#villain and hero

[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.

[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.

[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

[the-modern-typewriter]

I love your twists on oft-taken for granted tropes and emotional beats, so I raise you: Villain pulls out the classic "we're not so different, you and I", doesn't actually believe that/intends it as a bluff to catch the hero off guard, but the hero surprises them instead with their response (be it by unexpectedly agreeing, or something else)?

"We're not so different, you and I."

The villain expected anger, denial, the usual emotional outbursts that always gave them the edge in a fight. Big speeches on how the two of them couldn't possibly, ever, be the same.

"You're definitely prettier," the hero said.

And the villain - the villain felt their brain buffer. "Excuse me?"

"I think it's the big, sad, 'you could fix me' eyes," the hero mused. Their head tilted, gaze intent as they studied the villain. "Or maybe the, 'I can be so good for you' vibes you give off when your mouth drops open like that."

The villain spluttered. They felt their face go hot. "That's not - I didn't mean - I do not."

The hero raised their brows, deeply skeptical. "I don't think I could be so effortlessly hot in that uniquely pathetic sort of way. Or do you disagree?"

The villain caught themselves staring at the hero; because there were many, many adjectives that they could have used to describe their enemy, but pathetic was not one of them.

"No."

"No," the hero agreed.

"No," the villain said, holding up their hands. "Wait. No, that's not what I meant. I meant - I was talking about our - er -" The devil help them. What had they been talking about?

The hero grinned at them. "And when you're flustered, it's more of a cute look. That's new. Haven't seen that before, but I like it."

The villain covered their face with their hands.

The hero took that opportunity to slip their cuffs, and then they were gripping the villain's wrist in an iron-clad grip.

"But that's not what you meant, is it, hun?" the hero asked. "You meant morally. Or intellectually. Or perhaps in personality? I guess you're right in some ways. We're both brilliant. Ruthless. Top of our game."

"You think I'm brilliant?"

The hero's grin turned knife sharp. It was a grin straight out of the villain's personal collection. Or, at least, it normally was. Where had that smile gone? Was their mouth still open?

The villain swiftly clenched their jaw, just in case.

"Oh yes," the hero said, eyes gleaming. "Do you know what else I think?"

"What?"

"We're not so different, you and I." There was a click. The villain looked down, belatedly, to find the handcuffs locked around their own wrists. They looked back up at the hero, wide-eyed. The hero yanked, sending them staggering a step closer, flash. Their lips brushed. "The difference, darling," the hero whispered, "is that I'm better."

(The villain may have whimpered.)

Even when they later escaped, the villain never quite lived that one down.

[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.

[ownlittleuniverse]

snippet #3 - the hero’s getting prepared for a ball

warning: touchy villain (not nsfw), suggestive

The hero felt overwhelmed by the number of hands on their body.

Their head was being pulled back and forth, over and over. Their hair was being tightly braided and brushed into a perfect slick bun. The hero opened their mouth as their lips were being painted blood red by the maids, as well as their nails. Small pearls, black and white delicate flowers with sharp thorns were sewn in their hair like the maids were creating an expensive bouquet.

“You're messing up your lipstick,” one of them said, yanking the hero’s chin and preparing their small brush once again, “Open up.”

The maid swiped over the hero’s lips until the spot was no longer visible. The hero hadn’t realized they were biting the skin.

The hero tried not to flinch when a maid started tightening their corset to an unbelievable degree. It felt like their ribs were being pressed against their organs, like walls were closing in from all ends. Another sharp tug at the corset made the hero gasp. They heard an annoyed sigh. They looked towards the sound and realized they clenched their hands in the maid’s who were painting their nails, messing up the paint job. The maid looked at them with clear malice they were not trying hard to suppress. The made wiped the smudged polish off to start over.

“I’m sorry,” the hero whispered.

They felt like they were messing everything up.

One maid tightened on a black lace choker with small pearls around their neck, pulling it so tight it felt like someone was wrapping their hand around the delicate skin as another maid slipped matching fingerless lace long gloves onto their arms.

After what felt like an eternity of chaos, the maids finally stepped back. The hero took in their appearance.

Their gown flowed to the floor with black and white lace hugging their curves in the right places, small but bold flower patterns all over the dress matching their accessories and hair. The plunging neckline went all the way down to the center of their chest, its edges covered in pearls, thorns and petals.

The maids all smiled at the hero’s regal appearance, but the hero couldn’t bring themselves to do the same.

They didn’t look like themselves anymore.

The hero flinched at the sound of the door opening.

They sucked in a breath as the villain entered. They were in a matching perfectly tailored black suit, their hands covered in black gloves, their gaze cutting through the room like a blade. They looked elegant and menacing all in one.

The hero gulped, keeping their head down as the villain made their way over, their steps echoing across the tension-filled silent room. The hero tried to suppress their growing nerves that started eating away at their body, needing their fingers together, picking at their exposed hangnails.

The maids frantically backed away from the hero. No. No. No. The hero tried to telepathically tell them to come back, not leave them so exposed in front of the tall dark god. The villain’s stare made the hero feel like they were stripping them down to nothing but their skin.

The hero's breath hitched as they felt the villain come right behind their body, their breath tickling their ear. The hero wanted to ignore them so badly, but that would be completely impossible. The villain was not to be ignored.

The hero finally lifted their head and flinched when they made direct eye contact with the villain’s glare in the mirror. The villain kept their hands in their pocket but it felt like their hands were caressing the hero’s waist, making them shiver and their heart beat erratically just from that look they were giving them. Like they could eat them for dinner.

Their voice commanded the room like the creature of power they were.

“Leave us.”

The hero rolled their lips and watched with beading eyes all the maids quickly scurrying out, keeping their heads down.

No. No. Please. Please stay. Don’t leave them alone.

As soon as the door shut the hero’s shoulders tightened with even more fear. The villain's hands came up to the hero’s waist, softly caressing the bodice of their corset. The hero flinched violently.

“You look exquisite,” the villain cooed in the hero’s ear, making them shiver, “But darling, why are you so upset?”

“I-I’m not..” the hero whispered in a tone that wasn’t even convincing to them.

The villain's hands tightened, causing a whimper to escape the hero’s mouth. They hated themselves for it.

“Now, I know my little hero,” they murmured, smiling against the hero’s neck, “I know when they’re not happy, and-“ they ran their hands higher and higher, “I know what their lies sound like.”

The hero made eye contact with them once again in the mirror, the villain's eyes pouring into theirs willing them to open up. After a few beats of silence, the villain dug their fingers ever so slightly. The hero’s heartbeat spiked at the villain’s warning.

“I just…” the hero blurted out, “Everything feels so… uncomfortable—But everyone put so much effort into how I look, and I do look good… but-I.. I feel so ungrateful saying that…I’m sorry,” they murmured looking back down at their feet.

They felt a tear trickle down their cheek. They felt like such a spoiled brat not being appreciative of the time and effort it took to make them look like a beautiful art piece. They are grateful, they just… didn’t feel happy.

The villain didn’t say anything for a moment. The hero made them angry. The villain was definitely going to-

But all they felt was the pressure on their scalp beginning to release.

They looked up at the mirror and saw the villain slowly taking all the intricate accessories out of their hair, making their head feel ten times lighter than before. The villain took out most of the flowers, and let the hero’s hair cascade down their back. It felt so good, so releasing, not having that weight. The hero couldn't have imagined wearing that hair all night, it ripping at their scalp.

“I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, my love,” the villain whispered as they began to take the tight braids out, “You look breathtaking with and without all of this.”

The hero hated how they blushed at the villain’s words, how they knew exactly what to say to make the hero feel all warm when the fear still clawed inside like a bouquet of knife-sharp icicles.

The villain delicately brushed the hero’s running tears away with their gloved finger. The hero couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the villain took a brush from the vanity and began to brush the hero’s hair out. The villain kissed the shell of their ear, making their hero whimper.

“You're a masterpiece, through and through.”

The villain smiled at their hero turning the color of their lipstick.

The villain began to massage their scalp with one hand and brush their hair out with another, making the hero sigh contently, their eyes closing from the pleasure. They let themselves sink into the feeling. It felt… so amazing. They wished it didn’t, they really did.

The villain slowly walked around the hero’s body, never letting go of their hair or scalp once. They watched in contentment as their hero’s eyes fluttered behind their eyelids in pleasure, not being able to resist submitting to the feelings the villain was giving them. They loved having that control over their hero. Their little plaything.

The villain took a small cloth from the vanity and began to wipe some of the hero’s makeup off. The hero’s eyes shot open in confusion, but the villain's one hand trailing down and massaging the knots in their neck made their eyes slowly close again. Their hero sighed in contentment.

The villain was completely obsessed with how their touch could turn their hero into a submissive thing at their feet. How they knew if they trailed their hand and tugged on their little choker that their hero would let out a moan they couldn’t suppress.

They knew them better than they knew themselves.

“I'll have to kill all the people who look past your neck,” the villain laughed. They wouldn’t hesitate to torture anyone for weeks on end who dared to look at their hero in a way that only they could. At the perfect skin that trailed down to their chest that the villain couldn't wait to taste.

The hero’s eyes slowly opened back up as they sighed, looking at the villain. But the hero’s worried face didn’t fade.

“What is it, darling?” the villain cooed.

“I-…”

The villain watched as their hero looked down in embarrassment, a faint rosy blush covering their cheeks.

”Can you undo my corset, just a bit..” they whispered, “It’s a bit too tight.”

The villain smiled. They loved the idea of undoing their hero’s corset.

“Of course I can.”

If they didn’t have a ball to attend, the villain would rip the whole thing off.

The villain tugged at the hero’s choker which, as they perfectly predicted, made their hero moan deliciously. That neck of theirs was so sensitive, they could barely hold themselves back from wrapping their hand around the skin and leaving their mark. They couldn’t wait to memorize every single sensitive place to touch to make their hero’s body writhe. The villain stepped back behind the hero and slowly undid their corset.

The hero didn’t know what to feel about the villain anymore.

They felt safe in their presence, protected and sheltered, but they also knew the villain’s power was something they abused. If they wanted to make the hero kneel for them, completely submit to them, they would. If they decided the hero was being ungrateful, then they were. If the villain wanted to hurt the hero, they could rip them in two with little to no effort. It scared them. But the villain has only been delicate, sweet, and soft with the hero and only the hero. Somehow, that scared them even more.

The hero gasped and their eyes closed at a sudden feeling, they curled their fists into the gown’s skirt. The villain's hand was gripping the hero’s waist as they pulled and pulled at the threads.

The hero’s heartbeat picked up. This felt different than the maids doing the same. The maids loosening and tightening their threads felt like life was being squeezed out of them, like they were a bug being squished between a shoe and the concrete. But when the villain did it… it felt like being wrapped in an all-consuming embrace. It felt like a word starting with L that the villain definitely cannot feel.

The villain’s hand pressed into their back causing the hero to involuntarily arch. Their fingers curled as they tried so hard to suppress their sounds, but the hero couldn’t help but let out another breathless small moan, their eyes clenching. They felt like they lost complete control of their body. It should make them feel scared, horrible, but they just wanted more.

The villain smiled at their reflection in the mirror. If only their hero knew what they looked like right now, their mouth open, their eyes closed. The sounds escaped them over and over. It was intoxicating.

The villain began to tighten the corset again, but this time leaving the hero enough room to somewhat breathe. As the hero’s breathing came back to a steady pace, the villain couldn’t help themselves.

They wanted to hear it all again, to give them an overwhelming sense of pleasure their little hero couldn’t help but submit to. And they wanted to feel it this time, even if they knew the consequences.

The villain ripped their black gloves off and tossed them aside. They wrapped both their arms around their hero, pressing them into their chest, curling them tight. The hero’s eyes shot open as their fingers flexed around their waist.

“Wha.. What are you doing?” the hero squeaked, their voice laced with confusion, panic.. and pleasure.

The villain simply pressed them more into their body. One of their hands came up to pull their choker aside, as their mouth latched onto the sensitive part of their hero’s neck.

The hero gasped. They squirmed in their grasp, at the villain’s lips, at their mouth that started to suck and mark all over.

”Wait!” the hero gasped, the sensations spreading through them, making them writhe. “Everyone will see!”

“That’s the plan, love.” the villain smirked, before going again. They couldn’t wait for all the onlookers to stare in shock. No one will dare touch what’s theirs.

The villain let one of their hands trail back up to the hero’s hair, swiftly tugging them to the side, rubbing their scalp again in a way they knew their hero loved. The hero immediately whimpered as the villain gave themselves more access to their neck.

The hero could feel the villain leaving nasty marks, ones every person at the ball would spot from a mile away. They shouldn’t have let that happen, but it was too late. They didn’t have enough strength to push the villain off, to rip their hand out of their hair, and they didn’t want to. It felt too good… everything was too much and they couldn't help but sink.

They couldn’t fight it anymore. The hero finally let themselves drown in the sea of pleasure.

They closed their eyes and wrapped their arms around the villain, letting their breathless sounds get louder and louder as the villain's mouth trailed from their neck to their collarbone, all the way down to the exposed skin near their chest.

The villain could feel their hero growing more and more into a pile at their feet, which just made them suck their skin even harder. Their hero almost screamed out when they bit into a sensitive part of their collarbone, then soothed the sting away with small delicate kisses.

The hero felt like the villain's hands were burning into them, but not in a way they hated, no, in a way they craved. They wanted it more and more, like a drug. They never felt anything better.

The villain picked up their hero, turned them around and pressed them into the vanity in a frenzy, both of them now breathing heavily and feeling like they just wanted more and more. They both felt so addicted.

The villain began to kiss the sensitive parts of the hero’s chest. The hero looked down at them in shock.

The villain was rendering their hero into a panting, moaning mess.

The villain sucked as their hand massaged their hero’s neck where all their marks now covered their skin. The hero threw their head back and practically screamed.

The villain looked up with pride at their hero’s eyes fluttering adorably, their mouth agape, their hair now a mess, their neck covered in a new red necklace. They loved how much they looked like theirs, and how everyone would soon see.

The villain continued their descent as the hero threaded their hand into the villain’s locks, not knowing if they wanted to keep them there or push them away. Everything felt so sensitive, heightened and feverish.

Their eyes locked for a second, and it made everything feel so much more intense. The hero cried out as the villain bit down gently, before sucking and kissing the pain away. They couldn’t think straight, it was like the villain had cast a spell on them.

The hero needed more, so much more.

The villain, feeling their hero growing impatient by their whines, tugged them close and finally pressed their lips to theirs.

They had thought of this moment for so long, what their hero would taste like, feel like. And they felt like the best thing in the whole world.

The villain coaxed their mouth open and it was like no kiss the hero had ever felt.

Would they even call that a kiss? They didn’t know. Kisses were comforting, sweet in the hero’s head, and this was far from that. It felt intoxicating in a way that humans were not supposed to feel. It felt so wrong, but so breathtaking in a way where they couldn’t stop themselves, they couldn’t. The hero moaned into their mouth as the villain made a mess of them over and over.

The hero frantically reached for the villain’s pants subconsciously, making the villain smile into their lips between their kisses.

They grabbed their hero’s hands, caressing their wrists trying to soothe their little love’s franticness, “Not now, darling.”

The hero only whined at them.

“Oh, you're a needy little thing, aren’t you?” they chuckled, looking at their hero’s disheveled out of breath state. The villain smiled. They turned them into a mess.

“As much as I would love to give your impatient body what it wants,” the villain smirked, making the hero heat up, “We have a ball to get to.”

The villain propped themselves back up, leaving the hero to lean back on the vanity still trying to catch their breath.

They… they didn’t-.. what..

“What was that?” they whispered. Their brain felt like it was still in pieces.

The villain simply tilted their head as they retrieved their gloves once more from the floor.

“I’m not usually… I don't-“, the hero said, their eyes becoming frantic. The villain needed to calm them down, they had a feeling this would happen.

The villain slowly approached their hero, their now gloved hands tucking a strand behind their ear.

“You shock yourself when you realize who you are when you let go.”

The hero looked up at them with the most adorable doe eyes filled with shock and confusion. The villain leaned in close, reveling in the way their hero’s breath hitched and their pupils went wide.

“You should do it more often,” they smirked. Their hero blushed immediately.

The villain couldn’t stop themselves from pressing a soft kiss to their lips.

The villain backed up and extended their hand, an open invitation. The hero looked at it cautiously but took the offer. Their skin felt warm and tingly against the leather.

But not like it tingled against the villain’s skin.

The hero felt more relaxed, the overwhelming anxiety from before seemed to have dissipated.

The villain tugged them along as the hero glanced in the mirror's direction.

They stopped in their tracks.

They looked… completely ruined.

Their hair had strands peaking out, their lipstick smudged, their cheeks so red you couldn’t even see the blush anymore. They looked so dirty, and they knew that everyone at the ball would think the same. They couldn’t leave like this. They couldn’t.

“I can’t wait for everyone to see you,” the villain murmured behind them.

“Like this?” the hero gulped. They spotted their lipstick smudged on the villain’s lips as well. It made their heart flutter in a way they hated.

“Exactly.”

The villain tugged them again, but the hero tried to stop them. The villain slowly turned to glare at them. It made the hero want to gulp down their words, but they didn’t this time.

“I can’t go down in front of people looking like—“

”Like what?” the villain said, their hand coming up to tug the hero’s hair. The hero’s anxiety came creeping back, the villain’s warning clear as day as their grip tightened against their hand and head.

“Like your mine?”

The hero’s heart started to pick up. The villains eyes pieced through them as their hands tightened once more making them whimper out of fear.

“That’s exactly what you should look like.”

The hero wanted to rip their naive little heart out.

They knew they should have listened to that voice in the back of their head. The one telling them that the villain never cared for them. The villain didn’t kiss them senselessly to make each other feel good. No. They only did it to make their appearances look.. well like this.

But the villain couldn’t be more satisfied with the taste of their hero’s lipstick on their mouth.

They spent years being utterly obsessed with someone those pesky royals wouldn’t let them have.

But the villain knew from the second they laid eyes on them that they already wanted to kiss them all over until they writhed. They already wanted to adorn their perfectly smooth skin with their marks, showing the world who they belonged to. They already wanted to devour them until the only thing left was a good little hero for them to play with.

They waited for the perfect time, in a small alleyway that day they decided they were going to keep the king and queen’s daughter all to themselves. The royal family was not happy, of course, but with their precious princess in the villains’ grasp, they were foolish to not obey the villain's demands.

Their hero was still terrified of the villain, kept their head down in their presence like one look would send them to hell. But their little pet was growing more and more perfect by the day, and soon they will be absolutely theirs.

The power coursing through the villain’s hands was something they didn’t use often on their hero, but when they did, it was completely worth it. It made the hero more compliant so to say.

The King and Queen will see tonight, at this very ball, looking up at the staircase in a matter of minutes exactly what the villain has turned their princess into.

The villain released the hero’s hair and pressed a soft kiss to the hero’s knuckles, before tugging them along.

Their hero shivered but still followed their villain.

[villain-enthusiast]

tw: very toxic/possessive relationship and behavior, captivity

“Would it hurt you to smile a little more?” the villain mused, eyes trained on the reflection of the hero in the vanity’s mirror.

“Hard to do when there’s nothing to smile about,” the hero muttered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. The villain had given them—or rather forced them into—an intentionally revealing outfit for the night.

The hero hated the villain’s parties. They hated the false luxury of it, the wealthy spectacles, the self-conceited conversations of people whose money was bought through blood. They wouldn’t let themselves get swept away in any of it—not when they knew of the people suffering beyond the villain’s gilded walls.

But if they wanted to live, if they were ever going to have a chance of making it out of this hellhole, they had to tolerate it. They had to pretend they liked it all—the sheer shirts, fine wine, the penetrative gaze of the clamoring guests…

“I’ve given you so much to smile about.” The villain tilted their head in a similar way a snake does to analyze its prey. “Silk clothes, a warm bed, good food.” A corner of their lips tilted up seductively before they added, “My love.”

A shudder ran down the hero’s spine and they looked away from the mirror, determined to avoid the villain’s possessive expression.

Fast as lighting, the villain’s hand shot out and grabbed the hero’s chin, forcing their face back towards their reflection. They squeezed their eyes shut. They didn’t want to look at themselves anymore, didn’t want to see how vulnerable they were, laid bare for the the hunger in the villain’s eyes—

“Darling,” the villain purred, the word dripping with venom. “By now you should know what the rules are.”

“We’re not at the party yet,” the hero retaliated. “I don’t need to follow any rules—,”

The villain’s fingers dug painfully into their jaw and the hero inhaled sharply, cracking their eyes back open.

They could do nothing as the villain tilted their head back ever so slightly, just enough to keep their eyes locked on the mirror while the villain leaned down to press feather-light kisses to their exposed throat.

Helpless. Just the way the villain liked it. The hero’s eyes burned with the embarrassment of it all.

“And here I’d thought we were past your disobedient stages,” the villain murmured against the hero’s skin, sending goosebumps skittering down their jugular. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”

I don’t belong to anyone, the hero wanted to snap, but they held their tongue, knowing better than to answer with such defiance.

The hand holding the hero’s chin trailed down to curl around their neck, the villain’s thumb fitting right over the hero’s racing pulse. Their free hand brushed slyly over the hero’s bare abdomen, tracing sensitive circles up and down their torso.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. The hero couldn’t stop the whimper that clawed up their throat, and at the way the villain’s eyes flashed with lust, the hero wanted to risk looking away all over again.

“I want you to say it, Hero.” The villain tilted their head in that predatory way again. “Who do you belong to?”

The hero swallowed. Their skin flushed with heat, even with the sparse amount of clothing they had on. They knew what game the villain was playing at, knew what part they had to act, but they still hesitated.

I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t belong to anyone…

The villain’s grasp on their throat tightened in warning, enough for the hero’s breath to hitch. “Say it,” they whispered, deadly.

“You,” the hero bit out. “I belong to you.” Their eyes shuttered as they fought the instinct to close their eyes and pretend that the shame gnawing through them was just as fake as their words.

The villain smirked. “Good.” They let go of the hero’s throat and ruffled their hair in a mocking show of playfulness, as if whatever just happened was all a joke. “I’ll be back in five to take you to the guests.” They made their way to the exit and paused at the doorway. “Oh, and do me a favor and smile a bit more when we get down there. You are mine, after all.”

Only when the door slammed shut behind the villain did the hero finally close their eyes, silent tears tracking down their cheeks as the villain’s words echoed incessantly through their head.