#hero and villain snippet

[avvail]

Maybe a hero who’s had a very bad day and (is on the verge of tears) only wants a hug from villain. But maybe the Villain doesn’t pick up on it and makes a snide remark or snaps at the hero and doesn’t realize until hero bursts into tears?? Fluff at the end though please!!!

So sorry if this is too specific!! Thank you if you decide to do it though! ❤️

“Hero,” the villain turns up their nose. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The hero looks tired. There are dark circles under their eyes, and a pale sheen settling over their skin, and it’s noticeable the way they have completed disregarded their mask, and stand vulnerable at their enemies feet.

They shift uncomfortably, hardly meeting Villain’s eyes. They might have laughed if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“I’m not here to fight.”

Their voice is quiet. The villain tilts their head as a wry smirk tugs at the corner of their lips.

“If I had thought you were a threat, I wouldn’t have opened the door to begin with,” they claim. Hero’s eyes seem to dim, sinking even lower to the ground. The villain studies their solemn expression, and can’t seem to understand why they’re acting like this.

“Oh,” they mumble, fiddling with their shirt. Villain’s eyes narrow. This was beginning to annoy them.

“Hero, why are you here?”

They barely even look up at them. Villain considers closing the door and going back to their evening.

“You’re acting so...pathetic,” they snarl, a scowl twisting their features. Hero winces at the tone of their voice, seemingly shrinking in on themselves. “Are you here to grovel? Are you acting?”

That pulls a reaction out of them. “I’m not acting.”

“Then why are you here?” They grit out. “You must have done something real fucking stupid to come to me and ask for my help. Do you really think I’ll do anything for you, Hero?”

Their eyes water. Hero looks horrified, and the villain mistakes the clear hurt for terror.

“I...I didn’t come to—”

Villain steps closer. “What? Have you got the cops surrounding my house? Is your little Sidekick rooting around in my office as we speak?”

The hero’s breaths becoming shallower, eyes blinking rapidly. They don’t know where to look again, and that gives Villain the answer they need.

Scoffing, they shoot them a sharp glare.

“Fuck off, Hero,” they sneer. “Don’t you dare come find me again.”

When they go to close the door, the hero leaps into action, and grips onto it firmly. Villain falters, their tongue sharp and ready to order them to let go, but they freeze.

Hero’s bottom lip is trembling, and there are tears rolling down their cheeks. When their frown melts away, the hero bursts into sobs.

“I had a bad day...” They snivelled, shakily reaching up to scrub their tears away. “That’s all...I didn’t know where else to go...”

Suddenly, the villain understands why they’re here, and their stomach coils with unwanted guilt as they listen to their broken sobs. They step closer, and don’t have to think about wrapping their arms around them and pulling them into their embrace.

The hero sobs harder, simply melting under their touch, and it’s enough to tell Villain that this was exactly what Hero needed.

They bite back a sigh, shushing them.

Villain recalls their harsh words, and analyses each sign in the hero’s body language they had so foolishly missed. They curse themselves inwardly, focusing on rubbing the hero’s back affectionately and carding a hand gently through their hair.

“Come on,” they grumble, glancing at the streets. “Let’s go inside.”

Hero doesn’t let go of them. Not even when Villain spends the night cooking them a light meal, and not even when they’re both sound asleep in each others arms.

[historically-iam-just-a-friend]

the fallen duke turns evil and the knight who hates him

draft-01

as I am pinned to the wall behind me with a sword to my throat I look up into the eyes of my to be murderer and I think to myself ..... I would wage a war for this man and that ass, but than again I wouldn't blame you if you wouldn't think the same in my position. I always had a tastes tad different than those of pathetic shriveling mortals but for it to come to this....a mortal to grant me my end and the only one I ever confide in at that, I mean ewww.

so now to tell you how it came to this, let's backpedal a little

I am the greatest supernatural to ever walk the earth with abilities that triumph over those of the almighty, a duke of the great status. so, basically I am a god.

now a mortal like yourself would question me how I walk the planet you cotton heads inhabit. (ughhh so predictable)

you see you and I have something in common, mortal. I too, like you possess the hurdle of what you earthlings call daddy issues (smile mortal, you have some trait mutual to that of an entity such as myself) and so the said father in question resent me for being too fabulous or so like he puts it "too preposterous, a ridicule to the bloodline". whatever, like i would want to be associated with the lineage of deceitful scoundrels and so he caste me aside and banished me to the human realm with an excuse for me to learn empathy (pffffft) (says the father who locked me in a dungeon and was onboard with the idea to sell me by pound).

when i first walked the land of this realm I felt like this place possessed a weird familiarity I couldn't quite place.

[whump-in-the-closet]

cw: past torture, restraints, whumpee turned whumper

“They…they aren’t coming?” Hero realizes it now. They should have realized it sooner. Their team was never coming. It was never even a question.

They meet Villain’s gaze, their own eyes dry. “They aren’t coming,” Hero repeats.

Their team isn’t coming back for them.

Villain crouches down next to Hero, spinning something metallic between their fingers.

Hero flinches away on instinct.

There’s a sharp click as the chains around their wrists are unlocked.

“Do you want to make them pay?”

Hero stands, clutching the wall for support. For once, they feel sure of something. It’s not the unhinged terror from before. Or the unfailing hope of rescue. It’s different.

They’re furious.

“I trusted them.”

Villain rests a light hand on their shoulder. “Trust only gets you so far.”

It got you tortured.

The rage grows inside of Hero. “I want to make them burn.”

[deckofaces]

Electrifying Experiments

Tw: whump, electrocution, captivity, experiment like whump, fainting, creepy/sadistic whumper?(not good at the terms for describing whumpers), canonically a female whumpee but they/them is used, slight dissociation(?), I thinkkk that’s it

Last part || First part || Next Part

This one is longer, so the story is below the keep reading line!

Hero woke when they heard the sound of the door unlocking. They grew to hate that sound, the loud latch being undone followed by the beep from what must have been the result of a card swipe or input code. The door unlocking always equaled a visit from Villain, no one else came in their room, and Hero has not once left it. 

In their time in Villain’s base, Hero discovered they’ve become an extremely light sleeper. Every time they hear the door, they are immediately jolted awake, sucked out of that escape from their dark reality. Which in turn, they never felt fully rested anymore. Even now, Hero’s body felt heavy as they groggily shifted into sitting position. Along with exhaustion, fear lodged a permanent residence. 

Hero’s eyes trailed Villain’s path from the door next to their bed, the sound of each step resounded off the tile in their almost empty room or cell. Villain’s low voice made its way to their ears. “Hello, Hero, dear. We are doing something different today if you would follow me out of the room. I know you are smart enough not to bolt, but I have to remind you it would be in your best interest to stay by my side.”

Hero’s eyes widened a fraction. They were leaving the room? Granted they hated the white enclosure, but they were terrified to think of what they would be doing. However, they didn’t want Villain to have to tell them to get up again. They slid off the bed, their feet gently hitting the white tile. Hero followed the villain wordlessly to the door. 

Outside of Hero’s room, they were led down a long hallway. Doors dotted down the corridor, having said that there were no windows on any of them. She could not see inside, but maybe it would be for the best. 

They took note that the walls and floor outside their assigned room didn’t seem too much different from their room. It all looked very clean and pristine, too clean even, and the walls were of monochromatic colors, mostly whites and grays. The floor additionally remained tiled, though it had more of a decorative hexagon design compared to the plain blocky tile of their room. 

To Hero, the facility reminded them of a more technologically advanced hospital. After they reached the end of the hallway, it opened out into a large space. It was full of activity, everywhere they turned they saw henchmen working on various tasks. None of them looked up as Hero walked by with Villain however. Were they used to Villain bringing people around or were they just too scared to look in their direction?

Hero continued to glance around as Villain brought them through the facility. They saw zero windows, were they underground? That would explain why the base has been so difficult to find.. and if they ever wanted to escape, it made it difficult. Hero couldn’t see any exits either, how did people get in and out?

Hero winced, they immediately were bombarded with a throbbing headache. They put their hand to their head as if that would do anything to soothe their pain. They looked up and saw Villain’s focus trained on them. So it had not been a coincidence.

“You are thinking too much. What did I say about running? Hm?” They stopped walking, waiting for Hero to answer. 

“But I- I wasn’t even thinking about running.. I’ve been following you-“ Hero gasped as their headache felt ten times worse, they squeezed their eyes shut. They were thinking too much? That justified a pounding ache in their head?

“I’m sorry? What were you saying, dear?” Villain watched Hero almost with a sense of curiosity, analyzing them for their reaction. “It won’t happen again, correct?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. it won’t happen again.” Hero repeatedly shook their head. To their relief, the headache returned to a dull throb and Villain started walking again, beckoning for Hero to follow.

Hero reluctantly continued to walk with them. Although they weren’t walking through the base much longer. They made their way down one more hallway, similar to the first, and Villain stopped in front of a door. They opened it, waving for Hero to walk in first.

Hero fidgeted with their thin white shirt, stepping inside the room. When they glanced around, they saw cameras positioned in each corner of the room. Though as they continued to look around, they rapidly filled with unease, nerves making a home in their throat when they saw a wooden chair and a table off to the side with a notepad and pen. But what made them sick was what looked like conductive pads on the table. 

Hero started to back away, but they ran into something. They spun around and saw Villain standing over them, they choked on a sob. They wiped their sweaty palms on their pants, shaking a little where they stood. No no no no.. 

“Are you alright, Hero? Please have a seat, you look awfully pale.” Oh Hero hated the calmness of their voice. That chair was the equivalent of a death sentence in their eyes. Hero froze in place shaking their head, “Please.. I don’t want to do this.”

“Sit down Hero,” Villain said more firmly.

“No!” Hero shouted, tears filling their eyes. They starting backing away again, but in their fear and panic, they did not realize they were just moving closer to the chair. Villain noticed and started to grin. 

“You are making this far more difficult and painful than this needs to be.” Villain strode over to the frightened hero, placing their hands on their shoulders. They shoved Hero down and they collapsed into the chair. They did not even need to use their abilities to get the weak hero to fall into it. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Villain crooned, Hero’s eyes widened when they fell into the seat. 

“I-“ Hero’s voice caught in their throat. Villain hummed softly and wiped their tears away with the pad of their thumb. 

“Here is what is going to happen, dear,” Villain crouched down in front of the chair. Hero tried not to appear disgusted by the nickname. “I’m going to attach those pads to you-“ they were interrupted by Hero letting out a strangled sounding whimper. They refused to meet their eyes, opting to stare down at their wrists and mindlessly pick at the power suppression cuffs they wore, hoping it was a very bad dream.

“Shhh..” They gently took Hero’s hand away from messing with the cuff before continuing. “I want you to describe the pain to me, how it feels to you. Do you understand?”

“W- why.. I don’t- I don’t understand,” Hero shook in their seat. “Why..”

“You do not have to understand why, but do you understand what I require of you?” Villain pressed.

Hero hated how they had no choice in the matter. They didn’t understand, they didn’t at all, but Villain always refused to take ‘no’ as an answer. They weakly nodded.

Villain stood back up before walking to the table off to the side. “Good, good..”

As Villain walked back, each step they took seemed to echo and ring in Hero’s ears, louder and louder until they were back in front of them. They whimpered when they felt the pads being put on their skin. “Please..”

Villain didn’t reply, rather they walked away back to their table. They picked something up, Hero squinted their eyes. It was tiny, they could only assume it was a remote of some kind. They couldn’t dwell on it before with a soft click, Hero’s world erupted into agony. 

They could barely hear their own screaming over the excruciating pain. Intense burning scoured Hero’s body, they felt as if something pierced every part of their figure. They cried and yelled for it to stop- they never felt something quite so horrible.

When Villain eventually let up, Hero was left gasping and crying in their seat. What did they do to deserve this punishment? Villain didn’t tell them why, they wished they could understand. 

They looked up and saw Villain approaching them through their tears. They put a hand on their back as if to try and study their shaking. “Hero, describe to me what that felt like.”

Hero let out a sound between a whimper and a sob. They looked down at their lap and brought their shaking hand to their face to wipe their eyes. Villain tilted Hero’s head back up afterwards. “Speak with words, or did you forget? Do you need to go again?”

Hero slightly shook their head, they stared at Villain. They opened their mouth to speak, but they couldn’t find any words to talk with, closing it again. The hero gazed at them pleadingly, questions instead sat on the tip of their tongue. They spoke them in their head with such severity, they almost thought they said them out loud. Why why why why, repeated over and over again. They hated everything they felt, why did it happen to them. When would they go home? Would they go home?

Villain tsked and dropped Hero’s head, they could barely hold it up so it dropped. “I can’t read you mind, explain it to me Hero or I will remind you what the electricity feels like.”

They turned away from Hero and started to make their way back to the table. A small smile formed on their lips when their path stopped with a sudden shout from Hero. “Please-! Wait, I'm sorry! I’ll talk!”

Villain spun around and walked back to the hero. “Perfect, I knew you would not need a reminder. Now tell me, describe the pain the best way you can please.”

“I-“ Hero stuttered, swallowing before trying again. “It felt absolutely horrible, it-“

“More specific,” Villain interrupted.

Hero crossed their arms, hugging themself and getting to the point, not wanting to risk electrocution again. “I-it’s so hard to explain- I- The best I can describe it being is that it felt like burning mixed with being pierced by something over and over..” Hero shuddered, thinking back to the pain they experienced moments prior.

“Wonderful..” Villain breathed, grabbing their pen and clipboard to write down exactly what Hero said. They clicked the pen and looked back up once they finished. “Anything else of note?”

Hero stared down at the white tiled floor. The ground appeared so unpigmented, so bleached, it seemed to pierce their eyes, was everything there always this white? “..No.”

Hero still held their gaze towards the ground. They could hear Villain walking away, likely back to put the clipboard down on the table. Their footsteps seemed to reverberate off the walls, sounding farther away and then getting loud again. Hero could see their shoes out of their peripheral vision. Oh they hoped they were done. That Villain had their fun and that they could go back to their room and then-

Screaming echoed off the room’s walls once again. Their eyes shot up frantically only to realize Villain held no such switch as they did before. They could taste the sick flavor of iron in their mouth, accidentally biting down on it. 

It felt exactly as they described. Flames scoured their body, except none were there. They could feel the sensation of piercing, the sensation of stabbing, but nothing touched their skin. More specifically, it was electrifying, maybe even worse than when they felt the real electricity.

“Stop! S-stop-! Please!” Hero cried out. They gripped the chair until their knuckles turned white. The pain wouldn’t stop! They knew the source came from Villain, but they still searched around themself and nearby as if to find a way to stop it. In the end they never found anything to stop the agony, Villain had complete control. 

Finally it ended in an instant. Hero gasped for breath but slouched in their chair, defeated. Their head hung, now the energy to keep it up seemed too much. However a barely noticeable throb in their head forced them to look up at the villain who crouched in front of them. They barely registered that they held a clipboard, their vision seems to run together and blur. 

“Hero, can you describe to me now what that felt like?” Villain looked at them eagerly, sharing the same enthusiastic curiosity a child might have.

Hero swallowed the small bit of blood pooling in their mouth, their face looking pained as they did so. “The same,” they managed to choke out. “The same as before..”

Villain’s eyes seemed to light up at their response, Hero could not stand to see that kind of twisted excitement on their face. They looked down at the floor and squeezed their eyes shut. 

“You did well,” Villain’s voice rang through their ears. “Stand up, you are going back to your room now.”

Hero’s sight blurred heavily now but the words ‘back to your room’ caused them to immediately stand up. They never wanted anything more. 

An onslaught of dizziness immediately washed over them. Their face wore a pale sheen, they swayed on their feet, and everything spun. 

Black spots filled their vision. Were they going to pass out? 

It only took a few more seconds before they last remembered collapsing onto the tile. They heard a noise of disapproval from Villain before black took over their vision.

———

tagging: @thelazywitchphotographer, @lilywolfgray, @justalittlecorrupted, @kadeee00, @rainy-knights-of-villany, @onlywhump

[write-stuff-if-you-wanna]

Its ides of march.

Happy Caesar is dead day!!

Thought id jump on the band wagon before its to late!

Hero: Villain what are you doing!?

Villain: I’m KILLING CAESAR!!

Hero: CAESARS ALREADY DEAD!! HE DIED HUNDREDS OF YEARS AGO!!

Villain:…………THEN WHO THE FUCK AM I KILLING!?

[write-stuff-if-you-wanna]

I keep seeing this post, and everytime i do i keep miss reading it as

“Today’s actresses simply don’t turn into tiny mirrors after society’s turned them into a monster like they used to”

After society has emotionally turned you into a monster, you will then get physically transformed into a tiny mirror, with your old human face visible.

This specific type of phenomenon happens to actresses exclusively. But only those who break from society’s abuse upon them. For more information please contact your local Hollywood official.

Note your local Hollywood official might not be trustworthy.

In a case of your local Hollywood official not being trustworthy please contact your local witch for more information.

This has been a PSA about the Tiny Mirror Monsters Phenomenon (TMMP), by WereNotTheVillains incorporated, Thank you.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Imagine a villain straight refusing to fight another member of the Hero Team just cuz his hero archnemesis is not present

"Where are they?"

"Oh, not again." The protagonist could feel a headache coming on. "Look-"

"-Are they hurt?" The villain's eyes went dark and dangerous. "Who hurt them?"

"They're fine! Oh my god."

"Then where are they?"

The protagonist definitely had a headache. "It's their day off."

"They didn't tell me they had the day off. What's wrong?"

The really concerning part was that the hero probably would tell the villain which days they were working and which they weren't. The two of them were as bad as each other! The hero was going to be unbearable when they came back and found out that the team had fought the villain without them.

"Can we just get this over with?" the protagonist tried.

"No."

The protagonist sighed. They pinched the bridge of their nose and took a few deep breaths. "Okay," they said slowly. "But you realise I'm still going to have confiscate your nightmare robot."

"It's not for you. And don't think I didn't notice you dodging the question!"

The protagonist considered their options; lies, truth, everything in between.

The villain's nightmare robot hunkered down a little more pointedly in the middle of the bridge. Several people honked their horns. It was, honestly, embarrassing for everyone involved at that point.

"Their grandma died."

"Oh no." The villain's whole face softened. "Grandma L or Grandma P?"

Of course he knew the hero's grandparents. Of course he did. "Look, about the robot-"

"-I'll reschedule," the villain said.

"I can't let you keep the robot. My boss would have my head."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have flowers to send."

The protagonist's eye twitched. "If you try and walk away with it-"

"-Do you really want to traumatize this entire bridge of innocent civilians?"

"I'm sure they're traumatized having to listen to you two idiots on a weekly basis."

"I'm taking the robot. When are they back?"

"They haven't said," the protagonist said, through gritted teeth. "As you know-"

"-They'll be doing all the funeral arrangements. Yeah. You know what, give me their number. I'll text them."

"I'm not giving you their number."

"Why not?"

"It's against policy."

"I'd like to express my condolences."

The protagonist looked them dead in the face. "Mm. That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have a robot to confiscate."

The robot slammed a fist into the bridge. It wobbled precariously.

The protagonist raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. They folded their arms across their chest.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" the villain snarled.

"I hate you too, don't worry."

"I should kill you."

"They'd have so much paperwork when they got back from the funeral. It would really improve their month, you killing me."

They ended up glaring at each other.

"If I give you the bloody stupid robot, will you give me their number?"

The protagonist smiled sweetly. "That's the only smart thing I've ever heard you say."

Everyone, generally, preferred it when the hero was around.

They all made sure it didn't happen again.

[creweemmaeec11]

Reverse Tropes

Soulmates - Your soulmate is destined to be your greatest rival in life.

Amnesia - Instead of losing memories, they start getting memories that aren't theirs.

Forced Marriage - Forced Divorce.

Captured Prince - They think they've captured the prince of the opposing kingdom, but they've actually just captured a normal, random civilian.

Chosen one Prophesy - There is a prophecy about *someone* saving the world, but it doesn't actually say who...

Born with Special Marks - It's actually a mark that tells a person what they *won't* be good at.

True Loves Kiss - True Hates Kiss, good luck convincing someone who truly hates you to kiss you.

Love at First Sight - Hate at First Sight.

Rags to Riches - Riches to Rags

Found Family - You need to find your actual, related family.

Misunderstood Villain - Misunderstood hero. They are trying to be evil, why does everyone like them!?

It Was All a Dream - They thought it was a dream, but it turned out to all be real.

Secret Identity - The secret Identity is the one everyone knows, somehow, everyone has forgotten your normal identity...

Villain Defeated by Friendship - Villain defeated by hatred.

Bad Boy & Good Girl - Good boy and bad girl.

Stalking/Obsessive Love - Avoiding the person they like to try and ignore their feelings.

Monster x Hunter - Hunter x Hunter, both thinking the other is a monster, or Monster x Monster, both thinking the other is a hunter.

Hero Gets Framed - The wrong villain gets framed.

Yandere - but it's two going after each other.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“I’ll admit,” the villain whispered, their hand slowly sliding along the hero’s leg - from their knee to their thigh to be precise - “I’m a bit rusty.”

“You?” the hero asked.

“We haven’t seen each other in six months,” the villain said. “That’s enough time to rust.”

“I thought you would have gotten your fun elsewhere.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Softly, the villain pressed a kiss to the hero’s throat and the hero (stupidly so) forgot their responsibilities very quickly again.

The hero didn’t consider themselves particularly greedy in bed. They took what partners threw at them and usually, that was enough. With the villain, it felt different. They felt more confident, they felt terribly secure. The hero wasn’t a passive party anymore.

“Six months are enough to move on,” the hero whispered.

Their stomach dropped when they realised that the villain was giving them a hickey. Instinctively, the hero grabbed their enemy’s clothes but only got a hold of one of the bullet proof vest’s straps. Though the hero tried to pull them closer, the villain didn’t move until they were done on the hero’s throat.

With a wet sound, they parted.

“You’ll understand how desperate I am right now, then.”

“Is it smart to continue this?” the hero asked. Six months. Six. Often, their thoughts would circle around the villain. As if they were an addict.

“…do you want to continue this?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Again, they leaned in and this time, they left a trail of kisses on the hero’s neck.

Within milliseconds, shivers ran down the hero’s spine and their brain fried. Their heart was loud enough for both to hear.

“I don’t know…maybe something changed, maybe you changed.” The villain looked at them, their usually focused and serious eyes suddenly soft.

“Love, what are you talking about?”

“Maybe there is someone else you…” The hero took in a deep breath. Six months were a long, long time and if the villain had found someone else during that time…someone who was simply more fitting, the hero didn’t want to stand between them. The villain was charismatic, chatty, nice when they had to be. Surely there had been someone who had shown interest while the villain was in hiding.

“You’re aware I am extremely picky when it comes to my partner.”

“Yes, I know. But—”

“And stupidly loyal.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. They knew what loyalty meant to the villain. It wasn’t a term they used carelessly.

“Don’t worry,” the villain murmured. They pressed an innocent kiss to the hero’s lips and continued with another one that was a little more daring.

The hero had almost forgotten what it felt like to be kissed. What it felt like to have the villain’s tongue in their mouth.

Even as the villain pulled away, the hero couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

“You’re my nemesis,” the villain reminded them. Two of their fingers traced an invisible path down the hero’s chest. “You’re irreplaceable.”

The villain was methodical. They were gentle. Their hand stopped on the hero’s lower stomach.

“And now, be a darling and spread your legs. I’ve been craving the sounds you make for half a year.”

[automeris-io-moth]

Short #5

"Shush, you're okay," Villain soothed, a warm hand running through Hero's hair, mask long ago discarded on the floor, filthy with blood and dirt. 

Hero disagreed, grunting as a half-thought response, still navigating on the frontier of consciousness. Trying, and failing, to slap the other’s hand away. 

“They did quite a number on you, no one would believe they’re supposed to be your friends.” Villain whispered the last part, a hand reaching for Hero’s belt, taking their weapons out, and throwing them to the side. Hero’s hand could only twitch “One can only wonder what would have happened to you if I hadn’t asked for you unharmed.” 

Carefully, Villain brushed a single tear going down Hero’s cheek. They hadn’t noticed they shed it. 

“There’s no need to cry, with me you’re safe.” 

_

Masterlist

[watercolorfreckles]

Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I understand if you don’t want to!!❤️

Hello! This has been sittin in my inbox for many months during my huge writing rut, sorry about that! I know you also gave this prompt to @the-modern-typewriter and she's been making an incredible series with it on patreon! I changed some things around because I don't want to in any way attempt some sad copy of her interpretation, but I was still inspired by the prompt itself, so I've taken some fairly big liberties to avoid any significant similarities! Hope that's okay! Also, please manage your expectations, I do not compare to the magic that is TMT's writing 😆

TW: Brief depictions of body horror. Violence.

The power blew out in sections. The lights dissolved sector by sector with a sickening whine and click–one by one–in approach.

The commotion ripped Eloise from the fictional world she was lost in, aged page corners still pinched beneath her thumb. Her spirited storytelling abruptly died behind her teeth.

Somewhere in the distance, one person shouted. Two.

Her gaze flicked behind them to the door isolating herself and the bound supervillain from the other sectors of the Maximum Security Prison for Powered Individuals or, as everyone called it, The Max. Seeing nothing but black beyond the bullet-proof glass, her attention snapped forward again to the supervillain imprisoned across from her. 

Was this the start of some elaborate escape plan on his part? Why did it have to happen on a day that she was stuck fulfilling her community service hours instead of being something she could safely gawk at in the newspaper from a distance in a few days? Her stomach did a nauseated flip. 

“What are you doing?” she blurted, voice quivering only a little. Her fingers tightened around her book.

The villain made a show of looking pointedly at his restraints. Wrists strung taut and chained to either wall, he shrugged an innocent shoulder at her as if to say “clearly, nothing.” He was perched on the edge of his bed like a bird, tilting his head with a matching sort of probing curiosity. 

For all the chaos outside of the room, Artisan had not a hair out of place. He appeared perfectly unconcerned, though as thoroughly trapped as ever: ankles shackled, arms stretched uselessly apart from each other. The power-dampening collar wrapped around his neck still blipped a faint red light, indicating it was active. 

The prisoners were rioting. Surely they couldn’t get too far? Containing the most dangerous of powered individuals was, after all, the express purpose of the facility…

The lights above them flickered, dipping the room in and out of inky darkness before settling into a dimly lit haze. Eloise’s breath stalled. The imposing dark felt like a threat, as if the lights could keep the monsters at bay. It only made a little sense, in the way that a child feels safe from the monsters under their bed as long as their nightlight is plugged in.

Except that these monsters were real. The most dangerous in the country. And she was currently feet away from the monster that made even other monsters run.

He hadn’t seemed so bad in the time that she’d known him. Quiet, impassive, yet twisting her gut with pity any time she eyed his barbaric restraints. The least she could do–while crossing off her hours–was to read the supervillain a story every few days. She couldn’t change his fate. Couldn’t make him more comfortable. What she could do was rattle off, sheepishly, about fictional worlds and impactful characters in literature and the way that a well-crafted story could transport you somewhere better.

A crash, gunshots, a scream. Tension racketed through Eloise’s shoulders. More shouts chased thundering footsteps.

Things were going very, very, wrong. And she was very much out of her depth.

Eloise jolted as something struck the door, her special-edition copy of Mary Shelly's Frankenstein falling to the ground and skidding away.

Finally, the lights cut out. With it, every noticeable piece of tech died. All of the energy felt sucked out of the room as if vacuumed. The camera’s blinking light disappeared. Alarms that should have been wailing cut silent. Speakers, keypads, and security systems, all dead. The secondary generator hadn’t sprung to life yet. That meant that this was more than a simple power outage. This was a calculated revolt.

 Eloise’s mind raced through a list of everything else that must have been failing. Coms. Sedative gas. Shock collars. Layers and layers of security locks…

Power dampeners.

Panic clamped vice-like and suffocating around her throat. Artisan’s collar was no longer blinking. 

She froze in the eerie silence of the cell, afraid of shattering the fragile calm. Her heart thumped, rabid, against her ribs.

Chains rattled and clinked to the floor.

Eloise bolted blindly for the door, smacking her palm against the DNA scanner while frantically swiping her “Volunteer Staff” badge through the card reader. When neither miraculously came to life, she resorted to banging on the door.

“Let me out, let me out! Guard!”

The door could only be opened by one person inside the cell and one outside simultaneously unlocking the security checkpoints. Even if the power were on, if the guard on the other side was gone…

The emergency floodlights kicked on, bathing the building in startling fluorescence. Eloise flinched, briefly stunned.

Hands grabbed her firmly from behind, yanking her backward.

Eloise yelped. “No, please–!”

The spot that she had been standing in exploded, steel door and concrete chunks collapsing into the room in a barrage of shrapnel. Something–no, someone–landed, bones crunching, at her feet. The guard who had last been standing on the opposite side of the door lay motionless. His blood puddled the floor, staining the soles of her Converse sneakers.

A horrified sound choked in Eloise’s throat.

Another supervillain strode in, eyes alight with hatred and something more–power. His lip curled, waving a mocking hand–engulfed in green energy–at the guard’s corpse. “God. I’ve wanted to do that for far too long. That one always got on my nerves.”

Artisan looked unimpressed. “You’re making a mess in my cell.”

Eloise’s breath caught. Hearing the supervillain’s voice was jarring. Artisan rarely spoke. Not that any of the other staff had ever actually attempted conversation with him… But even in news clips and YouTube videos, he carried himself with the kind of self-assured quiet of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. His lethal efficiency did more for his reputation than any words could.

The other man was a villain named William Frenzy, a telekinetic with a gleeful taste for violence.

Faced with Artisan’s startling calm, Frenzy… paused. Faltering on a tight rope he had moments before been strolling across. 

“Yes, well. It won’t have to be your cell much longer, will it? They can’t stop all of us.” He smirked at the dead body on the floor. “Some of them can’t even stop one of us.”

Eloise shrank back toward the corner nearest the door, agonizingly slow, willing the ugly shadows from the artificial lighting to swallow her up while the supers focused on each other. She was the kind of person that people tended not to notice; a background character in the perimeter of a story that the protagonist would meet once and never spare a thought again. She wished, then, that invisibility really was her superpower.

Artisan said nothing, his steely gaze fixed upon Frenzy.

Frenzy floundered beneath the scrutiny. The smugness buffered on his face. Finally, he huffed, crossing his arms. “I made you a nice and easy door out. You’re welcome.” He flicked a hand toward the gaping hole in the wall.

Eloise inched further toward it.

Artisan tutted, and while it wasn’t aimed at her, it shot a cold thrill up her spine. She froze, briefly, before continuing her tantalizing escape. She listened to Artisan speak again. 

“I did not need anything from you. I’ll be getting out regardless. You on the other hand…” 

Eloise stared as Frenzy’s skin shrank taut against his bones, the frame of him creaking and groaning like an old tree in the wind. The air choked out of him, fingers grabbing at his jaw as it stretched open too wide. The corners of his lips tore, slitting his mouth into a gaping maw.

The faintest of smiles graced Artisan's lips as he continued, soft as ever. “Say sorry.”

Eloise didn’t wait to see the carnage through, slipping out into the hall and running.

The other sectors were washed in the same sterile glow as Artisan’s cell was, blue-tinged and horrible, like the lights in a dentist's office. She kept to the edge of things as best she could, clinging to the walls and dark corners.

There was brawling in every sector—guards with weapons drawn mowed to the ground by the creatures they had wardened for so long. A villain fell as shots rang out. Another grabbed the guard from behind, cracking his skull against their knee. 

The smell of blood stung Eloise’s nostrils. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

She turned to flee down another hall, but two fighting inmates crashed into the doorway in front of her.

Eloise squealed, jerking backward into the belly of the room's chaos.

Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me.

Everyone was so occupied by their chosen prey, maybe she could fade into the background. Maybe she could–

Her heel caught on something and she tumbled, gracelessly, to the floor. It took her several moments to register the lake of blood seeping warm and sticky into her clothing. 

Terror blurred her brain in a white flash bang.

Disappear, disappear, disappear…

“Mm. What do we have here?”

Eloise couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. She clamped her eyes shut, another child’s illusion of protection. 

The villain opposite her chuckled. He ripped her volunteer badge off of its clip against her chest. Her eyes snapped open again. She recognized him as a ringleader among superpowered thieves. They called him Volt.

“Volunteer, eh? A pretty thing like you should know better than to willingly set foot in a prison full of men with nothing left to lose. It’s been a long sentence, darling. I could make excellent use of your volunteer services. Get up.”

Numbly, ears full of static, Eloise shook her head.

Volt frowned, electricity jumping to life in his palms. “No?” He reached for her, hand nearing her throat.

“Keep your hands to yourself or I will remove them.” 

Artisan’s voice was calm. His eyes were not.

The room quieted.

Spatters of red decorated Artisan’s prison uniform. A few drops dotted his face and he brushed them away with his knuckles, smearing the crimson across his cheek. Almost lazily, he popped his neck and stretched his shoulders, no doubt sore from the strain his restraints kept him in.

The villain across from Eloise paused, sparks still dancing across his fingertips. He regarded Artisan with the same wary caution as Frenzy had.

Before he'd been… Before Artisan had…

Eloise swallowed back the nausea climbing her throat.

Finally, Volt’s hand lowered. “She's yours?”

“She's hers. Step away.”

The man hesitated a moment too long. Artisan didn't offer a second warning. 

As if puppeted, the man's fingers raised to gauge at his own eyes. He screamed, the faint evidence of Artisan’s power shimmering over him. He clawed, next, at the skin on his face, peeling it back like wet wallpaper. 

As promised, his wrists crunched and bent, wrenching all on their own at impossible angles.

Eloise covered her ears, unable to bear the screaming. She felt sick.

“Stop,” she whispered finally. “Please.”

It did. The man collapsed into a sobbing, bloodied heap.

When Eloise managed to look at Artisan, she startled to find his attention fixed on her.

They stared at each other for a stretch of silence that itched. She imagined being forced to choke on her own lungs, or her skull constricting in on itself until it squashed her brain into pulp. For being so bold as to run, he might snap her legs and reaffix them the wrong direction, or splinter her bones to poke, grotesque, out of her skin. They always did say that his victims were his personal works of art, bodies twisted into shells of monsters.

He crooked a finger, beckoning her.

The edges of her vision swooped fuzzy and vertiginous. She rose onto wobbly knees and pushed herself to her feet. When she swayed, Artisan caught her elbow, slipping an arm around her waist to lead her forward.

He did not look back at the others, with complete confidence that no one would challenge him.

No one did.

Eloise was barely aware of taking one step after another. When they arrived back in the villain’s cell, the bodies of Frenzy and the dead guard, thankfully, were gone, though the floor was streaked with the drag lines of their blood.

She wrenched her gaze away.

Artisan’s hand moved further down her arm to her wrist, gesturing that she sit on his bed. When she shifted to do so, his grip tightened, tugging her to a stop. She frozen and tried to read his face. 

His dark brows were furrowed, suspicious eyes flicking from hers down to her hand.

He pulled down her sleeve and held her wrist up between them, revealing the power-blocking cuff clamped around it. His head cocked. He waited.

Eloise swallowed. “I’m not a super. I mean- not a super-super. Just a…..no one.”

“A no-one who volunteers at The Max? With a power-dampener?”

“They’re terms of my probation,” she blurted. “A thousand hours of community service here and a power-inhibitor for a year. I think they put me here to threaten me with where I could end up if I continue on like… Um…”

“Me.”

“A villain,” she clarified, as if that was better. 

Her gaze flitted from the fingers wrapped around her wrist and up to the villain’s face again. The harsh lighting haloed him, dimly silhouetting his face. He looked haunting. He looked lovely. A beautiful house, old and creaking, wrapped in ghosts like a bride’s veil and left to rot. 

“What did you do?”

“I…” Eloise felt very small. “I lied about being powered on my documents. So that they wouldn’t put me on the registry. When they found me out, I tried to run away.”

Artisan’s scrutiny burned her cheeks. He let go of her wrist.

“...What can you do?”

“Nothing special,” she said, cradling her wrist–wholly uninjured as it was–in her other hand. “It doesn’t even work most of the time. My power is sort of…blending in. Going unnoticed. When it’s working, I could stand in a the White House and people’s attention would glide over me as if I belonged there. Not quite invisible, but… It just tricks your brain into not thinking twice.”

Artisan’s eyes narrowed.

Eloise flinched back a step, stumbling back over her fallen book onto the bed. She stared at him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, but she still waited for the catch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them? Trying to escape?”

The villain considered her for a long moment. He sat down beside her, and the hard cot creaked beneath his weight. “Mm. That’s just it. No one inside the prison could have blown the power-dampeners. They require someone with powers to turn them off or on, and the security is impenetrable. My team has tried. Besides, if this was a simple power outage, the inhibitors would still be on. But they’re not. This was premeditated–and no one imprisoned here could have done it. No one on the outside could have done it. So. Process of elimination. Who’s left?”

That was the most Eloise had ever heard Artisan speak, and she could only sit and listen intently–As he had when she’d read him stories. Her brain whirred in a jumbled jigsaw of puzzle pieces. 

“It… It could only be an inside job.” She wet her lips. “The heroes- The higher-ups- They want the prisoners to break out so that they can kill them. A clean massacre. Justified under the law. The world’s most dangerous criminals could never be allowed to escape…”

Artisan smiled and it swirled something in her insides. “A convenient way to get rid of all of the pesky criminals clogging up the system. I’d bet anything that there are 50 snipers surrounding the building, waiting to slaughter anyone who steps foot outside.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Artisan agreed, his smile easing into something softer; something with less feral teeth.

“Thank you for helping me,” Eloise whispered. “What do we do now?”

Artisan hummed. He bent down and swept up her book, dropping it into her lap. He laid back against his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head. The bloodspots on his skin and clothes glittered in the lowlight. 

“Keep reading. I want to know how it ends.”

Part 2

[avvail]

no thoughts just thinking a villain/supervillain with a harem of hero thralls

The hero had to bite back a pained hiss on their tongue as they were shoved down to their knees.

Fingers twisted into their hair and yanked their head up, just for them to see the supervillain seated on the throne, the one creature that they, and many other people, had been rebelling against for months.

The vampire was donned in lavish robes, seated upon their throne with their thralls surrounding them, in a sight that made them sick.

The supervillain hadn’t even given them any attention, instead gorging on a bloody feast from one nestled in their lap, their eyes closed and their arms wrapped comfortably around their neck. Others were draped over them in various places, some at their side and some at their legs.

When the hero tried to look away, the fingers yanked on their hair, forcing them to watch.

“What now?” The supervillain grumbled, pulling his teeth away from the thralls neck, just to slide his fingers down anothers arm and bring their wrist up to their mouth instead. The hero watched those deadly teeth sink into delicate flesh, and they shuddered.

“The rebels,” a guard announced, giving the hero’s hair another obnoxious pull. “Found them along the southern river. We managed to catch this one.”

The hero felt sorry for them - the thralls used to be heroes, too, just like them. Now, as willingly and happy as they all looked to be given attention from such a creature, their master, they didn’t want to imagine the sorts of things they were made to do.

The supervillain tilted their head back, licking the blood off their lips as their intense eyes fell to the hero. They tried not to tense, but they felt their body betraying them regardless.

One thrall moved up to kiss the supervillains neck. Why did they have to be so indecently dressed?

It felt like the vampire was analysing every little bit of their body, and a part them even wondered if they could hear what they were thinking. A deep sigh fell from their lips, finger brushing through another thralls hair, whose head was draped along their thigh.

“Bathe them,” they spoke, their words almost hypnotic. “I’ll decide what to do later.”

The hero’s heart hammered. In relief, or fear? They didn’t know. They had thought the vampire would kill them immediately. As they were hoisted into their feet, the hero stubbornly grit their teeth, refusing to even make a noise.

Some thralls glanced over at them, their red eyes almost standing out in the shadows, but once showered with more attention, their eyes wavered and they tangled themselves back with their master.

They could feel the supervillain’s cold eyes following them as they were roughly escorted out, and hoped they didn’t suffer the same fate as the others.

[pendarling]

In Your Lap

Sharp nails kindly grazed Hero's thigh as they held as still as possible in Villain's lap. The way the ropes bounded their wrists behind their back made it unbearably uncomfortable, but the unexpected warmth of Villain forced Hero into accepting the solace.

Maybe if they had listened in more attentively, they could hear the sounds coming from outside the car and feel the turns as they gradually rode up to wherever Villain had planned to take them afterwards. From behind the blindfold, Hero's eyes had turned soft and heavy at the easy rhythm of the road, yet they fought to keep themselves from falling into Villain's trap so quickly.

If they hadn't let Villain take advantage of them during their fight, they wouldn't have been here in the first place. The worst that could happen had already passed, so it wasn't like they were in any danger.

Hero unconsciously rested their head onto Villain's chest, temporarily forgetful of their promise to themselves.

A low chuckle vibrated from them, "Getting comfortable, I see?"

They froze and took a second to quietly chastise themselves for being too predictable. "Shut up."

"Who knew you'd be so easily swayed? Or maybe you just enjoy being in the clutches of a villain?" They chuckled louder, and this time, Hero didn't take their chances and pushed themselves off.

Villain forced them back down firmly, just enough to allow Hero to hear the thumping of their heart. "Where are you going?"

Their cheeks grew warmer at the sensation of Villain's breath by their ear. "Let me off." They said, still struggling to keep awake.

Villain's grip remained firm to keep them in place. "You're telling me what to do?" they lightly nudged them, their hand squeezing slightly on their thigh as a helpful reminder of their roles. "You're my prisoner, Hero. Remember that."

"I'm not, and you better let me go." They whispered sharply, still faltering against the currents of the undeniable attraction that pulled them closer to Villain.

"Why? You know you're enjoying this as much as I do."

Their blush darkened, "No, I'm not." Again, they tried to slip out of their grasp. Hero could hardly concentrate on their breathing; they had been warned previously about the challenges of facing Villain, and perhaps Villain's real powers lay in their charms and smooth talking. What would everyone say if Hero had been snuggling so closely with their sworn enemy? Then what?

As if reading their mind, Villain leaned in closely, "Don't worry, love. I'm not going to tell anyone about our little secret." A hand ran idly by the strands of their hair; they shivered instinctively. Hero knew that if it weren't for this blindfold, they would see that classic evil grin from Villain as they would savour their win against them. For now, Hero thought, they would have to play along nicely until their escape.

~~~ MASTERLIST

[chaotic-orphan]

Concussed villain gets kidnapped?

Villain showed up on Hero’s doorstep, heaving in breaths as they slammed their fist on the door. Their arm was ridiculously heavy, and it took everything in them to throw it mercilessly against the wooden door. The effects were meagre knocks that Villain prayed Hero would hear.

If Hero was even home.

What if they were working tonight? Fuck, why didn’t Villain think of that? Their head was pounding so they rested their forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky, shallow breath, trying not to anger the fire in their ribs. Blood continued to trickle from their hairline down over their eyes and dripping onto their cheeks.

That wasn’t good.

They heard footsteps behind the door and Villain almost broke down there and then, relief flooding them like a tsunami of feeling, washing away everything that was keeping Villain upright. Tears poured down their cheeks at the thought of safety, hero looking after them… their hero. They could tell them about Superhero’s plans.

They could tell them… Villain put a hand against the door and pushed themselves backwards. They would’ve fallen if not for the arm that snaked around their waist. Villain blinked dumbly and glanced down. Arm around—?

Before they cry out or scream in warning a hand clamped over their mouth and Villain was ripped away from the door and into the shadows. Villain thrashed, struggling in their attacker’s grip, all their screams and cries muffled to nothing but silent pleas.

The door opened and Villain’s struggles renewed but Hero wouldn’t be able to see them from here. Hero wouldn’t know they were even there!

“Hello?” Hero asked into the darkness and Villain whimpered against the hands holding them in an iron cage. Villain threw their body forward, back, trying to dislodge their attackers arms but they didn’t budge even a little.

“If you want Hero to continue to draw breath, Villain, you’ll come quietly.”

Villain froze at the voice. That was… Superhero… the reason why Villain was in this state in the first place. Villain’s struggles renewed as Hero stepped out of their house. If they could even sense something was amiss so close to them then they would investigate. Hero would have to investigate, right? And Hero was in danger too!

Villain had to warn them, they had to!

“Hello?” Hero asked, a note of agitation creeping into their voice.

I’m here! Villain wanted to scream. Hero please! I’m right here.

A pinch in their neck and Villain’s fruitless struggles seized, their blood running cold. They flinched as cold liquid was pushed into their neck. No… no, no, no, no. “That’s it, Villain,” Superhero whispered. “Don’t fight it.”

The hazy world blurred even more and Villain fell back against Superhero’s chest, the fight leaving them almost instantly. What did Superhero drug them with?

Their eyelids shut and Villain forced them back open, with a gargantuan effort. The last thing they saw was Hero frown and close the door before their entire world faded to black in the arms of their enemy.

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #254

Hero wrapped the emergency blanket around Villain's wet and trembling shoulders. "You know, when I let you escape into the woods, I didn't know you were going to get lost. Or that you sucked so bad that wilderness survival."

Villain managed a half-amused exhale through their clenched teeth. "And you know so much?"

"Actually, yes. My camp is about a mile over that ridge. You think you can make it that far?"

Villain fought their stiff legs into the standing position, stumbling a bit on the way up. "What, you can carry traumatized civilians, but can't spare a bit of muscle for your nemesis?"

Instead of quipping back, Hero suddenly scooped them into their arms. "I certainly can if you need me to."

[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