#hero x villain x detective

[fleur-alise]

I'm sick of the ever brilliant, diabolical villains. I want a villain that's so dumb nobody can figure out what the fuck he's doing. I want the detective tasked at tracking him down constantly on the verge of tearing his hair out. I want bugs bunny level shenanigans between the two. and obviously I want it to be an enemies to lovers story.

[creadigol]

Prompt #7

"So a siren takes the form of whoever you most desire?"

Supervillain rolled their eyes at Henchman, "It takes the form of whoever you love the most. Love and desire are not the same thing. You would die for someone you love, not someone you only superficially desire."

"Yeah, okay...but Villain is on deck right now and..."

Supervillain whipped their head around, "What do you mean Villain is on deck?! I expressly gave the orders for everyone to stay below!"

"I know but sir...."

"No buts! Go out there and get them back inside!"

"You should really see..."

"Really see what?"

Henchman rubbed the back of their neck, "The form the siren took for Villain, to lore them outside...it looks like..."

Supervillain narrowed their eyes, "Like who?"

"Like Detective."

[defectivehero]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Trail of Blood

warnings: blood, injury

"Well then."

The detective flinches at the familiar voice, dread and fear running through them as their eyes fall to the figure standing at the mouth of the alleyway. They attempt to push themselves up into a better position, but their limbs don't cooperate. The gashes across their body—coupled with the worrying bullet wound in their abdomen—prevents them from moving. Their teeth are chattering and they blink stars from their eyes as their enemy approaches. "How-?" The words die in their throat.

Yet the supervillain comprehends what they're trying to say anyway. They take a few more casual steps closer. "You left a trail." The supervillain then answers matter-of-factly, pointing back to the mouth of the alley. Indeed, there's a discernible path of crimson stains leading to their current position.

"Ah," the detective remarks. They dazedly look down at their trembling form, an ugly realization settling at the pit of their stomach as they see the slowly expanding puddle of blood beneath them.

"Yes." The supervillain hums. "It's really rather ironic. You of all people should know better."

The detective just blinks blearily. They suppose that's true. Then again, they're not usually the victim in these scenarios. The detective is typically the uninvolved third party who appears after the damage is done, relegated to making sense of the evidence left behind.

Their enemy is unperturbed by the detective's silence, instead continuing to speak. "So, what's your plan?" They ask. With another step, they're close enough for the detective to see the expression on their face—an unfamiliar one that appears to be a puzzling mix of irritation and something the detective is too afraid to name.

Then they remember the question. "Die, I guess." The detective mutters.

The supervillain huffs a dry laugh, studying them for several moments. They seem to be cataloguing the detective's injuries. "You'll live." They state with an almost clinical boredom.

"Thanks." The detective responds flatly. For a while, there's nothing but silence. The supervillain hasn't budged or moved a muscle in the time they've spent in tense quiet. "What?" The detective eventually chokes out impatiently.

"Just waiting for you to ask for my assistance." The supervillain hums. The detective glares at them for a long moment. Their enemy only scuffs their boot in the gravel below, seemingly more interested in the pebbles on the ground than the matter at hand.

A sudden prickling shame runs down their skin. The detective grits their teeth. "I'll just-" They murmur to themself, slowly straightening their posture through the nearly blinding pain.

"Just... what, exactly?" The supervillain's acerbic voice cuts through the detective's thoughts. "Crawl to the nearest hospital? It's more than three miles away. Should take you a good several hours. Or a few days, depending on your speed." They respond with a bored tone, holding up their hand and picking at their nails. The supervillain's casual demeanor is infuriating.

"Are you- just here to state the obvious?" The detective chokes out, their tongue feeling thick in their mouth. Did they appear just to witness the spectacle?

"You know me," the supervillain shrugs magnanimously. At the detective's glare, they smile. "I'm the helpful type."

The detective groans in annoyance and refocuses their effort on moving forward. They don't get past a slightly more mobile sitting position before there's a hand on their shoulder.

"Alright, enough," the supervillain announces, their grip strong enough to shake the detective out of their determined state "You're just embarrassing yourself. It's pathetic, seriously."

The detective is too exhausted to notice the concern hidden in their enemy's tone or the concentrated furrow to their brows. They growl and attempt to shove the supervillain away, but their enemy is inexplicably persistent. Within moments, the supervillain is gathering them up into their arms with minimal effort. The detective’s head is spinning at the sudden change in momentum. Were they in a slightly better state, they'd be envious of the supervillain's casual display of strength. Now, however, all they can do is attempt to fight the fatigue threatening to bring their vision to darkness.

Still, the detective's mind is plagued with questions. Where are you taking me? Why are you doing this? How did you find me? These queries all remain trapped in their throat, left to fester and rot in their thoughts.

"You should be grateful I appeared when I did." The supervillain says, looking down at them with an uncharacteristic vulnerability gleaming in their eyes. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, their composed mask returns and they return their attention up ahead. The detective frowns and attempts to dissect what they just saw. But as their adrenaline quickly starts to fade, they soon fall into unconsciousness, before their enemy can even attempt to elaborate any further.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

Bad Things Happen Bingo Masterlist

author's notes: first entry done! woo woo!

in light of recent events, my activity on tumblr may be sporadic. but now more than ever, I'll likely be leaning on writing as a form of escapism. I hope to get bingo at the very least, if not complete the entire card.

if there's something specific you want to see on the card, feel free to send me an ask and I'll see if I can make it happen.

thanks for reading! <3

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[caker-baker]

Playing Sides

The detective allowed themself tense shoulders and whitened knuckles, if only to properly play the game.

Body language could make and break this meeting, and they needed to be a collection of fearful memories on display for the villain, an offering, appeasement, something else here and there.

If anyone other than the villain noticed the act, they were obviously choosing not to say something, going about their individual days, drinking coffee and politely nibbling on microwaved pastries.

But those people didn’t matter, not when there was something else much more pressing at the table.

“This seems a tad…” The villain sitting across from the appeasing detective took their time looking for the word. “incompatible.”

The detective only spared a sweeping glance at the rest of the cafe. “For you or for me?”

Chuckling, the villain raised their coffee cup to their lips. “Tricky, tricky, tricky. Always is with you.” They took an appreciative sip, eyes never leaving the detective. “What is this act you’re putting on? It’s good, believable, but not enough of a constant for me to place any value in it. I don’t appreciate attempts at flattery.”

The first thought was to argue, because why wouldn’t it be? The detective was a professional, their job was to unearth, discover, and find the final truth, the one answer.

Sitting in front of an anthropomorphized file of contradictions with the ability to lie, could, arguably, make the detective jumpy, twitching to argue and argue and argue until that final truth was revealed.

“Maybe it’s not an act.” The detective finally said, not exactly an argument, but a halfway concession, relaxing their muscles, loosening the vice grip on their coffee. “Maybe I’m scared.”

“But not of me.”

“Should I be?”

The villain offered a closed lip smile, one motion away from baring their teeth.

“I don’t so much mind you, my dear detective friend.”

“I don’t care for flattery, either.” The detective said.

“Good thing it wasn’t flattery. You would notice if I were to compliment you.” The villain watched them, particularly their relaxed hands.

The detective managed to rid the urge to move their hands then and there, stayed completely still even as the chill creeped up their spin.

“No, no, not flattery.” The villain continued. “Merely acknowledging the truth. We have a good deal going for each other.” They leaned forward. “Which is why this meeting worries me, why I was unconvinced of your taut facade, your attempts of appeasement.”

The detective straightened, knowing well enough that the villain was mocking their strategy.

“You were hoping to…what? Beg for some sort of help?”

“No.”

“Ask for something, then?”

The detective stayed silent, looking away as the villain stared them down, goading them on in their silent way.

The two did have a good deal going on, and if the detective was wrong, this could ruin that.

But they weren’t wrong.

“There have been whispers, Villain.”

“There tend to be, yes, old friend.”

“About something, someone, coming.” If the villain wanted to respond, the detective wasn’t going to give them a chance. “Now, you know me, you know us, our usual deal. I play both sides of the fence, just barely. Lately, during some of my data tracking for the heroes, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been forced to wonder something, I have a question for you. All I need is a simple yes or no-”

“Going to stop you there.” The villain set down their cup, fixing the detective with a colder, less amicable gaze. “I do know our usual deal, which is why I’m insulted now. You wanted information, pertinent, valuable information about something disturbing, and you were hoping to bargain with your fear?”

“Villain-”

Their eyes widened, the table under their fist began to crack.

“Careful.”

The detective couldn’t hide any body language from that, flinching at the tone of voice, tones, that the villain had - a million low voices all merging into one, horrific growl that sent shivers wracking up the detective’s spine, hurting their very bones.

“My guilt!” The detective spat out, ignoring the building bone nausea. “It wasn’t fear. You’re right. I’m not scared, not yet, but I’m guilty, and I will be terrified depending on your answer. If this ends up a yes, then I’m prepared to offer you something that I cannot take back, Villain. I’ll trade in something terrible for the rest of us, if it means I have the smallest chance to prepare.”

Those wide eyes narrowed, but the cracking table at least stopped, and the million low voices returned to one.

“Do tell.”

“Answer me first.”

“Tricky, tricky, trick.” The villain relaxed into their chair, amused now. “I’ll decide if it’s worth answering, Detective. Seem fair? Ask your silly yes or no question.”

Another sweep around the coffee shop, everything going according to how the detective had set up.

“Normally, your type gets quiet, goes under radar before a bigger stunt is pulled. I keep track, alert the proper channels, make sure not too many civvies are in a particular high risk zone at a given day. Some contacts in other big cities have reached out, said it’s been too quiet, everyone’s been too quiet.”

The villain’s amusement had already been fanned like a flame, crossing their arms and watching the detective lay it out for them as if it was some soap opera.

“I’ll spare you too many details, but I have reason to believe something big is being planned for here.” They held up a hand, watching the villain’s eyebrow quirk up. “I just need to know, yes or no, is this happening? Is my home going to be razed down for a personal vendetta? A final heroes vs. villains?”

The villain looked the detective up and down.

“If you knew the answer to that, what would you do?”

“Let you and yours duke it out with the heroes. Take the place if you want, it’s only a place, but I’d like to minimize civvy death count, Villain. I’d get in touch with those channels and start mass evacuation. I’d start it now.”

“And now the fun part.” They leaned in again. “What could you offer me in exchange for this answer? What could bring you of all people to guilt? You, whom I almost respect?”

The detective swallowed, and placed their bag on the table, letting the villain take a look inside.

Body language would make or break this.

“Power dampening cuffs. A prototype. I can’t guarantee they work. But I’m sure if you and yours worked together, you could figure something out.”

For the first time, the villain seemed surprised, hardly giving the prototype cuffs another glance.

“Detective-”

“I can’t guarantee they work.” The detective repeated. “But in this squabble of yours that may or may not be coming up, you could use these, and they would help, I know they would.”

“Hm. And you’ll let me walk out with these and the current schematics if I answer you? What if I lie? You make the wrong call, and I still have these. Maybe I will lie, maybe I want to see you be horribly wrong at such a cost.”

“You don’t.” The detective wasn’t wrong. They weren’t.

“Why’s that?”

“It would be no fun for you. You couldn’t almost respect me if this was the end of our partnership, my too easy failure.”

There was so much the detective was betting on, and knowing the villain was one of them.

The villain was a villain through and through, conniving, powerful, selfish, dangerous. And sometimes, those traits, the selfishness, carried into these little deals of theirs.

No, the villain wouldn’t want this to end without a bang. The villain would want to string along the detective until there was no more use of them.

“In a way,” The villain said, standing and grabbing the bag. “You’re right. It would be no fun. I don’t just want these, though. I want something else.”

“Answer the question, I’ll see what else I can do.”

The villain stared down at the detective for a long time. A minute. Two. Three. Or maybe it was only three seconds, stretched out into the fraying ends of a perfectly planned meeting.

“Yes.” The villain finally said. “The answer is yes, something is coming.”

The detective stood, not too quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. What do you want? Codes to inaccessible areas? You can have them as soon as-”

Reaching across, the villain grasped the detective’s shoulder. “The ramifications of razing this city down, as you so put, were lost on me. How could you and I keep this up if you’re running off, evacuating with the other saps?” They watched how the detective’s eyes flitted to the villain’s hand. “What I want, Detective, is to keep having fun.”

“Villain, there’s not much you or I can do to continue this deal of ours if there’s all out super war-”

“You play for heroes and villains, or, excuse me, just barely.” Their hand tightened on the detective’s shoulder. “Let’s see what sort of fun we can have with that.”

Before the detective could open their mouth, the villain smiled, and the two disappeared.

[saltydumplings]

Prompt #62

"Did you figure it out yet?" they asked.

Before them, the detective startled, shooting up from where they'd been sat on their desk only to calm again once they saw their visitor's face.

"Don't you ever knock?" they asked, sighing when they got nothing but a smirk in response. "Whatever, just, come look at this."

They motioned to the wall in front of them, what had once been blank space now covered in clippings and photos and names, all bound together in a spiderweb of red string. The detective began at the centre of the mess.

"The first victim: everything else revolves around this first incident - I know it does. At a glance, the murders seemed only connected by the way they were carried out. Same weapon, same wound, but these people themselves are connected. This isn't just some serial killer going on a rampage, this is someone burying information."

The visitor raised a brow, expression intrigued. "Go on," they encouraged.

And the detective did. They went over each and every case, explaining the little details they'd missed before and the significance they held. Their hand danced across the paths of their investigation, working its way up from the centre to the outer ring and then further out still, following a single branch that led away from the rest - the one tiny lead that gave them so little and so much all at once. It was them: the killer. They didn't have their face or their name, just the knowledge of a single meeting that had derailed everything they'd originally assumed.

Their fingers froze as they reached the pinpoint. They narrowed their eyes, confused when they noticed that their string continued on from it instead of dangling uselessly as it had before. Slowly, they followed it. The red branched off from the wall, swooping down and out, and when they turned they found the end of it held against the chest of their trusted visitor.

"Civilian?" they asked. "Wh-What are you doing?"

The villain smiled down at them, curling the string around their pinkie as they took one calculated step forwards.

"Helping you," they said. Their free hand rose up to cup the detective's face, thumb tracing softly across the dark shadows beneath their eyes. "You're tired, Detective. You've worked so hard...and I simply can't bare to let you work one second longer."

[ladyathenawisdom]

Infidelity Reprisal Pt. 1

Warnings: Language, Cheating, Blood, Fighting, Gore, Explicitly. F-Hero, M-Villain.

2025

Hero was happy.

She was content with her sweet life.

How could she not?

She had an amazing job in which she saved people as a hero, obviously, and stopped crime altogether. And she basked in the glory of the people knowing her, the whole city knew who she was and what she did.

She had an awesome boss and good friends who supported her.

And she had an amazing family.

Her life was great, well, as great as life could be.

What she didn't expect was to fall for a criminal. Which should have been entirely impossible.

But she did.

And what's more, marry one.

Villain was one of the most vicious villains in the city, known to be the best of the best. Many other minor criminals were afraid of him and that said all about who he was.

But falling for and marrying him? That was entirely absurd, especially for the fact that she hated him at first.

Back when she was young and a new hero, saving people and stopping crime.

Hero crosses her arms, her eyes narrowed on the figure who was stood in the doorway of her apartment. "What are you doing here?" She questioned sharply, eyeing him dubiously as he would attack her at any moment.

Villain merely gave her a charming smile, bringing his hand forward from behind his back. There was a bouquet of sunflowers in his grasp, bright and sweet.

Hero falters, staring at the flowers. She didn't expect him to know what her favorite flowers were, but he did, surprisingly.

"What do you think, little hero?" Villain snorts, gently shoving the bouquet in her hands and walking past her and into her apartment as if he owned the place.

She blinks in surprise as he brushes past her, and she frowns, glancing at him. She fumbles with the door, scrambling after him. "Wha-? Hey-!" She turns to follow him, surprised at his audacity.

Villain takes a seat on her favorite brown coach, getting comfortable and looking around her apartment with a critical eye.

Hero squirms, shifting nervously as she watched him. She had enough people judging her taste and what she liked, she didn't need him to mock her or possibly insult her.

Villain paused, his gaze snapping towards her. "So?" He spoke up, eyeing her. "Do you like the flowers?"

Hero furrows her eyebrows, glancing down at the sunflowers in her hands. She narrows her gaze. "How could you possibly know that sunflowers are my favorite?"

Villain shrugs, leaning back against her coach. "I've been watching you." Is all he says.

"Like that's not creepy." Hero mumbles, making a face.

Villain grins, watching her. "I like to keep an eye on things that I...admire..." He murmurs, his gaze cat-like.

Hero swallows hard, shifting uneasily.

After that day, he kept visiting her. He kept coming back, with more sunflowers, mint chocolate which he also knew was her favorite, roses and sweet cards with words that he had written himself.

This went on for two long years, and Hero had kept it discreet unless her bosses found out and fired her for her incompetence and for the fact that the most notorious villain in the city, liked her.

And by the third year, Hero started falling for him too. It was the little things he noticed; when she got her hair noticed, why she wasn't going to watch the new release of her favorite movie series, why she hadn't gone to the book store, when she got a pair of new boots or leather jacket. He noticed.

At first, she had been skeptical and in denial of her so-called feelings for him. When she had told her parents about Villain, they had immediately scolded her for rejecting him. They were keen on his 'protection' and for the fact that he was Villain.

"Honestly," Mother had said with a shake of her head, disapproval in her gaze. "If a powerful person had tried to Court me, I would gave said yes. Just by your words I can tell that he's enamored with you!"

Hero didn't bother to listen to her. She would always come second to their priorities, the first would always be her young sister, Sister.

Time went by and eventually, Hero acknowledged the so-called feelings she had for Villain. When she and her team were fighting him, she had noticed that his lackeys would go easy on her. She was annoyed by that but said nothing.

When Villain had come to see her next time, she had spoken up.

"I'm not some weakling who needs your help!" She had snapped, glaring at him. "Your stupid minions barely hit me."

"Oh?" Villain raised his eyebrows, smirking. "You wanna be hit? That's a weird kink."

"I'm serious!" Hero slaps his shoulder, clenching her jaw with her ears a pretty pink. "I don't need you to...I don't need them to go easy on me, just because their boss-" She takes a deep breath. "Just because you..."

"What?" Villain leans closer to her, staring onto her beautiful gaze. "Just because I like you, sweetheart?"

Hero gulps nervously, trembling as she noticed the distance between them.

That night, she had her first kiss with him.

Dates happened, discreet and small. They grew into something much bigger, but Hero knew she got lost in something so entirely. A part of her said it was a had idea while the other said it was incredible.

She soon enough answered his sweet and what looked like an expensive proposal, with a yes. The wedding, it had been all her. He had allowed her to decide on everything, the flowers, decorations, cake, music, food, everything. He just wanted to marry sweet her.

And their marriage? Well, it had been such a sweet experience for her. Their marriage was of course a secret from the Hero Industry, they would no doubt call her a traitor and lock both of them up.

He was attentive, caring, kind and very needy with her. She wasn't a good cook, he taught her. She wasn't good at laundry, he had said that all minions took care of everything.

They went out every single night, or well, almost every single night. They both still had jobs they needed to do, and they made it work.

Hero would not hunt him or his people, while Villain would not hurt her or her team.

Life was good.

But Hero had gotten some horrible news, about Sister and her own husband.

Sister sobbed loudly, tears streaming down her face, sat on the coach in her parent's large house. "I-I-I-" She hiccups, "Ca-can't believe it-"

Villain was leaning against the pillar and few feet away. The only person who knew of his identity and marriage to Hero, were her parents and Hero herself. And their parents knew that telling anyone would result in getting hurt, or something possibly worst.

"He cheated on me!" Sister sobs, big fat tears streaming down her face. "On me!" She screams, trembling with heartbreak and rage.

Villain winches.

Hero watches her sister with something akin to pity but also sympathy. "Darling-"

"Don't darling me!" Sister snaps, pushing her Mother and Hero away with a wail. "That asshole is gonna get what's coming to him! Revenge will come for him."

Hero frowns deeply. "Revenge is not the answer. It's a horrible, horrible thing."

Sister scoffs, her eyes teary as she turns to her. "Oh, what would you know!" She snaps, sniffling. "Your husband is still with you, you wouldn't understand! But I will take revenge on that bastard, I don't care!" She snaps, storming away.

Hero had watched her go with sad eyes.

"She's a bit dramatic." Villain had said when they got home. "But not entirely wrong on the revenge part."

"Come on, I don't wanna have this conversation again." Hero says with a frown. "You know I don't agree with that."

"On revenge?" Villain asked, staring at her frown. "If someone cheats oj you, makes you feel like dirt, betrays you, you wouldn't want revenge? I would." He snorts.

Hero furrows her eyebrows. "I just don't agree with the notion. They'll get what's coming for them, but why would you wanna get revenge on them?"

"Because you felt like it?" Villain scoffs. "Because you felt betrayed and you want them to feel what you feel." He rolls his eyes. "You're so soft."

"Then why did you marry me?" Hero asks, crossing her arms, her gaze set on him.

Villain smirks. "Because of your many qualities, my love."

Hero rolled her eyes, a small smile ok her face.

And when she wasn't at home, she was at the Hero Industry, trying to catch villains and criminals.

"What do you mean?" Hero asks, sat in her cubicle in the main office. Her gaze was on Sidekick, who looked anxious as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

"I meant what I said." Sidekick says quietly, leaning closer to her, he hesitates. "Something is going on with the higher up's."

"Like what?" Hero asks curiously.

Sidekick paused. "...it has something to do with...Supervillain." He whispered.

Hero furrows her eyebrows in confusion. "You mean, that big crime lord from 120 years ago?"

Sidekick nodded, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Yeah. I don't know what's going on, but they said he's back or something."

"But...wouldn't be old and about, 100 or something?" Hero asks in confusion.

Sidekick had only shrugged.

When Hero had asked Villain, he had tensed but answered nonetheless. "Their just baseless rumors, Hero. Don't listen to them. Most of the villains also think he's back but I think it's ridiculous." He scoffs. "Don't worry you're pretty, little head."

"But who is Supervillain, anyway? I mean, I've heard of him from others and kinda read about him in the Old Archives."

Villain pursues his lips in contempt. "He was a big shot criminal in the 1900s. Practically the King of Crime, he was ruthless, vicious and downright cruel to anyone who wasn't in his inner circle."

"Inner circle?"

"Yeah. He had people in his inner circle from high places, mayor's, lords, big business people, and shit like that." Villain rolls his eyes. "He had spies everywhere and anywhere. He got away with a lot of crimes."

"He sounds horrible." Hero frowns, leaning back against the sofa.

"He was." Villain scoffs. "He ruled the criminals of that time, bought them all, he practically built a whole empire. It wasn't until a few decades ago that he disappeared, something must have happened for him to just...vanish. And he hasn't been heard ever since."

Hero continues to frown, contemplating on his words.

"But people and villains alike say he's still out there." Villain says. "Which is ridiculous. But they say he's still out there, planning. That he still rules from the shadows, killing any villain that isn't worthy. They think he's searching for something."

Hero moves closer to Villain, cuddling into his arms. She sighs. "Searching for what?" She asks quietly.

Villain glances down at her. "No one know what..."

Hero felt the forbade feeling that somehow, they would all soon find out.

.......

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Mind Games

New story who diiisss. Anyway, thank you to @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 for the whole idea of this story! Hero x detective for a twist.

TW: Blood, stabbing, knife, mentioned murder, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, mentioned drugging, male whump

Waking up blindfolded and bound to a chair wasn't exactly a novelty for the hero, but that didn't make it any less irritating. There was something about the forced ignorance a blindfold subjected you to that got on the hero's nerves and blew fuses in his brain.

The patter of footsteps on a parquet floor rang in the hero's ears, and he could already sense his mystery assailant get near him and flick him on the head like a disobedient child.

"You up, sunshine?" Detective's sharp voice called out.

The rough grunt he gave seemed to be enough of a response, and the detective removed the blindfold from around his head.

The light seemed to assault his eyes, too bright and cold and violent, and the hero let out a soft cuss. "Do you make a habit out of kidnapping people and tying them up in your basement, detective?" he questioned irritably, his eyes half-screwed shut.

The detective, immaculate as ever, wearing a goddamn three-piece suit in his own house, gave out a soft, but unsettling laugh, leaving his lips in a tight smile that was all teeth. "No, Hero. But you already know why you're here, don't you? Because I know you think playing dumb might save you, but I'm here to tell you it won't," he growled, baring his teeth.

The detective was never a particularly pleasant human being, dryer than a desert more often than not, but he was always calm, like no problem in the world could even sour his mood. So to see him already lash out, even this slightly told the hero that even with him tied up and possibly drugged with how groggy he was feeling, the detective probably saw him as a threat.

Shame he'd have to play another set of cards to win the game.

"Alright," the hero said calmly, fixing the other man with a piercing look, "if we're agreeing neither of us is here to screw around, then how about you cut to the chase. You don't seem like the 'pace and around the room and monologue' type of guy," he reasoned, an easy smile on his face.

Maybe he wasn't feigning oblivion anymore, but he wasn't giving the detective the satisfaction of feeling like he was scaring him.

The detective made a scoffing noise, reaching into his pocket to pull out a switchblade. "Maybe you'll learn to smile less at the wrong times, asshole," he spat as he unfurled the blade, looking eerily calm, nothing behind the whirpools of black that were his eyes.

"You're going to talk. Answer all my questions properly. And if you don't, I think even you are not dumb enough to not be able to guess what's going to happen."

The knife really didn't faze the hero the way it should. Sure, it left him uneasy, sharp and disturbingly pristine. But he'd been roughed up before one too many times, so he knew to some extent how this stuff worked.

The hardest part was selling his act.

"How did you find out it was me?" the detective started, pulling up another chair and carelessly throwing one leg over the other.

"I'm good at what I do," the hero shrugged, his face blank. But he couldn't help wincing as the detective grazed his thigh with the knife, his body already tormented enough with his ridiculously cramped muscles.

Nothing he couldn't handle, anyway.

"The evidence. What lead you to me?" Detective tried again, the blade still in his hand with Hero's fresh blood snaking down it.

"Does it matter? I figured you out anyways," the hero supplied listlessly, his gaze languid and half-lidded.

The detective stabbed harder this time, twisting the knife in the hero's shoulder and forcing a snarl out of him. He truly wasn't sure for how long he could keep playing the defiant card, the pain blooming across his shoulder and even down to his arm as the detective snatched the knife out just as fast as he'd put it in.

If he could incinerate the detective by staring at him wrong, he seriously would've. Instead he grit his teeth and tried to ignore his throbbing shoulder, looking up at the detective, irritated.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat right now." The detective's voice seemed a little too relaxed for comfort, the dirty switchblade now resting on the hero's jugular. The hero was no longer even slightly surprised the other man was a criminal.

It took an insurmountable amount of self-restraint to keep his lips from curving into a self-satisfied grin. Sure, it wasn't very believable if an agency-trained hero crumbled under a few stabs, but death was a reasonable enough fear for even someone as formidable as him. Nevermind that the wide eyes and the harsh bite of the lips were actually fake.

"W-wait. There's no point of you killing me. Not without finding out what you need to know. And do you really need anymore blood on your hands?" the hero breathed out, a little desperation sprinkled into his tone.

The detective looked almost lost in thought, until something wicked burned a fire in his eyes for just a moment. "You only get one chance, Hero. Don't waste it," he drawled lazily, pulling the knife away and twirling it elegantly with one hand.

The hero nodded gratefully, readying himself to lie through his teeth. "When you said the victim had died of asphyxiation, even before you were granted access to the autopsy report."

The detective's brow furrowed and his lips were pulled into a tight frown. "I never said he died of asphyxiation, he died of mercury poisoning."

"Bingo," the hero, his hands now free of their bonds, crooned, as he used the detective's momentary surprise as a distraction, pulling the knife out of his hand and using it to cut through the ropes around his legs.

Say something wrong about a subject and your target will rush to correct you. A surprisingly effective trick as the hero had come to learn.

The detective's face twisted into an expression of pure, unbridled fury as he tried to wrench the knife out of the hero's hand, but he dodged, quick on his feet much to the other man's chagrin.

Hero had to give him credit, the man was almost nearly impossible to stab, parrying the crime-fighter's attacks with calm, stable, maybe even clever moves, so much so that all he'd managed to do was lightly nick him with the blade.

But with all his focus on blocking, he hadn't even noticed that all the hero's fighting had backed him into a corner until too late, until thr crime-stopper's leg had slammed him into the wall with a painful kick, and the knife's cold edge had bit into his skin.

"Don't. Move."

The detective was breathing hard, practically paralysed by the knife and the glint of warning in his enemy's eyes. His face burned with the shame and humiliation of being frozen in place, his own weapon at his neck.

"How d-did. . .you find out it was me?" the detective panted, voice desperate.

It was the hero's turn to smile wickedly. "On the day of the victim's death, he got a visit from his doctor. I searched the trash and found a broken thermometer. It was pretty clear from the bruising on the poor bastard's face the killer was left-handed. The doctor you paid off that I interviewed was right-handed. To test out my theory, I told the doctor I was taking him to prison for the murder, and his tongue might've just slipped too much for your hush money to fix it."

And with that, the hero knocked him out with a punch to the jaw, dragging the other's body and praying desperately the adrenaline would keep the pain in his shoulder at bay until he got out of here at least.

Some trails are shadowy and unclear, obscuring the vision and playing tricks on the mind. But the smallest amount of resilience can very well go a long way, if only you learn to time your moves right. Because even if you only get a short string, you can still sew a mark on the tapestry of your fate.

Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @adamswrongchild @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth @dragonmine-24 @detectivepetrichor @orangeduckweed @red-is-the-reputation4444 @alexii117 @prophecies-bestowed-upon-ye @alphabet-egg

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[chaotic-scraps]

All I Want For Christmas is You (Part 1)

Inspired by the song version Minor Key All I Want For Christmas is You - Kurt Hugo Schneider with original characters (no names, I'm allergic apparently).

CW: Kidnapping, gun violence

Red and green lights blinked through the window blinds. Christmas music echoed from the street below. Gloved and shaking hands pulled red yarn from tack to tack. Photographs, sticky notes, news articles, emails.

The detective stared. Head pounding. Swigged the cold and bitter coffee. Jittery. Cold.

A month. It'd been more than a month since the thief's last known activity.

It just didn't make sense.

"Where are you," he whispered.

It wasn't like they owed him anything. Not the little gifts they would leave after a heist, nor the postcards mocking him for being one step behind.

Not the flirtatious moments that just… Refused to leave his mind.

They'd given him a souvenir of the last heist, just before disappearing. A thick and heavy gear, uniquely shaped, wrapped in a box. He'd shoved it into his bottom drawer with the other odds and ends the thief brought them.

He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It meant nothing, he tried to tell himself. No news was good news, right? The thief was lying low after kicking the hornet's nest.

It had only been a month. They'd turn up. They always do.

Yet the hours ate away at him. They'd… Promised to stop by on Christmas Eve. Rookie mistake. Never trust a con artist to follow through on their honeyed promises.

Yet…

The thief's last target had been none other than a mob boss. They'd been missing since shortly after the heist.

If… If the detective could find some sign, some single shred of evidence they were okay, that they were safe, he could sleep.

He tried not to think the worst.

He took a shaky breath.

He couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus. Couldn't function.

Time to call on an old family… 'friend'.

Hopefully she was in a good mood.

He pushed through the cold and crowded streets. He went down a much quieter alley to a door with a small and faded sign.

The door to the shop jangled.

"Hey! Look who the rat dragged in," the shopkeep rasped. She hacked a cough and limped over to him.

"C'mere, you!"

She pulled him into a back-cracking hug.

"Ohh! Merry Christmas, sugar plum! I haven't seen you since, what? Last year? You look thin. Have a cookie."

The detective shook his head. "I just need some information, then I'll be out of your hair."

The shopkeep pursed her lips.

"Oh. I see. I'd hate to keep you, mister important detective man. No time to visit your auntie anymore. Not even on Christmas."

"You shot at me last time."

"Warning shots. Ought to teach you not to stick your nose where it don't belong."

"…Yeah." The detective sighed heavy. "I… Speaking of that." He withdrew a photograph and slid it to her. "Recognize this face?"

The shopkeep squinted. "Oh, yeah, that thief character. Stole my favorite mug. Little beagle on the front. Said 'You're the Doggon Best' on it."

Oh. The thief gave him that mug. He used it every day.

He shifted his gaze awkwardly, opening the door to a grandfather clock pendulum.

"Have you seen anything of them recently?" He asked.

"I heard they're not going to be a problem anymore," the shopkeep sniffed. "Quit fiddling with that old clock. You'll break it."

An old and matted cat mewled and stretched, and she scratched his head. "Does Mr. Biscuits want his num nums?" She cooed.

"What does that mean," the detective hissed, stepping between the shopkeep and her cat. "What do you mean, they're not a problem anymore?"

"You get between me and Mr. Biscuits, and we'll have ourselves a problem," the shopkeep growled, pushing past them. "Your friend messed with the wrong people. Forget about them."

"You know something," the detective demanded. "That mob boss has them, right? Where are they?"

"Dead," she rasped. "Dead, as far as you're concerned."

The detective sucked in a breath.

He leaned against the glass display for support.

No. No, they couldn't be dead. If the item the thief stole was worth their life, they wouldn't do away with them until they found said item. They were currently worth more alive.

"I don't believe it. Tell me your sources"

"I don't owe you that. Believe what you want."

"Where…" The detective pulled out a notepad. "Where is the boss's last known location?"

The shopkeep's eyes went wide, nostrils flared.

"No. You're looking for a fool's end, and I want no part in it," she said, walking by and pulling him by the sleeve.

"Take this cookie and get out, you fool boy." The shopkeep pushed a gingerbread into his hands and shoved him out the door.

The streets were colder as the night grew darker. Crowds thinned and the festive lights went out. The detective found a bench to sink into.

Something began to build in his chest. A cold, sad laugh.

He was laughing.

Crying.

God, he needed to get ahold of himself.

"Hey, uh," a voice caught his attention.

The detective hastily scrubbed away his tears.

"Heard you're looking for a friend," the gaunt figure grunted. "I can help."

Their eyes flicked to the cookie, and they swallowed. "For a price."

The detective held out the cookie for them. They blinked wide-eyed, then snatched and scarfed it down. A moan of satisfaction.

"The mob boss is hosting the Christmas party in their cabin." They smacked their lips. "That's just outside of the abandoned diner, cut right after the old winery. You'll find an unmarked path with a fork, go left. Tell em you're making a delivery."

They shoved a package in his hands. Cookies.

"I can't trust myself with 'em." The stranger grinned crookedly. "God, I've been so tempted for a nibble all day. Fresh baked this morning. A special something in the butter. God, just smell that." He sniffed the box deeply. "Tell em Ol' Shakylegs sent you if they ask."

The detective reached the address long after dark. Vehicles parked back to back all the way down the driveway and across the lawn. Anyone parked farther in was stuck. What a nightmare. He parked his motorbike close to the side.

There was a side entrance where staff went in and out. He made his way over and an event planner all but snatched the parcel away.

"You're late," they barked.

"Apologies," the detective said.

"Well? Move it! Clear out!"

"Where's the restroom?"

The planner scoffed. "Second door on your right. There's a line."

The detective nodded. Then went left, towards the party. He slipped into the crowd, eyes darting around for familiar faces.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

"You're not supposed to be here," a hefty man grunted. "Party guests only."

"I'm a detective, and I found something of interest for your boss," the detective said. He handed a photograph of the gear the thief had left them.

"This looks like junk." The man held the photograph. Squinted. "Stay right here."

The detective peered around the room. Suspicious eyes flicked back. He recognized some. Some recognized him. He waved and forced a smile.

The man returned. "Come with me," he said. He grabbed the detective by the shoulder in an iron grip and pushed him through the murmuring crowd.

He reached a private study and shoved the detective inside. A few more men blocked the door.

"I'm told you have something of mine, detective," the mob boss said, tapping the photograph of the gear. "A Christmas gift, perhaps? This isn't extortion. You're much too smart."

"I need the whereabouts of a certain thief," the detective said. "Tell me where they are, and I'll wrap that gear in a pretty little bow for you before Santa comes to town."

The boss tapped his desk. "I need the blueprints, too."

"Only they have that information." The detective wet his lips. "I can get them to talk. Let me see them."

"Afraid that's not how this is going down." The boss made a gesture and one of the grunts pulled the detective to his knees, gun barrel digging into his temple. "You bring me the gear and the blueprints or my boy's'll make like Picasso with your brains."

Silencer. Plastic wrap on the floors and furniture. Fridge-sized gift box. He wasn't joking.

"Replicating the gear will take years," the detective said, voice stronger than he felt. "You need it now. Let's be reasonable here. Only I know where it's hidden. Blueprints won't help if you don't have all the pieces."

The boss stepped around the desk like a panther stalking for the kill. He looked down at the prone man with a bloodthirsty glint in his eye.

"Do you have family, detective?" The boss asked. "You look like a family man. You have a wife? Husband?"

The detective sucked in a breath.

"No." He looked down. "No, I have no one."

"No." The boss patted his cheek. "No, of course not. You don't know what it takes to raise a family. A happy family. What the cost is."

He gripped the detective's hair and forced him to meet his eyes.

"You get between me and my livelihood, you threaten my family. Understand? You come to me the day before Christmas and you threaten my livelihood with my family just outside--"

"Tell me they're alive," the detective pleaded. "Tell me they're alive. Give me some proof they're alive. Or…"

He took a shaking breath. "Or I won't care what you do to me."

There was a shift. The boss released his grip.

"You care for them," the boss whispered in revelation.

The detective's throat bobbed.

"You came for them… Because you have feelings for them."

"They're all I have," the detective whispered.

"That's why you have the gear," the boss said, everything clicking into place. "They care for you, too."

A pang in the detective's heart. Did they?… They never really confirmed-…

"Bag him. Take him to the basement," the boss said. "I'll deal with him later."

The detective yanked himself out of the grunt's grip and dodged a swing to the back of his head. One hit the other. The boss shot at him, missed and hit the second grunt. The detective grabbed a bottle of brandy and broke it, and held the broken glass to the mob boss's neck. A bead of blood trickled from where he pressed too hard.

"I will destroy you," the mob boss hissed. "I will destroy everything you love."

"You have MORE TO LOSE," the detective roared. "You have a family? I have one person. ONE PERSON I CARE ABOUT! WHAT ELSE CAN YOU TAKE?! TRY ME!!!"

He grabbed at the boss's wrist and bit into it until he released the gun. The boss wailed.

"YOU'RE INSANE!" He screeched.

"Tell me where they are," the detective said. "Tell me where they are now."

"In the abandoned warehouse near the pier," the mob boss said. "But you will never--"

Grunts stormed in from outside. They trained their guns on him.

The detective aimed the gun towards the ceiling, and shot the light. He ducked and rolled in the ensuing chaos.

"He's escaping! Get him! GET HIM, YOU IDIOTS!"

The detective burst into the room filled with festivities and barreled through the back entrance.

"Grab him! SOMEONE GRAB HIM!"

The detective pushed a chocolate fountain over. The grunts skidded and fell behind him.

Shots fired. The staff hit the floor.

Glass shattered. A bullet grazed the detective's side. He ran out the back and mounted the motorbike.

Too many cars parked. The grunts scattered in panic, trying to work a car free.

Precious time lost for them. The detective chuckled. That was a lesson in crowd management.

It was well after midnight when he reached the pier. Someone must've phoned he was coming. Grunts all around the perimeter.

They didn't expect him to be so brazen.

He barreled through a crowd of grunts who dove away with a cry. He shot at the deadbolt, but it held firm. A waste of bullets, a waste of time.

Something hit the back of his head.

The detective came to with a bag over his head. Hands tied behind his back, feet tied to a chair.

"Detective? You awake?"

His heart fluttered.

The thief's voice.

"I… It's you," the detective was overcome with emotion. "I heard you were dead."

"You came looking for me anyway?" The thief huffed. "You… Why would you do that? For me?"

"No, I was just looking for my wallet," the detective said. "You stole it again, remember?"

Laughter. "Lot of trouble for a wallet," the thief said. "You know you can request new cards--"

The detective drew in a sharp breath.

"What? What is it?" The thief sounded worried. "Did they hurt you? What?"

"N-nothing," the detective said, voice rough. "I…"

Thought I'd never see you again, he couldn't say.

"Merry Christmas," he said instead.

The thief snorted. "Yeah. Merry Christmas."

A click.

"Touching reunion," the mob boss said. "You two seem close. Let's test that relationship."

[ynscrazylife]

okay i have a concept i need to share

a corrupt hero. detective x villain.

detective is friends with hero and has been assigned a case. it seems normal at first, but as detective falls to hero about the details, hero realizes that this is the villain’s m.o. as things progress, detective realizes it too. this will be their big break! they’re so excited.

detective gets closer and closer and unknowingly even meets with villain a view times, who finds them and their efforts charming. hero is frustrated, they’re supposed to be the one to save the city and take down villain, not detective! hero feeds off of detective’s work, worms their way into the case.

then, it happens. detective does it! they figure out the location of villain’s headquarters. but hero can’t have it, can’t have detective steal everything they’ve worked for. so upset and enraged, hero captures detective and goes to meet villain, who’s shocked. they expected the cute detective to show up!

villain is enraged, realizing that something must really be wrong. now this can go one of two ways:

1) hero wins, framing detective as a partner of villain’s, and steals detective’s work. villain eventually finds detective, offers them the opportunity to get revenge on hero.

2) villain wins, exposing civilian as a fraud and saving detective’s life, getting pardoned for their crimes.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Hero x Villain Masterlist

Reverse chronological order. (prompt) indicates when the original idea is from someone else.

Oh no they're kidnapped: Hero and Sidekick finally catch a kidnapper in action. Hero is surprisingly chill about it.

Sidekick in distress (+part 2): Detective is stuck with some scared child...and is now in serious trouble.

Augusnippets 2024: Want something short to read? Check this collection of lil’ snippets. Reporters having complicated relationships with Heroes, Supervillain giving great advice and heroes offering presents to foes, friends and families, it’s all in there.

Poll Prompt 1: Civilian is trapped in a strangely nice room. Meanwhile, Supervillain has a bit of a crisis.

The Fakers: Three heroes in a small town despair: there's no villain around. What can they do?

A taste of revenge: Supervillain doesn’t really mind the three young heroes who keep coming after him, until the fateful day everyone goes for ice cream. (ask)

Through the mirror : What’s the thing to do after having an epic fight with the local Villainess ? Drinking a couple of beers with her, of course. It’s only polite.

Crash Meeting (prompt): Detective tries to bring down Villain. They don’t succeed, but what they’ve just discovered might be even more important.

Jack-in-a-box Surprise: A bunch of civilians are stuck in the room with a villain taking the form of their worst fears. Good luck with that.

Pounding Headache (sicktember): Thief has a bad day. The burglary didn’t turn well, Villain turned on them, what better moment for a migraine to begin?

Gilded Cage (prompt): Villain has Hero trapped in a ghastly – wait actually, it’s a pretty cool apartment. That’s a trick, right?

Who dies, who lives (prompt): You’ve always been a fan of Superhero, and you don’t take too well that they’ve just been killed. Where’s your partner anyway?

To make a right (prompt): A gritty detective informs his unlikely friend and unanimously beloved superhero Sunblade that distasteful things were made in his name.

Mind-Melting (prompt) part 1 and 2: Hero has a lot to do between an amnesic Supervillain, an emo teen Sidekick, and a cat. One of them is much more powerful than the others. One of my first posts here so the style is, ah, certainly made of words.

Detective x Thief

Cold Case (for sicktember): A detective gets hired to find a stolen painting. Unfortunately, he catches a cold before catching the culprits.

Cold Meeting (prompt): This detective really wishes this client would leave him in peace. He might have secrets of his own.

Recurring concepts/characters

These Two Dorks Masterlist (mostly fluff but angst looms on the horizon, hurt/comfort)

Vampire Hero Masterlist (black comedy, affectionate whump parody, lots of torture attempts/mentions even if that rarely turns out the way the torturer planned)

1-Word Prompt Masterlist: Marvel as I turn one random word into a bunch of H/V prompts. Plus, it's short for once.

*

And now for something mildly different:

Whump/Horror Masterlist.

Fantasy Masterlist

[avvail]

DETECTIVE X SUPERVILLAIN

tw: heavy intoxication, kidnapping, implied sc (dub-con, nothing explicit)

The detective swirled the liquid inside of their glass, staring at the ice cubes clattering inside. The atmosphere of the bar was loud in their ears, and heat was beginning to crawl down their cheeks and through the back of their neck.

They tossed the alcohol back, the contents burning their chest, before signaling for another.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

They tilted their head, glancing at the figure that had stopped beside them. They had a hand on the bar, lips pulled into a strained smile.

The detective frowned, stifling an offended hiccup. “And who are you?”

They knew it wasn’t a good idea to drown in their sorrows, but the investigation about Supervillain had just gone down the drain, and they’d been forbidden to indulge in the case any longer.

Apparently, it was being transferred to somebody else. They felt like snorting when they’d heard that. Detective didn’t boast often, but there was no way they would close this investigation without them.

They had been so close. So close.

“A concerned party,” the figure hummed, taking a seat next to them. “That’s all you need to know.”

Detective didn’t look at them. The bartender rolled them another drink, and they knocked a few large swigs down, a heavy sigh escaping their lips.

“Do I want to know any more?” They asked.

The figure smiled fondly. “I doubt it.”

They waved a hand sharply. Everything around the edges was starting to go fuzzy, yet they hadn’t drowned in their sorrows just enough yet. Pain bloomed in their chest, unsure whether that was from their lost case, or the whiskey.

The figure was still staring at them, head resting in their hand.

“Go on, scram,” the detective slurred. “Go away.”

They seemed a little closer than before, but maybe that the just the impossible heat catching under their collar. They felt fingers brushing their hair from their eyes, but didn’t bother to pull away. After squinting quite dramatically at them, they drunkenly deduced they had a pleasant face.

“If you knew who I was, you’d hold that pretty tongue of yours,” they hummed, smiling. “Though, I find you’re boldness very amusing.”

“I’m drunk,” they grunted.

“Quite.”

Detective leaned away from their touch, finishing their—how many glasses was it now?—whiskey in a foul gulp, ice cubes clinking against the intricately cut glass. They felt those fingers on their hair again, brushing them back behind their ear. The detective stiffled a hiccup.

“Got cut from my motherfucking case,” Detective frowned, their tongue seemingly unraveling from such a simple touch. It was cool against their skin, and they hummed as it travelled a little lower, to the corner of their jaw.

“Is that so?” The figure hummed. “Poor thing.”

“It was...mine,” they huffed, clumsily trying to wave the bartender over for another drink. “It was supposed to be mine. They ain’t gonna get ’em, without...my help.”

Their lips were barely even working. The figure’s hand was stroking gently under their jaw.

“Mm, what are you doing?”

They had a coy smile on their face that a detective might have been able to see wasn’t right, but there was also this pitiful softness beneath those alluring eyes that had them drawn into them instantly. Detective’s own eyes flickered, heart beating in their ears.

“Look at you,” a hushed whisper tickled their ear. “So upset that a simple touch has you practically falling into me.”

Detective braced their hand on the counter, stopping themselves. They tried to straighten up, feeling their stomach pool as the figure rose to their feet, towering over them. Their lips were by their ears, but not before pressing them to their jaw.

They shuddered.

“Alcohol isn’t going to help you feel better, but I can,” they whispered smoothly, dizzying their senses with that tone. “After all, you’ve done such a good job trying to find me. It won’t hurt to reward you a little, will it?”

The detective sucked in a cold breath. Their drunken mind could barely even fathom what they were saying. They were Supervillain? Were they just messing with them, trying to make them feel more miserable than they already were...?

“Yeah...” They weakly smiled, not believing them. “Yeah, right.”

The detective was still grumbling incoherent words under their breath as they were helped up off their chair, warm around their waist and guiding their own arm around their shoulders. They rocked and staggered, but the figure kept them steady.

“Maybe I might indulge you and show you where my base of operations are too,” the supervillain chuckled lightly, as if they weren’t sweeping the detective away in broad daylight. “You were rather close, after all.”

Detective snorted at that. “I...was, wasn’t I?”

Even though the detective didn’t believe it really was Supervillain, the latter had them crying out their name later that night regardless.

[nephleft]

bro really dragged that crazy chick from gotham to the kent farm like that was normal

this was for @theocxcanonweek day 3: out in nature but i was so busy in school so like… i couldn’t do it LOL

[creadigol]

Hello i just recently found this blog and i'm in love with your writing.

Can you please continue the hero x villain story with the criminal please?

I am so sorry for the long wait…but here it finally is! Thank you so much for the ask! I hope y’all like part 2! 

*Warning for slight flashbacks of a traumatic event, but nothing bad.

Part One here.

“Once again Detective, I have no answers to your questions, I have no clue where they are, and if you don’t leave my property within the next thirty seconds I claim the right to shoot you for trespassing.” 

 Hero heard the voice below them speak with little attempt at patience. Their eyes were heavy and their body felt like lead, but their ears seemed to awaken with no problem. Why would Villain be threatening to shoot Detective? Hero had thought the two tended to keep out of each other’s way. Wait, why was Hero asleep in the same vicinity as Villain in the first place? 

“I know you have them! All accounts place you following Hero into the house! Dammit Villain! What happened?” 

God, Hero had never heard Detective so worked up before. The man was usually made of stone, even in the face of absolute evil. Hell, Hero once saw the man play a game of russian roulette with a mob boss and win through sheer intimidation. How had Villain got him so worked up? Of course they were enemies, being on opposite sides of a moral code tended to do that…but they had never been outright hostile to each other. 

“Fifteen…sixteen…seventeen…” Villain counted. Hero could just picture them casually looking at their watch while unholstering a weapon. 

“Fine!” Screamed Detective. “But don’t think I won’t be back! I’ll not rest until Hero is found!” 

Hero heard the stomping of boot heels on the walk. 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have lost them in the first place!” Villain yelled back. 

“Fuck you!” 

Hero fought to open their eyes. They moved their fingers and toes, feeling like they were some kind of mummy awakening after centuries of death. 

What was Detective talking about? Hero was right here. They had just finished up another case for them when…

The memory flashed before their eyes…the Criminal…the knife…that goddamn smile as Hero bled onto the kitchen floor…the fear…Villain!

No amount of lead in their veins could keep them down at the thought. Hero shot out of the plush bed with speed their body was not ready for. 

The window to their right was open, that must be how they heard the conversation at the front door, and Hero stumbled towards it. It took a moment, as their foot got caught in the exceptionally soft bedspread, but they made it. 

Hero stood to the side, not wanting anyone outside to see them in such a state of weakness…nor did they want Detective to see them…and looked out. Sure enough, this was Villains street…at least this was the street of their safe house. Hero had found it six months ago while following Villain after a deal gone wrong. They had just wanted to make sure Villain wasn’t too beat up…they ended up staying all night wrapping the Villains wounds. 

Hero assumed Villain would have changed houses after that. Guess not. 

Hero watched as Detective stomped angrily to his silver sedan. Now how had Detective found the safe house? And why did he not just raid the place? Why put up with Villain’s taunts if he knew Hero was here? 

Hero took stock of the room. It was a nice bedroom, rather typical. Blue walls and a matching white and blue quilt. There was a small dresser, night stand and desk that looked like they were bought together at the local Big Lots. Nothing expensive, like how Villain usually liked. Nothing gleaming of elegance or gilding. Nothing special…but comfortable. Actually really comfortable. And kind of cute. 

Nothing at all like Villain. 

A shuffling outside the bedroom door made Hero stiffen. The door opened revealing Villain, still muttering to themselves about ‘nosy, pain in the ass detectives’. Hero stayed frozen by the window. 

Villain was carrying a tray with a sup and bowl on it, something steaming from the bowl when they glanced at the bed and saw it was empty. 

“Shit!” They swung around frantically, somehow not spilling anything, and immediately laid eyes on Hero. 

“Hero!” Villain gasped. They placed the tray on the nightstand as the tension in their shoulders released. “What in the hell are you doing up? Do you have any idea wha…”

“Where am I?” Hero interrupted them. Villain froze. “What the hell is going on?” 

Villain’s eyebrows scrunched. “Hero…” They started. “Do you remember what happened? I mean, I understand if not…” 

“Of course I remember,” Hero snapped. “But that does not explain why I’m in your safe house or why Detective was here.” 

“Fuck. I knew his voice carried,” muttered Villain. They looked at Hero, seeming to take in their appearance, which Hero felt was probably not great. “You were stabbed Hero. It was bad…really bad. I had to heal you, but…” Villain gestured vaguely. 

“You redirected my body’s energy to heal the wound,” Hero finished. That’s why they were sleeping. That’s why they had no energy to spare. 

“You should still be out,” Villain said as they walked forward. “I estimated at least another week, if not more. Had planned on Doctor giving you an IV tonight.” 

Hero looked down at themselves and took stock of their appearance. Their hair was down, though that had happened during their scuffle with Criminal, and their arms were bruised. Finger prints littered their wrists and elbows. They lifted the front of their t-shirt and glanced at their stomach. Only a slight discoloration showed any sign of the life threatening injury they had received. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Four days. Detective’s been following me incessantly after they couldn’t find you in that damn house.” 

Villain had walked to only an arm's length away. Seeming reluctant to come any closer, yet holding themselves as if to reach out. 

“Followed you here I see,” Hero said. They traced their fingers over the discoloration on their stomach. 

“Unfortunately.” 

Hero let the shirt fall back down and only then comprehended their attire.

“Did you dress me in your pajamas?” Hero asked incredulously. 

Villain laughed, “Well your clothes were ruined and there wasn’t much else here.”

“You didn’t…” Hero gave them a look that promised quick vengeance should they hear the wrong answer to their question. 

“I was perfectly professional, I assure you. Nothing but doctoring on my part.” Villain clapped them on the shoulder. “You should get back to bed though. You still need time to recover.” 

Hero was feeling faint standing, so they agreed and got back into the bed. They got situated under the covers, but sat up by the headboard. Villain stood hovering for a moment before stepping back.

“Why did Detective need to follow you? Why not just tell him I’m here?” Hero eyed Villain as they fiddled with the covered steaming bowl, “Not like saving my life is very illegal. Unless you..you know.” 

Hero didn’t finish as they thought about Villain’s words to them before they passed out. 

Best not to look to your right though…you have too fair a disposition to look at Criminal now.

“Criminal’s alive,” Villain spoke as if reading their mind. “Did my best, but the bastard lived.” 

Hero felt their insides freeze. 

You really are perfect aren't you?

Let’s not prolong this dear. 

“They’re secured in the hospital ward of the prison.” Villain sat down on the edge of the bed and placed their hand over Hero’s pale one. “You got enough for the case while you were undercover. Better than a confession.” 

Villain made eye contact, “They’re never getting out Hero. And if they did, I would finish the job.” 

Hero smiled softly. “I have no doubt you would finish the job now if I asked.” 

Villain chuckled, “Wouldn’t be the worst job I ever took.” 

“But why Detective?” Asked Hero. 

“But why Detective what?” Villain said. They patted Hero’s hand and got up to go back to the tray once more. 

“Why lie about saving me?” 

Villain took the top off the bowl and Hero saw that it contained hot water and a white cloth. 

“Should have known you’d have heard that. Damn hearing.” 

“Why?” Hero pressed. 

Villain handed them a hair tie. “Because I don’t trust him. Or at least I don’t trust who he works for.” 

Hero pulled their hair into a bun. “Why?”

Villain swirled the cloth through the water a couple of times. Hero could smell what they assumed were salts or oils mixed in. 

“They never should have called you in,” Villain spoke.

Hero reached out for the cloth, “They call me in all the time.” 

The cloth stayed in Villain’s hand, submerged in water. “They don’t for the petty stuff.” 

“Well this wasn’t exactly petty. Criminal was the killer we’ve been looking for.” 

“Exactly!” The water sloshed with Villain’s outburst. “All the victims look like you. All the Criminal’s ‘types’ look like you. Every outfit, hair style, and mannerism was just like you. Criminal’s had an obsession for a while Hero and those bastards banked on it.” 

Hero faltered. 

“You’re saying they tricked me to get them?” 

“I’m saying something’s going on and until we figure it out you’re not safe to go back.” 

Hero went silent for a few moments.

“Damn.” They finally whispered.

Villain handed them the warm cloth. “Yeah…damn.” 

The scent infused water felt heavenly on Hero’s neck and face. They wondered if this was how Villain kept them clean while they slept. 

“So what do we do?” 

“You,” Villain pointed, “rest. At least for the next couple of days.”

“And you?” Hero handed the cloth back. 

“I’m going to pay the good Commissioner a little visit this week.” 

[bigbadivy]

Outcast Heroine x her rival

The thought of inviting her, 

it didn’t even cross their mind, did it?

Heroine stared at the rest of her team, who never seemed to notice her existence. By the loud laughs and noticeable drop of seriousness, they were heading to the bar. Leaving her to be the only to work on their shared case. Again.

Who cares.

She will be the one who laughs at the end.

She might be the outcast here, but it only proved her worth. She works harder, she is more serious, she will solve this case. I will get to see the shock of her so-called teammates as she stares with cold, satisfied eyes.

She just needs to wait patiently until that happens.

Yet it somehow still hurts. And unwillingly, she caught herself stealing glances at the noisy group. Especially at one she thought would act differently. Her rival. 

He laughed with the others, seemingly forgetting her existence. He just never acted that way. He always argued with her, competed against her, sent her way his grin when he cracked a case and eye rolls when she beat him to it.

Called when she was sick, noted her insights, listened to her

But apparently there was a company he liked better.

Heroine’s tension calmed a bit when the noisy group finally left. She went over her suspect’s files again, looking for a loose thread. Loneliness was her curse, but mysteries her blessings.

The man she suspected was a history professor.

He is known to lock himself in his apartment and write books, rarely interacting with his colleagues and students.

The victim was a writer who’s newly published first book became the crowd’s favor immediately.

The two have barely known each other. 

But Heroine knew how deep jealousy could go. There were days she planned in her mind how she would hide the bodies of her teammates.

He had sent to someone else, the victim’s advisor- several ‘erroneous’ emails. They were clearly separated by words, but each was complete gibberish. 

Still, it seemed too weird, and she never saw an ‘error’ such as that.

She had earplugs, a workspace all of her own, and the calming feeling of unveiling another secrecy. 

Nothing could invade the mind, 

block any worries  and make someone forget about their existence like a good mystery.

She didn’t know how long she was in peace, until someone coughed from the other side of the room.

Rival stood there, with a lopsided smile, holding two cups of coffee.

“Something interesting?”

He walked to her desk and placed one cup beside her, having some awkwardness in his movements.

It was a cold coffee, with little milk and ice cubes.

He remembers-

“Oh, umm, thanks.”

Heroine cleared her throat.

“I have a hunch,”

She said, then questioned his motives.

“but it’s just a theory.”

He nodded slightly, getting the hint. But didn’t go yet.

“Well, you, want some quiet or-”

“Aren’t you going with the others?”

He blinked. Then shrugged, still having some awkwardness.

“I can’t let you be the only one who stays over. It makes me look bad.”

“Don’t blame your ugliness on me.”

“Ouch.”

He gave her a half-laugh, and sat in his place. There was silence for a little while. Heroine continued to go over emails, silently listening to Rival unpacking his equipment and playing with his pen.

“So, wanna share some ideas?”

He said it trying to sound unintrested, she noted.

Is this why you stayed?

“What’s it to you?”

“My job, actually.”

He expected a reaction for a moment.

Rival cleared his throat.

“I won’t take your credit.”

Heroine crooked an eyebrow.

“Promise. I wanna catch this bastard as much as you.”

Another’s comments may be helpful, and Rival, as cocky as he is, always kept his word.

“Come take a look.”

He came over, a little too quickly. Then leaned into her desk, right next to her chair. close

“The emails. There are several supposedly emails with errors, they make no sense and only contain one line or so, but there are too many of them.”

Heroine completely immersed herself in the mystery, trying to ignore the warmth she sensed from Rival.

“I tried to check some simple ciphering methods. The thing is, some words make sense when decoding them using straightforward letter-shuffling. But in each email there’s at least one word that never makes sense after deciphering.”

She passed him her papers, and he tilted down to examine it. For a moment, she could see his face from so close. Her gaze immediately turned to the printed emails.

“I highlighted these words. They are the only ones with special characters. If we decipher them, we might have proof that the suspect purposely wrote these emails to hide messages.”

“hmmm…”

His hand was quite close to hers, she realized, some part of her wanted to touch it. Learn exactly how warm he is.

Heroine took her coffee and drank almost all of it in one slip.

“He is not a mathematician, isn’t he? or a puzzler?”

“An historian.”

“It’d be tough to convince he made up a cipher.”

“True.”

“What did he research?”

“He had a fondness for royal families. He’d write about grand schemes and falls and such.”

“Did he write anything about Mary, queen of the scots?”

She tilted her head, trying to remember if she read about such character. 

“She’s been the queen of Scotland since she was six, but also wanted England. She got imprisoned and plotted to assassinate Elizabeth the first from a cell.”

“Well, you are knowledgeable, I’ll get you a paper star later,”

Rival rolled his eyes.

“but how does it help us?”

“She communicated her plot using a cipher.”

Heroine’s eyes widened.

“What kind?”

“Quite simple, but hard to decrypt- she used letter switching like you did, but she also made special symbols to refer to people.”

“So if we try to assign to each special character a possible name-”

“We’ll reveal the message.”

She was smiling. This mystery could be solved. Her hunch might be right. Oh, the looks on her teammates’ faces will be wonderful

“This is so much better than a drinking night.”

Rival chuckled, probably amused by my rapture as always.

Only now she noticed that he was smiling brightly, too. But it looked different. It looked softer.

She cleared her throat.

“We should get into it. I made a chart of how the letters shuffle, here, take, just think of things he’d want to hide and see if the texts make sense.”

She leaned over her desk, making a list of possibilities that jumped into her mind.

“Mind if I’ll work here?”

“Sure”

It only took an hour.

Heroine eagerly showed Rival her findings. A possible interpretation of the messages, in which the victim’s name and the place of the murder had code words.

Her hand rushed to her cup, only to see that it was empty long ago.

So this was it. She looked at Rival, and and he seemed a bit saddened, too.

“You can take some credit, you know.”

He waved his hand dismissively, packing his things.

“Nah. You’d figure it out anyway.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Heroine started packing as well, already realizing she’ll immediately miss… whatever this is that they have now.

“Still, we… we did this together.”

Rival froze for a moment, staring at her with something akin to… awe.

“It’s yours,”

He smiled, incitement returning to his features.

“the fun is enough for me.”

They started walking together towards the door.

“More fun than drinking night?”

“Much more.”

Fortunately, their cars were in the same direction. There was still one more mystery.

“Why did you stay?” “Hm? I told you-”

“Seriously. You never stay overnight. You could actually be drunk right now, with, you know…”

The more amusing parts of our team

There was silence for a few moments, growing more noticeable every second. Rival was rarely out of words.

“It’s kinda nice when it’s just us”

Heroine stopped mid-walking and stared at him. It was her turn to be speechless. Is this…? Is he really…? 

“It is”

She agreed, eventually. Both of them stood on the road, blushing.

“We can… um… be tog- ”

She took a big breath.

“We can hang out the office. If you want.”

A small smile came back to Rival’s face.

“Yes. Sure. Great.”

MUCH better than drinking night

[icarusignite]

DANSE MACABRE (Jeong Yunho)

"Softly, with hands gentle as rain, I shall strangle you."

Detective Jeong Yunho finds himself thrust into the depths of darkness as he embarks on the chilling pursuit of "Nightshade," Seoul's most sinister serial killer yet. With a penchant for striking under the shroud of night, the elusive predator leaves behind a haunting trail of brutality, each crime scene a canvas of macabre artistry. As Yunho painstakingly unravels the cryptic clues, he becomes increasingly aware that the perpetrator may be lurking closer than he ever imagined. Could his target be hiding in plain sight, perhaps even entwined within his own life? With each twist and turn, the line between hunter and prey blurs, leading the good detective down a treacherous path where the greatest threat may lie within his own heart.

"I thought I knew hunger before this. I found that kind of touch unbearable. To witness. To want. Desire is ugly. Incessant. Shaped like two hands wrapped around a throat."

Lee Hana operates with meticulous precision. A master planner, she navigates the dark underbelly of society with a calculated grace, leaving behind no trace of her sinister deeds. To her, the individuals she targets are not victims but rather deserving recipients of their fates. Yet, her carefully constructed world is thrown into disarray with the arrival of the new detective. With an unsettling knack for observation, he inches closer to uncovering her dark secrets. As the stakes escalate, Hana finds herself facing her greatest challenge yet: eliminating the one man who threatens to shatter her carefully maintained facade, even as he has already made his way into her heart. 

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers / Detective x Serial killer Wattpad

A/N: been watching the bouncy MV a little too much these days + Coachella clips so it's Ateez brainrot era. Also, I'm obsessed with the police x criminal trope so I thought this'd be fun to do. Lemme know if yall would be interested for me to post it here, comment to be added to the taglist <3

[ravings-of-a-mad-scientist]

nemesis relationships

superhero; *ties me up* me, gay villain; “kinky" superhero; *quips at me then throws me into jail at the speed of light destroying several buildings* sidekick twink; *ties me up* sidekick twink; “i have a boyfriend” (their boyfriend is the superhero) me, gay villain; “dang” agent superspy; “hey, wanna try bondage?” me, gay villain; “hell yeah!” agent superspy; *ties me up and takes my launch codes* agent superspy; *leaves* me, gay villain; “dang” boymoder magical girl; *ties me up* me, pan villain; “kinky” boymoder magical girl; “you fool you absolute buffoon do you have any idea the meaning of the words you speak you could not even begin to comprehend the levels of kink to which i delve daily i’ve seen things you would not even believe you little sponge” me, pan villain; “puppy girl?” boymoder magical girl; boymoder magical girl; “n-no" boymoder magical girl; (to self); "dang” dommy mommy superheroine; *ties me up in full shibari and talks about taking me to jail* (kinky) me, oblivious pan villain boyfailure; “dang” hardboiled dilf private detective; *ties me up* me, gay villain; “kinky” oblivious hardboiled private detective manfailure; *ruminates on all the possible meanings of this new puzzle i’ve presented him with. a threat? a hint?? just a passive remark??? what could it mean????* antihero; “h-hey, don’t get the wrong idea here! it’s not like i like you, or anything! i just dispense justice indiscriminately, baka!”  antihero; *shoots me in the head* me, gay villain; *dies*