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superficialdomina · 1 year ago

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Missed connection Part 3

Summary: A drink, some smut, and a goodbye.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: RPF. 18+; smut. PIV, unprotected. Ethical-ish non-monogamy/infidelity. Mentions of alcohol. Language.

AN: Thank you all for waiting. It's so good to be writing again! This is the genuine final chapter. Promise.

As for part 2, this story is happening in a fictional AU where Tom is single, available and a little bit lonely - not his actual, and obviously joyful and satisfying, real life.

Word count: 5.1k (sorry...)

“Whoa.” The word fell from your mouth with a slow exhale, as you took in the beautiful, ancient building in front of you. The Palazzo Intimo. The Intimate Palace.

You glanced nervously down at the elegant, spidery writing on your own business card; needlessly, since you’d memorised the words casually scrawled there. Palazzo Intimo. 10pm.

*****

“I hope we’re not done,” you had murmured, fingertips seeking to pull him close. But even as he had leant in to kiss you softly, you’d felt his body pull away. Confused, you’d lifted your eyes to his face, where sweet concern was etched across a sad smile. …Wh…What?

He had bitten his lower lip, which still glistened with your body’s wetness. “I… I can’t stay, I’m afraid.” You had felt the glow of orgasm begin to fade like the heat of his body where he had moved away. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

“I am… supposed to be somewhere,” he’d continued over your silent perplexion. “I’m already quite late -” so what’s another twenty minutes!? “- And I’d hate to - to rush away... Afterwards.”

Oh.

He had stood then, and, a sense of humiliation rising, you’d tried to straighten your tousled clothing to cover your naked lower half. But he’d laughed affectionately, drawn the loose edge of the bedcovers over you, and picked up the pen on your nightstand. A pile of your business cards, carelessly strewn after the final conference session, lay scattered there; he took one, and wrote in the small space above your name.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He’d asked as he scribbled.

“I-" Tomorrow? "Yes,” you’d managed, breath coming a little fast, still not sure what was happening.

“Meet me,” he’d said, pinning the card back on the nightstand under your pen. His gaze held yours. “Please.”

You wanted to protest; this line was too fine for your clumsy feet. But he had smiled down at you - dazzlingly, beautifully, reassuringly. And so you’d nodded, and he’d kissed you again, and delicately brushed your face with his long, fine fingers. “Tomorrow, then,” he’d murmured.

You had watched him gracefully descend the mezzanine stairs to your kitchen. Watched him retrieve his discarded shirt from your floor, and his still-damp hoodie from the back of your chair. Turning the door handle, he'd looked back up to you, lying still on your barely-mussed sheets, and given you the tiniest wink. Then he was gone, and you were alone in the echoing silence, your skin still tingling from his touch.

He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

*****

Of course, you’d Googled the Palazzo Intimo immediately. "Padua's most romantic hotel". “Dignified, spacious and charming.” “Allegorical frescoes worthy of the Sistine chapel.” A grand, elegant building worthy of a grand, elegant man. A long way, metaphorically, from a tiny apartment above a bustling café.

And yet not, apparently, a long way in reality. The walk across the Old Town had been surprisingly short; you were a few minutes early. Which was fortunate, as your feet seemed to need a moment before they could carry you through the ornate front doors.

Now what? You berated yourself sternly. What’s the rest of your plan? Just walk up to the front desk and ask for him?

The night city was abuzz with energy and noise. Bright street lights illuminated the aged cobblestones, where throngs of pedestrians and bicycles maneuvered by one another in polite mayhem. Music spilling from several open-air restaurants mingled with chatter in a tuneless, though not-unpleasant, mess. The confusion made it hard to think.

It was one thing to invite him to your apartment on a whim, or to silently accept the pleasure he offered in the surreal heat of the moment. But this - arranging to meet him at his hotel room, knowing fully what you intended to do there. This was… deliberate.

Why was it bothering you so much? I am not breaking the rules! you repeated to yourself for the hundredth time.

But you remembered his vulnerability as he’d read you an obscure Ursula Le Guinn passage in a still, quiet train carriage; remembered the longing you’d felt after he’d left your apartment, which was heavier than just residual arousal. You caught sight of your reflection in one of the Palazzo’s large, dark windows, remembering how long you'd spent getting ready to come here. Am I?

The ancient bells of San Antonio’s church began to peel across the city. 10pm. Now or never. You stepped across the precipice into the dark and quiet of the Palazzo.

As you did so, you realised that you still didn’t have an answer to your earlier quandary. What DO I do next? He hadn’t given you a room number, and even if he had, you doubted you could simply walk up to his door. Surely you couldn't just ask at reception? They would laugh you out of the building.

Or maybe they wouldn't, a venomous voice whispered in your mind. Maybe he'd had "visitors" every night he'd been here.

Once again, you spotted him before he saw you, although this time you wondered if he had orchestrated it thus. His long, lean frame leant casually against the far wall, hands in pockets, face shadowed in the romantically low light. You stared at him, warmth humming between your thighs, lips parted shamelessly.

He was - there was no other way to describe it - dressed up. His well-tailored suit pants fit tight to his sculpted lower body. One foot, clad in a dark leather dress shoe, rested lightly against the wall; even at this distance, the solid outline of the quadriceps of his supporting leg was clearly visible through the fabric. His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the deep dip of his jugular notch, with sleeves oh-so-casually rolled up to his elbows revealing long, sinewy forearms. Perfectly tousled curls tumbled gracefully across his forehead, and - oh Gods, it was kryptonite - grey reading glasses elegantly rested on his long, straight nose, as he gazed at the floor, lost in thought.

He was utterly, unbearably, beautiful.

Your heart raced as feelings of insecurity blossomed within you. The Palazzo seemed anything but intimate; the high ceiling and dark lighting felt like a cave, and you were small and insignificant in its ancient grandeur. You felt decidedly underdressed in your simple cotton dress and flat sandals. His shoes probably cost more than my entire outfit, that toxic voice whispered again. He hasn't seen me yet. I could still leave...

Maybe he heard your thudding heartbeat, or the snaking voice in your mind. Maybe he had simply heard the peeling of the bells across the city - whatever the cause, he raised his eyes, catching you on the verge of fleeing. He straightened, removing his hands from his pockets, and gracefully strode towards you.

"Hello," he smiled softly as he reached you. "I'm so glad you've come."

His affect was as different to the last time you had seen him as his outfit; decorous, controlled, composed, like a persona he'd put on as he'd buttoned his shirt. You searched his face for a hint of the wildly amorous man who had placed his hands on your hips in your small kitchen. He placed a gentlemanly hand on your upper arm, and leaned in to chastely kiss your cheek. As though his fingers had never been inside me, you thought.

You swallowed, searching for your voice. "Hi, Tom," you stammered, feeling your skin rise in goosebumps at his touch. His smile was easy, but genuine; the peek of his teeth below his top lip made your fizzing nerves begin to fade, replaced by a different low-belly effervescence. He reflexively pushed his glasses up his nose, and your breath caught.

Deliberate.

"Will you join me for a drink?" His hand still on your arm, he indicated a low archway to your left, beyond which you saw a carpeted staircase. You hesitated, confused. A drink? Aren't we here to... to...

"I - sure," you faltered again. He stepped back, his beautiful forearm gesturing you ahead, and you climbed the narrow stairs to a classic Paduan balcony overlooking the thronging street. A small table and chairs sat nestled between flower boxes and wooden shutters. The sounds of music and chatter rose to reach you, but you noted that you were out of the eyeline of anyone in the street itself. Unexpectedly secluded, you thought, with a touch of sarcasm. How romantic.

Angst found you again. This was not what you had anticipated. A quiet knock on a hotel door, whisked into his room before you could be seen; a quick fuck in expensive bed sheets and a hasty, anonymous exit. That was what this was meant to be - wasn't it? You weren't sure exactly what you had expected, you admitted to yourself, but it wasn't this. It wasn't a date.

Eying the flimsy balustrade, you considered how far it was to the cobblestones below, still wondering maniacally if you should attempt an escape.

"Il tuo solito, signore?" A stranger's voice in the open doorway you made you jump. It was a young man dressed all in black, not a hair out of place. Tom was clearly expecting him.

"Si, per favore, Marco," he said, familiarly. The young man turned to you expectantly.

"Ah - aperol spritz, per favore," you added, guessing at his unspoken question and grateful to the staff at your café for their daily language lessons. The waiter nodded politely, and vanished down the dark staircase, leaving the two of you alone. Tom gestured to the chair closest to you, and you nervously perched on the edge of it.

In contrast to your fluttering fears, Tom seemed to radiate confidence. He sat back deep in the wrought iron chair, almost slouching, elbows resting comfortably on its arms, his thighs splayed wide. His face displayed a knowing smile that was just-too-polite to be a smirk, eyes glinting. Player, you thought derisively; 'a perpetual escapee from emotional entanglement', you had once heard him describe himself. And yet, his comfort made you comfortable; in his easy presence, you felt your self relaxing. Maybe he was a player - but tonight he was playing you, and that was oddly exciting.

He was watching you with that familiar, intense gaze. "You look beautiful," he murmured, and you were surprised at how well his voice carried over the noise below; the balcony felt all the more intimate. You felt your cheeks heat, but you held his gaze. Don't look away, you thought. You were not normally coquettish with lovers, and you were determined to be authentic now.

"Thank you," you replied, and your voice was stronger than you expected. "You - you do, too." Ugh. Awkward. You swallowed, willing casual conversation to come to you but finding yourself without the words. Authenticity or not, you still seemed to have nothing to say to him.

Of course, in his easy, cleverly comfortable way, he came to your rescue again.

“Did you finish your book?” he asked you, his hand resting lightly on his chin. You pictured your Bernard Cornwell novel resting on your nightstand, bookmark triumphantly discarded beside it. Had he noticed it there, as he scribbled his invitation on your card?

“I did,” you smiled, not unmoved that he had remembered.

“And? Did you enjoy it any more by the end?”

“I…” You paused, reflecting before you answered. “I did, I think. Some of my favourite characters from earlier in the series returned, and… I guess their motivations became more… real. It was a good ending. I’m glad I stuck it out.”

As you spoke, he absently traced his fingers over his lips, then trailed them down his throat and over his collarbone. You watched, a little transfixed. He was so tactile. You wondered which part of him was enjoying the sensation more - the skin of his face and neck, or the pads of his fingers?

"What will you read next, now that you've finished it?"

"I don't know," you answered truthfully, surprised. "I didn't bring anything else with me. I guess I'll have to pick up something rubbish at the airport for the flight home."

He gave a look of distaste, but was interrupted before he could speak again. The young man - Marco - reappeared, placing a wine glass of blood-orange aperol in front of you, and a squat-sided tumbler before Tom. His glass contained three or four fingers of liquid; from the pale amber colour, you suspected whiskey and water.

"Grazie," you both said in unison; you butchered the pronunciation, while Tom rolled his "r" delightfully, prompting a vivid, unanticipated memory of your body thrashing wildly under his tongue. You felt your cheeks warm again, and the pleasant hum that had lain purring quietly between your legs rose to a gentle roar.

"I have been thinking about your question," Tom began tentatively as the young waiter left, sipping his drink and placing it back on the table.

You were puzzled. Did I ask a question?

"Maybe it wasn't a question," he continued, as though he had heard your thoughts. "But you made me wonder about my - my favourite words. Ever written." He seductively bit his lower lip. Whore, you thought lustily, arousal thudding through your most sensitive places.

But again, you found yourself surprised and touched that he had remembered your conversation.

"It was something you said," he rushed on, looking down at his hands, "about... About accepting our imperfections, that made me... It reminded me of something I read a long time ago that still resonated with me." His rambling was charming, delightful. Designed, no doubt, to enrapture you, and succeeding. He looked up at you, as though waiting for confirmation.

"Spit it out!" You laughed. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

He grinned, took another drink, and leaned back, gazing up at the night sky, and quoted.

"All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life, is made up of light and shadow."

You were thrown; the words were unfamiliar to you. He was looking at you again, willing you to respond, until your hesitation expanded uncomfortably between you.

"Tolstoy," he added, in explanation.

You shook your head, laughing at his surprised look. "Sorry," you added.

He stared at you, bemused. "You can quote The Dispossessed, but you've not read Anna Karenina?" You shook your head again. His disappointment was palpable.

"So tell me," you urged him, still chuckling. "What does it mean? Light and darkness... Like yin and yang? Two sides to every coin, all things opposite but... but complimentary?"

He smiled devilishly, disappointment fading, and you felt that you had fallen into some trap he had set - or at least, predicted. It was exhilarating.

"Not light and darkness," he corrected, leaning forward again with palms pressed eagerly into the table, eyes bright. "Light and shadow."

"I don't-"

"It is not simply that all things have equal and opposite parts." In his excitement to explain, he interrupted you. You didn't mind - there was such a thrill in watching him lose control. "It is that all things have shadow - all things create shadow." He watched you carefully for a reaction as you tried to understand his meaning. "The sun shines on me, and I cast a shadow - and that shadow is a result of my existence. Is proof of my existence."

There was so much passion in his voice as it rose and fell that he was almost singing as he spoke. Dramatist. But you thought you understood. "I think I see. Our darknesses - shadows - are not just an integral part of us, but exemplify our... our..." You hesitated, and he waited for you to finish your thought, eyes alight. "Our humanity."

"Yes!" he said eagerly. "Sorrow, shame, ego - these are the shadows that make us human. They are evidence of our light."

He sat back, smiling to himself, and picked up his glass again, following the slosh of the amber liquid as he swirled it vaguely. It was hypnotic, watching him, momentarily lost in thought. What are your shadows, Tom? you wondered into the silence between you. All dirt and rocks...

"Ah - a beautiful choice," you muttered awkwardly, realising you were staring. Then you laughed again as an idea came to you. "I really thought you were going to quote something from Shakespeare."

"Why?" he half-laughed, playfully. Then he paused, and you watched a mood transition across his face; playful turned to puzzled, then solemn. You felt the energy between you shift rapidly, but were unsure as to its direction. When he spoke, he did so quietly. "Why would you think that?"

Something in his tone gave you warning. Did I say something wrong? "I..." You swallowed, completely lost. "I... I'd just heard - heard you..." Your words froze in your throat as you realised that this was the first time since you'd met in the train carriage that either of you had alluded to... to his fame.

"I'm sorry," you offered. "I don't understand what... what I've said."

He met your eyes again, replacing his glass on the table with a shaky clink.

"No - no, it's me who should be sorry." He forced a small laugh. "I just... I forgot, briefly, who I was."

At last, understanding washed over you. All his veiled hints of sadness and regret. Of longing for something that had long ago been lost.

"It's a strange thing - fame," he continued hollowly, looking down at his hands. You had the sense that you were hearing words long thought, but spoken aloud for the first time. "There's a guilty pleasure in it, in being known. Being... adored. It's - it's addictive." You held your breath, fearful of interrupting his stream of thought. "But it's - hard, too. Keeping your head down. Remaining aloof. Pretending not to hear your name called in the street. It's almost like the more people say your name, the less you're... you're... there. The less I'm there."

He raised his face to you again. His smile was so deeply sorrowful that your heart broke for him. "For a moment, I felt... here."

You wanted to speak - to reassure him, to comfort him - but your voice remained firmly locked in your chest. What could you possibly say? You are here. I see you.

"The pathetic thing is," he said softly, his pretty, pale eyes full of self-mockery, "if I had the chance to walk away tomorrow - to disappear into obscurity - I'm not even sure I would take it."

His manner was so sincere and undefended, you felt an inordinate urge to... protect him. The hissing inner voice sent you an admonition: these waters are dangerously deep. You're getting swept away in the tide.

But he seemed to have reached a catharsis; having said the words, he seemed... lighter. Finally, you found what you wanted to say.

"Is that pathetic?" you asked. "It sounds... Well, human, to me. To regret something, resent it even, but still be unwilling to let it go. Needs are complicated things." His features began to relax; you pressed the small advantage. "It's not all bad," you added, gently flirtatious. "For the next twenty years, you get to be a generation's answer to the question, 'Who was your first celebrity crush?'."

He chuckled, blushing; stepping back from an invisible brink. Joining in your game, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Keanu - in The Matrix," you grinned. He pursed his lips, pretending to appraise your answer. "Go on then," you prompted.

"Christina Ricci," he laughed, then paused thoughtfully. "Or maybe Anna Kournikova".

That tracks, you thought, affectionately imagining him as an excitable teenager, roaming the outside courts at Wimbledon. How endearing.

As rapidly as it had descended, his mood lifted again. And something else had returned - something that had been absent since he'd kissed your cheek under the somber call of the San Antonio bells.

Swagger.

He downed the last of his whiskey, replacing the glass on the table - confidently, this time - then tucked his chin, so that he looked at you provocatively through the small gap between the rim of his glasses and his striking brow. His blue gaze was electric.

"Come with me," he said, rising from the table.

He led this time, not waiting to see if you would follow as he strode quickly back down the narrow staircase and across the cavernous Palazzo entrance room. Somewhere in the journey he had reached back and taken your hand, and you let him pull you along through the ancient corridors. If you had briefly forgotten the arousal coursing through you with his show of vulnerability, it screamed for attention again now; reignited by his pace and determination as his long legs left you to an ornately carved wooden door.

You saw a flash of the ceiling fresco in the semi-dark as he pulled you inside - renaissance depictions of full-figured, bare-breasted women - before his mouth was on yours, pressing you into the cool limestone wall.

He was wild and tumultuous, kissing you with a storm's urgency, the scent of him filling every heavy breath you sucked in. But he was tender, too - his long fingers tracing the skin of your arms were firm, but gentle. It was not the kiss of a stranger; not the hot-but-detached fucking you had anticipated before your arrival. It was - the word felt traitorous in your mind - affectionate.

His lips left yours and moved to your jawline, then your neck, his hands working over the rough cotton of your dress, his desperation fading into decisiveness. Your own hands were forfeit, gripping his strong, muscular hips, while the caged creature in your belly writhed, urging him onwards. Fuck, you thought, I'm going to come just from his touch.

Hands found the hem of the dress, pulling it up and over your curves, eventually tugging it from you altogether so that you stood, exposed, in nothing but simple lingerie. He stood back, and your heart began to thud hard as he appraised you hungrily.

"Am I... Is this...?" The anxious thoughts could not form a complete question before he interrupted you.

"You are exquisite," he breathed, eyes full of lust, devouring you.

When he touched you again it was slower, deliberate; the howling whirlwind of your initial kisses had passed, though what remained was no less powerful. He guided you through the open-plan apartment like it was a dance; you felt drunk on the thrill of him, and could only trust where he was taking you.

Eventually you tumbled backwards onto his bed, and he stepped back again - but this time it felt almost exhibitionistic on his part, as though he were giving you the opportunity to appraise him. You lifted your torso, resting on your elbows, staring. He kept his eyes on yours as he began to remove his once-crisp, white, shirt, now untucked and disheveled, then undid the buckle of the leather belt at his waist. Elegantly stepping out of his pants, he gave you a small, self-conscious grin.

"May I?" he asked politely.

You gave him what you hoped was a look of playful exasperation, but you were thrumming with exhilaration as he brought his perfect, naked body close to you; ran his soft hands over your curves; looped his fingers in the trim of your panties, slipping them from your skin. You pulled him close, letting your own fingertips trace the ropes of long, lean muscle of his torso as your lips met again.

He let his hands drift to your sex, where arousal had been pooling for hours; he stroked you, hot and wet, easing you apart, his clever fingers deftly playing the strings of your body. You gasped openly as pleasure and desire raged within you, loving his teasing, desperate for more. He gave it, generously, circling and massaging and dipping and stroking, and the precipice of orgasm loomed ahead of you, waiting for you to crash through. Not yet, you begged your body.

Your hands stroked his neck, his collarbone, mimicking the way he had run his fingers over his own skin earlier. Impatiently, you sought and found his hard cock, curving gloriously up towards you; you wrapped your hand around him, and he moaned wantonly into your mouth at your touch. Your breath caught as you noted his girth; your fingers did not meet around him. You moved, palm sliding along his satin-smooth length, as he involuntarily thrust against you; as desperate for release as I am, you thought.

With an abrupt growl, he rolled atop you, pinning you under his broad chest, intertwining his long legs with yours and using the torque to widen your hips. His face was so close that you could see the flecks in his irises; feel the moist breath from his parted lips. His hard length pressed into the crease of your thigh

"Is this alright?" he murmured, intently watching your face for approval. At your nod, he growled again, more ragged this time, and used his hands to guide himself to you. You felt his wide tip nudge at your entrance; you fought the urge to close your eyes as he slid inside you, sank into you, until he bottomed out deep in your channel. Every throbbing inch of him was bliss.

You could sense his urgency returning, and you hungrily pressed your mouth to his as he began to rock inside you. You groaned into his mouth, wordlessly begging him to fuck you harder, faster. He read your body like poetry.

"Please don't stop," you moaned sluttishly, not caring about propriety, lost now to anything but the pleasure of him.

"T--aagh, touch yourself," he grunted, and you let your fingertips toy through your slick folds to massage your clit. You were both losing control now, your bodies a mass of messy thrusts and heady groans as you fell towards release together. He threw his head back, eyes closed; but you pulled him back to you.

"Look at me," you half-begged, half-demanded. His eyes met yours, and he gave a sharp intake of breath.

With a guttural moan and a rush of pleasure, you came. You felt your body give up a fresh gush of wetness, and the flush of orgasm seemed to heat your blood to the tips of your toes. You slumped backwards onto his bed, but didn't take your eyes from him.

His thrusts became messy; eyes closed, mouth agape, filthy grunts falling from his mouth as he chased his own release above you.

"Y-yes. Fuck, yes-"

He came with a long cry, spilling his hot seed into you, his fingers gripping the bedsheet beside you, his face twisted in the agony of pleasure. He chest heaved as he breathed heavily into the afterglow, eyes still closed, hand seeking yours and gripping tightly when your fingers met.

When he eventually opened his eyes, they were full of boyish charm again. He grinned at you, slowly pulling his body off of yours.

"Will you stay?" he asked, fingers still entwined with yours.

"I..." you hesitated. Don't catch feelings. "If that's alright," you said, meekly.

He laughed, his contentment clear, and pulled your body close to his.

*****

You awoke to shafts of light penetrating the heavy bedroom curtains, and the sound of running water splashing off bathroom tile. Morning. You rose, finding your clothes in their discarded piles and pulling them on.

The water stopped, and after a moment, he appeared in the bedroom door, a lush white towel wrapped around him. His smile was as breathtaking as it had ever been

You took a deep, steadying breath.

"Good morning," he grinned at you. You could only offer a smile in reply; he began to re-dress while you watched, perched on the edge of his bed.

It would be so easy, you thought with regret, to fall for him.

"I wanted to ask you," he added, "when are you flying home?"

"Ah - tomorrow," you managed, "morning. Out of Venice."

He turned back to you, delighted. He was dressed now, and sat on the bed to put his shoes on. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked excitedly. "There is an operatic production of A Midsummer Nights' Dream at the Teatro del Veneto. We could dine on the waterfront beforehand-"

"Tom," you interrupted him quietly, and his sweet face fell at your tone. "I- I can't..." You willed words to come to you quickly - the look on his face was unbearable. "I - My husband and I - we have an... an arrangement. It works, but only if we follow the rules." He had composed his face into a polite smile; you stumbled on. "I - I'm afraid if I spend any more time with you, I will come dangerously close to... to breaking them."

He nodded, but didn't speak. Was he waiting for you to continue? There didn't seem to be much else to say.

It would be so easy...

"I - I'm sorry. I wish... I could..."

"Stop," he cut you off, smiling at you sadly. "You have nothing to apologise for."

Shoe laces tied, he stood.

"There is breakfast on the table; please stay as long as you need." He walked to the door, then turned to you, still smiling politely. "Thank you for your company, Y/N. It has been a pleasure."

You lifted your chin and swallowed. "Likewise," you said softly.

The door clicked behind him.

*****

The sun had barely risen on your last morning in Padua. You opened the little apartment mailbox to leave your AirBnB key, as instructed, and were surprised to find a small package with your name on it. You tentatively pulled it out. Inside was a gently used book, and a short note scrawled in now-familiar, spidery letters.

I hope this means you can avoid the airport garbage. T.

You turned the book over to read the cover; Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. You swallowed, touched, and not altogether surprised by the prickling in your eyes.

Finally, you turned back to the street, ready for one last walk through the barely-awake city to the train station. It would be a long journey home.

Italian phrases:

Il tuo solito, signore - your usual, sir?

Si, per favore, Marco - yes, please, Marco.

Grazie - thank you.

Tagging some people who enjoyed the first two parts:

@acidcasualties @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokischambermaid @peaches1958 @thomase1 @tomlugirl @vickie5446 @vbecker10 @chantsdemarins @lokixryss @wolfsmom1 @laprofesoratinacita @cabingrlandrandomcrap @hyperlokilover @siriusly--gay @dangertoozmanykids101 @villainousshakespeare @huntress-artemiss @viv-annelore @so-easy-to-love-me @ladymischief11 @kats72 @chokemedaddyloki @cerynas @lokisfavtoy @sititran @faesimps

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut

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dyns33 · 1 year ago

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Fight Club part 2

Part 2 of my little Tyler Durder x Reader

Because of Project Mayhem, people tend to believe that Tyler Durden likes chaos. That he is the embodiment of chaos.

He likes to see others lost, but he is never lost himself. He is completely in control. He knows what's going to happen, because that's what he decided. An agent of chaos, following a straight line. No one seemed to have understood this.

So I was the only person in the world fully aware that if Tyler Durden was in prison, it was his choice.

It's a mistake to think that cutting off the head of the Mayhem project would stop everything. Even though he is the creator, Tyler did everything to keep his beast running without him. A brainless creature, space monkeys, who know perfectly well what their master wants without him needing to speak.

Plus, Tyler won't have his head cut off. His monkeys are everywhere, in the police, among the juries, behind the walls of his prison. He is surrounded by his followers, who ensure his safety.

If he wants, he can go out. It is obvious that he sometimes goes out, for a few hours, a few days, without the authorities being alarmed.

I know this because I know Tyler very well. Without knowing why or how after all this time, I know him. I hear him in my head sometimes. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, a presence as reassuring as it is frightening.

I know him, so I am always careful even if he is in prison, even if he is far away, even if it has been almost a year.

He haunts my thoughts. My nights. I can still see us on that beach, on the plane, in the house. I miss him, and that's what scares me the most. I have to be wary of everything, and myself first.

Jack is still outside, faithful doggie, psycho boy, who probably gives the orders when the leader sleeps in his cell. I don't think they're looking for me. I am dead and buried. But all it takes is one mistake for everything to change.

That's life. People. I'm not perfect. The mistake came one day. It all started with a heart attack on a bus.

Nothing weird, I wasn't even on the bus. Like every day at the same time, I had my coffee on a terrace, my only little moment of relaxation.

The bus passed the café. I didn't even see it anymore. I didn't see the man fall, nor the people around him become alarmed. It didn't matter to me in the slightest.

That was bad news for a federal agent, because the man who had just died was a well known space monkey. Big Bob. Kind Bob, a bit stupid, who continued to obey by traveling all over the country spreading the word of Tyler Durden.

He had seen me. This came as a shock to him, since he was the one who found my body.

It could have ended there, but one of the feds were obsessed with Tyler. With his organization. He wondered if Bob had been murdered, so he went his way, he took the bus, and he saw me too.

We had never met, but when he approached, I knew immediately why he was there.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.” he said to me as he sat down. Everyone was Tyler.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

He took out a Polaroid photo. Tyler loved Polaroids. He had quite a collection. I know because Marla talked about it sometimes, to annoy Jack. Intimate photos, all the people he had fucked with, in erotic positions, during the act.

We had never fucked. We barely shook hands, and even though I knew what he wanted, there had always been a distance between us. The walls and the ceiling.

I didn't know Tyler took a picture of me while I was sleeping. He had written down my name on it. I wondered if Marla or anyone else had seen it before the police. I wondered how I felt, knowing that he had taken this photo, and the meaning it had.

"He doesn't talk much. He doesn't like me to show him this photo, but he told me it was his heart, and that it was buried under the house. We found a body. You have an explanation ?"

I had tons of explanations, but I didn't want to share them with the agent. Tyler wouldn't have liked it, and I didn't like it either.

“Tell me about him.” he insisted.

"No."

“You know what he’s up to.”

“As much as you.”

“Give me something, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

"I don't know anything. We met on a beach, he put me up for a while, then I left. Don't tell him you saw me. It won't do you any good."

My mistake was not to believe that the agent would be intelligent enough to listen to my request. He listened. He didn't tell Tyler that I was alive.

No, my mistake was harder to see, seeming insignificant for several days, until I woke up in the middle of the night.

Even if he didn't tell him I was alive, the agent would still tell Tyler about me, hoping to get a reaction. He already knew from the picture that I was special, a point that needed to be pressed, and he wasn't going to stop.

So he was going to talk about our meeting. He was going to talk about the beach.

No one knew about the beach, except Tyler and me.

Since Tyler never told anyone, he would know everything without the agent needing to speak.

There was a bit of panic when the newspapers announced the escape of the leader of Project Mayhem. Speculation regarding his intentions was endless, ranging from bateriological terrorism, to bombing buildings, to assassinating the president.

Only I really knew why he was out there after all this time.

Contrary to what others think, he never wanted to take control or destroy the world. That wasn't the goal of Project Mayhem. Tyler had a vision on a human scale. He only likes to play, among other things.

If I dreamed of him, he dreamed of me. The difference was that while I was running as far away from his cell as possible, he had no reason to leave since he thought he knew where to find me. He still had his picture, and his memories.

Bob really had a talent for breaking things.

I could have continued to flee. It would have been less easy now that the agents of Chaos knew I was alive, but I could have tried. Like a new game. But I didn't like Tyler's games.

I decided to wait for him in my apartment. It was his move. It was always his move.

When he knocked on my door, he thought about bringing beers and pizza. He did this with Jack at home sometimes, at first. When there was still just the club.

He didn't say anything when he saw me, as if he always knew he would see me again one day. Maybe he knew.

Dinner passed in silence, facing each other, waiting. It was his move. I won't start. He seemed to understand it. He decided to make an effort.

“You remember the beach.” It was not a question.

“A guy building a giant hand, you don’t see that every day.”

"I guess not. You broke my heart. But I forgive you. I didn't think you remembered."

“We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t remembered that.”

"Maybe not."

“I’ve always wanted to ask you, why this hand ?”

"I wanted to talk to God. Since he didn't answer, I decided to steal his hand. When I was finished, I looked at what it was pointing at and I saw you, looking back at me. Then I knew it was you."

"What me ?"

"It was you." he only repeated, as if I should understand what he meant, and the worst thing was that I understood perfectly what he meant.

Silence returned, as I finished my beer. All this was far too intimate, more intimate than his photos. More domestic. Something was seriously wrong with Tyler Durden.

I didn't know if I should talk about all the other things I knew. That would have made the situation even worse.

“I don’t like chaos.” was the only thing I could say.

"No one likes that, you'd have to be a moron. You never like what's necessary."

“Nothing is necessary.”

"I love you."

I vividly remembered Jack and Marla, two idiots who danced and screamed, unable to clearly admit how they felt and preferring to trample romance with cigarettes and condoms.

I had often judged Jack because of this. Not anymore. I wanted to slap my face with my hands and disappear, as Tyler started to smile.

Since I didn't need to say what I already knew, he didn't need to say what I already knew. I knew it from the plane. Since his invitation. From his bed above mine. Ever since he took a picture of me sleeping.

He didn't need to say it. We weren't talking about that. It was a new rule. Unfair.

“This can’t end well.”

"As always. Like everything. Endings are never good, that's the tragic thing. And yet, life goes on."

"I wanted to talk to you on this beach. It would have been different if I had."

"We would have fucked like dogs in your hotel room, I would have beaten up your asshole boss sooner, and the world would have burned down on its own. I'm glad you didn't talk to me."

I had sometimes dreamed of another path. I was stupid enough to have hope. Tyler was destroying hope, that was his reason for being, providing total freedom.

I wasn't sure what I was. I still am not today. His heart, maybe. His poor heart.

#fight club #tyler durden #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden fanfiction #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden is a real person

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klug · 7 months ago

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So Puyo Puyo Puzzle Pop is out and I see a lot of theories going around… This is half a self-indulgent post for me and half a poorly thrown together essay reviewing Sig and Aya's and the blue soul and the crimson soul's, relationship to each other. because boy is it a bit of a complex web. @_@

Some people were talking about their relationship today in EPPC, and I'm bad at talking to people, so I decided to put my thoughts in a post + touch on some misconceptions (I guess?) around since the game just came out and it relies on knowing information presented in extra material like the audio dramas and the (sega) novels.

And of course, spoilers for the first 4 main routes of Puzzle Pop.

some quick bullet points before I start… you can skip this if youre fairly familiar with fever 2, tetris 2, and the novels

is Aya possessing Sig?!

how did Sig's power get unleashed by Meena? are they super ultra powerful??

no, Aya is clearly still imprisoned safely contained in the tome of sealing, so it probably isn't behind this. We also know in Lidelle's route that it and Klug were having some kind of argument after he ran into Sig.

Well, in the game, Lemres establishes that Meena normally is not that powerful… Rather, it's been a bit implied over the course of the games that his powers have been growing stronger, so I think that it's more that Meena broke down a dam that was already barely holding itself together… a brief timeline…

Puyo Puyo Fever 2 - Sig transfers to Primp Magic School and his hand suddenly turns red. This can presumably be linked to his proximity to the tome of sealing. Akuma attempts to prevent further resonation by using the Ito Hairito enchantment. Attempts at "curing" his hand are touched on in Puyo Puyo! 15th Anniversary

Sig's Secret happens a bit before Puyo Puyo!! 20th Anniversary, and he has the incident of his powers being awakened by Witch's potion. This is the first time we actually see the "Demon part" of him take over, and it turned both of his eyes red when this happened. (src)

Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 - Sig and Klug are protected by a certain power from being influenced by Marle when she's causing mayhem in Primp Town. The crimson spirit was potentially protecting Klug in this situation, but what about Sig? I theorize that his own demon powers, which have been growing stronger, actually protected him as well. (Lemres' substory, PPT2)

Puyo Puyo Puzzle Pop - Sig befriends Meena and offers to share some of his power. This seems to open the floodgates and allow the demon parts of him to take over.

fun fact: The words for "arm" and "hand" are the same in Japanese, so a lot of fans were actually surprised when they saw that his entire arm is red and not just his hand when his art in 20th came out.

Now, with those bullet points out of the way… the meat of this post is focusing more on Sig and Aya/Strange Klug/Possessed Klug/Crimson Spirit/Whatever name you want to call its relationship.

I think most people take the text in the games at face value, though the editing choices in translation don't really help I guess...the first instance of "red power" being translated as "evil power" will never be forgiven, but it's okay since Lemres and Schezo get it right--. I see a lot of people think that Aya is somehow influencing Sig in this story, but it has been established that Sig has the potential to tap into the full power that Aya probably wants access back to in Sig's Secret when Witch's power potion spills on him.

Back then, Sig and Amitie's friendship, and really any of his friendships, weren't very well-defined. However, she was able to bring him back by reminding him of their friendship...

Hey, Sig! …Let’s go back to café prep, alright!? I mean, Raffina’s gonna be super mad if you don’t show up! And then Klug’s gonna go all sarcastic on you again! Do you want that!? And, and, we haven’t even figured out what to put on the menu for our Special yet! If you really want me to, I’ll let you put whipped cream, for real!” I just kept screaming one thing after another as it came to me. Please, please, please… Please, let Sig hear my voice! “Please, come back to us! I promise, we all love you, so, so much! And I know, I know that deep inside, you really, really want to stay with us, too…!”

(src)

He manages to regain control of himself though clearly Amitie reminding him of everything isn't working in Puzzle Pop.

I kind of resummarized the climax of Sig's Secret because it felt important to contextualize his behavior, how its different in Puzzle Pop, and how people tend to conclude that "he must be possessed by Aya" as the first thought in Puzzle Pop. I also did this, though it was because I watched the routes out of order (lol). The behavior of this not!Sig is reckless, power-hungry, very very very gloating (just read the novel), and doesn't see any importance in friendships when it comes to Amitie and Meena (Lemres' route in Puzzle Pop). Meanwhile Aya, who has a very clear outlined goal of getting Sig back is…generally levelheaded, calm, and although angry about its situation, doesn't always charge straight for Sig whenever it's unsealed ("Amitie and Lidelle's Primp Tour", Puyo Puyo!! Quest story mode, etc.) So I think the binary the game presents of Aya being "evil" and Sig being "not evil" is not necessarily true considering how unreliable the narration of the "tome of sealing" is. I find it more accurate to say that they're power/impulse and control/logic, or you could argue they're a conscious and an unconscious.

I theorize that a piece of their original power lies dormant in Sig, and it is this power that Aya specifically wants back because it's…pretty powerless in its current form. This power, possibly the "crimson power", drives the "blue soul" in Sig a bit power hungry when its unleashed, and it has no conscious to control it because the "crimson soul" isn't in the vessel. I also think Sig and the "blue soul" are separate entities to an extent.

“Stop talking… Be quiet, just shut up! Gh… With every word you say, the voice in my head, it…GAAAAHHHH…!” “A voice, in your head? T-That’s gotta be Sig! Hey!! Sig!! If you can hear me, say something!”

(src)

The best comparison I have to this situation is Cinderpelt's reincarnation into Cinderheart in the book series Warriors. Cinderheart inherited Cinderpelt's soul after the latter's death, but because Cinderheart's grown to have her own experiences and is a separate entity while Cinderpelt lay dormant in their mind, they will separate in death. I think this "copilot"-ish situation is the case with Sig and it's why they're vying for control a second time in Puyo Puyo Puzzle Pop.

I think that's why not!Sig is so "evil" and also gives people the impression that it might be Aya -- considering I also thought this -- though it's probably not the case since this story follows a similar formula to Sig's Secret with some tweaks to reflect a lot of subtle character growth, which is the subject of the next section.

Now, people might ask…why aren't Sig's eyes red and his hair dark like they were in Sig's Secret? Well, I think this is due to texture limitations for one, but I also think this is a sign of Sig's personal identity growing stronger over the course of the games. He has relationships he wants to hold onto, his own experiences, his own life, so he wouldn't just easily give up control of his physical vessel, even if he hasn't been speaking as himself in Puzzle Pop so far… This story's already done a lot with establishing Sig as a character and the importance of his relationship with Amitie, and he hasn't even actually spoken, which I find impressive. I also just like that all this stuff is only clear if you pay attention to the steady build up of the stories from the past few years… well, they were just breadcrumbs, I guess...Listen I've been following this plotline for 7-8 years and its been in the works for like 13? So you have to forgive me for feeling happy about having all the pieces of the puzzle.

As for what this means for the role Aya/the crimson spirit will play in the story… I'm not sure. I honestly don't expect it to appear at all since all the models/animations are recycled from Puyo Puyo Chronicle with some touch ups save for Meena. It has been referenced though, and the profiles in-game go in-depth on who it was and is, but I can't say if it'll actually make a fully story appearance…Especially since Klug was relegated to a side story role. Which is fine, I don't really care despite my URL. it was a good story. I do however expect this story to shed a lot of light on the relationship between the Sig, blue soul, and the crimson soul once its complete. I haven't even touched on my personal interpretation of Amitie and her hat, so maybe I'll make another post about that in the future? I think her situation is meant to parallel Sig's, but I'll save that for another time if people are interested...

As usual some of this is my interpretation, but everything I sourced is real and true and I'd never lie to you, etc.

Misc. Fun Stuff

These were things I liked about Aya and Sig's imagery/motifs but I wasn't able to fit into the post concisely.

not!Sig uses the same pronouns as Aya, 我 (wa) and お前 (omae), though they're written in hiragana as opposed to Aya's kanji. This is actually why I thought he was possessed because I walked into a stream in the middle of Ringo's route, haha.

My theory of Aya and Sig being a conscious and an unconscious are actually inspired by one of Aya's spells anima. Now in Latin this really just means "soul" which is fine, but in Jungian psychology the anima and animus are a dualistic archetype…which is cool, though this would potentially mean the crimson spirit is the unconscious part, haha! Technically they'd align more with Freud's concept of an id and a superego as I explained them, but I always like pointing out the possible Jungian reading of Aya's spell Yes, I realize I'm grasping for straws

#ramblings #puyo puyo #anywya feel free to send e lovemail for this . or hatemail if that's more your style #pypy lore

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alicentdeservesbetter · 8 months ago

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NEW PROJECT: Rhys Ifans & Olivia Cooke joined new comedy-horror feature The Scurry. The project,which is penned by The Mash Report’s Tim Telling, follows two pest controllers who are called to an eco-café in a country park to investigate what begins as a routine vermin problem.

As nightfall approaches an avalanche of deranged squirrels descend,wreaking revenge and mayhem on the staff and visitors in the park.With many fatalities, the survivors take shelter in the café as a freak storm takes out the power and communications leaving them under attack.

#olivia cooke #rhys ifans

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readwithnox · 1 year ago

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10 Indie Fantasy Books with A-spec Main Characters

Enjoy some magical a-spec spec-fic.

From asexual to aromantic and every variation inbetween, these fantasy books have a wonderful selection of a-spec LGBTQIA+ main characters for your next read!

While some of these books don’t outright announce some of the characters’ identities in the story, there are cues that a-spec readers are likely to pick up on either in the first book or later in the series. For the ones that aren’t completely obvious, I’ve received confirmation from the authors.

Structural Integrity

by Tabitha O’Connell Fantasy Romance featuring an a-spec trans mc

Messenger boy Kel never expected to strike up a romance with a government official. But Yaan lacks the self-important snobbery of the others, seeing Kel as more than just a pretty face. Living with him in the city’s plush government complex is everything Kel could want: no more expenses, kitchen workers and resident animals to befriend, and of course seeing Yaan every day. Even if Yaan does spend most of his time working or worrying about work, and seems to have forgotten that they used to have actual conversations…

When the city decides to tear down the iconic theater building in Kel’s old neighborhood, Yaan’s indifference toward his pleas to help save it forces Kel to confront his growing unhappiness. In the aftermath, both will have to decide whether their relationship is salvageable.

Song of Phoenix and Ink

by Margherita Scialla New Adult Portal Fantasy featuring an a-spec mc and a-spec li

All Nadzia Kaminski wanted was to finish writing her novel.

When she finally finished the manuscript for Crimson Mayhem, she did what any writer would: gave it to her best friend to read. Her friend’s reaction, however, wasn’t what she had expected and, upset by her criticism, Nadzia left her at the café where they had met.

Waking up the next morning, Nadzia was no longer in her bedroom, finding herself in a world of her creation, surrounded by dangerous magic and vaguely familiar settings.

With a country at war and no clear way home, time is running out and Nadzia has to find a way to gain the trust of the very people she created and figure out her confusing feelings for two of her own characters.

She soon realizes stories aren’t perfect when there is no one left to write them.

Dirt-Stained Hands, Thorn-Pierced Skin

by Tabitha O’Connell Fantasy Romance featuring an a-spec nonbinary mc and a-spec li

A queer, Beauty-and-the-Beast-inspired novella

Heron thought ey wanted to be with handsome, charming Tiel — but the relationship hasn’t quite lived up to eir expectations. With Tiel’s confidence comes a tendency to be overbearing, and now he wants Heron to leave eir farm life behind and move to town with him. And Heron can’t figure out how to explain to him that ey doesn’t want that.

When an accident strands Heron’s mother at a castle rumored to belong to a family of mages, Heron rushes off to make sure she’s all right — only to find the castle occupied by a single man who isn’t a mage at all. Prone to hiding behind his long mess of hair, the mysterious Theomer possesses a long-neglected, semi-magical garden. A job tending it is Heron’s perfect opportunity for some time away from Tiel while ey decides what to tell him.

Heron did not plan to be drawn in by Theomer’s attentive gaze and understated sense of humor. But as an undeniable bond forms between them, ey’s soon going to have a much bigger choice to make…

A Searing Faith

by Audrey Martin Epic Dark Fantasy featuring an aroace fmc

When sixteen-year-old Rena finds herself the sole survivor of the fire that destroyed her home town, the only thing keeping her going is the suspicion that the tragedy wasn’t an accident. She is determined to find those responsible, no matter how far her quest might take her. But no one in charge of the kingdom of Kal-Hemma seems to care that this isn’t the first town destroyed by a mysterious fire. And according to Rena’s travelling companions, there’s a lot the members of the Royal Council aren’t telling their subjects.

If Rena is truly the only survivor of the tragedy, why did she find her sister’s ring outside of their destroyed home?

Who planted the strange bird figurines around the town’s church before the fire?

And what do the old, forgotten Gods have to do with any of this?

A Searing Faith is the first book in an epic fantasy series and based on the award-winning, interactive audio drama The Heart Pyre.

A Kind Voice in Hell

by Ames Mullery Urban Fantasy featuring an a-spec trans mc

What’s a few years of bloody gladiator matches and witchcraft-for-hire when your best friend’s life is on the line?

To cover the soaring costs of his best friend’s life-saving healthcare Lark signs away everything he’s got — his body, his freedom, even his witchcraft — to a billionaire who plays at philanthropy for entertainment. Although Lark may have the heart of a saint, he doesn’t have the patience of one. It isn’t long before he begins to rock the boat and ends up threatening the very people he wants to save in his reckless heroics.

A KIND VOICE IN HELL is a story about an occult-obsessed billionaire looking for away to bring gladiators into the twenty-first century, a trans man with a hero complex who has never known illness a day in his life, and the disabled people caught in the middle. It contains queer love, found family, and a hero who needs to sit down and shut up before he tries to help anyone.

Follow Lark as he forges an unlikely alliance on the inside and weaves masterful spellwork in hopes of changing the world for the better.

Havesskadi

by Ava Kelly Fantasy featuring an a-spec mc

The red dragon is hunting her own. Up in the icy peaks of the northern mountains, Orsie Havesskadi spends his days hiding from her, but eventually he is found and his dragon magic stolen. Cursed to wander the lands as a mortal unless he recovers his magic before twenty-four rising crescents have passed, Orsie embarks on an arduous journey. Spurred by the whispers in his mind, his quest takes him to a castle hidden deep in a forest.

Arkeva Flitz, a skilled garrison archer, discovers an abandoned castle in the woods. Trapped there, he spends his days with his two companions, one cruel, the other soothing. One day, a young man arrives at his gates, and soon they are confined by heavy snowfalls and in danger from what slumbers in the shadows of the castle.

The Thirteenth Key

by Cara Nox New Adult Science Fantasy featuring an ace mmc

The chaotic crew of heisting misfits in Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows meets the familiar yet fantastical, modern landscape found in Robert Jackson Bennett’s City of Stairs.

“The thirteen emblems given to the original rulers weren’t just symbols. They’re keys to the Vault — one that no one’s ever opened.”

Noa has lived her life as an unsuspecting, ID-burning, face in the crowd that disposes of “problems” for her miscellaneous, secretive employers. So, when Noa’s surrogate father — a Seer — hands her a long-lost emblem, telling her with his dying breath that it’s her responsibility to reignite magic, she laughs at the idea that the fate of their world rests on the shoulders of a killer. Instead, she uses his words and the key he gave her as an excuse to go on one final suicide mission to seek out the power supposedly waiting for her to annihilate his murderer.

Prince Glacier Caelius has lived his life trapped inside a gilded cage, pushed down by the ever-present threat of death as the bastard son of Amarais’s late king. But when the rebels attack during a nationalist party, Glacier’s rescued by none other than Noa and her merry band of thieves, who are scrambling to salvage a failed attempt at stealing his country’s emblem: the Soul of Amarais. When the dust settles, he’s the only person left alive to unlock the palace vault and give the Soul to Noa in exchange for saving his life.

Well, once they’re able to formulate a plan to take the palace back.

Struggling with their tentative, newfound freedom, Noa and Glacier must learn to work together to survive the urban landscape of Avaria’s greatest cities fortified by technology in the wake of dwindling magic. The goal: steal as many keys as they can before their pasts catch up. But the further they go, the more they realize that something worse may be lurking on the horizon, and they may very well be the only ones able to stop it.

Bloody Spade

by Brittany M. Willows Young Adult Urban Fantasy featuring an ace fmc, aro mmc, and demi fmc

Bloody Spade is the first installment in an upper YA urban fantasy duology that follows a cat-eared thief and a softhearted girl as they navigate his wild magic, her hotheaded brother, a sinister plot, and the feelings they’re developing for each other. Suitable for fans of A Darker Shade of Magic and This Savage Song, or anime/manga such as RWBY and D.Gray-Man.

A girl full of heart A thief touched by darkness A hot-tempered golden boy An unwitting servant of evil

The era of magic was once thought to be a myth, but after the Reemergence ushered forces both dark and light into the mundane world, it has since become a harsh reality. Now those affected by this strange power — a specialized group of Empowered called Jokers, known collectively as Cardplay — must protect their world from the darkness that threatens to consume it, all the while fighting for equality in a society clinging to normalcy.

But the Reemergence was only the beginning.

When another influx occurs on the seventh anniversary of that fateful event, an unfortunate encounter at ground zero lands Iori Ryone, a teenage boy in possession of a corrupt and legendary magic, in the care of recent Joker graduate Ellen Amelia Jane. From him, she learns the Reemergence may not have been the inevitable natural disaster it first seemed.

Someone is trying to tear down the barrier that separates the magical realms from the mundane. The question is why, and can Cardplay stop them before it’s too late?

Tell Me How It Ends

by Quinton Li Young Adult Fantasy featuring an aroace nonbinary mc

A coming-of-age cozy fantasy with a queer cast, witches, and tarot. Perfect for fans of Legends & Lattes and Our Flag Means Death.

Iris Galacia’s tarot cards do more than entertain gamblers.

With the flip of her fingers she can predict the future and uncover a person’s secrets. But under the watchful eye of her mother, she is on thin ice for pursuing a passion in the family business, and then cracks start to form until she eventually she falls through.

She is given an ultimatum — a test to prove her worth: earn a thousand coins or leave the business, and the family.

Enter Marin Boudreau, a charming young person who can scale buildings and break off door knobs, who comes for her help to rescue a witch who’s been falsely imprisoned in Excava Kingdom.

And Marin is willing to pay a high sum for her talents.

But saving a prisoner from royal hands isn’t easy, nor is leaving home for the first time in eighteen years.

Now Iris must learn to trust in herself, Marin, and this new magical world, while racing the clock before the royals decide the fate of the witch, and before any secrets catch up to her.

Trick

By Cara Nox New Adult Urban Fantasy featuring a demi fmc and aroace mmc

Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments series meets V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue with a dash of Disney+’s Loki in this new adult urban fantasy.

WELCOME TO NEW ATLAS: A CITY WITHIN A REALITY JUST BEYOND OUR OWN.

Evie is a nobody. Spending her days in college classes and her nights studying, having a social life has never really been a priority. With her sights firmly set on the future to keep away her thoughts of the past, she loses her grip on the present when her world is ripped out from under her. And it’s all thanks to two mysterious strangers showing up on her doorstep, claiming that she can turn back time.

Cade is a notorious troublemaker. He’s never been afraid to throw around his name to get what he wants as someone who’s clawed his way to the top. But power is quick to change hands in this city, and when he chooses to blatantly disregard an order from his leader, his older brother, he’s tossed back down to the bottom again. He’ll be more than lucky to regain any sort of trust when everyone knows he’s one of the best spies there is, sliding in and out of shadows in the blink of an eye.

Ren is a bored teenager. Always labeled as the “golden child” or “gifted student,” he finds himself writing down cryptic messages and following strange leads, rather than putting on the same old song and dance for his family. Especially once he discovers his little stolen fragments of the future are starting to take a darker turn. Perhaps chasing the life everyone wants him to have isn’t necessarily in the cards for him, but there’s only one way to find out.

So when someone within the secret society known as the Custodians targets Evie for her power, the clock starts in the final sprint to hunt down the culprit. In order to uncover whatever hidden clues are lurking in the past, the three of them have no choice but to peel back the layers of obscurity built up between their factions to figure out why she’s being hunted and how they might be able to fix their bleak futures before it’s too late.

Just remember: time is nothing but a trick.

Follow the divine archivists on twitter for more queer indie lists, reviews, and recommendations.

Where to find Cara Nox: instagram • twitter • writing tumblr • reading tumblr

Disclaimer: anything purchased through the links provided in this article helps me continue writing with compensation through Amazon’s affiliate program.

#a spec books #aspec books #indie books #pride month #queer books #lgbtq books #asexual books #aromantic books #ace spec books #readers of tumblr #readblr

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ash-and-books · 5 months ago

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Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

In this sly and dazzling contemporary fantasy, the most notorious nine-tailed fox in Korea pairs up with a trickster god–turned–detective to track down a wrathful demon . . . before it can destroy the mortal world.

“Enchanting fantasy . . . With an intoxicating mix of action, mystery, and deliciously angsty romance, this reads like the most bingeable K-drama.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Kim Hani has retired from a life of devouring souls. She is, simply put, too full. Once known as the infamous Scarlet Fox, she now spends her days working in a coffee shop and annoying a particularly irritating, if unfairly handsome, trickster god as often as she can.

That god is Seokga the Fallen. Exiled from the heavenly kingdom of Okhwang, he now begrudgingly resides in the mortal realm, working toward his redemption and suffering through his interactions with the particularly infuriating, if sneakily charming, gumiho barista at his favorite café.

But when a powerful demon escapes from the underworld and threatens to end all of humanity, Okhwang’s emperor offers Seokga an enticing bargain: Kill this rogue creature, as well as the legendary and elusive Scarlet Fox, and he will be reinstated as a god. Hani, however, has no intention of being caught. Seokga might be a trickster god, but she has a trick of her own that he’ll never see coming: teaming up. As Seokga’s assistant, Hani will undermine and sabotage his investigation right under his overly pointy nose. Sure, she’ll help him kill the demon, but she certainly won’t allow him to uncover her secret identity while they’re at it.

As the bickering partners track their case down a path of mayhem and violence, the god and the gumiho find themselves inescapably drawn to each other. But will the unlikely couple stand together to prevent the apocalypse, or will they let their secrets tear them—and the world—apart?

Review:

A fallen god turned detective, who is desperate to regain his powers... and the only way to do so is to hunt down and kill the infamous Scarlet Fox and a powerful demon that has escaped from the underworld... the only problem? Said Scarlett Fox is actually is actually his new assistant and she'll do anything to make sure he never finds her... yet being together for so long despite their dislike for one another... something else begins to grow between these unlikely too... but can it last with a demon on the loose and secrets between the two people who normally would only care about their own needs? Kim Hani was the Scarlet Fox, a famous gumiho who consumed thousands of souls and got away with it.... and now she works in a cafe, despite hating coffee, and her greatest joy is ruining a very grumpy god's coffee order every single time she see's his arrogant, smug, and cold face. Seokga the Fallen, he was a trickster god before he staged a coup against his brother and was banished... and now the only way to get back his godly powers is to kill thousands of demons... and working as a detective has definitely helped. Seokga hates everything about earth, the only thing he actually likes is it's coffee, yet his barista, a certain snarky, rude, and gets under his skin gumiho refuses to make him a good coffee. Seokga is nowhere near the number of monsters he needs to get rid of to get his powers back, so when his brother offers him a deal: capture and kill both the famous Scarlet fox that has come back, and a new powerful demon that has escaped the underworld in 16 days and his powers will be reinstated. Seokga takes the deal, but the only way he'll actually accomplish it is with the help of his new assistant... who turns out to be Hani. Hani is determined to thwart Seokga from ever finding her true identity, and if it means working as his assistant and throwing his case, she'll do it. Despite how much they both get under each other's skin, they both know they have to stop the evil demon on the loose before it brings about the apocalypse and destroy everything. The more time they spend together the more they begin to realize that what they use to find annoying about each other might actually have been them realizing that they are completely perfect for one another... yet Hani is still hiding her secrets and how can she expect to tell Seokga the truth if he is going to sacrifice her for his own powers... or will he ? Can they survive both the demon and each other? This book was the PERFECT mixture of kdrama, romance, adventure, and everything I could ever want. SOMEONE MAKE THIS INTO A KDRAMA NOW PLEASE. I adored Hani and Seokga so much, they both irritate and tease each other, yet care so much for one another. The moment they realize they like it each other, it was absolute perfection. The book has a bit of an open ending and I WOULD LOVE A BOOK 2 PLEASE. I AM DESPERATE FOR MORE HANI AND SEOKGA PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I had a blast with this book and absolutely devoured it, I could not put it down at all. It's the ultimate grumpy x sunshine read, Seokga is a trickster but cold and grumpy while Hani is a mischievous trickers who is sunshine and smiles. They both are so much fun as characters and this book just perfectly captures the magic of kdramas and mythology and romance. Seriously, you need this book!

*SPOILERS: The demon reveals the truth and Hani dies trying to kill it. she makes a bargain with Seokga's brother before she dies: if Seokga kills her or the demon he'll get half his powers back for each one. Hani sacrifices herself and has Seokga stab her so he can get his powers back and kill the demon, he does but he mourns Hani. He admits that he knew all along and would never have hurt her. Seokga is a god again but he begs his brother for a new bargain, to have Hani reincarnated, he doesn't care what he has to give up to have her back. His brother agrees, in exchange for Hani being reincarnated Seokga must remain loyal (no more coups) or the bargain is over. He tells him Hani could be reincarnated any day and that he has to wait. In 2018 he finally sees the red thread of fate on his finger and he begins to follow it towards Hani.

Release Date: June 4, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine | Del Rey for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#book review #bookish #book #the god and the gumiho #threads of fate

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zaewriteshere · 2 months ago

Text

No actions without Consequences

AO3 Link

After the incident at the Everett-Linde Research Facility, you were tasked among many others to figure out what truly happened there.

You had been on that case ever since.

As you were technically on a break from it, Paris came under fire from Omega Earth, and you had your first encounter with the Valorant Legion.

Thankfully, the Valorant Protocol came into the rescue, among them someone you would recognise from a mile away ; your childhood best friend, Vincent Fabron.

Just what was going on here ?

---

You let out a frustrated sigh when your call was declined once again.

Was he really that busy ?

For once, you were in the area, taking a break from your years-long case.

You didn’t think you needed it, but unfortunately for you, your boss thought otherwise.

So, you went back to Paris, catching yourself looking forward to having the opportunity to spend some time with your childhood best friend, Vincent Fabron.

The fact that you had the longest standing crush on him to date was part of the reason why you were somewhat happy.

Apparently, he didn’t miss you as much as you did, if your repeated missed calls during the past few days were of any indication.

Ignoring the pang of sadness that overcame you, you put your phone face down on the table and took a bite of your croissant, staring blankly at the Eiffel Tower.

Your mind wandered immediately towards the topic of your investigation, the Everett-Linde Research Facility.

You went over the clues, facts, and timeline once again, for the nth time.

You had repeated that same process more than you had the courage to admit.

Once again, glaring issues arose ; some parts of the camera recordings were straight up missing, how everything was going smoothly until that fatal moment…

You groaned, banging your head on the table as you remembered that you were on vacation.

You took the last bite of your viennoiserie as you finished your coffee, and exited the café with a small smile and wave to the cashier.

Just as the door closed, you heard screams of panic as well as gunshots.

Immediately on high alert, you pulled out your phone to call the police, running against the crowd to get as close to the origin of the mayhem without risking your life.

You really wished you were in uniform right now.

It would’ve prevented at least some of the headache of investigating.

You pointed to the civilians still behind the path to safety, and just as you were about to resume your chase, you heard someone fall and cry out.

A kid.

You looked back and discerned an alarming amount of figures that clearly had rifles, running towards you.

Some of them aimed at you, some at the child on the ground.

There was an alleyway behind you that you knew you could go to and avoid the oncoming fire.

You wouldn’t have time to get the kid without risking injury.

Your decision was made as you dashed towards the young civilian, taking them into your arms and running towards the safe spot, hissing and ducking as bullets scraped you.

You put them down, assessing them.

Besides a handful of minor injuries, they seemed to be fine.

“Can you walk ?” You asked, meeting their terrified gaze. They nodded, their limbs shaking. “Run,” You ordered, and you didn’t have to tell them twice as they scrambled away.

It’s only then that you realised that your shoulder was hurt, the adrenaline going down just a bit. You mumbled a jumble of curses, aware that there was a high chance whoever was running towards you would continue their chase.

You had to be quick and deadly then, you told yourself as numerous quick paced footsteps approached your location.

You were about to jump the closest one, but froze as your eyes met.

“V ?” You breathed, and he looked as stunned as you were.

More gunshots, and you saw the glint of a scope aiming right at you.

You jumped your best friend, making him hit the ground with a grunt as the bullet whistled by you.

More bullets were shot, and what you assumed were his allies began suppressive fire, leaving you enough time to get off him and help him up.

A million questions were running through your mind, but you knew this wasn’t the time to voice any of them.

Quickly, you duck behind a car for cover, assessing the situation.

You were missing a ton of context, and you desperately needed more information to decide the best course of action.

You glanced towards your friend, who seemed to be listening to some comms.

Whatever was happening, it was coordinated.

You met gazes, and his eyes trailed to your injured shoulder.

They widened a bit before he was quick to interject whatever the person on the other side of the line was saying.

“Civilian injury. One of us has to stay behind to make sure that they can make it out,” He announced, breaking eye contact.

Right. He didn’t know.

And this wasn’t the time to open that can of worms, so you stayed silent.

You looked across the road, your glance catching the faces of who you assumed were Vincent’s allies.

The shots drew closer.

“V,” You started, effectively grabbing his attention. “If you explained to me what’s happening, maybe I can help,” You said, determined.

You had to make sure that you were on the right side, too, but you didn’t voice that.

A beat passed where you saw the hesitation on his features clear as day.

He sighed.

“Terrorist attack,” He answered. “We’re trying to mitigate the damages,” He continued, readjusting the grip on his rifle.

It was your turn to sigh.

“After this shit is over, you owe me a proper explanation,” You ordered, your gaze hard.

He averted his eyes with a slight nod.

“I can fend for myself,” You announced as his head whipped towards you. “I’ll hold them off, you do whatever you gotta do,” You said, already coming up with a plan of action.

“I can’t allow you to do that,” He retorted, as if you were insane for even offering. Maybe you were. “You don’t even have a weapon,” He insisted, his worry for you clear.

“Then give me one,” You replied, finally glancing at him.

After a small staring contest, he must’ve seen something in you that reassured him.

Handing you his vandal and ammunition, you nodded as you looked into the magazine.

“As soon as you’re clear, head to those coordinates,” He explained, sending you a quick message. “You do not have to kill, just slow them down. Stay safe,” He ordered, and you shook your head in affirmation, not looking at him. “Hey, eyes on me,” He ordered, and you did as told. “Promise me you will not endanger your life needlessly,” He begged, his whole body language tense.

“Promise,�� You replied, and he relaxed ever so slightly.

And so, he and his friends left you to be as you opened fire, grabbing the attention of the terrorists.

Bullets flew around you, and you managed to injure and even take down some of them.

One that looked like a spitting image of Vincent somehow closed the gap between the two of you, knocking you down as his handgun was aimed at your skull.

“Protecting the one responsible for the Everett-Linde incident ? How disappointing,” He said, his voice full of disdain.

Thankfully, the duplicate had the same build as your best friend, which meant you managed to make him lose his balance by kicking his chin and you escaped, your mind racing with even more questions and even less answers.

You went to the rendezvous point, out of breath.

You had run all the way, taking too many turns in hopes of losing the terrorists.

Seeing as nobody was around, you figured you succeeded.

You sat down on the ground, hissing at the throbbing pain in your shoulder, instinctively bringing your other hand to it and applying pressure on the injury.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to see numerous figures emerging, one of them being Vincent…

You think.

Pointing your weapon at him, the others were quick to point theirs at you as your “friend” held his hands up.

“Show me your chin,” You asked calmly, and he tilted his head up, no signs of injuries there. He had other cuts and bruises, though.

You put the gun down, a sigh of relief escaping you.

The others did much the same, glancing at the Frenchman.

“Let’s wait for the Vulture and get you checked out,” He announced, his features overrun with concern.

Right, you did start to feel the effects of blood loss.

As you got up, a dizzy spell overcame you, and you almost fell to the ground.

He had caught you, silently putting you on his back as your chin rested on his trapeze.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, and you managed to for a while… You imagined.

The last thing you registered before passing out completely was the sound of a helicopter approaching.

—

You awoke in an unfamiliar and sterile room, your head and shoulder throbbing.

You groaned, the memories of what had happened flooding back.

The words of your best friend’s duplicate resonated in your mind.

You looked around you, and thankfully, nobody was there.

There didn’t appear to be any cameras either, so you pulled out your phone, opening the encrypted files.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

If only to fact check his words.

Unfortunately, just as you entered the last password, the door opened and closed.

Turning off your phone and putting it beside you face down, you turned your attention to whoever entered the room.

Among the familiar faces, you saw Vincent’s.

You relaxed just a bit, knowing that you weren’t alone in this mess, before remembering that he was one of the prime suspects now.

After a bit of back and forth, they revealed that the attack was made by the mirrored version of our reality, called Omega Earth.

They had attempted to steal Radianite, this time extending more resources towards this end.

At the end of the explanation, the one who presented himself as Brimstone spoke ;

“You don’t seem surprised at all,” He commented, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” You confirmed, choosing your next words carefully. “I was already aware of Omega Earth, following the incident of Everett-Linde,” You announced, scanning the crowd slowly.

Your best friend had a look of pure panic and dread at your confession, but he quickly recovered.

Not quick enough, though.

Your heart clenched as you went into “work” mode.

Not letting any more emotions be shown involuntarily.

“How did you come around this information ?” The one named Viper questioned, her eyes squinting.

“I have my sources,” You answered vaguely.

You knew you only appeared as more suspicious.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, however.

You knew what you had to do next, but you honestly didn’t want to.

“Is that everything ? I’d like to rest if that’s okay, my headache is killing me,” You asked, and it was true ; your head was arguably hurting even more than when you had woken up.

They nodded, leaving you to be, not without giving you one last glance, besides Vincent.

They could’ve at least tried not to be so openly distrustful, you thought.

Once in the clear, you went back to your phone, re-entering the passwords and combing through the evidence one last time.

As you watched the camera footage frame by frame, you noticed at the edge of the screen what you recognised to be one of your childhood friend’s inventions.

His teleporter.

A while later, his Tour de Force was seen before the footage cut, just the tip of it.

Such small details that if you weren’t actively looking for it, you wouldn’t have caught it.

And you didn’t, until now.

For all of those years…

You felt a multitude of emotions passing through you, none that you could give space to breathe, much less process.

You sat there in silence as you stared at your device, your hands shaking.

After a while, you got up from the bed and turned off your phone, heading towards the exit.

You got out of the infirmary, your eyes scanning for him.

You didn’t even know what name to give him, what status he had.

Finding who you were looking for, you walked up to him, ignoring the fact that he was chatting with another agent as you called his name.

“Vincent,” You said, and you saw him freeze as he turned around, worry filling his eyes.

You never called each other your full names, always opting for shortened versions.

The only times you did were an indication that the situation was to be taken very seriously.

“The research facility,” You started, and his eyes widened. “Everett-Linde,” You clarified, as if you needed to do that. “To what extent were you involved in the incident ?” You interrogated, your voice surprisingly even.

Your wording was accusatory.

You saw that it made a few heads turn to your direction out of the corner of your eyes.

Your gaze however, was firmly trained on the man in front of you, watching as his expression changed numerous times.

From shock, to panic, to anger, to sadness, and now guilt.

The silence stretched out.

“Answer me,” You ordered, your voice like ice.

A small part of you was praying for you to be wrong.

“I, along with my mirrored version, triggered the breakdown of the facility,” He confessed, and you heard a few gasps arise.

You couldn’t help your next move, your mask of professionalism cracking.

You slapped him with all of your might.

It resonated against the walls, making him take a few steps to catch his balance as he brought a shaking hand to his injured cheek, his head turned away from you.

You wanted to scream at him.

To insult him, to make him understand just how much he fucked up.

How you couldn’t see him as a friend now, how you couldn’t trust him.

You did none of that.

“Vincent Fabron, you are under arrest for mass murder,” You announced, pronouncing each word slowly in an attempt to ground yourself.

“What is going on here ?” You heard Brimstone’s voice call out, but you didn’t glance at him, your gaze fixed on the man you were arresting.

“I’m arresting him,” You answered and you could clearly see the small tears rolling down his cheeks, his glasses long gone from the impact of your hand.

He didn’t look at you though, didn’t even change his head’s position.

“Under what jurisdiction ?” He questioned, his tone changing to be even more authoritative.

“International criminal law,” You replied, cursing that you didn’t bring any of your items with you.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” He retorted, and you finally glanced at him.

“Are you preventing me from doing my job ?” You asked incredulously, stunned.

“I’m saying that you will not get out of here with him,” He stated, taking big strides towards you.

You didn’t move.

Soon enough, he was in your personal space.

“Are you threatening me ?” You arched an eyebrow, making eye contact.

“I don’t make threats, I make promises,” He said without missing a beat.

You looked around the room, feeling the Radianite crackling.

You weren’t one to back down.

Not when you knew you were in the right.

You were always one to try against all odds, which is why you were even assigned this case in the first place.

This time though, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

Maybe it was the betrayal, maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t move his head to look anywhere, as if he wasn’t really present.

Either way, you felt your mask crack just a bit more as you gritted your teeth.

“Alright then,” You conceded. “Let’s talk,” You said, and you felt the energy in the room slowly dissipate.

“Follow me,” Ordered the agent that you realised was ex K-Sec, if his uniform was anything to go by.

As he turned and started to walk away, you found yourself hesitating, fighting the urge to look back at Vincent.

You clenched your fists as you forced yourself to take the first step, the next one coming more easily to you, and so on and so forth.

You were guided into a remotely situated room, and you took a seat, Brimstone sitting in front of you.

You knew there was another person in the room, but didn’t comment on it.

“Who do you work for ?” He questioned, his eyes firm.

Not leaving room for any other answers than the truth.

You didn’t answer, your silence a challenge.

“We will find out, you know,” A new voice spoke, and you heard something akin to a coin being played around with. “Just make our jobs easier and tell us right now,” He continued, and you saw two glowing eyes focusing on you from one of the dark corners of the room.

You unfortunately had to take those words at face value.

“The IICI,” You replied, studying their body language for any shift.

You found none.

“Why arrest him now ?” Brimstone asked, hiding his mouth between his joined hands, while his elbows were resting on the table.

“Didn’t know it was him until a few moments ago,” You admitted, your eyes trained on him.

“Does anyone else know about this discovery ?” The man with the glowing eyes followed up.

You didn’t like where this was going.

“No,” You answered truthfully. “But if you were to get rid of me, my disappearance will certainly alert my colleagues and superiors,” You added, which the voice chuckled creepily.

“We wouldn’t want that, do we now ?” He stated rhetorically.

“Drop the charges,” Requested the man with the beret.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t do that,” You replied, squinting.

“What if you heard the reasoning behind said crime ?” The one in the shadow spoke, finally stepping into the light. “You’re attached to him, yes ? You know as well as we do that he wouldn’t do such a thing without a good motive,” He continued, and you cursed him for pulling at your heart strings.

For seeing right through you.

For being right.

You felt your mask crack some more, your hands starting to shake.

“Fine,” You said, your voice cracking. You cleared your throat. “Bring him here,” You agreed, and both of them relaxed at your words.

They got out, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

Your mind was running in circles, the facts torturing you.

The sound of the door opening and closing got you out of your spiralling.

Vincent didn’t even dare to glance at you as he wordlessly took the seat in front of you, his eyes glued to the table.

He sniffled, and you noticed the cheek was swollen.

You didn’t like his behaviour.

You wanted him to fight you, to vehemently prove his innocence to you, or at the very least, to shout at you his motives.

It was as if he had accepted his fate and his friends – and a part of you alongside them – were fighting a losing battle.

The anger that you already felt only rose at this realisation.

“Your friends are trying to make me drop the charges, y’know. Their argument was that you had a reason for committing that atrocity,” You announced, cursing how your voice shook. “You’re not doing a good job at justifying yourself,” You commented, and you couldn’t help the bitterness slipping through.

No reaction.

It made you even more upset.

“I guess we were wrong for believing in you, then,” You observed, and you saw him freeze. “To believe that you had a reason, that you wouldn’t just agree to do that shit without a second thought,” You continued, and you felt your mask crumble away as your lips trembled and your vision became blurry. “That you’re not a heartless killer,” You whispered, your voice breaking.

You shakily wiped away the tears escaping your eyes, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

You couldn’t help your mind attempting to come up with a loophole to save his stupid ass.

You cursed yourself for even thinking about it.

“The least you could do is look me in the eyes,” You commented, sorrow becoming anger. “Do I really mean that little to you ?” You asked, baffled, shaking your head in disbelief.

For the first time since you slapped him, he reacted by slowly shaking his head.

“You mean more than I could possibly express,” He croaked out, his voice so broken.

You’ve seen him at low points in his life, helping them through it.

This wasn’t like any other.

“Then talk to me,” You surprised yourself by begging, feeling another set of tears well up.

You reached out your hand, then stopped, bringing it back to your body.

It didn’t escape him.

“He told me that it would have a domino effect on both of our world’s dooms,” He revealed, sighing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a shallow laughter escaping his lips. “Told me we could prevent it by destroying the facility with everyone in it,” He continued, his voice breaking.

He finally met your gaze, and the sheer hurt and guilt that was written all over his features made your heart throb.

“If there was any other way, trust me, I wouldn’t have chosen this path,” He finished, his voice akin to a whimper.

“Why…” You started, barely keeping control of your own feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me ?”

“To tell you what ?” He retorted, more aggressive than he meant to, if you could trust the way he slouched right afterwards. “I couldn’t just tell you I committed mass murder,” He croaked, bringing a shaking hand to his face. “Look at us now, that same confession is tearing us apart,” He commented, his lips shaking. “I couldn’t – can’t – lose you,” He admitted, a sob escaping him.

You wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

Your body was just frozen in place, your thoughts too incoherent to voice any of them.

“So many times I’ve wanted to tell you,” He continued, taking your silence as disapproval. “I have many things I want to confess to you, not just that. The VP included, as well,” He continued, his voice growing in desperation.

His hand reached out across the table, slow and hesitant, before he stopped halfway through.

The hand remained there.

The lump in your throat only grew.

You fought yourself to open your mouth and say anything.

So you did.

“Now sounds like the right time,” You encouraged, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t know where this was going.

You were scared to find out, if you were honest.

He took a deep breath, his hand leaving his face.

“I love you,” He announced, his intense gaze making your heart skip a beat. “I’ve always loved you, since the day we met back in kindergarten,” He continued, seeing something in you that encouraged him. “It didn’t matter who I was dating, sleeping with, my heart would only yearn for you. It was suffocating, especially when you dated around, too,” He admitted, his pace quickening. His eyes became watery. “I only wish I could’ve told you in different circumstances,” He added, his voice soft.

You searched his features for any lie.

Because honestly, you couldn’t believe your own ears.

He took your silence as a rejection, and his body language shifted in a way that told you he expected as much.

Out of panic and pure instinct, you took his hand, the gesture surprising both of you.

You were feeling too many things at once, not finding the ability to say any of your thoughts.

He figured as much, if his understanding gaze was anything to come by.

“We’ll get through this,” You promised, your voice shakier than you wanted it.

You squeezed his hand, reassuringly.

A silent sign that you had his back.

He was visibly surprised by your words, before relief washed over him and tears poured.

He nodded solemnly, saying “thank you” repeatedly, and if you had to be honest…

You didn’t know what he was thanking you for.

Probably too many things.

—

You had spent the remainder of your vacation in the Protocol’s HQ, getting accustomed to every member as you pulled together the evidence and prepared your case for the judges.

They were understandably wary of you at first, but after an endorsement from both Brimstone and Cypher – the one with the glowing eyes in the interrogation room – everybody had visibly relaxed.

Rumours of your shared history with Vincent quickly spread.

Despite their veracity, they were just that, rumours.

Least to say, the air around you when the both of you even just shared a room was almost suffocating for you.

The marksman had taken his distance, knowing full well that you needed time to process the large amount of news and revelations.

On top of that, you had to remain as impartial as possible in the presentation of evidence, on top of carefully choosing the wording for his defence and motive.

You had to at least try to protect him.

You worked on it day and night, hardly ever coming out of your room, barely seen talking to anybody.

You had briefly wondered why they even kept you in the heart of their headquarters, before pushing the question away.

You had to focus.

You reached for the pot on your desk to pour yourself another serving of coffee before realising that it was empty. With a groan, you exited your room for the first time in what felt like weeks, making a bee-line for the kitchen.

The halls were weirdly empty, all lights off.

Was it the middle of the night ?

You guessed that you would have to be quieter, then.

You had to pass through the break room to go to the kitchen, and just as you approached it, you saw a familiar silhouette slouched on one of the armchairs.

You knew Vincent had the tendency to pull all nighters back in the day, much like what you were doing now, but you had thought he stopped doing so.

Either you were wrong in assuming so, or something was deeply upsetting him.

You had stopped walking when you were in front of him, trying to figure out what to say.

He just so happened to look up right as you formulated the words in your head, and your mind went blank.

He was a mess.

… You probably weren't looking so hot, either, now that you thought about it.

His eyes wandered between you and the emptied massive pot of instant coffee in your hands, and he frowned.

“You’re going to put that back, right ?” He croaked, the first words you spoke to one another since that day.

You bit your lips, shaking your head silently.

“I was actually going to get my refill,” You admitted, tearing your gaze away from him.

He breathed out your name, his tone filled with worry, shock, and a warning.

“How many hours have you slept today ?” He interrogated, and you knew this voice.

He wanted the truth, all of it.

“Maybe 5…” You started, then spoke again, your own voice small. “This week,” You cleared your throat, trying to be nonchalant.

At your words, he got up and took the pot from your weak grasp, and you could tell he was fuming.

You didn’t want to admit that you were doing this for him.

You knew how he would react.

He walked away from you, putting your prized possession back where it belonged, before coming back to you.

As your eyes met, you could tell he wanted to say and do oh so many things.

Instead, his gaze hardened.

“You’re going to sleep, now,” He ordered, not leaving any room for argumentation.

“Won’t be able to,” You confessed, your eyes staring at your feet.

If you were to go back to your room, you would just continue working until you passed out at your desk.

He sighed, taking your hand in his and guiding you to what you recognised was his room, and he got you on the bed, next to the wall.

Your hand was still firmly in his possession.

“If you can’t sleep, at least rest your mind for a bit,” He announced, his voice still hard, but there was a softness and gentleness around the edges.

You just stared at each other in the darkness, your eyes exploring his features as if you were rediscovering him.

You stared at the markings that you had grown to appreciate, glistening softly.

Your eyes trailed to his cheeks, his skin looking paler than usual.

Naturally, your gaze rested on his lips, drawn in a thin line.

You always wondered how they felt, how they tasted.

You shook the thought away, now wasn’t the time.

Finally, you stared into his eyes.

They were tired – exhausted – but attentive. Worried.

You saw it from his perspective ; the closest friend that he had all throughout his life finally got to know the one thing that was haunting him for years, not taking it well at all.

On top of that, he had confessed his repressed feelings – something that he still didn’t get a proper answer to – and right afterwards, his best friend just barricaded themself away in a room for days on end.

When they finally emerged, he got to know that they weren’t taking care of themself at all.

Man, what a shitshow.

“I told you to rest your mind, not torture yourself with it,” He commented, a slight tease in his voice.

Your lips perked up for a moment.

At the softening of his gaze, it was the right reaction.

“I’m sorry,” You apologised, taking him aback. “I have not been fair to you since that day,” You explained, playing with the collar of your shirt. “I guess I was so focused on trying to protect you that I neglected repairing the relationship,” You admitted, sighing.

“Protecting me ?” He repeated, inching closer. He squeezed your hand briefly, making you look at him. “What do you mean ?” He enquired, and you knew you had fucked up.

There was no backing out now, you guessed.

“Been working on wrapping up the case, evidence, your confession, motives… Just, trying to make them loosen the verdict,” You said, and he froze, his entire body tensing up. “I don’t know if it’s going to work, given our… Relationship, but I at least got to try,” You spoke your words slowly, breaking eye contact.

“Let me get this straight,” He started, his tone clearly baffled. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone to protect me ? Me, the cause of such sorrows and heartbreaks, responsible for taking hundreds of people’s lives ?” He asked, searching your eyes for any lie.

He found none.

“Why ?” He asked, his voice soft and on the brink of breaking.

“Because I love you,” You blurted, surprising both of you with your sudden confession. You sighed. “I can’t just sit back while my fucking best friend risks life in prison for something he thought had no other options but to do,” You continued, your voice rising slightly. “I love you, V, I really fucking do. I can’t just watch you spend your life behind bars when I can do something about it,” You finished, seeing your vision blur.

You wanted nothing but to comfort him.

To cuddle with him and fall asleep, getting a full night’s rest for once.

But time was precious.

Unfortunately, Chamber would have none of that, as he scooped you closer to him, his arms wrapping around your body firmly as you let out quiet sobs.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you cried, rubbing your spine gently, comforting you.

Eventually, you fell asleep, exhaustion taking over your mind.

You woke up in the same bed, your best friend quietly watching over you.

“Good morning,” He greeted, and you had a faint smile.

“Morning, V,” You said, and it was his turn for his lips to perk up.

After staring into his eyes for a moment, you sat up on the bed, stretching.

“You need to take a day off,” He commented, frowning. “Weren’t you on vacation ?” He observed, arching an eyebrow.

“I will be on vacation for sure once the case’s closed,” You argued, and he sighed.

“We both know that’s a lie,” He objected, to which you had no answers. “Please, take the day off,” He was downright begging. “If not for yourself, then for me,” He insisted. “I missed you,” He admitted, his cheeks dusting a light pink.

You sighed, feeling yourself concede against your best judgement.

“Fine,” You agreed, falling back on the bed.

Immediately, your best friend started cuddling you once again.

You were no stranger to this behaviour, but you felt like it had another meaning after both of your confessions.

You wanted to clear the air, but you knew your relationship status would not help with your case, so you refrained.

You just sighed, content.

You hoped you wouldn’t regret this later.

“Stop thinking about work already,” He grumbled, flicking his fingers on your forehead playfully.

“Ow,” You say without really meaning it. You relaxed into his grasp still. “Alright,” You accepted, and he smiled.

He nodded in approval.

He said your name, and you hummed in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” He spoke, kissing the top of your forehead gently.

“Told you we were going to get through this,” You reminded him, and he chuckled.

—

Soon enough came Vincent’s trial, which was of course, very mediatised.

You knew that regardless of the penalty, his enterprise would suffer greatly.

Since you were the one to discover the truth, you were also the one presenting the evidence.

You hoped your position and arguments would bring nuance to the table.

Thankfully for everyone, the courtroom wasn’t open to the public or media outlets.

It would be easier to keep the world calm about Omega Earth that way.

“So you’re not arguing about the if, but about the why ?” Questioned the judge, arching an eyebrow.

You nodded.

“Your Honor, I’m sure you are well aware of the existence of Omega Earth. Mr. Fabron was told it was either the Research Facility or our realities, just as stated in his testimony,” You repeated, hoping to sound convincing enough.

He hummed, before looking at the evidence presented.

You continued back and forth, the judgement lasting over several days.

In the end, your friend was sentenced to 50 years with parole.

You did your best to protect him.

It wasn’t in your hands anymore.

You really just had put your childhood best friend in prison, huh ?

You knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him and much less see him anymore for the foreseeable future.

You sighed as you got into your car, feeling your eyes fill up with tears.

You stayed in the vehicle silently, letting your emotions run free for once.

During the following weeks, you considered quitting.

That whole situation really did manage to break you, and you weren’t sure that you were capable of being able to keep going.

It didn’t escape your boss, who summoned you to his office.

“You do not seem too happy with the outcome,” He commented, and you almost thought it to be rhetoric.

“I have put behind bars my childhood best friend,” You replied, trying your best to hide the venom in your tone.

“You have brought justice to the families,” He argued. “If you cannot bring yourself to understand that, then I cannot with good conscience keep you as an asset,” He continued, his gaze hard.

“Then fire me right now,” You answered, sighing. You knew you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself regardless.

“As you wish,” He conceded, and you nodded as you left the room to pack your belongings.

When you got home, you didn’t even bother to get out of your uniform, flopping face first into your couch.

The emptiness that you had felt since the sentencing only grew, finding yourself greatly missing Vincent.

You guessed you had to wait a handful more years before seeing him again.

A knock on your door was heard, and you groaned.

You really didn’t want any visitors.

Regardless, you got up from the couch, opening the entrance without checking who was there.

You were surprised to see Viper, not looking very pleased to be here.

You quirked an eyebrow.

She sighed.

“Brimstone sees potential in you as an asset for the Protocol,” She announced, and you frowned at the wording.

From your understanding, she was also a founding member of the team.

Another question quickly arose by the timing of all of this.

“Were you waiting for me to get fired ?” You questioned, leaning on the doorframe.

She squinted.

“Recruitment is less of a hassle if the potential asset doesn’t have anything holding them back,” She replied, which answered your question.

“Do I have time to think it over ?” You asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“A week. Go to these coordinates if your answer is yes. Don’t come otherwise,” She said, handing you a piece of paper.

You nodded.

“Anything else ?”

“No,” She retorted, and you nodded, closing the door on her.

You leaned on the wood, staring at the item in your hands.

You really had nothing to lose.

Maybe joining them would be the best way for you to get to know the people that were a major part of Vincent’s life until recently.

It could be a way for you to get closer to him, in a weird way.

But it also meant that your rare opportunities to visit him would be even more scarce.

You had to think it over.

For the following week, you barely got out of your apartment, idly looking for jobs that would fit your resume, not looking at the news or any social media sites because well…

You knew what would be the hot topic, and you wanted to hear nothing of it.

It was hard to deal with the consequences of your actions, even if it was the right thing, as had been pointed out by your old boss.

The more time passed, the more appealing Viper’s offer became.

By the sixth day, your decision had been made.

So, you began packing your belongings, most of them consisting of gifts your childhood best friend had given you over the years.

You knew you would have to tell him, but if your memory was serving you right, he was still in between prisons.

You sighed.

Should you cancel the lease of your home ?

You would have to ask whoever was going to pick you up.

You woke up early on the last day, not because you wanted to, but rather because you couldn’t sleep.

Your circadian schedule had been fucked for a while.

You just couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

You headed towards the coordinates indicated on the paper, and realised it was a long way off Paris.

You drove in silence, not being able to listen to most of your music, almost all of them being associated with your best friend.

If you turned any of them on, you couldn’t guarantee yourself not to cry, which would be a safety hazard for you.

You ended up arriving at your destination, a small aerodrome that you didn’t know existed.

You parked, and you immediately saw two men walking towards you, both of whom you recognised to be Valorant agents.

“Glad we didn’t come all this way for nothing,” Announced the one you recognised to be Phoenix with a playful tone.

You nodded, smiling awkwardly.

“You took care of everything back home, yes ?” Asked a tall blond man, Sova, if you recalled correctly.

“Yeah,” You confirmed, and he hummed in acknowledgement as he took some of your luggage.

The British man took the remainder, and as the plane took off, the blond agent had a small smile.

“Welcome to the Protocol.”

—

It had been a few days since you had joined the Valorant agents as a permanent member, and slowly, you could feel the emptiness leaving you.

You were talking about knitting with Omen, since you had wanted to get into the hobby yourself.

He was much too eager to talk about it, if you could trust his lighter tone and the glowing of his…

Eyes ?

Were they eyes ?

“So, we went over the tools, but where should I start with knitting ?” You asked, jotting down some thoughts on your phone. “Are blankets easy to do at all ?” You questioned, ignoring the large amount of footsteps getting closer to you.

One pair stopped, and you would’ve continued to pay it no mind if you didn’t notice the controller’s gaze shifting to look behind you.

It must be important since you had managed to keep his attention on you throughout your conversation.

So, you turned around, barely registering the figure before you got pulled into a tight, strong hug.

You’d recognise that cologne anywhere.

“V ?” You breathed, immediately tearing up.

He didn’t answer, instead tightening his grip around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Coming to your senses, you hugged back, silent tears falling down your face.

Neither of you wanted to let go, you realised.

“How come you’re here ?” You whispered, still in disbelief.

“The Protocol struck a deal. I can continue to operate as an agent, but I do not have the authorization to go outside other than for missions,” He answered, holding you so tightly you’d think you would disappear if he even loosened his grip.

And nobody told you about…

You wanted to curse, but your frustration had very little space right now.

You were just glad to be able to spend time with him again.

He pulled his head away, catching your eyes.

Leaning in, he stopped a few centimetres away from your nose, your breaths melting into one.

“Can I kiss you ?” He asked, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You silently closed the gap, meeting his lips.

The kiss was full of untold love and desperation, of yearning and belonging.

You snaked your hands on his neck, deepening it.

His hands rested firmly on your hips, somehow pulling you even closer to his body.

You melted into his grasp, the emptiness that you had felt all this time long forgotten.

You broke away, out of breath.

You made eye contact, and you knew that look.

He was very close to just openly making out with you.

You had a light chuckle.

“Not here, V,” You answered his unspoken question as he leaned in, his hands lowering.

He smirked, knowing.

He surprised you by lifting you up and resting his hands on the underside of your thighs as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Let’s have fun somewhere else, then,” He announced, which made you blush.

And fun you had.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #valorant #x reader #gender neutral reader #one shot #requests open #chamber x you #chamber valorant #chamber x reader #hurt/comfort

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bicycle4two · 2 years ago

Text

fine as we are, but we want more || Jason Todd x Female!Reader || Chapter 1 of 8

Summary:

all things considered, you're pretty lucky.

in all your years living in gotham city, you've never been mugged, never had your apartment broken into, never been held as a hostage.

until now.

it seems your luck has run out and there's nothing you can do about it other than wait for someone to come rescue you. . . .

or, jason and you reunite after a long time.

Notes:

title's from "fools" by lauren aquilina

i haven't written fic in a good while and well, playing gotham knights made me want to write jason todd fic because i love him

this is mostly self indulgent, just scenes i wanted to write all crammed together. it's been a hot minute so i'm very rusty

hope you enjoy it though!

...

Read on AO3

...

Chapter 1:

You like to think that all things considered, you’re pretty lucky.

Living in Gotham is no walk in the park. You imagine that people don’t normally have to look over their shoulder as often as you do when you leave the comforts of your apartment. You think that maybe people outside of Gotham don’t play Bad Guy Bingo with their friends, checking to see if they’ve got the wining row of cliches and chaos on their way home.

One night, you found yourself texting BINGO to your group chat within thirty minutes of leaving the café, having witnessed a bunch of Freaks setting fire to the streets—obviously just because they can—while trying to break open an armored truck’s door. It didn’t take long before Nightwing somersaulted into the scene and quickly beat the group to the ground, quite literally, if you do say yourself.

It was the description of Nightwing’s spectacular entrance that caused your win. Your friends tend to forget the theatrics of the hero.

Anyway. For all the years you’ve been living in Gotham, walking its streets, and being witness to the disorder and mayhem that the city seems to be victim to much too often, you’d been lucky. Your apartment has never been broken into, you’ve never had your purse stolen in broad daylight, nor have you been held at gunpoint.

Maybe you were born with the knack of always being in the right place at the right time. Or maybe, just maybe, you had someone looking out for you.

At least, that’s what if felt like a few years ago.

You wonder if anyone else has noticed that the Robin they see fighting on the streets, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, was not the original Robin.

You’ve heard stories of the Batman for years, practically grew up watching the news cover his fights with major threats like the Joker and the Riddler, and he almost seemed like a fairytale—the dark hero that keeps the monsters from coming to get you in the night. It wouldn’t surprise you if no one questioned the child, now teenager, fighting alongside him, maybe because he seemed like a myth, too. You remember the time Robin first appeared alongside the Dark Knight, flipping over bad guys with a boyish laugh only to hit them where it hurts when they least expect it.

You remember the first Robin and you’ve met, befriended, maybe even loved (if teenage you even knew what that meant, what that entailed) the second.

Your Robin.

The boy who fought with strength that seemed to come from someone much bigger than himself.

You were a couple months into your freshmen year of high school when you first ran into him.

You were once again out late at night, not your choice, really, the library had run out of paper and you really needed to photocopy several chapters from a first edition (something you cannot check out) for your homework, and were just about to take a short cut through an alley when you stumbled into something you were sure you were going to see all over social media tomorrow.

Robin stood with his back to you, his attention on four grown men in different states of collapse. Two were face down on the ground, hands zip tied behind their back. One was leaning against a dumpster, eyes unfocused and drool and blood dripping from his mouth. The last was dangling upside down from the fire escape. He was missing a shoe and his jacket was slipping off his arms.

You were so focused on taking in the sight of it all (it really is different witnessing something in person than seeing it on a screen) that you didn’t realize that Robin was now looking at you, a curious frown on his face.

“I wouldn’t go down here if I were you,” he said, forcing your attention to him, thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the scene behind him like he needed to clarify what he was talking about.

“I, I need to get home,” you told him, almost embarrassed by how small your voice sounded. After all, it wasn’t every day you got to talk to Robin. “It’s, uh, faster through here.”

“Faster doesn’t always mean safer.” Robin gestured to the bodies behind him again, emphasizing the scene once more. “If that wasn’t obvious.”

“Good thing I wasn’t here a minute too soon then,” you let out a huff. You wanted to take his advice, you really did, but again, you needed to get home and it was only getting later. “I doubt there’re more hiding around the corner there… maybe if I’m quick…”

“I think it would be better if you stick to where the light is, Miss.” There was a bit of impatience laced in his tone. You figured that Robin had better places to be now that his job here was done. There was only more crime to stop in Gotham. “Or, I don’t know, maybe call someone to get you.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from pouting at his insistence that you don’t take the shortcut. You really didn’t want to be picked up and lectured if you could help it. There was a reason why you chose to walk home despite the risks.

“But that could take like thirty minutes. Can’t you just, I don’t know, escort me? Isn’t that like in your guidelines?”

The Boy Wonder let out a short, surprised laugh. The restless energy he was exuding fading. “Guidelines?”

“Yeah.” You perked up as well, glad that he no longer seemed like he was trying to get rid of you. “Superheroes save cats from trees and help old ladies cross the street. Things like that.”

“I must have missed the memo,” Robin said, grinning. “It really says that?”

“Yup. Pretty sure I’ve read it in Superheroing for Dummies or something.” You gave him a smile. “So, what do you say?”

The boy put his hand on his hip, a sort of thinking pose, you guessed, before he shrugged his shoulder. “Oh, what the heck,” he said under his breath. “C’mon. What kind of hero would I be if I don’t make sure you get home safely?”

And he did get you home in one piece, his presence reassuring and comforting on the walk back to your old apartment building.

You didn’t expect him to make small talk, he looked like the type who was comfortable in silence, preferred it, but he asked about the papers you had cradled in your arms and surprised you with some recommendations for your paper, suggested other books to look into. When you reached the front steps of the building, keys out to unlock the door, you didn’t even have the chance to thank him before he disappeared into the night. You looked into the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of him but, alas, all you saw was darkness.

With a sigh of disappointment, you figured that maybe that was the last time you would see the Boy Wonder.

But then you caught sight of him right before the bank down the street practically burst into flames, people in heavy body armor running out with bags of money, and you watched him jump down from an impressive height, landing a kick on a goon twice his size.

And, again, you saw him brooding on one of the buildings you walked past on your way home, almost missing him if not for the chill that went down your spine, the telltale sign that you were being watched. Once you saw how his brightly colored suit looked in contrast with the dark skies of Gotham, it got easier to spot him running on top of buildings before disappearing into the shadows.

And again, and again, and again, outside the library’s doors, back against the wall, waiting for you.

“It’s late,” he would say, like this wasn’t the first time he’d wait for you to finish your schoolwork.

He said it like it was a coincidence that he was there, like he hadn’t waited for you about a dozen times before—in front of the school’s gates after you stayed back to decorate the classroom for the holidays, by the bus stop when you returned to the city after a weekend at your grandparents, behind the gazebo in the park when you stayed out late into the night just because being at home was too stifling.

“Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

“And leave you with nothing to do during your patrol?” You smiled when he took your backpack from you, the weight of your borrowed books practically nothing to him. “We all know how quiet Gotham is at night.”

“Safest city in the country.” He agreed before a thoughtful look passed over his features.

It was a familiar sight and you stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak.

Your friendship with the Boy Wonder (confirmed after a particularly awkward conversation that involved a lot of uhms and uhs and flushed faces) was special, unique—the kind of friendship that you were pretty sure you’d trust him with your secrets, your life, but he couldn’t return the favor, because of course he couldn’t, but you still trusted him and he still tried, tried to give you what he could, so you waited for him to gather his thoughts and put it into words that he could say.

“You’re…,” he began, clearing his throat. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“I don’t think I am. I do live on like the tenth floor. Why?”

Robin pulled out what you’d come to know as a grappling hook from his back, waving it with a grin on his face. It didn’t take you even a second to know what he was trying to say, and you found yourself returning his excited look.

“No. Can we, really?”

“Just hold tight,” he said as his only warning, arm suddenly tight around your waist, forcing you to press close to his side, your arms immediately wrapping around him before he lifted the grappling hook and shot upwards, sending you both into the midnight sky of Gotham, laughter lost in the wind.

A year into knowing Robin, he handed you what you at first thought was simply a keychain shaped like a bat. The visit started with him practically scaring you out of your seat, pointing out a misspelling you had in your research paper, his face so close to yours that you caught a whiff of his mint toothpaste in his breath.

“Jesus.” You breathed out, heart practically in your throat. You heard him laugh behind you, footsteps walking away. With a quick glance at the clock on your desk you saw that you’ve been working on your paper for a good couple of hours, so focused that you’ve literally lost track of time and your surroundings.

“Hello to you, too, Robin,” you said to him with a roll of your eyes, pushing your chair back and turning to look at him. He’s climbed into your room through the window again, tracking the dirt and grime from Gotham’s streets onto your fluffy rug.

“Here,” he said, tossing the keychain over his back. You barely caught it, jumping out of your chair to keep it from clattering to the ground, glaring at him when you have it safely in your hands. “Keep this with you, will ya?”

“And what is this?” You looked it over, thumb gliding over the metal finish. The wings felt sharp enough to slice through your skin if you weren’t careful.

“Good luck charm.” Robin said with a shrug, purposely not looking at you. “Might save you one day.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” You asked even though you saw the button. It reminded you of those anti-crime buzzers the school handed out at the beginning of the year. You had yours hanging on your backpack, unused, luckily.

Robin finally looked at you and frowned deeply, unamused, when he saw the look on your face. You knew that he knew that you knew what it was, what you were supposed to do with it when the time came, but you wanted him to explain it to you anyway, just to show that he cared. You watched him struggle with himself for a minute before he let out a grumble, marching over to you.

You immediately realized that you’d miscalculated your teasing because Robin was in front of you, standing close as he flipped the bat in your hands. You looked at him through your lashes, took in his features up close. You thought that his nose was slightly crooked, probably from being broken a few times, and there was a cut on his lip that was healing nicely. You remembered when it was fresh and bleeding, half his face discolored from a blossoming bruise, and you were rightly horrified at the sight, never thinking that Robin would crawl through your window, hands on his bruised ribs, cape and uniform dirty and torn.

It was nerve wracking having to patch him back up to the best of your ability with your makeshift First Aid kit. And keeping an eye on him as he slept over the covers of your bed, the sun only just beginning to rise, waiting for your alarm to ring. He had promptly passed out after a quick call to, you want to say Batman to reassure him that he was alive and that he’d be home soon. You promised that you’d wake him before morning so that he could go back to the Bat Cave.

(Bat Cave! You never would have thought such a thing existed.)

You let him sleep in just a bit longer, scared that he’d probably collapse on his way to homebase.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Robin wasn’t indestructible. That like you, he was only human.

And he was young.

It was fairly easy to see that he was your age, voice young but had definitely already cracked before you’d met. You were about the same height, but you could already see that in time—probably sooner than you’d like—he’d outgrow you, shoot up like bean and gloat about it for the foreseeable future.

But for now, for now you were the same height, and if Robin were to look up from your hands to see if you understood his explanation—there really wasn’t much to say, really, just press the button when you’re in danger and he’d come save you—you’d find that everything would align—you’d be eye to eye, nose to nose, and lips to lips.

The thought caused you to blush and take a step away from him when he did look up.

“Press the button, gotcha,” you said, clearing your throat. The room was warmer all of a sudden, but the weight of the key chain felt heavy in your hand—it scared you to think that one day you were going to have to use it.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Robin said, voice soft, clearly catching the change in your mood, practically read your mind. “Angel,” he held your hand tightly in his, grounding you. “No matter what, I’ll come to you, okay? Nothing can stop me from coming back to you.”

“Promise?” You asked, looking him in the eyes. Or in the mask. The whites of his domino mask hid one of the biggest secrets you’d always wanted to know.

“I promise,” he swore and a moment between you two, both unmoving, eye to eye, passed before he cleared his throat, red blossoming on his cheeks. You felt the same warmth on your own, but you didn’t look away from him. He probably felt the weight of his words in that moment, realized the kind of promise he’s made. But he didn’t take it back. Instead, he tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal.

“Besides,” he said, grin forming on his lips once again. “If you’re lucky you’ll never have to use it.”

And you were lucky, for the most part.

You kept the keychain with you, fashioned it into a necklace when you figured that if you were in any danger, your bag and phone would probably be the first to go. You never had to use it, thankfully, never found yourself in a situation that called for it.

But oh, was it tempting. Because although you and Robin were friends, it wasn’t like you could send him a text or an email and ask if he wanted to meet up for a movie. Or you could if only you had his contact details.

Apparently, friends of vigilantes aren’t exactly privy to that kind of information. Like his name or what he really looks like.

So, yes, it was tempting to use, what you fondly called, the bat buzzer because you knew it would bring Robin to you and maybe it would make him mad, make him think that you’re in danger, but some nights when the pressure from your parents and school and maybe just life in general was too much, you wished there was an easier way to get Robin to your side, to have him be with you if only just to listen to you rant or hold you when you cry.

But you wouldn’t do that to him. No. You wouldn’t abuse the power of the buzzer like that. You wouldn’t take Robin’s attention away from what could be something important just to keep you company.

So, the bat stayed around your neck, the metal cool against your skin, as you waited for the next time you would see Robin again.

And wait you did.

You waited for him. You waited for him outside the library, looked out for him when the sky grew dark on your way home, and stayed by your window, eyes scanning roof tops in the hopes that you’d see the bright red of his uniform.

You waited for what felt like a lifetime, worried when for a time after Batman sent Joker to Arkham in a full body cast, you’d see pictures of the Dark Knight on your feed, alone, fighting crime without the Boy Wonder by his side. You wanted to use the buzzer then, just to see him, to see if he was alright. But something told you that even if you pressed the button he wasn’t going to come.

And the thought of that made your chest cold, made your heart hurt in a way that made you understand why they described it as broken, so to ease the pain, you decided that maybe not knowing was better than knowing. That if you never called for him, there was still a possibility that somewhere out there, he was okay and, in time, maybe, hopefully, he’d come back.

So, you left the button alone and waited.

Waited until images popped up online of a costumed boy with a familiar R on his brightly colored suit fighting off bad guys with a bō staff.

It was Robin.

Only, he wasn’t your Robin.

And maybe that was the confirmation that you needed that if you were to push the button, your Robin wasn’t going to come.

But right now, on the cold hard floor of the cage you’re in, with music blaring from the speakers that the Freaks dragged into the building, you wonder if you should take that risk.

You hear the moans and cries of the other hostages, pleading for someone to save them, hear the taunting of the Freaks as they tell you that no one was going to come, and you wonder what would happen if you pushed the button on the bat’s back.

Because what was there to lose? Your luck has run out. You were taken in the night and now you’re forced to listen to awful heavy metal music and stare up at your captor’s made up face, his awful excuse of clown make up smeared from sweat and grime, and you think that this isn’t how you want to go, that this freak isn’t the last thing you want to see, that this noise isn’t the last thing you want to hear, and God forbid this stench is the last thing you’re going to smell, so with nothing else to lose, you bring out the bat around your neck and push the button down as hard as you can.

And you wait.

...

Chapter 2

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inspiredwriter · 3 months ago

Note

Mayhem Leo :*se acerca a Stefany y pone la cubeta de pollo* mira mi amor te traje una cubeta de pollo para nosotros ☺️😉🍗💞❣️💕

Mayhem Stefany :*mueve sus orejas* gracias tortuguita no sabía también cantaba el pollo como yo🥰🤭🍗💘💗💖

Mayhem Leo :*se rasca la cabeza* jajaja, sí es que siempre como Pizza todo el tiempo 😀😅🍕*se sienta al lado de Stefany*pero a mí también me encanta el pollo KFC es el mejor del mundo 😁😋🍗💞💗 vamos mi gatita quiero que lo pruebes😃☺️💘💕💖

Mayhem Stefany : tranquilo Lee, voy a probarlo😊😌🩷💗💞💝*toma la pierna de Pollo y la come*Mmm, Miau~😺😋💕❣️ está súper delicioso cariño 😋😄🍗💖❣️💗

Mayhem Leo : te dije que te gustaría amor come pollo en nuestra cita 🥰😏💞💘💗*toma la pierna de Pollo y la come y se mancha Sálsa*Mmmm~😋😄🍗💖💕(pensamientos💭) Ups, me manché la boca con salsa tengo que limpiarme😣😅💦 No no Leo no vas a limpiarte, Stefany me puede limpiarme con un beso😈😏💋💓💘💝

***

Mayhem Mikey :*se acerca a Anastasia con la pizza* aquí está la deliciosa Pizza para mi bella princesa Anastasia 😏😘🍕💝❣️💗💕

Mayhem Anastasia : jajaja, Bueno gracias por traer la pizza mi príncipe esto se ve muy delicioso de pepperoni 😃😋🍕💝🩷❣️veo que te gusta mucho la pizza😃☺️🍕💓💗💞

Mayhem Mikey :*Oh vamos nena sabes que tantos años me gusta comer pizza😁😋💕💝🩷*se sienta al lado de Anastasia*cuando salvarmos la ciudad me hicieron una pizza con mi nombre La llamaron la pizza de Miguel Ángel con queso😃🤩🍕✨

Mayhem Anastasia : es muy interesante mi amor veamos cómo sabe la pizza 😄🥰🍕💖💗💞*toma una rebanada de pizza y la come* Mmm, santo cielo está muy sabrosísimo😍😋🍕❣️💕❣️

Mayhem Mikey : te dije que te gustaría mucho nena 😏😉💖💞💝*toma una rebanada de pizza y la coma se mancha de salsa* Ay, creo que me manché de salsa de tomate 😖😌🍅 trajiste las servilletas 😅🤭🧻💓💕💗

***

Mayhem Raph :*se acerca a Candy* listo mi conejita traje mi hamburguesa y la tuya vegetariana con papas😏😘🍔🍟🥬💖💞💗❣️

Mayhem Candy : muchas gracias mi osito de peluche 🥰☺️❣️💕🩷💝*se agacha las orejas*te agradezco que traigas la hamburguesa vegetariana Es que no como carne soy vegetaliana😳😅🥕🥩🚫💓💕

Mayhem Raph :*se sienta al lado de Candy*Está bien mi caramelito no te avergüences 😟🥺💕💗💝❣️*acaricia a Candy en la mejilla*no me importa si eres vegetariana que no comes carne yo te amo como eres 😘🥰💘💖💞

Mayhem Candy :*mueve sus orejas* Oh qué lindo eres Raphfi 🥹😍❣️💕💗*besa a Raph en la mejilla* Muah~😚💋💘💝💖¿Puedes pasarme las papas fritas? 🙂😄🍟💓💗💕

Mayhem Raph : tengo la mejor idea de darte la papas fritas 😈😏🍟💖💞❣️*toma una papa y la pone en su boca*Mmm~😚😘💘💝💓💕

***

Mayhem Donnie :*se acerca a April* aquí tienes mi Sirenita tu café con leche con malvaviscos extra 😘😁☕💝💞💖❣️

Mayhem April : Muchas gracias mi genio supiste que era mi café favorito🥰😄☕💗💓💕💘*resive el café y la bebe*Mmm~😊😄❣️💞💝 ¿pero no trajiste nuestra comida? 😕😟🥯

Mayhem Donnie :*se sienta al lado de April* Oh si, pedí los rollos de canela pero dijeron que lo van a calentarlos hay que esperar😄😊🥯☕💓💗💕*bese su café*Mmm~☺️😋💖💝💞

Mayhem April :*mirá a Donnie*jajajaja, Donnie veo que hiciste un bigote de leche en tus labios 😆🥸💕💓💝

Mayhem Donnie :*se sonroja* En serio qué vergonzoso 😳🤭💝💖💞¿me podrías limpiarme mi amor? 🥰😉💘❣️💗

@inspiredwriter

Mayhem Stefany: *Wags her tail* Oh, Lee, haha, I guess you won't mind if I help clean the sauce off your cute face😯🤭💗💘💞 *Kisses Leo on the lips* Mmmuah~😚💋💖💓💝💞

***

Mayhem Anastasia: I don't need a napkin to clean your lips, my sugar boy😉🥰🧻💗❣️💘💕 *Kisses Mikey on the lips* Mmmuah~😚💋💖💝💞💕

***

Mayhem Candy: Aww, Raphi, you're the best boy I ever know😍😄💓💝❣️💞 *Eats a free potato and kisses Raph on the liph* Mmmh~😋💗💕💖 Mmmuah~😚💋💝💘💞

***

Mayhem April: Of course, I'll help you, my sweetie😘🥰💘💗🩷💞 *Kisses Donnie on the lips* Mmmua~😚💋💕💘💖💝

@swagreecrow

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cottonlemonade · 6 months ago

Text

Aoba Johsai Masterlist

____________________________________________

Oikawa Tooru

🌧️ How You Met (Not Enough) word count: 2.5k, pining

🪭🌧️ If He Could word count: 937, pining, University!AU

🌧️ He Misses You When He Travels [drabble]

🪭 Stuck At The Airport word count: 1k, established relationship, post-time skip

🌧️ All That Matters word count: 1.8k, pining, fake dating kinda, University!AU

🌧️🫧 Scattered Belongings word count: 769, implied pining, University!AU

🫧 Studying With Oikawa [drabble]

🌧️ Making Up After A Fight word count: 756, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 Take Out and Make Out word count: 850, new relationship, University!AU

🫧 Protecting A Rival 🍋 word count: 1k, rivals to lovers-implied

🪭 Celebrating An Anniversary [drabble]☕️

🫧 Chickening Out word count: 630

🫧 Keep Your Enemies Close 🍱 word count: 1.4k, enemies to lovers

🫧 Part-timing At Your Café [drabble]

Iwaizumi Hajime

🪭 POV: you wake up from a spicy dream [drabble] smau, established relationship, aged up

🪭 I Missed You word count: 1.3k, married, post-time skip

🫧 The One That Got Away word count: 1.1k, exes to lovers, post-time skip

🪭 Working From Home ☕️ word count: 656, married, post-time skip

🫧 Secret Admirer 🍱 word count: 1k

🫧 Scary Dog Privileges [drabble]

Hanamaki Takahiro

🫧 When You’re Sick [drabble] ☕️

🫧 Red String Of Fate ☕️ word count: 585, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 When You’re On Your Period [drabble] ☕️

Matsukawa Issei

🪭 The Coziness Of Storagerooms 🍋 word count: 882, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧 500 yen [drabble]

🪭 Noisy Neighbors 🍋 word count: 603, married, post-time skip

🍡 Celebrating An Anniversary ☕️ word count: 774, married, post-time skip

🫧Mayhem At The Festival 🍱 word count: 630

🫧 Wingman On Crutches 🍱 word count: 571

🍡 The Dare 🍱 word count: 551

🪭 Heatwave 🍋 word count: 1.3k, pining

🫧🍡 First Date 🎃 word count: 1k, University!AU

Kyotani Kentaro

🫧🍡 Dracula And His Damsel 🎃 word count: 1135, established relationship, post-time skip

🫧🪭 Payback 🎓 word count: 923, established relationship, university!AU

____________________________________________

🫧 fluff // 🌱 comfort // 🍡 suggestive // 🪭 spice // 🌧️ angst/hurt // 🍋|☕️|🍱|🎃 request

____________________________________________

back to the main masterlist

#oikawa x chubby reader #iwaizumi x chubby reader #matsukawa x chubby reader #hanamaki x chubby reader #makki x chubby reader #mattsun x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu smut #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #kyotani x chubby reader

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citrus-blade · 1 year ago

Note

Villain Techno tells hero to choose between City and lover (=Dream) and hero chooses City and Techno goes crazy (he secretly loves dream)

I was so excited when I got this request! I gave Techno some superpowers inspired by Piglin AND Blood God stuff! George (the hero)’s power are Glitch Inspired! And Dream is just a normal human, hope you enjoy! :]

Word: 1.530

Techno hated him, he hated him so so much. All he wanted was to show the world how horrible the government was they all lived under, how capitalism ruined everything and how the ‘World’s leaders’ did not care about the smaller people. Anarchy was a way to do it, fighting for freedom and equal rights was what he was fighting for almost every night.

Techno – or in his villain form called ‘Blood God’ – was out most nights of his life to cause mayhem and try to get people’s attention to everything that was actually bad. His enemy was 404, a so called ‘Hero’ who stopped him whenever he could which was, well, always. So far.

But Techno had a plan, he had seen something he shouldn’t have. You see, during the day Techno was a writer, had finished studying a year ago and his first book just hit the book stores and they loved it. It was fantasy based with obvious criticism on society and more, just hidden in a world that didn’t exist.

His favorite place to spent time and write was a small café, this was also where he changed most of the time. Because even though most of his villain stuff happened at night, he sometimes also ran around during the day. And he wasn’t alone. He had friends with him, working with him, other so called ‘Villains’ as the government called them. Their identity was unknown to him and they didn’t aspire as much as he did and simply wanted to cause chaos and get some money out of it. But any help was good for his end goal.

So yeah, some of his friends were causing chaos near the cafe that was also near the city’s university. A lot of student were around and one of them Techno knew just to well. Dream, another student majoring in English, he was in his last year. Techno got to know him through after school activities in his final year and befriended him. And well, got a crush on the man.

It was a secret, no one knew about it and this was a good thing, especially Dream couldn’t know. The blond student was really sweet, always looked like a freshly washed teddy bear with his curls and sweaters and almost always smiled. However, one time when they were studying together in the library Dream had mentioned a boyfriend, which had soured Techno’s mood and possible advance towards the man.

But even though Dream always praised him and said how nice he was, he never brought him to parties or anything. Dream always said he lived far away and he couldn’t just come over whenever, but that they called a lot. It was fishy and for some time Techno thought this was all a lie that he made up so he wasn’t embarrassed about being single. Yet one night, when they were drunk and alone, Techno asked Dream about it but the answer stayed the same.

‘I miss my boyfriend, he is amazing and I wished you all could meet him.’

It was all Techno needed as confirmation that said boyfriend was real. Techno gave up on Dream that day, this was a few months ago.

Now Techno was looking out the window, watched the chaos spread, building get damaged and debris falling. Glitch – his enemy – was swinging through the city and shooting arrows at ‘Poet’ – one of Techno’s villain companions. And then there was Dream, running through the streets to look for a place to hide.

Within a second Techno was out of his seat, running out the café and after the blond who ran over the street, watching Glitch fight. Techno ran after him in all the chaos, until suddenly a piece of debris fell from a building towards Dream. Before Techno could react Glitch was there, shooting an arrow at the debris and making it glitch a few feet away. He scooped Dream up and jumped away with him, Techno secretly followed.

Then he saw it, Glitch holding Dream close, Dream leaning against him with worried eyes. Glitch kissing Dream?! And with the way the blond looked at him, with love and adoration? Suddenly everything made sense, Dream hiding his boyfriend yet saying he was a good person. Glitch – the fucking superhero and Techno’s enemy – was Dream’s boyfriend.

And that’s how they ended up in this situation. Techno had planned for so long and had two buttons in his hands while standing on a tall building. “Choose, Glicht,” he said as the Blood God, smirking at the so called hero in front of him. Behind Techno was Dream, hanging over an abyss, ready to fall to his death. But there was also the city, filled with underground and hidden TNT placed their by Poet. “The city or your lover!”

For Techno it was obvious, no city should be more important to you than the person you loved, there shouldn’t be any hesitation. And there wasn’t, Glitch answered in a second without wasting much time. However, it wasn’t the answer Techno wanted to hear. “The city!” Glitch yelled, glaring at the Blood God.

Techno’s eyes widened after the pig skull he wore to hide his identity, staring at his sworn enemy. He had to take a step back in shock, glancing at Dream who was crying, staring at Glitch as well before letting his head hang in resignation, accepting his fate. Anger rose in Techno’s blood, the ground under him starting to shake as he turned back to the so called Hero.

“You’d sacrifice your lover for the city?!” He yelled, showing off his fangs as he stepped closer, Glitch getting into fighting stance.

“Of course! That’s the only right decision!” He defended himself, searching for his bow that he had lost before. “I can’t sacrifice thousands of people for one person just because it’s personal! You have to understand it!”

“I would sacrifice the world for him!” Screamed the Blood God, making everyone freeze. Dream’s eyes widened as he looked up, tears still running down his cheek. Maybe Techno had said too much, revealed too much of his own personal feelings towards the blond man. “You’re pathetic, Glitch!” And as Techno was about to press the button to destroy the city and finally do what he always wanted to, he was stopped by a gun shot.

A loud scream fell off his lips as he fell to his knees, letting go of the button and holding onto his shoulder instead. He hadn’t even noticed the sniper on the other building, aiming at him. “Blood God!” Dream yelled, looking worried for the man. Techno almost laughed at that, he had captured Dream and pretended to sacrifice him and yet the man was worried for him.

Before another bullet could hit him Techno pressed the button for Dream, the crane he hang onto let go of him. But before he could actually fall, Techno jumped down the building, catching Dream in his arms – wincing from the wound he had just gained but still holding him – and used his powers to glide away. Behind him Poet and Angel of Death were making sure no one would follow them, distracting the police and Glitch.

Once they were safely on the ground Techno let Dream down, freeing him from the ropes he had tied around him. “Go home, hurry or-” Techno was cut off when arms wrapped around him pulling him in a hug. He froze at first, confused by the action before his own arms mirrored the motion, holding onto the blond tightly.

“Thank you,” Dream whispered right in his ear.

“For what…?”

“You never planned on sacrificing me and actually put me first,” Dream stepped back, tears still visible on his cheek, yet a smile breached his lips. “Something Glitch would never do, I understand his stance but… but it’s still nice someone out here loves me more than morals.”

Techno looked at him, dumbfounded, before he took Dream’s hands and squeezed them in his own. “Become one of mine,” he blurted out, voice monotone.

“Wh-What?!” Dream asked confused, eyes wide.

“We could take over the city together, bring justification to the people and overthrow the government. Together no one could ever stop us, I know it!”

Dream stared at him for a few seconds before he started laughing wholeheartedly out of his chest, now different kind of tears shimmering in his eyes. Yet he didn’t let go of Techno’s hands, squeezed them instead and stepped a bit closer. “You’re cute, but I don’t think I’m build to be a villain.” Before Techno could protest he felt lips on his cheek, just for a second before Dream finally let go and stepped back, smile on his lips and blushy cheeks. “I should leave and you should check on that wound,” he pointed out before he waved. “See you soon, Blood God.”

And then he was gone, running away towards his apartment and all Techno could do was watch him, cheeks burning. He knew, in this moment, that they were made for each other. Dream and him would take over the world, it was only a matter of time.

#dreamnoblade #anon #dnb #dreamnoblade fanfiction #citrus writes #cw violence

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