neon-onyx

[neon-onyx]

“I have to admit, I am a little bit jealous,” the villain said. They grabbed the hero’s jaw gently and got closer. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

They pressed their thumb against the hero’s bottom lip and let their eyes drop. The hero’s back bumped against the wall.

“Aren’t you such a sunshine?” the hero mumbled. In response, the villain could only scoff. They were certain they disliked the hero, loathed them even.

Someone talented, someone loved, someone this pure…obviously that was enough to conjure some hate. But for some reason, there was more to it than mere disdain.

“You do know that I have to take care of other enemies, right?” the hero said. “Admittedly, they’re not as fun as you are but orders are orders, hm?”

They tilted their head and grinned as so often, provoking the villain.

“Just say you missed me,” the hero said.

“You’re easy lunch, so yeah. I missed you.”

“Tsk-tsk, don’t think I’ll let you devour me that easily.” They stared at each other and with one hand on the hero’s face, the other twisting the fabric of their suit, the villain realised how close they were.

That annoying hero with their tactics and plans and physical capability. That annoying hero with their popularity and fame.

“Do you want me to ask nicely or what?” the villain asked. They couldn’t take their eyes off the hero’s lips. It was true that they were agitated, that they wanted to be the one fighting with the hero, but…

Wasn’t this a little childish?

The villain let their thumb follow the hero’s bottom lip again, subconsciously this time. They were warm. The hero was really warm, heating up the villain’s icy fingers.

Their relationship was purely competitive. The villain had to work twice as hard to reach their own goals. With the hero’s cursed brilliance, the villain was the one to make sure they weren’t falling behind.

And they hated that about the hero, they truly did…and yet…

They leaned over even more until they felt the hero’s breath against their cheek. They watched the hero close their eyes and the villain’s hand slid down over the hero’s throat.

More importantly, the hero let them. They weren’t pushing them away.

What on earth were they doing?

The villain hesitated long enough for the hero to open their eyes. Their enemy let out an annoyed sigh and rolled their eyes.

“Can’t even kiss me,” they muttered under their breath. “You’re such a loser.”

The villain’s eyes widened, but they didn’t have time to process what was happening — the hero pulled them in and finally kissed them.

It wasn’t particularly gentle or sweet, it truly fitted “devour” more than anything. The villain could feel their heart punch against their ribcage repeatedly when the hero’s tongue suddenly ended up in their mouth.

Of course, they had thought about it before. Of course, they had imagined it before. After all, they were spending a lot of time with the hero, they had a few things in common and they had been flirting with each other for months.

Despite the threats, the arrests, some betrayal and the blood, their relationship was maybe, possibly, eventually pretty profound. The hero was admirable, they were everything the villain wanted but never could be.

“Oh god,” the villain sighed as they gasped for air. The hero was just as much out of breath. They took in gulps of air greedily, their face was red.

They looked good. They looked so very good.

The villain’s hands were shaking.

“One more,” the hero demanded. The villain stared at them, nodding, but once again, the hero was too quick. They pulled them close and kissed them even harder.

The villain couldn’t think of anything in that moment. They couldn’t concentrate, they could only feel.

Feel how their frustration vanished, how their excitement rose, how relieved they were.

They could feel how they relaxed gradually. The hero was greedy, just like they were. They were mean, they could be harsh.

But they were also terribly warm and comforting.

And still, the villain couldn’t help but feel like they were competing against each other again. As if they were trying to find out who was the better kisser.

They pulled away again — too soon for the villain’s liking — and anew, they stared at each other. It felt like there was no need for the villain to be jealous of anyone. The hero was right here, right in front of them.

“Not a word of this to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” the villain said. “One more.”

“One more,” the hero agreed.

And it was definitely not the last kiss they shared.

[neon-onyx]

The sharp grating of metal sliding into place sent adrenaline through their body, no matter how much the villain willed it not to. It was familiar, like following a song they knew by heart played on a different instrument - their gun in someone else’s hands.

The not-so-stranger spoke, but the harsh syllables slipped through their fingers. Quickly, the pressure of the blindfold and gag released. Their eyes opened to the hero behind the barrel of a gun. Not in a barred and barren interrogation room, but in a normal office with a normal window and bookshelf and plants.

“I told them you wouldn’t run. You gonna be good?” The hero’s cocked their head. Somehow, that made the villain's heart beat faster than the weapon pointed at them.

“For you? Always.”

“Good.” The hero made some gesture, conducting a cacophony of shuffling behind the villain. A door slammed closed. They were alone.

“I didn’t take you for an easy catch.” The hero tossed the gun on the desk behind them, now showing its absent magazine.

“I’m much more difficult to hold on to.” The villain winked. The hero offered a laugh, somewhere between surprised and polite.

“What am I gonna do about you?” The hero tucked a finger under the villain's chin, titling their head up so their gazes met. A precarious invitation to have a serious, vulnerable conversation.

“Untying me would be a start,” the villain proposed, neither rejecting nor accepting.

“We both know it’s the only way you’ll talk to me. Especially after all that…” the villain felt their collar pull tight. The hero’s free hand exposed the profane bruising on the villain’s neck and surely they could feel the pulse skyrocketing beneath the skin, “nasty business.”

The villain had tried to chemically induce amnesia that night. Unfortunately, no amount of liquor could erase the visceral shock that flooded their body when their hand ran up the hero’s arm. Their fingers found the raised edges of a scar from wrist to shoulder like the walk home.

Of course, they knew it by heart. The memory flashed behind their eyes in their nightly replays of their lowest moments. They hadn’t meant to hurt them, at least, not anywhere near mortally.

That night, the villain panicked. They ran. Now, the villain didn’t falter. There was a verifiable hunger in the hero’s eyes, a lilt in their voice flirting with the villain's heart rate. Looking away would be a weakness, surrender; they couldn’t afford to lose any more power in this altercation.

“Would I be the responsible one for saying this is a bad idea?” The villain snaked their ankle around the hero’s leg, forcing the hero to fall against them. The hero caught themself with a knee beside the villain and a hand on the chair back, decidedly amused.

“Or a coward. Depends on your motivation.” The hero tilted their head, nothing short of mirthful. The villain was all too aware of their motivations. They had spent hours examining every easy rationale for a fault, painstakingly digging up every subconscious drive.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The villain's voice was soft. The hero laughed at that, the proximate rumble of their chest reminiscent of the bass quaking the villain's bones a few nights ago.

For a moment, the villain allowed their head to duck into the hero’s chest and pretend the spots dancing behind their closed eyes were the neon lights strobing in the club.

“Admirable, but I can take care of myself.” The hero’s fingers ran through the villain's hair. It made the villain feel safe and that made their stomach churn.

“Would self-preservation make me weak?”

“No. It’s smart.” The hero’s hand tightened in the villain's hair, suggesting more than forcing them to look up. The villain saw their brows furrow, just a fraction, as their eyes searched the villain's face. “Do you think I would hurt you?”

“I think this is going to hurt.”

Then, ruled by some reckless desire, the villain pressed their lips against the hero’s. Despite every logical neuron in their body, they kissed the hero again.

The hero cupped the villain's face like you would fine china, a rough finger pad chasing away a stray tear. The villain almost laughed at that, how delicate they were outside the anonymous crowd of dancing, flashing, faceless party-goers.

That night, the hero held the villain like they’d die if they let go, left them marked them like it was their only chance to be remembered. Now, the hero hesitated, ghosted, lingered.

Cool air rushed between them to fill the space the villain once did. The hero stared, confusion apparent on their face.

“Untie me,” the villain whispered, half plea half demand. The hero’s hands pushed against the villains shoulders, a suggestion that pressed the villain flat against the chairs back.

“Will you run again?”

“If you never give me the opportunity to prove myself, how could you ever trust me?”The hero scoffed at their villain, shook their head, and shrugged. Of course, rather than going around the back they flattened their body against the villain to reach.

No sooner had the ropes been cut, than the villain had the hero pinned against the table behind them. They made quick work of the hero’s defenses, deftly undoing their uniform and dismantling their attempts for power with a firm hold. Every hungry kiss made the hero writhe against them. Every mark on their neck, chest, hip had the hero arching beneath them.

The villain had waited for so long. Longer than that failed one night stand when they first made vulgar contact. They had wanted this for months, maybe years, and-

No, they had their priorities, which were unfortunately not getting hot and heavy in their enemy's office. Even if the hero was making a damn good argument for it.

The villain came just short of giving the hero what they wanted. With their enemy half undressed, flushed and vulnerable on their own desk, the villain snatched the unloaded gun behind them.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re kidding me.” The hero shook ecstasy from their head, failing to grab the villain as they slipped away.

“Put on your clothes. Unless you want your coworkers to see you like this.” The villain spared a glance to the hero, who was frantically buttoning their uniform, before tomahawking their gun at the window with as much force as they could manage.

“Till next time,” the villain said, to the tune of shattered glass falling. The hero stared at them, mouth agape, frozen in the act of closing their shirt, as the villain leaped out the second-floor window and disappeared once again.

[neon-onyx]

“You must be stupid as all hell,” the villain spat, but panic tainted their words, glimpses of honesty to their enemy. Their bag landed beside the hero with a dramatic sigh. The hero let out a strangled laugh, still all too sweet to echo off the grimy alley walls.

“Good to see that you care.” The hero’s voice was weak, but they still managed an infuriating smirk. Perfectly casual with the added effect of blood-tinted teeth. The villain's stomach turned.

“Of course I fucking care.” The villain dropped to their knees. Frantic hands tore at the hero’s suit, peeling away blood-soaked layer after layer in search of the source.

“What would I do without you?” The hero sighed, all saccharine.

“Bleed to death.” The villain placed a hand over the hero’s wound, careful to keep their pressure light. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“Seemed better than the alternative, ” the hero replied, all too nonchalant for the villain's taste. Beneath the villain's fingertips, sinew and flesh began to mend itself. The hero writhed, shattered cries escaping their lips.

“Still seems better?” The villains glared at the hero as they focused on healing. It felt deep, possibly enough to expose their ribs, and terribly jagged. A nauseating mixture of fear and anger boiled the villain's blood.

“Compared to losing you? Yeah.” The hero spoke through gritted teeth. The villain's focus faltered.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, I know you hate that self-sacrifice-talk.” The hero was barely able to finish their sentence before the overwhelming, burning, tearing sensation of healing returned. Their hand closed around the villain's wrist like a vise.

“But I’m-“ the hero cut themselves off with a string of swears as their rib cage reassembled, “-I’m being serious.”

“If you’re contemplating a confession, I suggest you pick a better time,” the villain warned. The hero’s hand twisted around the villains, pulling them back. When they met the hero’s gaze, their face bathed in the warm glow of the street lamp and painted with crushing sincerity, they could feel the impending crossroad.

A moment that could only have happened when they were both inebriated from blood loss and almost losing each other. They felt the hero’s lips, cold and iron-laden, press against theirs. The villain would swear that the hero initiated. The hero would swear the opposite. The truth lay in the muddied middle, neither party innocent.

The villain did rest their palm on the hero’s cheek. They also definitely pulled away; dopamine and oxytocin making their head spin. The hero watched them with silent curiosity, a red handprint now decorating their (already colorful) face.

“I- that- you’re still bleeding.” The villain rushed to cover the would on the hero’s chest with their hands. The hero quickly returned to their gasping, writhing state by their enemy's touch.

Only once their skin was whole again did either of them speak. The hero muttered a quick thank you, sitting up with great effort. The villain nodded, eyes fixed on the cracked concrete under their knees.

“I can fix up the bruising too,” the villain suggested, vaguely motioning towards their face. The hero only laughed, leaning into the wall behind them.

“You don’t think it’s sexy?”

The villain met their gaze, a smile creeping onto their face for the first time that night.

“Black and blue suits you.” The villain stood, offering a hand to their exhausted enemy. The hero smirked, delicately placing their hand in the villain's.

“If you keep talking like that I’m gonna start to think you like me-“

“Shut up.” The villain pulled the hero close, wrapping them in an embrace. For a second, the hero was certain they’d have to heal their rib cage again.

“If you ever do some shit like this again, I swear, I’ll take you out myself.” Tears burned the corners of the villain's eyes as they spoke. Their hands twisted into the hero’s shirt, fingers sticky with the hero’s blood.

“Only you’re allowed to kill me?” The hero teased.

“Shut up.”

[neon-onyx]

prompt #94

“I’m not really into cliché’s,” the villain, once who the hero thought they could call a friend, hummed under their breath, lip teasing up into a smirk. “So let’s skip the whole ‘join me’ speech, shall we?”

The hero felt the tip of the sword dig into their throat, and they could barely even meet the villain’s eyes. All along, they had never been on their side.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The villain’s brow quirks. “Oh, baby. Maybe I should’ve given you the speech - I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to skip straight to the part where I drag you from here, kicking and screaming, and make you join my side whether you like it or not. I have always been more acquainted with actions rather than words, after all.”

[neon-onyx]

"You hate me right now, don't you?" The villain's breath tickled the hero's neck cruelly and with their hand on the hero's waist, the hero was quite aware that any sudden movements would stir up the entire railway carriage.

They preferred to avoid fights in public. Especially when the space was this limited, especially when the villain could obliterate every single person in here within seconds. The hero counted at least five children within this horribly crowded mess and suddenly, the hair on the exhausted hero's neck stood up. Their eyes widened.

God, the villain was cruel.

The hero didn't even dare to breathe. Pearls of sweat rolled down their neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the hero whispered. They leaned against the villain and lowered their voice. Concentrate. Don't provoke. "But I'll admit, I'm honored to be visited by you during the day. On such short notice, too."

The villain had made it a habit to appear and disappear whenever they pleased. But in the middle of the day was rather daring for them. Other people never seemed to notice them or the villain was able to manipulate other people's minds to delete themselves from their memories. The hero didn't know. There was a lot the hero didn't know about the villain. A lot of unanswered questioned that begged to be answered.

"Surely you're aware by now that flattery doesn't really work on me," the villain said. Their hand moved up the hero's side, their fingers running along the hero's arm until they found their hand. Fingers intertwined. "I am not searching for any kind of validation, not even from you. So. Answer me, please."

The hero looked up at them - the villain was unfortunately a little taller now - and their grip tightened around the metallic pole they were holding onto. The movements of the subway made them sway and there were people everywhere around them, so bumping into the villain involuntarily was unavoidable.

"I'm actually...pretty tired" the hero whispered. Kind of a lie. Kind of the truth. Right now, the hero's entire nervous system was working at full blast. But in general, the hero was very tired. "I don't have enough energy in me to be mad at you. If that makes sense."

"Oh, poor hero," the villain mumbled mockingly. They pressed a soft kiss to the hero's forehead. "Embarrassing you in public isn't fun when you don't care."

It had been cartoonishly embarrassing, but the hero didn't dare to admit that.

"I..."

"I feel almost disrespected," the villain said. They shrugged and looked around the railway carriage. "And kind of bored if I am being totally honest."

The hero could deal with a disappointed villain, even with an angry one. But a bored villain?

The subway came to a screeching halt and the hero felt like throwing up when they looked at the playful smirk on the villain's face. Just thinking about the windows and the floor being painted with blood made them feel uneasy. Everyone's life in here depended on the hero's actions. On their words.

"Uhm...let's take this outside, alright?" the hero asked. Minimise casualties. Protect civilians at all costs.

"Nah, not my stop. And if I'm not being mistaken, this isn't your stop either."

The hero took in a deep breath, tried to steady their voice. When it came to the villain, they had made a lot of mistakes in the past. The hero avoided thinking about that. About the past, about their childhood. They had been friends once, they had planned a future together.

Now, that future they had dreamed of was different. They still had each other, somehow. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't what the hero had wanted.

Now, they were like the other's taunting shadow. Or at least, that was exactly what the villain was to them. A reoccurring reminder of all the hero's failures. Their own personal demonic ghost of a dream they had woken up from too soon.

The villain was cruel and punished them for what the hero had done to them. Or what they believed the hero had done to them.

Either way, the hatred and the pain had grown ugly over the years and the hero found themselves longing for those simpler days all those years ago. Letting go of everything was easier said than done.

Letting go of the ugly parts? The parts where they'd been cursed, the parts where they had been wronged? That was easy.

Letting go of the sweet parts? Summers spent outside, drawing the house they wanted to live in together, the pets they wanted to have, showing weird rocks to each other, going swimming in the lake together, eating until they were passing out, falling asleep on the couch together. The innocent days of childhood?

That was completely different.

"I don't hate you," the hero said. "I'm not mad at you for tying me up and dropping me off at the police station, I don't want to kill you, I don't want to provoke you, I...actually..."

They looked up at the villain and frowned slightly. The villain's features were sharper now and little was left of their round face and their big eyes. Weirdly, the villain was the only person who seemed to change the world around them more than the world was changing them.

Somehow, everything mirrored the villain instead of the villain mirroring the world.

The hero sighed and rose to their tip-toes.

And then, they kissed the villain softly.

The villain disappeared immediately, vanishing as quickly as they had shown up and the hero was alone once again.

However, the feeling of the villain's lips against theirs still lingered, compressed their soul. It hadn't been more than a few milliseconds, but it was all the hero could think about all week.

[neon-onyx]

“You’re awfully cheerful.” The villain leaned back on the hero’s couch and cocked their head. There was only a hint of a smirk but the hero didn’t need more than that to determine their nemesis’ mood.

It was all about the subtle movements.

A twitching eyebrow. A look at their own shoes. A breath taken in a little too quickly.

The hero knew the villain - knew every little detail about their behaviour, knew what they were feeling. Feelings were one thing, facts on the other hand…the hero didn’t know what their nemesis was planning, nor what their next move was. They could tell when the villain was angry, disappointed, amused. But why…?

Nevertheless, the hero smiled and lounged in their armchair, making themselves as comfortable as possible in their own home.

“I’m trying this new thing…having a positive mindset and all. You know, not taking everything so serious.”

“Someone blew up your car today,” the villain pointed out. They stared at the bottle of wine the hero had opened an hour ago. Half finished. “You must be quite upset.”

“I’m kind of grateful, actually.”

“Grateful?” The villain raised a brow and the hero tilted their head. It must have looked rather confident. Cocky, almost. Whether it was the little bit of alcohol or the situation in general - the hero did feel a bit cocky.

“Yeah, I mean. I’m glad I wasn’t in the car when it exploded. That’s a reason to celebrate.”

“Someone knows you’re involved with me,” the villain said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” the hero answered.

“Evidence suggests it, though.”

The hero whistled, impressed. Their eyes widened and something inside them wanted this to be their fault.

“What else is the evidence suggesting, Detective?” The hero let their eyebrows wiggle and took a sip of the wine. They liked to think that not only the villain was changing the hero but that the hero was also influencing their nemesis.

Detective. The villain was definitely smart enough to be one and, Lord, the hero would have loved to see that brilliant mind work on cases with them.

The hero smiled to themselves. Fantasising about the villain being their partner wasn’t new. But it was entertaining. Over and over again.

“That you’re not careful enough.”

“Hm?”

“You got into a fight again. Your knuckles are bruised. Someone blew up your car today. And all you do is sit here and drink,” the villain said. A twitching eyebrow. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” The hero’s eyes narrowed. “Scared your favourite hero will end up dead?”

The villain’s face didn’t change and at first, they didn’t say anything.

So, the hero observed them carefully.

Their relationship was at a point that suggested they were either hooking up or just really good friends. For the neighbours, it was normal to let the villain in. And for the hero, it was normal to visit the villain in their lair.

Quite risky. Quite rewarding, too.

Exchanging information was crucial to the both of them.

Additionally, the hero kind of liked them.

“I would get you a bodyguard but as of right now, I can’t guarantee that whoever wanted to kill you today isn’t one of my men.” A look at the ground and the hero had to frown. “I’ll take care of that, obviously.”

“You want to hire a bodyguard? For me?” the hero asked. They chuckled into their wineglass.

“No, I won’t hire anyone. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

“Huh?!” The hero’s grip around the glass tightened.

“You’re irreplaceable as informant and in case you die, all your secrets which means all my secrets are very likely to see the light of day. The files on your computer won’t stay hidden forever. I’d like to avoid that.”

“I think I can take care of myself.” The hero looked at the wine. Did that mean the villain wanted to move into this apartment?

The hero blushed softly.

More reasons for the neighbours to gossip about a possible relationship. Jeez.

“I don’t think so,” the villain said. “I haven’t threatened you in weeks, so don’t make me do it. I won’t debate this. I need you alive and I don’t trust anyone enough to do this job right now. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t get a say in this?” the hero asked. They laughed at the absurdity.

“No.” The villain’s voice was stern now.

“Hm.” Slowly, the hero finished the glass and set it down on the little table between them and the villain. “Maybe it’ll be fun to watch you follow me around like a dog.”

A blush.

“Call it whatever you want.”

And that’s how the both of them became roommates.

[neon-onyx]

Could you write something about a villain who is madly in love with Hero but can’t express their feelings cause of the whole secret identity thing and they’re so in love with hero that they know everything about them and pull a bunch of strings and commit several crimes so that they can do on a date with hero?

"What was that?" the hero asked. They sat on their office chair with a leg crossed, almost as if they were on a throne and watching the villain's every move. It was intoxicating to say the least. Seeing the hero like this, like the mighty protector of the city that they were let the villain's heart jump up and down excitedly.

"I'm sorry," the villain repeated and they could feel the ends of their fingertips tingle.

"Try that again, darling." The hero's index finger ran along the villain's jawline until it stopped right under their chin. "What are you apologising for?"

They used more pressure, used more force but the villain would have raised their head no matter what. They would have punished themselves if necessary. They knew the hero was a kind person. And that they had a very sweet soul. There was no reason to fight them - the villain would lose every time, even if it meant they were doing it on purpose.

It wasn't just about the hero's power. That was mostly a sexual driven factor. What the hero could do to them (in bed, preferably) would be the hero's decision.

For the villain, the very being of the hero fascinated them. How, despite a horrible childhood, they had managed to continue to live a life full of purpose. The hero was someone who had healed gracefully, not like the villain. The hero was someone who was inspiring, someone who was changing lives so nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry I committed those crimes just to see you," the villain said. But they couldn't really think. They stared up at these perfect watercoloured eyes they would think of before going to sleep sometimes.

Most of the time, they only saw each other when they were working. Not that the villain would ever really confess - they were too insecure for that - but sometimes, they really hoped the hero would somehow feel the same things. Because, God, the villain was confused. They couldn't tell if this was affection or not. If this was flirting or if the hero was using them for other purposes.

It was heartbreaking to think about but the villain would rather stay with them while they used them than not seeing them at all.

"You can be so sweet," the hero said. They let their thumb go over the villain's bottom lip slowly and much to the villain's embarrassment, they could feel their neck start to glow. "But you should be sorry for committing crimes in the first place, not because you could get my attention that way."

"I'm sorry," the villain whispered. "I wasn't...I wasn't really thinking."

"Don't worry about it," the hero said. They let go of the villain (which bothered the villain more than it should have) and leaned against their backrest casually. "I do have another question, though."

"Yes?"

"Did you know that in our evaluation and in our reports you're classified as the most dangerous villain in the city? You're said to be the most powerful, in fact."

"...oh." The villain had suspected something like that. They knew they could defeat most villains and heroes alike. They had never had any big troubles in combat and they were quite creative when it came to using their powers. It made sense but maybe the hero was baiting them into fake self-confidence.

Was this...some heartless trick? Some fake buttering up?

"Now, here is my real question," the hero said. They stood up and the villain nearly expected the hero to circle them and make fun of the villain. To humiliate them, to use this, if they truly found out about it. Using this longing the villain felt to completely destroy the villain. But instead, the hero stood in front of them. "Why on earth is the most powerful villain in the city kneeling in my office?"

Quickly, the villain stood up - they were a bit taller so they looked down at the hero - and cleared their throat. The hero smiled at them softly.

"Well, you asked me to."

"And you didn't hesitate." This was a game. Now, the hero wanted them to confess. The villain could feel the blush on their cheeks spread until it reached their ears.

The villain swallowed. They had never done this before. They had never even thought it would be possible for someone to love them back. It was already a bit twisted - doing all of this just to look at the hero once. And after all, this could still be a trick to humiliate them. Although the villain wouldn't be mad at the hero if this was the case, they didn't like the idea of other heroes seeing them like this.

Or even hearing about this.

They could forgive the hero if they told anyone. But they would be furious with others.

"Are you asking me to...?" tell you the truth? To confess?

"Yes, yes I am."

"I'm not ready for that, I think," the villain said and they found themselves a lot more pathetic than mere minutes ago when they'd been on their knees.

"Okay," the hero said. Their smile was still so sweet. They set their hands on the villain's shoulders and pushed themselves up to their tiptoes.

Then, they kissed the villain's cheek.

"I'll wait for you," they said. "But, darling, please don't do anything stupid again."

The villain stared at them, nodding as if they were a dog receiving new commands.

[neon-onyx]

the door was ajar.

this was a bad roof to be on. abandoned. dusty. a rotting satellite dish swayed precariously over the edge.

the hero sat with their back to the brick-laid railing of the fire exit. their split knuckles curled around the neck of a beer bottle as they took a swig. the skin on their cheekbone was cut. their eyebrow was split. there were bruises on their arms. the sight made the villain's chest pound, yes, but what really suffocated them was the look of defeat in the hero's eyes eyes. the resignation. the detachment. as dull as the corpse that was this abandoned building.

they thought they'd arrived unnoticed, but the hero's lips popped off the mouth of the bottle and they held it in their direction. of course the hero had noticed them. the villain would've noticed their presence, too, in any room; would've felt the air shift around the shape of their body, making space for something larger and more meaningful than anything the eye was made to see.

the villain walked over. stooped down with awkward, unsure limbs. no clue where to put their hands. they took the beer bottle. it was cold. they took a swig and tried not to think of the remnants of warmth from the hero's lips on the mouth of it. they'd have to wash their trousers. they'd heard word that detergent was of better quality across the sea.

if the villain listened close enough, they could hear the hero's breath come in and out. they watched their chest rise and fall. tried to match their breathing. the pounding of their heart got in the way.

they set the bottle down between them. the hero's fingers twitched for it, but they didn't immediately pick it up. they chewed on their split knuckles.

purely on instinct, the villain mumbled, "bad habit."

the hero merely acknowledged it with a noise. an uh-huh that was still stuck in their throat. if they noticed that the villain's voice was tender with care, they didn't say anything. still, their leg began to bounce. their breath came out in harsher, more audible inhales and exhales. their eyes seemed to be looking at some faraway thing.

"think about it." the hero's words were badly enunciated. "it's been a year. plus three of us not fuckin' mentioning it. four years of us. four years of—" the hero stopped short, words collapsing inward like an imploding building. they swallowed thickly, spit out bitten-off skin as an excuse.

for as long as they'd known each other (which wasn't that long at all, looking back—just from the moment they'd started existing up until this point), the hero had never quiet gotten that shaking under control. down went the words. up rushed the adrenaline. and the fear that tagged along with it.

their eyes were as big as marbles. as glassy as them, too. their jaw was locked shut, the muscle in it jumping. the villain ached to slot their palm against the curve of their neck. to feel the pulse there. to feel it calm down or quicken or do whatever, because the hero's pain was as much theirs as it was the villain's.

it was better to not voice that.

the hero closed their eyes, and out came the tears. they took in a steadying breath. "you're so fucking agonizing."

"i'm sorry."

the hero took a swig. wrung their bleeding fingers. "you could've pushed me away."

"I tried."

"you could've pushed harder."

"that would've been cruel."

"this is kinder?"

they couldn't meet the hero's eyes.

they'd always imagined it to be the other way around. the villain was cruel. sometimes inhumane. right in the cavity of their chest, past the bones and sinew, nauseatingly disgusting. they'd been human, once, but now they'd been rearranged into something worse.

the hero had been brighter. hopeful. loving. they had the capacity to love disgusting things, like this disgusting city and its disgusting citizens and its disgusting criminals. they'd been rearranged into something worse, too, by the villain's hand, far too slowly to catch onto it until it was too late.

sorry wouldn't fix it. leaving wouldn't fix it, either. but staying would be worse.

it would've been kinder to push them away. but the villain was selfish, had always been selfish, lit people up like matchsticks to feel their soft warmth for just a little bit.

the hero's cheeks were properly wet, now. flushed. their hair was unmade. their cape still carried stains from fights that had happened days ago. the soles of their boots were blackened and peeling. it would only get worse with the villain in the city.

"look at me."

the villain cast their gaze up.

the hero's eyes were glassy. their nose was red. the pulse in their neck jumped in time with the beat of their heart.

they should've pushed them away.

the villain slotted their palm against the curve of their neck. the hero sobbed once at their touch, then swallowed the rest of the pain down. they were better than the villain in that sense. they didn't crawl to affection the same way the villain did, like moths to streetlamps. they didn't ask, selfishly, if they were still loved, because they knew that it would hurt the other person. knew that it wasn't worth it.

the villain reached out with selfish fingers.

"do you still love me?"

the hero sobbed.

"miserably."

the villain got up, holding that admission close to their chest, and left.

even with an ocean between them, word of the hero's mental breakdown reached them like poison.

[neon-onyx]

Hero shows up at the gates of villain’s manor, all beat up and heavily injured, looking to seek help. Of course, they immediately get treated roughly & shoved away by the guards at the gate. But little do they know that just as villain was about to exit the gates to go somewhere, they witness the scene and immediately comes to the hero’s rescue. Then proceeds to shoot a death glare to their guards, promising to deal with them later after taking care of their hero :)

Before another plea could drop from their lips, the hero fell to their knees. Rain and blood soaked alike through the many layers of their uniform and the adrenaline was fading ever so slightly.

Somewhere in their exhausted mind, they decided to sleep right here in front of the door if they had to. Even if it meant they’d freeze to death. What else was there to do?

It must’ve looked funny how the hero had collapsed there and readied themselves to beg again. As if they were a worshipper who prayed to a god that would never answer.

The guards had no sympathy left for them and the hero couldn’t even blame them — they were the enemy after all, the big bad enemy. But the punches and the pushing around…that had robbed the hero of all the energy and hope they had had left.

“Please,” they tried again. Their voice was hoarse. Their throat burnt. “I can’t go home.”

One of the guards laughed and the hero lowered their head. It was easy to focus on the rain instead of the unkind words the other spoke. After a few other insults, the hero stopped listening and concentrated on their breathing. Keeping themselves alive was a priority right now. They didn’t need disgusting comments.

They needed bandages, they needed rubbing alcohol. They needed a bathroom and towels. They needed needles. Thread.

Maybe a hand to hold onto.

The hero closed their eyes for just a moment. They figured no one would see the tear running down their cheek when it rained cats and dogs like this.

When had they become this fragile? They couldn’t remember. But they knew the wound burnt into their shoulder and that the blood would seriously trouble them in a few minutes.

They were sure they’d pass out any second now.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

The hero gathered the strength to look up and to their surprise, they saw their nemesis, all dressed up. Confused, the hero looked around, only to find the two guards further away, talking quietly. They avoided to look into their direction.

The villain looked upset.

“You…”

The villain shook their head and tutted. They crouched and their fancy clothes got drenched in filthy puddle water. The hero wanted to protest but forming words was so, so difficult right now.

“You don’t look good,” the villain said. They cupped the hero’s face with one hand but the hero realised a little too late that it wasn’t an offer of affection. The villain was merely checking if they had a fever. In their voice was a hint of frustration. “I’m sorry about that.”

“…about?” The villain’s hands went over the hero’s body quickly and even though the hero understood they were searching for broken bones, they wanted the villain’s hand to stay on them a little longer.

“My guards...I’m sorry they treated you like that.”Now, the villain’s voice was calmer. A bit more controlled.

“Oh…” The hero tasted bile. For whatever reason, they felt bad that the villain was here, getting their clothes all dirty and punishing their guards.

No matter what they did, the hero felt like a burden. Even now when they truly needed help.

“What happened to your shoulder?” the villain asked.

“Are you gonna kill them?” the hero asked quietly.

“The people who did this to you? Probably.”

“I meant your guards,” the hero said. They stared at the two, suddenly feeling anxious. Maybe they shouldn’t have come here. Whatever they touched only decayed.

But the villain chuckled softly. The hero felt some sort of relief.

“No, of course not,” they said. Nevertheless, their gaze on the two wasn’t that friendly. “They’ll get a scolding, of course. But there’s no need for any harsh punishments.”

Their expression was soft now and the hero couldn’t help but feel the sweet comfort of their enemy’s hands on them. The pain in their shoulder was merciless and they were quite sure death was already kissing them. But it didn’t feel urgent.

“…your clothes,” the hero whispered. The expensive fabric was drenched in blood and rain. The hero felt guilty.

“I won’t go to the auction, don’t worry.”

“The auction?” the hero whispered but they started to feel quite lightheaded.

“Don’t worry about that. One more thing, though. You told my guards you can’t go home. Why’d you come here?” the villain asked. The hero didn’t realise it yet but the villain pulled them closer to pick them up.

“Ah, that’s kinda embarrassing—”

“I won’t judge you.” The villain’s lips brushed the hero’s ear now and the hero couldn’t help but shiver.

They grabbed the hero, ready to pick them up and the hero nearly mistook them for an angel.

“I kinda still live with my parents…I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Don’t worry.” The villain’s smile was warm. “Today you’ll stay with me.”

The hero knew there was no room for a debate.

[neon-onyx]

The Hero huffs as they're pinned mid fight once again. Villain opens their mouth to tease yet again, using Hero's given name as the sound of it rolls off their tongue so smoothly.

"I told you to stop saying my real name." Villain being able to find out their true name has been one of the biggest slip ups Hero has managed in their whole career. So far, though, Villain has only used the knowledge to be increasingly irritating.

"Why not? It sounds so nice," Their grip on Hero's wrists tightens above their head as they lean closer, "So pretty."

Their breath fans across Hero's cheek, a mischievous grin on their face, and they let the name fall from their lips yet again. Hero tries to ignore the rising heat in their chest at the sound of it, tries to ignore how delightfully soft it sounds coming from Villain.

Villain continues to pin them, not giving them an inch of leeway. "I can think of a few scenarios in which you might like me calling your name...maybe I could even get you to use mine." The innuendo is hard to miss and Hero feels themselves flushing hot even more.

"Stop with the dirty implications! Only you of all my enemies would use my true identity to be annoying instead of threatening." Hero tries to keep their voice firm, to keep the flustered tremble out of it.

Villain only chuckles and leans back, though their grip on Hero's arms stays strong. "Also, besides, your hero name is kind of stupid."

[neon-onyx]

Goofy and erratic villian with an exasperated and somewhat uptight hero who has a crush on the villain? Maybe the villain says something vaguely flirty on accident and the hero has to pretend they don’t like it (and fails miserably)

“Come on.” The villain grabbed the hero’s hands and pulled them towards the dance floor. Eyes glinting, excitement filled up the villain. “Fight me.”

Utterly unimpressed, the hero just rolled their eyes.

“No interest.”

“That’s not very diplomatic of you. Refusing the enemy’s suggestion to resolve our issues? Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a little bit of combat.” They pulled the hero close, grip tight around them as they led the hero through the song. “Or are you scared?”

“We’re calling combat ‘resolving issues’ now?” Their eyes went through the crowd, concentrating. Professional. Obviously, the hero didn’t have time for their nemesis but the villain didn’t care.

At this point, they took whatever fell into their hands. The hero was a master at hiding, at avoiding people and the villain was not going to let them slip through their fingers that easily.

“It’s like couples therapy for crazy people, don’t you think?” the villain asked. They tried to redirect the hero every time they spotted the supervillain among the many millionaires.

Admittedly, the villain had been on their hands and knees when they’d discovered that the hero was going to be here. They’d begged the supervillain to take them with them and thank god, the villain had been assigned to distract the hero.

It was their favourite activity.

“I can’t argue with that, I suppose.” The hero shrugged. “I am not interested in making a scene, though.”

“But it’s so much fun...” Again, the villain pulled them closer, staring through half-lidded eyes at that heroic face.

One time, the hero’s hard shell had cracked in front of the villain. Ever since, the villain tried to crack it again, not because they wanted to torment the hero but because they needed the hero to know that being imperfect and vulnerable was normal.

The hero forgot that they were human sometimes.

“You’re aware that I am going to crush you like a beetle, right?”

And the villain had seen other people lose their mind to that.

“Oh, I’d love that, baby,” the villain answered. The hero’s face remained emotionless.

“If you think that you can distract me with your cheap tricks, then you’re blithely unaware of the fact that I am the best in this business.”

The hero tried to get out of the villain’s grip but the villain knew the supervillain wasn’t done with their investigation yet. So, the villain had to get creative.

“I know you’re the best, that’s why I want to fight you again. Gives me a kick.” The villain brushed the hero’s ear with their lips. ���It feels good.”

“Ugh, you’re annoying.” The hero grabbed the villain’s jaw and turned their head away from them. The villain had to giggle at that.

However. The villain also caught a glimpse of their red ears.

The hero was embarrassed.

“Come on, grumpy…you love me.” They couldn’t help but smirk. Annoying the hero was a hobby the villain would never be able to let go of. Sometimes, they committed a crime just for the hero to show up.

“I’m wasting my time with you.”

Unfortunately, the villain spotted their superior. Giving them a sign to go back to the lair.

“You mean you’re having fun,” they mumbled.

The hero was quiet and looked (as usual) quite dissatisfied as they let the villain guide them. They didn’t seem to be passionate about dancing at all. They didn’t seem to loathe it, either.

“Let me invite you on a date, then. You. Me. Tomorrow. Bring your best weapon,” the villain said. They squeezed the hero’s hip, making the other’s eyes widen and somehow, the hero seemed much more human with their red face and their avoidant gaze.

Almost as if they did like the villain after all.

The villain could live with that, though.

[neon-onyx]

truth potion/serum 😌

“What’s that?” The hero murmurs uneasily under their breath, watching as the villain carefully inserts the needle into the soft flesh of their forearm, making them wince slightly. They watch it plunge into their vein, only daring to tug against the restraints once the needle is out of their skin.

The villain merely sends them a smile. “Nothing that’ll kill you.”

“Let me guess,” the hero growls. “A fate worse than death? Are you really trying this bullshit with me after all this time?”

“You don’t think our dynamic is a conventional one?”

The hero shuts their mouth, contemplating what the villain’s game was. If it was a sedative, it was a slow acting one, since they couldn’t feel any symptoms creeping up on them just yet. It was peculiar - they felt just fine.

“Let’s be honest,” the hero sniffs, and they don’t miss the way the villain almost laughs in amusement. They don’t know why that’s funny. “If our relationship was a conventional one, you would have killed me the moment you kidnapped me.”

The villain hums, their eyes roaming from their face languidly, kissing their teeth. The hero watches with a stubborn frown as they begin to circle around them, ever so slowly, and it makes them nervous.

They try not to shift.

“You’re right,” the villain sighs from behind them, and they want nothing more than to crane around to keep their eyes on them, but they can’t. Their heart races relentlessly in their chest, clenching their jaw. “Would you rather we adhere to the stereotypes?”

They roll their eyes. “If it means getting killed, then why would I?”

“You’re self righteous and selfless, aren’t you?” The villain teases. “Doesn’t that come with your job?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m eager to die. Dying means defeat, and I wouldn’t ever let you defeat me. You and I both know that.”

The villain stops beside them, a smile on their face that the hero doesn’t like. They send them a sharp glare for good measure, just because they can.

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

“No,” they confirmed. The villain stepped closer to them, their thumb gently brushing over a tender bruise on their temple. The finishing blow that had rendered them unconscious, making it easy for the villain to drag them here into their clutches. The hero forces back a wince, their eyes hard and determined. The villain loves that look.

“But you’re like that with others,” the villain comments, still stroking their temple. “Other villains, I mean. Especially Supervillain - the typical good versus bad. You know they’d kill you if they could. Stereotypes, after all.”

To hero resists the urge to lean keenly into that touch. “Because I know Supervillain is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Their eyes gleam mischievously. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

They shift. No dizziness yet, and their vision is completely clear, along with their mind. It’s not a sedative. What are they planning?

“No,” they respond after a moment, and the villain’s jaw ticks. It’s the only sign of irritation they’ve seen from them, but their tongue blurts more before they can stop themselves. “You’re dangerous in different ways.”

The irritation disappears, and the thumb slips down their cheek.

“Dangerous in different ways,” they muse, as if chewing the words that came out of their mouth. The hero’s heart is pounding against their ribcage, and they’re not quite sure why. The villain is incredibly close, feeling pinned down by their cold gaze alone.

“You’re easier to be around,” the hero speaks, trying not to stammer over their words. “I...” I hate you, don’t get me wrong. That’s what they want to say, but their throat closes up before they can. The villain’s thumb strokes the bottom of their jaw, and they shiver, as if encouraging them.

“Because I know you won’t kill me. When given the chance, you go easy on me.”

“You think I go easy on you?”

The hero gives them a disgruntled look. “You never torture me. Last time you kidnapped me, I slept in one of your guest rooms.”

“You were still a prisoner, or did you forget?” The villain scoffs. Of course they had been. The hero had spent all night trying to pick the lock, to smash the windows, but there was no point. They were a prisoner, but it never felt like they were in danger. Not in the same sense they felt when the supervillain almost incapacitated them. It was different.

“That’s not the point,” the hero snaps, unaware of their own rising irritation. They jerk their head away from the touch, feeling as though it was distracting them. The villain has this arrogant smirk on their lips, as if they know exactly what they’re doing. “If I ever kidnapped you, I wouldn’t stick you in a luxurious room. I wouldn’t let you sleep on a bed, I wouldn’t have you here and not torture you.”

The villain hums, their voice dropping low. “You like it when I treat you good?”

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

It takes a single, heart stopping beat for the hero to realise what they’d just said, their brows furrowing in confusion. They open their mouth to say something else, before their eyes flick down to the red pinprick from the needle in their skin. They release a shuddering breath.

“A truth serum,” they breathe. “That’s what you injected me with.”

The villain lets out a dark, amused chuckle. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

They lean back, creating a rift of air between them where the hero can still feel their warmth. It still feels hard to breathe, their wrists flexing under the restraints, and they grind their teeth hard together. This is dangerous. This was exactly what they were talking about.

“Are you tired, Hero?” The villain’s soft voice questions, enough to make the hero swallow uneasily. Their heart is racing now, so fast they feel like they’re going to throw up. They screw their eyes shut.

“Yes,” they say, feeling fingers under their jaw, tipping their head back. Their eyes open instinctively. The villain almost coos.

“And you love how easy it is with me,” the villain murmurs, admiring the embarrassed, shunted look in those cute eyes of theirs. “Love how I treat you.”

The hero’s fists clench. They desperately try to say no. “Yes.”

“And,” the villain purrs, their thumb brushing along their bottom lip with precious ease,” it’s dangerous because it’s so easy to shut your brain off. So dangerous to let your guard down around me. Easy to manipulate, as much as you wish that wasn’t true.”

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

“Do you think I’m manipulating you?” They ask, their voice a hushed whisper, like a soft lull in their brain. The hero squirms, but they still can’t look away, not even daring to swallow. The villain leans in closer, their lips so close to theirs, and their voice turns dark. “Do you think it’s working?”

Who knew the hero’s weakness was simple acts of kindness. The villain had never thought going so easy on them would make them putty in their hands. But it did.

The hero bites down on the inside of their cheek, straining not to answer. The villain’s fingers curl around a lock of their hair, tucking it behind their ear tenderly. Too tenderly - the hero loves it.

“Better not fight it,” they hum. “It’ll hurt.”

“Yes,” the hero finally gasps, the throbbing pain in their head easing. They almost feel out of breath, trembling under each of their cunning touches.

The villain’s eyes gleam, leaning forward to kiss them. The hero had been so adamant they could never defeat them, and it almost makes them crackle. Maybe never in the stereotypical sense, but they had proved this was not a stereotypical rivalry; what was true defeat if they didn’t conquer them, after all?

@badthingshappenbingo

[neon-onyx]

A question of morals

Villain had refused to discuss anything over the phone. It would be a long conversation, and they were on the run. So where could they go? Medic didn’t know either, but then they had an idea. The box of favors was still open in front of them. “I could ask Supervillain,” Medic suggested.

“You could ask Supervillain?”

“Well, they still owe me a favor. They should be able to keep you safe for a while at least.”

“Text me the time and the place and I will be there.”

They met in a small, private coffee shop. Villain looked rough. They had lost weight, dark circles under their eyes and they were checking their surroundings at every turn. Still they put on a charming smile as they greeted Medic.

“So, how have things been?” Villain asked.

“Like always. I assume you had it a bit rough?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” One look at Villain was enough to call out that lie, but Medic didn’t.

“So what happened?”

“First I have a few questions, and your answers will determine how much I tell you. Do the ends justify the means?”

“I don’t know? It depends, I think.”

“It was a yes or no question. Do the ends justify the means?” It would be easy to lie, to try and tell Villain whatever they wanted to hear, but that wasn’t Medics style. And anyway, Villain had the sort of heated stare that let Medic know that if they lied now Villain would never forgive them.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because… you never know. You might be wrong. You could have misunderstood something or simply not known, and then you would have hurt people for no reason at all. Doing the small, kind thing, even if it doesn’t help your goals, is still a good deed. You are still helping somebody. If you just go around doing anything to reach some goal, some you might not even ever reach, you could easily end up causing more harm.”

“That’s truly what you believe?”

“It’s.. it’s as close as I can get when answering a very complicated question on the spot. Give me an hour, a day, a year and you might get something totally different.”

“I might not have that long, so let’s work with what we have.” Villain certainly tried to sound casual, but the way they avoided Medics eyes was telling.

“Villain…”

“You wanted answers, didn’t you? When was the last time you went into the basement of the hero-center?”

“I don’t think I ever did. There’s nothing for me to do down there.”

“Maybe not any more, but when I visited…” Villains voice broke and Medic found themself reaching out. Villain flinched. Medics hand was hanging in the air. “You remember the night I came by, right? Just imagine that, just with you to patch anybody up. And then imagine it again, and again, and again, until you feel sick. If you feel sick you probably got it right. Imagine that, and imagine that in the very basement of your oh so great employer, and imagine seeing that, and barely escaping, and now being most wanted on every list because for the first time in your life you just wanted to fucking help.” By the end, Villain was crying.

“Villain…”

“That’s what you wanted to know. That’s what happened, that’s who- the very people you are working for are the ones that did this, and right under your nose.” There was a short break where Villain took a sip of their coffee. “I’m sorry,” they said more quietly. “You didn’t know, it’s not your fault.”

“I know now,” Medic said. “Have you told anybody else?”

“I tried, but turns out there are far more people willing to listen to them than to me. I… I was afraid you would be like them.”

“And still you told me.”

“I’m getting kind of sick of being alone. Anyway, who knows how long I will manage to stay alive for. Did you know that there is a betting pool now? They give me about a week before somebody manages to kill me.”

“No. No, I’m going to fix this, I-”

“What are you going to do? You’re just… no offense, Medic, but you are just you. You’re not even a hero.”

“You are right, I am not a hero.” Medic looked up to Supervillains Assistant, who was sitting a few tables away from them, keeping a lookout. “But I am owed a few favors.”

“That would have to be a lot of favors to do anything.”

“I can’t promise much, but… but I am not going to let you die.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that is your decision to make.”

“I guess we will find out. I should get going now.” Medic had already gotten up, when Villains voice echoed behind them.

“It was nice, seeing you one last time.”

“If you are still alive at the end of the week, would you want to meet again?”

“If I am still alive in one week I will marry you on the spot.” Medic turned around at that, and tried to copy Villains dashing smile.

“Carefull, I might take you up on that.”

[neon-onyx]

One Question

Tw: Implied abuse

“If you were a type of tea, which one would you be?”

Hero paused, foot still only halfway across the threshold of the dingy cell room. “…what?”

Villain adjusted the cuffs around their bruised, red wrists and grinned. “Well I think you seem like a chai sorta guy, you know? Relatively popular, but still somewhat of an outlier.” They leaned towards the bars that seperated them. “But I’d like your input.”

Trying their best to mask their confusion, hero closed the door behind them. “Look, Villain, I know it’s been rough down here, but I’m trying to convince Superhero to move you somewhere less… depressing. I just need you to try and stay sane in this cell a little while longer.”

“You never let me have any fun.” Villain muttered sarcastically, accompanied by a theatrical eye roll. Now that they were leaning into the light, Hero couldn’t help but notice the blood dripping from villains temple, the dark bruises all over their face and chest, the hastily applied bandages around their torso.

“I told those dicks to stop doing that!” They crouched down, abandoning all sense of professionalism they’d clung to moments before. “How bad?”

“Not too bad.” Villain smirked. “Worried about me, are we?”

Hero scowled. “I’m trying to help you!”

Villains expression turned cold. “You weren’t “trying to help me” when you threw me in this shithole.”

“That’s not fair. What was I supposed to do? We’re enemies!” They sighed. “I didn’t know it would be this bad or I wouldn’t have I swear. How can I prove it?”

Villain went quiet, eyes furrowed in thought. “Just answer me one question.”

Hero sighed in relief. “ Anything.”

A familiar smirk graced Villains face. “If you were a type of tea, which would you be?”

“You cannot be serious.” Hero groaned.

“As a heart attack.”

“Fine.” Hero thought for a moment. “I guess you were pretty accurate with the chai tea. Now let me see those wounds.”

[neon-onyx]

No. 40

////

Villain has the power of oaths. If someone makes him a promise and if he promises something in turn, a deal is made that neither can break.

////

“I’ve never sworn anything to you.” Hero swung his dagger in a wild arc. As soon as it’s path skimmed over Villain’s skin, the blade crackled, grinding into a suspended film of gold. The hilt shook in his hand.

Gold was the color of a promise. The barrier spit ichorous sparks, shivering as Hero twisted his dagger and pushed.

“Oh,” Villain murmured, eyes widening. The molten light swam in his gaze. “But it seems you have.”

Hero yanked his blade back from the barrier and fisted it at his side. Before he’d been dispatched for this mission, he’d been warned to keep his mouth shut. He heard many stories of Villain’s prior encounters: heroes being tricked to leave their homes, to never use their powers, to start running when was Villain was near.

None of his words had been binding. He couldn’t remember Villain offering anything to him either.

“You must’ve been very earnest too.” Villain reached out, brushing a knuckle across the barrier. It rippled before dissolving, drifting like dust into the dark. “Most stumble into my little arrangements, out of fear, out of anger. But I can feel this one. I can taste your conviction.”

Villain stepped forward. Hero flexed his hand around his dagger’s hilt. “You wanted this.”

“I want no part in your tricks.” Hero hissed. “I don’t know you.”

Villain tilted his head. The edge of his mask gleamed as he grinned. “You do know me.” Another step. “Perhaps, we’re well acquainted in the day.” He paused, gaze slipping, dripping like oil over Hero’s body, seeking recognition beneath harsh contours of his uniform. “Or in the night.”

“I don’t,” Hero sneered, “acquaint myself with criminals.”

Villain laughed, but his stare slithered still, licking along Hero’s throat and the knotted, churning edge of his jaw—the only places left bare by Hero’s uniform.

“I wonder what I promised you. I’m usually very good at keeping up with my deals.” He sauntered to the side, looking briefly over Hero’s back. “And I’d hate-” Villain took a breath to watch Hero’s spine uncurl and tense. The muscles in his shoulders rolled forward as he lifted them and spun his body toward Villain. “I’d hate to leave you unsatisfied.”

Hero swung, this time with an empty hand, and grabbed Villain by his forearm. Gold furled out from beneath his palm, but he found purchase. His fingers curled and bunched Villain’s silken sleeve as Villain tried to tug his arm back.

“I was really,” Villain pulled, pushing off his heel, “hoping that’d you’d sworn something convenient, like ‘never touching me again.’” His sleeve tore and Hero’s callused palm slipped, scraping down his wrist. Villain gaped at the tattered fabric.

Hero followed his hold up with a deft jab of his dagger. It stopped short beneath Villain’s chin, halted by a brilliant burst of light.

Villain squeezed his eyes closed and gasped, “warn a guy.”

By his wrist, Hero tugged Villain closer. Villain swallowed and planted his heel. The space between his throat and the dagger pulsed and shimmered, spraying sparks like welded metal.

“What promise did I make?” Hero demanded. His voice was firm, but roughed by strain and clenched teeth; his palm shook against Villain’s arm.

“I don’t know.” Villain lied. “I wish I knew.”

[neon-onyx]

The hero found comfort in knowing they were about to die. An excruciating pain filled their body, but it wasn’t so uncommon. The darkness creeping into the back of their mind was. For someone as powerful as them, so nearly invincible, they had never felt anything like it. Panic inducing but, somehow, comforting. That everything was to be replaced by nothing.

There was something terribly loud, creaking and stomping. The hero opened their eyes, expecting to be met by the person who had done this, back to finish them off.

The figure moved before them, face a smear of skin toned pigment and dark shadows. They advanced quickly, wrapping the hero up in their arms and lifting them off of the cold ground. The hero made a weak cry at the movement, trying to shift their focus from anything other than the agonizing pain. Holding on to life? Resigning to death? They decided on the warmth radiating from the strangers chest.

They were taken. The hero didn’t know where, just that now they could see a faint glow of yellow lighting behind their eyes lids. They were laid on another cold floor, yearning for the warmth they had moments ago.

They could barely hear a string of incoherent words. A hand rested on their cheek and the hero’s eyelids fluttered open. Everything was murky, swirling with dark splotches like they were looking up from the bottom of a lake.

“- going to hurt, but I need you to stay still. Okay?” The hero only caught the back half of the sentence, but they nodded anyways. The tone of this strangers voice left no room for argument.

There was the smell of alcohol, then a burning sensation that paled in comparison to when the knife plunged into them. Then, their savior held up a needle pinched between pliers. The hero had seen it before, in a hospital a couple months ago.

A hand pressed on their chest to keep them steady. They heard some sort of apology before the hooked metal cut through their skin. Burning, piercing, pulling at the already aching skin over and over and over.

The nylon thread was drawn tight, then released. The hero was sure they had broken teeth with how tightly they clenched their jaw.

“Okay. The hard part is over.” The voice was so terribly familiar now that the hero was mostly conscious. The plastic gloves were ripped off, and the figure turned to the sink. The running water pounded against the hero’s ears, like they were next to a waterfall.

The person turned back, and the hero was certain they were going to be sick. The wide eyes, always rimmed with black liner. The dark and unruly hair. Their nose, still crooked from the time that the hero had broken it.

The hero’s panic must’ve been clear on their face, because the villain held their hands up, still streaked with the blood. The hero could hear their heartbeat, even over the rushing faucet. Their breath came quick, uncontrollably shallow.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” The villains eyes glanced over the hero’s chest, mouth tightening in a grimace. “Not any more than I already have.”

The villain crouched down and pushed a hand against the hero’s shoulder. It was meant to be soothing, but the bruising covering their entire body wasn’t ideal for a comforting touch. They flinched away, trying to push up on their elbows before slipping against the tile.

“Hey, listen. I need you to calm down. Everything is going to be okay. Think about this logically-“ If course the villain would say that, with their calculated demeanor. The hero couldn’t think of anything. Their mind was turbulent, lost in panic. “-why would I save you if I wanted you dead?”

“I- I don’t understand.” Their mouth fumbled around the words, but the villain didn’t have time to explain. They turned to the sink and grabbed a wet rag.

“How do you think I feel right now? Finding my enemy bleeding out on my porch?” There was something mirthful tinging the villains voice. “I didn’t even know you knew my address.”

If the hero was confused before, now they were utterly perplexed. None of this made any sense. Especially not the villains gentle touch as they dabbed the blood from their burning skin. “I don’t.”

Their enemy’s eyes brows knitted together, as they scanned the hero’s face. Looking for some tell of a lie or maybe just expressing their disbelief. They shook their head, pushing the hem of the hero’s shirt higher to inspect the damage.

“Well, looks like you took quite a beating. Can you take a deep breath for me?” The villains cold hand rested over the bottom of the hero’s rib cage, sending a shock throughout their chest. They took a sharp inhale from the pain alone.

“Probably a few broken ribs but no sign of a punctured lung. Judging by the fact that you haven’t vomited blood yet, I’d say we’re looking pretty good.” The villains voice remained monotone, as it usually was, but the hero couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I definitely feel pretty good.” The hero almost laughed, but a sharp pain in their side stopped them short.

“You know what they say. It could always be worse.” The villain rested their hand against the hero’s cheek. They carefully wiped the blood from their face. The hero couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to think about it, but there was something calming about the touch. They let their eyes close again, this time without the notion of death.

“Stay awake for me. I don’t want to deal with a dead hero in my house.” The villain tapped their face until the hero’s eyes opened.

“Wouldn’t it make you more infamous. A hero killer. They aren’t too many of those these days.”

“Is that what you think of me? A ruthless killer?” A smile played on their lips. They moved their focus to the hero’s chest, somehow using an even softer hand on the bruised and broken skin.

“You have the disposition for it.” Cold, calculating, seemingly emotionless. Most other criminals had a taste for being eccentric and the ones who didn’t usually had a body count.

“You know, I used to be a doctor. I used to save people for a living.” They met the hero’s gaze, with a lightness forced into their tone, “We weren’t so different, you and I.”

“How does a doctor become a villain?” The hero asked, almost teasing. The villain stood and rinsed the rag in clean water once again.

“A series of bad decisions. A taste for revenge. Working in a field where helping people is second to monetary gain,” The villain stilled, staring at the red tinted rag in their hands, “it can drive you crazy.”

Neither moved. Only the sound of running water and the hero’s ragged breath filled the air of the small, once pristine bathroom. Everything felt too vulnerable, too cataclysmic. There was no returning to being enemies, to fighting and light-hearted banter.

Not when they had both become far too human.

“Thank you,” The hero said, but it came out as an apology. The villain shrugged, returning to their spot next to the hero.

“You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” Its was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.” When their eyes met again, there was no malice, no pain, no fear. Just a strange sensation of fondness for the enemy.

[neon-onyx]

HELLO ALL.

I am much too lazy tired to go find all the willing people so I am posting on here like I did on the group chat. My friends, if anyone is willing to write some hero whumpee and villain caretaker PLEASE TAG ME. I WILL READ. I WILL SUPPORT. I WILL LOVE. JUST PLEASE SOMEBODY, MANY PEOPLE, PLEASE IF YOU HAVE THE TIME AND ENERGY PLEASE WRITE ME SOME.

And if you can’t write any but you have suggestions pls send as well-