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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 1 year

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Invisible, tugging strings, Pt. 2

Happy Easter Monday!

When - Right after Invisible, tugging strings Part 1, which you gotta read first

We’ve made it to the Chupacabra episode of Season 2, y’all!

What - our mangy hick does his best to make it home after falling down the ridge twice and hallucinating You and Merle. Back at the farm where you are, you just want him back safe and want to know why. You. Are. So. Worried. About. Daryl?

Who - The Slowpoke Series means a slow cooking, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. Daryl and Merle’s scenes take place in this one, and I can only hope I was able to do it adequate justice. I admire how the show did that part of the episode. We also have platonic Glenn, Dale, and big bro Shane.

Perspective - 2nd you, 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - neutral again, why not?

TWs - cussing, injury (and pictures from the episode showing Daryl looking nasty as well as some where Rick and T-Dog were sprayed with so much water to show sweat), and Merle’s dialogue is left word for word; he says the n-word. Two asterisks were used instead of spelling it. I ain’t writing that word.

Word count - same as Part 1 (give yourselves 15 minutes, 4,000ish words)

Stuff to read first - gotta read ’em all! It would help contextualize to first read A measure of reverence Parts 1 and 2, but you’ll be okay so long as you’ve read souls stripped bare and Invisible, tugging strings Part 1.

Why are so many of your stories two-parters? - it’s how it be, slowpokes

Are there many lame screenshots this time? - too many

Can I check out the Masterlist? - please do! There’s the official Masterlist here in purposeful nonlinear publishing (which also includes the Reader Requests), and the purely chronological one here. They both have the same Slowpoke stories, just in a somewhat different order :)

This is the third time uploading this one, y’all, and the maturity label (updated July 2023) was cleared about 8 times, but the algorithm keeps insisting it’s mature and reverting it back lol. When I got a human response from the help desk, they mentioned it was a glitch. C’est la vie, it’s kinda a bummer not more people will read this chapter, but it was still fun to write!

Happy Easter Monday!

As always, feedback in some way is very, very welcome.

...............................................

It felt so much better to keep his eyes closed, but someone’s standing over him now. Must be whoever Y/N said would help him get up.

What was that they said about ‘missing’ and ‘bully?’

He strains to get his eyes open so he can see whoever is above him. His eyelids feel so damned heavy, man, he just wants to close them again.

All he can see is the green of the treetops at first. The outline of a person’s head come into view once his vision stops being blurry. Then it clears.

A smile finds its way to the corners of his mouth. He’s missed him. Felt so lost and out of place without him. His own blood.

“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better.”

Yeah, that was him alright. He’s missed him so much.

“Merle.”

...........................................

And Merle’s got that grin that means he’s about to rib him. “What’s going on here? You takin’ a siesta or something?”

“Having a shitty day, bro,” he croaks back. If he was able to, he’d full-on hug his brother right now. Nah, for real, he’d hug him!

Merle smirks and shakes his head slightly. “Like me to get you a pillow? Maybe rub your feet?”

The comfort or whatever it was that Daryl had upon seeing and hearing his brother again starts to twist, only a tiny bit. He’s not super serious when he offers back, “Screw you.”

His big brother ain’t taking no lip, though. “Nuh-uh. You’re the one who’s screwed, from the looks of it.”

Ha, ‘screwed.’ Because the bolt is screwed in his side, funny stuff.

Daryl starts to grin through the pain at the stupid joke when his big brother lets this fly: “All them years trying to make a man out of you, this what I get?”

The tugging in his chest tries to pull him up as Y/N’s words come back and echo in his mind. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Merle’s stare works its way up and down. Daryl feels like trash.

Gets called it the next second; “Look at you. Lyin’ in the dirt like a used rubber. You’re gonna die out here, little brother, next to your own puke. And for what?”

“A girl,” is all he can answer at first, it’s all that comes out. Before Merle can tell him he’s a whipped retard being lead by the dick if he was doing all this for some chick, he explains, “They lost a little girl.”

See, Merle? It’s worth it, it’s worth all of this. She’s just a little kid, her mama needs her. Remember her, the little scared girl, with the scared ma with buzzed hair? How much you wanted to shiv the dad’s potbelly?

But all his brother tosses back is “So you got a thing for little girls, now?”

“Shut up.” Joking about stuff like that ain’t funny, it’s messed up.

Then, he remembers it’s all in his head; Merle isn’t really here. Which means he’s the asshole dreaming up his big brother mouthing off like this. But the imaginary knee doesn’t wham his nards about it, because it’s…stuff his brother would say.

Doesn’t mean the guilt doesn’t knee him good regardless when his own blood reminds him, “’Cause I noticed, you ain’t out there looking for old Merle no more.”

That ain’t fair. “Tried like hell to find you, bro,” is all he can manage to voice out loud. But you were gone. Merle, I came back for you—where’d you go? Why’d you split, didn’t you know I’d come?

“Like hell you did,” his brother grates. “You split, man, lit out first chance you got.”

What? “You lit out. All you had to do was wait.” You didn’t trust your own kin. Is it that I’m not good enough or not smart enough? I could have saved you, and your damn hand. “We went back for you. Rick and I.” He finds himself nodding as much as he’s able, because he knows he did right. “We did right by you.” Even T-Dog tried to save your ass, bro. Even him, even Glenn.

“This the same Rick that cuffed me to that rooftop in the first place?” Merle points out. “Forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we’re talkin’ about, now?”

Daryl lowers his gaze as best he can – to see his brother’s hands both still attached. As he stares him down, Merle wiggles his pinkie as if to remind Daryl that he’s just part of his imagination, not real. Then his brother’s glare turns mocking. “You his bitch now?”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.” He loves his big brother, but goddamn, there’s no one else that can make him feel so small.

“You’re a joke, is what you are. Playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, n**gers, and Democrats.”

Another sharp tug in his chest. That word never really bothered him before, but it kinda does now.

And he can’t help but think of how much red Y/N would see at hearing Merle use it. They’d probably huff, start clawing, then after they’d calmed down, start griping about how damn cartoonish Merle sounded spouting that stuff. He can almost hear it now: “That whole sentence sounded like some lazy Hollywood type wrote a script for a ‘stereotype, blue-collar, Dixie racist,’ to make themselves feel good. Nobody talks like that, good Moses.”

Their words from earlier repeat in his mind again. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

Then, he remembers again that it’s all in his head; he’s the piece of shit cooking this up. All of this weird shit, it’s all from his messed up, trailer trash excuse for an imagination.

“You’re nothing but a freak to them,” his hears his brother tell him.

Maybe Y/N’s words were “cruel don’t mean true,” but that doesn’t mean ‘cruel’ is ‘dishonest.’ At least cold, honest truth is truth.

“Redneck trash. That’s all you are,” Merle goes on.

And Daryl knows it. It ain’t cruelty, it’s honesty. He’s got balls big enough to handle it.

Y/N’s words grow softer, sadder. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

His brother’s voice is louder, angrier. “They’re laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don’t you?”

Daryl knows that, too. No point in denying it.

…Except maybe a little. ’Cause Y/N wouldn’t, they’re an actual friend. “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.” “Daryl, may I hug you again?” Nah, two-faced ain’t their style.

Carol wouldn’t neither, the woman’s too gentle for her own good. “Please be safe. I’ll be praying for you.”

Even T-Dog, that dude’s always been decent to him. So has the old man…and the boy…Andrea…Glenn…Lori, Rick, even Shane…

…And it’s as if Merle can hear those doubts. “I got a little news for you, son. One day, they gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dogshit.”

Merle’s right, he knows. He knows that he’s dogshit, he knows…he…he just needs to close his eyes, it all hurts less when his eyes are shut. His body feels so heavy…

The blessed dark takes over, and a voice that makes him feel safe hushes, “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“Hey.” Merle jostles him back awake.

Wanting to do nothing less but knowing he’s got to, Daryl strains to open his eyes again. When his vision clears, he sees disapproval warping his brother’s face, just like he’d feared.

“They ain’t your kin. Your blood. Hell, if you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me.” With a nod, his big brother then bends down and takes Daryl’s chin in his hand. His glare turns worried and his eyes turn sad, even if the words coming from his mouth don’t match it.

“Now you listen to me: ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother. Ain’t nobody ever will.”

He knows. Without Merle, Daryl was always alone…he can’t keep his eyes open, they keep falling shut…

But his brother stops him from falling asleep again by gently tapping his chest.

In his tough-love way that Daryl’s missed, he finally sounds like he cares. “No, come on. Get up on your feet, before I have to kick your teeth in.”

Merle is standing over him now and gives his feet a light kick. “Let’s go.” He crouches back down and pulls at Daryl’s feet. “Let’s go.”

His brother goes too low for Daryl to see him without craning his neck, and something weird begins happening to his big brother’s voice. It’s fading.

Soon, all that Daryl can make out is a rasping sound almost as if there’s a dog by his feet. Maybe there is a dog at his feet, because something keeps pulling at them.

What if it’s a chupacabra?

Mild fear grips him and he manages to swing his head down enough to see what’s going on so he can close his eyes again.

And he’s met with a geek trying to gnaw through his goddamned shoe.

......................................

You

Back inside, you get another dose of dread so strong you feel like you’re hooked up to an IV line like Carl was a half-hour ago.

Daryl needs help.

“Y/N, are you gonna faint again?”

You smile and shake your head as you get a hold of your emotions and send up a prayer. “The caffeine crash after the espresso thing this morning is throwin’ me for a loop.”

“What’s it doing?”

“I just got sucker-punched in the gut with this random sense of dread.”

“Creepy,” he muses.

“Very.”

“And coffee tastes so gross.”

“Bitter, blackish-brown water tastes gross?”

He giggles, and the dread within you eases.

Keep him safe and get him home, please. Get our mangy hick back home.

......................................

Him

He’d fought off the one, then another made its way to him. He ain’t sure how he got the strength to do it, but he’s still breathing. No bites, neither.

He’s back on the ground, laying there and staring at the leaves and branches and clouds as he catches his breath.

Thank you, he offers to whatever might be up there. Thank you.

He doesn’t stay that way too long, the warm trickling from his side urges him to get up. Something in his head had shrieked at him to rip the bolt out. It ended up saving his life.

His fingers are numb and shaking from the adrenaline, but he’s able to sit up and re-tie the his ripped shirt to get the wound bound tight. He remembers how Merle’s (or were they his own?) first words to him were about getting it out.

“Son of a bitch was right,” he grumbles to himself.

Next, he stumbles over the the doll and secures it in his belt, then he stomps over to where he sees the green little walkie chilling on the water, slides it into his pocket after clicking it off and on and getting nothing.

Guess he’s on his own.

He’s so damned woozy, man, and his stomach’s ready to lurch again.

Food. He, um, he just needs food, yeah. He needs to find him a fucking, uh, something—a squirrel or something. Yeah, squirrel’s got blood in them, and he’s lost a lot of blood by the looks of it.

How does he do that again, get one of them teeny guys? Does he make a snare or like, shoot—wait, yeah, he’s gotta shoot one. Gotta shoot one of them slippery ’lil sumbitches.

Oh shit, yeah, first he gotta rinse off the bolts, haha. Hot damn, he feels so weird like he’s on a bad trip or hangover or some shit right now.

As for those two undead, poxy bastards what tried to do him in? Up theirs — he’s gonna slice off their ears like they was bounties and wear them, see if any more wanna mess with him!

......................................

You

“That was risky.”

“We did it for them,” you remind your brother of your middle sister’s family and the way you’d put them down given them their final rest, then buried them.

“They was family, and it was risky.”

“Today was just one last measure of reverence for a family who’d been put through hell at the end.”

“And now you’ve got an arm out of commission,” he states, clearly displeased. “Did you bury the ones who broke in, too?”

“Yes.”

Shane’s reaction to your affirmation isn’t what you are expecting. You were expecting more disapproval.

Instead, his eyes get wet and he pulls you close to kiss your forehead and says nothing else. He just curls his arm around your shoulder and gazes into the fields.

Your brother seems more like himself, now. You can see him again.

In the quiet, you listen to the mooing of cows in the distance, the flies buzzing, the chickens, the faint murmur of voices from the campsite and house.

“Shane? Tomorrow, teach me how to fight back even with my dominant arm out. So long as you button your dang shirt up tomorrow.”

Cracking up, he floofs out his (ugh) unbuttoned shirt to rub it in. “Deal, you got it. First reasonable thing I done heard all afternoon.”

“Now, be on your best behavior when I tell you somethin’, loser.”

Half-worried, half-teasing, he asks, “Well, what’s the somethin’, weirdo?”

You’re almost nervous when you quietly share, “We found something might could’ve been a sign of Sophia.”

He makes a sigh. “What might that could’ve been?”

“The shed had a small, hidden, makeshift sleeping area?”

He shifts. His brows push close. Turns his head to look at you. “You serious?”

“Dead seri—no, no, wrong phrase, wrong phrase!”

He just cracks up and shakes his head.

Then he says what you really wish he wouldn’t. “You sure it wasn’t from the kids who lived there?”

Shane, stop, please stop. You shrug his arm off. “There weren’t spiders in it, spiders would’ve holed up in there right quick, like within three days.”

“It’s something, I’ll give it that.” There’s a ‘but’ coming. “Y/N, even if she was there a day or two ago, it still don’t mean she’s still alive now. It’s been four days.”

“I know.”

Shane does a double-take as if he’s struggling between how to respond. “I mean, I hope she is, you know that, Y/N, I ain’t—” He licks his teeth and rubs his peach-fuzz. “But let’s be clear: riskin’ our necks for this will lead to more of the same. Carl was shot, Y/N, he almost died and you got bullet fragments right along with him, Otis is dead, you’re injured, T-Dog is injured, I’m injured—” He stops himself from whatever else he was going to say.

There’s a flock of birds soaring overhead. You gaze at them, them stare into space as you rub your chest again to dispel the fear that Daryl will be the next statistic.

“Y/N, I’m glad you got home okay.”

“I’m glad you did, too.”

He hums and looks over. “Where’s Daryl at?”

“He dropped me off. I-I wasn’t able to climb up the ridge, not with this.” You nod at your slinged arm and feel a twinge of guilt that you’re hiding your resewn sutures from him.

“Fool idea to go back by himself,” he mutters.

You don’t disgree. “I keep worryin’ about it.”

“Nah, don’t.” Shane wraps his arm back around you. “That sumbitch will outlive us all.”

At that, you can’t help but grin. “Probably.”

......................................

Him

This ridge is about to be his bitch! Just a few more feet, and he’ll make it to the top! (So long as he don’t screw up at the finish line like last time.)

All he needs to do is catch his breath, get some strength back. It’s like he’s floating in air but is made of lead at the same time. Weird shit, right?

Daryl turns to face out. The light kinda hurts right now, but he sees some birds. Almost smiles at them. If it were only that easy to get up and go huh? His body just ain’t doing what he wants it to right now.

“Please. Don’t feed the birds,” sounds from above him, snapping him out of it.

He turns to look at who—shit, Merle’s back. Daryl’s caught between wanting him and wanting gone.

Of course Merle would catch him taking a break and staring at birds like a little sissy instead of powering through, great. Real fucking great, now his brother’s laughing at him.

Go, go, go, get your lazy ass up there and show him — ow, goddamn, it hurts so bad!

“Aw, what’s the matter, Darylina? That all you got in you?

He tries to climb all the faster and harder. Screw you.

His big brother isn’t done. “Throw away that purse and climb.”

As Daryl does his best to get a strong grip on the roots so he can hoist himself up, something within him breaks and reverses. He’s just so tried, so dizzy, so nauseous, in so much pain and so angry. “I liked you better when you was missing,” he rasps.

Merle just snickers. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m on your side.”

Bullshit. “Yeah? Since when?”

“Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass.”

The string in his chest tugs, hard. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”

If there’s one thing he hates, it’s lies. And he sure as shit knows Merle did not look after him or his worthless ass, he’s got the scars to prove it. “You never took care of me,” he grits out, using a root as a foothold and a thick, woody vine as a grip to climb. “You talk a big game, but you was never there.” Then, he remembers, “Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change.”

“Well, I tell you what: I’m as real as your chupacabra.”

“I know what I saw!”

“And I’m sure those shrooms you ate had nothin’ to do with it, right?”

“You best shut the hell up!” Daryl shouts back, so angry and he-doesn’t-know-what-else that the searing pain in his side and head meld into a dull thumping.

His brother who isn’t even there starts to mock him harder, laughing at him and mimicking his voice. “Or whaaaat? You’re gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me?”

Damn right, I will. Gonna kick your teeth in.

“Well, come on and do it then, if you think you’re man enough.”

Stop laughing, jackass.

“Hey! Kick off them high heels and climb, son!”

Come on, climb! Get your ass up there, shut him up!

“You know what? If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. ’Cause I just don’t think you gonna make it to the top.”

He keeps laughing, make him stop laughing. Daryl lunges upward and reaches for the summit so enraged he can barely think straight.

Or maybe he just can’t think straight right now?

“Come on, come on, little brother,” Merle coos, holding out his hand as his strange, creepy laughter abruptly stops. His expression turns icy. “Grab your friend Rick’s hand.”

For real, maybe Daryl can’t think straight.

Or see straight. Because he finally got his ass over the ridge, but where the hell did his big brother go? Did Merle light out again, run off? Huh?

Fucking typical!

He can’t seem to keep his balance as he screams into the trees, “Yeah, you better run!”

......................................

You

It’s sunset, where the heck is he? All around the treeline and road where he’ll most likely be riding back, you scour through Dale’s binoculars. The walkie has still proven useless, he hasn’t answered.

“Daryl’s spent a night out by himself before.”

Not since the quarry, though, Andrea. “You’re right. He’s prolly fine, I know, I’m-I’m in a weird mood today.”

For some dumb reason, you want the med bag. Cautiously climbing down the RV one-armed, you reason that maybe you’ll feel more in-control of you’re holding it? And you’ll grab Andrea the bottle of sunscreen while you’re in there.

You begin to knock on the door, but the door as well as Glenn bang into you before you’ve knocked twice.

“Ow!”

“Shoot, sorry, Y/N! Did I—did I just make your stitches worse?”

“Shh!” you hiss as quietly as you can. “Shane’s right over there!”

“Kiddo, are you alright?”

Pressing your finger to your lips to tell Dale it’s fine, please stop, you mutter to Glenn, “The door rammed into my bum shoulder, which is directly over them.” And it smarts bad, like, what the hell, man? “You really stormed out of there without noticin’ a body in front of the door?”

Your friend covers his face with his hand and whispers several apologies within the course of a few seconds.

“Glenn, why does Dale look like he’s trying not to look upset?” you challenge. You’re still roiling after he whammed into your bad side, and seeing Dale upset was even worse.

“I was just returning that crappy book and I—” Glenn gets quiet. “—I-I told him about Maggie,” he confesses under his breath.

Great, more drama. “Well, I’m just here for the med bag and to grab some sunscreen for Andy,” you mutter. It doesn’t come out remotely friendly, not when your injuries just got whammed in the exact spot they ache.

He apologizes again, you check yourself and forgive him (and call him a buttface). He calls you a bumpkin, which makes you snort even while you’re feeling huffy, and he walks toward the tents.

Rubbing the tugging part of your chest that hasn’t let up for at least 20 minutes now, you accept the med bag Dale was kind enough to grab for you. “Should you be carrying that, Y/N? It’s on the heavier side.”

“I just feel like I should be holdin’ it, I dunno.”

He raises his brows but doesn’t protest. Then they furrow very low on his face and he asks, “You seem like you’re becoming friends with this Maggie.”

“It’ll be okay, Dale.”

His brows lift again briefly before resting in a normal position. “I’m simply glad that you seem to have a kind of rapport with the family here, a, um, mutual friendliness.” He gestures out the window. “It is a very good thing when our situation, however short-lived it may be, is somewhat delicate.”

“We’ll all turn into friends soon enough. You’d really get on with Mr. Greene.”

“Because we’re both old men?”

“Mhm, antique.” You shoulder the med bag on your good side and catch eyes with your brother. Shane mouths “Why do you got that?” but you’re unable to respond because Andrea suddenly shouts, “Walker. Walker!”

The surge of adrenaline shivers into your body and you peer at the treeline where she’s pointing.

This hasn’t happened here yet.

Then the words Patricia asked a few hours ago come to mind. “Any walkers you find on our property, tell us. Don’t do nothing, just tell us first.”

“Shane, don’t put it down, we need to get Mr. Greene.”

“Huh?” is his only response as he limps toward the pickaxe resting against the tree.

“Just the one?” Rick you hear call to Andrea.

“I bet I can nail it from here.”

“Andrea, don’t! The Greenes have a rule about it,” you shout at the same time Rick is telling her, “No, no, Andrea, put the gun down.”

“You best let us handle this,” Shane calls with too much cockiness confidence as he limps away.

“Shane, wait. Hey—” The kettle starts to simmer inside you.

Rick places his hand by you in support. “Shane, hold up! Hershel wants to deal with walkers.”

“What for, man? We got it covered.”

“Shane!” you shout one final time before saying to Rick, “I’ll run and get Mr. Greene. Go with them.”

“Thank you, Y/N!” he breathes, and takes off like a shot to join your brother, T-Dog, and Glenn as they run toward it.

So much unnecessary drama over one walker, good Moses. The host says let him handle it, why is that so complicated?

You book it to the house, regretting it immediately because pain seethes with every step. But you and Glenn are the fastest, so you’re using what you have in order to help.

“Miss Patricia!” you yell as you sprint closer to the porch. “Mr. Greene? Maggie, Jimmy, Beth, whoever can hear me!”

Lori and Patricia hurry outside, you tell them what’s going on, and immediately point and start racing even faster to catch up to where the others are charging.

As you plow through the pain, med-bag still on your back, you get a horrible flush of terror.

The tugging in your chest wrenches forward.

That’s Daryl.

That’s the way he moves his arms when he walks, there’s the tattoo he has on his inner arm, there’s his crossbow!

He’s, he’s got on just his undershirt, now, but — oh my God — “No, stop! It’s Daryl!”

......................................

Him

Why are those assholes stampeding over? The hell they want? They wanna mess with him? Huh?

But—the fast one who’s taking their sling off, racing up behind the four in front…

Is that the one who just shouted his name?

He knows that voice. He likes it.

Psht, but look at the shirtless chest-shaver over there, limping with a pickaxe. And the big, tall, black dude? Homeboy planning on playing baseball, or what?

And was it the scrawny Asian kid with the wrench thing who just asked “Is that Daryl?” There some other redneck here who looks like me, or what? And why do you care, huh? You gonna laugh at me, Data?

But the one he likes looks into his eyes and says “Honey, what happened to you?” in a way that makes his chest feel all—what the hell is happening with his chest, it’s like it’s being pulled. Makes him lose balance even more than he was, shit. And why is the one he likes all teary eyed, too? Who messed with them? ‘Cause he’ll straight knock down whoever messed with them.

Goddamn, why are these guys here, what the hell is going on—they want a show or something? And what’s the deal with the curly-haired, pale pretty-boy with the extra-long revolver? Three guesses what he’s trying to prove.

Wait—Rick. That’s Rick. The one who chained Merle. He’s reason Merle’s gone.

Daryl notices that fast one, with the voice he knows and likes, who made his chest go funny —oh, that’s Y/N!— has a hand on Rick’s shooting arm, but that’s because fucking Rick is aiming a gun straight at his head again.

Already chased off one Dixon, now going for the set, huh? Do your worst, bitch.

“That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head,” he barks at him. “You gonna pull the trigger, or what?”

What’s weird is how before he was even done barking at Rick, Y/N exhaled all heavy and started grinning all big and coming toward him.

It’s okay, though, Y/N can come closer. He knows they’re safe. He doesn’t get why they’re teary and smiling at him, but he likes them.

The strong guy with the baseball bat is smiling at him, too. Hold it, why are—why are all these dumbasses smiling or hunched over and catching their breath, what the hell’s the ma—

......................................

You

The bullet went through your chest before it hit his head. The pain was so intense and your horror so deep, that you weren’t able to make a sound.

Or was that your own cry you heard so loudly right before Shane yelped your name, then Andrea’s?

It’s strange how despite being shot, you were still able to crawl to Daryl.

Rick’s screaming “No! No!” blends with your pulse in your ears while you beg and pray and demand that Daryl did not just get shot in the head and killed.

There wasn’t the familiar numbness that took over you this time, it’s-it’s rage.

This morning, you’d seen Daryl’s very soul. All afternoon you’d been filled with a horrible dread for his safety because he wasn’t with you and that felt wrong for some reason.

Then, when he finally came back, you’d all thought he was a walker, and for those gut-wrenching moments as you ran toward him, you settled yourself for the worst.

Was all of that to prepare you for this moment?

To be filled with relief that he was back and alive, only for you to have a hole ripped through your chest as he got shot in the fucking head in front of you?

No. That’s not how this goes, that’s not how this works, no, no, no, he needs to be alive!

......................................

Him

What the…hell…

That was a gunshot he heard before he fell back and felt like the spot above his temple caught fire, right?

What’s weird is Daryl saw the sumbitch stop aiming...

There’s a gentle, warm thing on his chest and on his cheek. He can sense someone bent next to him, someone familiar. They smell good. He feels whatever landed in his mouth being taken out, some kinda string? Now it feels like a hand on his cheek and his arm.

Something then presses against his forehead. He’s pretty sure it’s the safe person again. There’s warm air, too, he can feel their breathing. Feels weird, but an okay weird. Some drops of warm, wet stuff then fall on him, the thing pressing his forehead lifts off, and a soft, squishy thing pushes against it for a second.

The voice he liked that made him feel safe, um, Y/N, that was Y/N’s voice, they’re saying something but he can’t make it out.

Now he’s being—ow, ow, he’s being lifted up, shit, it hurts!

He open his eyes.

Sees an angel his friend. Y/N.

The tugging in his chest stops. He’s home.

The rush from getting shot aside, he can finally let his eyelids droop shut.

There’s a whole bunch of commotion. Footsteps running toward him in the grass. A higher pitched voice shouting “Oh my God!” and another crying, “Rick!”

As the two people who lifted him get their arms under his shoulders and start to support his weight, he hears the voice he feels safe around say “Careful with that side, Shaney, he’s got some kind of bandage there, it’s soaked,” and “Rick, I’m gonna lean his head on you, okay? It’s opposite the graze and the other side feels like he got smacked already, there’s dried blood.”

Well, if Rick is here, Daryl figures he might as well joke, “I was kidding,” to make up for barking at him.

Y/N’s giggle that they make after hearing a dumb jokes is that last thing he hears as h……

......................................

You

“Oh, buddy—guys, he just passed out,” you tell Rick and Shane, the thankfulness and pure relief within you making you feel like you could burst or float away. Between every thought of what care he needs is thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s home.

You press another kiss to his forehead before Shane and Rick start moving too fast.

Andrea’s distraught cries reach your awareness, and she stops repeating “Oh my God!” to ask “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious. You just grazed him,” is what Rick answers, and angrily, too.

“Y/N, did you get grazed, too? I saw you fall!” she panics.

Which is when you realize the pain in your chest has vanished. You forgot all about it, in fact.

You look down.

Dude—okay, you aren’t bleeding? That’s good, but what just—you could’ve sworn you’d been shot when he fell. Seriously, you figured the bullet went through you, too. But, looking down, no. You aren’t shot, aren’t bleeding, you have no more sensation that your chest was cracked.

All you feel now is, well, the burning ache where you’re restitched, and your darn shoulder that you undid the very tricky-to-untie sling that Patricia secured that was specifically to avoid you taking it off (hey, you needed both arms when you reached Daryl).

You have no idea what happened to have made you imagine it, but you don’t care. He’s back and breathing. He’s home.

“But look at him,” Glenn pants. “What the hell happened?”

You wish you knew. “We’ll find out when he wakes.”

“But what about—he’s wearing ears!”

Oh, Moses, those are ears on the string around his neck. Ew! What the fuck?

You catch eyes with Rick and glance at it to relay “get it off!” then look away because your stomach won’t let your eyes linger on it, it is so vile. “I’ll hold his head steady.”

He nods, and once you’ve got Daryl’s head cradled in your hands, he rips it off. “Let’s keep that to ourselves,” Rick stresses to the group.

“I’m gonna run and tell Mr. Greene and Miss Patricia what’s goin’ on,” you say, then hurry toward the family, Lori meeting you halfway and taking the med-bag off your shoulder.

“Guys,” T-Dog speaks up from the back.

Lori makes a small gasp. You turn.

He’s holding up — Eliza’s ragdoll. The one she gave to—

“Isn’t this Sophia’s?”

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

> Masterlist link here <

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats @whistlesalot @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat @darylsmavis @outlanderhornet22 @battinsonrobs

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know, we’re all friends here!)

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saltygilmores · 1 year

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 14-"It Should Have Been Lorelai" (Part 2)

Part 1 and all previous commentary can be found in my Pinned post. This will be brief since I ran out of space the last time and the episode is wrapping up. As shitty as CrustyPher is I really don't want this episode to end because I have to face the HellTornado ShitShow Circus that is "Lost and Found" after this. Please take your time, Judgy (Lorelai) and Crusty. Let's recount part 1 a bit first. I'm waist-deep in the middle of a concerning conversation between Rory and Lorelai. Christopher's victim, Sherrie, isolated Lorelai in her kitchen while she was a guest in her home, told Lorelai she had no interest in being her friend but insisted that she needed immediate access to her underage daughter to which Lorelai accepts and sends Rory out to face an unknown fate with this complete stranger who just insulted her and that she just met an hour ago. The details of where Sherrie took poor Rory are vague at best except for a mention of the movies. While Rory and Creepie are at the movies, Judgy and Crusty (Lorelai and Christopher) went to FND together, which I skipped over because who the hell cares. The mysterious Rory and Sherrie evening is over and it's the next day. Rory is recalling the evening to Lorelai, where we learn Sherrie spent the evening spilling extremely personal details about herself to 16 year old stranger Rory Gilmore and was acting "very touchy feely". Lorelai of course is showing the appropriate level of concern for a mother.

(talking about Emily) Having not seen the scene in question, I'll just assume that Emily's reaction is a reasonable one so far as hearing about Lorelai agreeing to a premeditated kidnapping of her grandchild. Luke's arms come into frame for two seconds as he sets down two coffees they won't pay for. This episode is sorely lacking Lucas.

Cut to an amusing scene whereby Rory uses Kirk and Michel to sneak a contraband cd into Lane's totebag. Back to the diner where Crustypher and Sherrie show up to talk to Lorelai. Creepie Sherrie immediately asks about Rory and wants to know where she is.

Someone needs to sic Chris Hansen on your ass, you weirdo.

NO! MY GIRL RORYGIL HAS SUFFERED ENOUGH. SHE'S BEEN THROUGH IT! OKAY. Rory tells Lorelai that as a kid she sometimed imagined her real father was either Pee Wee Hermann or Matthew Broderick. Very random choices but okay. A deflated soccer ball would be a better father than Crusty.

What ever would this show be without Lorelai Gilmore Constantly Opening Her Big Fat Mouth Without Thinking First?

Lorelai tells Crusty he is so ingrained in her brain matter that he has caused her to subconciously sabotage every decent relationship she has ever had. But now that Crusty is settling down with Creepy Sherrie, she can finally move past him.

It's once again time to visit a classic Gilmore Girls Trope-The Man Who Has An Immediate Public Freakout At A Woman In Public. People are staring at you, you wad. ("People Are Staring, You Wad" should be printed on a bumper sticker they sell at the Stars Hollow gift shop. It should be plastered on the vehicle of every man who causes a scene in public with a woman on this show). No wonder poor little RoryGirl wanted to live in Pee Wee's Playhouse with a talking chair instead of having this sewer dwelling sperm donor for a father. PeeWee would make an excellent father, damn it. Globey and Jambi could be like her uncles. I wish to one day see the women of The Hollow rise up and revolt against every god damn Penis Haver on this show. They need to be sacrified to the Man Volcano. Even Jess. Okay, I can make a few exceptions. Dave Ryglaksi will be spared. Kirk will be spared. Paul Anka of course. Maybe Luke will get a trial first before being sarcified to the Man Volcano, he's kind of borderline, depends where we're at in the show.

Oh honey, I hope you packed some high SPF sunblock because you're definitely getting sarcified to the Man Volcano along with Dean, Logan, Logan's Annoying Friends, Tristan, Taylor Doose, Jason DiggerStiles, Max Medina, Mitchum Huntsburger, Lane's husband Zac, Headmaster Charleston, that creepy old professor Paris dated, and all the rest. We ride at dawn, Ladies. Meet me at Miss Patty's. Bring skewers. Luke in the background like "Jesus Christ I'm trying to run a business here."

Spared from the Man Volcano. For now. And this guy in the hat just trying to enjoy his fruit salad, he can live. Christopher immediately leaves to hug Rory outside like he actually gives a damn about her and looks back to make sure Lorelai is watching them through the window. What is the rent at Pee Wee's Playhouse? Rory should look into that.

#Gilmore Girls #Lorelai Gilmore #Rory Gilmore #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Gilmore Girls Season 2 #It Should Have Been Lorelai #Crusty The Clown #Creepy Sherrie #Luke Danes #Man Volcano

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thats-it-im-fallingdown · 1 year

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Alrighty! after finishing the prequel trilogy and the clone wars, here are my initial thoughts on season 1 of Star Wars rebels, which I also had not seen.

Spark of rebellion duology

-oh, ezra is straight up Aladdin but without the orientalist (so far. i have low hopes) imagery.

-Hera and kanun are going to become my favorite characters, I’m calling it now. i can just tell

-my only knowledge of sabine comes from the mandalore arc, since i wanted to be up to date for the mandalorian. I won’t pass judgement on her character yet, a single episode (at time of writing) is not enough have a full read on her. what i can say is that I’m always happy to see female Asian (coded) characters get to be something other than a racist caricature. she reads as southeast asian to me, but that’s probably me projecting [redacted story about Vietnamese family member explaining why i get that vibe] and not an intentional choice on the designers part.

-going into this, i know via osmosis that rebels is not as suitable for older audiences as clone wars was. I’m going to do my best to let this show stand on its own and not make comparisons. but no promises on how successful I’ll be!

-there’s going to be romantic tension between Ezra and sabine and i doubt I’m going to enjoy it much. i can already tell from the swishy helmet removal.

-the stormtrooper helmets look so wrong. i think it’s the shape of the mouth thingy? it makes the whole thing look terrible and bizarre

-how is kallus getting away with that facial hair. totally against military regulations and fashion laws

-zeb you’re a seemingly seasoned rebel, you know damn well the empire never goes easy on anyone. my boy is getting the pg version of having your fingernails torn out.

-where.. where was he hiding that holocron from the imperials?

-the wookiees also look uncanny. their faces are bigger and it’s like they’ve been stretched out. I’m trying not to compare rebels to tcw, buuuuuuuuut tcw adaptation of Wookiees worked better for me

-yes, I’ve been nitpicky. i have been a wet blanket. i admit to the good women of the jury that I’ve fallen short of the cinemawins attitude i strive to maintain here as i maintain a ruthlessly optimistic attitude in my lived life. in my defense, your honor, the characters have hooked me, ezra, hera, and kanan are especially promising to me

Droids in distress

-man, i miss being able to organize these posts into multi episode arcs. so clean and neat. hey, it’s a fair trade for getting an episode order that matches the chronology

-the Spanish translators didn’t seem to know what to do with sentient being used as a noun. can’t blame them, it’s not like I know either, but creature doesn’t seem quite right. actually fluent Spanish speakers please feel free to offer your opinion in the notes

-threepio looks fucked up too! i grew to tolerate tcw styles though, so it’s only a matter of time

-i mean, Garel’s sky looks lovely

-i was not expecting zeb of all the characters to be a genocide survivor, I’m glad he gets to be more than just The Big Guy of the band. hope the show runners follow up on zebs relationship with kanan

Fighter flight

-if it wasn’t Star Wars this would be a show about shitty shitty roommates

-Ezra’s slingshot is cute, but someone needs to give that boy a blaster

-sabine, top contender for worst roommate on the ghost for her use or spraypaint, which is especially effective at inducing headaches when recently applied

-this is kind of a filler episode, but I’m fond of it! there’s a little bit of Ezra’s background in there (the farmers knew his parents) and zeb and Ezra have settled into an older/younger brother dynamic that i like a lot.

Rise of the old masters

-if either zeb or Ezra had been a woman, the way they fell on each other would have been textbook anime romantic tension

-maybe do or do not there is no try is just what you say when your padawan is whining

-i knew that luminara wasn’t going to be part of the ensemble cast, she’s too firmly rooted in the prequels for a show that seems focused on the imperial era, but using her dead body as a trap is.. dang, okay. was not expecting this from the fruit stealing show I’ll admit

-ughh the skinny lightsabers. girl they look like they’d snap like a pencil if you dueled with them

-and the spinning too naur

-making kanan an insecure jedi because he didn’t get to completely become one is such an inspired choice to pair him with ezra

-you’d think the stormtroopers have never seen grenades before. did you guys not learn to get out of the way in basic training?

-they are playing space baseball <3 i am loving it

Breaking ranks

-ezra became heroic.. too quickly imo. i feel like a little more time should have been spent on that part of his character

-seeing how leonis could reappear at some point is kind of neat. i don’t really have much to say about this episode though? it’s not bad, but it’s a little bland for me

-take kell, for example. Ezra betrays him in a challenge so he can work with leonis, but except for kell initially thinking the inquisitor was a trick, it never comes back up again. I’m not expecting anything profound, but i would like follow up on stuff that walks and talks like a checkovs gun

Out of darkness

-I’m not a fan of this “the imperial academy didn’t allow questions” being equated to how intel sources need to remain confidential. so the fulcrum intel underestimated imperial defenses, but got everything else correct. I’m not convinced that enough of a reason to suspect it’s reliability, so it makes sabine come off as a brat to me

-but I’m looking forward to Sabine and Hera development, so I’m trying to let it slide

-argh sabine it’s so obvious fulcrum is working from inside the empire stop complaining about secrecy. sabine is physically coded as Asian but not at all culturally, and it’s not because she’s a mandalorian. if i spoke to any of my older Asian (not even east or southeast specifically, I’m talking west to south to east) relatives like that I’d get shouted into the next year

-okay, at least she apologized. sure, she’s still being an annoying teenager about it, but I’m a kettle, she’s a pot, etc etc.

-ahh, this isn’t about trust, it’s about Trust. I’m cheating a bit by knowing Sabine’s weapon thing, but at this point, i don’t think sabine really knows why she’s with these rebels. to stick it to the empire, sure, but that’s not enough. you’ve got to have goals, or principles. sabine is a Mandalorian, I doubt she cares about bringing the republic back, and i don’t think she knows what she’s doing beyond simply clawing at the empire anyway she can. or maybe I’m way off the mark and I’ll be shown up by the end of the episode

-tumbeasts in their natural habitat, not in captivity

-that base looks like it’s been abandoned for a while, so i wonder what those things eat when tasty tasty rebels aren’t on the menu

-alright, so things between ezra and sabine haven’t been unbearable, mainly bc it’s mostly comedic and also one sided

-oh I was reading way too much into the sabine/Hera/principles thing. still, an interesting enough train of thought to warrant leaving it up there

Empire day arc

-kanan, not forming attachments was uh. one of the main Jedi things. right below lightsabers and above wearing beige robes. but then it seems like he contradicts himself when he tells ezra not to hold on to his past— in other words, don’t be attached to what’s come and gone

-kallus = callous. it took me way too long to realize that

-is there an in universe reason that trackers aren’t registered by shields?

-i didn’t realize how badly the obi wan kenobi shoe fumbled reva until watching rebels. the spinning lightsaber is stupid, yes, but the writing is solid. this pau’an dude is a welcome addition where reva felt rushed

-this ezra being being vulnerable to the dark side is shaping up to be really interesting. I’m a little surprised to say this, but i think Ezra’s my favorite character at the moment.

-aw, the ending was so sweet

Path of the Jedi

-i wonder if the Jedi we see who have visible connections to their native cultures (depa billaba, luminara, barriss, shaak ti, ahsoka, etc) received some amount of training at temples on their homeworlds. if there’s an outpost on an outer rim out of the way planet like lothal, there could have been temples almost anywhere. we focus on coroscant in tcw because that’s where the action is, but that’s just one temple in a big galaxy

-I’m digging the temple design a lot

-disembodied yoda voice looks like qui gon jinn before he completed his force ghost training, but I’m almost certain he’s still alive on dagobah at this point?? it’s probably just a coincidence, or they didn’t bother doing a different mystical effect

-I’m usually not into dream/illusion sequences for doing character development at speed easily, but this one is doing well enough for me to be okay with it. i can’t help but enjoy force shenanigans

-declaring it now: kaiburr is a better spelling than kyber, and I will be sticking with the Spanish version for the foreseeable future. i will not accept any criticism at the time thank you

Idiots array

-technically, it’s a fine adaptation of lando put to animation but.. his mojo isnt there. I’m not convinced that this is a man who has sex. i simply am not.

-I’m not convinced his voice actor has either, honestly. where’s the smooth confidence?

-Jedi were statistically speaking, rare even before order 66. lando has canonically met three.

-this gambit he’s pulling with Hera.. L3 would never have allowed this to slide

-yes! beat his head in with his own gluttony! have I mentioned how much I like hera? because I like her a lot

-the fucking. puffer fish pig. lando slapping it like a car. if i wasn’t slightly loopy from the heat of my period cramp hot water bottle i would probably think this was dumb, but it’s really, really funny. unreasonably so.

Vision of hope

-p a d a w a n j a b b a

-trayvis is really beginning to seem like he’s working with the empire… i could be wrong, maybe he’s just a little incompetent

-aha! i was right, i have a good nose for genre conventions from all the Star Trek and x files I’ve watched

-for example: i can sort of feel that there’s still a twist about the Bridger parents that hasn’t been revealed yet

-have i mentioned how much i love hera?

Call to action

-a tarkin episode? let’s see how this plays out

-his animated model is more facially exaggerated than in the clone wars, which is.. I’m not keen on it, it makes him feel off, but it isn’t stopping me from enjoying how shady he is to the grand inquisitor. just like in tcw, all this hocus pocus gives him a headache!

-some times it’s like this show was made in a lab specifically to appeal to people with absent fathers. congrats laboratory, you’ve succeeded

-I’m glad there’s (kind of) an in universe explanation for why the rebels of the ghost aren’t as violent as in other shows. obviously it’s because of stylistic choices and age targeting, but tarkin saying that this group must have more pacifist principles relative to other cells makes things click more

-from five minutes is my optimistic estimate to three to you only get one minute. the life of an engineer.

-kanan, you say you’ll be right behind ezra but the sacrifice music is playing

-man I feel for ezra. weaponizing comms against the empire is how he lost his parents, and now it’s happening to his father figure despite getting a bad feeling about the mission

-tarkin in that helmet is so cursed

-hey, we’re going to see how the rebels form the alliance in this aren’t we? that’ll be a fun plotline.it’s crazy that this is the same era that Andor is taking place in.

Rebel resolve

-walking robots are always way, way, way harder to program, build, balance, design, and drive than something that’s wheeled. i shudder to imagine what piloting one of those walkers must be like.

-I’m not sure why telling vizago that kanan is a Jedi is a big deal? if it’s already a rumor, and you’re telling to somebody people probably won’t trust as far as they can throw, there can’t be much harm, especially if clues to kanans location are on the table

-assuming vizago is a devaronian with an unusual skin tone, he still looks very devilish when he cuts a deal with ezra

-really playing up the Hera as a mother figure with the particular way she gets angry when her son ezra gets mixed up with a bad crowd

-ships with folding parts, my beloved. you make Star Wars worth it

-so chopper just straight up threw that other droid out into the sky. okay, jealous much

-how would kanan know about mustafar being where Jedi go to get royally screwed up? i must be forgetting some fight that isn’t the obi wan-darth Vader/anakin duel

Fire across the galaxy

-I love the implication that sabine regularly tags and then blows up the empire’s stuff at this specific base

-aha, the starbird in the smoke. glad to see the animators having a good time with it

-sabine has the art style of a homemade racer I love this character so much

-if the inquisitor could force push him back on that bridge over the chasm, why couldn’t he just… force shove him off of it to his death

-tie fighters are much bigger on the inside than I remember them being for some reason

-so I was fucking wrong when I thought that fulcrum was an inside agent within the empire

-darth vader seems kind of overkill for a planet that’s supposed to be a backwater

But this season was a fun ride! I’m weak for tv shows that are more episodic and less.. overarching plot focused. (Think Star Trek snw vs Star Trek discovery. episodic vs main plot heavy. both are good, but episodic is getting rarer and rarer as seasons have less and less episodes) rebels delivered on that, though I expect subsequent seasons to have grander narratives now that ahsoka tano and darth vader are on the playing field. Overall, a solid setup that sold me on the ensemble!

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mamahersh · 2 years

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Alrighty everyone, time for my thoughts on the last 3 eps of the Magnus Archives. I’ll post my thoughts on S5 and the series as a whole in a separate post, to be made either later today or potentially tomorrow.

This got really long, so I’ll put it under a Read More so I don’t clutter your dash.

TL;DR: loved the ending, had a thought or two; and look forwards to one more post where I basically write my thoughts on the series either later today or tomorrow!

So, MAG 198: Yes, that edge of the cliff fear is definitely rather unsubtle. Particularly in regards to their imminent choice. Also, have to say, I think Jon is entitled to being a little bitch about the cliff domain when he had to deal with a free fall domain via Mike Crew back in season 3. It is morbidly amusing that when Martin hears that his choices are: jump off the cliff to my pseudo death now or jump off the cliff after Jon talks at length about how terrifying watching people jump off the cliff is, he takes the jump immediately option. Listen, I’m sure Jon would have too if he had a choice, but alas Eye is hungee and Jon’s gotta be the mouth for a bit.

Also, big sad that the cultists all got stolen again while Georgie and Melanie had to listen to their screams.

MAG 199: You know they actually discussed that far more than I thought they were going to. So a misnomer that I’ve picked up on in fanfiction is that I thought there would be a less even handed evaluation of the situation. However, Basira did a good job at forcing everyone to discuss all possible avenues of discussion. However, I find it interesting that Basira draws the line at deliberate mass murder. That sounds terrible out of context I will admit, but up until this point she’s been rather willing to entertain a rather wide selection of options when it boils down to difficult choices. But in this one instance when given the choice between basically committing mass euthanasia/genocide and passively letting people suffer till their “natural” end she refuses to entertain the idea that the first is even an option. And she’s been keeping “just let an entire world of people suffer for an incomprehensible amount of time till the End finally finds them” on the table next to the other amazing /s option “send the horror terrors to upwards of infinite alternate universes to wreak havoc on unprepared innumerable numbers of people”. Just, it’s interesting is all.

On a different note, the Web is getting in a final “fuck you” at Jon with the web lighter by subtly pushing Georgie to borrow it by pulling on her old smoking addiction since I guess none of the others had one presumably. Plus, “Can I have a cigarette” is a nice call back to the first episode with the Anglerfish.

Also, Would like to throw down with Martin over his self-esteem. Thoroughly disagree that they were incompatible without the spooky trauma. I think if they had met before Jon was given power in the Archives, or if someone else had been Archivist while they both were Archival Assistants, I fully think they could have at least been friends. Just because you trauma bond with someone doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have bonded with them otherwise.

I would also like to formally welcome Traumatized Jon™ back to the show for one last hurrah. Is it terrible to say that I missed him? He does bring up good points, even if everyone seems to disagree.

AND FINALLY MAG 200.

I’ve heard the ending I think once or twice already, but I had never heard the origin of the Fears story before. I guess it’s still ambiguous if the Fears were still technically a shitty chain e-mail, but at least in the way that it’s framed it mostly seems like they originated in that universe. Particularly since it started as an amorphous blob and then evolved from there versus how they were sent out as a fractured, netted thing that even if you dissolved it down would still hold some “sharp edges” as it were. Gotta admit though, nice to know that at least on some level the plan worked. The Fears were completely removed, all powers were gone, and people were able to get back to how it was before the Change. A part of me wants to know what happened to Simon Fairchild, but then again it’s far more horrifying if you don’t fill in the blanks on that. Also have to love the ambiguous ending for our two fave blorbos. Jon and Martin, sent to the cosmos with the Fears, destination Unknown. The ending definitely fit, it didn’t seem like anyone acted too out of character to make the ending happen the way it did.

Admittedly with that said, I think the way I worded that opens it up to my thoughts that will go in the long post later. Thank you all for joining me on my journey the last like... week and a half? as I listened to MAG 150-200 in preparation for the big day tomorrow. See you all again soon!

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives liveblog #mag 198 #mag 199 #mag 200 #tma s5 spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon sims #martin #basira #georgie #melanie #I can finally say I've actually finished the series!

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elirandom · 6 months

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Rules: List 8 tv shows for your followers to get to know you!

1. A selection of movies I rewatched so many times I wore out the VHS tapes. The Terminator 1984 (when T2 came Linda Hamilton blew me away), Platoon 1986, Aliens 1986 & Die Hard 1988. It's a lot of bonding strangers to survive, h/c, antiheroes or plain charismatic bad guys, hypothermia or fever, there was only one bed and bantering. The original wet rat blorbos. Also if it's not bloody obvious I had such crushes on Bruce Willis ,Tom Berenger and Michael Biehn, I watched so many bad 80s-90s movies because of them.

2. Wait a minute, TV shows, not MOVIES. My bad, I'm keeping nr 1 as is anyway. Hmm, I always list Hannibal or Buffy tVS/Angel tS whenever I do this so I'm gonna try to list something else that's major loves. So, Miami Vice 1984-1989. Baby me had such a crush on Don Johnson you could see it from space. Adult me gets it, bought the box & rewatches it from time to time, incl writing fic but never anything going somewhere.

3. The Expanse. It's probably a very obvious choice if you ever looked around my corner of Tumblr but I want more people to post about it so. Amos (my favorite pansexual murderbear), Holden (who gave me the Captaincy? Holy shit. How can I fix everything while also being stubborn and chaotic) Naomi (I live with my choices every day but I've got a new life here to do something with & I'll defend it with everything). OT3. Sometimes I want something of poly where Naomi & Drummer (dragon in the shape of a woman, a hoarding underdog with so much fight in her belly) gets to be happy too. But that's just to name a few, it's not often I'm so very invested in so many characters in a show but they all have arcs and space to exist. Unfortunately one of the mains isn't clicking with me at all so the first season took me a while to find all the gold.

4. 9-1-1; besides the love I have for the firefam I'm completely sucked into the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one. And the sunshine one is a golden retriever who's loyal to a fault and just needs food and love. While the grumpy one finds that letting the sunshine in makes life a helluva lot easier even if both of them almost dies a lot.

5. Hawaii 5-0. Talking about grumpy and sunshine. These two fit the bill too, they just can't decide who's who depending on the day and the drama. Danny's usually the negative one always predicting chaos. But Steve tends to be tortured or have shitty family secrets so his sunshine isn't that shiny all the time. But they're brilliant at bickering about everything which kinda gets them even. Instead they're great at hugs and saying I love you. I despise several plotlines but I can't quit them (I couldn't find a gif that includes Danny saying "Stop looking at me like that" in this scene but alas)

6. Stargate Atlantis, my first team turned into family, and my one and only OT4. McShep was my biggest fave, but i enjoyed team!fic just as much as OT4 fic. Reluctant leader with slinky hips and no self-preservation, paired with a smartass with a big mouth who always came through, a smarter woman who didn't get to kick people in the balls enough and stoic warrior who actually was the puzzle piece missing and more than meets the eye. They're a comfort fandom.

7. Due South. A weird cute soft series I didn't know had a fandom until after it was finished in early 2000s. And then I fell into fic (I never got to see the Ray wars up close luckily) and read so much by Speranza among many more. I've rewatched it a few times, esp if I'm home sick it's a comfort show.

I ran out of allowed gifs😭. Well, fuck.

8. Criminal Minds. I've rewatched this show many times because it's something about catching the bad guys and solving the case all neatly tied up. Another show I love but is even sadder and more horrible is Oz because happy ends doesn't exist because humanity is rotten and we pay for our choices. But it's so good I sometimes wanna rewatch it, I bought the DVD box. But then I remember how much I cried at certain eps, like the brothers and I don't. But sometimes it's good to cry over fictional characters.

#elirandom #fandom

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adiarosefandoms · 9 months

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Good Omens Season 2: Part 2/6

Spoiler Warning for what’s to come ahead. This post is coming from a pile of quickly scribbled down notes during my watch, which was filled with much laughter, gaping, and tears, so brevity and clear communication are not guaranteed as you proceed.

Episode Two: The Clue

This was a great episode, with just enough of both past and present mixed into it. That being said, apparently the very first note I wrote for this episode was “What the hell is that haircut and beard thing Crowley has going on?”, and in all fairness... to me, it looked like Jerry Garcia mixed with Sebastian Bach plus a mini Billy Gillins beard. Aziraphale’s “Women’s Rights” moment with “does she want to birth four more?”, means this being had a better grasp on individual rights 6,000 years ago than we do now. And it shows us just another moment of him questioning God’s plans WITHOUT Crowley’s influence. I still can’t believe Aziraphale actually let Gabriel handle his books, but the various noises the angel made while moving around made me laugh out loud. Plus, then he brought Buddy Holly into the mix! I cannot remember a time I was so excited to hear a song in a tv show. Aziraphale muttering “this is why I don’t go out”, after the shop-owner organizer person talked to him and tried to rope him into a social occasion was peak introvert behavior, certainly something we’ve all done before. “Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes” is a line that actually came out of Crowley’s mouth, and seeing the way the angel and demon both tell the ways they think humans fall in love definitely spawned a thousand fics with an insight to how they view love. Crowley’s was just the two lovers in the rain (think season one garden of Eden), and Aziraphale’s being a Jane Austen-esque ball was so fitting. Also, I get that Crowley taking off his glasses and approaching Jim with a stern voice was probably just a tactic of intimidation given his snake-like eyes, but it still feels to me like compelling or hypnotizing. It’s actually a myth that snakes can hypnotize their prey, but I still want there to be a headcanon out there. Aziraphale saying “I knew the angel you were” and finding out Crowley turned the goats into birds was a major turning point, especially in regard to Aziraphale’s end of the relationship. It was a real moment of him going “oh yes, I wasn’t wrong about him. He’s no longer an angel, but perhaps he has more good in him than the other angels do.” That smug little “Well...” he lets out after is also just perfect. Then when Crowley starts spreading about the fire, Zira is so sure that he won’t cause them any harm, calling Crowley’s bluff even as he admits to the kids that he can’t do anything. “I ca... I can’t you see. He has a permit.” I love the little girl of the trio! She’s so cute, as is the the little “oh” Zira lets out as she proudly shows the pot she had made and Crowley’s raised eyebrows. Then when Crowley lets her remain human because she “hadn’t annoyed me yet”, she actually wants to be a blue lizard, so he turns her into one. It’s the cutest thing ever. We find out in this episode that Aziraphale first tastes food after Crowley tempts him, which is no big surprise but a piece of knowledge we can now confirm as canon. We also get this moment when Jobe is talking with God, not getting answers but able to ask the questions, and we see it twist a knife into Crowley a bit. Jobe remained God’s favorite human, Crowley was cast off into hell for the very same act. I haven’t the faintest how Crowley and Aziraphale kept The Arrangement going and secret for as long as they did given how shitty they are at lying. I mean, “Huzzah! My two passions! Shoes and birth! A midwife and cobbler!” How were you two not killed ages ago? Also, does this mean that Gabriel and the angels as a whole don’t know about sex given they don’t know about birth? Aziraphale lying to protect Crowley, giving his word as an angel, was perfect. Crowley did some good here, Aziraphale did some bad. The Arrangement rang true. And let us not forget Crowley staying to rush in as the cobbler/midwife to save Aziraphale’s ass. I can never tell if I like the flashbacks or present more with these two. I mean, the best episode of season one was the “through the years” montage of the two of them that might as have just been playing Time of Our Lives the whole run, but then you get moments like the following scene: “Our car.” “We don’t have a car.” “Of course we do.” “This is my car.” “The same way my bookshop is ‘technically’ my shop. We both get plenty of use out of it.” Which is just so utterly familiar and couple-y that it warms your heart. If you, like me, were tearing up when Aziraphale cried in this episode, you were also unprepared for what was to come four episodes later, and I sympathize. The final point of this episode that I would like to highlight, is the parallel’s expressed between the two of them. When talking about sides in the basement of Jobe’s house, Crowley remarks that he is on hells side... as much as he can be. This is a phrase he repeats to Aziraphale later on in the episode after Zira sins by giving his word as an angel and questions if he’s a demon, only for Crowley to say, “you’re just an angel, who goes along with heaven as much as he can.” Then Crowley confirming that it is a lonely existence when he denied it earlier (when Zira asked), saying that he lied, only makes what’s to come that much more heart wrenching.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #neil gaiman #Crowley #aziraphale #David Tennant #Michael Sheen #books #television #tv

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ficsyoumayhavemissed · 2 years

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When you say you love me, wanna share it with you — snowflakegems / @wotermelonshuga

1.105 words / @secretlarryvalentine / Harry x Louis

Harry forgets their anniversary. Louis has it covered, but that doesn't stop Harry from making it up to him.

Set sometime post band.

Such a beautiful fic, it shows a really sweet and domestic scene between Harry and Louis in which the author makes it possible for the reader to imagine every single detail as it goes.

Saturdays Are For The Girls — @tommokat

1.488 words / @girldirectionfest / Harry x Louis / Explicit

Saturday. The day for sleeping in, comfy clothes, and marathoning the latest season of your favorite show. And if you’re Harry, Saturday is also the day for making your girlfriend come apart time and time again. It’s her own type of marathon.

This one’s for soft mornings, when you just need a little something nice to ease into your day and make you glad that you woke up. And perhaps to make you a little hot under the collar.

I need you in my swamp — @rainblou

1.721 words / Shrek x Harry x Louis

While on vacation, sugar babies Harry and Louis get caught seducing a big dicked pool boy.

Sometimes changes are for the better and this fic isn’t the exception! An odd and magnificent rare pair that is undoubtedly worth reading, the author owns a unique bright manner to narrate and describe each scene. Therefore, when you finish it you’ll be starving for more.

Louis’ New Home — foreverfanficaddict / @chaotic-bells

2.762 words / Harry x Louis

There is a man in his back garden staring into his home. What the fuck...?

Louis moves to a new house, and Harry keeps showing up in his back garden.

Pure, unadulterated fluff as it lives and breathes, sprinkled with just the right amount of humor and magic. This fic spreads into every last corner of your body and makes you feel warm.

take me home (forever and ever) — @twoghostsdancin

2.928 words / Harry x Louis

As he grips the counter tightly with his sweaty palms, the cashier gives him a concerned glance, an eyebrow angling in confusion. Louis is sure he’s saying something, but he can’t hear a single thing coming out of his mouth. It’s like someone just turned off all his senses, and all he can hear in his ears is a faint ringing sound. He staggers backward, his mind swirling, and his breaths shallow until he feels himself fall into a strong grip.

The world goes black.

Or. The first time Louis falls, Harry catches him. The second time he falls, it’s for Harry.

If you’ve ever had your heart broken, or just had a very bad day, and then some kind stranger has turned it all around, this fic will likely resonate with you. If you haven’t, this fic will give you faith in the goodness of humanity. It’s a soft, cute read for when the world feels a little too harsh.

moments like this (I never wanna let go) — TheMipstaz / @nevergooutofstiles

4.597 words / @1drarepairfest / Liam x Louis

In which almost-concussions are the best meet-cutes, and goals are the quickest way to a footballer's heart.

This author made me love absolutely every character in this fic. I wanted to know them and be friends with them. They made me laugh and smile throughout the entire thing. I don’t even know anything about sports, but that didn’t stop me from loving it. This fic is a very fun read and I definitely recommend it for anyone who loves girl!direction or just needs a reason to smile.

Where Love Grows — @neondiamond

6.537 words / @momrryfest22 / Harry x Louis

When his husband leaves without warning only weeks after the birth of their first child, a struggling Harry is forced to move in with a work colleague and raise his newborn in the desolate, dreary outskirts of London. There, within the walls of a shitty apartment complex, he meets Louis Tomlinson, fellow struggling parent and hopeless romantic.

This fic feels so incredibly precarious and vulnerable at some points, but manages to grow into something warm and soft and comfortable in such a small word count. Give this a read if you need a reason to believe in kindness.

—-

As always, support the authors by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

If you can’t get enough of our recs in this post, make sure to check out our tags page and scroll through the categories to see if you find any more fics you like! — FYMHM xx

#HLSource #hlcreators #1dsource #tracksintheam #hljournal #trackinghome #trackinghappily #fic rec #fymhm #march 2022

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. vii - the merger

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

"Uhh... guys, my friends are coming over, is that cool?" You asked after putting your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

Everyone of them nodded in agreement except for San who was ready to combust, "JONGHO'S GONNA COME!?" he squeaked. Yes. Squeaked in utter excitement.

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, "yeah... obviously, you got a little crush or something?" You smirked at him. San shook his head quickly, "oh no, more like starstruck, he's a legend," he fawned.

Confused, you look at the other boys to get an explanation.

Suddenly, a hand rested itself around your shoulder and when you look up, you saw Wooyoung gulping a beer before answering you, "San's got a thing for shitty one hit wonders, so just go with it," he chuckled.

You didn't even realize that Wooyoung still had an arm around you until Seonghwa pointed it out, snickering at you, "you know, for a fake couple you both are sure comfortable with each other quick," Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at the older male, "why ? Jealous ?" He smirked, poking fun at Seonghwa.

The lack of answer from Seonghwa seemed to answered just enough for everyone. Everyone hollered and poked fun at the oldest, including you.

"So much for keeping things between you, me, and San," you muttered jokingly to Wooyoung who in return nudge your shoulder with his, "hey, they're my brothers and don't act like you didn't tell your friends too," he smirked. You rolled your eyes at him and shrugged, "fair point, but at least my boys can keep their mouth shut,"

Suddenly loud bangings from the front door was heard, halting everyone's movements for a bit.

"Oops, sorry, that's probably Mingi and Jongho," you smiled sheepishly, removing yourself from Wooyoung's side (much to his dismay) to open up the door.

The second you unlocked the door and opened it, a huge body crash itself onto you, "THANK GOD YOU'RE OKAY! I WAS WORRIED!!" Mingi wailed as he began planting kisses all over your face, making you giggle and Jongho groan, "ugh, save it for when you're both alone,"

You walked in to the living area where all the other boys were with Mingi clinging himself onto your back and you latching your pinkies with Jongho.

The three of you stood in front of the boys, your two best friends waiting to be introduced, "so... this is Mingi," you said, patting Mingi's head that's leaned onto yours as his chin is resting on your shoulder, "we go waaaaaay back to the first day of freshmen orientation, and this is Jongho, he accelerated a grade back in middle school and we met at psych 101, boys, these are Wooyoung's friends," you introduced.

Suddenly Mingi stood up straight and pointed at Wooyoung with one hand, "you!" He exclaimed, surprising everyone in the room, "you were the ass that snickered at my shoes when I was in building F yesterday!" Wooyoung furrowed his eyesbrows, initially confused. It wasn't until he looked down to Mingi's shoes that he smiled widely in realization, "hey! You're the last season converse kid! Seonghwa hyung," Wooyoung snap his head at Seonghwa, "this is the kid I tweeted about!" To which Seonghwa just sarcastically congratulate him before sipping his drink.

The boys surprisingly blended well. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the fact that neither one of them have any filters, but suddenly they're all one big friend group.

San managed to convince Jongho to break a bunch of apples to which Jongho did happily, Yunho and Wooyoung watching by the sidelines, cackling and taking a video of everything. Mingi was sitting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, exhanging stories about their majors and how they became friends with the others.

Meanwhile, Yeosang and you were sat on the couch on the opposite ends. You both weren't talking initially, but the gazes thrown at each other were huge indications that you both wanna talk.

Luckily, it was Yeosang who broke the silence first. He put down his bottle of beer on the table before speaking, "okay, I gotta know, what kind of bullshit 'leverage' that Wooyoung had on you that made you agree to be his fake girlfriend?"

You almost choked at his question because of course it HAD to be HIM who asked you about the whole blackmail him. You couldn't just come clean at him now, could you ?

"A magician never tells his secret," you smirked at him as you took a swig of your own beer. Yeosang raised both of his eyebrows as he nods his head in acknowledgement, "witty and mysterious, nice," he said which made you chuckle.

"But how about you ? You don't seem like the frat type, whar roped you in ?" You asked, "same as you in a way, I've known Wooyoung since high school and ever since he convinced me that I'd get swindled if I don't stop being naïve, he had refused to let me out of his sight," "what!? You?? Naïve?? No way," "uhuh, I even have proof," he then fished out his phone to show you his past.

The rest of the night filled with laughters and jokes. The initial group conversation merged into one and one thing led to another and suddenly an impromptu sleepover happened.

You gotta be honest, you had thought that these guys would be those typical fratboy jerks. But you had no idea that behind the hookups, drinking, and parties, they were all just 5 year olds stuck in 20 somethings' bodies.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @rae-baby

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indianamoonshine · 3 years

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Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

#din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #mw1 #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din x you #the mandalorian x reader

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blueskrugs · 3 years

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Jump Then Fall | Jack Hughes

I am eternally soft for this kid, okay. this is not the original birthweek fic I had planned for him, but it is a bonus Swift Fic because I couldn't help myself. enjoy while I work on getting my shit together for the summer!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like

length: 2k words

High school relationships never worked out. That’s what they always told you, at least, when you and Jack were young and in love. And they were right, sort of. You’d broken up not long after you’d both graduated, with Jack off to be drafted and you off to college. Except you’d stayed close, texting and talking on the phone often once Jack had headed off to New Jersey. He was one of your best friends, and you were thankful he was still in your life, but you weren’t sure you’d ever stop loving him, not really.

I like the way you sound in the morning We're on the phone and without a warning I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

Saturday mornings always meant long phone calls with Jack. You’d both wake up early and make coffee before spending most of the morning on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes you wished more than anything that you could see his face, but you weren’t sure what would come spilling out of your mouth when you saw him.

One cold morning in December, you were pretty sure Jack had still been asleep when you called. His voice was slow and rough when he spoke, but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

When you heard him yawn, big enough his jaw cracked, you laughed. “Am I keeping you awake?” you asked.

Jack rushed to answer, “No, never.”

“Jack,” you warned.

Jack laughed. “We got in late last night, I’m just a little tired, I’m fine,” he told you.

“I can let you go back to sleep,” you said.

You heard Jack sit up on the other end of the line. “No way, absolutely not,” he said.

“We’re not even talking about anything important.” You’d mostly been stressing about the end of the semester.

“So? I like talking to you,” Jack argued.

You sighed. “You’re an idiot,” but it came out more fond than annoyed.

Somehow, that phone call lasted almost two more hours. Later, you wouldn’t remember what dumb thing you’d quipped that had made Jack burst out laughing, but you’d always remember the sound of that laugh. You’d wished you’d been able to record it, to have it to listen to on rough days, on days you missed Jack a little extra.

I hear the words but all I can think is We should be together

Jack was telling some story about his teammates. You were only half-listening, paying more attention to his face as he talked. It was late, and Quinn and Jack were home for Christmas. You and the three Hughes boys had taken over the basement for the night. Quinn and Luke were sprawled out on the couch opposite you, and you were buried under several blankets with your feet in Jack’s lap. He was using one hand to help illustrate his story, but the other was resting on your ankle, warm despite the chill outside, his thumb absently rubbing against your bare skin.

Quinn threw a balled up napkin at you, jolting you back to reality. “What’re you thinking about over there?” he asked.

“What?” You threw the napkin back at Quinn.

Luke chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s not that funny, there’s no way you’re smiling at him.”

“Hey!” Jack protested. You dug your heel into his thigh, and he turned to grin at you.

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. You always seemed to be smiling when you were around Jack, you couldn’t help it.

“Just missed you guys,” you said, grinning back at Jack.

Jack squeezed your ankle and went back to telling his story. You still weren’t listening.

Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face You got the keys to me I love each freckle on your face, oh

When Jack first started growing his hair out, you hated it.

“No, why,” you said the first time you saw him that summer. Luke laughed from somewhere behind you.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and smirked at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You love my hair.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I’ve changed my mind,” you said.

Jack squawked, outraged and offended. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close as you giggled and tried to get away. “You’ll pay for that,” he told you. You dug your elbow into his ribs until he let go of you.

Later that night found the two of you left alone near the bonfire as the sun went down.

“Hey,” Jack said. You locked your phone and tilted your head back to look up at him upside down. “Do you really not like the hair?” he asked.

You snorted. “Would you cut it if I said I didn’t?” Jack shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. You sat up and twisted to look at Jack properly. “You wouldn’t, oh my God.” It was hard to tell, but he might’ve been blushing in the fading light,

“Just tell me the truth,” he said.

You looked at Jack, really looked at him. He was tan, a new burst of freckles dusted across his nose. He’d shoved a hat on since you’d first seen him earlier in the day, but you could still see how his hair was just beginning to curl at the ends past the nape of his neck. Jack stared back at you, blue eyes dark.

“I guess I could get used to it,” you said.

Honestly, you were so gone for him, you were pretty sure you’d end up still liking him no matter what he looked like.

When people say things that bring you to your knees I'll catch you

Sometimes you didn’t know how Jack put up with it all. From losing streaks to being called a draft bust to people questioning whether he was capable of being a leader, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t have to deal with some bullshit. You knew it wasn’t easy, but he rarely let it get to him. Rarely, but not never.

It didn’t surprise you when your phone rang after a rough game. You answered the FaceTime call without thinking about it, smiling softly when Jack’s face filled your screen. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes and his hair hanging limply in his face.

“Hi, bud,” you said.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed, long and loud, scrubbing his free hand across his face. You’d been able to watch the game, had watched the blowout happen in real time, just another loss in this skid, in a season that had started out promising for once.

“I’m tired,” Jack whined.

“You look like shit,” you told him. Jack stuck his tongue out at you. “Do I need to get Ty to delete Twitter off your phone again?” you asked. Jack rolled his eyes, but you weren’t joking.

“No, I just-” Jack rubbed his eyes again. “Did you see what my plus-minus was tonight?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Oh my God, no, we’re not doing this,” you said. Sometimes Jack wanted to forget everything about a shitty game, but other nights he got frustrated and wanted to pick apart every mistake he’d made on the ice. You dragged your laptop closer to you. “C’mon, open your Netflix, we’re watching a movie.”

There was some scuffling on the other end, with Jack accidentally pointing his phone at the ceiling. “Fine, but I get to pick,” he said.

You argued half-heartedly with him for a while, but he won in the end, and you settled on some movie you’d both seen a dozen times. It was quiet while you watched, a comfortable silence, heavy with familiarity.

“Hey,” Jack said lowly as the end credits rolled later. You’d been half-sure Jack had fallen asleep on you. “Thanks.”

You smiled tiredly at him. It was late, and dark in his room, and you could barely make out his blurry form on your phone. “Anytime, Jacky,” you said, but you meant, “I love you.”

You can jump then fall, jump then fall Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah

Your doorbell rang one morning in early May. When you pulled open the front door, there was Jack, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket, standing on your parent’s front porch.

“I thought you weren’t coming home for a few weeks still,” you said, leaning against the door frame. The Devils season was over, but Jack had told you he was planning on sticking around for a while or traveling some before coming home for the summer.

Jack took one of his hands out of his pocket and ran it nervously through his hair. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, instead of responding to your non-question.

You raised an eyebrow at him. You’d known Jack for years, and you could probably count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him be nervous. “Well, don’t hurt yourself with that, bud,” you told him.

He made a face at you, but it also got him to smile. “Will you just let me-” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hey, c’mon, let’s go inside,” you said, stepping back to let Jack follow you into the house.

In the living room, the TV show you had been watching was still paused, but you both ignored it. You sat back on the couch, but Jack stayed standing, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re freaking me out a little, Jacky,” you said.

Jack sighed and sat on the floor in front of you, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “I miss you,” he said.

“Jack, we talk every day,” you told him. “I’m right here,” you added softly.

Jack huffed and ran his hands through his hair again. He laid back for a moment, staring silently up at the ceiling fan as it slowly turned above you.

“Have you ever thought about getting back together?” he asked when he sat back up.

You thought about it a lot, actually, but you just said, “Yeah.”

“Do you think we could do it?” Jack asked next.

You hesitated on that one. You’d thought that, maybe, you could’ve made it back when you were in high school, but things were so different now. You’d listened to the opinions of others so much back then, had broken up in part because you thought that it was inevitable anyway. Could you make it through all that again? You still had a few years until you graduated, and New Jersey wasn’t exactly close.

Then again, you two were as close as ever. Jack had only missed a handful of your Saturday morning phone calls, and it was always just because of hockey. He was still sitting on the floor in front of you, looking nervous as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Jack’s face fell a little. “Do you think we could try?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, just as honestly. You’d never been good at saying no to Jack, anyway.

Jack beamed, and you knew exactly why you still loved him after all this time. Jack leaned forward and tugged at your foot. “Hey, come down here,” he whined. “Wanna kiss you.”

“Or you could come up here?” Jack tugged harder. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking needy,” you laughed, but you slid off the couch and let Jack pull you into his lap.

His hands went to your waist, sliding under your T-shirt, and he smiled smugly up at you. “Hi.”

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “Hi,” you said back.

“Uh-uh, you can do better than that.” A kiss to his cheek. Jack rolled his eyes and put one of his hands on your cheek to drag you in for a real kiss. “That’s better,” he whispered, but you were already leaning in for another kiss.

#cait writes things #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Nerd Love

After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.

Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2237

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.

You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.

You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.

At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.

After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.

You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.

But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.

You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.

“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.

It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.

“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.

The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.

“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.

Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.

“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.

You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.

You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”

The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.

“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.

Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.

You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”

Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character

Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.

Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”

Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.

Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.

“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”

“It’s cool, I guess.”

The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.

Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.

You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.

After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.

Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.

They’re so cute together #goals

Love their friendship

Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N

Poor Kyle ☹

The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love

And they say they aren’t dating…

Can’t believe the unprofessionalism

Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise

The flirting!!! The looks!!!

I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please

Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.

You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.

“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.

He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”

You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”

He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”

You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.

Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.

You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.

“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.

Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.

You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.

You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”

Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.

“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”

“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.

Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.

“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.

Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”

“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.

When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”

#pete davidson #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fluff

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goofyhoffy · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × reader

Genre: romcom

Word count : 3.4 k

Warnings : fluffy, swearing, angst, anxiety attack, smut, kinky, abusive language, mention of hickey, sexual harassment, yandere, love, sex, romance, licking, bullying, misunderstanding, one shot, rudeness, humiliation.

Summary: Gone for the last fairwell party where you meet the nerd kid Jeon Jungkook. The rudest boy who hates the popular kid like you. But then something changed and make you fall for him.

Author note: smoky fanfic for some smoky peeps . Share your opinions.

( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡( ◜‿◝ )♡

"You're not going to attend the fairwell party, _____" your mother said. Tonight there is your first year fairwell party at the restaurant. Everyone is already so excited and planned about tonight. But your heartless abusive mother detains you from going.

"Why, that's so cruel. It's my first college fairwell. Everyone will be there. Let me go." You gasped at your mother. She with her eyes wide open signed you to stop your mouth.

"Be at your room till I come back from our ladies get to together. I'll be late, so close all the door. And be at your room. Don't think of going anywhere. Understood." Your mother shouted and leave the house for the party.

You close the door and shouted at the top of your lungs. You're so annoyed that your abusive mother never let you go anywhere. She's so mean that she goes everywhere without letting you go. But you also know your tricks to go there. You know the fairwell party gonna be lit with kids on the bars and restaurant all around. As early as your mom leaves you dressed up in your short silk black dress with your long curly hairs open. Match up with some smokey eyes and pencil heels. Afterall you're the most popular kid there, so you have to go there. But you never want to go cause the people around there are so mean and a bully to others.

Though you never get bullied but you felt bad for others. The better you know that the college guys are the meanest and cruelest. You're also so soft hearted that you fear of speaking up for them. Only for this reason you keep hating other and never went to any of the colleges parties. Even everyone insisted you so much. But today there is a sudden urge to attain the party. Because of your bestie since birth. Because of him you're going to the party. The season last party. Your guts are telling you that something big is gonna be happen with you. Something fun gonna be happen.

You waited at the front door for your bestie to pick you up. You checked the time it's already 9 pm and you need to came back by 2 am or else your mother gonna kill your ass of. It's drizzling outside , soft rains are always your favorite but today you don't have the time to appreciate the nature beauty. But you have to kill the party the fullest. You were just waiting.

"Babyygirl, come on! Get inside this beast." Suga shouted at the high pitch. You glad to see your bestie after waiting for them so long. He along with some other guys ride in a black open Jeep Wrangler. You got astonished to see the big Jeep. You walk upon the Jeep and gulped.

"We're going in this?" You questioned.

"Yes baby, now don't waste your time. And get your ass on this." Suga giggled. You get on that open Jeep. Suga helped you too. The Jeep started and all your hair dances in the air. The moonlight along with drizzling cloud make the sky look beautiful. You're feeling so alluring the whole journey.

When you stepped inside the restaurant, it was nothing like that. It's filled with smoke and known people faces. Kids are drinking , smoking , dancing and making out. As soon as you step in, the focus shifted to you. Everyone started to making cheers, noise with your name. Some people said "look ___ is looking damn hot." "Her ass! I can die for" "can I fuck her only for today" "she wear this dress to show her big cleavage." And some girls there bitching "why this slut is here?" "God! I thought she died. Now who gonna see me." "I need to cover my boyfriends eyes, or else this whore gonna seduce him." Everyone is just objectifying you. Only for this reasons you hate to attain any party. All of them only gonna blame or body shames you.

Hearing all of this you squeezed Suga's hand in shame and murmured "Suga can I go home. This place is not for me." He instantly feels that you're feeling uncomfortable. He grapped your hand and shouted "hey people, look! If anyone gonna open their mouth to spite any bad words to ____. I'm gonna make their college life a hell. So shut the fuck up." Suddenly everyone looks downwards and keep on doing their things. Afterall Suga have hype on the college because he's the captain of the basketball and all of the college kids are afraid of him. This is the perks of having a scary bestie.

"Thanks. Today I'm not gonna interrupt you more. So, now you can have fun. I will also find someone to have fun." You sighed to Suga.

"Shut your thanks, babygirl. I'm always here for you only. If anything happens you can just call me. I will be here around." He said and walked inside the bar.

Being a popular and good looking girl isn't a great thing. People only notice the worst side of you. You're thinking only this things and make your way to the near by open area on that Place. There's no one. Only you and your loneliness appreciating the cloudy night weather. Even though you have Suga as your bestie, he also can't always look after you. Apart from him, no one was there as your friends. As you interact really less.

Standing there for so long your eyes trail down to a huge postures sitting down the couch. Black leather jacket, high black boots, smokey black eyes, dark gelled hair with tattooed neck a boy was sitting at the couch. You side eyed at him for a better view. He was drawing something. You peek into the painting you saw it was the soothing sky he was drawing. You again trail your eyes to his full muscular body. But you were unable to see his face as he head downs to draw. You just want to look at his face.

For quite a long there, he said nothing to you. As only both of you're there you thought of asking him. "It's looking like you're painting this beautiful sky." You asked. The boy looked up to your face. His dark glowing eyes look straight into you. It was a known face too. His baby face isn't matching his devil body postures. You mesmerized to his beauty. You tell you heart you know him, but never noticed him. He was Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook. The nerd kid who always sits at the last bench but tops the class. Who never spokes to anyone. Who's always so lonely when noticed.

"Yeah. I guess you have eyes." Jungkook scoff. But one thing more he's the rudest. Never in his life he talks to anyone in the straight face. Because of that he never have friends. You rolled your eyes.

"I also have mouth but I guess it's best to shut. People are so mean here." You said.

"Huh! Afterall meanest than me. I'm the one who haven't talk about your tits and ass in the whole room here." Jungkook smirked

"Better for you to not open your mouth. I'm only trying to start a conversation with you politely. But you -" Jungkook intrepputed you.

"Yes, I'm the one who shut your bullying mouth. You popular kids always thought we nerds are piece of shit. But we aren't. We aren't even not care for you to answer back. But see today I did." Jungkook again smirked.

"What? I never bullied anyone. Actually you're mad or anything to start a verbal fight here. Do your shitty work, you're good to be alone. Now, I got it why no ones talk to you." You chuckled devilishly.

"I don't make fake friends like you or I say friends with benefits. Huh!" Jungkook giggled.

"Friends with benefits? What do you mean. You totally ruined my mood. Just fuck your life with this shitty attitude you fucking nerd. I'm good to go." You shouted at him and walks towards the bar.

But suddenly, Jungkook dropped all his drawing book at the floor and runs towards you and grapped you wrist from the back.

"What do you think? Where you're going? " Jungkook said.

You got confused by his actions. "Wait. Why the fuck you touched me? Get off me." You screamed at him. And he instantly released your hand from his grip.

"Cool, using women card huh. See you soon babe." Jungkook smirked turns to devilishly chuckled. You just get off from there.

Soon you go inside the bar. Asked the bartender to give you some cocktail. He handed over to you. You sit beside a group of creepy men who were keep staring at your thighs. You were getting super uncomfortable because of that. They're laughing, talking shit about you and your dress. But the limit crossed when one of guys handed over a page to you.

'One night stand! Money as much as you want.' Your blood started to rush over those guys.

You just want to slap them in the face. You hate how the whole fairwell night is turning into a nightmare for you. You never want to come here. You're cussing Suga for insisting you to come.

You grumbled the paper and through it on there faces. But then one of the guys started to touching you inappropriately around your thighs. You don't know what to do. Your anxiety level is getting on peak. All the men covered you and started touching you inappropriately. Out of fear you just sit like a piece of stone.

But then only Jungkook shouted at the group of men around you. His muscular body fitted his leather jacket perfectly. "You creeps, just get off from her."

One of them says "who is she? Your si-" Jungkook intrepputed them.

"Yeah, she's my fucking friend. Get off from her." And he grapped your hand and take you aside.

"Just kept your fucking dicks in your pants. If I ever see anyone of you to humiliating any girl. I will cut your penis off. Understood. Fuck off now." He shouted at them. And all of them just leaves the bar.

You're still in a sense of shock. You never believed this happens with you. Room full of air-conditioned but still you're sweating like crazy. You got your first anxiety attack after certain long. Your hand are trembling and tears down to your eyes. You still sense less what's going on.

"You're okay?" Jungkook asked with his baby voice.

You didn't answer anything. You just hugged Jungkook so hard. Nothing in your mind just you hugging him to get some heat and strength. Tears rolled down your eyes stopped to get his presence. He hugged you back and patted your back smoothly. Slowly the terror lives you.

"It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here. You're save." He said.

"I'm here to get your back. Calm down. Your makeup gonna ruin." He scoffs.

"Keep your mouth open. Or else i- " you cut him off.

"I'm okay. Thanks." You gasped.

"Want to have some fresh air outside?" He asked.

"Let's go. I can't breathe here anymore." I sighed. I grapped his wrist and fetch him to outside.

It was storming outside and slow winds crossing over my face. It felt so soothing to go outside and breathe some fresh air. I looked at Jungkook and felt so guilty for misunderstanding him earlier. His baby face just melts my heart. He's a purely the kindest and most helpful. I still regret why I never talked to him on the first hand. Well, I always have an eye on him for his tonned body. But the behavior always drive me crazy. The way he looked when he was angry at them. His veins hands with silver rings. And those messy dark hair sooths my heart. I once again fall for his kindness, generosity and smartness.

"Thanks but sorry." You looked at him.

He gazed at me "nothing to thanks me but take care of yourself. A girl should keep her mouth open for herself. Never depend on anyone else other than yourself. You're your own security. Understood."

"Your words are always so deep. But again sorry." You apologized

"Well, I'm sorry too for being rude. I don't mean to but -" you cut him off.

"But nothing. Just end those shitty things. I really liked how you saved me. I promise that from now onwards I will take care of myself." And you smiled at him.

He caressed my cheeks and smiled too. "I always thought you're mean but I was wrong. You're such a sweetheart."

"I know, people assume mean things about me. But at my surprise you're too a darling. But your words are full of sarcasm just like you." You said.

He giggled at my words. Then you gazed at his eyes and caress his dark long hairs which was covering his baby face. You touched his hairs. You feel a sudden arousal to find him. He was different and amazing. You realized he have something you are finding since a long. He get stumble too with your touch. He felt like he got goosebumps to your touch. You both keep staring to each others eyes for so long.

But then Jungkook broke it and scoff "your touch gives me goosebumps. Don't be so touchy or else something wrong gonna happen." And you giggled hard at him.

"Okay, I'll give you space." You scoffs.

As you both walk down to a group of boys having tons of beer. The whole area beside them smells like alcohol. You felt like trying some alcohol.

"Want to try some beer?" You asked him.

"Sure. Let's compete who can have more alcohol in their blood tonight." Jungkook smirked to me.

You both took one can of beer and gulped it at one shot. It was so refreshing and taste weird. But alcohol are meant to be tasteless. Jungkook goes for another one and so do you. You both keep on finishing the beer cans one by one. You're so into the competition that both of you crossed all the limits. Just drinking and laughing. After having enough can beer you were just pretending that you're drinking. But you were fully drunk. The alcohol is all over your body. Your dress got drenched with beer. On the other hand, Jungkook keep on going with the beer. Drinking and drinking but not stopping. He's the actual nerd kid who have a super big competitive ass in anything.

"Stop you dick. I can't drink anymore. You win. Cool!" You screamed in annoyance.

"Winner. Yeah. I knew it. No one can win from me." Jungkook yelled.

You made a annoyance face and said "look at my dress, alcohol is all over my body. It's drenched me. I smell like alcohol."

"Are you telling me to lick the beer from your body! Huh?" Jungkook grinned. He's totally drunk. He lost all his senses and so do you. Both are drunk and alone.

"Would you lick me if I say! Huh?" You giggled.

"Just say and I will lick you all up from head to toe baby." He smirked. And walk up to you and licked your neck.

"Stop it. I'll clean it myself." you pushed him kiddingly and ran towards the washroom to clean all the mess up.

At the water basin, you got some tissues and clean all the mess. From neck to your torso where all the beer spilled. But there also Jungkook followed you from the back.

You suddenly feel someone touched your back. You looked back and realized Jungkook is hugging you from behind. Locking your hands and softly kissing your ears. His warm huge body fits you finely. The alcohol fragrance along with his cologne smells it's so sexy. You don't want to leave him and not either tried to get out of his grip. He makes you so comfortable with his body all over you. That's feels so calming and horny. You want him to eat you.

"I said I'll lick you clean. You don't need to clean yourself." Jungkook softly said.

He then smoothly take your open hair aside and kissed your neck. It's feels like you're the last person to eat in this planet. He spins you and now you're facing him. He's so close to your face, you can feel his hot alcoholic breath on your face. He kissed you again all over your neck and beyond leaving some purple marks on your fine white body.

"Don't you want to clean by me! Huh?" Jungkook smirked.

"I-I yes, I want." You said in a shaky voice.

He hovered over you with his lips. Licking neck to chin and then he stopped. He looked into your deep pale eyes. You meet his eyes. His eyes speaking that he will made you watch the heavenly stars today. Without any second thought he kissed you in lips. You deepens the kiss with your tongue into him. His pink juicy lips taste so fine. He bit you on your upper lips which make it more loving. Then his one hand goes under my dress while the other is still there to deepens your lips. You put your hands on his long dark gelled hair. You both are caressing each other. Deep moans under Neath the breath was changed. Before going out of breath you broke the kiss and you both breathed so heavily.

He lifted you on the top of the water basin of the washroom and touched your inner thigh. A little moans let out from your mouth. His cold long fingers when touched your warm fizzy thighs it's giving you thrills. You spread your long legs further directing him to devour you inside. The hot make out already make you so wet that you can't resist. He pulled the hem of your dress and looks at the most beautiful site at that time. His eyes were glowing to meet with your small pussy.

"You want?" Jungkook asked me before putting his hands further.

"I want you to fuck me. Made me see the stars tonight." You softly screamed.

Jungkook getting the signal to proceed he touched your wet pussy over the panties. But the panties are already drenched of your cum. He gulped and smirked leaving your panty at the floor. He tilted you aside and thrust two of his finger inside of you. His cold veiny long fingers when get inside you, it gives you thrills. You moan his name. He gently thrust each of the finger inward. You already can see the stars.

"Jun-Jungkook!" You moans

"You want more?" Jungkook asked.

"Jun-Jungkook. Yeah. I want you to be inside." You screamed in pleasure.

He gently keeps on going with his fingers all the way. You lift up and you can see the budge on Jungkook jeans. You unlock his belt and put his jeans off. His big member is already waiting for you. Your eyes glowed up to see his big huge dick. You stroke it and it's already having a Boner. Jungkook stops and looked at your eyes.

"Are you sure that you can take my member inside you! Huh?" He smirked.

"Can't wait more to have you inside me. I want your fucking dick to tear my fragile pussy." You growned.

"Then let's just fuck you, ______" Jungkook moans.

You spread your legs further and he put his tip of the cock inside you. He's teasing you but then you thrust him in. His huge cock perfectly fits your pussy. He started to thrust fast and fast. He's moaning your name at high pitch. And you want him more and more. His hips are thrusting hard into you. You see all the colours of the stars. Jungkook made you realize the pleasure. It's get so heated that at last he thrust your g spot. You feel relieved.

"I'm going to cum, Kook." You said.

"I want you to cum on my fucking dick!" He exclaimed.

You cumed in his dick and all over his shirt. Your white liquid is all over the place. He smirked and gently took you off the water basin.

"Did I licked you well, ____?" Jungkook murmured.

"Yeah, I want you to lick me every day, Jungkook." You said softly.

He gently put your clothes on and you wear them. He also did the same. And he kissed your forehead and patted with love.

168 notes · View notes

titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie.

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand.

“He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills.

“Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

“Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

“I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Mike frowns. How even…

“It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

“Why was I—”

“We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb.

He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code.

The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment.

He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while.

Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him.

He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting."

Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her.

He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough.

So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up.

Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it.

Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it.

Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time.

Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them.

One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine.

Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban.

There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off.

So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time.

He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person.

Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes.

Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks.

He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face.

You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him.

Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it.

He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is.

"Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

"It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

"Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

"Who's going?"

The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

"Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be.

"Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

"Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

"You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

"Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch.

He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

Mike ends up going.

After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius.

Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

"Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch.

"I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

"Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes.

Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'?

"Man, fuck off."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of.

"Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles.

Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

"If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs.

Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party.

They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight.

High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room.

It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil.

He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike.

Good.

Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date.

He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor.

Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be.

Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

"Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in.

"Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle.

"You know what."

Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry?

Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here.

It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity.

Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard.

Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones.

Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach.

If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg.

Not together his ass.

When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while.

He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away.

Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it..

He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it.

But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts.

It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late.

There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

“It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

"Literally what did I just say?"

"If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

"Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

"That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

"Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying.

"I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly.

You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

"Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

"You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

"I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

"Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

"Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?"

"No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing.

So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did?

Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him.

And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay."

Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment.

"What time is it?" You speak into his shirt.

"About eleven thirty."

You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

But nothing.

You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it.

"Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to.

"Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard.

You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike.

"Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me.

"Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

"I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around.

Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down.

"I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before.

You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand.

"That's not what I meant."

It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited.

"If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition.

Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

"You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?"

His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind.

"Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before.

"Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike."

There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly.

"And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should.

Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs.

"You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch.

"Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching.

"Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

"That's fucked up," you somehow manage.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time).

You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different.

His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike.

It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place.

You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for.

Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car.

He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

Dude obviously likes to be slapped around.

There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith.

You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?"

"I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

"See what?"

"You and me—"

"You and I," he corrects, and you shove him.

"You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

"Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

"That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

"Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

"Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?"

He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly.

"You caaare about meee."

He scoffs and looks away

"Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

"Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

"I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?"

He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?"

"Absolutely. Hundred percent."

"You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing.

Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you.

"You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

"Wow, fuck you."

"That's the idea," he smirks.

"Har fucking har. You're so funny."

Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?"

"Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

"Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point.

Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction.

"Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

"Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin.

This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive.

"Stop making that face."

"What face?"

"That—that—"

You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back.

"What face, hm?"

The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down.

Damn. He's good at this.

"Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off.

He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants.

You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future.

Maddening. He's maddening.

You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him.

"I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath.

"It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

"A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

"Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it.

"Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?"

You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once.

Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle.

He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

“Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face.

You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen.

“Feel better yet?” He smirks.

You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees.

If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it.

He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink.

“I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck—”

His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

That’s not important.

Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

“Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths.

You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out.

“Want me to wear a condom?”

“I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away.

“Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you.

“Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him.

He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders.

He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time.

Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?”

“Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

“Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed.

You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.

You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them.

Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type.

Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction.

Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

“Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length.

You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows.

Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other.

He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out.

Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

“Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice.

You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss.

He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike.

Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now.

Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

“I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight.

“Fuck—shit—”

That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching.

With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree.

The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened.

Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

“I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess.

“Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

“Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug.

“I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around.

You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair.

You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly.

“M-Mike?”

All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do.

“Are you drunk again?”

“No. Little buzzed.”

Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

"What?"

"Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable.

"Mike?"

"I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy.

But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at.

For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster.

“Why have you been lying to me?”

And, there’s that drop.

You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?”

You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry.

“I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over.

Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn.

“Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

“Why does it matter?”

You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself.

Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

“Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

“I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.

The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

“Wh-what d’you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

“Mike…”

“No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

“No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it.

So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop.

“I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

“Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

“Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option.

“Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

“That I’m not good enough.”

Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

“Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet.

Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter.

Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful.

His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

“I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you.

Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

“I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you.

“Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse.

“I won’t bother you.”

“Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things.

You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares.

True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two.

He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room.

Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause.

Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his.

It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you.

That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall.

Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend.

It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it.

He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side.

But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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