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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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queen-haq · 2 years ago

Text

Fic: Alive - Part 11 + 12

Summary: Aidan traced the thin chain around his neck, rubbing the infinity pendant between his fingers. No longer a symbol of their everlasting love, it was something he touched in anger when he thought of Sage. It was the only thing of hers that still remained with him after eight years, the last possession which still connected them together. When he 4did find Sage again, and he would no matter how long it took, he planned to destroy the pendant - and her.

Taking place across two timelines, Alive tells the story of Aidan and Sage, high school sweethearts driven apart by who they are and where they come from. Once enemies then lovers, their relationship runs full circle when they meet again in the present, now prepared to destroy each other.

My Masterlist (contains links to previous parts)

Rating: NSFW

They stayed up for hours, fooling around, talking and laughing until the sun came up bringing with it the inevitable blanket of slumber which Sage refused to give into. She had experienced the full gamut of emotions tonight, from the depths of despair to the highs of sheer ecstasy, and Aidan had been with her throughout it all. The last few hours had been surreal and strange in its newness, she didn't want it to ever end.

Aidan yawned behind her, clutching her tighter, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Sleepy?"

"Nope," he yawned again.

She smiled to herself. "Can I ask you something?"

"Nope."

"Do you know any other words?"

"Nope." He nuzzled her neck.

Turning around, she tapped his nose gently with her index finger. "How many girls have you slept with?"

A heavy sigh escaped him, revealing his exasperation. "Do we really have to talk about this?"

"Yeah, I want to know."

"Girls always say that but they don't really want to know."

"I'm not like other girls," she huffed, offended by the generalisation.

He cocked his eyebrow. "No, you're really not." Charming smile in place, he tilted forward to drop a soft peck on her lips.

"So." She levelled him with a keen gaze. "Tell me."

"Not going to make it easy for you. You have to guess."

"How am I supposed to do that?

"Your problem, babe. Not mine."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Ten."

"Really? That's it?"

She attempted to push him away but he grabbed her hand instead, placing it over his chest. There was no way she could stay angry, especially when he coddled her with a playful smirk. Drawing lazy circles on his skin, she returned his smile. "Was I even a little close?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"That's a lot of girls, you know."

"I know." A pensive expression crossed his face. "And no, you weren't close."

"Is it less?" she asked hopefully.

"What if it's more?"

"That." She paused to take a deep breath. "Would freak me out." She smoothed her finger over his furrowed forehead. "But, whatever, I'll deal."

"Two," he replied. "And a half, I guess. That's it. That's the number."

"What the hell is a half?”

"Shut up."

Chuckling, he tried to kiss her again but she placed her palm over his mouth, blocking his attempts. "Who were they?"

"Well..." he hesitated for a moment, swallowing audibly. "Cat. But you already knew that."

Obviously. Her half-sister was always the elephant in the room with them.

"And this other chick at soccer camp before her."

"Really? That's it?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You sound disappointed."

"No, just surprised. I was expecting way more after everything I heard."

"Because gossip is never wrong, right?"

He had a point, especially considering all the rumours about her. "Yeah, you're right," she sighed.

"But that doesn't mean I want you going around telling people the truth."

"Why?" she grinned. "'cause you want the girls to keep thinking you're a player?"

"Damn right."

"Maybe I will tell them the truth."

He shot her a warning glance. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Or what?" she asked, jutting her chin out in defiance.

"Or." He granted her an evil smirk. "You'll regret it."

"Whatever."

Suddenly he started to tickle her. As she giggled and struggled against him, breathless and panting for air, he pinned her underneath, bestowing a smug smirk as he hovered above. "Say you're sorry!"

"Fine, fine!" she squealed. "I'm sorry!"

At last he stopped, pressing himself down on her and peppering her jaw with soft, wet kisses as she caught her breath. Running her fingers through his hair, she left a tender kiss on his forehead. "You still haven't told me about the half."

It was a while before he spoke, his face nestled in the crook of her neck. "After Cat and I broke up, I just wanted to forget everything. Got wasted at a party, hooked up with this girl. Everything was going down the way it was supposed to until she saw the scars and freaked out."

Despite his attempts at being nonchalant, the pain he felt was obvious. She wished there was some way she could erase all that anguish in him, make him realise he was worth so much more than the wounds that marked him, but the only reassurance she could give was a gentle hug. "You must have been really trashed to hook up with someone like that. She sounds like a fucking idiot."

His gaze wavered from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes again. "You think so?"

"Well, you do have really horrible taste in girls."

"Must be why I like you."

"I'm the exception, jackass."

"If you say so, jackass," he retorted, mimicking her voice.

She smacked him lightly. So as not to crush her with his weight, he slid half his body off of her, resting his head on her shoulder. No longer having the energy to stay awake, Sage reluctantly closed her eyes and gave into the fatigue that soon took over. Shortly after, with Aidan's arms tucked around her and his soft breath humming in her ears, she fell asleep.

*****

It was almost three in the afternoon when Sage woke up. Yawning, she stretched out her arms and felt a twinge of soreness between her legs, a sensation that was new to her. Remaining in place, she thought back to everything that happened last night and a slow blush heated her cheeks. A part of her expected to feel regret, maybe even embarrassment about how uninhibited she'd acted with Aidan, but there was nothing of that sort. Instead, a smile formed across her face, growing wider when she noticed the note he had left beside her.

Hey babe, went to school. Didn't want to wake you up. I'll see you tonight.

– Jackass

School wasn't something she had to worry about for the next three days, thanks to the suspension that was handed down to her as punishment. Reminded of the fight and the reason she had attacked Tish in the first place, Sage threw the blanket aside and slid off the bed, determined to scour every inch of this place to find if anything else was missing.

A short time later while still in the midst of searching she was interrupted by a knock on the door. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was close to six . Expecting Aidan, she practically ran to the door and swung it open only to find Theo waiting for her on the other side. From his crooked brows and anxious stance, it was obvious he was nervous. "Theo, what's up?"

He gave her a small smile. "Just came to check up on you. See how you're doing."

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Do you mind if I come in? I need to talk to you about something."

"Um, sure."

She stepped aside, and watched hesitantly as Theo entered her room. This was the first time her half-brother had come into this space, and it felt awkward and intrusive, so very different than whenever Aidan or even David were here.

Sticking his hands in his pocket, Theo turned to face her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What's going on between you and Aidan?"

Stunned, she stood frozen in place. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, I'm not an idiot. I saw Aidan sneaking out of here in the morning."

Embarrassed, Sage averted her gaze.

"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole. I know it hasn't been easy for you here, but if Cat finds out you're fucking around with her ex-boyfriend it's only going to make things worse."

Anger swept over Sage. Who the hell was he to lecture her on her behaviour when Cat had made her life a living hell ever since she moved in with them?

"Before we found out about you, my parents never fought, never argued... and that's all they do now. I know it's not your fault, I get that, but Cat... she sees you as the problem and messing with you makes her feel better."

"Yeah well, I'm tired of being her punching bag."

"I know. I don't blame you. But it will get worse if Cat finds out about you guys. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Sage swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Or maybe that's why you're messing around with Aidan, to get back at Cat. Is that it?"

"No! That's not what I'm doing."

"I hope so, because he doesn't deserve that." Theo fixed his blue eyes on her, studying her intently. "I know he comes across like an asshole, and most of the time he is, but that doesn't mean you can use him or treat him like shit."

"I'm not the one hurting him." She wondered if Theo would acknowledge the horrible truth they both knew about Aidan, but he didn't.

"Good. Because Cat did, and I don't want you doing the same to him."

She didn't know how to respond to that.

Theo's gaze brimmed with concern when he spoke again. "Be careful."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks."

He left shortly after, leaving her alone to ponder his words.

*****

It was almost midnight when Aidan turned up at her place with an apologetic smile and regretful eyes, crawling into bed beside her after she let him in.

"Sorry. I was going to come over earlier but I had soccer practice and my mom was nagging me to spend time with her," he said, tucking his arm around her waist.

She scanned her hand along his back. "It's okay."

"I'll talk to Cat tomorrow, tell her what's going on."

Her hand stilled. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Tension surged through him, which was never a good sign. "Why, you had your fun? You're done with me now?"

Sitting up, she turned to glare at him. "Did I say that?"

"I'm not an idiot!"

"Then stop acting like one."

Furious, he sat up alongside her. "Fine. Tell me why you don't want me to say anything."

"She and her friends are already making my life a living hell as it is. If they find out about us, it's only going to get worse."

"You think I'll let them hurt you?"

"What are you going to do? Watch over me 24/7?"

"I can try."

"That's not what I want!" Spotting the frustration on his face, she realised fighting with Aidan wasn't going to solve anything. She had to take a different approach. Taking a deep breath, she reached out to hold his hand. "I want to be with you, I do, but if others find out, it'll fuck things up even more for me."

"And you think keeping us a secret will solve that for you?" He raised his right eyebrow in disbelief. "Come on, you don't really believe that."

"Just do this for me, please?" she urged, squeezing his hand.

"How long?"

"I don't know..."

A resigned sigh escaped his lips, his gaze finally softened. "Okay, I won't say anything. For now."

She offered him a relieved smile. "Thanks."

"Stop talking already." Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her closer and latched his mouth onto hers.

She didn't know what the future held for them, but for now, they were here, together, and that's all that mattered.

***

Part 12

Later that week Sage knocked on the door before entering her father's private den. Considering he spent most of his time actively avoiding her, she was curious to know why he had summoned her for a meeting. "You wanted to see me?"

Thomas greeted her with a polite smile. "I did. Have a seat."

Sitting across from him, she watched as he shifted in his chair. He appeared restless, which was unusual for him.

"How's your hand?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."

"I hope you haven't been too bored sitting at home."

"I know how to keep busy."

Clearing his throat, he grabbed the bottle of scotch that sat on one corner of his desk and poured himself a drink. "I wanted to discuss something with you."

"What?"

He took a sip of the liquid before pulling out a stack of brochures from one of the drawers below. At first glance, they seemed to be booklets for vacation resorts. Upon closer inspection, however, she realised they were pamphlets of boarding schools.

"I know you haven't had an easy time at Belleville."

The reason for this meeting finally sank in. "You want to send me away."

"You make it sound like I'm forcing you to go to prison."

"Aren't you?"

He picked up one of the brochures and flipped through the pages. "Have you seen some of these places? Take this one, for example. It's in Hawaii. Excellent location, great academic program, and they offer amazing extracurricular activities. Here. Take a look."

She didn't take the pamphlet he offered, instead glaring at him. "Why did you even bring me here? If you were planning to ship me off to a boarding school anyway, I could have just stayed home in Chicago. Why put me through all this?"

"I swore to Layal I would take care of you, and I believed you could be happy here. But it didn't exactly work out the way I hoped." His blue eyes bore into her. "I want things to be easier for you."

The genuine emotion on his face surprised her,she was used to Thomas being distant.

"A fresh start might be exactly what you need."

"It's not that easy."

It was a while before Thomas broke the ensuing silence. "I thought you would be pleased to leave Belleville."

How was she supposed to explain her reasons when she had a hard time believing them herself? Loneliness had taken over her life after Layal's death, making her feel alone and isolated in this strange new place, until Aidan forced his way into her heart, forging a connection so intimate it left her reeling.

Although Aidan could be frustrating at times, often deliberately provoking her just to get a rise out of her, and possessed a dark side which freaked her out at times, there was also a sweetness to him that made her heart ache. He was unlike anyone she had known before, strong but vulnerable, funny, loyal, and rivetingly beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with his looks. Her friends often lamented about how hot Aidan was, but on account of his vicious treatment of her earlier she hadn't been attracted to him. After getting to know him, however, she wanted him with an intensity that was almost terrifying. Just the thought of him made her stomach flutter, set her heart racing. He left her breathless with excitement, filled her with hope, and when she was with him she didn’t think about her mom as much – a fact she still felt guilty about.

"Will you at least think about it?"

Thomas's voice brought her out of her reverie. "I will." She was about to leave when her father reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a tiny jewelry box.

"This is for you."

Hesitation surged through her about accepting a gift from him, it seemed too familiar a gesture, but seeing the unexpected gleam of excitement in his eyes she was reluctant to disappoint him. She opened the box. Lying inside was a replica of her mother's stolen necklace.

"I hope you like it," Thomas said.

Sage glanced up at him. "How did you know to get the same one?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I never wore it after I moved here. You couldn't have known what it looked like."

"You described it to me at the hospital. Besides, it's an infinity symbol. They all look the same."

"No, they don't. They might be similar but there are differences. But this one is exactly like mom's." Although Layal never revealed who had given her the necklace, Sage had always known it was very special to her mom. Often a soft smile would cross Layal's face when she played with it, reminiscing about happier moments. Until now Sage had assumed it was probably a keepsake from her grandparents, but now a sinking realisation set in. "Was it you? Were you the one who gave her the necklace?"

When Thomas finally answered, his voice was cold once again. "Yes."

Her face crumbled. "I can't believe this. You knew I wasn't lying, but you still accused me of imagining things. When I begged you for help, you did nothing!" Her tone quivered as she stood up to confront him. "How could you do that? How could you be so pathetic?"

"Do not speak to me like that. I am your father, Sage."

"No, you're not!" She threw the box back at him. "You're nothing to me."

Tears streaming down her face, she ran out of his office.

*****

Sage grabbed a backpack from her closet and started filling it with clothes, not even bothering to look at the items as she stuffed them in the bag. There was a lump stuck in her throat but she refused to give into the tears lest they slowed her down.

Disgust washed over her when she thought back to her conversation with Thomas. All this time she had been desperate to believe she was the product of a casual fling between Layal and Thomas, a lie that was much easier to accept than the realisation her mom had genuinely loved a weak, unworthy coward incapable of fighting for anything he believed in. Layal had held onto that necklace even after Thomas had abandoned her, even after loving him had cost Layal her whole family. She raised Sage alone, with no support from her family or Thomas while he had simply moved on with his life. Like her mom hadn't mattered at all.

Sage couldn't stay here, not anymore. She couldn't bear to look at the pathetic man who had destroyed her mother's life.

Moving at a fast speed, she was almost done packing when the phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she froze. It was Aidan calling.

Aidan.

Fuck.

He was at the school dance right now, same one she wasn't allowed to attend thanks to her suspension from Belleville. He was supposed to come over after the dance but she forgot all about him.

As the phone continued to ring, she sat back on the bed, clutching the cell to her chest. How was she supposed to tell him she was getting ready to leave, leave this place, this city, leave him? And could she really do that, now that some of the angry fog had lifted and she had a chance to think about it? But no, she had to. She had to, because staying here would be a betrayal to her mom.

After a few minutes, she sent him a text:

"On my way to the airport. Will text you once I get there. Meet me in an hour?"

As expected, he started calling her after receiving the message but she didn't pick up. Grabbing her bag, she turned off the lights and left the pool house.

*****

It was a little after midnight and the airport was practically deserted. The flight to Chicago wasn't scheduled until tomorrow; Sage figured she could stay here till then. Aidan would be here in half an hour, the thought of which filled her with dread, but she resolved to stay strong. It had to be done. There was no other choice. Besides, she needed to give him the car keys or Thomas and his family would assume she had stolen one of their cars.

She was staring off into space several minutes later when Aidan sat down next to her. At first there was silence between them, with her gaze deliberately focused on the floor and his boring into her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving," he repeated the word. "Why?"

"Because I realized how much of an asshole Thomas is tonight, and I just can't stay here anymore."

She expected him to yell, scream, maybe even blow up at her. He did nothing. When she finally turned to look at him he had leaned forward and was staring straight ahead, still dressed in the suit he wore to the dance.

"You're all that I think about," he said after a while. "What you're doing, how you're feeling, if you're okay, if you're thinking about me too. You're in my head every minute that I'm awake and I can't get you out. I've tried, but I just can't."

She reached out to hold his hand but he waved it away, still refusing to look at her.

"I've never felt like this before and I fucking hate it! But I can't help it."

"Aidan, stop."

"I tried to fight it, you know. Told myself I just wanted to fuck you, nothing more, that it was a stupid crush, that you were a bitch, that the only reason I was even interested was to get back at Cat. Every reason I could think of, I used it to not feel anything for you... but it didn't matter. I couldn't stop."

"This isn't about you. I wish I could stay-"

"Here I am, a fucking idiot, chasing after you, making plans on what we're going to do after high school, all this time believing you felt the same way about me. But I was deluding myself, wasn't I?"

He finally met her gaze and her chest tightened in response. His eyes were red, brimming with unshed tears, filled with anguish and hostility. "You're the most important person in my life but I mean so little to you that you couldn't even bother to talk to me about taking off for good?"

"It's not like that. I do care about you!" she insisted, grabbing his arm.

"Just not enough to stay." His lips twisted into a cruel sneer. "You want to run? Fine. Go. Fuck off. But I hope you're fucking miserable for the rest of your life."

He stood up. Before she could stop him, he started walking away. Grabbing her backpack, she hurried after him as he strode out of the airport and towards the parking lot. "Aidan, wait!"

He refused to slow down his pace.

"Aidan, stop! Please. Let me explain."

Almost at his car, Sage had to fling her backpack at him to finally get his attention. He stopped moving, giving her just enough time to catch up to him, only to have him circle around in one quick motion and catch her off-balance. "What?" he demanded angrily, clutching her arms. "What do you want from me? You wanted to leave, so go! Why are you torturing me now?"

He towered over her, furious, angrier than she had ever seen him before. She desperately wanted to comfort him, explain to him that he was wrong and did matter to her, but she knew he wasn't in the mood to listen. Not right now.

"What? What the hell do you want?" he gritted through clenched teeth.

Curling her fingers around his head so he can't escape, she closed her mouth over his, determined to show him how much she cared. Her lips moved over his, possessive and demanding, kissing him with a depth of passion that surprised her.

One minute she was the one in control, the next Aidan had her trapped against the side of his car, his mouth roving over hers. A guttural moan escaped his lips, echoing her own frustrations.

She wanted to touch him, feel him, press her hands on his bare body and taste every inch of his skin. He was hers, the one who mattered more than anyone else, and maybe he didn't believe it but she would convince him of it until there was no doubt left in his mind.

His body was hard against hers, his breath labored as he traced his lips along her jawline, nipping her skin, his one hand slipping between her legs while the other clutched her hair. Just as frantically, she pulled apart his jacket. Some of the buttons dropped to the ground, making a soft thud noise. Suddenly snapping out of his daze, Aidan took a step back, his arms still on either side of her as he panted for air, his eyes piercing into her.

"Don't," she whispered, trying to pull him closer. "Don't stop."

"You're trying to fuck with my head again. I'm not going to let you do that to me."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then what is this?" he bit out, his hazel eyes filled with hatred. "'Thanks for being a sucker, guess I'll let you pop my cherry? Or is this more of a goodbye fuck?"

"Stop it!" she screamed, her temper finally getting the best of her. "I should have talked to you, I know, but I can't stay at that house, not after knowing that bastard ruined my mother's life." Tears gathered in her eyes as the words slipped out in a mad rush. "My grandparents kicked her out, they were Muslim and she had shamed them by getting pregnant. She was alone, she had no one to turn to, because of him! But she was still in love with Thomas! In love with him! He was the one who gave her that damn necklace and she held onto it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He was a guy who fucked her, dumped her, and then went back to his regular life and she still pined after him. How the hell am I supposed to live with him knowing that? Tell me!"

The angry expression on Aidan's face softened.

"He hurt my mom so much," she cried. "I can't stay with him."

"Sage, you don't what happened between them. You're just filling in the blanks the way you think things went down. For all you know, she dumped him."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Neither do you! None of us do, because whatever happened was between them. The only thing that matters is that she wanted you to live with him in the end. That was what she wanted. So why are you fighting her last wishes?"

"Because I..." Her voice crumbled. "I feel like I'm betraying her."

"Why?" He cradled her face. "Because you're alive? Because you're moving on with your life? Don't you think she would have wanted that for you?"

"I guess. Maybe."

"She's gone, Sage. But you're still here. Stop choosing her, choose yourself." He pressed his forehead against hers, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. "Choose me. Choose us. Please."

Tears streamed down her face. He kissed them away, kissed her until she was a quivering mess, clinging to him.

Soon her brain was screaming for oxygen while her body desperately wanted more, but the reality of their current location – the frickin' parking lot – sank in, drawing her out of the moment. "Aidan, stop."

He didn't say anything, tracing his mouth along her skin before his lips settled on the corner of where her neck and shoulders met. As he suckled the very sensitive spot, every nerve in her body came alive, her senses now heightened and tingling with delicious anticipation over what was to come next.

"Stop?" he murmured, peppering wet kisses up to her ear. His voice was a hoarse whisper, consumed with need, lust, yet also cockiness – the very qualities in him she found both attractive and frustrating. "Is that what you really want?"

"Someone might see us."

"In that case." His hand smoothed around the nape of her neck, his lips roving over hers with a feather-light touch, while the other unzipped her jeans. She shuddered against him, groaning into his mouth, as he delved beneath her panties, teasing her until he discovered the taut nub and rubbed his fingers over her clitoris with just the right amount of pressure to drive her crazy with desire. "Let's give them a real show."

The cool, balmy air did nothing to ease the sudden rush of heat that spread through her like wildfire. She writhed under his touch, aching for more as he caressed her, soon slipping his fingers into her wetness, thrusting them inside her, all the while whispering in her ear how much he wanted to taste her, fuck her. He said things that made her toes curl, did things that caused her knees to buckle, and she clung to him tighter. The feel of his warm skin under her touch was the only thing that kept her anchored to reality, and she didn't ease her grip -couldn't, really – because, without him, she would be lost.

He brought her to the brink of ecstasy, but before she could give into the sensation fully, his fingers paused, taunting her with the promise of heaven that was so tantalisingly within reach. Her eyes flew open, heady with desire, staring up at him with confusion.

"Swear you won't leave me again."

The vulnerability in his eyes gave her pause, evoking feelings of guilt, but then coherency sank in, bringing with it the realisation he was trying to manipulate her at a tender moment. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Guess that's a no?"

"I can't believe you-" His fingers grazed over her clit again, stroking her ever so delicately, and the angry response died on her lips, instead turning into a guttural moan. "Aidan!"

He teased and taunted her, never quiet, always whispering, his voice as much of a turn-on as his hands, promising to do things to her that excited her and also made her blush – if she swore never to leave him again. Soon there was a subtle shift in his tone as he breathed she would never have to suck him off, or do anything to return the favour, that it would always be about getting her off and never about himself, that he would blow her mind in ways she couldn't even imagine, but only if she never left him.

Although caught up in a haze of erotic pleasure, the insecurity laced in his words was a knife that cut through the fog, dragging her back to reality. "Aidan, stop. Please."

He pulled his hand away. "What's wrong?"

It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath before she was able to speak, and even then she had no idea how to voice her concerns. "Do you think I'm only with you because you're good at... this?"

"At what?" A sexy smirk crossed his face. "Getting you off?"

She blushed. "Yeah."

"Hey, it's a god-given talent. Don't over-think it, just enjoy it."

Forcing herself to pull away – not an easy thing to do when he was nuzzling her neck – she stared into his eyes. "Come on. I'm trying to talk to you here."

His jaw clenched in frustration. "As long as you're with me, I don't fucking care about why."

"Really? It wouldn't bother you if it's only because of sex?"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Oh okay. Thank God you said that because I have to tell you I can't stand you most of the time. You annoy the fuck out of me, and I think you're a fucking pussy." She faked a bright smile at him. "But I don't have to fake giving a shit about you anymore now that I know you'll get me off whenever I want. I can just close my eyes and pretend you're someone else."

His eyes filled with venom and hurt, he stepped closer, trapping her against the car. "Fuck you!"

"See? You do care. You should care." She placed her hand on his chest, over the spot where his heart resided. "Yeah you get me hot, and I'm dying to sleep with you, but that's not enough for me, Aidan."

"Then what the hell do you want?"

"You. I want you, but not because you're a human vibrator. I want you because you're sweet when I don't expect you to be, you're nice when I don't deserve it, and you make me laugh when everything in my life is falling apart. Even when I'm pissed off and hell-bent on making things worse, you don't give up on me."

"I never will." A shadow of a smile flirted across his face. "Tell me more about how awesome I am."

"Oh, great. That ego of yours is going to be massive now."

"Can you blame me? According to you, I'm pretty fucking perfect."

"Not even close. Did I mention you can be a real asshole sometimes? And a stubborn jackass?"

He smirked "You're only saying that because I don't let you walk all over me. If I did you would have been bored as fuck and probably dumped me by now already."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I should have just kept my mouth shut and not said anything."

"Come on, don't be a suck. Tell me more about why you want to be with me."

"Nope, not going to say anything else."

"Please," he cajoled her with an eager smile. "Just one more reason, that's it. And I won't bring it up again."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, yeah, I swear."

Unable to resist his charming smile, she reached up to cup his face and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. "After my mom died I felt so alone, but then you came along and everything changed. You're my best friend and I think... I think I'm falling in love with you."

He stilled in her arms, shocked, stunned by her words as much as she was. Up until this moment she hadn't even realised that was how she felt, but now the truth was out there and there was no denying it.

#original fiction #romance novels #enemies to lovers #alive #my fics

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years ago

Text

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

i would love to read coops doing one of those lie detector youtube videos!!

This was such a fun fic to research! I highly recommend watching the Try Guys Lie Detector videos if you'd like some context. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Why are there so many of these?” Remus muttered, shaking his hand around. A series of multicolored wires smacked the table and Marlene rolled her eyes as she passed. “Sorry.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride!” Sirius said as he turned to the camera with a smile. “I’m Sirius Black, and I’m here today with my husband, Remus Lupin, to get some answers.”

“We are also joined by Mark, who is an expert at reading polygraphs,” Remus added.

A middle-aged man in a blue shirt raised his hand in a slight wave. “Thanks for having me. Since you’re already hooked up, you’ll be going first. This machine measures your sweat, your heart rate, and a couple other common tells for liars. Do you lie often?”

Remus hesitated; Sirius hid a smile in his hand. “No, since I suck at lying, but I’ll do it if it makes somebody feel better. I think I’m pretty good at that.”

They stared at the polygraph for a moment before Mark nodded. “Checks out. Take it away, Sirius.”

Sirius cleared his throat and took a notecard from his stack. “Was going to college worth it?”

“Yes,” Remus answered almost immediately. “I don’t know what I would have done without getting my degree and staying close to hockey. Wouldn’t have met you, for one.”

“True,” Mark said without looking up.

“Do you like my playoff beard?”

“I do, yeah.” Mark raised his eyebrows and Remus pressed his lips together. “Okay, sometimes it’s a little much, but you’re pretty good about keeping things under control.”

“Alright,” Sirius said with playful skepticism. “Good to know. Who’s your favorite Lion?”

“Besides you? Talker.”

“Yeah, we don’t need a polygraph to know that,” Sirius laughed when Mark nodded. “Did you like my last haircut?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus said under his breath, looking away.

“I knew it.”

“It wasn’t bad—”

“He’s lying,” Mark interrupted.

Remus turned to him with betrayal written all over his expression. “Dude!”

“You are.”

“Answer the question, Loops,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair. “How did you feel about my last haircut?”

He bit his lower lip. “It was a little too short and really threw me off for a couple days. But you didn’t like it, either.”

“I didn’t,” Sirius agreed, grinning. “But I vividly remember several ‘no, honey, you look great’ conversations.”

“Next question,” Remus sighed.

“Ha! This one is self-explanatory. Have you ever lied to me?”

“Yes, but only when I knew it would make you feel better.”

“True,” Mark confirmed.

“Do you think you’re a better dog owner than me?”

Remus thought for a moment. “No.”

“True.”

“Do you think I’m a better dog owner than you?” Sirius asked.

“No. I think we balance each other well, and we wouldn’t be as good apart.”

“True again.”

“Interesting.” Sirius surveyed the cards. “Do you trust me?”

“A hundred percent,” Remus answered without hesitation. Mark nodded.

“Do you think I would be a good dad?”

He rested his chin on his hand, then smiled a little. “I do, yeah. I think you know what to do and what notto do, and you’re very protective without being controlling. So, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Mark glanced over. “He’s telling the truth.”

Sirius leaned across the table and kissed Remus on the cheek. “Merci. Oh, this’ll be fun. Is any of our relationship just for show, especially on Lion Pride?”

Remus narrowed his eyes with a hum. “Yes and no.”

“Pick one,” Mark said.

“In a general sense? Yeah, sure. We’re not perfect all the time, but we pretend to be. The specifics stay honest, though. None of our relationship is based on building clout. We keep the core genuine.”

The polygraph beeped for a moment. “He’s telling the truth.”

“This one is super morbid. Ready?” Sirius rested his elbows on the table. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds Jules. Which one do you drop?”

“I love you, but I would absolutely drop you,” Remus said after only a brief period of thought.

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius huffed. “I would be so upset if it was the other way around.”

“Right? I love you more than anything, but it’s Jules.”

Remus turned to Mark, who shrugged. “True.”

“Do you think we live together well?” Sirius asked.

“After a full year of it?” Remus laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

“True.”

Sirius checked the list and his eyebrows rose. “You’re going to hate this one.”

“Am I?”

“What do you really think about my parents?”

Remus’ smile turned thin and Sirius spread his hands in a see? motion. He was quiet for a few seconds, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to use those words on this channel. Um, I don’t like them.”

Mark snorted. “Very true.”

“Last one,” Sirius warned, though his eyes crinkled happily at the edges. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“That’s cute,” Remus said. “And…yeah. I think I do.”

“Wrong,” Sirius said before Mark could answer. “You have absolutely no idea.”

“Sap,” Remus scoffed. His cheeks were pink, and he pressed a quick kiss to Sirius’ temple while they swapped chairs.

“He was telling the truth,” Mark informed them as he helped Remus untangle his arm and hand, then transferred the devices to Sirius. “Though I am interested to see the flipside. Do you lie often?”

“Not anymore. I’m pretty good at it, though.”

“First one: have you ever had a crush on one of your teammates?”

“Oh, for sure,” Sirius said with a light laugh. “I never did anything about it, but I was the king of pining for a solid decade.”

“True,” Mark affirmed.

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “Who is the handsomest Lion?”

Sirius bit his lip, making a thoughtful noise. “That’s a tough one. I’m assuming a player other than you?”

“Yes.”

“In that case…I think Dumo is the classic definition of ‘handsome’ even though he is so not my type, but Kasey might be the most attractive.”

“Not Pots?” Remus teased. Sirius pulled a face and flicked him on the arm.

“He’s being honest,” Mark said.

“Do you think you’re the best player on the team?”

“…no.”

“He’s lying.”

“Shit.” Sirius sighed heavily as Remus looked at him over the edge of his notecard. “Look, it’s—it’s not an ego thing.”

“It’s the captain thing, isn’t it?” Remus sounded quite amused.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, defeated. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Mark nodded. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Oh, another parent one,” Remus remarked. “Did my parents scare you?”

“Not really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “You’re right in the middle.”

“Huh.” He thought for a few seconds. “I think seeing you all together was a lot like meeting Dumo’s family the first time. You’re just so…normal. And you genuinely like each other. So I wasn’t scared, but it was definitely an adjustment.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, they adore you. I’m glad we didn’t chase you off, though. Does it really bother you that I leave my socks around the house?”

Sirius pressed his lips together as several people off-screen began to laugh. “I can’t answer that.”

“See, that’s all the answer I need.”

“Fine. Yes, but only because I don’t know where you get them from. You don’t actually own that many socks, and I still find them every-fucking-where.”

“True,” Mark said.

“I’ll try to keep a better eye on things,” Remus assured him, smiling. “You are Spiderman, and you’re holding two trolleys over a lake. One holds me, and one holds James. Which one do you drop?”

“Goddammit,” Sirius muttered, tilting his head back. He thought for a long, long moment. “I can’t answer that.”

The polygraph buzzed. “False.”

Sirius shook his head. “Neither of you. I wouldn’t drop either.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “True.”

“On a much lighter note,” Remus said with a cough. “Which of us is lazier?”

“Me.”

“True.”

“Really?” Remus gave him a baffled look. “You work so hard all the time.”

Sirius shrugged. “Agree to disagree?”

“Fine, but I hope you know taking time for yourself doesn’t mean you’re lazy.” He shuffled through the cards. “Oh, this’ll be very interesting. Do you think I talk too much?”

“No.”

“True.”

Remus sat back in his chair, a pleased blush coloring his cheeks. “Wasn’t expecting that. Good answer, I love you. Do you think we’ll get divorced someday?”

“Oh, god, no.” Sirius’ previous self-satisfaction turned to revulsion. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

“True,” Mark said again. “For someone who said he was good at lying, you’re very honest.”

“No point in lying with that thing around, is there?”

Remus shrugged. “Saves time, for sure. Have you kissed any of our friends?”

“Yeah,” he snorted.

To his credit, Mark didn’t even let a smile slip through. “True.”

“Do you enjoy getting stopped in public by fans?”

“Fans, yes. Ex-fans who take it upon themselves to explain why I shouldn’t be gay, no.” He paused, then shook his head with a smile. “I’m not good at talking to people, but I do like it when people say hello. It’s cool.”

“True.”

Remus raised his notecards. “Two left, and the first one is hella morbid.”

“Hella,” Sirius murmured, earning himself a teasing glare.

“Watch it. If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?”

The playfulness dropped away. “What?”

“If I died, how long would you wait to get remarried?” Remus repeated.

Sirius looked horrified by the very thought. “I wouldn’t.”

“True,” Mark said, seemingly uncaring about the alarm on Sirius’ face.

“Even if it happened tomorrow?”

“First of all, thanks for my new nightmare. Second, no. I wouldn’t get married again.” He kissed Remus’ forehead gently. “Let’s not test that, though. Like ever.”

“Deal. Ready for the last one?”

“As long as nobody else is in danger of death.”

“I dunno, it’s a tough one.” Remus gave him a solemn look across the table. “I need you to be really honest with me on this one. Do you think you have better hair?”

Sirius blinked at him, then burst out laughing. Even Mark’s lips twitched into a suppressed smile. “Oh my god.”

“What’s so funny?” Remus asked, completely poker-faced. “This is important, honey. I’m really counting on you to be genuine with me here—”

“You can’t even—” Sirius broke off again and gestured to Remus’ face, which turned steadily pinker as he bit down a grin. “You can’t even keep a straight face.”

“My face is the only straight thing about me. You know this. Answer the question.”

“He’s trying so hard,” Sirius managed as he looked to the camera. “So hard, mon dieu.”

“Shit,” Remus muttered as he finally gave in and hid his laughter in the crook of his elbow. “We were doing so well until now! It’s the last question, just answer it!”

Sirius wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and nodded. “I do think I have better hair, but I love yours, too.”

Mark chuckled. “True.”

“It would help if you finally got a haircut that was different from the one you’ve had since you were thirteen.”

Remus closed his eyes, sighing. “Y’know, exposing my haircut choices for the entire internet to mock really wasn’t how I planned this day going.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole video?”

“Mark, I’m not sure if we owe you an apology or not, but thank you for putting up with us.” Remus turned back to the camera with an easy smile. “Thanks for joining us today, everyone. Make sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more videos like this!”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #social media #lion pride #lie detector

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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 years ago

Text

Heartache: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

"Did you find anything interesting?" you ask as you close the bedroom door.

"They're all the same. 'Dearest Betsy...'"

"Who's Betsy?"

"I don't know. Girlfriend? Eleanor didn't mention a Betsy," Dean shakes his head.

"This one looks old. 'Dearest Betsy, third day of training camp. Roadwork improving. Working on my left jab. They say this kid Sugar Ray is gonna be tough.'," Sam reads.

"Sugar Ray? As in Robinson? Didn't he box in, like, the '40s? Is it signed the same?"

"Yeah. 'Love, me'."

"Check this one out. 'Dearest Betsy, on the road again. So hard to be away from you, honey. Will give the Red Sox hell and get back to you.'"

Every single letter starts and ends the same. Dearest Betsy and Love, me. The person who wrote these letters have to be the same person if they are all addressed to the same person and have the same style of writing in every single one. There are mentions of four different occupations and names in the letters, so Sam did research on all four guys.

To the normal eye, they are four completely different men, but Sam doesn't have a normal eye. He sees things under a microscope sometimes.

"I pulled up the names on those trophies and in the letters. Check it out. Brick Holmes--football player. Charlie Karnes--race-car driver. Davey Samuelson--baseball player. Kelly Duran--boxer. Four different guys, right?"

"Okay," Dean says slowly.

"Check this out." Sam pulls up photos of all four guys side by side so he can compare them. "Same dark eyes, same cheekbones, nose, and mouth."

"Wait, are you saying that these four guys who all look to be in their mid-twenties and go back seventy years could be the same guy? Wow. For a ninety-five-year-old, Brick Holmes could take a hit."

"So, if all these athletes are the same, how did he pull it off? He'd disappear then reappear with a whole new look. You're telling me that no one in seventy years thought to look at these guys and put two and two together?"

"We didn't when he was Brick Holmes," Sam shrugs.

"Okay, then how did he do it?"

"Cacao was Mayan, right?" Dean asks, looking through some of the papers scattered around him.

"Yeah."

"The Mayans were all about war and torture and conquest... and sports. It says, 'Their athletes were treated like kings.' The Mayan jocks made sacrifices to Cacao by killing a victim, pulling out his heart, and eating it. They believed the rituals gave them super-charged power over their opponents."

"And that's the how," you say and take a seat at the table.

"Yeah, but they didn't stay young forever. So, what? Maybe Brick just made some kind of deal with this Cacao?"

"Well, we've seen it before with people making deals with demons and gods. I mean, maybe he stayed young and strong so long as the sacrifices kept coming. Remember all that antique sports equipment he had? This guy could go back to the Mayan days."

"Wow. So, one of the greatest QBs to ever play the game was over nine hundred years old," Sam scoffs in disbelief.

"Well, that explains Brick, but what about the victims carrying his spare parts?" you ask.

"Maybe the spell went along for the ride and infected the people who got his organs. Remember how Paul Hayes said he had a health scare that changed his life? I mean, maybe the spell could compel him to keep carrying out the ritual."

"Sort of like getting bit by a werewolf," Dean says out loud. "I mean, once you're infected, you do what you have to do, especially if you like the results."

"Except for Arthur. Poor guy couldn't handle it, so he went nuts."

"At least Brick wasn't sleeping with his mother," Sam says and shows you what's on his laptop.

"Fighter Kelly Duran is congratulated on a second-round knockout by wife Betsy."

You have to talk to Eleanor since she clearly lied to you about who she was. She is Betsy, and if she is Brick's wife, then how did he stay so young and she grew older? The next morning, you three head over to her house to have a proper chat. As soon as she sees you, she knows something is up, but she tries not to let it show.

"Hello, Eleanor," Sam smiles.

"Or would you rather us call you Betsy?" Dean blurts.

She immediately shuts the door on his face, and you step in.

"Eleanor, innocent people are dying, and they are going to continue to die until we stop it."

You give her three seconds before she opens the door again. She has no choice but to let you in because she wants this to end as well. You three take the seats you were in the day before, and she sits across from all three of you.

"Did you know about the murders over the past year?"

"No. I didn't. I swear. I thought when Brick died, it would be over."

"Help us. Betsy, this is not what you want Brick's legacy to be."

"His Mayan name was Inyo. He was a proud young athlete nearly a thousand years ago. He lived for sport and never wanted his days in the sun to end. So, he arranged a bargain with the god Cacao through a high priest. As long as the sacrifices continued, twice a year--once for the planting, once for harvest."

"When did you find out about this?"

"Not until I began to age and Brick--Kelly, as he was when I met him--did not. By that time, Brick himself had changed... inside. He wasn't just the warrior whose only reason for living was combat. We were deeply, deeply in love. So in love, I'm ashamed to say, that when I found out how my husband stayed young and strong, I chose to ignore it," she sighs sadly.

"You and Brick had to go underground from time to time to hide your secret, right?" you ask.

"Every ten years or so, he would, uh, re-emerge with a new look and a new name. Me, I was the wife, and I was the woman in hiding, and then, when I got into my forties, I became Brick's mother, Eleanor. I am so tired. You can't imagine the burden of it all. I think even Brick was through. He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without me. That's why he drove off that bridge. You must think I'm a monster."

"Lesser people have done a lot worse, Betsy," you reassure her.

"Well, see, here's the deal," Dean says, being the bad guy for right now. "Now there are eight killers out there that we have to deal with, not just one."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Brick used to say the heart was key. That was the focus of the sacrifice."

"Are you saying that if we stop Brick's beating heart, then we could stop the whole thing?" Betsy nods shamelessly. "Do you know where the person who has the heart is?"

"She currently works at the Bunny Hole Strip Club. Wait here. You're going to need this."

Betsy gets up and leaves the room, only to return with a weapon that will kill Brick's heart. You're sure that when he died, his heart had to go to the woman who works at the strip club. All you have to do is kill her in the heart and this whole thing ends.

You left Zeus at the motel room, but you had no choice but to bring Joanna with you. You'd rather be anywhere else than here, but it's what you have to do to stop this. You'd offer to stay back at the motel with Joanna, but the brothers might need you and your magic. The logo for the strip club is two women dancing on strip poles, and you just sigh when you see this.

"This is just what a two-year-old needs to see," you say.

"We're pretty sure this is gonna work, right?" Sam asks, gripping the weapon.

"Well, as long as Eleanor knows what she's talking about."

"You think Brick thought maybe he'd burn to nothing when he crashed that car?"

"Yeah, but he didn't, which brings us here."

You shake off your nerves and head to the back only to find the door locked. On the door is the same logo, and you roll your eyes as you step up to the plate.

"This is a mother's worst nightmare," you say and unlock the door with your magic.

The area is dark since the place is closed during the day. You make your way through the locker room and ignore the skimpy outfits and the dirty underwear lying around. Shielding Joana's eyes, you make your way to the main area where the stage, tables, and bar is. The entire place is pitch black but as soon as you get to the stage, all the lights come on, and the silhouette of a woman can be seen behind the curtain.

"Eleanor sent you, right? I figured she'd probably break and give me up. This won't end well for her, of course. Not that it's gonna end well for you," she smiles. Sam takes out the knife that Eleanor gave to him, and the woman, Randa, laughs. "Oh, now, you don't think we're gonna let you do that, do you?"

"We?"

Just then, two guys attack Sam and Dean, and you use your magic to blast them away from you and Joanna to keep both of you safe. Paul, the health freak, heads for Sam while a new person takes on Dean. If they want to get to one brother, then they'll have to take out the other, and Paul understands this. He grabs Sam's head and smashes it against the table, knocking him out completely.

He turns to you, and your eyes flash bright blue to warn him you're not to be fucked with. Instead, he turns to the other man and Dean. Both of them tackle Dean, flipping him over and slamming him on the stage. They have super strength, so they are easily able to hold him down while Randa approaches him with a smirk on her face.

"Oh, you guys are stronger than you look," Dean groans as he tries to get away.

"Comes with the package. Plus, I work out a lot," Paul grins.

You look to the side and see Sam coming to, and without attracting attention from Randa, you stealthily rush over to Sam and heal his head. Once he is 100%, you hand Joanna off to him so you can focus on your husband.

"You can't imagine who I was before. This shy, awkward little thing from Georgia with a heart condition. Then I had the surgery." She places her heeled foot on Dean's chest, putting a bit of pressure. "I became fucking Xena, Warrior Princess." She gets on her knees and straddles your husband's lap, running her fingers down his face. "I couldn't dissect a frog in high school. But sacrificing to Cacao? Better than sex. So, if I go real slow and take my time and enjoy this, I can actually show you your own beating heart before you die."

Your eyes and your hands glow the same color blue, and you reach out for the two men holding your husband, watching as your magic swirls around their necks. With a flick of your wrists, their necks snap in two. Randa's head snaps to yours and then over to Sam who is holding Joanna for dear life.

The two men holding Dean fall to the ground, and Randa knows that if she doesn't do something soon, she will be dead.

"Hands off my husband," you growl.

Randa reaches down and presses her fingers hard into Dean's chest, putting enough pressure to break the skin. Dean cries out once, and you jump into action. You send three blasts of magic to Randa, one to get her attention, another to knock her off Dean, and the final one to blast her to the end of the stage.

You rush onto the stage, careful of your pregnant belly, and you swipe the knife that Sam had dropped when he was stabbed. Randa growls and decides to take care of you first whether you're pregnant or not, but you don't give her the chance. When she reaches out for you, you send an uppercut to her chin and plunge the knife into her chest, piercing her heart.

She gasps and staggers back, looking down at her wound which is ablaze with red flames. You rush over to Dean and place your hand over his wound, healing him of whatever damage she dealt to him. Randa moans as she continues to burn, a white light replacing the red flames. When it dies down, Randa collapses to the ground, dead.

Sam joins you and Dean by the stage, and you take Joanna back who has a look of worry across her face. She heard and saw her dad in pain, and you wish to God that she never saw that. The more she sees you and Dean in pain, the more she is going to grow up to be just like Sam and Dean when they had to endure the same from their father.

With Randa dead and all the recipients of Brick's organs, you let Eleanor know that she can now live out the rest of her life in peace with the memory of Brick. She was so grateful, but all you could think about was getting back on the road--hopefully to where Kevin is.

The recent events must have drained Joanna because she is sleeping soundly in her car seat while Zeus is resting in your lap.

"Wow. Back in business. Got the win. Admit it, it feels good, huh?" Dean grins and looks at both you and Sam. "You know, I was thinking about what Randa said about what it feels like to be a warrior. I get it, man, I do."

"Imagine having magic. I feel like a superhero," you chuckle.

"I know. I know you two do. I don't. Not anymore. Hell, maybe I never did."

"Come on, Sam, don't ruin our buzz, would you?" Dean sighs.

"Dean, listen, when this is over, when we close up shop on Kevin and the tablet, I'm done. I mean that."

"No, you don't."

"Come on, Sam," you sigh.

"The year that I took off, I had something I've never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that."

"I think that's just how you feel right now."

You have nothing left to say, because you don't know what to say to this kind of thing. You look to your left and see Amara sitting between you and Joanna. You don't want to say anything to her because that would only upset Dean further, so instead, you try to let your eyes do the talking.

"I know you're sad about Sam," she begins. "I know you want Sam to stay more than anything. If you want that to happen, then you need to give him a reason to stay. He looks at you and Dean and your kids, and all it does is remind him of what he doesn't have. You got lucky when you met Dean through hunting. Sam doesn't have that. I know it sucks, but you're not enough this time."

You keep your mouth shut and ponder on her words. What will it take to get Sam to stay with you and Dean? With his niece?

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!

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sundayswiththeilluminati · 3 years ago

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The unplanned fourth part to my apparently-a-series on Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage (parts 1, 2, and 3), today we look at an aspect of his story that doesn’t always apply in a D&D world: how do you prosecute espionage?

Psych! That’s not the real question. The real question is: do you prosecute espionage? The answer is a) not as obvious as it might seem; and b) going to differ between D&D and the real world, because D&D governments are storytelling tools and IRL governments are...not.

The benefits of prosecuting espionage are obvious: the interests of justice are served, the person responsible can be punished appropriately and in accordance with the law, the full extent of their crimes are revealed (including potentially exonerating other suspects), counterintelligence gets to chalk up a win, and other people thinking about committing espionage themselves are hopefully discouraged. But there are a surprising number of arguments in the “against” column.

Some agencies that identify enemy assets want to leave them in place for their own purposes. For about 20 years during the Cold War CIA reserved the right to just plain not tell the Department of Justice if they had proof someone was engaged in espionage because they wanted the opportunity to turn them as double agents, feed them misinformation, etc. rather than outing and punishing them (President Gerald Ford ended this arrangement by executive order in 1976). This isn’t necessarily a good idea IRL, but it forms the bread and butter of RPG espionage storylines and is definitely something to think about in a D&D context.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after a trial, and an agency often finds itself with sufficient evidence to doubt a person’s trustworthiness but not enough hard proof to take to court. In those cases agencies may decide to leave that person in place but cut off their access to classified info. Ironically, sometimes this means promoting them - moving the person into a higher-ranking job in a different area that just so happens not to deal in secrets. Sometimes the asset realizes they’re close to being rumbled and goes along with the effort, maybe taking retirement early or changing jobs before they can be pushed, and the whole matter will quietly lapse without anything so formal as a trial. Sometimes someone makes a mistake and sidelines a loyal, competent employee. That’s a judgement call.

In the real world, ideally someone can only be found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly after an open trial. Given how severe the punishments are for espionage, civilized countries do try to stick to that even though holding such a trial carries risks. Providing proof that someone stole secrets generally requires talking about said secrets, which means revealing classified info in court, which may negate trying to keep the information secret in the first place. They may also not want to reveal in court how they figured out that person was a spy, especially if it was a double agent or cryptographic source that fingered them. In D&D-land where monarchs are common and still wield judicial power, fantasy rulers may hand down whatever punishment they please based on whatever evidence they (or the DM) will accept, so this isn’t as much of a concern.

Even a D&D monarchy that doesn’t have to worry about revealing secrets in court might think twice before publicly punishing a high-ranking spy, though, because the only thing more embarrassing than failing to convict a major spy is succeeding. A government having to admit that its people were compromised, especially high-ranking people, is a body-blow to its standing both at home and abroad. It damages trust in the government, makes the public feel unsafe, and makes allies hesitant to share information lest their secrets be leaked as well. Lower-ranking government employees may think, “My boss is selling secrets, why not me too?” or “Why bother to follow security protocol when some mole will give it all away?” Every decision and contribution made by the asset becomes retroactively suspect, even those that had nothing to do with whatever secrets they leaked. The foreign nation to whom they passed information inevitably gets drawn in as well, negatively affecting those relations. And of course everyone involved looks very, very bad.

All of which leads me to say I think there’s a chance - maybe not a good chance, but a chance - that Essek could privately confess the affair to the Bright Queen without major public repercussions. Leylas Kryn could simply declare him a traitor and order his public execution without justifying herself, but it would raise a lot of questions and none of the answers would help her or the ruling dens; Den Thelyss allowing Den Kryn to unilaterally execute a high-profile member - a child of the umavi - without explanation would stoke ferocious rumors about what Essek might have done and cast a major shadow over the entire den. But publicly declaring what Essek had done also doesn’t do the Dynasty any favors. It makes everyone involved look very bad - how could they miss a spy at the highest level? so close to the Bright Queen herself?? who can be trusted??? - especially Den Thelyss, which might lose its place among the ruling three as a result. Publicly outing such a high-ranking Kryn official as compromised might set off the Dynasty equivalent of a Red Scare, too, since the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount mentions the constant and well-justified Dynasty fear of agents sent by Lolth to destabilize the Kryn out of sheer spite that they got away from her.

By the time Campaign 2 ended the latest clash between Empire and Dynasty had been settled and neither side seemed to want to stir it up again right away. The fact that both stolen beacons have been returned also bolsters the case for letting the matter lie. A confession from Essek clears up remaining doubt on the Bright Queen’s end - while he doesn’t know every Empire agent in the Dynasty, he can tell her exactly how the beacons were stolen and who else was involved, probably clearing the names of many currently under suspicion. Essek would have to resign as Shadowhand, of course, and leave the Dynasty (at least for a couple centuries), but he never seemed interested in being Shadowhand and he wants to go exploring anyway. Den Thelyss definitely wants the whole affair swept under the rug and would go along with whatever story made that happen. Other than Verin I don’t get the impression many people would miss Essek except as a lost opportunity. I hope they’d give him long enough before leaving Rosohna to pack up his cool leyline-weathervane though. He could totally mount that on Yussa’s tower. Or Allura’s!

And that concludes this particular train of thought re: Essek Thelyss in the context of IRL spies and espionage. Again, all of this is only as relevant to the campaign as the players decide it is, so don’t go giving people crap for being “unrealistic” about their versions of how the beacon trade went down. Frankly the last thing you should want here is realism, because “realistic” espionage is a callous world of deception, manipulation, and general human pettiness with no sense of narrative flow.

None of what I’ve talked about is an excuse for Essek’s actions. But it is a reason. It’s why and how a person entrusted with precious national assets could get into a headspace where it seems reasonable, even necessary, to trade them away to foreign enemies. It’s how a person of otherwise decent character & beliefs can end up committing terrible crimes. It’s why that person might sincerely regret what they’ve done, and not just because they fear punishment. The Warmind Rasputin paraphrases Octavia E. Butler saying, “Misdirected by accident or intent, intelligence can foster its own ecstasies of growth and decay.” In other words: sometimes you get too far into your own head. Without an anchor to reality, without perspective, your own mind gets twisted up. Sometimes you just need a friend (or seven) to grab your arm and say, “Breathe.”

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Critical Role spoilers #not really but just to be safe #Essek Thelyss #CR meta #hey let's talk about Cold War espionage!#trufax #And That's What I Think About That.#words words words #I hope you like words #this poor foolish drow #bless this dumbass #it's been a long pandemic

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

Text

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮

Group : NCT

Pairing : Griffyndor! Mark Lee x gn! Reader

Genre : hp au, rivals to lovers, light angst to absolute fluff

Word count : 4.4K words | M.list

Warnings : injury, swearing

Summary : ‘He had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.’

a/n: thank you for 1000 followers you absolute cuties!! sending lots of smooches and snuggles your way!!

“Aren’t you going to ask how the coolest champion is feeling about tomorrow’s match?”

You watched Donghyuck, your fellow housemate and best friend since you first stepped onto the Hogwarts train, expectantly. He spared you a quick glance as he plopped down beside you on the couch in your shared common room, too busy to munch on his chocolate frog to give you any further attention.

“I’ve already asked Mark.”

You would like to be able to say you were surprised at his answer, but his teasing character has become an usual by now

It still baffled you how you managed to even tolerate each other, much less get to share a bond as deep as the one you developed along the years. You two had next to nothing in common other than your cunning wit. While Donghyuck delved deep into his love for astronomy, which you despised with a burning fervor, you dedicated your time to Quidditch entirely.

You loved the sport dearly, it offered you that adrenaline rush you were born to chase, that quickened heartbeat as you rushed to catch the Golden Snitch. You spent every spare moment you could find in your hectic schedule on the pitch with the wind threading through strands of your hair and your hands clenched so tightly onto your broomstick your knuckles turn white. And you adored every second of that. But what you definitely didn’t adore was Mark Lee.

“And worst best friend award goes to surprise surprise Lee Donghyuck!”

He shrugged unimpressed by your weak attack and focuses back on his damned frog.

Mark Lee. Unfortunately for your sanity, you had to see him almost as often as you decided to practice on your own. If there was one thing you shared with him and you respected him for was his own commitment to Quidditch. More often that not, you’d have to share the pitch with him in your spare time, taunting each other for the entire period of time you spent practicing. He was the beloved Seeker of Gryffindor, their pride and joy and your rival ever since you were both accepted in your respective teams.

“So what’s your score against him?”

“It’s a draw.”

Yes, you were that petty. You and Mark kept the score on how many times you defeated each other in matches. It didn’t actually matter which team actually won, the only thing that mattered for your childish competition was who managed to catch the Golden Snitch.

“That’s why you’re so tense?”

“Bingo, smartpants.”

“What even is the big deal about your little game? It’s not like either of you actually gets something out of this.”

“I gain the right to stick my win in his face and vice versa.”

Teasing between you and Mark often stretched your patience to its maximum and ended up in one of you snapping like a chord under pressure. Donghyuck shivered as he remembered the final match of your fourth year when your house lost against Gryffindor due to Mark catching the Snitch before you. He could vividly remember the blood rushing through his veins in fear at the sight of you battling Mark shoulder to shoulder at a dangerous speed, arm stretched out so far he believed you’d topple over at any moment.

He doesn’t want a repeat of the miserable image of you he saw at the time, a defeated you, slumped on the bench in your changing room, head lowered in ultimate shame and disappointment as bitter tears rolled off your face, splashing against the floor as Donghyuck watched worriedly through the half opened door. Mark had really done a number on you that day.

“You have to win, Y/N.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, wasn’t our competition meaningless for your highness?”

“I don’t give a frog’s toe about your competition, but I want to spend time time with you this summer. And not just to watch you practice until you drop.”

You scoffed. You knew that he was referring to the summer after your horrifying defeat against Mark. Donghyuck could barely get a hold of you since you spent all day on your broom, tiring yourself out to your limit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing.”

“Already wetting your pants, Y/L/N?”

You didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the taunting voice behind you.

“I don’t know, Lee, should I? You must know since you have more experience than me.”

Mark’s face scrunched up at the reminder of his first year when he lost control of his broom and he quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes. Not very Gryffindor from his part.

“Whatever, we both know how this is about to end. Save your cheap defense until after this final. My team will win this year’s tournament and I’ll beat you individually too.”

The reminder of the stakes of this match weren’t soothing your nerves at all, especially mere hours before you were facing Mark on the pitch. You curled your fists and kept a straight face, not daring to show him any weakness from your side.

“Shove that pointless confidence up your ass until you prove you’re worthy of it, Lee.”

“Oh so fourth year isn’t enough proof?”

The corner of your lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. zeroing on his tense featured in a chilling glare.

“You said matches don’t count, didn’t you? You were the one insisting that you didn’t consider anything a victory other than catching the Snitch before me. And in that aspect, last I verified, we’re equals.”

His lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with a retort, but you didn’t spare him enough time to come up with anything, turning on your heels and marching away to meet Donghyuck.

“You’ll see, Y/L/N, you’ll never be my equal.”

His voice followed you tauntingly through the busy corridors, your rushed footsteps taking you anywhere but close to the only person who could make your blood boil.

It took three pep talks and four ‘friendly’ attacks of your personal space from Donghyuck to make you gather your spirits and stop the tremors shaking up your entire body. He walked you to the changing room’s door, patting you roughly on the back one last time

“Give your best, I’ll be watching from the stands. I trust that you won’t let me get bored. Also, remember that if you lose you’re sleeping on the mat in front of the entrance in our common room.”

And with that he skipped away, hurried to find a good spot in the stands that were already starting to fill up with students. You sigh, used to his weird way of encouraging you and stepped inside the room, greeting Jungwoo, your captain and your fellow teammates, starting to change into your Quidditch uniform.

As soon as you set foot on the familiar pitch, your eyes met Mark’s who stood straight and proud side by side with his own captain sporting his Gryffindor red cape and holding his broom, the newest Nimbus model.

You Keeper was talking your ear off about the ‘amazingly efficient’ polish he found, but you couldn’t seem to rip your gaze away from Mark who in turn seemed to burn through you with his gaze. He threw you a smirk as if provoking you to lose your cool. But you decided you wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction.

The stands were already roaring to life. Any match between you and Mark was very sought after by everyone in your school due to the intensity it held each time. Despite the already loudness surrounding the pitch, one high pitched screech couldn’t help but catch your attention.

“KICK SOME ASS, Y/N! Or the mat is waiting for you!”

Count on Donghyuck to be the embarrassing mom rooting for you at her child’s every sport event. You shoot him a warning look to which he only responded with an over dramatic wink and an even louder ’whoop’. You could only sigh, appreciating his support despite your lack of reaction to it.

“I’ll kick your ass, Lee Donghyuck.”

You muttered, trying to stop the smile forming on your lips. A snort came from the side, making your head snap in its direction.

“Try your best, Y/LN, too bad you’ll still disappoint lover boy over there.”

“Jealous, Lee?”

“You wish.”

Madam Hooch interrupted your banter with a shrill whistle, stepping in between the two teams while holding the Quaffle.

“Alright, boys and girls, mount your brooms.”

Within seconds all players were high in the air, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heated gaze locked with Mark’s. It became kind of a tradition between the two of you, intense stare downs before the official start of the game. Madam Hooch’s voice which carried the same words every time sounded far away as she bent down, ready to throw the Quaffle.

“Alright, I want a clean and fair game, hear me? Good luck and may the best win.”

The long deafening whistle signified the start of the match and Chasers whizzed past you, speeding towards the Quaffle. You and Mark broke eye contact, each of you getting immersed in the game, your sole focus being on catching sight of the Golden Snitch.

The weather worsened as the game progressed, the unpredictable May weather acting up. The clouds darkened, completely shutting out any ray of sunshine trying to sneak past them, a thickening fog suffocating the school grounds. Slowly but surely, what started as a few scattered rain drops soon turned into a full blown storm, a cold shower falling atop of you, the harsh wind whipping your capes back and forth. The stands were barely visible, the cheers from below inaudible over the wind and the players’ yells.

If it wasn’t hard enough already to spot the small, golden ball, now it seemed close to impossible. You could make out Mark’s silhouette flying around, but you didn’t linger any longer on him, focused on catching sight of the Snitch. Bludgers were flying everywhere, the Beaters’ efficiency decreasing because of the lack of visibility, another worry to add to the list.

Gryffindor was in the lead with 20 points, the score remaining tight as the match dragged on and on. You had already been playing for a while, your uniforms were already soaked and your skin paling from the biting cold of the unforgiving rain, but the conditions only spurred you further. You had to catch the Snitch.

Just as your patience was running thin, you caught sight of a fast-moving golden spot, hovering on the sidelines. Without a second thought, you sped towards it, your surroundings blurring as your eyes focused solely on the already moving Snitch. Mark noticed your forceful actions immediately, whizzing past the others players and nearing you.

“And Y/L/N seems to have finally spotted the Golden Snitch! Both Seekers are bolting after it, I can barely keep track of them!”

The crowd exploded, cheering louder than ever, but you couldn’t hear anything, pushing yourself to the limit as Mark caught up to you and you battled side by side once again. The Snitch seemed to be angrier than ever, jerking furiously at every corner, but you didn’t let yourself be caught by surprise, keeping up with it.

Until it started speeding in a straight line, stopping its irregular twists and turns and you knew that was your chance. You flew at top speed, stretching your hand in front of you so much that your muscles almost protested and Mark followed suit. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, subtly knocking into each other in an attempt to make the other lose their balance.

“Move! It’s mine!”

His hoarse voice yelled right by your year, only making you grit your teeth harder.

“Fuck off, Lee!”

Your fingertips were a breath away from the Snitch, Mark’s arm pressing into yours, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. Desperately, you shifted your weight from your bottom to the hand clutching your broomstick, leaning forward on your arm and before Mark could react, you lurched forward slightly, encasing the running object in the palm of your hand, clutching it so tightly it left marks into the skin, but you didn’t care.

You did it. You caught the Golden Snitch.

“Y/N!”

Before you could regain your stance, a Bludger knocked into your broom forcefully. With your already unsteady grip on the broomstick, you toppled over in an instant, the broom slipping from under you, but you didn’t dare unclench the fingers trapping the Snitch in your hand.

Mark’s desperate yell seemed to be the only sound echoing in your ears as you plummeted. The last thing you saw before you knocked loudly into the ground with a sickening crack were Mark’s distressed features, a hand stretched to its full extent in front of him as he rushed to get a hold of you, your own outstretched fingers slipping right past his.

Surprisingly, as soon as you managed to crack your eyes open you weren’t hit with a blinding light. It still seemed to take a great effort to keep them open for longer than a second, your hand twitching in an attempt to bring it to cover your sensitive eyes, but being stopped by a weight forcing it down.

“Y/N?”

You groaned, scrunching up your face as soreness hit your body full force at your attempt to move.

“Merlin, Y/N, can you open your eyes?”

You could recognize Donghyuck’s voice anywhere, but the almost desperate tone he used was quite foreign to you.

“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Madam Pomfrey! ”

You realized the weight on your hand were actually his fingers which now squeezed yours encouragingly as his other hand came up to smooth strands of your hair away from your face. You clenched your teeth, forcing an eye open.

“Stop fucking yelling, punk.”

At your annoyed retort, he let out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms gently around you while trying not to jostle you too much.

“Thank Merlin, you’re back.”

After Madam Pomfrey checked on you and updated you on your injuries which were a bit more serious than you expected, she left you with Donghyuck once again. He leaned back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than in the past days he’s had to spend by your bedside. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“The match. We won the match right?”

Donghyuck snorted as your first question was about Quidditch instead of your own health, but it didn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Yes, you crazy hag, you won.”

“Yes! We did it! We won!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life. You finally proved to yourself that all the time and work you’ve put into Quidditch wasn’t for nothing. And if this was the elevation you’d feel after winning cups, you were ready to spend the rest of your youth chasing the Snitch.

“You should eat some chocolate, gain your energy back.”

Now that he mentioned it, you finally focused on your nightstand that overflowed with sweets. You grabbed the closest one, a chocolate frog, not hesitating to stuff it all in your mouth and collect the card inside. Another Nicolas Flamel, you already had two of those.

“Those are a lot.”

“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish them.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Hyuck, tell me, did Jungwoo cry?”

“Should’ve seen him, like a baby. I’m pretty sure he filled half of that cup with snot-”

“Ewww, I didn’t need all the gross details. Ah, I’m sorry for missing that. And Lee’s face, I bet I’d sleep like a baby for the next 10 years if I had the chance to see that.“

Donghyuck’s lips were suddenly pulled into a smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous mischief.

“You should see one of your beaters, damn nice nose Mark delivered.”

Your munching slowed down, gulping down the sweetness loudly.

“What do you mean? Did that petty git start a fight?”

“Wouldn’t say it was out of pettiness actually.”

Mark was the first to land beside your crumpled figure, dismounting his broom faster than ever and crouching hurriedly before you. His hand ghosted over your cold cheek, too scared to touch you in case he did more harm than good. His shaking pupils fixated on you, running a hundred miles per hour over your face, hoping, praying that you’d open your eyes and celebrate in his face.

“Hey, wake up, don’t play games on the pitch, you already won! Y/L/N!”

Mark knew deep inside that you had no games left to play after a fall like that, but it was his first time seeing you so small, so hurt, so defeated despite the shining Golden Snitch still clutched loosely in your limp hand. It scared him.

“Bloody hell, wake up! Madam Hooch! Help! Anyone, help!”

His head snapped around trying to catch sight of anyone coming to your aid, eyes scanning through the fog crazily. The rain seemed to fall faster and faster, the chill settling deep into your bones. Exhausted, Mark lowered his head in defeat, his forehead gently leaning on yours, his nose nudging against yours. One of his hands still touched your cheek, lightly caressing it, thumb running over the apple of your cheek as his other hand curled into a fist against the ground.

Jungwoo landed next, almost tripping over his broom as he rushed over to you and knelt next to you, opting to ignore the position Mark was in and focus on your well being. Mark’s head didn’t even turn as he spoke lowly.

“Do something for Merlin’s sake. Get Madam Hooch, or Pomfrey! Anyone dammit, just to something!”

Mark raised himself at the lack of response from Jungwoo who seemed rotten to his spot, freezing at the sight of you.

“Are you deaf?! Fucking help!”

That seemed to snap Jungwoo out of his frozen state as he jumped to his feet, sprinting towards the stand where teachers usually stayed during matches. One by one, your teams landed and gathered near you as Mark’s yells of help guided them to you.

“Merlin, that doesn’t look good.”

Mark’s burning gaze settled on your beater who stood a few meters away, leaning on his broom.

“It would have looked better if you did your part right.”

The beater rolled his eyes at Mark’s harsh remark.

“Relax, man, I just wasn’t playing attention for a moment.”

“And you think that’s a proper excuse?!”

Mark was fired up by now, lifting himself to his feet as one of your Chasers, a year younger than you crouched by your side, gripping your hand. He sauntered over, coming face to face with the beater who didn’t seem that interested.

“I’m just saying it’s not my fault their own incompetence landed themselves in the hospital wing, I’m not pulling anyone’s wight al-”

He didn’t get to finish his mocking words as Mark’s fist met his nose with a loud crunch, Mark’s powerful swing sending him to the ground as blood started dripping from his nose steadily.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N like that. Not ever again. If I hear one bad word about them coming out of your worthless mouth, I’ll hex you into next year. You’ll never be half of the player Y/N already is, remember your place, asshole.”

Madam Hooch was already tending to you by the time Mark turned back to you, deeming it safe enough for you to be moved to the hospital wing. Donghyuck, who sprinted out of the stand as soon as he heard your name coming out of Jungwoo’s mouth, held your head in his lap, smoothed down your hair, pushing away wet strands that covered your eyes.

Mark strode over to you, taking off his cap and laying it over your body as he slotted an arm under your legs, his other coming around your back. He lifted your body, cradling you against his chest as Donghyuck also stood up to fix your position in Mark’s arms into a more comfortable one.

“Off to the hospital wing,now. Quick, quick, quick!”

Mark didn’t waste another moment before he hurried inside the castle with you in his hold and Donghyuck quick on his heels.

“Mark Lee stood up for me? The same Mark Lee who hates my guts since we first got in our Quidditch teams?”

“Do you know another Mark Lee? Maybe he didn’t hate you that much after all, or…not at all. After all, all these chocolate frogs are from him, said something about seeing you exchange some cards with his Griffyndor friend in class or something.”

“He visited?”

“We wouldn’t be able to get rid of him sometimes. He opened up to me once when we met outside the door trying to sneak in one night.”

“Why were you even sneaking in?”

“I was bored, okay? I had no one to tire me out during the day.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, he said he had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.”

“Did it really affect him that much? Accidents happen all the time.”

“Not to you, Y/N.”

“Maybe, but I’m just another player from the opposite team., right? …Do you think he…?”

Donghyuck brought a hand up to his head, massaging his temples as he sighed with annoyance.

“You’re too dense.”

“How could I have known? ”

“Look, just talk to him as soon as you can. That boy needs to finally sleep properly, even my grandma’s bag has a lighter color than his eye bags.”

You just nodded, a bit skeptic.

You were discharged on that same day. Jungwoo almost cried again when you met in the common room, hugging you tightly, praising and scolding you at the same time with a brotherly smile.

You first saw Mark Lee in the halfway, after your Potions class. He was sitting on the ledge of a large window, staring seemingly into space. Donghyuck’s words echo in your mind as you decide to approach him and hop onto the space beside him, settling comfortable against the window behind you.

“Woah, Lee, Donghyuck was right, you could really use some concealer.”

Mark jostled as if he only noticed you now. His wide doe eyes racked over your smiling face and he seemed to panic internally.

“Whe-When did you get here? Why are you out of bed?”

“Because I was discharged?”

“What? Since when?”

“Earlier today.”

“Oh…”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes running wild everywhere but in your direction. You chuckled.

“It’s okay, I already know how much the almighty Mark Lee worried over poor little me.”

Mark scoffed, his embarrassed behavior vanishing.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I see that hit to your head didn’t help with your sharp tongue, disappointingly.”

He swiftly moved away, starting to walk away from you until your hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him mid step.

“Wait, I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Mark seemed confused now, turning back to you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thank me? What for?”

“Standing up for me and uh, you know, taking care of me.”

Mark’s face darkened at the memory of your beater.

“That git was just asking for it and I barely did anything.”

“Then at least let me repay you for the chocolate frogs you brought me.”

Now he seemed to choke on a confused ‘huh?’ with a bewildered expression that just melted your otherwise cocky demeanor.

“W-what? How-”

Mark’s words died in his throat as you slotted your lips against his in a teasing kiss, your hand holding the nape of his next affectionately and pulling him closer you. Mark took a few moments to realize it was actually happening in reality, not just an illusion from the lack of sleep. His hands came up to your waist, wrapping you in his embrace and pulling you against him impossibly closer. Years of pushed down passion and longing were exchanged in that moment, dizzying both of you.

As you pulled away from each other for air, Mark could taste the faint sweetness of chocolate on his lips. He smiled and his whole rival image turned into a lovesick teenage boy with a smile brighter than the sun. He laughed quietly, thumbs caressing your sides gently.

“I see you enjoyed your chocolate.”

You leaned more into him, pulling his face so close to yours that your noses brushed against each other’s, your ravished breath fanning across his lips as you whispered.

“I did. I’m glad I’m so interesting to you that you observe me in class enough to know that I collect chocolate frogs cards.”

You expected a blush to paint his cheeks red, an elbow in your side or at least an annoyed huff but you got none of that. Instead, one of Mark’s hands came up to cradle your cheek as he stared deep into your eyes with an unreadable look.

“Excuse me but it’s hard not to look when I have the prettiest person I’ve ever seen who also happens to be my crush since 3rd year.”

Your eyes widened, searching his for any hint that he may be just lying or teasing you. But all you could find was pure, unadulterated fondness, a withheld fire burning low in his eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending goosebumps across the expanse of your skin.

“It’s been so hard not to just pull you aside and snog you senseless, especially in your Quidditch uniform.”

You decided to play along. You brought your fingers to his heated neck, running them faintly over his skin and you smirked seeing him shiver at your touch.

“Having a kink for uniforms, Lee?”

Mark screeched lowly, pulling away from you as if burned. He smoothed down his robes, fixating you with a glare that made you laugh.

“Y/N, I’m serious, though. I like you, I really really lo-….like you.”

You noticed his stutter, but it only made your smile widen as you stretched out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull him along down the corridor.

“Hm, I’ll need some more proof of that.”

Mark squeezed your hand in response, chuckling at you sweetly. He leaned over, pressing a feather like kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry, you’re nowhere done with your payment back to me. And I only accept it in the form of kisses and cuddles.”

You smiled at each other, your hearts finally settling satisfied in your chests after years of internal turmoil that finally burned out.

“That can be arranged easily.”

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Note

Hi can you do a can a hc of Victor Krum x Hufflepuff male reader

Ok, ok, yes. Yes please. Yup. Please ignore me pretending I know anything about his character. I just got the fourth book and I'm trying-

Part 2

§×§×§ §×§×§ §×§×§

Let's be honest, you two met at Hogwarts during the TriWizard Tournament.

Well, not during it. You guys officially met before the games even started, but his school was there for it.

So, you'd probably bumped into bum in the halls or something and he brushed off the small butterfly in his gut and said it was no big deal.

But like there was a moment when he developed a little crush for you.

It was one of those moments where like you were sitting on a rock by the Black Lake and he was pacing and he was doin' his work out thingy and his eyes land on you when he's walking by and he's like

"OOP, a CUTIE-" and he walks over to the rock and his fangirls are like "NONONONO-"

But it's too late, he's already next to you.

And of course your nervous, he's a fAMOUS QUIDDITCH PLAYER AND HE'S NEXT TO YOU

And he's tall, dark and handsome, so 👀

Ok, but when he makes you blush, he's feeling gitty inside. Probably starts speaking Bulgarian souly out of excitement.

We all know the fangirls end up shipping you two.

And it doesn't take long for Krum to realize you sat on that rock every time you wanted to study.

So he stops by almost every day just to chat with you.

Adventually, you start opening up to him slowly and getting to know him and he gets to know you.

Viktor realizes your so smart and he's just like "He's cute AND a genius?!!"

You literally blow him away.

He wants to be able to give you his address or letter thingy so you guys can write all the time because he needs it in his life.

But first he has to get to know you.

So he does that. He notices the little things, too.

He sits beside you on the rock, and helps you study, when he knows how to help you in that particular subject.

You guys play like twenty questions.

He asks about your hobbies, you ask about what classes he takes, he asks about your favorite color, you ask about his favorite broom trick.

It's honestly so cute though because when you guys realize you have common favorites, you forget about studying and just talk about those favorites.

And somehow it comes to your favorite subject and your just like going off and your smiling, talking with your hands, your loud and he's just looking at you like "W O W"

Viktor probably doesn't understand much about the subject, but he loves seeing you like this.

And you're like "I HATE THIS ONE THING. IT'S DUMB, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN??" and he's like "yES. IT'S DUMB AND STUPID."

But in reality, he's just staring at your sparkling eyes and thinking "Ah, yes, I am clueless........................... He's adorable, tho."

Other than that? His head is empty while you talk.

You're voice is like music to him, especially because of your accent. He just can not get enough.

Viktor tries to get you to tell him stories just so you ramble and get off topic.

He's smitten over you, it's quiet simple.

He can and will show off during the TriWizard Tournament tho.

He dedicates his win against the dragon to you.

HIM ASKING YOU TO HELP HIM FIGURE OUT TOURNAMENT TWO-

He gives you the egg as a gift after you figure it out. He honestly doesn't care if he's even allowed to take it home or not, it's yours now and you will have to go through him to get it from you.

Like he'll wink at you from whatever he's doing and maybe do a little flex, especially during the second trial.

Honestly, he probably looked for you during the second trial to find you but you were in the Black Lake.

He DEFINITELY kisses your head while wrapping the towel around your shoulders. He spends his time gently drying your hair while everyone is excited and screaming around you.

Like yeah, he's happy he did it, but he's relieved your safe. He probably officially falls in love with you when you look at him with like big, innocent eyes and say thank you.

And that's when be tries to ask you on a date but you can't hear him over the screaming crowds.

Naturally though, he's very, very careful and protective of you after the whole lake thing.

I feel like he gives some of the best hugs.

I don't know why. He gives the best hugs and head pats.

HE'S THE TYPE OF HUGGER THAT GIVES YOU A LITTLE SQUEEZE THEN LETS GO.

He probably asks you to the dance and then asks you out at said dance.

Take him to Hogsmead. I feel like he'd enjoy it. Take him to the Quidditch shop. Do it. Watch him brag about his broom and then fluster himself by knocking over a stack of books or something.

Please. You guys'll be walking down the halls together and like bump shoulders and your hands will brush against each other and you'll blush and he'll smile and you guys act like nothing happened.

But he will ask you out to the ball.

And it's probably sudden, too.

Like you guys are eating breakfast together and he just blurts it out and you almost choke and die on pumpkin juice and he just smiles and chuckles while patting your back.

"Please don't die, I'd love an answer to my question." "I-I'm sorry, what was the question again?" "Would you like be my date to the dance?" "S-.. Sure! Yes."

He bows to you at the dance and asks for your hand. Definitely kisses your knuckles too.

He IMMEDIATELY compliments your suit/tux fuck it, dress, whatever you wore, dude. You do you. He loved it though and he thinks you look amazing.

Thinks your outfit is adorable and will not stop repeating it.

The color of your suit? His new favorite color.

But his new favorite colors are also: your eye color, your hair color, your skin color, your favorite color-

It's a whole list.

You're just his favorite.

He tries to spend like every day with you until he has to leave.

He writes to you first and it's something so sickeningly sweet you hang it up in your dorm room.

He can and will give you tickets to his games. Shows you off to his team mates.

STOPS BY HOGWARTS TO SEE YOUR QUIDDITCH GAMES IF YOU PLAY-

YOU GUYS PLAYING TOGETHER ON THE FIELD.

Him giving you pointers on your broom so you guys are sharing one and his chest is against your back and his hands are over yours like in those muggle movies with the couples clay classes or whatever-

Just you two playing quidditch.

Please.

He let's you win, if you arne't used to playing. But if your on the Hogwarts team, you better be ready to fucking go.

And if your totally uncomfortable on a broom, he will teach you (once again, sitting behind you on the broom, hands over yours blah blah clay), and it's like 2 feet off the ground and he's holding you close to you don't fall or go any higher.

I didn't know I needed this until now-

Just kinda realized I didn't focus too much on the Hufflepuff aspect of the request, so I'm gonna add some more so here we go.

People joking about how every Hufflepuff has a Slytherin and how you definitely have one and he's like "... Who are they? I'll fight them. Give me their names-"

Krum losing it when you give him a special gift from your collection (ex: rocks, flower petals, stuffed animals).

If you make him a friendship bracelet, he will NOT take it off.

Give him a flower crown and he's making you one. Fight me.

This man lacks any toxic masculinity. He can and will wear jewelry you make him.

Him relaxing in the Hufflepuff Common Room and just enjoying the softness and everything. Just everything. He loves it all.

He loves messing up your tie and laughs when you smack his hands away and frantically try to fix it.

He loves pulling you into a kiss by your tie or your rob's and, once again, messing them up so your shaky hands have to do it.

He loves flustering you.

CALLS YOU "PUFFIE" WHEN YOU GET ANGRY

#viktor krum x male reader #viktor krum imagine #viktor krum #viktor krum headcanon #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hp imagine #hp headcanon #not a story

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omiscurls · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! characters as bed sharing AU’s

taken of pinterest!

characters in question: kiyoomi sakusa, miya atsumu, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, tobio kageyama, kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji

kiyoomi sakusa - the “you have too much nightmares, let me try this method on you”

When you look at Sakusa, you wouldn’t guess any of his weaknesses... well except for one maybe

He always speaks so confidently, if he doesn’t feel secure, he just doesn’t speak

So even if you’ve been their manager for... several years, you still know as much about this man’s weaker sides as if you met him yesterday, or even less.

The surprise on your face when you binge watched a series at night, and you suddenly felt the scream definitely coming from outside your headphones was indescribable

Was the room next to yours... Sakusa’s?

you thought nothing of it, but night after night, you heard a lot more, you heard crying, ventilating, calling out random names, and finally you decided that not only is this interrupting your sleep, it’s not healthy for the wing spiker either

come on, the next day is game day, he has to be on his best abilities

nobody wants to deal with grumpy kiyoomi, nobody has the guts

so you remember a method your friend has told you about that their s/o uses on them

it took a lot of courage, but there you are, about to knock on his door...

Sakusa flinched hearing knocks on his door. That definitely wasn’t just a comeback from a dream. Someone’s knocking on his door. Was he being too loud? Did he wake someone up? He prays that it’s just someone wanting something, even if it’s around 2AM, and who on earth would want someone at 2AM.

Normally he would’ve been pissed off, but now he wished for this scenario to come true.

He put on a hoodie before opening the door, since it was cold outside the sheets, besides, who wants to see him in his underwear, right? Especially if it’s marvel themed-

The look on his face when he sees his crush on the other side of the door is priceless. He can practically feel his face going all red.

“Can I help you?” he clears his throat and says lazily, pretending to be annoyed by the fact you allegedly woke him up, even though the tears still flow down his cheeks.

“No, but I can help you” you say, just as embarrassed as he is, and it doesn’t help when he raises his eyebrows like that, so you quickly add “That is, if you like, please feel comfortable to tell me to piss off if I’m being too much, but I have a friend with a problem simmilar to yours and I just...”

“Okay, I’m listening” he interrupts, causing you to look up at him.

When you explain the idea to him, he’s more than pessimistic, he’s laughing in your face, mumbling something about how he thanks you for your concern, but...

You took the opportunity that you’re both sitting on his bed, and just lay on your back.

“Come on, just try”

“No!” he answers almost immediately, but, as he’s also a man of logic...

He really has to be on his best tomorrow, and you’re his only hope at the moment. He reluctantly lays down next to you, and your hand guides his face near your neck.

“Fine, but only so you stop with this idea already. It’s not gonna work.”

You’re both extremely out of your comfort zones, but you’re slowly adjusting. You feel him nuzzle closer, and your hair just instinctly lands in his hair, curling one little curl on your finger.

His showergel smells amazing, by the way. It puts you to sleep instantly, but you know you can’t be the one to pass out first. After a while of silence, you ask him if his trial run has expired already, but there’s no response. His breath evens out, and you’re too afraid to stir away far enough to check if his eyes are closed.

“Kiyoomi? Are you asleep?” you ask, but again, there’s no response.

Oh well.

The next morning he’s so embarrassed that the idiotic idea worked, he can’t even look you in the eyes at breakfast.

atsumu miya as “you’ve been so dejected lately i feel too bad to leave you alone at night”

He didn’t ask for this at all, but yet you ended up being his roommate.

A roommate who was recently going through an extemely tough time.

Seriously, even he feels bad seeing you all in tears all the time, mindless look and not paying attention to anything

Even though you weren’t each other’s favorite people in the world before, you ended up getting closer over the fact that he was the only one to see you at the worst moments

You hated that, but what can you do, there’s no safer place to cry in than your dorm

And even though he kinda made fun of it at first, the longer it kept going, the more concerned he’d get

It got to a point where he literally wouldn’t leave you alone

While still pretending not to like you, of course

Have you eaten? Have you drank something? Have you even left your bed today? How long did you sleep last night? Not at all? You idiot, start taking care of yourself.

You dumbass, you dummy, you moron, you absolute fricking mess

Some of your friends consider him your boyfriend, judging from the messages you get from him

“Dummy, there’s a granola bar in your bag, better eat it” “Hey idiot, I had to run to practice early today. Are you feeling less shitty than yesterday?”

He noticed that, as it is logical, your mood proggressively gets worse as you get tired

And that you actually learned how to cry without sobbing so you don’t wake him up, how thoughtful of you

Well your mistake, now you have an 80kg volleyball player over you.

“Atsu, what’re you doing?” you ask in a tired voice, covering your face with a pillow.

“You’re crying.” he states bluntly, staring at you like a four-year-old.

“Observant, are we?”

“Hey. Dumbass. You didn’t cry for so long already, what happened?” he whispers, sitting by your side, and you can’t mumble words, feeling so ashamed you want to disappear. You fall on your back and pretend not to notice the question.

He sighs audiably.

“Alright then, just know you brought this on yourself” he states, and before you can ask why, he’s already laying beside you.

“W-what’re you doing?” you scream-whisper, right into his blonde hair, and he shivers at the feeling.

“I’m comforting you, isn’t it obvious, you moron?” he hisses. “Although, I can see my mistake now” he states, and you think he’s gonna go back to his own bed, but no, he grabs you by the waist and rolls over, so now you lay on top of him, flustered as ever, thankful for the light being off, at least he doesn’t see your tomato-like face.

“But- Atsumu, please go to your own bed” you plea, but he shakes his head, eyes already closed.

“Nu-uh” he answers “Yours is more comfy, anyway” he jokes, making you chuckle through the tears.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and puts it on his chest.

“Goodnight, dipshit” he whispers, and you manage to fall alseep listening to the steady beat of his heart.

No tears, he’d feel them anyway.

kenma kozume as “the heater broke and i’m cold as hell, can you come here?”

this should not have happened

the guy looks miserable

but, you see, he’s doesn’t have the biggest amount of muscles in his body, his not as ripped as his highschool friends

body fat? also no, he’s a skinny, fairly tall boy who gets cold really easily

for real, he’s wearing a hoodie at all times, and in winter, he looks like a shell of himself

so you’re over at Kuroo’s house on a New Year’s party

the party ended like an hour ago, everyone is asleep

(Lev’s gonna be so dead when Yaku wakes up and finds the tall guy’s head on his stomach)

you’re almost sound asleep in Kuroo’s guest bedroom, so gracefully given to you by the host

the only other person in the room is Kenma, who originally slept in Kuroo’s room together with his best friend, but got annoyed by the weird questions him and Bokuto kept asking

so he asked you if he can sleep on the couch in the room

why wouldn’t you say yes?

earlier that night Kuroo burnt pizza in the oven, so you all opened almost every window in the house to get the smell to leave

and kinda forgot to close the ones in the bedrooms

but no worries, you have a radiator

...right?

why is the radiator set on the highest temperature and still stone cold?

well, doesn’t matter, you can just wrap yourself in the heavy sheets

Kenma, on the other hand, only has a small blanket

And since it’s a party, he’s wearing a shirt, not a hoodie

The boy’s freezing

“Hey, are you asleep?” you hear a very quiet whisper coming from the couch.

“Thought you’re here cause you couldn’t stand the chit-chat, Kenma?” you ask with a grin on your face.

“Yeah, right. Sorry.” he mumbles and you hear him shift in his spot, visibly annoyed by the circummstances. There’s a moment of silence, in which he can feel his face almost burn down from embarrassment.

Oh, my god, you sound like you’re annoyed with him here. Areyou? Come on, tell him you aren’t. He should just let you sleep.

But does he really want to spend the rest of his night feeling his feet hurt from cold? Fuck, Kuroo, you and your stupid pizza.

He gets up, tightly wrapped in his blanket, and checks the radiator.

“It’s definitely broke” he sighs, touching the cold surface, and turns back to the couch, falling on it face down, letting out a groan.

You giggle at his action, and he opens his eyes immediately, hearing the sound of your voice.

“Kenma... I offered you the bed once already, it’s warmer” you start, but he raises his hand and shakes it in a disagreeing gesture.

“No no, please, don’t worry” he mumbles against the couch, trying to ignore the, ironically, burning sensation in his legs. Is this a bedroom or is this Antarctica?

“Oh, come on” you say, opening the sheets. “We don’t want you to freeze, do we now?”

Oh my god, what did you do. There’s so much thoughts racing through his mind right now. Should he do it? It sounds so nice... But should he really?

Fuck it, he thinks, you’re offering, he can’t turn down an offer from you.

He lazily walks over to the bad and lays down next to you, at a reasonable distance, only to hear you laugh again. He spares you an annoyed glance, and you shake your head slightly, rolling over next to him, covering him with the sheets you have wrapped around yourself so tightly, and using his chest as a pillow.

Hold on, that’s not what he signed up for. Why are you... How...?

He hesitantly and gently puts his arm around you, relaxing his body, the scent of your shampoo making him slightly dizzy.

Please don’t notice how fast his heart is racing. This is fine. It doesn’t mean anything, he can promise.

rintaro suna as “hey dude, i hear cuddling helps you sleep, wanna try?”

the most chill person out there

literally you would never have guessed how nervous he was before asking you

it’s just another week, another game and another hotel you are all staying in

and fate is definitely on his side today, since his bedroom is literally next door to yours

he got to your door and left without doing anything about three times before he eventually decided to be a man and knock

has a master plan in his mind

he’s gonna show you a website with an article about how cuddling (allegedly) makes you sleep better

and he’s just gonna be so causal about it

he’s just gonna knock, put on an emotionless smirk and ask you, just like he always does

but here’s the think, he’s not so chill on the outside

“how should I call them? their name? a pet name? bro? no, too much”

but, he does end up knocking

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” you turn your head to the door to see a figure of Suna in only his underwear and an oversize t-shirt with the logo of some metal band.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you ask, voice hoarse as you were already drifting off.

“I read this super cool thing, wanna see?” he seems not to mind your comment, as he walks over to your bed and practically throws himself beside you, not minding you laying there, shoving his phone in your hands.

“... help you fall asleep in just three minutes...” you’re mumbling under your breath as you read the headline. “Rin, this sounds so fake” you laugh, falling back on your pillows, as he sighs.

“I wanna try, and it’s either you or Kita, and he gives me serial killer vibes” he mutters, earning yet another serie of laughter from you.

But seeing the serious hint in his eyes, you lift your hands in surrendering gesture.

“Go on with it, Mr Romantic” you state, watching in amusement as he groans at the comment and burries his face in your pillow.

You’re sure this is him considering this mission a failed one and giving up, but then he looks up

“Well, are you coming?” he asks completely serious, and you have nothing left to do than hug him and settle your face in the crook of his neck, not minding as his breathing lifts your hair from time to time and tingles your skin.

Can someone feel your blush through their skin? You surely hope not.

tobio kageyama as the almighty “the hotel room has only one king size bed and we need to share”

He never would’ve thought his teammates would betray him like this

What the hell do they mean there��s only two people rooms available and they’re all in pairs already

Honestly, primary school all over again

ugh

His perfectly happy to be sleeping alone, when he finds out you’re his roommate

this is fine tobio, don’t freak out

well he’s composed about it

a little bit of a “tch” and “well I guess there’s nothing we can do about it”

internally he’s a little girl now, but you never would’ve guessed judging by the annoyed grimace on his face

because how does it matter if you’re sleeping in the same room, it’s not like he was planning to run around naked, right?

it all changes once you press the card to open the room, and when he so gentleman-like lets you enter first, you find out there’s only one, big, king sized bed for couples exclusively

the only thing missing are rose petals and candles prepared for newlyweds

you try so so hard not to burst out laughing

when he enters, he becomes as white as the walls around

he can’t process this, what the fu-

bet he’s spending hours at the reception desk explaining it’s a huge mistake

unfortunately, these were the only rooms left, sorry not sorry, you’re sleeping together

and that brings you to the situation you’re in currently

He’s almost over the edge of making a wall of pillows between you two. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit offended by it, but you know he’s probably just super hyper embarrassed.

“Yama, who don’t you trust, me, or yourself?” you ask with a proud grin painting your lips as you sit on your side, sheets tucked around your waist, back rested on the wall behind you.

He gives you an annoyed glance, before answering:

“It’s not that”

Once he says that, he proceeds to somehow nestle himself in, but he looks like one of those dolls that come with a bedroom furnishing, almost lifeless, resting on his back with hands straight down his body, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Relax, will you?” you giggle “You have a game tomorrow, grumpy face”

He rolls his eyes.

You shake your head and turn off the light, mumbling a quiet goodnight, as you turn to your side and place a hand under your head, back facing Kageyama.

Well, this is gonna be a long night, or so you think, up until he falls asleep.

You can physically feel him move around, and you think that’s what’s keeping you awake.

It takes a while for you to realize the star valley ball player is getting unconsciously closer, up until you can feel his breath on your neck.

Ironically enough, it’s you who’s all stiff and nervous now, when suddenly you feel his arm go around your waist.

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me” you mutter, but he shifts dangerously when you speak, so you have to give up side commentary.

You decided to tease him just a bit. He’s the one who’s gonna be flustered when he wakes up, you’re on a winning side by being awake.

You smile to yourself before shifting your body closer to his. He sighs contently, almost making you laugh.

Oh how you want him to wake up and see already.

tetsuro kuroo as “we fell asleep on the couch together and now my hand is in your hair and you’re breathing directly on my neck”

you’re over studying, or just helping him with something

the point is, you were working all day

at some point he suggests getting pizza

hell yeah, pizza

you order a little bit too much of it, but since you both are suckers for pizza, nobody can back up first

and as you know, people tend to get sleepy after they eat too much

he has a wide couch, so you can both lay beside each other without having to lay ON each other

and as you tend to get a little bit sleepy, you both shift to lay down instead of sitting, still focused on the work, though

you don’t know why, you don’t know how but it just happens that you fall asleep

you obviously don’t see what happens after that, but Kuroo notices you asleep when he asks you multiple questions and you repeatedly don’t answer, he got it like around question number 4

“Lazy much, huh, sleeping beauty?” he mutters to himself, but smiles unconsciously as he glances at your stoic face

and as if that subconsciously impacted his brain, soon enough he can’t find it in himself to keep his eyes open as well.

Kuroo wakes up to an annoying pain in his neck, causing him to hiss and automatically want to place his hand on the place that ached. Whoops, did he fall asleep on the couch again? Oh well, didn’t he have work to do?

He lifts his hand as he wanted to, but suddenly he feels something shift beneath it, and when he looks down to see you, with your head rested on his chest, breathing slowly, a peaceful smile on your face.

Your legs are tangled with his in some unexplicable manner, and as the man of logic he so obviously is, he can’t even begin to understand how that happened.

Especially why his hand feels so in place, holding you by the waist, closer to himself, and the other one lost somewhere in your hair.

You shift your head slightly up, and sigh contently, now breathing directly on the exposed part of his neck. He somehow manages to not shiver at the tingling sensation, getting more and more flustered by the second.

His heart rate inscreases drastically, making him realize he’s stressed like he’d never been before, as he tries to make up his mind about whether to wake you up, gently push you off and let you rest, or maybe stay in place.

He feels attracted to the last one, but knows it’d only be unfair to you.

But you could wake up if he moved you, and you had a long day, after all...

Maybe he’s gonna let you stay there. Not for long, only five... more... minutes...

keiji akashi as “you’re staying over at my place, you take the bed, i’ll sleep on the floor. no, really, i’m comfortable on the floor. GEEZ FINE we’ll both take the bed, ya happy now?

You wanna know what got you in this situation huh

well, you were over for dinner, but it started raining really heavily

like, really really heavily

and akaashi being the sweetheart that he is, can’t let you go home like that

it’s a long way to the train station, you’re gonna get sick, and what if there’s a traffic accident? he can’t have that

(he just wants to spend more time with you but shh about that)

doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince him you’re gonna be fine. you’re staying and that’s final

it’s cute, he’s cute when he’s worried

well that brings you to where you are currently, already after your shower, dressed in one of akaashi’s t-shirts, oh this feels so couple-ish

you wait for him to finish with his night time routine in his room, admiring all the posters and childhood pictures he has

he has the first ever selfie bokuto took with him framed

when he comes back, that’s when the problems start

“Alright, well, let’s get some sleep, you can take my bed, and I’ll take the floor

And that’s what brings us to the guilt rising in your stomach as you settle in the guy’s sheets, inhaling the heavy scent of his shampoo from the pillow under your head. It’s his house, his bed, and yet he’s sleeping on the floor like some random guest. You’re the random guest here, you can’t help but feel like you’re crashing at his place against his will, and you’re making him uncomfortable.

“ ‘Kaashi?” you whisper, making his eyes open wide to see the dark ceiling of his room. There’s silence for a moment, and then he shifts to turn on the light once more.

“Yeah?” he sighs, bringing one hand up to his face to rub his eyes, unable to open them properly because of the sudden flush of light.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed?” you ask shyly, making him chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Yes, yes I’m sure. Goodnight” he states gently, turning on the light once again. This is gonna be a long night, he thinks.

You cannot catch your sleep. Damn it, damn your altruism and all that shit.

“Akaashi no, I can’t-“ you’re cut of by the sound of him laughing.

“Oh my god. Fine. If I move to the bed, will you sleep already?” he whines quietly, and seeing you nod in the dark, he gets up and picks up his pillow.

You get off the bed, wanting to swap places with him, but are held back by his hand.

“No, if you sleep on the floor, i won’t be able to close my eyes even for a second” he forbids gently, moving you back to where you were previously laying.

Oh boy, you both think, this is awkward, but the warmth of his body pressed next to yours makes it hard to be mad at him for stopping you from leaving.

This is gonna be a long night indeed.

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