a-little-bit-of-nowhere

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Hii!! I was wondering if you may do a somewhat spicy snippet that involves a villain and detective and 💫handcuffs💫 ? I understand if not though! Hope you have been well and good luck to any final exams you have🌸

"You'd think," the villain said. "That with all the hardened criminals they deal with on a day to day basis, your colleagues wouldn't be so afraid to pat down little old me. I mean." The villain widened their eyes. "Look at me. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on all this?"

"You bite."

The villain flashed them a sharp grin, entirely too delighted by the fact that most would not get in a three foot radius. "If I lick it, it's mine. Them's the rules."

The detective sighed, (not really) long-suffering, even as they approached.

The villain was, admittedly, gorgeous. In a slightly feral sort of way. Gorgeous in the way a volcano could be stunning, right before it erupted and burnt down everything you loved.

The precinct waiting room was empty apart from the two of them; promptly abandoned ever since the hero had deposited the beautiful monstrosity on their front door and then left. As if the rest of them mere mortals were equally equipped to deal with super villains. Bastard.

"Besides. I'm cuffed and everything," the villain continued, jingling the chains. "I'm harmless."

"You're the bane of my working life," the detective grumbled without venom. "I'm going to have so much paperwork. This isn't even my job to do this. Stand."

The villain pushed gamely to their feet, stepping close and into the detective's space. The detective had gone through the whole routine - because the villain always escaped - enough times not to flinch.

"You look tired, detective," the villain said, a little softer.

"Bane. Of. My. Working. Life."

"I could bribe someone to do the paperwork for you."

The detective snorted, beginning to thoroughly pat the villain down. They extracted paperclips, and all manner of objects from the villain's pockets - knowing by now where to look in the hidden folds of material, knowing that everything had the potential to be dangerous.

They could feel the villain's eyes on them, intent and burning. They could feel the villain's breath, the heat of them, so close. They could smell the crackle of their power in their air, not entirely offset by the cuffs, only limited. If they shivered, well, it was because of that. A valid reaction to threat. Not...not...

The detective swallowed. "Stop that."

"I'm behaving."

"You look like you're planning to eat me."

"How would you know that? My eyes are up. You're the one feeling me up."

"I'm not-" The detective bit their lip, gaze moving to the villain's.

The villain's eyes were very bright.

"You look like you're planning to eat me," the detective said again, and even managed deadpan.

"Well, we did cover that if I lick it, it's mine, already. Didn't we?"

They were not going to be flustered. They were not going to be flustered. They were not going to be-

The villain, lightning quick, lethally quick, pressed a kiss to the detective's blushing cheek. Exposing the utter uselessness of the denial. "I wouldn't mind," the villain said, against the detective's ear. "If you did. Feel me up. I know you wouldn't mind either."

The detective swallowed again, but it did nothing to make their mouth less dry. They kept their hands very professional. They did not jerk back, or jerk their head away, or admonish the villain.

They told themselves it was because it was only words, and far better than the villain snapping those cuffs like they were nothing, but...

Well. They were lying. It was true, but they were utterly lying to themselves, and they probably both knew it. The villain could no doubt dismantle and reveal that lie as easily as the rest.

The villain's teeth and tongue grazed, feather-light, against the shell of their ear.

If I lick it, it's mine.

"Right." The detective's voice was hoarse. "I think you're all done."

"Mm," the villain said, giving them a look of 'oh not nearly done enough with you, dear', though they let the detective step back.

No. Not let. They were cuffed. The two of them had only ever met when the villain was restrained.

"Let's go," the detective said. "You know how it goes by now."

"Indeed." The villain's head tilted. "You know there's a reason that hero of ours keeps dropping me off at your precinct and nobody else's these days. You know that right?"

The detective froze.

"Just something to think about," the villain said, and sauntered themselves off in the direction of the cells. "Come lock me up."

The detective released a shaky breath, and fovillowed.

Of course.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Hi there! Hope you’re having a good day. Could you write a piece where a detective meets their former partner who’s turned towards a life of crime and is now a wanted criminal? Maybe with some romantic/sexual tension?

“You.”

“Me,” the criminal said, spreading their arms. “If you’re that surprised, you’ve got significantly worse at your job since I last checked.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed at that - but, well, it was probably true. Ever since their partner had betrayed them and decided causing crimes was more lucrative than solving them, things hadn’t been so great. The balance wasn’t there. They had no one to watch their back anymore. No one to bounce ideas off. 

No one like them. 

Seeing their former partner again was like getting punched in the face. 

The detective had solved a lot of crimes since the two of them had split, so to speak. Unending cups of coffee, burning vengeance and a crater in one’s gut to fill could do that. 

The criminal’s eyes flickered, gaze roaming over them. 

The detective could well imagine the way they were deducing, slotting clues together. The detective wasn’t exactly a mystery wrapped in an enigma tied together in a riddle. Even in the dim light, the new gauntness of their face had to be obvious. Just as obvious as the exhaustion, the slight sway in their stance, the hair going greasy. 

The criminal, on the other hand, looked as gorgeous as ever. Of course they did. They hadn’t grown haggard, they’d grown sleek. Like a predator that had lost the baby fat of pretending to be all soft and cuddly and nice.

“You look terrible,” the criminal said. “My reports said you weren’t doing so great, but - jesus.”

The detective snarled, and lunged. No it probably wasn’t proper, and no they hadn’t called back up, but - seeing them! 

The criminal twisted, another shadow in the night. 

The detective grunted in pain as they hit the wall, face first, their former partner’s body pressed up against their spine. The criminal pinned the detective’s wrists to the hard brick of the warehouse dock. 

“When was the last time you slept?” the criminal demanded. “Because I know you’re better than this. That punch was downright sloppy.”

Worse, it didn’t sound all suave and mocking. It sounded concerned. The detective would have preferred them to be scathing. Something that didn’t make their heart ache, because it wasn’t like they could still be -

Everything. 

Partners.

The detective had never said it, but in the long nights of cases and stake-outs, in brushed fingers and adrenaline traded grins, they’d thought there was something. They’d felt something. They were an idiot. 

“Not your business,” the detective said. “Not anymore.”

“I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“You didn’t imagine betrayal would hurt?”

The criminal’s grip flexed on them, tightening when the detective took the opportunity to struggle. The detective managed to push back, to whip around, only to be slammed back in the wall again. That time, they felt the cold press of a knife against their throat. 

The detective froze.

“Your brain always did go a bit too fast for your own good,” the criminal murmured. “Great with the tiny details, bit crap with the big picture. I came to check on you.”

“Then you’re dumb, and going to get caught!”

“That’s what you want, right?”

The question caught the detective off guard, it winded them. They opened their mouth to say yes, only to flounder. They’d wanted to find the criminal, they knew that. Their former partner was a fraud, con artist and thief. But they had been the detective’s partner, once. Even with everything it was difficult to relish the thought of the criminal rotting behind bars, where they would no doubt be quietly murdered given how many of the other inmates they had caught once upon a time.  

A smile curled the criminal’s face. 

“You know,” the criminal said. “Money is the most important thing in the world these days, it’s the ticket to anything you might. But you come a close second.”

“Turn yourself in then,” the detective rasped. “Do the right thing.”

“I did say second.” The criminal continued to appraise them for a moment, moving the knife to tip the detective’s face into a better angle to catch the light. “You could stop chasing me. I could set you up nicely.”

“I’m not like you.”

“No,” the criminal agreed. “I’m less inclined to self destruction. Still, I had to offer. For old time’s sake.”

The detective snarled again, but the criminal didn’t seem bothered.

“A chase then,” the criminal continued, softly, almost to themselves. “But, first.” They reached for the detective’s handcuffs. “You should get some sleep.”

They awoke in a hotel, alone, the room paid for in cash. 

No once could say who they’d entered with. There was no security footage. No clues whatsoever.  They also felt damnably better after getting a good night’s rest with someone to keep guard. That definitely felt like a taunt, of some kind.

So, they chased. It was only a matter of time until they caught up again.

Nobody knew the criminal like they did.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

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[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Oops, I never uploaded this one to Tumblr (which I only realized when someone else did, but then was kind enough to tag me, thank you)!

This is the comic that kickstarted my obsession with telling stories with as few panels as I could (usually 10-11 haha), so it’s got a soft spot in my heart. 

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

You, the queen of a fairy tale kingdom, got cursed to give birth to a princess who’s going to live her life isolated in a tower the first 20 years of her life. Narrate how you avoid your daughter’s fate.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Random prompt #60

Done With Everything ™️Detective is stuck with a completely eccentric, obsessed villain who was never taught to show affection or love is a wonderful trope that's growing in my mind like a plant.

-

Villain quickly leapt down from their perch on the railing, staring at Detective with a much too happy gaze, basically bouncing on their feet as they placed their hands on their shoulders. "No one's ever been able to get out of my traps!" They gush, practically buzzing excitement. "Not even hero!" Detective merely raised an eyebrow slightly, asking a silent question. They seemed much too tired to Villain, and yet they had undone the complex wiring of their trap without a problem. And then they had slipped from the grip on their shoulders and turned around, stalking off with their hands tucked in their pockets. In turn, Villain quickly caught up to them in a few rushed strides, practically tripping over their own feet. "Wait! You can't just leave! Not yet!" "Watch me." The reply was sour and blunt from Detective, who glared at the floor as they walked. Barely a sound left their mouth as they were lifted into the villain's arms, held tightly against their chest. "You can try - or, um, won't you stay for dinner?" "Will you give me coffee?" "Of course!" "Then fine."

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Everyone who’s been talking to me knows i’ve been working on this comic about wlws and cats for a while and i’m so so happy it’s finally here!!! :D

idea stolen from this post :’3

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

👀

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

“Good lord, you look rough.”

The protagonist whirled around, but couldn’t see the villain amongst the darkened oaks and maples.

“Come to gloat?” the protagonist said, into the eerie stillness of the forest.

“Yes,” a voice said right next to their ear.

The protagonist gasped, and turned just in time to see the plume of fleeting smoke that was the villain’s – The Shifter King’s – current form.

“But I also wanted to check that you were okay,” the villain went on. Fingers tapped the protagonist’s shoulder. “That’s quite the injury you have there.”

He pulled up the protagonist’s sleeve. The protagonist hissed in pain as the movement of the fabric tugged at their hastily-applied bandages.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” the protagonist snarled. “It was one of your monsters who did this.”

The villain strode into view, in a solid form once again. His fancy black suit shouldn’t have been as fitting as it was amongst the looming trees.

“Yes, it was one of my own.” The villain settled onto a thick, low-dipping branch as though it were a fainting couch. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

The protagonist glowered. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m going back.”

The villain stiffened, the movement barely noticeable in the darkness. “But you can’t.”

“I shouldn’t have left in the first place.” The protagonist shook their head. “I don’t know why I did.”

“Because,” the villain said, voice a cool obsidian, “they will kill you. And you don’t deserve to die.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

The protagonist turned away. Within moments, the villain was there, in front of them. His solid form had started to give way, as parts of his hair and skin morphed into smoke.

“You’re not a hunter anymore, [Protagonist]. You need to leave all that behind.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

The protagonist tried to push past, but the villain grabbed their arm. They cried out as his grip clamped around their bite wound.

“You’re one of mine, now,” he said. “And I take care of my own.”

The protagonist was enveloped – yelling and struggling – into the smoke.

Part 2

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Bad Romance Prompts

Anonymous said to the-modern-typewriter:

At the risk of crowding an already full bandwagon, I have to say that I’m LOVING these Hero/Villain and Villain x Villain prompts. They’re gorgeous! I’d love to see more along those lines. (Maybe even a Villain/Villain/Hero triangle?) <3

 Anonymous said:

I loved that extra prompt at the end of the two villains ask! Maybe some more of two villains trying to seduce a hero? Thanks so much!

1) The next time someone suggested ‘distraction’ for the sake of the mission, they were going to read it less like ‘heroically creating a diversion’ and more like ‘bloody bait’. Their heart skittered in their chest to find themselves sitting not even between one of their enemies, but two of them. Nowhere to go. Fucking wine and dine instead of a decent fight. Laughter in their ear, a hand on their thigh and another brushing their hair back from their face with a really quite dizzying fondness that brought back far too many memories. It couldn’t get worse. Their mouth had gone dry, stomach bottomed out. “You want to talk peace, go on then,” the villain murmured. “Give us your spiel.” “But you’re going to have to be very convincing,” said the other. “What with your friends currently poking through my belongings. Trespassing is so rude, don’t you think? It would be terrible if the security mistook them as a threat.” It could get worse. 

2) ��  “Will you stop commenting on how adorable I am when I’m trying to fight you?” the hero snapped, cheeks flushed through between being furious and being flustered.  “This is serious.” The two villains exchanged a glance, seeming entirely too amused by the comment. “Easy, tiger,” the villain said. “You’re currently outnumbered with none of your little team in sight or hearing distance. Let’s not pretend this is a fight.” “We can both go at you if you like,” said the other. “But I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.” Flustered took precedence as the hero gaped, spluttered. And really, gaping and spluttering in front of a person’s enemies wasn’t an acceptable response by any means, so of course they had to square their shoulders and give a cocky smirk. “Oh please, I can handle anything either of you throw at me.”

3) “Tell me.” The villain took a slow, menacing step forward. “What’s so special about you? What do they see in you? You’re nothing.” “You’re getting awfully twitchy over nothing.” The villain caught hold of their throat in an instant. “I wonder how much they’d like you with that pretty face cut up.” The hero laughed. “I don’t think that would stop them finding your personality ugly.” They turned abruptly serious, fingers tightening around the villain’s wrist. “If you love them, let them be happy. You have to know I’m not looking to hurt them.”

4)  “They’d want you anyway they could possess you,” said the villain. “Mind, body, soul. Everything you have to offer, and then just a little more until you’re completely spent They don’t care about you, all they care about is winning.” The hero stared at them, going perfectly still. “I could protect you,” the villain said. “We were friends once…but I can’t help you if you don’t work with me a little bit here. “Funny. They said you’re obsessed with me so what the hell are you doing? Do you think this is some of game?” Despite themselves, the thought of being a game stung.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

I love your prompts so much!!! Could we get more prompts for a possessive villain and their hero please? Thank you so much!

1) “What the hell is all of this?” “It’s a party - surely even you have seen one of those before in your righteous little life,” the villain murmured in their ear. “A favour for a favour, you agreed.” They wrapped an arm around the hero’s waist, drawing them in closer to their side.“The parties I normally go to aren’t made up of people who’ve tried to kill me.”“No need to fret, they won’t touch you when you’re with me. Let me show off my favourite hero.” So that was what this was about.

2) “No - no. Don’t get up, you’re hurt.” “Hurt happens when you attack someone, yeah.”The villain tutted, guiding the hero back to the ground as they struggled to push themselves up, with a gentle foot pressing down on their shoulder. “I’m an expert,” they said. “I know what I’m doing when I hurt you - you’ll aggravate your injuries and get yourself killed. Your pain is mine. Leave it in my hands where it belongs. Take a few deep breaths.”

3) “They said they’ll tell us everything we need.”“What’s the catch?” the hero asked.“They want an hour alone in a room, no supervision, no cameras…with you.” The hero felt the other’s gaze rest on them, but kept their expression measured despite the sudden lashing of their heart. “Now why.” Their boss ducked to catch their eyes. “Would they ask for something like that?”

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

hello, absolutely love your writing! could i request a snippet where the villain betrays the hero and they were lovers? it’s like the hero is visibly heartbroken and deflated seeming and the villain is TRYING to act all snarky and smug but they truly did love the hero? lots and lots of angst >:) thank you very much! have a lovely day :)

"I suppose betrayal is always a bit of a surprise, by definition," the villain purred. "But really. You should have seen this coming. Clever thing like you."

The hero glanced up.

The villain took a half step back at the expression on the hero's face. They could have coped with fury, bloody vengeance or disgust. The hero looked...

They weren't crying, but their eyes were wet with unshed tears, and just lost. The rigid anger of their shoulders wasn't anger back up at the world at all, so much as a desperate effort to keep themselves from crumbling entirely. The hero had always seemed so strong, not unshakeable, but shakeable in the way of an earthquake-proof building.

The villain gulped. Whatever they were about to say died in their throat, so they covered it with a cocky smirk.

They were not an earthquake-proof building. So it was safer, better, to be the earthquake.

"I suppose I'm flattered," they continued, to see if some anger - some spark of hope, of spirit, of life - might be found. "You really fell hard for me, huh? They do say love is blind."

"Yeah." It was croaky.

The villain wanted to snarl. To grab the hero by their stupid cosy jumper and shake them until their defences clicked into place again. Didn't they know it was suicide to show their bleeding, broken heart so obviously? To not even try and hide it? It was embarrassing.

The villain closed the half step between them, and - the hero simply looked at them. They didn't raise their hands to defend themselves. Nothing. The hero had tipped their head back, so sweetly, so vulnerable, as the villain pressed a line of kisses up their throat.

"Get everything you wanted?" the hero asked.

"Yeah." It was...not croaky. The villain pulled their smirk a little wider. Just in case. They dragged their fingertips along the hero's side, and it wasn't simply an excuse to touch the hero at least one last time, it wasn't. "You were great!"

The hero didn't even have the decency to flinch. Nothing. It was if the villain had killed them. They simply continued to stare.

The villain dropped their hand like they'd been burnt and for a second - just a second - the smirk faltered. Everything stuttered. The world beneath them split open.

The hero clearly clocked the fissure, because their head tilted. A fraction. The smallest thing.

"Great," the hero echoed, then. "I'm so happy for you. I'm sure it was all totally worth it."

The villain flinched. Then they laughed, like the hero had cracked a joke, real funny like, and ruffled the hero's hair. "Better than great." Because the hero had been perfect, brave and gorgeous and kind. and the villain was never going to be able to say that now. They were never going to have it again. "That thing you did with your tongue, man..."

The hero finally flinched back. One of the tears finally spilled over, heartbreak and humiliation cracking across their expression.

It was supposed to feel like victory.

It was all supposed to feel like victory.

They'd got everything they wanted.

It didn't feel like that at all.

So, in the end, it was the villain that fled.

They didn't dare look back.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

If you’re interested dear writer, a protag who used to be beholden to something powerful, but fled and found safety in someone else, a powerful mentor figure of some sort, only to find out that years later the villain has gained the ability of possession—not because they’ve possessed the protag, but the mentor they thought so strong

"No." They were torn, ravaged, between sick horror and an even more nauseating relief. Their mentor hadn't betrayed them, hadn't been playing them. But their mentor... "Get out of him." The protagonist's voice shook. "You can't - they're -"

Their mentor was supposed to be too powerful for anyone to take, to hurt. He was supposed to be untouchable. He wasn't supposed to be yet another puppet for the villain's insidious designs.

Their mentor's head tilted and it was - it was still such a them gesture that the protagonist had to take several large steps back to lean against the opposite wall before their legs gave out.

"Get," the protagonist said again, "out."

As if commands would work, as if their relationship with the villain had ever been of the sort where they gave the orders. As if it was all as simple as no, and don't, and please.

The protagonist summoned power to their fingertips. It felt like waving a candle in the face of an avalanche. Pathetic.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the villain said. "I would never hurt you."

The villain's voice still sounded like their mentor's voice. Gruff and reassuring. The protagonist would have preferred the eerie strain of vocal chords stolen, of something forcibly taken, because hearing the villain's words in their mentor's voice was so much worse.

"How long?" the protagonist demanded, a rancid taste in their mouth. "How long have you been possessing him?"

It felt like they should know. It felt like the worst treachery that they didn't know, that they hadn't noticed. They prayed it was a matter of hours, days, even a week or two.

They tried not to think what the hell they were going to do, when the one person they thought would - could - protect them had been taken.

"You don't want to make a guess?"

"How. Long."

The villain wet their lips. A hungry gesture, something dark and insatiable creeping out beneath the familiar veneer of safety.

The power in the hero's hands flickered and snuffed.

"A little over a year," the villain said.

"No." The protagonist shook their head, a lump in their throat. "You're lying - no."

"I have never lied to hurt you."

"Possessing someone is lying." And it hurt. It hurt like the world was falling down.

"Possessing him didn't hurt you." The villain moved closer, as if they had every right to do so, and squeezed the nape of the protagonist's neck like their mentor so often did. It should have been grounding. It felt like a greater violation that it still felt grounding. Like the villain had stolen all of their mentor's tricks, hijacked muscle memory and instinct for their own purpose. "It gave you the time you needed, kept you safe."

"He kept me safe."

The villain smirked, a slip of a cruel intoxicating thing. "Not for the past year, he didn't."

The protagonist recoiled.

The villain's hand moved, lightning-quick, cupping the back of their head and stopping them from smacking it against the wall.

The protagonist froze. They peered up at their mentor's face, searching for the monster beneath the surface. The thing that they had run from. The thing that had, for the last year...

"Besides," their villain said, voice low. "You basically just ran to another version of me. It's actually quite sweet."

"He's nothing like you."

"You couldn't tell the difference."

The protagonist flinched. "I-"

"You ran to something powerful, something greater than you." The villain squeezed again, harder, even as their voice softened to something more like their own. "Because you're not strong enough to protect yourself. You've never been strong enough on your own. What if he'd hurt you, hm?"

"He's not you. He wouldn't-"

"-When have I ever hurt you?"

"You'd swallow me whole." It came out a whisper, as pathetic as their power compared to the villain.

The villain smiled, a terribly gentle thing. "And wouldn't that be my right?"

"He'd say no."

"That's because he wants you all to himself."

"No."

"Yes." The villain stepped back, but it didn't make the protagonist feel any less crowded in, any less smothered, any less like they were wrapped in the coils of a serpent about to be devoured. "And if you wanted otherwise, you would have noticed far earlier that he wasn't running the show. It was always going to be us. It's always us. You and me."

Maybe the villain was right. The protagonist hadn't noticed, had they? And - as they'd grown closer to their mentor in the last year, they'd felt so safe and so wanted. Maybe their mentor didn't want them at all. Maybe that was the possession.

No. No.

The protagonist squeezed their eyes shut, pressing their trembling hands over their face. That wasn't the point. It couldn't be the point.

"He's in there?"

"Come home," the villain said. "And don't run away again, and I won't need his body anymore."

"I want to talk to him. I want - I need to know that he's okay."

The villain stared at them for a beat.

"Please." The protagonist tried it anyway. "I can't leave without knowing he's okay. He was - you can appreciate that he kept me safe, right? When I was an idiot. Safe for you."

A shudder ran through the villain, and then something else crept into their mentor's eyes. Fear. Fury. Protectiveness.

"Don't go with them. It's not your fault," their mentor said, rushed. "I wanted to protect you, so I told them what to say, how to behave. It was better than-"

In an instant, the villain was back in control.

The protagonist stared, wide-eyed. Everything slid towards horror.

The villain's breathing was a little heavy. Their hands flexed at their sides.

"You're mine." The villain turned away. "And he can't protect you from anything, let alone me. Come home. It will be your chance to protect someone else for once, won't it?"

The protagonist went back to the place they would never, ever, call home again.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

hey I'm so sorry if this is is an unwanted request, but I wanted to ask for a hero x villain story where the villain kidnaps? And tattoos the hero. I think it would be very fun and dramatic. A very permanent and painful reminder.

I really love your work, I've read pieces of your writing for years. Keep doing what you're doing <3

"Hold still, or it's going to be wobbly," the villain said. "Nobody wants a wobbly tattoo, do they? That's just lame."

The hero snarled at them, wordless, unable to do much more with the bit wedged in their mouth. It was, according to the villain, to stop the hero from biting through their own tongue. So, that was nice and reassuring.

They could struggle, but not enough to stop what was going to happen. The grip the villain's various lackeys had on them was too firm and unforgiving. Still - the presence of hands, instead of cold metal, tried to trick some part of their lizard brain into thinking they had a real chance of escape if they just tried hard enough.

They didn't. They knew they didn't. But they struggled all the same, eyes flashing, breath ragged. They'd been forced onto their back on something that looked a little like a dentist's chair, head pinned sideways to face the villain. They only had vague impressions of the rest of the room. Bright light.

The villain had pulled up a chair next to them with their kit.

"So," the villain said, in an affable sort of voice. "It's going to hurt a little, like we talked about. That's mainly because of the location." They began their work, carefully, and the hero squeezed their eyes shut. A whimper escaped them. It was not a little. "Ribs don't have a lot of fat, you see, and you're quite sensitive anyway. But you said that's where you'd get one, so, far be it from me to dictate."

The hero had said hypothetically they would get a tattoo on their ribs. Because it looked cool. They hadn't done any research and they certainly hadn't been serious about it. It had merely been idle conversation with someone they'd thought was their friend.

They'd also said that they would get a jellyfish, or maybe a small bird.

The hero tried to see what the hell the villain was doing, but they couldn't get a good look beyond the distressingly elegant curve of the villain's head.

"I figured you'd want to be conscious, though." The villain laughed, softly. "I wouldn't want to wake up and find out someone had just done something to me, you know? Makes it hard to process it. Freaky."

The hero swore at them. They liked to think the sentiment got through, even if it was just raw sound. Choked.

"You'll look so gorgeous when you're done, though," the villain said. "Don't worry. I'm a professional. I've done this loads of times before."

The hero knew that. That was the problem.

The villain's super-abilities were unusual enough that it had taken the hero far too long to realise that the villain had any, and that they were in fact a monstrosity rather than simply the sexy artist that the hero had met in a bar. Whatever the villain painted, wrote, inked or drew was woven through with their power. It could come alive. It could influence. It could harm or heal that specific area at the villain's whim.

It could, in short, do all manner of things that the hero did not want permanently etched into their skin.

Everyone close to the villain had a tattoo. It didn't bode well.

"Just breathe," the villain said. "You're doing so well. It will be easier on you if you relax."

The hero swore at them again. It didn't make them feel better.

The villain worked on them for what felt like hours. If it was a jellyfish, it was a truly massive jellyfish that curved all the way up their side. The hero still hadn't got a good look. At some point, they'd stopped writhing in the chair, exhausted.

They felt dazed when the villain finally lifted their head, meeting their eyes again. The villain brushed a tear away from the hero's cheek. It reminded the hero to jolt again, but the hands on them remained as relentless as ever.

Another small, involuntary sound left them.

Their skin felt hot. Sunburnt.

"All done," the villain said. They finally eased the bit out of the hero's mouth. "You should have some water. Are you going to drink it nicely?"

"What the hell did you do to me?" the hero demanded. Their voice was raspy.

"It's gorgeous. You'll love it. Water?"

"I don't want anything from you!"

"Good skin is important to good tattoos. But, hey." The villain shrugged. "I can't make you." They gestured for their lackeys to release the hero.

The hero surged up in an instant, fist already flying towards the villain's face. In an instant, their body froze, knuckles inches from the villain's face. It didn't matter how much they strained. They couldn't move.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "You'll want to make sure to keep it clean, to avoid any infection," the villain said. "And don't pick at it, okay? Stay out of the sun. No swimming."

"What did you do to me!?" It came out through gritted teeth.

The villain smirked at them. "I gave you a jellyfish. On the house. You're welcome."

The hero glared.

"That's what you wanted, right?" the villain asked.

"I didn't want this."

The villain shrugged. "I did, though. For the moment I saw you with your clothes off"

"You-" Words didn't feel enough to express the emotion that coursed through the hero at that. "I hate you."

"Yes, I get that quite a lot. I don't generally let it bother me. You do all look so pretty fuming, helpless, at my mercy."

The hero swallowed.

The villain waved a hand, and whatever strange paralysis had overtaken the hero, vanished. They staggered forward, nearly pitching into the villain's lap. The villain caught them to steady them, hands on their waist.

It should have been excruciating, to have the villain's hand on the tattoo, but instead there was a buzz of pleasure across the hero's skin that definitely wasn't normal. They wrenched back as quickly as possible, heart pounding.

Their fists curled, itching with the urge the punch again, but they didn't quite dare get close.

The villain beamed at them, eyes glittering with mirth, apparently knowing exactly what the hero was thinking.

"Now," they said. "Do you want a lift home? Or do you prefer to take a moment to recover here?"

"You're sick."

"I'm up and coming, darling. One day you'll thank me for it."

The hero peeled the bandage off the moment they were at home, alone, to try and get a good look at their new acquisition.

It was a jellyfish, just as the villain had said, inked in full colour and in exquisite detail and artistry. It seeped blue and purple into the hero's skin, with the smallest tinges of shimmering pink. The villain's initials were weaved into the jellyfish's umbrella, subtle to someone not looking for them. Small but there.

The hero didn't remember hitting the bathroom floor, only the dull feeling of their knees giving way beneath them as it all well and truly sunk in.

They could feel it against them. It was almost as if the tentacles were moving, gently, caressing their ribs. As if the villain's fingers were there, a ghost of a blazing touch.

They got a horrific amount of compliments about the damn thing.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

I’ve not seen any starved touched hero stories so may I request a starved touched hero and the villain finds out and helps them. It’s fine if not:)

"Tell me," the villain murmured, as the hero's breath came out quivering. "When was the last time that someone touched you?"

It wasn't what the hero had expected.

"People touch me all the time."

"Kindly."

"You're not kind."

But the villain's touch was such a gentle thing; the hero's brain refused to register it as cruelty, even as the villain's fingers were curled around their throat. They didn't squeeze though.

The hero should have pulled back already. They should have shoved the villain away. They did none of those things. They leaned limp against the wall, almost hypnotised by the back and forth sweep of the villain's thumb brushing sweetly against their pulse point.

It was pitiful for a nice threat to feel like affection. They were pitiful.

The villain's gaze was intent.

"What are you doing to me?" the hero whispered.

"I'm not doing anything." The villain's powers worked with touch, but they had never touched the hero before. The hero had always been too quick. The villain had managed that time though, advancing, shoving the hero to the wall and then - then this. The villain had touched their skin and then they'd gone perfectly still for a few seconds. The villain could expose all secrets with a press of their fingers, do all manner of things, but...

The hero swallowed, eyeing them. They genuinely didn't think the villain was doing anything.

Each second that ticked by seemed a confession, a betrayal, a plea for something.

The villain's hand slid slowly to to cup the nape of the hero's neck. "You didn't answer my question." The villain pulled the hero a step closer, dragged them flush. The villain's other hand wrapped around the hero's back.

They were being hugged.

A confused, entirely too soft sound left the hero's throat. Questioning. A little choked. It felt like a trap and it felt entirely too desperately lovely.

The villain tightened their grip, tucking the hero's head against their shoulder.

"Skin hunger," the villain said, softly. "Touch starvation. You are a famine, love, I can feel it."

"I-" The hero didn't know how to finish the sentence. The villain was so warm against them, a solid and reassuring presence. That couldn't be right. "What?"

"It has been entirely too long, hasn't it?"

"You're not doing anything?"

"I'm hugging you."

"Your powers-"

"-Mean I know exactly how you are feeling. How much you need this. So are you going to be good and shut up and let yourself have it?"

The hero choked out another gasp of air.

Was that was why the villain had stopped? Why they'd seemed to switch gears so abruptly when they could have finally won? The hero swallowed and shut up, even if it was a bad idea. Inch by inch, when the villain did nothing more but hold them, the hero relaxed. They melted.

"Why are you doing this?" the hero managed, pressing their face against the promise of the villain's shoulder.

"Kindness?"

"You're not kind."

The villain huffed, breath rustling the hero's hair. They pressed a kiss atop the hero's head. "Mm. Temporarily benevolent. No strings attached, pinky promise."

It was definitely suspicious, but it really did feel so unbelievably good. The hero felt like they'd settled into their bones for the first time in years. Maybe longer.

They really couldn't remember the last time someone touched them kindly, for an extended period of time. A brush of accidental touch in a crowd. A hairdresser's clinical contact. None of it was anything like what the villain gave them.

"That's better," the villain said, with a sigh. "Your nerve endings have stopped screaming at me."

"S-sorry. I-"

"It was merely an observation. You don't need to be sorry."

The hero expected the villain to get back to it, or step back. They didn't. It was probably the longest hug in the world.

Finally, the hero let themselves reach out, wrapping their arms around the villain in turn.

"Good," the villain said.

"Are we still...I shouldn't let you touch me. I'm not stupid."

"No."

"Are you going to let go of me?"

"When you actually want me to, sure."

"And you can...feel that?"

"Yes."

The hero squirmed with embarrassment. The villain tightened their grip again. The hero went still.

"Years," the hero whispered, finally. "It's been years. I can't remember the last time."

"Mm." The villain nuzzled into them. "That's not going to happen again. I don't believe in torture."

Neither of them much felt like fighting when they finally broke apart.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

Imagine a villain straight refusing to fight another member of the Hero Team just cuz his hero archnemesis is not present

"Where are they?"

"Oh, not again." The protagonist could feel a headache coming on. "Look-"

"-Are they hurt?" The villain's eyes went dark and dangerous. "Who hurt them?"

"They're fine! Oh my god."

"Then where are they?"

The protagonist definitely had a headache. "It's their day off."

"They didn't tell me they had the day off. What's wrong?"

The really concerning part was that the hero probably would tell the villain which days they were working and which they weren't. The two of them were as bad as each other! The hero was going to be unbearable when they came back and found out that the team had fought the villain without them.

"Can we just get this over with?" the protagonist tried.

"No."

The protagonist sighed. They pinched the bridge of their nose and took a few deep breaths. "Okay," they said slowly. "But you realise I'm still going to have confiscate your nightmare robot."

"It's not for you. And don't think I didn't notice you dodging the question!"

The protagonist considered their options; lies, truth, everything in between.

The villain's nightmare robot hunkered down a little more pointedly in the middle of the bridge. Several people honked their horns. It was, honestly, embarrassing for everyone involved at that point.

"Their grandma died."

"Oh no." The villain's whole face softened. "Grandma L or Grandma P?"

Of course he knew the hero's grandparents. Of course he did. "Look, about the robot-"

"-I'll reschedule," the villain said.

"I can't let you keep the robot. My boss would have my head."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have flowers to send."

The protagonist's eye twitched. "If you try and walk away with it-"

"-Do you really want to traumatize this entire bridge of innocent civilians?"

"I'm sure they're traumatized having to listen to you two idiots on a weekly basis."

"I'm taking the robot. When are they back?"

"They haven't said," the protagonist said, through gritted teeth. "As you know-"

"-They'll be doing all the funeral arrangements. Yeah. You know what, give me their number. I'll text them."

"I'm not giving you their number."

"Why not?"

"It's against policy."

"I'd like to express my condolences."

The protagonist looked them dead in the face. "Mm. That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have a robot to confiscate."

The robot slammed a fist into the bridge. It wobbled precariously.

The protagonist raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. They folded their arms across their chest.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" the villain snarled.

"I hate you too, don't worry."

"I should kill you."

"They'd have so much paperwork when they got back from the funeral. It would really improve their month, you killing me."

They ended up glaring at each other.

"If I give you the bloody stupid robot, will you give me their number?"

The protagonist smiled sweetly. "That's the only smart thing I've ever heard you say."

Everyone, generally, preferred it when the hero was around.

They all made sure it didn't happen again.

[a-little-bit-of-nowhere]

your writing never fails to blow my mind. I’m addicted to your blog! maybe a snippet where everyone is aware of the villain’s romantic interest in the hero so the hero’s superior wants them to date/seduce the villain to get info from them.

The villain paused, with their arms braced on either side of the hero’s shoulders, caging them up against the wall. 

The hero steeled themselves, though their heart was hammering furiously in their chest. A sharp knot of anxiety twisted in the pit of their belly. Their fingers trembled a little as they reached up to caress the curve of the villain’s jaw, and they hoped the villain would put that down to nervous want alone. 

The villain’s hand closed around their wrist in an instant. 

The hero froze. 

“I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t like, that you don’t want,” the villain said. Their gaze fixed on the hero. “At least not like that.”

“But you -” The hero’s head whirled. The villain had been going along with all night, going about their usual flirting, their usual voracious expressions, all the way up to backing them into this moment in the restaurant’s fancy bathroom. 

“I was curious how far you were willing to go.” The villain placed the hero’s wrist back down against the wall. “How far you thought I would be willing to go. It is more honest than anything else you’ve done tonight.” 

The hero swallowed. 

“I didn’t allow myself many hopes for tonight,” the villain said. There was something in their expression that wasn’t voracious at all now - it took a beat for the hero to recognise the opposite, they’d never seen it on the villain’s features. Something hollow. Empty. “I suspected you only suggested dinner as a trap, or a distraction, or some way of finding information. I’m not stupid. But I guess I still hoped that you didn’t think so low of me as that. That maybe you felt the same connection that I did.” 

“My superior-”

“Doesn’t understand me.” The villain shook their head. “They think I am incapable of genuine positive feeling. They think my interest just means I want to…what?” The villain looked tired. “Fuck you against a bathroom wall? A bathroom.” The villain let go of them abruptly, leaving every point of contact tingling with absence. “I didn’t really ever think you would fall for someone like me. The only reason anyone ever tries to get close to me is because they want to betray me. But I did think you…” The villain didn’t finish.

The hero’s mouth felt dry. They had the ridiculous urge to apologise, to try and tell the villain that they weren’t really like that. 

“I was just following orders,” the hero muttered. 

“I know. It makes me wonder how many times they’ve asked you to do that before. Ordered you to put yourself in a situation like that before. You’re unnervingly good at hiding your discomfort.” 

“But you noticed.” The hero’s throat felt tight, oddly thick. 

“You deserve a proper date. Not that you don’t deserve to be fucked in a bathroom still if that’s what you want, but that doesn’t really seem like something you want.”

It had been a nice evening, if one ignored the crushing weight of expectations, and it was difficult to ignore the loom of such things. When they walked in, the villain’s face had genuinely lit up for a moment. 

“I don’t need you to judge me,” the hero spat. They wrapped their arms protectively around themselves. “I know what I agreed to.” 

“There’s a bit more to consent than just saying yes. Especially when you’re employer gets involved.”

The hero didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t what they had expected. The villain was obsessive, at the best of times, they knew that.  It hadn’t occurred to them that the villain might say no - as arrogant as that perhaps sounded. Villains didn’t usually say no, when they were interested. Half the time they didn’t seem to even listen to the word. 

They stared at each other for a beat, and the hero must have looked stricken, or something awful, because the villain raised their brow and fumbled for a flirty, purring normal. 

“Trust me, sunshine,” the villain looked them up and down slowly, “when I have you, you will beg me for every bit of it.” 

Somehow the hero found themselves smiling back at that, shyly, but still.  

The villain caught themselves and stepped back. “I’ll call you a cab.”

It wasn’t the worst date they’d ever been on.