#Villain and hero

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

Could you write something about a villain finding out their long lost supposed dead brother is his nemesis (the hero)

Dunno, i just love how your write personal drama between rivals and reveals

"Stop," the villain hissed, "talking like you know me."

"I know you're better than this. I know you want more than this-"

The villain advanced, cutting the words off with swift lethal slashes of his blade. It forced the hero to parry, armoured arm bands clanging as he blocked blow after blow in turn, forced to retreat.

Pathetic. Weak. Unwilling to fight properly. To make the kill. It would be the downfall of the hero - the villain would make sure of it! Fury coursed through his veins.

"I know I let you down-"

"-You?" The villain laughed, scornful. In an instant, he had his blade at the tender vulnerabilities of the hero's stupid throat. "You're-"

"-I know," the hero said through ragged pants for air, "that you want to fly away!"

The villain froze.

"Excuse me?"

There was only one person he had ever confessed as much to, and that person was long gone.

"Dale."

His name was soft, a little broken, on the hero's lips. As if the villain had already plunged the dagger through into the hero's windpipe and left them gasping, wheezing, choking on a fatal wound.

"God, Dale," the hero said. "I'm so sorry."

The villain's eyes widened.

The hero grabbed his blade arm, twisting and forcing him expertly to drop the weapon, seizing the other wrist for good measure. They tousled and the movements - the struggling closeness, the precise way that the hero knew to pin him - no. No. He was slammed up against the wall, the other blade clattering to the floor.

"I know," the hero said, against his ear. "That you're better than this. Better than - better than your family. At least you can be. If you want to be. Do you still want to be? Or am I too late?"

The villain wanted to turn, abruptly, as the familiarity of the voice settled over him. It was deeper, rougher, than it had been when they were kids. It was unmistakable, though, once the realisation sank in. His body stiffened.

"Don't you fucking come at me with a dead man's voice."

"Do you still want to be? I don't have long. Dale, please-"

The villain bashed his head back. He was taller than he had been when they were boys, and the back of his head collided with the armoured mask covering the top half of his brother's face.

The hero groaned. His grip loosened just enough for the villain to follow up with an elbow to the ribs, seeking out any weakness the hero was foolish enough to grant.

He snatched up a knife and - damn it. It once again hovered just at the hero's neck. Trembling. The hero grabbed him by the hip and hurling him down. The knife went clattering again. They rolled, reduced to something less like seasoned fighters and more scrapping like children.

"Dale, for god's sake-"

"-Don't for god's sake me," the villain snapped. "You ghost. You - you bloody traitor!"

"We don't have time!"

"YOU LEFT ME! MAKE TIME!"

The hero went quiet, went slack beneath the next roll, letting Dale shove him down against the icy concrete floor. Up close, Dale drank in more of the obvious so damn obvious signs. The hero's eyes. The line of his jaw, less-baby faced, but...

"Henry."

He didn't allow his voice to break. Or maybe there was nothing in him left to break. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

The hero swallowed. "Come with me. I don't - I won't - leave you again. Not here. Not with them."

The villain considered that, chest aching. The hero was being sincere, that much was clear. Ten odd years ago he would have followed anywhere his brother asked. Ten odd years ago he wouldn't have recognised the man - the weapon, the warrior, the oncoming war - that he had become.

"We need to go now," the hero said. "I know a way out, but-"

"-I'm not going anywhere."

He'd never seen the body, it was true. His father had always said it was too ravaged, too terrible a sight. That he should remember his brother as he was. Their most vicious, their best, everything that Dale should aspire to be.

"Dale-"

He drew another of his many blades, and that time he struck. The knife buried deep into his brother's shoulder. Not a kill shot. Enough to really, really hurt though.

His brother bit back the scream, for what that was worth, so maybe they were still blood. Maybe father's training still held.

"-You left me with them, and I made them mine." He leaned in, teeth bared. "So, yes. You're too late. I suppose Dale can rest in peace with his brother's body, can't he?"

He pulled back, leaving the knife in, as he straightened. He stood over his brother's body, feeling like he'd run a triple marathon. He wiped the blood away from his cheek, hoping his eyes were cool but knowing they were not.

The hero leveraged himself up, slow and wary, clamping pressure down on the wound.

Distantly, Dale could hear footsteps. His honour guard. His bloodhounds. The dark throne he had clawed himself a survival out of.

"I never meant to leave you behind," the hero said. "Father he - I can still help you. Let me help you."

The villain scoffed. It seemed he did still have something in him that could break after all.

"Fly away, Henry. You stay any longer and you won't have wings either."

His brother stared at him.

The footsteps grew louder.

The villain raised an eyebrow, drawing another blade, twirling it swift and savage between his fingers.

"I'll be back," the hero said. "Now that I - I'll be back. I promise."

Then, the villain watched him run.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Control Freak sits on the ground while watching a movie on his phone as the other villains attack the titans. Nightwing walks over and stands over him.

Control Freak: Hey, man.

Nightwing: Hi. You… You’re going to jump in?

Control Freak: Huh? Nah. I have to finish the movie.

Nightwing: What are you watching?

Control Freak: Mitchell's vs the Machines.

Nightwing: What's that about?

Control Freak: Road trip movie where the family fights evil electronics. Want to join me?

Nightwing: I'm supposed to be fighting them and you.

Control Freak: They got it, dude. These guys needed me for hacking, but I got bored with that. I think you'd like the main cast.

Nightwing taps his chin unsure.

Control Freak pulls out two jumbo chocolate bars.

Control Freak: I got Mars bars to share.

Nightwing looks around.

Nightwing: Why not.

Nightwing sits next to Control Freak as everyone stops fighting.

Raven: Dude!

Nightwing (lying): You guys got this, I pulled a hamstring.

Control Freak (lying while watching the movie): And I'm having a stroke.

Raven (sarcastically): Hey let's be like that, pause the freaking bank robbery that we were trying to stop and we all watch a movie and eat popcorn!

Starfire (feigning ignorance): I mean... Is that an option?

Raven: Starfire, don't act dumb, that's not you.

Starfire (smitten with her man): Okay, yes, but look at him over there. He's so cute.

Control Freak (mid-chews from his chocolate bar): I'm cute.

Nightwing: She was- Nevermind.

Jinx: Dork on your team too?

Raven: Pretty much.

Jinx: Let's continue the fight without the goobers. We're going to win either way.

Beast Boy: In your dreams!

Cyborg: Nightwing, we got this!

Nightwing gives up a thumbs up as he and Control Freak watch the movie. The fighting resume, CF and Nightwing watch the movie and eat chocolate while the Titans defeat the villain team.

[bitter-space]

Power of books

The heroine worked in a bookstore in the city center while she wasn't saving the world. Villain was a regular customer, but every time he came into the library, he pretended to look for books that don't exist just to have an excuse to talk to her.

-----

Villain flipping through a random book looked at the beautiful heroine: "Excuse me, do you have the manual on how to conquer the girl of your dreams... discreetly?"

The heroine looked at him and laughed. "Sorry, it's out of print. But I can recommend a book on how to stop making excuses to talk to the bookseller."

Villain (smiling): "Interesting... I'll only read it if there's an appointment with the author at the end.". (He said with a wink)

The heroine looked at the awkward boy and smiled in love

[epiclamer]

METAL IN WHUMP >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The metal cuffs clamped around whumpee’s wrists—

The iron bit in whumpee’s mouth—

The steel bars of a cage keeping whumpee encaged, forced to get used to their new home—

The sound of a metal collar locking in place around whumpee’s neck—

The scream whumpee makes when a metal bat hits their ribcage at full swing—

The loose chains dragging behind whumpee as they walk—

The metal tracking chip that leaves a nasty scar on whumpee’s skin—

The cold iron tip of a whip ripping whumpee’s skin—

The gentle caress of the tip of a knife before it’s pushed into whumpee’s chest or held against their throat—

The horrible feeling of a barrel of a gun being held against the back of whumpee’s head, freezing them in place—

The agonizing heat of a branding iron marking whumpee once again—

The metal coils that spring from a taser with blinding white electricity pumping through them before they hit whumpee’s skin—

BUT ALSO, METAL IN CARETAKING >>>>>>>>>>>

The way whumpee panics when the needle for the IV comes into view—

The groans of pain whumpee lets out as someone else stitches up their wounds—

The clicking and clanking of surgical tools being lifted up and then put back down against a tray—

The feeling of a metal exam table against whumpee’s back—

The pain of the staples used for a quick stitch in the field—

The refreshing first sip of water after rescue from a metal bottle—

The keys to whumpee’s cuffs jingling as they’re finally unlocked—

JUST METAL IN WHUMP >>>>>>>>>

[avvail]

a villain that can hypnotise people through touch

The hero feels themselves tripping over their own two feet as the imposing figure advances on them, until their back hits the wall with a solid thud. They attempt to keep their breathing under control, but it’s a difficult game.

“Where are you going?” The villain asks simply, as if they don’t already know the answer to the question. The hero grits their teeth, baring them viciously.

“Stay back,” they hiss. “I mean it.”

“Or else what?” The villain chuckles humourlessly, their cold eyes not leaving theirs for even a moment. “You know you can’t win this fight.”

“No,” they shakily whisper, their eyes desperately searching for a way to escape. They are not ignorant to the power that the villain possesses. The power that had kept them trapped in their clutches for far too long. “Give me a ten foot pole and I’ll find a way to keep you away from me.”

The villain raises a brow. “You don’t have one of those, doll.”

“Yeah?” They spit. “Wanna bet?”

The villain takes a measured step forward, and the hero’s narrowed eyes suddenly widen, pressing themselves closer against the wall until they’re impossibly flat.

“No, please,” they breathe, their face wrinkling in fear. “The people need me, Villain. Please, let me go back out there.”

The villain laughs coldly, like that’s funny.

“You should see yourself when you cling to me,” they respond coolly, their eyes flashing with something dangerous. “It’s cute. You make these little doe eyes that drive me crazy.”

“That’s not me,” they choke, their hands pressing into their chest. “These gaps in my memory, not knowing how much time has passed, what you’ve made me do – it’s torture.”

“It’s far from torture, doll,” the villain frowns, taking another step forward. The hero’s heart hammers in their chest, lodging in their lungs and making it difficult to breathe. “You don’t see how much you’re spoiled.”

The hero chokes on a hitched breath. “You get off on this sick power play. You take away people’s free will, make them into—”

“—nothing?” The villain interrupts sharply. Their expression darkens. “You’d never understand what it’s like from my perspective. You’re thinking too hard, yet so little. Why don’t you come here?”

The hero instantly shakes their head. “No. Stay away from me.”

“Then I come to you.”

“Stay away.”

The hero makes a desperate lunge in an attempt to escape, but the villain’s hand seizes their wrist instantly, and they gasp. Tingles reverberate through their skin, and they desperately try to yank away. Their grasp is unrelenting, and with each second that ticks by, the tingles grow stronger, spreading through their body like wildfire.

“Stop,” they gasp, their knees weak when they’re tugged closer. “Please, please stop.”

“Shh,” the villain hums, a warm hand cupping their cheek, making the hero’s throat close up. Their mind goes haywire. But when the villain speaks, when their skin touches theirs, their thoughts begin to die out.

“That’s it, doll,” they purr, brushing a thumb under their eye when a stray tear leaked down their cheek. “Just like that.”

It’s always beautiful when the thoughts leave their eyes, when their weakening struggles die down, and they go slack and pliant in their arms. The villain’s eyes crinkle with a smile, admiring the dazed expression on their face. It takes moments until all the fight is drained out of them.

“There you go,” the villain hums, and their touch makes the hero go all fuzzy and lightheaded. “Let’s go back, shall we?”

The hero obediently follows them along.

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #65

“You can’t be serious right? You want to fight me just because I took down your favorite bakery shop?!” The villain exclaimed in disbelief, their jaw wide open.

The hero didn’t falter, frowning with their eyebrows and lips. “It had the best banana bread! You can’t just do that and not expect me to come find your ass!” The hero said, defensively.

The villain couldn’t help but find it cute, as they let out a laugh. “How about I promise to buy you the best bakery shop in the world?”

The hero took a step forward. “It doesn’t matter. I want the one that you destroyed.”

“I didn’t know.” The villain sighed, feeling like a helpless parent that had thrown an old toy of their child away, and now the child wanted it back.

The hero jabbed their finger to the villain’s chest, squinting their eyes. “You pay the owner to build it back, and I won’t fight you.” They demanded, staring daggers into the villain’s eyes.

“Fine.” The villain mumbled, after thinking for a second.

“Fine?” The hero questioned, not being able to believe the villain’s words.

The villain nodded. “Yes, fine.”

“You promise?” The hero asked, smiling slightly, as their hand smoothed over the villain’s chest.

“Yes, I promise, hero.” The villain smiled reluctantly as well.

And they indeed did help the owner rebuild the shop, an even bigger one just to see that gleaming smile on the hero’s face when they suggested it.

Oh, and they also had many dates in the shop.

[ownlittleuniverse]

scenario #1 - the hero’s lover

—

“Love, why don’t you come to bed?”

The hero had been up for hours, way into the night racking their brain and trying desperately to find the villains identity. Their lover was becoming a bit worried with this obsession taking over their sleep.

“No, not until I figure out who the hell they are,” they snapped, their voice breaking.

Their lover could only sigh at their hero’s determination. It was their best trait and worst flaw.

“It’s not worth your health, my love,” their lover soothed.

Their lover walked over to the hero slumped over their desk, their whole body exuding exhaustion. They crouched down and took the hero’s face between their hands, caressing their cheeks. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their lover didn’t know if it was from their lack of sleep or from their tears. Their hero looked so tired.

“The villain is still out there, you’ll find them, okay?”

The hero only nodded, sniffing a bit. They wrapped their arms around their lovers neck. Their lover chuckled into their hero’s neck.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

Their lover carried their exhausted hero with care, keeping them close to their body and listening to the hero’s even breathing. They were already out.

Their lover walked them over and placed them gently in their bed, kissing them on the forehead and wrapping them up in warm wool blankets. They climbed into the covers as the hero subconsciously pulled their lover close.

“Goodnight, love you,” the hero murmured into their lover's skin.

“Love you.”

They turned off the bedside light, pulled the blanket over both their bodies, wrapping their own over their dear hero’s exhausted one. The hero clung to them, and the villain could only smile into their hair.

They couldn’t help but admire their hero’s determination, and chuckle at their clear obliviousness. If they simply looked past the obvious, they would see that the person they cling to every night was the one they were after.

[villain-enthusiast]

The hero coughed blood.

Fucking shit, they thought frantically, hand pressed over the gaping wound in their side. Their new opponent packed a serious punch, more than what the agency had expected when they sent the hero out to stop them. Somehow they’d escaped, but not without the nasty stab to their stomach.

Class two villain my ass. The hero grunted as they stumbled into an alleyway, nearly slamming their shoulder into one of the brick walls. They slipped into damp corner and sat down gingerly, their breathing shallow. Cold sweat broke out on their forehead.

They shook the sputtering communication device on their wrist. Busted. The hero suddenly realized with disturbing clarity that they would die here if they didn’t get help soon, bleeding their guts out on the floor.

Blinding pain shot through their torso, and they closed their eyes, muscles clenching. They couldn’t stand up, not without passing out. And with their internal bleeding, pressure to the wound would be largely ineffective.

They were so totally fucked.

“Hero?”

The hero’s lids snapped open. The cloaked figure before them dipped and swayed, but they forced themselves to concentrate. No, that wasn’t their assaulter, that was—

“Villain,” they rasped.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” The villain’s tone was mocking, but could the hero hear a hint of concern?

The hero attempted a sloppy smirk as they approached. “Oh, y’know, just decided to get stabbed and die today. Regular hero shenanigans.” Shit, their words were slurring.

The villain didn’t respond, crouching down in front of them. Their fingers brushed over the throbbing cut on their cheek, ghosted over the bruise on their jaw—it was funny, the hero noted, how the villain's first instinct was to check their face—before trailing down to the still-bleeding wound at their side. Their hand paused.

The silence was so thick that the hero could hear their wavering heartbeat in their ears.

“Who did this to you.” The villain’s words were quiet. Deadly.

The hero choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Like you care,” they wheezed, but even they could hear the doubt in their own voice. When the villain continued to wait for an answer, they added, "One of your lackeys.” Their eyes fluttered as a wave of fatigue overwhelmed them.

The villain snapped their fingers. "Hey, stay with me." They gently removed the hero's limp hand from their side, examining the gash. They swore under their breath.

"That bad, huh," the hero huffed.

“This looks like [other villain]’s work,” the villain muttered. “Destroying your comms, letting you escape with a fatal wound, making you think you’ve gotten away when really,” their eyes slid up to meet the hero’s detached stare, “you’re on the brink of death.”

“How kind of them.”

The villain shook their head. “Why were you even fighting them? They’re superhero’s responsibility. You’re supposed to be going after me.” They paused, gaze darkening. “And only me.”

The hero shrugged minutely. “Agency assignment.” Their muscles clenched as white hot pain rattled through them again, leaving them weaker than ever. “Can you just kill me already? That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” They titled their head back against the wall and closed their eyes, feeling their body grow more distant by the second. “Just fucking do it.”

They heard the villain move, and they waited for the knife against their throat or the gun at their temple, but instead, gloved hands slid under their back and legs, lifting them up.

What? The hero shifted weakly, but the villain shushed them and bundled them closer to their chest.

“No questions. I’ve got you,” the villain murmured, holding them tightly as they sprinted down the alley, making sure they didn’t jostle their injury. “You can sleep now. I’ve got you.”

And the hero, somehow feeling safe in their enemy’s arms and too tired to wonder why they were being saved, succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness not a second later.

.

part two

[run-little-hero]

“What surprise awaits me today?” Hero leans against the bars of Villain’s cell, smiling. It’s their daily ritual, something Villain hates to admit they always look forward to. Hero is kind to them.

“You have such high expectations of me. You guilt me delivering them.”

“And you never disappoint.” Hero drops their head to meet Villain’s eyes from outside the cell. Villain smirks like they’re sharing a secret.

They hate that this is the happiest they’ve ever been—behind bars, swooning at the attention of the hero who put them there.

Villain retreats to a small desk in the corner of their cell. It’s littered with graphite drawings, a privilege granted for ‘good behavior.’ Villain scoffs at the irony, but decides not to challenge it.

They return to the bars, slipping a choice drawing through. Their fingers brush against Hero’s as the drawing is passed along. It’s calculated, Villain knows it. Just like the visits—a prescription to keep them from going off the rails and trying to escape. Villain swallows the medicine.

“Beautiful. As always.” It’s a landscape. A recreation of something they sketched years earlier. Hero seems pleased.

Emboldened by their reaction, Villain tests, “When do I get a surprise from you?”

Hero is nothing if not generous. They play along. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”

“Give me a hint?” Villain sets a hand on the bar, They shift their weight so the motion is hidden from a security camera in the corner.

Hero isn’t phased by the gesture. “What would you want from me anyways?”

“Hm…” Villain trails. “Something genuine. Something beautiful. That’s what my art is to you, isn’t it? You should return the favor one of these days.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, Hero’s hand finds Villain’s against the metal cell before they leave. Villain knows their routine by heart. They know Hero will never return their affections unless they need information or expertise out of them. But they’re content to play along, bask in a bit of that attention.

Villain believes Hero is kind. But at night, Villain does everything to squash the fractional piece of their heart that believes Hero cares for them.

Hero appears outside Villain’s cell late one afternoon.

“Where’ve you been?” Villain asks, approaching the bars. “It’s nearly dark. I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” They keep their voice light, agreeable.

“I’d never. I just needed to prepare something.”

Villain crosses their arms. “And do I get to know what that is?”

Hero is beaming. “Of course. I tell you all my secrets.” Liar. “Come here.”

Villain indulges them and steps forward. Before they know it, Hero grips their arms and pulls them close. They embrace through the bars of the cell. Villain’s stomach plunges and their eyes dart towards the security camera.

“What are you—“

“I’m looping the footage. We should have about five minutes before it goes back to normal.”

Villain focuses on Hero. “Are you crazy? What the fuck are you—“

“You wanted a surprise,” Hero interrupts. They grip Villain’s side, steadying them. “How’s this for one?”

Hero’s lips crash against Villain’s before they can comprehend the fingers lacing through their hair. They can’t believe this is happening. They give into the desire they’ve been fighting since their first battle with Hero.

They part slowly. Villain keeps their gaze low. “Why did you do that?” They mutter.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while.”

Rationally, Villain knows it’s not the best idea to trust a hero. “We’re enemies. You put me in prison.”

Hero grins. “But, you have to admit. Now we get to see each other more often!”

Despite everything, Villain can’t deny the gesture. “You’re insane.”

“You know, we still have four minutes. Care to do it again?” With a nod from Villain, Hero takes the lead and connects their lips again.

Villain supposes they can figure out what this means for their relationship tomorrow.

—

snippet #12

[rookthebird]

thinking about redeemed villains who can't cope with how much suffering they caused in their past.

redeemed villains who only allow themselves the bare minimum for survival- plain gruel, a blanket when they sleep on the floor, tattered old clothes- because they don't feel like they deserve anything nicer.

redeemed villains who lie awake at night with every horrible thing they've ever done running through their mind.

redeemed villains who take dangerous risks on behalf of the heroes because they don't feel like they deserve to live.

[late-night-tourist-attraction]

# 47

The feeling was odd, maybe even wrong when hero met eyes with villain.

For two months the villain had completely disapered from the world after their last fight with supervillain, and for once the hero had actually thought supervillain had done it.

The Hero thought supervillain had actually killed villain. however now they knew they were wrong.

How could villain be dead if hero could see villain just standing their from across the street?

The Hero knew something was off when they just saw villain standing their out in the open in their villain attire.

The hero looked around at all the people who were walking by, not a single person was saying a thing not even batting an eye as they walked past the villain.

The villain just stood there like they didn't have a care in the world, it was as if nothing around them matter anymore.

The villain didn't react, not even the slightest bit when they met eyes with hero.

To the hero they saw something aching to hopelessness in villains eyes.

No words, No smile, Nothing. In other words the villain was like a blank slate wiped clean. However the fact still remained, villain was here.

The Hero swallowed as a bitter and sour taste started to linger in the back of their mouth when they spoke.

"What happened to you villain?" The hero had asked.

The way villain flinched when hero had called out to them was as if villain was surprised to hear their own name.

Quickly the villain wasted no time crossing the gap between the hero and themself.

Grasping for straws the villain frantically asked the hero a single question.

"C-can you see me?" The villain had asked with wide eyes.

It was only when a civilian walked through villain did the hero finally realize they were talking to a ghost.

[the-modern-typewriter]

So, Scary Villain (you are absolutely amazing at writing those btw chefs kiss) but vs someone who is Into That (hero or civilian) and so this scary big bad who thought they were being intimidating and downright terrifying (which they were... for a normal person) is just like ":D?!?"

I just love the slight inherit goofiness of an intimidation/scare tactic producing a VERY different result than intended towards the receiver.

(Hope you have a lovely day/night btw)

"Are you enjoying this?"

The villain stood with one hand outstretched as their telekinetic abilities wound around the hero's limbs and splayed them against the wall like a specimen beneath a microscope.

"Enjoying is...a word," the hero replied. "They said you'd be able to see me, or sense me or whatever, but man. I was sure that was bullshit."

Invisibility was a useful gift in many a situation. It didn't matter how strong or fast their opponent was when they could never see the hero coming. It didn't matter how many enemies there were when the hero could sneak past them with minimal effort and the right pair of shoes.

They'd been doing their usual, sneaking past the villain too, when the villain's hand lashed out. They hadn't bothered to even look up. The hero had gone flying as surely as if they were wearing a neon sign that screamed 'here I am!' at regular intervals.

"You might as well show yourself," the villain had drawled. "Unless you'd prefer I make an abstract painting of your organs against the ceiling."

The hero had let their invisibility drop, heart pounding.

The villain had rose, slow and predatory, to their feet. The hero hadn't been able to take their eyes off them.

The villain's head tilted at the hero's words. They took several steps closer, and all the hero could do was twitch their fingers uselessly against the wall. There was no hiding. No slipping away. The hero's breath hitched as the villain stopped less than a metre away, close enough to touch, though they didn't. Their gaze raked over the hero like a physical thing, leaving no detail spared.

"Because I can see you?" the villain asked. "Even when you don't want to be seen? Must be a novelty for someone like you."

"Because that thing you just did hurling me against a wall was bloody hot."

The villain blinked. Startled. Their eyes turned dark and molten. Their head tilted the other way.

The hero swallowed.

"But, I mean, we can call it being seen," the hero said. "Probably more professional."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Duh."

"But you are not frightened?"

"I have a peculiar reaction to danger."

"Indeed." The villain curled their finger and the pressure at the hero's throat tightened and left them choking. The villain watched it all. They might have seemed dispassionate, except...

"Enjoying yourself?" the hero rasped.

"You're a delightful surprise. Stupid, but delightful. New?"

"It's one of my many charms."

"The other being how pretty you'd look writhing and bloody with tears in your eyes? What are you doing in my lab?"

"Spelunking."

"Excellent hobby for a budding danger addict."

"I know, right?!"

The villain snorted. They loosened their telekinetic grip on the hero's throat, before they could get too dizzy. "What are you doing in my lab?"

"I was curious about you."

"Have I satisfied your morbid curiosity?"

"Morbid?" The hero wet their dry lips, but held the villain's gaze. "You haven't killed me yet. Wouldn't be as fun without the screaming and sobbing, would it?"

"There's still time." The villain paused, clocking the hero's reaction to that. "Oh, you weren't kidding. You really are a little freak, aren't you?"

"It's all in the line delivery. Do you practice?"

"No. Would you like me to practice on you?"

"I mean, I should point out I don't actually have a death wish."

"You broke into my lab."

"And for all you know I could have a cunning escape planned!"

The villain flicked their hand and the hero dropped down off the wall with a thump, landing on their knees, hands twisted behind their back. Chin tilted up by an unseen force.

"Then escape," the villain said. "Or I'll assume you want to stay like this for me."

"Most people buy me dinner first."

"We're not most people."

The hero considered them a moment, before they switched their invisibility on and then some again. Focusing. Phasing from the villain's grip.

The villain's eyes grew impossibly darker.

The hero straightened, giving a little bow.

A smirk curled the villain's lips. "I know how to keep people alive when I want to. I think I want to right now."

"Dinner? Tonight?"

"You can break in at seven."

It was the start of a beautiful new...not friendship. But they both enjoyed themselves very much.

[automeris-io-moth]

Reunion

That morning Hero felt particularly tired. 

Perhaps Villain had noticed early when greeting them at breakfast, such was the reason the servants were fetched to help them shower, help them dress and eat, fed by hand as if not humiliated enough by then, trapped by the fact they were indeed unable to lift the cutlery. 

Perhaps it had been Villain’s doing. Perhaps it had been the tea, perhaps it had been something else. 

Later, Hero was taken to the main hall of the former gubernatorial palace right in the heart of the city, where a wood and gold throne laid. Hero had once, long ago, made a joke about Villain compensating for something with such a cartoonish display of power, but then they had no energy to obnoxiously repeat it, as they did every time they entered the place. Mockery was one of the few things Hero had left after all. 

Yet, that day they could barely keep their head upright, a foggy sense of nausea crepting up their throat, a heavy weight pushing them down from the top of their head kept them glued to Villain that morning, head laying on the other's shoulder as Hero laid across their lap, their enemy's hands stroked up and down their arms and back, warming them from the coldness of the room. 

"Let them in," Villain's voice boomed across the hall, the echo remaining a second longer. 

The old wooden doors creaked open, uneven steps entering the room, as if being rushed, and Hero hid their head from the sharp noise. 

"What do you think I should do, love?” Villain asked the Hero this time, pressing their lips against their hair  “Four intruders wandering around, trying to enter our home to steal god knows what.” 

And Hero tried, tried to twist their head to look at the people standing before them, distinguishing them on their knees, half aware of the number mentioned, half aware of their factions, of what they wore. 

Half aware that they knew them. 

“I told you, Leader,” one said, a whisper too sharp to fulfil its purpose of being discreet “they sold us out.” 

“Shut up, Teammate, what about that?” The called answered, face straightening and, for a moment, Hero could swear they made eye contact “What are you looking to prove with this display, Villain?” 

Villain huffed a laugh, turning Hero’s head back to them  “Come on Leader, do you really think I put this show just for you?” 

They had, Hero thought, Villain usually preferred if they weren’t seen. Just for their eyes, they had once said, when they were, as that day, too out of their mind to talk back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“I would never hurt them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they answered, hands pulling them ever so close to their chest, curling if only lightly to embrace them “I’m not like you.” 

“We never…” 

“Yes you have,” they answered “I’ve seen every scar in their body, and I’m responsible for only one. Don’t lie to my face please.” 

“They knew what they were doing! It was for the greater good,” Teammate answered this time, sweat dripping from their forehead to the blood, taking the dirt with it. 

“Such a funny concept is the greater good. I can assure you it holds no meaning to me, there is nothing greater than keeping what's mine close and unblemished, and you have scarred it, sadly.”

With a hand on their hip, and the other on their neck, Villain twisted Hero’s head slightly to the right, where their team knelt, eyes glazed, barely open enough to discern their shadows, they could see one turn away from their unintentional stare. 

“So what would a fitting punishment be,” they asked in the air, looking down at Hero “I accept suggestions, my light.”

_

Masterlist

[epiclamer]

Hiiiii Epic! I'm not sure if requests are open so if they aren't feel free to ignore!

My depression is getting bad again and I was wondering if you'd be willing to write about a depressed Hero who keeps purposefully putting themselves in harm's way, getting more and more reckless in every fight. Villain notices and has to save Hero from themselves. However they choose to do that, be it kidnapping or something less nefarious is totally up to you!

Hiya! I hope this makes your day a bit better!!

Subtle

“It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

Villain huffed, “I think that’s my line.” They looked around, taking in their surroundings, calculating the amount of damage control they’d need to perform.

“If you’re here that means it’s bad.” Hero avoided the other’s gaze, glaring down at the hardwood floor beneath their feet instead.

“Does that make me the bearer of bad news?”

Hero shrugged, turning their back on the villain as they began to shuffle through the clutter of their home.

The criminal cleared their throat, resuming a bit more of an awkward stance as they watched their nemesis sift through piles of dirty clothes and dishes. “Unfortunately, if you were to bet that was the case, you’d be correct.”

Villain took a few steps forwards, keeping enough distance to assure the hero they weren’t a threat. When the other barely acknowledged them, Villain moved in closer—close enough to place a gentle hand against their bare shoulder. Normally they would’ve delighted in the shivers and twitches of their enemy’s skin under their palm, yet this time it felt more like a punishment than anything else.

“Did you use antiseptic?”

“Sorry?” The hero’s voice was strained like they were on the verge of tears.

“You’re burning up. I watched you take that beating for your sidekick and I know that Supervillain did a number on you in return.” Villain pulled their hand back, worried they were doing more harm than good. “Did you use antiseptic when you flushed your wounds? Or could they be infected?”

They were crying now, the villain could see it, tear drops hitting the wood floor one after the other. Still, the hero refused to look at them.

“Fuck, I don’t know, Villain. I didn’t even have time—I haven’t even checked—Fuck, I’m sick and I’m fucking exhausted and I-I’m bleeding all the time I’m bleeding its everywhere on my clothes and my sheets and my fucking everything, I’m so dirty—” Hero interrupted their ramble with a sob, curling in on themselves, leaving their previous mindlessly searching on hold.

Villain bent down, but they hesitated, taking a moment to scan their nemesis in their fetal position. Both of their hands grasped their head, protecting their skull from invisible blows, their knees tucked into their chest, shielding their vital organs from a relentless imaginary beating.

Even unconsciously the hero’s body accepted torture.

“I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it.” Rang sickeningly loud through the hero’s apartment. Words Villain never thought they’d hear their nemesis chant.

The hero was always so full of surprises.

“Breathe, Hero, breathe.” What the hell were they supposed to say? Sure, they had taken care of their nemesis prior, whenever it started to unravel for them, but never before had the crime-stopper broken down like this. “Everything is okay, I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

Whatever was left of the hero’s facade shattered at that. They crumpled back against the villain—to which they were greeted with a warm embrace—tears uncontrollably streaming and sobs so hoarse they seemed inhuman.

Soundlessly, the villain pulled a pin-prick from their inner jacket pocket, carefully lining up the end of the needle with the hero’s exposed jugular vein. It felt wrong, to drug the one person they had come closer with than anyone ever before. But at the same time…

It was for their own good.

[avvail]

prompt #103

“How was I supposed to know you loved me?”

The villain raised an arched brow at them in disbelief. “It was obvious.”

“You threw me off a fifteen story building the other week alone.”

“In the name of love.”

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #79

It was almost three a.m. when the hero’s phone rang. They groaned loudly before reaching across the night table, and fetching it. They had no idea who could be calling right now, and honestly, they couldn’t give a shit. Because, they had come home around two in the morning and went straight to bed, exhausted and bone-tired.

They brought the phone to their ears anyway, without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“I miss you.” Were the words spoken in an almost a slur of a tone. The hero’s mind seemed to not process the words for a moment.

“What?” They asked.

“I miss you.” The person repeated a little more loudly. And the hero made out who it was. The villain.

“I—what?”

The villain whined, and a slump could be heard, followed by a grumble from them. “I miss you, hero.” They draw out, and from their voice, the hero could make out that the villain was drunk.

The hero pressed their lips. “Do you know what time it is? Where are you? Are you drunk?” They questioned, sitting up.

“I’m home…I think.” The villain slurred, and then sighed. “Are you home?” They asked dumbly.

The hero frowned. “Of course I’m home.”

“Can you come to me? I wanna see you.” They mumbled, and even though the hero couldn’t see them, they could imagine the villain was pouting.

The hero sighed. “Stay where you are. I’m coming.”

“Okay...can you stay on the phone?” The villain asked.

The hero got out of their bed, “No. I’ll be driving. But I’ll be there in no time.”

The villain grumbled something under their breath about hero being all goody two shoes and never breaking the laws before hanging up.

When the hero got there, the villain was sleeping peacefully, and they got in bed with them, the villain instantly cuddling up to them.