flash fiction

The Albino Pangolin

Written per a prompt from a friend. Also hey hi hello, yes I am alive, just mentally hibernating.

The mall was busy, typical for a Saturday afternoon, the bustling crowds packing the halls and escalators to a claustrophobic degree. Teens chatted on their phones, thumbs a-blur as they texted and tweeted and reblogged and shared. A pair of adults hurried- bleary eyed and overwrought – after their children as the little ones ran amok between the legs of other shoppers, hyped up on donuts and Jamba Juice. Elderly folk reclined on a set of arm chairs, the sitting area delineated by a collection of potted palms.

There was a flash, then, by the fountain in the central atrium. 

Someone gasped. Another yelped. Someone else laughed, before scurrying away, phones out and angled towards the ground. 

An albino pangolin waddled out of the fountain, water dripping from her scales, her red eyes taking in the scene. 

People stopped and stared, and the man playing the piano a few feet away came to a clanging, discordant stop when the pangolin sidled past his foot, her cold scales brushing against his ankles.

She stood on her hind legs, blinking in the flashes of cameras; a curious device hung from her neck, bounced between her feet as she set off in search of an escalator. 

People made way, commenting and pointing and exclaiming ‘how cute!’ as she passed. A spotty teenage tried to pick her up, but she flicked her tail and chittered her displeasure, sending the boy running after his friends.  

No one got on the escalator until she reached the next level. 

Already the noise of the place had changed, and she knew she was running out of time before animal control was called to deal with her. It had happened before, and would undoubtedly happen again. 

Finding a bench that overlooked the promenade and atrium below, the pangolin clambered atop it. The tide of humanity continued to swirl and swarm below and around her, the chaotic clammed of thousands of  voices deafening in the glass-roofed space. 

She huffed, scratched her claws against the glass in irritation, and sat up on her hind legs, the device on display. 

The president -a honey badger of some renown – had given her this sort of mission before, and she could not, would not fail. Too much hung in the balance.

With another determined huff she pressed a claw to the gleaming, silver green button in the middle of the device. There came a soft beep, a dull swell of light, and then… 

And then blessed silence. 

The humans, previously overwhelming in their numbers, had vanished. To where, the albino pangolin didn’t particularly care. So long as they were gone, she and her comrades could do what they needed to in order to save their Sacred Mother. 

Satisfied with another job well done, the albino pangolin clambered off the bench and went in search of a snack. Reshaping reality always left her feeling a little peckish, regardless of whether she’d eaten recently or not. 

A few minutes later the albino pangolin gave up, realizing there weren’t nearly enough insects in such a sterile human space, and vanished herself to a favorite savanna, there to feast upon one of many termite mounds.  

Temple

Here we begin a new series: Picture Prompts. (There’s another, specific technical lingo word for it, but idk what it is, so there.) Ah! There it is: Ekphrasis.

We might also try to throw in some pieces inspired by songs, but that’s for future Kat to worry about. Anyways! Pls enjoy! Image used with permission from the wonderful artist @boomsheika_boom on Twitter/X!

The boy sat in a tree. It wasn’t much of a tree, really, more of a single remaining limb on a half dead giant of the forest. Vines draped off the trunk and limb, extensions of the vines covering the temple half-hidden by the surrounding foliage. The boy wasn’t much to look at either, scrawny and wan as he was, barefoot and clad in tattered clothing the colors of earth and moss. His dark hair was shaggy, hanging loose in eyes the color of summer wheat.  

Hood up, and hunched as he was, he resembled an oversized, somewhat tatterdemalion owl.  

The boy sat perched on the limb, contemplating the temple doors. They were stone, thick slabs of a granite like material that shimmered in the gilded light filtering through the canopy above. 

He’d been here, in the forest, for days, knowing he had to get in, find what lay within, and soon. But still the puzzle of the doors confounded him. 

He shifted, right leg dangling beneath, bare foot disproportionately large over the ground. His mind wandered, imagining himself as a giant, and how easy it would be to simply smash the wall with a fist. 

Alas, what was needed was stealth, subterfuge, subtlety. 

Huffing he looked back to the doors with a scowl. He was beginning to contemplate lunch when he saw something in the corner of his eye. He looked up, and nearly tumbled backwards off the branch as a flitting orb of white light darted at him. Clinging to the branch, he studied the orb as it dipped and buzzed around him. Then, it alit on his knee. 

Hello.

A voice chittered in his head. 

His hand slipped and he slid backwards off the branch, hanging only by his knees. His hood flipped off, his hair hanging in shaggy clumps, the wind wending through the ends.

“What are you?” He gasped, scrabbling for purchase. 

I am… 

“You are?”

I am Auros. 

“Auros…” the boy managed to pull himself back into a sitting position, disturbing the orb. It gave a distinctly avian shake of irritation and buzzed back into the air, hovering in front of his face. 

Yes. Auros. Who are you? 

“Me?” The boy pondered, unsure if this was one of the temple’s traps. 

Yes you. 

“Oh. Well I’m…” eh, what the hell, he thought. “Nevis,” he replied, opting for at least part of the truth. 

Greeting, Nevis, the orb chimed. It’s voice was surprisingly melodic. What are you doing here? 

“I’m… well I’m trying to get into the temple.”

Why? 

“Because there’s something in there I need.”

What do you need?

“I… I don’t actually know, really. Someone wants whatever it is, and they paid me to get it.”

Oh. Why don’t you have it? 

“Can’t get in, can I?” Nevis gestured to the impenetrable doors. 

Auros made a contemplative hum. And then zipped off, a blurring of white light through the gathering gloom of early evening. 

Nevis watched as the orb bobbed around the door, up and down and around the cracks. Just when the boy thought the orb was stymied Auros disappeared into the keyhole. 

Blinking in surprise, Nevis waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Just as the sun was sinking behind the eastern mountains, as dark enveloped the clearing he was in, Auros reappeared. The spirit beelined for Nevis.  

Now you can get in. Auros quipped, vibrating with self-satisfaction. 

“What do you…” Nevis asked. But at a bob from Auros, the boy looked. 

And saw that the temple doors were opened. Not much, just a crack. But enough for a slender boy like Nevis to slip through.

“How did you do that?” He breathed. 

Auros can do many things. Nevis need help from Auros. 

“Yes.” Nevis laughed, shocked as his turn of luck, and began descending his tree. “Nevis need help from Auros.”

Empathy

A Hero/Villain piece

It is to be noted that this is one of the few remaining H/V pieces. Cursed Prince posts will resume promptly.

“You don’t understand!” The Hero choked. 

The Villain stood completely still, their face a mask. 

“Actually, I do,” they murmured, tone neutral.

The Hero shot them an agonized look, desolation ravaging their insufferably confident expression. Their face crumpled, and they curled over themselves as gut wrenching sobs tearing from their chest. 

Seeing the Hero so low, so utterly broken, cracked the Villain’s icy facade. Tears welled in their eyes, and they knelt, slowly. They reached out, slower still, to the Hero. 

Their hand brushing the Hero’s shoulder, they expected the Hero to retaliate, to lash out in grief or rage or some violent combination of both. Instead the Hero collapsed back and to the side, landing agains the Villain’s body. 

Shocked, the Villain did all they could think to do: they held the Hero. After a moment they ran their hand down the Hero’s head and back in soothing strokes. 

“It’s alright…” they whispered. They were unsure if the Hero heard them. 

“How can… can it…” the Hero sobbed, fist bunching in the Villain’s freshly pressed linen shirt. 

A flicker of annoyance flashed through the Villain at the inconvenience, but they didn’t say anything. Instead they held the Hero tighter as sobs continued to wrack their powerful body. 

They were surprised to realize they didn’t want to gloat. Didn’t want to make a snide comment about sentimentality and weakness and goodness. All they wanted to do was be there. In the moment. For the Hero. In the only way they knew how. 

As a Villain, they’d had countless moments like this, feeling so desolate they didn’t know how to move forward. But always, always, their Minion had been there. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they sat in silence, in each other‘s arms. And sometimes they simply occupied the same space. Sure, the Villain had comforted their Minion a time or two. But never like this. 

They blinked furiously, refusing to let the Hero realize they were as human as the next fool by crying. 

The Villain held the Hero. 

Through screams of anguish and gasping sobs, they held them. They held them for an eternity, a moment, an indeterminate amount of time, until their knees and legs were screaming and throbbing in protest at being folded under the weight of two bodies, their back aching from the angle in which they sat. And yet they never let go. 

Eventually the Hero’s sobs died out, their sorrow and rage and grief spent, if only for the moment. After a prolonged moment of silence they gripped the Villain in a ferocious hug, nails biting into the Villain’s back through their thoroughly ruined shirt. 

The Villain didn’t say anything, only returned the embrace even as their desire to run, to escape, returned in full force. 

A moment later the Hero sat up. Their face was splotchy and tear streaked, their eyes swollen and red. There was a crease across their forehead from the Villain’s shirt, which was soaked in tears and snot. 

The Hero looked at the Villain. 

Neither spoke. Neither had to. Sometimes silence spoke louder than words. 

Heaving a sigh the Hero pushed to their feet, reaching a hand down to the Villain. 

The Villain took it, allowing themselves to be pulled to their feet. 

Still they didn’t say anything, even though snarky comments were fighting to break through their momentary vow of silence. 

The Hero met their gaze with tear-rimmed eyes, their hands still clasped with the Villain’s. If they noted the tears still clinging to the Villain’s lashes they didn’t comment. 

“Thank you…” they rasped. They squeezed the Villain’s hand, and the Villain squeezed back. 

The Villain opened their mouth to reply, comment, retort, anything to break the sudden tension. They never got the chance. 

With a decisive nod, the Hero released their hand, turned, and strode away, leaving the Villain standing alone in the empty alley. 

“The fuck just happened?” The Villain murmured into the rainy night. They were suddenly shivering, but whether from nerves, anticipation, cold, or a combination, they couldn’t tell. 

All they knew, in that moment, was that something irrevocable had passed between themself and the Hero. As they turned and walked the opposite direction, they realized that it wasn’t a bad thing. 

What that meant for their feud remained to be seen, true. But for now… 

For now they had come to an understanding. And the Villain felt less alone than they had in years. 

Flicker

A Hero/Villain Piece

For those of you who’ve read others, this piece can be considered a loose prelude to Grey

The Villain reached down and lifted the Sidekick’s head, fingers pressed to the underside of their chin.

“You,” the Villain tsked, “Have a hopelessly misplaced sense of trust, my dear.” 

The Sidekick glowered, their lips trembling in rage and pain. 

“They’ll come,” they rasped. “The Hero always comes.” 

The Villain laughed, a dark sensual thing that wrapped its fingers around the Sidekick’s throat, its intent choking them with fear. They struggled to look away from the Villain’s gaze. 

“My sweet, sweetly naive Sidekick.” They ran their finger down the Sidekick’s jaw to their neck. They squeezed, and the Sidekick had a weird sense of de ja vu. 

“The Hero isn’t coming for you.” They leaned in, lips brushing the Sidekick’s ear. The Sidekick whimpered, and the Villain smiled. “The Hero isn’t coming, and neither is anyone else. You.” They squeezed harder; the Sidekick’s eyes bulged. “Are.” They pressed a kiss to their jaw. “Mine.”

When the Villain leaned back, a flicker of doubt shone in the Sidekick’s eyes. 

They wouldn’t, they thought, too weak to break free from the Villain’s grasp, weak as it was. They wouldn’t leave me, would they? 

As the Villain straightened, that damned smirk still curling their lips, the Sidekick realized they didn’t know the Hero at all. 

Shouldn’t I know that? They wondered, desperation clawing at their throat as the Villain turned and grinned as they shut and locked the door, leaving the Sidekick to their thoughts. The Villain’s laughter echoed around them. Taunting them.

A tear rolled down Sidekick’s cheek as more questions and doubts began to crowd their mind. 

Maybe the Villain is right.

A lump welled in their throat.

Why would they come for me?

More tears fell, and the Sidekick was glad the Villain wasn’t around to see, to mock their fear and faith.

Faith that began to waver the longer they sat there, alone in the cold dark of the cell. 

Why would they care about me? The Sidekick thought, curling in on themselves around their bound wrists.

I’m just a Sidekick. 

Domestic

A Hero/Villain piece.

The Villain woke with a start and a gasp. They tried sitting up, but gave up as their entire body creaked and ached in protest. Groaning they closed their eyes against the glare from the window across from them. They relaxed back, and were surprised to realize they were… in a bed? 

Upon further inspection, dragging their hands over the fabric beneath them, they realized the sheets were soft, clean. Not as high a thread count as their own, but comfortable and cozy. 

They were also naked, under the blankets. 

Wondering what the hell had happened or who they had fucked to get here, they tried sitting up again. 

Their ribs creaked, and every muscle in their upper body barked in dull agony, but slowly they managed to sit up, the sheets and blankets piling around their hips. 

They were in a modest room: queen size bed with too many blankets, a dresser, and a small bookshelf. There was a closet as well but the door was closed, preventing the Villain from identifying who’s bed they were in. There was also some art on the wall above the dresser, but it was too dim for them to make any details out beyond ‘squiggly plant shape.’ 

Clanking came from the half-open door to their left. 

Intrigued, the Villain geared themself, took a deep breath, and stood. They swayed on weak legs for a moment or two before finding the strength to stand unaided.

There was no sign of their clothes, no sign of their beloved coat. 

Someone’s going to pay, they thought, grinding their teeth. 

Heedless of their nakedness they opened the door, padding across cheap carpet into a narrow hall. A few more pieces of original art hung from the walls – more plants, and what looked suspiciously like a nude done in charcoal – which opened onto a cozy, lived-in sitting room. Books littered the desk in the corner, and more blankets were piled on the overstuffed loveseat in the middle of the room that faced a southern window. 

Another clank sounded from the right, and the Villain turned just as the Hero stepped around the corner from the galley kitchen. 

“Oh. You’re up.” If they were shocked or embarrassed by the Villains nudity, their face didn’t show it. Someone had bathed the Villain, that was clear from the unfamiliar scent in their hair. “I made you some tea.” 

The Villain stared, bewildered by the simple statement.

“Made me tea?’ They looked at the Hero, then around the apartment, realization dawning on them. They were in the Hero’s home. 

They turned to peer at the Hero, who still stood halfway behind the kitchen wall. Never looking away, the Villain strode to the couch, folding their legs under them as they settled in the corner, the image of polite interest.

“What happened?” They asked bluntly. They pulled a blanket around their shoulders. Not because they cared what the Hero thought. Of course not. They were just cold. 

“I found you dying in a ditch.” The Hero deadpanned. 

The Villain snorted. 

“No. Seriously. What happened?”

“That did.” 

When the Hero didn’t elaborate the Villain sat up a little straighter. 

“Wait. You’re serious, aren’t you…”

“Would I lie to you?”

The Villain squinted, searching for a trap. 

“That depends on the situation.”

The Hero shrugged. 

“Sure. But not in this situation. Whoever attacked you was long gone by the time I got to you.” 

“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?”

That summoned a weak grin from the Hero. Leave it to the Villain to turn a simple act of kindness into an interrogation. 

“And waste all that time and expose you as human to the masses while you were unconscious? That hardly seems fair.” 

The Villain ceded the point with an elegantly indifferent lift of an exposed shoulder. 

“Fair enough. But why here?” 

“Where else could I have gone?”

That gave the Villain pause. The location of their lair was a well kept secret. Even their minions didn’t know the location, all but their most trusted agents arriving blindfolded and hooded. That left their bunker, which apparently would have been too… gauche, and a hospital. Which meant…

“Why save me at all?” They demanded, suspicious and peeved that the Hero had been right about something. 

The Hero paused, deeply considering the question. 

“It didn’t seem fair.” 

“Life is hardly fair. You know that. I’ve taught you well enough.” 

“True. But… I don’t know.” The Hero shrugged, and folded their arms over their chest. “Seemed the thing to do.” 

The Villain scoffed. Typical Hero mentality. 

“Mm. If you insist. I’ll have that tea now, if you don’t mind.” 

Shaking their head but smirking, the Hero pushed off the wall and rounded the corner. They returned a minute later with a steaming vat of milky tea. 

“Cream and three sugars, as you like it.” They handed the massive mug to the Villain. 

“Why are you being so damn nice to me?” The Villain said, taking the mug. It warmed fingers they hadn’t realized were cold.  

The Hero was about to answer but the Villain cut them off. “And don’t go on about it being the right thing to do. God knows I’ve done enough horrible things to you and your Sidekick that it would have been poetic justice for you to let me die wherever the hell you found me. There’s another reason and you and I both know you know it.” They cringed inwardly at the shoddy logic, but stared hard at the Hero, waiting for an answer. 

A long moment passed before the Hero finally replied. 

“I.. seeing you there, unmoving…” they paused. “It scared me, what I felt.” 

“And what was that?” The Villain’s lip curled in a half-sneer.

“Desperation? A regret that this…” the Hero waved their hand, encompassing them both. “Our game could be over so soon, so quickly. And without my knowing how or why.” 

Both fell silent at the implications. 

Try as they might, the Villain couldn’t for the life or death of them remember what had happened the night before. Surly they hadn’t been careless enough to allow themselves to be drugged. But if not that, then…

“I took your coat to the dry cleaners,” the Hero said into the quiet, shaking their head slightly. “It should be ready this afternoon. And your clothes are just about done in the dryer. Had to wash them a few times to get the blood and dirt out. I doubt your pants will ever be the same again.” 

The Villain barked a laugh, though their thoughts remained fixed on bloody, painful revenge. 

“Well. I suppose the effort must count for something, even if you completely ruined them.” 

The Hero smiled ruefully. 

“In the mean time, you can wear anything you find in the closet. Though I doubt it’s up to your standards.” 

The Villain nodded wisely. It was undoubtedly a blow to their ego, just thinking about wearing fast fashion. But they were curious to see what sort of things the Hero wore on the daily. 

“Aren’t you worried I’ll try something?” Their expression was wry, a challenge gleaming in their eyes. 

The Hero looked at them, expression unreadable. Unfazed. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, no. But I don’t think you will.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

The Hero spread their hands, eyebrows comically raised. 

“You’ve never struck me as the type to over exert yourself.” 

The Villain scowled. Damn the Hero for being so damn perceptive. But, never one to say no to a little pampering, the Villain settled back in the seat as the Hero disappeared around the corner again. 

“I’ll make you breakfast, though I don’t have much.”

A chorus of banging and clanking followed, and the Villain was struck by how ridiculous this situation was. 

Them, sitting naked in a blanket, in the Hero’s living room, while the Hero made them breakfast.

Was this normal peasant behavior?

They took a sip of their tea, surprised to find it was exactly as they liked it. 

Just as the Hero had claimed it to be.

The Villain glared out the window, even as they took another sip, savoring the way the tea warmed them from the inside out. 

This was all together too weird. The Villain couldn’t quite believe they were having such a… domestic moment, and with their nemesis, of all people. 

The sound of a fridge door opening and closing drew their attention back to the little haven they were in. 

“Toast and eggs?”

When the Villain realized the Hero was waiting for an answer, they spoke. 

“That is acceptable.”

“How do you take ‘em?”

It took the Villain a moment to realize what they were asking. 

“O- Oh. Scrambled whites, feta, onions, and mushrooms if you have them.”

“I’m not the Ritz, you know.”

The Villain sighed dramatically, sinking deeper into the couch. 

“Fiiiiiine. However you deem fit, oh wise kitchen god.”

A snicker met the statement, but the Hero didn’t say anything else as they set about making breakfast. 

Una Nota

Ciao, Belli. Just another brief note that should be taken into consideration when reading any of these lovely Hero/Villain pieces.

I’ve written them with the intention of being vague. The technicalities of the dynamic is up to you, my lovely readers. These pieces are essentially exercises for working on tone, character dynamic, dialogue, and brevity.

Hero/Villain aren’t chronological, and can technically be read in any order. A Treacherous Path could follow Dangerous Temptation, or could be considered an alternate version, or read with a completely different set of characters in mind (this is how I’ve intended them to be).

So. That’s all from my end, for the moment.

Go forth and enjoy the day, my lovelies!

KU

A Treacherous Path

Trigger warning for violence, dub con, and minor sexual content

After losing yet another fight, the Hero woke once again in the Villain’s home.They were tied, as usual, to an uncomfortable chair. Though this time they were in what they assumed was some sort of sitting room. Though, given the presence of only a single love seat across from the their chair, they had to assume this room served other, darker purposes most of the time.

Disgusted with themselves, with the Villain, and with the world in general, the Hero immediately began working at the knots that bound their hands. The Villain’s rope work was spectacular as usual, but the Hero had been doing research. In a matter of minutes and a few dislocated joints, they had their hands and one foot free. They were working on the other one when the Villain entered the room. 

“Wha…” the Villain gaped, dropping their tea. It hit the hardwood floor and shattered. 

With a snarl the Hero tore the remaining rope from their body, and launched themselves at the Villain. This was a rare opportunity and they weren’t going to waste it. Besides, they had a score to settle.

Coming within reach, the Hero flung a fist at the Villain, hoping the suddenness of their attack was enough. 

It wasn’t. With effortless grace, the Villain dodged the blow, and landed one of their own on the Hero’s ribs. 

The Hero grunted, but turned and attacked again. 

“Well isn’t this fighting spirit new,” the Villain commented, dodging one punch only to take a kick to their upper thigh. They staggered, but maintained their defensive position. 

“Oh, it’s always been here,” panted the Hero, eyes burning. 

“Has it? I hadn’t noticed.”

The Hero yelled, and threw themselves at the Villain. Shockingly, the direct attack worked. The Villain – surprised at finding the Hero free, and unbalanced from the blow to their leg – wasn’t fast enough. They tried to slip aside as they always did, but instead caught the Hero’s bulk full in the chest. 

They barely had time to catch their breath before the Hero slammed them into the wall, knocking the wind from them again. Using the moment, the Hero grabbed their neck, locking their fingers behind their jaw. The Villain’s eyes bulged in surprise. 

“I should crush your throat,” the Hero growled. “For what you did to my Sidekick.”

“Ah, so that’s what’s got you so worked up.” The Villain grabbed the Hero’s shirt and twisted, searching for a hold. They kneed the Hero in the thigh, stepped on their feet, but it was no use. The Hero’s grip was relentless. As was the weight of their body, keeping them pinned against the wall. “I was wondering when that would come up. I should have thought of it soo-achk-“

Their taunt was cut off as the Hero upped the pressure on their throat. 

The Villain had a moment of panic as their vision darkened on the edges. But they found they still had a voice. 

“Do it then,” the Villain goaded, vocal cords whistling. Their eyes gleamed dangerously. “Avenge your Sidekick.”

The Hero sneered, and nearly lifted the Villain off the ground. 

The Villain smirked, despite being choked. They knew they had the upper hand now. 

“Ah. But you… won’t, will… You… You’ve proven… that before.” 

The Hero snarled and leaned in, thinking rapidly. Clearly threats of physical harm didn’t work with on the Villain.  Their face was a breath from the Villain’s.

 A sudden thought occurred to them, something that could potentially put the odds in their favor.  

They slackened their grip on the Villain’s neck and closed the distance. They breathed on the Villain’s lips, holding the Villain’s gaze with their own. 

“What are you doing?” The Villain asked, bemused and completely nonplussed. They even stopped struggling, their body still.

“I…” The Hero’s chest rose and fell with startled breaths. It hadn’t worked. But something had shifted. “I don’t…”

Suddenly the tension between them was different. More heated. 

One moment, they’d been seconds away from killing each other, the next…

The Villain pulled on the Hero’s collar, bringing them closer.

Their gazes locked.

And then they were kissing. 

Frantically. 

Viciously. 

The Hero’s hands shifted from the Villain’s throat to cup their head and grab their hair, and the Villain wrapped their arms around the Hero, suddenly needing to truly feel them. 

The Hero broke the kiss first, gasping. 

“What are you doing?” They rasped, fingers till tangled in the Villain’s glossy hair. 

“I don’t know.” The Villain giggled. “You started it though, and isn’t it wonderful?” They kissed the Hero again, fingers digging into the muscles of their back. 

Deciding to return the odds to their favor, the Villain reached up and jerked the Hero’s hair, pulling their head back. 

The Hero let out a startled yelp that turned into a sigh as the Villain began kissing their neck. They pressed kisses to the hollow of their throat, their collar bone, the pocket behind their jaw, and was pleased to hear the Hero’s breathing become even more ragged. 

Backing them up towards the love seat, the Villain pressed the Hero to their knees. The Hero didn’t resist, instead pulling the Villain down with them. 

With no idea what they were doing, but enjoying it all the same, the Villain straddled the Hero’s hips and leaned the Hero back until their back was pressed into the couch cushions, chest and throat beautifully exposed. 

This was certainly a new way to play their little game. And the Villain was far from disappointed with this development.

With a quick shrug of their shoulders the Villain freed themselves from the Hero’s arms. Grabbing their wrists, they extended and pinned the Hero’s arms down, holding them in place with the weight of their body. Staring down at the Hero, prone before them as they should be, the Villain decided they wanted to continue whatever this was shaping up to be. They kissed the Hero again, letting their desire for control guide them. 

The Hero struggled, but only half heartedly, and after a few seconds they melted into the Villain’s rhythm.

Forgetting themself and their game, the Villain released one of the Hero’s hands to run their hand under the Hero’s shirt.

“Oh Hell,” the Villain breathed, feeling the Hero’s body in a completely new way.

Finding a hand free, the Hero briefly considered fighting, doing anything besides continuing to maul the Villain’s face. Instead they wrapped an arm around the Villain’s back and pulled them closer. 

A surprised gasp escaped the Villain at the new friction between them, and the Hero grinned like a cat. 

Clearly this was a game, and two could play.

Feeling the Villain tense, the Hero lurched forward, sending the Villain sprawling backwards. The Hero sprang after them and straddled them, pinning their shoulders to the ground with their elbows. 

Perplexed, the Villain stared at the Hero, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. 

The Hero looked down at them, surprised at themselves. 

“What now?” The Villain asked, trying and failing to keep their tone steady; their voice cracked halfway through the question. 

Digging their elbows in, the Hero leaned forward, savoring the way the Villain gasped in discomfort. 

“Now?” The Hero mused. Their expression turned positively devious. They shifted their hips, and the Villain tipped their head back, eyes closed, throat bobbing as they swallowed a moan. “Now, I leave you with a parting gift.”

Leaning down, they kissed the Villain hard and swift. Then they shot to their feet and bolted out the door, leaving the Villain too stunned and frustrated to follow. 

***

The Hero didn’t stop running until they reached the street outside. They took the stairs three at a time, practically falling on the bottom flight in their haste to get away from… whatever that was. 

On the street, the night air was cool against their flushed cheeks. The Hero slowed to a brisk walk, feeling like their skin was too tight.

They took a shaky breath, mind reeling.

They shook their head, surprised to find that they were trembling.

But they weren’t… scared. They were… 

Exhilarated. 

Blinking, the Hero realized with horror that they liked the feel of the Villain’s hands on them, the way they…

No. The Hero thought. I shouldn’t be… We’re sworn enemies, nemeses. Hero, and Villain. I can’t afford to let the Villain get to me like that. Especially not after what they did.

They thought about what the Villain had done to their Sidekick, tried to elicit some of the rage they’d felt such a short time ago. It was there, that rage and hate. But it didn’t feel as potent in light of what had transpired between themself and the Villain.

Their thoughts strayed back to the feeling of the Villain beneath them, of the Villain at their mercy for once. 

It was intoxicating, that kind of power. 

The Hero suddenly understood the Villain on a level they never thought they would, and wasn’t sure they wanted to. 

Shaking themselves from their dazed reverie, the Hero turned a corner and hailed a cab. They were in no state to drive. Besides, the likelihood of a Minion lurking by their car was high, and they didn’t want to go back to that room. Back to the Villain.

At least not yet.

Sliding into the back seat of the cab, and absently giving their address, the Hero couldn’t refute the fact that they had been the one to initiate the shift in the game.

 And as much as they wanted to deny it, to deny everything that had just happened, the Hero knew they had just taken a step down a very treacherous path indeed. 

An Addition

Hello my lovelies! (again)

I have a number of playlists dedicated to Hero/Villain pieces, and it occurred to me that I could share them here! So, here you go!

Elegant Villainy: which inspired Evil Tea Party
Fekin Fabulous, let’s have a great time
Hero/Villain angst

Dangerous Temptation

Trigger warning for violence

The fight had been longer than usual.

Once again, it was the Villain who instigated.

Wasn’t it always the Villain who instigated? I suppose it depends on who you ask.

But this time, the Hero had the upper hand. It was rare that this happened. And so often in the past had they let their opportunity pass, that this time… this time… the Hero would have the final word.

After downing the Villain, they hadn’t left the Villain for whichever Minion to find. No, they’d taken the Villain to their own special bolthole. It was nicer than a warehouse, but not much more comfortable. The Hero started using the abandon mansion as a sort of sanctuary when the rigors and responsibility of being a Hero got to be too much. Here they could relax. Here, they could experiment.

“What…” the Villain spat, waking up with a jerk. They were poorly tied in an uncomfortable chair, the Hero sitting before them. This had never happened to them before. They weren’t entirely sure they liked it. But they didn’t dislike it either. This position had an air of… opportunistic irony about it that they could appreciate.

The Hero leaned forward and grabbed their cheeks with their nails. The Villain tried to pull away, expression defiant, but the Hero held them fast. 

The Villain heaved a sigh. 

“I schposh…” they drawled around the Hero’s fingers. The Hero released them enough to speak. 

“I suppose this is you thinking you’re clever, isn’t it?” 

The Villain leaned back, exposing their chest while they stretched their legs out. A pity about their hands and arms being tied. Their neck hurt. 

“You think that after me being your prisoner.. what… once? Will ever make you my equal?” 

The Hero glared and started to say something but the Villain cut them off with a laugh.

“You’re pathetic! If you think this…” they shrugged their arms, spread their knees. I”s enough to cow me…” 

The Hero snarled and slapped the Villain. And was met with another laugh. 

“AHAH! FINALLY!” They laughed again, gleefully. “You’re finally realizing the value of physical violence. Come on, do it again.” 

The Hero blinked at the Villain. 

“What?” 

“Oh please. Hit me. Hit me again, with all the strength you have.”

The Hero hesitated and the Villain kept talking. 

“Or are you too morally right? Too polite to-” 

The Villain grunted as the Hero punched them hard in the face. The Hero felt surprisingly better for it. 

“You talk too much,” the Hero said. 

Head still to the side, the Villain gave the Hero a side eye. 

“Yes, it’s because everyone else is a bore. Someone has to make up for-” 

The Hero hit them again, and this time the amusement faded from the Villain’s face. Blood trickled from their nose to their lips. 

They looked at the Hero, noted their heightened breathing, the barely restrained rage burning in their eyes. 

A soft chuckle escaped the Villain, and they spoke again in a slightly nasally voice. 

“Yes. You see? The power it gives you, having someone at your mercy.”

They straightened, and let their head fall back, a sensual smile playing shout their bloody lips. 

“It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

“SHUT UP!” The Hero yelled. They shoved the Villain in the shoulders, sending them and the chair to the floor. The Villain grunted upon impact, but was relieved to find the ropes had untied in the fall. 

“But why?” The Villain said from the ground, awkwardly peering at the Hero. “Because you don’t like the truth of what I’m saying?” 

“No. Yes… Gah…” The Hero’s shoulders fell, their expression crumpling in confusion. 

“It’s alright my darling Hero.” The Villain wiggled their hands free of the knots. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” 

“Oh, but I do. I understand you completely.”

“I’m nothing like you! The hero hissed, some of their fire returning. I’ll never be like you.” 

The Villain hummed.

“You say that now…” 

In  a flash they were on their feet, the rope in their hands. Before the Hero could react the Villain had the rope wrapped around their neck. They twisted, and the Hero gasped, clawing at the Villain’s hands. 

“But one day soon you’ll realize…” The Villain’s voice was silky as hey twisted the rope further. The Hero hacked and choked. “There are benefits of giving into your desires.” 

They leaned in and tenderly kissed the Hero’s cheek. 

“So you see,” they murmured. The Hero was nearly unconscious. “You just have to take what you want, when you want. And when you do that?” They peered into the Hero’s bloodshot eyes. “That is when you are truly free.” 

With that they released the rope and sauntered to the door. The Hero fell to their knees, chest and shoulders heaving as they sucked in breath after breath, tears and spit running down their face. 

“If you ever decide to pursue some more… illicit interests,” the Villain said, pausing in the doorway. “You know where to find me.”

And they were gone. 

As the Hero regained their breath, their throat aching, they thought about where it went wrong. They didn’t know. But the Villain’s words…

The Hero punched the floor, bloodying their knuckles.

The Villain had ended the fight with the upper hand.

Again.

Damn it.

Glaring at the door, the Hero made a vow to themselves. One day. One gods’ damn day, they would come out on top, no matter what.

Oh look at that!

She’s alive!

Yes. I am alive. And thriving, for the most part.

See, I figured it’s only fair to give you lovelies an update after 6 months’ absence. So here we are! For the most part, I’ve been doing the working mid-twenty-something thing, working full time at a tasting room. I mean, what could be better than selling wine (or, as I call it, the adult happy juice?) well… getting paid for writing could be better, but that’s something that will come.

And come it will! Hopefully. Soon. But who knows. Ya see, I finally finished a first draft of a novel!

*throws confetti and glitter*

And while that’s a wondrous milestone for me (who has like 12 working drafts they’ll happen eventually okay?) I don’t think I fully appreciated the Herculean task of editing. *cries writer tears* It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I do. A lot. It’s just that I didn’t realize how much more work there was to do to make this story what I want it to be.

HOWEVAH! All is not lost nor is it hopeless. I’ve done a fair bit of editing thus far, and while I recognize that I’ll have at LEAST 5 drafts before the thing is finally done, I’m loving the process. I’ve had at least one beta reader finish and give me feedback, and knowing that someone (even if it’s my mama) enjoyed the story, makes it all worth it.

So that’s what’s up. Wine, and words (both of the written and read variety). I do want to get back to writing my little pieces here, and hopefully as things further settle for me, those will come sooner and more frequently than they have.

On that note, I do have one final piece stockpiled in the notes. And after this wee little update, it only seems fair that I share it.

Consider it as a teaser. And a promise. A promise that The Modern Bard will get back to her shenanigans.

Love you, my dear readers!

See you in the next post.

KU

P.S. I just noticed that I have 392 readers (or so wordpress tells me) and I cannot express my gratitude, nor my appreciation and awe, that so many of you dearies have found my blog through one means or another. So, from the bottom of my ink-stained heart, thank you.

I must get the kettle before it starts screaming in earnest.