#HOW LONG HAS HIS BRAIN HAD AN OUCHIE

[jrueships]

WHO HURT MY BABYGIRL

[tartrazeen]

I am once again insisting that the "Naked guy covered in flammable jelly has to put a super long code into a safe using only a tea candle for light so he can get the antidote to the poison that Jigsaw stuck him with and also there's glass on the floor ouchie" is

✨A Good Trap✨

This was Saw 1, people. The irony was in full high-concept fever.

What was this guy's crime?

Faking a work injury to scam his insurance (aka the genius way to take a vacation in no-sick-days America)

Why does Jigsaw give a shit about insurance companies with everything we see in Saw 6?

'cause the guy was getting insurance money when insurance said no to jiggy 😞 (also jigsaw's a serial killer who preys on people already going through the shittiest time of their lives, like how he not-murders a dude for the crime of - i guess - pussying out of suicide? that's canon btw. that's the guy they show us immediately before naked-jelly-safe man)

So what's the irony in this otherwise impossible, bullshit trap?

The door's open, the guy can leave, he's not actually poisoned

Jigsaw likes to lie. Especially Saw 1 Jigsaw.

Jigsaw also likes making his win conditions exceedingly obvious in hindsight.

Sometimes it's a straightforward, "Jump into the pit of needles and find the key. No riddles. Gogogo." And then you're like, "ohhh damn, i really should've just done that faster"

Sometimes it's an uwu troll of, "I dunnoooooo detective, i guess maybe if you talk to meeee you'll find ur son somewhere................ SAFE?!?! uwu" And then you're like, "ahhhhhh (⁠☞ﾟ⁠∀ﾟ⁠)⁠☞ you got me with word play again"

And then sometimes he's like, "I'm gonna need you to speedrun some brain surgery. no no, on your own brain. It's ironic because you can't. Also I'm going to melt your face in an Aztec face mask 'cause i'm also like... i'm ngl, i'm a little racist uwu. plus the irony's that you live in a hot country or something i guess idk i have five these in this movie, hurry up and fail jfc"

So here, Jigsaw didn't say the door was locked. He told the suicide-guy that, so he will say it if it's actually going to happen. But here, he just said the guy had to carefully step around the glass and crack the code.

You know.

The insurance fraud guy.

The scammer.

Being - ironically - scammed.

Buddy could've left right away, but he was very, very sure he'd actually been poisoned and stayed (then burned) to try to get to an antidote he didn't need.

$5 says the safe would've been empty, too. Like that was the cure: nothing, because he wasn't sick in the first place.

... also this means Jigsaw only targeted him because he was jealous someone else was getting insurance payouts.

So who's the REAL jelly man now, John?!

[reganmian]

hello gay relatives gallavich nation!! i am finally making an intro post :)

thank you @callivich for creating such a comprehensive guide to the community here + encouragement for lurkers. i’ve been encouraged. 🫡🩷

Name: yi + my username means ‘hot dry noodles’ which is a popular chinese noodle dish. i picked it bc 1) it’s delicious 2) it has ian embedded

Age: 20

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? they’re complex characters who go through harrowing experiences, ups and downs, pain and suffering—situations where it seems impossible for any good to materialize. in spite of it all, they find each other over and over again. they scrape together every last sliver of hope. they try and try again, until they can finally match each others' pace, slow down, and just exist together. tl;dr - even with the deck stacked against them, they emerged from the angst victorious and in love. and i'm supposed to not eat it up?

How long have you been a fan? 67 days. i had seen a lot of shameless clips on youtube over the years - mostly of white boy carl, to which i was like wtf is this 💀 and ignored. eventually came across the clip of mickey chasing ian re: mandy in s1, checked the comments out, saw someone say “i can’t believe these 2 guys got married” and i was like What LMFAO? and fell into the All Gallavich Scenes | S01-S11 + Hall Of Shame | 1080p playlist and kinda got stuck there. started watching shameless a couple weeks later just for them

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? when mickey’s on the brink of losing ian (many such cases) and in a split-second, decides to risk it all for him and comes out to everyone/his pos father at the alibi. then they get to beat him up. i giggle everytime at ian flipping terry off as the cop car pulls away, and sniffle when he kisses mickey’s head. mickey’s courage and fierce love for ian is so clear and it fills my heart with pride to see him finally out.

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? fiona + mandy <3

Do you write or draw or make edits? i mostly write + i’m currently working on an AU fic—my very first for gallavich 🫡 i also draw once in a blue moon (limited to b&w sketches)

Favourite type of Gallavich fics? i'm drawn to AUs!! much of the canonverse is, for a lack of better words, ouchie. i will pretty much read anything tho; this fandom publishes some impeccable literature.

Favourite Gallavich quote? “ian, what you and i have makes me free. not what these assholes know.” instant classic.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? i’m taller than mickey/noel, speak en/fr/中文, and i’d love to make friends and pick writer brains and scream abt gallavich fics/ideas and gallavich themselves. i have so many thoughts abt them i will explode!!

i also wanted to say thank you so much for all the love received on the ian drawing i posted for his bday!! i hadn't drawn in a loooong time and i was met w/ so many kind words for which i am so grateful! 🫶🏻

that is it for me for now. i hope to hear from yall soon! 🩷

[goosita]

if ghost billy thoughts are allowed i’ve been thinking for the last few hours about reader going to his grave crying after a bad day and billy nearly cries whatever way a ghost could cry as he so desperately wants to comfort her but can’t 🥲

ghost billy thoughts are so very welcomed !!!

ough ow ouchie :(((( no bc this would break his poor heart i fear

you tell him all about what a horrible day you've had; horrible week, really, but today was the icing on top of the cake. your pretty eyes are filled with tears as you tell him what happened, hiccuping every so often as you cry. your darling, precious cheeks are stained with your tears and he would give anything to be able to wipe them away or pull you into his chest and hold you.

"i just...i wish you were here," you whisper, making his whole being burn even more with sadness. "i know it's silly, but you're....you're my only friend here. and i need someone."

the irrational, slow part of his brain reaches out anyway, his chest aching as his hand passes right through you when he moves to cradle your cheek in his hand. its frustrating, so, so fucking frustrating as it always is that he can look but he can't touch. something about this moment makes him even more frustrated than he's ever been by this predicament, his own hot tears springing to his eyes.

of course, there's no real moisture there, as he himself isn't even physically present. but his eyes sting with the need to cry, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he watches you lay yourself down in the grass, just above where his own body has been buried for so long. you curl up on your side, your arms hugging yourself around your middle as you sniffle, no longer having words to describe just how distraught you are.

he has known loneliness before, and it could never hold a flame for what he feels now as he watches you through the thin veil that separates him from the world of the living. "i'm here," he whispers, though he knows you can't hear him.

billy finds himself laying down beside you, uncaring that you don't even know he's there. he looks right into your eyes as you wipe away more tears from them, settled so close to you that he can feel your soft breath on his face. he can feel the heat from your body against the ghostly form of his own, a tear of his own slipping down his cheek. it's all he can do to lay there and hope against hope that you can feel his spirit there with you, sense him in the breeze that rustles your hair, as he lies beside you and you both breathe through your broken hearts together.

[teenandbeyond]

Loki x M. Magician Reader

I don't why this came to my brain 😭 Did it come out well? Let me know if you want a full love story flashback with...hmm...50 hearts? I don't think that's too bad.

Want more from me? Master list II

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Love Archive (Marvel)

Warning(s): Fluff, kinda long, slight angst bc past Loki, Ragnarök, Reader is stuck with insanely long life, Exes (ouchies), Smut (but not graphic and will leave warning when time)

You and Loki were in love once, then it fell apart...Only to see each other again over 200 years later...only to be forced to save the universe together...fun...

✨✨✨✨✨

"[Name]! Is it truly you?"

With furrowed brows, you turn to be blinded by a bright grin.

Yeah, you had no idea who this bulking blonde was.

"Who are you, sir?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his short hair, "Right, you wouldn't know me. You knew my brother, Loki. Correct?"

Hearing that name still strangely brought warmth to your heart.

But how...?

"How do you know of me?"

"Ah!...I might've...followed Loki once and saw you. He doesn't know."

With a huff of amusement, you cross your arms. So this was Thor. Loki often spoke of him.

So you knew he was nosey.

"And what do you need from me?

"I saw you fight. Earlier."

"That was only but a correction."

You were a type of security on Grandmaster's planet, but because you were a pretty boy, people liked to test you.

Let's just say that was a mistake.

"Well, I'd like you to join my team. I need a fighter such as yourself."

"Team?"

"Yes, the Revengers!"

"Re...ven?"

"Yes, a team of those who want revenge against the world and this place."

You didn't have anything in particular you wanted revenge over, but...you were a bored old man.

"Sure. Sounds fun."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, where do we start? How many members are there?"

"Ah...less than five?"

"Oh, dear."

☆: .｡. .｡.:☆☆: .｡. .｡.:☆

So much happened in less than an hour. You met a socially awkward scientist that Thor swore could transform into a monster, but the man stayed a man. Until...he wasn't?

You were confused.

Even as a half-human yourself, you found humanity weird.

And then, after doing a little...ah...clearing of obstacles, you were told to come to a familiar room.

You could hear conversation on the other end as you knocked the random code Thor had given to you.

And the door opened...he was there. Restrained, but there.

Loki.

And he froze in place, just as you did.

He looked like a deer in headlights, guilt you didn't understand riddled his face.

You smiled, "Hello. It's been a while."

"Ah--Yes, hello. It has."

The silence was heavy with a story that slowly bared itself from the archives.

"They definitely know each other," Bruce observed.

"Obviously," Valkyrie, one of your coworkers, deadpanned.

That was an understatement.

1800s Britain, that's when you met him.

You were 26 at the time, but you'd long discovered magic and the inhuman part of your lineage.

Loki could smell the magic on you, he was drawn to that and your quiet charm.

You mostly kept to yourself, a bit soft-spoken, you weren't brutish like many men were at the time.

And in a short span of time, he realized just how easy it was to talk to you.

You were understanding, you always listened. And you loved no matter what.

That's all he'd ever wanted.

Someone to just smile and say, "I love you, I'm listening."

Someone to hold him when he wanted to cry.

Someone who made him feel like he belonged.

Someone who could kiss him like he was their world.

And you were his.

But one day, it hit him. He wasn't good enough for you.

So he left, and what broke his heart even more?

You understood. There were no hard feelings.

But ever since that day, he'd wished you had been selfish, wished you'd disregarded his words and kept him close.

And now here you were, over 200 years later.

One of you still felt a warm love.

And the other was filled with guilt, having taken out that regret on others for years.

"So, how have you been?" Loki forces the words out instead of keeping the silence that was admittedly getting awkward for everyone else.

Oh, it hurts that you still smile at him so warmly. Why couldn't you at least pretend you hated him?

"I've been alright. Mostly travelling. You?"

"Ah--Well, mostly mischief."

"That's a given."

"Any, uh...Did you ever have a...?" How did he ask?

You nodded, "Yeah. For a while, I tried again. But mortals, you know, they die. So...after that, I decided I'd save myself from losing anyone again."

Then Loki took in what was around your neck, and his heart warmed at the sight.

You'd kept it. The ring he gave you, the promise ring that held a false promise of forever.

To him, it was a failed promise.

To you, it was a devotion of love. One you could never get rid of.

Even after all this time, you could say, without hesitation, you still loved him.

Even when you learned he'd tried to betray Thor as you tried to escape this forsaken planet.

He still arrived to save the day when it was needed.

And he was still there to guard you as you struggled to heal the wound of Hela.

And you were there for him as he mourned the home that never felt like home in his heart, but still belonged to him.

The father that never felt like home, but still belonged to him.

There was so much pain weighing on his shoulders.

He just needed to wash it away.

Scrub it away.

No, it needed to burn like the flames that had engulfed Asgard.

And you were the only person who could ever burn things away, even if just for a little while.

"Please. I don't want to think."

"I understand."

You always understood.

You understood that he didn't want words, not now. You did well enough at that.

He wanted warmth.

[NSFW]

His mind began to blank out the moment your lips trailed down his skin.

"I want to burn it all, [Name], can you do that?"

"I'll utterly engulf you. As much as you want. Wherever you want, my love."

It wasn't long before you had his skin scorching, flushed, and red.

He gasped for breaths between kisses as you got so close you were one.

He left thin, hot trails of red down your back, your sides.

And when he wanted the control, you relinquished it.

And by Odin---perhaps it was improper to say that, a habit--you were utterly beautiful beneath him, too.

He felt flattered to know he's the only one who's ever had you in this way.

The only one to have you vulnerable for a change.

Once again. Loki was realizing...

He was a fool, an absolute fool...for putting your love in the archives.

[madychi]

List of Random ROTTMNT headcanons/ rando ideas

Raph and Donnie duo! Pt.1 Because I love these two in Rottmnt and they need mire moments I-

Raph has dubbed their little duo “Jam Bros”. His thought process? Red and Purple, Cherry and Grape. Jam. Jam Bros! At first Donnie was against it, but it grew on him over time.

With Mikey wanting to be considered a big boy now, Raph has turned to calling Donnie his baby brother. Donnie would sooner die than admit he loves it.

Raph knows Donnie is very touch repulsed, and likes to be the one initiating and sort of physical contact, so he’ll orbit around Donnie and let him come to him.

Donnie, as a young turtle tot, felt safest around Raph (Raph rasied them as tots for the most part because Splinter was depresso you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands-) and always clung to him more than the others.

Once as turtle tots food ran out in the lair, and Splinter refused to go out for more because he had food stored away for himself. A few days in and Leo had had enough, sneaking off with Mikey to get food from the surface, leaving Raph and Donnie alone. Raph spent that time comforting a hungry delirious Donnie who was insisting Raph and the others just eat him. They did not eat him. They ate a totally not stolen pizza.

After stressful all nighters Donnie likes to sneak into Raph’s room and pancake on his bed under his stuffed animals. The calming Raph smell knocks him out. Raph knows when he enters his room and sees Donnie pancaked on his bed, the bed is no longer his. He will have to sleep on the floor. He legally can’t disturb the pancake. But occasionally he will set up his basking lamp over the bed for Don. Raph usually gets extra hugs afterwards.

Raph was once perusing the interwebs and found an alligator snapping turtle live feeding video. Out of curiosity he watched it. All was good until the owner of the turtle dropped a baby spiny softshell turtle in the tank to be eaten. Raph avoided Donnie for a week after witnessing that, until Donnie cornered him for answers. Raph broke down sobbing and saying he didn’t want to eat him. Don was confused until Raph showed him the video. Donnie rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation and told Raph to open his mouth. When he did Donnie put his neck right in there, terrifying Raph. But after a few minutes he got what Don was doing. If there was really a chance he’d eat him, then he would’ve done it right then and there. It was reassuring, and a bit unnerving.

Raph once woke up to find Donnie had pancaked on top of him. He managed to text his brothers and let them know he legally couldn’t move and sent pics.

Donnie modelled his first ever battle shell after Raph’s shell. He still has it stored away somewhere.

Donnie once woke up to find Raph cuddling him. Don was no fool, he knew his fate. He messaged his brothers to let them know his tragic fate and then went right back to sleep.

Hm idea for A Raph and Donnie centric episode! (Or fanfic in my case ;3)! The duo wake up and find that they’ve been captured by the Purple Dragons and placed in a sort of Escape room type building, separated but given a communicator to talk to each other. The goal? Escape. The catch? Raph has special cuffs on that weigh him down so much he can’t punch his way to freedom. Meanwhile Donnie has a shock collar on that activates the second he tried to think his way out. So the two must work together, Raph having to rely on his brain to save the two of them while Donnie has to rely on his physical advantages.

I see a lot of angst about Donnie’s first soft shell ouchie being Raph’s fault or indirectly Raph’s fault. But like lets be real. Splinter definitely gave Raphael a long serious talk about how delicate Donnie was. Raph treated him like he was more breakable then glass. To the point where it was overbearing and Donnie was constantly smothered with protection. One day Don had enough and climbed up the onto the highest surface, the fridge, and explained to Raph that he needed to tone down on the overprotectiveness or he wouldn’t come down. Raph agreed, and Don climbed on down only to loose his grip and fall right onto his shell. Raph took back his agreement and babied Donnie until he was ten.

Pt. 2: Here

[sciderman]

I love the fact your Peter learns from his mistakes.He’s literally telling Wade to not fuck up something that would have even worse consequences of.That’s a good man right there 👏👏 praise for Peter

HE IS SO GOOD. he's wonderful – no one gives him enough credit for just how much he's learned and evolved over the years – he's come so, so far. and i have a wonderful little post i'm sitting on that's kind of actually all about how far he's come. but we see it everywhere – he's constantly evolving, and taking ownership of his mistakes and learning from them.

we say that peter maybe apologises too much, but – he takes what he learns forward. and he wants wade to move forward too. and he believes wade is.

wade - wade's kind of the opinion of the contrary.

it's a sore spot.

a BIG huge ouchie for wade.

fact is - wade's perpetually frustrated that peter is evolving much faster than he is - because wade feels like he's relapsing, constantly. he desperately wants to be better.

it's something that revolves in my brain a lot, actually. wade and peter's differing approaches. wade is of the mindset that there's a constant reset-button on him.

and in the comics - there is. wade is a character that's never allowed to evolve in the comics. he's whatever the writer or audience is interested in, for that week. he's been the villain, been the anti-hero, been the hero, reset. back to villain. back to anti-hero. has a marriage. has a divorce. has a daughter. has his memories of his daughter erased from his memory. he is never allowed to actually progress, or have any sort of stability as a character. deadpool, as a character, has never had a status quo.

peter parker - in his heyday - (we don't talk about the last decade of comics) - growth and evolution was the crux of his comics. he starts off a bitter teen - grows into a cynical college student - into a persevering adult, in a long-term romance and eventual marriage that span decades of comics. he becomes a teacher - he just - he grows. the comics let him evolve to the point you'd hardly recognise him if you sat teenage peter parker and adult peter parker next to each other. it's a long game and you're with him every step - and i just - i think wade's awareness of that reality (what with his relationship with the fourth wall) means that he'll always have this nagging fear that peter's inevitably going to evolve past him, and wade's going to be on reset, again.

i think he's terrified that if he loses peter, he'll be back to square one. i think he's terrified of how much he needs peter here - to remind him that he's doing something right.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

https://www.tumblr.com/wolfiemcwolferson/738254591817351168?source=share

is there anything you can tell us about these fics? (after the poll has ended of course :P) i'm so intrigued by all of them!!

I’ll tell you about them now 😘

The two part fic series and the college sweetheart fic were both up for giveaway fics so I’ll give you the little write up for (part one) of the Mississippi coast fic and the college sweetheart fic. They’re both Carly fics.

(College sweethearts) Far Away - Carly Rae Jepsen song - how do you go from friends to lovers to exes to friends to maybe…Featuring Pierre faking a relationship, sadness, healing, and relearning how to love- Background: one fake pairing with Pierre, two background pairings, various other background characters - Pierre POV

(Mississippi Coast fic) Part ONE of the go find yourself series (does not have a happy ending, but part two will) - Pierre is floating through life, trying to make it work, put his pieces back together, he lands in a bar on the Mississippi coast somehow. Featuring found family, grief, healing, and letting someone go - Background: one pairing, three others - Pierre POV

The second fic in this series is set in the future and is told from Charles POV. It’s going to be an ouchy.

Witch fic has been something banging around in my brain for over a year and then Hozier released Begin Again and ruined my life. The meltdown that @duquesademiel and @river-ocean and I had over it was…nuclear. The premise of the fic is that Pierre and Charles are in a coven of witches who long ago “discovered immortality”. They die and come back again and again. Except one time…Charles does not come back. It’s absolutely brutal but it does have a happy ending!

[kithtaehyung]

RYEN u really wanted to break my heart huh,, u wanted me to feel soul crushing sadness from this interlude didn't u. it's a double edged sword getting into yoongi's head bc i know i def wanted to see what he was thinking and how he feels about/around reader and what went down at basketball but poor baby :(

it's so upsetting that he thinks so poorly of himself and that he feels like he isn't enough ,, he puts so much thought into how reader must have been treated badly in the past and recognizes when she starts feeling off because of it but then turns it on himself saying he should do better :( like BABE ?? who hurt him in the past i'm so ready to fight for him he's doing his absolute best like GOD when he's thinking about his GUITAR. no. i'm stopping that right here. it doesn't exist in my brain i just erased it i can't take it. someone give him head scratches rn lay him down and treat him gently for a minute he's so. GOD RYEN i'm actually going to cry thinking about it i'm moving on LMAO

i'm really excited to go back and reread this side by side with all the other pars because getting to see both perspectives and compare how reader and yoongi were feeling/thinkng,,, they're so similar fr. i wish they could see that they're both MORE than good enough for each other and that they're both feeling the same way </3 me telepathically communicating that to them rn it'll get through eventually don't worry i got this !!

but seriously, from what i can remember from my (v recent hehe) reread,, everything ties in so well and adding that extra Flavor and Depth to the scenes UGH i love it here, seriously. i don't think i've ever felt such a strong emotional connection to a published book, let alone a fanfic?? and i'm a bitch who ANNOTATES books, ryen. highlighters, sticky tabs, notes in margins. there's just something about your writing and the way you weave everything together and build on top of the past things you've written that hits just right. it all feels so relatable and real it's DELICIOUS.

i loved seeing the friendship between jimin and yoongi !! i wish yoongi would LISTEN TO HIM tho fr,, reader is so into you AND YOU'RE SO HAPPY WITH HER LIKE ?? i get that bro (did i officially announce myself as team namjoon is bro bc yes) finding out is something that he's worried about, and i get that fr. bro has been there to watch all of yoongi's mistakes, it makes sense that bro would be concerned and maybe even upset, especially about them keeping it a secret for so long but like,, bro even dom admitted that yoongi was different with her. i rlly think he would come around after he saw them together bc god they just,, they both are just so good to each other and they care so much for each other </3 heart hurty

anyways here take the lines that i would highlight tf out of if this was anywhere that i could do that lol

"Just this once. Let him be the only one that worries." OUCHIES

“I did what I thought you would do.” yes yoongi would in fact go to the ends of the earth to make sure she was safe thank you for pointing that out and hurting me jimin .

“What are you gonna do once you stop?” um hahaha who said there had to be an end ahahahahahaha nooooo ahaha stop jimin ahaha dw i'll distract bro for the rest of forever he will simply not find out !!!

"What the fuck are you doing to him?  If you came up to him right now? He’d give you anything you wanted. All you’d have to do is say it." i am punching a wall right now btw :-) "Once a space that saw many destructive arguments and silent, unfinished meals, your appearance started giving it new life. New energy. Energy that he can physically feel as he passes it on the way to his room." i can't take this one actually "Lips at your temple, he vows, “That won’t happen again, love.” okay so this was a personal attack and i can't accept this i want to get you back for this so bad i am crying i can't take this this is kind of like embarrassingly long and if i tell u i've reread this 2.5 times already you WILL pretend it's been longer than a day. ig i could copy paste this into the feedback form but <3 it's already here so i will apologize for the wall of text . i did indeed get carried away but such is life -loona anon (should have a character limit fr)

LOONA ISTG THIS REVIEW IS DAMN DELICIOUS. apologies for not getting to it sooner! i needed the right amount of energy to respond bc holy hell you typed so much and i appreciate it sm :')) did i wanna break hearts? yes and no. i didn't wanna write yoongi's inner thoughts like that, but that's what they were. so i didn't wanna disrespect his character by writing it lightly. rest under the cut bc i have an essay lol

you're right. it's completely upsetting to know this is how he thinks of himself. whatever happened before seemed to really stick with him, to the point where he doesn't even give himself credit for anything good - only the bad (like being the reason the threat was made, etc.) when he's thinking about the guitar? i wanted to cry and i did tear up a lot. so. yeah. i understand if you cry while thinking about that bc i know i did. especially considering the song he played for reader in dalo.

OOOH yes!! they were actually meant to be read side by side if you have the time/resources to try it. i had to make sure they lined up well, despite their thought flows being different. i hope your telepathy works! the flavor worked? i'm glad.

oh my gosh.. a strong emotional connection to something i've created? that is one of the highest compliments i could ever receive, truly. maybe it can be printed someday so you can annotate it and keep it forever! i would love to hear commentary like that. i'm glad it's all woven together in a coherent way. i'm having so much fun and i hope you continue to enjoy the rest!

JIMIN AND YOONGI MY BOYSSSSSS UGH. i love them so fcking much it is absurd. (putting you on team joonie!) i know we all see that reader and yoongi have huge chemistry and care between each other, and the people that are around them enough can see it. but the thing with bro is that he's not actively looking for that. all he sees is his best friend and his sister, and they've had banter between each other ever since the old days. coupled with the fact that he's been gone and is thinking about so many other things. i just think it would be one of the last things on his mind, whereas people like dom and jimin can see the slipping bc yoongi and reader act different without bro around.

now for your annotation worthy lines:

"Just this once. Let him be the only one that worries." YEAH THIS ONE BROKE ME.

“I did what I thought you would do.” oh god... yeah. you picked the hard hitters, didn't you.

“What are you gonna do once you stop?” REALITY IS A BIIIIICH

"What the fuck are you doing to him?  If you came up to him right now? He’d give you anything you wanted. All you’d have to do is say it." i am punching a wall right now btw :-)

"Once a space that saw many destructive arguments and silent, unfinished meals, your appearance started giving it new life. New energy. Energy that he can physically feel as he passes it on the way to his room." you know what they say about unfinished meals in literature...

"Lips at your temple, he vows, “That won’t happen again, love.” HE SAID IT AGAIN. HE DID. THE SECOND TIME AND ITS WHEN READER IS ASLEEP dklfjdkvj

thank you so much for all of this, love. i thoroughly enjoyed it all and read it a shameful amount of times before finally putting this hopefully coherent response together. seriously, thank you!

[staymay5]

just a small cut

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, established Steven Grant x Reader

word count: 905

warnings: head ouchies

a/n: marcs turn. takes place prior to Jakes but you don’t need to read that one to get this one. just wanted to spread the love. unbetaed. once again not a lot of plot. just a lot off feelings. spice but like how salt is technically a spice. 

It’s the way you grab his face between your hands. It’s the way he can’t hear you over the ringing in his ears. It’s the way your lips are pulled down at the edges, your eyes searching, worry lines etching their way under your skin. And he feels so small, so inadequate there. 

“Oh Marc,” you’re sighing and turning away. He’s swallowing. There’s a lump in his throat that’s been there as long as he can remember and it’s not going away. “You’re bleeding. You have to be more careful.”

Then your back. It’s so sudden. Between blinks almost. Raising a hand up to his face. And he startles. Of course he does. Embarrassing. ‘Snuck up on us there didn she?’ “Shut up Steven.” “Be nice,” you're admonishing him.  Embarrassing. He knows you’re right. Steven won’t hold it against him though. But you didn’t know him the way Steven did. Heck you didn’t even know him the way you knew Steven. It’s Steven’s fucking fault. Can’t walk more than two feet without running into his shit. He’s biting his lip. He hates hydrogen-peroxide. You're biting your lip too? Mirroring maybe. He’s tugging at it with his thumb as soon as he notices, “you’re going to chew a hole through your face.” “Am not,” you’re pouting. You’re mad at him. He’s certain of it. It’s Steven’s fault. Steven’s stupid idea that you two should hang out and get to know each other. You’re rubbing cream on his forehead now. “You don’t have to do that.” “Kind of do unless you want an infection,” you’re rolling your eyes at him. Steven’s reflection similarly relegated to the ground looks amused more than anything else- wait you’re frowning. What did he miss? “I mean, If I’m bothering you, I could… Do you want to do it yourself?” “It’s alright.” 

Nope, he’s made it worse. Say something. Nothing comes to him. He looks to Steven. Stevens looking away. Come on. Times like these he missed being Moon Knight. In a way that had been a simpler life. “Bear with me almost done,” you’re mumbling under your breath. 

“A band-aid?”

“Ummm… yes?”

“ok.”

You quickly smooth it across the wound leaving a gentle kiss on top of it. It startles him again. You're apologizing. He can’t really hear you over the ringing in his ears. Your cheeks are pink and your hands are moving all over the place and- 

He’s grabbing them, his brain catching up a moment after he’s already done it, “can you stop that.” “Sorry-”

“And that,” he’s practically huffing and then there’s silence. 

You’re both just sitting there. He’s still holding your hands. He’s thinking about letting them go but you just look so damn sad.

“Whelp, I sure fucked things up didn’t I,” you’re not quite saying it to him. Maybe you’re saying it to Steven? Maybe to yourself? He’s trying to think but your foot keeps tapping on one of Steven’s stupid stools. 

“How? I’m the one who literally face planted.”

“Running away from me.” “I wasn’t running-” “Very briskly walking-” “Stop,” he huffs. He’s still holding your arms though he’s sitting up now. You’re a lot. He’s pretty sure anyone would be a lot for him. He’s not used to this. Not used to someone in his space. Not used to someone caring for him. He thinks one day maybe he’ll put that into words. Maybe not. He never could with Layla. “Are you okay?”

You’re so quiet. He almost thinks he’s imagined it at first. He has to think for a long moment. Was he okay? Absolutely not. He’s an incredibly fucked up individual currently ruining his best friends life. Not what you were asking about. “It’s just a small cut.” “But are you okay?” “Are you?” “Asked you first.” You’re so close he can feel your breath. He doesn’t have the answer. To someone else he’d say he was fine. That can’t work forever. Steven’s pretty besotted with you. To be honest Marc’s fairly attached himself. It’s the small things. The quiet things. The way you look out for him when you think he’s not looking. So he kisses you. His lips gently press to yours. Just for a second or two. As long as he can bear. Then he pulls back. “I wasn’t running away. Just needed space.”

“You were running a little,” you’re teasing him. Your pupils are blown and your lips are fighting a smile. He peeks around you at Steven who’s still very pointedly not looking at them. “What do you think Steven?” ‘I wouldn’t call it running per say.’

“Guess that settles it,” Marc shrugs, “two against one. I’m a little chicken.”

“Thank you Steven,” you say towards the mirror with a cheeky look on your face. Marc decides not to tell you he was the one to vote in your favor. You’re helping him up from the ground playfully clucking at him. 

“Thanks Steven,” he says honestly. Thank you for allowing me to hide behind you. You must have thought he was being sarcastic because you’re laughing. But it’s the way you’re gently touching his arm. It’s the way you’re pushing his hair back to the way he likes. It’s the way he knows you’d never hurt him. You’d never hurt them. It’s your phantom touch when you give him space. It’s the way that he thinks maybe he doesn’t need that much space after all.  Tagging: @rmoonstoner​

[austajunk]

Sad times ahead, but how do you think Nagito mourns Chiaki once he's out of Despair? How do you think he feels knowing his Chapter 5 plan ended with the deletion of her ai reincarnation?

Ouchies.

However, I don’t think Chiaki can be deleted. Even if Hajime is the only one seeing her themselves, the things she says confirms that it’s her classmates’ hearts that keep her alive. That their memories have the power to bring her to them.

Personally, I think Nagito is haunted by Chiaki. It’s pretty evident when he tries to keep Hajime and Chiaki out of his little fantasy world where everything is perfect in his supposed vision. But the thing is that it’s not. Nagito knows he’s missing something. He doesn’t want to think about how those two make him question his wants and ideals. He doesn’t want to feel that pain of loss again. It speaks louder than Nagito can actually say with his mouth.

The thing about Nagito Komaeda is that he is a very truthful person but his emotions are just not something he can reconcile with. They hurt so bad all his life because his luck hurts people around him. He buries that deeply and refuses to acknowledge it beyond “Well they must not have been very worthy then or this wouldn’t have happened.” It’s led to this lack of empathy inside of him to protect himself and partially from a mental brain disorder he has.

And I think losing Chiaki is different for him. It literally shatters his mind. It’s overwhelming that someone who spent her time protecting him and actually putting worth into him gets killed so awfully, that her Hope is snuffed, that Junko had won. As for AI Chiaki, it’s clear that Nagito is rather protective and considerate of her, that he values her way before her other classmates do… only to eventually cause her death which Chiaki accepts. She doesn’t even blame Nagito once.

All of this is just a long way to say that I don’t think Nagito can mourn Chiaki. I think he still feels her like Hajime felt her, I think he can see her message to him unlike everyone else. I think he holds a lot of pain in his heart but he would never wear that on his sleeves unless his relationship with Hajime and the others eventually got him to a healthier and more empathetic mindset to explain how he truly feels.

There’s this really beautiful post series comic by @ariespetal that I don’t have the link to right now that details what a conversation between Hajime and Nagito might look like as they consider their mutual loss of Chiaki which led to their future together and god they just really nailed it on the head! I love that piece with my heart and soul.

Otherwise, that’s all I can say. Nagito carries Chiaki with him like Hajime.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hi!!

Could I maybe ask for a fluffy reading of fate with Childe?

I love this event and all the options but there's a few I liked and I couldn't pick so I thought I'd ask you! I'm excited to see what you write!! (If you write this request anyway 😅)

Thank you!! :D

The Emperor (guidance), The Magician (transformation), The Lovers (soul mates) :: childe x GN reader | destined fate

Warning: injury (bone fracture - ankle (small fracture, not too serious, but ouchie)), bridal carry mention, Childe being snarky/cheeky, mentions of combat (reader against whopperflower)

“Put me down.”

“Nope.”

“Please, put me down?”

“Keep trying, it’s cute,” Childe smirked but you turned away at the sight of his dangerous eyes.

The world moved around you but not because you asked it too. Instead, you were being forced to trudge forward in the arms of the one person you’d wished hadn’t found you. Of course, secretly, you were glad to be in this situation but there was no way you’d admit that to him. “I don’t need to be babied,” you huffed, arms crossing, fingers accidently pushing against his chest before retreating back to the uncomfortable position they were in moments ago.

“Ha, and here I thought I was your knight in shining armor come to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued. I had it under control.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” The scenery came to a sudden stop but before you had a chance to inquire why, Childe was placing you on the ground. “He-hey! What are you-?”

“Let’s head back.” Childe gestured with his head toward the long, long path while you wobbled unsteady on your legs. It was so irritating to watch him steps away, arms crossing while your hands pawed for his strength. The pressure on your ‘totally not, no way, laughably wrong,’ broken ankle caused you to wince. A quick hiss of air escaped your teeth as you took a step forward.

Frustrated, annoyed, desperate and in pain, you bit your lip and mumbled something at Childe. He didn’t move, instead, he leaned forward as if to tell you he hadn’t heard what you said. Sighing, you looked toward the sky but kept your head steady and with a clinched jaw you spoke, “I can’t walk …” Childe moved his hand in a circular motion - ‘please go on’ - “Ugh, can you, you know, help me?”

There was a long pause, a heavy aired pause as you stood unsteady waiting for him to answer you. When he did there was a flash in his eyes that made your stomach flip - ‘the feelings of love and hate are so, so similar,’ you’d one read.

“So,” Childe began, strong arms hoisting you back into position. The feeling of his fingers pushing against your skin, even over layers of clothes, made you run hot. It was so easy how much he affected you. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s not that big-of-a-deal.”

“Sure, sure, but tell me anyway. I’m curious.” He eyed you intensely, not caring about the path ahead of him. Sometimes it was like all he could see was you and somehow that thought made you swallow nervously.

“Um, well …” 

How were you going to tell him that you’d gotten into a fight with a wopperflower only to be caught in it’s cryo trap. It wouldn’t have been that bad, even expert fighters made mistakes like that, but you knew how to get out of it. Still, it was like your brain turned off when it happened, and because of your lapse in judgment, a poor, stupid calculation of your ability, you’d maneuvered yourself into victory only to be rewarded with a fractured angle bone. Childe was still staring at you while you debated on telling him the truth or a lie; in the end, you told him the truth. 

“ —do-don’t laugh at me,” you muttered, cheeks burning after finishing your story.

“Why would I laugh at you?”

“Because it was a rookie mistake,” you explained while you pinched your arm between your fingers. It was disappointing enough that you’d hurt yourself over something so small but it was even worse to explain how it happened to the person who trained you.

“‘I should have known better.’ That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?” You looked at him but all you saw was a considerate smile staring back at you. The smirk, the sass, the cocky expression you expected to see was gone. All you saw was his kindness. “Don’t worry about it too much. Bones heal.”

“Yeah but …”

“Will you make that mistake again?”

Confused, you squinted but when he asked you the question a second time you thought hard about how to answer. After the fact - you know, while you cursed at your self over your throbbing ankle - you’d learned where you’d went wrong. Trying to free yourself from the whopperflowers cryo trap shouldn’t have been your priority. Instead, you should have waited for it to approach and hit it with the final blow, then the ice would have faded and let you free. You’d let your panic take control which you wouldn’t let happen again. “No, next time I’ll know what to do.”

“Exactly. Every challenge has it’s lessons, you either face them and learn from it or you let it consume you.” Childe looked toward the path but you swore his head was lifted slightly higher than normal. “Now, I don’t recall you being the type to let a whoperflower win.”

“Of course not!”

“Haha! That’s what I thought.” He smiled but the action felt more powerful than it was. Thinking back on all the interaction you’d ever had with Childe, yes, of course they were sometimes irritating beyond belief, but never once were they lacking in support. You wondered why.

“Hey so —“

“Mmm?”

“How did you find me?” Childe’s smile faltered for a moment before taking on a practiced grin. You’d recognized the difference between his real smile and fake a long time ago; there was no mistaking the glisten in his eyes when he was truly happy. “Where you following me?”

“What’s that over there?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Emboldened, you pulled at his scarf to bring his attention back to you. “You followed me didn’t you,” you deduced you were right as the life in his eyes drifted away on the wind.

“I … might … have.”

“You promised you’d let me do this on my own!” you exclaimed and lifted yourself in his arms, face now a few inches away from his. He compensated accordingly by pressing his hand into your back but wasn’t sure how to slow the rising color in his cheeks.

“H-ha-ha, now hold on. I let you handle it … mostly.” Shocked, you shook your head before collapsing on his shoulder in defeat. Your exhausted hands dangled over his back, arms resting over his shoulders as your face became buried in him. You would have been more upset if you weren’t slowly becoming overwhelmed by his scent. If you weren’t slipping further into your feelings at the movement of his hand against your back or the secure strength that held you against him. 

It was so unfair, you should be mad at him. It was so unfair, he was so unfair.

“You have to let me try on my own next time,” you mumbled into his scarf, half hoping he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating or how shaky your voice had become.

“I know, I know,” he replied as he adjusted you in his grip. He was about to make some light-hearted, halfcocked joke when the feeling of your fingers sliding across his back and the pressure of your arms closing in on him made him falter. “… I will,” he began, eyes narrowing and hand sliding to the back of your neck, “When I stop worrying about you … I will,” he whispered and turned his face to your hair.

Fate Made Event (May8-31) | Anthology

[honalele]

Cracks in the Ceiling

Ranboo stared at the ceiling of his of his bedroom. He was lying on the floor, trying to numb the emotions bubbling in his stomach. It had been over sixteen years since he last saw this ceiling. Sixteen years for him, but only seven months for the ceiling. He wondered which had changed more.

The ceiling had a few cracks in it. Ranboo traced them with his finger. Were those cracks already there, or did they develop while he was gone? Ranboo racked his brain trying to remember. He should’ve paid closer attention.

The door opened from downstairs.

“Michael I’m home!”

“Daddy!”

“Aww, come here. Sup little man. Daddy’s gotta put away the groceries.”

“Michael help?”

“Yes of course! Take these they’re not too heavy.”

“Boo help too?”

“Boo doesn’t like chores. His ouchie hurts too much.”

“Boo has no more ouchie.”

“What are you talking about little man? Careful, don’t drop those.”

Ranboo hadn’t moved from his place on the floor. Tears blurred his view of the ceiling, but he didn’t let them run. It had been so long since he last heard Tubbo’s voice. He thought he’d be ready to see the boy, but he was nervous. How do you talk to someone you died for? What words would ever heal the gap of seven months?

Ranboo blinked his tears away and watched the cracks in his ceiling as Tubbo and Michael put away the groceries.

“Last one daddy!”

“Michael put that down. It’s too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Ow!” Michael started to cry.

“What did I tell you? Let me see.”

“I’m sorry daddy.” Michael sobbed.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be careful next time. Here, I’ll get you a band-aid.”

Ranboo’s stomach turned to stone when he heard the creaking floorboards of the staircase.

He stayed frozen on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There was a pause. The air went dry. The north had never been so silent.

Ranboo felt Tubbo’s presence move across the room. He opened a chest and dug around for a bit. Ranboo’s throat felt like cobwebs. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. Tubbo found what he was looking for, closed the chest, and went back downstairs to help Michael.

Tubbo’s voice was different now. He spoke softly to Michael, muttering things like, “hold still” and, “I know it hurts”.

Ranboo listened to the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt too numb to move, but he couldn’t stay on the floor forever.

“There we go. All better.” Tubbo said. Michael thanked him and there was a brief silence that was interrupted by the sound of someone turning on the tap. Plates and silverware clanged together.

Ranboo blinked and took a deep breath. It took every last bit of strength to pull his body up from the floor. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way downstairs. He had to duck under the doorway. He wasn’t sure why it was built so low.

Tubbo was doing the dishes. He didn’t look over. Not even once.

“Tubbo I-” He was interrupted by a loud crash of silverware being tossed into the sink. Tubbo kept cleaning.

Ranboo wasn’t quite sure what this was. Tubbo could be so hard to read sometimes. After Aimsey convinced Dream to revive him, she told Ranboo that Tubbo must have changed. That he couldn’t possibly be the same person from before. But this looked pretty familiar to Ranboo. Tubbo wasn’t an easy person to know, but that didn’t mean Ranboo cared about him any less.

“It’s summer. I saw the snow melting outside.” Ranboo said. Tubbo continued to ignore him. “Of course, not all the snow will melt. It’s always freezing out here.” Ranboo took a few small steps forward.

“I told her not to do it.” Tubbo said under his breath.

“What?” Ranboo asked, but he was silenced by Tubbo throwing the plate he was cleaning into the sink and frantically drying his hands. Ranboo followed as Tubbo rushed over to his winter coat, threw it on, grabbed his sword, and headed outside. The boy quickly made his way through the snow, tying the belt with his scabbard along the way.

“Tubbo wait.” Ranboo caught up to him and pulled his arm, causing Tubbo to fumble his belt and accidentally drop the sword into the snow.

“Let me go.” Tubbo ordered as he tried to pull away. But Ranboo wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Tubbo struggled to pry Ranboo’s hand from his arm, but Ranboo grabbed Tubbo’s other arm so that he couldn’t. Then, Tubbo turned both his hands into fists and began pushing Ranboo away. The pushing turned into punching, but Ranboo didn’t budge. He studied Tubbo’s face, his gaze never meeting Ranboo’s. Not even once. Tubbo wasn’t hitting to get away, nor was he angry. Every hit seemed harder on Tubbo than it did on Ranboo.

Eventually, the boy exhausted himself. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Ranboo.

“How could she do this?” He sobbed.

Ranboo gently wrapped his arms around Tubbo, and this time he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“I hate everyone so much and I don’t know why.”

A cool wind washed over them. A sea of leaves rustled beyond the fence.

“You were all I had. They always kill everything I have.”

Ranboo held onto Tubbo as if the world were crumbling around them. He wanted to say that everything was alright. He wanted to comfort him, and tell him things would go back to normal.

But deep down he knew the ceiling never had so many cracks.

[ohgollythatsuh]

-okay i am an avid lover of pierced ears jesper. and like. I think he pierced his ears right in the early days of being in Ketterdam because he was doing a 180 as a person so he pierced his ears for the New Look (tm)

-the Vibe (tm), if u will

-but I think that on the boat ride to the ice court, inej and nina are BORED and nina has the bright idea to give jesper more piercings on his ears

-and jesper’s immediately like FUCK YEAH because he’s been dying in this boat. Absolutely losing it. A restless flighty mess

-so he’s jumping at the chance at doing something, anything, (and getting more piercings n lookin hotter is a fun bonus)

-so they go hide out in one of the cots and nina is bringing out a stash of her earrings (that kaz had specifically told her NOT to bring as it was unnecessary but she’ll be damned if she listened to each and every one of kaz’s orders)

-and inej is sterilizing some needles from the first aid kit, and jesper’s just sittin there tapping away and ready to look hotter

-and they’ve begun piercing. jesper is like “OW ow”ing every once in a while, but nina haphazardly uses her abilities to keep him calm and make sure he’s not in TOO much pain but obviously he’s still gonna get the ouchies

-and then wylan walks in

-(this is the cot he goes in when he needs some time alone, no one usually goes in this cot)

-he’s like “wtf r u guys doing???”

-and they all immediately beam at him and their one shared brain cell has a beautiful thought and they’re all like “wylan let us pierce your ears”

-this man is HORRIFIED

-terrible fear of needles. When he was very young (long before van eck started becoming a horribly abusive parent) he would literally screech at the top of his lungs when it was vaccine time, definitely attempted murder to stay away from the needles

-so he’s like “uhh…. No thanks”

-but they’re all like “AWWWW CMONNN” and giving their stupid lil puppy eyes

-and jesper’s like “it’s alright merchling, if you’re scared I’ll hold your hand the whole time”

-and like. He knows he should be annoyed because it sounds like he’s being mocked but the thought of that is too tempting to decline

-so. Here they are. Wylan grasping onto jesper’s hands for dear life as nina tries to keep him calm and inej is sterilizing more needles

-“saints, wylan, your noodle arms should NOT be this strong” —jesper, upon having his hands crushed

-wylan does not feel sorry

-the moment inej is ready to pierce his ear, wylan FREAKS THE FUCK OUT like he is NOT having it, he channels Baby Rage Vaccine Wylan from all those years ago and they were NOT ready for him to be so uncharacteristically strong

-“where is all this strength when we need it on the job??????”

“AT ANY MOMENT I WILL START BITING”

-…

-so this is how it leads to kaz walking into the cot after hearing shouts

-what he is met with is a rabid wylan, jesper struggling to keep his arms pinned and jaw clamped shut, nina sitting on his legs and her arms raised as if she is using her grisha abilities, and inej hovering over him with a needle to his ear. They are all yelling frantically.

-kaz sighs and immediately exits the room

-in the end, wylan gets ONE ear pierced before they decide this has become a DANGEROUS mission for the general public

-nina gives him a really cute dangly earring though and he thinks it’s very very cute

-needless to say, jesper inej and nina have come out of this experience with a newfound respect and genuine fear for wylan

[titan-fodder]

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 ]

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so I dont know if this is correct but headcanons of the brothers if the MC asks if they have eaten human meat before?? You can ignore this if your uncomfortable with this, have a great day! :))

I only don't write certain triggering things like sewerslide, self ouchie and forced devils tango - I know these are very non serious ways to censor these sensative topics but I would like to avoid triggering anyone

I know some people just shut down just by hearing it or seeing the word and it's really unfortunate

So yes, I'll take your request!

Warning: food, blood, gore-ish?, eating, teeth, human consumption, hallucinations and angst

It was dinner; you were having a fatty steak with garlic bread and a creamy seasoned sauce that the meat was cooked in and chewy dough balls filled cheese. The brothers wanted a meat dish and it was your turn to cook so you got human world ingredients to give everyone what they wanted.

You weren't sure what was eating at you. For the past few days stress as been at an all time high! You've become irrationality emotional to every situation which didn't help as you were experiencing mini hallucinations and continuous tricks on the eyes.

You hoped cooking and getting your mind off whatever was happening around you would help but it seems to be a futile attempt.

You set the table, making sure to add extra vegetables for asmo and levi. As soon as dinner was announced all the boys came trampling through the halls to reach the table first, Beel beating them by already being at the door. He was waiting there feeling himself drool whilst you cooked. Once everyone was seated you smiled, taking your seat and began to eat.

Your appitete diminished the more you chew. Finding it to be unfufilling. Your stomach felt like a void and the food only made that feeling more present. You poked at your food with a growing frown.

You heard a fleshy squelch.your eyes flickering up to see Satan; his sharp teeth sinking into the steak. He easily ripped it apart letting any sauce from the meat drip down his chin. For most of the demons it was medium rare; blood mixing in with the sauce. You could still see pink on the inside. When he bit into it it looked so soft with left over blood forming at the bite.

It was so fleshy. For a moment the steak slice turned into an arm. Just a slice of human flesh; his fangs ripping into it as if it was nothing. Apart of your arm ached just from the sight.

You shook your head, rapidly blinking. You hesitantly looked back up and it faded back to normal. These kind of hallucinations were popping up more often; you were terrified. It was putting you off food because you couldn't stop seeing it as something disgusting.

Asmo raised his voice, a sound of a knife stabbing down on a plate following it. You looked to see he stabbed the space between Beels fingers as he tried to steal a dough ball. But that didn't stop him, curling a finger around it and quickly detracted his hand. His brother huffed chomping down his vegetables.

Your eyes couldn't leave Beels figure; it was as if you had to see what he was doing.

Once again your eyes focused on the teeth. Beels fangs were the biggest out of Everyone meanwhile Satan's were long and thin. Levi's teeth reminded you of a shark. Mammons were like a cat with the focus on his top fangs. Asmo's teeth were the most human, reminding you of a vampire. Lucifers teeth were like Satan's but not as long. Belphegor was similar to his twin brother.

Your tongue poked along your smooth teeth. A few bumps here and there and the little prick from your canines. It was nothing compared to them.

Time seemed to freeze as his teeth sank into the ball. It squished with the juices from the cheese and the sauce forming on the flesh- flesh? It wasn't flesh. No it was dough. You held back a scream when you saw an eye replace the dough ball. You immediately snapped away your gaze.

"(Y/N), You haven't been eating."

All of them looked at you. Noticing how little was eaten on your plate. You could see the concern on their faces but your brain slowed. The words leaving your mouth before you even realized it.

"Have any of you eaten a human before?"

The air became thick. It made you choke, a knot forming in your throat as you stared at your plate. Waiting for their answer. Hoping they'll answer. Why aren't they saying anything?!

"That's an unpleasant question, what's prompted this?"

You wanted to say you weren't sure but then memories flashed before your eyes. The threats you've gotten from Beel, asmo telling you're delicious after nipping your skin, mammons stomach suddenly growling after hiding his head in your skin. This what has been bothering you.

You were frightened - no terrified you were going to end up on this table. Striped and ready on a silver platter for them to dig in. Would they do it whilst your alive? Desiring to feel you squirm between their teeth or would they be merciful? Killing and cooking you. A Morbid part of you wished they made you into a good meal if they did that; to not let your body go to waste and mean nothing other than something to tear into.

You felt sick. Your stomach churning the more you thought but you couldn't shut off your brain.

"Just.....curious, you're demons afterall so I thought it would make sense."

All of them were uncomfortable. They knew what they've done in the past and some in the more recent times. But what is recent and past to beings who've forgotten time? Where procrastination could last centuries and no one would bat an eye. What was hundreds years for humans could feel like a week to them.

"I'm going to tell them-" Belphie piped in but immediately got shut down by his brothers.

"don't ya dare even utter another word, you can't frighten them like this-!"

"Are you crazy?! They're never going to want to be around me again!"

"Don't be disgusting, this shouldn't even be a topic we talk about right now!"

"Keep your damn mouth shut."

"You'll frighten them, they already look unwell."

"That's enough, all of you, you're not doing anything to soothe-"

"Would you eat me?!" You suddenly stood up, looking at all of them with an expression of fear and determination.

They just stared at you absolutely stunned by your question.

"No way! We wouldn't do such a thing to you! We care too much about ya to do something like!"

"so if I didn't mean anything would you eat me? Atleast give me some comfort and tell me you'd kill me before you did it-!"

But none of them could give you that comfort. They knew they eat it with their prey still crying and thrashing for their lives.

"You don't need to worry about such a thing, you're going to experience no harm from us or anyone in the Devildom, we've made sure of it."

You shook your head. "Just answer my questions! If you're innocent then you'll just be able to say no! So do it! Say no!"

"We've all eaten a human but since the exchange program was planned we were banned from doing it - we've lost the taste for human flesh or... atleast I have."

His eyes skimmed over his brothers faces, lingering on the ones he knows still hunger for it.

"I think I need to take a break from here....…just need to get away-"

Your voice trailed off, your vision becoming fuzzy. Their faces contorted and stretched into monstrous beings. You stumbled back before your eyes rolled back, your body falling to the floor.

"(Y/N)-!!!"

When you finally woke up you weren't in the house of lamentation. Simeon crouched beside you, placing a damp towel on your cheek. You whined at the cold feeling; it made your burning skin sting.

you weren't sure how or when you got here. The angel helped you slowly lay down, caressing your skin.

"It's okay, Solomon will be back soon, Diavolo said it'll be best you go back home for a little while, don't worry I'll be sure to visit."

You nodded, your head feeling like a sack of bricks balancing on your neck. You let your eyes close as Simon kept brushing the towel on your exposed skin. Humming an unfamiliar tune.