Het - Blog Posts

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

Could you do a sick male villain with female caretaker (either civilian or hero)

I’ve only realised my mistake after I read the ask one more time before I was about to post this. It was supposed to be a sick villain, but I accidently made it an injured one instead. I apologise for such a mistake. I hope it won’t happen again, and I hope you still enjoyed this version anyways.

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

Trigger Warning · Blood

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

The villain winced as the tissue dabbed against bloody wounds on his skin, letting out a groan in pain and shifting slightly.

“Stay still, I’m trying to clean your wounds.” the civilian said, continuing to mop off the blood, softer now not to hurt him again.

The villain scoffed. “How do you expect me to remain still while my wounds burn?”

“It’s not my fault that your wounds are so bad I have to use alcohol to clean them up so they won’t get infected. You’re the one who’s reckless and got himself in trouble.” the civilian looked serious, her forbidding gaze leaving no room for argument.

The villain scoffed again, amused. He liked that aloof attitude the civilian gave him every time he came to her all battered and hurting. He liked t way she would remain silent and focused on treating his wounds, the way her deft hands artfully wrapped bandages around his battered limbs, the way she would frequently scold him for being thoughtless and always throwing himself in trouble.

He knew that there is secretly a soft and caring self under the cold surface to her. And he never missed a chance to tease her about it.

“Well, if you think I am so reckless, and can’t be relied on preventing myself from getting hurt, why do you always bother to help me everytime?” the villain started, tone smug.

“I can’t just leave you to bleed ’till you die. Someone must heal you.” the civilian answered, now adding more alcohol to a clean part of the tissue, and continued dabbing gently on the villain’s skin, pressing softly. She wasn’t going to listen to the villain complain about how painful the alcohol feels on his open bruises for the next ten minutes.

“Aww, feeling bad for the big bad guy? How sweet of you.” he giggled in amusement.

“I am just doing what is moral; offer help when I spot an injured person. It would be apathetic of me not to do that.” the civilian spoke, matter–of–factly. “I’m not doing this for you. I just.. don’t like seeing others hurt. Even if they were bad people.”

For the first time since the villain entered her house and she brought her first aid kit to start her treatment, still looking as serious as usual, she moved her gaze up to look at the villain, who still had that annoying – yet charming – smile on his face. But the villain saw something else, much softer, in the glint of her eyes. “Your criminal acts are none of my business. I am just here to help you not die because I am a moral and sympathetic person who takes other people’s well–being in consideration.”

“Are you sure about that? Because it sounds as though you are looking for as many excuses as possible to not show that you actually like me.” there was no hiding the smirk in his tone now.

“You’re getting a lot cockier than usual.” the civilian said, mimicking the villain’s smirk, trying her best to look as confident as possible.

“And you like it.” the villain pressed, ”you’ve never tried to shut me up whenever I said a cheeky remark.”

“That’s because I keep all of my concentration on treating your wounds correctly, and your comments would only distract me and ruin my job.”

“You find me distracting?”

“Your stupid comments, not you. And not in that way.” a light pink tint of blush appeared on the civilian’s face, which the villain found pretty cute.

“I’m sure you do like me, you’re just in denial.” the villain said, smiling triumphantly, only to let out a yelp in pain as the civilian tapped on one of his wounds harshly, alcohol burning the bruised skin.

It was the civilian’s turn to scoff now. “Don’t bet on it. You just keep telling that to yourself because you like seeing me get ‘flustered’.” the civilian said.

It was true. The civilian liked the villain. The villain could tell from the dismay and concern he saw in her eyes once she laid her eyes on his damaged body every time he stopped at her doorstep. She looked at him like he lost his limbs. The way she would cut whatever she was doing at that moment, no matter how important it is, to get him treated as soon as possible.

It was intoxicating.

Even the scolding he’d get from her, which she makes sure is just nothing but her being serious, showed just how much worried the civilian is for the villain. And how frustrated and troubled she would get whenever he got injured. It even got more intense since the villain started to come to her more often than he should.

It concerned her how he had no sense of self–care or self–perseverance. There was no doubt that he could actually get himself killed if he just wasn’t working on being more careful.

... Well.. He didn’t simply always get in trouble because he was overconfident and arrogant about himself being able to make it on his own.

He may or may not got himself in trouble every so often just so he could see his precious civilian caretaker who happened to have magical hands that could heal any injuries.

“Ah, now all of the blood is finally cleaned up.” the civilian said, putting the tissue that was soaked in a mixture of blood and alcohol aside to start wrapping bandages on the villain’s side.

Silence fell upon both of them for a while, until the villain decided to speak.

“You know,” the villain started, suddenly holding the civilian’s hand. He leaned a little closer, ”I wouldn’t mind you touching me even when.. I’m not injured.” he gazed at her, eyes narrowed and darkened.

“Oh, shut up.” the civilian said, trying to ignore the flirty villain laying on her bed and trying to focus on bandaging him, looking away so he wouldn’t be able to see her blush.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you blushing.” the villain teased, the same annoying smirk still plastered onto his face. He wasn’t going to miss this chance to finally break her cold and emotionless exterior.

“And don’t think I didn’t realise a long time ago that you’re putting yourself in danger on purpose just to see me.” she returned, “By the way, you look adorable when you blush.” she concluded, and finished the last bandage with a triumphant smile on her face, relishing in the villain’s astonished, wide–eyed, freshly red expression.

Not a prompt.

The scrapped third chapter of the Together Strong series.

Part II.

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

“So..” Sylvester spoke. “Since you’re here, I might actually get some good information from you.” a smirk crept onto his malicious face.

“No matter what you do, I’ll never speak.” Sylvia abruptly spat, glancing away from him.

“If you won’t, then I might have to force you.”

“Harm me if you want! Hurt me, torture me, make me your servant, kill me! I don’t care, I’ll handle it! I would risk my life for the sake of my friends’ and the citizens’ lives!”

“Don’t you think that killing you is a little too much?”

“Well - I know you’re going to kill me anyways after you get the information you want.”

“You’re wrong. I won’t kill you.”

Sylvia froze for a second, widenening her eyes in astonishment. She glanced back at Sylvestee. “Tell me you’re lying.” she lowly said. She couldn’t believe that the most sadistic, horrendous, apathetic monster - Sylvester - wasn’t actually planning to kill her. Or is he planning something else? Something worse?

“I’m honest.” he replied with a serious tone.

“So, why then? Are you trying to dine and seduce me to join your side?” she harshly asked as the frown was back on her face.

“Mm, that you brought this idea; perhaps I would.” Sylvester’s smirk darkened.

“Hell to the no that would ever happen.”

“Either way, you’ll simply stay in here - in my lair.” he stated.

“So you’re keeping me even if I tell you the information?”

“Yes.”

“What in the bloody hell do you need from me besides that then?!”

Sylvester remained quiet for a moment. He looked down, thoughtful, as if he was thinking deeply about his response. As if the answer is about life and death.

He giggled.

Then it turned to a wicked laugh.

Sylvia kept staring at him as he was maniacly laughing, confused, puzzled. What was he thinking?

Running out of patience, she hissed. “H-hey! Don’t laugh like this! Answer me!”

Sylvester then stopped laughing and looked at her with a grin on his face. “Oh, I just want you to be the audience to watch your beloved friends and precious city burn down in destruction.” his tone was dramatic, dark, sadistic.

Sylvia snarled at Sylvester furiously, flames blazing from her eyes. “I’ll make sure that will never ever happen.” she lowly hissed, sounding hostile. If it wasn’t for those cuffs, she would’ve already apprehended Sylvester and brung him to justice so he would be severely punished for his enormities and sins.

There was no way she was letting him put the city under chaos.

No..

Not like last time...

Sylvia struggled with her ankles and wrists. “Damn it!” she cursed in frustration at the indestructible cuffs whom were holding her onto the chair, preventing her from moving.

Sylvester silently watched her trying to break herself free, relishing the desparation, enjoying her frustration. “Aww, look at you.” he sneered, oh so lightly. “Is the hero too desperate, too powerless to just break some iron cuffs? How pitiful, really.” he mocked.

Sylvia growled at him, her face flushing in anger and her blood boiling inside her veins. “Stop mocking me!” she yelled.

Sylvester couldn’t help but burst out of laughter. Again. As if she was just.. a joke. “You have no choices except for two now. You either keep these information with you and watch me torture your friends, or, you tell me the information and I won’t destroy your city.”

Sylvia remained quiet. She watched as Sylvester stood up from his seat and turned his back to face her.

Sylvester went over to the door and opened it. “Both choices have consequences. Choose wisely, .. darling.” he said, sneering the last word. She hated it when he called her that.

Not a prompt.

The scrapped second chapter of the Together Strong series.

Part III.

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

After what felt like forever, Sylvia has finally awaken from her ‘slumber’, slowly, tiredly.

It took her minutes to finally gain her consciousness back again.

She looked around herself, just to find out that she was in a room with low light coordination.

She tried to move her arms.

But she couldn’t.

She was puzzled for a second, until she figured out that she was held captive on a metallic chair, both her wrists and ankles held still with cuffs.

She groaned in pain as she felt her head spin around.

A spot on her head felt very painful and she wanted to rub it badly. But all she could do was just get frustrated at those maddening handcuffs that kept her wrists in place.

She tried to process everything that had happened before she was here, until that she remembered that she was knocked out by him, Sylvester.

“Ohh, great... That jerk captured me..” she muttered under her breath, annoyance in her voice.

She looked in front of her to see a locked metallic door, a small rectanglare-shaped window with small bars in it.

Maybe this was the room where Sylvester imprisoned kidnapped people?

Is this whole place his lair?

Sylvia started thinking, trying to come up with a good plan.

She looked around herself again in hope she might spot something useful.

Unfortunately the light coordination wasn’t helping. And even if she found something actually useful, she couldn’t even just touch it, all of her limbs were tied in a chair.

Damn it.

Sylvia cursed under her breathe. She knew there was nothing she could do in order to escape.

And the worst thing is that Sylvester could appear at any time.

What in the bloody hell did Sylvester want from her? Why didn’t he just kill her now that he got that chance?

Sylvia struggled her wrists to break free. But it was all in vain.

She froze in place as she started hearing footsteps coming the way to the room.

Someone was coming.

Sylvia’s heart hammered as the footsteps got closer. And the louder they get, the faster her heart raced, trying to escape her chest.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door as a figure blocked the light coming from the small window.

The sound of keys opening the door could be heard.

The loud crackling sound of the door echoed in Sylvia’s ears, making her wince.

As the door opened, there stood a familiar figure. It turned the lights on, revealing the one and only person she wished to see the least.

“Good morning, princess~!” Sylvester greeted in a sing-song voice. Sylvia widened her eyes as she saw that unfortunate face of his.

She remained silent as Sylvester walked forward in the room and closed the door behind him.

“Looks like you’ve slept pretty well. You spent thirteen hours of sleep.” a smirk engraved on his face.

Thirteen hours? That was too much.

She stared at him, completely shocked. Thirteen hours.

“What do you want from me?” she finally spoke. Sylvester fixed his black gloves as his eyes were fixed on hers.

She was secretly frightened of what he would do to her. What could he possibly want? Information? Torture her alive?

Sylvia’s mind floundered in a thousands of thoughts, trying to understand the Sylvester’s intentions.

“Oh, dear.” he suddenly spoke. “The question is ‘What do you need from me?’.” he corrected, that dark, evil smirk still on his face.

“What is it that you need?” Sylvia rephrased her question, growing irritated. Yet, she was still frightened.

He briefly giggled and went over to a dark spot, dragging a chair from it. He placed the chair in front of she and sat on it.

“I need the information that you have.” Sylvester’s tone changed to a serious one as his smile vanished. “Tell me everthing that you know.” he demanded. “There is no escape.”

Sylvia snarled. “I’ll never speak.” she hissed.

Sylvester raised his eyebrows, his eyes darkening. “Oh...” he muttered. “We’re being so brave, aren’t we.” he mocked. His fingers intertwined together as a grin crept onto his face.

“If you won’t speak, I guess I might have to play the hard way. How unfortunate, I was thinking about being nice to you.”

“Try me!”

“Now, now - don’t be so rude. Making me forceful would be a terrible mistake.”

“Yeah, right. Do what you want, I don’t care! I won’t speak!”

Silence filled the room as she glared at him. Sylvester sighed and slowly moved his hand to draw a syringe from his pocket.

Sylvia glanced at it as she raised an eyebrow. “What’s that? What are you going to do with it?” a hint of fear could be heard in her voice.

“It’s a truth serum.” the smirk returned.

A truth serum?

“... No.. Don’t.”

Sylvester chuckled darkly. “Where did your self-confidence go all of a sudden?” he sarcastically asked.

Sylvia’s expression was something stuck between a scowl and a terrified look. She didn’t know what to do.

“I told you there is no escape. God, I know that you might try to lie and fool me, this is why I prepared myself for any of your games.”

Her expression turned to a pure scowl. “You’re the one who’s playing games here.” she spat.

And suddenly Sylvester injected her with the syringe mercilessly, letting its contents enter her veins.

Sylvia’s fingers flexed as she grimaced at the pain.

After that the syringe was empty, he took it out and smiled.

“There, everything you say is the truth. There is no way for you to lie.” he stated.

Sylvia sweatdropped as she felt something weird inside her. She felt the liquid run through her veins and to her brain, changing it’s functional system. It was rather a very maddening and uncomfortable feeling.

“Now we come to the question.”

Not a prompt.

This is the scrapped “first chapter” of a mini-series written by me titled “Together Strong”.

I started writing this series (including this ficlet) somewhere between July and August 2020. I modified the text and corrected some grammatical mistakes.

Together Strong talks about the character development of the dynamic main characters; Sylvia (heroine) and Sylvester (villain), and the improvement of their enemies-to-lovers relationship.

Part II · Part III

──────⊱◈◈◈⊰──────

Sylvia panted heavily. Bruises, wounds and cuts all over her body, on her back, arms, jawline, face, stomach. Everywhere. Her clothes were ripped and stained in a mixture of dirt and the red, iron-scented liquid.

She was on her knees, her whole body aching from the pain of fighting. She felt weak as she used what is left of her energy to prevent herself from collapsing, with her hands on the ground.

No. Collapsing in front of him.

Sylvester.

It was dangerous.

Collapsing meant surrendering.

And there was no way in bloody hell she could let that happen.

She was not surrendering to that wicked creature, that monster of chaos.

She cursed under her breathe, vainly trying to think of a good plan.

She couldn’t.

She felt so weak it was impossible to think straight. It was like she was stuck in a spider web. It was like she was lost in a labyrinth, in a hedge maze, in which every single direction she’d flee to would only lead her to dead ends.

Sylvester leisurely approached her, footsteps echoing in her ears.

Sylvia didn’t dare to look behind her, she didn’t dare to look at him, the criminal that just defeated her. She preferred looking at the ground instead.

She could feel him smiling. No, smirking victoriously, viciously.

But she preferred not to look at his façade.

“Aww, is the once strong and brave hero hurt and broken now~?” Sylvester crooned, giggling in a dreadfully soft tone.

Sylvia kept panting, a snarl crept onto her face. She made a low yet weak growl under her breathe.

She hated his sneers.

“You still look damageable. I don’t think I’ve been tough enough with my attacks. Perhaps there is more left of you to break.” he giggled again.

Her fingers flexed and clenched into fists, resisting the urge to punch the villain’s face, just to make him shut up.

“This..” Sylvia finally choked. “This isn’t over yet..” she finished her sentence.

“Oh my, really?” Sylvester sneered again. “You should really take a look at yourself. Can’t you see, I have overpowered you. You’re on the ground, all covered in the marks I left on you of wounds and your own blood. You’re clearly feeble. Or are you just too selfish to admit the truth?” Sylvester added.

“Ladies shouldn’t be involved in fights, especially that they aren’t the glory of them.”

“That’s not true! I’ve literally beaten you three times already in the past!”

“And I’ve got the victory in the last battle.”

Sylvia was absolutely done with Sylvester. She couldn’t take another insult from his arrogant mouth anymore.

Feeling like she has gained a little bit of energy, she lunged at Sylvester to hit him one last time.

But he caught her hand firmly before it could even touch him.

It was only inches away from his face.

“Nice try. It’s quite amusing seeing you are still willing to beat me, despite the fact that you’d just pass out within seconds.” Sylvester spoke in a deadly tone, locking his eyes to her, gaze intent.

Sylvia blacked out then.

Not a prompt.

“It’s not my fault ladies think I’m attractive and charming. It’s not my fault when I try to show women the respect they deserve and they end up falling in love with me, Eros is just messing around with his arrows.”

“Yeah, you just say that because you’re an arrogant romeo.”

“Mm? Arrogant, you say?” he mused and he chuckled oh so softly, charmingly so, his hauteur shining from through his alluring eyes and sly smirk.

“It’s not like I have no awareness of the tiny little attraction of yours towards me. Hm, looks like Cupid did such a marvelous job enchanting your heart with his toys.”

The other laughed ironically, little did she notice her face reddending.

Not a prompt.

“Tell me,” she asked, “are you real? You’re very handsome.” impossibly perfect. Too ideal to even exist. Unrealistic. A man as beauteous as an artistic masterpiece.

He flashed her a sweet smile of sunshine and held her hands gingerly in his. “Just for you, darling.” he murmured, voice honeyed and velvet as he looked her in the eyes with those dreamy and shiny moonstone hues.

He was a chivalrous gentleman every woman across the world wished for, kind and tender and with a heart of gold.

She has fallen in love with him instantly once upon meeting and, he, followed along to the downhill of mysteries and romance, catching up with her.

“Tell me,” he said, an ironic mimick. “do you believe in me?” his heart hammered and fluttered, in love. “With all my heart.” she replied, a small smile formed onto her face.

The next second they were kissing.

Not a prompt.