#he's just got such a punchable attitude

[duckapus]

Stupid Mario Strikers Charged

Now that Meggy's an officially licensed coach, her first gig is subbing in at a local middle school soccer game. There's just a few problems:

Mario and Bowser Jr. keep trying to take things "TO THE EXTREME!!!!!," implementing the outrageously dangerous gimmicks from the source material like charge shots and the electric fence

Jubjub keeps trying to be the ball

Boopkins and Tari keep trying to save Jubjub

Desmond keeps trying to save the actual ball

The other team's coach is Jeeves and he's being kind of a pompous dick as usual

Lord help her...

[thetravelingtyper]

Spitfire: GN! Tall Reader x Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

You always thought Graves had a punchable face...

Roughly inspired by the song Galway Girl for some reason.

Warnings: General violence, mention of blood, Graves being a slightly misogynistic dick, possible OOC of characters, first short fic so please bare with me.

Part 2, Masterlist

The sun beat down harshly on the base, and even in the mid-morning in Mexico, heat radiated off the concrete. Across the base, soldiers moved around quickly, mechanics tucked under trucks and jeeps, both at work and seemingly vying for shade. Amongst them, the black gear of the Shadows darkened the day.

Sargent John ‘Soap’ MacTavish wandered in his free time. The tropical sun glinted off his sweat and he fussed with the buds of his radio tucked in his ears. He had already checked weapons, his rifle was cleaned thoroughly three times from lack of tasks. Members of the Vaqueros sent him nods as he passed. Soap had proved himself as a good drinking buddy the past nights and many of the soldiers would pause what they were doing to throw some Spanish to grow his expanding vocabulary.

However, it was curiosity that sent him out this time. As he had been finishing up in the barracks a woman had appeared at the doorway. She called something in Spanish then dropped it quickly in English seeing Shadows and the Sargent.

“Come quickly the Americans are going to be fighting!”

This sent Soap up quickly, he had reassembled his gun and stashed it. Considering the same expressions of confusion, then recognition on the faces of those around him, this could mean one thing. You.

-

Fellow sergeant and a damn good friend, you made a good fit in the 141. With six feet of sarcasm and attitude, you took no shit and had a visible dislike for a certain Commander. It started when you met the man face to face. His skill had impressed you, the clear respect for him held by his men ascertained that. His composer while dealing with Hassan kept that appearance. As an American yourself Soap and your Lieutenant had been concerned, but you had stayed in the shadows, watching. 

“Let me finish this.” Your fingers twitched at the trigger but you held steady. Eventually, you had let the man go, relying on a lead, which he delivered with Sin Nombre. You stood over the valley, Soap passing you the sights. The men debated about a way in, Graves offering force.

“Then we take it.”

“I got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country.” 

Your head shot up from the sights. You scoffed and Graves shot you a smirk.

“Are you crazy?”

Alejandro follows up:

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.

Graves rounds back with a satisfied smile,

“I’m just sayin’...one house shouldn’t be a problem.”

You tick

“Hell of a party to crash with an army soldier boy.”

Graves head turns towards you with a simmer in his eyes that makes you hackle.

-

After the encounter with Hassan, you all returned to base to let him lead you further. You all were scattered around control, recon shots, and notes scattered on the metal tables. Ghost and Alejandro stood evaluating and Soap relayed information to Laswell.

You took a cloth to sturdy red. Despite an extensive collection of combat knives, many being gifts from your ‘mates’ you still enjoyed a Victorinox. You tinkered a lot, the nickname Gear fitting well among Spitfire. Ruby red sides gleamed with wear and silver steel shined as you cleaned. The knife caught another eye.

“Nice toy Spitfire.”

A smug voice settled in front of you and you looked up, well down. Despite the power he ‘carried,’ Phil Graves was shorter than the other men in the room. While you were shorter amongst your team, you still towered over him. Graves had seemingly appreciated this and upon seeing you (outside of the interrogation) he had whistled.

“Do you have relevant information Graves?” 

Your voice came out quiet, anger masked with boredom. Yet your hand clenched the knife tighter. 

“Not at the moment Sweetheart. What is beauty like you doing with the Brits? If you want better company, you could fit in nicely with the Shadows.”

He raises a hand to your arm, you freeze, he pats your arm, and moves into your ear. The stench of cologne is too much and you want to gag. 

“You’d look better in black anyway.”

You clench your knife tighter.

At the table, dark eyes turn up. Ghost tunes into you in the corner of the room. Your shoulders are tense, and he recognizes the building anxiety in your eyes. But there is also anger, burning and protective of yourself, which he respects. Knowing your history, you became fiercely protective of yourself and your friends, wrath becoming your wall to the world and advances from disgusting men. 

Soap’s eyes catch Ghost’s as he excuses himself. Like a shadow, the massive wall of a man materializes behind Graves. A boney-gloved hand reached around Graves and grabs the hand clutching your knife.

“I need you to take a look at something, Spitfire.” His accent is stronger and his voice rumbles into the back of Graves's head. The shorter man jolts away from you, shoulder knocking into the wall of English muscle. He spins around and takes in the man looking down at him. 

However, a sense of survival was not strong with this one.

Graves made a step forward that had Ghost raising his head, eyebrow quirking. But before he could speak Soap pushed his way between them with an image.

“Commander, we got something…” And with that the American bravado and charm fell back into place as Graves turned back to work, sparing you a wink.

“Until later Sweetheart.” The syrupy drawl made you gag and you raised a hand to shoot him a middle finger. A tug at your wrist stopped you and you released a tense breath before leaning into your Lieutenant. He turned to look down at you and you offered him a smile, his hand released and he nodded. You closed and pocketed the knife, an old gift from Simon after he found you always losing basic tools while visiting on leave.

“It’s not stupid.” You grumble, collecting yourself while watching Soap making a show in the far corner of the room. Alejandro turns to the two of you, head tilted at your proximity. The man had easily fallen into the position of a brother for you, and much like Soap held a bit of a white knight role. You smile at him and he squints.

Soap’s laptop rings with a call from Laswell. They had found the next target and Soap mentioned everyone back to the center table. Alejandro watched for a moment longer as Ghost released your wrist. You pushed forward, but not without bumping a hip into the quiet man and murmuring “thank you Love.”

-

This attitude of Graves had carried into one of his suggestions on how to get into the villa. 

“Give them what they want,”

Graves's eyes flicker to you,

“Intel. They want to know who’s here. Let’s tell’em.”

He carries a smirk, Alejandro intrigued, questions him,

“In-person?”

Graves's eyes shift to him.

“Correcto. Get one of us inside, find the boss…” he brings his hands together, “roll him up.”

There is a silent moment as you all consider the plan. It made sense, with all of the action and infiltration, you had riled up the mysterious head of the cartel. And if Hassan's actions weren't clear enough there was an obvious connection.

You break the silence. 

“It's a good idea, information at a time like this is as valuable as gold.” The men’s eyes turn to you. Graves smiles, stepping forward like a presenter on a stage.

“Glad you understand sweetheart.”

Soap frowns, “who goes in? Alejandro is too obvious…”

He is cut off by a smooth voice. Graves gestures to you, 

“Gentleman, I present to you our lovely option. Dressed to the nines they would be sure to dazzle their way past the guards.”

Your brow shoots up, first thinking the man was joking, before hot anger simmers.

“Are you fucking with me Graves?”

Your voice is firm as you raise from a nonexistent slouch, looming over the man. Graves steps up to the challenge.

“Darling, if you went in there with this attitude you'd have that man on his knees” he reaches a hand towards your face. Alejandro stands frozen at the gall but steps forward muttering in Spanish. But Soap beats him to it.

“I’ll go, They will expect a Scot less than an American…” With that, the tension cracks, and Graves turns back into the American Commander again, offering his patch as proof. 

You stand a little shaken but more irritated, you feel eyes, then turn to the back of the platform, still cast in shadow. 

The white skull haunts the shadow but it is the glint in Ghost’s eyes that catches your heart. He seemed perfectly composed but the glint of an unsheathed knife told you otherwise.

-

After that show, other moments had passed on and off base, but much less direct. Gentle brushes, winks, and comments on your form and ‘beautiful, hot complexion’ in the Mexican sun. Most of the time you brushed it off, throwing back your normal sarcasm. Vaqueros around you heard these comments with remarkably even tempers. Murmurs quickly had spread through the base of words spoken about you behind the backs of the 141, but if any passed a Shadow they only got straight faces in return. Your attitude had easily won Alejandro over and even the more timid Rudy began to follow after duty for friendly banter and drinks. 

The American jokes first baffled Soap when he heard them, but those spoken about you were all in good humor. Debates about Tex-Mex and beer along with your frankly terrible Spanish pronunciation were hilarious to the men and women on base. But at the end of the warm days, reclining on battered wooden stools and tossing back Tequila shots like water, you found good friends in the Cowboys. 

This is why Soap and the other Vaqueros in the room rushed out. Stories of your temper had escaped Soap’s drunk lips a few days ago. After that Spitfire became a friendly moniker you groaned at more and more. They even kept presenting a bottle of Fireball Whisky upon any request for a drink.

The sight for an outsider might have been funny. As word spread through the base, MSF soldiers in normal clothes, fully kitted Shadows, and a single Scot speed walking together in a growing crowd. The group weaved their way through fortifications, past the training field, and into a large warehouse. 

The air was slightly cooler but windows streamed in hot sunlight. This warehouse had been converted into part obstacle course and part outdoor gym. Due to Alejandro and Rudy's childhoods roaming amongst the cliffs they had wanted that connection to the outdoors.

Usually, at a time like this, the room was literally crawling with soldiers, some training along the ground with others scaling the attached rock wall with climbing features set up along the ceiling. A sturdy safety net hung overhead to catch anyone who took a trip over an edge or off a hanging bar. Now there was not a climber nor crawler insight as Soap and the following soldiers found. He pushed through a door and found the room surprisingly empty, except for a large congregation in the corner. Soap groaned. 

Set up next to a makeshift refresh area (basically a bar) was an equally makeshift boxing ring. Thick mats padded the entire floor area and even traced the walls. Stretchy bands squared in a 15 ft by 15ft space. It was smaller than standard but Alejandro had explained it easily:

“In the field, we don’t get that much space, also the contractor said it wouldn’t all fit with the counter.”

You had lost it at the consideration and spent the rest of that day calling him a decorator. Rudy had joined in with a high-voiced Spanish evaluation of the print of the uniforms and needing fresh flowers for the bar.

Soap and the following crowd gathered into the present crowd of Shadows and Vaqueros. These were still in partial gear from training, which presented the thought to Soap that whatever was going on was on an impulse.

His realization was confirmed when he saw Graves in the ring. Tank top fit flush against his muscled form, but the cocky nature of his victory diminished any physical appreciation. 

“Come on L.T. your up next.”

His cocky grin did not hush the murmurs in the crowd, even from his men. All eyes turned within the crowd, searching until they found Ghost. Soap saw his commanding officer in less gear, but he look no less dangerous.

Six feet and four inches of defined muscle stood in a long sleeve black shirt and thin grey joggers. He still had a pistol holster strapped to his side, but it was empty. What was not though was a few of his many combat-worthy throwing knives. Settled in a leather holder was a triple set of killers, his favorite of which, an iridescent midnight blue, was spinning in his deft fingers. Soap was surprised to see pale, scarred skin. Flashes of it at Ghost’s hands then up at his collarbone where the chain of his dog tags disappeared under his shift. The usual hard skull mask was exchanged for a lighter black balaclava painted with a half skull. One side was white and the other melted into faded painted metal, hammered plates painted in a dusty, dirty red. 

Soap’s lips quirked, even without you present he could tell your mark on the English lieutenant. The mask had been a joke gift, painted by you for a White Elephant you had insisted on hosting. 

-

You had gotten soap a luxury set of Scotch-based soap, Gaz a black tie stationary and lapel set (“for those fine suits you always go undercover in”), and Price a new fishing hat. It was reversible, with an all-black side for business, and a camo with the Union Jack, “it's the party side.” 

Price’s lips had quirked up and he tossed you his second favorite hat and dropped yours (in party mode) on his head. Finally, you quietly pulled Simon’s gift from your bag while the others were comparing gifts and joking. The warmth of conversation filled your apartment as you moved softly over to Simon. 

“Here Lieutenant, I hope you get some use from this.” You gently hand him the mask before turning to refill the drinks of the other men.

Simon turned the mask over in his hands. He immediately recognized it as handmade, the fabric reinforced for winter wear in high winds. He flipped it to the face and marveled a little at your art design, half Ghost and half of yourself. His eyes drifted up to your form passing through the room. Soap calls you over and then makes you laugh with a joke while Gaz and Price bicker back and forth about if the hat would match a suit.

For the moment there was peace here in your sanctuary and Simon let himself relax further into the familiar couch. His eyes closed for a few minutes then opened at your presence over him.

“Are you ok?” You set a glass of good ole’ Kentucky bourbon at the table next to him. He watches you for a moment under his solid black balaclava, eyes simmering with emotion that creeps around and through his walls. A few years of comradery had you leaning down and sinking into the seat next to him. He hums, body and head turned towards you.

“Was it too much? I saw it when we passed through that small village, you know I could barely understand that lady's accent…” You mumble off a little, your personality like a ping pong ball in your mind. 

Simon watches as a weight melts and slips off his heart. Under his mask, he smiles and his eyes gain a twinkle. Your hand moves in wide gestures in front of you as you impersonate a bad Liverpool accent, pulling from your limited British knowledge (the Beatles and 70s-80s rock). A warm hand grabs yours out of the air and pulls it to your now-touching legs, fingers entwining. You pause turning to Simon concerned, then eyes widen finding his sole focus on you and him being much, much closer than you expected.

“She had a Northern accent. She was from Manchester, Love” his accent thickened as a sort of demonstration and you nodded dumbly, a little baffled by this new position. 

“Right…”

Three sets of knowing eyes watched very, very intently at this new information.

-

Soap tensed as Ghost looked up, not even pausing in his spinning. There was a gleam in his eye but his lieutenant did not move. 

What followed were some childish plays at insults.

“Where did you leave your tea?”

“Come on Halloween!” Were finest among them.

Soap and some of the members of the Mexican force watched with tired sighs, as Ghost just stared. He didn't even bother with a reply as Graves got to his peacocking.

Even a few of the Shadows shifted uncomfortably away from Ghost’s form, and soon a circle opened between the edge of the ring where Graves leaned and where Ghost stood.

“What’s going on?” Your voice broke the not-standoff. Heads turned and Soap noticed Graves straighten.

“Oh boy.” The Scot pushed through towards Ghost, sensing trouble brewing. Men and women let you through and you entered the cleared circle, a smug Graves standing above watching. 

You wore gym shorts with a pair of worn sneakers. Your dog tags hung under your shirt and you had brushed your hair back behind an American flag bandana (a gag gift from Soap on your birthday). 

You stood next to Ghost, who upon your approach had finally paused in his knife twirling and stood more attentive. Graves noticed this with interest.

“So that works then.” 

You bite back instantly.

“What do you mean Jackass. He’s my commanding officer, he’s not here for you to get off on.”

There are a few ‘oofs’ heard throughout the crowd as some MSF soldiers hide snickers behind their hands. Ghost’s head tilts to the side, watching.

Graves takes it and runs, perhaps a bit too far.

“Alright long legs, perhaps you could bend down and give me a better view.”

The room goes silent. Soap pauses in his approach and his head shoots towards you, what had been amusement quickly turned sour at the continuous comments and the Scot felt ready to smash Graves's stupid face in. Graves’s men balked, and some of the MSF soldiers watched with wide eyes at such a direct comment. Eyes flew to Ghost.

Simon stood straight, knife held in his hand as he considered it. Yet, he rose a brow, shockingly calm. Then those in the room realized the true danger of the two.

You saw red, loose water bottle now clenched in your fist. Graves took a step back for a moment mouth open, as if surprised at the extent of the comment. He opened it then you shut it for him.

“That's it you fly boy fucker. I am sick and fucking tired of your comments. It is about time for you to put that pretty mouth where your dick clearly isn’t. We are settling this now.”

You reached to the side, snatching hand tape from the awaiting Ghost, and quickly wrapped your hands. Without another word, you leaped up into the ring and approached Graves. Alejandro and Rudy rushed in as you did so, a bit late from a meeting.

You squared up to a shocked Graves as Soap, Alejandro and Rudy made it to Ghost. As for your calm lieutenant, he only spun his knife, lowered it, and crossed his arms to watch what he knew would be a quick show.

As Graves snapped out of it you both began to circle one another, all while he offered stupid remarks.

“I can’t punch a pretty thing like you.”

And your favorite, “I’ll patch you up real good after this Honeybun.”

He then fainted forward and you twirled out of his reach. This dance happened a few times, with Graves's temper building up and his charges missing. You laugh under your breath and mutter something.

“Say that louder!” He huffs out, worked up after previous fights, his composure finally slipping with frustration. He turns to face you, guard up. You stare him down and he lunges.

“I said…” A swift duck right, your leg catches him and he tumbles. He rights himself and spins with a mean hook.

“I always thought you had a punchable face.” You duck under his hook and with a satisfied grin, throw all of your weight up with powerfully long legs into a padded uppercut. The punch cracks in contact with his jaw and sends the short man back, to which your fast-following shoulder bucks him further and sends him crashing into the padding of the ring.

The thud echoed in the quiet room. It dragged on as everyone turned to watch each other. Then loud laughter broke out from Soap. He started wheezing and then doubled over leaning on Ghost for support. Alejandro looked around and started laughing as well and it spread through the crowd. A few Shadows gave a light chuckle before stopping when they realized that, one, they were watched by their comrades, and two when they realized Graves wasn’t getting up.

The room waited then a Shadow popped his head up at the ring. You cracked your knuckles, hissing in pain as you walked to Graves’s down form. He was breathing and you voiced this. The peeking Shadow pulled his way up to the stage.

“He is good, just out cold.” Grave's head lolled to the side as the big Shadow threw him up in a slightly undignified fireman carry. People cleared a path and a few Shadows followed the carrier to the med bay. After they left the room erupted into laughter. It was boisterous and fun but the soldiers, satisfied at your victory returned to general training leaving you in the ring alone while Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, and Ghost watched.

You gently ran a finger over your right knuckles, hissing when you felt them. There will be a gnarly bruise, Graves had a hard head and this might be hard to explain to Shepard. But, you look to Alejandro and Rudy, their grins told you that you would be fine. Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist and hoisted you up.

“Alright, Spitfire! Ye’ showed him what for!” Soap twirled you around and your arms went to his shoulders for balance. 

“Oi Soap watch it!” Your defiance dissolved into laughter as Alejandro pulled himself up and whistled. Specks of blood sprinkle a little section of the mat. 

“Rudy, get cleaning in here we have a fluid spill.” He grinned as Soap set you down.

“Good work.” He ruffled your hair in passing, then turned to the rest of the room.

“Drinks tonight!” His voice boomed out in English, then in Spanish which got a lot of excited cheers. You pressed a kiss to Soap’s cheek and then turned to Ghost, but the Brit had vanished.

-

Graves was sitting alone hours later, chin bruised and ego drenched but overall ok. He rolled his shoulder with a groan and muttered.

“They can throw a punch, what a catch…” He turned to look up, running a hand through sweaty hair. His neck hair then rose on edge in the dim room, then a glint of silver. He jumped back as a silver knife sliced where his head had just been. It thunked into the wall with a thud. Panicked eyes flew to the door, and Simon stood leaning leisurely against the frame.

“Christ Almighty…” His voice was breathy and Graves threw up his Commander façade but something deep in him quaked at the sight of the reaper. Brown eyes lit up in the dark, light from the hall casting a looming shadow over Graves as he sat. The beast entered and Simon pushed forward. He paused a breath away from graves who while sitting had to look up at him. A gloved hand tore the knife from the wall and the rusty geared skull stared down. 

He watched for a moment as the color drained from Graves's face.

Then, in his other hand, your Swiss Army knife. Blade cherished and sharp and eager. He tilted the blade in the backlight then in a simple motion pressed it to Graves's neck in a mock motion. The edge was a hair breath away when Simon leaned in.

“You touch them, you look at them, or you even think of making another fucking comment about them, I will track you down and spread your remains all over your beloved men. Understand?” 

His accent bled heavy, venom from Ghost and anger from Simon blending into one wrathful and venomous being. Graves did not shake, but a single almost imperceivable flinch tumbled into a nod.

Ghost watched closer, the man below him so still he could almost make out his fluttering heartbeat in the dark. There was a maniacal-toothed grin under the mask as the beast paced, testing the confines of his tempered mind. But at a shaky, thickly breathed “understood” from Graves the reaper pulled back. He deftly pocketed your beloved knife and with one last spin of the throwing knife, Simon turned and swept out of the room.

-

Many drunk Vaqueros and even some of the more light-hearted Shadows had wandered into the bar after hearing Graves was awake. The room had gone quiet when Graves entered, shirtless and wrapped up. He seemed slightly shaken but he offered you a rigorous handshake, an apology, and a toast.

“Too strong hits and new friends.” 

The Shadows joined in more heartily then and you took the peace offering with a grin. The night then passed into a party. Simon lingered in later sticking to the edges of the room. He had watched and heard the calm words of the others spread and settle the room. You sat at the bar, a lightly inebriated Soap at your left and Rudy at your right. Something you were saying had the more timid man leaning in with a soft look. Simon paused in his approach. Alejandro joined him from behind.

“Don’t worry, he’s married hermano. Alejandro sets a brotherly hand on Simon’s shoulder, but the Englishman shakes his head, offering a surprising reply:

“I'm not.” 

Alejandro is surprised at such a revelation, but the grasp of Simon’s hand at his dog tags is all he needs to know.

“I understand.”

Simon turns at this and offers his hand, the two shake hands and with a pat on the back Alejandro sends Simon on his way. Simon cuts through the crowd, watching with interest as whatever you say sends Rudy into a bright red blush, barely hidden by his darker complexion. Soap, having heard, was sent into heavy laughter as he leaned back into the bar. Well, attempted to, as he slumped he miscalculated the distance and fell back. You lunged forward to grab him while laughing yourself and you fell as well. The floor approached quickly but a swift hand grabbed you by your arm and another grabbed Soap by the collar of his shirt. The arm holding Soap flexed forward and pulled the bewildered man back onto his stool. The free hand then joined the other stabilizing you. 

“Thanks, L.T.” Soap waved.

You were then engulfed by Simon, his arms coming to rest on the bar with your form in between. The position was questioning but with the festivities, no one other than Soap and Rudy was paying attention. Your surprise melted into pleasure.

“Hey L.T.,” his arms close in around you and he steps between your knees, your words fizzle out at the look in his eyes. There was a shimmer of pride mixed with deep affection. In the time you knew him you had learned to tell Simon from Ghost, besides the removal of his mask of course. The being before you carried the pride of Ghost, seeing your clean KO did things to him. But it was Simon who pressed his hand against your thigh. The touch was subtle compared to his massive form but he pressed his hand over them, fingers taping absentmindedly. It was a possessive action that sent your heart soaring.

He leaned in to talk to you, free hand coming to trace the American bandana, 

“good job my Love” he dips his hand, tugging at the chain around your neck, and fingers brushing softly over your bruised knuckles.

Your dog tags escaped but something much more precious hung there. And as the party continued, most none the wiser to the deep connection between the American and the Brit, two matching silver rings glinted in the light. 

[twistedtummies2]

Top 5 Portrayals of Charles Augustus Milverton

Our final list devoted to the supporting cast of Sherlock Holmes and his world was the single most challenging to create. I’ve talked about Professor Moriarty, Irene Adler, and Sebastian Moran in previous lists, and all of them are villains I think most would place in the “love to hate” category. These are characters who, either because they are simply entertaining, or because they have some deeper and more complex elements of interest, we actually enjoy seeing in action (to some degree or another), and perhaps even find ourselves rooting for to some degree. Of course, an antagonist of any sort doesn’t HAVE to be likable in order to be effective: they simply need to be good at what they do, which is providing opposition to the protagonist. Some bad guys are meant to be characters the readers - as well as the heroes of the story - find utterly and totally repugnant. A friend of mine refers to them as “punchable” villains, and I think that’s accurate: they’re characters you just hate with a passion and want nothing more than to see them decked out with a punch to the face, if not something better. One of the earliest examples of such “punchable” characters is our topic for today: the Master Blackmailer, Charles Augustus Milverton. Despite only appearing in one story (which, to be fair, is the treatment nearly all of Holmes’ enemies got), Milverton has made his mark as one of the detectives most infamous and despicable villains, mostly because of the fact that not only are the readers meant to hate him…but even Holmes HIMSELF expresses absolute DISGUST with Milverton. The character is written to be the most deplorable slimeball on the face of the Earth, his attitude and actions so vile that even the World’s Greatest Detective - who has faced so many criminals and crooks - despises him. Keep in mind, Holmes holds nothing but respect for Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime and his arch-enemy: for him to so utterly detest Milverton is a sign of just how awful a person this character is.

Milverton is an opportunistic cad of the highest order. He is described as a sort of human snake, with Doyle using reptilian analogies for the character’s motions, appearance, and so forth. In the books, Milverton does what he does primarily for greed: he blackmails people and profits off of their misfortunes, and this is really how he makes much of his living. Nearly everything he owns is due to him weaseling money, power, and so forth out of other human beings. To make matters worse, if someone DOESN’T pay up, he still profits in his own mind: once the dirty laundry he hangs over their heads gets aired out to the populace, everyone else in his grasp, present or future, will KNOW he’s being serious. It’s indicated that Milverton takes sadistic joy out of what he does, as he craves the feeling of being in power and control over others: in some versions, even in death, he shows neither remorse nor even fear, as he still believes, after he’s gone, he’ll have the upper hand. In others - including the original story that bears his name - once he realizes he’s cornered, he cowers and cringes and crawls like the craven worm he is. Either way, any time Milverton is beaten, it is satisfying beyond belief: that is ultimately the way he is meant to be. A smear on the fabric of humanity that everyone - the readers, the protagonists, and I suspect even the author - feels VERY happy to see washed away. To say there are “favorite” versions of Milverton of mine is overselling things. That indicates I actually LIKE the guy in ANY rendition, and I really don’t: no one is supposed to. But I felt, given his reputation and prominence, he deserved some limelight as much as the other characters I’ve covered. So, I looked at a few basics: which versions were the most satisfying to see beaten, which versions were played by actors I have a particular fondness for (despite such a horrible fiend being their role), and which ones did something interesting with the character that I can’t help but praise? Taking all those things together, allow to present - with an almighty asterisk beside the title - My Top 5 “Favorite” Portrayals of Charles Augustus Milverton.

5. Barry Jones, from the 60s BBC Series.

Jones is what might be termed - and you will pardon my blunt and crude analogy - your “basic b!tch” Milverton. He sticks to the source and sticks to it truly, without much reimagining involved. That’s not a bad thing, but I think other Milvertons higher up do a bit more interesting twists with the character. Jones is perfect casting, being a master at playing snobbish and reprehensibly dandified fellows; in another Sherlock Holmes outing, the film “A Study in Terror,” he played such a character in the form of the Duke of Shires: a slightly comical fop who starts off as an unlikeable so-and-so, but eventually shows he has a good heart beneath his pompous exterior. Milverton is essentially if you took that character and removed all likability from his soul.

4. Boris Ryzhukin, from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson.

While I think Jones’ portrayal of the Master Blackmailer is closer to the novel, Ryzhukin’s performance is equally excellent, and the adaptation makes an interesting change to the character. In this version, Milverton’s story is the prelude to the events of “The Final Problem,” as he is revealed to be one of Professor Moriarty’s top agents. His case is therefore the catalyst that sets off the chain of events ending in the battle at Reichenbach Falls.

3. Robert Hardy, from the Granada Series.

While I have some issues with the creative liberties taken in this adaptation of the story - which is very rare for the Brett series, I must confess - I think Robert Hardy’s take on Milverton is absolutely perfect, being both accurate to the source and going just a little bit beyond that to make him as creepy and even intimidating as he is slimy and sickening. Not much else to say, just a masterclass of fine acting in the guise of a thoroughly awful dastard.

2. Lars Mikkelsen, from Sherlock.

In this version, the character is renamed “Charles Augustus Magnussen,” to better match Mikkelsen’s Danish roots. The change of name, however, does nothing to disguise this versions nastiness. While much of season three of “Sherlock” was “meh,” I think Magnussen’s episode is one of the best of the whole series, and while he is a totally dispensable customer, the incarnation was very interesting. In this version, Magnussen has the exact same “powers” as Sherlock Holmes, being just as much of a genius and a brilliant expert at deduction as the detective, if not superior to him. He uses these abilities to figure out people’s weaknesses more easily and exploit them.

1. The Version from Moriarty the Patriot.

This is the closest any version of Milverton has come to being a “love to hate” character for me. (The keyword being “closest.”) While we’ve seen a version of Milverton who worked for Moriarty, this version turns out to be an enemy to BOTH Sherlock Holmes AND his arch-nemesis, and ends up being the closest thing to a “big bad” the series has given us so far. He is described as the “pure evil” counterpoint to Moriarty’s “necessary evil” in this reimagining, and is fueled more by his sadistic desires than greed. He's voiced by Kenji Nojima in Japanese, and Kayleigh McKee in the English Dub.

[fandomficsnstuff]

The Hilltop

(Warnings: Slight angst mixed in with fluff, a hint of more angst and Gregory himself is a warning because he’s a slug with a very punchable face and attitude, so yeah lol, fuck Gregory)

Note: This is not meant as romance, this is the OC growing up with the Survivors (Rick’s Group), though there might be some Carl x OC later on. Might.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daisy was quiet as she got up into the RV, her bowstring fixed, bow ready, backpack with her, arrows tied to the backpack in a make-shift quiver, her dagger strapped to her left thigh, a gun resting on her belt, another knife on the other side of the belt, a few bullet in the small satchel tied to the strap that was around her left thigh and an automatic rifle with her. Compared to the others, she looked practically vulnerable, just a handgun and a bunch of knives and a rifle, besides the bow and arrows, of course. “You sure that’s enough?” Jesus joked but Daisy just looked straight ahead at him with an emotionless expression “I don’t need guns to kill you” she just stated plainly before looking down at her bow, making sure everything was as it should be. “Why do I get the sense you’re probably more dangerous than everyone else?” he joked nervously and she looked back up at him, putting her bow aside, signaling that he had her full attention “my mom shot up drugs while pregnant with me, and after. My dad dealt drugs and shot them up himself, I’ve never had all of my vaccinations and I’ll probably die because of it, or some walker tears me apart before I can blink. I don’t really have anything to lose, that’s all” she stated casually, a few heads turning in the RV and she leaned back in her seat, looking around at them “what? No one is alive to make some kind of cure anyway” she muttered bitterly, Maggie frowning at her “Delilah” she said softly, enough to get the girl’s attention and when she did, her look softened, her eyes moving to Maggie’s stomach before looking back up at her “I’m sorry… I didn’t-”

“It’s alright, just-... don’t think like that too much, alright? Don’t get stuck in your own head” Maggie advised with a soft smile, Daisy nodding softly, making Maggie smile “you should get some sleep, you always look so tired these days…”

“I’m alright… hey, can-... can I move in with you guys?” she asked hesitantly, Rick and Michonne looking at her with a frown, though Michonne was actually able to turn to look at her since she wasn’t in the driver’s seat and behind the wheel “why? You’re the one who wanted to stay with us to begin with…”

“Yeah, just-... Carl and I-... don’t really work well… I don’t want to stay in the same house as him” she muttered bitterly, Jesus frowning at her “why do you think you won’t survive long? You’ve made it pretty far from what I can tell-”

“I don’t think I’m immune to bites like I am to scratches” Daisy muttered casually, everyone turning their heads to look at her, making her scoff “what? It doesn’t matter now, so why hide it?” Daisy asked with a quiet voice, Jesus frowning with shock and disbelief “what do you mean ‘immune’?” he asked with shock, Daisy scoffing as she rolled up her pant leg, showing him the scratches “got that when I was like eleven or something-”

“Eleven ‘n five months” Daryl spoke up without thinking, all eyes turning to him and he noticed, scoffing “what? I can’t know how old my niece is?” he asked rhetorically before looking out the window again, Maggie smirking “you countin’ the days too?” she teased, Daryl scoffing at her and she grinned at Glenn, even though Jesus was still frowning with disbelief and shock “but-... these scratches, they’re from a dog or something, right?”

“No. I crawled up a tree to get away from walkers-”

“So you scratched yourself on a tree-”

“If you’re going to interrupt me you might as well just stop asking me questions” she snapped, Jesus swallowing the lump in his throat “but-... you’re-...”

“Yeah, and the only two guys who could make something with it can’t do it. One is dead and the other is a lying son of a-”

“Delilah!” Daryl warned, Daisy quieting down as she looked down. “It doesn’t matter, anyway… there’s no one who could do anything with me… my blood doesn’t work either… we tried that…-”

“Deanna was already bitten’, pie, she was already dyin’, one way or another with that leg of hers, too, maybe it has to be before they die or get bit” Maggie tried, a smile on her lips that Daisy just frowned at “no one is going to willingly get bitten or scratched to test that… besides, I don’t want any needles-”

“So what, you’re going to cut a hole in your arm again and hope a tube will fit in it?”

“It was the best I could do” Daisy muttered bitterly to Rick’s question, Daryl frowning at her “you did WHAT?!” he snapped, Daisy turning a little more pale as she looked at him “I thought it was worth it if it helped her…” she muttered, her hand covering the crook of her elbow without realizing it, covering the small scar that was there, even though it was already covered by the fabric of her sleeve, Daryl scoffing “gonna take away yer knives too if you ever do somethin’ stupid like that again” he muttered and Daisy scoffed, leaning back “great, then we can test if I’m immune to bites too-”

“Delilah!” Daryl snapped and she restrained herself to not groan or roll her eyes, simply looking in his direction and he scoffed “go ter the back of the RV.”

“But-”

“Now!” he snapped, Daisy scoffing as she got up, about to grab her things when Daryl stopped her “nuh-uh, leave ‘em.”

“What?! But what am I supposed to do then if I can’t-”

“No, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ in there except not actin’ like this, now go on, get” he ordered and she glared at him but stomped off, Daryl groaning as he looked back out the window “brat” he muttered and everyone but Jesus knew he didn’t mean it. “So, she’s your niece?” Jesus asked, Daryl glaring at him “shut up” he muttered before looking back out the window again.

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

Daisy was quiet as she sat on the grass while Maggie guarded Jesus, Maggie sighing softly “you really wanna stay with me and Glenn, pie?”

“Yeah, maybe I can help with the baby, I’m pretty good with Judith…”

“Why? I thought you and Carl got along really well?”

“Do you know the last time he’s actually talked to me like we used to before we got here? And not just ‘hello’ or something like that. Months. It’s been months and he didn’t even realize it had been that long, or that he hadn’t even talked to me…”

“I’m sure there’s a reason for it-”

“Yeah, her name’s Enid” Daisy muttered bitterly, getting up, taking out her knife from the sheath that was strapped to her thigh, walking over and mindlessly sticking the knife into a wooden post, clearly a bit bored. “Enid? I-”

“It’s-... I’m not mad at her, it’s not like I don’t like her, I’m sure she’s really nice and all but I just-... I don’t mind him being friends with her, but he forgot about me, that’s all” she muttered, Maggie sighing softly “don’t worry too much ‘bout it, pie, alright? It’ll pass, you don’t have to move out-”

“No, I do… I don’t want to be in that house with him if I don’t exist anyway. He was literally the reason why I wanted to stay with them and not uncle Daryl and Carol” she muttered, Maggie giving her a sympathetic smile “I know, pie…”

“And now my uncle thinks I’m insane…”

“He don’t-”

“Yeah, he does!... I-... I just-... thought it’d help, you know? That maybe, somehow, I could still do something with this, with me, my life… I-I’m not stupid, okay? I know it’s not that simple but-... what if it was? What if it was and I just-... didn’t do anything because I thought it wasn’t that simple?” she blabbered, Maggie sighing softly “I know, pie. And your uncle doesn’t think you’re insane, he’s just worried. I know you don’t like needles and doin’ what you did was just your way of doing that…”

“Yeah, we couldn’t exactly make a pit-stop at the infirmary to grab some needles and empty blood bags” she muttered, Maggie smiling at her “I know… but I also understand why he’d react like that. None of us like the idea that you hurt yourself, even though you didn’t think of it like that, alright? Just-.. promise you won’t try that again and that’s it, okay?”

“I promise… it didn’t work anyway” she muttered, Maggie giving her a sad smile “I know how much you wanted it to, pie…” she muttered and Daisy nodded, taking a heavy sigh before sheathing her knife again, leaning against the post “whatever” she muttered, Maggie sighing softly.

As the others came back out again, Daisy frowned at all the new people, her hand going to her gun but Daryl shook his head as he approached “nah, ‘s alright” he muttered and she nodded, hesitating before pulling him aside as the others got in the RV. “I didn’t-... I didn’t do it because I wanted to or because I felt like it, I just-... I-I’ve seen momma shoot up and I remembered it to be in the crook of her elbow and that guy at the CDC took from the elbow too and I just thought that if it worked, IF it worked, it-... no one would have to get sick, no one would have a fever and then die and then come back and hurt and kill everyone and-” she sighed heavily as she cut herself off “I didn’t hurt myself because I-.. liked it… I just-... I wanted to help and I didn’t know how else… I mean-... giving blood to people is supposed to help them, right? It’s what they do at hospitals and all that and I just-... I hoped it’d work, you know…? That the fever would go away and that-... she wasn’t dead while she was still breathing” Daisy pleaded quietly, Daryl studying her before scoffing, pulling her into a brief but tight and secure hug. “Don’t ever do somethin’ stupid like that again, alright? Don’t matter if you think it’ll help, promise me you won’t” he whispered and Daisy hugged him back, nodding as she smiled a little “I promise, uncle Daryl” she muttered, Daryl nodding as he parted from her, studying her before ruffling her hair, making her giggle as she pushed his hand away “I’m not five anymore!”

“Damn straight, yer bagged ya first deer at the prison, you’re an adult now” he teased as they walked towards the RV, Daisy smirking up at him “damn straight I am” she fired back and he scoffed, ruffling her hair again and she pushed his hand away and hurried ahead a little while giggling and smiling, getting up into the RV, turning to Maggie who smiled at her “you two work things out?”

“Yeah…”

“Good. Now sleep, you look exhausted” Maggie encouraged and Daisy scoffed but with a smile “you’re already like a real mom” she muttered, Maggie chuckling as she watched Daisy sit down, looking out the window and she smiled “Daisy-”

“It’s okay, I’m not tired” she stated with a soft smile, Daryl sitting down next to her “I am” he muttered and turned to lean against a wall, throwing his legs up on her lap and closed his eyes, smirking when she scoffed and shook her head at him, having opened one eye to look at her before closing his eyes, not really sleeping, but Maggie was right, she looked exhausted, so maybe if she saw him sleep, she’d follow suit and nod off, or something.

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

Daisy didn’t even wake up when the RV got stuck in the mud, her mouth a little open as she leaned against Daryl’s shoulder, the large man completely unbothered by it, at least she was finally sleeping, relaxing and letting herself rest. Daryl grunted a little when he realized he had to wake her up, turning to look down at her, his hand gently shoving her shoulder and the second her eyes opened up, he grabbed her hand before she could pull the knife out of it’s sheath on her thigh, Daisy looking around before relaxing, having reached for her knife out of instinct. “‘S alright, c’mon” he urged and she nodded, yawning a little, closing her eyes which looked adorable. She stood up, smiling at Maggie as the others got out “c’mon, pie” she urged, smiling at Daisy who smiled back at her, walking out of the RV after her, walking ahead a little to stand next to her uncle before halting completely at what she saw, her eyes widening a little and her brows furrowed. “That’s us, that’s the hilltop” Jesus announced and walked ahead, Daisy turning to Daryl who gave her a hesitant nod and she walked with the others, Daryl keeping her in his sights at all times. “What’re you worried about?” Maggie asked, Daryl looking at her, studying her as they both walked before looking ahead at Daisy again. “You know, you’ve been what her mom wasn’t. You’ve been there, watched her grow up and all of that, ‘n that shit on the way to Washington before all ‘f y’all met us in Atlanta at the hospital? You get her…” he started, Maggie smiling at him with joy “but?”

“Nah, no ‘but’... just wanted to mention it, wanted ter make sure you knew it. She feels like that too, you know. Don’t imagine she’d let you call her ‘pie’ if she didn’t” he teased and Maggie chuckled, shrugging “she’s a good girl. She’s strong, smart… and she’s got quite the memory” she added with amusement and Daryl nodded with a smirk “yeah, like she remembers every damn thing.”

“It’s good to remember. It’s healthy, so long as she doesn’t stay too much up in her head, lookin’ too far back instead of ahead, you know?”

“Nah, she don’t. She just remembers ‘s all. A shame she don’t remember any of the good things, though… before all of this. Don’t think she remembers her grandparents… they were real good people, they took care of her, they weren’t fond ‘f my brother, her dad, but they let us visit, you know? They didn’t allow drugs, or alcohol. No cussin’ ‘n all of that. They said they liked me, though… they was good people. They tried to get custody of her when she was three, I think, but they lost for some damn reason… They tried” he concluded with a small nod, Maggie smiling at him “you did, too. You’re a good man, Daryl, and an even better uncle. I don’t know if that little girl would be who she is today if it hadn’t been for you. She’s a bit guarded, sure, but she warms up to people. And when she does, she sticks by them, through thick and thin. It’s lucky that we have her with us” Maggie admitted, Daryl nodding as he kept his eyes on her, looking at Maggie when he felt her staring and he scoffed at her smile, looking ahead again “I ain’t gonna cry or some shit if that’s what you want” he joked lightly, Maggie chuckling “and here I was hopin’” she teased with a grin, Daryl merely scoffing at her with a hint of a smile on his lips, Maggie giggling lightly before falling back a little to walk besides Glenn.

“Stop right there!” Daisy lifted her rifle, stepping a few steps back to stand next to her uncle as she aimed at the other one atop the wall, the one Daryl wasn’t aiming at, that way they both had them should they do anything stupid. “What? Are you gonna make us?” Daisy fired back, Jesus quickly holding out his arms and facing the group, trying to get them to lower their arms “Jesus, what the hell is this?!”

“Open the gates, Cal. Freddie’s hurt” Jesus ordered before turning back to the group “look, sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing” he stated calmly as he faced those two atop the gate “they give up their weapons. Then we’ll open the gates-”

“Why don’t you come and get them, then?” Daisy asked with a scoff, raising the rifle a little more to have a much better aim as the doctor they had found from Jesus’ group hurried forward “gentlemen, look, we vouch for these people, alright? They saved us out there!”

“Lower the spears” Jesus ordered tensely right after the doctor spoke, Daisy turning her head to glance at her uncle before looking at Jesus as Rick walked forward “look, I’m not taking any chances. Tell your guy Gregory to come out here-”

“No” Jesus turned around to face Rick, Daisy taking a step closer to him “don’t you see what just happened? I’m letting you keep your guns-”

“You’re not letting us do anything” Daisy said calmly yet with distrust, Jesus sighing heavily as he turned to face her “we ran out of ammo months ago” he admitted quietly, first to her before looking at Rick “I like you people. I trust you… trust us” Jesus asked, turning to look at Daisy who just glared at him once more before looking back up at the people atop the wall with spears, narrowing her eyes a little at them. “Tell them to lower those sticks and we’ll lower our weapons” she demanded stiffly, Jesus sighing heavily and Rick hesitated before stepping towards her “Daisy-”

“I’m not lowering shit if they don’t.”

“Language” Glenn scolded over his shoulder while still having his rifle aimed at those atop the gate and Jesus sighed heavily. Again. He turned to Rick and Rick gestured above his head, Daisy’s family all lowering their guns except for Daisy, a fiery look in her eyes and Rick glanced at Daryl with a pleading look. The archer noticed and sighed, gently nudging his niece with his elbow, his crossbow still in his hands “hey, they ain’t gonna do nothin’, a’ight? I ain’t gonna let ‘em, this ain’t going down like that” he stated quietly and Daisy waited a few seconds before lowering the rifle, looking up at Daryl who nodded “that’s it. C’mon” he urged and she walked in front of him like he urged, the gates creaking as they were pulled open, revealing the community inside.

[3milesup]

oh gosh, i just saw the first two episodes of succession and wtf, it's so well done, it totally sucked me in... a bunch of disgusting, hollow macchiavellians that have trauma written all over their punchably arrogant faces?! yeeah, i live for that... no, seriously, i am very intrigued. by roman whose zero-fucks-given attitude speaks to my soul in a somber tone because it yells poor coping and inner void, by shiv because when smart women get manipulative, they can outmanipulate anyone and she is damn smart, and by kendall just so fucking eager to prove himself but i- as for now- can't really see the CEO material; yes he's got a plotting mind, a modernising vision, and is ruthless to an extent but he looks too... insecure underneath it (then again, i've seen next to nothing of the show but he gives me a strong vibe of a little boy lost in a big world, he wants to play with the adults so bad but sorry hun, you're not quite there yet, watch and learn...), and by greg who might be a hirsch but he totally is a roy because he has no moral compass whatsoever and i feel like he's going to fit in with his fam...

oh. so many feelings about this. plus the opening credits?!!? mesmerising, to say the least. the theme has such a wistful touch of nostalgia, it struck me as an amusement-park-like tune before i even knew they had anything to do at all with the parks.. maybe it is just me, that it reminds me of something i don't even remember, related to circus or lunaparks.. but it definitely gives off the vibe of lost childhood, lost innocence, i could write an essay only about the intro but this has gotten annoyingly long already so i better cut off the gushing and actually watch the show to have something of substance to say... just wanted to share the excitement^^ because i rarely see something that clutches at my very heart like this on so many levels...

[hasturlover]

You’re so real for the Jily/Dramione comparison actually ( strap in and please excuse my rambling- I’m tired and very passionate about this)

James/ Draco are essentially the same character. Canonically they were both spoilt, rich, bullies who didn’t really care about people they deemed were “below” them. The only MAJOR difference was how they defined who was underneath them.

Draco went for muggle borns and blood traitors and James went for anyone who breathed wrong near him. James was the one who got the redemption and the girl though (which is another difference between them)

Lily/Hermione are the smart muggleborn and they’re both pretty firey. Lily really had no interest in James until (roughly) seventh year and always considered him a bully. It’s the whole “he was mean because he liked her uwu” thing which. Ew. And is a whole other thing.

Hermione was called slurs repeatedly by Draco, and never viewed him as someone she could even be civil with, let alone DATE. Another “he was mean to her because he liked her UwU” situation.

I mean there are obviously differences because of circumstances and such but to their core they’re essentially the same (I don’t really like either)

I agree with all of this tbh, your ramblings described those ships perfecfully. I kinda tolerate jily in some fics because they just mentioned in passing and their existence is just to progress the plot. Little knows information about them, which isn't enough to made them dislikeable or likeable (at least to me). So it's up to each person how to intepret james and lily's character and how their relationship goes. In comparison, there's so many draco and hermione's information so intepreting their characters is easier, and enough interaction that made people wonder 'what-ifs'. While james and lily got together just because james matured, and thats coming from his biased friend.

And tbh i felt discomfort by those two ships because it reeks 'hot badboy who got fixed by pure kind girl' and both fits the trope 'quidditch jock x nerd', which is fine but i just want to pointed that out. While i like harmione (i have no opinion on lily), james and draco's attitude made them so punchable and i probably will sell matchsticks if people burned them. James and draco have shown no respect to lily and hermione while lily and Hermione regard them with hostility. While i love enemies to loverd troupe, it's almost impossible to made them together without them being forced by narrative, which means narrative have to erase some of their traits to made the ships happened.

[unknownjpegs]

apology

When Benji finally musters the bollocks to do it, the evening is wetly humid. The air heavy and full, ready to burst like a swollen gut. The downpour starts around dinnertime, announces with a bright flash and clap of thunder so loud it makes a candle on the windowsill wobble. 

“Well,” Tino says, swiping at his beard with a napkin and standing. “Mighty strong storm incoming, I guess. Gonna go check that we got enough juice in the backup generator, just in case. Close the windows upstairs, too.”

Benji doesn’t move, and neither does Lark But Xavier, all proper soldier’s posture, jerks into a standing position to follow. To help. 

(Benji does not smile about it.)

“Nuh-uh,” Tino says quickly, flapping his hand at Xavier until he slinks back into place. “You stay there and finish your food, son. I can handle a couple latches.”

“Yes sir,” Xavier says, watching the priest’s form retreat with a kicked sort of but I can help eagerness. 

Benji snickers. Two pairs of eyes land on him — brown and confused; green and peevish.

“Uh.” Lark says, a note of what the fuck to it. "Chill?"

The tension goes above his head, but its fizzing between the other two men is palpable enough to feel. And he would shut his mouth, but there’s such a punchable look of victory set over Xavier’s face that he decides on another course of action.

“Never mind sir,” he says to Lark in, what he thinks at least, is a rather good American accent. He tops it off by offering them both a saucy two-finger salute. 

“You’re not funny,” Xavier volleys across the table, glaring. Musta had a bad day.

“Lark laughs.” 

And usually, yeah. He does. Big, wonderful peels of it. Lark has a good laugh.

But he doesn’t now. And somehow his silence, his confusion at Benji's sudden attitude, is the worst sort of response. It makes him feel senseless, silly, unwarranted in his sourness. It makes his shoulders curl in dismayed embarrassment. It fucking smothers him harder than a verbal reprimand, one of Lark's cutting, steely looks that he loves watching slice across the room at someone else. It makes him feel as though Lark has just strode deliberately across one side of a line.

He knows what the bitter touch of jealousy on a tongue tastes like. A family coming together in am amoeba hug, crying and holding each other at the end of a particularly nasty exorcism. Watching Tino being similarly folded within the arms of his siblings. 

Lark's lack of laughter doesn’t hurt in a I want you, you’re supposed to be mine, it’s supposed to be us, you chose someone else way. There’s no burning bitterness on his tongue left by his silence, no twist of jealousy. 

It feels like: you’re gone again.

The subsequent moments are incredibly, unbearably uncomfortable. Without Tino to buffer the strange, triangular energy, Benji spirals a bit more under Xavier’s stare: fuck. Lark's not laughing. He knows. He knows, and he fucking hates me, and I have got to fix this. We can’t keep going like this, or somebody’s gonna get hurt. And that’ll be on me too, because this is on me. This is my fault. I gave in. I’m the one who keeps letting my emotions get the better of my judgment.

*

The rain has ceased a bit by the time Benji feels ready. Or, at least, as ready as he can be. How the fuck does he do a conversation like this? An apology?

He finds Xavier on then back porch, temple propped to one side against the crumbling stairs’ stone railing. 

“A’right?” Benji greets, feeling frozen in the doorway. 

Xavier tucks his chin to his shoulder, barely assessing Benji. His eyes briefly flash — Benji wishes he was turned more, so he could try to read that expression better. Yet…he’s glad he doesn’t, because he’s entirely sure it’s just cold, immature dislike. And for some reason, the idea of seeing it there makes his stomach curdle. 

Can’t blame him, can you?

Xavier kicks a foot out, pointing his trainer down at the ground past the bottom step.

“Watch out. Rain made it all gross. Don’t, like, trip and absolutely eat shit into the mud. That would be so unfunny and not make my day whatsoever.”

Benji glares at the back of his head, a bubble of annoyance nearly strong enough to overtake the anxiety. “Could make mine. I could push you.”

“Do it.” He clips back cheerfully. “And I’ll take you down with me, asshole.”

At his sides, Benji’s fist clench. It is an incredible act of willpower to stop his foot from lashing out square into that lean back, to follow through on Xavier’s brattish request. 

“Go fffff—” He grits his teeth. “Mate, I do not want to fight, okay?” 

And that…isn’t entirely true. From the moment Lark had introduced them, the tension had been thick and short-fused. If he was being entirely honest, Benji might say something like: it’s fun to rile you up. I can tell getting angry makes you embarrassed. I can tell when you’re embarrassed because you scrunch your nose and blush. It feels a little like a victory to get that expression, to watch you stomp around like a petulant cartoon character with steam out your ears.

 It feels like something else, too. Something that isn’t allowed. 

So Benji refrains from being entirely honest, because yeah. He isn’t allowed. The last time he allowed himself, the last time he gave in to the emotion that beat at his chest — 

Well. That’s why they’re here in the first place, isn’t it?

Benji swallows and shakes his head. He takes slow, deliberate movements out under the awning. Crouches and settles himself down next to the other man. He’s careful to keep the distance proper, elbows balanced on tucked knees.

Xavier looks at him sidelong. “Why. ‘Cuz you’d lose?”

The fuck.

“Sorry?” He scoffs. “You think you’d win a fight with me?” A sweeping gesture over Xavier’s form — tall with more reach, but certainly lighter than Benji. Certainly less strong. Benji knows who’d win. It’s funny that Xavier seems not to. “Naw, c’mon. Don’t be daft.”

That makes Xavier twist, shoulders tight and rolled back, to glare at him. There’s no confusing his expression now. Benji has been unintentionally successful in pushing him square past bristly annoyance. Needled directly onto the other end: proper fucking furious. 

“Think I can’t?” Xavier fumes. His nose wrinkles, lip curling ferociously. “What, you think I’m fucking weak just because…” A threatening, humorless huff leaves him. His eyes are steely and spine-chillingly hard on Benji’s face. “Only reason I won’t is because it’d make Lark—”

Lark.

Reminded of why he’d come out in the first place, Benji puts his hands up. He’s sure his face is also twisted with a faint hint of his own cold, rising tide of anger. Hopes the gesture placates a little.

“Xavier. M’serious, okay. I do not want to fight — I…” he shakes his head. “Really. I want to apologize.”

He’s still hackled like a short-leash dog, brow furrowed. Except now it smooths a bit in confusion. His eyes widen from slitted anger to perplexed. 

“You capable of that?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Benji rolls his eyes and draws a deep breath. He looks away from Xavier’s glinting, mossy glare. Occasionally (often) finds its hard to meet because of how pinned he feels. How intense it gets, like they’re lit from behind.

Benji swallows. “Right. You have every right to be pissed.”

Nothing. Silence. 

He rubs his hands on his thighs. “It was a bit ago, now. When you —” came home. “When you both joined back up. Um. It was just one kiss. And it was weird. When we were younger we had - not a thing, but kind of? And we decided...well it was weird. So it was weird this most recent time."

Xavier stares at him. Benji's stomach flips with anxiety. The words keep spilling out.

"Not that it makes it better. So I get it, y’know. I understand.” He spreads his hands, wrings them. Quickly, fiercely, he asserts: “And I’m not trying to absolve myself. Not trying t’speak for him, either. But it wasn't anything. Other than weird. We were just confused, and we've been through a lot together, and were trying to figure out - well that’s his business. Yours, I guess.” A nervous chuckle. “Yours, plural. Not, like. Yours, Xavier yours.”

“What,” Xavier says after a beat, “the fuck are you talking about?”

Benji looks out over the green, wet grass and wishes it would open up in an awful sinkhole, mantle-deep, and swallow him the fuck up. 

"I feel like you took him from me." Benji admits in a whisper barely audible above the rain. "I feel like you're taking him from me every day. He's so much more — him. Happier. I guess I was trying to hold onto something that wasn't meant to be held onto? Does that make sense?"

The rain is a steady, thrumming beat against the ground. Against the makeshift tin awning — the original had crumbled years ago, and Benji had been meaning to help Tino repair it. Hard to find the time with all the travel, all the work. Now he’s a little thankful for the rhythm. Lets him focus on something else instead of the curdling, sour fist of emotion in his chest as he waits for Xavier to speak.

I’ll apologize, Benji says, studying ripples in a puddle forming near the toe of his boot. He dips the tread in. Watches the reflection of the grey sky waver. But I don’t regret it. It's good to know. It's good to have him. Have each other. Be normal, again.

He tips his chin up at the sky. A streak of heat lightning flits across the gloom, illuminating everything in a brief flash of white-gold. Benji squints. Feels eyes on him. He tilts to look at Xavier, whose chin is turning away.

“I’m sorry.” 

Not that it happened. What were the types of love again? Tino taught us, at some point. Pragma is commitment and time — Tino, Lark. Agape is universal — Tino, Lark. Philia’s like friendship, also Lark. Storge is family. Them again. And the others -

Benji watches him, pale fingers tapping on his knees. They’re bare, jeans torn and fraying at the seams. The white elastic looks time-worn, almost fluffy and soft. Old pair. 

He can't remember the other types of love. Or he does. Is scared to bring them to the surface. Fuck it all up again.

 Xavier is quiet for a long, long moment. He wishes he were any better at reading silence. Outside of his noisy, spinning head, the lack of sound has always made him feel starkly seen but unable to observe. No noise to dissect —as if he were stuck in a one way glass cage.

“Why?”

“What d’you mean why?” Benji echoes in disbelief. “Why am I sorry?”

Xavier waves his hand, and for some reason it’s almost enough to spark his temper to the tiny quick.

“Well, why then fuck else would I be sorry, Xavier?” He snaps. “Because I ...because that’s a boundary, right?  I crossed it. Lark is my — ”

Companion, confidant, first, equal. Friend. More, when I realized that was an option. Less, when we realized it didn't have to be. We didn't really think. We just did it. Talked after. Like I am with you, now. Always talking after the fact. Cleaning up after the mess’s been made. Fuck’s sake, Saha. Now would be nice.

“Well, whatever. It’s complicated. That isn’t important. Because he's your…” He searches for a word, and realizes he doesn’t know. Nothing to articulate with any cleanliness from a messy assumption.

“Your?” Benji repeats, trailing off. “Shit.”

“I —yeah, shit. This is weird. Uh.” Xavier shoves a hand back through his hair, which is a motion that Benji has tried to stop watching so closely as of late. Found it more than a bit difficult. “We’re friends?”

Benji stares at him, mouth slightly open. “There is…okay. There’s a question mark at the end of that.”

“We’re friends.” Xavier says again. Then, more firmly: “Best friends. He's my my best friend.”

He stares in circles around Xavier’s face, searching. Not for dishonesty or indecisiveness but…more. 

“You — listen, not to get in your fuckin’ business, since we don’t know each other, but. I thought that…that it was —” Benji fans the air. “I mean, you’re both always…” He clears his throat, glancing away now with cheeks that have begun to feel hot. “Tino gets three rooms.”

Xavier’s eyes narrow with the tight pull of his brow. “Three?” 

“Three rooms.” He repeats, tilting his head down expectantly and holding those fingers up. “Him, me, Lark. Not four. Because he has you in there too?” 

Any other situation, one that wasn’t so supremely fucking uncomfortable, Benji would find the quick, immediate red flush to his face funny. 

“I — Jesus!” Xavier laughs too loud, puts both hands on the back of his head. He leans back a bit, stomping his feet on the concrete step in a frustrated, dancing mini-tantrum. It’s almost cute. “Jesus Christ, wow. Okay. Didn’t realize we were, uh. That you were paying attention like that. Ew, first off. I'm not -” he shivers like it's truly a disturbing. "God, no. We're friends."

Oh, shit. No, no. He thinks I’m a proper fucking pervert.

“I’m not,” Benji says quickly. In his head, a voice goes: lie. “I’m not. Paying attention, that is. It’s just noticeable.” 

Xavier stares at him.

He coughs.  “Ah, fuck. The r-room sharing, not anything else.”

Xavier laughs. Rather than loud, it wheezes out at the end. Thin like tissue paper, a breathless sort of huff. He drops a hand to his chest then brushes the back of his knuckles over his jaw. Fidgeting. Benji glances down at his tapping boot, his bouncing knee. Fidgeting.

I’m so fucking uncomfortable, written across his face, both of theirs, when they make eye contact once more. This is exactly why I don’t do this shit — talk. Make a fucking fool of myself, because what? Because we’ve — well. In this situation because there’s been no talking at all, right? Fuck. Avoided, because it would be uncomfortable. And now…

His turn to chuckle at the washing machine spin of his brain. He fishes the pack of cigarettes from his jacket, taps two out, and hands one to Xavier. 

“Sorry. If —” he tucks it between his teeth. Nearly fucking swallows the thing when their fingers brush as Xavier takes the offering, does the same. “I need it.”

“Yeah.” Xavier agrees. Benji does not look at him when he holds the lighter up, arm outstretched, but he feels the soft puff of air against his knuckles. “Thanks.”

He snorts. Feels absurd, gratitude. Especially from Xavier, especially now, especially — 

“We’re friends too.” Benji says. To his own ears, he sounds petulant. He hopes Xavier can’t pick that up. The space lingers quiet at the end of that; at one point, Benji might have tacked on best friends with a challenging sneer. 

Some days, it feels like that Lark's out of reach completely; just as nebulous as his younger self. Like they’ve both died, in a way. That they're a thing of the past. Benji huffs a laugh at the morbidity of that, coughs out smoke. 

“Lark and I. We’re friends but, I mean, back before —” He snorts. “Never mind. It’s complicated. Always fucking is, with them. But that, y’know, it was just the once, this go ‘round. And I figured I owe you an apology. Didn’t take into account…y’know. Feelings.”

He looks over at Xavier, even though the embarrassment, the vulnerability rises steady and burning in his chest. Wonders why he wants to bother about sparing feelings, now. 

“I am now. I’m choosin’ to make it right, best I can.” Benji stares up at the sky again, because looking into Xavier’s knowing eyes is like staring at the electric green grass, tinged bright and vibrant by the dark storm. “Might be a little too late, but I gotta try. So.”

So. So what? There’s a bunch under the surface, multitudes of explanations and questions and clarifications that he could offer. That he wants to request. From Lark, from Xavier. The words don’t come, though. They never do when he really, really needs him.

Xavier doesn’t seem to need them at the moment, anyway — he pulls on the cigarette with a distant gaze cast across the grass.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s too late.” His long leg knocks against Benji’s, frayed elastic sticking to his own pants with all the staticky ozone in the air. “I still think you’re an asshole, though.”

Benji grins, a sense of relief accompanying the next rumbling crack of thunder.

“Yeah, well.” He tilts his head to the side. “And you’re a prick, so we’re good.”

[al-ghoul]

Just filled my queue with Hetfield so I would not spam too heavily. Three posts a night is a reasonable pace.

I'm having a resurgence after accidentally listening to S&M for three days in a row.

He's such a grampa now, my heart melts. (Grampa Lars somehow got even more punchable (affectionate) with age - I don't know how this works, I guess it's the attitude).

[explosivedesire]

"Architect! Uhhh I guess people would call me a public menace or something like that. Definitely not an architect though~~"

So maybe the person in particular got on her nerves a little too much. It wasn't her fault for giving them a 3 second warning before pulling the trigger on her launcher. People just didn't have the slightest clue how to keep their hands to themselves. Even if she found herself in prison it wouldn't be for too long so handling all of this might as well be a breeze...

"Also I don't know what this guy is doing here. He kinda just showed up there after I bl-" Only after she took a better look did a curious expression reveal itself across her face.

"Hey wait a minute! Your that guy from the winter thing! The one with the punchable face!" How she managed to remember that was anyone else's guess. Good facial recognition? Maybe something else...attitudes tended to stick around the longest.

「✧」 On a beautiful Monday afternoon in Golden Ward, Aurelius Vane-Tempest walks out of a cafe and onto the scene of a disaster: some idiotic punk's taunting a girl in the streets. Unfortunately, she's armed.

"What're you gonna do, blow me up with that launcher?"

Click. Press.

BOOM!

10 minutes later and he's being dragged to the police station, where the officers politely but firmly place him on a bench next to a girl who looks too thrilled to be there at all.

Aurelius looks down. There are tea stains all over his patent leather shoes and the hem of his pant legs. His chocolate croissant went flying in aftermath of the explosion. His hair is now slightly ruffled, the strands sticking charmingly out of place. An officer with a clipboard shoves his way through the crowded room while scribbling something with his pen.

"Names and occupation?" he asks them brusquely.

Aurelius looks crossly at the girl next to him. Wasn't this her fault to begin with?

@explosivedesire ໒꒱

[tsuy4n]

Maybe some hatefucking with scara coul be possible? 👉👈

Warning/s: NSFW, [MDNI!!], Fem!reader, Bratty/bitchy attitude (reader), possessive Scaramouche, degradation, name calling, cursing, deep throating, face fucking, vaginal fingering, spanking, hair pulling just a little, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff at the end.

A/n: uhm, so are you the same person or do you both just share the same thoughts?? Nonetheless this request is just 🥴 and I’m really sorry for taking sooo long, anon(s) I’ve been trying to write this as best as my capabilities could since I didn’t really wanna disappoint you after waiting for so long and a lot of things are keeping me busy... oh, and last but not the least! Thank you for the request <3

“Oh, for the love of archons!” You shout, slamming the cup against the wooden table out of anger, earning several looks from the people inside the shop you’re at.

“I’m his goddamn secretary not his maid!” You heaved as the ginger head sitting across you only laughs at your non-stop complaints or just telling him how much you hated a certain harbinger you work with, specifically your boss.

A couple of hours ago when you’ve just started drinking as work finally ended for you, well not really when you still got something to do by your boss’ order. The reason why you were only made to get off work early was because he needed to go somewhere and the news made your inner self cheer as you could get away and not see his annoyingly charming face or hear his so called stupid voice for the rest of the remaining day.

“Don’t look so happy.” He harshly said, a scowl on his face as his voice snapped you out of your thoughts and focus on him again. “You may go home early but you still got some work to do. Write down the summary of every report that’s on my desk.” Your superior flashes you a smile. “Hand them to me tomorrow as soon as you arrive.”

And so, instead of just relaxing and letting this day finish here you are. Drinking as you fumed at the memory even though you should really be doing the task your boss assigned you. “Yeah, fuck him.” You whisper, taking a sip of your drink.

Now this is where Childe comes in. He was just passing by the streets of Snezhnaya earlier and his eyes just so happened caught sight of your familiar figure just by a glimpse outside through the window that was being cleaned.

The tall man chuckles and enters the place when saw how deep your frown was. He could even imagine the dark aura radiating from you after getting a closer look. Childe thinks it would be a great idea to scare you when you’re busy mumbling bad words that he thought you were saying some chants.

Long story short, he almost had his head bashed by a bottle of liquor if he didn’t had such a fast reflex.

“I can tolerate with arranging the papers, reading the reports to him out loud even though he can do that on his own, investigate things he wants me to poke into, etc. but!” You take a deep breath first,before continuing.

“Throw this out, Get me some tea, Get me some food, clean my office and leave no dust or else, Nye nye nye nye.” You recited, mimicking Scaramouche’s way of speaking along with how he acted at every order he gave you as you say it all out loud before running your fingers through your locks to grip it.

“Argh! And not to mention he once ordered me to put his sandals on him, which he fucking took off, by the way. What is he? A fucking baby?! Am I his nanny now?!He can’t do shit on his own!” You almost screeched out, brows as you hate the fact that you even find him attractive.

“What’re his arms and legs for?? Props?! I wanna punch his handsome face so fucking bad if it only looked so damn punchable!” Your voice went high pitched as Childe only hums and pours you another glass of liquor on your cup which you instantly drank in one go.

“If this continues on I’m afraid one day he might order me to roll on the fucking floor and make me act like a dog.” You blink. “Well, I am kind of dog but—whatever.” You sniffle, mouth opening wide when the red head takes a spoonful of your favorite food and feeds it to you.

“Oh~ you find him handsome, huh?” The male taunts then gasps ever so dramatically. “You must also like him. Of course you do!” He chirps, beaming a smile. “According to the gossips I hear from his underlings you two have this weird telepathy thing. You know what the other one is thinking without even saying it out loud, it’s amazing! Oh, and they even said that you two sometimes fight like a married couple.” The corner of your lips twitched.

“That’s a given as we’ve been working together for almost a year now. Not to mention, I’m sure I’ve shown my fair of share to everyone on how much I hate the man just like how everyone does.” you grumble under your breath while Childe notes the slight curl of your lips and the pink hue on your cheeks.

“Aren’t you a stubborn one.” He chuckles which made you tilt your head at his comment before saying, “But that’s not important as it seems that the lord haven’t given them enough tasks, considering that they had the time to even talk about irrelevant things.” You hum, a creepy smile now replacing the soft one just a while ago.

“I’ll have a discussion about this to him.” The ginger haired could say nothing but mutter an apology to the poor underlings who have no idea what’s in store for them but then again, he couldn’t help but to finally agree since he’s now definitely convinced that they’re soulmates due to the way how she smiled and spoke in such a sadistic manner.

“Honestly, if I could just choose who I want to work with. It’ll be you, but you don’t want a fucking secretary so lady Signora would be the last option.” You sigh before glaring daggers at your companion whose laugh just got a tad bit loud that it made a couple of people look your direction again which annoyed you even more.

You’ve known each other since toddlers that’s why you weren’t so afraid to land a hit on his shoulder nor talk about these things to him. You trust him.

“What about the others, though? Oh, how about dotto-” at this point The ginger head could see your veins showing and pulsating on your face making laugh even more. You think that maybe he’s gotten himself drunk or he just finally went crazy from how he laughed so hard at your remark. “We both know he’d be far more interested in having me as his guinea pig.” You grimaced at the beaming man.

“You’re enjoying this. You find pleasure in my pain and suffering. What did I expect from another commander harbinger.” Sighing with a blank face, you take another drink again. “Why are we friends again?” You ask, voice flat and void of emotion along with your expression.

“Because I’m awesome.” The male replied as he beams a smile. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Another sigh left your lips. “Stop sighing and thinking about work or him too much.” Childe comments, his hand reaching to ruffle your hair.

“Can’t help it. My boss which I am definitely sure loves to drive me crazy by giving me order after order.” You trailed off, shoulders slumping. “I’ve been thinking whether I should just quit this job and open a shop somewhere for a while now.” You rest your chin under the palm of your hand.

“And I’ve been also thinking of different scenarios on how I’m gonna tell him face to face that I quit being his secretary slash maid.” With a smirk on your face, you continue. “Like for example, throwing my resignation paper straight at his face.” You state, doing a little action by swinging your hand and imagining that it was happening for real.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you on the spot.” Childe says, chuckling at the cute demonstration you made as the smile on your face slowly fades away. “You think so as well?” Your fellow harbinger laughs for the nth time. “Well if it’s someone else, but it’s you, so he’ll let it slide, probably.”

You raise an eyebrow at what he meant when he specified if it was you at his sentence but thought of it as nothing when you noticed how the sky was now dark.

“What? Leaving already?” Childe ask when he saw you stand up from your seat. “Yeah. It’s getting late and I still have some damn work to do that needs to be finished and be handed tomorrow as soon as I arrive at his office which I am sure he’ll be there first.” You inform, a smile on your face despite still being angry, especially when you imagine that Scaramouche’s face will be the first thing you see as soon as you enter his office.

“Does he live there or what?” You mumble to yourself. “I find it it funny how you can’t mention Scaramouche’s name.” Childe quipped. “Because I believe bad luck will follow me if I do say that midget,” you pause as a snort came out.

“That little menace’s name.” You told him, you know like a liar. You call your boss’ name in secret when you’re home alone, wondering what he’s doing but it’s also not a lie that there’s a part of you that hates him.

Like how his annoying voice instantly has your attention and listening to every word he says while sneakily looking at his lips-

“Hi there, Scaramouche.” The red head greeted which immediately snapped you out of your thoughts and you freeze in your spot, bullets of sweat now trickling down your face despite being a little cold earlier.

“Good evening, my lord.” You also greet but in a more polite way with a beaming a smile and also acting as if you weren’t just bad mouthing the balladeer himself. That’s why you were praying so badly to your archon, the tsaritsa that he didn’t hear what you just said.

“You two sure do like to hang out a lot.” He murmured which left you wondering what he just said. “Seems like you’re already done here and about to head home.” Your superior states, obviously ignoring your friend who playfully pouted his lips and telling him how he was being mean.

“Well, yes…” you answered. “It’s already getting late and I need to finish the task you’ve given me before you left, my lord.” You add, voice fading away as you felt small like always in your boss’ presence and also at the way he stares, like he was staring straight into your very soul.

“So you haven’t even finished or started with it yet.” You look away, eyes looking everywhere but refuses to land where the Balladeer stands, though he was busy giving a look of disgust towards Childe who just continued to smile at him.

“Anyways, let’s go.” He motions his hand when he said those words while you glanced back and forth at him and Childe. “Pardon? Where exactly to, my lord?” You ask, face slightly tilted to the side as you start to ponder if you forgot something to do.

“Obviously to your house. I’m staying there until you finish writing those summaries. I need them.” He informs which you nodded your head in acknowledgment despite feeling how your heart started to beat so fast all of a sudden.

You’re nervous at the fact of being all alone with the man you hate. Yet you can’t help but look forward to it at the same time, hoping something might actually…happen- Alright! Snap out of it. The alcohol must be getting to you to even think of something like that!

“What’re you thinking about now?” Childe snaps you out of your stupid thought by flickering your forehead and glancing at Scaramouche by the corner of his eyes, his lips curled upwards in a taunting way which made the indigo haired to give him a disdainful look with cold and sharp eyes.

If looks could really kill, Childe would be long dead and lying on the floor for a while now. But that’s not happening! So he’s just gonna tease his fellow harbinger for a bit before he drags you away from him out of jealousy.

“You wanna die?” You hiss which only made him laugh. He sure does laughs a lot. The tall man rest his arm above your head. “Stop it. You’re messin’ my hair-”

“Stop making me wait and move your damn ass already.” Scaramouche glowered, your brow twitching at that as you refrained it from furrowing again. Though, the way he just spoke was so damn hot that it left you feeling…something.

Yeah, you’re really blaming this kind of thinking on the alcohol. Just what hell did you drink? Was it not normal liquor? Was it some type of drink to make you have some indecent thoughts?

Archons, why does Scaramouche look extra handsome today anyways— Okay, you’ve decided that you won’t be drinking again for a while.

“As you wish. But please wait for a second and let me just-” not being able to finish your words or even getting your wallet due to the sudden feeling of his touch, grabbing your wrist with the small sound of clicking his tounge, you already found yourself being dragged away after he sent a menacing look at his fellow harbinger commander and saying “Let him pay for that.”

You only sent the ginger head an apologetic look and before you could tell him that you’ll pay him back tomorrow. “That shitty ginger head.” Scaramouche’s says through clenched teeth, his grip on your wrist tightening when he recalled the way how flashed him that ugly smirk, how the way he could casually and so easily touch you while he himself hesitates to even do it and does his best to hold himself back.

You shouldn’t let other men touch you. Only he can do that.

You’re his the moment you entered the Military and worked by his side. You just don’t know it, yet that’s why he’s decided that day should be today, to officially claim you as his that is.

As the only thing he could do all these times were imagine scenarios in his head while you walk around his office, loving the way your hips sway that’s why he likes to order you around. He can’t help but also imagine how his hands would roam around your body, exploring, and touching it as you let him have his way on your perfect figure.

Scaramouche has always known you even before you’ve joined the organization because of Childe, so when he did learn about you joining in one day, he suddenly declared that he needed a secretary which led him into obviously choosing you but acted like he picked you out of random when he did so.

He refuses to acknowledge the feelings he caught for you, just like how you do, too. Yet as days goes by with you working side by side, his feelings just kept growing and growing that he’s been become impatient because no matter how much he tries to make you submit to him, you just wouldn’t budge.

He can’t even believe himself that he’s fallen so hard and that he has such lust for you. Thus begun the idea of whenever he starts to think that he’d finally claimed you as his, he’d bend you on his desk, make you scream for everyone to hear and know that you belong to him as he fucks you into oblivion resulting for him to get hard every damn time he thinks about it then would excuse himself next to somewhere just to jerk off.

Do you even have any idea how hard it was for him all these times? Just fucking his dick in his hand while imagining that it was your pussy he’s pounding into, yet here you are right now. Inside some pub, drinking with another man that’s definitely familiar.

The last thread of his patience had finally snapped when he saw you smiling and laughing with Childe, the so called stupid ginger head. It should be fine now. He’s gotten tired by solving the problem when you’re the one who should be doing it. Sucking his cock with those pretty lips wrapped around it, letting him use your pussy as his cumdump whenever he wants— damn, the things you make him feel and do.

Curse you, truly.

“Uhm, excuse me, my lord?” You spoke, breaking the silence that’s been going from the start after he dragged you out of the shop. It’s so cold that you could only feel the warmth on your wrist. You wish it was your whole body he was holding right now— Ah, really. The alcohol, especially him are both screwing with your mind by filling it with such indecent thoughts.

Curse him, truly.

His hand feels nice and warm, that’s what you think as Scaramouche still has his hand wrapped around your wrist and seems like he refuses to even let go, and thing is you want him to do that but at the same time no as you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“You should start looking for another secretary.” With the way how he looked at you it should he enough to shut you up and take the hint that he’s not taking your crap, but you’re feeling brave today.

“I am…” You hesitate for a moment, feeling like the decision you’re about to make was wrong that it made your stomach churn. “Planning on quitting and moving to Liyue to open a shop there.” Your words almost came out as a squeak when he pulled your arm, stopping you in front of the familiar door. You’ve already arrived without even noticing it.

“Open.” He commands, voice cold and sharp. It was just one word yet it made you feeling things again. Quickly unlocking the door with your key, Scaramouche’s harshly pulled you inside with him by your arm and shuts the door, earning a loud thud then slams you on the wall which made you hiss.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He says, his tone still the same while he has his hands gripping your shoulders. “I’m not letting you leave me.” Before you could even retort, Scaramouche beats you to it.

“You’re mine.” His words made your eyes wide and when you open your mouth to finally tell him to fuck off, nothing came out. They were stuck in your throat when you saw noticed how close his face was to yours.

It was inches away that your nose touched each other as you felt his hot breath warming your once cold cheeks and while also staring straight at your own with dark shaded eyes that it feels like he’d burn a hole in your face due to how fierce and sharp it looked.

“And did I hear that fucking right? Look for another secretary? It seems like you were ordering me around.” Finally snapping out of it, you manage to shoot him a glare.

“Really? It was but a mere suggestion, my lord.” Just when you could finally speak up again, one of his hands moved to grip your throat next due to the sarcastic remark you did.

“How brave of you to speak that way to me.” He hums, a deep chuckle coming from him. “But don’t test me, brat.” With a growl he warns in a dangerously low voice that made your heart beat fast as adrenaline coursed through you.

“Or what?” You challenged, leaning your face a bit with a taunting gaze, your eyes shifting to his lips that was pressed in a thin line before you went back to look straight at his mesmerizing indigo eyes, both of you now glaring at each other then the next you knew you were both kissing each other’s lips so hungrily.

Your hands now behind his back and gripping the fabric tightly while he has his on the back of your head to pull you in for an even deep kiss, the other on your waist, his hat was long gone and laid on your floor. Your tongues glide against each other, noses bumping one another as Scaramouche completely dominates over you that left your knees weak and trembling, along with how he made your breath stop.

“You’ll receive punishment, obviously.” He laughed into one of your ears, biting the shell of it which made you shiver while you pant and try to catch your breath. “You dare insult me and think you could just get away with it?” The hand behind your head went to grab your jaw in a swift and harsh manner.

“If you’re gonna fire me after your so called punishment then there’s no need to.” You whisper. “Because I quit.” The moment you said those words by finishing it with a snickering face, you know what you’re doing. It was nothing but a mere lie now and if what you’re thinking does happen then you want to stay even more, by his side.

“You can quit.” He began, face leaning in to whisper his next words. “But you can never,” his lips brushed the helix of your ear, tickling it. “Leave me.” You let out a sharp gasp when he suddenly went and bit your neck then immediately went back to kissing your lips. He can’t get enough.

Scaramouche’s hands starts to roam your body like how he always imagined and wished for the day to come which is now. His hands first goes to massage your mounds, already loving the feeling of how soft it is before lifted your shirt up along with the bra and pull away to suck one of the already hard nipples while his eyes never left yours so he could savor the expressions just by getting your tits suck off.

He couldn’t help but smirk quite devilishly when he found them cute. One of his hands went inside your pants. His fingers feeling the already damp fabric of your underwear.

Scaramouche chuckles while his fingers rubbed your clothed clit then he pulls away after one last lick and suck of your nipple with a loud wet pop which led you to mewl and shiver.

“You may act all high and mighty but in truth you’re just a slut that can’t wait to be stuffed full.” He mocked with a deep laugh before his tongue went to swipe across his lips.

“I bet you’ve been waiting for this day to come.” It was his turn to snicker when his hand finally went inside underwear. Two of his fingers running up and down on your wet folds so teasingly that it made you frown.

Though it only lasted for a moment when his other hand pinched your perked nipple. You jolt and bite your lips while he went back to your neck again, giving it soft kisses first then nibbling it next, bruising your neck and covering it with his marks even the open spots that would be hard to hide.

But that’s not his problem.

“Or maybe you had this planned all along. Were your fingers not enough to satisfy your greedy cunt.” He mused. “Were you imagining me fucking you as you played with your whorish pussy and coming undone, hm?” With quivering lips, you only glared at him as he smirked in triumph in return when he heard a small whimper.

“Answer me, slut.” Scaramouche rasped as he suddenly inserts two fingers inside making your body jolt again and him to catch your lips with his, kissing you for a moment while he pumps his fingers inside making tears to form by the corner of yours eyes.

“If you were so desperate to have your dirty pussy to be split in half, you should’ve said so sooner.” You swallow the lump in your throat and fought back the urge to moan.

“As if.” You managed to speak out in a gruff voice then adds. “The only thing I’ve been imagining is punching your face.” Scaramouche clenches his jaw, his eyes turning sharp and cold once again with irritation. He uses his vision to send sparks through his fingers when it went to play with your clit again.

“There’s no need hold back. Go on, come from my fingers and moan or scream like a bitch in heat.” He taunts then starts to pump his fingers, already going fast and harsh. The sudden action made you squeak then whimper as tears started to form by the corner of yours eyes.

“mmh..!” Oh, how cute did he find you like that. This is exactly how imagined you: eyes now doe like, body trembling and weak that you could only lean against his frame for support. His dick that was already hard ever since you both kissed could only twitch, throb, and form a wet patch on his shorts.

“Fff..fuck you- ahh!” Your back arched on the wall as you came while Scaramouche quickly inserted two fingers back in and pump it. He finally heard a loud moan from your pretty lips making his dick twitch again while he felt how your walls clenched around his fingers and wished that it was his cock instead, but he’s not worried about that as he’ll soon get what he wants.

Your chest kept rising up and down as you try to catch your breath. Scaramouche smirks at your adorable and sexy expression then takes his fingers out to lick and taste your glistening essence in a seductive way that made it hard for you to even look away.

“Oh, I’m about to.” He says, snapping you out of your trance and got caught of guard when you saw his how his dick slapped his abdomen and stood with all its glory after one of his hands swiftly slid his shorts down by his ankles.

“And believe me. I can’t wait.” He forced you down on your knees which made a small hiss slip out of your lips. You were soon then reminded that you were both still at the entrance of your house but should you be relieved that you were inside?

Your thoughts were caught off when Scaramouche grabbed your head and suddenly shoved his entire length inside your mouth all the way down to your throat. The gagging or chocking noises fell deaf upon his ears when he was too focused on how amazing your mouth felt that he almost came.

“Little, huh?” The man mutters under his breath, remembering your playful words earlier. You wanted to remind him that it was his height you were making fun of not his dick, because you weren’t even sure how big he was and could only imagine about it….which suddenly made you think that maybe the inches in his height were stolen by his dick.

“Don’t even think of biting.” He states, eyes shut tight as you could only stare at him, admire how pretty he was for a moment before deciding to neglect his warning and bite the tip lightly resulting for him to open his eyes, brows furrowed as he glared at you in a menacing way making you to look back with innocent eyes and pull away to lick the tip like a kitten.

“Fuck.” Scaramouche cursed under his breath, eyes half lidded now while you start to suck him off. You both made eye contact with each other and he smirks at you meaning that he’s up to something not good.

Your instincts were proved correct when he grabbed the sides of your head once again and slammed his hips, his dick going all the way again, too. You want to pull away but his grip was too strong compared to yours. Scaramouche’s thrusts were brutal and vicious against your mouth that it left you breathless and jaw hurt.

“Your mouth is most useful when it’s used like this, don’t you think?” You glared daggers at him which he responded with a smirk and a roll of his hips making him moan then with a couple more thrust, ropes of thick cum spurts inside your mouth, filling it white in a large amount that it even surprised you.

“Take it all and don’t let a single drop on the floor.” Scaramouche commands, his voice now hoarse. You huff but comply as you had no other choice but to do so, especially when his grip on your head hasn’t loosened.

He smiles at you and you could only feel your heart skip a beat while your cheeks heats up. You silently curse at him for making you flustered just by that stupid smile of his as his thumb rubs the apple your cheek in a circular motion.

“What a good girl.” His praise now made you feel butterflies in your stomach and when he pulled his dick away with a string of saliva, you suddenly gasped for air and was left a coughing mess now making you scowl at him as he just stood there with his lips curled up into a smirk, obviously smug.

“Are we done yet? If yes, could you please take your leave now, my lord?” After flashing him a smile, you stand up and walked towards the kitchen to get a glass of drink, ignoring the stinging pain of your legs while Scaramouche glared daggers at you, basically fuming at your attitude after all you both did.

Honestly, why are you such a bitch??

You felt his burning anger of course, along with how fast your heart is beating that you feel like it would just jump out of your chest. You couldn’t contain the silly smile on your face any longer when flashbacks started to play in your head, especially the way your boss smiled and how cute his moans sounded that you wish you could hear it again.

That’s why you’re hoping he would take this bait! he’s just so cute that you can’t help it despite the fact that you’re actually digging your own grave, but who cares? It’s gonna be worth it!

“I still have that work you need me to finish.” You were about to fix your clothes if it weren’t for the Balladeer suddenly grabbing your chin.

“We’re not done.” He said, voice dropping an octave as he laughs with a sadistic smile. “As it seems that you haven’t learned your lesson yet when you’re acting such a bitch.” Scaramouche tilts your head to the side so he could add another mark of his.

“Should you even be worrying about work right now?” It sounded like a threat from the way how he spoke but it made you press your thighs against each other. “Yeah, I think that should be the least of your worries.” You felt small yet turned on by how he gazed at you as if he was a predator that would gobble you up in a second, but you like the feeling nonetheless.

“I’m gonna fuck that cocky attitude out of you, fuckin’ brat.” In a deep voice he whispered against your ear then dragged you by your hand upstairs to your room and pushed you down on your stomach towards his lap after stripping you off of your clothes and letting them scatter on the staircase and floor along with his along the way.

“Agh!” You screamed at the sudden feeling of his palm hitting the ass of your cheek in a harsh way. “Hold still.” He hissed, landing another hit that made you whimper at the stinging pain.

“You like this don’t you.” He ridiculed, laughing at how you would whimper and tremble whenever his hand would strike to your now redden buttocks. “Look.” Scaramouche shows you his fingers that was glistening with your slick and dripping down his hand.

“What a fucking pervert.” The man laughs again. “Getting off by having your ass spanked. Don’t you think this just proves how much of a whore and disgusting pervert you are?” Grabbing a handful of your hair, he tugs it harshly.

“Nngh- fuckin’ asshole.” You snarled at him. Scaramouche clicks his tongue mutters under his breath a, “Such a pesky stubbornness you have.” Then pushes your head down on the mattress after taking you off of his lap.

“What was that?” Scaramouche jeers, a wicked smile on his feature. “Could you repeat your words one more time?” You scoffed at him while feeling his hand caressing the flesh of your ass before he took another hit.

“Looks like you haven’t been cleaning your ears for a while.” You sneered, clearly not learning a thing which definitely pissed the man off. “But I’ll repeat it for you, my lord.” With a mocking smile on your face you said.

“You-” the next thing that came out was a loud moan you couldn’t control when his hard member slowly but hard rubbed your clit. “Huh? Still couldn’t hear it.” He taunts, thrusting his hips a little.

“Come on, [Y/n].” Scaramouche aligns the tip on your entrance while his fingers went to play with your clit once again. “How can I understand you when you’re just moaning like a slut.” He hums, entering the wet tip of his hard shaft and stopping it at just that.

“You want it? You want me to shove my dick inside your cunt and stuff you full with my cum, hm?” He continues to put you on edge just by inserting the tip of his dick in and out. “Beg and apologize for being such a brat then I might just consider it.”

You bit your quivering lips and decided that it was time for you stop acting such a brat along with having your pride getting in the way just like always as you can’t hold back any longer and it seems that your boss also feels the same due to the heavy breathing noses coming from him and the way how he tightens his jaw with shaded eyes.

“My lord…” you whimpered, shaking your hips a little while you gazed at him by the corner of your eyes shyly but to Scaramouche, it looked so hot and lewd.

“I’m sorry for being such a brat! So please, please, please! Fuck me already! Please shove your dick inside my whorish pussy and fill me up!!” You sobbed which the male to clench his teeth and collect himself as he already felt like coming undone just by hearing those pleading and sobbing noises.

“So much for all the trouble you caused.” He clicked his tongue which made you mutter an apology again. “Fuckin’ pathetic.” Lifting your ass higher, his hands gripped your hips in a bruising way as he finally shoves his entire length inside all the way to the hilt with a guttural sound passing his lips.

“Ahh!” His dick finally scraping your walls felt so good that it made your eyes rolls to the back of your head. “What’s this? Did you just cum by having my dick shoved inside?” Scaramouche groans when he felt how tight your walls clenched around and suck his shaft.

“You’re more pathetic than I thought.” A deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he leans in to bite and suck the skin on your shoulder before pulling his member all the way out that the tip only remained and slammed back inside making you scream then babble how his dick felt so good.

“So tight for a goddamn whore.” The harbinger grabs both of your arms by the wrists and pulled it for leverage as he goes even deeper. You felt how his dick twitched inside meaning he was close but you were closer as his thrusts was just so brutal and vicious yet felt amazing. He felt your pussy flutter around his cock which earned a moan from him.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet.” He flips you on your back to get a good look at your expressions which just as expected were lewd. You were a moaning mess under him and he obviously enjoys every bit of it. “And don’t you fucking leave me.” Scaramouche’s thrust became erratic as you could only babble incoherent words while you drool.

“You got that?” He grunts. “You, can’t, leave, me.” With each other word he the balladeer spoke, his thrust followed it harshly. “Damn it- haa, I’m close.” You pull him close to you, chest flushed against each other while your nails scratched his sweating back.

“My lord, Scara- nngh. Scaramouche!” You chant and moan, already far gone as your brain was clouded in absolute bliss and could only focus how his dick went in and out, scrapping your walls so deliciously but Scaramouche heard half of his name being mentioned as it made his heart flutter.

“That’s right.” He grins. “Moan my name, [Y/n].” You do exactly what he says and called his name over and over as if you were chanting. You don’t know how long has he been waiting for you to call his name and you call him just Scara sounded so adorable that it finally made him cum with one last hard thrust.

Feeling his hot semen filling your velvety walls into white, your eyes rolled to back of your head once again, your back arching as you also come undone while being filled up. The pleasure was too much for you to handle that it made you see white dots before everything became dark. You passed out.

When the next morning came, you woke up and felt your whole body ache. You notice the person beside you sleeping so peacefully and looking pretty as ever.

“What are you staring for?” You shrieked and felt your heart almost yeet itself out of your chest. “Good morning…my lord.” You hesitated, cheeks turning red while he sits up and stares at you.

“What’re you getting all formal for? Last night you were just screaming my name over and o-“ you put a hand over his mouth which made him glare at you but replace it with a smirk.

“There’s no need to get shy now.” He said, kissing your palm making you pull away as Scaramouche enjoys your flustered expression.

“A-Anyways! I’m obviously not quitting since you did told me to stay by your side..forever.” You cough, noticing the pink hue appearing on his cheeks. “I’m gonna work with you as long as you want me to, so I ask for a pay raise!” The man stared at you with one of his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, whatever.” You beam a smile and lean in to plant a kiss on his lips. “Let me just take a quick bath before we head to work, okay?” Before you could even stand up, Scaramouche grabs your hand and pulls you back in with him on the bed. Your back pressed against his chest and completely unaware of how red his face became due to a simple kiss.

“No one would dare complain about us being late, so let’s stay still for a bit.” He mumbles. The shock on your face of the male being uncharacteristically soft disappeared as a genuine smile replaced it.

“Just so we’re clear, I meant it when I said that you’ll be by my side forever.” You nod your head and turned around to wrap your arms around and bury you face in his chest which left his body going stiff but relaxes soon under your touch.

“Don’t go back on your words because I may not look like it, I’m actually quite clingy.” You whisper, still oblivious to the fact of how red his cheeks were just like yours.

“Shut up and go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up in bit.” You giggle and let the darkness consume you, but before completely falling asleep you say softly.

“I’m so happy that my dream came true…I love you Scara.” He scoffs first before glancing at you and letting out a small cough.

“I…love you too.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 7)

a/n: aaand part 7 is finally here! however i want to warn yall that we are nearing the end of NHIE, im planning on having one more part and i don’t think it’ll be any longer, so enjoy while it lasts! lmao as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 5.7k

warning: some slight violence? it’s the good kind, you’ll see lmao

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Sitting in your trailer you stare down at your phone longingly, rereading Harry’s last text.

“Miss you, hope everything is alright. Facetime when you’re free?”

You hate how your chest is aching at such a small and sweet thing. If you had the chance, you’d run into Harry’s arms without a second thought, but you are stuck in Atlanta while he is currently back in LA, feeling farther away than ever, in every sense.

It’s been three weeks since you left the city and parted ways with Harry. You hated it. You absolutely hated how he was looking at you and how you was about to cry in his fucking Range Rover as he was dropping you off at the airport. You tried to make it quick so you don’t get too caught up in the moment, but the moment he kissed you, it was over for you. For a split second you were ready to cancel on the whole movie and just stick with the plans you made before you got the role, but that wasn’t really an option.

Since that day, Harry has been very respectful of your will to keep some distance, he always checks in before trying to call to make sure you have time, he doesn’t text you about the most random things like he used to, maybe because you both are so busy, you basically live on set while he has left for his tour exactly a week ago, and you can tell he is trying his best to never even mention Levi.

The news that you’d have to work with your ex came as a punch in your stomach. Taiki contacted you himself to talk to you about his choice to include Levi in the movie. He has informed you that they all agreed on him at the end of the casting process, but he wanted to make sure it’s okay by you as well. What would have you said? You wouldn’t just start off a project with getting someone out of the movie before filming even started. You had no choice but to suck it up and say that it’s all fine.

Now you are stuck to see him almost every day and spend your free time with him as well since he is always the first one to show up when a little group of the cast is out and about. He has always been such a social butterfly, though now you wish he would just lock himself up in his hotel room and not show up until he is needed on set.

Levi has been trying. He’s been pushing on your nerves, always coming up to chit-chat, like there’s nothing weird or absurd about the situation, but there’s plenty. Seeing that the last time you two saw each other you threw a book at him and he threatened you to sue you if you dare to even say his name ever again. Your breakup was the definition of nasty while the rest of the world just noticed a quiet and uneventful parting, photos disappearing from Instagram and awkward smiles whenever either of you were asked about the other.

While you are all about being civil and professional, what he has been doing feels like he is trying to get under your skin, testing your patience with him, which is starting to run short.

For an outsider he is acting perfectly fine, even human towards you, but you know him all too well, you know all his little tricks and moves because you used to be an expert on the topic of Levi Hudson.

Huffing to yourself you get back to the text and type a quick reply.

“Still on set, I have two more scenes to film. Will text you when I’m back at the hotel xx”

You wish you could call him right away, you wish he was here with you and you wish you didn’t have to go back to set and face Levi once again. You really thought you’d get entirely consumed by work once filming starts and run short on time and energy to even think about Harry, but it hasn’t been the case. He is all you can think about, you always catch yourself wondering what he is doing, how his day has been or if he is thinking about you too. You cling onto your phone the moment they yell Cut! and frantically check if he has texted you. It’s taking a toll on you and you can only hope you’ll last until the movie is wrapped and you can finally join him on tour, just like you planned.

“Hey there,” Maya steps out of her own trailer when you turn the corner and she catches up with you quickly. “Wha’s up?”

“Just plotting how I can leave early,” you huff, making her laugh. You’ve become the closest to her, you right away bonded when you met at the table read and she caught you grimacing behind Levi’s back when you thought no one was looking. She came up and simply told you she doesn’t like him for literal no reason, he just has a punchable face and an alliance was formed right then and there.

“Oh Honey, let me know when you figured it out,” she chuckles, circling an arm around your shoulders as you both make your way to the set laughing.

Trying your best, you focus fully on the job on hand so you can leave as soon as possible, call Harry and go to bed. Today has been way longer than you would have liked and you just need to get away from set, despite how much you enjoy filming in general. Sometime during the taping Harry texts you that he is free whenever you are and will be waiting for your call and it just makes you even keener on leaving.

When filming is finally finished, you find yourself storm out faster than ever, already ringing up Harry as you are walking back towards your trailer. When he answers the call, his smiley face fills the screen and you feel your heart flutter in your chest.

“Hey! Done for the day?” he asks, seemingly eating something as he talks.

“Luckily,” you breathe out. “What are you eating?”

A blush appears on his pixelated face as he glances down and grabs his bowl, showing it into the camera. He is eating your pesto pasta recipe.

“I had a strong craving for it,” he shyly tells. “It’s not as good as yours though.”

“There’s nothing to do different about it, H,” you chuckle.

“I know, but it’s different when you make it,” he smiles and his words warm your chest. Just as you are about to tease him about being so corny, you hear your name being called out. Turning around you see Levi jogging towards you.

“Here we fucking go,” you mumble, not ending the call with Harry who is a little confused about the situation since he can’t see the intruder in your conversation.

“Are you heading back to the hotel?” he asks, catching up with you.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on sleeping in my trailer,” you answer with a frown.

“Wanna share a car?”

“Why would I?” you simply ask.

“What’s with the attitude, Y/N?” he scoffs as if he was an angel and deserved all the respect on earth.

“Why do you keep coming up to me?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice!” he snaps, but it’s all for the wrong reason. You don’t buy this shit, nice is the last thing he is trying to be and you know that for sure.

“No, you keep getting on my nerves and you know that! We don’t have to interact outside of set and I want to keep it that way, Levi!”

“Now you are being a bitch, Y/N.”

“Excuse you?” Harry’s voice is coming from your phone’s speaker and you suddenly realize that he is still there, listening to the conversation. You glance down at the screen and see his now angry expression on it.

“Who’s that?” Levi nods towards the phone with a frown, but then realization must hit him. “Is that Harry Styles you’re talking to?”

“None of your fucking business, Levi. And leave me the fuck alone.” Turning around you start marching back to your trailer that’s now so close, but once again, his voice stops you.

“You’re making a fool out of yourself, Y/N!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you snap back at him, one hand already on the door handle of your trailer, the other one holding your phone.

“If you think he wants more than just a good fuck and some publicity out of you, you’re delusional.”

“Fuck you, Levi!” you flip him off before walking into the trailer and shutting the door behind you.

With your back against the door you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, fighting with yourself not to go back out and kick him in the stomach. This is how it has been, he starts acting all nice, pretending like he is the good buy, but when he doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he is quick to show his real, asshole self he keeps hidden.

“Angel? You alright?” Harry’s voice brings you back from your thoughts and once again, you realize that he is still in call, staring from the screen with a worried expression on his handsome face.

Taking another deep breath you bring the phone up so he can finally see your face.

“Sorry you had to hear all of that,” you mumble, feeling way more tired than you were just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t apologize, it’s none of your fault. But I gotta ask, has he been this big of a dick since the start?”

“Kind of,” you sigh, walking further inside. You put the phone to the little vanity, propping it up against the mirror as you start washing your makeup off.

“Have you tried doing something against it? You really shouldn’t let him treat you like that.”

“I’m not trying to be the whiny star who gets someone kicked out. I don’t know what others would think if I told Levi is being a jerk to me, because he is fine with everyone else. Maya is the only one who knows about it, so I’m kind of stuck.”

“Then just punch him,” he suggests making you laugh.

“I wish I could.”

“Want to talk about it? I would love to listen to you talk about how big of a dick your ex is and about your hatred towards him,” he tells you, way too excited about the topic and it makes you chuckle.

“Let’s not talk about him, I get enough of him all day. But not enough of you.”

It just slips out, way too cheesy than you intended it to be, but it makes him smile so you don’t mind it.

“Is this your way of being casual?” he chuckles softly.

“Shut up,” you grin. “Tell me about your day while I get ready to leave.”

You listen to Harry tell you about his day in the smallest details as you clean your face, brush your hair out and change into your own clothes, finally feeling like yourself again. You’re talking even when you’re already in the car, but that’s when it ends.

“Talk tomorrow, Angel?” he murmurs, now lying in his bead, propped up against the headboard without a shirt on.

“Yeah. I’ll be off around five so just call me whenever your show is over.”

“Will do. Take care, alright? And… just hang on a little longer.”

“A little?” you huff. “There are still two more months to go.”

“You can do it. Text me whenever you want to talk, alright?” You just quietly nod, ignoring the ache in your chest. You want nothing else than to crawl into bed with him, curl up against him and never leave from under the covers.

“Good night, Angel,” he smiles sweetly.

“Night, H,” you sigh before ending the call.

An hour later you are already in your hotel room, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, lying in bed as you scroll through Instagram, aimlessly opening posts here and there. The explore page is always a mess, you like so many different things that Instagram sometimes can’t decide what to show you, but that’s just how you like it. Lately it’s been a lot of Harry on there, given the fact that you’ve often found yourself lurking photos of him when you were missing him more than the usual.

When a paparazzi photo comes up of him from yesterday, having lunch with Kendall Jenner you can’t help but feel the jealousy ignite a fire inside you. It’s not like you didn’t know they met up, he told you a week before it and even asked if you are cool with it, to which you said that you are not an official item and you’d never tell him not to see a friend, even if it happens to be an ex as well. After all, you were the last one to throw a stone at him since you are now working with yours, even if it’s a living Hell.

But after such a draining day, seeing him have a good time so far away from you with a woman who is not you, your opinion about the situation seems to be different.

You’ve never been that extremely jealous type and you are also very much aware that you have no right to feel this way, but… you do. Scrolling through the few paparazzi photos that has nothing odd on them, just the two of them sitting at a table on a terrace, enjoying their meal and then leaving in separate cars, you can’t help but tear them apart to the tiniest detail, your brain fixated to find the smallest thing that tell you that they have something more than friendship going on, when you also know damn well sure that there’s no such thing. Harry has talked to you openly about his friendship with Kendall, how they tried to make it work two times but both of them ended up the same way: they realized they are far better as just friends and that’s how they’ve been since then.

But because of the distance, your horrible days with Levi and your agonizing feelings about wanting to be with Harry but also not being able to, you find yourself letting out a silent cry as you close the app, but the pictures still haunt you.

Before you could even think twice, you are kneeling in front of the minibar you haven’t touched since you arrived, but now you’re determined to empty it out, paying extra attention to the alcoholic drinks.

You are well aware that it’s not how you should be coping with the situation on hand, but you don’t know what else to do. You were the one who told Harry not to make things official, there’s nothing you can do against the distance between the two of you and you are stuck with Levi for the rest of filming as well. You have no other choices but to somehow dumb the pain that’s been torturing you silently ever since you found out you got the role.

It’s nerve wrecking, because this role means so much to your career, you know it’s your big chance to be finally taken as seriously as you’ve always dreamed about, but does it worth it? If you lose yourself along the way and everything that’s been making you happy lately, does it still worth just to have an Oscar nomination, which is not even guaranteed, just a speculation.

It’s past one am when you run out of drinks, but because of the small portions, you are just buzzing, not really drunk. But it’s enough to make you lose your rationality and snatch your phone from the bed and open your text threat with Harry.

“I miss you. A lot, like a whole lot.”

You send the text before you could change your mind and for your biggest surprise the status changes to seen just a few moments later before the three little dots start dancing on the bottom.

“I miss you too, Angel. Everything alright?”

Harry knows you too well, you wouldn’t just text after you’ve talked on FaceTime before and you’re usually asleep by this time, since filming starts early in the morning usually.

“Do you really miss me?” you write back with a heavy sigh.

“You can’t even imagine how much…”

“Tell me. How much?”

“I’ve written three songs about you since we parted. Does that tell you how much I miss you?”

“Oh fuck!” you choke out, feeling your chest tightening. You don’t want to be in this hotel room anymore, damn the movie, Levi and the Oscar, you need Harry. Now.

“Can’t wait to hear them all.”

“There’ll be plenty more, Angel. Get ready for a whole album!”

The pictures with Kendall are long forgotten. Now you’re just lying in bed, rereading the texts over and over again until your eyelids get too heavy and you fall asleep, still clinging onto the device.

 ***

 After years of being an independent and strong woman you’ve always aspired to be, you find yourself only focusing on two men to keep your nerves stable enough to stop you from breaking down every other day: Oscar and Harry.

The possibility to win an Oscar is what you think of every time Levi is pulling on your nerves, working harder than the devil to make you burst while acting like a saint in front of everyone. His attempts of ruining your days every imaginable are getting worse as the time passes and when thinking about the Oscar doesn’t help, you reach out to Harry. You’ve felt terribly at the beginning when you kept calling him whenever you felt like screaming after an encounter with Levi, even apologized for it, but he made sure you know he doesn’t mind it, not even the tiniest bit.

“I’m happy I’m the one you come to for comfort. I like that you’re thinking about me,” he told you one night when you called him so late, but he still answered.

Today has been extra hard. Two weeks have passed since your little late night breakdown when you emptied your mini bar out and felt like leaving Atlanta as soon as possible. Luckily, the morning came with an ease, though the pain was still there, you just managed to bottle it up enough to make you keep going.

You’ve been on set since 4 in the morning, having shot some scenes during sunrise and you’ve been going since then. Now it’s four pm, you are desperate for a good sleep already, but you still have some hours to go before you can head back to the hotel.

It seems like Levi has made it his mission to make you cry today. His latest favorite thing has been throwing shade about fellow actors who end up being the talk of gossip sites because they’ve dared to go on a public date with another celebrity. So, just to be clear, he is shaming you for being all over the tabloids, people are still speculating about you and Harry and Levi doesn’t hesitate to call you out about that in a sugarcoated way.

All he has been saying all day is “I guess I’m just more careful about my privacy!” or “Everyone is different, but I like to be noticed for my professional success!” but your favorite was “I get it that women need more effort to stay relevant.”

You were shocked how no one else realized how sexist he was, but deep down you weren’t that surprised. Levi successfully brainwashed everyone to make them believe he didn’t think it seriously, when you know for a fact that even if it was just to piss you off, he really meant it. You were once one of those who couldn’t really see how wrong his beliefs are and now you can’t believe you used to ignore all these sexist comments, but now they make your palms itch.

“You know, you once were just like that. I still remember us being on the covers,” you snapped back at him before everyone left for lunch and it was just the two of you, but he just snorted, brushing it off.

“Hated it. Always felt like just a toy they like to throw around.”

You needed all your self-control not to laugh right into his face and then jump at his throat. Instead, you just watch him walk away and you are quick to fetch your phone from your bag to text Harry, but then you realize that he hasn’t texted you back in the past ten hours. Your last four messages are sitting not just unanswered but unread as well so you talk yourself down from sending another one. It’s odd, because he always tells you when he is about to be busy, but he didn’t this time and you wonder if you’ve said or did something that upset him with you enough to stop talking to you. But then you tell yourself that something must have just come up.

“Hey girl!” Maya calls out for you, already dressed in her own clothes since she is done for the day. “I’m heading out to lunch with Timmy, want to join? Please don’t say you’ll just order in and stay in your trailer!”

“Only if Levi is not coming,” you grumble making her chuckle.

“Don’t worry, it’s just gonna be cool people.”

You both take your car to the little diner close to set, you’ve been going there quite often, they have the best pancakes and that’s exactly what you need right now. Timmy is already there sitting at a booth, waving at you happily. Aside from Maya, he is the other person you’ve been quite enjoying spending time with on set, he is a genuine guy and helped you a lot professionally which was a huge boost along this rocky way.

All through lunch you notice that he’s been checking his phone a lot, but you don’t think much of it, he is a busy guy, that you’ve learned already. It’s nice to have some time away from set and you’re thankful that Maya and Timmy are trying their best to make you forget about Levi and that eventually you have to head back.

The three of you return to set about an hour later. When the both of them stick to your side and they keep asking if you are going back to your trailer, you start to suspect something.

“You guys alright?” you ask with a chuckle. “Where else would I go? I still have thirty minutes from my break.”

“Just making sure,” Timmy shrugs. “We’ll walk you there!”

“Yeah! Let us walk to your trailer!” Maya nods in agreement and you give them a glare.

“You guys are weird,” you mumble under your breath.

As the three of you reach your trailer you notice how excited they are acting and you are confused about what’s really happening, but it’s just until you finally throw the door of your trailer open and gasp at the person waiting inside.

“Hello, Angel,” Harry smirks at you, leaning against the wall as you completely freeze.

“Angel! Oh my God!” you hear Maya squeak behind you, but you can’t pay much attention to her or Timmy, because you are busy throwing yourself into Harry’s arm, who envelopes you into his embrace, lifting you up from the ground.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Should I not be here?” he jokes chuckling, his hands running up and down your back.

“Well, you are not supposed to, but I’m glad you are!” you chuckle and pulling back you kiss his lips, not able to hold yourself back.

“Thank your costars,” he mumbles nodding towards the door where Maya and Timmy are standing, grinning widely and proud of themselves.

“You guys did this,” you breathe out.

“Well, it was Maya’s idea, and then I was the one to message Harry,” Timmy admits, hiding his hands in his pockets. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“You surely succeeded,” you chuckle and turning back to Harry you hug him again, holding him tight as if he could vanish any moment.

“Alright, we’ll leave you two alone,” Maya chuckles before shutting the door and giving you some privacy.

“So how long are you staying?” you ask, arms circled around his neck.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time. I need to fly out late tomorrow.”

“You came here for less than 48 hours?” you gasp in disbelief. He has been on the road for weeks now, all the traveling has been hard on him, that you know, yet he still went into the trouble of flying here for such a short time just to be with you.

“If Timothée didn’t reach out I would have still tried to mess around with my schedule to come here. I know how hard it has been for you here, I wanted to help you.”

“Stop or you’ll make me cry,” you chuckle, leaning in for another kiss.

You spend the rest of your break cuddled up on your tiny sofa in your trailer, talking but mostly kissing, because you’ve been missing Harry’s kisses the most probably. When it’s time to head back to set, you need everything in you not to lock the door and just never leave, but your work is calling.

Walking towards set you find yourself lacing your fingers together with Harry’s, to which he smirks at you in satisfaction. You couldn’t give less shit about that people will think the rumors are true, let them! All you want is to be as close to Harry as possible.

As everyone is slowly gathering back, you lounge around the buffet tables with Harry and Timothée, just genuinely having a good time, right until Levi walks in and he freezes upon seeing you with Harry.

At first you are convinced he’s going to come up to you, but luckily, he chooses to keep his distance this time, saving you some stress about what would go down if the two of them were to talk. Harry has definitely noticed his presence as well, but he doesn’t say a word, just holds your hand tight, kissing your knuckles.

Harry sticks around the whole afternoon, watching you film scene after scene and the excitement in his eyes is priceless. He takes every opportunity to praise your work and tell you how amazing you are doing and it means the world to you since it’s the first time Harry is seeing you working.

Through the afternoon, you can feel Levi’s burning glare on you, but you try your best to ignore it. You can tell he doesn’t like having Harry around but you haven’t figured out if it’s because he is jealous of you and him or because now Harry has all the attention he usually has. Either way, he is a petty fucker and you are enjoying pissing him off for once.

When filming finally finishes at six you are one of the first ones to head out, eager to finally be alone with Harry in your hotel room and not be disturbed for the night.

“I would say to pick up something to eat on our way, but maybe we should just order room service, how does that sound?” he asks as the two of you are walking back to your trailer.

“Room service is gonna be perfect,” you smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Y/N!”

The voice calling out your name makes you growl in annoyance. The situation is all too familiar, Levi stopping you on your way back to your trailer with the pure intention of ruin your mood.

Oh for fuck’s sake,” you mumble under your breath before turning around. “What?” you snap back at him, clearly annoyed that he is here again.

“Hey, just… thought I would introduce myself to your friend over here,” he smiles as if it was the most natural thing, but you and Harry stand there, completely confused about how he can act so casual about him meeting Harry.

“I’m sorry, you what?” you question.

“Just wanted to meet Harry,” he tells again. “I’m Levi, nice to meet you,” he nods smiling, holding out his hand and you can’t hold your laughter back. Luckily, Harry is quick to react the best possible way.

“Are you really just gonna pretend like I didn’t hear you call Y/N a bitch the other day?” he asks, voice stern and surprisingly calm, however his hold on your hand is a little tighter now.

Seemingly, Levi is taken aback and you can tell he was convinced Harry wouldn’t bring it up straight to his face, but he did. He definitely just did and you are so happy about that.

“I’m, uhh—I don’t think you have any business in that, Harry,” he chuckles nervously, still trying to somehow dominate in the situation, but he is failing miserably.

“Oh, but I think I do. If you think you can just go around and call women bitches, you are in the wrong and if you ever have just one bad word for Y/N again, I’ll definitely won’t be this calm.”

The cherry on the top is the warm smile on Harry’s lips and your mouth hangs open at how bad he just burnt Levi. If you were alone now, you’d definitely jump his bones right away.

Watching Levi you see the exact moment when he drops the act and before he even opens his nasty mouth, you already know you’ll get another taste of his real self.

“What, you fuck her once and think she is the Queen of England who has to be treated with special care?” he scoffs and your stomach drops. Here he goes with the insults, buckle up!

“Excuse you?” Harry snaps back, clearly losing his patience with him.

“She is not that big of a deal, Styles. Might be a good fuck, but she is a fucking bitch in reality and you’ll see that soon.”

“I think it was just you who made her act that way and that’s entirely your fault, m’ friend. Anyone would be that way if they had to deal with you.”

“You know what? You two deserve each other, two low-life, attention seeker celebs, I just don’t get what people like so much about you. Especially about you,” he adds, eyes snapping to you. Your anger is boiling, he is dancing on your very last nerve and you have no idea how long you can last.

Harry then turns to you, a calm expression on his face, but his eyes tell you otherwise as he simply takes his rings off and places them into your palm, confusing you about what he is really doing.

“I’m sorry in advance, Angel,” he mumbles before taking a step towards Levi and with a simple but graceful move, he punches your scumbag ex.

You gasp as you hear Levi’s groan, his hands flying to his face while Harry shakes his fist off with a heavy sigh.

“Oh fuck, this feels better with a glove on,” Harry breathes out, taking a step back.

“You fucker!” Levi spats as he straightens up. He moves his hand from his face, checking it to see if he is bleeding, but it’s just some redness on his cheek.

“Don’t freak out, princess. You’ll just have to sit some more in the makeup. But Swear to God if you ever speak about her that way,” Harry warns him pointing at him, “You won’t be able to fix it with some powder.”

And with that, Harry grabs your hand and pulls you into the trailer, leaving a shocked and raged out Levi outside. As soon as it’s just the two of you, Harry changes from the confident, protective man to a frightened little puppy as he looks at you.

“I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. The way he was talking about you and I—“

He doesn’t get to finish because our lips shut him up with the most heated and passionate kiss you two have ever shared. It’s hard and messy, your fingers thread through his hair as he grabs your waist forcefully, yanking you against her tightly.

“That was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you pant against his lips.

“Yeah? So you’re not mad?”

“I’m only mad because you got to punch him before me,” you chuckle making him laugh as well.

“God, I have no idea how you could put up with him this long,” he breathes out, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m convinced that my nerves are made out of steel,” you joke pecking his lips two more times.

“I don’t even see how you could be in a relationship with him in the first place,” he huffs.

“I was younger and dumber. Don’t worry, learned my lesson,” you laugh, cupping his cheek in the palm of your hand, running your thumb along the soft skin under his eye.

“If I’m being honest, there’s one more thing that’s upsetting me about him.”

“And what is that?”

“Please don’t get mad at me though, okay?” he chuckles softly.

“Just tell me!”

“I’m mad… because he is able to say that he has been in a relationship with you and I’m not. It’s pissing me off, properly,” he admits and your heart skips a beat. “I know you said you don’t want anything official, but I just want to call you mine and—“

You cut him off for the second time now as you kiss him again, grinning against his lips. If he didn’t bring this up now, you would have for sure before he left, because there was no way you would have been able to say goodbye to him again without having all strings tied.

“Just to be sure, was this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you smirk, your hands holding onto the base of his neck.

“Kind of? Yeah,” he chuckles softly.

“Alright, cool. Now let’s go back to my hotel room, boyfriend.”

You watch as his eyes light up and leaning down he kisses you again.

“Just so we are on the same page, was this your way of saying yes?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you nod, using his own words.

“Great. Okay, let’s go, girlfriend.”

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[bokebelle]

Friends to Enemies (to lovers) HCs with Porco Galliard

WARNINGS: A bit angsty, Porco being a dick, modern!au, gn!reader

A/N: Porco brainrot has led me to this lil thing right here...I was also getting carried away so i decided to cut it short 

you’ve always had a crush on Porco, but how does he deal with his newfound feelings for you?

Porco could be a total jerk

lets face it, his pretty face is also pretty punchable

Ever since you guys were younger, you always knew he felt like he had the need to prove something to the rest of the world, which made him arrogant some most of the time

but you also knew how kind and caring he was to the people who mattered to him even Reiner which is why you stuck around him for so long

He always struggled showing his emotions, and vulnerability wasn’t really his strong suit

so when he started feeling different towards you? best believe this man freaked  out

You’ve always been you, his dumbass best friend

so why did your smile give him butterflies? Why did your touch make his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn red? Why did he wish it was him when you would laugh with Reiner and link your arm with his? 

He hated it. He always felt like he had to prove his worth. You were his best friend, he didn’t have to prove anything to you.

Look, this man has the emotional intelligence of a 3 year old okay? so to him ugly and new feelings = bad

and since YOU make him feel this way, you = bad

You got used to Porco’s snarky and sarcastic comments and his arrogant sense of humor so when he started being a bit meaner you didn’t think much of it

but his comments started hitting a little too close to home, he started talking over you instead of to you. 

Whenever Porco would be a bit too mean, you’d try and fight back. This was how it always was with you two. He’d say something, you’d reply with a comeback, and the two of you would be laughing it off. but how come you didn’t feel like laughing? instead of joking around, why did it feel like he was pushing you away?

You were at your limit until one day, Porco pushed you hard enough for you to decide that you weren’t having any of it anymore

“Hey guys!” you smiled as you approached your friends. You couldn’t help but notice Porco avoid looking at you. You felt a twinge of pain in your heart and decided to sit beside Marcel instead of taking your usual space beside his brother. 

Porco felt ugly. He didn’t like the way you laughed at some dumb joke Marcel told you, how you scooted a bit closer to him when he showed you something on his phone. He already hated it when you decided to sit beside Marcel instead of him, but what ticked him off was the way you got flustered when Marcel complimented you.

Marcel knew what was going on between you and his dumbass brother. It was always painfully obvious to everyone except the both of you. You were the only one headstrong enough to put up with Porco and his attitude, the only one Porco trusted the most next to his brother. And he was the one you trusted with your fears and insecurities, he was the one who reassured you that you were more than what you thought of yourself.

He knew Porco needed to figure out his feelings on his own, but he wanted to scream at him when Porco started building up his walls instead of letting you in. It took a toll on both of you. Porco was angrier and more irritable, and you were keeping to yourself more and smiling less. He always thought of you as his other younger sibling so when you started acting like your old self again, he couldn’t help but smile as well.

“You look prettier when you smile [y/n]. You should do it more”. You felt embarrassed as your face warmed up at Marcel’s words. But as fast was warmth flooded your face, it drained the moment Porco opened his mouth.

“Of course you’d believe any compliment you get. Gosh, are you really THAT desperate to have people like you so damn much?” Porco sneered. 

It wasn’t much but Porco knew deep down, you felt like people hated you when you weren’t there. He knew you were afraid people only liked you to your face, stabbing knives into your back when you were away. It wasn’t much, but Porco knew how to hurt you. And he did exactly that.

Everyone’s mouth dropped. Not even Pieck could comfort you fast enough, Reiner didn’t know if he should speak up or just straight up deck Porco in the mouth. Even Zeke was caught off-guard, forgetting to light the cigarette between his lips.

You didn’t feel embarrassed, you felt hurt. Porco just threw your biggest insecurity in your face. Tears stung your eyes and you really didn’t want to make a  scene.

You stood up from your spot beside Marcel, gathering your things. You looked at Porco straight in his goddamn beautiful amber eyes, not caring if the tears you were trying so hard to hold back were now flowing down your face.

“You know what, Pock? I’m done with you. Just fuck off and leave me alone.” 

It wasn’t your words that got to him. It was the tears in your eyes, the way you bit your lower lip to stop it from trembling, the way you looked at him with nothing but hurt, not even anger,  before you walked away from him.

Porco knew he fucked up. He knew he had to make it up to you. But deep down he was scared. Porco was scared because knew, the moment those words left his mouth, he lost you before he even had you

No matter how he tried making it up to you, he was sacred because he didn’t know if he could ever get you back.

[laddieseddiemunster]

hi there!! your work is amazing!

could I request stressed lost boys x reader who gives them a massage to relax or something like that?? ✨✨

Thank you 🥺

Hope you enjoy!

warning(s): mentions of nsfw

Stressed Lost Boys x Reader Giving Massages

David

David doesn’t get too stressed all that often, but when he does his mood is all over the place. He usually gets stressed when things don’t go his way. David likes to be in control and in charge, so when something happens that he didn’t plan for, he gets pretty overwhelmed. When David is stressed he doesn’t like to talk about it to anyone. He’ll just kinda mope around until he gets over it.

When David is stressed, he won’t tell you because he doesn’t want to seem like someone who bitches and moans. That’s for Paul to do. Once David goes to sleep he pretty much forgets whatever he was stressed about in the morning, so that’s his way of curing his stress. You obviously didn’t like seeing David stressed, so you offered to help him relax. David didn’t really think a massage would help, but he didn’t argue.

David didn’t realize how quick a massage could cure his stress. The second you started to massage his shoulders he arched his head back and closed his eyes. David would probably talk to you while you were giving him a massage. He’ll just start to vent about all the things he was stressed about until there is nothing left to vent.

After a while, the massaging ended up making David kinda sleepy. If you’re not careful, you could have a sleeping vampire on your couch, and he won’t wake up. David is a very heavy sleeper, so it’s almost impossible to wake him up. If you do manage to wake him up, he won’t even remember why he was stressed. He’ll probably just look at you and say, “why’d you stop?” and then he’ll make you start massaging him again.

David will probably want a massage to relax again in the future. He’s had massages in the past, but when it’s from you it’s a whole lot better. He won’t exactly ask for them though. He’ll just kind of expect them. Whenever he’s feeling stressed he’ll give you a look and gesture you to start massaging him. If you still don’t understand, then he’ll ask for it with an attitude.

Dwayne

Dwayne actually becomes stressed more than you think he does. It could be caused by different things. He normally gets stressed out when he does something embarrassing and the boys tease him for it. He gets the ‘why did I do that,’ feeling, and he’ll sigh every time he thinks about the embarrassing moment. He knows the boys will never let him live it down, and that just stresses him out more.

Dwayne tries his best to get rid of stress, but it always manages to stick around for a bit. If it’s because of something embarrassing, then it’s probably going to haunt him for a while. If he’s just stressed because he’s had a long day or something like that, he usually looks to you for comfort. If you’re not around then he might go play with Laddie cause the kid always seems to get his mind off the stress.

When you offered to give Dwayne a massage, he was actually pretty eager for it. He wanted to relax more than anything, so this was heaven for him. He probably won’t say much during it. If you massage his head by running your fingers through his hair he might just purr or let out a pleasurable sigh. I swear touching on his head/hair is his weakness.

Dwayne is a pretty patient guy. If your hands get tired from massaging him, Dwayne won’t mind if you need a break. Though, when your hands aren’t tired anymore, Dwayne will probably ask you to start massaging him again until your hands are too tired to continue. He doesn’t want this moment between the two of you to end, but if you are clearly too tired, Dwayne will tell you to stop.

Once you give Dwayne a massage, there’s no way you are coming out of it empty handed. Dwayne is totally down to give you a massage as a thank you for helping him relax. It doesn’t matter if you were stressed or not, you made Dwayne feel good and he wants to make you feel equally as good. Dwayne would probably ask for massages in the future, or he’d give you one and it’d lead to you giving him one as well.

Paul

It’s pretty easy to tell when Paul is stressed. He’s either very vocal about it by whining and groaning, or he has a big pout or frown on his face. Paul can get pretty stressed over small things. He’s normally super happy (or too stoned to even be stressed) so it’s rare to see him unhappy. He usually becomes stressed when he has an argument with Marko, or he isn’t feeling well for whatever reason.

Paul doesn’t really know how to get rid of stress. He just kind of whines about it until he forgets why he was stressed. Or he’ll get stoned if he wasn’t already. If you’re around, Paul will probably complain about every single little thing to you while he’s stoned, then afterwards he’d wants some cuddles or he wants to make out. When you offered to give him a massage to help him relax, Paul probably didn’t even hear you because he was so stoned, but he let you.

Paul threw himself onto the couch and let you massage him wherever you wanted to. You could tell that he was a little tense at first, but he slowly got more comfortable as you kept massaging him. He’d let out a groan or moan (not like that ya sick freaks) if you massaged a certain spot that really felt good. Since Paul is probably stoned, he might be thrown into a giggling fit and say, “that tickles, stop,” if you hit a certain spot on his back.

More or less, Paul won’t shut him trap when you’re massaging him. He’ll start whining about every little thing he’s ever been upset about. After a while, he starts mumbling to the point where you can’t even understand what he’s saying. The only thing you can understand is when he groans and tells you not to stop. At least he’s enjoying it. In his own way.

Paul would definitely want to have sex with you after a massage. (sorry not sorry). He’s a horny son of a bitch. What did you expect? You just made him feel good, and now he wants to make you feel good. His body might be relaxed now, but well, not in every place. Paul’s in the mood every second every hour, but a massage just skyrocketed his sex mood.

Marko

Marko’s temper could be like a ticking time bomb, so when he’s stressed he is bound to roundhouse kick anyone that tries to bother him. That’s usually what ends up happening. Some guy on the boardwalk had a punchable face and Marko wasn’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit. Once Marko fights with someone, he ends up getting more stressed because now he’s pissed off at the person he just beat up.

The few ways that can calm Marko down are rarely used. When Marko is stressed, he becomes stubborn and wants to stay stressed. Though he really doesn’t, he’s just being whiny. One way is Marko will go out and make a couple kills. By the time he’s back, he is so tired and his stress is gone. If you’re around, Marko will want attention. He hates feeling stressed, and now all he wants is to be babied.

When you offered to give Marko a massage, he nodded without giving it a second thought. He even removed his jacket so you know he really wants it. Marko loves to fight, but he hates the stressful feeling he gets when someone gets on his nerves. A massage is really what he needs. Marko even knows that he needs it, even though he hasn’t had a massage in years.

Marko won’t admit to it, but he loves being touched by you. So this massage put him in heaven. You know that feeling you get when you crack your neck or stretch after waking up? Yeah, that’s exactly how he felt as you were massaging him. He was definitely in love with you now if he wasn’t already. Marko wouldn’t want the moment to end. If you pause or tease him for wanting to be babied, he’ll get upset.

When you start to massage Marko, you are not allowed to stop. If you do, he’ll grab your hands and put them in the same spot you were massaging. If you stop completely while massaging a really good spot, Marko will grumble a “more!” while growling. If you walk away or ignore him in a playful way, Marko will find a way to get you to start massaging him again. He’ll probably beg for it if he has to. Or he’ll get really upset. You basically cannot stop until he lets you, or until he falls asleep in the moment.

[diary-of-deadweight]

Masterlist.

Fic Idea by @leximills666

“Anything new?” You asked, sitting yourself in the spare chair between Darcy and Jimmy, who handed you your cup of caffeine. “If you consider Pietro teaching the twins how to stream snacks from the kitchen then no.” Jimmy spoke up, his eyes glued intently to the television for any missable details that could play in your favour. “But Jimmy did almost spill coffee onto Director Hayward.” Darcy shoots the mortified male a amused look as you slapped a hand onto his shoulder, trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the mental image that gave you an good amount of serotonin, “I’d pay good money to see you actually do it, serves him right for calling my friend a terroist.”

It was common knowledge that you and the Maximoff twins were close friends after their introduction to the Avengers as you were gaining some semblance of understanding of your teleportation powers and it’s limitations before trauma bonding with the pair over being Hydras successful lab rats. So when Hayward slagged off Wanda it took Darcy, Monica and Jimmy to hold you back from ending his whole career John Wick style. The bastard got real lucky but you couldn’t promise that the next time was going to have him leave a briefing room without a few bruises and even bruised ego. Fuelled by the frustration of recent events that left you feeling helpless as you were forced to watch the sitcom shenanigans Wanda and her dead yet somehow not dead husband and her adorable twins get into that only made it feel like a horror after they end, leaving you with more questions then answers that weighed on your darkening eyebags and breaking every last ounce of paitience you once thought you had along with the sleepless nights of theorising that went nowhere without someone bringing up a flaw made keeping your powers in check a little more difficult that you’d scare Jimmy, Darcy and Monica on a plethora of occasions.

You just wanted to get them out and be done with Hayward’s suspicious ass. I mean it was clear as fuck that vision was in bits and pieces in the video servalence footage. What was he doing with him? Why did he wait this long to show everyone something that would’ve benefited the opertation from the beginning? THAT was suspicious behaviour and yet no one was gonna question it?! Gotta love corruption I guess. “Anything new Dr Lewis?” Speaking of corruption, here it was in human form standing behind you there with his ‘stick up his ass’ attitude; it really pissed you off that you’d love nothing more then to slam your fist into him punchable bitch face until it’s unreagnisable. Sensing your hatred and thirst for violence, Jimmy places a hand on your shoulder and gave you a stern look that read ‘no...not yet at least.’ Sighing you gave him a passable smile before talking a long sip of coffee, making sure to slurp annoyingly loud as possible when Hayward looked at you unamused that you couldn’t help retaliating with a tight lipped smile and the middle finger. Darcy had to cover her mouth from bursting out in hysterics while Jimmy sighed like a disappointed parent but you knew he was trying to hold it together internally as Darcy was. “Nothing worth reporting back on sir.”

Hayward didn’t say anything other then let out a grunt then making his way out of the room not without a snarky comment from you of course, “don’t let the door hit you on the way out directior” to which he replied with as swiftly “appreciate the concern (l/n).” Making sure he was out of sight Darcy burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against you for support while Jimmy allowed himself to chuckle a little had your chest warming up, erasing any forms of pent up frustration like magic. Spending time with these beautiful bastards were what made the sleepless nights worth it in your opinion, knowing that you weren’t alone in wanting to help Wanda instead of harm. “What’re they laughing at?” Monica asked, a dazzling smile adorned her face as she nursed her own coffee between her hands; You shrugged nonchalantly looking back at her with fake innocence that told her more then she needed to know. “The sleep deprivation must’ve caught up to them.”

“Shut up!” The dark haired woman nudged you in the side, almost spilling your coffee in the process, “(y/n) threw some serious sass at Hayward earlier, should’ve been there Monica it was hysterical.” Monica only laughed in response as she patted you on the back, proud that she wasn’t the only one sick of Hayward’s shit, “I guess I should’ve. Would make a great memeory to share in the future” she sat in the chair next to Darcy turning her attention to the screen where Pietro was attempting to be slick and nab a snack while Wanda was cutting onions unflinchingly, only to slip and land flat on his back scaring Wanda as the unseen audicene laughed. Stupid and as cheesy as it was it didn’t fail to make you crack a smile while reminiscing of a similar memory that stuck out like a sore thumb. You and Pietro thought it be a great idea to compete against one another in order to see who’d get to the kitchen first, spoiler: he won by a narrow margin, that still had you calling him a cheat to this day, and decided to hide from you behind the counter like the little shit that he was. Long story short you entered the kitchen thinking you won, he jumps out scaring you so badly that you end up teleporting ontop of him.

“Hey (y/n).” Darcy’s voice brought you back from your thoughts and to reality. The thought of teleporting in there and getting your friends out has been a recurring one though your required to feel someone’s energy signature and with how well getting inside visuals went the likelihood of you sensing Pietro or Wanda for that case wasn’t going to be a piece of cake if it was you’d already have done it by now. “Yes Dr Lewis?” “Think you could-“ teleport inside? Trust me I’ve thought the same thing but the barrier is a major issue standing in my way of actually getting inside and out without trouble.” Despite all odds that didn’t stop you from wanting to give it a try if it meant trapping yourself also you wouldn’t hesitate to do it in a heartbeat. So it took your friends aback when you abruptly stood up from your chair, shoving your coffee into Jimmy’s hands and made a mad dash out of the room and down the corridor unapologetically shoving everyone aside with Monica and Darcy in hot pursuit while poor Jimmy placed your coffee down by your chair and bolted in hopes of catching up but when he did you were already teleported into the barrier that was dragging you into Westview before their eyes.

“(Y/n)!!!!” Monica yelled as she ran towards you, hand outstretched to pull you back but only grasped air when you disappeared form sight, she was so close to saving you but was too late non the less. Darcy and Jimmy shared a look as they came to her side as the feeling of helplessness became more evident within them. “Come on Monica, we can probably catch them on the television.” She said solemnly as they walked back to base.

-meanwhile in Westview-

Scared and confused you found yourself wandering aimlessly down the streets in your new attire of plaid shirt, leather jacket, high waisted trousers, converse and a locket that help a picture of you, Pietro and Wanda inside before finding yourself on your ass looking up at a silver haired male in a black leather jacket, Hawaiian shirt, jeans and worn down sneakers.

“What the-,” his chocolate eyes widened as they landed on your face, “(y/n)?! Is that you?!” His voice was just as you remembered it you smirked, outstreching a hand in a silent jesture to be helped up, “you think I’d let you wander too far?” He chuckled, hauling you off the floor and into his arms, face buried into his neck savouring the brunt sugar smell you’ve missed so much. “I should’ve guessed you’d be several steps behind.” He whispered into your hair, placing a kiss there, immediately comforting you before pulling away to drag you down the street without explanation towards a familiar house that belonged to the auburn haired female who was currently cleaning up after her kids when she saw Pietro, giving him that parental stare. “You’re a bad influence on my kids Pietro, you’re lucky to be my brother or I would’ve blasted across town by now.”

‘Well that ain’t foreboding at all.’ You thought to yourself as you took in the fact that you were finally reunited with the people who meant the most to you, you couldn’t remember when you got here nor how other then the fact that you wanted to visit Pietro and Wanda and that you could teleport. “If it’s any constellation, look who finally decided to pay us a visit.” The silver haired male stepped aside to reveal you in all your unsure glory as Wanda’s eyes widened like they did with Pietro but she didn’t any waste time in running towards you and holding your face in her hands, tears lining her eyes and you couldn’t help but lean into her warmth. “(Y/n)?” She whispered softly. “Hi Wanda, sorry I’m late.” You said as Pietro held both of you close to his chest protectively while Wanda laughed weakly her hand dropping you grasp yours tightly, “all is forgiven now that we’re together...as we should be.” Her eyes flashed red for a split second.

“Yeah, together at last.”

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 1

Read on AO3. Part 2 here.

Summary: You’re a Lieutenant, stationed on Orinda. You’re content with your trustworthy crew, but issues with a certain ship (spoiler alert: it’s the TIE silencer) end up trapping you on the Steadfast, instead. Your relationship with Kylo Ren isn't how you left it. How many more messes can you stand to clean?

(Yes, this is the sequel to Fix Your Attitude.)

Words: 4500

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Umm... hi!! I don't have much to say other than I'm very excited to post this, and I really hope you enjoy it! I love you all so much. I'm genuinely lucky and grateful to have you in my life.

You weren’t ready.

Since the alert had come in that the First Order would be sending a transporter to Orinda, your hands had been jittery. There’d been no indication, no hint as to what your team should be expecting when they arrived. In the four months since you’d arrived at the fuel post, you hadn’t received a single visitor from the brass.

“Hey, Chief.” 

The voice called you as you were chest-deep in a pile of fuel-cells. Grunting, you wrenched yourself free, patting the reactor dust from your uniform. Certainly there was some in your hair, too. 

“Hey, hi Tonis, what’s up?” You tried to restrain your anxiety to the perimeter of your mind. “Can, uh, can I help you?”

Tonis, your third engineer, sighed, wrangling his hands together as he looked to the ground. “Do you know what’s going on with this transport unit arriving?” His thin lips twisted in a frown. “They’re saying that they might be shutting the post down.”

“Oh, jeez.” You shook your head, grabbing a rag from the terminal and wiping your hands. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “Good. I really, really, really don’t want to be moved. Again.”

Grimacing, you looked at your reflection in the terminal facade. “I know.”

“Orinda’s really great,” he said. “All the different ships we get to work on. And it’s so quiet. And our team is so great--”

“I know.” You mussed your hair, as if shoving dirty fingers through it would improve its appearance. Incredibly, it did not. “They’re only sending three people. I’m sure it can’t be that big of a deal.”

“But that’s the thing!” he said. “Don’t you think that a transport unit with only a few passengers must be here for something super-official?”

Your chest seized, and you cleared your throat, turning back to him. 

“Maybe.” You ignored the hot burn of your cheeks. “Guess we’ll see when they get here.” 

The terminal blipped, a familiar pattern that indicated the atmosphere had been breached. It’d been awhile since you’d felt like you had the power to summon anything of importance with a single thought. The reminder tweaked your heart. 

“Or… I guess we’ll see now.”

Tonis squealed, running through the post. “Hey! Hey guys! The First Order’s here! The First Order’s arrived!”

Sighing, you looked into the terminal again. Four months hadn’t changed your appearance too much. Not that it mattered. Or it might. But you wouldn’t worry about it. Only a little.

You steeled your nerves and walked out of the hangar into the dusty outcropping of the fuel outpost. Flat land stretched for miles in diameter from your station, a rolling pitch of blue mountains in the far distance, the wind whipping across the plains, rustling the dry grass. Shielding your eyes with a hand, you gazed up and spotted the transporter, a blooming black spot in the cloudless sky, quickening the pace of your pulse with every passing second.

It was just a transporter. He wouldn’t be on it. There was nothing to freak out about.

Tonis had gathered the rest of your massive crew--all three of them, him included--and they surrounded you, faces taut with anticipation.

“What do you think it is, Chief?” That was Mirna, your second engineer, a short, wide-set thing, with buzzed hair and a gruff voice. “You think they’re shutting the place down?”

“She already said she doesn’t think it’s that,” Tonis replied.

“Well, yeah, but then, why are they just sending three people?” said Lin, your mechanic. 

“There’s plenty of reasons they could send three people,” Tonis said, as if he hadn’t just been agonizing over that very issue just minutes ago.

Mirna snorted. “Like what?”

“An announcement,” Lin said. “Maybe they’re canvassing all First Order planets.”

You nodded, chewing your cheek. “Sure. That could be it.”

“Or maybe it’s a survey!” Tonis was almost wiggling with excitement like the little nerd he was. “Does anyone else love filling out those weird surveys?”

“No, nerfherder,” Mirna teased, grinning. “Just you.”

“Could be an escort.” Lin shrugged. “Maybe they’re here to pick someone up.”

Mirna laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Who in the stars could they have an interest in on this planet?”

Blood blazed your face. “It’s a mystery.”

You hadn’t told anyone since arriving what had brought you there or why you’d come. You hadn’t told them when you’d first landed that you still had the cum of the Commander of the First Order leaking out of your cunt. You hadn’t told them that just hours before, he’d held you in his arms, brought you into his mind, and shown you--with a breathless, crushing tangibility--how utterly and completely he loved you.

You hadn’t told them, either, that in the days, weeks, months following your arrival, you hadn’t heard from him at all. 

With a dying wail, the transporter hovered and landed, spitting up a ring of dust that smacked you in the face. You sputtered, wiping your eyes, the rest of your crew apparently victims too. Frowning, you crossed your arms, brow cocked as the ramp whined and descended. Something akin to fear needled your heart in the empty space between the sound of footsteps and the emergence of two Stormtroopers stomping to the ground. 

Something that was definitely fear gripped it as those two troopers were followed by a man you’d hoped to never, ever see again.

“Engineer.” General Hux had somehow lost none of his smarmy, pink-cheeked smugness--his refusal to say your name was out of petty spite at this point. And his face was just as punchable as you remembered. “I see you are, for once, prepared for our arrival.”

“What sort of facility chief would I be if I didn’t stay on top of our arrival queues?” You hid your hands behind your back to hide their quaking. “Though I believe my rank is Lieutenant, now, sir.”

“Lieutenant,” he replied, with the same amount of disdain he’d probably afford a crying child. “I imagine it’s the lack of distraction.” He smirked. “I loathe to think of the productivity you would’ve had on the Finalizer with a similar environment.”

“Oh, as do I, sir.” You offered him a gleaming smile. “I can’t imagine a punishment worse than being in your good graces.”

“Chief,” hissed Mirna. “That’s a General of the First Order. What are you doing?”

Cursing internally, you pinched yourself, stood straighter. Your team would have no idea why you felt so comfortable mouthing off to a man who, otherwise, might’ve had you thrust into the bowels of space by now--and to be honest, you didn’t have much of an idea why at this point, either. Your presumed protection was hardly a current presence in your life. 

You shook your head, wagged out your hands. “Let me try again, sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “General Hux, sir. To what do I owe the honor?”

Hux smirked. “As much as I hate to interrupt, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing to let the word drip with more venom than a snake ever could, “I’m here to order you to come with me onto the Steadfast.”

“The Steadfast?” Obviously the name of a ship, but not one you were familiar with. No news bulletins had made their way to Orinda in the time you’d been stationed. “Why?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter has ceased functioning. Every engineer we’ve brought to it has failed to diagnose the issue.” His jaw tensed in real, actual reluctance. “We were at the border of the Rim, and unfortunately, I thought of you.”

You blinked. He wanted you to work on Snoke’s TIE fighter? 

And then another question: Snoke had a TIE fighter? 

“Uh…” Frowning, you glanced around at your crew. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them for days on end. “How long will I be gone?”

His face betrayed nothing but pure disgust. “As long as it takes you to fix a TIE fighter.” He watched as you paused in thought. “I wasn’t offering you a choice, Lieutenant. We’re leaving now.”

With that, he turned on his heels, marching up the ramp. A long, slow breath left your lungs, and you turned to your team, scanning their faces for any reaction. To your surprise, everyone but Tonis seemed rapt in excitement, eyes wide and chins wagging in awe. 

“I had no idea you were such a big shot!” Lin grinned. The other two nodded in agreement.

Blushing, you rubbed your arm in embarrassment, looking between them. “No, no,” you said. “Nothing like that.”

“You have to tell us the story, one day.” Mirna was smirking.

“Uh… Right.” You coughed. “So, hopefully I’ll only be a day or so, max,” you said. “Mirna, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“You got it, Chief,” she said. “Tonis, my first order is for you to please calm down.”

He shot her a glare. “Good luck, Chief!” He offered you a salute, which was both strange and unnecessary. “We’ll be thinking of you!”

Warmth spread in your chest. “I’ll be thinking of you guys, too. Don’t make too big of a mess, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” they replied in unison--and then broke into laughter. 

You shook your head, finding yourself laughing with them. “Okay. See you guys soon.” 

Bowing your head, you trudged up the ramp into the transporter, taking a seat far away from Hux and the two Stormtroopers. You wondered why he’d bothered to bring them to a tiny outpost like Orinda, but you supposed that self-importance and paranoia knew no bounds in the higher ranks of the First Order. 

As the door closed to the transporter, your heart wrinkled. In the past few months, despite your open ache, Orinda had become your home, your crew had become something akin to your family. You hoped the issue with the TIE fighter was something stupid, like a busted hyperdrive. They were simple to repair, but most engineers wouldn’t mess with lightspeed travel--the mechanisms were so delicate that even a simple mistake could result in splitting the ship. 

The transporter rose into the air, and in seconds, it burst into the sky. A windowless cargo meant you could only imagine the faces of your crew as you disappeared into the horizon. You sighed, watching your feet as they jostled with the jerking of the ship. You weren’t sure what the Steadfast was like, but apparently Snoke had moved his operations there. Though you still had no clue what Snoke looked like, you’d never imagined him to be the type to fly--but perhaps a Supreme Leader required multiple skillsets.

The awkward ride finished without a single word being exchanged between you and Hux, which was fine by you, and possibly finer by him. When the ramp lowered, he speared you with his gaze, waiting for the troopers to exit before standing and ordering you to follow him with only his eyes.

You tromped down the ramp into the hangar on the Steadfast--it looked almost identical to the one on the Finalizer. The ceilings stretched high, like a giant’s mouth, the magnetic shields glowing teeth at the lips of the bay. Ships buzzed above you, racing in and out of their docks, the floor crowded with soldiers and officers alike. 

The rush hit you--sure, the time on Orinda had been fantastic, engaging, rejuvenating. But it would never match the thrill of working in the presence of fleets and fleets of warships, surrounded by the heady spell of urgent, prestigious labor. You sucked it through your nose, held it in your chest, unable to stop your eyes from lingering on every busted ship they saw. In the distance, a team huddled around the smoking wing of a TIE fighter--you bit your lip to prevent yourself from racing over, from tearing it apart for them.

Another thing you weren’t able to stop looking for was any hint, any presence of the Commander--but in the bay, you didn’t even catch evidence of the Command Shuttle. It was a huge assumption to guess he’d be on the Steadfast to begin with, but part of you hoped he’d trailed his precious Supreme Leader to any place he was ordered. It figured that the one time you might have been within thinking distance, he’d managed to make himself scarce. 

Another twine in your heart snapped, joining the collection that’d been unfurling since you’d departed the Finalizer. 

Yes, he’d said he would find you. You still believed him now, even. 

But really. What was taking him so damn long?

Hux led you to a wide dock toward the very front of the hangar. The crews you spotted along the way seemed detached, working without words, communicating with gestures and mirthless expressions. Tonis’ silly salute would never happen here. You frowned. The lack of thrill was worth your autonomy.

“Lieutenant.”

A snap of your head, and you blinked. You were in front of your charge. 

This TIE fighter was unlike one you’d ever seen. Instead of the flat panel wings, this one bore talons, sharp knives capable of cutting space and possibly any ship in its way. Red-paned transparisteel formed the cockpit into a muzzle, imitating an animal instead of a sphere. And it wasn’t a ball suspended on plates, but was rather tucked tight into the body of the ship, creating a seamless, dynamic transition that to you, seemed so new, so modern. It was almost--sexy? 

You looked to Hux. “Are you sure this is the one that isn’t working?” Lips parted in awe, you stepped up to it, placing a hand on the solar array. “It’s gorgeous.”

“The Supreme Leader has been unable to fly it for cycles, now,” said Hux. “I’m sure.”

“All right.” You rolled your eyes. “Got it.” 

What you needed was a post-flight report. You strode over to the nearest terminal and entered your credentials--thankfully, as a Lieutenant now, they were universal to the entire First Order system. Only one ship was logged underneath the access: TIE/vn space superiority fighter: SILENCER.

“TIE silencer?” you mumbled. “Where do they come up with these names?”

You investigated the reports in the past several cycles that detailed the attempts by engineers to get the thing working: thrusters aligned, check. Solar lines flushed, check. Refuel port cleansed, check. Heat calibration reset and replaced, check. 

And yet with each new repair--engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail. 

Engine test: fail, fail, fail. 

Screwing your lips in thought, you landed on the post-flight report, hoping it would provide you with insight. If he knew what was good for him, Supreme Leader Snoke would be thorough.

You opened the report, and paragraphs of information flooded the screen. Your jaw dropped. Every single system had been left with a meticulously in-depth account of its status before, during, and after flight. The level of specificity contained within each sentence astounded you. It was almost unbelievable that a single person could remember this much, let alone regurgitate it with any level of accuracy. You groaned, lost in Basic.

Hux cleared his throat. “How long do you anticipate this taking, Lieutenant?” 

“As long as I--...” You stopped yourself with a grumble. It would be much easier to hear it from the tauntaun’s mouth, instead of pouring over and cross-checking every single detail. “I’m not sure, General. Is there any way I could speak with the Supreme Leader?” 

A strange, smug look passed over his face. “Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll take you.”

You blinked. That was easy. Almost too easy. “Uh… okay.”

Hux turned on his heel, clipped stride cutting through the hangar. You hadn’t been prepared to meet the Supreme Leader when you woke up this morning, but you supposed anything was possible when working for the First Order. Swallowing, you shut down the terminal, and followed him into the halls.

Returning to a Star Destroyer, in a way, felt like home--the glossy black tile passed like a familiar path beneath your feet, and you spared fleeting glances to the Stormtroopers who passed you. The halls of the Steadfast maintained their similarity to everything else on the Finalizer--though that did nothing to assuage your anxiety about the memories you’d had on that ship. Or who may or may not be on this one. 

“Do you work on the Steadfast, now, sir?” 

Hux was silent for a moment, gaze trained forward. “Yes. The Finalizer was decommissioned.”

“Wait, really?” Your heart thumped. The only datapad message you’d received from your friends had come in the first few weeks after your departure. You just assumed they’d been busy. “What happened?”

“A Resistance attack left it crippled,” he replied. “Leadership and surviving crew were transferred to the Steadfast.”

Terror seized you, your pace quickened. “Sur-surviving crew?” you asked. “Sir?” More silence. You stumbled to catch up with him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “Sir--”

“Engineers Foster and Loren were transferred to this vessel unharmed, Lieutenant.” He leered at you. “Satisfied?”

You heaved a massive sigh, hands falling to your knees. They were here. You’d have to catch up with them, soon. 

“Yes, sir, thank you--” 

By the time you’d finished, he’d already managed to make it what seemed to be fifty paces ahead of you, and you scrambled to keep up with him. 

As you did, a grey-haired man emerged from the corner in front of you both, and Hux stiffened, cursing under his breath. Raising a brow, you tried to meet this man’s gaze, only to bump into the general, who’d stopped, limbs pinned to his sides.

“Shit!” Your face burned, and you jumped back, snapping to attention. “I mean, uh, sorry, General, sir.”

The look Hux offered you was similar to one a parent might offer a simpering child. Right before they murdered that child in a fit of blind rage.

“General Hux,” said the grey-haired man. “Just the one I was looking for.” 

“Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux’s chin jutted to the ceiling. 

The Allegiant General Pryde turned his attention to you, glimpsing your uniform before meeting your eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted, Lieutenant…”

You gave your name. “Sir.” Clearing your throat, you continued, “I’m Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“Ah.” His gaze lingered on the fuel cell filth smattering your chest. “Of course.” Something within his eyes categorized you in league with rodents--and something else within them told you he crushed rodents for sport. “Interesting.” His attention whipped back to Hux. “General. Regarding the Council meeting…”

“I plan to present the Supreme Leader with my plan, sir.”

“I know you do,” Pryde replied, “but you failed to run it by me.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. You wished you were anywhere other than this extremely awkward hallway meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

“Forgive me, Allegiant General,” Hux said, “but I didn’t think a basic unit efficiency research required your approval.”

“Everything requires my approval, General,” he said. “Lest we forget the errors of Starkiller Base.”

That was a low blow. You gulped. They both looked at you, and you cleared your throat again, throwing your hands behind your back. The energy radiating from Hux could be classified as skin-scorching. 

“Of course.” Hux’s tone grew tighter with each word that left his lips. “I’ll remember that next time, sir.”

“Good.” Pryde glanced between you. “What brings a facility chief from her station all the way to the Steadfast?”

“The Supreme Leader’s TIE fighter, sir,” Hux replied, still staring into the air. “She may be the only engineer capable of repairing it.”

The Allegiant General frowned. “Really. How many resources did you expend picking up a single person from a remote outpost?” he asked. “Do you not consider this to be something I should know?”

“It was a brief excursion,” he said. “I took two Stormtroopers and a single transport unit.”

“Was that unit’s excursion approved?” He circled Hux, a silvered predator, sizing up his prey. For once, you almost felt bad for the ginger bastard. “What if Resistance staged an attack while you were gone? If we needed that unit for more than a handful of bodies?”

Hux’s lips pursed, chin dimpling with tension. “I don’t know, sir.”

“And how do you think the Supreme Leader will feel knowing you acted without approval, all to retrieve a single engineer?”

Silence drifted like fog over the three of you, thickening as this grey-haired power-laden dickhead glared at General Hux. But Hux’s back had aligned, parallel to the wall, every flicker of frustration fled from his frame. The tiniest hint of a smirk curled at his mouth.

“I think he’ll be just fine with it. Sir.” Hux’s brow quirked. “We’re on our way to speak with him now, if you’d like to accompany.”

Pryde grinned, a serpent’s twist to his smile. “Your confidence has failed you in the past, General,” he replied. “Lead the way.”

You trailed behind the Allegiant General and Hux, fingers starting to quake. Now, you’d not only be meeting the Supreme Leader still smothered in space dust, you’d be meeting him accompanied by the two biggest assholes in the First Order--second only to one other, perhaps. 

Unfortunately, that particular asshole was a ghost to this ship, and there wasn’t anyone in particular you felt comfortable asking about him. If Hux had been superceded by this new jerk, the last thing you wanted was another opportunity for someone with rank greater than your own to question you about your personal relationships. 

Dread pooled in your belly. Supreme Leader Snoke did know about your personal relationship with the Commander. In fact, Snoke had been the one to insist you be his conduit, among other insulting things. You imagined him bringing it up: Ah, yes, the engineer, the distraction… and how have you been, without his cock inside of you?

You shook your head. No, it didn’t make sense for him to bring up his apprentice’s dick at your first meeting. Or any meeting, for that matter. You hoped.

The two men led you through the rest of the journey in silence, animosity prickling like durasteel barbs in the air between them. At least your own team didn’t regard you with vibrodaggers behind their backs--as far as you knew, anyway--and the realization, against the backdrop of your current situation, had you aching to leave. The discussion with the Supreme Leader would be swift and succinct; you’d get the information you needed, diagnose the problem, and be on your way back to Orinda. 

In front of you, a massive turbolift sang its arrival, blast door whirring open. You followed the two men inside, heart tingling. Maybe part of you had been hoping that your long-awaited reunion would have occurred during your time aboard--as you thought it, you tried to stymie the resentment that you’d waited this long at all. The rational part of your mind reasoned that he was a busy man, that lack of contact didn’t indicate lack of thought. 

But every other part of your mind was staving off bubbling despair. Four months had felt like four years, and you’d only grown more desperate, more anxious for his embrace--then furious that he didn’t appear to return the sentiment. 

You knew how he felt. So it didn’t make sense, then, why he hadn’t acted on it for even a single, solitary night in the past sixteen weeks.  

When the blast door opened, you crossed the threshold into an obsidian sanctuary. The floor gleamed, a black lake of glass sweeping into high ebony ceilings that twinkled with artificial stars. The only other illumination came from two enormous spheres that hung, suspended in air at opposite ends of the room, their surfaces a swirl of white-grey light, imitation suns with colorless coronas. At the far end of the room was a hovering stone throne, six dark figures crowding it in a crescent. 

Your heart stammered--you’d seen them before. In memories that hadn’t belonged to you. All of them were outfitted in clothing that seemed familiar, helmets that hid their identities, and each of them possessed a weapon meant explicitly for assassination. The only conclusion you could draw was that they were the Supreme Leader’s bodyguards. 

Whoever they were, to you, they were ominous.

The two men in front of you strode forward, and you followed, catching your reflection whispering by your shoes: your hair was mussed with evidence of engine exhaust, your uniform still glowing with smears of ionization. Internally, you cursed yourself. Yeah, this was exactly how you’d wanted to look when meeting the Supreme Leader of the First Order--like complete shit. Stomach sinking, you sidled behind them as they stood at attention. 

“Supreme Leader,” they said simultaneously.

As if on command, the wall of shadowed soldiers parted to reveal the throne. 

But no one was there.

You blinked. “Oh.” 

Hux’s head swiveled between the strangers in front of you. “Where is he?” He turned to Pryde. “These are his receiving hours--”

“Yes,” replied the Allegiant Asshole. “But perhaps he’s departed early for the Supreme Council meeting. We’d be better off--”

The turbolift doors wailed behind you, and like synchronized chronometers, you, Hux, and Pryde spun to meet the new arrival. 

Your brain went blank.

Kylo Ren crossed the shimmering sable floor in a confident stride, his robes replaced now with padded armor that clung to the contours of his powerful, thick chest, his broad shoulders covered with a hooded cape. His fists, still bound in leather, flexed at his sides--and his face... 

More beautiful, more arresting than you could have conjured in any memory, his lips still pink and plush, his nose still a long line, his hair still rolling in waves, like black silk-velvet at his shoulders. You met his eyes as he advanced, finding them guarded, resurrecting every fear and insecurity, tempering them with hidden warmth. 

“Generals.”

The voice was lightning through your limbs, its owner a perfect match to the soft baritone you’d replayed in your dreams for the past one hundred and fifty two days. All of your systems leapt to life at once: brain spinning, heart soaring, adrenaline coursing. Sweat soaked your neck, your figure thrust whole into a furnace.

“Sir!” Both bowed their heads.

Gazing at him, then, you realized what was happening. This was his throne. You were working on his TIE fighter. Kylo Ren, your lover, your obsession, your galaxy was now the de-facto leader of the actual galaxy. You weren’t in love with the First Order’s Commander, anymore. 

You were in love with its Supreme Leader. 

Shock anchored your mouth open. Your eyes welled with latent tears. You grinned in disbelief.

“Dude!” You laughed. “What the fuck!”

[half-bakedboy]

make yourself at home

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Contains spoilers from season 5 episode 4: Home and Away

Summary: “What the fuck happened to you?” Eddie asks as he pushes past Buck to put his beer in the fridge.

Buck scoffs. “Nice to see you so worried, Eddie. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable while I try to figure out what to use for ice.”

Eddie is already reaching for a plastic bag from the drawer beside the silverware while opening the freezer with his other hand. He pushes the drawer shut with his hip and fills the bag, tying it off with the zip ties Buck keeps stocked in a mug Christopher made for him during art class. It’s shaped like an otter because Buck had surprised Christopher with a trip to the aquarium the week before and was instantly obsessed.

Eddie had expected to find an exhausted Buck behind his apartment door, but the darkening shiner is a surprise. He doesn’t remember Buck getting injured during their call and he knew Buck didn’t have any plans tonight hence Eddie showing up, but there it is. A bright, black and blue bruise blending with the birthmark on his eye. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Eddie asks as he pushes past Buck to put his beer in the fridge. 

Buck scoffs. “Nice to see you so worried, Eddie. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable while I try to figure out what to use for ice.”

Eddie is already reaching for a plastic bag from the drawer beside the silverware while opening the freezer with his other hand. He pushes the drawer shut with his hip and fills the bag, tying it off with the zip ties Buck keeps stocked in a mug Christopher made for him during art class. It’s shaped like an otter because Buck had surprised Christopher with a trip to the aquarium the week before and was instantly obsessed. 

“Go sit outside. Get some fresh air to knock away the bad attitude someone punched into you, will you?” Eddie suggests, gesturing to the balcony door. Buck sighs but relents, leaving the glass door open as he plops down on the patio chairs he had finally invested in a few weeks prior. 

“How did you know I got punched?” Buck asks, leaning forward so he can see what Eddie is doing. Eddie is in the process of placing the cold casserole that Abuela had given him when he dropped Christopher off for the night in the oven, setting it to warm so he has time to figure out exactly what had happened to Buck. 

“I’ve seen what a punch in the face does to a man. Left some myself a time or two,” Eddie notes. He ignores the way Buck raises his eyebrows in intrigue, opting to sass him instead. “Plus, it’s about time someone hit you. You just have such a punchable face.” Eddie grins at Buck who makes an unimpressed face and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. 

“It’s not funny, Eddie,” Buck mutters. 

This time, Eddie can hear the worry in his voice and it causes his own to rise up in his chest. He doesn’t panic, though—he doesn’t do that anymore—but he offers Buck a small smile as he waits for the oven to preheat. He leans against the doorway so he can hear the beep and tosses the ice pack into Buck’s lap.

“It’s not, but you looked like you could use some cheering up so I’m trying.” Buck smirks at that but it’s gone almost in an instant. “Who do I have to fight?” Eddie asks if only to see Buck smile again. 

“Careful, Eds, we don’t want Edmundo 2.0 coming back.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at the nickname. 

“What number am I at now? I would’ve thought after almost dying three times, I would have been way past 3.0,” Eddie teases but it falls flat. Buck stares up at him with even more sorrow in his eyes than before. “You gonna tell me what happened?” Eddie asks, softer this time. 

“Maddie called me. After… Well, before she left. She, uh, told me that she needed time away—from Jee, from Chim, from… me.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Eddie asks. It’s not an accusation but the way Buck flinches as if he’s been hit again causes Eddie to sigh. “Oh, Buck.” 

“I didn’t know what to do, Eddie. The last time I tried to get her to stay, it only pushed her to leave again. I know Maddie and when she has her mind set on something, no one can stop her,” Buck explains. He’s so sure of himself, as Buck always is, and Eddie can’t help but be a little proud of that. 

“You told Chimney that?” Eddie prods. 

“He figured it out. One runaway girlfriend and he’s suddenly Shawn freaking Spencer,” Buck responds bitterly. 

“I can’t believe you started Psych without me!” Eddie chastises before realization sets in. “Wait, Chimney did that to your face?” The oven beeps so Eddie heads back in, gesturing for Buck to continue on with his story as he sets the oven timer. He makes his way over to the fridge to grab two of the cold beers leftover from the last time he was there. 

“I didn’t even know he could pack a punch like this!” Buck exclaims, clearly annoyed. “He’s like half a foot shorter than me, man.” He pouts and Eddie hands him his beer while leaning in closer to inspect that damage again. 

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with his aim,” Eddie notes, ignoring the way Buck glares at him. “He got you good.” Eddie doesn’t think Buck hears anything but blame in the words. 

“Look, I get why he’s mad. What am I supposed to do? She begged me not to tell him we talked.”

“She’s your sister,” Eddie says. It’s a fact that both of them are aware of, but Eddie thinks it bears repeating to try and ease Buck’s guilt. 

“I thought I could help them both. Could, uh, convince her to come home and stop him from spiraling out of control…” Eddie hums, considering. “Kind of feels like I failed on both fronts.” Buck always makes himself the middle man and it never turns out in his favor. He says as much, regretting his words as soon as he says them. 

“You were always gonna fail.”

Buck glances up at him in surprise and notes, “Well, that’s dark.”

As far as reactions go, Buck’s could have been worse. Eddie takes a sip of his beer and purses his lips as he thinks of what to say next. Buck needs reason. He needs to see the other side of things. He’s so blinded by keeping the family he finally has happy, he hasn’t stopped to realize that it isn’t his job to make everyone happy. 

It was a lesson Eddie had learned recently and he felt the need to let Buck in on it, too. 

“Look, you love Maddie, and you love Chimney, and you’re the guy who likes to fix things,” Eddie paused but Buck couldn’t argue with that, “but maybe this isn’t something you can fix. Maybe it’s not your job to fix this.”

“He kept on saying that, you know? ‘She could be in trouble, she needs our help,’” Buck repeated his conversation with Chim, “but I know she’s gonna be okay.” He is so sure of that and Eddie knows he’s right. Before he can say as much, Buck shakes his head. “He just doesn’t know her the way I do.” 

“Or you don’t know her the way he does,” Eddie offers. Eddie raises an eyebrow at Buck like a challenge he knows Buck won’t argue against. “When you think of your sister, you see this person you’ve always looked up to, the woman who’s taken care of you, but maybe that’s not who she is right now.” Eddie takes a breath. “This time, maybe she’s the one who needs taking care of.”

Eddie has learned that over the last few months, too. He had always been the one to provide care; to his fellow soldiers, to the victims he treats, to his son, his wife, his parents, his extended family, the people he loves. When he was shot, he didn’t want help, didn’t think he deserved it, and at first, he tried to push everyone away. He went as far as kicking Buck out of his house after the first few nights of being waited on and sending Christopher to stay with Tía Pepa for longer than he probably needed to.

It wasn’t until Buck showed up after Eddie got stuck trying to change his shirt that they talked about it. The scene was eerily similar to the one they are in now. Each of them had beers in their hands and they were sitting on their respective sides of Eddie’s couch, Buck with the same pleading gaze in his eyes. That time Buck was begging Eddie to let him in, to take care of him in the way he wasn’t allowing anyone else. He would allow Buck, though, because he knew he wouldn’t have a choice. 

He knew Buck. He knew that the second Maddie asked him not to say anything, he wouldn’t. He knew that the moment Chimney realized what would happen, the guilt would weigh heavy on his mind. He knew that the pain in his eye didn’t come close to the hurt in his heart that he had kept something so huge from Chimney.  

“You think he’s gonna forgive me?” Buck asks. 

Eddie also knew that Buck was going to listen to him and take his words into careful consideration.

“No,” he says, taking a sip of his beer and ignoring the panic that flashes across Buck’s eyes before he can’t take it any longer. “Kidding! I’m kidding,” he pauses for longer than he needs to in order to coax a smile from Buck, then adds, “maybe.” 

Buck drops the ice pack on the table beside him and stands up like he’s going to punch Eddie to make up for the black eye he’s sporting, but instead, he walks over until they’re toe to toe. Buck searches Eddie’s face for a moment and then, as if his decision was easily made, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 

Eddie doesn’t specifically know how to react. He wasn’t going to put his hands up in protection even when he thought Buck was going to punch him so now, he just isn’t sure what to do with his hands. His beer is still pinched between his fingertips and he doesn’t want to drop it but he wants to hold Buck because obviously, his friend needs it. 

Eddie starts to lean over to put the beer on the table beside them when he feels Buck start to pull away. He moves a little quicker, tossing the beer onto the countertop before wrapping Buck up in his arms. Buck nuzzles into his neck, the warmth of his bruised eye radiating against Eddie’s skin and the breeze of his even breaths cooling it instantly. 

It feels right to have Buck in his arms and he tries and fails to remember that the last time they hugged that wasn’t because one of them was coated in blood. He’s never been incredibly affectionate—to anyone besides his son and his Abuela—but Buck is different. He’s always been different and deep down, Eddie knows there’s more to it than just a friendship built in shared trauma and necessity. 

“Ice goes on the eye, Bud,” Eddie mutters. He tosses in the name to somehow balance out the gentle way he holds Buck’s chin between his fingers to inspect the bruise again. 

If it’s just an excuse to get as close to Buck as he can, to feel his warmth, the smell of the beer on his breath and the cologne he’s never without, to see those bright blue eyes just a little closer so he can get lost in them like waves out at sea… He’ll take any excuse he can get. 

“Yeah, I got it,” Buck murmurs. 

The timer on the oven goes off and Buck pushes back almost hesitantly like he isn’t quite sure it’s the best decision. It isn’t, if Eddie has a say in it, but Buck needs to make it on his own. Eddie’s already put himself out there, letting Buck in on the parts of his mind that he’s scared to share with anyone else. It’s his turn to take the next step and Eddie’s going to let him take the time he needs. 

“I’m gonna go take the casserole out. You wanna eat out here or…?” Buck shrugs as he sits, tapping his fingers on the neck of the bottle slowly. “I’ll just—”

Eddie moves quickly into the kitchen, grabbing an oven mitt from the drawer he knows they’re stored before taking the dish out of the oven. He places it on the heat protector pad Buck had bought two of; one for Eddie’s home and one for his own. He was apparently sick of Eddie misusing his kitchen and couldn’t sit back and continue to let it happen. 

When he turns to head back out to the balcony, Buck is making his way inside, two empty bottles held between nimble fingers. Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“In here then?” Eddie asks and he sorts through the container with Buck’s scoops. When he can’t find the one he’s looking for, he opens the dishwasher and finds it dirty, quickly washing it in the sink. 

“You’re comfortable here,” Buck points out. It’s not as much of a threat as Eddie makes it out to be in his head, but he feels the need to defend himself. 

“I helped you move in. I know—”

“So did Bobby and Athena, Chim and Maddie but none of them know this place like you do,” Buck says. This time, his words sound like a challenge. Eddie’s silent for a few moments too long and Buck sighs. “I like when you’re here. I— I was ready to just lock it in for the night, stew in my self-pity and depression, but then you showed up, and…” he gestures around his loft, “acted like you live here.”

“Does that bother you?” Eddie asks because, at this point, he can’t really tell. 

Buck shakes his head, “No. It— I just— can’t remember the last time Taylor was here, the last time I wanted her to be the one here.” 

“I thought things were great with Taylor,” Eddie notes, busying himself with cutting the casserole so his emotions don’t show. It’s not that he doesn’t like Taylor, he just doesn’t like her for Buck. He doesn’t think he’d like anyone for Buck, if he’s honest with himself. “Did something happen…?” 

“Maddie left,” Buck says and before Eddie can respond, he shakes his head. “Maddie left and Chimney punched me in the face. Harry was kidnapped and we had some of the worst days we’ve ever had in this city and—”

“And what, Buck?” Eddie urges. 

“She didn’t stop by. She sent me some texts saying she hoped I was okay and to call her if I needed her. She said she would drop everything for me if I asked her to, but…”

“You aren’t the type of person to ask,” Eddie finishes for him. Buck nods and makes his way over so he’s pressed against Eddie’s side. He helps him scoop two plates before nudging their hips together and moving back toward the island counter. 

“Why did you come here tonight?” Buck asks after they’ve both sat in a comfortable silence. 

“Chris wanted a night with Abuela,” Eddie responds but Buck raised an eyebrow at him.

“You could’ve stayed home, had a night to yourself that you haven’t had for weeks, watching some UFC in your boxers with that six-pack all to yourself, but you came here. Why?” Buck asks again. 

Eddie sighs. He could lie; tell Buck that he didn’t have anything better to do, didn’t want to sit around in his lonesome even though that sounded like exactly what he needed after days at the station. But he couldn’t lie to Buck, not about this. 

“You needed someone. I know that Maddie leaving is hard on Chimney and he has every right to be mad about it even if she has good reason, but you have every right to be mad, too. And I thought that maybe you needed someone in your corner,” Eddie admitted before adding, “and Hell, I was right.” 

He brushes his thumb against the shiner on Buck’s eye and tries to ignore the way Buck leans into it, smiling softly. 

“You, uh, didn’t have to do all of this,” Buck says after a few more moments of silence. Eddie pulls his hand away and shrugs, taking a large bite off of his plate. 

“I know I didn’t,” he responds simply. Buck seems to bite back a smile before glancing down at his own dinner to start to eat. “Abuela wants to have you over next weekend. She told me to tell you that you have no choice,” Eddie adds. 

“I guess I’m hanging with the Diazes next weekend, then,” Buck agrees with a nod. “Hey, you think she’d teach me how to make this casserole?” 

“Not on your life,” Eddie says and then thinks about it for a minute. “If you tell her how you got that black eye,” Eddie scrunches his face up, “maybe.” 

Buck punches him in the arm but Eddie feels the love in it.