#hero and villain story

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can you please write something where the villain has to take care of the hero’s wounds. Thanks! I absolutely love your writing!

"Don't bloody touch me."

"Your wounds will get infected without the right care."

"Then get one of your lackeys to do it," the hero snapped. "But you - you -" Their throat tightened. Maybe because there were no words to describe the villain, the thing that had once been their friend. Maybe because there were too many words, and they all crowded the hero's windpipe, making it difficult to breathe.

The villain considered them, head tilting, still clutching the first aid kit in their hands.

The hero let out a breath between gritted teeth, tugging at the chains holding their wrists useless above their head.

The villain gave an unreadable sort of hum, then stepped forward with the first aid kit anyway. They knelt. It felt like getting kicked in the jugular.

"If you headbutt me," the villain said, "you'll just get even more restrained. You won't like it. It will set off your claustrophobia."

"Then don't touch me. Don't - why - don't act as if you give a crap."

"Of course I do." The villain took a pair of scissors out first, cutting away the hero's trousers so that they couldn't get at the ruined skin on their leg. Their hands were terribly gentle as they cleaned the cut. "I mean, I also need you alive. But. You know."

"If you gave a crap about me you wouldn't do this. Any of this."

"Ah, love. You're mistaking care with being my first priority," the villain said. "You are, as ever and always, my third."

The hero scoffed, bitterly. Stupid tears threatened to well in their eyes and they jerked their head away, glad, at least, for the sting of disinfectant as an excuse.

They knew the exact list without asking.

The villain's grand plans. Their power.

The villain's life.

The hero's life.

As ever. As bloody always.

The villain glanced up, unerringly finding the hurt.

"I say mistaken," the villain kept their voice light, their hands busy. "It's closer to you thinking it doesn't count, right? If you're not everything?"

The hero's jaw clenched. The tears rolled down, as they knew the tears would, if the villain insisted on touching them with those familiar hands. They were so different, and yet they smelled the same up close, same body wash and shampoo or whatever as they'd always had. Amber. Their touch was the same, precise and dangerous and oh so careful. The hero would know it anywhere. Because, well...

You were everything to me.

It was the fundamental, rotting, entirely infected truth of their relationship.

"What would that team of yours think if they knew you only do what you do to - what? Spite your ex? Get them back?" the villain asked. They moved from disinfectant to the needle and thread.

"You killed people! You need to be stopped. It's not - it's never enough for you! All the power and it's never going to be enough for you, is it? You're a monster."

"And you still want me." The villain smiled at them, blandly. "Worst thing that ever happened to you. That I ever did to you. Is love a thing one does to another, like violence, do you think?"

"You disgust me."

"Mm. Would you like to bite down on something before I give you stitches? Or do you want to take this as an opportunity to work on biting your tongue?"

"I'm not going to stop."

"Of course not. That would require moving on."

The hero snarled, feeling feral, feeling animal. Feeling like they hated that the villain had reduced them to that. All blood, and exposed nerves and bones sticking out where they shouldn't be.

The thread went in and out, in and out.

"Pressure on the wound," the villain said, softly. Then they shoved their hands down hard enough to make the hero whimper, make them writhe. The villain watched. They held on a beat longer than needed, capturing a pained gasp with a press of lips. A nip of teeth. It couldn't really be called a kiss. "You think I'd ever, ever, let my lackeys put their hands on you? You're mine."

Then it was gone, and the hands were gone, and the villain deftly did their bandages as the hero slumped. Clammy with cold sweat.

"And I will always give you the right care you need." The villain straightened, they loomed, looking down at the hero. "Get some rest. It's good to see you again."

They left with the hero still swearing at their back.

[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.

[the-cypress-grove]

Prompt: 220

"You've been stabbed, you're going to medical!"

"It's fine. I've been stabbed loads of times. I know what a serious stab wound feels like, this is more of a scratch."

"..."

"Ah."

"You've been stabbed 'loads of times.' "

"That sounded more reassuring in my head."

"You're going to medical."

[nutsack90]

just a normal girl

[avvail]

truth potion/serum 😌

“What’s that?” The hero murmurs uneasily under their breath, watching as the villain carefully inserts the needle into the soft flesh of their forearm, making them wince slightly. They watch it plunge into their vein, only daring to tug against the restraints once the needle is out of their skin.

The villain merely sends them a smile. “Nothing that’ll kill you.”

“Let me guess,” the hero growls. “A fate worse than death? Are you really trying this bullshit with me after all this time?”

“You don’t think our dynamic is a conventional one?”

The hero shuts their mouth, contemplating what the villain’s game was. If it was a sedative, it was a slow acting one, since they couldn’t feel any symptoms creeping up on them just yet. It was peculiar - they felt just fine.

“Let’s be honest,” the hero sniffs, and they don’t miss the way the villain almost laughs in amusement. They don’t know why that’s funny. “If our relationship was a conventional one, you would have killed me the moment you kidnapped me.”

The villain hums, their eyes roaming from their face languidly, kissing their teeth. The hero watches with a stubborn frown as they begin to circle around them, ever so slowly, and it makes them nervous.

They try not to shift.

“You’re right,” the villain sighs from behind them, and they want nothing more than to crane around to keep their eyes on them, but they can’t. Their heart races relentlessly in their chest, clenching their jaw. “Would you rather we adhere to the stereotypes?”

They roll their eyes. “If it means getting killed, then why would I?”

“You’re self righteous and selfless, aren’t you?” The villain teases. “Doesn’t that come with your job?”

“It doesn’t mean I’m eager to die. Dying means defeat, and I wouldn’t ever let you defeat me. You and I both know that.”

The villain stops beside them, a smile on their face that the hero doesn’t like. They send them a sharp glare for good measure, just because they can.

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

“No,” they confirmed. The villain stepped closer to them, their thumb gently brushing over a tender bruise on their temple. The finishing blow that had rendered them unconscious, making it easy for the villain to drag them here into their clutches. The hero forces back a wince, their eyes hard and determined. The villain loves that look.

“But you’re like that with others,” the villain comments, still stroking their temple. “Other villains, I mean. Especially Supervillain - the typical good versus bad. You know they’d kill you if they could. Stereotypes, after all.”

To hero resists the urge to lean keenly into that touch. “Because I know Supervillain is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Their eyes gleam mischievously. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

They shift. No dizziness yet, and their vision is completely clear, along with their mind. It’s not a sedative. What are they planning?

“No,” they respond after a moment, and the villain’s jaw ticks. It’s the only sign of irritation they’ve seen from them, but their tongue blurts more before they can stop themselves. “You’re dangerous in different ways.”

The irritation disappears, and the thumb slips down their cheek.

“Dangerous in different ways,” they muse, as if chewing the words that came out of their mouth. The hero’s heart is pounding against their ribcage, and they’re not quite sure why. The villain is incredibly close, feeling pinned down by their cold gaze alone.

“You’re easier to be around,” the hero speaks, trying not to stammer over their words. “I...” I hate you, don’t get me wrong. That’s what they want to say, but their throat closes up before they can. The villain’s thumb strokes the bottom of their jaw, and they shiver, as if encouraging them.

“Because I know you won’t kill me. When given the chance, you go easy on me.”

“You think I go easy on you?”

The hero gives them a disgruntled look. “You never torture me. Last time you kidnapped me, I slept in one of your guest rooms.”

“You were still a prisoner, or did you forget?” The villain scoffs. Of course they had been. The hero had spent all night trying to pick the lock, to smash the windows, but there was no point. They were a prisoner, but it never felt like they were in danger. Not in the same sense they felt when the supervillain almost incapacitated them. It was different.

“That’s not the point,” the hero snaps, unaware of their own rising irritation. They jerk their head away from the touch, feeling as though it was distracting them. The villain has this arrogant smirk on their lips, as if they know exactly what they’re doing. “If I ever kidnapped you, I wouldn’t stick you in a luxurious room. I wouldn’t let you sleep on a bed, I wouldn’t have you here and not torture you.”

The villain hums, their voice dropping low. “You like it when I treat you good?”

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

It takes a single, heart stopping beat for the hero to realise what they’d just said, their brows furrowing in confusion. They open their mouth to say something else, before their eyes flick down to the red pinprick from the needle in their skin. They release a shuddering breath.

“A truth serum,” they breathe. “That’s what you injected me with.”

The villain lets out a dark, amused chuckle. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

They lean back, creating a rift of air between them where the hero can still feel their warmth. It still feels hard to breathe, their wrists flexing under the restraints, and they grind their teeth hard together. This is dangerous. This was exactly what they were talking about.

“Are you tired, Hero?” The villain’s soft voice questions, enough to make the hero swallow uneasily. Their heart is racing now, so fast they feel like they’re going to throw up. They screw their eyes shut.

“Yes,” they say, feeling fingers under their jaw, tipping their head back. Their eyes open instinctively. The villain almost coos.

“And you love how easy it is with me,” the villain murmurs, admiring the embarrassed, shunted look in those cute eyes of theirs. “Love how I treat you.”

The hero’s fists clench. They desperately try to say no. “Yes.”

“And,” the villain purrs, their thumb brushing along their bottom lip with precious ease,” it’s dangerous because it’s so easy to shut your brain off. So dangerous to let your guard down around me. Easy to manipulate, as much as you wish that wasn’t true.”

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

“Do you think I’m manipulating you?” They ask, their voice a hushed whisper, like a soft lull in their brain. The hero squirms, but they still can’t look away, not even daring to swallow. The villain leans in closer, their lips so close to theirs, and their voice turns dark. “Do you think it’s working?”

Who knew the hero’s weakness was simple acts of kindness. The villain had never thought going so easy on them would make them putty in their hands. But it did.

The hero bites down on the inside of their cheek, straining not to answer. The villain’s fingers curl around a lock of their hair, tucking it behind their ear tenderly. Too tenderly - the hero loves it.

“Better not fight it,” they hum. “It’ll hurt.”

“Yes,” the hero finally gasps, the throbbing pain in their head easing. They almost feel out of breath, trembling under each of their cunning touches.

The villain’s eyes gleam, leaning forward to kiss them. The hero had been so adamant they could never defeat them, and it almost makes them crackle. Maybe never in the stereotypical sense, but they had proved this was not a stereotypical rivalry; what was true defeat if they didn’t conquer them, after all?

@badthingshappenbingo

[d4rk-x-w0lf-17]

bnha villain izuku au but he isn't actually a villain; he still really loves and idolizes heroes but forcibly adopts the LOV and now they're all having tea with inko as she dresses up toga in a cute dress, puts an egregious amount of lotion on shigaraki and helps him break his habits, gives dabi the best mom hugs he's ever had, calls magne the most beautiful woman she's ever seen (and even helps her transition), slaps down adoption papers for the entire league and gets them all put in therapy

inko single-handedly beats the shit out of AFO and manages to put him in an early grave through the sheer force of being a Mom to a bunch of traumatized kids

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #3006

The hero lunged towards the glass wall, as if the shackles would break this time.

The villain tutted from the other side, gently tapping on the glass. "I thought you were done with these tantrums. I suppose you always were quite brave, which is a very kind way of calling you an idiot. Surely we can break that spirit and get you to learn a lesson for once."

[shy-raccoon]

The damsel in distress slowly starts getting more and more unstable from the unaddressed trauma of being frequently kidnapped. One day they completely snap and the villains start being found mysteriously murdered with increasing brutality.

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #65

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The villain nodded. “Yes, fine.”

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

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

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

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

[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

[quipxotic]

You've spent 118 episodes wondering about what's up with the red moon and hearing conflicting versions of what Predathos is, and finally you're here at its doorstep, and you're NOT going to go in and find out for yourself what the truth of it is?

I am the least risk tolerant player of D&D in existence and that still couldn't be me. I'd want to see it for my own eyes and make my own choice, an actually informed choice in the only way that is possible to be informed in this situation. Especially with Matt reminding them SO many times that stories are written by the winners, continually sowing doubt in what they have managed to learn about Predathos.

Just leave? You want the D&D party to walk away from adventure? The thing they exist to experience? What an anticlimatic and disappointing end to the story that would be, and that's assuming Matt would even let that happen. That there isn't someone (like Ludinus) out there to trigger it anyway.

No, let the protagonists of the story deal with the overarching threat of the story, as they were always meant to, and let's see what happens.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hiiii I’ve been interested in your work for so long! Idk if you’re taking requests but if it’s no trouble maybe you could do a situation where a cocky hero is patting down a shy villain and being ✨Spicey✨ about it? Thankyou in advanced 🩶

"For the record," the hero said, as the villain's face went scarlet, "I'd normally ask before putting my hands all over that gorgeous body of yours. Consent is important! But in this case..."

The hero drew out several knives from the set hidden beneath the villain's clothing, tossing them aside.

The villain's hands twitched uselessly in the cuffs, an aborted protest squeaking on their tongue to be careful with those!

"Well," the hero said. "Need must, eh?"

"That's all I've got," the villain said. They felt hyper-aware of the solid heat of the hero's body behind them, pinning them up against the brickwork of the alleyway with one hand, while the other patted them down.

The hero laughed softly.

"What a gorgeous liar you are too. It's as if you think I don't know you." The hero promptly pulled out a second set of knives from the villain's other side, where they lived tucked against against the villain's ribs. The villain shivered at the delicate brush of the hero's fingers - a little cool from the night air. "Turn."

The villain didn't particularly want to turn and let the hero see their face. Disarming compliments aside, nobody needed to know about the way the villain's heartbeat was thumping wildly in their throat. Or about the blush. It was just embarrassing.

"I can make you turn," the hero said. Not particularly unkindly. "How handsy do you want me to get?"

And that question - well. The villain turned so fast it nearly constituted an attack, mostly because their brain still hadn't recovered from the deft way the hero had pressed them up against the wall in the first place. The confidence of it. The fact that no one else had dared lay hands on the villain in a very long time.

The hero raised an eyebrow. Their head tilted. Their gaze roamed, entirely too thoroughly, over the villain's face. As if they could decode every secret there like it was nothing.

The villain cleared their throat and looked down, squeezing their eyes shut.

"Having fun?" the hero asked, like they knew the answer.

"No!" The villain's face burned all the more. They would have covered it with their hands if they could. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

The villain said nothing.

The hero set their hands gently on either side of the villain's ribs, dragging them down. They confiscated the various gizmos and bits of wire from the villain's pockets, before sinking gracefully to their knees.

The villain's breath gave a treacherous hitch.

The hero grinned up at them. A disgusting, cocky, arrogant, beautiful grin. They had the audacity to wink.

The villain bit down hard on their tongue. "Don't mock me," they managed.

"Not mocking you. Spread your legs."

The villain stared at them.

"Gently teasing you, perhaps," the hero allowed. "But not mocking. And certainly not about to underestimate you just because you're feeling shy. As delightful as the reaction is. Would it help if I told you that you have nothing to feel shy about? So."

The villain's stomach flattered molten. They shifted their position, leaning more heavily against the wall.

"Good," the hero all but purred.

"Pretty sure there's, like, a police officer who could do this."

"Yeah, but that would require me to trust that they'd treat a sweet thing like you right."

"...I've never been called sweet before."

"Sweet as cyanide. My favourite kind of sweetness." The hero's clever hands grazed the villain's thighs, easily finding two more sets of weapons and an emergency communication device strapped to their inner thigh. "Like a walking armada, aren't you?"

"I like being prepared."

"And are you?" The hero glanced up again as they smoothed one hand down the villain's leg, then the other.

"What?"

"Are you prepared for me?"

The villain's mouth opened but absolutely nothing came out.

"Guessing not," the hero said. "You've gone all wide eyed."

The villain shut their eyes, but then that was worse, because they could still feel the hero's hands on them. They coughed. They made a valiant attempt at composing themselves.

They failed.

"Shoes off," the hero said. "I'll give you a hand."

The villain's eyes snapped open. "You're not..."

"Strip searching you?" The hero's grin widened, and the villain hadn't known it could do that. "Not in an alleyway. That seems cruel. You'd get chilly."

"R-right."

"But you're right that I probably should be thorough. Doubt I'd manage to catch you again any time soon if you escape."

The villain caught themselves thinking it was a shame, that. Ridiculous. Utter nonsense.

The hero eased off one of their boots, then the other, taking with them the secret compartments in the soles.

It was equally ridiculous to feel somehow vulnerable with only their socks. They had the days of the week on them. Nothing like the sleek black of the rest of the villain's clothes.

The hero's eyes softened a fraction, even as the grin turned to a smirk. They rose to their feet again, the villain just a few inches shorter without the boots.

The hero traced their finger along the villain's jaw, like they might possibly have a secret capsule hidden in their teeth. They did. But that was beside the point. And not findable from simply brushing their cheek, however much it made the villain's breathing go shallow.

"Hotel across the way work for you?" the hero asked.

"W-what?"

"Told you I need to be thorough. Don't think I'd catch you again." The hero nudged their chin up, some of the bravado fading to expose the steely intelligence at the centre of them. Just as dangerous as the villain, in their way. "Not entirely convinced I caught you this time."

"You think I planned this?"

"Wouldn't put it past you, my one person battalion."

The villain's mouth felt very, very dry. Mostly because it was true. They'd planned to get caught. They'd prepared. They just...no they really hadn't prepared for the hero. Had they?

"Not as cocky as you come across, are you?" It came out barely above a breath. They should have been annoyed, furious, but...

The hero simply gave them that grin again. Even brighter and cockier than before. The picture perfect image of a powerful hero who hadn't yet learned what it was like to lose.

The villain swallowed.

"Yeah," they managed. "I suppose the hotel works fine. Do make it a nice room if you're going to get handsy. Some of us have standards."

The hero laughed at that. A full, genuine laugh from the belly. They pressed a kiss to the villain's head and the villain - well. The whole world shifted slightly. Dizzy. Intoxicating. How could the hero do that so easily? Like it was nothing?

"Excellent." The hero spun them, one arm linking them together, to keep the villain gathered close their side. Their lips pressed against the villain's ear, making them shiver anew. "Lead on, gorgeous. For you, I can even get the top security suite."

[creweemmaeec11]

Why is asking permission for certain things, both romantic and platonic, one of the cutest, most heart-fluttering things ever?

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Would you like me to carry your jacket?"

"Can I hug you?"

"Would it be alright if we cuddled?"

"Can I play with your hair?"

"Might I walk you home?"

"Can I tickle you?

"Is it okay if I kiss you goodbye?"

"Can I hold onto your arm while we walk?"

"Can I rest my head on your shoulder?"

"Is it okay if I call you (nickname)?"

"I'd really like to kiss you right now, if that's okay with you,"

"Would you let me take care of you?"

[the-cypress-grove]

Insults (Fantasy Edition)

They're as useful as a wet blanket in the middle of winter

I could talk to my horse and have a better conversation

She did love her family, but she'd rather have an ocean between her and them.

He was the kind of man to stumble across rational thought quite by accident and dismiss it as absurd

'Quite frankly, I'd rather eat Hemlock.'

I know the gods do not exist, because if they did, they would've struck you down by now.

Well, you're clearly got some troll ancestry.

That's probably the wisest thing you've ever said and yet still you are wrong.

Do you just sit there all day and hope some sort of sentient through floats in your direction

She was tolerable. From a distance.

They were often wrong but never in doubt.

[dovewingkinnie]

when the hero is more deranged than the loser villain

[orphiclovers]

han sooyoung, on being the villain