anthonyandadriantreeservice-blog

[automeris-io-moth]

Reunion

That morning Hero felt particularly tired. 

Perhaps Villain had noticed early when greeting them at breakfast, such was the reason the servants were fetched to help them shower, help them dress and eat, fed by hand as if not humiliated enough by then, trapped by the fact they were indeed unable to lift the cutlery. 

Perhaps it had been Villain’s doing. Perhaps it had been the tea, perhaps it had been something else. 

Later, Hero was taken to the main hall of the former gubernatorial palace right in the heart of the city, where a wood and gold throne laid. Hero had once, long ago, made a joke about Villain compensating for something with such a cartoonish display of power, but then they had no energy to obnoxiously repeat it, as they did every time they entered the place. Mockery was one of the few things Hero had left after all. 

Yet, that day they could barely keep their head upright, a foggy sense of nausea crepting up their throat, a heavy weight pushing them down from the top of their head kept them glued to Villain that morning, head laying on the other's shoulder as Hero laid across their lap, their enemy's hands stroked up and down their arms and back, warming them from the coldness of the room. 

"Let them in," Villain's voice boomed across the hall, the echo remaining a second longer. 

The old wooden doors creaked open, uneven steps entering the room, as if being rushed, and Hero hid their head from the sharp noise. 

"What do you think I should do, love?” Villain asked the Hero this time, pressing their lips against their hair  “Four intruders wandering around, trying to enter our home to steal god knows what.” 

And Hero tried, tried to twist their head to look at the people standing before them, distinguishing them on their knees, half aware of the number mentioned, half aware of their factions, of what they wore. 

Half aware that they knew them. 

“I told you, Leader,” one said, a whisper too sharp to fulfil its purpose of being discreet “they sold us out.” 

“Shut up, Teammate, what about that?” The called answered, face straightening and, for a moment, Hero could swear they made eye contact “What are you looking to prove with this display, Villain?” 

Villain huffed a laugh, turning Hero’s head back to them  “Come on Leader, do you really think I put this show just for you?” 

They had, Hero thought, Villain usually preferred if they weren’t seen. Just for their eyes, they had once said, when they were, as that day, too out of their mind to talk back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“I would never hurt them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they answered, hands pulling them ever so close to their chest, curling if only lightly to embrace them “I’m not like you.” 

“We never…” 

“Yes you have,” they answered “I’ve seen every scar in their body, and I’m responsible for only one. Don’t lie to my face please.” 

“They knew what they were doing! It was for the greater good,” Teammate answered this time, sweat dripping from their forehead to the blood, taking the dirt with it. 

“Such a funny concept is the greater good. I can assure you it holds no meaning to me, there is nothing greater than keeping what's mine close and unblemished, and you have scarred it, sadly.”

With a hand on their hip, and the other on their neck, Villain twisted Hero’s head slightly to the right, where their team knelt, eyes glazed, barely open enough to discern their shadows, they could see one turn away from their unintentional stare. 

“So what would a fitting punishment be,” they asked in the air, looking down at Hero “I accept suggestions, my light.”

_

Masterlist

[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

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey! I am almost certain you've done this prompt before, but may I request a villain saving the hero's life, and coming to the horrifying realization they don't hate the hero? I love your writing style btw. Thanks!

"You just saved my life."

"We don't need to make a big deal out of it. It's nothing."

Still, the villain stayed where they were. Pinning the hero to to the floor. The whole building in rubble and ruin around them. Their breath quick in their throat, their bodies pressed warm against each other. The villain's hand...the villain's hand rising to brush a smudge of dust away from the hero's cheek.

"Nothing?" the hero asked. Their voice came out breathless.

The villain swallowed. Their gaze raked over the hero. Their eyes were dark, agonised, a molten thing threatening to interrupt.

"You saved me for nothing?" the hero pressed. "You feel nothing."

"Don't."

The hero closed their eyes, briefly. Pained. Then they patted the villain in an indication that they get up, get back. Go back to everything that was normal between them. Still, the villain did not move. If anything, they only looked more agonised, more simmering.

Their fingers dragged down, dragging over the hero's bottom lip.

"You could have died." The villain's voice was harsh. "You're an idiot."

"Still here. You can probably hear my heart beating."

The villain's breath stuttered.

"...Do you want to feel?" the hero asked.

Slowly, so slowly, the villain's hand moved from where it braced to the ground to rest on the hero's chest. The thumping proof of life.

"There you go," the hero said. "Nothing."

"Fuck off."

"Thank you for saving me."

The villain made an angry sound in the back of their throat. Their nails dug in, half like they might carve the hero's heart in fury, half like they might scoop it out only to keep it save forever.

"You would have died." The villain's lips crushed against the hero's own. "God, I hate you. That would have been the stupidest reason to die!" Their lips trailed down the hero's throat, teeth digging in with a heated claim. "You're so stupid."

The hero curled their fingers in the villain's hair in wonderment. The villain's body was tense, taut. Another boiling thing.

It would be so easy to tip them over, then. To push the realisation from the villain's hungry lips, their ravenous and desperate eyes, to their voice. To make them say it.

Nothing.

They had never, for a second, been nothing.

But the villain had really thought that, hadn't they?

So the hero tipped their head back and made space, and they didn't push the villain away, and they made soothing sounds as the villain began, wretchedly, to sob.

"You're nothing," the villain said again, as if that might make it true. "Only nothing would nearly get themselves killed by a bloody building. Oh my god."

The villain's hand pressed against their chest.

They stayed in the rubble, even when the ambulances and the fire engines and the police cars all began to wail their way down the street, until the chaos beyond became unignorable.

The villain pulled back. Tears clung to the tips of their lashes; still more furious than anything else.

The hero's lips tingled with savage tender kisses.

They were alive, so stunningly, painfully alive.

"It's not nothing to me," the hero said. "For what's that worth."

The villain fled as the emergency services arrived on the scene.

[neon-kazoo]

Villains I dont see very often; mute. Mute villains are the best, nothing can convince me otherwise.

One idea thats been on my mind is a mute villain confessing to the hero, either through sign language, or a perfectly executed scheme. You’re choice :))

Not sure if this counts, but I ran with it. Might try this again after I gather some ASL knowledge. Hope you enjoy :)

A Silent Movie

It wasn’t exactly easy to get Hero sat in front of the cinema screen. In fact, the planning for this trap had taken over sixth months. Not to mention the money it took to buy this building off foreclosure, and the multitude of investments into Hero-proofing the location.

It was even harder to get said hero to stop yelling long enough to pay attention to the image being projected from the back of the room. Not that their sense of hearing was needed for this experience, but Villain imagined Hero would appreciate the lack of noise-based distractions, including sounds they themselves were making.

The theater was notably large, probably the most expensive showing room of its day. That is to say, the upholstery was a little outdated. The popcorn had been swept off the floor, the swirling carpet surprisingly clean. The velvet of the seats did not appear stained, and the cupholders were absent of any discarded snacks or tickets.

The glow of the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the room, and they revealed a dim image of the hero situated in the center of the third row, which was optimal seating in the villain’s opinion.

Clearly, Hero did not agree, considering how hard they were pulling at the restraints to try and exit their carefully selected theater chair.

It was futile, of course, and the hero finally stopped straining when the villain appeared a row below them, quiet as a mouse, standing with a finger pressed to their lips.

Villain retreated when the hero quieted, letting their attention shift to the screen and this special showing. Images flicked past, and Hero became engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen.

Shown was a news reel Hero recognized as the time Villain had crashed their Election Day speech. A zoomed out map of the city, marking City Hall with a red square. Grainy footage of two figures dancing around next to a dumpster. Once again the map appeared, now with two squares pasted on top. The pattern continued, and Hero was amazed.

It was an agglomeration of every moment they had spent together, every public battle, every nighttime-shady-alley encounter.

There was only one reason to collect these momentos, these reminders. It had all meant something to the villain.

The complete lack of kernels on the carpet certainly pointed to a level of dedication and commitment to this scheme.

Maybe, they were hoping it meant something to the hero, too.

Another scene zoomed out a final time, revealing all the markers spread across the city. Only, now, Hero noticed, a rather distinct pattern had formed.

Villain moved like a phantom, appearing again, this time at the hero’s side. The ropes at their wrists fell away like magic while Hero gazed at the awkwardly hovering villain. They presented the hero with a glittering object hung from a chain held loose around their fingers. It was a large ruby gem, expertly cut into the shape of a 3-D heart.

Stolen, no doubt, Hero suspected possibly from the large jewelry exhibition that had just entered town.

The screen flashed bright, and lit up the hero’s face as it contorted in surprise. They processed the scene as fast as they could.

A heart of red markers, a heart of ruby, a heart fluttering in their chest, a heart laid open in front of them.

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

This was it, this was the moment they got rejected because they couldn’t-

“I had no idea.”

Of course they didn’t know, it’s not like Villain had ever spoken about it.

Preparing automatically for the rejection, Villain started to withdraw their hand, cold-as-steel demeanor returning to them with all the familiarity of a security blanket.

It was so stupid of them to think that they deserved any kind of reciprocation, so stupid to think that the hero could possibly-

The hero snatched the charm from their fingers before they fully withdrew.

“I didn’t say no,” they spoke softly, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

They reached out their other hand, wrapping their fingers over the still-outstretched hand of the villain. Instead of elaborating, Hero pulled the frozen criminal closer, connecting their lips in a gentle proclamation.

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

[sunnynwanda]

Remember

Warnings: language, mentions of past falling out, slightly suggestive (kissing)

Today was officially the worst day ever.

Hero was sure of it. Not only were they forced to cut their day off short, but it was also raining cats and dogs, and their asshole of a nemesis decided to challenge them at the worst time possible - and if that wasn't enough, the little shit was late. Again.

Hero groans, leaning back against the brick chimney, no longer bothered by the raindrops hitting their pale skin. They wipe their eyes, staring up at the gloomy sky, the misty grey reminding the eyes of someone they used to know. Lucky for them, the thought gets interrupted by a voice that carries enough mockery to erase the chalky feeling from their chest.

"How do you manage to look more pathetic each time we meet?" Villain drawls, leaning their shoulder against the chimney.

"When will you learn to read the damn time, you little-" Hero cuts off, an irritated growl escaping their lips.

"Uh-uh," Villain chuckles at their inability to curse out loud, their lips curling into an attractive annoying smirk. "As long as it annoys you, I don't see why I would."

"I hate you," Hero mutters under their breath, earning a scoff from Villain.

"No, you don't," they muse, watching Hero with an unreadable expression in their deep grey eyes. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," Hero assures them, not quite believing their own words. Somehow, it matters more to convince Villain right now. They shake their head, getting up. "What did you want?"

Villain pauses, shrugging as they step away, keeping some distance between them. "I, um- wanted a fight?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" Hero quirks an eyebrow at them, but Villain avoids their gaze, and Hero's concern grows exponentially. "Villain, what's wrong?"

"I- can we move this inside?" They request, looking more sheepish than Hero has ever seen them. "Do you remember this place?" Villain adds, their voice sounding strained.

"Yes," Hero's response is barely audible through the loud drumming of the rain. They can feel their throat tightening, so they gesture for Villain to continue.

"I own the place now," Villain confesses, meeting Hero's gaze with their own. For a moment, Hero just stares at them, heart clenching at the flood of memories invading their mind like a rogue wave - unpredictable and devastating.

They don't respond; instead, they follow after Villain, careful not to trip on the familiar - now wet - stairs. Once they get inside, Villain leads them down a scarcely lit corridor until they reach the bathroom. Hero offers them a questioning look.

"Your clothes are drenched," Villain explains. "Take a shower, I'll lend you something to wear."

"The hell-" The door shuts in Hero's face, cutting their protest short. They sigh, glancing around the small bathroom with green tiled walls. It's still as cosy, and it's ripping their lungs out through their throat to be here again.

By the time they get out of the shower, the clothes are set out for them. Hero gets dressed, pausing to look at their reflection, clad in Villain's clothes. They run a hand through their hair and squeeze their eyes shut, willing themself not to think of the place they're in, the memories it holds and the way their heart clenches painfully in their chest at the thought of Villain choosing to buy their childhood home.

"Why?" Villain's head whips up at the question. They take Hero in, gulping before averting their eyes to the logs in the fireplace. "Why do you own this place?"

Because it was your home. Because it was the only home I knew. Because I couldn't bear to lose it the way I lost you. Because I...

"I wanted to," Villain opts for the safest answer, not daring to look at Hero, despite being aware of their presence in the room. The same room that held all of their happy moments gathered in four walls covered in flowers hand-painted by Hero's mom.

"That's not an answer," Hero argues, their brows furrowing. They feel conflicted yet relieved, and it's a strange combination.

"I know," Villain breathes out, burying their face in their hands. "I loved this place." I love you.

"I remember," Hero nods, coming to sit next to Villain's hunched form on the couch. "We loved having you here." They place a hand on Villain's back, rubbing it soothingly.

"Your mom sold it because of..." Villain mutters, but Hero doesn't allow them to complete the sentence, circling their wrists with cold fingers and pulling their hands away from their face.

"No," they state firmly, taking hold of Villain's chin and tilting it up. "Look at me," they demand. "She didn't do it because of you. She did it for me. I didn't want to keep living here. Not after-"

"I betrayed you," Villain nods shortly, their hands clenching in their lap. "I remember."

"Not after I lost my best friend," Hero corrects, letting go of their face. "Do you remember that as well?"

"Being your best friend?" Hero hums in confirmation, making bile rise in Villain's throat. "Of course I do."

"Anything else you might remember?" Hero questions, their tone too bitter even for their own taste. "Like how we spent every waking moment together, how you were the only person I could trust, how I shared my best and worst with you?"

"Everything," Villain lets out a heavy sigh, their beautiful grey eyes watering. How do I ever tell you? "I remember everything."

Hero stares at them, unable to stomach the disheartened expression weighing Villain's features. They know Villain deserves their cruelty but can't bring themself to press on.

"Well, then you should also remember how I've always managed to whoop your ass in a fight," Hero grins, pushing Villain back against the cushions in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Hey!" Villain protests, but just as they are about to get up, a pillow hits them square in the head. "Hero!"

"What?" Hero chuckles, flinging another pillow that hits Villain in the face. "You don't remember that small detail, you little shit?" They hiss, maintaining a playfull tone.

"Maybe not," Villain sneers, catching another weapon of Hero's flying in their direction. They look at it before glancing back up at Hero, their lips stretching into a wicked smirk. "But I do remember you're ticklish!"

"No, no, no!" Hero all but yelps the second Villain's fingers touch their sides. They try to wiggle away but end up falling to the floor with a strained groan mixed in with uncontrollable laughter.

Villain grins, sliding off the couch and landing on their knees over Hero, still tickling them as they hover above their nemesis. Though the victory doesn't last long because Hero manages to compose themself and grab Villain's wrists.

"I hate you," they murmur, staring up at Villain with a bated breath. They can hear their own heartbeat thundering in their temples like a wild bird in a cage of thorns.

"No, you don't," Villain mutters, glancing at Hero's lips before meeting their eyes again, barely restrained desire flaring in their eyes.

"No, I don't," Hero agrees, leaning up and capturing Villain's lips in an intense kiss, only to break it a moment later as they start to process what the actual fuck they are doing. "I-"

"Shut up," Villain growls, crushing their lips back on Hero's, one of their hands coming up to cup Hero's jaw.

"I'm not forgiving you just because you got the house back," they mutter, gripping the back of Villain's neck to keep them in place.

"I know," Villain drags their lips over Hero's jawline, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake.

Hero guides Villain's lips back to theirs, whispering between kisses. "And this doesn't mean we're friends."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," Villain lets out a soft whimper, earning a low chuckle from their enemy.

"Baby, huh?" Hero grins, feeling Villain melt in their arms.

"Fuck, I love the living lights out of you," Villain mutters, thinking out loud unfiltered. Once the realisation hits, their eyes widen in anticipation of just about anything in response.

Hero, however, does not hesitate, pulling Villain down on top of them and catching their lips in a deep kiss.

Hi lovelies!

Based on the lovely request right here! Though it got a little out of hand :) I had been thinking about childhood friends turned enemies turned lovers for some time and this just evolved into that trope.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

xo Sunny

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444 @m4iloblu3

[atlaserine]

The villain grabbed Hero's jaw tightly, glaring down at the bloodied face.

"Look at me, princeling" Villain spoke.

"Actually, I'm a princess"

"..."

"..."

"Even better"

[roses-ink-dipped-pen]

"Hey Villain?"

"What?" Villain growled as they shot the hero an ill-tempered frown.

"Have you ever heard of updog? You know... updog??" Hero chattered gleefully, too excited for Villain's liking.

"No, what's updog?" The criminal drawled, peering suspiciously at the hero.

"Not much, how about you?" Hero hardly had time to finish their sentence as they began to laugh to the point of tears.

Villain couldn't decide whether they wanted to punch the living daylights out of Hero or kiss them.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

I Do

TW: Blood, bruises, and some angst

Ya girl has some off-days from college, and she's decided to use em. Missed y'all < 3

The villain's gloved fingers drummed impatiently on the table, his dark shadow looming over the hero with a promise of danger.

"What's it going to be, Hero? I sell those codes to Supervillain? Or you comply with our little agreement?" His tone was perfectly calm, eerily so, his eyes impossible to read behind the domino mask, but he still emanated danger, his lips drawn together in a tight line.

It was cruel calling it 'their' agreement because the hero had no hand in this. The suggestion had left her more shocked than angry, still reeling from the villain's words.

"Marry me," he'd said in a commanding tone. Like any other choice would've been the wrong answer, tilting her chin upwards ever so subtly.

And the hero held his gaze, transfixed, gasping and laughing and hoping this was nothing but a fever dream.

"Wha-" the hero choked out incoherently.

The villain had let go of her face, his hands resting on the top of her chair. "I can repeat it as many times as you want me to," he stage-whispered against the shell of her ear, his tone gentle and dangerous all at once.

"But, I don't understand. What could you possibly gain from this of all things? You despise me, Villain." She truly couldn't process any of what she was told, the mere idea of being tethered so bindingly to her worst enemy leaving her mind an ineffective, nervous wreck.

The villain huffed out a rough laugh, very genuine and horribly cruel. "Oh, but I do despise you. Very much. I despise how defeated and humiliated you left me in front of half the city . Despised the fact that you got me locked up. Despised how for the very first time, I actually felt like I lost the game, and I'm a rather sore loser, you know." The villain's demeanour was eerily calm, his shoulders straight, his resting face showing nothing but a placid neutrality as he turned to stand in front of the hero, but it was arguably more terrifying, more unpredictable.

"I just want to see you as defeated as I've been, Hero. Bound so intimately to your worst enemy, your greatest nightmare. If you do this, it means admitting to me, and more importantly, to yourself, that the only option you have is bending to my whims," he crooned, his lips curling into a wicked smirk.

The hero wanted to scream, to kick the villain in the teeth and watch the blood trickle down his lips and the bruising dye his skin a grotesque purple. She wanted to think of a clever solution that left the man's face contorted with a strange mix of hatred and respect, to blow his plan up in his face. Anything that would spare her this hell.

"Did I mention you have exactly five minutes to decide?" he piped up casually, examining his nails.

The hero swore and the villain let out a half-snicker. This was madness. A death sentence that would last for the rest of her life. And it didn't matter if she said no, if she undid whatever she could of the havoc those codes would wreak in Supervillain's hands. The conviction so heavily saturated in the villain's tone, the way his jaw clenched and his fists tightened was more than enough proof that he would spread more chaos, spark more fights, destroy an endless array of things and lives until she gave in to him.

The villain loved control like he loved the air he breathed, even more so, like a drug that left him intoxicated and lusting for more.

If she didn't listen, she was sending everyone she cared about, sending the city, the whole world if the villain had it his way, to hell.

The hero sucked in a measured breath, reading the contract word for word, from the title to the fine print, scouring it for a loophole she could use, for any more tricks up the villain's sleeve, just to find nothing. She tried to relax her tensed shoulders, her grip merciless on the pen in her erratically shaking hands, every curve and line of the letters of her name feeling like a blade was slicing through her heartstrings like how one would rip a stalk; slowly, unevenly, time seeming to slow down and the world seeming to freeze for a moment that felt like a thousand years and then some.

The villain didn't smile or laugh or let any display of emotion etch itself onto the harsh lines of his features. He nodded curtly instead, snatching the paper and folding it into a square and tucking it in a well-concealed pocket of his suit. "The cruelty only ends here," he attested, his voice tight and no longer playful, the way it was whenever he promised something.

The hero nodded, swallowing the humiliation at the back of her throat, even though she wasn't inclined to believe him.

"There's a ceremony. Nothing very insane, just you, me and an officiator. This is just a contract, not a marriage certificate, even if we both know which one of those is more binding. You'll show up today, if you know what's good for you, heroine."

The hero wasn't sure when she was up on her feet and slapping the villain harshly across the face, blood spurting from his mouth and staining his perfectly straight teeth, as he only grit them into a manic grin, shaking with a hoarse cackle as he wiped the blood of his face "Is that how you treat your husband, my dear? Do they forget to teach you manners at the hero agency?"

The hero was too dazed with rage to speak, trying to mar the villain's visage with another rough blow to it, until he caught her hand with an iron fist. "I said I'd never hurt you for nothing, but not that I'd let you do to me what you please without consequence. So play nice, darling." The villain let go of her arm slowly, the bruises he left in his wake more than enough of a warning.

The second he left, the hero didn't cry as she thought she would, she didn't scream, she didn't destroy everything around her or rip through her hair. Instead, she slid down against the wall, expressionless but breathing hard, her lungs hungry for air that seemed so unfairly little, her heart playing songs of anxiety and fury and sorrow every horrible emotion she'd ever known.

She was marrying the villain. Marrying the villain, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Marrying him and no one would come to save her.

Sometimes being a hero means saving the whole world except yourself.

✨️Timeskip✨️

Sure enough, the villain was there in a tailored suit, in front of his house her new prison, where he'd told her to show up, the officiator standing with a solemn expression on his face.

The villain wasn't supposed to be handsome, the dark brown hair she was normally used to seeing messy and caked with blood slightly damp with gel and mostly hanging in loose, luscious waves, his eyes a dazzling green-blue, long, dark lashes framing them in a way that put the best kinds of kohl to shame and his cheekbones sharp and high-set, the split on his lip hardly distracting from the rest of his appearance. It was so unbelievably stupid, so inconsequential, and yet the hero hated him even more for his tantalisingly beautiful features, for the way his grin would've fooled her into thinking he truly was in love, if she didn't notice how it didn't reach up to his eyes.

The hero hadn't paid any mind to whatever the officiator had said until it was her turn to say 'I do', flashing the villain a terribly fake smile that wasn't half as charming as his, but it would have to do as she slid a simple platinum ring on his finger, and he slid a diamond ring onto hers.

"Let's go," the villain said when they were finally done, gently taking the hero's gloved hand in his and leading her up the stairs and into the mansion.

The heroine was not one to admit defeat and snap in half in the fashion that a twig would. Many a battle would need to be lost for a victory in the war, many a sacrifice would have to be made for a greater reward. She would take the pain like stone would take a blunt pickaxe, just to twist a knife in the villain's chest when he least expected. Because history forgets everyone but those who laugh the last.

Tagging for this: @hufflepuffwritingstuff2

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[the-broken-pen]

Hello! Heard you were open for writing request? Had this idea in mind about a villain who's Russian and a hero who's falling for villain's accent? Maybe a bit of flirty banter as they fight 👀 your choice tho! Have a fun spring break ☀

The hero was pretty sure the villain was actually trying to kill them this time.

“Hey, don’t aim for the face, okay? It’s the money maker.”

The villain raised one eyebrow–and aimed for the hero’s face.

“Oh come on,” the hero groaned. “That’s just uncalled for.”

“Really? Is it now?”

If the hero had better judgment, they would have said something snarky back, or attempted to get the upper hand. Instead, in a move uncoordinated and wrought with embarrassment, they tripped over their own feet and blushed.

The hero was used to pretty. They were used to gorgeous.

But they had never expected to be attracted to someone’s accent of all things, and it was driving them mad.

“Yep, pretty sure it is,” they managed. They had to dodge halfway up the wall to avoid the villain’s next blow.

“You’re awfully chatty today,” the villain said, and the hero was going to lose their mind–

“Is this affection?” The hero blurted, and contemplated throwing themself off the building to spare both of them. “Because it feels like affection.”

“I don’t know,” the villain shrugged. Their mouth tipped up slightly, gone in a flash between one second and the next. “Do you want it to be?”

The hero froze. “You–I–” and found themself blinking up at the sky, the villain’s hand around their wrist. “Did you just judo flip me?” They wheezed, and the villain grinned.

“You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you just knocked the wind out of me. Excuse me for going red with oxygen loss–” the hero cut themself off with a cough, lungs protesting every word, and tugged the villain down to crash into the pavement beside them.

“Let me rephrase; You’ve been blushing this entire time.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s July.”

“A very cold July.”

“If you’re going to lie,” the villain said, and truly, the hero was lucky they hadn’t had a knife pulled on them yet, “Do it well.”

The hero buckled the villain’s knees. Petty? Yes.

Satisfying? A good reprieve to try and get the blush that flared every time the villain spoke to subside? Also yes.

“Real smooth,” the villain rolled their eyes, pushing themself to their feet. “So, what is it.”

“Was that a question, or–”

“My winning personality?”

The villain was studying them with far too much care.

“Aren’t you supposed to be robbing a bank or something?” They said half-desperately.

“Smile? Laugh?” The villain paused for a moment, catching the hero’s punch as if it was nothing more than a mosquito–which was insulting, to say the least���before their face cleared of any confusion.

“Ah,” the villain said, and oh the hero was so screwed, because they knew that look. That look appeared regularly in their dreams. It was the villain’s signature ‘I figured something out and I’m going to use it to do nefarious things’ look. Their ‘I’m smarter than you and I’m about to prove it in an effortlessly ruthless maneuver’ look.

The hero saw it far too often.

“‘Ah’ what.”

The villain, damn them, grinned, releasing the hero’s hand.

“Accent.”

Any air that the hero had managed to regain after the judo flip escaped from them like they were a sinking ship.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No,” the hero said, cursing every single moment of their life that had led up to this one. Maybe they really should have become a lawyer– “I’m just flabbergasted by how dumb that sentence was.”

Flabbergasted. Flabbergasted. Who the hell says flabbergasted?!

“This is cute,” the villain remarked as they drew a knife. They gestured with it towards the hero’s undoubtedly fire engine red face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”

“I’m not flustered, I’m–”

“Flabbergasted?” The villain suggested wryly, and truly, the fact that this situation was funny in a hopeless and pathetic way was not helping. The accent absolutely was not helping either.

The hero truly had nothing to say to that, staring at the villain, the two of them impromptu statues.

“You like me,” the villain teased. “And my accent.”

The hero was not proud of what they did next.

Considering their life, it wasn’t the worst thing they had ever done out of embarrassment.

A close second, though.

The villain smirked, and in a move far more elegant than they had ever thought themself possible, the hero slid under the villain’s arm, snagging the knife from the villain’s hand as they went—and planted it into the villain’s side.

The villain blinked, hand going to their side. The hero blushed—

Finally, in the single coherent thought they had managed in seemingly their entire life, they did something not embarrassingly pathetic.

The hero bolted away, into side streets and alleys, to the sound of the villain’s pained and endlessly amused laughter.

“Real smooth,” the villain called after them, voice echoing between the buildings. “You’re handling this quite well.”

The villain was never going to let them live this down.

[chaotic-orphan]

A quick prompt

“Please…” Hero wheezed, clawing their fingernails desperately into the dirt, trying to pull themselves forward, closer to Villain who was so heart wrenchingly close if Hero could just reach them. “Please d-don’t…”

Villain tilted their head at the exhausted Hero with more pity than sympathy, and a little bit of awe at how even when beaten, even when eating dirt, Hero still didn’t know when to quit. Maybe they were born without a survival instinct.

“I told you before Hero,” Villain said.

Hero’s grip in the dirt turned their knuckles white and they cried out a strangled scream of frustration and helplessness as they pulled their limp body towards Villain.

“You can’t save everyone, everywhere, at all times and expect to get away with it.”

“Yes…” Hero panted, dragging themselves an inch closer. “I can. As long as I draw breath, I can save the world.”

“Sweetheart,” Villain cooed, clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “You can’t even save yourself.”

Hero heard, more than saw, Villain push the button on their remote and froze. It was as if the Earth took a sharp inhale of breath — the world turned slower, nature grew quiet, all Hero could hear was the ringing in their ears and the thundering pounding of their heart in their throat — the ground rumbled beneath Hero and they had just enough strength to push their head up to watch as everything they knew turned to ash.

The fire burned hot, as if Hero was in it instead of beside it, looking down at it, and no matter how much they wanted to Hero couldn’t tear their eyes away from the flames or the screams or the smoke or the sirens or the death and destruction they could have prevented if they had just been stronger.

Hero flinched as a hand settled on the nape of their neck, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “It was a valiant effort Hero, I want you to know that. There is nothing you could have done. Although you did come the closest to beating me. I had to even the playing field a bit, what with your borderline obsessive tenacity.”

Villain’s words sent a shiver up Hero’s spine. “Don’t worry, this is only the beginning. I told you we would change the world, didn’t I?”

They did. That was the first thing Villain ever told Hero. At the time it sounded so attractive, so endearing. It was so easy for Villain to convince Hero to follow Villain after that because they wanted the same things.

Hero just didn’t imagine that in order for the world to change, so many needed to die.

“Come on now, let me get you back to bed. We can start rebuilding tomorrow. That’s when the real work begins.”

[random-writing-thoughts]

Thought #240

Villain punched at Hero, who dodged it gracefully.

Hero ran away from them and froze. "He did not just do that to you." They yelled.

Villain looked at them confused. "Who-"

"No." They yelled, throwing up their hands. "What a bastard."

Villain walked up to them. "Are you talking about me?"

Hero waved them off. "Girl, get out of that relationship. He doesn't deserve you."

They threw up their hands again. "I have some stupid thing right now, but I will be over after this."

Villain pointed to themselves. Hero nodded and waved them off.

"You better have broken up with him by the time I get there." Hero nodded. "Yes, I'll grab ice cream."

Hero said goodbye and turned to Villain. "Can we hurry this up. I've got a friend in crisis."

"What did he do to her?"

Hero rolled their eyes. "He cheated. Multiple times."

"Oh hell no. Let's go help her out of this relationship. You get the ice cream. I'll get the wine."

[automeris-io-moth]

Hostage situation

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” Hero murmured, clacking the silver spoon at the edge of the table, their eyes fixed still on the full plate before them. 

“Eat, Hero.” 

Their eyebrows furrowed in response, face twisting into a scowl. Hero lifted their head, looking to meet the others' eyes, thinking that, perhaps, they were just as unsure to face truthfully the other as they were. 

Villain was not. Brown eyes which shined yellow under the warm light of the room faced them, straight and unwavering. 

Hero averted theirs once again.

“You don’t care for what I have to say?” 

“Not particularly,” Villain answered, “but if it means a lot to you, go right ahead.” 

Hero swallowed 

“I’ll take your deal,” they answered,quickly, as fast as they could to disguise the trembling of their voice. “I’ll support your case, I’ll make sure it gets to Superhero, to the President and the Ministry of Security, I’ll get Sidekick back to you.” 

Swirling their wine on the cup, white to make good pair with the salmon, Villain nodded, solemnly and slowly, almost doubtfully, and yet the mere hint of a positive answer made Hero’s heart pound inside their chest. Not yet relief but the dread that came right before it. 

“Oh Hero,” Villain answered, the tone of pity melting with their words “but you’ve already done that, my sidekick’s being transported to me right now. A hostage exchange if you may.”

The chain on their ankle rattled as they threw themselves back on the chair, blood pumping inside their ears. 

“Are you letting me go? Am I going back with Superhero?!” 

A moment of silence was followed by a deep, hoarse laugh, rumbling across the room and shaking if ever so slightly the silverware and glasses. 

“Of course not sweet, sweet, dumb thing,” they answered “you’re staying right here with me, with us.” 

Hero’s heart felt like falling from a thousand floors. And a deep, unescapable sentiment of despair felt like a cold sweat inducing fever dream. 

“No!” Hero wailed,  “No, no, no. You said that if, that when you, when Sidekick came back to you you would let me go, you promised! I told you I would take the deal.” 

“You were too late, pet, you took too long, I want to keep you now.” 

_

Masterlist

I'm very hopefully back, still working on my motivation to keep writing but making a good effort I promise.

[villain-enthusiast]

Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

.

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

[marchtothefuckingsea]

you all like the trope of character being so delirious from their injuries that they don't realize someone on their team trying to help them, so they fight back, but I offer you: Character, delirious, weakly fighting someone trying to help them, but they finally recognize who it is and they fight even harder

[neon-kazoo]

The Point (Captured)

“First of all, I’d like to start us off with a big ‘fuck you.’”

The villain had been quiet for way too long, sitting in that chair across from the hero just staring at them. It was quite frankly unnerving, and the hero wasn’t going to stand for it. Well, technically they weren’t going to stand for anything, considering they had just woken up tied to a chair, but the point still stood (unlike the hero of course).

“What makes you think you get to start us off?” The villain asked, amused. They didn’t change their position, still sitting casually across the room with one ankle crossed over the other thigh, aside from the smirk that now spread unapologetically across their face.

“Your utter lack of manners for one,” the hero began, “For two I would say the absence of a gag in my mouth. For three, that stupid face you’re making that was practically begging for me to break the silence first.”

“My lack of manners? I hardly remember calling your face stupid,” the villain retorted, mock offense lighting up his eyes.

A fair point, but one the hero would ignore nonetheless.

“And I don’t remember kidnapping and drugging you and letting you wake up in an undisclosed location tied to a chair while I stare at you without saying a word for ten whole minutes!”

“Ten whole minutes huh? I don’t remember putting a clock in this room.” The villain made a show of looking around the walls, which were disturbingly bare. The villain really hadn’t put much of anything in this room, let alone a time piece.

“Maybe I was keeping the time by counting your number of blinks. The world knows there’s not much else to do in here.”

The hero rolled their head back, stretching their neck and letting out a therapeutic sigh.

“My apologies for not entertaining you enough.” The villain stood and swept an arm out theatrically. “I’ll be sure to remedy that for future captives.”

The hero rolled their eyes before leveling the approaching villain with a dead pan stare.

“Why am I here, Villain?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” they drawled, but spared the hero any dramatic circling around their chair.

“Yes, that’s why I- Hey! What’s that for?!” The hero sounded equal parts startled and offended as their eyes flicked from the knife held in the villains hand them back to the villains face.

“You are a prisoner you know. And I’m a villain,” the villain mused, entertained but also annoyed by the hero’s lack of a fearful reaction.

“And you haven’t even asked me anything yet! Since when do you partake in pointless torture?” The hero strained to sit up taller in their bonds, genuinely affronted by the villain’s behavior.

The villain flicked the dagger through their fingers.

“Pointless? The point would be fun, my dear hero,” they chuckled, looking down to focus their eyes on the blade.

“Sadist.”

“Masochist,” the villain shot back, smiling.

“Okay yeah, maybe a little,” the hero relented, but no shame showed on their face as they produced a smile to match the villain’s.

They always were a fun pair.