#contacts were a pain to put in as someone who normally only does glasses

[transmechanicus]

Still need a tie but otherwise Fem!Denji is ready to go~

[whereserpentswalk]

You have to wear power armor for your job. You're a ranger, it's your job to go out to under explored planets and other heavenly bodies and retrieve things, or make contact with people, or deliver things. As romanticized as it is its mostly just walking through places humans can't safely walk through.

Seeing your power armor for the first time was weird. It was entirely metal, but it was very sleek, form fitting, with a pinched in waist and chrome texture. The helmet had a large visor, like a motorcycle helmet, you could see someone's eyes through it, you'd be able to see more but a gas mask like thing covers your mouth and nose below the helmet. You're even allowed by the company to paint it or add stickers. You feel so elegant within it, so powerful, so modern.

On your first mission you understand just how much you'll be wearing your power armor. You're on a planet with an atmosphere that would poison any humanoid on it, and it's inhabitants breath that stuff so there's no changing it. You spend months trying to track someone down, and never take off your armor once.

As time goes on there are more and more missions like that. You've walked through a forest filled with poison plants. Several places with no atmosphere at all. A planet where it rains glass. The skeleton of a long destroyed spaceship. A place so cold the ocean is solid ice. A place so hot your blood would have boiled if not for your armor. Days, weeks, months, spent inside armor. The company doesn't let you take off the armor on missions, but it's just safety, in almost all of these places it would kill you the momment you took your helmet off. They don't give you much time between missions, so you get used to being in armor very quickly.

Your armor takes care of you. Nutrition is injected into your body, and waste product is removed directly from your guts. The suit cleans your entire body without you noticing it. You can sleep while the suit still walks for you. You don't feel any pain or heat or cold. You can even browse the internet with it, and you can call or text anyone without moving your hands. They joke that the armor masturbates for you, but it actually does send pleasurable sensations throughout your body when you need that type of sensation. It all feels weird at first, but soon it feels normal. You had some robot freinds in highschool, you wonder if they felt like this.

When you’re between missions, and spending time in various hub stations or port cities, you realize you're wearing the armor most of the time too. Sometimes you take the helmet off but that feels weird, you don't like the feeling of air on your face. The other rangers you know, the ones who have been doing it for years longer than you, don't ever want to be outside of their armor.

You eventually get permission from the company to go back home for a few weeks to see your family and freinds. When you get to your homeworld you take off your armor for the first time in a long time. You don't really have normal clothing so you're wearing what you had when you first left nearly two years ago. Your family and freinds all want to catch up with you but it's all so weird and awkward.

You feel like you've been skinned. Every little thing touching you feels so uncomfortable. Your body seems so gross and soft and week, everything feels so wrong, and hard to move. You're not used to taking care of your bodily functions or grooming, and it's both hard to adjust, and gross for you to have to do these things. The idea of putting food in your mouth seems so disgusting. You can barely walk on your own now.

You tried to go on a walk with your joyfriend. But the wind on your flesh disturbed you so much that you began to weep. They tried to hug you but it only made things worse.

After that you just wore your armor for the rest of the trip. Most people you know were disturbed. They wanted you to quit the job but the pay was too good, and you wouldn't know where else to go. It was just another thing everyone would get used to, just another mundane fact of life.

[thissortofsorcery]

@intothedysphoria has inspired me to write about autistic!harringrove, and my own experiences with autism... Max, this is for you! I hope you like it!

tw for anxiety and sensory overwhelm, but it ends fluffy, I promise.

---

It started as a normal day, but it quickly derailed from there.

An asshole at work approached Billy from behind and clapped his hand around the nape of his neck, despite Billy having told him several times he didn’t like that.

Billy didn’t like being touched at all, by most people. And some people had no concept of personal space.

A horrible, painful shiver cut through his spine, icy cold and almost slimy, and Billy held back a shudder. He broke out in goosebumps, and only years and years of practice, of putting on the charm let him pull away from the dickhead graciously, laugh at whatever he said and keep himself together until he could hide away in a bathroom stall.

Billy presses his fingers to his closed eyes hard, seeing stars, and rubs the back of his neck vigorously, trying to replace that cold shiver with something else. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels so fucking frustrated.

Finding out you’re autistic in your twenties is an experience. A lot of things start making sense, and a lot of things you pushed down and convinced yourself weren’t a problem spring back up like a jack-in-the-box, a hundred times worse.

Like the touch thing. It’s not that Billy doesn’t like being touched. He just doesn’t like being touched by people he doesn’t know, and for no reason.

Like, his physical therapist, when she was helping him regain dexterity in his hands after Starcourt, that was fine.

Some dude in the office touching his neck, even casually, not so much.

Billy takes a deep breath, tries to remember the self-care workbook he and Steve filled out together a couple months ago. Tries to calm down.

Three ways I can distract myself when someone touches me, he’d written, glancing back up at Steve with a smile. Happy they were doing it together.

Loud music + puzzle

Hot drink

Yelling

Steve laughed and shook his head (“it’s very you”) when Billy wrote down the last one, but it really did help.

Billy gives himself a few more moments in the stall before he slinks out, heading to the sinks and splashing cold water on his face. The sensory shock helps a little, the cool, pleasant feeling helping balance the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

He checks if the break room is empty before he goes in, and it thankfully is. He doesn’t want to run into anyone. Doesn’t think he has it in him to mask right now.

Billy makes himself a mug full of scalding hot coffee and hurries back to his office, avoiding eye contact with anyone who throws out a hello. So what if they think he’s angry. Maybe he is pissed.

He manages to spend the rest of the day locked in his office, headphones on, and only comes out when it’s time to go home.

Of course, all he wants is to see Steve, wants his comforting presence, even if they’ve been dating only three months. When he walks through the door of Steve’s house, he sees Steve sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing his ugly vomit green socks with raccoons on them, that he’s had since he was 15 and won’t get rid of.

A wave of relief crashes through him, nearly leaving him dizzy. He breathes deep, catches the smell of his clean house, laundry, and Steve.

“Hey baby,” Steve calls, laying his head on the back of the couch to look at him, making his glasses just a little bit crooked. “Bad day?”

“Does my face look that terrible?” Billy grumbles, taking his shoes off at the entryway before he steps into the living room.

“Your headphones are around your neck,” Steve points to them, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

Oh. Billy forgot to put them away. He doesn’t need them in the car.

He sighs and throws himself down next to Steve, a careful, deliberate distance away.

“I’m just ‘whelmed,” Billy mumbles.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not anymore. Just whelmed,” He says, sighing again. His body sags, melting against the cushions. He doesn’t feel shivery anymore, but he feels tired, like he’s on the bad end of an all-nighter.

Steve puts his hand on the cushion between them, palm up, not touching Billy.

Billy takes a deep breath, watching Steve’s hand. He knows that hand intimately, knows it to be warm and soft and kind, knows how its skin feels against Billy’s, the friction making the shivers good instead of bad.

He puts a tentative fingertip on Steve’s pointer finger, and all Steve does is press back, smiling gently.

Billy slides his fingers in between Steve’s, laces them together, holds his hand palm to palm, and feels the touch of his skin like they’re buzzing together.

Billy knows he can change his mind, and all Steve’s gonna do is smile, sit on his side of the couch, and continue the conversation.

“How’s that book you were working on going?” Steve asks. He rubs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand once, and stops. When Billy squeezes his hand, he resumes the movement, sending pleasant tingles up Billy’s arm.

“Good. The writer was receptive to what I said. They sent me a couple reworked chapters today,” Billy says, moving closer to Steve, so their arms press together.

As the conversation goes on, Billy presses closer and closer, at his own pace, and Steve accepts it crumb by crumb.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, or how Steve is so patient with him. Steve loves physical contact. Billy does, too, but he’s so particular about it that sometimes he wonders if he’s even worth sticking around for.

Billy ends up lying on top of Steve, chest to chest, nose tucked into his throat, breathing in his warmth and his scent.

“Don’t touch my neck, okay?” He asks, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, easy as that. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Steve turns his head and kisses Billy’s head, right on the hairline, pulling a deep, content sigh from him.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Billy says, squeezing his ribs just a little tighter. “For doing this for me. Being patient.”

Steve looks down at him, frowning slightly.

“‘Course. You shouldn’t— You don’t have to thank me,” He says, earnest. “It’s not a chore, Billy. You’re not…” He licks his lips, trying to think. When he looks at Billy, it's like he's telling him a secret. “You make me happy. All of you.”

Billy’s smile is wide, stretching his full lips and showing his teeth, and Billy only drops it so he can kiss Steve.

They keep it chaste, an unhurried, soft press of lips, enjoying their intimacy and their closeness and their familiarity. Simple as it is, it's one of the best kisses he's had. Steve's the best person he's ever met.

When Steve touches him, he feels safe. Billy wants to keep him.

[syn4k]

I would like one of your finest themes and tropes please

okay we don't really have a favorite theme but there's a few of them that show up incredibly often in our writing. heres the ones that i can remember off of the top of my head:

people are not inherently cruel and unkind. at the core of humanity is the simple desire to know and be known, and it shines through in even the most twisted and fucked up of actions if you inspect it closely enough

no person is ever so "far gone" that they're undeserving of love. yes, even That person. this doesn't mean that you have to be the one to love them, however.

no love, however brief, is ever in vain unless you keep it hidden within yourself

those in power always have ulterior motives behind keeping and sharing it

love comes in all shapes, sizes, and expressions! it is not exclusive to romance!

rest is sacred

the act of creation is also sacred

the world is full of beauty and wonder at all times, you just have to know where to look for it

true strength lies in gentleness and there is gentleness in pure strength. its not all physical.

as for specific tropes, here's some that i go batshit insane for every time and wildly overuse in my own works (see if you spot any you recognize!)

a physically strong character who is pretty familiar with committing acts of violence being gentle in quieter moments, especially if that gentleness is physically expressed

relating to above, its really good when a character casually does some feat of strength without a second thought in defense of or with support for another character they're close with. i like it when that happens

when a character is likened to an animal or described as having animalistic traits, ESPECIALLY if that animal is a dog and ESPECIALLY if there's religious overtones or undertones mixed in. i will swallow that shit whole.

someone sustains a Very Worrying Injury and shrugs it off until the last minute because theyre used to being in pain and everyone else is like "dude what the fuck". not to out myself by going "mood" but mood

when a relationship between two people who were previously very close goes south for whatever reason and they try their best to be cold to each other but they still retain habits of taking care of each other. bonus points if their hearts arent really in it and the coldness is only circumstantial (i'm sure this one won't become relevant anytime soon. Coughs into elbow.)

when the one guy who usually keeps their chill amazingly well finally gets properly angry for whatever reason and its like, oh SHIT!!!! OH FUCK!!!! its like that one post about characters whose anger is quiet and cold and precise. its absolutely riveting. thats the good shit right there

character that has glasses slowly takes them off. not for dramatic effect but as a silent statement that they've seen enough

this isnt really a thing but it should be and im probably gonna include it sometime: character who has glasses recognizes that a fight is about to go down and quietly excuses themself to put contacts in so that they dont break their frames because that shit's prescription and it's EXPENSIVE. they don't normally wear contacts for [reason(s)] but some things are more important than personal comfort in the middle of a potentially disastrous fight. signed, a lifelong glasses wearer who cannot stand contacts for sensory reasons.

[baronessblixen]

A prompt if I may ask for one, how sick does Scully have to get before she will admit she is sick? Cancer arc hurt/comfort please

I hope this enough hurt/comfort! There's definitely cancer arc angst. Wc: 1340. Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2021

Fictober Day 2: Whispered Words

She's been on her feet all day, slicing and dicing, trying to keep up with Mulder. Same old, same old. Except it's not. Her muscles protest as she changes out of her scrubs. Her legs barely lift, and she stumbles, catching herself just in time against the lockers. She looks around, her cheeks flaming red, but she's all alone. She sits down to tie her shoes and when she leans forward, the slight headache she's been ignoring all day, presses against her forehead, reminding her of the unspeakable.

Mulder is waiting for her, roaming the halls restlessly like a caged animal.

"There you are," he says when he sees her, and she forces a smile. "Any anomalies?" He asks, cracking a sunflower seed. The sound is loud in her ears, and she startles.

"No," she says, "nothing abnormal." Mulder makes a disappointed noise. She can't blame him; they're stuck in this case, every lead a dead end.

"Let's go back to the office. There must be something we're missing." She tries to keep up with Mulder's long, athletic strides and finds that she can't. She should have kept on her sneakers. The heels squish her toes, make her slow and sluggish. Mulder stops to open a door and Scully, breathless, averts her face so that he doesn't notice. When his fingers come into contact with her back, right where they always do, at the tip of her tattoo, tears shoot into her eyes. Her glazed skin cracks and she winces.

Mulder, oblivious to her internal turmoil, removes his hand but the pain remains. Ahead of her, his form turns blurry. Every step is agony, like she's walking on coals. The heat spreads thickly, gathers in her stomach.

"Scully? Are you okay?"

How many 'I'm fine's’ are too much, she wonders as she stares at him, leaning against the wall. She's breathless, can't take in enough air. Her stomach revolts against everything and she prays silently like she never has before to please, please not be sick right here, right now.

"Hey." Mulder is by her side, crouching down to be eye-level with her. She doesn't want to look at him. She wants to tell him that she's fine. She wants to be okay.

"I'm- I don't-," she breaks up, sobs; she doesn't want to cry but her tears fall anyway. If she doesn't say it, if she doesn't admit she's sick, then she won't be, right?

"It's okay," Mulder says and touches her arm. "Do you- can you walk on your own? Do you need an ambulance? I'm gonna call-"

"Mulder, no." She puts her hand on his where it lays on her arm. "I just want to go home. Just... home."

He helps her out of the building and into the car. They're taking baby steps. One foot in front of the other as if she's just learned how to do it. Mulder is quiet next to her but his thoughts are screaming, piercing through her mind.

"What about work?" She asks once they start driving. Her tongue feels three times its normal size and it's a struggle to get the words out.

"Work can wait. It's not that important."

Any other day she would protest. Any other day she'd tell him she was better already. Today, though, she stays silent, accepts the fate her body has inflicted on her.

She leans her head against the cold glass window, watches the scenery pass by. It makes her nauseous. They drive past roadkill; a small fox, its life over before it's really begun. Scully closes her eyes against the pain, against the unfairness of it all.

She doesn't remember falling asleep but when she opens her eyes again, they're at her apartment building and she's in Mulder's arms.

"What are you doing?" She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

"Didn't have the heart to wake you," he says, his words in her hair, like new fallen snow. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," she says, too exhausted to lie.

"We're almost there. Can you stand? I need to unlock the door." As if she were his grandmother's porcelain, he puts her down and opens the door.

"I can walk," she says quickly before Mulder can pick her up again. He follows her like a guard dog, watching her every move. She walks straight to her bedroom and collapses on the bed.

"Do you want me to call your mother?"

"What for?" She mumbles, feeling Mulder remove her shoes.

He doesn't answer right away but he's still there because she feels his hand on her ankle.

"Mulder?" She asks.

"To help you... get changed, eat something. Do you want me to call her?"

"No. I'm fine." As long as she doesn't open her eyes again. She will manage. Her clothes are loose enough to sleep in; she's done so before.

"Tell me if anything is uncomfortable." She hears Mulder's voice, but it doesn't register. The sound of a zipper tears through the silence and as cold air hits her legs, she realizes it's her own. Mulder is removing her pants. She should say something, stop him. But she can't. The words won't come. She shivers and Mulder mumbles an apology, quickly finding her pajamas.

"I won't look," he swears with a gentle smile that distracts her for just a moment. He opens her blouse, one button at a time. "Bra on or off?" He asks, glancing at her face. Only someone who's never worn a bra would ask that question.

"Off," she manages to say. Mulder nods, keeps his eyes on her face and takes her bra off. How often has she dreamed about Mulder undressing her? How many fantasies has she had? None have ever been like this. Not a single one. She’d scream if she had the strength.

He helps her into an oversized t-shirt that she's certain used to be his. Neither comments on it.

"Lie down," he says. "I'll get you your meds." Scully listens to him moving around in her kitchen and swearing once or twice. She can't move. Her eyes keep falling shut, too heavy to stay open. She fights it, fights everything. Somewhere in her apartment, Mulder is talking. She hears snippets, deducts that he must be talking to her mother. 'Tired' is one word, 'worried' and 'stubborn' are uttered as well.

"I'll take care of, Mrs. Scully. I won’t leave her alone," Mulder says close to her bedroom. Fresh tears threaten to fall. This is everything she didn't want. Nothing was supposed to change. She's a medical doctor and she should know better. This is only the beginning.

"I'll call you if anything changes. Bye." Mulder walks back into the bedroom and sets a cup of tea and crackers on her nightstand. He leaves again, returns with a small bucket, a towel, and another blanket.

"I hope you're not crying cause the tea tastes bad." She touches her cheek, unaware that she's started crying. "Do you need anything else? Do we need to call your doctor?"

We. Not her, we. She merely shakes her head no, not trusting her voice.

"I won't leave. Anything you need, just tell me. Okay? Anything at all." He touches her forehead, his fingertips gentle against her skin.

"Try to get some rest, hm?"

"Where are you going?" She asks him.

"The living- I can stay here if you want." She's too tired to fight it. She knows in half an hour, an hour tops, her limbs will feel as if they're freezing. She will shiver and there will be nothing that can keep her warm. Except... tonight, she wants to take. This disease is taking from her every day, chipping away at her life every passing moment. Tonight she'll, too, be outlandishly demanding.

"Stay," she whispers. "Please stay."

In the next few hours, she falls in and out of sleep, eats, drinks and gets sick. Repeatedly. Mulder is right there with her, never once leaving her side. In the morning, when she feels better, they don’t mention it. They never do.

[elftwink]

no thoughts only taakitz superhero/villain coffeeshop au. taako’s power is shapeshifting but he has a cool gun from lup. kravitz’s power is Big Fuckin Scythe With Unspecified Abilities. also there was no time to get into it but fantasy starbucks isn’t a real starbucks it’s a borderline illegal unaffiliated bootleg starbucks that taako and lup own. like dumb starbucks was.

By all rights, it should have been a fairly routine night for the Reaper. Go out, stop some crimes, arrive just in time to prevent whatever scheme the Mongoose had cooked up this week, exchange some one liners, make some threats that essentially amounted to ‘same time next week?’, the works. A regular Tuesday as a superhero in Neverwinter.

But Kravitz is tired, and more than a little distracted, so he’s not doing so hot on the one liners, and the Mongoose’s attacks are a little closer than they would normally be. He doesn’t even have a good excuse, it’s not like he’s injured, or that he has anything pressing to think of.

It was just— this morning his barista (who he may or may not have been harbouring a small crush on) had mentioned offhand that he thought the Reaper was ‘probably hot under the stupid all-black getup’, and Kravitz didn’t really know what the protocol was for someone complimenting your alter-ego was.

“I think if you were gonna go for the strong silent type, you had to start doing it months ago. Now it’s just acting like an asshole. Are you mad at me?” the Mongoose cuts into his thoughts, firing off another few missiles from his stupid umbrella gun (Umbrastaff, he called it, although it was a gun and not a staff so Kravitz had no idea why he insisted on calling it that).

“We are literally fighting as we speak,” says Kravitz, playing up the cockney accent, spinning his scythe to deflect the missiles off the blade, sending them ricocheting around the room. He’d said something like ‘how can you tell’ to Taako— the barista (well, they’d been on a first name basis for a few weeks, so, Taako), and he’d said ‘I can just tell’ which was not at all helpful in getting Kravitz through the conversation without saying or doing something to give himself away.

He’d almost given Taako his number, but how was he going to justify that? Hey, it’s me under the all black getup. Do you want to go out sometime? As if.

“You can have fights without being fuckin’ rude,” says the Mongoose, firing off another few rounds, which Kravitz deflects again, advancing on him.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m a bit scattered. Not exactly my A game.” As if to prove his point, the Mongoose easily dodges his next couple swings with the scythe, not even bothering to leave his range.

“Clearly. I mean, normally you’re at least close enough that I can feel the breeze from your sword.”

“It’s not a sword, and you know that.” Kravitz brings down the scythe in the space where the Mongoose was only seconds before, having already backflipped out of the way and landed a few metres back. Show off. Not that Kravitz had room to complain about that. The Mongoose spins to face him again, at least this time seemingly aware of what a close call that was. He’s tense, and his hair, which Kravitz supposes has thus far been hidden underneath his costume, has come somewhat unravelled, black braid falling to the middle of his back.

It seems... familiar?

He doesn’t have time for that right now. Kravitz draws back the scythe, feeling the hum of energy under his fingers, swinging again, and—

“Wait! Time out!” the Mongoose puts up a hand and Kravitz, for who knows what reason, stops his scythe mid-swing. The familiarity sticks, so it’s not just a trick of the light. It takes him a second to place, but the hairstyle... it looks a lot like a certain barista he’d been spending all night thinking about.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s because he has Taako on the brain, is all. Besides, he has other things to worry about besides seeing his crush in his enemy. Namely the fight currently happening with said enemy. “What? You can’t call a time out.”

“I just did,” says the Mongoose, fishing through his pockets and pulling out several bobby pins, sticking them in his mouth so he can use both hands to fix his hair. Kravitz blinks, still trying to shake off the sense of deja vu, but it won’t quit nagging him. “It’s a whole safety issue to leave long hair down.”

“It’s still in a braid,” retorts Kravitz.

“Somebody never took Foodsafe.” the Mongoose gives him a lopsided grin that Kravitz fucking knows he’s seen before, and suddenly it’s more than just passing familiarity, and how could he possibly have not noticed before, and— the Mongoose finishes putting up his hair, raising an eyebrow at Kravitz and his private crisis. “Alright. Ready—”

“You work at Fantasy Starbucks,” blurts Kravitz, without even thinking about it. The Mongoose stops dead in his tracks, and Kravitz can see his eyes widen even behind the mask. He splutters for a moment, and then seems to find his footing, already ready with a snarky remark.

“Yeah, well— your accent is fake.”

Shit. He’d forgotten. At the only time so far that having it would have been useful too. Still, he pushes it out of his mind; the Mongoose hadn’t denied it. And, well, he’s already solidly derailed this fight, so he might as well get some real confirmation out of it.

“...Taako? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Just who the fuck are y—” The Mongoose— Taako— levels the Umbrastaff at him, and then stops again. “...Kravitz?”

Well. Shit. Again. Kravitz doesn’t bother to affirm that; his silence is more than enough confirmation. One of them has to say or do something, but the seconds stretch on.

“You’re telling me I said all that shit to your face this morning?” says Taako.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“Uh, yeah—” Taako is backing up now, and they’ve fought enough times that Kravitz knows when the Mongoose is looking for an escape route; Kravitz’s feet still feel glued to the floor, even when Taako reaches the window, fingers already turning to talons around the Umbrastaff. Taako breaks the glass (because of course he does, even though the windows aren’t even fucking locked), breaking eye contact with Kravitz in order to swing his legs through the window before his form changes too much. “Look, this is like, a lot right now, and I— I’m getting the fuck out of here,” he says, and then drops. Whatever had been keeping Kravitz in place, slack jawed, ends as soon as Taako leaves his sight, and he’s moving before he has time to think about it.

“Wait—!” Kravitz runs for the window, but by the time he gets there, the bird clutching the Umbrastaff is nearly out of sight.

Well. That could have gone better.

***

Kravitz doesn’t go for his coffee the next day. Or the next day, either, although the day after that he’s sick of making his own coffee. And frankly, he misses chatting with Taako. Even if the guy was trying to kill him like once a week. He couldn’t just avoid this forever.

Still, the fact that Taako is working cash when he comes in makes him want to turn tail and run back home. He conjures up the memory of yesterday’s shitty coffee and pushes onward. The shop is mostly empty still, so there’s no line.

“The usual?” says Taako, like nothing abnormal has happened.

“Please,” says Kravitz, and then, before he can chicken out entirely, adds, “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?”

“My shift isn’t over until—”

“I’ll cover you,” comes Lup’s voice from the back room; she pokes her head out and gives Taako a look that is clearly significant, but that Kravitz can’t quite puzzle out. “Take five minutes after you’re done making his coffee.”

Taako scowls at her, and she smiles brightly before heading to the back again.

“Okay. I guess I have five minutes. Talk to you after I make your coffee.”

Kravitz nods, and goes to hover around the pickup counter, pretending to be interested in things on his phone. Taako makes his coffee in a ceramic mug, which at least means he doesn’t want Kravitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, so that’s... something.

Taako slides the finished coffee across the counter, circling around to join Kravitz on the customer side as Kravitz grabs the mug.

“Lup!” he hollers, and then starts walking towards one of the corner booths without checking to see if his sister is headed to cash or if Kravitz is following. Kravitz does, though, sliding himself into the seat opposite Taako, hands wrapped tightly around the mug.

Taako speaks first. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would rat me out.”

“That would be shitty of me, to just sic authorities on your place of work without so much as a warning.”

“So is this the warning?”

“No,” says Kravitz, taking a sip of his coffee, “I... can’t really make coffee without burning it. And this is the only place for miles with tolerable muffins.”

Taako cracks a grin, like Kravitz knew he would. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” His smile falls, and he crosses his arms and leans back. “So. Reaper. Why didn’t you rat me out?”

Why indeed. Kravitz takes another sip of his coffee and thinks for a second, not even sure himself what his explanation will be once he starts talking.

“It didn’t seem... fair. You’re less of a villain and more of a pain in my ass—” Kravitz ignores Taako’s indignant noise and keeps talking, “—and while we always have cause to fight when on the clock, you’re not doing anything that I feel needs to leave the bounds of those... work hours, I guess.”

Taako is trying to pick him apart with his gaze; it’s something he’s been subjected to several times, although normally in costume, and in retrospect it’s difficult to imagine how he spent so long not noticing the Mongoose in Taako.

Whatever Taako is looking for, he must find it, because he relaxes a bit, and shoots him a lazy grin. “Plus, Mongoose related insurance just got rolling and it would be fuckin’ rude to take me out of commission before anyone got to use theirs.”

Kravitz laughs. “Sure.” He’s silent for a second, before adding, “You aren’t planning on revealing my secret identity, are you? Awfully rude of you to double cross me like that.”

“Wha— You didn’t even give me a chance to respond! Maybe I wasn’t!”

“Were you?”

“I was,” admits Taako, not even pretending to look sheepish. Kravitz raises his eyebrows, and Taako shrugs. “Oh, like you didn’t think about revealing my secret identity? And could you imagine the hype if I unmasked the Reaper? I was tempted.” He sighs. “But I figured then you’d have no reason to keep my identity a secret. No way am I risking a backfire like that.”

It sounds callous, but Kravitz has been talking to Taako almost daily for months; at this point, he can pretty reliably pick up on when Taako isn’t being entirely truthful about something.

“Hmm. Then I suppose it’d be in my best interest not to tell you that I wouldn’t reveal your identity even if you revealed mine?”

Taako narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

Kravitz makes a face. “It’s just in poor taste. I just think we all go through all the trouble to hide who we are and use these powers for good— or whatever it is you do— that it’s always going to be such a low blow to reveal who we are. There might be times where it’s necessary, but petty revenge is not one of them.”

Taako’s expression hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s narrowed his eyes more. “God, you are like— fuckin’ irritatingly nice. Fine. I wasn’t going to reveal your identity. That would be fuckin’ annoying to deal with. Plus I’m having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh don’t— don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re having fun out there too. With your stupid accent and one liners and shit.”

“Alright, alright,” says Kravitz, rolling his eyes. “But I’m not supposed to be having fun, so keep it quiet.”

“See, that’s why I market myself as a villain. No dumb rules.” He puts an elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Why do you have a fake accent anyway?”

Heat rises to Kravitz’s face, and he’s hoping he looks less embarrassed than he feels. “It’s my— I do it so people don’t recognize my voice.”

Taako laughs. “Well, it doesn’t really do that if you immediately stop using it when you realize you might know someone.”

“I was caught off guard!” defends Kravitz. “It’s not every day you find out your nemesis is your barista.”

“Nemesis, huh?” Taako grins. “Didn’t realize it was that serious to you. You know I have other heroes to fight.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes again. “I don’t see how you have the time, considering how often you’re causing trouble for me.”

Taako laughs, and it’s so contagious and the whole conversation is so surreal Kravitz can’t help but laugh too, before they both lapse into a comfortable, if drawn out, silence.

“So, uh,” says Taako eventually, “what now?”

“Well,” says Kravitz, “I want to keep coming in for coffee in the mornings. And I assume the Mongoose will continue with... whatever chaos it is you currently have planned.”

“It’s not chaos,” insists Taako, “I have plans. But yeah. And I assume the Reaper is gonna show up and throw a wrench in those plans?”

“Yes, probably. So we’ll just be enemies by night...” Kravitz trails off, not entirely sure how to refer to their by day relationship. Friends? Potential love interests? Acquaintances? There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Kravitz gives up entirely.

Taako pulls and pen and a napkin out of his pocket, jotting something down and pushing it towards Kravitz.

“Here’s, uh, here’s my number. If you give me a heads up five minutes before you get here, we can have your coffee ready by the time you walk in. If you’re nice to me out there.”

“I don’t take bribes,” says Kravitz, grabbing the napkin and pulling out his phone to type in the number.

“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a threat. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to your coffee if you fuck me up.”

Kravitz doesn’t bother to point out that neither of them have ever caused any extreme bodily harm to one another and instead says, “So you’re asking me to go easy on you? I thought you were having fun.” He sends Taako a ‘hey it’s kravitz’ text before he has time to second guess himself.

“Could you stop poking holes in my threats? You’re harshing my fuckin’ vibe, Krav.” He sounds irritated, but Kravitz can see the smile tugging at his lips as he texts Kravitz a couple of skull emojis. “I should get back to work before my sister kicks my ass,” he says, standing back up. “I’ll see you tonight, nemesis.” Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the counter, saying something to Lup as he walks by. Kravitz watches him disappear into the back room.

Tonight.

Kravitz had better make sure he had hung his cloak up to dry.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Best Of Us

Batfamily x M!Reader

Word Count: 3,035 Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: And here we are with a Batbrother fic! Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t an inferiority complex. Not really. He wasn’t prone to anger or any of the other symptoms listed under it—and he checked. Multiple times. But there was something about being the only non-vigilante in his family of vigilantes that made him feel inadequate compared to the rest. Bruce had the Justice League, Dick and Jason had their own fantastic groups that saved the day, and Tim and Damian were still in school, but even they had their groups too. Hell, even Alfred still had contacts from his days in MI-5. And yet, he had none of the skills his brothers or father had, no extensive martial arts training, master detective skills, or weapon mastery. He was completely normal—or maybe abnormal in this case. And on some level, he resented that he couldn’t be like his family—maybe he did have an inferiority complex.

***

The greatest thing in (Y/N)’s mind about still being allowed to live at home was that no matter what, there was always food around to eat—Alfred saw to it that every growing man in the house had enough to eat—that being said, their grocery bills were outrageouslyexpensive.

He balanced his tablet in one hand, the other hand adjusting the tie around his neck as he stepped into the kitchen, quick to raise the tablet in time to avoid whacking his youngest brother in the head.

“Morning,” he greeted, taking his seat at the table, just after Jason’s. A chorus of tired, ‘mornings’ came back at him and he quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, loving the enthusiasm this morning, guys.”

Jason snorted and propped his chin on his palm, watching (Y/N) for a moment. “I seriously don’t understand how you’re always so chipper in the morning.”

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of the coffee that Alfred set down. “Someone has to be the ray of sunshine in this group of gray clouds.” (Y/N) cast a glance at Dick who was shoveling eggs into his mouth. “And it seems like our eldest is busy feeding his bottomless pit.” Dick was fast to shoot him a glare, that he returned with a smile.

Just then, Tim trudged into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and plopped down in his seat, immediately shoving the plate in front of him to drop his head onto the table.

“Jesus Christ, you guys,” (Y/N) sighed, flicking at his tablet for a moment. “You’ve seriously gotta take a day off to recuperate.”

“What do you think we do during the day?” Dick retorted, taking a swig of milk.

“Okay I think you’re confusing the entire day with the first half,” he reasoned. “When I say take a day off, I mean the whole twenty-four hours.” He glanced at everyone, and the only person who seemed to not be tired was Alfred, and that’s partly because (Y/N) believed he was immortal. “You guys are gonna run yourselves into the ground,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“We know what we are doing, (Y/N),” Damian interrupted with a glare. “We know our limits better than you do.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head. This conversation had happened many times before and it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m not saying I know them better than you Damian, I’m simply saying that you guys should take a day to relax so that something doesn’t happen on the job that you can’t control.”

(Y/N) glanced at his father. “Dad, c’mon, you know I’ve got a point.”

Bruce hummed and flipped the page of the newspaper. “So does Damian.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and nodded. “You don’t have to worry so much, (Y/N). We know what we can handle.”

He stared at Bruce for a moment then scowled. “I don’t even know why I bother,” he muttered, and Damian was fast to chase his comment.

“I don’t know why you bother either. You’ve never once experienced what we do every night.”

(Y/N) met his youngest sibling’s glare. “Just because I don’t stick my neck out for each person in this city night after night doesn’t mean that I don’t know what it’s like to be exhausted.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “So, you know what it’s like to be exhausted from blood loss because you’ve been stabbed or shot? Or to be exhausted from saving the lives of innocent people? You do?”

“I—” (Y/N)’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut and looked away with a darkened expression, tasting something sour in his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” Damian finalized, and in the wake of the uncomfortable tension, a cellphone went off.

Everyone started looking for theirs, but (Y/N) muttered, “It’s mine.”

He picked it up and put on a cheerful voice. “Good morning Angela…yes, I just got the floor plan…” he tapped at the screen on his tablet. “Do me a favor and move the people from table eight to table three. Mr. Robinson is better friends with Mrs. Grace and will certainly give us a warmer atmosphere in that area.”

(Y/N) paused and listened, then he stood from the table and pushed his chair in. “Let me get to the office and we can situate the rest of the guests for tonight…alright, see you soon. Bye.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call, then took the black backpack that Alfred was holding to him. “Thanks Alfred.”

“Of course, Master (Y/N). Have a pleasant day at work.”

He huffed a laugh, but it was anything but amused. “I have to give a speech tonight in front of the entire company and three different magazines.” He glanced at Bruce. “Think you’ll be able to attend tonight? It’d mean a lot to me.” Bruce grunted, his way of telling (Y/N) that he’d try, but to not hope for a miracle.

It was fine, he was used to parentless ceremonies and events. He cleared his throat and shrugged on the backpack, making his way to the garage door.

“See you guys later.”

***

He’d given a few speeches in his short twenty-four years, and while he’d never say he was an expert on public speaking, he did know his way around a podium. That being said, every time he had to do a speech, he felt like vomiting—nerves he chocked it up to.

(Y/N) cast a glance around the packed ballroom, quietly groaning at the massive amount of people. His own table was empty, save for Angela and thank god for him, Lucius. He couldn’t help but frown at the name tags sitting in front of the empty seats.

“Wondering where the rest of the gang is?”

He met Lucius’ eyes and gave a halfhearted smile. “I’d like to think they took my advice and took the night off but…something tells me that the night called to them.” His lips pulled downwards. “I’m not going to act like this is a surprise, Lucius. I couldn’t even get them to show up for my university graduation.”

(Y/N) smiled and stood up, grabbing the notecards beside him. “What makes you think I could get them to show up to this?” He left the table and moved to the side of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. His fingers briefly shifted to his chest, feeling his heart fluttering beneath chest, nerves causing his breathing to come in short bursts. (Y/N) shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting a pleasant smile cross his face as the presenter called his name, and walked up the steps.

The bright flash of photography momentarily blinded him, but he smiled through it. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight at the Centennial Inside Alliance Award Ceremony.” He flashed everyone a million-watt smile. “My name is (Y/N) Wayne, and as many of you know, I am a senior editor for Inside Alliance. It is my pleasure tonight to recognize Inside Alliance’s top writer for the year.”

(Y/N) glanced around the room, making sure to catch the eyes of the hundreds of guests.

“Inside Alliance was created on August fourteenth, nineteen-twenty by a group of immigrant mothers and fathers who wanted to bring knowledge of their homes and cultures to the rest of world. Some of those countries being Germany, Romania, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Israel, and many, many others.”

“The production of their valuable time and extensive care created one of the greatest magazines that is still in business today, that brings attention to the worldwide issues that many groups face, while still connecting to their roots of educating the public on cultures and groups.”

He smiled. “It is with my upmost honor that I congratulate and introduce Miss Flora Janaliyeva, one of our newest and greatest writers that has joined Inside Alliance, and the winner of tonight’s Inside Alliance Award.”

(Y/N) turned to the side and grinned at Flora as she ascended the stairs. Her long black hair was braided down the length of her back and she wore a bright and floral-patterned gown. She reached (Y/N) and he reached with his right, shaking her hand, and handed her the glass award with the other.

“Miss Janaliyeva, it is with honor and congratulations that I give you this award for your excellent talent and recognition of ability from Inside Alliance.”

She smiled brightly and accepted the award. “Thank you, Mister Wayne, the honor is mine.” He nodded politely once more and descended the stairs as she began her speech, quietly taking his place back at the table.

“Well done, Mister Wayne,” Lucius smiled and (Y/N) let out a deep breath.

“I’m just surprised I was able to do that without stuttering or panicking.” He glanced over, smile lowering slightly. “Lucius, are you alright?”

The older man dabbed at his forehead and nodded, though when he breathed, it sounded labored. “I’m fine,” he assured, then reached up to rub at his chest.

(Y/N) shifted. “I don’t think you’re alright Lucius.” He leaned over. “Are you having chest pain?”

“I—yes,” he grit out then met (Y/N)’s gaze. “My chest is getting—tight and I…and I—”

He started to slump over and (Y/N) shot to his feet, eyes widening with fear. “Lucius!” The yell startled the crowd and Flora, who all looked over at the two.

(Y/N) pulled the older man back and pressed his ear to his chest, listening. He pulled away and yelled, “Someone call an ambulance! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

He helped Lucius to the floor and immediately pressed his palms to the man’s chest, starting compressions. His breath came in panicked spurts and he kept looking at Lucius’ face.

“Just hand on Lucius. You’re going to be okay.” (Y/N) kept at it until the EMT’s arrived and they knelt beside them.

“Let us take over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, too afraid that if he did, Lucius would die, but one of the EMT’s placed a hand on his shoulder while the other slide their hands underneath (Y/N)’s.

“Son, we’ll take it from here.”

(Y/N)’s arms went slack, and he let the medic pull him away, watching as they took over and started moving him onto the stretcher.

“Please, save him. He’s—he’s friends with my family I—”

The medic nodded firmly. “We’ll do all we can.”

And all (Y/N) remembered was someone ushering him into a taxi heading for the hospital.

***

The first people that arrived were Lucius’ family who were grateful for (Y/N)’s actions, but the young man could barely grimace as they disappeared into the hospital room, leaving him sitting outside, his head in his hands. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought back to what the ER doctor told him.

***

“Mister Fox is in a stable condition, but you have to understand, Mister Wayne, his heart is very weak.”

“But—but he’ll be okay right?”

“Based on Mister Fox’s past conditions, he’s verging into heart failure. His heart is too weak to keep up with what the body needs.”

“And…and what does his body need at this point?”

“At this point? A new heart.”

***

He sucked in a breath and fought to keep the sob from escaping his throat, just as heard, “(Y/N)!”

His head shot up and he saw his father and older brothers coming down the hallway. (Y/N) clambered to his feet.

“Dad I—” he started, but cut off as he choked on a sob, and Bruce pulled him into a hug, holding (Y/N) as he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I tried my best but—”

“Shh,” Bruce hushed, a firm, but gentle hand coming to rest at the back of his son’s neck. “You did all that you could.”

He pulled back and wiped his face. “But Lucius needs a new heart, and I don’t know what to do. I should’ve seen this coming. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few weeks and I—”

“(Y/N),” his father said firmly, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He met Bruce’s eyes. “This wasn’t your fault.”

His libs wobbled and he whispered, “But if I were like you guys, I would’ve seen something earlier. I didn’t and now…” sighing, he added, “and now Lucius needs a new heart, or he’ll die.”

Bruce’s sigh was heavier than (Y/N)’s and it made his chest heavy. “We’ll get Lucius a new heart, (Y/N).”

He lowered his head and lamented, “I’m sorry, dad.”

His father squeezed his shoulder then lead him towards Dick and Jason. “Take (Y/N) back home for the night. I’ll stay here with Lucius’ family.”

They nodded and led their brother down the hall, arms firm across his shoulders in a comforting way. They didn’t say anything, knowing that there wasn’t much to offer, but their support was enough for (Y/N), even if he felt horrible.

***

For being the World’s Greatest Detective, his son was evidently the World Best Hider, because it took Bruce a long time to finally find (Y/N). He stepped quietly over to the form sitting on the ledge and took a seat beside him, silently gazing out at the backyard. A bottle appeared in his vision and he focused on it as the smell of whiskey reached his nose.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked but took the bottle anyway.

“Jason gave it to me earlier.” He watched Bruce take a sip. “Figured it fit the occasion.”

Bruce chuckled. “That sounds like Jason’s way of dealing with a problem.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth, simply enjoying the calm around the manor and night.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Bruce suddenly said.

(Y/N) sighed and set the bottle down, kicking his legs out off the roof. “Lucius said he hadn’t been feeling well recently. And I just passed it up to getting older.” He looked at his father. “If I’d actually paid attention, then I would’ve seen the symptoms.”

“Do you actually know what the symptoms of heart failure and heart attack are?”

“I…no, not really.”

“Then you couldn’t’ve known.” He looked at (Y/N). “Lucius works in my office every day. If anyone should’ve known and seen it, it should’ve been me.” Bruce shook his head. “But you did everything you could at the awards ceremony, and that saved Lucius’ life tonight. You did good.”

“I could’ve done better.” (Y/N) muttered. “I should’ve. I’m your son and I’m practically useless to the family but—”

“Woah, woah,” Bruce interrupted, brows furrowing as he asked, “What are you talking about?”

(Y/N) turned to him. “I am the least useful person in this family. I mean you and the guys are these crazy intelligent, vigilante master detectives and I’m just me.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his eye. “I can’t speak seven different languages or solve murder cases with a single strand of DNA left at the scene of a crime. Hell, I can’t even throw a punch.” He sighed heavily. “The last time I tried, I broke my hand.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, he said, “I just want to be like you guys.” He lowered his head. “I just want to be normal and not an outlier in the family.”

Bruce simply stared at him for a long moment, and while he’d never been privy to let his emotions show on his face, he let them this time—shock and shame. Shame that he didn’t see his greatest achievement suffering.

“(Y/N).”

He didn’t look up at first, but then he did. “Yes sir?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Forever?”

His father sighed. “Son, I…I never wanted you to be like us.”

He gaped at Bruce. “What?”

“(Y/N), every person in this family is driven to do what we do because of our childhoods. You’re the only one who doesn’thave any skeletons in his closet.” He stared at him. “We wish every day that we could be like you and not a day goes by that we don’t think that.”

“I…what?” he floundered, absolutely bewildered at the idea that his father and brothers wanted to be the most boring person ever. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No.” (Y/N) huffed. “I’m me. I’m plain and boring, work a nine to five job me. I mean I write for a magazine for god sakes! And you guys save the world!”

Bruce chuckled. “And what we wouldn’t give to be just a bit more normal like you, son.” He shrugged. “You think you’re inferior because you’re not a vigilante, but you’re the one thing that keeps us all sane. You give us the perspective of someone who isn’t what we are. Of someone who’s completely normal.”

He reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And being normal? Being you?” Bruce squeezed firmly. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

(Y/N) gazed at him, and though he felt tears in his eyes, he didn’t blink, didn’t let them fall. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.”

Bruce smiled heartfully. “You do, (Y/N). Everyday. Because you’ve always been the best of us.”

[bookofitiswhatitis]

Perfectly Imperfect

Summary: It was supposed to be a nice night-in

Genre: Angst, fluff in the end

Warning: Talking about wheelchair-bound, traffic incident, injury

All Y/N can do is stare blankly while he listened to the lady and processed what has just happened. When the lady hung up the phone, Y/N grabbed the nearest clothes he can find: a red shirt and green basketball shorts. Then he rushed to the hospital, tears are gathering in his eyes. No, there is no way that Peter got into a car crash.

When he arrives, Y/N practically sprints to the front desk to ask where Peter is. When he comes to Peter’s room, he sees his dearest Peter just laying on the bed through the glass, with cuts all over his face and a cast on his left leg and right arm. Seeing him like this breaks his heart, but a few moments before all hell breaks loose, a doctor comes to him.

“Who are you to, Mr. Parker?” asks the doctor.

“I’m his boyfriend.”

The doctor slightly raised one of his eyebrows, “Right, so 3 hours ago, Mr. Parker at 6.23 pm got into a car crash, fortunately now his condition is stable. But his sacrum is damaged, and we can’t have the treatment until his broken leg heals completely, which will take 4 to 6 months because of the severity. Then the treatment for his sacrum so he can walk normally again takes about a year with a series of sessions and such, and until then, he has to stay in a wheelchair. If you need further information, please don’t hesitate to contact me”, said the doctor as he handed Y/N a name card then walked away. As soon as the doctor is out of sight, Y/N sinks to the floor and cries.

As Peter slowly gains consciousness, he sees a sleeping Y/N sitting with his head on the bed and surrounded by books. Peter paints a smile on his face. He felt happy to know that his boyfriend cared enough to stay with him at the hospital.

Peter tried to sit straight, which he soon regrets because of the sharp pain in his lower back that led to him whimpering so loud that it caused Y/N to wake up. “Nope, no sitting up, just lay on the bed,” he said as he softly pushed Peter back to the bed. Peter can’t do anything, so he listens to Y/N and puts his back on the bed. “I’ll call the doctor.”

A few minutes after that, the doctor came in, “The doctor will do some examination, and while he does that, I’ll go home and come back in a few hours, and if you need anything, just call,” Y/N takes off, leaving Peter with the doctor.

After a few hours, Y/N entered the room, “Peter, I brought some cream soup and pizza,” when Y/N saw the look on Peter’s face, he asked, “Hey, you alright.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, here, eat the soup before it gets cold.”

And they ate with silence until Peter spoke, “Y/N, I have to tell you something. I want to break up with you.”

“Why?” asked Y/N in confusion.

“Well, the doctor said that it will take roughly two years for me to walk normally again, and we’ve only been dating for seven months, and I don’t want you to suffer because of me. And that’s why I want to break up with you, so you can find someone else that is perfect.”

It takes a few seconds for Y/N to process what Peter said and answer it with a chuckle.

“Peter, you are the most selfless man I know, you are the one who got hit by a car, and you still put me first,” and without warning, Y/N kisses Peter. It was a deep kiss. As Y/N held Peter’s head in his hands, he said, “There is a reason why I stayed here those several days when you were unconscious. There is a reason why I keep coming back here despite it being uncomfortable. It is because you are perfect to me, so don’t say such nasty things like that no matter what. We are going to go through this together” Y/N started to tear up and kissed Peter one last time. As they finish their meal, all Peter thinks of is what did he do to deserve Y/N.

[maybe-theres-hope]

Those Four Words

So yeah I JUST finished Desperate Measures and I literally had to get this out before I could sleep. 

5.03 Coda | 1.6k | Summary: How I would love to see them get their shit together. Title from the episode, referring to Eddie saying “We need to talk” because YES YOU FUCKING DO. *puts on clown nose*

Buck finds Eddie sulking on the bench in the locker room. Because this was becoming a pretty common occurrence as of late, he takes it on himself to do the best friend thing he always does, and walks in to sit beside him. 

The fact that Eddie doesn’t automatically look up at him with annoyance--like he has most of the time Buck has done this in the past few weeks, when they both know what the conversation is going to sound like--is unsettling but not off-putting.

“Hey,” is his opener. Quiet and courteous of Eddie’s obvious pain. Buck’s good at this best friend thing. Had a lot of practice lately.

He gets nothing in reply for long, long moments. He waits it out. Eddie’s a closed-off guy at the best of times, but when he’s hurting, it’s like a steel wall is up between him and the world. Buck’s taken a sledgehammer to that wall a few times and it hasn’t ended pretty. Lately he’s been just simply knocking at it, hoping the man on the other side can hear that he’s not alone. That’s all he can do. 

Then, “I broke up with Ana. Like. Officially.”

Buck is quiet for a moment. “Was there an...unofficial breakup before that?”

“I don’t know. Probably when I panicked twice in front of her at the mere mention of us as a family. Think that set off a few warning bells in her.”

Buck very carefully remains silent. 

“Well, actually. I don’t know if it did because...she was pretty devastated when I told her it wasn’t going to work. Like she didn’t see it coming after all.”

“What did you tell her? At the official breakup, I mean.” Buck doesn’t move, doesn’t speak above a low tone that barely breaches the two-foot divide between them. 

“Not the truth, that’s for damn sure. But. Something maybe close to it.” Eddie still hasn’t looked at him. His hand is half-over his eyes, fingers pressing at his temples like he’s trying to stave off a migraine. Buck’s presence is sometimes migraine inducing, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s ever done it to Eddie.

...Maybe?

Nah. 

Hopefully not.

“What’s...something like the truth?” he asks.

“Basically that I thought I could grow to love her eventually. I tried hard to do that, but...it’s never going to happen. I know it’s not.”

Buck remains silent, waiting.

“She...she’s not stupid. She figured out that what was sending me into...whatever was happening to me--”

Buck very pointedly does not point out that what was happening were full blown panic attacks, Eddie--

“--was triggered by the thought of a future with her. It’s not even that she’s a bad prospect. She’s perfect, actually. In every way except that she’s not... Nevermind.”

“So, she was good with Christopher, right? I mean, you said she was--” Buck’s concern is hard to hide. If she did anything to hurt Christopher or make him feel...any type of way, Buck will be livid. But he doesn't think that’s the case. He even likes Ana. She’s nice, friendly, caring. She’s just...

“She’s just not for me.”

Buck can clearly see this is distressing Eddie to the nth degree, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s never had to save a relationship before. And is that what he should be doing? Sure, he’s great at this best friend thing and he wants his friend to be happy--more than anything in the world--but he’s at a loss as to what the actual problem is here.

“But Eddie, you said yourself she’d make a great mother for Chr--”

“He doesn’t need another mother! He had one, and she’s gone. He doesn’t need another.” The raised voice makes Buck pause for a moment. It’s the loudest either of them have spoken the entire time, and he’s sure it has a lot to do with the Shannon of it all, but...it doesn’t seem like that’s the whole thing. 

“I don’t know why I tried to force it. I knew it wasn’t going to work from day one. But she’s just...she was the best alternative.”

“Alternative to what? Eddie, what--”

“I’m in love with someone else! Okay? And I know I should have told her that, but I couldn’t. I can’t even...” he cuts himself off with a huff, but for the first time, he looks up to meet Buck’s gaze. His eyes are shining, but he’s not sad. He’s frustrated. Buck’s learned to tell the difference over the years. 

Best friend and all.

He weighs his options, because this is brand new information to him, which is saying something, and he’s not quite sure where to go from here.

Sure, he absolutely knows where he wants this to go, but. He’s also learned over the years that that’s just...not in the cards. Not for Buck, anyway.

Finally, he opens his mouth again. “I...didn’t know you were seeing anyone else besides Ana. Thought you two were, like, a serious thing.” Understatement of the year. How on earth was Eddie seeing someone that Buck didn’t know about? They practically lived out of each other’s pockets half the time. 

Eddie huffs out a small, horrible laugh. “I’m not. Seeing anyone. In that sense, anyway. Though we do see a lot of each other. A disgusting amount, if I’m being honest.” The laugh he lets out here is not horrible. It’s almost...fond. 

“O...kay.” Somewhere inside, Buck’s heart falters. “So, what’s the problem? Do they...not feel the same way?”

Another huff of a laugh. “Dunno. I never asked.” Eddie’s back to rubbing his temples again, almost hiding his face on purpose. 

“Alright, well, that should probably be step one.” Buck can’t keep the hint of scolding out of his tone, but he can see that it makes Eddie smile. “I can help you, if you want?”

This makes Eddie smile even wider, but it turns sad in an instant. “I know you would. But you can’t.”

Buck takes a moment--or several--to consider himself. To weigh all his options and arrive at a logical and sensible conclusion.

Who is he kidding? Buck opens his mouth on impulse, praying to every deity he’s ever heard of that he’s not wrong and he’s not about to ruin everything.

“I can try.” Another small laugh from Eddie in response, a hopeless, resigned one. “Eddie.” When he gets no reaction, he tries again. He really needs eye contact for this, no matter how much he knows Eddie hates it during emotional conversations. “Eddie.”

Slowly, Eddie’s eyes meet his. Buck goes for broke. 

“Step one. Ask.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment, no discernible change in his features. Buck’s eyes plead with him. And then, it’s like Buck can watch the switch flip behind his eyes. When he catches up to what’s being said here. 

Buck holds his breath for what feels like ages and feels his skin grow cold with shame because he was wrong, he was wrong, he was so so wrong--

“Are--” Eddie begins, strained. Buck’s heart stops. “Are we--” Buck’s sure his heart can’t actually stop twice, but it definitely does at this addition. 

His eyes are glued to Eddie’s, though. Like magnets. Pulling in the only direction they can ever go. The way the universe wills them. 

Eddie seems to come back to himself for a moment, flicking his eyes to the glass. Buck’s eyes tear themselves away to look at what’s caught his attention. The entire B shift and some of the A are still milling around outside. 

“Are we really going to do this here?” is the question Eddie actually poses to him. But, when Buck’s eyes snap back to their target, he sees something that kickstarts his heart again, and he lets out the breath he’d been deliberately holding for the last 45 seconds, give or take. Eddie’s tiny, timid smile seals the deal. 

“We could go to my place?” Buck offers. Tries desperately not to think about what could happen. What he wants to happen. 

“I need to get home to Christopher.” Eddie’s standing, grabbing his duffel. Buck’s nodding, because yeah, that’s true. He scrubs his mind of the...thoughts that were just playing through it.

“And so do you,” is what’s tacked onto the end, just thrown out there, like it’s the most normal, logical thing in the world. Eddie’s face is still a little timid when Buck looks up, but his own face must give away his heart because Eddie’s smile after that is radiant. He hands Buck his own bag, also giving him a hand up off the bench.

Yeah, his legs are a little wobbly. Good best friend actions, Eddie. Thanks. 

Though. Buck doesn’t know if that term still applies. Are they friends? Are they more now? But they haven’t talked about anything so, like, they’re not anything yet, right? But Eddie said he was in love with--

His thoughts halt when Eddie lands a small kiss to his lips, there and gone again in a nanosecond and wow, that had no right to be as earth-shattering as it was, it was just a peck, for Christ’s sake, and--

“Buck. Get your shit and lets go, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” Smooth. 

But Eddie’s smiling. For real this time. Buck will take that.

lbr, the show wouldn’t acknowledge Taylor during this conversation. It’d be wrapped up the next episode and she would storm out and never be heard from again. Definitely NOT how I’d want that to go, but. We all know it would. *honks clown nose*

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[spencer-reids-adventures]

Hello, I don’t have a prompt or nothing cuz I’m not that mentally creative, but !!!! can i pls get autistic Reid with Morgan angst and like a frens to luvers fic blurb thingy? god im terrible at this I’m sorry 🙈

(you are certainly not terrible at this and i love this prompt!!)

Also this ended up longer than I expected so it's posted on AO3 also!

-

Spencer Reid is excellent at reading victims, witnesses, suspects, and unsubs - it's what he does for a living, after all - which makes it all the more frustrating that he can't read Derek Morgan. At least, not what he wants to read about Derek Morgan, which is whether he shares the same feelings as Spencer. The fluttery-tummy, the smiling every time he hears his voice, the pining.

At first he hopes the feelings will go away - that it's just a silly crush, and he'll move on. But after three years working together, the feelings are stronger than ever, and that's when he decides he needs to do something about it.

So when the team is going to a club one night after work to let off some steam, and Derek asks Spencer specifically if he'll come this time - even though Spencer never comes out with them - this time he gives in and says yes.

He changes at home beforehand, hoping if he makes himself look "normal" then maybe acting "normal" will come easier to him. He puts on his one pair of jeans and a soft fitted purple t-shirt he bought to wear on a date once, and he switches his contacts for his glasses, because his eyes are tired. In the interest of "normalcy," he leaves his satchel at home, carrying only his phone and wallet in his pockets.

"Pretty boy!" Derek calls when Spencer walks in the door. "You made it!"

Spencer tries to focus on Derek's voice, his smile, his apparent happiness at seeing Spencer, and ignore the loud music, flashing lights, and crowds of people that have him immediately on edge. He waves to the rest of the team, who are all dancing, and walks over to stand next to Derek at the bar.

"What are you drinking?" Derek asks, and Spencer tries to weigh whether alcohol will make this better or worse. He decides he'd rather be in control as much as possible.

"Shirley Temple," he says, and when Derek laughs, it's friendly, not mean.

They take their drinks to a table, and Spencer realizes he should have brought his bag, if only to have the strap to fidget with, or one of the soft pieces of flannel he keeps inside to rub against his skin. Instead, he taps his feet and pretends he can hear what Derek is saying over the noise, and when he invites Spencer to come dance, Spencer says he'll catch up in just a moment. The minute Derek is gone, Spencer bolts.

He heads to the bathroom first, locking himself in a stall and covering his ears, trying to block out the thumping bass that feels like it's pressing in on him from all sides. He has a headache from all the perfumes and colognes and drinks and sweat and he lifts up the bottom of his shirt and holds it over his nose, trying to breathe through it like a filter. The flashing lights are gone, but one of the bulbs in the bathroom is flickering, and every part of this is too much.

Spencer finally decides that if this is what it's going to take to get Derek's attention, he might as well give up on ever being with him, because he absolutely, positively cannot do this. He doesn't even realize how hard he's punching his arm until it turns dark red, like it's about to bruise, and it's the last straw because even the bad stims aren't helping, and he can feel himself starting to fracture, lose the single thread he still seems to be hanging by.

He sneaks out the back door of the club and runs all the way home, keeping his focus on the way his leg muscles feel, and the slap of his Converse on the sidewalk, and the wind in his hair, and it's not until he's back in his apartment, huddled in his closet, screaming into one pillow and punching a pile of others, that he even thinks to check his phone.

From: Morgan Hey Pretty Boy, where'd you take off to?

From: Morgan Kid, seriously, where are you?

From: Morgan No one else has seen you and I checked the bathroom. Tell me you're okay

From: Morgan Spencer, you're really freaking me out

Missed call from: Morgan (11)

"Fuck!" Spencer screams into the pillow, and it's the last straw.

He throws his phone across the room and starts to rock forward and backward, hard enough that his head slams against the wall, flapping his hands as hard as he can, losing himself in shame and frustration and rage and humiliation.

He doesn't hear the knock at the front door, and the doesn't hear the door open, and he doesn't hear anybody enter the room, and when his hand hits something warm and solid he just punches it, and when he rocks back and his head hits a pillow instead of the wall, he starts to scream, and then to cry, and when he finally tires himself out, he collapses on the wood floor and falls asleep, and still doesn't realize there's someone else there, someone who carefully picks him up and lays him on his bed, removing his shoes and laying a blanket over him.

Spencer doesn't sleep for long, and when he wakes, Derek is sitting in the armchair in the corner, reading one of his books.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Spencer asks, trying to piece together the last several hours and finding no memory of inviting Derek over.

"You scared me, kid," Derek says, putting the book down. "You disappeared without saying anything, you didn't answer your texts or my calls. I thought something had happened to you! I was about to call the police before I figured I should check your apartment first. By the way, don't leave your front door unlocked."

"I don't usually," Spencer mumbles.

"What happened?"

"I just had to get out of there," he tries to explain. "It was-- everything was too much, and I thought I could be normal for one night but I was wrong, and I'm sorry I ruined your night--"

"You didn't ruin my night," Derek says. "Is that why you never want to come out to the clubs with us? Because it's... too much?"

"I get sensory overload," Spencer says quietly. "And I left my bag at home."

"Your bag?"

"I carry things that help. So I don't flip out like this all the time, especially on cases."

Morgan nods and moves from the armchair to the foot of the bed, where Spencer is now sitting up, still wrapped in the blanket.

"And when you got home?" Derek asks carefully. "When I got here, you were, uh..."

"I can't-- I can't talk about this right now, Derek," Spencer says desperately. "Can you just, I don't know, Google autism when you get home?"

"Yeah, of course I can," Derek says, raising an eyebrow. "If I'd known, I would have done that a long time ago."

"You didn't know? Really?"

"No, I just... I don't know. Thought you were--"

"Weird?"

"Quirky," Derek says. "But now that I know, I'll learn about it. And you can always share things, if you feel like it. If you think they would be helpful for me to know."

"Why do you care so much?" Spencer blurts out. "You don't have, like, an obligation to take care of me, just because you know now. You can pretend this never happened."

"I care about you," Derek says, moving closer to sit next to Spencer on the bed. "I care about you a lot, Spencer."

"Y-you do?"

"More than I should, maybe," he says with a small laugh. "I've cared about you since the minute I first saw you."

"Care about me like... the way friends care about each other?" Spencer whispers, and when Derek shakes his head no, Spencer reaches for his hand.

"If I'd known clubs were so painful for you, I would have invited you somewhere else. I just wanted to spend time with you. I always want to spend time with you."

"Derek," Spencer says, squeezing his hand, and before he can lose his nerve, Spencer leans in and kisses him softly on the mouth.

He pulls back and blinks a few times, waiting for Derek to tell him he's got the wrong idea, that he should leave, that this was all a misunderstanding. Instead, Derek leans in and kisses him back, deeper.

"I thought I'd never get to do that," Spencer murmurs.

"Me too," Derek replies.

"Can we-- do you want to go on, like, a coffee date with me?" Spencer asks. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"I'd like that very much. That, uh, doesn't mean we have to stop kissing now, though, does it?"

"Absolutely not." Spencer smiles, pulling Derek closer and deciding that maybe "normal" is overrated.

[forcebewitht]

Maybe The True Poor Unfortunate Soul...Was Me Before I Had You (Aftermath Overblot!Azul Ashengrotto X Reader) 

It all happened too fast. One moment, Azul was going on a rampage and stealing the prized possessions of other students with his Unique Magic, and the next, he was Overblotting- and then kissing you? It was all rather sudden, to say the least. Azul's tentacles remained rather possessively wrapped around your waist after his lips had floated off yours. His eyes were wide and wild, a mad grin now tugging at his lips as he gazed at your expression. Some grunts from your previously unconscious friends were soon heard as they began to stir awake once more. Your friends were now rising back to their feet and glaring at Azul, preparing their magic pens for another assault. Azul soon locked eyes with Jade and Floyd after briefly tearing his piercing gaze from yours. He began to reach out with a hand to his childhood friends, his grin only extending further. "Let's make a deal, my friends...come on….make a deal with me…" Floyd was the first to speak up, now taking a step closer to Azul. "Ummmmm, normally, I'd be tttoootttaaaallllyyyy okay with a deal. But right now? Not a chance!" Jade gave an affirmative nod, now stepping up beside his twin. "I agree!" Leona glanced over to a nearby barnacle attached to a rock. The gazes of the lion prince and Ruggie met, the pair now beginning to gather them into a pile. The Savanaclaw duo began to smirk, Leona sharply whistling to gain Azul's attention. "Oy, calamari. Put the dumb Herbivore down, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Leona and Ruggie began to pelt Azul with the barnacles. You had to shield your head with a hand, one of Azul's tentacles assisting. However, one soon made bare contact with the male's forehead. He grunts out in pain and utter shock, now allowing his tentacles to unfurl from your form. 

You soon drifted back down to the ground, now making your way over to your group. Ruggie and Leona shared a chuckle and a high-five. "Shishishishi~.....that'll show him!" With Azul distracted from the barnacles and your retreat, Floyd and Jade move in with their own attacks in an attempt to calm Azul down. Azul's tentacles lashed out in an attempt to subdue the gang again, to no avail this time. Given how effective it seemed to be, Ruggie and Leona went right back to chucking barnacles at Azul once more and mocking him all the while. You couldn't help but to shake your head a bit at the antics. It didn't take too long for Azul to be overwhelmed. Now, the male allowed a hand to trail to his chest, gripping it tightly. He heaved out a breath, his eyes looking deeply pained. Already, you could see those odd sparkles emanating from the very heart of the octopus as you had with Riddle and Leona prior. "Whyyy….why….why does everyone bully me…? Because I'm just a stupid….clumsy octopus? I….just wanted to be strong and show them all that they're wrong…I-i...I just..." Your eyes widened as you glanced behind you. Leona was the only one who fully met your gaze. An encouraging nod from the prince was all you needed. You swam over to Azul, now slightly bending your knees to get to Azul's now rather shrunken level upon the ocean floor. Azul had tears streaming down his cheeks, a few light sniffs being heard. You extend your hand to the male, casting a shadow over Azul. The octopus allowed his head to tilt up, a light from up above lighting up your features. You looked beautiful…like a stunning little mermaid-like angel…Although it took Azul a moment, he soon wiped away a tear with a tentacle. His hand lightly shook as it reached out and soon interlocked with your own. You lower yourself down to the male's level, now bringing your arms around him in a hug. Azul's body shook as he gripped you tightly, the tears now flowing as his sobs increased. A bright light began to shine over the both of you, your friends having to shield their eyes from the massive glare. And just like with Leona and Riddle before, your vision soon began to turn as white as the light around you and Azul…

Your vision slowly began to return as you found yourself being surrounded by memories of a younger Azul. You could soon hear Azul's voice echoing around you as scenes from his past played out. "I was only ever meant to be inside an octopus pot." You turned your head to a memory directly in front of you. Some mer-children seemed to be teasing Azul and calling him names for being an 'ink barfer'....you also couldn't help but notice that Azul was the only non-mer-child in the room...your lips thinned into a line at the names. You couldn't stop your heart from clenching at one of the children mentioning Azul's 'creepy legs'. It clenched even further once you saw the baby version of Azul, rather tiny and a bit chubby, crying at the remarks. "Unlike other merfolk, I had legs covered in suction cups. I was an introverted child who could never speak his mind…no good at school or sports, I was left all alone." You turned your head to stare at Azul, who was now standing directly beside you and watching right along. His gaze was pained yet cold and relaxed as he went on. "...A dumb...clumsy octopus." Your head turned back to bear witness to even more accounts of Azul being bullied. Azul had placed his hands upon his hips at the mention of him being 'lame' for not being able to play tag as easily as the others. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, his tone taking on a slight growl. "...Ohh, really? Then why don't you just leave me be and go run around playing your pointless games!" Azul seemed to take a moment to inhale, then went on once more. "...I lack the tail to swim quickly. But, instead, I have 10 arms and legs that I can move at will. That means that I have five times the ability to write than those two armed fools. I can spit out the ink needed to write spells at any time." Azul's voice began to increase in volume as his rage flared. "Just you wait. Someday, I'll put you insolent mers in YOUR PLACE!" Your head soon whipped back to watch as you heard a familiar yet slightly higher pitched pair of voices. It was the Tweels. Just from seeing his friends appear, Azul seemed to relax a little more beside you. Floyd swam up to Azul first, Jade following. Their paired gazes were curious, and maybe even a little concerned. "Heeeyyyyy, little octo~ why are you holed up in there?" The child Azul seemed to curl up into a little ball even further, yet partially turned his head to the twins. "Go away….shut up and leave me alone…" Jade swam a bit closer, now glancing around in wonder at what Azul was surrounded with. "Wow...amazing! All those shells are covered in spells and curses. Magic to shapeshift, magic to steal someone's voice...Have you been using those 8 legs to write all these this whole time?" Though the child version of Azul's gaze seemed to soften lightly at Jade's words, he soon curled up protectively once more. "Don't touch them! You wanna get inked?! I'm gonna keep studying and become just as powerful as the Sea Witch! So don't get in my way! Just- go away!" Azul was allowing his tentacles to curl around his lower body in a self-hug, his eyes flared with a great passion as he turned back away from the Tweels. Floyd elbowed Jade, motioning to Azul. "Jaaaddeeeeee...that octopus kid is pretty funny!" Jade turned his head to Floyd and nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Floyd. He is very interesting." You felt your heart melt a little bit at the warm smiles Floyd and Jade had when staring at the back of Azul. 

"I kept studying like that until several years later…" The scene began to shift to Junior High. Floyd was the first to begin to speak in this memory. "I heard that a kid in another class got sssuuuupppeerrrrr skinny and even got a girlfriend!" Jade nodded at his twin's statement. "And in exchange, his beautiful tenor tone has gone completely silent. In another class, someone with frizzy, unruly hair suddenly became a silky blonde." Floyd nodded, now chatting away in his own bit of curious excitement. "In exchange, she lost her tail that swam so fassssttt~" The Junior High version of Azul glanced up every now and then, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. "Mmm...you don't say?" Floyd and Jade shared a look, Jade arching a brow at Azul. "And, Azul...isn't this all your doing? I can't imagine any of those airheaded fish being able to pull off such impressive spells, after all." Floyd nodded again, now leaning a bit towards Azul. "Yeeaaaahhhh, and you've been studying magic fooorreeeevvveeerrrrr!" Unable to hold back his own mischief any longer, Azul covered his mouth lightly as he erupted into snickers. "Hehehehehe...ahahahahahaha! Is that so? Aaahhhh, I can't believe I've been found out already. You two are correct, nonetheless. I finally perfected it! All I need is for someone to sign this magic contract...then I can take whatever ability I so desire from them...I call it- It's A Deal! With this, I can make them all kneel before me...everything you've ever taken pride in..its now mine!" The Azul in the memory erupted into cackles as the scene began to fade out, Jade and Floyd both smirking at each other and Azul's triumph. The Azul standing with you took a moment to adjust his glasses, his gaze lightly trailing over to meet yours. "...I haven't forgotten what happened for even a moment. Those who made fun of me. The faces of those who bullied me. I bid my time, closely observing them from a distance. Their weaknesses, their desires….I know it all! Press on their weak points and I can take their little fast tail. If I know what's bothering them, I can take their beautiful singing voice." Azul soon fully turned to face you, his eyes growing rather crazed once more. "With those golden contracts, I am unbeatable! I am no longer the dumb, clumsy octopus left all alone!" A sense of calming seemed to wash over Azul as his eyes flickered up and down your form in silence. "...Everything is under my control with this power. All those who ever made fun of me...will now kneel before me." A rather warm, sweet smile graced your lips. You calmly stepped towards Azul, whose eyes lightly widened at the sight of you growing nearer. You soon brought your arms around him once again, removing the fedora from his head to pat him soothingly. Azul allowed his eyes to flutter shut at the sensations, and both of your visions soon faded to black as you remained in each other's arms…

"Aaaazzzzzuuuuulllll, Shrimmmmmmmpppppyyyyyyy~" You soon heard Floyd's voice directly above you as Azul startled awake beside you. Your eyes flutter open as both you and Azul sit up, now sparing a glance down to your still interlocked hands. A swift blush seemed to overtake Azul's features at the gesture, already gently removing his hand from yours. Jade and Floyd both began to smile at Azul and tell him just how happy they were that he was okay. Your own friends, along with Ruggie and Leona, checked you over. Floyd began to tease Azul as to what he had said and done, to which Azul seemed rather worn out and confused. You and Jack soon began to tell Azul just how intelligent he was for his notes. After a few more remarks from the others, a geek out from Azul over his old elementary photo, and Grim devouring another odd black stone that had appeared after Azul's Overblot, you and your group soon went your separate ways. 

A few days later, you all met back up again to head back to the museum to see the sights and return the photo you had stolen for the deal. Floyd and Jade began to rattle on about dinglehoppers amongst other things. Azul took the photo in his hands, now turning the corner to return it. You soon follow, allowing your hands to tuck behind your back. The octopus soon stopped, turning his head to face you. "Ah….[Y/n]. First of all, may I formally apologize for my….rather odd outburst. And secondly, there is no need to doubt me….I will properly return it." Azul placed the photo back onto the wall. He placed a finger onto the section where he had used to be on it, now letting said finger slowly drag down the painting. "....I thought that if I could erase all of the photos from my past...my time spent being bullied as a 'dumb, clumsy octopus' would fade along with them. The Sea Witch never hid her dark past but faced it and worked to overwrite her reputation. I kept saying that I wanted to be like her, but...in the end, I couldn't even accept who I was and tried to act like it never happened." Soon, you smiled, tilting your head to the side at Azul. You gently took one of his hands in yours, now gazing into his eyes. "You have a strength greater than any magic. I honestly think you're pretty great without having to steal from others! We cannot change the past, Azul. We cannot change the harsh words that those children pelted you with in your youth. But...we learn to keep our heads and move on. And look at you! You do it in spades! You're intelligent, savvy, have a literal business that you're running within the school...you don't have to steal anything to be a great person. You just keep being who you are." Azul seemed taken aback by your sweet words. His eyes began to water, a swallow being seen that the male took in. A soft, relieved smile soon graced the lips of the octopus as he held your gaze. It was the most genuine you had seen him yet. "...There is no need for you to flatter me, dear. I...only wanted to get back at those who had made fun of me for so long." You tilted your head to the side as an eyebrow perked up. "Can no one say anything without you thinking it's some sort of trick? Hmmm. Anyways, I thought you were pretty cute in that form, anyways." Azul choked, his eyes widening. A blush had taken over his face again, to which he raised his hand and mockingly adjusted his glasses in the hopes of hiding it. "C-c-cute?" 

You couldn't help but giggle at Azul's reaction. Azul's lightly coughed into his arm. "Right. I….must admit, [Y/n]. You are certainly more sly than I took you for originally. Though I am not pleased with the result, that plan with Leona and Ruggie was a work of raw genius. I am almost a bit peeved that I did not come up with it myself." Your eyes roll as you meet Azul's gaze once more. "Yeah, and I didn't need to steal anyone's Unique Magic to do it. Just grab some pots and pans and start banging them while he's trying to sleep- and you're set." You and Azul began to laugh in unison at the image, Azul nodding his head. "Mmmm...mental note, swiftly close doors when you spot [Y/n] with a pot or some pans." You jokingly raise your free hand and begin to swish it in the water to illustrate your point. That got Azul cracking up all over again. "Mmm Mmm Mmm. Keep that up, [Y/n], and I may have to kiss you for such underhanded methods." "You already did." Azul chuckled and hummed, allowing a finger to tap at his chin. His free hand seized you by the waist, now pulling you towards him. His gaze was locked onto you below him with a devilish smirk now tugging at his lips. "Mind if I jog my memory for a moment, Angelfish~" Your lips met, Azul sweeping his opposite hand that held you over your hair to brush it out of the way. Some baby seahorses suddenly swam into the museum and swam in a circular motion around the two of you, sweeping both your hair and clothes up around you. Azul's lips soon floated off yours as he met your gaze once more. Right as he was about to speak, a wolf whistle was heard from behind the two of you. "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH SNNNAAAAAPPPPP, AHAHAHAHAHA! AZUL AND SHRIMMMPPPPYYYY SWWWIIIIMMMIIINNNGGG INNN THE SEEEAAAAA~" Azul's face erupted into a blush as he released a startled grunt at Floyd, who was now making hearts with his hands. Jade soon chuckled and swam up beside him to finish the line. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Heheheh~" Azul was quick to facepalm and now regrab his fedora, placing it upon his head to cover his blush. He released you and set you upright, clearing his throat. He muttered under his breath. "...They will never let me live that down." You giggled once more. Soon, you were called over by Ace and Grim, who were now all marveling at some sort of sea dragon. As you swam off, Azul puffed out a breath and watched you swim off, a warm smile gracing his lips. "...Maybe I was the true, poor unfortunate soul all along...before I met you." 

((Hey Hey Hey, everybody! The second part to the Overblot!Azul x Reader is now here! I hope you all enjoyed! Next up is the part two for Leona, so stay tuned and stay awesome~ 💖🌹

[enhypensimp1]

First Time nsfw

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

↝first time with sunghoon

↝warnings: mentions of pressure and mental abuse, indicated physical abuse, smut, explicit language

↝word count: 1.9k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You and Sunghoon had been best friends for three years having met on the rooftop of your school after finding out it was both of your favourite spots to have lunch. Ever since that morning in spring you guys had been inseparable, practically attached at the hip. You had definitely heard rumours of people speculating whether or not you guys were actually a couple, but you knew that the friendship you had with him was too special to jeopardise.

So, when you found yourself completely helpless and in need of someone to talk to you felt Sunghoon was your only option. It was 2am when you ran out of your now ex boyfriends house and drove to Sunghoons house not thinking straight after what had happened. Rain was pouring down hitting the windows of your car while you drove slightly over the speed limit, tears streaming down your face as the grip on your wheel tightened slowly breaking down in your seat.

You pulled up to his driveway, getting drenched on your way up the stairs until you reached his door, your hand lingering, debating whether or not you should knock or turn around and go back home not wanting to be a bother to Sunghoon. But you knew you were in no state to keep driving so you knocked. Something broke on the other side of the door and you could hear Sunghoons frantic footsteps on running around trying to get to the door. 

His eyes grew wide when he saw you soaking wet, your tears mixed in with the rain and his heart clenched at the sight of you. After a minute of staring, he came back to his senses and ushered you into his house running down the hall quickly to grab you some towels and putting the heater on. He wrapped it around your shoulders pulling you into his chest and you couldn’t help but sob making a wet circle pool on his shirt.

Worry was laced in his voice bombarding you with questions, “what the hell were you thinking its 2am you shouldn’t be driving alone this late! What happened? Who did this to you? Do you need something?”

You calmed down, his hand softly caressing your hair making you feel slightly at peace and he dragged you over to his room, handing you his hoodie and sweatpants to change in to since all of your clothes were soaked, telling you to sit down.

“Please just tell me what happened” his eyes softened at you.

“I was at y/bf/n house and he had been drinking a lot and you know how he gets when he drinks, so when I tried to get him a glass of water to calm him down, he pushed me against the wall… trying to remove my clothes. We’ve never done that before and he was being kind of aggressive, so I told him to stop. But then he got angry, started calling me names, which isn’t e big deal because he does that all the time. I had to push him away when he tightened his grip around me and that’s when he lost it and threw the glass at the wall, so I ran out and… now I’m here.” You were so done crying all you could do was stare at Sunghoons now flaming eyes.

“What the fuck y/n. And you decide to tell me this now?! Why have you stayed with him for so long? I swear to God ill kill him.” His jaw was clenched, and his hands were curled into tight fists. All you could do was stare at him. You didn’t have a good answer and he knew you didn’t which only made him angrier.

“Do you think its normal for him to call you names and treat you like shit? That guy is a complete ass and you just let him string you along! Why would you let him do that when you could have someone who cares about you so much it hurts? Someone who wouldn’t even let a fly hurt you. Someone who loves you!” He was shouting now.

You were getting frustrated, he thought it was so simple when really you stayed with that asshole was because you felt like he was your only option.

So, you challenged him, scoffing “oh yeah? Like who- “

“LIKE ME.” He cried out interrupting you.

You walked up to him and slowly put your hand on his cheek looking into his eyes and for a second you almost couldn’t believe how you hadn’t noticed it before. The way he looked at you with stars in his eyes, as if you were his life and entire future. You would be lying if you said you didn’t get butterflies every time he smiled at you and gave you a hug, but you knew you had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.

You closed the gap between the two of you attaching your lips to his feeling his hand snake around your neck as he moved his lips against yours deepening the kiss. It was gentle yet filled with so much love and it took your breath completely away. “I love you too” you whispered inches away from his lips and he moved in again in a slow and passionate kiss, his touch feather like against yours snaking his arm around your waist and using the other one to hold cheek and jaw. You gripped the hairs on the back of his neck pulling him impossibly closer using the small moan he let out to slip your tongue in pushing him against the wall.

Things were getting very heated and your hands moved to lift his shirt over his head admiring his toned body before leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. He took your face forcing you to look at him. “Baby we don’t have to do this now you’ve had a rough day.” But you knew the second you looked into his eyes earlier that he was the only one you would want to do this with.

“It’s okay I want to” you replied softly, sincerity laced in the way you looked at him. He picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed laying you down gently. You discarded of the hoodie he gave you throwing it to the corner of the room, and he began to pepper kisses on your jawline while his hand softly caressed your hips basking in the feeling of your skin. He couldn’t believe he finally had you all to himself. 

You lifted your hips so he could help you take off your pants, sliding the down your legs to reveal you in just your underwear. “You’re so pretty” he whispered, looking down at you and you couldn’t help but giggle. He bent down spreading your legs to trail kisses on the inside of your thighs loving the small noises that came out of your mouth from the contact. He ripped the panties off you startling you.

“Sunghoon those were new” you shrieked. “I’ll buy you all the underwear you want love” he flashed you a charming smile showing his adorable fanged teeth. He moved his finger between your folds, wetness dripping onto it. He wrapped his lips around your bud biting down on it lightly making your body jerk releasing a loud moan. He looked up at you for a moment grinning” tonight is all about you princess” before licking a long strip between your slit.

Your hands flew down tangling themselves in his hair shuddering underneath him from the pleasure loving the way his warm tongue was hitting your clit. He leaned up wiping the corner of his mouth, taking your hand in his and intertwining your finger together before pressing a tender kiss to your mouth the taste of you still prominent on his lips.

He finally got rid of his pants freeing his bulge from the tight constriction. All you could think was how he’s never looked better in your eyes. Hair messy from the way your hands were tangled in it, lips slightly swollen from sucking on your bud and sweat running down his chest from pure arousal and anticipation.

“Don’t look at me like that you’re going to drive me crazy”.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Sunghoon please for the love of God just fuck me” He chuckled at your response, pushing himself all the way in in one go, stilling completely to let you adjust to his size.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

Tears pricked your eyes at the sudden stretch and pain that shot up between your legs. He leaned down kissing your tears away, running a hand through your hair while he whispered the sweetest things in your ear. When you told him he could start moving he would start slowly, scared of causing you any more pain. His thrusts were slow but went so deep allowing you to feel every single inch of him inside you each time making you moan his name over and over again. You moved your hips to meet his thrusts, your eagerness riling him up even more as he spread your legs wider to get even better access and go deeper.

His dick was already twitching in your tightness unable to hold back the low groans that escape him. He buried his face in your neck nipping at the skin on your shoulder, reaching his hand to draw circles on your bud, making you instantly close your legs around his waist arching your back off the bed pressing your chest against his while he picked up the pace feeling your walls clench around him. Your sweaty bodies stuck to each other, but you were feeling such bliss you couldn’t have cared less, your mind only focusing on Sunghoons lips on your neck and him buried inside you.

Your nails dug into his forearm, clenching around him more frequently, a tight knot beginning to form in your abdomen as you felt your release nearing. He focused all of his energy on your pleasure, he pulled all the way out of you with every thrust, snapping his hips harder into you hitting a spot that made your legs shake around him feeling a wave of pleasure completely take over you and cloud your mind.

You flipped him over, still inside of you, trying to coax him to reach his own high knowing he was near by the way he pulsed violently in you. He thought you looked beautiful before, whining and writhing underneath him but this new view, watching clearly how your mouth hung open and how you bounced on him, he felt like he was literally in heaven. Without any warning he gripped your hips and came twitching slightly letting the orgasm wash over him.

You slowly climbed off him falling back on the bed exhaustion taking over you. After Sunghoon cleaned you both up giving you some of his fresh clothes he took you to the kitchen to make some ramen for a midnight snack realising you probably hadn’t eaten in a while. You sat on a stool watching his broad shoulders from behind before sneaking up on him, wrapping your arms around him. He blushed lightly, turning you around to give you a sweeping kiss smiling against your lips.

“Thank you Sunghoon this was perfect”.

“You’re perfect”.

And to him you really were perfect.

[forthekags]

Number Nine

Kageyama Tobio X FemReader

Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

About: You were introduced to the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball club during your second year. Yachi needed help after Kiyoko had taken her leave, so she asked you to join her. Although, it would have been smarter to look for a first year, but you were new and looked lonely. When you met the boys you were bit overwhelmed but they grew on you in no time. Kageyama was a little rough around the edges at first, he was awkward and couldn’t hold eye-contact. He was a blushing baboon for the first few days. He was sure to keep his distance but you only found it exciting and hilarious. Sure enough you two became friends from all your taunting and teasing. You’re about to enter your third year, and this was your make it or break it. You had to start thinking about your own future- and so did Kageyama.

A/N: Thank you for the support! And new follows! I’m glad I’m not the only Kageyama simp :) I also like creating shorts with random prompts, it gets the creative juices going. So if you have any requests or such, please let me know. And... uh hope you like this part. 

Cloudy Skies

Kageyama would never admit it but he kept thinking about that question. He answered truthfully but something bothered him about that. Not that it was honest but rather the answer itself. 

"Kags!" You screamed before the ball could hit him in the face, but he just snapped his head to you. The sound echoed in the gym and he fell backwards at impact. Everyone flinched and made a pained face but your eyes widened with worry. 

"I'm so sorry, Kageyama!" Tadashi bowed and apologized several times. He grew red in embarrassment and you would have teased him and called him cute if it wasn't for the growing red mark on Tobio’s cheek. You rushed over with Yachi along with Coach Ukai. 

"Come on kid, talk to me." Coach Ukai examined the bruise. It wasn't anything too serious but he knew it had to hurt like hell. Especially to a body who wasn't ready for impact. "Someone go get a bag of ice!" Yachi ran. 

"Don't say sorry to him, Yamaguchi, he was the one who wasn't paying attention." Tsuki pushed his glasses up even though they're his volleyball ones. A habit that hasn't died down. He was the only one who didn't step a little forward towards Kageyama. 

"Put a cap on your salt, Tsuki," you yelled. It surprised a few of the players with your sudden authority. Even Tsuki tsked quietly. 

There was little more venom in your words than usual, like a warning to back off. 

"Woah! Did you mean to catch that with your face?!" Hinata jumped to get a better look. "If it wasn't for Y/N, you'd have a bad nosebleed right now Kageyama!" 

"Can someone shut him up?" He groaned trying to get up to a sitting position. You shot a look at Shoyo that begged and ordered him to settle down, which he took quickly. Coach Ukai let out a sigh of relief when Tobio finally spoke up. You released a breath- one you didn’t know you were holding. 

Coach Ukai asked him a few questions to check how hard the ball hit him. He answered them as best as he could but you snickered when he couldn't answer any government related questions- although Ukai looked around to verify if it was wrong or right with other team players. He was okay. Okay as he could be. 

"Alright kid, take a break and we'll fill in for you. Get whatever is on your mind out, it's important that you find that focus again." Ukai helped him up and ushered him off the court. You grabbed onto his arm, in case he needed help with his balance, and led him to the sideline where you and Yachi stayed. Yachi came back with the ice pack and accidentally shoved it too hard onto Kags. 

"Ah!" He winced from the cold and the pressure on his bruise. 

"Sorryyy…. Here." She handed you the pack abruptly. "I'll go get a chair!" You watched as she ran and struggled to get a chair out. Hopefully someone will help her out. 

Kageyama leaned on the wall for support and winced again when he tried to touch his cheek. You swat his hand away-

"Hey!" He glared at you for a second but once he saw your worried look he glared at the floor. "You'd make a horrible nurse," he mumbled. 

However, he was taken by surprise when your fingertips made contact with his cheek. You grabbed his face and turned him to you so gently he wanted to flutter his eyes closed to rest a bit. It was then he knew that what he had said was a complete and total lie. 

You applied the ice to his cheek, careful with the pressure thanks to Yachi. You were close, almost as close as when you were dancing together. He could feel you- like a presence, it made sense cause you were right there. But it still felt weird to him. And for a second- but what felt longer- you were the only thing in his vision. Your soft smile of reassurance and your caring eyes and how they expressed more emotion than words. He even noticed some marks here and there that he could've sworn weren't there before… and yet he found them...he found them beautiful. Like they added to you being already perf-

"Does it hurt?" Your voice was low and gentle, completely different from when you used it at Tsukishima. You were worried he might be playing the pain down, so he can jump back into practice. You should've pulled him aside when he wasn't responding to Shoyo's usual banter. He was quiet, and clearly lost in thought but you assumed it had to do with volleyball. You expected him to be back to normal once he started playing. And once he was reacting slower and moving slower than usual, you realized he wasn't fully here. 

He realized you asked him a question after a moment. "No...no, the ice is working." 

You smiled in relief and let him take over the pack. You took a few short steps back and crossed your arms content with your minimal work. 

"See," you said confidently, "I might be a good nurse after all." 

Before he could agree, Yachi came rushing in with a chair. Kageyama took his seat without argument, a surprise to both you and Yachi. 

"Take all the time you need and then some, we'll be right over there if you need anything." 

"But don't let that go to your head, your majesty," you teased. He hates that nickname with a passion so there was always some sort of burst of energy. But all he could do was roll his eyes. It let you know that something was still bothering him, and that wiped away your grin. 

The rest of practice, Kags quietly stayed on the sidelines but watched the team with a sharp eye. It was weird of him to not want to continue playing, but you were also sort of glad he took time to rest. Maybe that ball did hit him a little too hard though… No- he said he was fine. Plus, if it was serious, Ukai would've rushed him to the nurse or something. There have been worse injuries in the team and Hinata has taken a few shots to Kageyama's head. So… he should be fine. 

During clean up time, Ukai told Kageyama he can head home early, instead he stayed and helped a bit then waited for you. After changing, he stood by the stairs and stared at something in the distance with his back towards you. For some reason you were nervous. Your foot wouldn't stop tapping or you would pull on your fingers and try to crack your knuckles. He was being annoyingly quiet, and that put you on edge, clearly. You thought Kageyama was a simpleton, he only thought about volleyball and food. But you liked that because you always knew what he was thinking. 

Until now. He's right there and he's quiet and he's not talking and he has almost no expression on his face and he's just not... here. Did someone say something to him? Was he upset? Or sad? 

You wondered all of this as you got closer to him, you thought he'd be too lost in whatever was bothering him to notice you but he glanced at you. 

"Ready?" He asked, tightening his strap. Once you gave him a small nod, you both started walking towards your house. 

"You sure you don't want me to walk you to your house? We don't have to study today if you need some time alone," you offered him. You didn't want him to feel obligated to go to your house. You told him during clean up he didn't have to, but he just ignored you by scowling Shoyo over some sloppy mopping. 

"Do you not want me to come over?" He looked at you from the corner of his eye waiting for your reaction. You just shrugged awkwardly and looked away from him. 

"It's not that, it's just you got hit and-"

"It's just a bruise, Y/N." 

You snapped your head back at him with a wild look. "Well yeah! You don't really get those!"

"Volleyball guarantees bruises, you know that." His voice didn't elevate like yours did, it was unbothered and didn't show any signs of caring. 

"What were you thinking about during practice?" 

He didn't respond. You thought he might be taking a minute to figure out his wording, like usual, but he was just straight up ignoring you. 

"Tobio!"

Nothing. He was giving you absolutely nothing. He just kept walking while you waved your hands like a crazy person. So you stopped walking. You would've let it go if he told you he didn't want to talk about or hell, even if he said it's none of your business. But not responding and obviously ignoring you!? 

He stopped and turned to you a few feet away. The sun was setting and the street lights behind you were turning on one by one. He noticed the thick clouds gliding towards you two, another rainy afternoon. 

"Y/N, come on let's go. I'm not getting stuck in the rain again." He looked tired, like the thought of arguing itself was draining him. You would've walked in silence, but you were a bit pissed off. Why? Why was his silence bothering you so much? Was he finally getting tired of you? Were you the one who said something? What did you say? If it bothered him so much, he should've said something! Or… was it the dance? Did you step out of line? But… 

"Tell me why you've been so quiet, Tobio." Your demand did little on his reaction. He sighed and placed his hand on his forehead, tired once again. When he just mentioned the rain again, you stomped your foot like a child. "Fine! Don't tell me and don't come over today!" You marched past him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

He felt a drop on his nose and heard the sound of the approaching rain. You were mad and it almost seemed like the rain followed your gloomy state. 

"You really don't want me to come over?" 

"No!" 

"Y/N, you're being ridiculous." That seemed to piss you off even more. So you quickly turned to scream almost a block away. 

"And you're being a shady idiot Kageyama! Since when do we keep secrets!" 

"Why are you so keen on knowing?!" 

"Because you're not being yourself! You're worrying the team and the coach and ME!" You pointed to yourself feeling a bit selfish without the guilt. 

“I’m fine, Y/N! Nothing is wrong!” 

“Then tell me! If it’s really nothing, tell me what’s been going on in that head of your Tobio!” You waited and watched as he physically restrained himself from saying anything. And you know it shouldn’t be such a serious topic or conversation, to be honest you thought this whole argument was childish. And yet, here you were acting like a child who wasn’t getting what they wanted. 

The silence hurt you for some reason. It was like he didn’t trust you, he didn’t rely on your comfort or need you to listen to him. He didn’t need you. 

“Fine. I’ll go home,” he said finally. You didn’t just feel a drop, you were immediately drenched in the rain. You watched him rush off through the rain while you felt something awful. 

An even more awful thought sparked when he was completely out of your sight. It was possible that he didn’t need you, but you knew for a fact that you needed him.

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author’s note: ok. hi. here we are again. i go on a 1948392 year hiatus and then become inspired to write something from the most RANDOM thing. but this was too good to pass up. so essentially i saw a headcannon by @incorrect-ft-ez-quotes and then @bbygirljuvi added onto it:) look at my most recent reblog for reference if u want hehehe. yeah ok maybe i did add some bs healing abilities to juvia’s powers... sue me! ok here we gooooo i hope u cuties enjoy!!!

*

“Popsicle,” Natsu sighed. “What the hell are you doin’ back here?” He held his door in one hand as he stared at a recently familiar face.

“What, a guy can’t stop by and visit his best friend?” Gray nervously chuckled.

Happy and Natsu weren’t buying it, exchanging suspicious looks as Gray impatiently stood at the door frame.

“Best friend?” Natsu rose an eyebrow.

“And for the 4th day in a row?” Happy jabbed, hovering beside Natsu’s head

“Would ya’ just let me in?” Gray spat out, clearly looking jittery.

“Fine.” Natsu groaned, stepping aside so Gray could step in.

“But we’re gonna’ start charging rent!” Happy exclaimed.

“Whatever, I don’t care, just as long as I can hang out here for a little while.” Gray hustled in, plopping himself onto Natsu’s worn down couch.

“Ok, you can stay here on one condition, tell me what it is you’re freaking out about. And gimme’ the real reason you’ve been comin’ here.” Natsu folded his arms.

“Aye!” Happy mimicked Natsu, crossing his little paws.

Gray let out a groan, bowing his head between his legs before whipping his head back up. “It’s Juvia, ok!?”

“Juvia?” Happy asked.

“But, you haven’t tried avoiding her in forever. You guys have been all buddy-buddy lately.” Natsu was trying to piece this all together in his head.

Gray blushed, averting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So what’s the deal?” Natsu was doing his best to get straight to the point, as nuance was not his strong suit.

“W-well... we... kind of... sort of...” Gray scratched at the back of his head, searching for the gall to say it. “We got drunk the other night at the guild, and then I went to walk her home since she was pretty wasted, and...one thing lead to another and... we almost kissed.”

Natsu was as confused as ever. “So?”

“So?!”

“Well, don’t ya’ like her?”

“W-well-!” Gray stammered, and gave out a defeated sigh, bowing his head again. “Yeah.” He mumbled to the point that Natsu or Happy could barely hear him.

“So then why don’t you wanna’ smooch her?” Happy was almost as dense as Natsu.

“Gah! You guys don’t get it!” Gray sprung up. “Forget it. I’m gonna’ find a new hiding spot. Preferably, one that asks less questions.”

Just as Gray made his way to Natsu’s front door, there was a sudden knock. Gray froze in his tracks as a chill went up his spine. He had a knack for this sort of thing, knowing when Juvia’s around, and that chill only ever meant one thing.

“Shit.”

Gray needed an escape route, but his head wasn’t on straight. He frantically scoured the little house, looking from wall to wall, but there was only one door, and Gray was just feet away from it.

“Natsu, whatever you do, don’t-“

“Be there in a sec’!” Natsu shouted at the door.

“You idiot!” Gray whisper yelled.

Natsu opened the door to none other than Juvia. She was known for her expressive nature. The look on her face could tell you anything you want to know, without her having to say a word.

“Hi, Natsu-san.” Juvia said both frantically and nervously. “Juvia was just wondering if Gray-sama was here.” She held her hands together promptly, hoping that he would be there.

“Actually Gray-“ Natsu was cut off at the sound of shattering glass. He instinctively spun around to a disastrous scene, displaying a broken window, shards of glass everywhere, and no Gray to be found. “Just left.” Natsu finished the thought differently than he originally intended.

Juvia heard the shattering too, and she had her answer. Her Gray-dar never failed her. Using her Gray-dar she quickly scurried to the back of the house, crossing her fingers that Gray hadn’t gotten away yet. The first thing she heard was a hiss of pain, and as she turned the corner, there sat her Gray in the ground, holding his bloody knee.

“Son of a bitch!” Gray yelled in pain, applying more pressure to his cut knee. Sure, he was used to getting beaten to a pulp in a fight, but he wasn’t exactly expecting a busted up knee right about now.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia’s eyes widened at the blood, and she hurried to his side.

Gray finally realized her presence. He stopped writhing in pain for a moment, and tried to appear as casual as usual. “Oh...” He forced a laugh. “Hey Juvia. what are you doin’ here?”

“Juvia should be asking you the same thing.” She knelt by Gray’s side. “But first, let Juvia help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let Juvia see it, Gray-sama.”

He sighed, giving in and releasing his hold. Juvia quickly took her hands and placed them on Gray’s knee. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly her hands became water, but it wasn’t normal water. It was soothing, and it was making the stinging in Gray’s knee go away.

“Juvia has been working on some healing techniques. It’s nothing like Wendy, but I can heal some minor, surface-level things.” She explained, using her water hands to massage the area.

“Now that Juvia has finally caught you, why have you been avoiding me?” She finally looked at Gray who blushed at the sudden eye contact.

“I haven’t.” Gray tried to sound as natural as possible.

All Juvia had to do was give him a look that practically screamed “oh, please.” before he cracked. “Ok, fine. I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Juvia knows!” She exclaimed.

“I just don’t want things to be awkward between us!” He explained.

“But you don’t think avoiding me for days would make it awkward?” Juvia finally finished his knee and reverted her hands back to normal.

Gray groaned. “You’re right.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his face.

“Is this about... the other night?” Juvia finally asked.

“Do ya’ really have to even ask?” Gray avoided eye contact.

“But Juvia thought the night went well! I had a lot of fun!”

“So did I! Until...” He cut himself off.

“Until we almost kissed?” Juvia finished it for him.

“Yeah.”

“I see.” Juvia paused. “Are Juvia’s lips chapped?”

“Huh?” He finally peaked up at her.

“Or did Juvia have something in her teeth maybe?” She was going into panic mode.

“No that’s not-“

Juvia cut him off with as gasp, and her hands slapped against her mouth. “Or does Juvia’s breath stink?! Is that it?!”

“Would you knock it off!” Gray finally stopped her. “It doesn’t have to do with any of that stuff.

“Oh.” Juvia sunk. “So Gray-sama just does not want to kiss Juvia then.”

“No!” He instantly cut off that thought, even though he was embarrassed by how eager he sounded. “Not that either.” He grumbled.

“Then..?”

“We were drunk. Yes, we were having fun and all, but, I dunno’.” Gray grumbled, looking for the right words. “We haven’t had our first kiss yet. So when we do, I want it to be... kinda’... special. I guess. In a way.” Gray finished with some filler words to try and take the heat away from his face, but it was no use.

“S-s-special?! Gray-sama wants our kiss to be special?!” Juvia lit up, almost freezing in time waiting for someone to pinch her, because she figured this had to be a dream. However, she still was a bit lost, so she put a pause on her momentary fantasy. “Wait, so then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to tell you all that. I was trying to buy some time until I could figure out what to say.” Gray released a deep exhale. “But I guess I’ve said it all now.”

“You sure have.” Juvia said giddily right before she launched herself at Gray, tightly clutching Gray’s shoulders in her arms as her cheek was pressed up firmly against his.

“Gah!” Gray shouted in surprise, trying to keep his balance as Juvia leeched onto him. They were still sitting, but she almost knocked him flat on his back.

“But you know what, Gray-sama?” Juvia broke her clutch, making sure she was looking right at Gray.

“What?” He looked down at her curiously.

“Juvia thinks every moment with Gray-sama is special. So to Juvia, any time is perfect for a first kiss.” She smiled so sweetly is made Gray’s heart just about burst.

“Yeah?” Gray felt the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Yep.” She nodded in assurance.

“If you say so.”

And without a second thought, Gray closed the gap between them, planting a sweet and soft kiss on Juvia’s lips. As they parted, they leaned in and pressed their foreheads against each other, both wearing matching grins.

“That looked pretty special from in here!” Happy interjected from inside the house, followed by Natsu’s laughter.

Gray and Juvia jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “Happy, shut it!” Gray turned his head, looking through what used to be a window, and seeing Natsu and Happy standing in their living room.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be able to hear you two slobbering on each other if there was a window here!” Natsu yelled, referring to the gaping hole in the middle of his wall.

“We were not slobbering, you moron!” Gray blushed furiously, finally standing up and facing Natsu.

“That’s what it looked like to me!” Natsu teased back, wearing a devious smile.

“Aye!” Happy seconded.

“Mind your business, flame-for-brains!”

“Next time you need to hide out for a week, you ain’t comin’ here!” Natsu shouted.

“Fine by me.” Gray scoffed.

He then looked back at Juvia as she appeared a little on edge, wondering if she was going to have to break up a fight between Gray and Natsu.

He grinned once again, at the girl he couldn’t wait to spend more special time with, making more memories, and growing even closer

He reached for Juvia’s hand and squeezed it. “I was gettin’ tired of running away anyway.”

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it.  To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth.  But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me.  What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them.  A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen.  What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining.  Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance.  You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me?  I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such  a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee.  Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.”  (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence.  The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way.  And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty.  To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

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