#evil hero

[shy-raccoon]

The villain successfully corrupts the hero to their side and regrets it. Maybe the hero is releasing their repressed anger and they are far more brutal, sadistic and violent then the villain anticipated. The villain has to witness their new "partner" commit atrocities they wouldn't dream of. The line of who's the true leader of evil organization eventually gets very very blurred.

[fyeahygocardart]

Evil HERO Malicious Bane

[mirohtron]

The villain had never seen the hero like this. Twitchy. Vulnerable. Volatile. Wide-eyed and not quite present.

Of course, after the media outpour, after the merciless backlash, after the mess that had went down between them and their agency, the villain had expected some form of pain on the hero's face, but not...this. Some look like they'd gone through a revelation that had ruined their life.

They got the compulsion to take advantage.

"I always knew they would do something like this," they murmured pitifully. They brushed slow, careful fingers under their chin. "But not to someone like you. Never you. You were always so... good."

The hero's eyes snapped up, suddenly cognizant.

The villain flinched back from the rage they saw, and just as quickly it flickered out in the hero's face and they were back to sadly staring.

A moment passed.

The hero said nothing, so the villain continued.

"Would you like to exact revenge?" they asked, gentler this time. "I could help."

The hero looked up again, wide-eyed, but this time interested.

The villain slowly raised their hand, careful not to spook, and touched their fingers to the hero's cheek. "They hurt you," said the villain. "You. I think that warrants some retaliation." They dropped their hand and the hero didn't follow it. The villain wasn't sure if they were cognizant of anything at all.

"Do you know the details?"

"Of what happened? No."

Silently, the hero tilted their head to the side.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," the villain told them gently. "I just believe your rage has been suppressed and smothered and doused for far too long. It's unhealthy, you know—"

"They threw me away," the hero said flatly. "Like rubbish. Because I found things." They tilted their head to the other side. "They sent people to me afterwards. Tried to get me to kill myself. When that didn't work they sent a hero."

The villain buffered as they processed this information. Of course they knew the higher ups at the agency liked doing terrible things, but...

"Just them?"

"Not just them. And not just the people."

The villain opened their mouth, considered their next words. But they were not sure what would give another seething head tilt and what would give the weakness they'd prefer.

"Not just them," the villain repeated quietly. They eyed the hero's stray hairs, the blood and dirt and cuts on their face. All their time in this job they'd never seemed to fit a place like this; a gloomy room, a star-lit sky, tall, looming, spindle-shaped trees. They raised a careful hand to tuck hair behind the hero's ear. "What would you like to do?"

"A lot of things."

The villain trailed slow fingers down the line of the hero's jaw. Slightly, so slightly they could've imagined it, the hero leaned into their touch. Their chest swelled . "Bad things?"

They placed their fingers over the hero's throat to feel the inevitable swallow. "Yes."

"You'd be justified. All these years of overwork, crawling into your bed each thankless night, this constant persistence that you had to do better." The villain stepped close as the hero's expression twisted in pain. "I'd justify that. I think, anyone who isn't an idiot would justify that. Think about it." They cupped the hero's face with both hands, voice down to a whisper. "Think of what you could do to them with my help."

Something in the hero's eyes cleared. They leaned a fraction of an inch back, all the fog in their eyes disappearing.

The villain started to draw their hands back.

The hero caught their wrists in a vice-like grip. They were present. Their stare was fierce. "No. Not just revenge," they said. "I want them to feel helpless. Do you know how much I've contributed to their strategies? Their technological advancement? And yet they don't give me any weapon that's not years old. I want them wishing they could've been better, that this could've been prevented." They shook their head just slightly, and the hair the villain had carefully tucked back came loose to frame their face.

"I want them wailing for help," the hero said. They let go of the villain's wrists and touched their palms to their cheeks instead. "I want the city bending at my whims," they breathed, stepping close, "like I bent for theirs. I want them to resent me. I want them to fear me. I want them scared when night time comes, because they fear I'll pop out and steal them. Then they'll see. Then they'll see how great I am. How great I always was. How I was their fault."

For the first time the hero looked like they belonged in this gloom, like the night sky was rising behind them; a lethal backdrop. The trees behind them seemed to rise up, pitch-black silhouettes. A bloody, dirty face, angry, wide eyes, horrible words spewing out their mouth—oh, the villain didn't know how they never saw it.

They looked like they meant every word. The villain was aware of every inch of them, suddenly alight with fury, with potential, with the need to ruin and desecrate.

The hero pulled them closer, until they were breathing each other's air, and the villain wanted to see their mouth dripping with blood that didn't belong to either of them. Such wild teeth they had. Such a cruel tongue. Such eyes, such hands, such looks. "I want them," the hero said, "to forever regret me. I want to grow like festering mold in their memory. I want to be a parasite in their history."

"You're wonderful," the villain whispered dazedly.

The hero snapped out of whatever had overcome them. They let go of the villain's face and moved back.

The villain snapped out of their stupour, straightening. Back they looked, and the hero had returned to looking like a fawn, all traces of that destructive sadism gone. The villain clenched their fist to collect themselves, bit the tip of their tongue.

"It'll be a pleasure to help you exact your revenge," said the villain. They thought of new ways to take advantage of the hero. Thought, distantly, how they could amplify their terrible side. "But you have to trust me."

"That'll be work."

"I will have to trust you, too," they said. "And—don't wear these colours." They traced the collar of the hero's ruined shirt. "I've always thought black looked much better on you."

The hero looked at the villain. "Your colour."

The villain tugged lightly on their collar. Looked back at them. "My colour." They righted it and brushed off lint that wasn't there from their shoulder. "Now, to work."

The hero followed.

In ten months they brought despair to the city.

In twelve the hero had made the villain theirs.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1293

CW: death threats, near-death experience, implied past character death.

"Do I have your attention now?" the villain questioned with a smile that threatened to sour on a dime, their gun held against Civilian's head. The civilian, already knocked out from the explosion, couldn't even stiffen in fear. "Or must I crack open such a precious skull before you start listening?"

The hero, for once in their life, had no witty comeback or quip. That was their lover in Villain's grasp, their everything. Hero stood tense, ready to rush forward, and yet too petrified to move.

Was this what the villain had felt like all those years ago when Hero had let their partner fall?

[yourheartonfire]

Reporter finds out that their city's hero is corrupt, and they make it their goal to expose them to the public. Somehow they fall in love. (Can go plucky reporter who openly confronts Hero, or cautious reporter who knows a corrupt hero is dangerous, so they get close under false pretenses to find evidence.)

Prompt courtesy of @thepenultimateword

"Wait. No. What is...?" The reporter's throat had gone dry as sand. They slapped the composition book shut, thrust it back into the gold paper wrappings. But it was too late. Afterimages of dates and names and dizzyingly high sums danced before their eyes - all in the hero's own neat handwriting.

"It's the proof you wanted, darling," the hero said, a dreamy smile on their lips as they gazed at the reporter through the candlesticks. "All the money I've been extorting from our city's villains in exchange for turning a blind eye to their wrongdoing. Happy one year anniversary."

The reporter stared from the hero's face back down to the gift, so beautifully wrapped. They had gotten the hero designer sunglasses. "You knew," they said. It was meant to be a question but... no. This was not a surprise. Somewhere over the past year, this had become an inevitability. "You knew I was..."

"Investigating me? Seducing me?" The hero chuckled and rose. The reporter managed to quash their flinch as the hero picked up the reporter's empty plate, then their own. "Darling, I spend my life foiling schemes. Yes, of course I knew."

The reporter sat, flooded in an adrenaline rush so strong they wondered if they were having a heart attack. The door to the hero's penthouse apartment was forty feet behind their back. Their fingers itched to grab that notebook and run - but some survival instinct kept them frozen to their chair as the hero prowled the dishes off to the kitchen.

"So," the reporter said evenly. "You've just been... toying with me, this whole time?"

"Toying with you," the hero purred, returning to cock a hip against the table and give the reporter that half-feral smile they had only ever seen behind closed doors. God help them, the reporter felt themselves blush. "Yes. That's a good word. You decided you'd try to seduce your way into my confidence, to uncover my secrets. So..." The hero traced a finger along the reporter's temple, teasing a lock of hair out to run between their fingers. "...I set out to seduce you back. And you win."

The reporter blinked. "What."

"You win." The hero gave a fond little tug to their hair and then let go. "I've fallen in love with you. So."

"You cant love me! I'm here to expose you!" The reporter scrambled backwards, clutching the notebook to their chest as if the hero hadn't just handed it to them, literally gift wrapped. "You've been blackmailing villains!"

The hero shrugged without a blush of shame. "Only those who would have bought their way out of the justice system anyway. Why shouldn't I cut out the middleman and use their money for crime-fighting?"

"Crime-fighting? You're lining your pockets!" The reporter waved a hand wildly at their luxury surroundings as they backed away. "The food, the clothes, the whole lifestyle!"

"And I'm the last hero of my generation still standing," the hero said, calm and steady as they paced forward. "You think that's a coincidence? Or you think it's because you and I both know sometimes doing the right thing means bending a few rules along the way?"

The reporter stopped dead again. "What are you talking about?"

The hero's hand closed on the reporter's wrist and - yanked was too harsh a word. It was a pull and a spin, like the sun dragging a meteorite into its gravity well and suddenly the reporter was wrapped up in the hero's arms. In their lover's arms, their back pressed to the hero's chest.

"This," the hero hummed into the protagonist's ear, swaying them both to the soft music trickling from the hidden sound system. "A year of lies and blurred lines and compromises to get your story. Hardly the stuff of journalistic ethics seminars. What would your friends and colleagues say?"

"So it's blackmail," the reporter whispered.

"If that's what you want. We could destroy each other. Or..." The hero's mouth pressed to the sensitive spot on the reporter's neck. They almost melted. "Or we could see what happens next, with all our cards on the table."

"You can't be serious." The reporter jerked away. The hero let them go. "You want to keep dating?"

"Of course. You're gorgeous, clever, a little reckless, and you have that flexible morality thing. It's like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other." The hero gave them a once-over so blatant the reporter blushed again. But they didn't move to corner the reporter. "Go home, think about it. Take the notebook."

"You won't chase me?" the reporter said before they could stop themselves.

The hero's grin widened. "How about I give you a head start?"

The reporter fled to the sound of the hero's laughter rattling in their chest.

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

CW: child whumper (sidekick), mentions of previous abuse. (If you find any more CWs I’ve missed, please tell me!)

Villain was feeling great. Todays plan had gone perfectly and now hero’s own sidekick was tied to a chair in front of them. Poor sidekick probably had no idea where they were, Villain smirked.

‘I bet your praying hero is going to show up and save you. I assure you they won’t. They don’t even know where my lair is; besides, do you really think they’ll go through all the effort just to save their stupid little sidekick who got themselves kidnapped?’

Sidekick was shaking. Terrified. Now completely at the villains mercy, their identity was going to be revealed, they just knew it. And then it wouldn’t just be sidekick that will die, but their loved ones too. Hero has told sidekick about villain. Sidekick knew villain was a ruthless killer. Their fear mixed with their guilt for having endangering not only themselves but their friends too. Hero would be so disappointed in sidekick. Villain was right, hero would never bother to save them. It was their own fault that they had messed up and gotten themselves kidnapped.

Villain crouched down and reached out to sidekicks face-

‘Let’s see who’s under this disguise- which I must say, is rather pathetic. Could you not have come up with a better costume for yourself?’, villain joked.

-Sidekick flinched away, but villain swiftly grabbed sidekicks mask and roughly pulled it off their face.

‘I bet you’re-‘,

The villains grin dropped along with their stomach. This was not what they were expecting. Rage shook through villain. Sidekicks face showed nothing but absolute fear.

‘A child. You’re just a child’

Villains face softened as they tried to hide their anger from the kid that sat before them. Hero had sent a child to fight them. A child. How could hero do this? And who was responsible for sidekicks black eye? Villain knew it wasn’t them. Was it hero? When villain got their hands on them-

But that could be dealt with later. Villain needed to focus on the terrified face in front of them.

‘I’m not a child. I’m 15’

‘Who told you that was old? Was it hero? You can’t even drink yet, darling. You’re a child.

And to be clear, I am not going to hurt you. I know hero’s probably told you horrible lies about me, but I can assure you, they’re not true… at least most of them aren’t true. But I would never intentionally hurt a child’

Sidekick was shocked by the softness of villains voice, which was completely different from the roughness it had been filled with 2 seconds ago. It was just an act. It had to be. Sure, hero could be harsh to sidekick, but sidekick deserved it right? Hero was just training sidekick.

‘Are you hungry? Injured? Let me patch you up’

Villain gently brushed sidekicks hair out their face to get a better look at the purple bruises forming on their forehead. Sidekick flinched away from the hand, letting out a small whimper.

That was it. Villain vowed they would destroy hero next time they saw them. But first, they have got to help the poor kid.

————————————————————————————————

This was my first time writing something like this, so any feedback and help would be appreciated. In fact, it think this is the first time I’ve written a story outside an English lesson (which I haven’t done as a subject since GCSE’s) since I wrote a short Harry Potter headcanon when I was 12 lol. I still remember that headcanon tho, and I’m pretty sure it might still be on tumblr somewhere 🫡

[trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room]

Prompt 170

“Oh.” Villain wipes the grit off their face. “You’re not good.”

“The good ones are dead. You killed them.”

“Here for righteous anger then, are you?”

“Except I’m not righteous, as you’ve said, I’m not good. I’m not just. I am here for vengeance, and I want your head.”

[jumpywhumpywriter]

VILLAIN won by Hero's friend as a prize at a poker game part 2

TW: tortured, suffered, abuse, captivity whump, rescue, recovery

"Good. I'll help you heal up, and in return you will share with me any intel I ask for, whether it be on you or New Villain. Deal?" Hero asked firmly. She had to know if Villain was truly committed.

Villain hesitated for a beat, before nodding weakly, his tired eyes sliding shut as he finally lost the battle to stay awake, slipping silently into unconsciousness.

Hero snapped on some gloves and brought out a suture kit, getting to work stitching up the deeper wounds and treating them with utmost care. It would certainly be a long road to recovery, but it helped that Villain had slight regenerative abilities, which allowed him to heal twice as fast as normal. But the more injuries he had, the slower the healing process would go.

It took awhile, but eventually Hero had dressed and patched every wound. There were so many, that Villain almost looked like a mummy, covered in so much gauze.

Then Hero left him to rest, returning the next day with a warm meal. Gosh, it looked like Villain hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. Villain was awake when she arrived, and he gratefully accepted the food, wolfing it hungrily down. It gave strength to his maimed form.

"...Do you remember anything about who did this to you? What they looked like?" Hero asked when he was finished.

Villain eyed her warily before answering. "Not much... They were wearing a black and red mask that hid their face when they attacked me. They took me by surprise, snatching me when I was in an alleyway with two of my henchmen. They killed them, and took me alive for their cruel games." He shuddered uneasily, hand subconsciously moving to cover the worst injury in his side.

Hero nodded thoughtfully. "The alley on 23rd street?" She clarified.

Villain's eyes widened. "What makes you think that--"

"--I've been keeping tabs on you longer than you realize," She cut him off, offering a crooked smile. "I know all your routes." She stood up from where she was sitting at bedside.

"I'm going to scout that area, see if I can find any clues about this New Villain. I'll be back later to check on you. Let you know if I find anything." She turned to leave, when Villain's hoarse voice stopped her.

"Wait! You can't go by yourself!" He coughed weakly. "You cannot underestimate this opponent under any circumstance." His eyes were wide and... surprisingly worried for his new ally.

"I'll be careful," Hero tossed over her shoulder. "I know how to stay unseen." And then she was gone.

((((I'm just going to write a summary for what happens next since I ran into a little writer's block for the middle section. I'll skip that section and jump into the next piece I wrote. Summary: Hero reached the alley and could see the weeks-old damage, signs of a fierce struggle, as well as old dried blood. She also found a small piece of red cloth from New Villain's suit that she brought back for testing, discovering that it was a strong, almost bulletproof material. She shared the findings with Villain, and decided to wait until he was fully healed before trying to track down New Villain, so that she could bring Villain as backup. Villain's power was super strength, and Hero's was ice.

This next part takes place after two weeks of searching, when they finally locate New Villain's lair and barge in to ambush New Villain and bring him down. But it turns out to be a trap, although Hero realizes it in time and dodges it, letting her anger get the better of her as she loses control of herself in rage.))))

**CONTINUED---Hero was enraged at being caught off guard. New Villain was more clever than she anticipated, standing at the front of the room looking all smug. When she avoided the trap, New Villain gave a bored eye roll, flicking a hand at his henchmen.

"Kill them," he ordered, and turned his back, unhurried as he started to leave the scene. At least a dozen of his men came charging forward with blades and guns to attack Hero and Villain.

"Think you can handle the goons?" Hero called. Villain nodded and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles loudly with a wolfish grin. "As you wish, miss," he chuckled teasingly. Then he was a hurricane of brute force, tearing into New Villain's henchmen with a controlled rage, landing blows and tossing them around with ease as though they were no more than paper dolls. It cleared the way for Hero to make her move, leaving him to deal with the men while she chased down New Villain, quickly catching up to him before he could make his escape.

"YOU!" She roared angrily.

New Villain turned to face her with a polished smile and a raised eyebrow, unconcerned by the threat she posed. "Yes?" He asked politely, all the more lethal for it.

"You're a dead man!" Hero snarled, and rushed forward to attack... when a blinding pain smashed into her side, a charge of pure electricity hitting her in the shoulder, shocking every last nerve all at once. She fell to the floor with a sharp cry of pain, white-hot agony ripping through her whole body. The pain intensified with each passing second for what seemed like forever before it sharply ended, leaving her head buzzing and muscles acting terribly. She let out a groan and rolled her head to the side to see one of New Villain's henchmen standing close by, with an electric pulse gun leveled at her.

"Thank you kindly. Now, if you would please dispose of the unwelcome intruder, it has taken up enough of my precious time." New Villain's lip curled with disgust as he looked at Hero.

The henchman stepped forward, switching the electric gun out for one with real bullets. Hero's eyes widened and she struggled to her feet, but wasn't quite fast enough to avoid it. A bullet tore through her stomach, stealing a pained hiss from her as it tore through her, leaving a fierce burning pain in its wake, while another blasted into her shoulder. But she didn't give the man a chance to let off a third shot. She used her ice powers and swept a hand toward the henchman, a powerful blast of ice leaving her fingers that smashed into the man's chest, solidifying into a cocoon of solid ice that trapped him in place.

"No one else to hide behind now," Hero panted, swiveling around to face New Villain again, radiating deadly, barely-leashed fury.

New Villain glanced at his incapacitated goon with a flicker of genuine surprise, eyes widening with dawning realization. He went for his own gun but between one heartbeat and the next Hero was onto him, driving a fist into gut hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

He stumbled backward with a broken wheeze, but Hero didn't give him a chance to recover. She snatched the wrist of the hand holding the gun and squeezed hard, until she heard several bones snap, making the gun clatter to the floor.

New Villain screamed in pain and tried to wrench his hand away, clawing futilely at her arm in a vain effort to get her to let go, but she only held on tighter, pulling him close, a dark, predatory grin spreading across her face. Colder than permafrost.

"Game. Over," she hissed dangerously, and drew her dagger from her belt, plunging it deep into his leg hard enough that it punched clean through, making New Villain shriek in agony as she yanked it back out. Then she sliced gashes across each of his ribs, taking her time and drawing out the pain, ignoring how New Villain eventually begged her to stop.

She was losing control, anger and bloodlust taking over as she reverted back to her old ways. The dark side she had long since suppressed came surging forth with vigor, and she gave into it, relished it, the heady flood of power she felt. She let the darkness out to play. She slashed mercilessly at New Villain, who tried to block whatever blows he could see coming, which wasn't much as she struck fast and hard repeatedly.

"Doesn't feel very nice, does it?!" Hero barked, and smashed the hilt of her dagger into his jaw hard enough that his head snapped back from the force of it, and he fell to the floor. "All those people you tortured... this is the price you pay for it."

"I'm... I'm sorry--" New Villain tried to apologize, desperately hoping to appease her wrath, but broke off into violent coughing as Hero kicked him hard in the gut, cracking several ribs.

"S-Stop... Please..." He choked out, his voice leaving him in a gurgle as blood filled his mouth from where she'd smashed some of his teeth in.

New Villian curled in on himself with a groan, shuddering. Hero reached down and grabbed him, hoisting him up into the air by the front of his suit, before punching her blade through his side, stealing another hoarse scream from his raw throat.

"You don't deserve such mercy," she snarled viciously, and pounded on his already badly bruised ribs.

New Villain's head weakly lolled forward as strained breaths wheezed in and out of blood-filled lungs, starting to drift into unconsciousness from the shock of the extensive injuries.

Hero pulled her arm back, about to crush his face in a final blow, when a strong hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She turned with an angry growl to see Villain standing there, face tightened grimly, casting her a knowing look.

"Don't do this... once you cross this line, there's no coming back," he said. "You worked so hard to become Hero, don't ruin your new life. I've been where you are, remember? But you showed me a better way. Don't let (Hero's old Supervillain name) win. You're better than this." He reasoned softly with her, averting his gaze from the ruined face of the broken person she was holding, focusing on Hero alone.

"We'll turn New Villain into the authorities... bring him to justice the right way. You don't have to be a killer again." He let go of her wrist. "Take a moment to breathe, pull yourself together again. Then we can turn him in. All right?" Villain offered a reassuring smile that instantly fell away at the terrifyingly vacant expression on Hero's frozen face.

"Hero...?" He said in confusion.

"No..." Hero growled coldly. "Death... is the only answer." Something dark and cruel twisted her face, and without breaking eye contact with Villain, she took her dagger with her free hand and slashed it across New Villain's throat in an arterial spray of blood, before dropping him to the floor.

Villain couldn't help a horrified gasp, eyes landing on New Villain as he twitched weakly on the floor, choking on the blood that filled his mouth and flooded freely out his neck and pooled beneath him. New Villain's struggles quickly faded as he bled out, until he finally went limp after one final shudder, dead.

Villain pried his horrified gaze away to look at Hero, who wore a horribly impassive expression on her face, devoid of anything but cruel intent.

"Turns out, (old Supervillain name) was the one strong enough to do what needed to be done," Hero said icily with a dry laugh, turning toward the exit. "Get in the way of my goals again, and you'll end up the same," she added viciously, delivering a deadly warning.

Villain's stomach churned with dread, and a terrifying realization dawned on him. He remembered what it had been like when (Hero's old Supervillain name) had ruled the city, all the innocent lives they had taken, the destruction and chaos they had caused. It had been a bloodbath, the city streets flooded red from unchecked violence.

And now that Hero was reverting back to her old ways... Villain couldn't let that happen. Hero had given him a taste of a better life, fixed his moral compass, and so his intention was only in the best interest of the city when he took up the fallen gun in a trembling hand, leveling it at Hero's back. Because Hero was right... Death... was the only answer...

Villain pulled the trigger and fired three rounds with deadly accuracy. Hero dropped to the floor with an angry shout, and he walked over to her as she rolled onto her back to glare at him.

"What are you... doing?" She hissed through gritted teeth.

"...What needs to be done to save the city," Villain answered, voice cracking helplessly.

"I'll... kill you... for this..." Hero snarled angrily.

Villain only looked down at her with great sadness, knowing she was too far gone to be saved. (Supervillain name) was taking over her conscience more with each passing second.

"...I know you will," Villain whispered. "Which is why I can't give you a chance to." Then he pointed the gun straight at the left side of her chest, and fired another bullet straight through her heart, a quick kill. A merciful death. Hero jerked once before falling still, and Villain let out a shaky breath. It was over. The city had been saved... but at what cost?

Villain soon became the city's new hero, its protector, but every day he knew in his heart that Hero was the only reason for the good inside him. He'd never forget what she did for him.

⏪️ Back

Masterlist

[raiha-storm65557]

Prompt #29

Villain opened the door for Supervillain who carried Civilian carefully. Civilian feel asleep in the car, it would be cute if it wasn’t for the fact that this was one of the strangest hostage situations eighter of them had ever caused. “Supervillain and Villain have taken custody of Civilian.” Hero slammed their palm on the table, causing Sidekick to flinch. “Do they really think that they can take my future spouse from me?!” they cried out. It disturbed Sidekick, just a week ago they sat with a drunk, angry and crying Hero who had just been dumped by Civilian and now Hero was calling Civilian their ‘future spouse’? …this feels wrong.

Tag list: @mishinacoven

[creadigol]

Finally! I have a continuation of the Villain/Photographer prompt!

Villain and Photographer Part ii

I hope you all like it!

Photographer sat in their living room, looking out at the rain as it aggressively streaked down their window. The light sounds of vintage music from the ‘30s and ‘40s echoed from their kitchen, but it didn’t give them the comfort and focus it usually did. Not with them in the kitchen. Cooking like it was a normal Wednesday evening. Asking Photographer what they preferred, carrots or peas? Potatoes or noodles? Every now and then Photographer would ask that they go out and get something from the Thai place or sub shop, just to see their unwelcome guest’s reaction…

Photographer learned early on that such suggestions were not appreciated.

So here they were, looking out their own window, sitting on their own couch, getting ready to eat their own food…all while a prisoner in their own home.

“I added a little paprika to the stew, hope you don’t mind, I like a little kick to my food.”

Photographer worked hard not to flinch at the voice as it entered their space. They tried their best everyday not to show any semblance of emotion towards Hero, no matter how long they kept them here, no matter how much they threatened them. Photographer wondered how long they could keep doing it.

“You like a little kick to a lot of things,” Photographer replied. Like thugs, ruffians, Villain…and most recently, Photographer’s stomach.

Hero let out a long sigh, as if dealing with an impudent child.

“You know,” Hero said sweetly, “We could stop this whole dog and pony show if you would just agree to my terms…and tell me where the film is. Honestly, I can’t see why you’re being so stubborn. It’s not like anyone even supports you on this.”

Photographer didn’t look away from the window. It was true, no one supported them on this. Hero already had Reporter and Editor in their pocket…Photographer was the last piece of the puzzle to control everything in the popular news agency. Everyone in the city trusted their agency to be the one to tell the truth, that was the whole reason Photographer had started it with their friends in the first place. It seemed Photographer was the last to hold out.

Hero walked closer to them, leaning over their head and looking at both of their reflections in the window. They spoke close to Photographer's ear.

“What are you even doing this for? Pride? Stubbornness? Some silly inclination that you’ll be the triumphant whistle blower of a whole conspiracy? Please, no one really cares what the truth is anymore. They never did…”

They gripped Photographer’s shoulders painfully, “Or maybe you think you can win?” They shook Photographer, their head almost hitting the glass of the window.

“You can’t win…just give me the film and do your job as I say and your freedom will be restored to you.”

You liar, thought Photographer. If I agree, my freedom will never be restored…not truly. They chose to remain silent. Closing their eyes so as not to see their reflection so close to Hero’s in the window.

“Dammit Photographer!” Hissed Hero, their grip relentless. Photographer flinched at the tone. “You know what I’ll have to do if you don’t relent soon! You think I want that? Think about all we’ve been through! Why would you make me do that?”

Instinctively Photographer tensed up, sensing what was coming next from Hero. This had become their normal nightly routine in the last two weeks. It always ended with Photographer in pain on the floor.

Knock, knock, knock. They both swiveled their heads towards the apartment door.

Hero abruptly let go of Photographer and took a step back.

“You know the drill,” Hero said to them. “I’ll be in the kitchen finishing dinner. Get rid of whoever it is quickly. If not,” Hero gave a sinister smile, “you know what happens to them.”

Photographer only nodded. So far they had been good enough at lying to dissuade anyone from wanting to come into the apartment, but they knew if they messed up even once Hero would make good on their threat. They would probably even enjoy it.

Hero walked into the kitchen and Photographer heard the music being turned down.

With a fake steady step Photographer walked over and looked through the peephole.

Holy shit! It was Villain!

At first Villain had been worried that no one was home. Maybe Photographer moved? Went on an extended vacation and that was why they hadn’t been on the job in a while? Maybe took a job with someone else for a while just to avoid the politics of this city for a bit? But that thought soon fled their mind as they heard music from within the apartment on their approach. Old vintage…yeah, that seemed like Photographer’s style.

The music abruptly went down after they knocked. Villain waited for someone to answer.

They heard a small gasp on the other side of the door. Then the sound of a chain lock being removed.

Their heart jumped into their throat. What if Photographer told them to sod off? That they were the villain everyone saw them as? What if this was the wrong apartment?

The door flew open.

Photographer stood there. One hand on the door handle, the other clenched in a fist in front of them. They looked…god, they looked terrible.

Photographer’s eyes were sunken, dark circles outlining them and emphasizing emotion that Photographer was usually able to put away during a job. They stood slightly hunched, like their ribs were bothering them, and rather than stay in a fist, their fingers were moving and twitching like crazy.

My god, what happened to you? Villain wanted to shout. Instead they waited for Photographer to say something.

“Why are you here?” Photographer said in a calm and confident voice which did not match their appearance.

“I…” Villain took a breath. “You haven’t been underfoot taking pictures lately.”

Photographer’s hand made another movement and their fingers snapped impatiently.

“Perhaps because there’s nothing worth taking pictures of. The last time seemed information enough for the public.”

Villain felt their anger rise.

“And you just take it at face value then? I thought you were better than that.”

Photographer’s hand made flippant gesture. The other still on the door handle.

“Face value is my trade, in case you didn’t notice. Perhaps you should be talking to Reporter about this and not darkening my doorstep with your schemes.”

“As if…” Villain trailed off. Photographer was twitching their hand so badly now it was hard not to take notice.

H E L P

Oh….OH.

“Well excuse me for living,” Villain finished.

It was taking a moment. The other hand was still on the door handle so they could only do one letter at a time along with simple gestures.

“You’re excused. And while you’re at it, please inform whoever gave you my address that despite my love for putting images in the public eye, I myself enjoy privacy so if they could refrain from sending anyone else here…” Photographer kept signing as they spoke.

Trapped…Hero here…trapped…can’t leave…please

“I will. Can’t say I’m surprised…You’re all the same in the end,” Villain said it with disgust as they avidly watched Photographer’s hand.

Have film…hide film…Hero want

“Well, news is news. Whatever gets readers is all I care about,” Photographer flipped their hair out of their eyes. Villain saw a deep bruise on their neck. If they weren’t so focused on Photographer’s signing, they would have been overcome with rage.

Hero was so going to die for this.

Know truth…no trust…alone…alone…trapped…please

Villain nodded that they understood the message as they said, “Then I guess I’m done here. No more excuses now you know. I’m not going to avoid you when I let off an attack or let you take as many photos as you want…no more telling the other villains to leave off. You’re on your own now.”

If it wasn’t for the reassuring look on their face as they said it, Villain was sure these words would have broken Photographer who looked so close to collapsing under some unseen pressure.

“Fine. Goodbye.”

Photographer swung the door closed, but not before seeing Villain sign back.

You’re not alone.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3367

"Your hands are covered in blood-"

"Of course they are. I'm a hero." They spread their dripping hands wide. "Killing villains is what we do."

[one-lonely-whumperfly]

(continued here)

When the anonymous call came into the police station, no one knew what to make of it. The person on the other end spoke the second they'd picked up, not even waiting for the officer to speak.

"You need to go to 118 Eclipse Way."

The officer blinked. "Is that the correct address? That's the home of [Hero]--"

"I know it is. And you need to get there now. [Hero] has captives being held there."

The officer paused, unsure of what to say next. They waved a few more officers over and put it on speakerphone.

"I'm sorry, can you please repeat your last statement?"

"[Hero] has been holding people captive for months. You need to go to their house and free them."

Now all of the officers were stunned, but skeptical. [Hero] is beloved by everyone in the city. They would never do something like this.

"I don't expect you to just blindly believe me." The voice suddenly spoke again. "I'm just asking you to go and look. Actually look. Don't take [Hero's] word for it. They're kept in a cellar."

The police chief, who had been listening from their office, walked to the phone.

"And how would you know about all of this?"

"..."

It almost sounded like the caller was... crying?

"I know... because they've bragged about it to me when they took my partner."

The caller was sobbing now. They abruptly ended the call before anything else could be said.

The officers all looked at one another.

"Well," the chief began, "let's go pay [Hero] a visit."

--------------------------------

[Villain] stood in front of the payphone, covering their mouth to quiet their sobs. They were trembling, leaning heavily against the side of the little half-booth to keep from completely collapsing. Now they could do nothing but pray the police would listen to some anonymous caller about the "beloved [Hero]" and investigate. If not, [Villain] knew they'd never get to see [Vigilante] again.

[7h1ef0fr05e]

What is your flame wingman, infernal wing, Phoenix enforcer lore. My guess is siblings

Inferno Wing is just Flame wingman after her transition (to female and to evil), Pheonix enforcer is her brother and just supports women rights and women wrongs

[mirohtron]

k-k-k-kyle please write an unhinged hero for me >.<

Something was wrong.

The villain shot up in bed, alarmed. The right side of their bed was empty—the hero was gone.

They fisted the cheap motel bedsheets. The hero couldn't be gone. If anyone was meant to abandon the other during a joint mission, it would be the villain. Not the hero. Not the goddamn goody-two-shoes.

A thud came from outside. The villain flinched, going cold. They called their powers. They got out of bed and stood a good few paces away from the door.

The door opened. The villain's fist burst with light, buzzing and humming, ready to blind and burn.

The hero stood bloody at the door, a knife so red it seemed almost painted crimson in hand. The villain took in a sharp breath, heart dropping, stepping back as they noticed the limp arm peaking out of the doorframe like the poster of a goddamn whodunit. Their light flickered like an exhausted bulb.

The hero tilted their head. Their eyes looked wild, their hair wilder, their smile cutting. "Hey. You're awake."

"What did you do?"

The hero's brows rose. They swung their knife up and forward and the villain shot a small blast at their hand. The hero dropped the knife, hand stung, hissing. They put their hands up placatingly.

"I wasn't going to hurt you," the hero said carefully, despite their twitching fingers. They looked jittery, like they were coming down from an adrenaline rush. The villain's heart pounded deafeningly in their chest. The hero. With a bloody knife. The city's sweetheart and golden child. With their left arm soaked in red. With their cheek smeared with blood.

The hero sighed, ran the bloody fingertips of their right hand through their hair and shook their hair to let it fall into place naturally. They looked so, so wild, and out of their costume and in a ruined tank top, they looked terribly enticing, But the villain couldn't focus on that. Even if the moonlight painted their edges silvery.

Their fingertips crackled with light.

Slowly, the hero gestured their hand again, like when they had the knife in hand. "You're asking me like I did something terrible," they said. "That's what I was going to ask. I wasn't going to throw a goddamn knife at you. Who do you think I am?"

"This evening, a really annoying hero. Now?"

The hero laughed dismissively, shaking their head softly. "A serial killer? C'mon. You're worse. Drop the hand."

The villain did not drop their hand.

The hero chuckled once, and it almost seemed like they were enjoying this. “It’s always scary when a good person turns evil, even for you, huh? No one’ll believe you.”

“Why did you kill them?”

“I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Does there need to be a reasonable, justifiable why? I just wanted to. I got an urge. I'm as bad as you.” The hero kicked their knife away. “Happy? Put your hand down. My arms are getting tired.”

The villain eyed them.

The hero eyed them back.

The villain cautiously brought their hand down. Their light dimmed slowly, like a bad bulb. The hero slowly put their hands down too, watching their expression closely.

“See?” they said. “That wasn’t so hard.”

The villain clenched their jaw. The hero huffed out a breath, putting their hands in their pockets in a casual, harmless gesture. They lolled their head down to look at their feet, their carefree demeanour vanishing, and gave the villain a lethal look.

The villain brought their hands up again.

In seconds the hero had the villain’s wrists pinned to the wall. Their grip was so tight, it hurt to struggle, even with the blood on their hands.

“Now listen, okay? All right, okay.” The hero closed their eyes against the onslaught of light. “Let’s be calm.”

“Don’t fucking talk about calm!”

“Fiesty. Calm down. I can’t hurt you. I can’t even see you.”

“You can feel me!”

The hero snickered like any of this was funny. “Well, I would love to feel you.”

The villain’s light flickered in bewilderment. The hero slid their wrists up, forcing them on their toes, humming in satisfaction. “Turn it down.”

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to warn you. Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t hurt you? Don’t force my hand.”

The villain still tugged on the hero’s grip. But there was no getting out, and they couldn’t keep the light up forever. They dimmed down. 

The hero opened their eyes. They let the villain drop to their heels and kept their wrists pinned beside their head. “Don’t utter a word,” they said. “To anyone. Not even another villain. Not even a thief, or a goddamn baby. Okay?”

“You said no one’ll believe me.”

“There’s already rumours going around about me. I don’t need fuel added to the fire.”

The villain scoffed. “How many of those rumours are true, huh?”

The hero lifted their wrists off the wall and slammed them right back in. The villain yelped in surprise more than pain. “Shut it.”

“Fuck you.”

The hero tilted their head.

The villain looked down and tugged urgently.

The hero let their wrists go.

The villain pushed their chest immediately, stepping around them. “Asshole.” The hero flicked their hand and wiped it on their top. They ran their right hand through their hair again and shook it to mess it up like a bloody puppy. The villain looked at the way the tank top stuck to their torso, glanced down to where it rode up just a little bit to give them a glimpse of their toned stomach.

When they looked back up, the hero was looking at them.

The villain flushed. The hero laughed and gave another cutting grin, pressing bloody fingertips to their lips to blow them a kiss.

The villain's jaw worked as they nearly threw back an insult, but they thought better of it. That'd just give them something to retort to. So they picked up the knife and pointed at the limp hand at the door. "We need to bury this."

"Of course." The villain hated that grin. "I know a spot."

The point of the knife dipped as the villain wondered how many bodies had piled up on this mission without their knowledge. It made them worry, but it also made their heart stutter to think of blood dripping down the lines of the hero's face. They shook their head.

The hero extended a hand. "Help me bury it?"

"Of course," the villain said. "I'm better at disposing bodies than you are."

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1281

CW: violence, implied character death.

"Thought you could cheat your way to the top, did you?" the supervillain crooned, kicking their downed enemy further along the road. The hero groaned in pain but did nothing else, too injured and exhausted to move.

The criminal planted a boot atop the other's ribcage, cracking their bones further. They snarled, "Did you think no one would figure out your little secret? Superhero had been mine to defeat, but you just couldn't help yourself, could you?

"The title of Number One was just too enticing."

Citizens watched from the safety of their homes and nearby stores as Supervillain grabbed Hero by the hair and held them at eye level. "Superhero had been perfect; a true hero," their glare narrowed further, "unlike you."

Carelessly throwing them back down, Supervillain sauntered away, barking orders at their henchmen. "Bring the scum back to base. I'm not done with them yet."

[yourheartonfire]

You are an ancient, sentient cursed sword known for corrupting even the most valiant and well-intentioned of heroes. However, you cannot corrupt the most recent hero whose hands you have fallen into - not because of their purity of heart, but because of their incorruptible cynicism.

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s

The Wielder was silent - too silent - during the planning meeting. So Gleamsteel held its thoughts to itself too, and was not surprised at the council's close when the Wielder walked off not to dinner at the campfire but to an empty grove where they drew Gleamsteel and opened their mind willingly.

I need your help, the Wielder thought, stepping smoothly through the first practice sequence. We can break through the tower defense, but once we do there's no way we can stop the sorcerer's ritual and save the princess. Am I wrong?

Gleamsteel thrummed. It's a one in a million shot... it ventured.

The Wielder didn't laugh out loud, but Gleamsteel could hear the tired scoff down their mystical connection. That's what I thought. Okay. They shifted into the second form. Okay. The princess has to die, and it has to look unequivocally like the sorcerer's fault.

Holy shit, Gleamsteel articulated before it could stop itself.

This time the Wielder did sigh out loud. It's not personal. I feel bad for her. I'd save her if we could. But she's just one person, and if that ritual goes off everyone in seven leagues dies. They cut downwards with extra venom. That's not a balanced risk, not for someone just because they have sentimental, maybe symbolic value to the king.

Hm. Gleamsteel pushed its tendrils towards that disgust. Such a selfish order, to put countless other sons and daughters at risk to save his own -

Knock it off. The Wielder straightened out of their form, swishing Gleamsteel's tip down into the dry dust. I told you I don't want to be king and I don't want to be a king maker. Stop with the creepy whispers or it's right into the bin with you when this is down.

Then what do you want?, Gleamsteel snapped. You don't want fame -

Crowd loves to see yesterday's hero fall, the Wielder said, spinning the sword in their hand and slicing through a theoretical foe.

You don't want power -

Ugh. What would I do with it? Make things worse?

You want wealth? Riches?

The Wielder ended the sequence not with a flourish, but with a perfectly controlled thrust. You know my terms. I want my due, and I want to walk away alive. You help me and I'll help you get into the hands of someone more, ah, amenable. Isn't that what you want?

Gleamsteel simmered with rage. How are you... Why won't you let me help you? You must want something!

Momma always said look out for them insisting on giving you something for free. The Wielder stuck Gleamsteel into the soft grass under an oak tree, picked up their flask of water and drank deeply. 'Cause that only means they're hiding the cost until its too late.

If Gleamsteel had lungs and teeth it would've snarled.

Stay focused here. The Wielder crouched beside the blade. Tower. Defense. Princess. Ritual.

"Chosen One?" Came an uncertain voice. "You all right?"

The Wielder stood swiftly, seized their sword and sheathed it, giving a reassuring nod to their companion. "Clearing my head. Big day tomorrow, eh?"

"Indeed," the companion said, clearly relieved to be in the Wielder's presence. But Gleamsteel felt their eyes cut to the hilt, felt the threads of doubt and the hunger to be chosen themselves...

That one, Gleamsteel whispered to the Wielder. I'll get you through tomorrow and you'll give me to this one as my next Wielder.

Done, the Wielder said immediately and clapped their friend on the shoulder to go with them to dinner.