"haunting The Narrative" Is One Of Those Phrases I Wanna Put Up On A Shelf. Not All Characters That Are

"haunting the narrative" is one of those phrases i wanna put up on a shelf. not all characters that are dead haunt the narrative. not all characters that are dead haunt the narrative. not all characters that haunt the narrative are dead.

when doese one make fanart for a man you adore

Happy May!!

Wait-

HIS BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP WE GOTTA ACT FAST--

Hii I absolutely love your writing!

I know you just posted it..butt I was wondering in you could make another part of #270 ? The prompt From @some-messed-up-writing-for-you

(The one with the rich supervillain and the reporter who somehow knew the villain was dating sv for 8 months)

Thank you so much!! It's taken a couple days but here's part two!

For any new readers, you can read Part One here!

A steady wrap on Villain's steel door resonated in all four walls of their apartment, sending a vague little shock into their bedframe where it pressed against the wall.

Villain untangled themself from their mess of thick blankets and stumbled to the window, peeking warily from a space below the curtains. Supervillain stood on the landing in sunglasses and a white, double-breasted wool coat. If they were anyone else, Villain would have pegged them as lost or stupid for walking around this part of town so richly dressed. But seeing as this was Supervillain, they worried more for the petty thugs that might mistake them for an easy target.

Villain yanked the chain off the door, flinging it open wide enough that they could properly throw themselves around Supervillain's neck. "Supervillain!"

One of Supervillain's hands went to the small of their back and the other to their face as they dipped down and pressed their mouth to Villain's. Their shampoo, mouth spray, and cologne blended in a fragrant harmony of pinewood, peppermint, and jasmine that made Villain heady. They were roughly dropped back to reality as Supervillain abruptly pulled back.

"Did you just get up?" Supervillain asked.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Morning breath." Their nose wrinkled involuntarily as they said it, and Villain's face warmed.

They loosed their hold on Supervillain and scanned their apartment. Toothbrush, toothbrush. Before they got two steps, Supervillain reeled them back for a second, longer kiss. A few moments later they held them out in front of themself and thumbed some leftover foundation out from under their eye.

"And you're still wearing last night's makeup?"

"The bathroom was taken when I got home and I was tired." Between Villain and the complex's 7 other tenants, the bathroom was a coveted commodity. Since sharing was dicey, they often found different facilities, public restrooms and gym showers, but all of them were still always fighting for the convenience of a restroom right outside their door. Villain had not been in the mood for a screaming match through the door at 12:30 a.m. nor for sitting outside holding their place in line for who knew how many hours.

"Remind me why you won't let me put you up in a better apartment?" Supervillain said, passing over the apartment's threshold and flicking off their sunglasses to glance around distastefully at their stained floors and scanty furnishment.

"I like the neighborhood?" Villain tried.

"Ah, yes, the killers and cutthroats, wonderful neighbors."

"You're one to talk," Villain said.

Supervillain sat down in one of the wicker chairs at Villain's wobbly table and crossed their ankle over their knee. "Hm. I wonder if any real comparison can be made between a diamond and a stone. This place is a birthing place for mediocrity. Just chunks of worthless mineral crumbling off the same barren cliffside."

"Stones like me?"

"There's always a vein of gold mixed in with the gangue," Supervillain waved nonchalantly, then more intensely, "Why would you even say that? You seemed happy to see me a moment ago and now you're angry again? Is it still about last night? I know it was hard on you. Let me make it up to you."

"I'm not angry." Slightly annoyed maybe, but not angry. What right did they have to anger when Supervillain was about to find out just how massively they'd screwed up?

"What do you want?" Supervillain asked, surrounded by an air of confidence that they could provide anything Villain wished. "Clothes? Jewels? Car? You're always browsing those motor scooters on your phone. Oh! Do you want a new phone, baby?"

A part of Villain faltered at the temptation. It was just so easy for them. Two taps on their phone, and they could have Villain's dreams already ordered and shipped. But the part of Villain containing their pride resisted. The same pride that kept them in this dump and gave them a fighting chance with Supervillain when they were still nothing more than a feisty two-face in tired clothing. They couldn't bear being dependent on anyone. It made them feel small and pitiful. In any case, even if they could convince themselves that an expensive gift was payment for yesterday's torture, the guilt gnawing in their stomach wouldn't allow it.

"Supervillain," Villain said quietly. "I need to talk to you."

The self-assured curve of Supervillain’s mouth lowered into a frown, and their fist tightened on their knee. "If you're breaking up with me, I want my kiss back." They said it with humor, but the edges of their tone were sharp and chilling.

"No!" Villain seized their white-knuckled fist in both hands. "It's nothing like that."

Supervillain visibly relaxed, leaning forward on their elbows to cup Villain's jaw as they knelt in front of them. Their eyes urged--no, commanded--them to explain further.

"I..." Villain played with Supervillain's fingers. "I messed up. I really really messed up, and I should've said something last night, but I wasn't completely sure, but now... Supervillain, I'm so sorry."

"Love, you're not making any sense."

"Last night, when you left me on the balcony, a reporter talked to me. He was nice, so I let my guard down. At one point, he mentioned something about us dating for eight months. I didn't deny it. I didn't even realize until later that he'd said it. He knew, or at least suspected, and now because of me, he knows we were lying."

Supervillain reclined back in their chair in a fit of chuckles. "That's what you're so worried about? Villain, it's a reporter tactic. They trick you into agreeing in passing to something they've made up and then they blow it up in the papers. I do wish you'd told me yesterday so I could have gotten ahead of the press, little hope of that now, but if that's it, we can just deny it. Say you were confused. He can’t do any real damage.”

"Yes, he can," Villain moaned.

"No."

"He can. There's more."

"Ok, what else?"

"It was Dean Ashley. He works for Lime Light Magazine."

Supervillain raised their eyebrows. "Yes, I'm familiar with him."

Villain spilled out the rest as quickly as they could. "Eight months is a really exact guess. It made me wonder how he could have known. So I thought about everyone who knew about our real relationship. And the only option-- Well, I compared pictures last night. It's the same chin, same eyes. He uses different speech patterns as a civilian, but now that I know, his voice itself is practically unchanged."

"What are you talking about?" Supervillain said, stern enough to make Villain swallow and focus on the point.

"He's Hero."

Supervillain's reaction was like a kettle coming to a boil.

"You're telling me," he started calmly, "that you spoke to Hero. On the very night we dedicated to eradicating any and all public doubts, you spoke to Hero and CONFIRMED EVERYTHING?! YOU REVEALED OUR IDENTITIES? MY IDENTITY?"

"I didn't mean to!"

Supervillain ripped out of Villain's grip, looming over them like a winter storm. "DO YOU THINK THAT MATTERS? 'It was an accident.' 'I'm sorry.' Do you think 'I'm sorry' changes the fact that the only person who could actually prove something knows everything? It's only a matter of time before I wake up to my face plastered on every screen and magazine cover with a big bold headline: BILLIONAIRE BADDIE! You know to look for the tricks in people's wording! How could you have been so careless? Because he was nice?"

"I was tired!" Villain defended weakly, feeling the tears well hot in their eyes.

"It was one party!"

"It's not that easy for me!"

"Why?" Supervillain demanded. "You can pull an all-nighter for a flawless heist, hustle cops without batting an eye, build an explosive under high-pressure, what could possibly be so difficult about standing around and dancing?"

All the frustration Villain had swallowed yesterday, half-dissolved and unsettling their stomach like a disagreeable hard candy, rushed up their throat and burst past their lips. "I was tired of erasing myself for your reputation!"

Supervillain stopped short, contorted expression freezing in harsh lines. "What?"

Villain grabbed the legs of their sweats in handfuls. “I get it. Obviously, the real me is a horrendous match for [SV Civilian Name]. But I wasn’t expecting that I’d have to sell a person as well as story. I can’t turn my personality off and on the way you do. Being someone else is hard. Can you blame me for falling for the first trick that let me be me?” They held up their hands quickly. “And I’m not trying to excuse myself. I know that I screwed up. I just…well… It hurts being nothing but a coverup. Like I’m a hollow shell for show and nothing else to it.”

A poignant silence filled the air, accented by the shrill of cold wind coming through a space in the window. Villain couldn’t meet Supervillain eyes but they could feel their gaze boring into them.

“Villain,” they said finally. “Why do you think I told you to use your real name?”

“So I could use my own ID. Saves you from looking like your hiding something if anyone ever digs too deep. My civilian name is a dead end, but if they notice a fake name they might get too curious.”

"You really think a reporter could untangle an alias I’ve designed? If I wanted to give you a new identity, I would have given you a new identity.”

It was Villain’s turn to stare.

Supervillain crouched down in front of them, the ends of their coat spreading out behind them like the train of a king’s robe. “For the year I've known you, my life has been split in two. One public, one secret. No cross-over. It was non-negotiable. But putting you in the ‘secret’ category has always been my biggest vexation. You say it’s hard to be someone else, well, it was hard for me to treat you like something shameful. When the truth is...”

Villain awaited the next words hungrily, but Supervillain simply rubbed the bridge of their nose and started anew. The disorder of their thoughts was surprising. The master criminal was usually so expert and smooth at, well, everything.

“I needed big news for my reputation, that is true. But more importantly, I didn’t want to hide you anymore. I needed a way to insert you into my public life. A way to spend time with you anywhere I want without worrying whether it will all crash down on me. One carefully selected cross-over that wouldn't cause any harm--" They stopped again. "And that's what Hero noticed." They let out a long sigh. "It's not your fault."

"But I’m the one who talked to Hero. If I had been more aware—”

Supervillain wiped the remaining tears out of their eyes. “I’m the one that made him suspicious. If you hadn’t confirmed anything he would have kept looking.”

Villain’s bottom lip trembled, and they buried their face in Supervillain’s chest, the white wool scratchy on their cheek. A sudden thought jolted them out of the warmth.

“What about Hero?”

“Well, my little genius, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting you to figure out his secret identity while he was uncovering ours. We’ll give Dean Ashley a little call. I wonder how he’ll react to the idea of his name being dropped to every villain in this city. I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”

Part Three

this is so lovely, I'd love for it to continue. I can picture the scenes and thoughts really nicely ^^

snippet #2 — constantly rotting

CW — depressed / burnt out henchman , bed rotting , mentioning of medications, dissociating

Henchman hasn't picked up any of the calls from the Villain lately and dear god, Villain was displeased.

And for a good reason, Henchman was the most trusted out of all henchmen in the organization with how well they perform and how they had stayed with the villain since the beginning.

so, how did it all change? They showed up less and less ever since That incident, even if Villain had called or visited them, they didn't have the energy to get out of their bed- their boss being unhappy with their lack of presence was reasonable.

all they do is rot in bed. constantly felt like they were only wasting their years.

Hell, Henchman doesn't even have enough money to live anymore so not only were they on the brink of getting fired or even considering retirement at this point but also getting kicked out of their own apartment.

This is stupid.

They were unemployed in their personal life and even if they did show up at work again, they felt nothing but guilt as others started to talk to them less or try to avoid them ever since. They didn't even know what they did wrong?

so every conversation they tried to take part in felt awkward because of that.

They looked around their room, everything was..a mess.

They sat up on their bed, looking down at their scar filled arms. Why are they even willing to devote themselves to a criminal, thus risking their own life?

many thoughts ran to their head until their phone started to ring again. another daily call from their boss, apparently.

they let it ring until it hung up on itself, while waiting so they finally got up, put on their uniform, and got ready.

if they had remembered correctly, they were called for a personal meeting upon stepping in the building.

And if Henchman was being honest, they were anxious. but at this point, do they even care what would happen to them? no.

–

Well, that didn't go well. for the henchman, at least.

It felt like a counseling session rather than a meeting and it took them back to when they were in highschool.

back to when they got so fucked up that they got sent to therapy and put into medications.

the villain was..worried, yet displeased. they not only had known each other for awhile on the job but they've also been close.

fuck, they felt even more terrible after they were dismissed. going back here was a mistake.

They were ordered to organize more paperworks and, even if the villain didn't say it directly, they didn't want to disappoint the villain even further so they got to work.

Now here they are, printing copies of the documents the villain gave, I mean, most of the time they were dissociating anyway.

nothing felt real at this point, they felt extremely disconnected from their body. almost as if their own body doesn't belong to them.

they wanted to go back rotting in their room again but it seemed like it wasn't an option now that they were here.

they were just staring at the printer as the machine does its thing, well, at least their body is. they didn't seem to hear the knocking on the door of their little office the villain provided them until they felt a tap on their shoulder.

idk who needs to hear this rn but suffering is not noble. take the tylenol

This is lirjvijIVKWVKWEDSVJKlvk

I love it when a villain's behavior starts to soften cutely in their intimidating look.

I love the prompt, the characters, and the aggressive kissing. Like danm assistant you can give a straight answer, but ain't it so entertaining for us.

Ok, so since my first response to this post kinda went its own direction, I decided to give this prompt a second try. The prompt is originally by @gingerly-writing (I will write it in purple to separate it from the rest of the text).

"Oh," said the supervillain. Quietly. Too quietly. "I see. Kissing me was just a distraction."

"No! Well, yes, but...it's not like that!"

"Oh? So explain how it is. Quickly."

"Well...you see..." The supervillain's assistant fumbled for the right words. Which proved rather difficult when there seemed to be no right words to come by. How did one even begin to explain this dangerous, messy, swell of feeling expanding in their chest right now? A feeling that they still weren't sure should be encouraged or stamped out.

They'd never thought so much of themselves to imagine a relationship with the city's greatest criminal. They had been perfectly content standing on the sidelines, taking notes and fetching coffee with cream. They probably would have kept doing such, an important but unnoticed cog that kept their superior's life going smoothly. That is if it weren't for their stupid, idiot, ditz of a brother.

Their sibling had never been the brightest, sacrificing their own needs for others and putting silly morals ahead of good sense. Unlike the protagonist, who knew when to bluff and when to sell out, their brother was always so desperate to be right. As if there was even a true right in this crooked world.

And of course, they just had to go into hero work. Just had to go up against their boss of all people and put the protagonist's neck on the line. It wasn't like they were going to let the supervillain see them. Thinking back, there were probably a thousand less compromising things the assistant could have done for a distraction. Maybe that was a sign they'd been interested long before that messy, tooth-clashing first kiss. Could they sell that to the supervillain?

"Well...I did enjoy it."

The supervillain sighed, raising a crooked finger to the ever-present guards against the back wall.

"W-wait!" the protagonist cried. "I lied one time! One! As if you've never done the same!"

"My lies usually don't include so much tongue."

Their assistant blushed. "I was going for alluring. If it helps, the second kiss was more my style."

A sweet, soft thing that tasted of vanilla creamer, so much sweeter because it was alone and after hours. A coffee order that usually wouldn't have happened if the supervillain hadn't been intent on getting them on their own.

"A half-truth meant to appease me," the supervillain said with bitter-tipped nonchalance.

Maybe. The protagonist had walked into that trap willingly to keep up the pretenses of the first kiss, but they'd never planned any further than that. They certainly hadn't planned on the supervillain's clumsy small talk, or the way they held them so gently. Criminal overlords weren't supposed to be like that, were they? They were supposed to beat nobodies like them senseless for their audacity. Or use them up until they were a hollowed husk of their old self. They weren't supposed to be...cute.

"But still true," the protagonist argued. "I didn't know you would actually start to like me."

Not just cute. Soft. It was apparent within the first month that they were far more vulnerable then their villainous persona let on. 

Were they hurting a lot right now? Did the protagonist actually mean that much to them? Or was it simply the humiliation of having an employee play their feelings so effortlessly for an advantage? Had to be hard to face up to with the entire organization staring at them. They'd probably have to deal their assistant an especially hard hand to patch all the open wounds in their reputation.

"I was just trying to save someone close to me," the protagonist said, not certain whether the explanation made the situation any better. "After that, I was just trying to survive.''

"The hero."

Ah, so they did know. Probably shouldn't be a surprise seeing how they'd come to the truth in some way or another. The tone was a little strange though. They weren't quite certain whether it was jealousy or general disdain.

"How--"

"Security cameras," Supervillain said coldly. "You might have kept me from seeing them with my own eyes, but you didn't keep them off film. I didn't notice for a while; I was...otherwise diverted, but yesterday... But perhaps that was your plan all along."

The assistant couldn't hold back their scoff. "You really think I'm the type of person who can cling onto someone for literal months to hide a little recording?"

"Well, I think we've established that we don't really know each other. Apparently, you think I'm the type of person who wouldn't have taken a simple, 'I'm not interested' for an answer. You could have done it right at the start. You still would have been caught, but you would have benefited from me not feeling like this."

"How do you feel?"

Stupid. Stupid. Was that really important when the protagonist was simply trying to walk out of here alive? Why should they even care? Like the supervillain said, it wasn't like any of it was real enough to stake feelings on anyway.

They felt the the two suited security guards hovering at their back, looming and dicomfortingly close. They had paused uncertainly as the back-and-forth got started, maybe not quite sure if the signal to take the assistant away still stood. Now, finally, the supervillain gave them an unquestionably clear order.

"Go." Their voice dripped with a venom not intended for them. "I'll call if I need you."

The guards seemed almost relieved to comply, letting out held breaths and moving quickly but crisply toward the exit. 

For some reason, as the door clacked gently shut behind them, the assistant felt more nervous. Especially with the criminal's eyes burning into them like hot coals.

“You want to know how I feel?” the supervillain said.

The protagonist shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me…”

"I'm angry.”

"Understandable." The assistant flinched back a step from the furvor, though it proved pointless as the supervillain mirrored their retreat with a stalking step forward.

"And confused." 

"Of course."

"I want to tear my heart out of my chest. And yours."

The assistant blinked. That was...a reaction.

They tried shoving down some the sharp regret stabbing up through lungs, making it suddenly painful and hard to breath. So the supervillain had liked them that much. That was sort of a shame. Under other circumstances perhaps...well, it didn't matter now. They'd messed it all up. Actually, they hadn’t even really began. So they really shouldn’tbe worrying about the supervillain, they should just be worrying about themself.

"I don't know if I'm worth all that. We could just end this like two mature adults, starting with you letting me out of the building."

The supervillain narrowed their eyes. "You still haven't said it."

"What?" 

"I don't know why I expected any different. You always give me everything but a clear answer."

"I wasn't aware you asked me a question?" the assistant said, glancing over their shoulder and estimating just how quickly they could make a run for the door. 

The supervillain stepped forward, bringing their shiny black Derbys toe to toe with the assistant's ragged loafers. Nimble fingers took them by the chin, turning their face from escape to their burning carbon eyes. "Do you like me or not?"

The assistant could only stare.

"You say it was just one lie, and the way you talk doesn't close any doors, but then there's your hero and the infuriating fact that you can't come up with an ardent, overdramatic speech to salvage the relationship. I can't figure you out. Do you want out or not?"

"Wait..." the assistant held up their hands in front of them. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you not trying to kill me?"

The supervillain spluttered incredulously. "Kill you?"

"What?" the assistant cried, thoroughly confused by this point. What were the security guards and the ominous call to their office in the middle of the workday if it wasn't their life on the line?

"We kissed! I still have feelings for you! I can't kill you now. Maybe later up the road, but not anytime soon."

"You’re throwing me in secret prison then?"

"I'm only firing you."

"Oh." The protagonist took that in for a moment. "I suppose that's fair."

"Yes. The question that remains is do we continue seeing each other after I fire you? So please be explicitly clear. You like me. Yes or no?"

The protagonist hesitated, wetting their lips a moment before hesitantly wrapping their arm's around the supervillain's neck. "I thought that much was obvious."

"Clearer."

The protagonist pressed their lips softly to the supervillain's mouth.

"Clearer," the supervillain murmured, breath tickling sweet against their lips.

"I like you an extremely dangerous amount. To a point I'm afraid to say out loud. If you never say it, it never happened, right?"

The supervillain sighed. "You're the most infuriating, noncommittal... Your hero?"

"My brother."

"Your..." A burst of spontaneous laughter escaped the master criminal's previously tight lips. "I think that's the best news I've heard all day. Well, aside from that first bit."

Their hands settled warm and familiar against the small of the assistant's back, holding them firmly, yet carefully in place. 

Was it really over that fast? Could ugly, terrifying things like this actually happen and turn out ok? Hero would probably say yes. They believed in forgiveness and conquering love and all that nonsense. That wasn't what the protagonist chose when they joined this side. They chose cold, hard truth.

They pressed their palms against the supervillain's shoulders, pushing slightly back from them. "I hurt you."

It wasn't a real question, but nevertheless, the supervillain seemed to understand.

"And I'm still mad. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the moment." Their smile faltered and their voice quieted again. "You...are telling the truth, right? Honestly?"

The protagonist's insides twisted uncomfortably, a mixture of guilt and aversion to such unfamiliar openness.

"Yes."

The supervillain nodded, enfolding them back in their arms. "I might check in with you every once in a while. Just to be sure.” 

“Yeah,” they agreed, still dazed. They pressed their face into the criminal’s shirt, breathing in the scent of fresh linen to assure themselves this was all real. “You’re really letting this go? How can you do that? How are you ever going to trust me again?”

Supervillain kissed the top of their head, a little more aggressively than normal, but still probably kinder than they deserved. “With time.”

Maybe in time they could learn to trust too.

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