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Hi!! Your writing is so good. If you have the time could you pls continue hold him down?

thank you so much for all of your writing it really keeps me going <3

Have a lovely day!

Hey there. Thanks for the request 🥰

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Part 1

Hold Him Down, Part 2

“Is this a real Rembrandt?” the villain asked, pausing to admire the painting.

“Good eye,” Ember said, handing him some tea. They switched the lamp on as the last gasps of the sunset outside cast fire along the tall walls of the study.

“Andras hated portraits,” Ivan – the villain – said. “Would always complain about feeling watched.”

It was odd to hear someone refer to the supervillain by their first name.

Languidly, the villain pulled his eyes from the painting, and ambled to the rich leather sofas. “Alright, ask your boring questions.”

Whenever things got bad, really bad, and Ember envisioned this precise moment to comfort themself, it usually came with the mental image of Ivan cuffed to a table under an interrogation light. Instead, they settled on the sofa across the villain.

“What happened to Suspect #42?” they started, referring to the supervillain’s call number.

“Poisoned.” Ivan placed his teacup in its saucer. “The culprit hasn’t been found yet.”

“So he’s dead?”

“Oh lord no.” Ivan grinned. “It’ll take a lot more than that to kill the Eve of Destruction.”

“I’ve always hated the names you villains give yourselves.”

Ivan shrugged. “A little pazazz makes the workday fly.”

Ember leaned back, and assessed their enemy. “What is he planning?”

They expected the villain to refuse to answer, but Ivan didn’t hesitate.

“Other than claiming this city district by district until he can hold the whole area hostage?” He shot a knowing look, as though sharing a joke. “We were going to target the stock exchange building next week, and use that as a foothold to take over Upper Town. After that the plan was to infiltrate Warner’s Street and strengthen our connections with its crime syndicates.”

Ember swallowed. If that plan had succeeded, then the battle’s front lines would have inched eerily close to the heroes’ home base.

“However,” Ivan continued, turning to view the sunset, “I think those plans are out the window now.”

“42’s condition is really that bad?”

Ivan nodded. “And it will only get worse if he doesn’t receive treatment.”

Ember tilted their head. “Is that why you came here? To bargain for medicine?”

“Actually,” Ivan said, flashing a grin. “It's more like jumping ship.”

“What?”

“I’m putting in my application for hero work,” he announced. “I’ve always suspected I’d look good in bright-colored tights.”

“You can’t think you’re going anywhere after this but a jail cell.”

“I think we’d make a good team.” He rose. “In fact, I’ve considered inviting you to my side multiple times.” He came to Ember’s couch, and leaned on the armrest. “Wouldn’t you like to amplify my abilities for once, rather than suppress them?”

Ember eyed the villain – eyed Havoc, named for the mayhem that ensued every time his superpower detonated. Ember, who controlled heat and energy, had always been able to contain and minimize the damage.

But how would it feel to use Ivan’s explosions as a fuel for their own abilities?

“Why are you betraying 42?”

Something sparked in Ivan’s dynamite-black eyes. “I’m a villain, Em. It’s what we do.”

Ember stared at him a moment, and then decided they needed more time to think.

---

Ivan’s sleeping quarters were something halfway between a guest room and a cell. There was a real bed, and modest decorations; but also bars on the window, and a door that only locked from the outside.

Still, it was the nicest place he’d slept in for a long while.

He settled on the mattress, and silently wondered if he’d ever tell Ember that he had been the one to poison the supervillain. 

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wheereee r uuu

Lol sorry 😅

I'm going to post again tomorrow evening

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“Please,” the protagonist said. “If you actually love me like you say, please don’t do this.”

The royal lifted the protagonist into the carriage, and onto their lap.

“What was that, my dear?” they said with a smirk.

The protagonist scrambled off their lap and onto the opposite seats.

The royal laughed. “You should have seen this coming, darling. I did say, after all, that I would choose the most beautiful of my noblemen’s children.”

The protagonist glared at them. “I’m not going to marry you.”

The royal raised an amused brow. “You overestimate your own choice in the matter.”

“You will need me to say ‘I do’ in the chapel.” It was a struggle to keep their voice even. “I refuse to utter the words.”

“Do you have a lover? Is that it?” The royal’s tone remained jovial, but something dangerous lurked behind their eyes.

“No,” the protagonist said, and the royal’s expression brightened. But it was not the good news the royal thought it was.

“I don’t fall in love,” the protagonist went on. “And I never will. Not with you, not with anyone. I will never wed.”

The protagonist had braced for anger, maybe even threats or violence. The royal’s smug look was somehow worse.

“I know you have a prickly heart, darling,” they said. “I’ve witnessed it plenty of times in my own court. But once you’ve been shown proper love, you’ll change your mind.”

“That is a bold assumption.”

“Which is why it will be so satisfying when I am proven right. Now come here.” The royal patted their lap with a smile.

The protagonist stiffened, but the royal’s gaze left no room for compromise. Limbs heavy, they rose and climbed onto the royal’s lap.

The protagonist stared out the window, as the carriage continued on. The royal played with their clothes, and their hair, blathering on about some nonsense while the protagonist watched their home drift away into the distance. 

Eventually, the protagonist turned to the royal. They held their chin high with the confidence of a decision made. “You know what? Alright.”

The royal grinned. “Oh?”

“If you insist. Then fine, I’ll marry you. In sickness and in health.” A plan was beginning to form. They donned the convincing imitation of a warm smile. “Until death do us part.”

-----

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer , @taramacgay 

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“ – and then, you see, they both hold the scale, and say – ”

“How’s it going, boss?” the henchman said, ambling into the interrogation room.

The hero sat tied to a chair, just as planned. The villain hunched across from them, head down, elbows on their knees.

“The truth potion works,” the villain said.

“That’s great, boss!”

“It would be. If ‘sharing all their secrets’ didn’t mean all.” The villain jerked their head up, glaring at the hero. “It’s been hours and we still haven’t gotten to the good stuff! [Hero]’s just been rambling about how Dragon Tales is a – what was that word you used again?”

“It’s an isekai!” the hero exclaimed.

The villain’s frown deepened. “And that’s a secret?”

“This info’s highly secret,” the hero said.  “In the wrong hands, it could destroy the light novel industry.”

The villain put their face in their hands. “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You can’t ask them anything more specific?” the henchman asked.

“I tried, but it never works,” the villain said. “Instead they just reveal some other secret that isn’t worth anything. Here, watch. [Hero], what are your agency’s security passcodes?”

“I have no spatial intelligence,” the hero said. “I’m banned from loading dishwashers in three states.”

The villain groaned.

“Hold on, I might have something for that,” the henchman said.

They went over to their worktable in the corner, and tinkered a bit with the potion, adjusting the ingredient levels. Then they returned, and stood in front of the hero.

“Will you drink this please?” they said softly.

The hero gulped. “Do I have to?”

“If you don’t, [Villain] will make you. And I don’t think I have to tell you that they’re in a pretty bad mood right now.”

Reluctantly, the hero drank.

The henchman returned to their boss’s side. “Okay. Try asking them something again.”

The villain returned their attention to the hero. “[Hero], what is your biggest secret?”

The hero bit their lip in an effort to keep their mouth shut.

“Oh?” The villain leaned forward with a renewed interest.

The hero shook their head rapidly, eyes afraid. The veins in their forehead stood out.

“You don’t need to hold it in, [Hero],” the villain said, smiling. “Whatever it is, you should just get it off your chest.”

The hero was changing colors from the strain. Eventually, their mouth flew open like a waterspout.

“I have a crush on [Henchman]!”

“What?” the villain and henchman cried in unison.

Once the floodgates were open, the hero couldn’t stop.

“They’re just so strong, and dependable. And they’re always so gentle. Have you noticed that? Sure, they’re rough sometimes, but only when they have to be. I have this recurring dream where [Henchman] and I are fighting, and then they pin me to the wall with their big, powerful arms, and then – ”

“Okay!” the villain yelled, bursting up. They began rushing towards the door with a beet-red henchman in tow. “We’re taking a break. We’re going to let that wear off, and then reconvene. Jesus.”

The hero had never been more grateful for a break in their life.  

[silver-ink-iron-words]

*taps microphone* TLOU inspired prompts pls

Thanks for the prompt request!

Sorry for taking so long lol. (Literally an entire tv show for this story came out while I was getting through my hiatus period T_T)

Btw, while it was genuinely fun researching TLOU and coming up with ideas, I don't think I'll be doing any more fandom-related prompt requests for stories I'm not already familiar with. You can totally still ask for them if you want, but know that I might deny the request on this basis

Anyways, hope you like the prompts. Consider tagging me if you end up using any of them

CW - The Last of Us spoilers

------------

“What the hell is this thing?” Ellie asked from the other room.

Joel heard an inhuman screeching.

He sprinted, and then stopped, staring. Ellie looked up at him with a confused expression on her face.

He burst out laughing at the dilapidated furby in her hands.

---

Snow was falling, and Joel had started murmuring again.

“This is bullshit,” Ellie muttered to herself. It wasn’t like she was a doctor. She had no idea how to help him.

Joel’s murmuring grew louder.

God, she had to figure out how to help him.

She crawled over, and winced at the sight. He was sweaty, and twitching slightly. His bandages had started to leak again.

“Can you hear me, Joel?”

Then, scaring the crap out of her, his eyes burst open, foggy with delirium.

“Sarah?” he asked.

She held back her grimace.

“Yeah,” she said, pushing hair off his face. “I’m here.”

---

What would it have looked like if Ellie came out to Joel as a kid?

---

What were Sam’s thoughts on his last night alive?

----

JJ turned a page and his face brightened. “A giraffe!”

Ellie peered over his shoulder and sipped her coffee. “I saw one of those once. In real life.”

Dina cast her gaze over. “Yeah right.”

Ellie grinned. “I bet I know where to find them again, if you want to come see.”

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hey, could you please expand this story? Bambi - asexual & sapphic

i really loved it being ace and sapphic is amazing

if not thats okay

Hi there, really glad you liked it 😊

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Part 1

Bambi, Part 2

“Are you avoiding me?”

Ann looked up in surprise.

Camila had found her in her favorite hiding spot – a tiny courtyard sheltered by ancient emerald willows and the academy’s Victorian red-brick buildings.

“No,” Ann lied, hoping her voice didn’t quaver.

Camila ran a hand through her dark hair. “Listen, I’m not trying to crowd you. But you missed first period today, and – ” She cast a sidelong glance. “Did I make you uncomfortable, yesterday?”

Ann’s brows rose. “Of course not.”

“You can tell me, if I did. I wouldn’t be offended or anything.”

Ann opened her mouth, but faltered. How could she explain that she’d avoided Camila because of how nervous the other girl made her? Or that she’d missed first period because she’d accidentally slept in, after staying up all night too excited to sleep?

God, she hoped Camila hadn’t noticed her eyebags.

“Look,” Camila said, after Ann took too long to answer. “I really like you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. If I crossed a line yesterday, I can back off.”

Ann stared. Camila was regarding her with those big brown eyes and those rich full lips that turned ever so slightly downwards whenever she had a difficult problem to solve. She sat on the hard stone bench, curled inwards, just a little bit. It was a subtle shift away from her typical easygoing and confident stance. She –

“Say something, Ann.”

“You really like me?”

Camila hesitated. “I thought it was obvious.”

Ann couldn’t respond. She’d gotten stuck somewhere over the moon.

“This was a bad idea,” Camila said, rising from the bench. “Maybe we should talk some other time. I – ”

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Camila paused.

“We live in similar directions.” She held out her hand. “You can hold it, if you want.”

Camila looked at her upturned palm with uncertainty.

Ann saw the issue. Her stomach turning, she took in a breath, and mustered up her courage. “I’d like you to hold it. If you want to.”

Camila’s hand was warm in her own the entire walk home.

---

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer , @taramacgay

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Thanks for the requests! I love this hobby so much, and you guys are a huge part of that

I think this'll be the end of the story. Feel free to ask for an epilogue if you want :)

---

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Sunny Side, Part 6

“Be careful,” the hero said into their earpiece. “Security’s extra heavy tonight.”

“Worried about me?”

The hero could see the villain across the large banquet hall, disguised as a party guest. Whenever they spoke to the hero, they turned their head in just the right way so that nobody saw them supposedly talking to themself.

“I just don’t want to have to break your sorry ass out of jail again.” The hero moved through the crowd with their head down, offering drinks as they went.

“Well, then I suggest you work your magic.”

With a put-upon sigh, the hero began to subtly shift the mood of the room. As they handed out hors d’oeuvres, guests became more cheerful and relaxed – much less likely to notice anything amiss. Once the room had eased enough, they gave the signal, and the villain left to execute phase two of the plan.

The hero slipped through the side exit and into a small hallway. They let out a little breath of relief. Now all that was left was to change out of their waitstaff uniform, meet the villain upstairs, and incapacitate the guard. Easy peasy.

The hero started to move towards the bathrooms. Only for a hand to shoot out and grab them. The hand yanked them into a supply closet, and another one muffled the hero’s scream.

“[Hero], it’s – ” the stranger began, before the hero elbowed them in the stomach.

Then, the hero paused. “Lightheart?”

The hero’s old acquaintance coughed and smiled through her pain. “Good to see your reflexes are still good.”

“What on earth are you doing here?”

Lightheart had been part of the hero’s security detail, back when they’d first escaped from the villain. She’d been one of the ones to last the longest, before the onslaught overtook her.

Now, she shot the hero a grin. “I’m here to save you, obviously.”

The hero’s stomach bottomed out.

They’d never exactly told their former colleagues about their adjustment of allegiances. How could they? Instead, they’d figured it’d be best to just disappear, and let everyone else draw their own conclusions.

They should’ve guessed that “the hero was kidnapped by the villain” would be the first conclusion in everyone’s mind.

“Listen, now isn’t the best time . . .” they started.

“I know [Villain] scares you, but you won’t need to ever worry about them again after today.”

“Wait.” Dread gripped the hero. “What are you going to do?”

She took their hand and squeezed it. “We failed you once, and I’m so sorry for that. But we are never, ever going to fail you again.”

What hurt most was the utter sincerity in her voice.

“I’m really sorry about this,” the hero said.

They tried to leave her unconscious body in a comfortable position, before sprinting out the door.

---

The hero sped down the hall, their heart racing, their breath painful in their throat.

They turned a corner and saw the villain.

The villain flashed a smile. “[Hero]! I was starting to think – ”

The hero waved their hand, and the superhero just behind the villain fell to the ground.

The stranger let out a cry of pure agony.

The villain turned to see what had happened. Their eyes widened. They opened their mouth to say something.

“No time!” The hero grabbed the villain’s hand and put the superhero to sleep.

---

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

The hero fiddled with the security panel, adjusting the settings.

“You haven’t said anything since we escaped.”

The controls weren’t working. The hero began pushing more and more buttons. The screen buffered. The hideout was going to be vulnerable.

“[Hero], how about you take a break from that and – ” The villain put a hand on the hero’s shoulder.

The hero struck it away.

They blinked at each other for a moment, as the hero struggled to find words.

“You must be happy,” they said eventually. “You got what you wanted.”

The villain shook their head. “No. I didn’t.”

The hero shoved away. “I turned. I fucking turned. Just like you said I would.”

“[Hero], you are as far from a supervillain as they come.”

“I hurt that person!” The hero rounded on them. “I could have just put them to sleep. I should have just put them to sleep!”

Why hadn’t they?

The hero’s mind offered no answers. It only produced a sharp spike of fear, just like how they’d felt seeing the villain in danger.

They felt the prick of tears in their eyes.

The hero wrapped an arm around themself, and said, in voice almost too soft to be heard, “I hope I didn’t kill them.”

The villain grasped the hero’s shoulder. “You didn’t.”

“You don’t know that. They – ”

“I saw them move, [Hero]. And I saw their teammates rushing to them. They’re going to be fine. I promise.”

The hero couldn’t help it. They started crying.

The villain pulled them into a gentle hug, and rubbed their back. “Truth be told, I gave up the notion of your villainy a long time ago. It was never in the cards for someone like you.”

The hero let out a sob.

“[Hero], you’re the bravest, gentlest, kindest person I’ve ever known. I’m so incredibly lucky to have you.”

After that day, the villain never asked the hero to switch sides again.

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Hi all! Hope you like this next part

----

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Dinner Guest, Part 8

LaChasse was already waiting when Julian arrived.

They sat leisurely on a bench, looking out at the waterfront. They were surrounded on all sides by open park space – nowhere for their subordinates or Julian’s new captors to hide.

“Churro?” Julian offered, leaning over the back of the bench.

LaChasse raised an eyebrow at the little paper bag in Julian’s hand.

“There’s a food truck on the other side of the park,” he explained. “Best tacos in the city.”

“The things you do with your little snatches of freedom astound me.”

“Hey, gotta get the good shit while I can. It’s not like you ever gave me anything worthwhile.”

“Caviar isn’t good enough for you?”

“Not when it’s not fried.” Julian hopped over the back of the bench to sit.

LaChasse paused for a moment, assessing Julian. “I will admit, you always find ways to surprise me. I was certain that we would need to scale the entire city before I had you again. But here you are, my own little sacrificial lamb.”

Julian took a bite of his churro, and snuck a peek at his watch before peering up at the fluffy white clouds. “You know, I’ve always kinda wondered. Did you ever have doubts about kidnapping me?”

LaChasse tilted their head. “Do you think I should have?”

“Your battle strategy hasn't exactly been fool-proof. I mean, you can’t expect to control people with fear forever.”

LaChasse took a moment to consider, and then wrapped an arm around Julian’s shoulders. “I said once that you would be the prince of my empire, Julian. And I meant it.” They smiled joylessly. “You think I don’t realize that you loathe me? I can accept that you are unhappy for now.”

“You think I'll stop loathing you?”

“What happens once you’ve condemned a hundred people to my clutches, dear? Or a thousand? Do you think your old friends will still take you back?”

Julian opened his mouth to retort, but then remembered the way Alex had looked at him when they thought he had genuinely joined LaChasse.

“Of course, it would be lunacy to keep you on recruiting duty forever,” LaChasse went on. “We will soon have more than enough people in our ranks. Instead, you will become my mastermind, my greatest confidant. The person who can look at all my underlings as the chess pieces they are, and help me use them as the perfect mechanism to rule.”

“You can’t still think that I’ll join you.”

LaChasse smiled, and took a churro. “Haven’t you already?”

Julian glanced again at his watch.

“I know that you are waiting until the moment that Alex is saved,” LaChasse said.

Julian froze. “What?”

“Your entire plan,” LaChasse said. “You intend to split my forces, and entice me into bringing half of my subordinates here while leaving the other half to guard your ex-lover.”

Julian said nothing.

“I will admit,” they continued. “It’s not a terrible plan. You are, after all, a very effective distraction.” They chuckled at the way Julian stiffened. “However, you miscalculated. You imagined that I am anywhere near as invested in keeping them as I am in securing you.” They suddenly grabbed Julian’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Let that insipid hero’s alliance have Alex, for all that I care.”

LaChasse pulled Julian up to their chest, and he had to remind himself how to breathe.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I was supposed to distract you. And yes, this was all in an effort to save Alex.”

LaChasse grinned.

“You’re also wrong, though.” Julian cast his gaze over. “We wanted you to bring every single one of your guards.”

The minute hand ticked to the end of the hour, and Julian burst from LaChasse’s grip.

Just in time to dodge the fireball.

When it hit them, the crime boss cried out, dropping to the grass to put out the flames. Within seconds, LaChasse’s subordinates flooded the scene. Several went to help their boss, but just as many turned around and began fighting their own teammates.

One subordinate swung their sword, only for branches to burst from the ground and ensnare them. A different subordinate doubled in size, but then was telepathically launched into the water. Storm clouds brewed overhead, electricity crackling in the air, and the park had become a frenzy of chaos and screaming.

Julian tried to scurry away, but LaChasse caught his ankle. He tripped.

“How?!” they shouted.

“I told you,” Julian said, not sure if he could even be heard over the yelling. “You can’t control people with fear forever.”

Clara, the double agent, had been doing some recruiting of her own.

And then, before he knew it, Angie had her arms around him, and he was flying away.

---

“Is Alex safe?” Julian asked, when Angie touched down again.

She nodded. “My team is transporting them to the hospital as we speak.”

“Thank god,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief for the first time in weeks. “Okay, then you should go back to base. I’ll meet you there later tonight.”

“You’re not coming with?”

Julian could feel the weight of the gun he’d stolen from the heroes’ supply room, tucked within his inner pocket. “I have something to take care of.”

He was near certain he knew where LaChasse was headed next.

[silver-ink-iron-words]

T_T

This is so touching!

I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this. But then I was like, I've already made them wait long enough, and what's the harm of posting two things in one day?

Felt it'd be nice to have Part 6 be a little less plot-driven. You'll see what I mean

-------

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

QPR, Part 6

“[Hero], come on!” the villain called, from where they laid sprawled on the couch. “You said it wouldn’t take that long!”

“Hold on just a sec.” The hero’s voice floated from the kitchen. “They’ll be done soon.”

The villain scowled and flopped back on the pillows. “You never see Do-yun making Ha-rin wait around forever.”

“That’s because tv shows have this magical trick called the jump cut.” There was the sound of an oven door closing. “We'll just let them bake, and then they’ll be so good you won’t even remember the wait.”

The villain groaned.

Then they heard the sound of running water, and burst up, rushing into the kitchen. “Are you doing my dishes?!”

The hero jerked their head up like they’d been caught vandalizing. “I was just going to do a few while we waited.”

“Okay, one, you do not need to do my chores on k-drama night. And two, how long is the baking going to take?!”

The hero glanced to their phone on the counter. “’Bout fifty more minutes.”

The villain gaped. “That’s most of an episode!”

“Well I didn’t want us to have to pause the show during a big scene. This way we can – Jesus your hands are freezing!”

The villain had come up behind the hero to hug them, pressing their hands on the hero’s stomach.

“Come watch tv dear,” they said into the hero’s shoulder. “I’m cold without you.”

The hero shook their head, but also cracked a small grin. “You’re evil.”

The villain matched their expression and pressed their hands more. “Of course I am. It’s the only way I can get you to cuddle me.”

In the end, the brownies were, in fact, good enough to make the villain forget why they were annoyed in the first place.

---

“Oh my god,” the hero said.

The villain fidgeted. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” The hero looked up. “[Villain], it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The hero was holding a small fluffy teddy bear, its fur the black, grey, white, and purple of the asexual flag.

The villain beamed. “Really?”

The hero nodded gleefully. “He needs a name.”

“I think the tag says its name is ‘Fuzzy’ or something. You could – ”

“Ferdinand,” the hero decided, assessing the stuffed animal. “Ferdinand Bearnsby. The next Prince of Denmark.”

The villain wrapped the hero in a hug. “I’m so glad you like it.”

---

“So is [Villain], like, a law-abiding citizen now?” the hero’s friend asked.

“Uh, sort of?” The hero gazed around at the restaurant’s outdoor seating area. “They still break minor laws, but I think they’ve really toned it down to stress me out less.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

The hero swirled their iced tea with their straw. “Yeah, I guess.”

The friend quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”

The hero sighed. “Okay, so don’t ever tell [Villain] this, but I think their ‘devil may care’ attitude is maybe, kinda . . . a little bit cool?”

The friend grinned. “Oh really?”

In return, the hero’s smile was sheepish. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I secretly wish that they’d behave more like their old villainous self sometimes.”

“Hm, well I suppose that – ”

Something enormous crashed into the street, making all the dishes clatter. The hero and their friend both whipped their heads around to see the cause of the noise.

“[Villain]!”

“Oh hi [Hero]!” The fifty-foot tall mech waved at the two of them. “Fancy meeting you here. How did you know it was me?”

“[Villain], why are you in a giant robot?!”

“Isn’t it cool?” The villain spun around, their heavy feet cracking the pavement and the machine's hinges screeching with every movement. “I finally figured out how to get the power system working.”

“This is illegal.”

The villain laughed. “Ah okay, I see the issue. But, fear not my darling, for I have” – they pulled out a sheet of paper that looked miniscule in their enormous metal hands – “a permit!”

Soon after, the mech continued walking down the street, while the hero followed them, shouting at the top of their lungs.

The friend watched them go, and then chuckled. Those two maniacs were perfect for each other.

---

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer , @taramacgay

[silver-ink-iron-words]

i love your writing SO much <3 i've read EVERYTHING you've written, and every time i see another snippet by you come up on my dash it brightens my day instantly! if you're still open for requests, can i ask for one where the hero decides to keep the villain imprisoned to prrotect the public, but ends up developing feelings for them? tysm!!!

Oh wow this makes me so happy! Thank you for the prompt request :)

----

“Hey there, bootlicker,” the villain said, their eyes closed.

“How’s it going, criminal?” The hero settled onto the chair just outside the villain’s cell.

On the other side of the glass, the villain laid on their cot perpendicular to the hero. The hero tried not to focus on the sharp outline of their profile.

The villain’s dark hair had gotten long and scraggly, and their clothes were wrinkled. Yet they somehow didn’t come off as messy. Rather, they looked artistic. Misunderstood. Revolutionary.

The paintings the villain had done in captivity helped the image. Canvases awash in vibrant colors were littered all over the floor.

“Do you need more paint?” the hero asked.

“I wouldn’t mind some gouache,” the villain said. “I’ve been thinking I should experiment with a different style.”

The villain’s head rested on their pillow in such a way that their long neck was fully exposed. It looked scandalous. Like they were in an old film about vampires.

The hero was most certainly not thinking about what they’d do if their mouth was on that neck.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the hero said. “Sorry I can’t get you more supplies.”

It hadn’t always been like this. Back when the villain was out there taking hostages and destroying buildings, it had been easy to hate them. And when the hero had first started visiting the villain’s cell, it had mainly been just to check that the city’s greatest menace was still securely confined.

But then the villain had been friendly. They had no one else to talk to, after all. And when they were friendly, they were so very . . .

The villain cracked open an eye and smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about it. The more often I’m missing something, the more often you visit me.”

The hero fought the urge to fidget. Yeah, they were so very that.

“There’s some topside news, again,” the hero said, after clearing their throat. “[Supervillain] and [Vigilante] are dating.”

The villain’s grin widened, and they turned their head a bit to glance at the hero. “Well that’s nice. They deserve – ”

“What is that?”

The villain turned fully to the wall, but not before the hero saw their eyes widen.

The hero stood from their chair. “[Villain], what was that on your face?”

Up until that point, half the villain’s face had been hidden. But before the villain had turned, the hero had thought they’d caught a glimpse of . . .

“[Villain], show me right now.”

The villain chuckled a bit. “I always underestimate you, don’t I darling?”

“[Villain], now. Or I’m coming in there.”

With a beleaguered sigh, the villain rose from their cot and turned around. They stood before the hero with their arms crossed.

An angry cut. A split lip. A sickening purple bruise that snaked all the way from the villain’s jaw to their eyebrow.

“Who did this to you?”

“Consider for a moment that I may have had a reason for not wanting you to know – ”

“Who?”

A surprised expression dashed across the villain’s face, before being suppressed by a smirk. “What, do you love me or something?”

“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

The villain’s smirk grew. “No, but the look on your face is certainly an answer to mine.”

The hero’s cheeks went hot. “I swear to god, if you – ”

“Don’t you want to know if I reciprocate?”

“What?”

The villain stalked closer. They grinned. “Don’t you want to know whether or not I stay awake at night thinking about you?”

The hero swallowed. The villain was teasing them. They had to be.

The villain’s grin widened. “Promise to drop this business about my face, and I’ll tell you everything.”

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Very well said. I feel this, all of this

Everyone, whether they're aromantic or not, should look up what amatonormativity is

being single in your late 20s & 30s is so fucking wild bc on one hand it's fun and flirty and you skip a lot of the bullshit because you know what you're looking for and you know how to spot a red flag from a mile away and you've learned to set boundaries and communicate your own and be upfront about your needs and most of the time they've learned it too - and if they haven't, you can tell after the second date that they haven't been to therapy

and every time you feel lonely and dried up and an ugly husk there's a whole community of other single people out there who are just as unhinged and want to hang out with you because they just need a plus-one like you do and you get introduced to like. people in their 60's and 70's and 80's who are all like - nope, single life is my choice and i love it and you feel warm and seen and like okay, it's not the end of the world if i'm not seeing anybody. and yeah it's hard and sometimes exhausting but part of getting better is that you do make like so many friends and do so much wild shit because you made a promise to yourself that you'll actually get out there and try shit and actually work on your hobbies and skills and friendships because to be honest in relationships you wouldn't push yourself this hard and it's actually been super rewarding because it came from you and from what you wanted

and yes of course the apps such and dating in general can suck but after one of the bad dates you go back to your apartment and call up those friends you made and make jokes about what the other person said and it rolls right off your back and you have plans for self-care in the morning. you prioritize yourself and your happiness and you really actually don't mind it, a lot of the time, unless it's like at a wedding and they're doing one of those couples-related things. most of the time it's not even a problem except when you can tell people pity you for it and you're like - i'm actually fine, babe, even without a partner i am still, like a person and yes of course it would be nice to have a partner but you have established yourself as a person and as an adult in a way that feels really hard-won and well-earned and you're protective of that and of the life you're living and honestly you're pretty happy, all things considered

and at the same time you do have to tell your father that you are single on purpose right now and that, yes, believe it or not, they're letting women be single past the age of 30 these days without burning us at the stake (can you imagine!) and you have to kind of sit pretty while people make jokes about how you're losing your marriageability and you're like, a little too old for the bars and the clubs and whatever but you do still want to go out dancing and it's like. the other day you went to a board game party and had the time of your life and then your mom calls you and says she's worried because what if you never find the one, shouldn't you be spending more time looking? and you're like - trying to balance this place where you're actually, like, perfectly okay? except you hear this thing over and over and over - oh no. that's so sad. i hope you find your lover. and you weren't really upset about it until someone suggested that you're running out of time and until someone said that it's so miserable that you live without someone to kiss and you're like why can't anyone believe that i'm genuinely happy. like. joy. like. bliss.

and then they look at you and they look at their partner and the look passes between them that says - poor thing. you're just lying to yourself about this.

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Howdy. Thanks for the prompt :)

—-

CW - blood, torture, gore

“Our commander will gut you when he hears about this,” the protagonist said, from where she stood strung up against the barn wall.

Her eyes followed the villain as he strolled to the far wall, and her stomach churned as he perused the weapons displayed there.

He had a soft, gentlemanly face, with tidy facial hair and big round eyes. It made the flecks of blood splattered across his cheek look all the more frightening.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to kill me.” The villain chose a long, polished machete, and turned back around with an equally sharp smile. “Maybe I should gut you, handsome. That way, at least I’ll deserve my death.”

When he’d captured the protagonist’s team, he’d taken one look at her, and said he liked to start with the pretty boys.

“Let him go,” one of her teammates said. “You’ve proven you're the big guy. We get it.”

All her teammates were tied amongst the hay and barrels, and their faces held nothing but fear.

“Don’t make assumptions about me,” the villain said, crossing back to the protagonist. He closed in on her until he swallowed her entire view of the room. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

He slashed the blade across the protagonist’s face, under her eyes and across her nose.

She grunted, but didn’t scream. Screaming would sound high, and feminine. It would immediately give her away.

Then, the villain grabbed the collar of her tunic, and started pulling on the fabric. 

The protagonist froze. “No.” 

She’d known that being outed was a possibility here. She thought she’d prepared herself for it. But she wasn’t ready for her world to be ripped away like a rickety shelter in a tornado.

The villain didn’t listen, of course, and his knife slashed into the fabric.

His hands stilled. He stared dumbfounded at the bandages wrapped tightly around her chest.

“What’s happening?” a teammate said, voice shrill. If the villain moved, her team would see, and learn her secret.

“Please,” she whispered.

Something darkened in the villain’s eyes, and then he stepped away.

The room went silent.

“What the – [Fake Name], what the hell is that?”

“[Team Leader], please let me explain.” She peered into her leader’s face, and tried not to wince at the rage and disappointment spelled across it.

“You’re a fraud,” he said, almost as though he couldn't believe it.

“This was the only way I could enlist. I didn’t have a choice, I – ”

“Shut up.” He struggled against his restraints. “You can’t spit on everything we stand for and think that’s any kind of excuse.”

Tears welled in the protagonist’s eyes. She glanced to her best friend, the boy whose life she’d saved countless times. “[Best Friend], please.”

He’d been staring at the bandages, but now averted his gaze. “[Fake name] . . . you betrayed us.”

She closed her eyes, which were beginning to fill with tears.

The protagonist didn’t see the villain move. Didn’t hear anything until a gurgle sounded throughout the barn.

She opened her eyes again, and saw her team leader. He was choking on the knife in his windpipe, blood spewing all over his shirt. The villain loomed over him in zealous glee.

She screamed.

The villain trudged back over to her, and slapped her until she stopped shrieking.

She glared at him, tears streaming down her face, mixing with blood. “You bastard.”

He smirked, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her eyes went wide.

“Careful, friend. You may find we’re not so different, after all.” The villain’s voice sounded suddenly feminine.

Then the villain pulled away, and went back to the protagonist’s team. He (she? they?) stood behind them, and shot the protagonist a conspiratorial look.

“So, handsome, what would you like me to do to them next?”

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Your writing isso good! I'm sick rn and reading your work has made me feel better (•:

Awww T_T

ohmygod I'm so happy it's been helping you through a tough time! Really hope you get better soon <3

[silver-ink-iron-words]

LOVED the update of A Bird in the Hand, everything I have waited for and then some! Can’t wait to see where it goes from here! Very glad to see that you are back, and wishing you all the best!

Aww thanks so much! I'm really glad you think so, especially since I was worried that Part 8 wouldn't be good enough

And thanks for the warm welcome; I'm happy to be back. The writing corner of tumblr is such a nice place :)

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Hey there, my hiatus is over

I realize I promised to have this up a couple weeks ago, but hey at least I'm here now

Hope you all like it. And thank you so much for these messages, they really helped motivate me in the periods where I was struggling to write

----

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

A Bird in the Hand, Part 8

The civilian hobbled about the kitchen in full view of the windows, collecting cardamoms, cloves, tea leaves, ginger – before dumping them into the pot to brew. The sight was peaceful, soothing, domestic.

The assassin raised his gun and took aim.  

“[Civilian]!” The villain burst into the room grinning from ear to ear. The assassin’s aim swerved, and he halted his momentum just before firing the gun. 

“Welcome home, darling,” the civilian said, holding out a cup of tea for the villain. 

The villain took the cup and placed it on the counter, instead taking the civilian into their arms. “God it’s been a day. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of seeing you.”

The assassin paused. The villain wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He’d lost his clean line of sight on the civilian.  

The villain was too strong to kill – their shadows healed them at lightning speed. But targeting the civilian? What a perfect way to strike the Achilles Heel of the villain’s entire operation. 

The assassin tilted his head, and watched the pair. The villain held the civilian securely, the two of them practically melting into each other. The civilian sang softly, and they both floated as a single unit in the gentle river of a melody. 

The assassin once again had a clear shot on the civilian. He considered taking it despite the risk, just on the mere principle of seeing two people so happily in love while his home city burned. 

But he paused. He thought he’d caught a detail, a little movement. And while it was possible he was projecting, years of bitter work in this business had taught him to trust his instincts. 

When the villain first walked through the door, the assassin could’ve sworn he saw the civilian flinch.  

--- 

“What are you getting out of this?” the assassin asked. 

To the civilian’s credit, they didn’t scream. The assassin could see them tense, coiled and ready for a mad dash back to the house. But at least they didn’t scream. 

The assassin jumped down from the tree, close enough to be a threat to the civilian but far enough still to remain out of the sight of any henchmen. He noted the civilian’s muddy gloves, their kneeling posture, the tall yellow flowers they’d been carefully pruning piled next to them in the grass. 

“Like to garden?” the assassin said. 

“Who are you?” 

The assassin was disappointed, a little bit. His targets – the ones he actually spoke to – always asked the mundane questions. They were never perceptive enough to understand that all the “why”s and “how”s and “where did you come from”s would go unanswered. He’d sort of hoped that someone like the civilian would be different. 

“I’m someone with an interest in saving lives,” he said “Now, since I like you, I'll ask again. What are you getting out of this?”  

Evidently, the civilian was the expressive type. Their eyes flicked to their trowel, then the surrounding gardens, and lastly to the house some hundred meters away, never realizing how each movement of their retinas projected their thoughts to the assassin.  

“I’m not sure what you mean,” they said finally. 

The assassin leaned against the tree. It was a deceptive stance in which he looked relaxed and unthreatening, but could spring into action at a hair-breadth’s notice. 

“One day, [Hero] is at the top of their game," he began. "The next day, main street is nothing but craters. And then some two-bit villain that no one remembers suddenly becomes god of the city." He crouched down to meet the civilian’s gaze. "Makes you wonder if there isn't a puppeteer somewhere, holding strings."

The civilian blinked. “Did you come up with that on your own, or is that the commonly held belief about me?"

“Are you saying you didn’t shack up with [Villain] willfully?” 

The look of revulsion that crossed the civilian’s face said it all. The assassin’s grin widened. He loved being proven right. 

“Okay.” He stood up, dusting off his pants, and held his hand out to the civilian. “Let’s go.” 

The civilian glanced between the assassin’s hand and his face. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Didn’t you hear my bit about saving lives?” He reached for the civilian, but they lurched away. 

“Listen,” the civilian said. They slowly rose, their bad leg making it awkward. “You do not understand what is going on here. If I disappear, [Villain] will look for me.” 

“Most villains do,” the assassin agreed. “Feels nice to be wanted, don’t it?” He took a careful step towards the civilian, but again they moved back. 

“You’re not listening. [Villain] will kill you.” 

The assassin shrugged. He leaned forward a tiny bit more. 

“Help!” the civilian yelled. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, both equally surprised by the civilian's outburst. The civilian took in a breath. Then, louder, “Help please!” 

The assassin was gone long before the guards even entered the gardens. 

---

The civilian was a decent actor. The assassin had to give them that. 

The couple went about their evening routine like usual – a warm welcome home, dinner, an after-meal tea, and then finally cuddling. The villain’s head rested on the civilian’s chest and the civilian read a paperback, all while Sinatra played on an old record in the other room. The assassin might have even bought it, if the civilian had turned the page of their book once within the last forty-five minutes.

“I would like to discuss something,” the villain said, their eyes still closed.

The civilian’s expression twinged. “Hm?”

The villain opened their eyes, and adjusted so that they were looking the civilian in the face. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course.”

“And do you love me too?”

“Of course.”

The villain smiled, and that almost seemed like it would be the end of it. But then their hand went to the civilian’s jaw, shadows emanating from their fingertips. “So then why did my henchmen see you talking with a stranger in the gardens this afternoon?”

The civilian’s eyes widened. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I know what it is.” The villain’s shadows warped out like talons, and the civilian jerked back in pain.

“I don’t know who that person was. I wasn’t trying to leave.” The civilian’s voice was strained. “I love you too much to ever do that.”

“My dear, if only I could believe you.” The villain held the civilian down in their writhing. They leaned in until their faces were nearly touching. “What will you do to prove you are willing to stay?”

“Whatever you want. I – ” The shadows entered the civilian’s throat, choking them and cutting off their words. Tears sprang to the civilian’s eyes.

“Come now, love.” The villain lifted the civilian in their arms. “I need to show you what happens when you let your affections stray.”

And then, just before the villain reached the door, they stumbled. The movement was awkward and wobbly – one moment they were striding confidently across the room and the next their knees were on the ground. The civilian dropped to the floor with a yelp.

The villain grasped their head as though in pain. All their shadows had evaporated. "What? . . ."

“Holy fuck,” the civilian said, scrambling backwards. “Holy fuck it worked.”

The villain jerked their gaze up. “What did you do?”

The civilian burst out laughing.

"[Civilian]!" The villain tried to move forward but swooned, only just catching themself with their arms outstretched.

“Angel’s trumpet,” the civilian said, struggling to get their laughter under control. Their wild eyes went to the empty mugs on the table. “Brugmansia candida. Symptoms include difficulty with speech, delirium –” their gaze slid back to the villain, “– and paralysis. I’ve been told it also makes for a rather delicious tea.”

The assassin’s memory flashed to the tall yellow flowers the civilian had been pruning.

“You – ” The villain tried to stand up, but collapsed down again on their knees. “I’m going to kill you.”

“I doubt it.” The civilian rose from the floor wearing a triumphant grin, and limped to the opposite wall. “You never seemed quite unhinged enough to destroy your own power source.” They opened a closet door and pulled out a backpack.

"What are you doing?" the villain asked, their voice hitched in fear.

"Leaving, of course." The civilian went to the kitchen cabinets and threw in supplies. They returned and slung the bag over their shoulders. "As much as I want to stick around and see if I brewed enough to kill you, I best get going. I'll say one thing though." They leaned down and grabbed the villain's chin. "You repulse me, [Villain]. And I never once loved you."

"I will find you." The villain's limbs began shaking as they watched the civilian move away. "It will take mere weeks. Days, even! I don't care how much of this city I have to destroy." 

The civilian's footsteps paused.

The villain's words quickened, growing eager. "That's right, [Civilian]. I will ruin this city. Stay here and you save countless lives. Mothers, children, innocent people who –"

The civilian strode back and kicked the villain in the chest. "You try anything like that, and I'm killing myself." 

The assassin watched with growing respect as the civilian limped out the front door, the villain screaming their name all along the way. 

-----

Taglist:

@d-cs , @asrasmysoulmate

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Hey, are you alright? It’s been a while since you’ve posted.

I hope you’re doing well 🌻

Hey, thanks for checking in. That was kind of you :)

I’ll use this ask to make an announcement, and offer an explanation

The announcement:

I’m going to start posting again next week

I’ll start first with “A Bird in the Hand” and “QPR,” since those are the most highly requested continuations. And then, I’ll work on fulfilling all the other requests that have piled up in my inbox

The explanation:

Sorry for disappearing for such a long time. It started as a short break due to burnout, and then turned into an extended break due to Life TM

Basically, I was in a QPR that did not end well. While some parts of it were wonderful, other parts were painful and drama-heavy. It’s okay though. I’m slowly but steadily getting over what happened, and I learned a lot about both myself and relationships in general

I don’t think I will incorporate much of what happened in my relationship into my “QPR” series, since none of those experiences map very well to the types of characters that the hero and villain are. However, I may someday write a different story featuring a QPR or a-spec relationship in which I delve into some of the lessons I learned

Thank you to everyone who interacted with my account while I was gone, and sorry for keeping you waiting for so long

[silver-ink-iron-words]

Howdy peasant

I'd often asked myself what I would do if I got a request for smut. At first I thought I’d deny it, but then I thought hey, why not broaden your horizons

Here’s my best attempt. Try not to judge it too harshly, I’m really out of my wheelhouse here lol

CW - explicit NSFW

-----

The protagonist’s bones hurt, as she trudged up the grungy stairwell. It had been a long shift in the ER, at the end of a week’s worth of long shifts. Arduous days full of gruesome injuries and aching feet and a thousand competing problems that all needed to be handled now.

The only thing that had kept her going was this moment right here – the start of her extended weekend.

She finally reached her door, and stuck her key in the lock. She opened it, and soft yellow light pooled on her face.

“Welcome home [Protagonist]!”

Yes, it was precisely this moment that had kept her going.

“I made your favorite,” her girlfriend said, walking over to help the protagonist with her coat.

The protagonist stepped into the kitchen, and her brows shot up.

Smoked salmon. Wild rice. Summer greens and oven-roasted tomatoes and homemade hibiscus tea.

“What’s all this?”

“I know you’ve been living off that shitty hospital food for a week now, so I figured you were due for a real meal.”

“But you’ve been so busy with the Johnson case. How did you find time to – ”

“Don’t worry about that. Go take your shower and I’ll set the table.”

The shower – cranked up to the maximum pressure and heat that the protagonist could handle – was heavenly. The food was just as good, and before she knew it she was on the couch watching trashy TV, snuggled up beside her girlfriend and under ten pounds of blanket.

The protagonist hadn’t even realized she’d dozed off until her girlfriend was nuding her awake.

“[Protagonist]. [Protagoniiiiiiiist]. Come on baby, wake up. It’s time for bed.”

The protagonist cracked open her sleepy gaze. Her girlfriend was staring directly at her.

Her girlfriend had large black eyes – two enchanted pools of impossibly deep water. Her dark curls framed her features perfectly, falling forward to make her neck look swanlike. Her cheeks were soft, and just round enough to be called adorably chubby. Her girlfriend always complained about her face, but in this moment it was the most beautiful thing the protagonist had ever seen.

In her sleep-deprived, disoriented state, the protagonist finally started to cry.

Her girlfriend’s hands froze on her shoulders. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I missed you so much.” The protagonist wiped at her stupid, overly emotional tears. “God, [Girlfriend], I missed you.”

“I’m right here.”

“But we’ve both been so busy, and so tired, and . . .”

Her girlfriend’s brows creased in worry. “And what?”

The protagonist was going to feel like such an idiot in the morning. “And we haven’t had sex in a month.”

Her girlfriend frowned in surprise.

The protagonist pressed her palms into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be manipulative. This is more from sleep deprivation than anything else.”

“It’s actually been a month and three days.”

The protagonist jerked her gaze up. It occurred to her that there might be a reason why her girlfriend’s eyes looked so large and black.

---

It started with a massage. Her girlfriend’s hands were rhythmic, and fluttery, as they worked into the protagonist’s rigid muscles. The protagonist groaned in relief.

Petal-soft lips kissed the back of her neck, just at the top of her spine, and shivers ran down her vertebrae.

Still massaging her back, her girlfriend began peppering kisses all over. Each one implanted a burst of excitement into the protagonist’s skin, as a giddy warmth began to stir in her lower stomach.

When she was done, the girlfriend pushed the protagonist, gentle but firm, backwards onto the bed. She kissed her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive part just within the collarbone.

“I love this part of you,” her girlfriend said, running her fingers along the bone.

Shirts came off, and the protagonist pressed her fingers into the warm underside of her girlfriend’s breasts. They bobbed like the wax in a lava lamp, and the protagonist grinned wide.

Her girlfriend’s kisses traveled downwards – little sparks all the way.

“I also love these,” she said, nestling her face in the protagonist’s breasts.

She flicked the protagonist’s right nipple until it was erect, and then rubbed it back into softness. She then did the same with the left nipple.

She moved back and forth between them, occasionally pausing to gift the protagonist with more kisses all over her breasts and stomach.

Warmth grew in the protagonist’s vagina until it was a throbbing heat.

“Please,” she said.

The girlfriend glanced up through her thick lashes. “Hm?”

“I need you. Right now, babe. Please.”

Her girlfriend smiled, and moved even farther downwards. The protagonist sucked in a breath as gentle fingers began to work slow circles into her clitoris.

“And I think this part is my favorite of all,” the girlfriend said, pressing a long kiss into the protagonist’s thigh, right over her stretch marks.

A shudder rippled through the protagonist’s entire body.

The girlfriend took another long moment to savour the protagonist’s thigh, and then without a word got up and crossed the room.

A cold absence flooded over the protagonist from the lack of her girlfriend’s touch. But just as quickly, the girlfriend returned, vibrator in hand.

She placed the vibrator on the protagonist’s clitoris, expertly holding it at just the right angle. Then with her other hand, she slipped two fingers inside the protagonist, pressing upwards into her g-spot.

The tension within the protagonist grew more and more taut, her girlfriend’s hands moving faster and faster, until . . .

The girlfriend’s delighted laughter was second in volume only to the protagonist’s rapturous moans.

The protagonist fell asleep that night warm, and at home, and sinking into her girlfriend’s arms like bathwater.