#you can probably infer just by looking at it why it took me so long

[rowlfthedog]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROWLF!!!!!

[lowtaperfeyd]

A Scintilla of Excitement (Chapter 1)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mentat!reader

author's note: This is the first chapter of the mentat series I am writing! I'm so excited for you to see what else I've come up with for this :D (It has now taken the spot for longest thing I've written.) Also go check out my beta-reader @zzleeper!!!!

warnings: house harkonnen, death, mentions of knives,

wc: 1529

You sat on the cold, metal seat of the ornithopter the Harkonnens sent to come and get you from the heighlinder. The scraping of metal startled you when they screeched unexpectedly.

 How tragic, you thought, my final moments will take place in a world with no normal sun. And no normal sons either. 

The entire two day trip on the heighliner was not so bad. You were allowed to wander the empty ship corridors and explore even up to the staff decks. The only part that was scary were the ‘servants’ aboard the ship. Their bald heads, that seemed to engulf any light that shined on them, made you feel uneasy. 

If this is how I feel when I see people like this, I wonder how I’ll feel when I see the baron. 

They always seemed to look at you as if you were an alien. Which I supposed you were. The color to your skin that made you look more alive than them. It probably scared them just as much as it scared you. 

As you continued to sit there in the cockpit, thinking about the heighliner, you fiddled with your fingers and did not sit fully still. 

“We have a nervous one I see!” Shouted a voice from the front of the cockpit where the pilot was. A voice that had a distinct inflection that just screamed Harkonnen, even if the owner of the voice was whispering, 

“Don’t worry the baron doesn’t play with his food.” The pilot laughed out, “But the Na-Baron, oh boy watch yourself around him!” 

As you sat there, mildly disturbed at what you just heard, the pilot went on and on about the things he had seen the Na-Baron do. Almost like he was proud of him,

“There was this one time Na-Baron took a butter knife off the table and stabbed one of his uncle’s advisors because he didn’t agree with what he was saying!” He exclaimed, “One of my friends was there, he barely survived with just one eye left. Told me all about the story.” 

“That's,” you swallowed so as to not hurl at what you heard, “really something…” 

FACT: HARKONNENS AND THE PEOPLE OF THE PLANET, IN GENERAL, ARE USED TO THIS VIOLENCE AND ENJOY IT. 

INFERENCE: DON'T ACT LIKE YOU HATE THOSE THINGS, BE VERY NEUTRAL ON IT.

HYPOTHESIS: IF YOU CAN ACT LIKE YOU FEEL INDIFFERENT ABOUT THESE THINGS MAYBE THEY'LL PUT IN A GOOD RECOMMENDATION TO KAITAIN. 

“It’s incredible, ” The pilot responded, “But the real question is, why does the baron need another Mentat?”

“Another good question is where’s the store that doesn’t sell chatty pilots?”(Y/N) retorted, feeling a little sick and tired from the traveling and what they had just heard.  

The snap seemed to shut him up just long enough before you landed on Giedi Prime. 

“About an hour before we land on the surface, Mentat.” The same pilot muttered in annoyance. 

Actually, 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 23 seconds. But who's counting or keeping track? Definitely not you. 

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

As the heighliner ramp went down, it allowed you to fully see the polluted land around Geidi Prime. The black sun changed the red, metallic bracelet you were wearing to a dark and shiny gray, almost sliver, instead of its normal vibrance. You saw the guards and their multitude of weapons and dark armor. 

If they were standing inside, that would be black. You thought, but that isn’t a surprising detail.

“Are you ready to walk down, Mentat?” one of the other workers on the heighliner asked.

“Yes.” You responded courteously, because you had a pretty good idea of what would happen if you disrespected someone with all the guards and important people around. 

The ramp underneath your feet was extremely slippery and steep and forced you to take very slow and precise steps to reach the end. At the rate I am moving I’ll get to the end after the sun goes down. You eventually got to the end of the ramp. But, you only looked at your feet the entire time. Once you looked up you saw a man with a black hood and robes, as well as the lip tattoo you had. 

That’s Piter de Vries. 

You took the final ten steps to walk to him. As you walked you noticed him look you up and down in an arrogant and almost disgusted manner. 

You put your hand out waiting for him to shake your hand. As you did this you said, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), the new Mentat.”

Instead of him talking your hand he just continued to look up and down. Most likely reviewing the clothes you were wearing and the way you held yourself. Awkwardly, you put your hand down back to your side. 

“Well your arrival in the ornithopter was on time. But, the way you traversed down to the ground was quite untimely.” He remarked, “It must be quite exciting for you to have your first assignment.” He added sarcastically. 

Just a scintilla of excitement, it would be more if I was not here. 

“But, there is no time for talking,” he exhaled, “I can’t have you seeing the baron in such attire.” 

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

You looked around at the small bedroom you were given. The room had a hospital type of antiseptic-ness. The walls were bare besides small vertical groves and bolts into the walls holding things together. There was a little gray desk that had shelves that were indented into the walls above it. Beside your desk, was the little chest of belongings that were sent before you had departed from Tleilax. 

I’ll unpack that before I go to bed tonight. 

You turned toward your bed, a relatively small bed with dark covers and pillows. On top of that was a black butcher paper package. On the front of it, in clear print was, TO THE MENTAT, (L/N). In the package was a set of black clothes that looked similar to the ones you see de Vries as well as other people wearing, except without the cloak. On top of the clothes was a note from de Vries himself. 

(L/N), I have taken the liberty of getting rid of all the unnecessary clothes in your trunk and replacing them with more suitable attire for a Mentat. In your closet, you’ll find more of the same kind in the package.

De Vries.

What an asshole.

Quickly, you walked over to your closet and sure enough when you opened it. It was like the same outfit had been cloned over and over again. Black shirt, black pants, and a shiny black belt. Three pairs of black, leather dress shoes were in there too. At the back of the closet, there was a small amount of colder weather wear. A couple of insulated black coats and cloaks. 

Unwillingly, you shed your bright clothes from the academy for a dreary uniform instead. The fabric of the shirt was silking and smooth, but the pants itched badly when it met your skin. 

Once you were done, you exited your room to see two, bald headed, slave girls standing outside of your room. 

“Why are you here?” You questioned. 

“We are here to take you to the baron. Under the order of Mentat De Vries.” The girl on the left said timidly. 

“Alright…” you whispered as you closed the door behind you. 

As you walked through the halls of the Harkonnen’s castle you saw portraits of past rulers who were equally as bald as the next. After four minutes of walking, you ended up in front of a heavily guarded door. From outside the room, you could hear the sounds of yelling, screams, and a thud against the wall.  

Remember, indifference, and then you’ll get your way. 

You nodded toward the guard, signaling to him you were ready to enter the room. Slowly, the guard opened the heavy, metal door with a slight grunt. Walking inside, you saw a long table that had chairs on either side of it and a huge spread of food on top of it. But, there was only one chair at the head. The Baron was sitting there enjoying the elegant feast on the table. 

For the baron… all that food. 

You walked past important officials and advisors to Baron Harkonnen sitting in the chairs. You noticed De Vries sitting right next to the baron and opposite two bald headed men. These men were dressed not like the slave or advisors, but men of higher standing. 

The baron’s nephews Count Glossu and Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Rabban. 

Beside De Vries, there was an empty seat. As you walked to sit in that seat, you noticed the younger man who was sitting opposite of you, the Na-Baron, eyeing you down and biting his lips at the same time. 

He probably picks the member of staff that gets eaten when a couple mess up. Is he imagining me fried or boiled?  

“I appear to be late, I’m sorry about that, my baron.” You apologized as you pulled the chair out and sat.  “Don’t be sorry, Mentat." The Na-Baron jested, "It’s not a good look for you.”

[ghostsandfools]

Solar and Lunar's Relationship is so Underrated

Alright. I already typed out like a whole essay about this in one of my friends dms (I am so sorry you had to read all that-) but I decided to post an even LONGER essay here! Because I can :]

Solar and Lunar are just... Just the best. I love them. SO MUCH.

Lunar:

Lunar was the first person that Solar met from the main dimension. Lunar was obviously terrified of Solar at first, considering he looked and sounded just like Eclipse, but I love how Solar treats him when they first meet. He says "I don't know how anyone could hate you" and "I know I'm not your Eclipse. but you're not a mistake" and is just super sweet in general. It's been a while, but I recommend y'all go back and watch that episode, it's "What if Eclipse isn't evil?! In VRCHAT" and it's genuinely so so adorable.

It took a while for Lunar to get used to Solar, but Solar was patient with him the whole time and I love that. He understood why Lunar was scared of him and was just as sweet as possible until Lunar could feel comfortable around him.

One thing I think is interesting is that when Lunar went in Solar's head, he saw the memory of Solar killing his Moon. I don't think he saw the exact moment when Solar shot him, but from the fact that Solar was still alive and had never told anyone about it, he could probably infer what happened. He knows it happened, but he never held it against him. He never told anyone, he never blamed Solar or called him a murderer, because at that point he knew he wouldn't hurt someone without a reason. He knew Solar was trustworthy.

I think it's nice how their friendship was developed more in the background. Solar and Moon were always 'the besties', always spending time together, working on projects together, and it was the same way with Earth. But even though Solar and Lunar never spent as much time with each other, I feel like they understood each other better than anyone else. Their friendship was special, even if it wasn't as prominent.

When Lunar killed Eclipse, Solar showed him the same patience and care and kindness that he's always shown. Earth was scared of him, Gemini was angry at him, but Solar understood exactly what he was going through, because he'd been there once himself. And just like Lunar didn't judge him, he never judged Lunar.

Solar:

In his home dimension, Solar didn't really have anyone that he could trust. His Moon and Sun BOTH died. In the episode he was introduced in, he explained that during the separation or sometime after, his Moon passed away, and the version we saw who tried to kill him was a copy of his Moon with the same memories. I wonder if that's why he's so unwilling to except what happened to Nexus, because he's seen it all before. And I wonder if maybe this will become a pattern, and what happened to his Sun will end up happening to ours?

Anyways. Solar had to come to the main dimension because his Moon tried to kill him and scrap him for parts and was just being an abusive asshole in general. It does remind me of Eclipse and Lunar. Solar was just a byproduct to his Moon, a useless machine he could use for extra labor, and when Solar wasn't useful to him anymore, he tried to scrap him for parts, desperate to get back his Sun, his star. In a way, I think Solar sees himself in Lunar. That's why they understand each other so well.

When Solar killed his Moon, he didn't tell anyone. I really wonder if that'll ever get brought up again, because he and Lunar have both been hiding it for so long. I can't imagine the guilt he'd feel afterwards, even if it was justified.

I'm going to talk about self harm now, so if you're sensitive to the topic, just scroll past this pink section.

Now, this might be me projecting, because i used to self harm and in a way, I see myself in both Lunar and Solar. But I can see the signs in both of them. Both of them, at this point, have got to have some kind of self worth issues. Constantly being told you're worthless is going to critically damage your self esteem, and it's clear that it's taken some kind of toll on them.

Solar is always working, constantly, and I think that's for two reasons. The first it to distract himself, of course, but i wonder if he's trying to prove himself. He wants to prove to his family that he IS worth something and that they don't need to punish him or scrap him for parts because he IS useful.

And Lunar is the same way. He hasn't shown as many signs, but he's had a lot of pressure on him since he came back. He feels like he has to be good with his powers, to keep both him and his family safe. He has quite literally got the entire world on his shoulders, with Rez threatening him and Taurus threatening him and worst of all, the looming threat that Gemini will probably never speak to him again if he can't master his powers, that's A LOT.

They're both dealing with a lot, and being constantly overwhelmed like that can drive a person to hurt themself. It's more of a headcanon with Lunar, but I could see it being canon for Solar. Like in one of the recent episodes where he was talking to Jack and said "Break the habit Solar- I mean, break the habit Jack!" I wonder if that's what he could be referring to? Idk, let me know what you think.

Okay, I'm done talking about that now. Anyways. When Solar died, Lunar didn't really react. Earth screamed and cried, Nexus went insane, but Lunar didn't really react. And looking at things from a surface level, you could say it's because he and Solar weren't as close, but i don't think that's really true. Lunar said he didn't really feel strongly about it, but how could he? With how much trouble his own emotions cause him in the past, how could he possibly? Maybe he didn't want to lose control of his powers again, maybe he didn't want Earth to be scared of him again. And everyone around him was already so sad, he needed to be stable so they didn't have to worry about him too. But just because he didn't have an outwards reaction, that doesn't mean he didn't care. That doesn't mean he didn't grieve, it doesn't mean it didn't effect him.

Sadly, we haven't seen Lunar's reaction to Solar's return yet, because youtube decided to chaunce around and be stupid, but I'm excited to see how he feels about the whole thing.

I have a little theory/prediction for you all before I end things off. Lunar got star power because he was rebuilt in space. Eclipse's lab was apparently next to the sun.... Maybe Solar will get star power as well? It would make sense, why should he not? He was rebuilt in space as well. It would be dumb if he didn't. Their lives are very parallel to each other after all, even their names.

Anyways. That's enough chauncing about from me, I've got to get to school. But let me know what you guys think! Are Solar and Lunar best duo 2024? Will Solar get star powers? Will the be fire themed and cool as fuck if he does? Does Solar is gay??????? I guess we'll have to wait and find out.

(Jesus Christ, you are DEDICATED, I don't know how you made it this far. If i saw a tumblr post this long, I would not have the patience to read it, you get a gold star for coming all this way ⭐)

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, before immediately pinching themselves down into a frown, suspicious.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dog. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, God, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery vanished in his throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—”

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun, I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak; how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?! What would Mentor say if he saw Kit now?

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit clenched his jaw behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you every day, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So, I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life; he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going far away as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic; he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double-edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break, I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch; he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’s hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or cause Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit clenched his jaw, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. “Just… wait.” Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare.

“Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him. “Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch, but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you, my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

Ambrose looked down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them; they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you could do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

[blubberquark]

Why Not Write Cryptography

I learned Python in high school in 2003. This was unusual at the time. We were part of a pilot project, testing new teaching materials. The official syllabus still expected us to use PASCAL. In order to satisfy the requirements, we had to learn PASCAL too, after Python. I don't know if PASCAL is still standard.

Some of the early Python programming lessons focused on cryptography. We didn't really learn anything about cryptography itself then, it was all just toy problems to demonstrate basic programming concepts like loops and recursion. Beginners can easily implement some old, outdated ciphers like Caesar, Vigenère, arbitrary 26-letter substitutions, transpositions, and so on.

The Vigenère cipher will be important. It goes like this: First, in order to work with letters, we assign numbers from 0 to 25 to the 26 letters of the alphabet, so A is 0, B is 1, C is 2 and so on. In the programs we wrote, we had to strip out all punctuation and spaces, write everything in uppercase and use the standard transliteration rules for Ä, Ö, Ü, and ß. That's just the encoding part. Now comes the encryption part. For every letter in the plain text, we add the next letter from the key, modulo 26, round robin style. The key is repeated after we get tot he end. Encrypting "HELLOWORLD" with the key "ABC" yields ["H"+"A", "E"+"B", "L"+"C", "L"+"A", "O"+"B", "W"+"C", "O"+"A", "R"+"B", "L"+"C", "D"+"A"], or "HFNLPYOLND". If this short example didn't click for you, you can look it up on Wikipedia and blame me for explaining it badly.

Then our teacher left in the middle of the school year, and a different one took over. He was unfamiliar with encryption algorithms. He took us through some of the exercises about breaking the Caesar cipher with statistics. Then he proclaimed, based on some back-of-the-envelope calculations, that a Vigenère cipher with a long enough key, with the length unknown to the attacker, is "basically uncrackable". You can't brute-force a 20-letter key, and there are no significant statistical patterns.

I told him this wasn't true. If you re-use a Vigenère key, it's like re-using a one time pad key. At the time I just had read the first chapters of Bruce Schneier's "Applied Cryptography", and some pop history books about cold war spy stuff. I knew about the problem with re-using a one-time pad. A one time pad is the same as if your Vigenère key is as long as the message, so there is no way to make any inferences from one letter of the encrypted message to another letter of the plain text. This is mathematically proven to be completely uncrackable, as long as you use the key only one time, hence the name. Re-use of one-time pads actually happened during the cold war. Spy agencies communicated through number stations and one-time pads, but at some point, the Soviets either killed some of their cryptographers in a purge, or they messed up their book-keeping, and they re-used some of their keys. The Americans could decrypt the messages.

Here is how: If you have message $A$ and message $B$, and you re-use the key $K$, then an attacker can take the encrypted messages $A+K$ and $B+K$, and subtract them. That creates $(A+K) - (B+K) = A - B + K - K = A - B$. If you re-use a one-time pad, the attacker can just filter the key out and calculate the difference between two plaintexts.

My teacher didn't know that. He had done a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation about the time it would take to brute-force a 20 letter key, and the likelihood of accidentally arriving at something that would resemble the distribution of letters in the German language. In his mind, a 20 letter key or longer was impossible to crack. At the time, I wouldn't have known how to calculate that probability.

When I challenged his assertion that it would be "uncrackable", he created two messages that were written in German, and pasted them into the program we had been using in class, with a randomly generated key of undisclosed length. He gave me the encrypted output.

Instead of brute-forcing keys, I decided to apply what I knew about re-using one time pads. I wrote a program that takes some of the most common German words, and added them to sections of $(A-B)$. If a word was equal to a section of $B$, then this would generate a section of $A$. Then I used a large spellchecking dictionary to see if the section of $A$ generated by guessing a section of $B$ contained any valid German words. If yes, it would print the guessed word in $B$, the section of $A$, and the corresponding section of the key. There was only a little bit of key material that was common to multiple results, but that was enough to establish how long they key was. From there, I modified my program so that I could interactively try to guess words and it would decrypt the rest of the text based on my guess. The messages were two articles from the local newspaper.

When I showed the decrypted messages to my teacher the next week, got annoyed, and accused me of cheating. Had I installed a keylogger on his machine? Had I rigged his encryption program to leak key material? Had I exploited the old Python random number generator that isn't really random enough for cryptography (but good enough for games and simulations)?

Then I explained my approach. My teacher insisted that this solution didn't count, because it relied on guessing words. It would never have worked on random numeric data. I was just lucky that the messages were written in a language I speak. I could have cheated by using a search engine to find the newspaper articles on the web.

Now the lesson you should take away from this is not that I am smart and teachers are sore losers.

Lesson one: Everybody can build an encryption scheme or security system that he himself can't defeat. That doesn't mean others can't defeat it. You can also create an secret alphabet to protect your teenage diary from your kid sister. It's not practical to use that as an encryption scheme for banking. Something that works for your diary will in all likelihood be inappropriate for online banking, never mind state secrets. You never know if a teenage diary won't be stolen by a determined thief who thinks it holds the secret to a Bitcoin wallet passphrase, or if someone is re-using his banking password in your online game.

Lesson two: When you build a security system, you often accidentally design around an "intended attack". If you build a lock to be especially pick-proof, a burglar can still kick in the door, or break a window. Or maybe a new variation of the old "slide a piece of paper under the door and push the key through" trick works. Non-security experts are especially susceptible to this. Experts in one domain are often blind to attacks/exploits that make use of a different domain. It's like the physicist who saw a magic show and thought it must be powerful magnets at work, when it was actually invisible ropes.

Lesson three: Sometimes a real world problem is a great toy problem, but the easy and didactic toy solution is a really bad real world solution. Encryption was a fun way to teach programming, not a good way to teach encryption. There are many problems like that, like 3D rendering, Chess AI, and neural networks, where the real-world solution is not just more sophisticated than the toy solution, but a completely different architecture with completely different data structures. My own interactive codebreaking program did not work like modern approaches works either.

Lesson four: Don't roll your own cryptography. Don't even implement a known encryption algorithm. Use a cryptography library. Chances are you are not Bruce Schneier or Dan J Bernstein. It's harder than you thought. Unless you are doing a toy programming project to teach programming, it's not a good idea. If you don't take this advice to heart, a teenager with something to prove, somebody much less knowledgeable but with more time on his hands, might cause you trouble.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So I know you think Tom didn’t kill his dad, does that mean you believe he never met him? If so, why do you think Tom didn’t go to confront his father that night?

The time @therealvinelle and I said that Tom didn't kill his dad.

You Can Think Whatever You Like

Most people think Tom killed his parents, it's the accepted explanation by far in canon. I don't happen to as detailed in an hour long podcast episode, but that's just me and @therealvinelle.

Also worth noting is that this is a Watsonian blog, not a Doyalist blog. What that means is, given what we see exactly in the text, I try to figure out what happened even if it's not the authorial intent.

Given what we saw, it's unlikely Tom killed his father (far more likely it's Morfin). I don't know his motivations for doing one thing or another, that's not something I can really infer when we know so little about him.

Do I Think He Never Met Him?

Possible he did, if we take Frank at his word, he does see a dark-haired man go up to the house.

We don't really know though and I'm inclined to think probably not given that no one cites the strange boy who looks like Riddle walking across town to get to Riddle Manor from the Gaunt shack.

Instead, Frank is the only witness to anything and only when he's right at the house, and his description of what may or may not have been Tom is... strange and suspect.

But Alright, Why Wouldn't Tom Meet His Dad (And Therefore Kill Him)?

Trains.

While it's possible laws and such have changed, in HP canon, Harry only learns Apparition in sixth year. Further, we know the age of majority/allowed magical use stays the same as Dumbledore cites this when Harry asks how Tom did the magic to murder his family while he was under the age of seventeen.

It's possible Tom had been taught Apparition or else learned it on his own, but he had no way of knowing it wasn't tracked by the Ministry not to mention it's highly dangerous if unpracticed and Tom would likely be wary of trying it.

We also know Tom still would have had to have taken some form of transportation to get to Little Hangleton, since you can't Apparate to a place you've never been.

It's possible Tom took the Knight Bus, except that Dumbledore did an intense investigation into what had happened and didn't cite a Knight Bus dropping someone off or picking them up in Little Hangleton or any nearby area for that matter.

Most likely, Tom took the train.

Now, we don't know where Tom lived during this time period. It's possible he stayed in London during the war (not being evacuated with the other children because he was off in school) but it's also possible that Mrs. Cole came through and Tom managed to get relocated somewhere during the summers.

Regardless, wherever Tom's at, he's probably going to have to take a decent train ride to get there and a decent train ride to get back. That train's going to run on a strict schedule and if Tom misses that last train then he is thoroughly fucked.

Now, Tom arrives in Little Hangleton and it's extremely doubtful he had any idea where he was supposed to go. The Gaunts live in a very out of the way little shack that Tom would not simply stumble across. It probably took him some time to find Morfin. Tom also probably didn't realize until he met Morfin that his father was even in this village/even in the area, as it's unlikely people would say to him "oh yes, that big manor up there is Riddle Manor where they all look just like you" without prompting.

What I'm getting at is Tom probably eats up much of his "in Little Hangleton time" just finding and dealing with Morfin.

It's not inconceivable to me that he felt he had too little time afterwards to meet with his father, not to mention he'd just be showing up at the doorstep "hello father, remember me!", and this is a very rich Muggle family and it would be a seriously weird meeting that would take time.

After Morfin, and after stealing his ring, I can see Tom just not having enough time and not really having the emotional capacity to deal with his father on top of dealing with Morfin. He's got to get that train back.

[sholangagaga]

What's your opinion on Monty?

Oh I've been waiting for an ask like this to come across my inbox after how popular my Bonnie theories have been. (full theory and spoilers under the cut)

Short answer: I think he's neat!

Long answer: I think Montgomery Gator is one of, if not the, most tragic character in the entire Glamrock cast. And his tragedy, while of course upsetting to see, is also incredibly endearing from a narrative standpoint.

What does that mean? Well, let me explain.

Monty was not made to be part of the band. That much we know in the canon lore. He was his own animatronic, with his own attraction and his own thing. Whether or not he was there from the very beginning when the Pizzaplex was built, or maybe they added him later to bring in more diversity and subvert the burden on the main band, I don't think we'll ever know. (since every main band member has their own attraction, which probably subtracts from their available time to perform main shows throughout the day)

The only bits and pieces we get of Monty's "life" before his joining the band is narrated through the Gator Golf attraction.

Monty's story starts with him as a One Man Jug Band, playing by himself in his swamp.

Now it's already pretty apparent that the Monty we see here is way more docile and doe-eyed than the one we encounter in Security Breach, but maybe that's the point.

We all know the stories of humble beginnings, of rags to riches. To me, Monty was one of those stories. A little guy who ended up catching a big break down the line.

Now to get this out of the way, I don't believe Monty shattered Bonnie or the theory that Monty hated Bonnie (I went into detail here if you want the full explanation). We actually can easily debunk that theory in a few different ways, but the main thing is everything we see about Monty implies he actually admired Bonnie.

In his ride you see how he looks at Bonnie, His Showtime outfit incorporates yellow stars (like Bonnie), and he even still uses Bonnie's bass.

Now if you hate someone, if you hate them enough to kill them and take their place because you felt you deserved their fame, would you emulate that person? Would you use and wear their items, thereby constantly reminding yourself of someone you hate so much? Why would you go through the trouble of getting rid of them, of wiping them from everyone's memory, just to keep things that will always tie you to them? That doesn't make much sense to me.

You could argue that the items are trophies of his 'kill', but wouldn't you keep trophies or things of the like somewhere no one could see them? Why flaunt them and again, bring attention to this person that you hate so very much?

I think it's the exact opposite. Monty admired Bonnie, the depths of which we probably won't ever know the extent of, and when Bonnie disappeared, Monty took his place but never forgot the person who got him there. He wears Bonnie's glasses (which we never see Bonnie wear aside from in his neon portrait, which may imply that he might have given the shades to Monty directly at some time before he was shattered) and he uses Bonnie's bass, which was ALSO given to him according to the Gator Golf ride

I've seen people say that this scene is actually showing that Bonnie was just setting his bass aside after a show and Monty stole it, thereby using it for his own gain and I. . .don't see how people can infer that from the image? It looks like Bonnie is literally holding it out to Monty, who is on one knee and accepting it with respect and a cheerful expression on his face. Besides, you need some MASSIVE balls to just. . .steal a band's instrument after the show and just get away with it? Especially from what we see in game, there'd be no feasible way Monty could do that without the audience or technicians being like "What the fuck are you doing"

So yeah no, this looks like a mutual passing of the torch.

Anyways, Monty uses the shades and bass as a nod to Bonnie, he was a sweetheart with a baby face who got thrown into fame to replace his idol. I think, in some regards, Monty might've felt conflicted. Like, here he is in his dream job, but at the cost of someone he cared about.

You know who Monty DID hate though? Freddy. We can infer from plenty of sources and in game material that Monty HATED Freddy, and the reasoning for that could be literally anything, but it's not odd for a bandmate to dislike their leader/member because they're more popular (you see it a lot in IRL bands too, the favoritism and jealousy)

It's also easy to see that fame changed Monty, as it does for plenty of people. Having so many eyes on you, feeling the euphoria of all the love and attention day in and day out, it gets to your head. It changes who you are, muddles your humility. And we can see that Monty acts in the stereotypical Rocker way, conceited, destroys his greenroom and other things after shows, etc. It's an all too common trope and its sad to see it happen to Monty, though a lot of his rage could also be compounded by Glitchtrap/Vanny/Mimic being annoying (Notably, you never hear of Monty destroying his shades or his bass. Perhaps there are some things that he's oddly protective of)

And then in the main Security Breach, you only meet Monty at his worst. Angry, Corrupted, feral. You spend your time running from him (since Bonnie's shades protect him from most of Gregory's gimmicks), you hear from second-hand conjecture that he was probably the one who shattered Bonnie (which probably weighs on him too, the children asking where Bonnie is, and the technicians maybe side-eyeing him thinking that he's just a meathead who destroyed Bonnie to take his place) and each time you see him, he just gets more and more split from that sweetheart who was happily playing in his swamp.

Not to mention how he "dies"

Monty comes for Cassie, ruined beyond salvation, his mind still gone from all of the torment he endured being controlled and shattered over and over. To save herself, Cassie uses the Faz-wrench to activate the power and escape, only for the electric currents to turn the water into a death trap.

The thing that decommissions Monty, that finally puts him out of his misery, is Bonnie. That's Bonnie's neon portrait (a bit damaged from the dilapidated building) and it is the very thing that electrifies the water, destroying Monty's hardware. Whether or not its karma for Monty shattering Bonnie, or some sort of heartfelt prose that the thing that finally allows Monty to rest is the one person he cared about most, who's to say? You could argue it both ways, but isn't it just a tad more comforting to think that even in death, Bonnie was always looking out for his understudy?

Monty's story and character progression is a trope of Falling from Grace, of Icarus flying too close to the Sun and plummeting to the unforgiving earth. The more I learn about him, the more I feel bad for him. I think he deserved better. Roxanne for her redemption in Ruin, but Monty is left open-ended. A monster and murderer to some, a washed-up rocker to others.

But I think Montgomery was more than that. I think he had the capacity for gentleness and love, but he was in a position where the world was against him. His older and more experienced bandmates always destined to be loved more than him. He was basically an entry level teenager around mastery level adults. He might've lost his mind back then to the pressure and the negativity, resorting to violence for attention. No one was there for him, and Bonnie, the only person who probably would've been there for him and understood him better than most, disappeared without a trace, leaving him all alone in a world that would never fully accept him.

Yeah, I like Monty a lot.

[writingforfishes]

Otto and Atticus Part 9: Atticus' Birthday

I had intended to write this around my own birthday, but that idea got drowned out by an unfortunate Real Life Event. As a result, I ended up writing the previous roleplay story as it seemed less demanding mentally.

I plan to write two other stories following this taking place on the same day.

This one in particular is very saucy. It's probably the smuttiest I've ever written on here. As such, play close attention to the CW list for things that might not be what you want to read. I have, once again, attempted to separate sections so that the smuttiest bits can be avoided, but an arousal theme does run through most of the story and so might occur outside of the smutty heading.

CW

Very very fast and consistently fast hiccups.

Hiccups induced and made worse intentionally.

Mentions of arousal.

Nudity.

Mentions of genitalia in various detail.

Mentions of trans masc (or trans societal male traits presenting) anatomy post-top surgery and post HRT

Scar musing by character.

Scar touching by character.

Mention of an uncircumcised genitalia.

Fingering.

Masturbation.

Mentions of past alcohol abuse (inferred).

Lobbing someone in the head with a pasta noodle.

The consequences of not looking where you're hiccuping.

This is a story that includes trans-focused contemplation from the inner thoughts of a cis male presenting partner.

I am trans and this is very reflective of my body. (way to be vulnerable, huh?)

Hiccups that are mildly painful.

If there is anything else that I haven't covered that you believe needs a CW, please tell me.

The Plan

“No,” Atticus replied to Otto’s request for what seemed to have been a hundred times this month. They knew they were exaggerating on the number of times he asked, but any time Otto brought the subject up they bristled with anxiety and inner turmoil.

“Hear me out,” Otto implored.

“Otto,” they said, his name nearly whined in desperation.

They were at the kitchen table having lunch. Otto had fixed pesto tortellini with chicken. Atticus’ birthday was tomorrow and for some reason Otto had gotten fixated on a topic that made Atty uncomfortable.

“No, no, I know! I know. I know why you don’t want me to do it. I know you don’t need me to hiccup to love me. I know you don’t want me to hurt my body by making it happen instead of letting it happen naturally. I hope, with how long we’ve been married, that the fears of me taking advantage or teasing you would have gone away. And because we communicate so well, those fears of resentment from you wanting me to induce that you think I will somehow develop are a non-issue. Mainly because you never let me induce...but-but Atty, hey,” Otto stopped talking and encouraged his partner to look at him. “I want to do this. I am acting completely of my own free will. Additionally, I know my body pretty damn well. I know my limits and I’m not going to hurt myself. Trust me, I am way past the hurting myself stage in my life.” Not for lack of a lot more lessons than it took the normal person, Otto added silently.

“Also,” Otto continued enthusiastically, “and this is perhaps my most damning evidence that you would enjoy this more than you’re letting on, I know for a fact that the videos and audio files you play of people inducing hiccups are some of your favorites.” He said this with a pointed mischievous glare.

Atty glared back with less folly but not as much malice as they’d wanted to express.

“I, mm, I-I just,” Atticus started, stuttering and huffing. “I ju-ugh! I just feel so...so guilty!”

“Guilty?” Otto asked with a concerned face. “Why?”

“I don’t know! I just...do! I don’t want you to-to have to do anything like that for me. It’s just—it’s my thing and I don’t want you to have to pander to it like that,” Atticus finally spat out. They groaned and put their head in their hands. Otto’s soft reply encouraged them to look up again.

“I know I don’t have to do it. I don’t feel obligated. I want to do it. It’s not just you who gets something out of it. Trust me, you’re not the selfish one here. You get turned on and share that with me and then...I get turned on. And now whenever I get the hiccups and I’m alone I get turned on by them thinking about how turned on you would be if you were there. Figure that one out. Let’s just say I’m not sharing that one with my therapist,” Otto said widening his eyes for emphasis.

Atticus experienced a little whiplash at that admission. First of all, Otto had admitted it so casually that they hadn’t realized the implication of what he’d said until he’d finished the statement completely and they found themselves backtracking their memory to make sure they’d heard it correctly. Secondly, being reminded that Atticus wasn’t the only one experiencing arousal should have been an obvious statement but it still took them by surprise that while Otto was so obviously giving something of arousal to Atticus that the writer was also providing Otto with an equal amount of arousal.

For some reason, to them, it always felt like Otto was doing most of the work. But obviously he didn’t see it that way.

They must’ve been quiet for a while because they felt Otto’s finger poke the middle of their forehead and they frowned, swatting at it.

“Just checking if I broke anything…” he said with a smirk.

“No…” Atticus said, scowling. Then their face turned thoughtful, eyes wide as they looked at him. “So you really get...aroused when you…”

Otto chuckled, “I really do.”

“Even when I’m not there.”

“Yup,” he confirmed. “I suspect that it’s some sort of memory activation. Sort of...my brain has gotten used to the pattern of having hiccups meaning that I’m going to be aroused and so my big brain talks to my little brain,” he said pointing downward, “and says, ‘Hey buddy! Remember this? You’re about to get some...fun...horny things happening!’ and my little brain is like, ‘Oh yeah! Horny things! On it!’ And that’s, you know, sort of how it goes. I...was about to say it’s more nuanced than that, but it’s really not. Little brain doesn’t really work with subtleties a lot. It’s very Id based.”

“And I almost choked on a piece of chicken!” Atty said, still coughing a little from the surprise and laughing at the dialogue.

“I did notice that,” Otto interjected.

“I had no idea you reacted that way…even when I’m not there. Okay,” they said with a sigh and put their fork down as a marker of decision, granted a nervous marker. “So...how is this going to work exactly?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Otto said, smirking. “How long has it been since I even had morning hiccups?”

“I dunno, as while, I think,” Atticus said, feigning casualness.

“Yeah, you do. Pull out your phone. Tell me when I last had them.”

Atticus scoffed, not moving at first, but they eventually pulled their phone out from the pocket of their sweat pants sheepishly. They pulled up their calendar app and scrolled through the months.

“Um...around 13 weeks? Three months? I think, maybe, you had a few teasers but not a real case...I don’t really mark the teasers. I’m neurotic, but not that neurotic,” they said.

Otto nipped the phone from their hand suddenly but before he turned it around he met their eyes.

“Can I see? I just want to see how you mark it,” Otto said.

Atticus hesitated, but sighed. “Okay, fine.”

Otto turned the phone around and scrolled for a bit before amusement lit in his eyes and he smiled.

“Awww,” he said. “A bubble emoji? Like in Dumbo when he hiccups bubbles? That’s really cute! Oh, and you put multiple bubble emojis for multiple cases on the same day? Coffee bubbles...for my coffee hiccups! Hee! No, this is good. I like this. I mean, I dunno what a stranger would think. Weird shower schedule or—”

The phone was yanked back.

“Okay! Yeah! That’s enough! Sir!” Atticus said, pocketing the phone again swiftly, neck feeling hot with embarrassment. “So, how is this gonna work? What...how are you gonna do it? Also, stop looking at me adoringly or I’m going to stab you with this fork.”

“I love when you flirt with me,” Otto responded, leaning on his hand again with a smile. He ignoring their glare as he continued, “I am going to continue eating this pasta tonight a little later than I should. I’m also going to add just a little bit more spice to it. Just something to sort of...invigorate the vagus nerve, if you will. And then I’m going to have one of those sparkling waters before I go to bed. Setting the stage.

“Tomorrow, if I don’t have them by my first cup of coffee, I’ve got a root beer in there and if that doesn’t work...honestly I got nothing. I’m kind of counting on that root beer.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Atticus remarked, impressed.

“I have. This weekend might be when your party is, but tomorrow is the day I get to celebrate you and I’m not missing the chance to make this as good a day as I can for you. Oh, and I found a new antique’s mall that I want to show you if you’re up for it,” he said.

“Okay, I’m in. You inducing, antiquing...I am there!”

“Seriously? The antiquing got you over me inducing hiccups for you?” Otto said, put out.

“What? No! I...no, it’s just. Otto. I am going to find a fucking banjo clock if it kills me. And that’s your fault, by the way. You made me this into clocks,” they said.

“We live in a house literally lined with clocks on every wall, you know,” he said.

“And not one damn banjo clock. Not one! It’s your fault for telling me about it in the first place. Banjo clocks are so sexy.”

Otto gave them a look.

“Not in that way! I’m not—I don’t have a clock fetish. It’s a turn of phrase!” Atticus argued.

“I wouldn’t blame you, though. Winding a mainspring? Oof. Really gets me going. And putting a pendulum in beat—hey!” he exclaimed with something wet plopped on his cheek. “Did you just throw a noodle at me?!”

The lunch devolved into a miniature food fight.

That night Otto made good on his plan to overindulge on carbs. Atticus made him promise that if he felt uncomfortable or ill that he would cure his hiccups and take an antacid. Even though Otto had explicitly, without a doubt, claimed he wanted to do this Atty couldn’t help but feel nervous. But as they laid down next to their husband and snuggled a little into his soft shoulder they couldn’t help but feel excited as well.

The Induction

The morning started with Otto shifting a little in waking up. Atticus had snuggled into his arm during the night and though they moved quite a bit they found the place again and had rested for the majority of the rest of the night in the soft warmth.

Usually Otto kept a pretty early schedule but the carb intake last night caused him to be drowsy this morning and he startled a little realizing he’d woken up at 7am. To him, that was sleeping in. Atticus stirred beside him before looking up at him sleepily.

“Hey,” they said, voice lower than usual in morning hoarseness.

It reminded Otto of how low Atticus’ voice actually was. Even as their voice had lowered thanks to the testosterone they tended to speak in their higher range. Otto assumed it was habit. But hearing the lower octaves Atticus could utter did something to the clock maker. He enjoyed the gravel.

Otto went to reply but he paused, tucking his chin as his stomach and chest jerked.

Atticus’ eyes went wide and alert and Otto had to chuckle.

“Just a belch,” he said, softly. “Little gassy.” He gave another soft burp and sighed.

The writer tried to hide the disappointment from their face.

“You feel okay?” they asked.

“Yeah. A little ‘hung over’ and bloated from the carbs. I woke up later than I planned,” he said, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and stretched.

Atticus yawned in response and rubbed their eyes with the heel of their hand. They grabbed for their glasses so they could see.

“What time is it?” they asked.

“After 7,” he said.

“...gross,” Atty said with a huff and almost wanted to roll back around and go back to sleep, except there was an excited energy they couldn’t ignore.

“You can go back to bed if you want. Happy Birthday, by the way,” he said and gave them a little kiss on their forehead.

It had been established that the only kiss Atticus didn’t need consent for was a forehead kiss. As such, Otto tended to give them out abundantly when he wanted to show his love. He loved watching the tired, grumpy face of his partner morph into a sheepish little smile and their small body sigh in contentment.

“Thank you. I love you,” they replied laying their cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he said.

“I’m up now. And, honestly? Really curious to see if your plan is gonna work, today,” Atticus admitted.

“Hmm. Well. I guess I’ll go make some coffee then…”

“Cool. Tell me when it’s ready,” Atty said, and turned around in bed again, closing their eyes as they took off their glasses.

Otto laid there for a beat, a little amused at the reaction, “Okay then!”

As it turned out, coffee was not the instigator they’d both hoped for. Otto was certainly gassy this morning, but the hiccups were elusive despite the clock maker feeling like he was going to get them. He described the feeling as a sort of pressure in his throat. It was like a sneeze that wouldn’t come out, almost.

They both decided before Otto tried the root beer that it would probably be a good idea to have breakfast. Otto went all out. He made all of Atticus’ favorite breakfast items. When all was done there were plates with belgium waffles with fruit and whipped cream next to eggs over-easy and sausage patties and breakfast potatoes. The coffee was a peaberry blend, light roast. Otto made it in a chemex because both the blend and the brewing technique tended to be Atticus’ preference. It was the small things Otto had recorded in his mind that made Atticus feel wholly seen and loved.

Atticus literally couldn’t finish it all, but saved what they couldn’t eat for later. Being a “small king,” as their friends called them, putting away food wasn’t really what their body did best. Otto accomplished more on the food front, but he had already felt a little bloated so he ate less than he normally would. Still, it was much more than Atticus. But that was just a matter of mass. Otto was more than a foot taller than Atty, after all, and much broader though he still read as a lanky man with his long limbs and torso. The writer coveted the clock maker’s soft belly, though. Society be damned, sculpted muscles had never been their thing.

They both came away from breakfast feeling sufficiently full from the feast. Atticus collapsed on the couch in the living room while Otto insisted on cleaning up by himself. It was usually Atty who cleaned up as he did most of the cooking, but because it was their birthday they were shooed away with their coffee mug to luxuriate while their husband took care of the chores.

Atticus watched Otto’s tall form navigate the kitchen, his long arms easily reaching the cabinets and his long legs quickly navigating the space between placing objects in their proper places. They caught him belching and burping a few more times, rubbing his stomach absently as if coaxing more gas out.

After that breakfast, Atticus felt their own stomach was a little distended as well, but not painfully so. It was a pleasant plumpness, like Otto’s presented. Atticus was happy to have the shape they did. After their top surgery and hormone replacement therapy they grew fond of the way weight distributed in their middle and the softness it gave them. They appreciated it as much on their own body as they did on Otto’s.

Finally, with one final reach of Otto’s arm into the refrigerator to grab the root beer, the clock maker made his way from the open kitchen to the couch and settled himself next to Atticus.

“You didn’t talk much during breakfast,” he noted.

“I was too busy enjoying it,” Atticus said, sipping their coffee and watching Otto’s hand twist off the top of the brown glass bottle.

“Mm,” Otto said with suspicion. “You weren’t too busy watching every time I burped to make sure I wasn’t hiccuping?”

Atticus sputtered a little, glad they had swallowed the coffee before his question.

“I—” they said, about to deny it, “Well. I mean. Maybe…”

Otto laughed softly.

“I’m not teasing you too much, am I?” Otto asked, checking in.

“No,” Atticus responded seriously, shaking their head. “It’s kind of cute. I like it.”

Otto put the bottle up to his mouth and then lowered it suddenly, “Oh good, cause I just wanted to make sure.” He took the bottle up again and lowered it. “I just didn’t want it to seem like I was being cruel.” the lip of the bottle almost reached his lips when he lowered it once more. “Because sometimes I have a tendency to over d—”

“I swear to gawd…” Atticus interrupted him in a calm but stern voice having been following the path of that bottle every time he raised it.

“I can hear the threat of bodily injury in your voice,” he said, amused.

“Drink it!” Atty exclaimed.

“Guess it’s not cute anymore,” he muttered, his voice echoing into the neck of the bottle as he finally took a few healthy gulps of the root beer.

At the last swallow Atticus watched Otto’s body spasm suddenly. This was more than just a suppressed burp.

Otto lowered the bottle to his lap and his body jerked two more times, silent hiccups rocking his body backwards. “I think I’ve got ‘em,” he said, face concentrating as another hiccup jerked his head back with a little squeak from his throat. He also released a couple more airy belches as the hiccups continued interspersed. “They’re a little heurp!-a little weak. I’m gonna drink a little more.”

“Okay,” was all Atticus could say as they felt excitement thrum through them like electricity that all of the anticipation was leading to him actually getting the hiccups...for them. They felt an emotion beyond simple arousal, but one filled of gratitude that they hadn’t expected feeling.

As Otto downed the rest of the bottle Atty enjoyed watching his stomach jiggle softly with the hiccups triggered by his gulping. Still, they noticed, the hiccups he’d developed weren’t as fast or hard as his normal hiccups.

Otto had his hand on his chest as he waited for one hiccup after another. He seemed to notice their lack of boisterousness, too. They were squeaky, airy hiccups. While it was humorous to hear the higher pitched hiccups come out of Otto compared to the huskiness of his regular hiccups, they didn’t seem to create as much body movement. Still, Atticus was extremely excited to see his hiccups at all after so long.

“These are different, right? Heulp! Than my regular hiccups? Not as hyup!-as fast or strong?” he asked.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” Atty said. They cuddled close to him, putting a hand on his belly as it bounced in another spasm.

But Otto seemed to be thinking about something, eyes narrowed in consideration. Atty listened to his chest as he released another soft burp and hiccuped right after.

“I have an id-idea,” he said, jolting with another silent hiccup. “I’m gonna hold my breath.”

To anyone else this would’ve seemed counter productive to the goal, but both Atticus and Otto knew that when he’d tried to cure his hiccups in the past by holding his breath it made them remarkably worse. Specifically, Otto’s hiccups became even faster than normal.

Atty hadn’t seen this themselves, but they’d been told by Otto that for about a minute after holding his breath they would speed up quite a bit before calming back down to his normal pace (which was still quite fast compared to other people’s hiccups).

The speed of those hiccups apparently startled his friend, then roommate, so much that he suggested going to the hospital. But Otto laid down to see if they would go away on their own first and they did, eventually. It was the longest time he’d had the hiccups (sober), a little over 5 hours in total.

Knowing this story brought some concern to Atticus.

“You sure?” they asked.

“Yeah,” Otto said. “If they get too bad w-hmp!-we’ll cure them. I just feel like these aren’t go-gonna last very long.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I hope I don’t end up-up curing them.”

Even Otto’s weak hiccups had a pretty decent effect on his body. The indentations in his neck might not have been as deep but his body still jerked and swayed with every hiccup. Atticus rubbed his back reflexively.

“Alright,” they agreed.

Otto took a large breath in and held it. For a moment nothing happened. There wasn’t even a hiccup after the time there had been before. Otto shot Atticus a frown of disappointment. Had it cured them after all? But then there was a hard hiccup and it jerked Otto’s body so hard that it shocked them both.

The clock makers hand went to his chest instinctively. Another hiccup barreled in close to the last. And then almost immediately after that a third hiccup shot through his body, throwing his head back as he widened his eyes in surprise. After that they were coming pretty consistently.

Atticus immediately felt their body react to the stimuli. Between their legs started pulsing as Otto let out his breath to a cacophony of newly energized hiccups.

“Hu-uck!-huuck!-h’muck!-huck!-HUCK!-HUCK!-hmk!-hmmmk!-hmmMMK!-I-mk!-I thmmk!-think th-uck!-that dihip!d it!” Otto struggled to say.

He turned toward Atticus and the writer watched his head be forced back over and over again. Anyone else wracked with such strong and fast hiccups might have a hint of distress on his face. Otto’s face held a soft smile, though his brows scrunched a little at each hiccup.

“Do-huck!-you-h’muck!huck!HNK!-wa-hmk!-nthup’k!-humk!-to-huck!-hu-uck!-go-unk!mk!huUCK!-upsta-hrk!hrk’l!-huck!-stairs?” Otto eventually got out.

‘Do you want to go upstairs?’ Atticus translated in their head through the nearly blinding arousal that hit them.

Otto’s head bobbed with each hiccup. His stomach was visible through the tight white undershirt and it jiggled in reverb as the hiccups kept forcing it over the edge of the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

Despite Otto being the one that should’ve been rendered speechless by his hiccups’ speed, Atticus found themselves not able to verbalize a response in the throws of their excitement and simply nodded in agreement.

The couple traversed the stairs to their bedroom single-file, as the narrowly designed stairwell only allowed as such. Atticus kept their hand on Otto’s ever bouncing back as they followed him. The sound of his hiccups, which were louder as he exerted himself with the climb up, echoed off the walls.

They came in doubles and triples in between small second respites where Otto found his breath. The clock maker realized that it would have been smarter to induce in their bedroom once they both finally landed on the bed. His hiccups were giving him very little leeway in catching his breath. He forgot how exhausted he got when they had been this fast before. But, unlike before, he was also getting excited. He wanted nothing more than to give Atticus the very best for their birthday and, judging by his partner’s face as they sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and rubbed his back in acknowledgment of his struggles, he was succeeding.

“You good?” they asked, checking in on him. They’d never seen him hiccup this fast so consistently.

He was still on the edge of the bed and was leaning his elbows on his knees. His body was jerking upward every half-second. The hiccups had gotten rounder and sharper as they continued, interspersed with his normal lower and huskier hiccups.

“Hup!-hup!-hup!-hup!-mk!hpk!-hmp!hup!-huUP!-hulp!-huck’l!-hip!hip!-hip!hip!hup!” Otto had attempted to talk but had given it up. Instead he nodded and put a thumb up.

The Saucy Bit

He scooted back on the bed and used a pillow to prop himself up as he pulled out the drawer of the nightstand to dig out supplies. When he looked up he saw Atticus had already begun to disrobe. Their top surgery scar, running across their entire chest from one side to the other and peaking at the middle in curvature, picked up the reflection of the sun through the window. The thickened skin was raised in places a little, hypertrophic scarring that had never decided to settle into the small white line the other parts of the scar had taken on.

The writer was self-conscious about the thickness of the scars, but Otto loved the texture they made as he rubbed his fingers across them as he did now while they leaned forward to take off their sweatpants. They smiled at Otto’s touch trying to set their head against his while he explored their chest but was unsuccessful with how hard Otto’s hiccups continued to jerk his head back rapidly.

As usual, Atticus left their boxers on. Otto never questioned why they didn’t want to expose themselves fully, but he could only guess at the dysphoria they may feel so he trusted them to create that boundary without having to spell it out.

Otto was delighted that Atticus still allowed him to explore their anatomy, though. Being able to actively increase their arousal when they were already aroused by touching them was euphoric. He loved how different Atticus felt to his fingers than anyone else he’d been with, vagina or penis. He had greatly enjoyed experimenting with them to see what felt best and how much pressure to give and where.

With this being in his mind, even while hiccuping madly from his self induction, he rerouted Atticus’ body when they came toward him while facing him. He had an idea and he was having trouble verbalizing anything so he hoped his non-verbal manipulations of their body would translate.

Atticus was confused at first, but at the encouragements of Otto’s hands on their body they found themselves turned to face away from him. Then Otto pressed their back into his front and they suddenly realized why. They could feel every movement facing this way. It was like when they were in the park underneath that tree during Mark’s birthday. Otto, now stripped down nude, was flush to Atticus’ back as he leaned on the pillow cushioning him from the headboard of the bed.

Atticus’ body jerked with Otto’s and they took a breath at the rush of arousal that hit them. They felt his stomach spasm in the small of their back while simultaneously feeling his chest jerk away from them. As usual, Otto found Atty’s neck and nuzzled, his hiccups jerking his head across their shoulder and the loudness of some of them hitting Atticus’ ears increasing their arousal all the more.

“HUP!-HUP!-HUP!-HUCKAH!-huck!huck!-huck’m!-mk!-hup’k!-huppah!huck!-h’muck!-mk!mk!-huck!…” and so on as Otto’s excitement continued.

To say Otto wasn’t getting tired from the onslaught would be a lie. But the excitement he felt as he continued to get harder and harder with each squirm Atticus made and each gasp of ecstasy they let out was worth whatever consequences he might face from the strength and speed of this case.

When Atticus’ hand made to relieve and pleasure Otto he pushed it away.

“Le-hup!-Let-hup!-me-huck!huck!-focu-ulp!-focu—f-hulp!-s on-hup!-on-hup!-yo-hup!hup-you!” he said, struggling. ‘Let me focus on you.’

With a gasp, and boy had Atticus been doing that a lot, they felt Otto’s long fingers slick with lube travel under the front their boxers from behind. They whimpered as he coated them and started his slow administrations. Atticus’ body pressed into Otto’s behind them, legs opening.

Otto’s hand and fingers would twitch as his body lurched with hiccups in between the soft and focused movements and, every time, Atticus found their body jerking in time with the twitches and hiccups. They lost themselves in Otto’s fingers and body and sounds. They moaned and cussed and hissed until breathy gasps hit them when Otto stroked faster against them and they felt the cold hot rush travel up and down their body with a shivering arch of their back and final whimper and their body fully relaxed into the cushion of Otto’s body, still jerking with hiccups.

It took them a few moments to open their eyes, not realizing they’d closed them, and turn toward their husband, head craning up and back to catch his pinched expression of arousal. Knowing, somehow, that Atticus was responsible for that intense look brought a warmth into them they didn’t know quite how to explain.

Otto had already started to grab himself, no longer able to hold back his own needs. Really, he didn’t need lube or a condom and only used the latter for quicker cleanup. He was uncircumcised and made full advantage of his ability to pleasure himself so freely.

“Can I watch?” Atticus breathed, voice as low as their register would go and husky with recent climax.

Otto shivered at their voice and nodded quickly as Atticus turned around. They watched him as he whimpered in stimulated arousal between the spasms his throat was still emitting. Atticus settled themselves beside his body, hand on his stomach, half straddled on his thigh.

Otto locked eyes with his spouse, dark eyes to dark eyes, his hooded by his prominent brow and theirs behind the lenses of their glasses. His hiccups stayed fast but became squeaky, desperate, as he closed his eyes. The feeling of moistness on his thigh from Atticus’ wet soaked crotch through their underwear broke him through with a grunt as he gasped and relaxed, opening his eyes finally and blinking.

The Afterglow

He could feel Atty’s head next to his neck, now, in the crook of his shoulder. He could feel their hand slowly massaging his belly and he realized he did, indeed, still have the hiccups. But, small miracles, they weren’t as fast. Though they were still strong.

“Hu-UCK! Aaah. Mmm. Hu-mmk! Uh. MMK! Mmm,” he muttered as he rubbed his chest.

“Starting to hurt?” Atticus asked, lips moving on his chest before looking up at him.

“Not yet Hu-ulk!-mmm. Just h’plmk!-uh, just tight. Huppah!” he gave a sigh. Some of them were still a little squeaky and it was starting to tickle his throat. He cough-hiccuped a couple of times in response, holding a fist over his mouth. He plapped his hand back down on his chest after he cleared the irritation.

Otto felt his partner’s hand on his cheek and he let his head be guided lazily to their eyes.

“Thank you,” they said passionately.

“That was-huck!-that was good? Huck’m!” he asked.

Atticus took a hand to his chest and gave it a brief massage that elicited a hiccuping sigh from Otto.

“That was amazing,” they confirmed. “I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Ooh-hoop!” Otto exclaimed, straightening up a little bit past the pillow that cushioned him in excitement.

Atty giggled at the movement and expression on his face, eager and earnest. They held his cheek again, loving the rough texture of his short beard on their palm, and leaned in to provide their thanks in a kiss far past their normal chaste fare.

Otto hiccuped once, hard, in the middle of the kiss and as the kiss ended he hiccuped again just as forcefully. His head met the back of the headboard sharply with a crack that probably sounded worse than the impact.

“Ow!” he yelped, holding the back of his head with a wince.

“Holy crap, man!” Atticus said placing their hand over his on the spot where he’d impacted. “Wow, way to ruin a moment!”

“Mmk!-uh, thanks for the sym-mmp!-sympathy huck-ah!” Otto said, the last hiccup hitting him with such force that it sent his head back toward the same spot it had hit before. Fortunately both his and Atticus’ hands prevented it from impacting this time.

“Alright, sit up! Sit up! I do not want a concussed husband for my birthday,” Atty insisted. “You need an antacid? Or cure? I got that lemon juice the other day at the store so you don’t have to keep biting into lemons. Bad for your teeth.”

As Atticus’ hand finally trailed off the back of his hand and down his face before departing completely, Otto sat up, slouching a little, and smiled fondly. The position made his hiccups more apparent and he rubbed his neck feeling the muscles there pull. He’d not had hiccups in so long that he’d forgotten how sore his neck got when they were that fast. Talk about repetitive motion injury. But, spying one of his many clocks, he realized he hadn’t really had them for that long. Though the pleasure he experienced with Atty had made time seem a lot slower. Their speed certainly did a number on his body, though.

“Mmm-hmuck!-mm. Shower fir-erk!-irst?” he suggested. “And I need to holmk!-need to thro-mmk!-throw these sh-hip!-sheets in the washer while mmk!-uh while I’m thinking of it HILP!”

“Shower does sound nice,” Atticus agreed.

“You go st-HERP!-start it while I thr-hup!-throw these in the mmk!-laundry?” he asked, gathering the sheets as they both slid off the bed at last.

“Okay,” they said with a smile and a small kiss to his cheek as he bent down to collect the linens.

Shower-time (implied nudity)

Atticus stood in the shower letting the warmth through their hair and over their body. Their muscles were still charged and they were still a little sensitive from Otto’s birthday present. Just reminiscing the way he looked and how it felt was enough to get them a little excited again.

These sessions they had were infrequent compared to other couples, but absolutely worth the wait. And chances were high that even after this case ended Otto was bound to get them again a few more times before the end of the day.

Atty heard the bathroom door open and: ~H’MUCK!~

The sound shot around the room bouncing sharply off of every surface in a reverberating tinny echo.

“Shit!” Atticus startled. They held the bar of the glass shower door to keep themselves from falling.

“Damn! That wa~higgup!~-uh, was loud. ~hmmk!~” Otto said, covering his mouth to the last hiccup, though it still found a way to echo in the small bathroom. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay!” Atty said pulling the glass door back and peeking out. “Come on in.”

He stepped into the tub and pulled the door to behind. ~Hk-mmp!~ He was trying to muffle them now to prevent the loudness, but now that Atticus was prepared for it his hiccups sounded amazing when amplified by the bathroom’s acoustics.

“I can’t tell,” they said as they moved aside to let him wash water over himself, “are they worse or is it just the bathroom making them sound worse?”

This was the writer’s casual way of checking in on their husband to make sure they were okay. Those hiccups had been no joke. And he’d let them get that way on purpose because of them. While Atticus was touched by the gesture, they were aware that having the hiccups like he had was exhausting and possibly painful.

“I think it’s the ~hulp!~ the bathroom-~HUP!~ Shit! Sorry!” Otto said covering his mouth and then putting the hand on his chest as his head jerked back a few moments after with another that he silenced. That last loud one had taken him by complete surprise.

Atticus couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“It’s okay. I kind of like how it makes them sound,” they admitted. They said this while lathering up their hands and starting to wash his stomach and chest.

Were the silicone scrubbers much more efficient at washing than soap and hands? Yes. But any excuse to touch their partner’s belly and watch the hiccups continue to affect him was worth the deficit.

“Yeah?” Otto said, looking down at their administrations with a smile and a, “~HUCK-uh!~”

He laughed at the ridiculous way the sound carried his hiccup which made him hiccup again, this one a little squeakier. “~HILK!~” Which made him guffaw and he eventually released a, “~huUUCK!~” But that one made him wince as his stomach and chest told his brain that all of this hiccuping nonsense was getting a bit much by sending a little spike of pain into his core.

“Oof…” Atticus responded sympathetically.

“Ugh. ~hu-UCK!~ Yeah. I’m def—definitely getting rid of ~h’MUCK!~ of these before ~mk!mk!~ before going to the antique’s ~humpk!~ store. Ow…” he hissed and then looked sheepish. “Sorry…”

“No apologies necessary,” they said reaching up to caress his face. “You jacked up your diaphragm for me and I am very grateful but you definitely need a break.”

He laughed a little in response, it ending in a “~hu-UP!~” that encouraged him to take a deep measured breath in an attempt to soothe his abused diaphragm.

“Can I ~huULP~ wash the rest of my body, now? ~ULP!~-uh!” he asked as he watched Atticus continue to circle the soap along his chest and belly, his body hair there swirling in response to the movements of their hands.

Atticus paused and looked up, glint of mischief in their eyes for just a moment before they rolled their eyes and sighed dramatically.

“Okay, fine!” they relented.

They turned away from him (and quite possibly the most adequately cleaned belly and chest on the planet) to soap up their own body as he chuckled again.

Planning for the Next Installment (no hiccups)

After both of them had showered and dressed Otto made quick work of curing his hiccups. They had finally started to settle down anyway after the shower and by the time he swallowed the shot of lemon juice they relented easily.

Popping an antacid for good measure, he ushered Atticus into the car.

“You’re up to something…” Atticus said suspiciously.

Otto was grabbing his seat belt and snapping it in with gusto when he looked up.

“Yeah I am! Up to some antiquing!” he said with a grin and a small pinch to his spouse’s shoulder. “C’mon, get your seat belt on!”

“Yeah...no...this is more than that,” Atticus replied as they buckled themselves with not quite as much energy as Otto had somehow revived after his show-stopping hiccups earlier.

“Pssh! What? No! I love antiquing! You know that!”

“Not this much. In fact, you usually get bored halfway through the lots,” they said, eyes narrowed.

“Okay. Do you actually want to keep asking questions?” Otto said, lips pinching closed and eyes wide in askance. His brows went up too as he cocked his head to the side. The expression and gesture implied that if Atticus wanted to be surprised then perhaps they should stop digging.

“...no,” Atticus decided.

“Good answer! Let’s go!” Otto exclaimed.

To be continued… (fondly written ellipses, not ominously)

[paperstorm]

Why do you think Carlos is so convinced that he's a disappointment to his father? Gabriel seemed so happy to see him when they ran into him and TK at the farmer's market. It seems like Carlos has convinced himself for whatever reason that he's not good enough for his father and I can't quite figure out why.

*cracks knuckles* Get ready for an unnecessarily deep dive and a series of truly terrible gifs, kids.

I think that having a not-good-enough complex is a really layered and complicated thing, and it often is the result of a combination of real and perceived things. There have been a lot of people in my life who treated me like I wasn’t good enough, and there are also a lot of people who probably didn’t but I thought they did because I was projecting my own issues onto them. For Carlos I’m sure it’s exactly the same. I, too, fully believed that my parents loved me, and also fully believed I would never be enough for them. Those two thoughts can and often do exist completely in harmony with each other even though they seem contradictory.

We don’t get an enormous amount of backstory into Carlos and his trauma. We get glimpses but this is an ensemble show and they don’t have the time to deep dive into every facet of every character. Here’s what we do know.

Carlos came out to his parents when he was 17, they were shocked, they hugged him, but then never talked about it again. For ten years. That is a long time to never talk about something that’s so pivotal in a person’s life. We never find out exactly why. The show hasn’t (or hasn’t yet) given us Gabriel and Andrea’s reasoning for this. But for Carlos, we can infer from what’s said in canon that he took this to be a sort of ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ situation.

That his parents still loved him, but didn’t accept his lifestyle. And maybe at first that was true, we don’t know. We just know Carlos clearly thought that he had to stay sort of semi-closeted; not necessarily lie about who he is, but not *act gay*, not talk about it, not bring boys home to meet them. We know that put a ton of strain on their relationship and was a big source of hurt for Carlos, but that his parents meant so much to him that he was willing to do that in order to keep them. Again, we don’t know whether he was right to think that, but we do know that he thought it, so there must have been at least some reasons for that.

We know that Gabriel didn’t want Carlos to become a police officer. Once again we don’t get details on this, we don’t know what that conversation looked like or what Gabriel’s reasons were, but we have the canon fact that Carlos thinks it’s because Gabriel thought he was too soft. That might be a mix of real and perceived, but kids are very perceptive so it wasn’t something Carlos completely made up.

We know that at the end of 2x08 Carlos was genuinely shocked to find out that a) his dad had figured out TK was his boyfriend, and b) he was okay with it. Carlos in 2x04 says “and if that never changes?” in response to TK being willing to pretend they’re just friends, and he says it in such a sincere way that it communicates he genuinely believes it is a possibility that he’s going to have to hide himself forever. He’s not being dramatic, this is a thing Carlos truly believes, so again, there are reasons for that even though the audience doesn't get to know what they are.

We know that Carlos is sensitive. Whether that sensitivity is a strength or a weakness depends on whose eyes you’re seeing it through, but Carlos is incredibly kind and gentle, with a huge heart and past hurts he carries around and a really strong desire to be loved and accepted. If Gabriel is not particularly this kind of person, he might have had a hard time relating to Carlos when he was growing up. When you factor in things like religion, culture (I am not the right person to speak on this but the culture of Latin machismo is a whole thing), and Carlos being either the only child or at the very least the only male child, I don’t have a hard time believing Carlos spent most of his childhood feeling like his dad thought he was too soft. I can easily see that playing out in all kinds of ways over many, many years, even if it’s not something Gabriel ever did on purpose or maliciously.

And then finally we have their adversarial scenes in 2x08 which I think are really clear window into the father/son dynamic between these two.

Carlos is obviously really upset, but Gabriel gives him nothing. He’s doing his job, that’s fair enough, but this is also his child (as far as canon goes, his only child), and he doesn’t do anything to reach out when Carlos is upset and scared and spiralling.

Carlos says at the beginning of the scene that his captain and Gabriel have known each other for 30 years, indicating Carlos not only thinks he’s let his dad down, he thinks he’s embarrassed his dad in front of coworkers and that’s so much worse. Carlos also reveals that “they all” think he got played. He’s being treated by others like a sensitive little baby who isn’t tough enough to do his job, and the man whose approval Carlos needs more than any other human on the planet only serves to reiterate those awful feelings.

There are parts in this scene where Gabriel is sarcastic and almost mocking in the way he deals with what Carlos did.

And then there’s this.

This is the one that kills me the most. Because this is the perfect physical manifestation of Carlos’s claim that his dad thinks he’s too soft. Clearly, in this moment, Carlos isn’t just imagining that. The implication is so loud - Gabriel thinks Carlos is too sensitive and too easily manipulated by emotions to be a good cop. A good cop wouldn’t have been tricked the way he believes Carlos was.

It all feels heavily personal. If Gabriel didn’t know the officer he was questioning, he might not be super warm and fuzzy but there also wouldn’t be this knowing air of like 'sigh. Here we are, once again.' The disappointment just radiates off him (how good is Benito btw but that is a side point) and it seems implied that this is not the first time Gabriel has had to haul his tough Ranger ass in and clean up something that happened because Carlos got his precious feelings hurt.

And then the final blow:

As in, Gabriel thinks Carlos doesn’t. With this hug that doesn’t feel warm or affectionate but more like a mob boss kissing a snitch on the cheek before planting his feet in wet concrete. This scene is so devastating.

Later, when they have suspects and it turns out Carlos was right, he so clearly is once again in need of reassurance and again, he doesn’t get it, which further demonstrates this dynamic between them where Carlos has emotional needs that consistently aren’t being met.

Even calling him Carlitos in this moment feels hurtful, because it feels like he’s still being treated like a little boy. It’s the contextual difference between someone who loves you saying ‘I know, honey’, and someone who is pitying you saying ‘oh, honey …’

So. Tldr, we do have to use a little imagination because we’ve only been provided a skeleton of Carlos’s backstory and we probably are never going to get hours of flashbacks. But there are a LOT of hints sprinkled in, and I think lots of realism in the way it’s portrayed, especially when you factor in culture and consider that Carlos’s feelings of being too soft for his father likely existed well before he knew he was gay, and then his sexuality felt like a bit of a final nail in that coffin. Carlos still aches for his father’s approval and acceptance at 26/27 and has those heartbreaking little moments of 'I did everything you said please love me', but he’s also somewhat resigned to the fact that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it.

I’m so happy he’s wrong about that.

[steve0discusses]

Ep 44 Pt 1: It Took 3 Damn Seasons For These Two to Meet

I’m not dead! (though my schedule and my long covid fatigue would imply otherwise) So lets procrastinate my other responsibilities and talk about Yugioh.

Seto is still stalled out like my car in the winter.

And the show decided just out of the blue that Seto has right to the throne although he’s the cousin to the Pharaoh...he’s not Yami’s older brother. That’s not really how the birthright of Kings work, last I checked. Now if Seto had married Yami’s Mother? That I know is a clear birthright steal. But uh, last I checked BEWD was not Yami’s Mom, although I would accept that headcanon.

Blue Eyes White Dragon is often shortened to BEWD and it sounds very funny to me so I apologize if I use BEWD too much. But I mean...

(read more under the cut)

But like, Seto has a girlfriend, so he’s allowed to sit at the adult table at Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, Yami’s gonna have to be stuck babysitting because it’s not like he’s gonna be official with either of the two powerful women that he’s inferred to be dating. Like either the Dark Magician girl, or Tea, make your pic, both are godlike.

Or Rebecca, we can count her, too, she’s like a PHD graduate at like 12 and weirdly powerful for no reason. Also, knowing this show, she may have dated several of these people without them knowing so she’d be down.

Anyway, point is, neither Seto or Yami are the Blue Eyes White Dragon so who cares if they are connected to her? If Kissara needs to inherit the throne, she’s right over there, don’t even bother going through Seto. And youknow that’s just the show making a poor analogy for playing cards. Did they intend for it to come out that way? Probably not, but also Kissara isn’t a paper card here, she’s like a real ass woman, despite the zero personality they gave her so far this season.

So Aknadin shakes his head and was like “This isn’t how you treat your not-a-girlfriend, guys” and in one motion decided pull a Mokuba. But, instead of stealing those little star chips from season one in the middle of a card game, he just straight up stole Seto and it was very funny.

Like look at seto’s little feet in that image there haha. Seto’s just been tossed around this season place to place like a ping pong ball.

And then Bakura was like “I’m not done yet, I can do THIS!” and they watched this thing mozy down a hole at like a snail’s pace.

They just watched it slowly descend and were like “... huh. Why didn’t I think of that?”

So Yami whips off his VR headset (well, metaphorically) in order to share his grievances back at the game table. Mostly to dump on Bakura that this game isn’t any fun.

Which is shockingly low standards, we are talking about Yami.

And before I ever had to update the Death count, turns out Seto Kaiba is just fine.

I have no idea why he’s back in the city, don’t think about it, I don’t think it will ever be explained. So he wanders around lost, like he does about 80% of the time on a normal day. Just kinda wanders hoping Roland picks him up at some point.

And when a kid runs directly through his own body he starts to connect the dots about the ancient Egyptian clothing, housing, and general lack of electricity and wheels.

Which is when we finally have them meet.

That’s right, it’s been a while.

Seasons, so many seasons ago, Seto had a dream about the perfect woman, who was also coincidentally dead in his arms, and for so many years we assumed (ok I was the only one who assumed this) that Yugioh’s creators knew that they could in no way ever put these two people in the same exact room.

And then they did. Because Yugioh will never let you write fanfiction, they already do it for you. That’s right, modern Seto Kaiba ran into past Kissara in an alleyway and so lets get a gist of their true love conversation.

And no, that isn’t just me making a joke in the cap, Seto immediately says to this stranger “Girl, I saw you die. In my arms.” and she was like “lol”

And uh that was it. Again, a HUGE leap of romance for Seto Kaiba. This is truly the most romantic he’s been on this show so I can’t dock it too much. But I will dock it somewhat because it’s been so many seasons of leadup, hahaha!

I’ll have you know my bro was like “wow you stan Kissara so much” and I was like “mmm pretty sure I don’t” and he was like “uh you gave her so much more dialogue than in the actual show” and he’s not wrong. Maybe I do stan Kissara. If anything, I stan her being the true Pharaoh of Egypt.

So she’s gonna run off to find the correct Seto. But yes, she did look future Seto Kaiba directly in the eyes when he said “why should I believe you?” and say “I don’t care.”

so that’s about it for this half of this episode that took me........what 7 years to write? I’ve been having fatigue problems, long covid’s a beast, so updates will be whenever they are, but as always, thanks for y’alls patience about it.

And uh, have a little teaser for the next half:

Ohhh yeah that’s right, we gonna do a maze!

And as always here’s a link to read these in chrono order from the beginning if you just got here, and want to see exactly how many posts are in between when Seto hallucinated Kissara and actually met Kissara.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[wooldamenace]

Kiss You Again

Viv Vision x Riri Williams (vivheart)

Author’s Notes: RAHHHHHHHH let viv vision be a black woman in the MCU (This oneshot has elements from the comics and MCU. There is also a bit of my personal headcannons!)

Vivian sat in her room with a familiar loneliness in the air. This desolate atmosphere was known to Viv, It was there when her brother died, when her mother took her own life, but the most recent was when she knew that her friend, Riri Williams didn't reciprocate her feelings when they first kissed. She knew that this outcome was possible, but not why it hurt her so much. It probably hurt her so terribly due to there being no closure between the two girls.

Maybe if they worked this out, just maybe she’d be able to look Riri in the eyes again. She knew the immense longing she felt for Riri wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, but she knew it wasn’t healthy to hold on to this for so long. But it was better to bottle her emotions up instead of letting them get out of wack every time she was around her teammate. She went over to her bed to lay down and at least to try and recollect her thoughts and possibly silence them.

She began to let her mind wander, rushing through the the other things she could possibly doing at the moment, but instead her mind kept bringing up Riri. She could only think of the other girl’s muscles, her hair which intricately down to the back of her head, and her eyes. Vivian loved looking into Riri’s eyes especially if Riri was working on something, She adored how beautiful Riri looked when her eyebrows knit together when she was stuck on something.

Viv noticed that her daydreaming had been cut short due to her dog, Sparky phasing through the door, almost leading someone to her. The person that had been following sparky had been none other than, Riri Williams. Viv quickly sat up at the sound of her teammate addressing Sparky as she walked in.

“Hey, Viv.”

“Hello Riri.” Said Viv trying to keep her composure.

“You missed the team meeting. You good?” said Riri sounding worried.

“I’m fine.” said Vivian, clearly lying through her teeth.

“Viv. Don’t lie to me.” Said Riri who had already made her way sit at the foot of the bed.

Viv feared if she told Riri that she desperately wanted to kiss her again it wouldn’t go well. Maybe Riri would quit the Champions for good this time. Plus Vivian had two others girls she knew that were practically begging to get with her, but she didn’t want them she wanted the one in front of her.

“You can say I’ve been somewhat stressed recently.” Said the synthezoid while she fidgeted with her thumbs. Riri had moved her hand to hold Viv’s as if trying to calm her down. Viv felt the warmth of her friend’s hand to look up at her to see she was wearing a tank top. Vivian’s eyes gazed along Riri’s muscles, taking in the sight. Vivian inferred that Riri had been upgrading her suit

“Wanna talk about it?”

Viv gently nodded her head trying to build up the courage to practically pour her heart out to Riri. She shakily exhaled tryin to find the right words.

“I really missed you.”

“Viv.. I missed you too.”

“No, I really missed you. I missed your sly comebacks, I missed how sarcastically you would dismiss me. I missed how you and Kamala would but heads the make up seconds later. I missed watching you work on your suit. I missed training with you, but most of all I missed seeing you smile. I like you Riri Williams. I always will.”

‘Viv.” Said the college student, clearly flustered. “I don’t know what to say.”

Viv attempted to pull away from Riri, which ended up being unsuccessful.

Silence began to fill the room as both of them were scared to speak, afraid of saying something stupid.

“Can I kiss you again, please?’ blurted out Viv without thinking.

Riri began to smile, her hand rose up to hold Vivian’s face. Vivian had almost melted into Riri’s hand which was surprisingly soft from working with a bunch of machinery earlier.

“Yeah. Now c'mere Ma.”

Viv nodded at the other girl’s adamant request. Leaning in unison with the girl she adored. Their lips pressed together with a tender yet charismatic need for more. Viv’s free hand slid up Riri's shirt to graze her fingers along her abs.

“Damn, your hand is cold.” said Riri, her confidence faltering for only a second.

Viv threw her head back slightly giggling at the situation.

“Wait, when did you start liking me?” Viv questioned.

“Well y’know when you gave me that cupcake?” Said Riri disclosing her romantic feelings she had for her friend.

“That was months ago!” Said Viv bringing her hands up to cove her own face.

Yeah I know. I was nervous that you lot feelings for me.” Uttered out the MIT student clearly embarrassed.

Vivian tenderly brushed her thumb across Riri’s bottom lip.

“I think we should keep doing this. I like kissing you.” said Viv utterly in awe. Riri smiled placing soft, small kisses along Vivian's cheeks.

“I like kissing you too Viv.” said, Riri with an affectionate expression on her face.

Viv laid back down onto her bed motioning Riri to join her. Riri laid next to her while running her hands through Vivian’s hair. Her eyes alternating to look at Viv’s eyes and her lips.

“So, Do you wanna go out?” Suggested Riri.

“On a date?” Asked Viv with sure excitement in her voice.

“Yes, a date” said Riri sighing with absolute admiration.

“Of course I will.”

The girls moved closer to embrace each other, their legs crossed over each other’s. Viv began to place soft kisses along Riri’s forehead as the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Vivian was finally with the girl she loved, and effortlessly enjoying every damn second of it.

End Notes: sparky best wingman

Hope y'all enjoyed! And remember stan vivheart - Wool☆

[shxdowsofombra]

Asking Questions

[Charlie]

Charlie was wondering what else might have been sent out. He went over to where Rose was and knocked on the door since he could’t find Hero. “Rose, can I talk to you?”

[Rose]

Rose saw Charlie at the door and she just sighed before moving to open it. “Yeah, what’s wrong?” She asked as she looked at him.

[Charlie]

“Were you and Hero sent any weird pictures the last few days of anyone in the family.” He asks rather discretely.

[Rose]

“What? No.” She shook her head as she heard his question. “No, sorry. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

[Charlie]

Charlie let out a sigh of relief as he heard her words. “Oh thank god. Some of the other family members got really bad pictures of others and I assume you can infer what I mean.”

[Rose]

“Yeah, but we didn’t get anything. I truly don’t even know what you are talking about in all honesty. But hopefully it fixed itself. Maybe the only people who got it were the people who needed to see it.”

[Charlie]

“Yeah I am not sure about that part but apparently someone planned on giving them to the tabloids and Henry and Josh were able to hack and delete them. But I didn’t know they sent them to Tate too.”

[Rose]

“Well he probably needed to see what was in the photo. I mean it would make sense they were sent to him. Whatever photo you were in doesn’t affect me or Hero, so we didn’t get them. It affects Tate so he got them.”

[Charlie]

“Right…well I mean mine was something someone staged it was pretty obvious.” He sighed, “Well thanks for letting me know though. Hopefully that is the last we see of them.”

[Rose]

“Hm knowing the way people take pictures here, it probably didn’t look staged. But also knowing Tate, it didn’t phase him. If you told him it wasn’t true he would believe you.”

[Charlie]

“It wasn’t here, it was at the library. I was looking up some books to learn more about all the E’s and stuff and Josh was explaining them to me as we were picking out books and someone decided to run into me. I am sure they took the pictures that prove nothing happened but no, those aren’t the ones they are interested in sending. Also I applied for a library card and his parents were freaking me out. Do they always stare at any of us that walk in that intently?”

[Rose]

“I mean they have everytime I go there, but I don’t do that anymore. Now they just send a bunch of random books. It is a lot easier now.” She shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.”

[Charlie]

“They send you random books? Oh god. They just show up at your door? I mean we already have access to the library. You do too but damn. It makes me feel like an elephant in a zoo.”

[Rose]

“No they don’t come here, they send it. They’ve never come to my house.” She replied. “Well you have to remember that people aren’t used to seeing royals.”

[Charlie]

“Yeah but you and Hero have been here for so long so I don’t see why it’s still not common for them. How do the both of you even get anything done.”

[Rose]

“What do you mean? I mean we just try. Some days people are too starstruck so we handle it and keep handling it until we get them used to it.”

[Charlie]

“Mhm interesting. Do they at least send you both good books?” He asks. “One time I got one that had a piece of paper in it asking for an autograph when I returned the book.” He jokes. 

[Rose]

Rose thought about it before nodding. “They could be worse.” She states before nodding again. “Yeah they like to do that too.”

[Charlie]

“Yeah that is true. But thanks for answering my question. I should get back. I promised I would see Tate later.” He tells her.

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won��t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

[randommusingsstuff]

Why Ben and Devi are Endgame (Meta)

At the heart of every rom-com, it always comes down to this: what does the protagonist truly want? 

Why Devi and Paxton Don’t Work

In the season 2 finale, Devi triumphantly says “So, I guess I'm Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s girlfriend now”. She got what she thought she wanted at the start of her journey, only it’s not what she wants anymore. 

Although Devi cares for Paxton, she views him as a status symbol. Paxton, for all his growth, still sees himself as cooler than her. And no, he was not just embarrassed because she cheated on him. Before he knew she was cheating, he invited his friends on their first date and refused to call her his girlfriend. In the finale, it once again takes someone else to point out that he shouldn’t blow her off. As Devi and Paxton walk into the dance, he gives his friends a sheepish look while they judge him. Not only does he still have lingering feelings of embarrassment, his friends’ reactions suggest turbulence ahead for their relationship. 

There is also a lack of communication between Paxton and Devi. They have a magical kiss by the window, and makeout sessions afterwards, but they don't actually talk about their relationship in that elapsed time. Devi makes the assumption that they are together and Paxton doesn’t articulate what he wants until it is forced out of him. 

What can we conclude from this? Paxton is a great character, but he is not the one for Devi. They have differing interests and goals, a lack of communication and they do not see each other for their true worth. 

Can the writers surmount all of these issues to give them an endgame? Yes, but it would require fundamentally changing who Devi and Paxton are. 

Why Devi and Ben Work

In episode 1 of season 2, Devi wants to pick Ben but her friends talk her out of it. This is crucial to understanding why they belong together: her gut instinct has already revealed the truth. She had both guys vying for her and she wanted Ben. Just by this one fact alone, we can infer that Devi’s relationship with Ben was more meaningful to her than her pursuit of Paxton in season 1.

When it’s revealed that Devi is two-timing the boys, Paxton is hurt but Ben is devastated. Paxton likes her, but Ben connected with her on a deeper emotional level. Devi follows Paxton out of the party, which is understandable because he is the one walking away. Again, this is cleverly hinting at their communication styles. Paxton wants to avoid the situation and Ben wants to talk about it. From Ben’s perspective, Paxton is the guy she has wanted for so long and he is the second choice. 

Throughout the season, Ben never considers the fact that Devi could want him over Paxton, which is equal parts sad and infuriating. Her therapist asks what she wants more than anything and she says Ben. In context, it’s a comical line, but it’s also Devi revealing her truth. Like she does at the beginning of the season, she makes a choice and it’s Ben. She pursues Ben romantically before Paxton even though Paxton is the one more willing to forgive her. 

It takes Ben longer to forgive her, and yet he is still there for her when she needs help. The little things he does like give her advice about Aneesa and make her feel better about Paxton’s rejection all show Devi’s ability to be vulnerable with Ben. 

As an aside, they had the opportunity to show Devi being vulnerable with Paxon but didn’t take it. In episode 8 of season 2, Paxton sees Devi crying and she reveals that she got into a really bad fight with Eleanor. I was thinking: here it is, here is the moment that Paxton finally helps Devi with her problems... but no. His response is “seems like you’re in a fight with lots of people” and the conversation quickly shifts to her apologizing and helping him yet again. Devi is able to open up to Ben and be supported by him in a way that she can’t with Paxton.

Before I talk about the finale, which is arguably the biggest point in Ben and Devi’s favour, I want to look at the season overall. The entire story arc is Ben and Devi wanting to be together but constantly running into roadblocks in the form of Eleanor/Fabiola, Paxton and Aneesa. It was so alarmingly obvious they belonged together after season 1, that the writers had to find ways to forcibly separate them for the time being. It’s important for Ben and Devi’s relationship that she dates Paxton first. If she had been allowed to go for Ben, they would have had to explore Devi wondering what she missed out on. When Devi and Ben do get their happy ending, it will be because Devi has realized that Paxton is not the person for her. 

In the finale of season 2, we get 3 crucial scenes from Devi and Ben. The first is the bathroom scene which reaffirms Devi’s ability to be vulnerable with Ben and his ability to support her (something she doesn’t have with Paxton). The second is their tension-filled scene at the dance where they longingly stare at each other. This directly contrasts the scene in episode 8, where Devi tries to reframe her mindset and stop seeing Ben as someone she is attracted to. Here, it becomes apparent that she is unable to stop thinking about him in a romantic way despite actively trying. 

The third scene is basically Eleanor saying “you dummy, she wanted to choose you!”. The writers intentionally reference the pros-cons scene from episode 1, re-affirming that Devi wants Ben. The only reason they are not together is because he is not an option. 

Then we get the line “it wasn’t always him”. Many Devi and Paxton fans believe her choice was Ben, but he took too long and now it’s too late. But when has it ever been too late for a main love interest in a rom-com? Mindy Kaling is a rom-com savant, and she knows as well as I do that it’s only ever “too late” for douchey guys who do not acknowledge the self-worth of the heroine. That’s not Ben though, he has always seen Devi for who she is. 

The heartbreak on Ben’s face is infinitely worse than Paxton’s voicemail at the end of season 1, although these scenes are meant to parallel each other. Devi and Paxton are two people who like each other but do not work as a long-term relationship. Ben and Devi are two people who work as a long-term relationship but never acknowledge their feelings for each other at the right time. It’s a tragedy just waiting to be rectified in season 3.

Season 3 Predictions

Now that I've given my analysis on why Devi and Ben are meant to be, here are some predictions I have on the Devi-Ben-Paxton love triangle for season 3.

Fabiola/Eleanor will be the ones to help Devi act on her true feelings for Ben. This one is a no-brainer for me. After sabotaging their chance to be happy in the first place, Fabiola and Eleanor will decide that they want their friend to be happy and set things right. It will also parallel Ben mending their friendship in season 1.

Paxton and Devi will have some sweet moments in the first half of the season, but not without their issues. The lack of communication and their respective status (the way they view each other) will cause them to fight. They will break-up mid-season, but the ending will leave hope for reconciliation.

On that note, I do not think they will kill the love triangle. Even though we will likely see Devi confessing her feelings for Ben and saying that she wanted to choose him all along, this is still a TV show. Contentious love triangles = buzz and money.

Ben and Aneesa will break up by mid-season, but probably earlier. Ben will find it hard to be in a relationship with Aneesa as he grapples with his feelings for Devi.

Ben will be a pillar of support to Devi as she navigates how to be a girlfriend. It’s the classic trope of the guy helping the girl win over the man of her dreams, only to realize that the person she wants is right in front of her.

 Devi and Ben’s friendship and lingering feelings will culminate in an epic finale confession and kiss. Everything that they were unable to say to each other last season will be spoken aloud in season 3.

Ben and Devi are soulmates, drawn to each other and unable to avoid their feelings. I can’t wait for them to take over my life again next year.

[sparkling-moonbeam]

💜Scaramouche x Reader💜

A/N: This is an idea that suddenly popped out of my mind so I decided to write it. The reader is gender-neutral and this is a fluff. Enjoy reading and have a nice day!

Oh and there are some curse words cause it's Scara.

💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜

Being a harbinger is something you can’t be fully proud of. At least, that’s how you feel upon staring at the badge the Tsaritsa gave you. But you don’t really have a choice, you can’t just pass an opportunity of making your life a bit easier. Even if you try to deny the offer, your head would be a target for the Fatui. Surviving in the cold weather of Snezhnaya is already a pain in the back, you don’t want to make it worse.

Your job as a harbinger is really simple. You seldom cut someone’s throat as you’re more often assigned in “gathering information from the inside” type of missions. When it comes to highly secured territories, you’re the one to take the lead. You don’t need assistance or anything as you mostly take the act you also planned and set it in motion. Maybe it’s from the experience of once working in front of many people, wearing a mask to suit everyone’s taste, pursuing them to trust you.

As the Tsaritsa told you, you’re competent. A people pleaser like you can read people so easily that one look can immediately give you an inference on the personality you will need to portray on your target. When it comes to finishing someone, you do it quickly. As soon as you got their trust, it was also the time to sing them a lullaby to their own doom.

A sigh escaped your lips, being a harbinger sets you in the boundary of everything. It always felt like you’re in between of opposing arguments. It’s thrilling but also confusing, maybe it’s just your morals kicking you in the guts but it’s too late for that. The moment you bow down in front of the Tsaritsa’s throne, it was all gone.

“I never knew a deaf could be a harbinger.”

Your eyes shifted from your badge to the source of the voice. The sixth harbinger, casually hanging out in your office’s couch. He must have entered your office while you’re busy paying attention on your thoughts.

“Do you have any idea how many times I knocked on your door? I would’ve thought you’ve been killed in your office if I didn’t know you any better,” he continued.

“I’m thinking about important stuff, I didn’t notice.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to apologize, how rude.”

You blinked at him, staring to his eyes. Scaramouche, or also known as Balladeer has been the one to always barge into your office like it was his own for the first months. The first time you met him was just like this, except the fact that you’re working on paper documents that time and he didn’t knocked, he just barged in. You remember how he didn’t ask your name and where you from, just straight up gave the file the Tsaritsa wanted to give to you, informing you with a bunch of small insults here and there before leaving and slamming the door.

Your first thought was maybe he didn’t like you or your impression, not that it matters anyway. Until you found out that he also does that to other harbingers, especially when he’s having too much to work with in his plate.

“You know, no matter how long you looked at that badge, it won’t disappear.”

You look at the balladeer with his statement. He stood up, slowly walking towards your table as he crossed his arms. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since it’s disturbing my thoughts, are you really…chickening out? After being here for so long, that’s quite disappointing.”

You let out a scoff at his question, your eyes narrowing at his glinted eyes. You know how Scaramouche is, the way he works with his words to initiate tension. You won’t fall for it but still you wanted to admit how well he can cause tension and get away from it.

“You’re asking…me? What happened to your ‘good intuition’, the sixth harbinger?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “That’s more like you. I just hate how you always look at your stupid badge every time I see you, it irks me.”

“That’s more like your problem, not mine.”

“I hate it still, so I will need an explanation.”

“Wow, is this manipulation 101?”

“Y/n.” He sternly called your name, his eyes softening a bit. “I wanted to know if something is bugging your mind, I’ll help if I can.”

You remained silent as a sigh escaped your lips. You reached for the file you’re supposed to read a while ago if only you didn’t space out. “It was nine days ago..”

He hummed urging you to continue. He sat down on the chair opposite to yours, waiting for your next words.

“When I learned something about a certain topic, it’s…quite bizarre.”

You looked at him seriously, his indigo orbs meeting yours. You can see how his trying to listen…how his patience is slowly thinning out on your slow words and his own pretention.

A smile formed your lips. “Gaslighting. Oh, what a bizarre topic and thing to do, right Scaramouche?”

You dramatically placed your hand on your chest as you gave him a look of pity. He clicked his tongue before standing up, fixing his hat in the process.

“Fuck you and your stupid badge.”

You laughed. His visible frustration is entertaining, especially when he cussed. Something about his cussing words just hits deeply, you can’t help but laugh.

“I waste my time for this stupid shit. I should’ve known.”

As he took a step away from table, you quickly stood up, reaching for his hand to stop him. He looked back at you with an annoyed expression. He was about to slap your hands off him but he stopped as soon as he heard you talk.

“Wait, alright. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not half wrong but..I get the glimpse of what you’re trying to do. Just sit down. I promise, no more jokes.”

It took a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “No more fucking jokes.”

You nodded. He let out a sigh before he propped down on the chair again. You sat again too as you compose yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You bit the insides from your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling. That’s more like him, you thought.

“This badge isn’t mine, dumbass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it from an agent? A traitor perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll finish them off-”

“No need for violence, it was from a harbinger.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Did you…killed a harbinger? Y/n, that’s not how you raise your rank. You’re a trai-”

“I didn’t kill someone, why are you insisting that?”

He shrugged, leaning on the chair as he hums. He must have been playing with you as a revenge from earlier. What a child.

“It’s from a harbinger that’s been bugging me. Not in a bad way,” you cleared out before he can even decide to say a violent statement again.

“Bugging you but not in a bad way? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

You mentally facepalmed, of course he wouldn’t know. He probably never felt that way for someone too. Now, you’re rethinking your decisions on telling him. Time for a more direct approach.

“I think I like someone.”

Silence.

You were replied by silence for almost a minute before a chuckled erupted from him. You shook your head as you listen to his laugh.

“You like someone? And you stole their badge because you like them? What a creepy move, are you a stalker?”

You rolled your eyes before you stand up, holding the file on your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll need to submit this file before dinner time, bye.”

As you held the doorknob, you can still hear his laughter from your back. Maybe, you’ll tell him some other time but, you promised yourself. You even practice on the mirror on what to say, it’s ridiculous. Your eyes landed on the badge. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of the glint in his eyes then you’ll see your reflection, making you ask yourself on how did you get yourself into this.

“Hey, Scara.”

You turned around, his laughed slowly stopped as he looked at you.

“Remember the camp last month?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about such a horrible day.”

“Childe accidentally took your badge then replace it since you were pretty mad that day. It won’t be a good result if you’ve known he touched some of your belongings.”

He blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? That rascal, good thing he know what will happen.”

“I actually found it so here you go.”

You hummed, taking a last look on the badge before you throw it to him. He easily caught it with one hand, staring at it for a second. You saw how his eyes widen a bit before glancing at you again.

“This badge…is mine and what you said about it earlier…”

Your throat felt dry the moment you meet each other eyes. You tried to smile, forcing yourself to formulate some words your mind came up with.

“You’re making me feel complicated things, it’s unfitting for a harbinger.”

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.