#sorry it took so long D: i was literally sat here googling phobias so i could find one that would give the most Cute Moments

[raineandsky]

Hello! Would you write a Villain finding out that the city's bravest (Villain's favourite) Hero has an irrational fear. Domestic vibes?

...if it interests you ofcourse!

this DOES interest me i love this!!! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy :D

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Despite what the city thinks of them, the villain is not a soulless monster.

Now, the villain always enjoyed a good scare. A knife too close to the face, or a finger on a detonator, or a good old kidnapping. Easy scares, something that would scare anyone.

The hero is facing the villain’s guard dog, though, and the villain’s starting to suspect that their usual slight scare isn’t as slight as they intended. 

The villain’s dog is a doberman, of course, with the teeth and the growl to match. They chose him because everyone’s scared of dobermans, and so far he’s done a pretty good job of keeping nosy heroes out of the villains business—because most heroes have the sense to turn on their heel upon seeing him.

This hero though, the absolute moron, does not seem to have this sense. They’re cowering on the floor and are decidedly not running away like they’re meant to.

The villain gives the hero a half-thoughtful nudge with their toe. “[Hero]?”

The hero’s gaze snaps up to them momentarily before settling back on their dog. “I-Is that yours?”

“Yeah.” The villain gives him an affectionate pat on the head. He’s too busy growling at the hero to respond. “He is.”

“Can you, uh, call it off or something?”

“He’s a guard dog, [Hero],” the villain snaps with a hint of exasperation, “I’m not meant to call him off, you’re meant to leave.”

“Okay, yeah, great, cool, yeah.” There’s a moment of silence filled with the dog’s rumbling. “I–I can’t leave.”

The villain snorts at that. “I know you probably worked very hard to get this far, but I can’t let you go any further. Nice try though, I—”

“No.” The hero’s voice is so quiet the villain barely hears it. “I can’t leave.”

Clearly there is a secret meaning in that. The villain can’t be bothered figuring it out. “It’s the, uh, it’s the dog,” the hero continues after a long moment. “I’m– I’m really afraid of dogs. I just freeze up when I see one, um…”

The villain can’t believe it. On any other hero, they would’ve struck gold with this. But this hero is one of the nicer ones, one of the ones that seems to have a sense of morality beyond the skewed moral compass the agency seems to drill into all heroes.

Long story short, this hero is one of the villain’s favourites. They can’t leave them like this—it’s embarrassing, for one.

The villain puts a hand on their dog. “Alright, calm down.”

The growling stops almost immediately. The dog sits, oddly polite, his head tilted like he’s just seeing the hero with interest for the first time. The hero looks back at him with no less horror than before.

The villain flops down next to them. “He’s harmless now, see?” They reach a hand out, and the dog snuffles his nose into their palm. “He’s well-trained. He only does things like that on my command.”

The villain gives him a scratch under the chin and his tail thumps rhythmically on the floor. The hero’s eyes don’t move from his face. “What’s, uh, what’s he called?”

The villain should’ve seen it coming. They could lie, maybe, but their dog would rat them out immediately. He’s too well-trained, goddamnit.

The silence stretches a second too long. “His name’s Tiny.”

Tiny’s ears prick up at his name. The hero blanches and accidentally catches his attention again. “You call that tiny?”

“It’s ironic.”

The hero watches in pained silence as the villain makes a show of petting him. They’re pressed into the wall like they’re hoping it’ll swallow them whole, their hands balled into anxiously white, tight fists.

Such a stupid name has clearly not done its job. The villain holds a hand out to the hero. The hero stares at it like the villain’s handing them a gun.

“I’m trying to help you here,” the villain says after another painfully long moment. “Give me your hand.”

The hero slowly—agonisingly slowly—sinks their hand into the villain’s. The villain’s grip snaps around their wrist so fast they yelp.

“Okay,” the villain says smoothly, “now you’re going to pet him.”

The hero’s eyes widen and their mouth moves in what is clearly about to be a sharp god, no.

The villain tugs them forwards before they can complain. Tiny bumps his nose against the hero’s palm hopefully. The hero’s breath hitches, their arm tense in the villain’s hold.

“Calm down,” the villain says, not unkindly. “He likes you, see?”

The hero finally shifts their hand to give Tiny a halfhearted pet. He leans into it avidly, his tail thudding joyously against the floor again.

A smile tries to break on their face, their body finally relaxing slightly. They sink into relief a little too easily, leaning into the villain a bit more than the villain’s willing to admit they like.

“He’s softer than I thought he’d be,” the hero comments. Their voice has lost that tense edge, thankfully.

“He’s a good dog.” The villain sighs and Tiny huffs back. “He’s done a great job of keeping your lot out.”

The villain finally lets go of the hero’s wrist to let them give him a scratch under the chin. “Until me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a very weird anomaly. He was probably wondering why you weren’t hightailing it out of here like everyone else.”

The hero hums thoughtfully. “He didn’t bite me.”

“I don’t teach him to bite; he’s just here to scare. Maiming people I don’t like is my job.”

The two of them fall back into silence for another moment, though this one isn’t long or uncomfortable. The villain simply watches the hero suck up to their one line of defence, their breath a lot more even than it was before.

“Speaking of maiming people,” the villain continues, “we should get to me kicking your ass at some point, shouldn’t we?”

The hero laughs brightly, and the villain tries not to feel too relieved at the sound. “Yeah, I suppose so.” They get to their feet, shaking the ache out of their limbs. “As long as you don’t use your attack dog as an unfair advantage.”

“I already told you, [Hero], he doesn’t do the biting” — The villain springs to their feet excitedly — “I do.”