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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

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hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 2 months

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chapter one: the briefing

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of murder, dead parents, scars, trauma, implied slutshaming, mentions of guns and shooting and bombs, mentions of wanting to die, dark content, reader is implied to be bisexual (I cannot fathom not being attracted to women SORRY NOT SORRY), reader is implicitly stated to be NOT A MAN

word count: 3.4k

A/N: omg it's here! had so much fun writing this, hope you all enjoy it too! im still working out a schedule for this, as ive currently written 3 chapters and am already at about 10k words! and im currently very inspired for my own, non-fanfic WIP, so im split! hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know if you liked it! comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Human attraction can be sorted into three little boxes: Sexual, romantic, platonic. It is somewhat of a threeway Venn diagram, and people find themselves travelling in between the perfectly drawn circles all the time. It is a marvel to some, to be able to gauge the section in which one stands with a simple glance. It’s a gift, you’ve found, having the knack to discern between the three attractions. Which means you’ve cracked the code on people, and know exactly how to assess and engage accordingly.

It’s how you find yourself in such a predicament as the following, quite often:

“You’re Butterscotch, aren’t you?” The voice is meek, quiet, and comes from directly behind you. You’ve just put down the weights at the gym, and have paused to take a drink from your water bottle, when you turn to assess the situation.

Long brown hair, blue eyes. Gorgeously shy smile as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Your whole body moves, reacting to the incarnation of Aphrodite herself in front of you. You suppose you’ve always seen women that way, to be wholly more beautiful on average compared to men. It’s how you often find yourself in bed with a woman not unlike the one before you.

She stands, slyly pushing her breasts together and leaning into you, whether it be subconscious or not, batting her long eyelashes. Sexual attraction, then. You smile, deciding to play it cool, taking another long sip of water, silently reveling in the way her eyes stick on your wet lips.

“Yeah, that’s me. And you, you’re Hazel, aren’t you?” You tip your head to one side in faux innocence, honing you eyes in on her in a way you know sends shivers down her spine, completely hypnotised by the way you silently call to her. She nods, surprised that you’ve remembered her from her initiation training 6 months ago. She was one of the older recruits, only two or three years younger than you, but valuable just the same.

“I’ve been following your career for a while now, and I must say I really look up to you.” Her lips twist into a grin, showing off her perfect teeth. Your own face darkens as you inject lust into it, and you watch as she tries to discreetly squeeze her thighs together. She’ll be eating right out of your hand in no time.

If she’d come to you 13 years ago, when you were just starting out, you would’ve wanted to tell her that all you are interested in is a promise of casualty. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less, but the absence of such a discussion did land you in hot water all that time ago. Now, your reputation precedes you, and you doubt there is a single soul in this building who doesn’t know your one-and-done policy. Of course, some of the agents surprise you and you have them on a staggered rotation, a new criteria you’ve introduced into your sex life once the gap between you and fresh faces widened to an immoral degree.

You open your mouth to give her a reply that will make her leave here with sticky thighs, when the most agitating, grating voice you’ve been almost tortured with for the past eight years echoes across the gym, calling to you.

“Let’s go Butterface, Fury had a brief for us twenty minutes ago. You can fuck around later.” You roll your eyes at the words of none other than James Buchanan Barnes, huffing out a breath. He’s done this to embarrass you, for sure, because you know for a fact that Fury’s briefing for the next mission is actually in ten minutes from right now. But you know if you showed up on time, he gets the upper hand for coming in earlier.

That’s the other reason you’re so famous around the building — your long-term feud with Bucky. Whenever the two of you end up in a meeting room, there are more insults hurled around than facts. You two love to spar together, finding any excuse to leave bruises on the other’s body. But the most damning thing? There is no better team than the both of you out on the field, your missions always resulting in the lowest casualties and highest success rates SHIELD has ever seen. It’s an eternal mystery, but to the two of you, it is clear enough. You are enemies, holding the dagger of sharp-edged insults to each other’s throats, but on a mission? It must all be put aside for the greater good, for the safety of others. The remarks are snarky but non-distracting, and you’ve jumped in front of a bullet for him more times than you would like to admit. But it doesn’t matter, because he has endured several injuries for you in turn as well.

You redirect your attention back to your self-sacrificial prey for tonight. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be available at my room on floor 13 at around ten.” You lean in to whisper into her ear, and drag a less-than-innocent finger down the side of her neck. “I can give you a few more ways to look up to me, if you’d like.” The lower octave does something to her, and you watch her eyes flutter shut as she realises you’ve gladly accepted the silent offer she was handing you on a silver platter.

You chuckle, at how easy it all is. And then spin on your heel, marching back to begrudgingly follow behind the tall brunette who seems to have a permanent scowl on his face whenever he’s in the same room as you.

He leans back against the cool metal of the elevator that will send the both of you to the top, arms crossed across his broad chest. If you didn’t hate his guts, you’d absolutely suck him dry, right here right now. It’s no surprise that he is the most beautiful man in the building, but his attitude and mannerisms have long turned you off from him.

You poke the bear.

“What happened, Barnes? You mad nobody’ll fuck you?” He turns to you then, blue eyes blazing. And it only makes your shit-eating grin widen.

“Why would I ever be mad at that? I’m mad because we have to go on a mission, and when I come to get you, you’re busy planning on how to… spend your night. Again. At this point, if they’ve got a pulse they probably meet your standards, don’t they?” He smiles cruelly, and you don’t miss the implications. But you don’t care. If you were a man, they’d be singing your praises in the streets. So why is it different now?

“If they have a pulse? Well, if that were the case, then you…” You let your eyes wander up and down, and you notice his hard shell cracking when you meet his eyes again. You smile widens and you feign a blush, and he begins to smile, thinking he’s got you. And then you throw a grenade into whatever fantasy he’s spinning in his head. “Would be dead.” Your voice has never been more cold, observing the way his shoulders slouch in something akin to disappointment.

This is his kryptonite that you love exploiting, so much. The man is wickedly attracted to you, and is equally as horrid at hiding it. You have no idea what kind, though. Which box he fits into. You’re certain it’s not platonic given the way he talks to you. The longing glances and delicate touches after missions where you end up injured had turned you towards romantic, but you know there is no denying the way his eyes drift to your cleavage when you spar, or the way his hands immediately find your hips when you best him in the ring and end up straddling him. There is no box you can put him in, and it drives you up the damn wall.

You briefly wonder what the two of you would be doing in this elevator right now if you were as attracted to him and either of you had made it known.

The elevator pings and the both of you break the burning, seething eye contact as you file into Meeting Room 17B.

“Right, before Barnes’ dick explodes at the thought of me fucking a woman, what’s the mission chief.” Barnes has the nerve to blush, sitting in the chair opposite yours, both facing the head of the table with a monitor where Fury and Stark both stand.

“Did your mother never teach you the difference between professional and casual?” He fires back, and you grin sadistically, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

“She’s dead, Barnes. Have some decorum, and maybe a modicum of respect?” His face falls, knowing he’s crossed a line, but if God Himself came down and told Bucky to apologise, he’d shake hands with the Devil. “What about your father then?” He is frantically searching you for any sign of hurt or discomfort that he can exploit, you can tell by the way his eyes stick to your every feature.

“Hard to when you’re in prison for murdering your wife and attempting to murder your child.” You turn to Stark, knowing you’ve rendered him absolutely speechless. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mouth close and open like a fish, gasping for some air. Pathetic, really, but well-deserved. In all these years, you’re surprised it took him this long to blame your upbringing, often opting to attack you as a person directly. But you finally got to play the cards you’ve kept close to your chest, a sick and twisted punishment. That means that you win, today.

“Thats 236 for Butterscotch, and Barnes is still on 220,” Tony mutters, and you can’t hide your competitive side that comes out.

You turn to him, tutting. “Keep up, Barnes. I thought you were better competition than this. Pathetic.” You’re shaking your head in mock disappointment. A blood-tinged vignette passes around in the back of your mind, but you try your best to not let it show.

The arguments between you and Bucky as so well-known to get out of hand, the Avengers started keeping score, refreshing each year, of who won the argument. This is strictly judged based on how the final retort leaves the other unable to think of a comeback. You’ve bested him 236 times already, and it’s only February.

“You didn’t tell me about your parents,” he grumbles, cheeks pink in humiliation. Why is he backing down so easily today?

“I don’t owe you shit, Barnes. Especially not about my life before I got here. Sorry, Fury, should we start the briefing?” You divert the attention back to the matter at hand, feeling like maybe you went a tiny bit too far by calling him pathetic to his face.

Since when have you ever nurtured a soft spot for him? Well, you are certainly not going to be starting today.

With both of your mouths shut and eyes attentive, Fury begins to speak.

“We need the two of you to go undercover. We have intel that Senator Parker may be dealing with copious amounts of methamphetamines, involving using his house as a lab and distribution centre. He often targets teens of ethnic backgrounds to carry the drugs and deal them in exchange for cuts — he chooses them this way so they would almost immediately go to prison, and nobody would be let off scot-free to rat him out.” Tony flashes up several holograms of the Senator, the teens caught pressing white packets into palms, and even those who ended up behind bars, and have continued to distribute the drugs from within.

“So…why do we need to go undercover?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat so you could see the graphics better.

“Well…here is Parker’s dating history…” Why does Tony sound so reluctant as he pulls up the dating history? Why is that relevant? These are just some of the questions that swirl around your mind, and are evident in your scrunched up face.

Bucky is watching you, quietly. Observing your features, observing you. He can’t help it — the grace with which you walk, the crudeness with which you speak…it’s entrancing. And you know it. He hates it.

Then, slowly, the pictures begin to appear — there are 17 women. Every single one of them looks like you — the same colour hair, the same colour eyes. Similar face shapes and similar body types. It’s like there’s 18 of you in the room.

“I’m a honeytrap?”

Fury is quick to speak, to protest the misunderstanding that the mission is an objectification of you. “No….well yes. We have carefully constructed a plan that essentially is built on the fact that you happen to be—“

“Exactly his type?” Bucky asks, feeling shame crawl up his spine at the realisation that he has something in common with a drug lord. You look at him as he speaks, and feel more and more confused by the second.

“Yes.” Tony continues. “We’ve planned to plant you in the same cul-de-sac that Parker’s house resides on, and Butterscotch can use the fact that she’s his type to sway him, win his trust. You’ll have to play the long game with him, he’s known to barely let anyone in his house unless he wants to fuck them.”

You feel a sickness coat your stomach. “Will I have to fuck him? Because I’d rather shoot Barnes and then myself and blow up this building.” You chew your lip nervously, all the confidence can your body momentarily evaporating. The old man might just be one of the worst people you’ve ever heard of when it comes to drug trafficking. Not to mention any sexual gratification is just you stepping into a stereotype of what he wants, that you are just another woman with the similar face that he wants to put his dick in. It makes your skin crawl, and you run your fingernails harshly along your forearm.

“No.” To your surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks up. He meets your eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Fury and Tony. “No, right? She clearly doesn’t want to, don’t tell me you’re gonna make her.” He sounds oddly protective over you here, which he has no right to be. But you can’t fight him, not over this.

“No, no, of course not. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. At most you’ll have to flirt with him, make him think he’s going to….y’know, with you. And use that advantage to sneak into his house. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Butterscotch. You know we’d never do that to you, that it’s against our ethics and values.” You nod, relaxing in your seat while Bucky stares at the red, raw skin of your forearm. He wants to soothe it, he wants to soothe you—

“And if I’m going, obviously you’re gonna send the Sergeant with me, aren’t you?” They nod in unison. You take a deep breath, knowing you have to take it. There will be no mission more satisfying. And Bucky is much more bearable when the both of you have a common goal.

“So what exactly is our cover?” Bucky perks up. The both of you wear the suit of civility so quickly when you have to do your jobs.

Fury scratches his neck, exchanging a nervous glance with Tony. You anticipate the answer, knowing it will not be to your liking.

“We’ve planned to plant you in the Acorn suburb in Claremont, just across the street from Parker’s residence, for around six months. It’s a nice, quaint little city, I think the both of you would like it. It’s a lot more green, and less noisy and polluted than New York—.”

“Tony,” you warn, glaring at him. He is omitting the information. Why?

“Fine! The suburbs are conservative as shit, so you’re going as husband and wife!” Your eyes widen, and you swear you lose hearing for a second as the world goes in and out of focus. You have to pretend to be married. Pretending to be in love, you could do — in fact, you could probably pass off most intel exchanges with him as lovers’ private conversations if you smile and laugh on the right cues.

But marriage? The sanctity of which has been so thoroughly, irrevocably spoiled for you? The very reason you have only ever wanted casual in your entire life, as opposed to commitment? You can’t breathe.

You try to hide your shaky hands as you reach for the glass of water, downing it and gasping for breath. All that runs through your mind is the only instance of a married man you’ve ever known, and how it ended. How you ended, body mutilated in enough scars to rival Bucky’s left shoulder, crying out for a bloodied corpse in the back of an ambulance while the paramedics did their best to save you. How you wish they would’ve failed sometimes.

It’s too much.

“I need time to think.” You all but run out of the door, and you think the chair falls with the force of your escape, but your heart is beating too fast for you to be certain. Sweat that had dried reappears at your hairline, beading and dripping down your face. You sit on the floor, clutching at your chest as you’re bombarded by the most horrifying images that not even the strongest of sleeping pills can shake. Your eyes squeeze shut and someone is calling your name. Not Butterscotch, but the name that heinous monster chose for you when you were still in your mother’s womb.

But even that turns out to be a hallucination, your head in your hands as you hear a familiar voice call to you.

“Butterface…is the idea of being married to me that bad?” You freeze. Bucky is here, why is Bucky here? You look up to be met with him crouching by your side, Tony on the other with a hand on your shoulder, and Fury standing tall. There is not a single hint of disappointment on his face, and you’re glad.

You turn to Tony. “You know…you know what…I can’t. You know why….Tony…” His face morphs into one of intense melancholia, pulling you into him. Ever since you started working more closely together with Bucky, he’s become something of a big brother to you — overly protective and affectionately annoying.

“I know, kid. You know what? Screw this, I’ll find some other agent who looks close to you to take over with Barnes.” His voice finally calms you down, and you take in deep breaths.

You can’t win them all. You’ll have to make some sacrifices. You pull away from Tony’s arms, not even daring to glance at Bucky. He doesn’t need to see what you look like when you’re vulnerable, because you know he will do everything in his power to bring you to such a state once again, just to hurt you.

You take several deep breaths.

“No. You and Fury have said it yourself, so many times. Nobody works better with James than I do, at least not in the field. My burning hatred for him is completely personal. I— I can do it. It’s just…I probably would’ve been fine but it got brought up and it was all I could really think about and then…it just sent me over the edge. But if Barnes promises to not be as big of an asshole as he usually is, I can make it work.” You don’t even risk a glance at him.

“I won’t be. I’ll behave. Plus, you are a lot more tolerable out on the field, so it shouldn’t be so hard. Promise, it’ll all be okay.” His tone sounds so…sincere? What on earth is up with him today? You spare him a glance, and his eyes shine brilliantly blue. And you believe him.

Bucky Barnes may be an asshole, but he would never lie to you. Especially when it concerns a mission, where miscommunications and secrets have consequences for people outside the both of you. He has at least this sense of loyalty about him.

“Alright. Guess I better get packing for Claremont, then.”

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #x plus size reader #marvel #k's writing corner #bucky barnes fanfiction

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wood-white-writer · 21 days

Text

"We Shall Be Monsters" [One-Shot]

— Enver Gortash x F!Durge!Reader (Baldur's Gate 3)

Pairing: Enver Gortash x F!Durge!Reader

Summary: Long before you became the Savior of Baldur's Gate, you were the Chosen of Bhaal; his unholy offspring. More than that, you were the Chosen of Bane's. There are memories beyond you grasp, forever lost in the oblivion of your mind, but he never forgot, as much as he yearned to.

Wordcount: 7k

A/N: Guess who spent the last three weeks playing Resist!Durge, only to fall for this raccoon of a man? Apologies for grammatical errors, will correct them later. English is not my first language.

Enver Gortash had a revelation, presenting itself as a dream.

He was surrounded by darkness, wholly alone, when a deep and otherworldly voice spoke from the shadows. Whether it was instinct that compelled him or something else, he knew almost instantaneously that it was his God that spoke.

The Lord of Tyranny granted the mortal soul the title as his Chosen One; an honor beyond the kind the mortal world could ever hope to provide with. At the moment, it was far too grand for the mortal to properly acknowledge – a pinnacle of shame he would come to live with for years to come.

Just before the dream faded and the newly appointed Chosen of Bane returned to the material plane, he recalled his God’s parting words:

“Seek out the One whose path is paved with Corpses. The one who’s Who will build her castle with bones.

Seek out the Chosen of my Sworn Foe; his unholy offspring. Make an ally of her.

Do what is necessary to make the world bow before you, and when the time comes, do what must be done to ensure that my rule remains unchallenged.”

---

As it turned out, he had no need to spend any coin trying to scourge you out.

You sought him out instead.

The first time he laid eyes upon you, he found you almost disappointingly unremarkable.

Not in the sense that you were hideous to look upon. No, quite the opposite.

You looked normal.

Normal in a way that, had he crossed paths with you elsewhere – be it at a gala or across the streets of Baldur’s Gate – he wouldn’t have paid you much notice. Maybe offered you a drink and some pretty words, but little more.

Unsurprisingly, he had his reservations about whether you were truly the one he expected.

A Bhaalspawn– No, The Bhaalspawn.

The God of Murder’s very own Chosen Child – his flesh and unholy blood comprised into one singular being.

He had heard tales of you long before he met you.

He had anticipated to come face to face with a monster sprouting tentacles and rows of razor-sharp teeth, blood leaking from every orifice, and a wicked smile stretched across her lips.

Every bit the beast the stories and cautionary tales circling Baldur’s Gate portrayed your kind as.

Not this – someone who looked like they had simply wandered into the completely wrong place.

You were no monster - not at first glance, but he didn't quite know what to make of you. Even in the darkness, it was hour to make out your shape, and you didn't provide him anything to go by.

You were as silentas the evening itself.

Enver considered himself a perceptive man, taking every advantage he could reap whenever an opportunity presented itself. Whenever he happened to come across a potential ally or a new associate, his first instinct was always to read them; figure out the kind of person they were.

He could tell a lot from a person based on their initial demeanor. Were they the worrisome kind? The arrogant type? Self-assured in their position, or meek and subservient to those they considered their superiors?

Lickspittles or servants; equals or subordinates.

He believed he had come to know them all.

You, however, were a blank canvas.

There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, not that he could tell. Not a wayward piece of flesh stuck between the white of your teeth, peeking out past your lips.

He couldn't even see something as menial as a smile.

Hardly the stuff of nightmares.

He couldn’t tell if it disappointed him or not.

However, the Archduke-to-be would come to realize his mistake the moment your eyes met, and all he saw gazing back at him was darkness.

Complete and utter blackness. Absence of light; of life.

Not even the depths of the Hells could compare, nor the shadows which made up Shar's domain. A black whole circling the universe.

You possessed the eyes of a killer, angled in a way that reminded him of knives searching for skin to sever, and they were aimed straight at him.

A shiver ran up and down his skin.

Oh, you were the real deal, all right.

He found that the smile that stretched across his lips was a genuine one for once, unlike the kind he typically displayed when first meeting a potential associate.

He clapped his hands together, suddenly eager to proceed with the introductions. “The Chosen of Bhaal, it seems we finally have the pleasure to speak.”

He took a few steps closer, mindful that you could probably mince him without any effort if he got too close. It was only then that he noticed the blade you kept strapped to your hips. Crimson as the blood it had undoubtedly spilled.

Your eyes maintained direct contact with his for a moment longer before they shifted to the window, not a smidgen of interest or … much of anything, really.

He tried to scrutinize you for any thoughts or feelings, desperate for some reprieve in the enigma that was your character. The moon would not permit him any clues, even as a blade of her light diagonally cut your face.

You were a blank slate, cold even from a distance; wholly indecipherable.

Finally, you spoke: “Chosen of Bane, Enver Gortash.”

He could not hope to conceal his intrigue. “Ah, it seems you already know who I am, then?”

You nodded, only once, like the conversation had already lost all appeal.

“And may I have your name in turn?”

“You have my title. It will suffice."

For now.

Ah, quick and precise. A lady after his own heart.

Just as he was about to offer you a glass of wine - for curtesy’s sake, of course – he looked back only to find your piercing gaze suddenly less than inches away from him, the Lash of Bhaal tilted dangerously close to his jugular vein.

It didn’t cut through him, though he could already tell it was a tempting thought on your part. Still, that didn’t keep you from allowing the blade to dance across his skin, cold and hot at the same time.

Sharp indeed.

A dance of death, with only a moment keeping him from Death’s cold embrace.

Enver fleetingly wondered what it would feel like to have his life claimed by Bhaal’s offspring. Would it hurt? Most likely, but it didn’t frighten him even half as much as it should have.

He had heard the reports of what remained of those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of Bhaal's knives.

He had seen the detailed drawings and read in-depth descriptions Baldur's Mouth publicized, and while he was a skeptic towards the media's reliability, he had no doubt that they had spared no details when it came to your crimes. Children, women, men, it mattered not. Anyone with life pumping through their veins could become a target, and he was no exception.

What would the headlines be?

"Aspiring Military Advisor found dead in his own chambers - The Cult of Bhaal strikes again!"

He imagined his blood would run warm down his skin, soak the imported fabric of his clothing, forever staining the expensive carpets beneath his feet.

Oh, what a sight it would be, should he be fortunate enough to remain conscious for only a few seconds long to see his execution through.

He instinctively held his breath, but all sense of fear and self-preservation evaded him, as it had done numerous times already. He could feel your breath upon his skin, scorching and acidic, yet he could find no trace of repulsion within himself. Instead, all he could focus on were your eyes.

So deep and hollow, like the expanses of Shar, but tenfold as captivating.

Oh, how the goddess would’ve wept upon being usurped.

Patiently, the Follower of Bane awaited your verdict. Truthfully, he had no interest in dying before this alliance came to fruition, however brief. Perhaps he could make an exception this once, if only to die gazing into those eyes of yours.

They contained a beauty meant only to be beheld by the dead or the dying, he discovered.

You tilted your head to each side as you studied him, like a cat inspecting the prey caught between their claws. The blade followed your as though it possessed sentience of its own, scraping against his neck in a manner he almost mistook for fondness.

Then, a sharp sting reverberated across his skin.

He suppressed the urge to wince.

A drop of his warm blood escaped through the cut you had inflicted on his chin. Not fatal by any means, but it would undoubtedly scar.

A scar worthy of a story.

Your eyes trailed down to the crimson liquid gathering on the collar of his shirt, and he could’ve sworn your pupils expanded to the edges of your irises. You took a deep breath through your nose, and upon releasing it, he found your face changing into something … thoughtful.

“You’re not afraid.”

There was no disappointment laced between your words. A hint of surprise, perhaps, but not disappointment.

Enver tilted his head to get a better view of you, the edge of his lip tugging slightly. “Does that offend you?”

You didn’t answer and withdrew the blade.

He might have said something else, but never got the chance to speak up.

In the blink of an eye, you were gone, like a wraith having returned back to their grave.

All that remained of your presence was the opened window that allowed the evening breeze to ruffle his curtains and the lingering scent of death he had grown intimately acquainted with.

As he drew his fingers over the fresh cut down his chin, feeling the warmth of his own life coat the digits, he could not keep a smile at bay.

---

It wasn’t until weeks later that he saw you again, in your natural habitat – for a lack of better description.

You were kneeling on the ground, covered in blood, viscera, and gore, like a devoted monk in the temple of their deity – begging for recognition.

Barely an inch of your skin was visibly underneath the many layers of blood that coated your flesh.

In a way, it felt like he was intruding.

When your eyes snapped to address him, it was like an animal seeing a potential threat. He couldn’t help but feel something stir in the depth of his chest, lodged between his ribcages like a raven yearning to break free of its chains.

Once more, it was in the confines of his chambers. He had retired for the evening, more or less hoping to catch a glimpse of his enigmatic new associate, when Lord Bane apparently saw fit to grant his loyal Follower the visage of his sworn foe’s daughter – completely naked at that.

You were beautiful.

Covered in blood from head to toe, the individual strands of your previously maintained hair separated by layers upon layers of bodily fluids, your clothing cast aside as if to merge yourself completely with the remnants of your prey.

It was like he was witnessing something he had no right to, but still being granted permission. This might have been sacred on your part, meant to be a private affair.

If you wanted to, you could kill him for this slight – if you considered it as such. You could strip him of his teeth, separate the layers of his skin, pull apart his bones, and place his corpse alongside the one you currently had positioned in front of you.

One of his servants, he realized soon after. A young lady named Serah Lancastor, daughter of a nouveau riche lord who had entered his services not long ago.

Whatever blood remained of her corpse had been spent drawing the Symbol of Bhaal. A tribute, perfected in the chambers of the Child of Bhaal’s adversary. It would have been the perfect sacrifice – an insult to Bane and a gift to your Father.

The Banite in him certainly would’ve considered this an insult of the gravest sort, deserving nothing short of a lifetime in Wyrm’s Rock, but Enver himself was more eager to finally get more than a few sentences out of her if he could.

“And here I was under the impression that our respective Lords were at a truce, or have I been misinformed?” He asked as he assessed her, arms crossing over his chest in a way that would’ve come across as self-assured.

You did not reply at first. As you got up to your feet, he could not help but notice that your movements were unsteady, like a foal fresh out of the mare’s womb.

“You were not mistaken,” you answered, your voice hoarse, and the Lash of Bhaal clutched tightly in your grip as you marveled at your masterpiece.

“Oh? Then, pray tell, what reason could you have for killing one of my servants – in my chambers, no less?”

You regarded him stoically. “The woman poisoned your wine.”

An assassination attempt? How ambitious. “So, you killed her for my sake? Considerate for a Bhaalist, wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Your usefulness would expire upon your premature death, Banite. The servant maintained hers after.”

His gaze flickers between you and the corpse for a few moments, thoughts washing over his head. It would seem that – despite your inherent nature – your urges were not without cause. Not wholly, at least.

This meant, for the time being, you would have no reason to kill him unless you saw any benefit from it. He would live for as long as the alliance between your Gods did.

Did it vex you, knowing you could not satiate your hunger for blood just yet?

Did it intrigue you? Did you sleep at night, dreaming of the day you could finally add his name to the long list of your victims?

So many questions and only one knew the answers. Only one could answer them.

But he was in no hurry to receive them.

“There’s a bath in the back, should you feel the need to use it.”

“Does the blood disturb you?” you asked, almost hopeful.

“No," he admits truthfully. "but I imagine it would be difficult leaving this place like that. The servants would be frightened – as they should be – and the guards would be on your trail in an instant. Why not spare yourself trouble when you can afford it?”

You continued to stare at him like he was a puzzle to be solved, and he granted you all the time you required before you finally reached your verdict. With the flick of your blade, and drops of blood splattering across his floor, you turned around and made your way to the bathroom.

Enver was not a salacious man by nature, despite what the Baldur’s Mouth would imply, but even he had to admit – it was a lovely view.

Alas, there was the matter of explaining the unfortunate fate of poor Serah to the cleaning staff …

---

He didn’t see you again for quite sometime after that, and although he’d never admit it to anyone in person, he’d grown accustomed to the way each of your previous visits had left his adrenaline surging through his veins.

To be without it was proving … tedious.

There were reports of various murders committed in the Lower City, some more grotesque and messy than the rest, but he could already discern yours from anyone else’s.

Your kills were methodical; and pragmatic. You didn’t waste time decorating your victims with their innards or putting them up to become a spectacle for the rest of the poor denizens in Baldur’s Gate to find the following morning.

Whoever was responsible for those murders was… wasteful.

It couldn’t have been you.

While Enver was parading about to the many lickspittles and politicians, his mind always shifted back to whether he would open his chamber doors and be greeted by you standing there in the dark. He could care less if you were covered in blood or not, as long as you were there.

What would you do?

Finally make an attempt on his life?

Kill another one of his servants?

He'd give you ten of them.

He had enough of them at his disposal, he’d be more than willing to pay the cost if it meant getting another chance to peer into those acute eyes of yours one more time.

But when he retired once more to his chambers that night, he was disappointed to find it vacant. Not even a corpse was there to greet him.

---

He sent a letter.

Not a long one, but one he was sure would reach you, and sure to pique your interest if his mere presence failed at that.

It regarded the House of Wonders – more specifically, what the House itself contained.

He had waltzed through the halls there on several occasions – attended galas and gatherings hosted by the city’s elite, and he’d seen what rested behind their meager display cases.

Remnants of your history: Bones of fellow Bhaalspawn, ancestral instruments that deserved more than to be poised up for show. The people of this city exploited these instruments as a sign of peace. To know that – if one Bhaalspawn could be felled, they all could.

But you were not the kind to fall so easily as your brethren did.

At first, he was doubtful his message would reach you, but when he found you standing in the corner of his room not even two nights later with the messenger’s severed head positioned on top of his work desk and his letter tucked between what remained of the boy’s teeth, he grinned.

You, however, were evidently not in the mood for idle chatter.

The moment he shut the door, your eyes were once more on him. “Speak.”

And so, Enver did.

He had already planned the groundwork: how to get in and out without alerting the guards, and successfully make away with the torture racks using a Scroll of Dimension Door. It was child’s play, really. The House’s security had dwindled in the last couple of years, and for once, it served him well.

As he laid out his plan for you, taking out the House’s blueprints to further emphasize the brilliance of his mind, he maintained your attention long enough for him to deduce that you were interested.

When he was finished, he turned back to you, patiently awaiting your verdict.

Your eyes flickered between him and the blueprints before they finally settled on him with the same sharpness he had grown to appreciate.

“Tomorrow, at 11 o’clock,” you answered, shortly. “Do not keep me waiting.”

At that moment, Enver could’ve wept with joy.

---

The Heist was a success.

Truly, only the damned Devil’s death could’ve surpassed the satisfaction Enver felt that moment they escaped.

Not only had you two been successful in infiltrating the House of Wonders and making away with the instruments unscathed, but he got to watch you doing what you did best from the front rows.

There were guards there, more than a few, but not even five seconds after they made their debut, screams were reverberating through the halls of the House to the point where the Banite could feel the tremors through his very bones.

There were possibly ten or fifteen guards in total, and you killed them all.

Killed them?

No, that’s too undignified of a word to apply to your craft.

You remade them entirely.

There was so much blood, screaming, and bones being pulled apart from the stems, that he didn’t have the capacity to focus on it all at once.

Blood rained wherever you went.

The One whose path is paved with Corpses.

They were dead long before you ever touched them, he knew as much. One after the other, they all fell until all that remained was a pool of blood gathering under the soles of his shoes.

It was like you were dancing.

You were a monster.

Oh, but what a beautiful monster you were.

In the end, there were no more screams. You stood there in the middle of the circle of death you had just made, blade in hand, clothes soaked thoroughly and clutching to your skin. It seemed like you were on another plane of existence entirely, your mind not your own for a moment, no word brushing past your lips.

All he could hear was your shallow breathing in the aftermath of the chaos you had created.

And when you finally glanced over your shoulder to look at him, your face smeared with the liquid life of those around you, eyes lifeless and cold, Enver could deny it no longer.

Not to himself, not to you, not even to Bane.

“You’re beautiful.”

The way in which he said it was unbefitting of an Archduke-to-be, much less a Banite, but damn it if his pride was not worth this moment of admiration.

For just a moment, he detected a glimpse of something different in your eyes when he spoke that confession. Something he had never seen before. For once, it was not hidden underneath layers of indifference or antipathy, not even perverse satisfaction. It was bare and vulnerable like a snake having shed their most recent skin.

You looked… Surprised. Shocked.

Flustered?

You opened your mouth to say something, but then for some reason, you shut it just as quickly. He had never seen this manner of indecisiveness with you before, and it felt like he wasn’t supposed to.

Still, he couldn’t will himself to look away, to be denied the view of you being anything other than Bhaal’s Chosen.

Then, you finally spoke, and it was so hushed that he almost strained to hear it.

“Enver Gortash … You’re something else.”

He caught the glimpse of something tugging on the edge of your lips. Not quite wide enough to qualify as a smile, but the closest thing he had seen thus far on your countenance. He expected it to be of the perverse kind – the smile of a killer, satisfied with their recent excursion in the name of their Father and Lord.

But it wasn’t.

At least, it didn’t seem so.

Whether it truly was the amount of deaths surrounding you or what he’d said, he didn’t have time to deduce before the bells began to ring in the distance, and their heist came to an end.

Even so, he could not shake off the mental picture he took of that moment.

It was scorched into his brain forevermore. He could try to scrub it as much as he wanted, it would never leave.

Nor did he want it to.

The Heist was indeed a success – but not for the reasons he initially believed in.

It signified the night he finally got to see you, if only a brief glimpse of it.

---

It was as if the Heist with the House of Wonders further cemented your respective alliances, for better or for worse.

On one hand, you began to seek him out more, as he oftentimes found you already waiting for him in the dark of his chambers as per usual. The two of you spent the majority of your time discussing how to advance your plot, while simultaneously attempting to avoid the missteps of your predecessors.

After all, you aimed towards a fruitful alliance, and to sully its potential too early would be a waste on both accounts.

Fortunately, it seemed like you had decided to keep the number of deaths in his quarters at a minimum, for the most part. Whether it was for your inconvenience or his own (his servants had begun to grow disturbed by the piling numbers of deceased in his room), he could not tell.

On the other hand, there was the matter of both Ketheric Thorm – the Chosen of Myrkul – and your second-in-command – Orin the Red.

The geriatric and the child, as he mentally preferred to refer to them as.

Ketheric was at least useful to some extent. His obsession with reviving deceased family members was a thorn in Enver’s side, but not without its advantages.

Orin, on the other hand, was a migraine from the moment he was introduced to her. Admittedly, she looked more the part of the Bhaalspawn he had expected to encounter before being introduced to you. Stained in blood, colorless eyes akin to a corpse, giggling and shouting at the turn of a coin while waving around a blade much like a child would their precious toy.

In the name of Bane, he was fortunate it was you he had had the pleasure of meeting instead of her that night. Having Orin as the Leader of the Cult of Bhaal would’ve made eventually cutting this alliance much easier.

You knew how to dance hand-to-hand with your blade.

Orin merely toyed with hers.

---

With how often you frequented his office nowadays, Enver began to suspect that you were neglecting your Cult in your absence. Not that he ever brought it to your attention, he simply pointed it out to himself.

For the most part, you would stay and discuss his plans with him, still never speaking more words than you deemed necessary. If there was something you didn’t agree with, silence would remain your answer until he figured out the source of the problem. You were incredibly smart, he’d be a fool to deny that.

But with more time, he discovered that your brilliance was not the only reason he wanted you to stay.

With every session you partook in together, he swore he could see your face softening ever so slightly. Every gesture became more relaxed, and you ceased to pull away from his proximity. There were times when he could put a hand on your shoulder, even brush a wayward piece of hair away from your face without you threatening to spill his innards.

He took his victories in small measures.

Then one evening, he found you inside his chambers, only that you weren’t making standing now as you usually were when awaiting him.

Instead, you were perched in the alcove of his window. While your blade was clutched tightly in your grip, your eyes were closed, and the manner in which you sat seemed almost … peaceful.

Were you resting?

The second he closed the door, your eyes shot open, and he quickly found your blade pressed against his neck. It likely would’ve killed him had your eyes not fallen onto him in time.

He blinked. “… Good evening?”

You blinked again, recognition falling over your features, and sheathed your weapon.

Unperturbed by the most recent attempt at his life, Enver proceeded over to his desk. “Apologies for disturbing your rest,” he said, and what surprised him was that he meant every word of it.

It sounded like you were struggling to come up with a proper response. “I wasn’t resting.”

“Oh?” He glanced over to where you were previously not-resting, intending to make a subliminal point, when he noticed something.

Your previous seat – the layers in his window alcove – were drenched with blood. He initially suspected you had a corpse stowed away somewhere for him to find, but with a quick glance across his rooms, he found none. You never hid your kills, not from him, and upon turning back to you, that’s when he discovered that it was the back of your clothing that was drenched.

It wasn’t anyone else’s blood.

Just yours.

And no shortage in amount, either. It was dripping from the edge of your coat, staining the expensive carpets he as of five seconds ago couldn’t care less about.

His first instinct compelled him to investigate, all while maintaining the façade of complete composure. You were no mere person. You were a Child of Bhaal, you had no equal on the battlefield as far as he knew. Even the mightiest foes fell victim to your blade, regardless of their race, height, or armor.

The only one who could prove strong enough to even get close and inflict this amount of damage on you would be …

You.

A warmth encompassed him, foreign to his inherent nature. Warmer than the fires of hell, twice as scorching; twisting and clawing under his skin like desperate souls in search of freedom, but not even all the gold in Raphael's vault could tempt him to be rid of it.

“You’re injured,” he concluded.

“I heal fast. My Father’s blood ensures it.”

“An admirable and useful trait, but judging by how much you’ve already lost, I would say you’re still at risk until you’re healed.”

“Of dying?”

“Nothing as dramatic, I doubt. My furniture, however, is at risk of being stained beyond repair at this rate. Do your friend a favor and let me assess the damage, then.”

Your body stiffened.

“Is that what we are? Friends?” you asked, one eye looking over your shoulder to pinpoint his exact location.

He looked at you in turn. “Do you wish to be?”

You said nothing in return, but there was no sharpness to your gaze. No perceived slight at the casual words he permitted to come out of him. It felt like you didn’t know what to make of this, and he was in no hurry to make his meaning plainer.

Rather than waiting for a verbal response, he gestured to the stool by his bedside and headed to his bathroom to retrieve what little he possessed of healing balms, a washing bin full of water, and bandages. He usually had people for this kind of matter, but he doubted you would feel inclined to accept help from strangers when you scarcely permitted it of him.

He returned to find you seated, your upper clothing already discarded on his bed, with your bare back presented to him.

Enver Gortash had seen his fair share of the grotesque, whether it was from the Hells or in the city. He believed himself numb and desensitized to such; he never had a problem dishing it out himself.

Yet somehow, the sight of your back – borderline skinless with how marred your flesh was, blood already starting to coagulate across the edges of each cavern, made him pause for a moment. Anyone else would’ve died had they suffered the same injuries, but you were not anyone else.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Hells, he wouldn’t have allowed them the liberty to sit here, partially naked like a disgraced courtesan, and offered them his assistance. He had seen you naked already, but not like this.

But with you … He’d be willing to make an exception.

He discovered that he would be willing to make a lot of exceptions.

Folding up the hems of his sleeves, he began the process of wiping off the excess blood. He imagined that the salve in the water would sting, possibly hurt, but he warranted no reaction from you. Not a wince, not a moan, not a single sound. Your skin was cold, like the corpses you created, but soft in spite of the state you were in.

The basin soon turned red with the remnants of your life’s essence, and he imagined that – were it true that Bhaal was in your blood – the God of Murder would’ve surely found it affronting to have drops of him wasted in a washing basin.

As he began to dry the jagged edges of your self-inflicted wounds, he couldn’t keep the question that was nagging him at bay.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“Repentance.”

His eyes furrowed. Why would Bhaal’s favorite child – the one he had personally witnessed commit massacres in the name of her Lord – be required to repent? What could someone as devoted as yourself have to repent for? “For what?”

He received no answer in turn. All he gained was a look over your shoulder, one that quietly requested that he didn’t delve deeper into the matter.

You could’ve demanded his submission with pain.

You could’ve turned around and forced his head into the blood-mixed water, held him down until he was all but begging for the sweet relief of death.

But you didn’t.

So, he didn’t delve deeper.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend,” you murmured.

Enver smiled as he applied the balm to your skin. “Then I would be honored to be your first.”

---

He began to make note of the things you liked.

---

You liked blackberry, he discovered that when he left a bowl of them unattended on his desk - a gift from an associate overseas.

He returned to find the bowl near-empty, and the window open.

After that, he made a public announcement that blackberries were his favorite flavor, and although he received plenty of gifts from admirers and lickspittles alike, he never indulged himself.

The gifts were always gone from his chambers come morning.

———

You preferred the sound of the violin to the piano.

Whenever he hosted gatherings, he would insist on having the violinists perform the longest, if only to catch a glimpse of you hiding somewhere no one could spot you.

———

You never slept - you claimed to have no need for it

But every so often, while he was working on his desk, he would catch you closing your eyes and rest with your back against the wall.

———

“So, what do you think?” He swirled the wine in his glass before taking an appreciative sip. Imported recently from Neverwinter, a batch from 1359. Perfectly aged, and perfect for an evening such as this.

You looked skeptical at the drink in your hand from the opposite side of the table, internally weighing the pros and cons before finally taking a tentative sip. To his delight, you did not look disgusted, which meant that you were pleased.

He knew you would like it.

“Your verdict?”

“It’s sweet.”

“It’s composed of Blackberry syrup, quite popular in the region and a personal favorite of mine. Unfortunately, not many of my associates seem to share my taste for the beverage, so I’m fortunate that you do.”

“Do you wish me to kill them?” you asked, completely serious.

He grinned and rested his cheek atop the knuckles of his free hand. “While I can appreciate the gesture, I’m afraid that I need these particular associates alive for now. When their usefulness eventually expires, I’ll be sure to send word for you.”

You nodded in acquiescence and took another sip of your glass.

The both of you drank for a while longer, and while your conversations felt rather one-sided on his part, you listened and supplemented when you saw fit to it.

At first, the subject varied from different aspects of your plan regarding the Absolute, who to kill, and so forth. Then, when the liquor seemed to loosen both of your tongues, the subjects delved deeper. Deeper than they ought to have, but none of you felt the need to correct this error.

“What is your name?” he finally asked. He had wanted to ask that question for a while now – since the moment you first met – but you had never indulged him.

Maybe now, you finally would?

You tilted your head slightly to the side as you assessed him. “Does my title not suffice?”

“A title is one thing, but a name is another,” he explained, releasing his glass on top of the table to focus completely on you. “There have been other Bhaalspawn before, though never one such as yourself. I believe that requires a designation on your own.”

The way you peered at him, sent a warmth to his cheeks that he could not credit the alcohol for. Those eyes, the very ones who looked so hollow and lifeless, now had a certain glow about them that captivated him like a moth to the moon.

You glanced out the window for a moment, and he could faintly hear you whisper something he doubted was meant for his ears.

(“Forgive me, Father…”)

Then, you gave him your name; ushered it like a secret that was meant for him, and only him.

At that moment, Enver Gortash realized that he was willing to forsake it all.

Forsake Bane.

Forsake his work.

He would gladly toss it all away, if only he could keep your eyes on him at all times, to speak your names as many times as he desired.

At that moment, there was nothing more he desired.

Well, almost nothing more.

There was one thing.

As if all effects of the liquor had abandoned him, he got up to his feet and walked over to your side. The blade you had previously put aside found its way back to your hand with his guidance, and he helped up get up to your feet.

With little care, he buttoned his shirt down, exposing his chest to you; his skin, his flesh, all bare for you to indulge in as you pleased.

There were question marks aligned in your eyes at the gesture.

“Cut me.” His words were soft enough to be perceived as a request, but there was no room for negotiations, not this time. You had displayed painful self-control in his presence, never harming him since you first met.

Now, he was permitting you to do what you had undoubtedly denied yourself all this time.

You could kill him – sever his link to the mortal plane, dig out his heart, and eat it if you wished to. You had his permission, if only you could make him last long enough to see you smile once again.

You had only smiled once in the time he’d known you, and it was because of him.

Maybe his death would bring you a greater joy?

He’d hope you would smile for him one last time.

He felt the blade pierce his skin, but not deep enough for it to leave lethal consequences. A prolonged line from the right side of his abdomen up to his left shoulder. That’s all it left, hardly enough to be considered a tribute to your father’s name, but your pupils grew wide all the same.

With his hand circling your waist and pulling you closer, Enver forced your face into his blood-stained chest. “You have my scent,” he whispered into your ear. “Now have my taste.”

He did not have long to wait before he felt your nails piercing holes through the fabric of his coat, leaving crescent-shaped indents on the skin of his back as you pushed yourself tighter into him. It was near-suffocating, but Hells, if it wasn’t euphoric.

Your teeth on his chest came next, sharp and merciless – predator tearing into the carcass, like you wanted to devour all of him. Your tongue slid across the length of his scar, drinking in every drop of blood he could offer at the moment. It hurt, it stung, and it ached, but whatever blood his body could afford to spare went south on record speed.

It all dawned on him, then, in a moment of euphoric ecstasy

Why you were always covered in fresh wounds of your own making whenever you went to see him.

Why you were always murmuring prayers when you thought he couldn’t hear.

Begging for forgiveness from your Father – For your God.

It was all because of him.

For all the troubles he had unintentionally caused you, it was only fitting that he compensate for it, right?

When you finally pulled back, lips drenched with his blood, you looked absolutely beautiful.

“Tell me,” He clasped his hand to the side of your face, his voice hoarse with pure, unadulterated want. “How do I taste?”

In your dazed state, so content and so nourished by the essence of him, only one word pushed past your lips:

“Sweet.”

He claimed your lips in an instant, tasting himself on your tongue – Harsh and unyielding, and you matched him with equal vigor. To anyone else, the two of you would’ve resembled two animals in the midst of a fight, or a rut.

What others would say if they knew, he cared little for. His God could cast him aside for this wicked sin, and he’d accept it with a self-satisfied smile as he walked backward to the Hells. He wanted to taste every part of you, savor every piece you would grant him, and let you taste him in turn.

You bit and you clawed, shedding his blood, tearing at it skin.

A lesser man would have found it repulsing.

A lesser man would have pushed you away, redressed himself, and left.

But Enver Gortash was not a lesser man, and all you did to him, it only added to his eventual undoing.

Your skin was surprisingly soft against his, for all your scars from years of service to your God. The sounds you made as you came undone, be it by his fingers or his tongue, he could never hope to tire of it. For someone who never spoke much, you sure compensated for that with the unholy moans and snarls he earned.

Just before he entered you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he could detect the faintest flicker of … fear? Hesitation? He did not have an estimated answer to the cause of this, but he did have his suspicions.

Before establishing the foundation of your friendship, he had noticed how you would go out of your way to avoid physical touch unless it was you who initiated it.

Of course, that boundary was cast aside when it came to reaping lives, but it seemed that in this particular instance, it was different.

Had you never known such pleasure?

Never allowed yourself to feed? To indulge?

Did your God only permit you to touch something - someone - as long as it resulted in death?

A gnawing began to tug at his bones.

He did not think you would care much for gentleness, nor did he ask you to clarify, but he was still measured with his intrusion and quickly discovered that you were tight. You left him breathless, and he in turn provided the same.

His suspicions were correct.

What a slight Bhaal would consider this; to know his precious offspring was defiled by no other than the Chosen of his Sworn Foe.

Enver was not a petty character - he was more dignified than that, but just this once, he was willing to spite the God of Murder.

Not that it’s was a point of focus to him.

With some adjustment, he searched your face for hints and signs that he could proceed. Where your voice fell short, your eyes provided. If you had objections, you did not voice them, but he made sure to commit to every act necessary for you to call out to him - not Bhaal, but Enver Gortash.

He learned what place made you sing to him. Made you scream his name.

And you did – several times.

He made sure of it.

And he called out yours.

---

By the time you were done, the bed was a mess, and you both looked like you had just narrowly escaped a chance encounter with death.

In a way, he had.

“Enver,” you called into his chest, your arm wrapped in a bruising hold around his stomach.

“Hmmm?”

“A friendship with you … has its uses.”

He almost laughed and wrapped his arms around you in return. “Care to elaborate?”

“You do not taste foul.”

He could live with that.

In fact, he wanted to live with that.

With you.

You would leave for Moonrise Towers soon, and your plan would come to fruition. Ketheric would fall – Orin could too for all he cared. The world would be at your feet, and you would both reign as Gods over the rest. There was no other he would rather share it with, save for the only one he considered his Equal.

Nor would there ever be anyone else.

This he swore to all the gods that would listen, - to Bhaal, to Bane, to Myrkul.

Enver swore it.

If the world considered you monsters, then you could be monsters together.

---

The next time he sees you, it’s months later, and you’ve changed.

You’re not alone this time, as much as he preferred it so.

A vampire stands beside you, looking awfully grateful and smug about being in your proximity – a hand on your hip for emphasis, unintentional with the spite aimed towards the Archduke. Gortash finds that he wants to squeeze out whatever blood is left in him just for breathing the same air as you.

There’s Duke Ravengaard’s wayward son, looking a little devilish as of late with the addition of two horns glued to his head.

Then there’s Karlach. He makes it a point to ignore her glare.

He has no interest in your companions.

What he does have is an interest in you, even if he can tell the feeling is not mutual. Not anymore. There’s that sharpness in your eyes, the one you always harbored before towards him, then ceased to.

Now it has returned, only it feels tenfold as cold compared to before.

“Shall we be allies?” he asks after making his proposition.

Shall we be friends again?

Silence, once more, remains his only answer.

It seems you were the only one who received the benefit of forgetting.

He never did.

Not once.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #Enver Gortash #gortash x durge #durgetash #bg3 gortash #dark urge x gortash #bg3 fanfiction #Enver Gortash x reader #the dark urge

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en-dazed · 1 year

Text

eternal ice - park sunghoon

PAIRINGS: Sunghoon x reader

GENRE: enemies to lovers, figure skater! sunghoon and reader, angst, fluff at the end

PROMPT: in which you have to skate with sunghoon for a competition but end up getting injured together

WORD COUNT: 9105 words

WARNINGS: one scene in which the reader gets harassed kinda and mentions of (vague) injuries but it’s not detailed

A/N: let me know if you enjoyed this and if you want more <3

You were always first place.

You were a perfectionist, painfully so. Good enough was not quite ever enough and second place couldn’t even compare to being first. In your mind, second place was the same as saying that you had failed. So you had always strived for first place - and been it too until the arrival of Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence. Suddenly you were second, good at what you did but not the best.

Park Sunghoon was hailed as a prodigy. ‘Ice Prince’, they called him. You scoffed at the idea of it. You had been skating for longer than he had, taken part in more competitions than he had. But as your coach had so harshly pointed out one day at practice, Sunghoon had won way more medals than you.

“Y/N you’re glaring again.” Your coach, Jiyeon pointed out as you watched the boy you hated the most perform his routine on the ice. Sunghoon was good at what he did, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself. He was breathtaking to watch, gliding on the ice as if he was part of it. You hated him even more for being so perfect.

You huffed in frustration, tearing your eyes away from Park Sunghoon's mesmerising performance. "I can't help it, Jiyeon," you muttered. "He's always stealing the spotlight."

Jiyeon rolled her eyes at you, used to your never ending rants about the boy who had overtaken you. “Maybe you would be in the spotlight too if you took this as a lesson and learned from him.”

You shot her a sceptical look. “Learn from him? I don’t need to learn anything from him. All I need to do is beat his ass in the upcoming competitions.” There was a fire in your voice, lit by your hatred and passion.

Jiyeon sighed, her eyes filled with a mix of frustration and determination. "Y/N, listen to me. Hatred and rivalry will only take you so far. If you want to truly surpass Park Sunghoon, you need to find a way to grow as a skater, not just compete against him."

She stepped closer, her voice gentle yet firm. "You need to break free from the confines of your comfort zone. Push yourself beyond your limits. Take risks, explore new techniques, and infuse your performances with your own unique style."

You hesitated, considering her words. Jiyeon had always been a guiding force in your skating journey, and her advice had never led you astray before. Perhaps it was time to heed her guidance and embrace a new approach.

“What do you suggest I do then?” You asked sincerely.

Jiyeon grinned, a mischievous look on her face that made you suspicious. “You’ll see,” She made her way out of the audience, moving towards the exit. “Don’t forget your pair skating practice tomorrow!” She yelled out before leaving.

Your pair skate was with a guy you met only once, some Lee Chan that had taken part only in domestic competitions so far. He was good at skating - great even, but he lacked confidence. You had one day of practice with him already and he had been so nervous and shy around you that you almost got frustrated with him.

But as Jiyeon had reminded you, it was his first ever pair skate and his first ever international competition as well.

“Cut the boy some slack, he just needs more practice to build up his confidence,” Jiyeon had scolded you. “You were like him too once.”

You knew she was right but you couldn’t help but dread the long day ahead as you laced up your skates, waiting for both Jiyeon and Chan to show up.

But when the doors of the skate rink opened and Jiyeon came in, she was not followed by Chan but by Park Sunghoon.

The familiar anger bubbled up in your stomach at the sight of Sunghoon and you shot a pointed look at Jiyeon.

“What’s he doing here?” Your voice came out much more harshly than you had intended it to.

Jiyeon gave you a look that you knew all too well. Behave yourself.

“Sunghoon is going to be your new partner for the routine.” Jiyeon explained and you were sure your ears were playing tricks on you because there’s no way she had said that right?

“But what happened to Chan?” You asked, not quite sure you knew exactly what was going on.

Jiyeon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Chan stepped down. Seems like he’s not quite ready to go international yet. Sunghoon was chosen as your replacement.”

A whirlwind of emotions passed through you - confusion, frustration and apprehension. The idea of skating with Park Sunghoon had never crossed your mind. You had accepted his presence on ice but the thought of skating with him in an international competition? You thought you were going to faint.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Sunghoon finally spoke up, extending his hand out to you. You were startled at his voice and it was then you realised that you had never even had a conversation with him before.

You wordlessly took the hand he had given you, shaking it once before dropping it as if he had burned you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your pride and tried to find the silver lining in the unexpected turn of events. Perhaps this could be a chance for growth, the chance to take risks and push yourself as Jiyeon had told you to do so.

You would go into this with an open mind.

… or perhaps you wouldn’t.

“Y/N! That’s the third time you’ve messed up that move! Get it together.” Jiyeon snapped at you from across the rink as you glided to a stop beside Sunghoon.

You clenched your fists, feeling the sting of Jiyeon's words. She was right; you were off your game. The frustration of having Park Sunghoon as your partner was getting to you.

Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with Sunghoon. To his credit, he hadn’t said a single word every time you messed up. Sunghoon was annoyingly nice about your shortcomings and you hated it.

“Let's try it again," you said, your voice firm but devoid of the previous hostility. You pushed aside your animosity and focused on the ice beneath your feet, on the rhythm and flow that connected you both.

As the music began, you and Sunghoon launched into the routine. It started tentatively, with small missteps and slight imbalances. But you powered through until you got to the climax, the part that you kept messing up over and over again. The part where you had to trust Sunghoon to lift you into the air and rotate while holding you in place. You had done it before and it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t execute. It was your partner that had you so unnerved that you couldn’t attempt the lift and had changed the move instead, every time you had practised.

You took a deep breath before you skated towards Sunghoon, fully preparing yourself to be lifted. You would make it, you would make it, you… wouldn’t make it. Halfway through you hesitated for just a second. A second of hesitance that threw off your timing. A second of hesitance that threw off Sunghoon as well.

As the lift faltered, panic surged through your veins. You felt yourself losing balance, the ground coming closer with each passing moment. Instinctively, Sunghoon's arms tightened around you, trying to regain control, but it was too late. You crashed onto the ice with a thud, the impact jarring your entire body.

Pain shot through your limbs, and for a moment, everything went silent. You could hear your own ragged breaths and a loud scream as Jiyeon hurriedly skated towards you both.

“Are you both okay?” Those were the words that made you realise you were lying on top of Sunghoon.

Your eyes widened in shock as you quickly scrambled to push yourself off of Sunghoon, the weight of the situation sinking in. The sudden movement caused a sharp pain to go through your leg and the panic that set in was immediate.

“Jiyeon my leg…” You said at the same time as Sunghoon groaned in pain, clutching his arm.

Jiyeon knelt down beside you, her eyes filled with concern as she assessed the situation. "Stay still, both of you. I think we have to call the medical team for help.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the wave of pain that shot through your leg. Sunghoon winced, his arm visibly injured. Jiyeon left, rushing to her phone to make the call.

Sunghoon didn’t say a single word, the both of you sitting on the ice in silence.

Until - “How do you mess up such a simple lift?” Sunghoon was angry.

You felt the same anger bubble up in you. “Me?! You were the one that dropped me!”

Sunghoon's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw tightly. "If you had trusted me and followed through with the lift instead of hesitating, we wouldn't be in this situation."

His words stung, fueling your frustration further. "You expect me to trust someone I barely know? You think I'm just supposed to put my life in your hands without hesitation?” You crossed your arms in vexation. “Some gold medal winner you are.” You muttered under your breath.

From the corner of your eyes you saw Sunghoon react, the annoyance in his eyes as he looked at you but you didn’t get to hear what he had to say. The medical staff burst in at that moment, distracting you both momentarily as they attended to your injuries.

For a moment you both forgot your irritation at each other.

Whatever the doctor had said after he had dropped the bomb on you went over your head. You listened absentmindedly before you interrupted him.

“Did you say four weeks? As in one month?” Your voice was desperate.

The doctor nodded sympathetically, understanding the shock and disappointment that washed over you. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Given the extent of the injuries and the need for proper healing and rehabilitation, it would be best for both of you to refrain from any intense physical activity, including skating, for at least four weeks."

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest. Four weeks seemed like an eternity, especially considering the international competition that was looming so close. The competition was in two months time and cutting out one whole month of practice - evidently much needed practice, from how disastrous today had gone - could be the difference between a win and a loss.

The doctor continued as if he hadn’t just thrown you into emotional turmoil. “Now, I gave the same advice to your partner. We have some excellent physical therapists in this hospital and I recommend that the both of you go everyday until you regain strength in your muscles. It should help you heal faster as well so from how I see it, you should be able to go back to skating after a month.”

At the mention of Sunghoon, guilt washed over you. You knew that it was because of you that he had gotten injured. You knew that if you had not messed up the timing, he would’ve caught you. It was the guilt that had you asking the doctor how Sunghoon was doing.

The doctor smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, your partner is fine. No broken bones and nothing that can't be fixed without some perseverance. It's not serious but physical therapy is still required.”

Relief flooded through you as you heard that Sunghoon's injuries weren't severe. It wasn’t that you were worried about him. You just couldn’t have him breaking a bone be on your conscience.

The relief was short-lived. You slowly processed the doctor's words. “Wait. Are you saying we have to go to physical therapy together?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that the answer was no.

Unfortunately the doctor seemed determined to not give you any good news today because he nodded at your question. “We have one physical therapist who specialises in rehabilitating athletes. Your appointments will be with him together.”

You felt a mix of emotions as the reality sunk in. You would be going to physical therapy with Sunghoon, everyday for a month. For a month, you were stuck with someone you couldn’t stand and you knew the feelings were mutual from the way he had glared at you in the hospital waiting room.

Jiyeon wasn’t very sympathetic.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you two just learned to work together.”

You sighed as she scolded you throughout the whole drive home.

“I mean, is it so difficult to just be professionals about this? You two have been competing professionally for years now. Act like it!”

You decided to pretend you couldn’t hear her.

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” Jiyeon was getting more annoyed by the second.

Jiyeon's voice grew more exasperated as she repeated your name, but you continued to stare out of the car window, lost in your own world.

Jiyeon soon gave up, an irritated look on her face as she drove. You felt bad but you really didn’t want to discuss this with her. You were already kicking yourself over how things had turned out and you didn’t need Jiyeon to tell you that the both of you getting injured was quite honestly, your fault. You closed your eyes, dread filling you at the thought of your joint appointment with Sunghoon tomorrow.

So much for going into this with an open mind.

When you went into the waiting room for your appointment the next day, hobbling along on crutches, Sunghoon was already there. His arm was in a sling and his expression was unreadable as he looked at you. It unnerved you so you decided to ignore him.

Taking a seat at a distance, you occupied yourself with a magazine, feigning interest in its contents while stealing occasional glances at Sunghoon. You could sense his gaze on you, but you refused to meet it, afraid of what you might find within those eyes.

The physical therapist, a Mr. Kim, greeted you both as soon as he entered. Once in the treatment room, he outlined a series of stretching and strengthening activities that would aid in your recovery. As he explained, you couldn't help but steal occasional glances at Sunghoon, who seemed equally determined to avoid eye contact.

If Mr. Kim noticed the tension between you both, he didn’t mention it. The both of you began your exercises in separate corners of the room, determined to get through the day without acknowledging each other. You tried to focus on your own movements, trying to shut out the presence of Sunghoon.

“There you go,” Mr. Kim smiled delightedly as you correctly completed the exercise he had set out for you. “You’re both getting the hang of it now. I have to step out for a little bit but help each other and take turns doing the exercises - don’t overdo it, you need rest as well.”

As Mr. Kim stepped out of the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone, an awkward silence filled the air. It was clear that neither of you wanted to be the first to break it. You took a deep breath, considering your options. Despite the tension, Mr. Kim's words lingered in your mind — "help each other."

Swallowing your pride, you decided to take the initiative. "Sunghoon, why don't we alternate doing the exercises? It might make the session go by faster," you suggested, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.

He didn’t even look at you when you spoke and you were slightly annoyed at how he ignored you but then - he moved closer to you. He nodded without looking and even when he spoke, his eyes were on the walls. “Sure.”

His guarded voice puts you on edge as well. But despite the tense situation you decided that you weren’t going to let Park Sunghoon let your recovery slow down so you decided to start your own set as Sunghoon watched wordlessly.

The exercise Mr. Kim had taught you required you to stand, which was now a difficult task for you. There was a mild pain in your leg as you moved and you bit your lip to hold in a whimper of pain. You couldn’t show weakness in front of Sunghoon.

Your efforts were futile, however, when a wrong misstep caused a sharp pain to go through your leg and you lost your balance. You let out a surprised shout and your eyes closed as you braced for impact but none came. Instead, you were suddenly aware of an arm wrapped around your waist, that was holding you up and keeping you steady.

You opened your eyes to find Sunghoon standing close to you, his uninjured arm securely supporting you. His face remained impassive, but you couldn't deny the concern that flickered in his eyes.

"Steady now," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You felt the back of your neck heat up in embarrassment. A whispered thank you escaped your lips as you pushed his arm away, slowly balancing yourself once more. For a minute, the tension between the both of you seemed to dissipate. You found yourself wondering if he truly wasn’t all that bad…

“I told you I can catch you.”

Sunghoon’s words were meant to get on your nerves and it did. When Mr. Kim came back not long after, you were both once more on opposite sides of the room.

Before you knew it, three weeks of your physical therapy was up. You could feel your muscles getting stronger, the pain decreasing little by little. You had abandoned the crutches at the start of the third week and could now walk with little to no pain. Mr. Kim had been ecstatic at the progress that you made.

Since the first appointment you hadn’t talked to Sunghoon. You arrived at your appointments at the same time as him and yet you kept to yourself. Neither of you bothered to acknowledge each other and Mr. Kim long gave up trying to get the both of you to work together. In the back of your mind you knew that you would have to practise with Sunghoon again eventually. But eventually can wait because for now, you had no interest in talking to Sunghoon.

Not talking to him didn’t mean that you didn’t observe him.

At times when Sunghoon was too focused on his exercises, your eyes would wander to him in curiosity. You weren’t interested in him, you told yourself. You still had some guilt over the accident and you just wanted to make sure he was making as much progress as you were. Unfortunately, it was clear that Sunghoon was struggling.

“Okay, let’s take a break now, shall we?” Mr. Kim stopped Sunghoon in the middle of his set and from the corner of your eyes you saw the way his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. He clenched his arms and looked at it, the defeat on his face evident. Mr. Kim contined to talk - something about how it takes time to build up your strength and that he shouldn’t get discouraged. You were sure Sunghoon didn’t hear a word of what he said.

When the session ended you rushed out, eager to get home. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side, however, for sometime in between when you had come in for your appointment and the end of it, a torrential downpour had started. As you stepped outside the rehabilitation center, the heavy rain greeted you, drenching everything in its path.

You cursed yourself for not remembering to bring an umbrella despite your mother’s warnings that it might rain today. Getting wet and walking in the rain in discomfort was not very appealing to you so you stood in the shelter of the building, watching the skies and hoping that it would clear up soon.

You were there for a good five minutes before Sunghoon stepped out. His face was still etched with the frustration of the day and his expression turned even darker at the sight of the rain - or was it at you?

He didn’t say a word as he approached you and you noticed an umbrella in his hand. Sunghoon was clearly smarter than you to have thought ahead. You watched as he struggled to open the umbrella will one hand, occasionally trying to use his injured hand as well but giving up when he just couldn’t muster up the strength. You watched for just a second longer before you sighed.

“Give me that.”

Sunghoon seemed startled at your voice and maybe it was the shock that you had actually talked to him that made him let you take the umbrella from his hands. With a swift motion, you popped it open and handed it back to him.

He took it from you with a whispered thanks and looked at the path in front of him. You expected him to leave but he didn’t. He stood next to you with an expression on his face that you didn’t recognize. He seemed to contemplate for a while before he spoke to you.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

You shook your head no.

A pause.

“ Would you like to share the umbrella with me?”

It was a simple offer, a gesture that you wouldn’t think much of if someone else had offered it to you. But this was Park Sunghoon, someone who hated you and you hated in return. You should’ve said no.

And yet, when he stepped out into the rain and waited for you to follow him - you did.

As the two of you walked under the umbrella, a silence settled between you once again. The pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrella created a soothing rhythm, creating a momentary respite from the outside world. You could feel Sunghoon's eyes on you, his unreadable gaze shifting between the rain-soaked surroundings and your face.

"I... I didn't expect you to help," he finally spoke, his voice laced with surprise and a hint of gratitude.

“Why? I’m not that heartless.”

“You don’t like me.”

He said it as if it was a fact and for a split second you felt ashamed at how you had treated him.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered. “For your injury and for… messing up the lift.”

Sunghoon glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. "It's not entirely your fault. We both made mistakes," he replied, his voice tinged with something you didn’t quite understand.

As the rain continued to pour, the weight of the past seemed to hang in the air between you. The tension that had once defined your interactions slowly gave way to a fragile connection, as if the shared vulnerability brought about by the accident had opened a door for empathy and forgiveness.

"I was angry," Sunghoon admitted, his voice filled with honesty. “We met for the first time and you looked at me as if you wanted me dead. You looked at me as if you would rather do anything other than have me be your partner,” A laugh escaped him, devoid of any emotion. “Am I really that bad of a skater?”

His question threw you off.

“No,” You answered honestly. “It was never about that. I just…”

The shame that had welled up in you was now threatening to spill over. You didn’t really have a good reason to hate him. In all honesty, Sunghoon had never done anything wrong.

Sunghoon was silent before he spoke again. “I respected you, you know. I thought you were one of the best figure skaters in the world. I looked up to you.”

“But then you treated me like I was beneath you and it felt like the image I had of you shattered. You couldn’t even trust me to lift you, such a simple move and we crashed instead.”

You listened to Sunghoon's words, his voice heavy with disappointment and hurt. His perspective shed light on a side of the story you hadn't fully considered before. Your own preconceptions of him had clouded your judgement when you met him and now, you weren’t quite sure if your judgement had been correct.

"I'm sorry," you said again, your voice sincere.

“Before you showed up I would win the gold at every competition. Every tournament, every performance, every single time. I loved it. I loved the feeling of being a star. I loved the feeling of being number one. But then you came.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you spoke.

“Suddenly it was Park Sunghoon that would win the gold at every competition. I was now silver. You shone brighter than me and something in me cracked at the thought that you could take away something I had worked so hard for in such a short instance.” Your voice was laced with vulnerability.

You couldn’t understand why you were telling him all of this. At the end of the day, Sunghoon was your competitor, your rival. But here you were, pouring your heart out for him as if he would understand. From the look on his face, you had a feeling that he did understand.

“I never meant to take anything away from you.”

“I know.”

And that was it. You couldn’t help the regret that enveloped you. How could you have treated him so badly when he didn’t even do anything wrong? When his only crime was chasing his own dreams?

“Your leg is better.” His words interrupted your thoughts.

“Yeah. Mr. Kim said I made a lot of progress.” You couldn’t help the smile that escaped you, proud of the work that you had put in. Sunghoon noticed it. Absent-mindedly, he thought that you should smile more often. He kept that thought to himself.

“What about you?” You asked him, something akin to pity in your eyes.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and you had a feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it. Even now, his injured arm lay limp at his side. You noticed how he would move his fingers occasionally, clenching and unclenching his fist. You were about to tell him that he didn’t have to answer. It was alright, recovery takes time, you were going to tell him. But he spoke before you could.

“I feel like I’m stuck,” He was looking at his arm now. “I tried so hard. I did everything they asked. I followed what Mr. Kim said, exactly the way he said. But for some reason, I just can’t seem to go back to the way I was before. I managed to get the sling off but I haven’t made any progress since and I’m not even sure if I can do the pair skate at this rate.”

The weight of his words hung in the air and you felt empathy for the boy building up in you - an emotion you didn’t think you would ever feel for him.

“You can’t give up.” You surprised yourself with what you said. “We have to do the pair skate together. If we do it together then I’m sure we’ll win.”

You stopped suddenly and Sunghoon followed, not wanting to let the rain pour over you. He was shocked, you could tell.

“If I have to do this with someone else and I get second place again, I will personally make sure that you break your other arm as well.” You said fiercely.

Sunghoon's eyes widened at your sudden determination and the intensity in your words. He stared at you, speechless for a moment, before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Alright," he said, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Let's do it together then. Let's win that gold. And if we don’t then I’ll personally let you break both of my arms.”

Something had shifted between you two. As if the rain had somehow washed away your resentment for each other, drop by drop, you found yourself looking forward to working with Sunghoon.

Slowly, you walked side by side under the shelter of the umbrella, shoulders touching occasionally but you didn’t seem to mind.

“By the way… where do you live?”

You took Mr. Kim by surprise when, at your next appointment, you offered to help Sunghoon with his set. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything, simply choosing to move away to let you stand next to Sunghoon instead.

Sunghoon lets you correct his posture. He lets you time him, he lets you support him. You even provided encouragement to him when he seemed to falter. The tension between you two had given way to a growing sense of cooperation and trust.

When he messed up, you didn’t make a snarky remark like you would’ve before. During one particular exercise, you gently touched Sunghoon's injured arm to assist him in maintaining proper form. He didn't pull away or protest. The animosity that once filled the air between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a shared focus on Sunghoon's recovery.

Mr. Kim clapped his hands in delight when the session was over, remarking on how well the both of you had done that day.

“Thank you,” Sunghoon had given you a genuine smile as you both went outside together. “I honestly feel as if today was more effective than these three weeks all together.” He admitted.

“Don’t mention it, Park,” You smiled back at him in response. “We still have a competition to win.”

In the following days you continued to support each other’s development. Sunghoon’s determination remained unwavering, fueled by your encouragement and a desire to skate together with you, just as you had said.

And soon, before you knew it, the last week was up.

“Alright! You guys have done exceptionally well,” Mr. Kim praised you both at the end of your last session. “Especially you, Sunghoon. You made such a dramatic improvement in the last week. I’m honestly very impressed.”

His words brought a smile to Sunghoon’s face and even you felt a glimmer of pride. Sunghoon really had stepped up last week and within just a few days, he had regained control of the arm that he could barely use just a week ago. You had no doubt that he would be able to lift you with his now fully functional arm.

“We should celebrate.” Sunghoon said, as the both of you walked home together. It had become routine for the last few days, once the both of you had realised that you lived quite close by. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be walking home with Sunghoon and actually enjoying it, you would’ve laughed in their face. But lately, you came to realise that you actually liked his presence.

“Celebrate what?”

“The end of our physical therapy. We can go back to skating now, Y/N. Aren’t you excited?”

You smiled - his enthusiasm felt contagious. You came to know that Sunghoon really really loved skating. You both had a special place in your heart for it and you admired his drive for it.

“I am excited. But maybe we should perfect our routine before we start to celebrate. We have only one month left.” You were already stressed just thinking about it.

“Alright then,” Sunghoon smiled mischievously. “If we can perfect that lift before the competition then you have to promise me that you’ll go get ice cream with me as a celebration.”

You laughed. “Only the lift? What about when we win the competition?”

Sunghoon’s was confident when he replied. “We don’t need an incentive for the competition. We will win.”

Something about his confidence made your heart skip a beat. Were you sick? You chose to ignore it.

Except, your heart didn’t stop acting up.

The next time your heart skipped a beat would be at your first practice after recovery. When you walked in, you noticed that Sunghoon had arrived before you and was already on the ice. You almost called out to him. Almost.

Something made you stop and watch in wonder as he skated around the rink, lost in the motions and graceful movements. The way he glided effortlessly, his focus solely on the ice beneath his skates, captivated you. But it was his face that truly mesmerised you. At all the performances you had seen Sunghoon at, you focused on his movements. You judged his performance, the way he slid across the ice, his twists and turns. You had never looked at his face. Watching him now, you wished that you had looked at him sooner.

Sunghoon looked serene. He looked every bit like the ice prince that they called him - he looked ethereal. The look on his face was one of peace, of true love for the ice and pure joy to be skating. And as you watched, you felt it happen again.

Your heart skipped another beat.

You told yourself you were imagining it. Perhaps the skate rink was much too cold. Perhaps you were starting to get sick. Maybe you were about to get a heart attack. You came up with any and every excuse you could for why your heart kept skipping beats when Sunghoon was around.

The fluttering in your chest didn’t stop. In fact, when Jiyeon finally came and your practice together started, it got worse. The day you had both gotten injured, you had been so caught up in your own emotions that you haven't paid much attention to Sunghoon. Now, he was the only thing that you could focus on.

He skated with a purpose, becoming one with the ice and the music. When he skated next to you, you became entranced. Sunghoon looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. The chemistry was undeniable. You complemented each other’s movements as if you could read the other's mind. The world melted away and it was just you and Sunghoon and the ice.

The music built up, the climax approaching. This time you didn’t hesitate. When you leaped into the air with Sunghoon holding you up, you felt free. Sunghoon held onto you tightly. You had no doubt that he would.

He lowered you down, your legs wrapped around his waist and for a split second you allowed yourself to look into his eyes. In that moment you felt your heart flutter once more. The realisation hits you like a tidal wave—your heart skipping beats was not a coincidence or a figment of your imagination. Your heart really and truly was skipping beats for Park Sunghoon.

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t read, a fierceness that surprised you. When the music faded and you both came to a graceful halt, the silence that followed was charged with a newfound tension. He was staring at you with an intensity that made you feel like you would melt under his gaze.

When Jiyeon approached, she broke the spell that had enveloped you both.

“You did great! I’m surprised that that was just the first practice,” Jiyeon was beaming from ear to ear. “I didn’t think we’d be able to bounce back from that horrible start but I’m glad you two managed to work it out. Your chemistry together is incredible!”

You found yourself blushing at her words. If you had looked, you would’ve seen that even Sunghoon had turned red.

“Thanks, Jiyeon," you managed to say, your voice slightly shaky. "We've been working really hard."

Jiyeon nodded enthusiastically. "It definitely shows. I have a good feeling about our chances in the competition."

You ran through the routine a couple times more before the day ended. You tried not to look into Sunghoon’s eyes in case you faltered again. So when he approached you at the end of the practice, you avoided his eyes once more.

“Y/N,” He ran up to you as you walked towards the door. The only response you could muster was a silent ‘hmm’.

“We did the lift today. You promised that we could get ice cream.” He grinned at you.

You felt your stomach churn at the idea of more time with Sunghoon. You didn’t quite understand the new feelings that seemed to bubble up whenever he was around and you didn’t want to understand it.

So you shook your head no. “I can’t. I'm too tired now.”

And before Sunghoon could react, you left.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. After the first practice, you made sure to keep your distance from Sunghoon. You didn’t like how your heart would react when he looked at you or the way it sped up when he would hold you during the routine. But you ignored it. You shoved down whatever feelings you had that you didn’t even have a name for, deep down where it wouldn’t surface again.

You ignored Sunghoon. Whenever he attempted to make conversation you would reply shortly in a cold tone. You felt bad the first time you had walked away when Sunghoon had approached you to talk, the look on his face as you walked away leaving you wondering if this was really the best way to deal with it. But you didn’t know how to deal with it. At the end of the day, when the pair skate was over, you two would compete against each other once more. You couldn’t have your new found feelings - whatever they were - distract you from striving to overcome him.

And in no time at all, the competition loomed over you.

Sunghoon had given up trying to talk to you. You expected to feel happy about it but a part of you felt… well, lonely. You had grown used to his presence throughout the two months you had spent together and despite knowing that it was you who had pushed him away, you couldn’t help feeling a bit dejected.

It was especially lonely when you arrived at the competition held away from home, surrounded by people from all over the world. You were out of place here, a stranger. The only piece of home was Jiyeon and Sunghoon and one of those two people would no longer approach you.

You tried to brush off the feeling, reminding yourself of your determination to focus solely on the competition. This was not the time to wallow in self pity.

On the day of rehearsals, you came to the skate rink alone. You wore the outfit that Jiyeon had chosen, a brilliant midnight blue dress that sparkled like the stars. You knew Sunghoon had gotten a matching outfit but you hadn’t seen him wear it.

As you laced up your skates you felt someone loom over you.

“Hey, you’re really pretty. You’re in the pair skate aren’t you? I could help you practise if you want.”

You turned around, slightly startled by the unexpected voice. Standing before you was a young man, unfamiliar to you. You recognized him as one of the skaters from another country, a Daniel something.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. You expected him to leave but the guy was persistent.

“C’mon don’t be like that. I could help you out. In more ways than one.” The sleazy look he gave you made you shiver and panic welled up inside you.

“I really don’t need any help.” You made an effort to keep your voice from shaking.

The stranger's sleazy expression wavered for a moment, but he persisted, leaning in closer. "Come on, babe. I've got some great moves to show you. You won't regret it."

Your heart raced, and a surge of anxiety coursed through your veins. This was not the kind of attention you wanted or needed, especially in such a vulnerable setting. Taking a step back, you spoke more assertively, your voice tinged with a hint of warning.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not interested. Please respect my decision and leave me alone."

Just as you were growing increasingly anxious, a familiar voice called out from behind you. “She told you to beat it, Daniel.”

Sunghoon appeared from behind you, a protective arm wrapping around your shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At the sight of him, you felt a huge wave of relief wash over you.

Daniel glanced between you and Sunghoon, something like realisation setting in. With a scoff, he muttered something under his breath and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, Sunghoon dropped the arm on your shoulder. You felt the absence immediately, the loss of the warmth making you shiver.

“Thank you.” He gave you a curt nod in response. Sunghoon’s face was guarded. With a sinking feeling, you realised that him intervening did not mean that things were back to normal.

“Sunghoon-“

“You don’t have to speak to me,” He cut you off. “It’s clear you don’t want anything to do with me so you don’t have to thank me. I only helped because I thought you needed it. I won’t bother you again.” His voice was cold.

You felt a pang of regret as Sunghoon's words echoed in your ears. You reached out, wanting to explain, but he took a step back, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Sunghoon, please listen to me," you pleaded, your voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted things to end up like this.

His smile was sarcastic. “That’s what you always say isn’t it? I didn’t mean it. It was never like that. I never wanted this. You say all that and for a moment it’s like you don’t mind my company, almost like you enjoy spending time with me. For just a moment I thought that you might even like me,” He let out a hollow laugh. “Guess I’m the fool because while I was falling for you, you were planning your escape from me.”

Sunghoon didn’t wait for a response. You weren’t even sure you could give a response. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched Sunghoon turn away, his words piercing through your heart. The pain and hurt in his voice were unbearable, and you desperately wanted to reach out to him, to make him understand the truth.

But how could you explain something that even you didn't fully comprehend until now? How could you explain that he wasn’t the only one who had been falling?

There were four hours left before the competition started and you were crying in your room. Jiyeon had waited outside your room for ages, knocking and begging you to open the door. Eventually, she had given up. You had promised her that you'd show up when the time came. That was all you could muster up the courage to tell her.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you could go through with it. To go out there and skate with Sunghoon as if nothing had happened, as if your heart wasn’t broken into pieces with no fault but your own. You hadn’t seen him since he had confessed. Not that you had even left your room since then. The tears that had started to fall back then seemed never-ending. You didn’t know that a person could cry so hard and that your heart could ache so much.

As the time ticked away, you found yourself trapped in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to find the strength to face the reality before you. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and the weight of your actions weighed heavily on your heart.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door roused you from your thoughts. Jiyeon's voice reached you, muffled yet filled with concern. "Please, just open the door. We're running out of time, and I'm worried about you."

You ignored it.

She begged you to open the door, begged you to tell her what was wrong but you didn’t budge. For a while, the sounds behind the door went silent and you wondered if Jiyeon had given up again. But then, another voice came through the door.

“Open the door Y/N.”

You recognized the voice instantly and you felt yourself crumble just a little bit more. A part of you wanted to open the door, to see his face and find solace in his presence. But another part of you feared the pain and vulnerability that awaited on the other side.

There was a pause before he spoke again, this time so quietly you could barely hear him. “Please.”

And your willpower was gone. You rose up from bed to open the door. It was only when the door swung open that you remembered you probably looked like a mess. Your tear- stained face, pyjamas that you didn’t have the strength to get out of and messy hair probably looked like a sight. It was a shock when you saw that Sunghoon didn’t look much better.

Sunghoon looked dishevelled. His eyes were tired, surrounded by dark circles that rivalled your own. The pain and vulnerability reflected in his eyes mirrored your own, and in that instant, all the walls and barriers you had erected around yourself crumbled.

Without saying a word, Sunghoon stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

“What are you doing Y/N.” His voice was soft.

You didn’t answer his question, not knowing what he was asking.

He let out a shaky breath. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered.

He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers grazing against your tear-stained cheek. The tender touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into it, seeking comfort in his presence.

“One day you’re telling me that you wouldn’t do this routine with anyone other than me. Next, you’re ignoring me while I try to talk to you. You’re hot and cold and I never know what to expect from you.”

He was pleading now. “Please tell me I didn’t imagine what I felt on the ice with you that day. Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

He took your hand in his, softly putting it over his heart. “I know you hate me Y/N. But can’t you see what you do to me?”

His heart raced under your touch. His words cut through the silence, laying bare his confusion, pain, and longing.

You felt the tears threatening to fall again. “Sunghoon, I don’t hate you. I mean, I did but I don’t now. I hate how you make me feel. I hate how my heart seems to float whenever you’re near me. I hate the way my stomach fills with butterflies when you’re around. I hate the way my breath quickens when you touch me. Most of all, I hate how vulnerable you make me.” Your voice wavered, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

Sunghoon's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of remorse and understanding.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He murmured.

Your voice was barely audible when you continued. “You never did. I brought that upon myself. Despite how hard I tried to push you away, you’re always on my mind. It’s terrifying how much of my mind you had taken over in such a short period of time.”

Sunghoon’s hands tightened around yours, still pressed to his chest. A silence settled between you two, heavy with emotion.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly. “When we win… can I kiss you?”

His question caught you off guard and you felt your heartbeat quicken. Under your hand, you could feel that Sunghoon’s heartbeat matched your rhythm.

Wordlessly you nodded yes. That was all Sunghoon needed. He breathed a sigh of relief, a genuine smile now spreading on his face.

“Go get ready. We have a competition to win.”

And for the first time since the rehearsal day, you smiled.

Mercifully, Jiyeon didn’t ask you any questions when you finally emerged out of your room in your outfit. She didn’t even say anything when Sunghoon grabbed hold of your hand as you walked towards the skate rink (although she did raise her eyebrow at you). You were glad she didn’t ask you anything because you honestly didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even have the energy for it, the emotional turmoil of the past few days had tired you out. You wanted to save your energy for the competition.

Sunghoon looked dazzling in his matching midnight blue outfit. You couldn’t help but peak glances at him, blushing when he caught you in the act. Sunghoon thought you looked gorgeous and didn’t hesitate to tell you so as well.

The competition started on record time and in the blink of an eye, it was time for you and Sunghoon to skate.

“Hey,” Sunghoon whispered to you before you both got on the ice. “I really really like you Y/N.”

Your face was bright red when the spotlight shifted over to you and you mentally cursed Sunghoon for telling you that right before you had to be under the spotlight. You hoped the audience didn’t notice.

The music soon started, the familiar notes that you had practised echoing through the place. As the music enveloped the rink, you and Sunghoon synchronised your movements, seamlessly gliding across the ice. The routine you had practised countless times now took on a new meaning, infused with the raw emotions and unspoken words that hung in the air between you.

With each graceful leap, each intricate spin, and each delicate touch, you poured your heart and soul into the performance. The audience watched in awe as the chemistry between you and Sunghoon radiated, a tangible connection that transcended the boundaries of the ice rink.

The routine progressed flawlessly, the tension and anticipation building as you approached the climax. The choreography seemed to reflect the journey of your relationship, with moments of tender closeness and fleeting glances that spoke volumes. The lift that you had once been so scared of, was performed flawlessly. The look in Sunghoon’s eyes as he held you was one of pure adoration and you wondered if you looked the same.

As the final notes of the music echoed, you and Sunghoon stood face to face, breathing heavily but exhilarated. The crowd erupted into applause and you could swear you heard Jiyeon even through the loud crowd.

With a mix of exhaustion and elation, you and Sunghoon skated off the ice, hand in hand, basking in the afterglow of the performance. As soon as you were off the ice you turned towards him.

“I really really like you too Sunghoon.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “I know.”

As you both awaited the judges' scores, Jiyeon rushed over, her face beaming with pride. "That was incredible, you two! You completely captivated the audience! I'm so proud of you!"

You smiled at Jiyeon's words, grateful for her unwavering support. Sunghoon squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with admiration and affection.

Soon, you were both asked to return back to the ice. The scores were announced, and the tension reached its peak.

“And the top scorers for the night and our gold medal winnders are… Y/N L/N and Park Sunghoon!”

A surge of emotions washed over you but before you could react to them, you felt an arm around your waist and suddenly you were pressed against Sunghoon. Before you could react, he pulled you closer, pushing his lips on yours. The touch of his lips on yours made a jolt of electricity travel through your body. Unconsciously, your hands moved to wrap around his neck, pushing him even closer to you. In the back of your head, you knew that the audience was going wild at the sudden act unfolding in front of them. At any other time, you would’ve been embarrassed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you kissed Sunghoon with an urgency that surprised even yourself.

When you finally parted, breathless and gazing into each other's eyes, the world around you came rushing back. The crowd's cheers and applause filled the air, reminding you that you were not alone in this moment of bliss. You felt the heat creeping up to your face as the commentator made a joke about the two lovebirds. But when Sunghoon grabbed your hand in his, none of the outside world mattered.

“Can you two stop making out for one second?” Jiyeon’s exasperated voice made you break away from Sunghoon. His arms remained wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your rolled your eyes at Jiyeon. “Can’t I spend some time with my boyfriend when we’re taking a break?” You pouted.

“Your break ended 15 minutes ago!”

You looked at the timer Jiyeon had set out on the floor. “Oops.”

You couldn't help but giggle at Jiyeon's exasperation, feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment. Sunghoon's laughter only added to the lightheartedness of the moment.

“And you,” Jiyeon pointed at Sunghoon, shooting a glare at him. “Why are you here? Don’t forget you’re competing against her now, not with her. Stop distracting my protégé.” She complained.

Sunghoon held up his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sorry, Jiyeon. I couldn’t resist coming to see my girlfriend. But I promise I won’t distract her any longer.”

You gave Sunghoon a playful nudge, trying to suppress your smile. "See, Jiyeon? He knows his place now."

Jiyeon rolled her eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Fine, fine. Just make sure you're both focused when you step back on the ice. We have a competition to win."

“Not if I win it first.” Sunghoon escaped the playful punch you aimed at him, laughing out loud.

“In your dreams Park. I won’t go easy on you just cause you’re cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He teased.

“Enough!” Jiyeon yelled, covering her eyes at the sight of you two flirting.

Sunghoon gave you another quick kiss before he ran away laughing in joy. You basked in the glow of it all before Jiyeon barked at you to start practising again.

When the music started you felt the familiar adrenaline rush through you. You started to glide, your determination renewed. Sunghoon may have been your boyfriend but you hadn’t been joking when you had told him you wouldn’t go easy on him. He knew it too. He wouldn’t expect anything less from his ice princess.

648 notes · View notes

sjyuns · 1 year

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🗒️ 、 SUGARCOAT

bad boy heeseung x fem reader 1036 words warnings cursing genre fluff listen sugarcoat ( natty ) mikaela’s note sorry for the spam, i’m clearing drafts

There are 171,476 words in the english language, but you could never string any of them together to explain how much you wanted to hit Lee Heeseung with a chair, against his head (hopefully splitting it open). Because he’s being extremely difficult at the moment — not like he ever was not.

“Can you not shut up for one fucking minute? You’re giving me a headache,” you groan, eyes rolling before you shoot a sharp glare at the purple haired boy, “just because a blueberry vomited on your head, doesn’t give you the right to be a whiny brat.”

He scoffs, and takes a step closer to you, eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips. It distracts you — his gaze, and you can feel your body heat up. He’s attractive; with his bambi eyes that held a contrasting devilish stare that hypnotises, his tall figure, muscular build, and that dark purple hair of his, which you hate to admit, suited him so well.

Heeseung looked like a corrupt angel, almost supernaturally handsome, and he was unnervingly unforgettable.

The task at hand long forgotten as you held his dead stare, and you cursed him in your mind over and over again. Who knew that one simple agreement to meet your father’s coworker’s family would lead you to him — the absolute bane of your existence.

“Hate me so much, sweetheart? The door’s right there,” he smirks, crystal eyes like gin and as pretty as sin, “leave, and you lose.” And it was like he knew what irked you because you weren’t ever one to back down from a challenge, even more if you were losing to Lee Heeseung, who only in your third time meeting him, managed to wring out every single drop of patience in your being. “Called it that you won’t ever be able to handle me.”

You heave a burdened sigh, eye filtering through the different stores in the empty mall, before fixing your eyes on the arcade. Without a second thought, you reach out to grab his hand, your eyes doe as you give him a sharp glare, as if challenging him to go against you.

“You need me here, Lee Heeseung, or how will you ever prove to your parents that you’re a so-called changed man,” you grin, pulling him over to a claw machine situated at the entrance of the arcade.

There’s an unexplainable feeling sitting uncomfortably in Heeseung’s chest as he stares at your figure; you were the kind of girl boys would swoon over, with silky hair, bedroom eyes, and cheeks like wine, your beauty was intimidating yet you smelt like white roses and had a voice of honey. And he thinks that as much as you’re different from the other girls he’s been with, he won’t think of you, he wouldn’t allow himself to.

“Get me that doll,” you say blandly, finger pressing against the glass casing of the claw machine as you point to a deer soft toy.

Heeseung scoffs at your demanding tone, “a deer?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together, “didn’t think you’d like deers, thought you’d be more of a cat person.”

The nerve of this boy, you think, face morphing into one of judgement, “what do you even know about me, Lee?” you say, watching Heeseung’s eyes glisten with competitiveness as he fixated on the small brown soft toy. “Plus, it kind of looks like you.”

“Ew, you think I'm cute?” He throws out and you’re shocked at his narcissism.

“No, it’s ugly. You’re ugly,” you reply, and god is that a big fat lie. Because the last word you’d use to describe Lee Heeseung, with his egotistical personality sugarcoated in glorified looks would be ‘ugly’.

He smirks as he bends down, face excruciatingly close to yours as his sinfully intoxicating aura encases you, “really sweetheart?” he asks, before his gaze drops down to your lips, “then why are you so red?”

Your palms push against his chest, eyes darting everywhere but Heeseung’s face which held a winner’s smirk, “just get me the fucking toy,” you mutter. He chuckles softly at your embarrassed state before he shifts his focus back onto clawing the soft toy.

And you aren’t surprised that it takes him less than three tries to successfully grab it — in fact you weren’t ever surprised at Heeseung’s excellence, because you knew that despite the arrogance that lined him, he was talented.

“Happy?” Heeseung questions as he looks at your elated expression, as you tightly grip the small soft toy in your hands, gazing at it adoringly. “You ever going to pay me back?”

There it is again, and you think there isn’t one full moment where he can shut up.

“You’re asking me to pay on our second date, Lee? That’s almost romantic,” you scoff, “the blueberry juice must have really seeped through your roots into your empty brain. Just as I was about to thank you for this adorable toy too.”

“Adorable? I thought you said it was ugly like me?” he swivels his body to face you, “you think i’m cute, pretty girl?”

“As cute as the disney troll that pissed on your hair,” you bite back, rolling your eyes as you quicken your step.

The expression on your face loosens when you’re sure Heeseung cannot see it, as you fight back a smile presented to you by the awfully interesting boy who makes your heart tremble at just the thought of him.

“Next week, same time,” Heeseung shouts at your disappearing figure, an unfiltered smile plastered on his face, “don’t forget, pretty girl.” And it’s a whole new sensation for him; to want to see you again even though you’ve just left.

You fall asleep with the bambi soft toy pressed firmly against the flesh of your cheeks, and you can’t help but let out soft giggles at the simple thought of the boy who looked like a fallen angel and handsome devil all at once, a boy named Lee Heeseung who calls you disgustingly domestic nicknames that your heart can’t help but flutter at the sound of. Lee Heeseung who — though is conceited and prideful, listens to your every word like it’s the most interesting thing on earth.

#⪩⪨ mikaela's #enhypen #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung soft hours #heeseung drabbles #heeseung headcanons #heeseung oneshots #kpop fluff #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines

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batfamscreaming · 26 days

Note

what r ur thoughts on reconciliation between jason and bruce. is it really possible? what would it take? what would it look like? seen some stuff on my dash lately about that particularly thorny issue and would love to get your perspective. (hopefully this is the kind of ask ur looking for)

(you are FINE this is going to be the bane of my fandom career)

So realistically we're not going to see Jason reconcile with Bruce because a) everybody loves angst b) no one is talking about the ISSUE.

The ISSUE is not the murder thing. Like. The murder thing doesn't help but it isn't the root; killing people is something Jason decided to start doing because it was something Bruce is extremely firm on. He stands by the 'no murder' thing even when his own life and the lives of others are in danger. He stands SO firmly by it, that if you break that rule maybe you can break the entire foundation of Batman, which is that things are never so far gone they can't be redeemed. Gotham is never so far gone it isn't worth trying to repair. We are not cutting the rot away we are building an environment which no longer collapses into rot around us, even if it is gross, demeaning, dangerous work.

If Bruce killed the Joker in Under the Red Hood I think Jason would have been lost forever. Because it would've been proof that Bruce's most fervent beliefs meant nothing. If Bruce's hardest promise, that he would not kill, was broken so easily, then what does that mean about all his other promises? All the promises that he loved Jason and would never send him away? If his hardest promise can be broken, do those easy promises even stand a chance?

I think the issue is and always will be: Did you love me? Do you love me still?

All those posts about coming back wrong and unlovable, and what if I was unlovable the whole time and it was just that I can't even be bothered to pretend anymore? That's Jason Todd. He crawled his way out of his own grave an open wound and he is trying to convince himself that he's doing fine while actively bleeding. I feel insane reading some of the discourse because it's talking about Jason from the pov of his disenfranchisement and that as driving him in Red Hood and like. No! Jason is disenfranchised, he was failed by the systems, absolutely; I do not fucking believe he is doing any of this for people like him. He is saying things that validate his pain because he cannot deal with the enormous amount of pain he is in. He died and came back to life. He did it in a way people don't know or understand, or via Lazarus pit, which people condemn. I think to resolve things they'd need a god damn religious discussion to even start with, to ask Jason if he thinks anything that has died and come back to life can ever be good, or if it's just him.

I think he must have had self-loathing and insecurity built up before his death and it Exploded when he came back to life several years later and saw from the out side people attempting to move on. This is not a victim blame because of course he had self-loathing and insecurity, he was a kid with a difficult childhood and you need at least five years to a decade to start feeling like someone else, who maybe has confidence and certainty. I think being Robin let him borrow confidence, and so like, probably did feel great! He had a script and a role to fill and he was given a lot of practice to do it!

I think part of the problem is that post-resurrection is Jason has to figure out who he is for the first time again, even older now. He lost some of his teen years in figuring things out. He has the life experiences of a 14 year old and then training under assassins and then like. Drug lord?? For a bit??

Jason is not fighting for the disenfranchised. He is trying to figure out who the hell he is and is bouncing around so many teams and timelines and shit that all already know him and know him as the dead kid that I think for him and Bruce to make up, like. He probably needs to have a job?

Not for money necessarily, because like. The Wayne fortune is right there. But I think he needs to go somewhere, with a schedule, for like at least six months in a row, and have something low stakes dependent on him. Like a dog or something. Maybe get involved in local theater. Take the dog to dog training twice a week and teach small children acting in the afternoons.

And once a week or whenever they feel like it Bruce and Jason can have a phone call, and Jason can bring up what's happening at the theater and how the dog is, and Bruce can talk about Wayne Corp shit.

And if Jason learns from dog time about someone who is mistreating an animal or a partner then like maybe he goes and steals a dog or tells someone to come stay over at his house for a while and gives them some cash. And after he does something rash he still needs to come back to his apartment and feed the dog and show up to the theater the next day.

I think he needs to see the world around him when it ISN'T homelessness and assassins guilds and running out into the streets at night looking for trouble.

'but you haven't addressed anything for bruce to do' for Bruce to have to do anything we first need to get jason at the table. 'bruce beat jason in x comic/brainwashed him into an overactive fear response/almost certainly also something else'

1. i'm choosing to say besides the throat thing that people hate (bc I get that. Bruce needs to say 'yes I was panicking and my writer was being dramatic I'm sorry' ) bruce doesn't beat his kids or any rogues in general once they're at a point they're no longer trying to kill/hurt anyone either.

2. tbh I think the anxiety brainwashing is facinating and definitely something Bruce might have thought about but making it and using it is fully in 'I was also having a 3 day long mental breakdown' territory. However since Jason put a lot of heads in a duffle bag during HIS mental breakdown I think this might again be within 'yeah that was fucked up I'm sorry about that' territory.

Honestly I wish that Jason had gone to Bruce after the Selina 'making thieves pay 15% to charity' thing and they had just had the BIGGEST bitching fest about it with each other. I think that, faster than literally any amount of relaxation and therapy, would have gotten them back on the same side. They need to get in a room together and just. Bitch about it. Jason saw the WORST adaptation the other day. Bruce is dealing with the MOST stuck up prick at the board meeting.

Before they can fix anything they need to remember why they even loved each other. If they feel it again maybe they'll work to save it. But no one is going to fix a relationship where it feels like an obligation for a feeling you aren't sure even exists anymore.

#IT WANTED A READMORE??#anyway #bruce wayne #jason todd #this is a bruce wayne blog do not come here commenting about how much you hate bruce wayne #long post

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redstarwriting · 1 year

Text

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

───────────────────────────────────

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #atsv

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myjealouseyes · 1 month

Text

Request from anon: could you (if comfortable) do one where reader is thicker/plus sized/mid sized and is anxious about wearing summer clothes when going out or like a bikini during a pool party and harry comforts and encourages her for it?

Content warning: body insecurity.

Send requests here

Summer had always been the bane of your existence and that was putting it lightly. It was hot. The unpleasant muggy kind where you can’t go outside without a sticky perspiration building around your face and mosquitoes try and suck you dry. Your friends found solace in their breathable bathing suits in community pools and lounging chairs. You wish you could join them.

Up until this summer you’ve made every possible excuse to get out of going to the pool. Lightheadedness, summer cold, making up fake plans with your dads, all of it. All because you were scared of swimwear. Well, really it was more that you were scared of being seen in it. Your friends weren’t the problem. You know they’d hype you up no matter what you wore or how you looked in it. You’re not exactly sure what it is. Just the thought of being perceived in anything that showed more than your bellybutton made you feel icky. But you’ve always heard you can’t get over a fear from under it, so here you here you were. Standing in front of your full-length mirror, readjusting your bikini top.

The set is simple. Sky blue, covered in small white pokadots. As you turn to the side, you get a clear look at the stretch marks that cover your skin. Knowing they’d soon be on display for everyone else to see is making you feel nauseous. You’re at a crossroad between still going to the pool and wearing Your cover-up the whole time or Mysteriously come down with a really bad stomach bug that’s left you bedridden. Before you can ponder on how believable that’d be, your door cracks open.

The noise is cautious, like it’s trying not to startle you. You know it’s Harry. You’d never told Harry how swimsuits make you feel, but after years of knowing you it’s hard for him not to notice these things. “I just thought I’d check on you. We have to leave in half an hour and…” He trails off has his eyes trail down your figure. You start to feel naked. His eyes are akin to lasers on your skin. You’re fighting the urge to wrap your around yourself as you face him fully. His eyes snap to yours, fighting off a blush. “You look…”

“is it too skimpy?” You grimace, instinctively looking for your cover-up.

“Gorgeous.” He states firmly. “You look gorgeous.”

Heat crawls up your neck as your eyes flick away from his. He doesn’t let you for long. He walks over to you in long strides and tilts your chin up. “Gorgeous.” He emphasizes. “Beautiful. Stunning.” You find yourself relaxing under his gaze. “And everyone will think the same when they see you today.”

You let Harry grab your beach bag and lead you out the door, conviently forgetting your matching blue cover. From the way he looks at you as you lounge beside the pool, you assume it wasn’t an accident at all.

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v3nusplanetofluv · 6 months

Text

camp

ii; good different

｡･ﾟﾟ･atsumu x fem! reader

｡･ﾟﾟ･college and 90s au

description...

atsumu miya was the bane of your existence growing up. always making it his job to tease and taunt you daily. as time went on you detached yourself from the neighborhood kids, your frequent, unwanted presence merely becoming a thing of the past. however, the summer of '98 causes you and atsumu to face the past.

warnings!

2.1k words

none!

"get him out of here," your hands slammed down on the wooden desk, shaking the small handmade frames and shitty trinkets that littered the surface. "i just wasted forty-five minutes of my day because he couldn't take a normal picture without staring at me with this dumb expression he gets on his face," a dry laugh left your lips as an exasperated expression overtook your features. tiredly, you sink back into the wobbly plastic chair littered with mysterious stains--most likely filled with kiddy germs, "why'd you have to hire him?"

"we're short-staffed--and he had a good application," the older woman leaned forward, resting her weight on her crossed arms. "why? ya have a bad fling with him--"

"NO! god no!" your eyes screwed shut, cringing at the nauseating thought. your face burned as if it was the surface of the sun, you shoved your face into your hands as if your palms could soothe the humiliating burn.

she let out an amused chuckle as she rested back into her spinny chair, causing the faux leather to peel off even further. "i just assumed," she put her arms up as a way to signal her surrender, "considerin' yall were from the same neighborhood and good lookin'."

you groan as you shake your head in your hands. "it's just playground stuff," you mutter, "it shouldn't have even come here--this is all very unprofessional--i apologize-" you ramble as you quickly begin to get up and out of your seat.

"wait, wait, if something is botherin' ya, ya are more than welcome ta tell me about it--i barely know miya-"

"no, no, no," you dismiss with a shake of your hand as begin to open up the office door, "I'll figure it out on my own! but thank you." with a smile you close the door behind you and let out a sigh. you quickly scurry out of the building, only slowing once you make it down the rotting steps--feet on steady ground.

you hunch over suddenly--violently--as you let out a callous but silent scream. hoarse fragments leave your mouth as you jump up and down stomping your feet erratically on the damp dirt. whispered curses bellow as you pull at your hair. your movements were so unsettling that if there was any chance of an ax murderer hiding out in the surrounding forest you definitely scared them away.

"stupid fucking bitch!" your grating curses fell upon deaf ears as you fell to your knees, repeatedly pounding at the ground as you panted. your forehead grew sweaty as you finally began to run out of energy, shallow breaths were the only sounds flowing through your head.

as you steadied your breath you looked down at your fingernails, covered in chipped nail polish, gripping onto your denim shorts. the blurriness in your vision began to dissipate as a pair of dirty sneakers snuck into your view.

your eyes trailed up the figure, making you let out a vexed whine as you landed on the familiar hazel eyes. you rolled your eyes, "what do you want?" a displeased sigh left your lips as he looked down at you in your weary state.

as he crouched down, you huffed at how he still towered over you. "ya were rollin' aroun' on the floor--the dirt," he let out a nervous chuckle as you only glared up at him making the climate even more suffocating in the beastly humididty. he let out a breath that he had been holding as he looked at anything but your figure underneath him, "jus' wanted ta check on ya-"

"i didn't need you to check on me," your tone was sharp as you pushed yourself off of the ground, shaking off any dirt left upon your converse. "why were you looking for me?'

it was now your turn to tower over him. and for one of the few times in his life, atsumu felt small compared to someone else...and he couldn't figure out why. maybe it was the way you looked down at him like he was dog shit on your shoe; or maybe it was his newfound attraction that made you look like a gift sent down from god; possibly a third thing--the fact that you had something over his head--the fact that he alienated and treated you like secondary when you were younger.

he snapped out of his thoughts as your hand began to wave in front of his face, "hello? what do you want from me?-"

"are ya gonna tell everyone?"

your expression softened, as confusion began to appear, "what are you-"

"are ya gonna tell everyone about how...about how i treated ya?"

a short, bitter laugh leaves your lips as you look down at him. atsumu looks up at you like a kicked puppy that doesn't want to look like he's been hurt. "no, i don't care to let everyone know about sandbox drama," his expression begins to lift with hope, "but i can hold a grudge," and then it drops. "so if that's all you had to ask then i think we're done here," you begin to turn on your heels.

"um the guys wanted me ta ask ya'd go into town ta get everyone pizza.."

you blink, "sure... i guess, what did they want?"

"they gave me a piece of paper with it on it."

"..." you look at him expectantly.

"..."

"...are you going to give it to me?"

the faux blond begins to get off of the ground, "nah, 'm gonna come with ya!" he smiles as he waves the slip of yellow notepad paper in front of your face, quickly pulling it back as you jump for it, "i don't believe in grudges, so we're gonna squash this, this summer!"

"no," you say through gritted teeth as your fists clench at your sides, "you're going to give the paper to me, so i can get in my car and get it by myself."

"well...no," he smiles down at you, "if i can't come, i guess you'll just disappoint everyone, and ya wouldn't like that now would ya?" he leans forward, "they speak so highly of ya," he tsks as he backs up, hands behind his back.

you looked as if cartoon-like smoke would come from your ears at any moment, "give me the paper atsumu!" you spit as you tried to grab it from behind his back. you lunge forward but he's quicker as he stuffs the paper into the front of his shorts.

your eyebrows furrow as he shrugs with a half smile, "ya can have it if ya get it yerself," he smirks as you suck in a frustrated breath through your nostrils.

you shove your keys into the ignition of the 1996 lexus gs 300, as atsumu slides into the passenger seat with the obnoxiously goofy smile on his face that you hated. it was as if the red hand-shaped mark adorning the side of it meant nothing!

as you began to pull out of the dirt driveway, he spotted your case holding your CDs. he began to plunder through it--much to your dismay as you maneuvered onto the road. a sound of excitement left the opposite side of the car as he pulled out a cd that caught his eye.

"i love hall and oates!" he smiled as he began to put it into the cd player, but you quickly slapped his hand making him flinch back. "why don't ya wanna listen to a cd that ya bought?" an incredulous look overtook his face as he glanced over at you.

"if you like it, i don't want to hear it," you give him a tight-lipped smile before facing the road again. "put on the blue cd," you instruct prompting him to dig through the bag.

he pulls out the cd only to make his face scrunch up in disgust, "weezer...?" he looks over at you, the displeased look unable to leave his face.

"i love weezer," you spare him a quick look as your eyebrows furrow, a small pout on your lips.

"well 'm not puttin' that on," he stuffs the cd back into the bag and tosses it into the backseat. ignoring your protests, he slides the compilation album, looking back, into the player. he picks up the piece of plastic as he skims the back, looking for the song he wanted to skip to.

after ten nosiy clicks of the forward button, "maneater" begins to blare through the car stereo system. he sticks his arm out of the car window and begins to tap his hand on the door to the beat.

you sigh and pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as your hair whips in the wind. atsumu begins to hum along, testing the waters. as you continue to ignore him he begins to sing along quietly, "oh here she's comes," he looks over at you as he sings along, "she's a maneater..." you tap your finger on the steering wheel to the song.

as he continues to sing, he notices you silently lip-syncing to the song, "just sing," he urges making you hum and raise an eyebrow, "ya know ya want to...and this is basically yer song."

your head snaps to face him, "what's that supposed to mean?'

"ya clearly get a lot more attention from guys now because ya look so...different," he says matter of factly making you reach over and tug on a piece of his hair forcing him to wince. "a good different! yer hot now! like totally smokin'!" you shoot him a lethal glare from above your glasses.

"ok, ok..." he sinks back into his seat, the hot seatbelt burning into his chest.

the rest of the ride is in silence--well partial silence as hall and oates plays softly. the sun has begun to set, painting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and yellow. you look over to your side to see atsumu looking out the window as you turn into the parking lot.

you switch off the car with a sigh.

"all i did was get contacts and my braces off..." you mutter under your breath catching his attention.

"hmm?"

"you're obviously curious--i just always looked like this i guess-"

"no...something else looks different too..." his eyebrows furrow in thought. his eyes start from the top of your head: a new haircut, obviously--maybe even some color; the glasses have been ditched, but you have more piercings now--four in each ear and a silver nose ring; your teeth are straight and you've ditched that overbite thanks to the braces. his eyes begin to drift further down...down to your-

"boobs!"

your eyes quickly follow his line of vision, arms flying up to cover your chest, "you want another mark on the other side of your face to match?" you sneer as you feel your face heat up with agitation.

"you have boobs now, that's what i couldn't figure out!"

"atsumu! i'm going to kick your stupid teeth in!" you seethe as you wish the earth would sink in and swallow you whole. his gaze is unmoving as he looks at you with a dopey grin and matching red ears.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry!" he exclaims as he finally looks away. your arms slowly begin to drop from your chest as you unfasten your seat belt, gaze following astumu's movements as he unbuckled his seat belt as well.

a breath that you felt you'd been holding in for centuries falls from your lips as you close your eyes for a moment. a small moment of peace as you'd not only been running around setting up camp for the past three days but you'd been forced to face your unruly neighbor head-on after avoiding him for years. with your head titled back onto the seat rest, your eyes flutter open at the sound of uneasy rustling coming from the passenger seat. the slow turn of your head aids in no halt of his movements.

the sight of him fitfully digging in the front of his shorts, makes your eyes go wide and cheeks heat up as you yell to grab his attention. why'd you yell? it was a rash decision!

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" the guttural sound makes him jump in his seat, hands still stuck in his pants as he tries to quickly fumble around to get them out.

two deers in a set of headlights stare at each other across the gear shift, as the inside of the car gets unbearably hot. as he stumbles over his words your eyes constantly flicker between his incredibly red face and his hands groping in the front of his shorts.

"TAKE YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR PANTS?"

'THE PIZZA ORDER!"

notes !

☆ i totally just watched lisa frankenstein and the freakout part is totally inspired by that.

☆ atsumu is having a hard time talking to y/n--not just because she's his type now, and intimidatingly pretty, but because he's only ever had mean things to say about her.

☆ surprisingly--to atsumu at least--y/n's pretty into rock music ie. weezer, nirvana, green day, radiohead, the cranberries, etc. whereas, atsumu is rather nostalgic and listens to music from when he was a kid ie. hall and oates, david bowie, michael jackson, al green, etc.

☆ when atsumu finally got the list out of his pants, it was crumpled, full of penis sweat, and unreadable. luckliy, y/n was able to make an educated guess on what they wanted because she's worked with them so long (and she was spot on).

taglist ! open

@bakugoswaif @luvly-writer @littlemiyastars @tvhsleb3ww @yachi-luvr @rosieandthethorns @lzaj19 @kaymarnun

if your name is bolded i couldn't tag you :(

dividers by @plutism

#hq x reader #hq fluff #hq fanfic #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #hq x y/n #haikyuu!!#hq hcs #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu headcanons #hq atsumu

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silentglassbreak · 2 months

Note

I usually don't so this, but since you posted it not so long ago, are the requests still open? And if so, can I ask for meeting Noah after a show, talking about fantasies and maybe some vampire role-playing? But also lots of fluff after because he's a good top. My name's Maggie and my most prominent features are that I am short, I wear glasses and I have dark curly hair.

Alrighty, let's just get right into this one, because there is truly no time to waste.

After Writing Notes: Baby, I am so sorry. I have no clue how we got here...but here we are? Once again, we went a lil off prompt, so I apologize if it wasn't exactly what you were looking for? I hope you enjoy regardless! Just a heads up, this is -BY FAR- the darkest one I've written so far.

Rating: Explicit AF

Warnings: smut, kink, blood play, roleplay, blood...blood...blood, horror themes, light BDSM (choking and biting)

Die For You

February 14th, 2024.

Valentine’s Day is the bane of my existence. I was so tired of the patrons, the demanding orders, and - mostly - the couples. It was vomit-inducing. Did my recent breakup contribute to the way I was feeling?

Sure. Probably.

Did it change the fact that I was in the foulest mood imaginable?

Not in the slightest.

I leaned my head against the brick wall of the building, my break slowly waning, signaling I was due to go back in and finish the last two hours of this God forsaken shift. Being a waitress had no perks. None.

Instead, it came with cons that I had to endure in order to pay my bills.

“Hanging in there, Maggie?”

I sighed and turned to the door, hearing Alexa’s breathless voice. She was certainly struggling in there without me.

“Yeah, just getting some air. I’ll be in there in less than five.”

She nodded and stepped out into the cool evening air. She pulled a cigarette from her pack, lighting it between her lips.

“Have you seen the announcement on Insta?”

I rolled my head to the side to glance at her. “What announcement?”

She smirked, pulling her phone from her back pocket and opening the app, handing it to me.

The poster was on the Black Veil Brides page. It was blood red, with bright white font.

BLOOD BATH

October 31st, 2024

Kia Forum

BRING ME THE HORIZON

FALLING IN REVERSE

BLACK VEIL BRIDES

BAD OMENS

ICE NINE KILLS

THE FIVE BIGGEST BANDS OF METAL

ONE NIGHT ONLY

TICKETS SELLING FAST

My brain almost didn’t register what I was seeing.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” My eyes were blown out as I looked up at Alex.

“Nope. Tickets are $850 a piece, I checked.”

I groaned, tossing my head back. “I could never afford that, let alone before it sells out.”

Alexa scoffed, sucking in the smoke of her cigarette. “You’re hilarious. I just wanted to make sure you’d want to go.” She snatched her phone back from me.

“What?” I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I have two tickets.”

My heart fell into my stomach. “E-fucking-xcuse me?”

She cackled. “Who else would I take? I’ve got a savings for a reason, right?”

My jaw was hanging open. “Alex, that’s insane. That’s $1,700!”

“$1,896, actually. Including taxes and fees.”

“That’s insane!” I repeated.

“When are we ever going to get to see all of those bands at once? It’s obviously some kind of crazy event. Can you imagine the crossovers we’re going to see? The theatrics!” I couldn’t speak, I was too stunned. “Plus,” She dropped her spent smoke and stomped on it. “I figured you needed some cheering up today. I know Bad Omens is your favorite.”

I could not physically restrain myself any longer, throwing myself at her and wrapping my arms around her shoulders.

“You’re the best fucking human being alive, you know that?!” I peppered kisses on her cheeks, making her squirm.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware.” She wiped my smeared lip gloss off her face.

She stalked back to the door, pulling the handle. “Now let’s finish this bullshit, so we can go celebrate. You’re buying.”

October 31st, 2024

The line to get in was impossibly long, so Alex and I were sat on the ground, chatting about the songs we were excited to hear, and who we were most excited to see.

“Spencer is the actual love of my life, and I cannot wait to see his fucking face.” She gushed.

I smiled. “Oh, don’t I know. But Andy? Ugh, how fucking mouthwatering.”

The doors would open shortly, so we stood, and promptly filed our way in. The venue was huge. We both agreed we would not be drinking, figuring we had a long time to stand and would end up exhausted.

We opted to grab two water bottles from the bar and head to the GA floor. We were early, luckily, and managed to grab a spot up at the rails.

Waiting nearly an hour, the lights finally came down, and the crowd erupted. Alexa was absolutely feral, listening to the opening of Rainy Day playing. When Spencer bounded onstage, full suit attire, and blade in his hand, she nearly jumped the rails.

As he passed us near the stage, I noticed something. I tapped Alex’s arm and she leaned her head down to hear me.

“He’s wearing fangs!” I shouted. She glanced up and looked, seeing the same.

Her eyes rolled as she licked her bottom lip. “Fucking bite me, Daddy.” She groaned, and I bursted with laughter.

She was so unhinged.

Ice Nine Kills finished their set with Welcome to Horrorwood, sending blood red confetti into the air, before gracefully stepping off the stage. During the set I had noticed a few things that almost seemed…off?

First of all, it wasn’t just Spencer with fangs. It was the entire band. Being as close as we were, I could see the shiny white fangs exposed every so often when they’d open their mouths to sing. These weren’t cheap, Amazon pop-ins either. They were convincing. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn that they were their actual teeth, filed down to sharp points. It was interesting.

As well, everyone in the band seemed to have a looming presence tonight. It was so difficult to explain, but it just as if they weren’t just looking at the crowd, but like they were searching it. Looking for something specific, with pointed stares and glaring smiles. It ran a chill up my spine when Spencer made direct eye contact with Alexa for a full minute while singing Hip To Be Scared. It was as if he was looking at a meal.

She ate it up, as expected.

The next set, however, was Bad Omens, and I could not have been more excited.

I had seen them twice before, and their Setlist didn’t stray much, so I was actually shocked when the usual Loading Screen didn’t show, and the opening to Artificial Suicide didn’t begin.

Instead, the opening song was Blood. That was so odd. I didn’t think they even performed this song. The crowd loved it, however.

They still started in all ski masks, and removed them for the next track - Like A Villain.

During the chorus, I was singing and swaying, giving my full attention, but stopped as soon as Noah moved close enough that I could see it.

He was also wearing fangs. My eyes darted to Jolly, who was easiest to see from where I stood. He licked his lips and, as I suspected, there they were - sharp and white.

Alexa seemed to also notice this, tapping me to lean in. “It’s called Blood Bath, so it must be a vampire themed show for Halloween.”

I nodded, because that seemed legitimate.

But still…

I expected that out of Ice Nine or Black Veil Brides. Hell, Oli Sykes actually had fangs.

But Bad Omens?

They weren’t as theatrical. I was surprised they had agreed.

However, I was pulled out of my thoughts when I felt eyes on me, and my attention was pulled back to the stage. A pair of deep, nearly black eyes were staring at me.

The song had changed, and we were on Nowhere To Go. And he was staring at me.

No, not at me. INTO me. Something in my soul felt exposed, as if I had shown up to this show nude.

I couldn’t break eye contact. I was caught between being starstruck, and immensely terrified. His lips were turned up in the slightest of smiles.

“Are you ready?”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m in the driver’s seat now.”

He finally broke his gaze, headbanging between screams.

Once I was released, I inhaled a sharp breath, turning my back to the stage. Alexa noticed as I crouched down, breathing hard.

“Babe?!” She bent down next to me. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “It’s too hot in this crowd, I’ve got to go.”

She got down to my eye level. “Maggie, you want to leave during Bad Omens?!”

I nodded feverishly, my dark curls sticking to my neck. Despite being sweaty, I had a cold chill climbing up my spine.

“I’m going to have a panic attack. I need a break.”

Maggie nodded, looking solemn. “Okay, let’s go.”

I stopped her, grabbing her arm. “No, you stay here. Save our spot. I’m going to go get some air, and I’ll be back.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

I stood up, adjusting my shirt that had bunched up at my waist, and pulled my glasses on top of my head.

“Yeah, I’ll be back after their set.”

She sighed, but hugged me and told me to be careful.

I pressed my way through the crowd, not chancing another glance at the stage, despite feeling the eyes on my back.

The evening air was cool, in the fifty-degree range. I worried my sweatshirt with my fingers, feeling the air pull in and out of my lungs.

I had slipped out of the side entrance to the smoking area. I ducked under the ropes and to the back of the building to be alone. The tour buses were back in this area, but I paid it no attention, working hard at calming my nerves.

I had been out here for at least forty-five minutes. I could hear the music inside, and knew Bad Omens’ set had been over now for about five minutes. Figuring it was now a good time to make my way back to Alex, I pushed back into the building, seeing the crowd had not moved much.

I had tried to enter at several different points, but the bodies were condensed so tight, and unwilling to give up their spots. After fifteen minutes of trying, I growled and pulled my phone out, tapping Alexa’s name.

When she answered the phone, she shouted. “Hey! Where are you?”

“I can’t get back up there! No one is letting me through!”

She groaned. “Fuck! Okay, I’ll come out.”

“No! Don’t do that! Black Veil Brides is next! You cannot miss that!”

She went quiet for a second. “Maggie, I don’t want you to be alone.”

I stepped back outside so I could hear better. “I’ll be fine. I’ll watch the crowd to see if I can make it back in later.”

“You’re sure? Cause I will leave right fucking now. You know you’re more important.”

“Babe, you spent almost all of your savings on this. I’m not ruining it for you. I can see from back here.”

“Promise?”

I smiled. “I promise.”

Electing to stay outside a while, I sat on the curb behind the building, going through the photos and video I captured of Ice Nine Kills’ set. I managed to catch Spencer staring at Alex on camera, which I promptly sent her.

She responded quickly.

Alexa: OMFG HE’S IN LOVE WITH ME

I giggled, shaking my head at her response. Going back to my photo album, I sat watching the videos when I heard Black Veil Brides start.

Bleeders was the first song. Fitting.

Alexa: Dude…Andy’s wearing fangs too. It’s definitely a theme.

Me: Love it.

The music was so loud that I hadn’t heard the footsteps behind me.

“Excuse me?” Startled, I jumped up, turning around.

An impossibly tall, hooded man stood, hands in front of him, eyebrows raised.

It took me about three seconds to register who it was, and my mouth fell open.

“Are you okay?”

Noah fucking Sebastian.

I was caught between stunned, ecstatic, and horrified. He had such a soft look on his face. He looked immensely different than he did on stage. He wore black joggers with his own logo on them, a plain black hoodie, and a black baseball cap.

“Wh-“ My voice shorted, so I cleared my throat. “What?”

He smirked slightly. “Are you okay? I remember you from the crowd, and I saw you leave. I almost stopped the set when I saw you crouch down.”

I was floored. He noticed that? I knew he saw me, but Jesus Christ, I didn’t think he saw me?!

“Yeah, I, uh…” I stammered. “I just got really hot. The pyrotechnics and all.”

He nodded, chancing a step toward me. “You sure? You look pretty pale.”

Fantastic. Not only did I leave early during his performance - which he fucking saw - but I also looked fucking peaked at the same time.

I forced a calm smile. “Yeah, I’m good, promise.”

He seemed satisfied with that, putting his hands in his pockets. “Did I freak you out? When I stared at you?”

That was on purpose?!

I didn’t get a chance to answer. “I just perform better sometimes when I have something to focus on.”

I was bewildered, my eyebrows knitting together. “And that something was me?”

He smiled, a warm expression. “I guess so.”

“Why?” I couldn’t stop it from falling out of my mouth. Did it matter?

He shrugged his shoulders. “I liked your face.”

That’s a really strange answer.

“Okay?” I shifted one foot to another, not sure what to say or how to act.

“Why aren’t you watching the show?”

I sighed, moving back to the curb, deciding to sit back down. He made quick work of doing the same, sitting about a foot to my right.

“My best friend is up there. I couldn’t get back in to where she is. I tried.”

He nodded. “Ah.” His hands still in his pockets and knees bouncing rhythmically, he glanced around.

“Well, I’m going to watch from the balcony. Want to join?”

My heart rate sped up, screeching in my chest. His lip twitched at the same time, which was ironic.

“I,” My brain was misfiring, but I knew better. “I can’t.”

His eyes almost fell, his expression turning nearly…sad? “Oh?”

“I can’t leave Alex. I promised I’d make it back to her at some point.”

“You can bring her if you want.”

My mind was short circuiting. This couldn’t be fucking happening.

“I, uh, don’t know.” Something was too weird. This didn’t just happen. “I really shouldn’t.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “No worries.” He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “If you change your mind, I’m going up before Oli’s set. I’ll be around.”

With that, he turned around, and took a few steps. He spun back around and raised an eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“Maggie.”

He smiled. “See you later, Maggie.”

Me: I NEED TO FUCKING SPEAK TO YOU IMMEDIATELY.

Alexa: What level urgency? They’re playing In The End.

Me: B L A C K.

Alexa: OH FUCK IM ON MY WAY.

Alexa and I were regular show goers, so we had code we used.

Urgent situations were assigned a color.

Green: Good to go. Nothing to worry about.

Yellow: Shit’s getting weird. We need to keep eyes open.

Red: Urgent. Get to me ASAP. Serious situation.

Black: Get here now. Highest level priority.

Alexa came barreling out of the door and ran toward me, out of breath. “Are you okay? I got a knife in my boot that they didn’t take. I can stab someone!”

I grabbed her shoulders. “I’m fine!”

She stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes. “What? Then why the urgency? I missed the end of the set!”

“I met Noah Sebastian.”

Her face deadpanned. “I beg your finest pardon?!”

I just nodded. “Out here. He remembered me from the crowd.”

“Are you fucking with me? Cause Maggie, I love you, but I’ll punch you right here, right now if you’re lying.”

“There’s no need for violence. She isn’t lying.”

Both of us snapped our necks to our left, the hooded figure stepping out from behind one of the buses. Noah came into view, hands still in his pockets.

“Nice to meet you, Alex.”

She visibly reeled, a shrill screech leaving her mouth.

“Holy fuck! It’s actually him!”

I giggled, glancing back at Noah, whose eyes were on me again. I straightened my spine, feeling that same fear sinking in from before.

“I was telling Maggie earlier that I planned to watch the rest of the show from the balcony with the guys. Wanted to invite you to join.”

Her mouth hung open, hand reaching for my arm and pulling me close. “We’d love to.” She answered for us.

I shot her a look. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to do this. I still had the unnerved feeling that something wasn’t right.

She ignored my stare, smiling brightly at Noah.

He returned her grin with his own, which was oddly menacing. I noticed at that moment that he still had the fangs in.

“Awesome. Follow me.”

We did as we were told, following him into the back of the building, passing people who obviously were working on the show. We were far enough behind Noah that I pulled Alex in close, whispering to her.

“I feel weird about this, babe.”

She stared at me incredulously. “Why? Isn’t this your biggest fantasy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is, but it feels strange. Why us?”

She shrugged. “We manifested it? I don’t know. Shit like this happens all the time.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think it does.”

The balcony he lead us to was private. It was between sets, so the other members of the band were sat, relaxing, beers in hand. It was set up as a lounge, three couches lined up.

Noah graciously introduced us to the other band members, and we shook their hands feverishly, awestruck. It wasn’t lost on me that all of them still had the fangs in.

Alex had struck a conversation with Nick Folio, explaining how she played drums in high school. I sat slowly on the end couch, seeing the view of the stage that was incredible. The couch sunk next to me, and I glanced over to Noah, who was tapping a message into his phone.

“Aren’t those uncomfortable?”

He looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

I pointed to my canines, and he snorted.

“Oh, right. Yeah, you get used to them.” He locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket.

I nodded. “You guys are dedicated to the theme, huh?”

He smiled, showing off the sharp points, and ran his tongue over one. “They’re not easy to take off.”

“Mm.” Must be glued on.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, leaned back on the seat with his arm over the back.

“Do you do this all the time? Pick up random fans?”

He narrowed his eyes, grinning at me.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because it seems abnormal. What makes us so special?”

He sat up, leaning forward on his elbows so he was inches from my face, his breath cool. “What makes you think you’re just some random fan?”

I scoffed. “Because I am?” I leaned away from him, needing air. “I’m just a girl. Short. Glasses. Mop of hair. I didn’t even wear makeup tonight.”

He leaned back as well, keeping a distance between us. “So? Why does that mean you aren’t special?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I’m not the first fan to be in a balcony with you.”

He nodded. “You’d be correct.” My heart sunk just slightly. “But you’re the first one I went looking for.”

My eyes popped open.

The fuck did that mean?

“Looking?”

He snickered, sighing loudly. “You got me. I thought you were attractive. Really attractive, okay? I figured I’d see if I could catch you.”

This caught me so far off guard, I nearly fell off of the couch.

“You think I’m attractive?”

This made him belly laugh, my disbelief.

“Maggie, can I let you in on a secret?” I just nodded. He leaned his head over, whispering. “I think you’re mouthwatering.”

A sharp tingle shot up my spine, and I wriggled next to him.

The lights went down, and the crowd cheered as Falling In Reverse began their set.

Popular Monster. This show was a trip.

We watched the show, Alex and I singing along to the lyrics of nearly every song. Every so often, Noah would lean over and tell me something about the song playing, complimenting Ronnie’s artistic ability or the instrumentals. The guys all seemed to be enjoying it as well, air-guitar and drumming.

It was just far enough away that I couldn’t tell, so I leaned into Noah. “Is Ronnie wearing fangs too?”

He nodded, lips nearly touching my ear when he spoke. “It was Oli’s idea. We all have them.”

Made sense. I smiled at him, catching his eyes wandering my face. His arm was tucked neatly behind my back now, resting on my hip. Something about the encounter changed. I didn’t feel fear anymore, rather, Noah’s presence felt safe. It felt comfortable and I felt myself craving it. The air almost lightened, my shoulders relaxing as I exhaled a breath I had been holding.

“Can I tell you something?” I nodded, leaning back in to hear him. “I’d kiss you right now, if you’d let me.”

My eyebrows shot up. He pulled his face away, running his tongue over his bottom lip. A pit opened in my stomach, causing me to swallow harshly.

“And what if I don’t?”

He smirked, his tattooed finger coming up to swipe across my bottom lip. “That, darling, would be a tragedy.”

It was involuntary, the way my body pressed closer to him, the soft skin of his lips brushing against mine. It wasn’t quite what we wanted, but it was so close.

My self control was fading, and he knew it, his hand tightening on my hip.

“If you’d let me?”

That was it. My lips were pressed against his, molding to his mouth, and breathing into his soul. I felt the sharp tooth scrape over my skin, which elicited a hard groan from me. His other hand came up to the side of my neck, and his fingers tangled in my curls.

We lasted this way for several minutes, finally pulling away with a sharp hiss from his mouth. His eyes were feral, wild. His grip on my hair was tight. He bored into my eyes, speaking something that I couldn’t read.

We were pulled from our moment when a hand tapped my shoulder. I whipped around quickly, and his hands released me.

Alex stood, eyes wide, and smiling. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m going to run to the restroom. Just wanted you to know.”

I wiped my lips with my thumb, feeling a sharp pain. I nodded at Alex, who furrowed her brows, bending down to speak directly at me.

“Watch the fangs, babe. You’re bleeding.”

I looked down at my thumb, the deep red filling the ridges of my print.

A hand came up to wrap around my wrist, staring at my finger. He swiftly and smoothly lifted it to his lips, sucking it into his mouth. When he released me, my finger was clean.

He smiled a sheepish grin at me in response to my shocked expression. “Too weird?”

I wanted to say yes, because that was the normal person thing to say. However, given the heat that had pooled in my stomach and the way my thighs clenched together, I just shook my head.

The music was loud, booming into my chest, and I leaned back onto the couch, staring at Noah.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked me.

“That there’s no way this is real.”

He smirked. “Sometimes, it’s better to believe it’s not.”

This confused me, but he was wrapping his arm around me again, pulling me into his side, and looking down at the stage. We tried to watch the performance, we really did. But within minutes, I was in his lap, straddling his hips, and our tongues were fighting for dominance while his hands roamed up and down my legs.

I sighed, closing my eyes as his lips trailed down my jaw to my neck, nipping gently at my pulse point. He licked a stripe up my windpipe, causing me to rut against him.

“Fucking hell, Maggie.” He leaned back, and I pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “You’re so fucking amazing.”

I blushed, leaning back down to nibble on his ear. In my peripheral vision, I caught my phone on the couch lighting up. I had four missed texts from Alex.

“Shit!” I grabbed my phone and sat back on his legs.

“Everything okay?”

I shrugged. “Alexa isn’t back, and I haven’t checked my messages. I got distracted.” I said, eyeing him mischievously.

He responded by scratching his nails down the front of my leggings.

Alexa: BABE Spencer is out here talking to Andy!!!!

Alexa: OMFG he’s looking at me. I’m going to talk to him.

Alexa: HE REMEMBERS ME FROM THE CROWD.

Alexa: He asked me to go to his balcony. I have to. It’s the one next to Noah’s. I’ll be there if you need me.

I smiled at my phone. “Such a weird night.”

“Is she okay?”

I nodded, setting my phone back down. “Yeah, uh,” I shook my head, trying to understand how this had happened. “She met Spencer Charnas, and she’s in his balcony.”

He nodded, looking apprehensive. “She’s a fan of his?”

“The biggest. She’d die for that man.”

His eye twitched at that, almost a wince. “Mm. Maybe she should stick with you?”

My face fell, confused. “Why?”

He bit his lip, glancing over to where Folio sat, who was staring directly at him. “I don’t know. Just seemed like the kind of thing you guys do.”

I nodded, falling off of his lap. “Usually, but this is kind of once in a lifetime.”

He sighed hard, his eyes glancing back up to Folio. “I wish it wasn’t.”

This was confusing, his entire demeanor had shifted.

“Are you okay?”

He worried his bottom lip with the fangs, and nodded. “You, uh,” He looked at his bandmates, who were all giving him a look. “want to see the bus? I need to get something, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

There was something under his tone that made me almost flinch. It was as if he wasn’t giving me a choice…

“Okay? I mean, or I could wait with Alex in the next balcony?”

“No!” Noah’s voice was harsh, causing me to wince. “I mean, let her have her time. Once in a lifetime, right?”

I nodded, unsure.

“You trust me?”

I sighed, suddenly wildly unsure. “Should I?”

He nodded fervently. “Yes. You should.”

The tour bus was enormous. It was also a total mess. It was as if it was more lived in than an actual home. I try not to judge, but there was stuff everywhere. Drink containers, beer bottles, random garbage, clothes. The shades were drawn, and you couldn’t see outside.

Noah turned around with a look of embarrassment on his face, a hard contrast to the persona he had on all night. He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Sorry, the guys said they’d clean up…I guess they forgot.”

I shook my head, giving him a warm smile. “No worries. You guys have to live here, I get it.”

He sighed. “Can I be honest?”

“I’d hope so.” I giggled, hands in my sweater pockets.

“I didn’t need to grab anything, I was just hoping for some privacy.”

My eyes widened, and I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Oh…” Suddenly uncomfortable, I began scanning the bus for all of the exits, the closest being the door behind me.

“You don’t have to stay, it was just stuffy in there and the guys are kind of really fucking nosey.”

This made me smile. “I caught that.” I pursed my lips, looking around, trying to soothe the hammering in my chest. “I could stay.”

“You sure? Oli is going to go on soon.”

I nodded. “Once in a lifetime?”

This almost made his face fall, and he leaned against the counter of the kitchenette sink. “I wish it wasn’t.”

This gave me pause, and I moved to stand next to him.

“What do you mean?”

He pulled his hat off, revealing his mop of long dark hair that was overgrown. “I just…” He trailed off. “I don’t get to have normal relationships, yaknow? Date? See people more than once? It doesn’t really happen.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why not?”

He smirked at this, looking down at his shoes. “My lifestyle doesn’t really allow it.”

I nodded. Rockstar life had to be tough.

“Well, just because you can’t date someone, doesn’t mean you can’t be friends, right?” I won’t lie, I was slightly hopeful.

“It’s kind of more complicated than that.”

I nodded, not wanting to press further, and an uneasy silence fell over us. After about three minutes, he finally spoke.

“I liked kissing you.”

I couldn’t prevent the grin that cracked on my lips. “I liked kissing you too.”

“I didn’t bring you back here for that. I just thought I’d mention it.”

This was one of the pivotal moments in life where you decide how it goes. Walk away? See what this is, and make the smart choice to end it?

Or consider this the Gods giving you a gift? A one-time chance to fulfill a fantasy you would otherwise never get again?

I decided quickly that life was too fucking short, and moved to stand in front of him.

“Can we…just do what we want? Because this will never happen for me again, and I find it painfully difficult not to jump on you right now.”

He peered up at me through his lashes, his eyes pitch black. “Yeah? You’re sure? I don’t want to be a dick, but you know I can’t continue anything after tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a second, and opened them with no hesitation left, staring directly at him.

This gave him the answer he was looking for, as it took less than a fraction of a second for him to have me pinned against the wall behind me, hand on my throat, lips attacking my mouth feverishly. A smooth growl rumbled from his throat, and something inside of me clenched.

With the grip in my neck, he guided me to spin, lifting me up onto the countertop. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, and I breathed into him, feeling his hands smooth up my legs, and push them apart so he could press himself between them.

His mouth pulled at the skin of my jaw, surely leaving bruises I’d have to explain to Alex later. When I felt the sharp point of the fans against my skin, I placed a hand on his chest.

“Noah?” He didn’t pull back, but only hummed in response as he licked and sucked on my collarbone. “Maybe you should take the fangs out?”

He stilled, frozen. This caused me to do the same, waiting for his next move.

“I can’t.”

My brain didn’t register that. “Can’t?”

“They aren’t coming out.” He breathed again on my skin, making me shiver. “Is that a problem? If it is, tell me now.”

The idea of not going further made my body physically scream, so I just shook my head, signaling for him not to stop.

His arms, strong and solid, lifted me clean off of the counter and pulled me into the hallway, our lips reconnecting. In the back of the bus held a large bedroom area, and with one hand, he slid a door shut behind us.

He lowered me onto the mattress and became so gentle, I almost couldn’t handle it. His hands reached to unzip my sweatshirt, pulling it open to reveal my crop top. I chose to go without a bra tonight, knowing I’d be keeping my sweater on. His eyes roamed to my hardened nipples pressing against the fabric, and he bit his lip in response.

“If at any point you want to stop, tell me, okay?”

I nodded.

“Say it. Say you understand.” His voice was callous, no playfulness left.

“I understand.”

This brought a wicked smile to his face, fangs pressing out and his tongue gliding over them. “Good girl.”

He was ruthless, his hands pulling my shirt up, exposing my bare breasts, hands grasping them with force, pinching each nipple between his fingers. I yelped at the sudden painful sensation, but pressed into his touch. His knee balanced him on the bed, pressing against my core. I writhed under him, begging for friction.

“So fucking needy, darling. All in good time.”

I sucked in a breath, nearly whining at his teasing. His right hand snaked up my chest, grasping at my throat. The pressure was so much, but I couldn’t ask him to stop because it was so good, I was okay with dying right here like this.

His other hand slid down my stomach, nails scratching into my flesh, before he gripped the waistband of my leggings and tugged them down.

“Tell me how bad you want it, baby.” His fingers loosened just enough for me to speak.

“So bad. Need it. Need you.”

His eyes were roaming my body, eyes settling on the jet black panties I wore. His hand pressed flat against the fabric, making me hiss at the sensation.

“You want me to eat you? Devour you?”

I nodded frantically.

“If I do, I’m going to bite you. You alright with that?”

I froze, staring up at him, tears running down the side of my face.

“You can say no.” His voice was smooth as honey, dripping down his lips and right into my soul.

“Please.” It came out as a breath, just the ghost of a word.

A harsh snarl left his lips, and he dropped onto the floor with lightening speed, pulling my leggings off and gripping the waistband of my underwear, ripping them apart to show my already soaked pussy.

His fingers slid through my lips before coming up to his mouth, his eyes rolling back at the taste. “Fucking stunning.” He groaned.

His mouth attacked me, licking long, flat stripes up my core, causing my hips to buck. I whimpered, trying not to make too much noise.

His hands gripped my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed, bringing me right to his face.

“No one can hear us here, baby. Fucking scream for me.”

I let go, letting all of the harsh, vile sounds leave my throat with no restraint. His mouth sucked hard on my clit, making my vision go stark white behind my eyelids.

“Oh my God, Noah, I’m going to come, please don’t stop.”

He latched harder, a finger penetrating into me, pressing against my sweet spot and smoothing circles into it, bringing me crashing over the edge of bliss. My back lifted off of the mattress, my entire body tingling.

At the exact second my orgasm slammed into me, I felt a stinging, slicing pain on the inside of my thigh, causing me to scream out and look down. Noah’s face was still buried between my legs, but his eyes were staring directly at me. His fingers continued to massage me through my euphoria while his lips pulled at the sore spot on my thigh. When he lifted his face, my body finally calming, a deep crimson fluid sat on his lip before his tongue came up and swiped it away.

He rested a palm flat on my stomach as my breathing slowed. “Are you okay?”

I blinked back the tears and gasped in a breath. “More, please. I need more.”

It wasn’t even me speaking anymore. My body had transcended to another plane and I was watching from a different dimension at that point.

He smiled, his teeth tinged with blood - my blood. “What’s the magic word?”

“Jesus, fuck, Noah! Please!”

His hand snatched me by my waist, flipping me over and pulling me back up so my feet were on the floor. His arm held me up, as standing wasn’t an option with the way my legs felt like gelatin. I felt the warm fluid from the wound on my thigh dripping down my leg.

He paused, reaching for a drawer and grabbing, what I assumed to be, a condom. I heard the foil open and be discarded. He let go of me for ten seconds to put it on, and before I could think about anything else, he was pushing inside of me. The feeling was achingly delicious, the stretch and burn of it. Noah was exceptional. My body fell forward, hands reaching out balance. He thrusted mercilessly, pounding me harder into the mattress, his breathing loud and deep, guttural moans escaping him.

After a few moments, and my vision slowly blurring as I began climbing the hill once again, his hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me backward to stand straight up. I whined, leaning my head back on his chest.

It was without cause, but I still asked. “Bite me again? Please?”

I didn’t want it, I needed it. I was ravenous for the pain and the feeling of him being so connected with me.

“Don’t say that.” His words were breathless, but I was persistent.

“Please, Noah. Please.”

“God damn it.” He tightened his grip on my neck and I felt his lips touch my skin before the fangs sung in deep, piercing the thin skin just above my clavicle.

A scream pierced through me as the pain sent white hot shock waves through my body, my vision cutting out and my orgasm tearing through me. I vibrated at the stimulation of it all, and began to feel by body going slack, my skin tingling with a numbing sensation. My eyelids began to feel heavy, Noah's lips still latched to my skin. I could swear I felt a sucking feeling. That would be one hell of a hickey later.

Noah's thrusts suddenly stilled, his throat growling against me, his fingers gripping my hip violently, surely leaving bruises.

I was still riding the high of my climax when I felt everything starting to go sideways as the room began to spin. His arm wrapped around me quickly as I felt my consciousness slipping.

"Easy, baby. Easy." I hadn't even noticed him slip out of me, or unlatch from my throat.

Suddenly, his hands were gentle, laying me down on the bed on my back. Through my hooded lids, I could see him standing, tall and muscular. I could see all of him, and as badly as I wanted to savor it, I was so sleepy.

His hands pulled a soft, red blanket over me, and he put a finger up. "One second, stay here."

He disappeared out of the door, and I felt my eyes threatening to close. My brain was shutting off quickly, and it wasn't going to be optional anymore.

He came back within a minute, now wearing shorts, with a large blue Powerade, and a pack of Reese's in his hands. He set them down on the mattress next to me and slid his arms under me, lifting me up onto the pillows of the bed.

"Maggie, you still with me?"

I could only mumble in response, the pull of sleep tugging me down.

"Don't fall asleep. You need to drink this." He opened the Powerade. My hand came up to take the drink, but my fingers had very little sensation. "Here." Noah used one arm to lift me partway, and held the bottle to my lips. "Just take sips."

Once I had sufficiently drank a quarter of the bottle, suddenly feeling parched, he recapped it and began tearing open the Reese's. "Eat this, you need to increase your blood sugar and carbohydrates."

Feeling slightly more coherent, I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why? Did that orgasm almost kill me?" I snickered, taking a peanut butter cup and peeling the wrap off the bottom.

"No, the orgasm didn't." He said pointedly, but made work of getting up and heading for the door again. I laid, slowly munching the chocolate, eyes trailing after him. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, feeling strikingly cold suddenly. I felt a numbness in my toes and fingertips. Something about it bothered me, but also didn't?

He walked back in, a damp rag in his hand. What did he need that for? He used a condom, I thought?

Noah sat next to me on the bed, and ran a hand over my cheek gently, giving me a small, comforting smile. "You feel better?"

I nodded, still chewing the second peanut butter cup. "Much."

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Good, I'm glad."

Smoothing his hand over to my hair, he pulled it away from my neck, and pressed the damp rag to it. I winced, pain shooting up into my face.

"Christ!" He pulled his hand back, and I noticed the rag was a deep red. "Am I bleeding?"

He shushed me, moving my face back over. "Not much anymore, it's mostly stopped. This is just a little alcohol to sterilize it." He sighed as he pressed the rag to my skin. "Next, I'll clean up your leg."

My mind, suddenly clear as day, began running through all of the most ridiculous scenarios possible. Regardless of how stupid it sounded, I still had to ask...

"Noah?"

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, pulling out a large bandage and unpeeling it from the paper.

"Are you an actual vampire?"

His hands stopped, and his neck snapped up at me. His eyes were deadly serious, but his lips twisted in a sick smile. "Now, why would you say something silly like that? Of course not."

"But-"

He chuckled, his body shaking, and continued applying the bandage to my neck, hand lingering on my cheek as he looked in my eyes.

"No, I'm just a guy with kinks, that's all."

Did I want to press this further?

I looked back up at him, and he smiled brightly. That's when I noticed.

"You took the fangs off."

He peered up at me, running his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, something like that."

Noah began pulling the blanket from my leg when he stopped abruptly, his eyes shifting to the door of the room. His hand gripped my leg, and he spoke under his breath.

"Fuck." His eyes looked back at me, a panic now rising. "You have to go. Now."

He grabbed my arm, and began pulling me off of the bed gently. "Can you stand?" I heard the door of the bus open, and people speaking at the front.

The urgency in his voice was frightening, so I swung my legs over and attempted to stand. The room swayed slightly, but I managed to stay upright. I nodded at him.

"Good, okay," He stood off the bed, and ran to the other side, picking my clothes up and tossing them at me, sans my torn panties. "get dressed. I'm going to open the window, there's a ladder just outside. Climb down it and go. Fast. Go to your car, and leave."

I was stepping into my leggings and looked up at him. "I have to find Alex, first."

He huffed, frustrated, and helped me put my shirt over my head. "Don't. Just go."

Noah pulled the window open silently, and pulled me over to him once I had zipped up my sweatshirt and slipped my shoes on. "Noah, what-"

He pressed a hand to my mouth. "Please, just listen to me. Leave. Don't look for her. Just go. Fast, okay?"

My eyes welled up. The terror was back. Why was he hiding me? Was he embarrassed? Did he not want anyone to know I was here? Why didn't he want me to look for Alex?

He hands hoisted me up effortlessly, he didn't even groan when he lifted me to the window. I slipped a leg out, and turned my head to him. "Noah?"

He looked at me, eyes sparkling bright, brighter than I had seen. "Yes?"

"I hope to see you again."

The smallest smile turned his lips up. "If you're lucky, you won't."

Alex's phone wasn't picking up and she hadn't responded to any of my messages. Bring Me The Horizon's set was about over, and she was nowhere. Ice Nine's balcony was empty - they all were. She wasn't in the venue. She wasn't outside. She was gone.

Her last text to me had me walking behind the building, looking through the busses.

Alexa: Spencer invited me back to his bus with him and Ronnie...I can't believe this is real life!! I will text you when I'm done! ;)

I only knew which bus was Noah's, but I felt like an absolute creep looking through the others, trying to see into the windows. I was standing next to one, on my tip-toes, trying to see through the tint, when my ears picked up on something...

It sounded suspiciously like screaming...but not the kind I would expect from someone having a good time. Not the kind I just made.

I rounded the corner, finding one last bus, and noticed it appeared to be moving. This had to be it. As I approached, figuring I would just wait until she was done, it stilled, and the night went eerily silent. Something about it made my stomach drop. I considered going back and getting Noah, asking him to check it out, but I had already come to terms with the fact that whatever that was, was over.

Instead, I made a soft wrap on the door, hoping someone would answer. Nothing came, no sound or motion. I sighed. Someone was definitely in there. Maybe they fell asleep? I almost did.

I knocked harder with the same result. Eventually, I pounded, hollering. "Hello?"

My fingers reached for the handle, and I noticed the door was unlocked, the door opening easily. I looked in, and noticed it was dark, only a neon blue light emanating from the back somewhere. I stepped up the staircase, peering my head around the corner.

"Alex?"

What my eyes saw, I was nowhere near prepared for. My eyes met hers, only hers were upside down, head hanging off of the edge of the bed, tears running down the sides of her face. They were also lifeless, and so was she. She was laid on the bed, fully dressed, and blood poured from her throat and pooled on the floor. There were two men on top of her, mouths latched to her chest and throat.

I couldn't help the gasp that came out, my eyes watering at the scene. I brought my hand up over my mouth and both men looked up at me. I couldn't register what I was seeing...

Spencer Charnas and Ronnie Radke were on top of my best friend, and their faces were absolutely covered in her blood.

Their fangs shined, covered in the red viscous liquid, and harsh growling hisses came out of their mouths.

Before I could scream, a hand had grabbed the back of my sweatshirt and pulled me down the stairs, and was dragging me away from the bus. I thrashed, screaming and fighting against the person pulling me away.

"No! No! Please! Stop, please!!" A hand came up over my mouth.

"Shut up!" My eyes looked down, and through my bleary tears, I saw the tattoos. The familiar tattoos.

Noah pulled me over to another bus and pressed me against the side. He loomed over me, his eyes dark again, all of the light gone.

"I told you to fucking leave!"

I couldn't speak. I was stunned. "I...they...Alex..."

"Alex is gone." He was so matter of fact. Stern, even. A choked sob broke out of my chest.

"No, no please, you have to help me."

"I am helping you! You have to leave! Before anyone realizes you did." His hands were against the bus on either side of me. "Please Maggie, please just leave."

"Noah..." I stared at the sharp fangs. "Your teeth..."

He hung his head. "Maggie, listen to me. You were never here. You lost Alex at the concert, and she went missing. They already reported her missing to security." My eyes went wide, tears streaming. "Now, go home. Stay there. And never speak about this again. Understood?"

I didn't respond, I just glared at him. He was one of them. A monster. He drank my blood. He tried to kill me. Him and his friends...they killed Alex.

When I didn't answer, he grew impatient, slamming his hands against the bus, making me flinch.

"God damn it Maggie, do you understand?!"

I just nodded, and he let one of his arms fall. I slipped by him, but his hand caught my arm. I stopped, staring up at him.

"I'm so sorry." His eyes were soft again, but I ripped my arm from him. He looked taken back by my sudden brazenness.

"No you're not..." I took several steps forward, but I took a deep breath and stopped, turning to see him still staring at me.

"But you fucking will be."

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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