.”

“You deserve it.”

“Hey,” he sighs, stretching across the bed to grab at the bottom of her t-shirt until he pulls her back down onto the bed with him so that she roughly lands on the mattress and against Killian’s knee. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Killian shifts and caresses her cheeks with his hands, pushing her hair back while he looks at her. “I’m kidding. I would love to get to go to Portland with you to meet Ruth. I really do have to check my schedule, especially with how we do in the post-season, but I’m more than happy to go with you and get to hear all kinds of stories about you as a teenager.”

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask for any stories when we go.”

“I’m one hundred percent asking for stories.”

“No. You can’t do that because – ”

Killian doesn’t let her finish her protest, pulling her forward to press his lips into hers, a soft yet insistent thing that has her forgetting her argument. He’s good at that. Probably too good, but that’s definitely something she’ll address at another time.

A time when he’s not doing that thing with his tongue and his teeth that she likes so much.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma stops, possibly against her better judgement, and Killian pulls back only to bury his face in her shoulder.

“W-what?”

“My leg is cramping.”

Killian groans into her neck before wrapping his arms around Emma’s waist and pulling her down alongside him so that they’re a tangle of limbs that very well may never be unwrapped. She wouldn’t mind that either, not if she can stay in the dim light of her bedroom with Killian holding onto her and looking at her like she put the stars in the sky and tells them to glow every night.

No one has ever looked at her that way before.

Ever.

She’s really damn happy.

“I love you,” Killian breathes out, and her heart metaphorically skips a beat while she reaches for his chain between them so that she can run the metal between her fingers. “More than anything, I think.”

Well damn. Who knew three little words added to those big three words could completely change the meaning of it all? Or, at least, amplify them.

“I love you too, twenty-nine.”

Killian shifts again, pressing his back into her and pulling her closer, as if that was possible, and she can feel the scruff on the underside of his chin pressing into her temple while he intertwines their fingers and moves their joined hands to rest between her breasts.

“I’m serious, Emma. I know…” Killian takes a deep breath, one that she can feel in her own bones, and she has to swallow down the emotion that she feels at just the gravely sound of his voice. “Thank you for trusting me enough to take this shot with me. I haven’t been this happy in a long time, and I kind of thought that I’d reached the pinnacle of happiness last year when we won.”

“I mean, you did win the World Series,” she says, trying to play off some of the emotions she’s feeling. “What could be better than that?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” Killian speaks into her hair, pressing a kiss there that has her lashes fluttering closed against her cheeks. “It’s you.”

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Black Coffee: Part 5

Summary: Coffee aroma surrounds you as you prepare for a long day of studying in your favorite coffee shop. Your focus is shattered by a handsome stranger demanding a very large favor-pretend to be his girlfriend. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Cursing. Fluff. Smut 18+ Word Count: 1,767 Notes: I wasn’t planning on making this a series...and yet there are now 5 parts and it’s a completed series. Who would have thought?

You never thought the sound of a tent zipper closing could be arousing, yet here you are. Bucky had gently commanded both you and the dogs into the tent while he turned down the campsite for the evening.

“Change into something nice, doll. I’ll be in before you know it.” He pecked your cheek before beginning to secure the rest of your foodstuffs and helping the fire die down a bit more.

Was that supposed to be a joke? Something nice. You kicked yourself for not thinking of something nice while packing for a long weekend in the woods. You rifle through your duffle bag hoping maybe you brought something that would make you feel sexy. A handful of clangs and clattering lets you know Bucky is still puttering around the campsite.

Crap.

“You ready for me, baby girl?” Your bear of a boyfriend ducks his head to enter the tent. Despite the fact he’d purchased some behemoth double-room tent, the doorways were still far too short for him to enter unhindered. He shoos the dogs to the other “room” before turning toward the air mattress. “Holy crap-”

Lacking lingerie, or anything else pleasing to the eye, you gave up and jumped beneath the soft quit (stolen from your bed back home) naked. The look on Bucky’s face has you thinking back to the second time he’d stayed the night at your place.

**************************************************************************************************

The first time he’d spent the night at your apartment should have been perfect. At this point you’d been dating long enough to feel comfortable around one another. You’d made him dinner and settled in to watch a movie. One thing led to another and you asked him to stay. When you moved to the bedroom he’d frozen. The planned night of sin had turned into the two of you staying up well into the morning talking. He was scared to be intimate with you; the first person since his recovery. He wanted to make sure he was treating you properly.

**************************************************************************************************

The second time he spent the night was the night you were silently reminiscing about when Bucky’s shell shocked face appeared in the tent opening. He’d looked at you similarly that night as well. It was thrilling you got the same reaction out of him now as the very first time.

“This certainly is something nice.” He drawls; crawling onto air mattress.

Your lips meet halfway with a gentle exhale. The sweet burnt sugar from s’mores makes him more delicious than usual. You pull gently on the back of his neck, craving the comforting pressure of his body against yours. His lips move from yours down to the soft valley of your neck.

“Picked it out just for you.” You mean for it to sound sultry and confident but it comes out strangled and breathy when he sucks steady pressure into a sweet spot. Bucky pulls the quilt and throws it towards the end of the bed. You thought of protesting, as the night had gotten chilly with the sunset but the fire ignited under your skin more than made up for it.

“I’m so fucking lucky.” His voice is low and focused. Bucky’s stopped kissing your neck and you whine at the loss of contact. He shuts you up quickly by latching onto one of your cold sensitive nipples and rolling it under his tongue.

“I didn’t do so bad myself.” You manage to choke out while he kneads and sucks. You can tell he’s moving further south to assault you where you’re no doubt soaking by this point. It sounds wonderful, but you need him inside of you. “Clothes. Off.”

He chuckles against your skin. By now he’s used to your vocabulary being reduced to single word sentences when you get like this. He gives the current patch of skin under his lips one last suck before shedding all his layers.

“Bucky…”

“Yes, doll.”

“Can we do that thing again?” You can hear the breathing between you both in the tent. The only other sounds coming from the nature outside. Literal crickets. “The thing we did for your birthday.”

You can sense him hesitate at your request. Bucky can do rough and filthy to soft and sensual and everything in between but you could clearly tell the both of you needed more after all the mental distance the final month of your schooling had caused you both. You could see the cogwheels turning behind his facial expression; doing the mental calculations. Taking you from behind meant he couldn’t see your face and reactions; which he was craving. But what you were asking was much more intimate.

“I want you to surround me baby. I want to feel you as much as possible.”

It was as if a light went off. Bucky knew what you needed. He rolls you onto your stomach and places one of the pillows under the curve of your hips. He peppers kisses from the back of your calves, up the curve of your ass, down into the dip of your lower back and comes to stop in the crook of your shoulder. Your skin breaks out in raised chills. Bucky knew better than to assume it was from the crispness in the air. He beamed, taking pride in being the cause.

He positions himself above you with you bracketed between his limbs. You can feel the heat and hardness of him against you. You whimper when he lowers his weight (carefully controlled) onto you; blanketing your exposed skin with his. There was something sexy about feeling the weight and power of your boyfriend over you; knowing all the while what a sweet man lay behind his raw strength.

Reaching around to your front, he parts your folds gently with a single hand to tease with two swirls of his palm to collect your wetness before it’s gone. He smears your arousal down his length before drawing his hips rhythmically back and forth. He’s being a tease and you want to scream. The gentle push and pull of his cock against the ridge of your ass is so close to where you need him most. You can’t angle or redirect with his frame pinning you in place.

“Nuh uh, baby girl. No squirming. This is what you signed up for.”

“Bucky please!”

In any other audience it would sound pathetic or irritated but Bucky felt pure love and trust. He guides his cock into you and feels the tension of your muscles relax under him.

“Why don’t we do this more often, darling?” He stills when he’s seated fully inside you. With your legs straight out behind you, the tightness inside feels nearly overwhelming to Bucky’s cock.

“Special occasions, sweetheart.” You manage to push back a miniscule amount against him. “Move Bucky. Please.”

Bucky sets a slow pace thrusting into your wetness. It’s almost painfully slow. The angle caused by the pillow under your hips allows you to feel every bit of him with a depth not possible in any other position. He brushes and grinds against your g-spot with every drag. Unlike other nights of love-making, the pace doesn’t increase. There is no jackhammering or racing to finish like the quickies necessary in between exam studying and classes. This is pleasant, leisurely and molasses slow.

Bucky brings you closer and closer to your release with every drag and pull inside your taught walls. When he feels you fluttering around him, he stills completely and devours your mouth or neck. After three, maybe four times (you honestly lose count) you’re teetering impossibly close to your finish. Each pause of his movements brings you back from the edge but it does little to quell the raging fire settling lower in your abdomen.

There are no words exchanged, no chorus of dirty talk, no sweet nothings. It’s unnecessary. This is the two of you reconnecting after being apart longer than ever before. You speak with your bodies. Grazes, palming, needy hands wandering to exactly where the other needs without being asked.

Your head is nearly buried in a tangle of your arms and linen beneath your head. Bucky’s full weight rests against your back; slick with shared sweat. His hips don’t leave your backside but instead grind and press making your g-spot sing. You’re both dangerously close.

Bucky reaches his hands below you to spread your swollen lips exposing your clit to the friction of the pillow case. His metal hand encircles your wrists and pins your hands high above your head. The right hand presses heavy pressure against your hip drawing your clit against the fabric below. The pace never changes but the power increases. Your moans spill from you in a near constant stream. Bucky’s own groans have turned into near feral growls with how tight you are around him. He can tell by the pitch of your whimpers and the clenching of your walls you’re right on the edge of your release. Three more particularly long, deep thrusts send you over the precipice of your orgasm. Bucky’s own pulses and fills you two thrusts later.

You’re both overstimulated and sticky. He grinds into you with less precision reveling in how slick and warm you are post release.

“Bucky-”

You don’t get to finish your lazy post-coital praise. He flips you onto your back and spreads your legs as wide as your hips permit. For a moment you lock eyes before he stares at your swollen love-abused core. It should be disarming. You would feel self-conscious if it were anyone else. Bucky holds them apart and dives into the mess you both created.

The sounds coming from your boyfriend buried deep in your cunt were filthy. The creamy shared release coats his tongue and scruff; saturating the hair and surrounding his senses with the evidence of your lovemaking. He revels in it. He probes his tongue inside you, collecting the sweetness before sucking against your clit. It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time before your legs crash around his head and you gush with another overstimulated orgasm; this one stronger than the first.

“That’s my girl.”

You swat his hand away on it’s path to clean his face and draw him into a deep kiss. Tasting the both of you off his tongue is delicious and you moan into the kiss.

“It’s so sweet, Bucky.” He settles on top of the blankets, still hot from the recent activity. He pulls you close to his chest before kissing the back of your head gently.

“Maybe you’ll rethink your teasing next time I add all that sugar to my coffee.”

[leal-5]

Tomb of Time and Destiny: Chapter 6

Juvia POV

Before Mira left she unlocked my room with a smile. “Everyone will be gathering shortly in the dining hall. Would you like me to escort you and your sister?”

“Not yet,” I said. “Juvia…um…needs a moment.”

“Of course.” She nodded a little and exited.

I paced the floor, suddenly feeling on the border of insanity. What are we going to do? How long could we keep this up? And more importantly, where in the world are Lucy and Levy?! Are they in danger? Did they get captured by the enemy? Phantom Lord, I think. I halted my pacing as fear seized me.

No, I thought as I turned an yanked my door open. Juvia must believe that they are okay and that they're looking for us too.

Two strides later I'm reaching up to knock on Erza's door just as she opens it in a hurry.

“Juvia.” She says in relief. "I was just going to go looking for you."

“What are we going to do Erza? I said in English, stepping into her room. “What happened to our clothes? And what's up with this weird language and why can we suddenly speak it?! How are we going to get back? How are we going to find Levy and Lucy? Can we even get back without them?”

I hadn't even thought of that last part till now.

“Well, the time travel thing only worked when all of our hands were on the hand prints, so I would assume that to get back, all four of our presence is crucial. As for the rest of our fears…. I'm not so sure.”

I swallow and look down.

“T-they use magic Erza.” I whisper.

“…. I know.”

“That shouldn't be possible!” I said, mostly to myself. Erza nodded, deep in thought.

A silence hung in the air as we sat on the bed.

“Well,” She said after a moment. “Right now our main focus is finding Levy and Lucy and ensuring their safety.”

I nod. “In that case, we need to work on our story.”

Erza blinked at me.

“We can't just tell people we come from, say, 600 years into the future and we're looking for our sisters whom we lost in a magical tomb! We need a backstory! Geography and family is everything to these people!”

Erza ran a hand down her face in frustration. “We need more ti-”

A gentle knock at the door made us jump. “Erza?”

Erza looked like a deer caught in headlights as Jellal deep voice rumbled from behind the door. I didn't miss the light blush in her cheeks or the miniscule shake in her voice when she answered “Yes?”

I gave her a ‘You're so totally crushing in him’ smirk and she glared at me.

“It’s time to eat. Won’t you and your sister join us? Gray and I will escort you.”

Gray.

~Doki doki.~

A blush rose to my cheeks. ‘What the hell was that?! Calm down Juvia! He’s taken bacon! You aren't the type of girl to steal another girl's man!'

I lightly slap my face and shake my head wildly.

“Of course, please give us a moment.” Erza answered, shooting me the same look with a smug grin.

“I guess there was no way out of it.” I muttered with a glare. Mira and now Gray and Jellal all seemed bent on our heading to dinner.

Erza nodded and moved to the door, flipped the latch, and opened it. They stood here, a slight smile on their lips. We smiled hesitantly at them as they escorted us.

“Can’t quite tame your hair, can can you?” Gray said while looking to my hair, a gentle, teasing smile on his lips, trying to make conversation.

We passed a mirror he I could see that my hair was indeed a wind-blown mess. Curse these blue curls! If only I had Lucy’s silky, blonde, straight hair. “Oh,” I said in dismay.

“No,” he said, looking suddenly remorseful. “I only meant to say…” He clamped his lips shut a moment, then, “It reminds me of how you looked when we found you. Two nymphs of the woods trapped in a tomb, just waiting to be set free.”

I tried to swallow but found it difficult under his searching gaze. These guys were clearly intrigued. With us? Or just our weird story?

We moved down the corridor through to the courtyard. With this weird dress, my hair a mess, towers all around, and a couple of guards checking us out, I almost freaked out again, very aware of how far away home really was. But I managed to keep it together. Mostly.

“You two are the tallest women I’ve met.”

Well, that was no surprise. That was something that was mentioned everywhere we went. Frankly, I'm surprised they just now said something.

“J-juvia thinks we are going to get that a lot.”

“Yes, well, I rather like it. It’s far easier to hold your arm than Ava’s.”

“Or Carmen's”

They said their names in a mumble, as if realizing too late, that their compliments to us was a dig at their girl.

We entered the Great Hall. There was a long table on a slightly elevated dais at the front of the room where Makarov, Gray's friends, Ava, Carmen, and their peeps, that tall, thin man, and a few others were already seated. All the men rose to their feet, looking in our direction. Some sort of old-fashioned chivalry? I could feel the heat of a blush climb my neck and cheeks, as well as the piercing cold of Ava’s stare- along with the stares of girls who surrounded her, despite their gentle smiles. Below them, two tables stretched outward, each easily seating twenty. All the men at these tables also rose and looked our way.

Ava looked up at me sweetly as I took a seat across from her. “Miss Lockser, Miss Scarlet,  I trust you are refreshed?” She glanced left and right, all wide-eyed and innocent. Innocent Juvia's ass. “We feared you had taken sick when you did not appear to dinner.” Her glance moved to Gray, who was watching the exchange with interest, and held there. Yeah, right. You mean you hoped we’d gotten sick enough to die. You’re not fooling me or Erza. Gray and Jellal left our side and walked around the table, then stood behind his chair.

“We are quite refreshed,” Erza said. “Sorry for being late.”

Makarov rose and gave us a smile. “Don't worry about it. You are here now.”

I looked at my goblet an glanced at Erza. Nothing but wine to drink. No water. No juice. We had tried it before, but never had a whole glass. Erza tilted her head slightly an I nodded. We’d have to be careful. The last thing we needed was to get wasted and start yammering about modern medicine and space travel.

I took a tentative sip, analyzing the girl across from me.  She wasn’t the overly mean girl, she was the smarter, more dastardly popular girl who was always nice to your face and ripped you apart in the shadows. The one who managed to steal your boyfriend before you even realized she was a threat.

It was good that Lucy wasn’t here. This kind of girl routinely destroyed my naive, artsy, trusting ‘sis’. But me? Well, I’d never dealt with it personally, but I'd seen it before. Of course, I didn’t want to take her on. There was no need. I’d be out of here soon enough. But if she thought she had me figured out, she had another thought coming. “So…Ava. Please, tell Juvia about yourself. Where did you obtain such a fine, amazing dress?”

I'll admit, her dress wasn't really my style, but her friend, Carmen I think, smiled, obviously pleased by my compliments, and I sensed a bit of a thaw, but I didn’t get the same vibe from Miss FancyPants. She answered my question as Gray carved a slice of chicken for each of us. But while words were emanating from her rosebud lips, her eyes were fastened on me, considering me, considering her next move. Like chess players. I suddenly had the desire to take her on at a chess table. Knights and queens and horses on a table before me while I was literally surrounded by real knights and horses. How many people could say that? Ha!

But as much as we had to keep an eye on the cat with her claws barely concealed across from me, we were drawn into the banter of Natsu and Gajeel to our left, and across from them, Makarov and a sickly looking young man to his left. The young man, whom I guessed to be about twenty, looked at me and gave me a small smile and a nod. Had we been introduced? He seemed so familiar, and yet not. I could have sworn he hadn’t been there when I arrived.

Jellal saw the direction I was looking and stood. “Juvia, Erza, may I present my cousin Simon.”

“Miss Lockser, Miss Scarlet, welcome,” he said tiredly, but there was kindness and warmth in his eyes.

I felt Ava and her girl's bristle across from me. Oh, I get it. They didn’t want us to hook up with any of the boys here. Gray made other introductions, to Ava and Carmen’s ladies-in-waiting, the other knights, to Bora, the tall, thin man I’d seen earlier. Gradually, I learned that he was Ava's father’s trusted man, here to escort his charge and watch over her. Was it my imagination, or did the man look at me like us like we were the worst sort of nuisance?

“Miss Lockser, tell us of your sisters,” Makarov said, interrupting my thoughts. “Perhaps one of our people has come across her today.”

“Your knights were rather occupied, Father,” Gray said. Was there an edge to his voice? I glanced between him, his brothers, and his father, trying to figure out the dynamics there.

“Yes, and you all saw it through in fine fashion,” he said, like he really couldn’t care less. He turned back to me. “Miss Juvia and Scarlet, your sister? Describe them for us.”

I thought back. She’d been wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but lord knows if the tomb changed their clothes too.... Best to steer clear of the clothing. “They’re quite a bit shorter than both Juvia and Erza-“

“Thank the heavens,” Ava said, giggling. “How might we deal with four women so tall?”

I sent a fake smile in her direction and went on. “Especially Levy, she only comes up to Juvia's shoulder.”  I chuckle lightly as I say it.

Erza continued “Levy has short blue hair, a few shades lighter than Juvia's and Lucy has long, blonde hair-“

“Blonde?” Natsu repeated, clearly surprised.

“Gold. The color of straw, long and straight. They have brown eyes. They're both quite cute.”

Natsu rose, dragging Gajeel up with him. “Permission to go in immediate search of these young maidens, sir,” he said.

The other knights erupted in laughter. In front of us, two girls of Ava's posse bristled.

Jellal smiled but then waved them down. “They were not there when we found them. You know that as well as I.”

“Unless Phantom Lord somehow spirited them off,” said Gajeel lowly.

We looked down the table at him, alarm gathering in my chest. He was not joking.

Gray met my eyes and shook his head slightly. “She was not there. I swear it upon my grave.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wasn’t back at the tomb, I told myself. I didn’t leave her behind. There was no doubt in Gray’s mind.

Still, doubt lingered. “Could we… could we go in the morning? To be certain? I mean, we became separated. Maybe they took another path, and even now, are there, trying to find shelter for the night.” Erza asked.

“With castles within view? Why not beg shelter from us or even Phantom Lord?” Carmen said, her voice ringing with the echo of judgment. “Assuming she knows nothing of them, of course,” she quickly amended.

“This is a new land for us, far from home,” I said. “We were so lost, we became fearful of trusting anyone.”

“Logical,” Gray said, stabbing his chicken with his knife and placing it in his mouth.

I stared at him for a moment and then looked down to my own utensils. Only a knife. Well, this’ll be tricky…. The Pre-Fork Era.

“Tell us,” Makarov said. “Where are you from?”

Several people nearby leaned in, studying us.

I glanced at Erza an swallowed. We hadn't figured that much out of our story.

“Enough,” Gray said. “Father, she is our guest.”

“A guest we know precious little about. They could easily be a spy for Phantom Lord or even witches. Their hair color is not normal and their clothes are unusual."

I’m sure our faces showed our surprise and confusion. They thought we were spies or... witches?

I mean, the spy thing I guess could understand, but witches?!

“Juvia fears Juvia’s sisters are in grave danger,” I said. “If Phantom Lord is as dangerous as it seems, Juvia and Erza need to redouble their efforts to make certain they haven’t fallen captive to them.”

Ava coughed. Did I imagine that she muttered something about wishing we had both gone to Phantom Lord?

Beside me, Erza twitched slightly. She did not take well to people speaking ill of her friends. I tapped her knee twice in a discrete warning. 'Calm down Erza, not worth it.'

Jellal shook his head. "I don't believe they're witches. You should have seen their faces of shock when they witnessed our usage of magic! It is obviously unknown to them."

"And I don't detect any magic energy emanating from them." Natsu said while sniffing in our direction.

"Do you really think that we'd bring them if here was the slightest doubt in our mind?" Gray asked him. Makarov silently stared at us before nodding, trusting his sons judgement.

"Sir, we ask for your aid,” Erza says, setting down her knife. “Might your men help us search for our sisters, come morning? We won’t be able to sleep, we're very worried.”

The tall, thin Bora leaned forward, weaving his fingers together and studying us with clever eyes, but Erza's eyes never left Makarov's. "You have our word that once we find them we will return home! It will be as if we never crossed paths"

Makarov regards silently for a few moments as if sizing us up. "Where did you say you were from?"

I could read straight through Erza's stoic face and could see that she was panicking internally.

"Juvia and her sisters are from Bellum." I blurted out. Bellum. That knight from Phantom Lord asked us if we were from Bellum or if we were witches. Clearly, a witch was not a good thing to be, and our limited knowledge of the land leaves us with no choice. I can only hope this doesn't end up condemning us.

"Bellum?!" Jellal said shocked. "That's quite a ways from here!"

Makarov harshly stared both me and Erza down, analyzing us for lies or deception, before nodding slowly as if being from Bellum suddenly explained a lot about us.

“We shall aid you in your quest." Makarov said after a moment. “Take your rest. In the morning, our men will set out and report to you come evening. They are most thorough.”

“Juvia begs you to allow us to join them in searching for our sisters.”

Makarov’s face twisted in astonishment at my request. Then, after a breath, Simon leaned over and whispered in his ear. Makarov straightened and looked hard at us. “I had heard Bellum women were quite audacious, but I did not think so much so.... I grant you permission, even though I believe it foolhardy. Be advised that while my sons and his men won the day, it was but one battle in a long war with our neighbors. I can promise no rescue if you are captured. Or, indeed, if your sisters are already in their foul hands.”

“We understand.” Erza said with a nod. “Thank you.”

[angelavodinsdottir-writes]

Prompt #1 - Do you trust me?

Pairing; Thor/Bruce Banner

Warnings: none!! just fluff!!

—————————————————————

Bruce Banner was never one to trust very easily these days. Ever since the Hulk had materialized in his body and Ross tried to kill him, he stopped being so trusting. Bruce rarely trusted anyone anymore. He could literally count the people he trusted on his left hand, which says a fuck ton.

Bruce sighed and put down the paper he was supposed to be reading. His clusterfuck of a mind was too loud and honestly, coffee sounds great right now. ​God​, he thought exasperatedly, ​I sound like Tony​. Tony. Tony Stark, billionaire, former playboy (thank you, Steve, took you long enough), philanthropist, absolute genius and...one of the four people he trusted. Bruce smiled sleepily at the thought of the sharp-tongued Einstein. Bruce could spend hours, days even, down in the lab with Tony without a single worry in the world. He left out a soft chuckle as he grabbed one of the many mugs that were stored in the communal kitchen area of the Tower.

“What is so funny?” a voice behind him boomed. Bruce had to have jumped through the ceiling he was so startled. His mug fell to the ground with a loud ​crash! a​nd the man only sighed. A voice like that could only belong to one God of Thunder that frequently visited the Tower. Bruce turned around with a grimace. ​Why me? h​e thought.

It’s not that Bruce didn’t like Thor, he did like Thor, in fact, he considered him a close friend, but sometimes the God was better in small doses and quieter volumes.

“Nothing’s funny, I was just thinking about someone who makes me happy, that’s all,” Bruce responded after he gathered his bearings.

“Someone?” Thor asked, mischief clear in his voice. “A...special someone?”. Bruce snorted so hard he thought he nose would bleed. He could’ve sworn the mischief had been replaced with sadness and maybe even disappointment.

“No,Thor,not a​ special someone.​ Just Tony,”heanswered.The light that had momentarily died in Thor’s eyes returned almost immediately after he finished speaking. Bruce smiled at the enormous blonde before clearing his throat. “I’m gonna...go back down to the lab...you can come if you’d like to.” Bruce had never seen anyone, alien or human, smile so wide and so bright before. Thor nodded and Bruce walked quietly to the lab, completely aware of the Adonis following him.

When the boys walked through the glass doors of the high tech lab, Bruce set down his cup of coffee and sat at his chair. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Asgardian standing quite awkwardly, clearly out of place. Bruce took pity on the man, he’s probably only been down here once or twice before.

“Thor, you big oaf, come over here,” Bruce quipped, trying to cut the tension, “I don’t bite and neither does the machinery.” Thor gave Bruce a sheepish smile before sauntering over to where the smaller man was sitting.

“I apologize, I haven’t really been down here much. I’ve always wanted to but I never knew how to ask,” Thor admitted with a longing look at the all the tools, diagrams and blueprints that were scattered about the room.

“You’re always welcome down here. Say, I’ll add you to the security clearance when we’re done down here today,” Bruce offered with a soft smile. Thor nodded. His normally piercing blue eyes had turned soft as the current in the shallow waters of a hidden beach. Bruce was suddenly incredibly aware of how close he and Thor were. The wavy haired man was close enough to see the blonde Adonis’ eyelashes. They weren’t too long but they weren’t non-existent. Bruce suddenly wanted to feel them on his chest as they both woke up to the soft morning rays of the sun. Thor carefully traced his fingers up Bruce’s arm, causing millions of goosebumps to crawl up to his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. Everywhere Thor’s deft fingers had touched was crackling with electricity. The genius’ cheeks were stained a deep shade of crimson that got even deeper when he noticed Thor’s eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“​Do you trust me?​​” Thor questioned in a tone of voice that should be absolutely illegal coming from him. Bruce felt that Thor somehow knew the weight of that question was to him and for some odd reason, he didn’t mind.

“Yes,” he breathed and closed to the miniscule gap that remained between them.

—————————————————————

A/N - wow okay it’s been a little while since I’ve posted. sorry about that, school got really busy. anyways, here was some gammathunder fluff

[chuckling-chemist]

Fancestor Week: Serendipity Prompt

((Inspired by this prompt to make this, which is funny seeing as the only ancestor I’m posting is Aluala, and yet here I am doing this for Dontoc’s ancestors. Ah well. Literally just wrote it and posted it since it’s a prompt thing, so I went with whims as opposed to anything else. So yeah. Enjoy!))

Nieche Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. In his rampant imagination, he admitted that being taken prisoner by ravaging pirates seemed more exciting after the fact than it was. He got to watch scores of lowbloods - and a purpleblood? Did he see a purpleblood or was that his imagination? - overtake the military vessel he happened to have passage on. Writers learn best with experience after all, and there was no better way to write the adventure novel questioning everything commonly accepted about the military without knowing exactly how the military functioned. He hadn’t forgotten piracy was seriously starting to pop-up in the waters seadwellers didn’t keep in a tight stranglehold, but he wrote it off. They were just barbarian midbloods trying to act like royalty. Nothing less, nothing more.

Then The Empress’ Majesty became overwhelmed by the singular ship to fear. The Seadweller’s Curse. The one ship even Nieche, glorified violetblooded hermit that he was, recognized and feared. Everyone knew about the terrifying Lady-O-War, even if they never saw her by face. One by one, as a yellowblood and purpleblood offered quarter to the soldiers, they lashed out. One by one, the yellowblood and purpleblood killed them. But he didn’t. He accepted becoming their prisoner, offered his arms freely to become bound, let the pirates gleefully strip him of his weapons and now sat in a miniscule empty room with wet wooden walls. Alone.

The door opened. Nieche’s gaze flitted over, watching as a tall brownblood in a long, decorated coat striped in reds and purples and fitted swashbuckler hat covered in dyed brown feathers sauntered in. She shut the door behind her, leaning on it with a cocky grin.

He didn’t know much about pirates, but there weren’t many others aside from the captain who dressed like that.

Nieche cocked his head in curiosity. “Wasn’t expecting the Lady-o-War to be a gutterblood,” he remarked. “I heard she was...what was it? Olive? Teal?”

The brownblood seemed unfazed. She shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help it you’re slow to the uptake. Nor can I help that somehow a violetblood like yourself apparently is worthless for ransom.”

Nieche gasped. “Inconceivable!”

Not that he really thought it was inconceivable. Well-established writer or not, he wasn’t much for promotion. He hadn’t even so much as shown his face in the past thirty sweeps since his first book. Nor did he write with his real name or symbol. He wished establish credibility without his status, not because of it.

“Please save the fake drama for later. I don’t have time for it. Because now, I have the singular royal fish on my ship who’s useless to me. So I’ve got a conundrum here. Cull you, or find a purpose for you. Which I’ll be fair, someone else with classic booksmarts and a pretty way of talking works well for a ship filled with escaped slaves.” She crossed her arms. “So what’s it gonna be, fish boy? Choice is yours. Death... or piracy?”

***

Inaeis Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. There wasn’t much else he could do, not really. Not anymore. Where once a glorious research facility stood, now only broken glass and bent metal existed in its wake. Ashes, all of them from books he once burned collected like grains of sand on the beach around the counters and medical equipment. He could still hear the screams as trolls got murdered. Still could see the vicious look on Fospha’s face as she was held down and violetnly culled. Could still smell the blood spilled and the distinct scent of charred paper that he never could wash out of his clothing. Once upon a time, this was his fault. But that was a hundred sweeps ago.

And in all those sweeps, nothing changed.

Aluala smacked him on the head, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Hey! Alternia to chumbucket, you dragged me to your fuckup so you wouldn’t be alone in this place. You don’t get to go all 1000 yard stare and force me to do all the heavy lifting.”

Inaeis blinked harshly, her mental voice reverberating loudly in her head. He’d never truly get used to such a mental power. “Excuse me, this was your idea after I briefly mentioned I had a fling with an actual scientist.”

“You call your fifteen sweep kismesis with a tealblood you murdered a fling? Fucking hell, what’s that make me, a casual hatetoy who you only pail because it pisses off your matesprit?”

“I don’t have to answer that question,” he sneered.

“You do if you want any help finding these books.” She scowled, letting out a guttural groan. “And how do I know you’re not just fucking with us? How do I know these books even exist?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know! I don’t know if they really do. But whenever I started my...relations...with Carica, Fospha got insistent I was making a mistake,” he said. Inaeis shoved a hand in his suit pocket, pulling out a crinkled note written in impecable teal handwriting. Aluala snatched it out of his hand, hurriedly scanning over the thing with an increasingly large smirk on her face.

“Oh she is absolutely delightful. Shame I couldn’t meet her. Did she wink when you culled her? Please tell me she did.”

“You are finding far too much joy in this,” Inaeis said grimly. “So are you going to help or not?”

Aluala shrugged, dropping the note on the floor as she made her way out of the lab room. “I’ll think about it. Feel like I’m honoring her legacy more leaving them here instead of finding them.” She turned around swiftly on her heel, dress twirling as if its own beast, and gives a small princess-like wave. “Good luck Inaeis! I feel like you’ll need it!”

***

Dontoc Leiniz stared at the blank wooden wall. He seemed uncaring about the troll sitting against his back, head lolled onto his shoulder and antler-like horns right in next to his face. Her wrists were bound - he had done it himself, however loosely - and he could only describe her slight shaking and unsteady breath as distress, but hadn’t told him to stop yet. He trusted Valeba. He trusted she might also end up pushing herself too far, but they had been moirails for a few sweeps now. If she threw herself into a panic attack, he knew how to deal with it.

Still, checking up wasn’t a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “I’m okay. How long has it been?” she said breathlessly.

“At least four minutes.” He frowned. “Are you sure you are okay? You sound stressed.”

“Oh I’m most definitely stressed,” she said. Her voice sounded strained, more so than before. “This is still freaking me out pretty badly. But at least four minutes without throwing myself into a PTSD-fueled panic attack is a huge improvement from last time.”

He sighed. “Valeba…”

He knew her well enough to know she threw him a grin that was partly to convince himself and mostly to convince herself, though the extended pause in her speak told him otherwise. “I got this.” She swallowed thickly. “I...I…”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he broke away from Valeba, using the knife she gave him earlier to cut away at the ropes. She turned around herself, throwing him in a tight embrace. He could feel his the shirt of his suit go damp from her tears and could feel her body shake, but no tears came out. He let a hand go up into her hair, petting it as gently as he could.

“It is okay,” he said softly. “You are just with me, alive and well. No one else. And it was not a seadweller who did those things to you.”

He felt her nod. “I know.”

“And you said it yourself, you improved.”

She sighed as she looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Not well enough.”

He shook his head, moving the hand from her hair straight to her cheek. She shuddered again, violently, before her whole body calmed. “Valeba, you are doing fine. Some would never try to work past this.”

“Still…”

“You are being too hard on yourself. Think of it this way. Last time, we only made it a minute or so, and I did not catch you until you started to return to your trauma. We are both improving.”

“Mm. That’s fair. Thanks for that.”

“Valeba, you are my moirail. And certainly, you have pulled me out of more panic attacks than I can think. Doing something like this is only the natural course of events.” His fins twitched and he stroked her cheek. If it were someone else, someone who didn’t have a fear of being restrained, he might initiate the hug. But not now. Not with her. “But I suppose, if you are looking for it, a ‘your welcome’ works just as well.”

[a1d6i]

Diving into the Deep Blue

Multi-tasking is believed by some to be also called Multi-switching, call it any term you want, at the end of the day, we are still exerting the best of efforts, at the same time, chasing the same deadline.”

-          Adrian Jr. A. Maronilla

           It’s been exactly 2 months and 21 days since I had published the first article of my three part Article series entitled, “SPRINT: How Fast does your Time Fly?” It may be mystery to some why I decided to write the sequel, very late when it should had been exactly the next Sunday after the first. Well, my defense would be simple and never complicated to understand, my second write up is completely dedicated to “Multitasking”, and I believe that it would be very poor if I would set a time limit of a week to reason all the important points I want to express in the text. I considered that if I wanted to write an elaborate piece about my chosen topic, it would be excellent if I would not only base my reflections on the selections I encounter online and relate the personal accounts of achievers, but also to include my personal experiences, regarding the struggles in time management, chasing deadlines and of course pushing myself, regularly, to the limits.

           To softly start, I am thankful enough to say that I was able to experience at first hand, on very many occasions, how tedious it is to multitask. For the last months, my schedule had demanded me of many requirements, mainly of thesis documents, long home works which frustratingly consumes 2-3 hours of my usual sleep and honestly, dreadfully fun to work and learn, lectures, presentations and graphical computations. But wait, take note, these are my night activities. In the early hours of day and late afternoon, I ready myself, physically and mentally so I could attend my classes as early as I could in the morning and later on. The fun does not stop there, upon entering the penitentiary, just kidding, my fun zone classroom, here comes the real deal. The professor walks in wearing a satisfying smile on some days, and the unlucky look on certain occasions and gives a very interesting 2 to 3 hour sermon about theories with corresponding calculations. So, what’s the big deal? All college students encounter that, or most regular attending students, perhaps. Well, besides from the fact that your physical body is literally glued to the armchair, you also have to resist the temptation of your soul entirely falling to sleep, that for me, is a strong example of multitasking. Another instance is that aside from allowing your full concentration to absorb every drop of information on the lesson/s being taught through listening, I have to force myself to recognize the miniscule, abstract cursive writing etched on the board, so that I could list something on my notes, failure to write, clearly means no reviewer to study.

           We are living in a new era, where the motto: Take one step at a time.” is overridden by the anew saying, “Take more than two leaps at a time, because time won’t wait for us.” Multitasking takes in many shapes, forms and is imperatively unconsciously performed during the mostly unexpected of situations. Whether we plan it or not, at the very early hours of the morning, we attempt daily to accomplish as many simple but underrated tasks, such as, drinking refreshments and reading the morning’s news or reviewing for the next hour’s lesson, walking to the nearest bus stop and memorizing tedious verses on the way, and the famous for the studying group, cramming the last minute information in their harassed and worn-out brains while hastily demanding a whole sheet of paper for the exam to the closest seatmate, not to mention, the strain suffered by the ears upon hearing the deadly countdown of the professor, who secretly aims to fail us all (a really overstated statement really, but possibly very realistic). Tiring it may seem, because it really is, how much more effort could we exert in the evening?  Multitasking, doesn’t stop at night, in fact, it starts at sunset. Many hard workers would believe that the gravity of work to be done at home is equal to that of work; the only real difference is the place of activity.

           I think that it would be appropriate to regard us, hard workers as “multitaskers”, because it is a proven fact that two hands are never enough for the industrious. It had been revealed that one’s decorum and daily habits strongly affect the doer’s output. Based on the time of the day labourers feel more useful, productive and intelligent, researchers had divided the subjects into two major groups, namely, the Morning People and the Night Owls. The former group are individuals, who prefer to start their day on the early hours of dawn, four to five hours ahead of the majority. Some prominent personalities who are recognized and self proclaimed early birds are Margaret Thatcher, former U.K Prime Minister, Benjamin Franklin, founding father of the United States and Kenneth Chenault, the American Express CEO. Pushing away the fact that the personalities mentioned are leaders of a mass of people, it is fairly noticeable that they also handwrite their own unique schedules, a tool which allows them to make a normal day, a very extraordinary one. The latter, are people who literally see the light day in the latest hours of night, because they believe that their best could be brought out under the calmness of the moon. John Travolta, Former U.S. President Barack Obama, J.R.R. Tolkien, Franz Kafka, Bob Dylan and Past U.K. Prime Minister Winston Churchill are few of the much renowned night workers. If your neighbour’s room, night after night, is flooded with light while the other houses are extinguishing lamps readying to enjoy the night’s rest, then it shall be concluded that he/she could possibly be a night owl. These peculiar, yet unbelievable beings have taught, or still continue to teach us that there are always a hundred different, eccentric reasons why we should not fall asleep at an instant, despite the lateness of the hours.

For someone to be a true “multitasker” (a guru of multi tasking properly), he/she should be aware of one’s circadian rhythm (body’s internal clock) and deeply understand the values of discipline and concentration. It would be indeed foolish if you decide to be a morning person, knowing that you are always the last to wake up, also, you could never be a night owl if you find it revolting to work alone under the moon, while everyone should be in the state of relaxation. In short, you could never force yourself to a schedule that looks perfect, but not comfortable on your part. I have always believed. I have always said to myself that, “Work Time is work time, Play Time is play time.” The explanation behind the failure of many is because they are too overwhelmed with either the amount of work they have to accomplish or the abundant amount of time they hold in their hands, that they end up mixing the relevant with the irrelevant and scrambling the primary goal with the secondary or tertiary goals. To master the techniques of multitasking takes more than just time, but practical experience and multiple failures, because there is no one way to comprehend a person’s way of multitasking, it is personally designed to suit one’s mood and attitude towards the job.

If I could not still persuade you on my views, I would proudly share a short account of a graduate of my course who I believe would perfectly suit what successful multitasking really means, He recently graduated magna cum laude in the university, out of the thousands who graduated in the faculty. This success story may seem a little ordinary, because there had been loads of success stories pointing to the same direction, but trust me; this is few of the most extraordinary. In his own personally written gratitude speech, he had noted that he had commuted from his far away province to the school for four years in a row, non-stop. Take note, it takes him 4-5 hours to travel going to his destination, and a lucky, 5-7 hours going home, because his house is approximately 40.3 miles or 64.86 kilometres away from the Metropolis. When asked, how he managed to study for the written exams and do homework, when his whole morning and afternoon was devoted to the classroom, and his night hours were allotted on the bus .In response, he said that he fulfils his requirements and reviews for the next day’s lessons in the public transport vehicle, and constantly recaps the day’s lessons while walking to the terminal. He also emphasized that his daily hustle on his travels had taught him much about the significance of time management and sorting what should be accomplished first. He gladly concluded that he would never achieve what he has at present if not for the sweat he had shed and the experiences he had undergone. See, working hard equally on multiple facilities is never impossible, as long as you know how to set your priorities right.  

[clearingclutter714-blog]

Faith

What is faith to you? For me, it is believing even when everything says no, that the answer is yes. My faith was tested last night as I awaited results that quite literally would change the trajectory of someone's life.

For the last four years I have been witness to someone very dear in my life's journey. It's one that has been latent with anxiety, ferocious trials and tribulations, hefty expectations, and tumultuous feats. There had been numerous times when their world went dark and all seemed helpless but for the spark of faith that we continuously kept reigniting. Despite the incredible knowing that the situation was going to turn out positively, there was that little seed of doubt in the pit of my stomach that was desperately trying to scream louder than my faith. I am so grateful that I am in a space in my life where I have learned to stay firm in what I know to be truth. It is the only thing that kept me from succumbing to the crippling fear that I could be wrong about the outcome. What made this situation even more difficult is that it was intermingled with other people’s energies who were CONVINCED the outcome with be a no. So not only was I slaying my own inner ego, but also doing my best to keep the lighthouse candle aflame as everyone's waves crashed into me.

Faith is not easy folks; but it is an incredible comfort to have. It has become sort of a best friend to me, it helps me feel connected not just to my spiritualty but most importantly, ME. I spent a very large portion of my life disregarding my intuition, second guessing my choices, allowing my ego to be the driver, and trusting others more than myself. It was not an easy feat but I have accustomed myself to lead by my first feeling. I don't second guess anymore, even when everything and I mean EVERYTHING is pointing to it being the opposite. I also define faith as something I practice with or without evidence of success. Yes, it helps that my faith is consistently proven right, but I'm not keeping a score card.

There was a huge force that had been lifted out of me since last night. Whatever doubts I had left lingering about my faith, have all dissipated. While I'm sure fear will try to make a cameo appearance in my life at some point, it will now have a very miniscule chance of overcoming me. Consequently, my gratitude has sky rocketed. I feel immensely blessed for every experience I have witnessed for this person, every up and down, all the ways their life has and will continue to sculpt them into who they are destined to be. I am thankful for the front seat I have to watch them discover their worth, to realize they are so much more deserving than they could possibly imagine, to fully acknowledge their gifts, and to unconditionally know they are love.

With Love

-C

[space--cadet-glow]

Theory: The Irony of Vaati, Part Thirty: Vaati’s Right Eye

So, continuing the three-parter trio section about Vaati's eyes, just what's under Vaati's bangs?

Possibilities... 1. A regular eye 2. Some injured eye 3. No eye at all 4. Scars? 5. Enchanted eye 6. Blind eye?

So, let's look them over. Take AN EYE at them, if you will.

1. A regular eye The most boring, yet most likely, choice. It just ruins all speculation, though. In fact, I don't think any answer will ever be satisfying to anyone, since everybody has their own headcanons, and if one way was confirmed, then all the theorists would probably just keep on theorising anyway.

2. Some injured eye Like a minor injury that's nothing more than a nuisance to him. Why this doesn't work is because, why would he go to all that trouble to cover it up if it didn't bother him that much?

3. No eye at all Okay, this is a weird one and goes off an idea I saw in a Fanfiction once. Ignoring the fact that Minish Vaati clearly has two eyes, the same cannot be 100% confirmed for Hylian Vaati, as his bangs are covering his right eye up. The idea goes that there is no eye there at all, and in its place is a single tear, reminiscent of the Sheikah insignia. Or, in my theory, either nothing. Here's why the tie-in to the Sheikah doesn't work: there were no confirmed Sheikah in "The Minish Cap", nor were they even MENTIONED (I've seen a theory floating around that Minister Potho was a Sheikah, but it's just a theory). But, here's a strange reason why the 'blank space' theory of mine might work: evidence courtesy of GHIRAHIM AND THE MOON CHILDREN. In "Skyward Sword", Ghirahim supposedly had two pointed ears (as his final form did), but his basic-form in-game 3D model said otherwise, as his right ear was pointed, but his left ear was perfectly rounded and hidden under his hair. It is said that the reason behind this was because the guys at Nintendo didn't want to animate the gap in his hair that would be caused by a pointed ear sticking out, so they gave him a round one to keep his hair as one piece. AND, in the N64 version of "Majora's Mask", the Moon Children (who, bizarrely, look like the Happy Mask Salesman) wear the Masks of the Four Bosses, and one final Child wears Majora's Mask itself. If one were to look under the Masks at just the right angle, or use an editor of some kind to get the Masks off, you'll find that all five of the Moon Children do not HAVE FACES. This a strange choice, since it can be found that the Iron Knuckles still have Nabooru's face from "Ocarina of Time" under them, so why wouldn't they program faces for the Moon Children? Unless there was a reason for it. And if "The Minish Cap" ever got upgraded to a 3D remake, it makes me wonder if they'll put nothing under Vaati's bangs as either a reference to Ghirahim and the Moon Children, or just to save time/money. In that case, did the lack of Ghirahim's ear and the Moon Children's faces even matter at all? Oh, this is getting weird...

4. Scars? I've always headcanoned the mark under his left eye as a scar he got in his childhood when a spell he tested out backfired on him. But, who's to say that his right eye didn't take a worse hit than the left one did? Personally, I think his right eye is a little wonky (ie, section six below), but what IF it took a major hit? The Timeline of "The Minish Cap" is so skewed that literally any headcanon works for this. But a bunch of scars, I think does not work. Something that important would have been drawn in on Minish Vaati (or Hylian Vaati, for that matter), which it isn't. Something as small as a scar under his left eye, now that would be hard to put on a twenty-four pixel tall sprite, so I can see why they messed up there.

5. Enchanted eye Like Wrath from "Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood"? But an eye that has great, mystical powers, too... But here's why I think we can eliminate the "enchanted" eye: Vaati wanted to be "transformed, perfect", and having an enchanted, magical, all-seeing eye would imply that he was perfect already, so I think he wouldn't have it if he was so dead-set on being perfect. Unless he just SAW himself as imperfect. He, when referring to when he was a Minish, called himself a "meek, miniscule nothing", after all! And thus, if his eye WAS enchanted, he didn't see the potential in himself and thought that he had to be better and better, etc. I think we can still cross the "enchanted eye" thing off of the list, though. It just doesn't quite fit with Vaati's over-all theme.

6. Blind eye? This ties back to Part Nine of this Theory Series, where I mentioned the possibility of Vaati's final forms only have one eye being caused by him not using that eye in the first place. I joked that it was just because of a lazy eye caused by his hairstyle (the emo bangs), but what if he literally couldn't SEE in that eye in the first place? Minish Vaati "has" two normal eyes, but are we really going to trust the Sprite Art at this point? So, this way, Minish Vaati was blind in his right eye, hid it with his hair as Hylian Vaati, and then fixed/ignored the problem as Vaati Reborn and so on. This works with the "transformed, perfect" thing, since transforming himself would not only UPGRADE him, it would PERFECT HIM. Oh- and here's another thought: what if Minish Vaati became Ezlo's apprentice in the first place to learn magic to help him deal with being half-blind? Nah... It works the "imperfection" thing, but I literally just cannot picture Vaati acknowledging his problems at all, to neither himself nor others.

And if something IS wrong with his right eye, then here are possibilities on why Vaati Reborn has two, perfectly normal eyes... 1. Vaati's right eye was never meddled with/mangled 2. He fixed whatever problem was there when he became Reborn

1. Vaati's right eye was never meddled with/mangled Again, very boring, but very probable. But that's not much of a theory!

2. He fixed whatever problem was there when he became Reborn After all, he wanted to be "transformed, perfect"! Like I mentioned in the "blind eye" part above, this could work. He could have hidden/ignored his problems all this time, and when he got enough power to fix it, he did.

But since Minish Vaati appears to have two normal eyes, this creates some possibilities of its own: 1. There was some problem, he just never acknowledged it 2. Whatever happened (or not/if at all) happened when Vaati was in his Hylian disguise

1. There was some problem, he just never acknowledged it Vaati has a "doesn't think things through" personality going on (ex: "Oh, Zelda has a power of the Light, and I'm looking for an object called the Light Force. Hmm... No correlation!"), so maybe if there WAS something wrong, he never bothered to care about it. And then, he subconsciously fixed it as Reborn, maybe? I don't know...

2. Whatever happened (or not/if at all) happened when Vaati was in his Hylian disguise Of course, what happened has some plausibilites of its own: 1. Nothing,  2. Injury of some sort, or 3. He gave something up in return for the Magic Hat's power and fixed it when he got his hands on the Light Force. 1. Nothing: Not a theory. 2. Injury of some sort: a scar gotten at the Sword-Fighting Tournament, perhaps? Or.... 3. He gave something up in return for the Magic Hat's power and fixed it when he got his hands on the Light Force. This part is getting its own theory, which is the third of the three-in-a-row theories about only Vaati's eyes.

With this, any headcanon about Vaati's right eye works, even in a game-development sense. Unless confirmed otherwise, there IS NO ANSWER, the theories reign supreme! Unless...