neongalaxiie

[neongalaxiie]

“if you kill me, you’ll be just as bad as me.” The villain says, not knowing that the “hero” is so, so much worse than them.

[neongalaxiie]

Ok, cool, so all artists/authors are living the same lives 😮‍💨

#this is so me tho #I actually write little bits of trivia about my ocs in posts that require it #so you kinda have to look at all the posts and put the pieces together yourself #it's like a diy #artists and authors

[neongalaxiie]

"Erm, Sylvie, what did the guy tell you about the natives?"

"Huh? Oh, that guy. Yeah, he was crazy."

"Okay, but what did he tell you though?"

"He said that the natives were cannonballs." Sylvie gestured at the natives with an open palm. "Do they look like cannonballs to you?"

Xylie's face was ghostly pale. "Sylvie, we should get out of here."

#my writing #my original characters #My ocs #Sylvie can be kinda dumb #They're cannibals #Not cannonballs #Get it right #Writing snippet #original fiction #snippet #writers on tumblr

[neongalaxiie]

"I do not have super strength."

"Oh, yeah?" The hero raised a brow. "Prove it."

The villain looked at his chains. Well, crap, here goes nothing. He pulled his wrists apart as gently as he could and gave his best fake-straining face. The hero was not convinced.

SNAP!

Crap. Now the hero was definitely not convinced. Or amused.

The villain grinned sheepishly. "That was not supposed to happen."

#hero x villain #my writing #hero x villain prompts #hero x villain snippet #villain prompt #hero and villain #villain x hero #hero x villain community #heroes and villains #writing snippet #writers on tumblr

[neongalaxiie]

Xylie stared at the screen as a lump formed in her throat. The numbers that scrolled before her were not the same as the ones she had in her mind. She didn't know what could've gone wrong. She couldn't have made a mistake; that was unacceptable, but she also couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to blow up in all of their faces, and that it was going to be all her fault.

“You did it! It works!” They cheered. Meanwhile, you’re terrified, you fudged the numbers. It shouldn’t have worked.

#Sounds like a good story #Maybe I'll use this one day #Xylie #perfectionist #writing snippet #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing

[neongalaxiie]

I was looking for this for so long. You will not believe it. Glad to have finally found it :3

Could you do a snippet about a villain injecting some sort of substance into the protagonist, and the protagonist panicking and stuff? Maybe the substance is like, a love potion, or maybe it's like, a mind control potion or something like that. I don't really know, but thanks in advance!

“Don’t,” the protagonist whispered. Their eyes locked on the syringe in the antagonist’s hand. “Don’t.” A bolt of panic shot through them, dizzying and sick. Their limbs lurched uselessly against the restraints clamped cruelly tight. It did nothing. They could barely move an inch. 

The antagonist swept closer without a care. 

The protagonist didn’t like needles at the best of time, let alone now. A cold damp spread through the basement room. The needle was a wicked looking thing, hardly the subtle sting of a flu jab. 

“What is that?” the protagonist demanded. 

The antagonist rolled up their sleeve carefully to expose the protagonist’s arm, focused as they pressed at the skin around the veins to test it. 

“What is that!?” 

“It’s a serum developed to seize control of your neural pathways. I’m told it can be excruciating if you fight it. I suggest you take a few deep breaths and try to relax.” The antagonist caught their expression. “It’s a fascinating piece of research, really. We developed it from these parasites which take control of ants.”

How could they possibly relax to that! 

“You don’t have to do that,” the protagonist said quickly. “I’ll do what you want-”

“We tried that,” the antagonist said, meeting their eyes. “You proved that you couldn’t be trusted.”

The protagonist swallowed. They’d never imagined this would be result. “I didn’t know.” They scoured for anything they could possibly say or do that would stop the antagonist, make all of this go away. They yanked uselessly against the cuffs again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll be so good-”

“-okay, so you’re going to fight. Bite down on this.” They shoved something into the protagonist’s mouth, stifling their last possible defense. 

The protagonist met the antagonist’s eyes. 

The antagonist’s jaw clenched, and their gaze darted away. “Don’t give me that look, I gave you a chance. You betrayed me.” 

The protagonist’s brain whirled and another frantic sound left their throat as the antagonist turned their attention back to the syringe.

Don’t, don’t, please don’t.

The antagonist hesitated, and touched their cheek. “It will be over quickly.”

They plunged the syringe into the protagonist’s arm. 

The protagonist only felt the sharp ache of the needle at first. For a second they hoped the serum had failed, that they had some kind of immunity, that this was some kind of miracle. 

Then it hit their brain.  

The protagonist didn’t remember screaming, though somebody was. The serum scorched through them, but the feeling that followed was worse. It was a skin-crawlingly intimate feeling, like something had settled in their head and was now slowly tightening around every bone and muscle in their body, coating something inside them and sealing tight. 

Then there was nothing but the burn of the serum, awaiting purpose. The panic was gone. The bad things were gone. 

They felt the antagonist’s finger on their cheek, brushing away something wet. “Tell me how you feel. Are you hurt?”

The instruction was good, the purpose followed. It soothed the unbearable burn of the serum.

“I want to serve,” the protagonist said. “Tell me how I can be of assistance.” 

The antagonist smiled.

[neongalaxiie]

Oooh, I wanna read mooooore

Could you (if you wanna) make a snippet where a hero and a villain are already in a secret established relationship and one time when the hero has to fight off the villain they tell the rest of their team to go find help just so they could have a few minutes with their secret partner? Sorry if this is really long and complicated.

“We can’t keep doing this,” the villain said quietly, the fight going out of them. 

The hero paused, blinked, had rather been looking forward to the push-and-pull that would normally follow the two of them being on their own. The scrape of hands, the bite of teeth, the brush of heady lips. 

But their heart skipped a beat for far more than that. 

“What do you mean?” the hero asked. “Why not? Do you - I mean-” 

“Your friends think I’m evil. And I’m tired of sneaking behind their backs. I’m tired of pretending that this isn’t a thing.” 

“I mean - you’re the one who wanted it to be a secret! Sentiment is a weapon blah blah blah. You’re the one who made this a secret.” And, secretly, the hero had agreed. They hadn’t wanted to explain it to anyone, to have to justify it. 

“And now…” the villain stepped closer, “I don’t want you to be my secret anymore.” They skimmed their fingertips along the hero’s bottom lip. “I don’t want stolen minutes, snatched seconds. It’s not enough.”

The hero swallowed. 

“Is it enough for you?” the villain pressed. 

Honestly, the hero had never let themselves think about more. It was frightening. It made it into something big and un-contained, something new and unfamiliar. “What’s brought this on?” the hero asked instead.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” It mattered that the villain couldn’t simply answer that question. 

“Don’t you want a life with me? An actual life? Not just a cut scene?” 

“You’re dodging the question.” 

“If you don’t,” the villain dropped their hand, leaving the hero feeling bereft, “that’s okay.”

The hero shoved them into the wall by their shoulder. “Hey, don’t do that. You don’t get to try and manipulate me about this.” 

“You’re just assuming I’m manipulating you.”

“Aren’t you?” the hero accused. 

The villain twisted away, as slippery as ever, like trying to catch smoke. “Or maybe you still think I’m evil, too. It’s not like you ever say anything else to your friends.”

“Well, given some of the stuff you do-” the hero began. They cut off at the look on the villain’s face. 

“I see,” the villain said. 

“You don’t get to use that tone.” Frustration welled in the hero’s chest, their fists clenching. They had been looking forward to what the two of them had, the ease of it. The world made everything complicated, it was already making this more complicated than it had been when it was just the two of them. 

“I want everyone to know you’re mine.” The villain’s stare blazed through them. “I want everyone to know I’m yours, too. Are you ashamed at that?”

“You don’t get to just spring this on me!” the hero hissed. “Of course I’m not-” they floundered and reached out again, because touching had always been an easier language between them words. “This isn’t something we can take back, once we do it. Yeah? I like what we have.” They cupped the villain’s jaw, pressing a kiss to their mouth. “I don’t need the world to know about it. This isn’t about them. God, this is the one thing I have, that isn’t about the world.” 

The villain studied them, hands rising to grip their wrists, fingers curling tight around their skin like they didn’t know how to let go anymore. “Then come with me,” the villain said. “Forget the world. Then it will be just the two of us, if you want that.”“I can’t do that.” 

“You want both.”

Yes. It was true, they wanted both, but something on the villain’s face made them look away. 

“Don’t I get to have both?” 

No. “This is a bad time for this conversation,” the hero muttered. “They’ll be back soon. We should at least make it look like we’re fighting.” 

The villain kissed them savagely, pressing them up against the wall, grinding their wrists against the brickwork with one hard shove. 

The hero’s breath caught. 

“When else,” the villain murmured against their ear, hot breath ghosting over their skin, “do we get to talk about it?”

“What’s bringing this on?” 

The villain pressed a knee between them legs, grip tightening further. “Maybe we should let your friends find us like this.” 

“No.” Heat flared up the hero’s face. 

“So you are ashamed of me.”

“I like my private life being just that - private.” 

The villain snorted and let go, stepping back again. The hero swayed forward. This time, when they reached for the villain, the villain dodged. 

The hero faltered. 

The villain’s expression was cool. “You have until we next see each other to think about it.” 

Then their lover was gone.

not a pr0mpt

[neongalaxiie]

I love this trope. It's just way too good 😌

Your writing is really amazing. Could I request perhaps a hero having to fight another villain, and the hero's main villain is jealous and wants to fight the other villain because he secretly views the hero as "his?" Thank you very much! Have a great week!

“I was wondering if you needed any help.”

The hero nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to face the villain. Their heart beat frantically fast in his chest. It took far too long for the question - comment - whatever it had been, to register. Even then. “Help?” they repeated blankly. 

“You may have also heard it called assistance, or aid,” the villain said. 

“Why the hell would you want to help me?” 

“We could be a good team.” 

“When you’re not trying to kill me?”

“I’ve never tried to kill you,” the villain said, rolling his eyes. “Only stop you. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done that by now. I could have done it just now considering you hadn’t even noticed I was standing here for the last five minutes.”

“…you’ve been standing around in silence watching me for the last five minutes?” the hero asked. 

The villain scowled at them, and cleared his throat. “Do you want my help or not? Because, from where I’m standing, you seem like you need it.”

The hero eyed him, bewildered and uncertain. It was true that help was always useful, and also true that there had been opportunities where the villain could have killed them, but he hadn’t. Still. Where was this even coming from? The hero’s mouth had gone a little dry so they tried for a smirk. “What,” they mocked, “are you jealous or something that you don’t have all of my attention for once?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation, no mockery, in the villain’s voice. 

The hero stopped short and stared. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Yes,” the villain said again. He took a step closer, then another, pinning the hero with his gaze. “But more to the point…” he skimmed his fingertips over the hero’s swollen lip, their bruised jaw. “They’re cocky. They thought they could do this to you and that there wouldn’t be consequences.”

The hero’s breath had got lost somewhere. They held still, almost hypnotized by surprise, by the uncommonly featherlight touch. They hadn’t even known the villain was capable of that. It finally occurred to them to move, to say something for god’s sake, and they stepped back. 

“I’m not yours.” That was what was going on here, right? “You don’t get to be - to be jealous - or possessive.” But they could use this too, couldn’t they? The hero’s mind raced through the possibilities, dizzied by them, the enormity. And the cost. 

“You could be,” the villain said, studying them, seeming to watch that very same possibility tick. “You’d never have to worry about fighting someone else. I’d be more than capable of helping keeping the other criminals in line, if you wanted that.”  

Gods, but that would be so much easier. 

Gods, but that would be a stupid devil’s bargain to agree to. 

“I’m not sure I’d like your way of keeping people in line,” they said quietly. 

“I can adjust,” the villain replied. “I’ll fight them either way - it’s up to you if you want me on your side when I do that or not. I thought I would suggest it as a courtesy.” 

“A courtesy.” The hero had the odd urge to laugh. They swallowed instead, hard. “Well, thanks for the courtesy.”

“Think about it,” the villain suggested. “As I said, I’m fighting this one anyway. He’s got it coming. You might find you like having someone on your side, for once.”

The hero thought about it rather more than they would have liked when the villain was gone.

[neongalaxiie]

Don't you love it when the one person everyone is afraid of suddenly becomes afraid of you 😈

The hero is the only one immune to the villain's powers. The villain only notices it when they meet for the fist time?

“All this fighting, and for what?” The villain smiled, arms spread to gesture around them at the small army of the hero’s friends. They all stood mute, blank faced, waiting for orders. “You can’t fight me,” the villain murmured. 

The hero’s heart raced wildly. They could block their ears, but that wouldn’t block out the villain’s telepathy, even if they couldn’t hear that honeyed voice. 

The villain’s smile grew. 

The hero braced themselves, considered shooting themselves, anything to keep up from becoming a slave. 

“Get on your knees,” the villain said, “and surrender yourself to me. Beg me to have you on my side.”

Nothing happened. Even to their own surprise, the hero didn’t hit their knees. They felt no compulsion to.surrender whatsoever. 

The villain stared at them for a beat, thrown. 

“Surrender yourself to me,” they tried again. 

It was a beautiful voice, it really was. But it was just a voice. 

The hero felt lightheaded with relief. They effected casualness, as if they hadn’t spent the last six months desperately trying to avoid meeting the villain and their telepathy in person. 

“You know what...” they hero shrugged, “I think I’ll pass. I’m not really a beg and surrender kind of person. Cute that you want that. I mean, a bit desperate - you must really want people to want you - but cute.” 

The villain’s smile was gone. 

“How are you doing that?” the villain demanded. “How are you immune?” 

“Maybe you’re losing your touch. Maybe it’s performance anxiety?”

“You’re impossible!”

“Aw, thanks.” The hero darted a nervous look at their friends, thinking fast. They tightened their grip on their weapon and pressed on, pressed forwards while they still had the brief element of surprise. 

The villain didn’t look like they knew what to do with the hero’s blade against their neck. They were just staring, wide-eyed, at the hero.

The hero smiled. 

“Get on your knees,” the hero said, “and surrender yourself to me. Let my friends go.” They increased the pressure of their weapon enough to draw blood, or else. 

The villain dropped.  

[neongalaxiie]

Crystal in the City, made by me :3

Which one is better: the first, or the second one? 🤔

#my ocs #my oc art #my oc stuff #my original characters #city #ocs #oc #cityscape #city lights #urban #nighttime #night sky #sky #clouds #neon #crystal #NeonGalaxiie

[neongalaxiie]

Could you write a hero villain snippet where the villain has manipulation/hypnosis powers? And the hero has been thrust into her role and is young and unprepared, so the villain tries to capitalize on it but she is somehow able to fight them off! Thank you!

If it was only the villain's shimmering whirlpool of a gaze that was hypnotic, Annie could have closed her eyes. If it was only their voice, she could have blocked her ears. If it was only their touch, she might have ran away before it was too late.

But there were no only's when it came to the villain.

"Oh," the villain murmured, ever so polite, "hold the door for me. Thank you."

Annie's hand had froze. She'd clocked who was talking. The villain had brushed past her, into the small cramped space, and then the lift door had gently closed in her face.

Annie's stomach swooped as they started to go up.

It couldn't be more than thirty seconds until her floor. She could do thirty seconds. Right?

She didn't dare turn around. She couldn't not turn around.

She should have taken the stairs.

Why hadn't she forced her aching limbs up the stairs?

Annie clamped her hands over her ears, just in time to hear the villain chuckle. She jumped as a hand brushed against her wrist. Her hands fell limp to her sides.

"First days on a new job are the worst," the villain said. "Congratulations on lasting nearly fourteen hours. You work for me now."

Annie swallowed.

"Don't you?" The villain asked. Their voice washed over her, it sucked her down, down, down...

"Yes," she said, exceptionally surprised to learn that she was in fact lying. Her heart rabbited furiously in her chest.

She watched the floors pass them by.

Twenty seconds.

"Look at me, dear," the villain said.

Annie's palms felt clammy. Her head spun. It felt a stupid idea to look - it might get rid of whatever scant resistance to the villain's control she had. If she didn't look, they would definitely know that it wasn't working and then...what? She'd never heard of it not working before. Well. There had been her grandma, blind and deaf, who'd worn a suit that prevented any physical contact, but...

She turned.

Her grandma's suit had been corrupted before the end. The sensory technology had turned strange. It had obeyed someone else. And her mother...

Their eyes met.

"You will report to me whenever I ask," the villain said, not cruel, simply firm. "About whatever I ask. You will do whatever I tell you to do exactly when I tell you to do it. Won't you?"

"Yes." Annie kept her expression as blank as she could. What if it wasn't supposed to be blank? What if everyone normally looked at the villain all adoring and trancelike? What if they were supposed to look as terrified as she felt? There was no evidence - no one ever - she'd seen the way the world warped and bent and orbited around the villain, heard the stories, but no one who liked free will got close.

"Good." The villain smiled. "It's dreadfully cold out. Do wear a scarf so you don't catch a chill."

They were old. Properly old. They held a serpentine cane between their hands that clicked on the ground whenever they took a step, and their greying hair was neatly pinned beneath a black trilby. They did not look especially evil. They did not look like the reason Annie's entire life was up in smoke and ruin. They looked like they might reach into the pocket of their deep blue wool coat and offer her a werther's original.

Ten seconds.

"Yes," Annie rasped, because her mouth felt gluey with horror, and her mind couldn't think of anything better to say.

They seemed oblivious to the fact that their usual control hadn't taken hold. Why hadn't it taken hold?

The villain considered her for a moment longer, eyes a touch sad for someone who had just tried to turn her into their new mindless teenaged slave hero spy.

"You know," they said, "your grandma once begged me to leave you out of this. Told me that, if I were to command anything of you, it should be that you leave your family profession behind. Find something safer. She loved you very much. You and your mother."

Annie could feel the bile burning in the back of her throat, feel the too raw prickle of tears threatening the back of her eyes. She could hear her own breath too loudly but they - they weren't really looking at her. They'd already assumed that, now, there was no one left who could disobey.

She wished she had a better weapon at her disposal than her school bag. Was it possible to brain someone to death with a schoolbag? Probably. Her hands trembled as she started to ease the rucksack off her shoulder, weighed down with the hard edges of too many books.

The lift dinged gently behind her and the door opened once more.

Her stop. Her chance at freedom.

Her-everything of her would already be gone in those thirty seconds if not for-why?

"Forget we ever had this conversation," the villain commanded. "Have a good night. Do your homework." They smiled again, as if the fact that she was still in school was somehow amusing instead of fifty shades of screwed up, and tipped the hat in dismissal.

Annie stumbled back out of the lift on leaden legs, still staring at them. The words weren't sinking in, but she also couldn't quite look away. In the same way that one might stare at a spider, or a snake, when it was in the room.

"Oh - and." The villain reached out, to hold the door from closing, and their smile grew. "Do finish off your wretched mother for me, won't you? Tomorrow when you go and see her. You're a smart girl, you can figure out how. Superheroes like her are a waste of a perfectly good hospital bed in this economy. She should have had the decency to die the first time I tried to kill her, eh dear?"

She managed a nod.

The villain let the lift door close once more, taking them anyway.

Annie stood in the corridor, staring at the space the villain had been, for a long time.

[neongalaxiie]

Hello! I've only started following your blog recently but I love your writing! Can I request a snippet with an easily flustered reporter who gets in over their head trying to get information out of secretive and confident villain?

"You really want some words?" the villain asked, raising a brow. They examined the reporter - eager and terrified all at once, clutching their notepad and pen to their chest like it was either weapon or shield to save them.

The reporter nodded vigorously. Their eyes had gone all wide.

"Hmm." The villain took a step closer, their cape swirling around them like the cling of shadows. Their feet made no sound. They placed one hand on the wall by the reporter's head, preventing it from crumbling and falling on the adorable little creature, who squeaked. The villain suspected it more from the perceived danger of their proximity than any awareness of getting crushed by debris after scurrying into the aftermath of a battlefield.

"Over your head," the villain suggested. "In the deep end." They leaned in, and oh so gently let their teeth graze the reporter's throat. "Bitten off more than you can chew."

So close, they could hear how ragged the reporter's breath had become, feel the tremor in their limbs. To the reporter's credit, they didn't pull away. The villain felt them make an effort to square their shoulders.

"Stop following me," the villain whispered, against the reporter's ear. "I mean it."

"I just thought," the reporter tried again, "that you might like someone to listen to and tell your side of the story."

"My work stands for itself."

"Judging by the state of the building, I hope you don't mean literally."

The villain snorted before they could stop themselves, and pulled back.

The crack in the wall behind the reporter's head had sealed over good as new by the time they took their palm away.

The reporter glanced at it, and back at them.

"Next time," the villain said, "I'm letting you get crushed. You shouldn't be here."

"You didn't have to save me this time."

"I didn't do it for you." The villain turned away. "Go home."

The reporter scurried after them.

"What did you do it for?"

The villain said nothing.

"You control stone," the reporter said. "What's your origin story?"

"I let my heart turn to stone and since then my powers continue to spread."

"Really?!"

The villain gave the reporter a look over their shoulder.

The reporter blushed. "Not that I thought - obviously I don't think you're heartless, or anything. I mean - I know you're a villain - but I also know there's a deeper story there. One that I think the people would be really interested to hear!" They flipped to a new page in their pad, and peered at the villain.

"I'm not your scoop, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

"This is harassment."

"I prefer 'plucky grit and determination'. Maybe we can help each other."

The villain whipped to face the reporter, who collided into them and promptly squeaked again.

"I can get information," the reporter offered. "I have sources."

"Ask your sources what I do to people who annoy me."

"If I was really annoying you, you'd kill me."

"Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Then why are you still being annoying?"

"I think you like that I'm not scared off by you."

The villain snorted again. "Oh, please. You're terrified. I can practically hear your little heart racing, and see your dilated pupils. You start shivering whenever I get close to you. You-" The villain stopped.

Fear was not the only thing that caused that reaction, it just hadn't occurred-

The reporter blushed, clearing their throat.

"Oh," the villain said. They eyed the reporter for a long moment, taking a renewed stock of the last few weeks. "You are definitely in way over your head, sweetheart."

"Way over. Head over heels. It's a problem."

"I'm still not giving you my secrets."

"It doesn't have to be secrets - just whatever you feel like sharing, whatever you want to say. I can be your link to the media, if you let me. Please."

"Hmmm."

"Is that a yes?"

The villain turned and walked off again.

"I'm taking that as a yes!"

The reporter followed.

"So did you design your own cape, or-?"

The babble was strangely soothing.

[neongalaxiie]

Hello! I love your writing and I adore anything really you write, especially your villains! So once more, could you please write about a cunning villain. Like anything that just showcases your writing abt cunning villains:)) The one that people wouldn't want to meet or even look at for more than a second. Unhinged. Dangerous. Clever and all-smirks and grins?? And a hero unsettled by them..... I would really love that!! Thank you!!💗 Please take care of yourself always! PS: also, I've been fangirling over your TGK for so long now!! can't wait to get my hands on it soon<33

"What..." The hero swallowed, eyeing the holding cell through the one way glass. Watching the villain sitting inside the cell, examining the handcuff on their wrist like it was somehow entertaining. "How did you catch them?"

"We didn't. They just turned up, requested a meeting with you."

"Right." The hero felt a bit dizzy at that. "And the handcuffs?"

"They offered," the detective shuddered, "to put us at ease."

There was nothing ease-inducing about that. Putting the standard handcuff on the villain's wrist felt about as effective as putting a ribbon and a little bowtie around a dragon's neck and calling that a leash. If anything, the very offer was mocking. Poor baby detective. Would a handcuff make you feel better?

The hero shuddered too and the two of them exchanged a glance.

"I'd say you don't have to go in and talk to them..." the detective said.

The hero sighed. "But I do."

"Please. Thank you. Have mercy and get that monstrosity off my hands?" The detective tried for a smile, but it fell rather short.

None of them took their eyes off the villain for a second.

The hero wasn't sure they trusted themselves to come up with a suitable response, so they simply nodded and made their way into the holding cell.

"Ah." The villain smirked at the sight of them, eyes going bright. "My favourite hero."

"It's rude to play favourites."

"Would you rather be my least favourite?"

"No."

"Then turn the camera off, clear out the observatory and take a seat, gorgeous."

The hero swallowed. Their mouth went dry. "Is there are a point asking why you don't want any witnesses?"

"No. But if you're a fan of foreplay we could pretend you're not going to do as I ask for like ten minutes or so." The villain's head tilted. "I could say pretty please, if it pleases you."

The hero went and turned the camera off. It was better than watching the villain convincingly beg, and then spending all night desperately trying to think who they'd stolen the lines off. They returned with an unsettled knot in their stomach and took a seat, playing at casual.

"So. What's this about?"

"I thought it would be funny to finally kill you in the middle of a police precinct."

The hero resisted the urge to twitch. "No, you didn't."

The villain grinned at them. "No, I didn't. But kudos for not swooning on the spot. I'm told I'm very swoonworthy."

"...That's one word for it."

"So precious. So diplomatic."

"That's why I'm your favourite."

The villain laughed, shaking their head. The next time they looked at the hero, they had gone perfectly serious, all business. "I'm here on a courtesy call, more than anything else," the villain said. "That detective of yours has insulted me. Got me down as someone of interest in the Kingfisher case. As if I'd be involved in something so utterly plebeian."

"They stole £1.5 million."

"And their methods were crass and lacking flair." The villain's voice turned sweet. "Or perhaps you think I did it too? Maybe you think I just need the money that badly?"

The hero opened their mouth, then closed it. It wasn't worth debating. Duly noted that the villain already had far too much money if they were scoffing at the criminal methodology.

"Right..." the hero said, instead. "And you want me to, what, put in a good word for you with the department? Solve the case?"

"I want you to get your detective to give me a public, sincere apology. I don't really care if you solve the case or not, just stopping use my name in vain before I decide the whole thing is my problem. I assume," the villain leaned in across the table, "that you don't want me to make it my problem."

No. Given the way that the villain tended to handle their problems, it would not go down remotely well for the detective.

It struck the hero then, that the villain wasn't mocking them. For them. at least, this truly was a courtesy call. It wasn't like the villain was against making something like this their problem and dealing out their particular brand of justice as they saw fit. They'd done it before when other villains were stupid enough to tread into their territory. But the detective was the hero's people, and so...

"Thank you," the hero said. "I'll - um. I'll deal with it."

"I thought you might prefer that." The villain snapped the cuff like it was nothing and stood.

The hero bolted to their feet.

The villain raised their brow, amused. "Was there something else we needed to discuss, love?"

The hero hesitated, fingers curling on the edge of the table. "Is this really all you were here for?"

"You doubt me?" The villain's voice was a purr.

"No. Opposite of doubt. You're rarely playing a single game at a time."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Perhaps you'd like to search me before I go?" The villain spread their arms and took a step closer.

The hero managed to avoid taking a step back. Just. Their gaze raked over the villain - wondering if they were going to regret this. Probably. They stepped closer, face aflame as they began to pat the villain down. They weren't entirely sure what they were looking for but...

Several weapons, a detonator and a variety of other things ended up on the table. Along with...

"Did you just bug the entire precinct with your little robots while you were here?"

"I mean." The villain shrugged, entirely unabashed, eyes gleaming. "You did keep me waiting. I got bored."

"Maybe text me next time instead of unexpectedly turning up here."

"Give me your number then."

...The hero had not thought that through to the obvious and terrifying confusion.

The villain smirked at whatever look of utter panic they saw on the hero's face.

"It's okay if your brain has gone blank," they said, oh so kindly. They fished a pen off the table and snatched up the hero's wrist. "Here's mine."

The hero's hand twitched in the villain's hold, entirely too aware of everything they could do with skin-on-skin contact. A neat row of numbers with a little heart at the end soon emerged.

"Remember," the villain murmured, pressing their lips to the hero's ear. "Public apology. Today. Let's not have anything like this happen again, hm?"

It was only two year's later, on an entirely unrelated case, that the hero found proof that actually the villain had stole the £1.5 million all along. And the hero was the fool who had turned in another villain instead, neatly and oh so subtly framed.

They dropped their head into their hands and groaned.