#hero villain angst

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #67

By @writingpromptsworld

When the villain woke up, they did not expect to find themselves tied to a bed, their hands and legs binded. Their eyes shot out of their sockets, eyebrows frowning, as their hands twitched by their side to be let free. Panic. They could make out a patient gown that they were wearing for reasons unknown.

They struggled against the heavy metal chain that somehow seemed to wait more by the passing second. However, it wasn’t long before footsteps could be faintly heard coming towards them. Realization.

They held their breath, frozen, and their head throbbed in response. The hero. It was the hero, with a grin well too ingrained in the villain’s head, it was impossible to erase it.

They clenched their jaw at the sight of smiling teeth, and snatched at the chains again which in response tightened, and they let out a scream.

The hero shook their head with a sigh. “Don’t. Don’t try to be free of them, they’ll only strengthen in result.” They said.

The villain stayed silent for a moment, after stopping the fumbling around. They breathed heavily, looking at the hero. “Let me go.” They said, weakly, however the hero could detect the underline of threat they were trying to seep into their words. It didn’t work.

“No. I’m having way too much fun seeing you like this. Finally under my control.” The hero mused, smirking slightly.

“Let. Me. Go.” The villain repeated themself, clenching their jaw which increased the hammering of the headache.

The hero simply sighed again, as if in disappointment. They lightly treaded the ground until they were in front of the villain. “How about you stay still and wait until the scientists come, mhmm? They should be here any moment.”

The villain’s heart raced further, fear and confusion and anger filled their eyes, and they couldn’t help but grab at the chains again in order to espace. “What do you mean?” They asked, voice high but at the same time so afraid. And if it were anyone other than the hero, they wouldn’t have detected it. The hero did, however. And they took great pleasure in it.

“They’re going to experiment on you a little. See what goes in that little head of yours.” The hero smiled, delighted.

The villain’s anger only grew, and they tried to wrestle the chains again. It didn’t help, only made them cry out in sheer pain. They threw curses at the hero. Threats, promises to destroy the hero and the city, but it wasn’t enough. The hero had left by the time the villain was too tired to fight. And they had drifted off to sleep, more like fainted of dizziness.

The drugs did work, the hero pondered, walking out of the room.

[patchworkorphan]

The Hero and the Infant: Part Two

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

[chaotic-orphan]

Hi, hope you’re having a nice day!! Love your writing :) Could you please continue heroic betrayal if you’re planning to?? Not to rush you or anything, it’s just got me slightly hooked oops! Thank you!! :)

HEROIC BETRAYAL (6)

Part one here

Continued from here

This part has had so many drafts, so so many, because I couldn’t get Supervillain right at all, and today? For some reason! It all just flowed! So you are in luck! It’s the paddy’s day weekend, struck gold! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

They walked in a tense silence that made Hero squirm. The two of them were always chatting, or having banter back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. Now, with Flynn marching Hero up a set of stairs, it felt as if they were two strangers. As if Flynn was actually a Villain.

He is, a voice sniped in the back of Hero’s mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his Hero façade.

Hero kept their guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. Hero expected to be greeted with the view of a warehouse, or some top secret villain base. Maybe something from the movies, or an equal to the Hero tower HQ.

Instead, their gaze found a house. Hero frowned, wanting to turn their head and comment on it to Flynn but they didn’t. They refused. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.

“Through here,” said Flynn, pulling Hero to the right. Hero caught only a glance of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, of Flynn and Villain as children and a man and woman smiling in the picture above them. Hero swallowed.

Were they in Flynn’s childhood home this entire time?

It’s not what Hero expected at all. It was clean, almost pristinely so with wooden oak floors and a warm, homely feel to it. Clean and yet lived in.

Hero closed their lips, and just let Flynn guide them through another door into a dining room. Hero’s brows raised to the ceiling, looking at Flynn in question before they could help it.

Flynn curled his top lip inward, his tell for when he was embarrassed. “Supervillain insisted,” he said by way of explanation and brought Hero to the end of the table. It sat six people, two chairs on each end and two on both sides.

Flynn pulled out Hero’s chair and quirked his lips at them. “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”

“You can always stop me if I do,” Hero replied sweetly, sugared smile not quite meeting their eyes.

Flynn’s smile was cold in return. “I can. Or Villain, whichever is quicker.”

Hero felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in their heart like a rose’s thorns wrapped thick around it. Hero didn’t reply to that, they just sat down on the chair lifting their handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push in their chair.

Flynn sat beside them, on their right. Hero could have laughed at the horribleness of it all. Flynn sat on Hero’s right because after endless sparring they had both realised it was Hero’s weaker hand. If Hero was going to do something stupid, going for their right hand side would be easier to subdue than their left.

How had they not seen the warning signs? How had they not realised that Flynn was working against them this entire time?

Hero trusted them. They thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against them, Hero could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.

Now all their trust was twisted against them mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at them with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt them more.

Hero heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them, different than the door that Flynn and Hero entered the room through. There was a lively bustling of movement and then a man in his late thirties, early forties walked through the doors with a wide friendly smile holding two plates of something.

He had wavy brown hair, slightly overgrown around the edges, some strands tucked behind his ears Hero noticed. His eyes were sea-coloured, somewhere between green and blue, but shining with a happiness that Hero didn’t expect of Supervillain.

Then it hit Hero that they were staring at Supervillain. The Supervillain! Hero’s nemesis, their foe— the man who was always one step ahead of Hero. Hero glanced at Flynn, almost mutinously before Supervillain drew Hero’s attention back to them.

Supervillain set a plate of food in front of Hero with a big smile, then walked around Hero and placed one in front of Flynn. It was what looked like roast chicken and green beans and roast potatoes. Hero stared down at it, their mouth watering slightly and a gnawing yearning in their gut for food.

How long had they been here? Overnight at least because it was day time at the moment. Hero looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Hero then to Hero’s plate and dragged it over to him.

“Hey—”

“Relax, I’m just cutting up your chicken. You’re not getting a knife.”

Hero waited, watching Flynn cut up the food. Then they sat back against their chair, eyes going to the doors to see Supervillain was gone. Flynn pushed Hero’s plate back in front of them. Then Supervillain came through again followed closely by Villain, a shadow like fist holding something that was dropped in front of Hero. It smacked against the table lightly with a bounce and Hero realised it was a plastic fork.

Everyone else had proper utensils.

Hero waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before speaking. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Supervillain’s smile didn’t dim. “As you like it, Hero. Though, if I drugged you with the chicken or the vegetables I would have drugged us all.”

Hero didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much their stomach wanted them to. Flynn grabbed Hero’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”

Hero’s head snapped to him. “And how do I know this wasn’t all some planned ploy?”

“You don’t,” said Flynn honestly, meeting Hero’s gaze earnestly. Hero had to look away before they cried. Stupid fucking Flynn.

“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Hero’s gaze. “If I wanted to starve you, I wouldn’t have plated you up a meal. I would have handcuffed you to the chair and let you smell the food and watch us eat.”

Hero swallowed, gaze hardening into a glare as Supervillain tilted his head and shrugged lightly. “However, if you don’t want to eat I won’t force you.”

Hero sat back stubbornly, eyes not leaving Supervillain as he tucked into his divine smelling meal.

“Flynn said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do,” Supervillain replied. “As soon as we have eaten. It’s bad for the stomach to mix work and pleasure.”

Hero blinked at him, then stared back at their plate. The steam was still rising from it, begging for Hero to eat it. Hero swallowed again, finally reaching for the fork that was discarded in front of their plate.

Nobody at the table made any remarks as Hero took their first bite of chicken. They didn’t even feel eyes on them as they ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as they filled the hole in their stomach.

All too soon their plate was empty and Hero set their fork back on the plate, sitting back in their seat, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at them from across the table.

“Well?”

Hero swallowed. “Really good.”

Supervillain’s smile beamed at them. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”

Flynn’s eyes went between Hero and Supervillain, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Supervillain looked at him. It stifled the words in his throat and he nodded and gathered his and Hero’s plate. “Sure.”

Villain did the same with their and Supervillain’s plate. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”

Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Hero, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Then the double doors shut on both of them and it was just Hero and Supervillain alone.

Hero’s chest got tighter at the realisation. How many times had they longed to get to sit down with Supervillain and pick his brain on his strategies and plans? How long had they wanted to know his motivations behind it all? What the bigger picture was…

Now, Hero wanted to be anywhere but here.

Supervillain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table hands folded in front of him. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”

Hero scoffed and looked away. “I’d hardly call myself a fan.”

“Of course,” he replied pleasantly. “A hero would never admire a villain after all.”

“That’s in the job description.”

“Tell me, did you ever admire Flynn?”

Hero’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile was less pleasant now, more shrewd. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips still quirked into a smile.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was always a Villain.”

“Yes. However, that is not what I asked you.” Supervillain said lightly, not letting Hero off the hook. Hero swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”

“Yes,” said Hero patiently. They couldn’t lose their cool now, they had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. “He was my partner. Obviously I admired him.”

Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Hero. He’s a villain. How can a Hero ever admire a Villain?”

“If you want to get into some philosophical debate I’d rather Villain bash my nose against the bars of my cell again.”

Supervillain’s lips pursed. “If you like.”

The words ran like cold water down Hero’s spine. “However,” he continued, “I’d rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”

Hero swallowed the lump that was rising in their throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Hero that he had no reservations about Villain killing them? It isn’t anything like Hero thought he would be.

“You wouldn’t let them,” said Hero licking their lips, making an effort not to make a face at the taste of salt and iron of dried blood dancing along their tastebuds.

Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”

“No,” Hero echoed then swallowed. “Even if you did let Villain hurt me or torture me, or whatever, you wouldn’t let them kill me. You’d rather draw it out slowly.”

Supervillain raised his hands, elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he stared at Hero. His sea green eyes looked stormy now, the twisting murky colour piercing through Hero’s soul. His smile was anything but friendly now.

Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Hero expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Hero had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Hero noticed their heart beating faster in their chest.

“And you say you’re not a fan,” Supervillain said, a perceptible knowing coating every smooth syllable.

“I’m not a fan of you hurting people. Killing people.”

“And yet it’s all you heroes ever seem to respond to.” Hero’s retort died in their throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”

Goading? What goading? Hero’s brows furrowed down over their eyes, shadowing them slightly as their mind ran over Supervillain’s words.

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed fondly. “Flynn said you have a look when you’re trying to solve a riddle, this must be it.”

“I don’t have a look,” Hero spat, ignoring the blush that coloured their cheeks.

“Of course you do, dear Hero. We all do. That’s why in poker you have to learn to mask your tells.”

“Are we playing poker, Supervillain?”

“No, hardly. Though I’d wager I could win your money as easy as it took me to tank that developmental property on seventh.”

Hero hope their glare was burning a hole through Supervillain’s skull until they realised they were playing right into his hands and dissolving. Hero licked their lips and leaned forward in their chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of them.

“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, was it? You wanted me to follow Villain. You wanted them to catch me,” Hero said. Them was much easier than saying Flynn out loud.

Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”

“And bring me here to meet you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Supervillain’s eyes flashed, something glinting within them. “Because Hero, I’ve wanted to meet you as much as you’ve wanted to meet me.”

Hero held up their cuffed hands. “Couldn’t have done it more civilly?”

“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed, resting his palms flat on the table and pushing his chair back. Hero’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and started making his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Hero like a cat playing with a mouse. Hero wanted to not move, to not show him the effect he had on Hero, but their body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Hero the more they shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to their feet and — and then what?

Supervillain stopped beside Hero’s chair, one hand on the back of it, the other hooking a finger around the small length of chain that kept Hero’s wrists locked together. He pulled it up, Hero’s arms going with it involuntarily until Supervillain held Hero’s arms up high over their head.

Hero grit their teeth as their shoulders strained from their sitting position.

“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain tilting his head. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Hero at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”

Hero tugged their arms down suddenly but they may as well not have for the lot of good it did them. Supervillain leaned down, his face close to Hero’s as he grinned.

“You should have struck first, little Hero. Then maybe the roles would be reversed, but as of right now—” Supervillain’s eyes darkened. “I control the board.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill

[nekoo3001]

The wound. [MHA428]

[bebx]

love the classic damsel in distress trope, but the damsel in question is a pathetic fictional man bleeding out in the dark somewhere on the floor before his ridiculously gorgeous knight comes for his rescue just when he’s about to pass out, and the ridiculously gorgeous knight in question is actually a deranged villain who is his archenemy. but they both have these frustratingly unresolved sexual tension going on where they both hate each other but are also super possessive and protective of each other in the sense that no one else can hurt this little guy but me!!!! and so the knight carries his pathetic damsel in his arms bridal style back to his goth castle where they have hot, kinky gay sex ever after (after he nurses his pathetic enemy’s ass back to health, of course, can’t risk bruising our fragile damsel when he’s already half dead).

[frickingnerd]

love triangle with chat noir & claw noir

pairing: adrien agreste / chat noir x gn!reader x claw noir

tags: set during the paris special, romantic rivalry (chat vs. claw), flirting (cats with reader), lots of jealousy (both cats)

when ladybug and chat noir ended up in a universe different to their own, where they were villains called shadybug and claw noir, you ended up stumbling into that universe as well!

the first person you ran into there was claw noir, who was the obviously evil counterpart to chat noir

upon meeting you, claw noir seems to be head over heels for you! he might be a villain, but he has a bit of a soft side for you and immediately starts flirting!

and when chat noir sees the two of you together, with his evil doppelgänger being all over you, he HATES it!

chat noir feels super weird about seeing ‘himself’ flirt with you and he hates that the person he's jealous of is kind of himself…?

claw noir has an easier time to separate himself from chat noir! he doesn't think he has anything in common with chat, aside from his miraculous, their feelings for you and… well, their face! or whole body, really–

when flirting with you, claw noir is far more brash and suggestive, while chat noir stumbles over his words in comparison to claw!

but chat noir is always around you, to prevent claw noir to get the chance to flirt with you! he's very protective, as he doesn't trust claw noir at all, despite the two of them being the same person

claw noir and chat noir are both very jealous! that's another thing they have in common but hate to admit!

chat noir hates the idea that you could fall in love with a villain, while claw noir believes villains are more fun than those boring heroes!

they constantly try to find a moment alone with you, but are constantly crossing each other's plans!

[suksatoru]

𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮, 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧?

synopsis; dabi has always had a hard time communicating his emotions - but he tries anyway for you. he'll fight because it's all he's ever known - but your tear stricken face as he's leaving never fails to bring him crawling back to you - the only home he'll ever know.

cw; angst to comfort. pairing dabi x reader!

Dabi's been pacing back and forth outside your apartment complex for a while now - how long? Well, he didn't know. All he knew was that the hot chocolate he'd picked up for you was getting cold and he needed to go inside eventually.

He'd face your anger - your insults and wrath and rage because he deserved it. Anything you'd throw at him - he'd take it without complaint. He didn't get the right to complain when he walked out on your pleads - your cries following him all the way out into the hall as his trembling hands slammed the door in your face.

He didn't deserve you. That's what he told himself as he knocked on your door - propping an arm against the door frame as he leaned his forehead against it with a sigh. He tapped his finger against the rim of your hot chocolate cup impatiently

Medium with a bit of whip cream and two cherries- you liked two cherries so you and Dabi could each feed each other one. He'd always groan - saying you were an idiot for paying ten cents for that stupid little cherry, but the warmth that spread in his chest when you popped it in his mouth managed to snuff out any ounce of embarrassment from your sweet antics.

I don't deserve anything good.

He squeezes his eyes shut harder, trying to smother the intense burn behind his eyes as his hands curl into a fist

"C'mon sweetheart. Open the door for me, will ya?"

His voice sounded strained - tired and stressed and you can't find the strength in you to open the door as you hand hovers over the handle. You merely tighten your blanket around you and slowly press your back against the door - telling yourself you were just waiting for him to leave. In reality - you're hoping he'd say something else. Give you something to work with - something that can salvage your relationship. Anything.

He blinks in frustration when he hears no movement on the other side of the door, trying his best to keep his eyes dry as he swallows down the lump in his throat

"I'm an asshole - biggest one out there. So why don't you come swinging at me with a bat or something? I promise I'll even let you get a few hits in." He breathes out with an emotionless huff of laughter following his words as he closes his eyes.

Say something. Anything. Please.

He hears the slow clicks of the locks turning - and he's backing up in an instant as his fingers subconsciously tighten around your drink.

It opens slowly, and he holds his breath as he prepares himself to see your face once again. No doubt you'd be pissed - his lips twitched just the slightest bit as he imagined you standing on the other side of the door with one of his knives or something - prepared to pounce.

The hopeful gleam in his eyes is killed within an instant when he sees your red eyes and puffy cheeks - lash line wet with tears as you grip the door handle.

His eyes widen - and he takes one long stride forward to catch you in his arms the moment your lip trembles.

He eases you inside, muffling things you don't understand into your scalp as you sob - heartbroken cries sound through the air as he hurriedly rubs your back - cradling the back of your head as he tries to get you to look at him

"Hey...hey now. I'm here right? Look at me y/n." He whispers, his fingers grazing your chin as he gently tilted it upwards so you were peering up at him - and a small, tucked away part of him absolutely shatters from the look on your face

"I hate you sometimes. So much - " You say - your voice a whisper as he quietly wraps his arms around you, bringing you to the small couch in your living room to lay down on - the same couch you and Dabi have spent countless nights watching horror movies with each other on

"I'm sorry." He whispers, moving his fingers through your hair as a way to comfort you as your small cries continue. He feels helpless - and so stupid. He made you feel like this - he truly deserved nothing.

"I hate you-" you say again, voice rising just the slightest bit as you lift your head from his chest, screwing your eyes shut in hurt

"I hate that you always leave me worrying - how you don't talk to me when you're feeling down and how you always leave me wondering whether you're ok or not - and - and I hate how you treat your life like it's worth nothing! Do you know how much that hurts?" You finally cry, fisting his shirt in your hands as you let out a broken sob

You want to slap him - yell and scream and maybe even take him up on that offer of giving him a few hits with a bat

But you can't. Not when you were so relieved to see his face again - not when your sadness overpowered your rage like a tidal wave.

He's silent - his hands still threading through the strands of your hair as you relax into his body, ease taking over your brain as the thundering storm in your heart finally calms - it was hard talking to Dabi - it was even harder to communicate your feelings.

But the sound of his thumping heartbeat under the palm of your hand shows you that he hears you - he's listening and he's understanding and he's trying. Trying to be better for you.

The next few minutes are spent in silence, with him splayed on the couch with you hugging him like a baby koala holding onto it's mother - desperate and scared.

"Y/n." He finally rasps, breaking the silence as you lift your cheek from his chest to meet his eyes

He's crying.

You blink in confusion - then in frustration

"Stop - please stop. You'll hurt yourself." you whisper, and he can't help the bittersweet smile that stretches across his lips

"You should stop worrying about me so much. You can't get rid of me that easily." he says, slowly dragging his knuckles down your cheek as you lean into his touch with a frown

"You know I can't stop."

He covers his eyes with the back of his hand for a second, wiping away the blood that trickled down his cheek

"I don't deserve you."

His words reach your ears - a broken whisper as he avoids your gaze, the back of his hand is still pressed against his eyes and preventing you from seeing his face

"Stop it. Dabi - "

"I know. I know - just - I'm trying. I know I'm not perfect, but I swear I'll be better. You know I'll try - I don't wanna see you crying like this again." He finishes, and you slowly press your face back up against his chest - feeling the gentle drum of his heartbeat as its erratic thumping slowed to something more calm.

"Ok." You whisper

He shifts, laying on his side to look at you as he sighs. His eyes were glossy - and the sight tugged at your heart strings

"Your hot chocolates probably all cold by now." He mumbles, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheek before moving them down to trace your lips

You smile just the slightest bit - and the sight has his eyes softening

"That's ok. I don't care about that right now." You whisper - finally moving your hand forward to cradle his face. He watched you closely as you swiped away the stray bit of blood trickling down his face

"You'll stay the night, right?" You whisper - and you hate how meek your voice sounds as you ask

He moves closer, intertwining his hands with yours and huffing out a short breath of laughter

"What the hell do you think, sweetheart?"

Smiling, you poke his cheek with your knuckle

"Warm up my drink for me?" You ask with a pout, grinning when he lets out an annoyed groan. Nonetheless, he gets up after pressing a kiss onto your cheek

"Thought you didn't care about it anymore?" He calls from the kitchen

You don't respond. Instead - you sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you stuff your face into the large expanse of his back. He pokes your side as you smile, reaching your hand out to pick up a single cherry from your hot chocolate

"Open up!"

He does as you say, sticking his tongue out with a playful gleam in his eyes as you place the fruit on his tongue - he chews slowly, holding your gaze intensely and smirking as he swallows

He picks up the second cherry - your cherry - and places it in his mouth.

"Hey!" You argue with a laugh - but he's leaning forward and enveloping you in a passionate kiss - pushing the cherry from his lips forward and into your mouth

You pull away with a laugh, seeing his cherry smudged lips only made you laugh harder

"You know I actually paid for this overpriced hot chocolate crap, right? Could've stolen it, but I felt like you'd have throw a fit over it." He says, turning away to open the microwave and take out your drink as he takes an experimental sip - confirming it was hot enough before turning to you with a grin

"I get a sip right?" He asks, smugly bringing the cup back up to his lips as his tongue grazes the rim - he's obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

"You'll swallow it all in one gulp like the ass you are." You tease - and he laughs

"Uh huh. I love you too."

[tyinghershoe]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Unscented |

Shigaraki’s hands were as soft as Tenko allowed them to be.

Pairing: Shigarki/Tenko x Reader

Genre: fluff/oneshot/drabble

check out my masterlist!

You’d love to one day write parallels about Shigaraki’s hands.

How the fingers that wreaked havoc upon Japan once held you with the lightest touch. That, yes, they’ve caused pain and suffering - but at the same time, you’ve never felt anything softer.

They never said Tenko wasn’t human. 

Your first encounter with him was as expected. Shigaraki was always on guard, his eyes distant as they glanced you over. There was a moment of silence as this took place, the wooden floors creaking each time you shifted your feet, you wondered if this was the only thing he listened to as time passed (there was no room for conversation with just him and himself).

Rumors of the League were whispered in every alley you turned to, and while you never considered yourself a villain, the thought of being a perfect fit for society was just as incomprehensible. You noticed the flaking of Shigaraki’s palms and wondered if he would’ve ever fit that mold. (One day, when you’re both better acquainted, Tenko will help you shape your own).

“I wouldn’t call you a villain,” Tenko whispered to you one night, his voice barely audible over the creaking floorboards. The bar was still, with you two the exception, enclosed between the dim lighting from the lamps above. This was the closest you two have ever been, your fingers gently placing globs of lotion onto the webs of his hands. They weren’t as rough of a texture as you imagined, the skin feeling delicate beneath you. Perhaps it was the brand you bought this time.

Those eyes, once distant and wary, were now soft as they met yours. “You have yet to kill anyone,” he persisted, his tone somber and solaced. “And as far as I’m concerned, you still work a 9 to 5 job, just like the rest of the world.”

“I have yet to pay off a parking ticket.” You confessed, your voice filled with a type of guilt. The alcohol here was less than holy, yet the man in front of you offered acceptance, one that was devoid of judgment. There was a dumbfounded expression as he closed his eyes, allowing you to softly trace the irritation away as your thumbs gently soothed his flaking face - you wondered if this source of discomfort was physical or something more.

“I won’t sell you out.” He deadpanned, before turning to you with a menacing grin, “But seriously, I destroy everything around me. They call me a murderer and yet you’re still here. You’re still here.” Shigaraki grunted, his eyes turning dark and distant as if it were your first time meeting.

There was only a hum of acknowledgment as you finished aiding his inflammation. It’s times like these in which Shigaraki was unpredictable, but you were only ever worried for his sake. Tenko was always an impulsive man. “I’ve never felt safer,” you murmured, rewarding you with a scoff of disbelief. 

“You’ll regret saying that if you ever turn to dust.” He mumbled, the threat empty. His (now soft) hand wrapped around your wrist, yet they held no real malice - you made it a point to ignore the fact that his pinky has always been raised.

-

a/n: How many months has is been since I last posted a fic? My age is showing in the sense that it’s hard for me to sit down and write all the time, but the mha hyper fixation is back, so hopefully the desire to write comes with it! This is my first time writing anything that isn’t Izuku Midoriya, I’m trying to branch out of characters that I’m comfortable with, but I promise I’ll post more of him soon.

Thank you for reading!

Follow me on ao3 @tyinghershoe

[neongalaxiie]

TW: Blood, Description of Injury (not in detail)

"This is the last straw."

The villain stood over the hero's battered form, all bloodied and bruised. The hero raised their head, not without difficulty, and saw the scowl plastered on the villain's face. The hero shuddered. "W-what do you mea—" Their sentence ended in a violent coughing fit, hacking up more blood in their palm. The villain crouched down in front of them as they settled, grabbing both the hero's wrists.

"I'm not letting you do this, going out there and risking your life. This little charade we had going on was fun, but it's gone too far." The villain's gaze dropped to the hero's hands, then down their arms, their suit. Where their body wasn't decorated by a series of cuts, a blossoming bruise lay just beneath the unbroken skin. The villain's face betrayed their concern and, the hero noticed, a hint of pity.

The villain locked eyes with the hero, and their expression hardened again. The hero gave them a sad smile, straining their split lip. "It's fine, Villain. This is my job. I chose this life, so I guess I have to deal with the bad stuff, too."

"It's not fine!" The villain almost roared, throwing their hands up to their head. They were up in the hero's face the next moment. "You could've died! And I'm the one who has to suffer for it! You... you..." The villain stared into the hero's eyes, pained. Their eyebrows drew close, first in sympathy, then with a resolve.

The villain sighed and dropped their head, standing up. They turned their back on the hero. The hero said nothing, only cocking their head in response. The villain turned their head back to the hero, and their voice took a low and dangerous quality. "You could've died. I'm not taking that chance anymore. From this day onward, your career as a hero is over."

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

enemies to lovers but it’s a villain and a hero walking hand in hand out of the fire and the smoke together, leaving everything behind them

[run-little-hero]

Despite being relatively well-liked amongst the villainous population of City, Hero hadn’t encountered this before: upon returning home, Villain, buried under their bed covers, chest rising and falling in listless sleep. Hero keeps the lights off as they shut the open window and change.

They lift the covers and slide underneath, filling the space beside Villain. Villain stirs, cracking an eye open.

“Well, well,” Hero whispers. “What’s a lovely little troublemaker like yourself doing in my bed?”

Curtain-filtered moonlight casts over their face. Villain’s lips quirk up in half a smirk. “Was looking for someone to hold. Somewhere to hide.”

“From Supervillain?”

“Yes.”

Locking legs and hands finding waists; rites of comfort. Affection and longing. Suddenly, they’re both so tired.

“Can we stay like this for a while? Before you arrest me?” Villain’s question is suspended between theirs and Hero’s lips.

“You kidding?” Hero replies. “I might keep you to myself all night.”

They never fail to make Villain smile. “Maybe I should be more afraid.”

“Absolutely. People say I’m terrifying, haven’t you heard?” They tug Villain close, soliciting a laugh.

Hero reads something unspeakable in Villain’s gaze. A singular love they’ll never need to define, for they’re the first to hold Hero’s heart this way.

After a minute, “For the record, no one says you’re terrifying.” They burrow into the embrace. “But this is.”

It breaks Hero. These moments when each passing second feels like a facture. When holding Villain isn’t enough and reality promises to tear them apart.

“I know.” They kiss the crown of their head. “But we have tonight.”

Hero plans on sleeping in and waking up alone.

—

snippet #3

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #60

(Drunk hero👀)

“So…then, I told the superhero that I can’t not go. Because…” The hero slurred, trailing off as their eyes felt drowsy. Their hand was slowly falling down from the villain’s couch they were splayed out on, their legs dangling on the edge.

The villain hummed, nodding their head as if they were listening intently as they filled up an injection with a yellow looking drug. The hero groaned. “Because what?” They prompted, as they knelt down beside the hero, the cotton swab in their right hand, softly rubbing the skin on the hero’s arm. The hero’s eyes lazily drifted to the villain’s, the gentle smile the villain offered in the moment was cruel considering what they were doing. But, the hero smiled back, they could barely make out the villain’s face, let alone the syringe in their hands.

“Because…you were going to be there.” The hero finished, their eyes closed. A knowing tone and the widening smile gave away what they were feeling. The villain’s movement on the hero’s arm halted. Their eyes turned to the hero’s face, but the hero was already in deep slumber.

The villain contemplated on what to do. They couldn’t move after what the hero said. How could they just say that?! Surely, it was only because the hero was drunk. They didn’t feel that way about the villain right? The villain’s heartbeat increased, and they took a deep breath to calm themself. They lowered the syringe and put it away on the table placed by their side.

They stood up, and grabbed a blanket to cover the hero. They couldn’t do this, not today. Little did they know, that when they are slept away in their room in the morning, the hero wakes up and sees the syringe. Full. A small cotton ball thrown to the side.

Confusion, but most of all, a kind of fury settles in at the thought that they could ever have trusted the villain. They grab their weapon and walk to the closed room, in which inside the villain is tucked away, unbeknownst to the hero's growing rage.

[patchworkorphan]

Heroic Betrayal: part one

Hero followed the villain through the winding trees, arms braced in front of them at the oncoming bushes and branches they had to wade through before they got to a clearing.

Hero stopped, breath hitting off cold air, surrounding them in smoke. They listened for any sound but heard nothing.

Then – there.

A sudden movement.

Hero bolted after Villain again, hot on their heels as they sprinted after them. Villain was so close. Hero had to push a little faster. Hero reached out to grab Villain when someone knocked into them from the side. The trees extended above Hero, the world seeming to stretch as they fell.

Hero’s head hit off the frozen ground hard, rattling their brain, the world growing hazy for a moment. Hero’s assailant landed on top of Hero and while Hero was momentarily stunned, they sat up, knees straddling Hero’s hips effectively pinning them. Hero swung a closed fist up, but their wrist was caught, and their attacker pinned the other to the ground as well.

“Well, well, well. As I live and breathe, Hero. It’s been a long time.”

Hero would recognise that stupid drawl anywhere.

“Flynn?” Hero asked, their brain trying to catch up with their mouth. “What are you doing here? Get off me! Villain’s getting away.”

“I know,” Flynn said with an easy smile. “I’m meant to distract you.”

Hero’s blood ran cold. “What?”

Flynn tilted his head down at Hero.

“I didn’t hit you that hard, did I? If I want you to not remember something I won’t beat the memory out of you, don’t worry,” he said, leaning down to get closer to Hero, whispering, “I’ll take it.”

Hero threw all their weight into their hips, as they shifted, rolling Flynn off them so they were on top.

“As you like it, sweetheart,” Flynn chuckled. Hero threw a fist out and this time it landed.

“You’re a traitor?” Hero breathed when Flynn smiled up at them. “You’re one of them?! That’s why supervillain knows every move before we make it…”

Flynn put his two hands behind his head, grinning up at Hero with a charming smile. “I always did love when the mystery was solved in the end. Especially by you, that look on your face.”

“We were friends!” Hero snarled, fists grabbing the collar of Flynn’s shirt to make him listen. This wasn’t some game or joke they could just disregard. How could they be so calm? This couldn’t be happening. Everyone loved Flynn, everyone. He was always so nice.  

“We are friends, dear Hero.”

“Not if you do this. Not if you’re one of them. Sidekick got hurt because of you!”

“And they’ll heal, won’t they? I warned them not to be put their nose in other people’s business.”

Hero sagged a bit. Their grip loosening.

“Are you going to take my memory?” Hero whispered quietly.

Flynn’s gaze softened and he put a gentle hand on Hero’s wrist. “No. I would never use my powers on you. It would take away all the fun.”

Hero’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But… but I know now. I’ll tell Superhero— do you want to be found out?”

Flynn’s smile turned secretive, like he knew something Hero didn’t. “No, you won’t.”

Hero stared at him; mouth open in silent confusion. Which all ended when they felt cold metal press against the back of their skull. Flynn beamed at someone behind Hero, then fixed his smug gaze on Hero’s eyes.

“You won’t because you’re coming with us.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[chaotic-orphan]

Exhausted Hero

*~*~*~*~*

“Wait…”

It wasn’t the word that caused the Villain pause. It was the desperation behind it. The rain was hammering down against the fire escape outside, Villain’s hand still holding the window up. A small hand was clutching the fabric of their hoodie and Villain was left frozen like this.

They turned their head over their shoulder to see Hero. Head bowed, eyes drawn, focused on their hand in Villain’s jumper as if they didn’t quite expect it themselves.

“Yes Hero?” Villain asked, voice gentle.

Hero licked their dry lips, eyes lifting to Villain’s, looking at them through their fringe. It cast the shadows in Hero’s sockets, exposing every line, every bag under them. And they were wet with unshed tears that seemed too much for Hero to shed. Like if they did they would crumble to dust.

“Please… stay. I— I haven’t slept…” Hero whispered, voice barely audible, and loud at the same time. Loud in telling Villain how desperate they must have been to ask Villain for help. To stay? To help them? To show this vulnerability. This weakness.

It told Villain everything they needed to know.

Villain shut the window. It was the best night’s sleep Hero’s had in weeks.

[whump-galaxy]

The villain wraps their cloak around the hero’s sidekick. Severely injured, delirious, and too weak to hold their own head up, the sidekick grips the villain’s arm. Their eyes are glazed over, but their tone is steady.

“Please, don’t let me die here. I don’t want to be a hero anymore.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The hero let out a wet groan, pushing themselves up as the blood ran down their side. It was in itself a funny feeling.

It was a good feeling.

Absolutely no one in this rotten city was able to challenge them. Physically, they were stronger. Mentally, they were quicker. And their dedication, their devotion was like a holy prayer that guided them through their nights.

The hero knew it wasn't a good thing - the longing for a challenge, the desire for an opponent that could actually make them a better fighter. It was a dangerous wish and they had to remind themselves regularly why they were doing this job in the first place.

To do good. To be good. Not to find someone who was their very own nemesis.

However, with the villain's boot on their ribs and that brutal nature of theirs, the hero was struggling not to find this utterly satisactory.

"Yeah, right there," the hero wheezed. "Make me scream."

The villain tilted their head and tutted, nearly bored of the hero's games. They let out a sigh and grabbed the hero's hair, yanking them up.

Another wheeze.

And the villain crouched, holding the hero by their hair. Very close. Very intimate.

"Do you think I am stupid?" the villain asked. Their lips brushed the hero's ear and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, the hero could only concentrate on the adrenaline rushing through their body.

"No," the hero said. They had to grin. Sometimes, they wished they could devour the villain, that they could change them and ultimately, that they could control them.

The hero knew it wasn't right. They knew it wasn't good. But they had never felt this kind of obsession towards anyone. In previous relationships, they hadn't gotten jealous, they hadn't gotten angry. They had never struggled like this. They had never doubted themselves like this.

"I know your dirty little secret," the villain said. "I know you like me. You like this."

"I didn't try to hide it," the hero said.

"Not from me. But the public."

"What are you trying to...?"

"Oh, poor hero," the villain murmed. "See, the difference between you and me is, that I do not care about you. If this gets to one, just one flimsy reporter, the people will turn against you. I can ruin your entire career. Your entire life."

The hero had miscalculated. Obviously, they hadn't expected their nemesis to feel the same. But they also hadn't expected them to tell the public. To use the public against the hero. It was a little shameless. But the hero was even more disgusted by their admiration for it.

"So?" the hero asked. Losing the public was a detrimental loss, that much was clear. But was it even measurable next to the fights with the villain? Did it even matter? When the hero could feel this euphoric? This alive? When had the public ever made them feel that way? "I would still have you."

"I do not love you," the villain argued. "You're not as important to me as you think."

"Give it some time," the hero said. "You will love me, don't worry. Everyone does."

The villain simply laughed at that. It was nearly soft. Or maybe the hero wanted it to be. It didn't matter.

"I have to admit, I am quite interested in what you have in store for me. How will you act once the public calls you a traitor? What will you do when I refuse to fight you? You are-" with their index finger, the villain traced the hero's thoat "-so very unique."

"Is that attraction?"

"Obligatory interest."

"And you say you're not in love."

They stared at each other until, finally, the villain dropped them. They cleared their throat and tilted their head. But the hero swallowed blood when their head nearly smashed against the concrete floor.

"I like toying with you, that is all."

"Sure," the hero said. They clutched their heart, tried to breathe. Being close to the villain was a gift, no matter how much it hurt. The hero loved it, loved their words, loved their personality, loved the challenge. It was insane, the hero felt completely deranged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

And the hero was excited. So very excited for the next weeks.