Sneaky sideblog for snippets centered around enemies to lovers scenarios. Most snippets/series will be romantic. I like my villains dangerous and my relationships slow burning, unconventional, and a little twisted. Fantasy/sci-fi and fics with named characters will be occasionally thrown in (and tagged). Asks/prompt ideas are welcomed but filled (or not filled) at my whim. Side blog for explict and smutty fic is pinned in my story masterpost
Smut and Explicit fic can now by found on my side blog: a-bigger-phrooblem
Tag breakdown on fics:
#enemies to lovers = fic with a romantic endgame
#spicy = suggestive to M rated/fade to black content. I will never post explicit smut on this blog.
#kissing = has kissing in this particular snippet
#dark = dark themes such a violence, threats, coercion ect. Typical villain stuff.
Fics
Sisyphus:
Synopsis: Hero is tired of the fight. Turns out, Villain is too.
Let Me See You Lose Control:
Synopsis: prompt fill. "Go on," the antagonist dared, eyes bright and gleaming. "Let me see you lose control."
#enemies to lovers, #spicy #kissing
Terms of Surrender -- Finished!
Synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates.
#enemies to lovers
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
You Could Have Just Asked
Part One Part Two
Synopsis: protagonist makes a deal with their villainous (and distant) cousin for control of the family fortune after the death of their parents
#dark #enemies to lovers #fake dating #marriage of convenience #kissing
Mutually Assured Destruction -- Finished!
Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.
#enemies to lovers, #dark, #spicy (part 10) #kissing
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Deathtouched -- Finished!
Synopsis: Hero, a person who's power nullifies other powers, is the only person who can touch Villain, a person who kills whatever he touches. When Villain shows up at the Agency hell bent on revenge on Supervillain, Hero is the only one who can stop him.
#enemies to lovers #kissing #dark
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Kidnapped by the Boss
synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.
#enemies to lovers #dark #kissing (in later chapters)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
A Goblin Bride
Synopsis: Once her sister is safely eloped and out of the Goblin King's clutches, the protagonist waits for his revenge. Things take an unexpected turn
Surrender Prompts
Synopsis: a series of prompt fills for the voluntary surrender prompts by @ wither-wander-whump Each prompt has it's own set of tags/CW. General tags are: #whump, #captivity #dark
Part One, Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Arranged Marriage Prompt fill
Prompt by the modern typewriter. #Villain x Hero #suggestive #enemies to lovers #dark
CW: vague mention of non-con (villain describing to hero what other people would do to her that he would not)
A Favor for a Favor
Synopsis: When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.
#enemies to lovers #dark villain #kissing #spicy
CW: non-consensual drugging (not by villain) sexual content, kidnapping, murder mention, named characters, male villain x female hero
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 AO3 link
Retirement
Synopsis: After years of building his criminal empire, Villain has only one desire left: to walk away, preferably with his spy and the only person he trusts.
#enemies and lovers #villain x henchman, #villain x villain #soft
A Lost Cause
Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?
CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, mentions of wounds from torture, needles and IV insertion mention (this fic is gonn have a lot of CW)
#villain x civilian #enemies to lovers (sort of?) #dark #whump #spicy
Part one Part 2
A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find
Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.
CW: Death threats, knives
#enemies to lovers #villain x civilian #named characters #angsty #male x male
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
The Promise:
An officer of the Empire makes an offer of marriage to his former friend, now a rebel and his enemy, to honor an old promise they had when they were street orphans.
CW: enemies to lovers, kissing in later parts, marriage of convenience
Requests
Drowning Hero Ask
Part 2
Synopsis: Ask prompt that requested hero nearly drowning in water during villain fight and villain rescuing them
#enemies to lovers #male hero/male villain #fluffy (kind of) #kissing
I wrote some more to Love Thy Enemy Part 6 today! I’ll try to do even more, but in the meantime I found this pretty picrew so I made Vorrin and Callista!
This is the picrew for anyone else who wants to use it. I will definitely be using it for more characters.
Also, I’ve been daydreaming them to the music I’m listening to, and I realized the song Woke Up from Adventure Time fits them so well, especially for future events when Vorrin starts to like Callista but then stuff happens to erase all their progress again.
I couldn’t find a good male cover that I really really like, so I’ll just share the original version. You guys imagine Vorrin as the perspective singer.
I know you haven’t posted in a while and I wanted to check up on you and let you know that you’re supported here. I really like all of your works, seriously, my heart is given a little squeeze every time I read anything of yours.
Anyway <3 have a good day
Hello!
Thank you for reaching out and checking in on me! I have been writing, but got inspired on my other fanfic account to finish some of my stories. I wrapped up this summer my fic I started 7 years ago and now it clocks at like 350k lol. Now I'm obsessed with that fandom again and writing more!
It has gotten me out of a major slump and I'm hoping that will carry over to my hero x villain stuff because I do miss it and this community.
So, FYI you guys, sometimes if you go to your favorite writers and flail at them a lot about how much you love their fics with lots of specific examples, they will let you read thousands of words of their unpublished WIPs and you can flail even more. Also sometimes after that you get to be friends, too, and help them come up with ideas. And vice versa! This is pretty much the best thing in the world and it is called fandom.
One of the things I loved about college writing group was that we were basically a mini fandom for each others books. It was always so fun to meet every week and get the latest chapter and fangirl and then have them fan over my books right back. I even have a t-shirt with a reference from one of my friend’s books on it 😁
But yes, having people to be a fan of your work and vice versa is so motivating the writing spirit.
Synopsis: Val is a secretary to the Prime Minister. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.
Part one here
Part seven here
Val could tell now Rook’s knocks from those of the servants. He rapped at the door in exactly three staccato beats — almost as a warning rather than an announcement because he would open the door anyway if she didn’t answer it within a few seconds. Thus, she didn’t bother rising from the edge of the bed where she sat.
The door swung open moments later and he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.
“My king has had breakfast sent for. You’re invited to join but he stresses that it’s optional,” he announced, sounding almost bored.
She snorted. “Is it now? That’s a first.”
Yesterday she spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in her room. The invitation to explore no longer tempted her. She wanted to hide instead. The irony of this was not lost on her. Rook had delivered her dinner, citing that the king was too busy to actually have a sit down meal.
Whether that was true or the king simply didn’t want to deal with her theatrics, Val would never know. Rook stayed long enough to ensure she ate a healthy portion before leaving. He didn’t bother her with small talk, which she was grateful for.
“If you decline, I’m to have it sent to your rooms and babysit your eating habits,” Rook added unhappily.
She almost wanted to make him do it out of sheer spite.
“I’ll come,” she said instead.
She couldn’t hide forever, as tempting as that could be sometimes. And she was tired of feeling afraid.
Rook raised his eyebrows at her, clearly surprised at her answer.
“After you,” he said with a little bow, gesturing past him.
“Such a gentleman,” she said as she walked past.
“It’s so I can shoot you in the back if you try anything.”
“Of course it is,” she muttered.
By the time they returned to the king’s study, breakfast was already spread out on the table. What mess she made on the carpet yesterday had disappeared, as if it had never happened. But judging from the cautious smile on Aris’s face, he hadn’t forgotten either.
“Good morning, Val,” he said, pulling her chair out for her. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she replied with a side eye glance at him. As if she wouldn’t recognize his Politician Voice a mile away.
“I slept like shit,” Rook piped up. “Thanks for asking.”
Val choked on a laugh and covered it up in a bite of toast.
“You always sleep poorly,” said Aris. “It’s because you don’t shut both eyes.”
“The last time I slept with both eyes closed, someone nearly shot my hand off.”
“Well that’s what happens when you don’t shut your mouth before going to sleep,” Val added, taking an innocent sip of coffee.
“You’re fucking hilarious,” he snapped.
She smirked. “Thank you.”
“Is this going to be a pattern?” Aris asked, somewhat exasperated.
Val and Rook shrugged in unison and then shot each other wary looks. It was eerie how different they both were and yet could act in unison without a second thought.
Aris gave them both a speculative look. “I see,” he said, before settling his attention back on her.
For the rest of breakfast, they made painfully awkward small talk. Val refused to engage fully, giving Aris terse answers and not contributing anything in between digs at Rook. If he wasn’t such a bastard, she suspected he sniped at her for the distraction. She could almost muster up some gratitude for him.
“And what are your plans today, Val?” Aris asked.
By then they had eaten most of the spread. Rather than answer, she turned to Rook instead.
“Can I talk to him?” she asked.
He gestured to Aris. “Nothing is stopping you.”
“Alone,” she added.
He went still at that, his gaze sharpening, eyes roaming over her features. It felt like getting scanned with a laser.
“My king?” he asked, looking over her head.
“It’s fine, Rook. Meet us in the hallway, if you would.”
Rook slowly stood from his chair, the languid posture disappearing for something dangerous and predatory.
“Only because her right hook sucks,” he added, the joke at odds with a warning look in his eye. Almost like a professional courtesy.
The door shut with a soft click and just like that Val was alone with Aris for the first time since her kidnapping. The last time it happened, he had just been Eugene, her good-hearted, intelligent, disorganized and vaguely infuriating boss. The last time it happened she was chasing him out of his pajamas as he languished at the breakfast table.
That moment felt like years ago.
“Val,” he prompted softly.
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and held up her wrist, the tracker humming every so faintly against her pulse.
“Is this my life now, Eugene?”
He tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Is that what had you so angry yesterday? It’s only temporary.”
“Yeah, I know. I can earn my way off of it if I act like a good little girl and follow the rules. Because if I don’t you put me in time out until I learn my place to be more obedient.”
Bitterness oozed from her tone like venom. She couldn’t have stopped it even if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
All night those words looped around her head. The fucking audacity of him.
To his credit, he winced in response. “I — I didn’t mean it to sound so —“
“Condescending?” she offered. “Disrespectful? Infantalizing?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. “I had to pick out your socks for you so they would match. I had to remind you of your own birthday. I organized every fund-raising event you ever had and I made sure you didn’t mix up the donors’ names. You were a fucking mess without me and you think you can talk to me like that? After everything you have put me through in the last several days?”
For a long moment, he didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even look at her. She knew prolonged eye contact made him uncomfortable sometimes and so she did not let up her laser focus on him until he could meet her gaze again.
“You’re right,” he said simply. “I have no defense, not really.”
“I’m not going to buy your lip service,” she warned. “I know when you’re bullshitting. You say that now, but I have to wonder if you really think so little of me when I’m not calling you out for it. I thought I had your respect.”
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, biting her cheek down to stop an errant tear. She would not cry in front of him.
A flash of pain crossed his face. “You do have my respect. . . . And my terror. I need to know if I can trust you or not and no way to get an honest answer.”
Her mouth fell open. “You are worried about trusting me? Are you fucking kidding me?”
His fingers tugged at a thick lock of hair — a compulsion driven by sudden discomfort or anxiety.
“I may have lied to you about where I came from, what my goals were, my past lives. But you know things about me no one else does,” he admitted softly. “Not even Rook. You have seen me when I had no mask on. You know my quirks, my mannerisms, my fears, my faults. You can read me like a book. I could be glamored to look like someone else and I bet my entire treasury you would still be able to clock it was me in minutes or less.”
Val had to roll her eyes. “You make me sound like I can read your mind. I was just your assistant, Eugene. I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things, especially since you have literally hundreds of servants at your disposal for the kind of stuff I did for you.”
He let out a bark of harsh laughter. “You have no idea. I was a mess without you. I’m disorganized with a horribly unreliable memory. I can’t focus my full attention on something for more than five seconds at a time. I get overwhelmed at tasks with more than two steps and you have to put a gun to my head to start my own laundry. And yes, I have servants that can take care of some of those things, but no assistant has ever compared to what you could do.”
“Now you’re just kissing my ass,” she said, leaning back with her arms crossed.
And gods help her, it was working, if only a little. Eugene had never been ungrateful when she worked for him, but never had he acknowledged her skills to such a degree.
“I’m being honest,” he countered. “I am in the most crucial and potentially vulnerable part of my plans. And you are the one person who could bring about its downfall. You know the most important leaders in every category. You have their personal contact information, for Gods’ sake. You know exactly who to go first to warn of an invasion, you know exactly how to organize against it, and you have enough information about me and how I think to give them everything they needed to stop me. If you were to escape it would ruin everything.”
He dragged a hand over his face, another tick that showed his worries. Maybe he was on to something.
“You’re so dangerous, in fact, Rook had been nagging at me to execute you since you dove into the car,” he continued. “And in all honesty, it’s the smartest choice to make. But I can’t do it. Not to you.”
“So this is your solution?” She shook the tracker at him. “Imprisonment for crimes that I could do instead of anything I have done?”
He pinned her with his gaze. “Would you stay if I took it off? Or would you leave for home at the first opportunity?”
Of course she would run. She would give anything to be far far away from him and this whole mess. Not that she could.
“You’ve made it impossible for me to go home,” she spat.
This time he leaned over the table, eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t force you into that car, Val. You can blame me for a great many things, but not for that. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a choice that you made.”
Val chewed at her lip, unable to argue this and hating it. Her choice was based on her feelings and he wasn’t responsible for either. That was on here alone.
Godsdamnit.
“What would you do if our roles were reversed?” he asked, head tilted. “What other solution is there?”
She snorted. “Have you thought about moving on? It’s been a century. This is the way things are now.”
Aris stood from the table so suddenly it shuddered, the vase of flowers nearly tipping over. She jerked back reflexively as he slammed his hands on the table. Fury sparked in his eyes, more than she had ever seen, running hot enough to make her gaze flinch away.
“They murdered me, Val!” he shouted. “They murdered me and stole my home from me and then they’ve systematically destroyed it for their own gain.”
She had never seen him raise his voice before. His fingers dug into the table cloth, his gaze a brand upon her, as he continued in a softer voice that shook.
“The Coalition is in shambles. You saw it when we worked together. The bribes from lobbyists are what drives laws. Family ties rule the senate and parliaments just as iron clad as a dynasty. The wealth disparity is a chasm while trade stagnates in Three and roads are impassable in Two and we’ve sat through three drinking crises alone in One in my first term alone. You can accept it because you have no conception of what things were like before. But I cannot stand by and accept that this is the way things are now.”
His words finished in a growl, his breaths heavy. Val swallowed, trying to calm her own racing heartbeat. He had never shown any signs of violence in the time she’s known him, but neither did she ever witness a loss of temper like this.
Could she have taken him on in a fight? Maybe. If he didn’t have a gun on him. But not Rook, who waited just outside and undoubtedly heard all of this.
“And you think you can fix all that?” she finally dared to ask.
Because he wasn’t wrong. Which she also hated.
He stood up and took a few deep, calming breaths, fingers combing his hair back. Putting himself back together as if he had never lost his temper.
“I know that I can,” he said as he sat back down, his voice even again. “Those sorts of problems don’t exist here.”
“That’s because your political infrastructure never really changed,” she pointed out and if he threw another fit, oh fucking well. “You have to change a hundred years of laws and politics to model it after here.”
He nodded. “I am aware. I’m under no delusion that it would be fast or easy. But it can be done. And I will do it. Even if it takes me ten lifetimes.”
“You know, there’s a certain kind of word for someone who starts running a country and then never steps down.”
He rolled his eyes at that.
“I’m going to give you grace for the conclusions you’re drawing out of ignorance and youth. But if you are so concerned about what I’m going to do to our home, then why don’t you help me?”
From prisoner back to assistant? Her suspicions rose like hackles.
“Help you how? Match your socks again?”
“I’m the king. If I were mismatched socks no one would dare comment on it save for Rook. And now you. I’m more interested in your mind. Your organizational skills. Your guidance. Your knowledge and experience.”
“I thought I was young and ignorant.”
She would not be tempted by this, she would not.
“I am going to unite the Coalition back under my rule, Val. It is not a hope but a certainty. You have the choice to watch helplessly from the sidelines or help me create an end result we can all live with.”
“I . . .” A cocktail of complicated feelings twisted and writhed in her gut.
He was right about so many things. But he also knew how to twist the truth with his own ideas. She’d seen him do it countless times, to run circles around lobbyists and constituents and other politicians. It was impossible to know what she could trust.
“I would have to think about it,” she said finally.
He smiled then, a small quirk of his mouth. “You have some time. Now, is there anything else you would like to rightfully scold me for or can I call back in Rook before he has a stroke?”
“I’m done for now.”
“Excellent. And — one more thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“What?”
He gave her that crooked smile again. “Call me Aris.”
Let me know in a comment if you want added to the taglist!
you dont even understand how badly i need someone to do that thing where they back you up against a wall and lift your chin with their finger to make you look at them
...I...I am SO sorry in advance - it seems all my brain is able to come up with lately is self indulgent simping. Forgive me T~T
CW: Shameless indulgence on my side -AGAIN! -.-‘ Maybe a tiny bit suggestive?
Sidekick woke up to the soft brush of a warm morning breeze and swaying curtains painting blurry shadows on the plush carpet. She frowned, disoriented, stretching under the heavy covers. She was in her underwear and a black shirt. A surprisingly big shirt. One that wasn‘t hers. It smelled familiar. Like sandalwood and something spicy. She felt something akin to loss, her hand reaching around the other side of the bed, searching.
She shot up, adrenaline cursing through her veins upon remembering where exactly she was. Who she‘d been with last night.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck! SHIT!
She was SO dead if Superhero ever found out about this! Gone was the giddiness and the heat of last night, replaced with cold fear clawing at her heart. Her face burnt up and anxiety coiled in her chest.
Where was he? When did he leave? Why?
She tiptoed over to the giant couch, snatching the first piece of scattered clothes to wrap herself in it. She felt her blush deepen when she noticed it was his suit‘s jacket.
Sidekick draped it around her shoulders, as she stumbled around the large bedroom. There were at least four connecting rooms, all closed off by lavishly decorated doors. Why the hell were there so many doors?! She cursed herself for not remembering the one they came through yesterday. But, oh well, she‘d been rather busy with different...things. In hindsight, she regretted her carelessness a bit.
She felt her feet grow cold, hurrying from one door to the next, peeking through a crack.
A dark corridor - nope.
A hallway with dozens of employees buzzing about - nope.
Sidekick came to an abrupt halt, when she heard something from the third doorway. She couldn‘t make out what was being said, but - that was him, wasn‘t it? She‘d recognize that raspy bass anywhere. It was as if she was being pulled towards it once more. As every time she got near him. It was like a curse. Like she couldn‘t stay away. Before she could reconsider her rather rash decision, she pushed down the handle and swung the door open.
She was greeted by at least a dozen pairs of eyes, one more perplex than the next. His henchmen, several vigilantes as well as some more and some less known faces from the city‘s underworld were all sitting around what seemed to be a large conference table. And in front of her, back facing the door, stood Supervillain.
He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised as his lips pulled into an amused smirk. He was only partly in costume, given she was still wearing his jacket. And his shirt. For all to see, that was.
Sidekick felt as if her face was on fire, upon realizing she was still in her underwear, plus mostly his clothes. „I...I‘m sorry“, she stammered, quickly slamming the door back shut with a resounding bang. She wanted to die on the spot. No, wait. First she needed to get out of here, quickly! There was no way none of them had recognized her. Oh, this was bad. So bad!
But before she could scramble for her belongings, the door swung open again, Supervillain strolling in at his leisure, as if he wasn‘t in some important meeting just now. „Excuse me for just a second, my dears“, he called over his shoulder. His eyes were gleaming with poorly hidden glee, upon taking in her disheveled appearance. „Good morning, dove“, he cooed. „You weren‘t looking for me by any chance, were you?“ He sounded strangely hopeful and Sidekick couldn‘t deny it had her stomach doing back-flips.
„I...s-sorry, I didn‘t mean to interrupt“, she rambled, clutching his jacket more tightly. „You...I just woke up a-and you were gone and...I was just about to-“
„Shh“, he hushed her, placing both hands on her shoulders. „It‘s okay, I‘m right here“, he murmured, his features taking on a more serious expression upon recognizing the distress in her tone.
Sidekick gulped, trying to hold his gaze, but ending up distracted by the fact he left the door open. She could hear them murmuring and whispering under their breaths. „The...the door...you...“
Supervillain snickered, a grin spreading on his lips, showing his teeth. „I know. Who cares if they hear? You think they would come after you? Not under my roof, sweets. After all“, he continued, leaning in to her ear, „this is my turf. No-one dares defy me here. No-one would dare lay a hand on what‘s mine.“ Electricity crackled under his boots, the hum of high voltage buzzing in the air.
It made Sidekick‘s already tousled hair stand on end. That wasn‘t what sent shivers down her spine though. This was indeed his turf. The lion‘s den. And she‘d waltzed right into it, like a lamb to the slaughter. She swallowed thickly, lowering her gaze. Did he mean anything of what he‘d said yesterday? Or any day before that?
She thought he did. After all, there was no way he could lie to her. Her powers wouldn‘t let him - no matter how powerful he was. Or would they? She didn‘t want to consider it a possibility. She took a shuddering breath, well aware of his assessing stare. She glanced up at his eyes for a second, marvelling at their bright color as so often. His gaze was softer now, concerned even. She quickly averted her eyes once more. What if this was a trap after all? Sidekick‘s mind was racing. She didn‘t tell him anything. Nothing of value, at least. Nothing he could be selling off to all those important people next door.
So why? Was this about her? Superhero - her mentor wouldn‘t come save her here. Not this time. If anything happened, it was on her and on her only. She had herself to blame for this. She wouldn‘t even serve as bait.
„Tsk, tsk, tsk“, he tutted, taking her face in both hands. „What rabbit hole did you just go down this early in the morning, hm?“, he asked.
Sidekick felt his amusement mixed with worry upon making skin-contact. She also felt he did that on purpose to ease her nerves. She opened and closed her mouth, before cracking a lopsided smile. He read her so easily. He didn‘t even need powers for that.
Supervillain sighed, shaking his head in mock-exasperation. „Guess my little bunny just can‘t help it, hm? My cute little lie-detector is falling victim to her paranoia again“, he teased affectionately, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was strange how these hands, that were usually drenched in blood, were so warm and gentle right now. How he used them for kindness just as naturally as he used them for violence.
Sidekick huffed, face pulling into a pout. „Stop calling me that“, she complained, wriggling in his grasp. „And I‘m not paranoid, I‘m just-“
„Hmmm?“ Supervillain tilted his head, taking a step closer. „Go on, sugar.“
Sidekick blinked a few times, beginning to feel stupid for doubting him, as her system was flooded with the giddy feeling he emanated. He was relishing in the fact he got to tease her yet again. The undertone of infatuation he conveyed, along with something stronger, more possessive, made her cheeks flush. „...it scared me - waking up in your bed alone...“, she sniffed, hating to have to admit she‘d been most startled to find him gone the morning after. „I thought...well, no-one‘s infallible. And... I mean I could tell you meant...what you said yesterday... It's just....hard to believe", she trailed off.
Supervillain‘s face mellowed out at that. He leaned in and peppered some kisses on the tip of her nose and her forehead. „Forgive me“, he murmured, the sincerity of the apology thrumming through her skull and down her neck. „How about you get some more rest and I‘ll make us breakfast in...an hour give or take? In bed?“
Sidekick gave a small nod, the relief making her knees feel like pudding. „That...that sounds nice.“
Supervillain hummed, low and content with her answer, before giving her a last once-over. „You look ravishing in my clothes, by the way. I think I‘ll need to make you wear them more often“, he chuckled, turning on his heels to return to his meeting.
Sidekick blushed, eyes following him until he disappeared through the door. She flinched a bit, when the electric sizzle of his powers elicited a cry from some unlucky attendant.
„I don‘t remember giving you permission to ogle what‘s mine“, she heard him growl, before the doors fell shut. That part would still take some getting used to.
She disposed of his jacket on her way to the bed, crawling back under the heavy covers, curling into a ball with a yawn. She‘d always thought of love as this ephemeral, gentle feeling. But Supervillain had taught her it could just as well feel angry, destructive and jealous. As if one would burn down the world, just to see the flames dance in the eyes of the person one loved.
Supervillain was that kind of person. Possessive, demanding and assertive. But also protective, warm and gentle.
And to Sidekick‘s own surprise, she didn‘t find that as frightening as she‘d thought she would.
So I knew very clearly how this story would start and I know exactly how to end it, but I am blanking on what comes next in the middle. If you guys want, drop a suggestion in the comments and I will make a poll of the ones I can work in the best and we can choose it together!
This can be anything from OMG They Were Roommates style tropes or something to do with Alex's villainous "side jobs"
I've never done anything like this before so let's see how it goes.
Hey guys! Sorry it's been like a million years since I updated anything! I got burned out for a while and I'm slowly getting back to it. Hopefully with summer break looming, you'll see more of me!
Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.
Part one here
Part six here
"What is this?”
It looked harmless, a small metal rectangular wrist band with no buttons or engraving or adornment of any kind. She didn’t trust it, regardless, not that that mattered to Rook, who kept his explanations to himself as he grabbed her hand. She tried to jerk it back, but his grip turned bruising and iron tight as he latched it shut.
It hugged tightly on her, a nearly imperceptible hum against her skin. Only a tiny seam remained on the bottom, with no button or latch or catch to open it.
“What is it?” she demanded, swallowing down a flutter of panic.
Rook rolled his eyes. “Relax, princess. It’s just a tracker.”
“A tracker?”
“Yeah. Consider it your freedom. Now you can go anywhere you want and no one has to worry about you slipping out to somewhere you shouldn’t be.”
She gave him an appraising look. “Are you going to come fetch me if I go somewhere I shouldn’t?”
“No. I’m just going to push a button and an electric current will take you out until someone finds you.”
He gazed back, utterly impassive, and Val couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare her or not. She refused to be cowed though.
“How strong of a current are we talking about?” she asked
A smirk spread slowly across his face. “Why don’t you get near an airport and find out? If it doesn’t kill you, then you’ll have your answer.”
Val jut her chin up, meeting his smirk with a glare. “Do you get a kick out of trying to make me afraid? Does it make you feel tough?”
He snorted and stepped closer to her. She stood stock still as he linked their arms together.
“You’re in enemy territory, Val,” he murmured, ducking his head down close to her ear, like he was sharing a secret. “I’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted up. “My king wants you down for lunch in his office. I’ll show you the way.”
The king’s office looked much the same as it did when he was Eugene the Prime Minister. Papers scattered in random piles, post it notes scribbled with cryptic notes only he understood. Reminders taped on walls, the desk, the door.
A table was cleared off, the papers clearly dumped on the desk. A spread of soup and sandwiches sat on it, the king sitting in one of the chairs, waiting. Val was hit with a pang of nostalgia, because this set up looked exactly like the ones they had during campaign season. She didn’t know if he did it deliberately or if this was just how he ran his life.
“Afternoon, Val,” he said with a smile. “I see you have your tracker now.”
“And potential execution device,” she added dryly.
He shrugged. “Only a stupid person would need to worry about the electric shock and you are not stupid.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
He smiled again, ignoring her sarcasm. “Have a seat.”
She reluctantly joined him and helped herself to a sandwich, knowing this whole charade was just to watch her eat. Rook did not join them, preferring to lean against the wall next to the king. It felt a little unnerving to eat under both of their stares but she knew there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t.
And she had to admit, the food was painfully delicious.
“You now control the lock on your door,” the king said (Aris? It still didn’t feel right but neither did Eugene). “You may stay or leave your room as you please. All unlocked areas of the castle are open to you, as well as the grounds. If you wish to head into the city, Rook will escort you.”
Rook’s mouth fell open in outrage. “You cannot be serious! I babysit her enough as it is and you want me to take her out for ice cream and shopping? Who is protecting you while I run bullshit errands with her?”
“Hey! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have a shopping addiction,” she snapped.
“Like you wouldn’t jump at the chance to blow all the king’s treasury just to fuck us over.”
“What the hell am I going to be buying to drain it — a super yacht?”
“Children, please.” The king — Aris — held up a hand. “It’s not an ideal situation for any of us, but the two of you will have to give each other a little faith.”
Val and Rook let out twin snorts of derision and then shot each other matching glares.
“As I was saying,” Aris said with a warning look, “you have been given a probationary amount of freedom, Val.”
“Probationary?” So this was temporary?
“Yes. Your privileges will change depending on your actions. If you stay obedient, prove yourself, then you freedoms will grow. If you try to circumvent your restrictions, you will lose your freedoms and live in a cell much less cozy than the rooms I’ve given you.”
Obedient. Like a toddler. Like a dog.
Not for the first time did helpless rage well up in her throat like acid. So many retorts and screams crowded her mouth that it rendered her speechless, unable to choose which to say first and terrified to say any of them.
Eug— Aris — looked at her in such smug satisfaction, as if proud of himself for bestowing a phenomenal gift. If Rook wasn’t in the room, Val could have hit him. Her fingers curled in on themselves to fight the temptation regardless.
“Do you have any questions?” Aris tilted his head slightly, studying her.
She used to love having his full attention on her — something made rare and precious because of his busy schedule and bouts of scatterbrained day dreaming. Right now it made her skin crawl, adding fuel to the feeling of constantly being under surveillance, never able to relax.
“Can I go now?” she asked tightly.
His gaze ducked down to her half-eaten lunch. “You haven’t finished your food.”
The rage leaped up, like a kerosene drenched campfire. She felt reckless and wild with it and without a second thought, flipped her plate off the table to watch it shatter to the floor, food spraying over the lush carpet.
“I’m done,” she said. “Now?”
She had no idea what her face looked like at that moment, but whatever Aris saw on it made him sit back in his seat.
“Yes,” he said slowly, warily. “Of course.”
Val stood so far that her chair fell backwards. “Thank you,” she bit out, dripping venom, before striding out the door.
She had no idea where she was headed, and she didn’t care. Val picked a direction and walked as fast as she could towards it. If it led her to a so-called restricted section of the palace, then maybe that would put her out of her misery.
The padded footsteps sound too close and too late to react before a hand grabbed her shoulder. Val whirled around, fist striking out in pure instinct at the warm body behind her. In less than a second, that body gripped her wrist and shoved her against the wall of the hallway.
Rook.
Of course.
“Someone is very cranky today,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk.
“Let me go,” she snarled, pushing ineffectively against him.
Rook complied, releasing the bruising grip on her wrist and taking a wide step back, hands up in mock surrender.
“Not many people can scare the king, but I think you managed it just then,” he said.
“What the hell do you want? You have a tracker now. You don’t need to stalk me anymore.”
“We never finished our tour. I wouldn’t want you wandering somewhere you shouldn’t and getting electrocuted on your first day.”
“I’ll figure it out on my own, thanks.”
Rook gave her that same kind of stare Aris did — an assessment. Complete with head tilt. They must spend a lot of time together.
“You’re very angry for someone who was just given a significant amount of freedom that they quite frankly don’t deserve,” he said slowly.
She gave him a poisonous look. “I am not talking about this with you.”
And now that smirk again. “Thank god. I’m not paid to be a feelings person. But I think I know what you need.”
“A long walk off a tall cliff?”
He snorted. “Tempting. But no. Follow me and find out.”
It was probably a stupid decision to follow the most untrustworthy person she’d ever met, but having more opportunities to hate Rook offered her a welcome distraction. So, against all sanity, Val followed him down to an elevator and watched him push the basement button.
“Is that where you keep the torture chambers?” she asked, half joking, half . . .not joking.
“Sometimes it feels that way,” he muttered back.
The elevator dinged and opened to gleaming wooden floors and bright lights. It looked like the reception of a swanky business more than a typical basement. Down a short hallway sat an interior room lined with windows and inside sat various mats, weights, and other equipment.
“You brought me to the gym?” she asked dubiously.
“Yep.”
He made a bee line to a tall metal cabinet and pulled out boxing gloves. “Catch.”
Too fast for her to react, they hit Val square in the face and fell to the floor. She sent him another glare as he snickered before bending down to pick them up.
“You want me to hit something?”
Which actually sounded great, come to think of it.
“I want you to hit me.”
Oh even fucking better.
It felt too good to be true. But Val watched as he pulled out two wide padded circles and fitted them over his palms before he stepped onto one of the mats.
“You gonna put them on or are you chickening out?”
She yanked them onto her hands, their weight surprisingly heavy and then followed him onto the mat.
Rook held up his hands in the mock surrender pose.
“Hit these as hard as you can.”
“You’re serious?” She eyed him dubiously. “What if I hit you in the face?”
“You won’t.”
“You sure? It seems real tempting.”
He grinned. “The day you land a hit on me, I’ll smuggle you back home myself.”
As much as she wanted to deck his face, Val knew a trap when she heard one. Instead, she followed his instructions, landing a blow square against the right hand pad.
He didn’t even budge.
“Come on, Val, I know that’s not all you got. You were so full of rage earlier. Don’t tell me it left already.”
Oh, it didn’t. But she felt nervous putting her full effort in. Either it would hurt him and he’d make her pay or it would be pathetic and he’d mock her.
“You can’t laugh,” she said.
“Oh, I’m going to laugh. Now fucking hit me already.”
She took a deep breath and then slammed her fist against the pad with all her might. He never lost his footing, but she was pleased to see his body sway a fraction.
“Much better. I knew you had it in you. Do it again.”
“What’s the point of this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Stress relief. I love hitting things when I’m mad. And if you’re hitting me then you’re not hitting my king. So come on, Val. Give me everything you’ve got.”
He asked and she delivered. Val channeled all the injustice, the fear, the grief that the last week had brought her into her fists, driving them over and over into Rook’s padded hands. She didn’t stop, not when her arms started to shake, not when sweat soaked her back, not when a lancing pain hit her shoulder with each impact. It was mindless violence with no victim and it blocked out everything else.
“Ok, okay, Val. That’s enough.”
His voice echoed distantly and she dismissed it instantly. He took a step back and she chased him. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, trapping her arms against her sides.
“That’s enough Val,” he said in her ear.
She was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, her chest burning with it. But with each slowed breath, exhaustion threaded itself through her limbs and tugged. Eventually she slumped against his chest, happy to let him take all the weight of her. Even then he did not budge.
She was too tired to be angry now.
“Your form is absolute dog shit,” he said, his grip cautiously loosening. “But you have some potential. I could train you, if you wanted.”
“Train me?” With supreme effort, she pulled away from and turned to face him. “Train me in what?”
“Boxing. Mixed martial arts. Basic self defense. You can have your pick.”
“You want to teach me how to fight?” She crossed her arms. “Is this some kind of trap? What’s the catch?”
He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no catch. It would get you in shape, get your mind off things. Give you some sense of control.”
“And then I could use it against you.”
He had the gall to laugh at that, head thrown back. “Not in a million fucking years.”
“You think I could never be a threat to you?” Now she felt insulted. “Is it because I’m a woman?”
Rook rolled his eyes. “The scariest people I’ve ever met have been women. But a few weeks or months of the basics is never going to match years of intensive training. If you ever manage to hit me, it’s because I let you for your pride.”
He held out his hands for her gloves and she pulled them off with surprising reluctance.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way back to your room. You need a shower.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
But a tiny flicker of gratitude wormed its way through her chest as she followed him back to the elevator. The exercise had cleared her head. She felt soothed, the tightness in her chest dissipated. Rook undoubtedly had ulterior motives for helping her, but he still could have let her drown in her own rage until she did something stupid that he’d gleefully punish her for.
Instead he gave her a much needed outlet.
She didn’t know how to feel about that.
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actually i'm reblogging this again with commentary, fuck it.
There's people in the notes talking about "not basing your worth off numbers", and like. that isn't what this post is about. It's not a threat, either, it's a comment on how this site works, at a mechanical level.
Likes are worthless. Let me say that again.
Likes. Are. Worthless.
They don't do anything. They're a bookmark. They were never part of how tumblr works - in the early days we didn't even have a like button, and the site still more or less acts as though we don't. They're personal bookmarks and the only people who "get" anything from them are you (you bookmark the post) and the OP (maybe a very slight serotonin boost), but they don't keep the post in circulation, they don't keep it alive.
Without reblogs, a post will be dead in the water within an hour. No matter how good it is, no matter how many hours of painstaking love and attention its creator put into it, it will be dead within an hour and never seen again. It gets pushed down the dashboard and nobody aside from the followers who were online when it was posted will see it.
And there's a huge difference in engagement on posts that get even one lucky reblog from someone with wider reach - that one reblog shows your post to five, ten, fifteen other people, and if one of those people also reblogs it, and so on and so forth, that's how posts stay alive and in circulation.
It's like a contagion, but we're sharing creativity instead of disease.
And that matters. That "lifespan" of the post matters, artists and writers give up on this site and go to sites where posts have longer lifespans because it sucks to spend hours of your life, maybe even days, to get two notes and some fucking pocket lint for your efforts.
We create for ourselves, but we share because we want people to see it, because that engagement offers positive feedback and encouragement to continue.
But more than that, if every post (whether art, fic, gifset, whatever) is dying within an hour or a day of being posted, that means it's not making it onto your dashboard. And if it's not on your dashboard, you won't see it. This kills the site, after a while. You stop seeing the posts, because nobody is putting them on your dashboard, because this site doesn't have an algorithm like twitter and insta's and it shouldn't, it's the last bastion of chronological timelines.
Forgive my giant fucking rant I am so tired right now and full of the plague but like stop acting like artists and writers are just being whiny little babies, or "threatening" to withhold our fucking work (you're not entitled to it! it's ours! if we get nothing out of sharing it we're well within our rights to keep it private!) when we say this site will dry up without reblogs. We're just stating facts.
also I’ve seen some people in the tags say ‘oh there have always been more likes on posts’ no there haven’t ????
these are posts from 2013, look at the ratio
not to sound like a nursing home resident but back then people know that the point of this site was to reblog things and share them, not to bury them away among your other 23k liked posts
Hwy I hate to be a bother, but could we have the next part of kidnapped by the boss? It's so good, I keep rereading it all the time
Hello! You're not a bother at all, thank you for letting me know you're interested! Writing has been hard since my job picked up the pace so each piece comes slowly. And I'm still deciding on where to take this story and how to end it. I didn't expect it to keep going lol. But I will work on it next!
Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?
CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, needles/IV insertion, mentions wounds from torture, torture recovery, captivity
Part One
“So the serum had several unforeseen consequences.”
The doctor delivered this news as he checked her vitals, scribbling on that goddamn clipboard of his.
“You mean having my body convulse in excruciating pain wasn’t the effect you were looking for?” she croaked, the biting sarcasm weakened by sounding like a 90 year old smoker.
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted you tortured, I would have left you in Vanderbilt’s facilities. This was just a . . .complication. A fascinating one, to be sure.”
“Oh, well that makes it all worth it, then.”
The remark sent her into another coughing fit, throat on fire, and the doctor tsked her.
“You should speak as little as possible until your vocal chords heal. You’re due for more pain meds, by the way. Give me a thumbs up if you’re starting to hurt.”
She gave him the middle finger instead.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you also acquiesce to tea with honey?”
Two middle fingers this time and a hateful glare.
“Excellent. I’ll bring it right out."
He doted on her for the next few days, bringing tea and books on medieval history (including one on torture, which he handed to her with a smirk). Her vitals were checked with almost obsessive regularity, the ache of her muscles numbed with pain meds that he never failed to deliver on time. He never apologized for what happened to her, insisting it was nothing more than an “unfortunate complication”, but he seemed wordlessly contrite with his actions.
Not that that made everything better.
It just made things more confusing. Under soft blankets, sipping tea and reading about the Norman Conquest, she couldn’t help but feel lulled into sleepy contentment.
When her muscles finally stopped twitching, the doctor walked in, rolling a cart with several syringes. The sight of it felt like a fist clenched around her lungs.
“No!” she yelped, jerking back against the bed. “I’m not doing this again.”
He didn’t even look at her, his attention on rearranging the order of the syringes. “Of course you are; that’s why you’re here.”
He selected one, held it up to the light and tapped it before turning towards her.
“Get that fucking thing away from me,” she growled, scrabbling out of the bed.
Her hands snatched the first thing she could find for a weapon — his book — and threw it at his head. It smacked him straight in the face, causing him to flinch and drop the syringe.
She took the opportunity to run, shoving him as hard as she could when she passed him for good measure. The loud thud as he hit the wall echoed behind her as she careened down the hallway. At first victory sang in her blood, but the adrenaline quickly faded in the weakness of days spent lying in bed. Then a spare tremor hit her legs, sending her tumbling to her knees.
It was all the doctor needed to catch up with her. Springing back to her feet, she had barely made it two more steps before the force of his body hit her from behind, shoving her face first into the wall.
“While I understand your reluctance, I really do not have time for it,” he murmured against her cheek, breath slightly ragged.
She threw her weight against him as hard as she could but he did not budge behind her. For such a nerd, he was solid. His hands threaded themselves into her hair, yanking her head back and a sharp prick hit her neck.
“Just remember,” he said as her world started to tilt, “when you wake up inevitably furious, that this could have all been avoided with your cooperation.”
The world returned to her slowly. First in images, then in sound. The doctor sat in a chair before her, scribbling in a notebook, the cart of syringes next to him. The sight of it sent her jerking back in instinct, but her body could not move.
“Finally,” he said once he noticed her aborted movements. “I think I will have to adjust your dosage for next time.”
It took only seconds for her to realize she did not wake up in her bed, but in a padded, high backed chair, the kind with the extra wide arms for blood drawing. And she was strapped down from her forehead to her throat to her arms to her legs and feet.
Panic dragged sluggishly up her chest, the drugs still weighing her down. But he had locked her body down tight. She couldn’t even twist her head away from the sight of him readying the needle.
The Agency had prepped her for torture. They educated her on all the ways it could happen, all the effects it would have on her body, the different ways she could hold out. As horrifying as it was to sit through it all, it helped her by making it predictable.
This was not predictable. She had no idea how each drug would make her respond. And even worse -- neither did he.
And that made this whole ordeal somehow more unbearable than her actual torture. She had never prepared for something like this.
When his gloved hand swiped the alcohol wipe over her arm, the only thing that kept her from breaking down and begging him to stop was the fact that her tongue still felt thick and clumsy in her mouth. All that came out was a strangled, panicked no as the needle plunged in.
For an agonizingly long moment they just stared at each other. He slipped his glasses off, tucking them away in the front pocket of his lab coat. The soft warmth of his dark brown eyes made her stomach squirm. It looked wrong, a predator’s disguise. A man like him did not deserve to have eyes like that.
“Tell me your name,” he said.
She projectile vomited into his face in response. What followed were hours of intense nausea, unable to hold down even the water she used to down anti-nausea pills. Eventually the doctor injected something into her IV and sent her to sleep.
“Stop scratching. You’re going to cause scarring.”
She glared poison at him, a rash climbing its way around her torso like poison ivy. The itching was unbearable.
“I would take literal torture over this,” she spat.
“You’re one of the few people on this earth who could make such a claim,” he agreed with that pleasant nonchalance that made her want to throttle him. “Pull your shirt up. I brought you more cortisone cream.”
He made it himself and its smell burned her nose. She refused to touch it at first but the urge to scratch overwhelmed her and he threatened to put it on for her if she didn’t stop. That and the oven mitts and duct tape he had lying on the window sill, an unspoken threat.
“When you’re done, we should go for a walk. It’s warm enough outside that you won’t need a jacket.”
She froze, staring at him wide eyed. “Outside? You’re taking me outside?”
“The weather is beautiful today. It’s a shame you can only experience it through your window. And the exercise might distract you.”
The cortizone cream was spread with lightning speed. She felt like a kid at Christmas — both hopeful and terrified of disappointment. The doctor graciously provided her with more durable house slippers, the kind with rubber soles, and guided her through the hall and out an innocuous door.
Behind the building, which looked like an innocent two story cottage, was a beautiful garden. Bordered by tall, lush hedges and trees, a gravel path wound its way around ordered raised flower beds and stands of rose bushes and irises. Spring sunshine filtered through the trees, dappling the patio and table and chairs.
She swallowed thickly, suddenly overwhelmed. It was so beautiful and he didn’t deserve to have something like this and yet she was so so relieved to be there. The air smelled fresh and vaguely like salt. In the distance she could hear the low rumble of waves.
He guided her along the walkway, pointing out the herbs growing in the beds, rambling on about the native plants and the kind of medicine you could make out of them. It felt rather like a scene from a regency novel, taking this “turn about the garden.” But she couldn’t find it in herself to be pissed about it.
“It’s been several minutes without a caustic remark,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I take it you find this place satisfactory?”
“It’s okay,” she said, struggling for an air of nonchalance. She didn’t trust him not to use this place against her.
“High praise indeed,” he drawled.
They took two more laps before he deposited her at the patio table. By this point exhaustion threatened at her edges though she tried valiantly to hide it.
“Let’s not overdo it today,” he said with a knowing look. “Wait here and I’ll get us some tea.”
Sitting in the fresh air and sunshine as she waited, having freedom at the tips of her fingers but not the strength to take it, felt like the worst cruelty he had inflicted upon her so far. And the worst part was, she didn’t know if he even meant it as such.
The doctor reappeared only a few minutes later, humming and holding an honest to god tea tray, complete with china cups and a clear teapot. She made sure to watch him pour and sip his own drink before she helped herself.
It was good tea. She hated how companionable their silence was becoming, how much she was getting used to his presence. And yet, some things still didn’t piece together.
“What makes me so valuable?” she asked. “Sure there are other ways to get information, other people to experiment on. But you said there was only one me.”
He turned his gaze away from the irises and slowly pulled down his dark glasses. His eyes looked as warm and comforting as the tea he made.
“You should kiss me,” he said, gentle and inviting. “There’s no need to be afraid. You’ve been wanting to for a while now. You think about it all the time.”
“What?” she spluttered. Her eyes instinctively flickered down to his mouth before she jerked them away. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
He threw his head back and laughed, rich and deep.
“That’s why,” he said, pushing his glasses back up. “My power is hypnosis. I can make anyone think or feel anything I want. Except for you. I’ve never met anyone whose power can cancel out other powers. I want to bottle it. Literally.”
“Bottle it?” she repeated numbly. “To use on other people?”
To use on her allies. Her friends. To take the one thing they depended on her and use it against them.
She felt sick.
“Of course. It could be useful in a wide variety of situations. And I have to admit, I’ve wondered if it would work on you. Can you nullify someone’s nullification powers? The answer would be fascinating either way.”
Dread gripped her insides with icy fingers, the mild spring sun feeling far away.
“Just think -- if it did work on you, I would be able to break into your mind without hurting you. No torture ever again.”
He shot her what he probably thought was an encouraging smile.
She threw up again.
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“You shouldn’t have pressed,” his partner said. “I told you not to start investigating, didn’t I?”
The detective stared, dumbfounded for the first time. His partner- not his partner anymore, was he?- smiled, pushing off the wall, striding over to the detective.
He laughed. “As much as it annoys me, all this might’ve been worth it just to see that look.”
“The- the first body,” the detective said. “Phillibert. It wasn’t about the money, was it?”
“It wasn’t about the money,” his partner confirmed. “You never really thought it was.”
“The second murder-”
“Clever touch, right?” his partner shrugged. “To be honest-” He winked when he said those words- “that one wasn’t me. Not personally. I was busy keeping a nosy little detective out of the way.”
The detective swallowed hard. That was the night they’d been attacked in that alley together. The night his partner had helped him back home, given him a drink and tended his bloodied face and hands. They hadn’t argued about the case, for once. He thought that had meant something.
Evidently it had.
“When did you turn?” It wasn’t what he wanted to ask.
His partner scoffed. “Turn. Please. There wasn’t any turn at all- I haven’t changed. I was never as optimistic as you.”
“You wouldn’t have done this ten years ago.”
“I didn’t have the opportunity ten years ago.” He took a few steps closer to the detective. “But I would have taken it if I had. The world is an unfair game. Sometimes you have to cheat to win.”
Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.
CW: mentions of homophobic parents
Part 1 Here
Ben’s parents always accused him of being as stubborn as a goddamn mule, especially when it came to his sexuality, which they viewed as some sort of rebellion that he childishly refused to grow out of. Even Adam joked about it when Ben would play a video game until he completed every task, gained every achievement, and found every collectible.
Even his crush was stubborn, digging its fingers in when any sane person would have moved cities, new roommates be damned.
In the face of Adam’s injuries, his resolve crumbled like a Nature Valley granola bar. The new fear that unlocked seeing Adam limping and covered in blood over-rode whatever lingering anger and resentment he had about Adam’s . . .new career.
In its place rose a fierce protective instinct and the need to dote like an old grandmother. He made Adam tea, changed his bandages, cooked and did the dishes and brought Adam his meals so he wouldn’t have to hobble to the kitchen table.
No matter what happened between them, no matter what Adam did in Ben’s absence, the realization that he nearly lost Adam haunted him.
Ben arrived at this city friendless with a useless degree and freshly disowned by his parents. Meeting Adam at his first job felt like nothing short of a miracle. They clicked instantly and for the first time in years Ben felt seen. Adam lit up when they found shared days on each weekly schedule and complained bitterly about the days their shifts didn’t cross. The first time Ben called in sick, Adam sent him a flurry of concerned texts and Ben nearly cried. A quiet, awkward kid turned anxious loner, Ben never had his absence noticed or mattered to someone this much.
He thought for sure their friendship would go to shit when they got an apartment together but living together felt as easy as breathing. What few fights they did have were resolved quickly, as Adam refused to let Ben hide his issues and suck it up. They always found a compromise, something Ben’s parents never granted him.
No wonder he fell so quickly and so hard. And even in the face of a knife at his throat, those feelings refused to let go. He was stuck with them and the night Adam came back Ben resigned himself to his fate.
“Fucking Christ, Ben, sit down,” Adam said from the couch. “I can get my own drink, I don't need a fifties housewife.”
“It's fine, I was already getting up anyway,” Ben protested but Adam glared.
“Sit down.”
“But —“
“Sit. Down.”
Something dark flashed in Adam’s eyes, sending a thread of hot, shivery desire through Ben’s spine.
He sat down.
Adam limped over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. Even after two days, his leg still pained him, though he wouldn’t tell Ben what the injury was or how he got it.
“Maybe you should go to a doctor,” Ben suggested as Adam wandered back in.
“Absolutely not.”
Adam didn’t even spare him a glance as he reached for the remote.
“What if you broke it or something?”
“I didn’t break anything. Quit fussing, Benji, and scoot over.”
Ben obliged, sitting at the far edge of the couch. Adam stretched out on the rest of the couch, setting his head in Ben’s lap and draping his injured leg gingerly over the other end.
Suddenly every nerve was on high alert. Adam had done this before, usually when drunk, and always with a pillow. This time his face lay bare against Ben’s jean clad thigh. Whiffs of his cologne teased Ben’s nose, his body heat sinking into Ben’s leg.
It took every inch of willpower not to spring a boner right then and there. If Adam turned his head the other way, he would be breathing right against Ben’s dick.
“Doesn’t it hurt,” he asked, trying to turn his thoughts anywhere else.
Adam glanced up and gave Ben a small, wistful smile. “I’ve had so much worse. You worry too much.”
“That does not in fact make me feel any better.”
Adam wriggled, adjusting into a more comfortable position and Ben bit back a whine when the back of his head brushed against a growing erection.
“You want a pillow or something?” he asked, voice coming out somewhat strangled.
“Nope. I’m fine. Flip to ESPN. The Lakers are playing tonight.”
Sports. Dozens of men in their physical prime sweating and running and showing off lean, muscular arms while another man lays in his lap. Just great.
Of course the day the worst cold front of the season hits, the power to half the city gets shut off, including their apartment building. Ben had just shuffled home from work, kicked off his shoes, and pre-heated the oven before the whole place plunged into darkness.
And of course Adam was nowhere to be found and he didn’t answer any texts or calls.
Things like this happened more and more often. Maybe it was because he didn’t have to lie to Ben anymore about his activities — Adam had taken a lot of “late shifts” and overtime before the truth came out — or maybe things were ramping up in the criminal underworld. But more and more often came long swathes of time where Adam disappeared and could not be contacted.
Usually Ben spent that time staying up as long as he could for Adam, always scared of another bloody return.
This time he yanked off his comforter from the bed and sat on the couch, pissed. It was freezing, his phone battery almost dead, too dark to read and no internet. The fuck was he supposed to do?
By the time Adam stumbled back through the door, Ben had dozed off and on the couch in pitiful snatches of sleep, too cold to get any rest.
“You have shit timing,” he said, teeth clacking. “Turning off the power couldn’t be a summer activity?”
“Then you’d be pissed at how hot it was,” Adam retorted.
“At least I could open a window.”
Adam threw him a devious smirk that looked almost ghoulish in the glow of his phone. “Or take your clothes off.”
Ben’s cheeks heated, the only warmth he could feel.
“Seriously though, what the fuck?”
“It wasn’t my idea, trust me,” Adam grumbled, toeing off his shoes. “My boss is an impulsive fuckface.”
“So how long until the power comes back?”
Adam shrugged. “A while. The point is that it will take a long time and a lot of resources spread across the city to get it back. So layer up, Benji.”
Ben groaned. “Fantastic. Are there any perks that come with this gig of yours?”
“Not yet. But there will be.”
Ben had his doubts about that. Part of him wanted to really interrogate Adam, to know everything — what got him started, what his goals were, what the point of all of it was. But Adam was right — the more Ben knew, the more of a liability he was. Better to stay ignorant, even if his anxiety filled the gaps with ideas probably worse than reality.
“Come on,” Adam said, motioning to his bedroom door. “Bring your blanket, we’re bunking up tonight.”
All thoughts ground to a sudden halt.
“What?” Ben asked stupidly.
“It’s freezing in here or have you not noticed?” Adam said, already heading towards the bedroom.
“Yeah, but —“
“Quit being a wuss and come on. It’s the only way we’re gonna get warm.”
Heart pounding, Ben followed, blanket clenched around him like a shawl. Adam didn’t know about Ben’s feelings but he did know about Ben’s sexuality and he never had an issue with it. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t get freaked out if he woke up to Ben’s erection against his back. Or to Ben moaning from a dream or sleep-cuddling or hundred other humiliating tells that could happen in the obliviousness of sleep.
Still, his idiot self followed Adam into the bedroom. Adam gestured for Ben to crawl in the bed first. The twin mattress was set against the wall and did not leave much room for two grown men. Ben started to despair as he scooted as far over as he could and still Adam’s thighs brushed against his as both men jockeyed for room. Eventually they ended up on their sides, facing each other, close enough to feel their breath on their lips.
That and the smell of Adam and his warm radiating against Ben under the covers was enough to send him a little light-headed. Only two inches and his own willpower separated them from kissing.
“You good?” Adam whispered.
Ben nodded. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
Adam shuddered and scooted closer, pressing his head against Ben’s shoulder. “I’ve been freezing all night,” he muttered.
“Same,” said Ben, hardly daring to breathe. The smell of Adam’s shampoo tainted every lungful of air.
“I’m too wired for sleep, though. What about you?”
He should feel exhausted but having Adam pressed up against him ignited every nerve in his body.
“I’m not tired,” he said.
“You wanna play Never Have I Ever?”
“We don’t have drinks.” And thank God for that because who knows what insane statement Ben might ask under the cover of darkness. Like Never Have I Ever killed someone. Or Never Have I Ever thought about kissing another man. Things that haunt Ben that he also doesn’t want the answers to.
“What about Truth or Dare?”
“There’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this bed for a dare and I don’t trust you not to ask me something totally humiliating.”
Or for Ben to trust himself not to dare Adam for a kiss. The temptation, with Adam pressed close enough that Ben could feel the reverb of Adam’s voice against his own ribs, was too great. Something about the darkness made Ben feel reckless and only the life-long ball and chain of his anxiety kept him from going rogue and ruining everything.
“Goddamn do you get cranky when you’re cold,” Adam grumbled. “How about this — we take turns telling us something the other person doesn’t know about us. But we get to pick what we reveal.”
Always hungry for knowledge, especially about Adam, the King of Evasive Answers, Ben could not resist.
“Okay. But you go first.”
Adam thought for a moment before answering. “One of my greatest fears is that I’ll get that tick bite that makes you allergic to meat.”
Ben smiled. “Good thing we live in a densely populated city.”
“There are ticks in the city. We’re not safe here.” Adam sounded so serious that Ben had to laugh. He pulled away from Ben’s chest and he could feel Adam’s glare even in the darkness. “Alright chucklefuck, what about you?”
“Um . . .I hate cake. I’ve never had a birthday cake I enjoyed.”
“You hate cake?”
“It’s dry and gums up my mouth and the frosting is always too sweet.”
“You’ve just never had good cake.”
“I’ve had all kinds of cake. They all suck.”
“I could find you a cake you’d love.”
“Careful, Adam. That sounds like a bet.”
“Oh yeah? And what would you give me if you won?”
“Anything.” The word slipped out of Ben’s mouth before he could stop it.
He felt a sharp intake of breath against his collarbone.
“Anything?” Adam whispered. A strange tension strung his voice taut. Ben wished he could see the expression that matched it. “That’s a dangerous thing to promise.”
“I um — ” Ben swallowed thickly. “I really hate cake.”
“We’ll see about that.” It sounded almost as if Adam was talking about something else and though Ben usually squashed any wishful thinking down, he let this one take root.
“Your turn,” he said.
“I’ve never been drunk.”
“Bullshit,” Ben said. “I’ve seen you drunk. Multiple times.”
“You’ve seen me pretend to be drunk. I’m very good at it.”
“Seriously?” Ben thought back to last New Years, at a party thrown by one of their old coworkers. Adam had been giggly and ridiculous and adorable, his guard down in a way he never allowed sober.
Or so Ben thought.
“Being drunk makes you too vulnerable,” said Adam. “People do and say stupid shit they never would sober. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Why lie?” asked Ben. “You could just say you don’t drink.”
“That draws a lot of attention. People take it as a challenge to get you to drink or they interrogate you about it or they get pissed because they think I don’t drink out of some moral high ground. It’s easier to pretend.”
Adam always seemed confident and untouchable, even before Ben found out about his criminal activities. To hear him admit to so much fear tonight . . .the trust felt addictive. And suddenly the weight of his own secret, his own fear, felt unbearable.
“I’m in love with you.”
The intimacy of the darkness, of their bodies cradling each other, the vulnerability of secrets, cocooned around him like a protective shell. He felt bulletproof. He felt tired. The secret weighed so much, even if he could ignore most of the time.
Silence intensified between them at the confession. Ben’s heart roared in his ears.
“Oh Benji,” Adam sighed. “You’re supposed to tell me something I don’t know. That’s how the game works.”
“I — you knew? How? How long?”
“Not long after we moved in. You’re not very subtle, especially when I know you so well.”
Ben anticipated all kinds of reactions, but not this one.
“Oh. I’m — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ”
“Don’t be sorry,” Adam said, his tone heartbreakingly kind. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I don’t — I don’t want to weird you out.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Adam’s fingers curled around Ben’s shoulder and squeezed. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”
A dangerous spark of hope ignited in him. Adam knew. Adam knew and it didn’t freak him out. Adam knew and he still put his head in Ben’s lap and cuddled with Ben in bed and —
“Do — ” Ben swallowed, his heart in his throat. “Do you — ”
“My father is a supervillain.”
Once again all the thoughts zig-zagging in his head screeched to a halt. “What?”
Adam took in a shaky breath. “He’s dead now but he was very infamous when he was alive. Other villains cowed to him. I inherited his powers.”
“You have powers?”
There had been a handful of infamous supervillains in the past few decades and all of them had terrifyingly powers. No matter who Adam ended up connected to, every option was lethal. A lick of fear tingled up his spine.
I don’t need a knife to hurt you.
But right now, pressed so close together in the freeing darkness, Adam didn’t feel dangerous. And it wouldn’t matter if he did because reckless want surged through Ben, burning out the dogged fear that always followed him. Adam might be murderous, he would never love Ben back the same way, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want it to matter.
Adam pulled away, his fingers digging into Ben’s shoulder, the intensity of his gaze almost a physical weight.
“No one knows about this, Ben. No one. My crew, my boss — they think I’m a grunt, a weapon to point with. And I need them to think that. Do you understand?”
Of course Adam had a plan laid out. And the fact that he’s telling Ben the one piece that could bring it all to ruin left an ache in Ben’s chest.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Ben said. “I swear. I worry about you all the time. I want you to be safe.”
“I trust that.” Adam’s grip loosened and he smoothed his hand over the wrinkles he caused. “I shouldn’t. I don’t trust anyone. But you . . .you feel different than anyone else I’ve met. I can’t really explain it.”
“You do too,” Ben whispered.
Adam’s hand traced up the column of Ben’s throat, cupping his jaw with just the barest finger tips. The urge to kiss him swelled up in Ben, overwhelming, a wave of reckless desire finally cresting. Just a small kiss. Just this once.
He ducked his head down a fraction of an inch, terrified and determined all at once, when Adam pulled back.
“Go to sleep, Ben,” he said quietly, hand sliding away. “I have a long day tomorrow if you want the power back on.”
Disappointment crashed into him, a wave against a cliff. “Yeah,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “That would be nice.”
He slept facing the wall, feeling Adam’s breath against his neck. The next morning the bed was warm but empty.
