#villain x hero au

[stars-obsession-pit]

It turns out that if Danny switches from his ghost form to his human form while holding onto another ghost, he can bring them along for the transformation, forcing them into a physical form.

For some ghosts, this is horrible. But for others, though, it’s a prize of immeasurable valuable. And unfortunately for Danny, word spreads quickly throughout the Ghost Zone of this ability.

And thus begins the illustrious adventure of Danny the necromancer.

…running away from the restless dead that are trying to force him to revive them.

[shinig6mis]

you are awful at video games.

you know this. tomura knows this. the entire internet probably knows this by now, considering you’ve spent countless nights on his stream getting absolutely obliterated in every match, no matter how much he tries to coach you. and he does try, though half the time it’s through gritted teeth and muttered insults, hands twitching as if resisting the urge to just snatch the controller away from you and do it himself.

but you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters, right?

wrong.

tonight, you're sitting cross-legged on his gaming chair, wearing one of his oversized hoodies (because he said it was cold and refused to turn the heater on). tomura is beside you, sprawled on his bed, hoodie pulled up over his head as he watches you struggle through a level you should've cleared twenty minutes ago.

his stream chat is ruthless.

how is she this bad

pls put her out of her misery

tomura blink twice if you're in pain

he sighs loudly, letting his head fall back against the mattress. "you're killing me, princess. literally dying over here."

"i'm trying!" you whine, gripping the controller tighter. "the combos are confusing!"

he peeks at the screen just as your character plummets off the edge for the hundredth time. "jesus. do you want me to suffer? is that your plan?"

"shut up," you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration. "i'm focusing."

he scoffs, rolling onto his side to face you. "you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"oh no! what a tragedy." you stick your tongue out at him before turning back to the game, missing the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second too long.

he clicks his tongue, tapping away on his phone as his chat continues roasting you. he’s about to make some smart ass comment when he notices something that makes his fingers tighten around his phone.

someone in chat just said you were cute.

he stares at the message, then at the dozens of others popping up after it.

she’s actually so adorable

lowkey wanna wife her

im down bad for ur noob bestie tomura

a slow, simmering irritation builds in his chest.

he’s used to his chat being unhinged. they say dumb shit all the time. but for some reason, the idea of random faceless losers thirsting over you is making his jaw clench.

you're his best friend. his pain in the ass. his.

not theirs.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just subtly adjusts the camera angle so you’re barely visible in frame anymore. but his chat immediately notices.

tomura MOVE

why u blocking the view bro

he’s gatekeeping her lmao

his eye twitches. "shut up."

"who are you talking to?" you ask, not looking away from the screen.

"no one," he mutters, fingers tapping aggressively against his phone screen as he bans a few particularly annoying users from chat.

but it doesn’t stop. they keep talking about you, and the more they do, the worse his mood gets. he watches, silently seething, as you laugh at something, completely unaware of the way his grip tightens around his phone. you’re just so oblivious, so utterly clueless to the fact that he’s sitting right there, trying not to be a jealous, possessive freak over something as dumb as this.

it’s fine. it’s whatever. he doesn’t care.

except he does.

and when you finally beat the level, turning to him with a beaming smile and expecting praise, all you get is a grumpy huff as he yanks the controller from your hands.

"my turn. you suck."

"hey! i just finished that level!"

"yeah, after thirty minutes."

he ignores your protests, shoving his headset fully on and gripping the controller like he's about to unleash hell. his fingers move expertly over the buttons, and within seconds, he’s speeding through levels like they’re nothing. his chat is going insane, but he barely pays attention, too focused on demolishing every enemy in sight.

meanwhile, you slump against his shoulder, pouting. "you’re so mean."

he stiffens for half a second before relaxing, pretending not to care about the way your warmth seeps into his side.

"and you're awful at games," he grumbles, but his voice is softer now, barely audible over the sounds of combat filling the screen.

he doesn’t push you away.

and when you stay pressed against him, he doesn’t complain.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[spacebubblehomebase]

Hello, my fellow DC fans! Miss me? 👀✨

Back at it again with some Supersons! I've always wanted to draw an evil Jon and while their pose above may seem quite forward, in my head, they're just a hero and a villain with no history and no future. Doomed enemies if you will. It's funny how much more tension they have here because of it than when I actually try to draw them as a ship. I blame it on my asexual ass confusing intimacy. To think I actually finished drawing this just now too! The power of delulu has returned stronger than ever, bae-bee! XD -Bubbly💙

[moodyvoid]

ChildhoodFriend!Touya AU

You’d frequently find Touya tapping away at your bedroom window in the middle of the night. You’d open it, him climbing in as quietly as he could.

You’d take one look at him and see the bandages on his arms and neck, reddened burns peeking out from the cloth.

The moment your eyes fill with concern, Touya stops you, giving a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t want you to worry.

—

After you meet again, you see the darkened purple burns, the staples, the painfully irritated skin.

The moment your eyes fill with concern, Dabi stops you, his expression cold— almost tired. “I’m fine.”

He still doesn’t want you to worry.

[uravitypng]

villain hanta who saw hero society as it is and became the number one most wanted. hanta who was your best friend at school, someone who you reluctantly studied with before exams when you'd rather be watching films together. someone who you'd prop your legs up against his dorm wall together and tilt your head back, hanging off the bed until the blood rushes to your head and you get dizzy. someone who you would play video games with until two in the morning and laugh with until you cry. someone whose shoulder you'd fall asleep on. someone who would wrap his arms around you and hug you until you drifted off back to sleep when you woke up from another nightmare about the league. someone who you loved.

now you see news articles and coworkers talk about the hero turned villain. someone who'd tape up heroes, cutting off their blood circulation, finding out ways to prolong their imminent death and learning how to use guns.

the day hanta became a villain was the day you broke down. you always considered yourself strong but after hanta you stopped hero work for two whole years, you couldn't bring yourself to do work. you couldn't bring yourself to even get out of bed and leave the house. showering was difficult and the only reason you ended up eating proper meals during that time was thanks to katsuki.

there wasn't a day that hanta didn't think about and there wasn't a week where he didn't watch you. during those two years it was more difficult for him to do so, you even kept your curtains closed most of the time but luckily for him you're a deep sleeper so he'd visit you when you'd be in bed. annoyingly those times would be at four in the morning when you'd finally be able to slip away into unconsciousness but he'd wait until then, anything for you. even if his hand itched to lift up your night shirt and trace your stretch marks and faded scars from hero work, even if he wanted to kiss your forehead and run his hands all over your soft body, he wouldn't. he wouldn't touch you or even hold your hand, just watch as snored and cuddle up to a teddy bear that he brought you years ago.

hanta will take you away from all this one day, keep you safe and away from harm. after he left he learnt new things, thing's that he knows will impress you. your favourite characters in comic books always carried guns so he does. he's learnt to cook your favourite meals even though he isn't the best cook. he's made a collection of manga specifically catered to you from when you see each other again. a list of films he wants to watch with you.

he loves you dearly and he used to be insecure with his love, he regrets never confessing to you because he always thought you only saw him as your best friend but maybe leaving you was a blessing in disguise because your reaction to him going away was anything but platonic. none of his old friends handled it well but it was a whole different story with you, a hole was left over in your heart. he realised then that you felt the same way about him, when you still grip fiercely on to that teddy bear at night.

he won't let you go again.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Hero and Villain Au! TWST Ideas

Bear with me I working on other's requests and fics I want to write. My neurodivergence has been kicking my ass, but I suddenly had an idea. If you want me to write any of these let me know.

Reader is a reporter from some big news company ordered to interview the two models Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche. Vil acts very cold towards you thinking you are trying to smear his pristine reputation, while Neige is desperate to talk to someone out of the business. You've got a hero and villain soon pinning after you in disguise and regular outfits.

Poor reader is being pulled around like a ragdoll as Vil kidnaps you to have some one-on-one time without that heroic twerp interrupting. He wants to be your hero not Neige. Neige swoops in to save the day but is Neige really as heroic and kind as the media makes him out to be?

Another idea is Malleus being the most powerful villain in the city, being third most terrifying in the world. You are a regular civilian who works as a nurse. Your long shifts prevent you from keeping up with the news, so you have no idea of the evil you let into your house. Malleus was severely wounded by a hero and was on death's doorstep but angelic little you saved him and now he's convinced you two are meant to be. He won't take no for an answer.

Final idea, a Dr. Doofenshmirtz vs Perry the Platypus style feud between hero you and Idia. Idia grows frustrated with always losing to you, making deadlier machines to defeat you. However, one of the machines turns on him and you save him before he becomes a blue grease spot. This gets his delusional little mind whirring with the ideas. Now he's trying to trap you in order to have cute little "dates" with you (no babe this is still kidnapping). It doesn't help that he has a cute little brobot that also thinks you and his "brother" are meant to be. Fitting song for this is My Freeze Ray from Dr. Horrible sing-along blog.

Tell me what you think?

[ten-shiriya23]

DC!Void core au art concept

Basically drawing Danny in Sirin poses/scenes on the second eruption comic

[puppyaulait]

Streamer x game shop employee AU part 3 (part 2)

[nina-scribbles]

Finally done with this piece for my 🪐🛸Space Au🚀🌌 !!!

+ some bonus closeups on details i really liked 💕

[sparkshock]

thought it might be fun to post some older art on here—this is from like, 2022 i think? Back when my username was ShockwaveYLD lol so that’s why the signature is different.

Anyways, here’s some Togachako villains!

[cipheringcats]

togachako roleswap au!!! wanted to post all my art for them they’re so silly

[dilatorywriting]

Valentine's Day Special: Let Them Fight

GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Who knew that in a world of magic, and mayhem, and outright villainy, that it'd be something as stupid as Valentine's Day that would push these idiots over the edge. Or, Malleus, Azul, and Vil go to war over some chocolates

A/N: This MC/Plot takes place in the Heroes vs Villains universe -- specifically Post-Staff's route, rather than any of our other lovely idiot husbands.

There was always some sort of strange overlap of customs from your world to this one. Halloween seemed to have survived more or less intact (even if it was a bit more, uh, extreme than the subtle evening of giving out treats and dressing as ghosts that you remembered). Winter Holidays were still very much a Thing, even if all other connotations had been stripped from them. Moreover, it was like someone had taken your familiar Earthen calendar and just sort of… mirrored it. Distorted it a bit. Just a lil’ bit more chaos than would have been socially acceptable back home.

So when you made a sly little joke about stocking up on discount chocolates after the Valentine’s Day rush and no one laughed—not even a little chortle, or an irritable eyeroll—you initially thought it was maybe to do with the irrationality of Sam’s Shop ever having a sale to begin with. You had not assumed that, you know, there was no Valentine’s Day at all.

“It’s an important holiday, then? Where you’re from?” Azul mused, busy scribbling endless, chicken scratch, notes in the margins of some form that was probably very important.

“I mean, not really,” you frowned, tossing your Mostro-Branded apron onto its hook. “Maybe. Yes? I don’t really know, actually.”

He hummed and moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, whatever it is, I’m always looking for new events to host at the Lounge. What exactly is it?”

“It’s a sort of special day for couples. Romance. Lovey-dovey nonsense,” you shrugged, and watched Azul’s finger slip off the slick metal frame of his glasses and nearly take his eye out. You waved off his obvious disgust with a dramatic sigh (I mean, why else would he be so stiff and red?). “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“I—I never said that!” he spluttered, and then paused to cough into his fist and clear his throat. “It just—I just wasn’t expecting something like that to…”

“Exist?”

He grinned, wry. His cheeks were still a bit too pink. “Precisely.”

“You would have loved my world,” you said. “Very capitalistic. Lots of cash-grab holidays like that.”

Azul laughed.

“I’m sure I would be fond of any place you came from.” He paused, and his expression puckered up a bit miserably—like he really hadn’t intended to express such a sentiment aloud. But he managed to smooth the sharp line of his frown back into that usual, smarmy, smirk of his easily enough. “But either way! Tell me more!” he grinned, reaching forward to grab a stack of blank paper and a fresh pen. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

.

.

The next day you were supposed to help the Drama Club start building some stage scenery for their newest play. It was proper grunt work, which was perhaps the only sort of work you were actually qualified for. And Vil always made sure that there were plenty of disgustingly healthy but still quite tasty snacks available for the help to munch on. The food spread alone would have been worth the trip, but on top of that, Vil had made you promise. Practically a blood oath, binding you and your meager free time to the shitty supply closet in the corner of the Auditorium. And as sour as he could be sometimes, you really could never say no to him when he always looked so heart meltingly fond whenever you did agree to while away the hours at his side. That lovely face and even lovelier smile of his were fucking lethal. A war crime, surely, to use it against someone as plain and susceptible to bribery as you were.

But today you were now an idiot on a mission—an idiot determined to spread the joy of a trashy holiday that really probably shouldn’t exist in the first place, let alone in a world where people worshipped storybook villains as veritable deities. And you’d already bought all the molds, and the trays, and you really didn’t have a lot of spare pocket money to begin with, so letting this investment go to waste would not only be a shame, but a terrible business investment.

“What do you mean you’re not coming,” Vil sneered, glaring down his perfectly straight nose at you.

“I really am sorry,” you said, mostly genuine. “But I have something I need to do this afternoon.”

“You’ve made other plans?” he frowned, something a little too unsettled to fit with his usual regality twisting across his expression.

“I have to get ready for Valentine’s Day,” you explained, and his brow tugged down further. Though that earlier twinge of panic seemed to have vanished at least. You pointedly shook your grocery bag full of goodies. “I’m going to make chocolates for everyone.”

“Chocolates?” Vil echoed, confused.

You nodded. “It’s a tradition back home. You give stuff like candy and flowers to the people you care about. Normally it’s a holiday for couples, or whatever. But. Well…”

The ‘I Am Fully Aware That I’m Single as a Pringle, Please Just Let Me Have This One Thing’ was left unsaid, but it hung in the air around your head like a very persistent storm cloud nonetheless. Vil, magnanimously, seemed perfectly happy to ignore the Woe Is Me implications spewing from your mouth. Instead, he leaned forward until he was dipping precariously close into your personal space. His amethyst eyes had lit with blatant interest at your ramblings, and he hummed low in his throat.

“Is that so?” he mused, gaze lidded and warm. “That sounds… intriguing.”

You nodded past the heady scent of his cologne fogging your head. What was it with attractive people, huh? It was so unfair. You don’t get to look and smell good. Pick a lane. Save some dignity for the rest of us.

“So, I promise I’ll help another day. I just have a feeling making chocolates is going to wind up being a lot harder than I think it will.”

Because that’s how it always went in your stupid slice-of-life shows. The poor, harried, protagonist thinking they’re doing a good deed—painstakingly constructing their own, special, homemade goodies for all their important people. Making them with love. And then having it all blow up in their face like a goddamn, cocoa flavored, nuke. Nope. Not you, motherfucker. Your chocolates were going to be divine. You were going to take every, tropey, precaution in the book. And that of course included allotting yourself ample time to make mistakes your masterpiece.

“Of course,” Vil grinned. “How could I possibly begrudge you for wanting to spend your time on something so heartfelt?”

“Thank you,” you blurted, relived. Because at least he got it. Azul had been so ridiculously insistent that you should prepare all your Valentine’s Day wishes as a team. Which was not the point. He’d spent hours last night trying to wheedle his way into your plans—with endless platitudes about ‘business partners always being there for each other,’ and ‘how would he know if he was celebrating to your standards if he wasn’t given a model to work off of first?’ Utter bullshit. He’d probably just wanted free labor.

“Tomorrow, then?” Vil beamed and you nodded.

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.

“Well, then,” he hummed. “I better get to work as well. I suppose the scenery can wait.”

You nodded in farewell and began the trek back to Ramshackle and its marginally functional kitchens. You hadn’t realized Vil was taking on any new projects, but if it was enough to have him putting off the Club’s activities as well then it must have been pretty important. Maybe he’d get you tickets to it whenever he finished—whatever it was. If there were tickets? How did any of the things he did actually work? Hell if you knew.

.

.

Making chocolates was, in fact, a laughably easy endeavor. And you found yourself cursing every goddamn Shoujo Bullshit Manga under the sun for leading you to think otherwise. The hardest part of the entire thing was fighting off Grim and his wandering paws.

You made up some basic truffles which were, again, stupidly simple. Just some messily chopped chocolate, cream, and a little splash of vanilla to make it Special. Once those were shaped into messy blobs, you dipped them into some more melted chocolate and bam. That was it. That was literally it. You felt like a genius—sitting there mushing up balls of cocoa like high-end playdough.

By 6PM, you had all your little darlings tucked into the refrigerator to harden, all the gauzy, red, boxes lined up on your counter and ready to be filled, and Grim had been placated with an offering of all your dirty mixing bowls. The tiny, demonic, beast was passed out at the dingy kitchen table—one of said bowls wedged onto his head like an astronaut’s helmet. Hopefully it was just a food coma and not, like, an actual coma-coma. Real cats couldn’t eat chocolate, but Grim never really seemed real at all. So hopefully he’d be fine.

You wiped down your cooking space once, twice. Paced up and down the narrow hallway until you were wearing away the already threadbare rugs, and spent way too long just standing in front of the fridge—staring in on your chocolates like a psychotic kidnapper scoping out their next victims.

Eventually you realized that you maybe needed to do something with your evening that wasn’t just creeping on your confections, and set out into the frosty, night, air for a stroll.

Which is, of course, where you ran into your familiar, horned, friend—staring up into the starry sky in a wistful manner that darkened his pale complexion into something nearly ominous. He always looked a bit like that, like something unearthly and detached from the rest of the world.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped happily, and that adrift-at-sea expression of his melted right off his face.

“Child of Man,” he greeted, inclining his head politely. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.” His brow furrowed, almost confused. “Is it not too cold for you?”

Your breath was, in fact, fogging in front of your face. And you couldn’t really feel your toes anymore. But the electric anticipation of tomorrow was keeping you warm enough. Even if only in spirit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved him off. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward on your tippytoes and blurted out, “Happy Almost Valentine’s Day!”

“Valentine’s Day?” Malleus repeated back at you, looking like you’d just handed him an unsolvable differential equation.

“It’s a holiday from back home,” you explained for the umpteenth time that day. “And normally I’m not too fussed about it, but this year I’m really excited to give everyone their chocolates!” You grinned. “And you too, of course. I have to make sure I give them to all my important people.”

The furrow between his brows vanished, but the blatant, gaping, confusion remained. He looked like you’d nearly startled him into an early grave.

“I am one of your most important people?” he asked, slow as a tortoise making its way up an incline.

You nodded cheerfully, still bellied by your earlier culinary successes and excellent mood. “Of course you are! We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides. Valentine’s Day is for showing people how much you care about them.”

“What an interesting concept,” he mused, bringing a finger up to tap at his chin. “To think your world had such a heartfelt tradition—it’s quite a lovely surprise.”

You laughed. “If you think the chocolates are special, you should see what some couples do for each other. Rooms full of flowers, fancy date nights—I’m just managing the bare minimum.”

“Couples?” he echoed, and you felt the first teeny, hot, thread of chagrin work its way past your enthusiasm.

“Well, normally Valentine’s Day focuses on, like, romantic things,” you said, averting your gaze just in time to miss the tension lance through his shoulders. “But it can be for all sorts of affection!” you hastily added.

“Is that so…” the Prince hummed. He lifted his pensive gaze once more and stared you down with that weighted intensity that you’d only just recently learned how not to buckle beneath. “And you wish to celebrate this day. With me?”

“…you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, hesitant.

“Of course not, Child of Man,” he beamed, his lips curling up into a smile that put all his too-sharp teeth on display. “But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. It seems I have some preparations to undertake this evening.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes,” Malleus said. “You will.”

.

.

It was officially Valentine’s Day, and you were ready to begin your mission of forcing your sweets onto every, single, one of your reluctant friends. Let them be pissy and tsundere. You weren’t afraid to weep and proclaim your undying, shounen-talk-no-jutsu, levels of friendship. Okay. Maybe you were a little. But these grouchy bastards had very easily become your grouchy bastards, and so help you God, they would suffer under your affection and they would like it.

There were plenty of small boxes—all nice, neat, corners with little bows perched on top. But you had also prepared a singular, larger, tray. It was cleaner cut than the rest, with bold, contrasting, colors and a simple elegance. You stared it down with a strange sort of disquiet brewing in your gut. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Goodness knows you’d more than dealt with the searing, emotionally destructive, consequences of that before. But all the same…

You squared your shoulders and spent a moment convincing yourself that your spine was quite sturdy—a proper, titanium, support system—and then popped the Big Box into the bag with the others.

Your first stop was Heartslabyul, and you burst through the ornate, crimson, doors like a manic home invader.

“I come bearing gifts,” you proclaimed, merrily doling out the boxes to your favorite idiot duo. You set three more aside, with little labels for Riddle, Trey, and Cater respectively. Normally you wouldn’t trust a dorm full of teenage boys not to devour any scrap of unattended food in sight, but Riddle had long since struck the fear of God into these poor lads. So you figured it’d be safe.

Deuce’s face lit up and he accepted the chocolate with near starry-eyed enthusiasm.

“Are these your holiday presents? Like the Santa Claus?” he asked, looking very much like a bouncy golden retriever preparing itself for congratulatory head pats.

You leaned forward with an indulgent huff to give him his pats. “No. But close enough.”

You pawned off three boxes on Ruggie when he tried to duck past you in the hallway—one for him, one for Leona, and one extra as payment for making him do your dirty work of playing delivery boy to Mister Grump in the first place. You slipped Jack his on the way into Trein’s morning lecture, and managed to press a box into Jamil’s hands before he slunk off to the library. Kalim cheered so loudly when you handed him one that your ears started to ring.

And then trouble arrived in the form of two, slippery, eels draping themselves across your shoulders. Normally the destructive duo seemed to act on their own prerogative, but on this fortuitous morning their Lord and Master was surprisingly not too far behind.

“Shrimpy!~” Floyd trilled, dragging you into a one-armed hug that was really more of a slightly-less-aggressive headlock than anything else. “Azul says you came up with this stupid holiday! And he made us work all day yesterdayto put together stuff for the Lounge! It’s not fair!”

Your legs shook under the weight of the new tumor that had made its home on your back.

“Now, Floyd,” Jade chirped. All finely manicured cruelty. “If you’re to blame anyone for going overboard with this entire situation, you ought to lay the fault on our fearless leader.” His bi-colored eyes flashed, amused. “Isn’t that right, Azul?”

Said ‘fearless leader’ looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He glared bitterly at his subordinate, seeming to share an entire, silent, argument with him, before turning back on you with a heavy sigh and the barest hint of angry flush in his cheeks.

“Prefect,” he grinned past his obvious discomfort, all sparkling, white, teeth. “I have to thank you for sharing so much information about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ of yours. It’s such a unique event, and it seems like our preparations at the Lounge are already being received incredibly well.”

“That’s good,” you nodded, trying and failing to shrug the Leech off your shoulders. “I’m glad I could help.”

Azul hummed under his breath, his eyes darting away for a moment. His glasses reflected the muted light of the hall in an odd way—making it difficult to read his expression. He cleared his throat and when he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears had gone pink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by, of course,” he beamed, suave as could be.

“I mean,” you blinked. “I would hope so. I work there.”

Floyd let out a bark of laughter and Jade snickered into his glove. The pleasant pink tinting Azul’s skin was heating to a near sunburned red. He looked down and coughed into his fist.

“Yes…” he mumbled. “I—I’m aware. But what I meant is… What I meant—” He frowned. It was a tight, pouty, little thing that scrunched up his entire face. That mottled red had spread to the bridge of his nose.

“I do believe what Azul is trying to say,” Jade stepped in, clearly taking some sort of pity on his tongue-tied friend. Or perhaps pity was the wrong word for it, seeing how smug he looked, “is that he would like to invite you to the event personally. As an honored guest, not an employee.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. Then hesitated, cautious on instinct. There was always some sort of catch to the Octomer’s kindness. “I don’t know if I could afford whatever fancy thing you’ve thrown together.”

“You wouldn’t be paying for it,” Azul assured you, some of that sickly flush having finally started to recede from his cheeks. You hoped he was feeling alright. “You’ve contributed more than enough for the day. It would be on the house.”

Jade loudly cleared his throat and Azul huffed, eyes sliding away yet again.

“I would be paying,” he finally mumbled. And then, even quieter, “As I believe is the custom.”

Just as you were about to thank him for his startling bought of generosity (and also ask after his health, because between the weird, pink, tinge to his skin and the aforementioned generosity, clearly somethingwas out of sorts with him), you noticed a sneaky hand working its way into your bag of goodies, and you immediately were on the defensive.

“Hey!” you snapped, spinning out of Floyd’s stranglehold. “You only get one!”

“Then I want the really big one!” he demanded, making grabby motions at it.

“No!” you squeaked, and clutched it protectively to your chest. The trio looked at you with varying degrees of surprise and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “This one—This one is special.”

“Oh?” Jade cooed, eyes flickering back towards Azul, who seemed determined to look absolutely anywhere else. “Is it now?”

“Awww,” Floyd whined. “That’s no fair! Who’s it for, anyways?!”

You gripped the box tighter and now it was your turn to stiffly avert your eyes down to the ugly carpet. “It’s not—I’m not—” you cleared your throat and forced the jitter from your voice. “I’m not ready to give it to him yet.”

The silence that followed was absolutely the worst thing you’d experienced in a long, long, time. Overblots and all. You could practically hear your blood pounding in your ears. You were just about to turn and beat a hasty retreat when a familiar, snappish, voice called your name from the other side of the corridor.

“There you are, potato,” Vil huffed, coming to stand at your side and bodily inserting himself between you and your tormentors. He met Azul’s petulant sneer with a frankly terrifying one of his own. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you’d be eating lunch with me today.”

You remembered no such thing, but if it got you out of this verbal minefield of a conversation, you were more than willing to take the claim at face value.

“Apologies,” Azul cut in with all his usual, mafioso, flair. “But the Prefect will be taking their afternoon meal at the Mostro Lounge today.”

“Is that so?” Vil hummed, sounding positively venomous.

“Unless you think you can make an offer good enough to sway them otherwise,” Azul chirped, equally as unpleasant.

Vil laughed—cold and sharp as crystal. It was the most elegant display of blatant irritation you’d ever seen.

“Of course you’d only consider this entire situation on a transactional basis,” he drawled, entirely unimpressed. Azul flinched and his expression screwed up into something near petulant. “I would expect no less. Are you planning to lock them into a contact too, hmm? Sign away everything in formal, sterile, terms?” Vil crossed his arms, and you were reminded sharply once more how very, very lucky you were to not be on his bad side (even if you hadn’t realized before all this that Azul apparently was on said bad side. You had no idea they disliked each other so terribly). “I really hadn’t expected you to have a single, romantic, bone in your body, and yet somehow I’m still disappointed to be proved so entirely correct.”

Azul looked ready to explode, and even though Jade and Floyd and melted back into the shadows at the start of this entire encounter, the pair of them were starting to look a bit murderous too—like sharks lazily circling the dark, ocean, depths.  

“Don’t you think you deserve better?” Vil asserted, turning back to face you with a soft cant of the head. You blinked back in shock.

“Uh,” you gaped, absolutely fucking lost.

And then, like a beacon of unrivaled, black-drenched, hope, you spotted Malleus making his way down the hallway. He was flanked by his trio of housemates-cum-pseudo-bodyguards. Normally you tried to leave him alone when his rabid, green-haired, guard dog was yipping at his heels, and on top of that, the idea of using your classmates’ ingrained fear of the Fae Prince to your own advantage upset your rather staunch sensibilities. But this was an emergency.

“Tsunotarou!” you called, and it absolutely sounded like the cry for help it was.

He perked up immediately and you watched him nearly crash to a standstill. And then his sharp, neon, gaze locked on the dueling Housewardens circling you like a pair of snapping wolves, and his merry expression shuttered into something positively glacial. Which was—Fuck. I mean. Come on. What the fuck was going on today—

“Child of Man,” he droned, crossing the short distance with all the grace of the near-mythical, arcane, master that he was. His posture was more collected and regal than you’d ever seen it, and he loomed all the taller for it.

Azul and Vil had gone tense at your side, one certainly more so than other. The Octomer looked incredibly unsettled at Malleus’s sudden arrival, but Vil just looked angrier. It was the sort of unpleasantness that bloomed whenever someone challenged him or his competencies over and over—inevitably pushing the normally composed beauty into an indignant rage.

“Happy Day of Valentine’s,” Malleus continued, slotting himself firmly into the veritable territory dispute going down. “Are you quite alright?”

No, you wanted to wail. No! I’m so confused! I have no idea what’s going on! I just wanted to give my friends chocolates!

But you never managed to get those words or any others past your lips, because Sebek Zigvolt shot to his master’s side with all the speed of the lightning for which he was so named, and immediately began to scream.

“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE YOUNG MASTER’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE!” he shrieked at the top of his very impressive lungs.

You weren’t sure if he was howling at you (very likely) or just anyone who wasn’t Malleus, but Jade took the opportunity to slink forward from the shadows with a sharp tut-tut.

“Perhaps none of you deserve the Prefect’s special attentions,” he piped in, sounding very much like someone intentionally throwing a cannister of gasoline onto an already roaring fire. “Or any chocolates at all—let alone the ones set aside for someone special.”

At this, silence once more rang through the corridor and you wanted to throttle that stupid eel.

“There is a special box?” Malleus asked first, brow shooting up as his expression tugged with… something.

“I—I mean, I made all of yours special!” you defended, holding the wrapped treasure tightly to your chest. “But… I guess. Yes. There’s one that’s a little bigger than the others.”

At this, all three Housewardens exchanged pointed looks.

Jade smiled serenely once more, and then continued his absolute massacre upon your person.

“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “And our dearest Prefect only just mentioned that—hmm. How did you word it? Ah. That’s right. ‘I’m not ready to give it to him yet.’”

The trio tensed. All looking absolutely ready to pounce. At—at what, you had no idea.

“Perhaps,” the wretch mused, “it would be best for you all to temper your rage until the victor is decided, hmm?” He paused to tap at his chin for a moment, and then his lips split into a mean, jagged, grin. “Afterwards? Well, I suppose that whole cheery sentiment about ‘love and war’ still holds true.”

You gulped, feeling startlingly like Jade had just tried to serve you up on a silver platter.

But when neither Azul, Vil, or Malleus made any further moves to murder each other… well. As sacrificial as it all felt, at least it must have worked.

The rest of the day passed in a tense sort of fugue. You certainly hadn’t expected your attempts at bringing some holiday cheer to Night Raven to go so… Uh…

But either way, you managed to survive through the rest of the afternoon, and before you knew it, all that remained of all your tireless efforts and good will was the Special Box. The big one. The one that you’d put together with extra care and hopes for better things. You glared down at it for a moment, feeling sweat starting to bead over your palms. But you couldn’t chicken out now. Not after you’d come so far! Everyone was acting so strange, and it was all so weird. And as much as that unfamiliarity had your teeth on edge and your hackles raised, you didn’t want to regret not giving out the last of your well-made sweets.

Well, here goes nothing, you frowned. You took a deep breath, willed yourself to be brave, and smiled your biggest smile.

“Here,” you beamed, more than a little shy and still a bit horrified by whatever pissing match had been going down earlier in the day, and finally offered the grandest of your chocolate boxes to the man standing opposite you.

Divus Crewel accepted your offering daintily, plucking at the crisp, sharp, wrapping with his crimson gloves. He arched one of his thin brows at you and you fought the nervous heat rising in your cheeks.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you blurted. “I know it’s not a thing here, but I thought it’d be nice.”

The second eyebrow joined the first—practically jumping all the way up into his fringe.

“I appreciate the gesture. Though from what I understand of all the garish advertising I’ve seen for Mostro Lounge’s new event, I assumed this was a holiday for romantic overtures,” he intoned, wry.

You spluttered and waved your hands furiously. “I mean! Normally! Yes! But also…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to fidget. “If you don’t have a—a, well, someone, then Valentine’s is just a nice excuse to give something to people you care about.” You averted your gaze and lost the battle to twist your fingers into your jacket sleeves. “My family used to give me chocolates every year. So. I thought I could… Well…” you trailed off on a grumble, embarrassed.

Crewel sighed and popped the lid off the box. He plucked two truffles from their casing—keeping one for himself and handing you the other.

“Well, then. A very happy Valentine’s to you, Prefect,” he droned and popped the chocolate into his mouth with a thoughtful hum.

You lit up like a Christmas tree and happily gobbled up your own treat. So distracted were you by the one-two-punch combo of the delicious sugar and even sweeter taste of your Professor’s approval that you almost entirely missed the pointed glare he shot over your shoulder.

“I appreciate your regard,” he said, loud. Sharp. And like he wasn’t talking to you at all. “And while I’m certain that if you do pick a ‘someone’ for yourself to celebrate with in the following years, they’ll have to work very hard to be worthy of such a gift, hmm?” His lip curled unpleasantly, in direct contrast to the indulgent warmth that had been tugging at his expression only a moment before. “I could hardly allow you to waste such a thoughtful gesture on someone unworthy.”

The Octavinelle Housewarden had the decency to look at least a little panicked—his face going pale and gaunt from where he was shrinking into his high collar. There was a frantic look about him, like he was trying to weigh the cost-benefit ratio of going up against his professor in his head, and realizing that he was stupidly, willfully, walking right into a lose-lose situation. And that, sadly—miserably—he was going to keep doing just that. The other two, however, looked entirely undeterred. Schoenheit curled his lip right back at him, more than ready to duke it out here and now, and Crewel fought the urge to remind the blonde that he was the adult in this situation, thank you very much. The adult who could very well revoke the Warden’s access to his Alchemy Labs as it suited him. The very alchemy labs that he knew Vil had been using to concoct all kinds of new, personalized, gifts for you. Draconia simply looked on with that unnervingly ancient, green, leer of his. Like he was staring down a particularly fascinating game. The Fae Prince was the most unsettling of the trio, if only because that while Crewel was more than confident enough in his abilities to subdue his other wayward students, fighting off an Immortal, All Powerful, Dragon was going to require at least a little bit of prep work.

Divus Crewel sighed, and it rattled all the way out from the marrow of his bones.

“Come, then,” he rumbled, directing you to follow him back into his office. “It’s not chocolates, but I probably have some of those ridiculous cookies of yours lying around somewhere.” Which he did. Boxes upon boxes of them. Tucked away special for whenever you came to visit. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that, even under the pain of death.

Your eyes went wide and warm as you positively beamed.

It was rotten work, certainly. He shot one, last, warning glare down the hall at the trio of infatuated interlopers as he firmly shut his office door behind you and your absolute oblivious idiocy. He’d do it. Of course he would. But, Christ alive. He was going to need a stronger drink.

[puddleslimewrites]

Red String of Fate

"You've got to be kidding me." Villain didn't have the energy to muster any emotion as they expressed their disbelief. At least the hero seemed just as distraught.

"This can't be happening."

Villain looked up from the red string tied around their pinky and rolled their eyes at the look of panic on Hero's face. "I'm not happy about this either, but there's no need to look like that." It would make things inconvenient, that's all. Soulmates or not, Villain had work to do.

"This can't be happening," Hero said again. Villain would have made another retort but paused when they noticed the other's breathing pick up.

"Hey," they said sharply. They were never good at calming people down but they got the hero's attention. "This doesn't change anything. Got it?"

Hero stared at them with wide eyes. Then, after too long a moment, nodded slowly. "R...Right." They just had to...ignore that their soulmate was a villain if they wanted to keep their job. That would work. That would be easy.

...Except for the fact that their string would be visible to everyone now. And if the villain was ever close it would pull them towards one another. Great. Fantastic even.

Hero knew what happened to thsoe who had villainous soulmates - they were either 'relieved' of their dutues for 'associating' with a public enemy or they left of their own accord. If any of their coworkers found out, they'd be screwed.

"Hey, Hero! What's the hold...up?"

Both the hero and the villain whipped around quickly as Hero's sidekick finally came to join them. Sidekick looked at the string, looked at Hero, then Villain, then back to Hero.

They were so screwed.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Very silly Togachako idea based off AU where Inko ends adopting entire league if villains before they become villains, Momma Inko cutting off all of their tragic backstories and they are all 1 chaotic family.

Toga going into general education at UA and attending with Izuku her going to bother him and seeing Ochako and instant crush.

Toga taking Izuku's form occasionally (like once because he was sick and worried about missing class and just totally falling deeper in love) and occasionally does it just to figure out if she likes her.

Izuku bursting into class 1-a like 'STOP STEALING MY BLOOD' and confusing everyone but Bakugou, he knows about all the Midoriya siblings.

Izuku: That's it i'm telling mom you keep pretending to be and snaking into class because you have a crush

Himiko: If you do i'm telling Tomura and the others you have a crush on 'kaa-chan'

Izuku: You wouldn't

Himiko: If I'm going i'm taking you with me

The sports festival being the two of them flirting, and Himiko cheering her on, deeply offending Izuku.

Also all of the siblings doing shovel talk and being very protective of their baby siblings.

Just Uraraka showing up to drop off something for Izuku and meeting the league of older siblings.

[nightscarab]

“it’s not just pretending anymore, is it?”

college au , fake dating , suggestive themes

tomura leaned back in his chair, fingers threading through his messy silver hair, as he stared blankly at his sketchbook. the library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages turning and the distant sound of a pen scratching on paper. he liked it that way, but it was impossible to ignore the interruption from across the table. 

"still playing solo, huh, shiggy?" touya’s voice rang out, punctuated by a smug grin. heleaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as he regarded his friend with mischief in his eyes. "i swear, at this rate, you’ll die alone surrounded by your sketches." 

tomura glared, his cold red eyes narrowing. “shut up, touya. i don’t need a girlfriend.” 

“sure, but you’re the only one of us without a partner,” touya continued, undeterred. “what are you scared of? commitment? or just being seen with someone who doesn’t wear a black hoodie all day?” 

the jab drew a few chuckles from nearby students, and tomura’s cheeks flushed with irritation. he turned his gaze back to his sketchbook, trying to ignore the conversation, but it was hard to block out touya’s relentless teasing. he could feel the eyes of their friends on him, waiting for his reaction. 

as the banter continued, y/n, a psychology major, sat at a nearby table. she glanced up from her book, catching tomura’s eye just as he shot her a look that was a mix of annoyance and desperation. It was a familiar sight—touya teasing tomura, and tomura’s stubborn refusal to engage.  

but today, something shifted in tomura’s expression. an idea sparked in his mind, and as he caught y/n’s gaze, a mischievous plan began to take form.  

after the teasing subsided and the group dispersed, tomura approached you, his expression serious. “can we talk for a second?” 

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “sure. what’s up?” 

“can we… pretend to date?” he blurted out, his tone brusque as if he was asking her to pass him a pencil. “touya won’t shut up about me being single, and if i have a girlfriend, maybe he’ll finally leave me alone.” 

you blinked in surprise, a smile creeping onto yourface. “you want to fake date me? why me?” 

“because with you, it’ll be more believable,” tomura replied, crossing his arms defensively. “and you won’t make it weird.” 

you pondered for a moment. “it sounds harmless enough. plus, I could use a break from the constant pressure of midterms. all right, let’s do it.” 

tomura’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly, and he nodded. “thanks.” 

--- 

the next day, they launched their charade. it started innocently enough with a casual study date in the library. tomura arrived first, looking even more disheveled than usual, his hoodie pulled tightly around him. y/n arrived shortly after, a stack of books in her arms. 

“hey, boyfriend,” you teased, taking a seat across from him. 

tomura rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t call me that.” 

“why not? It’s part of the act,” you replied, opening a book and pretending to read. 

they fell into a rhythm, the two of them working on their respective assignments while occasionally exchanging glances and comments. tomura found himself easing into her presence, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. 

“hey, so what do we do now?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“give me your hand” he said, “to make it believable, you know.”  

“right.” you reached across the table, placing your hand in his. “is this awkward?” 

“a little,” tomura admitted, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he turned his attention back to his sketchbook, sketching absentmindedly while holding your hand. 

as the weeks passed, their fake relationship began to flourish in unexpected ways. they staged outings to coffee shops, walked around campus with their fingers intertwined, and attended parties together, where they expertly danced around the questions of their friends. 

one evening, as they sat outside under the stars, she broke the comfortable silence. “you know, i didn’t expect this to flow so nicely. i thought it would feel forced.” 

tomura glanced at you, surprised. “yeah? me too.” 

“maybe there’s more to you than just a tough gamer guy,” you teased gently. 

“don’t get used to it,” he shot back, but there was no bite to his words. 

their moments together became more intimate, filled with shared laughter and late-night conversations. you found herself drawn to tomura’s passion for art, often listening intently as he spoke about his projects and inspirations. and tomura, in turn, began to appreciate your intelligence and wit, your ability to challenge him in ways he hadn’t expected. 

one day, as they strolled through a park, tomura suddenly stopped, turning to face you. “do you think this is a good idea? pretending to be together?” 

you hesitated, then replied, “it’s not just pretending anymore, is it?” 

he blinked, the weight of your words settling in the air between them. “what do you mean?” 

“i mean… i actually like spending time with you,” you said, his voice low. “i didn’t expect to, but here we are.” 

tomura’s heart raced at your admission, a warmth spreading through him. “this was supposed to be fake. just to get touya off my ass, but...i feel...i don’t know” 

you stepped closer, your expression earnest. “so what do we do about it?” 

before he could respond, they were interrupted by the familiar sound of touya’s voice echoing nearby. “hey, lovebirds! what are you two up to?” he smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. 

“nothing,” tomura snapped, but he didn’t move away from you.  

you couldn’t help but laugh. “just discussing our ‘relationship.’” 

touya raised an eyebrow. “yeah, right. you two look too cozy for a fake couple.” 

touya ended up finding out the relationship was fraud two days into it, but he enjoyed seeing this side of tomura.  

“shut it, touya,” tomura muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. 

after touya left, you turned to tomura, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in your eyes. “so, is this real now? or are we still pretending?” 

tomura sighed, his usual bravado giving way to vulnerability. “i haven’t been pretending for a while. i like you, y/n. for real.” 

your heart soared at his words. “i like you too, tomura.” 

he hesitated for a moment, then reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. his other hand moved to your waist, squeezing gently.  

they looked at each other, tomura glancing at your lips for just a second. but that didn’t go unnoticed by you. your hand reaches to push his head into yours, joining lips.  

he tasted like cherry chapstick, the way his lips moved against yours felt so right. he lets go of your hand to hold the nape of your neck, pushing you further into him. he pulls away ever so slightly, breaths combining. he opens his mouth to say something, until he’s interrupted. 

“are you guys gonna fuck now or what?!” touya yells, toga giggling beside him with her phone in hand. they high five, as if this was their plan all along. and it so totally was.  

please do not copy my work!

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride get in the church van

League of Villains x Villain Reader  Eventually: [Tomura Shigaraki x Reader]  [Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader] 

“what are the odds of two serial killers in one car?” A quick intro, no real tws for this series other than crimes committed? Unofficially a Route 66 type AU: no locations explicitly mentioned and some references are elsewhere but that's kind of the vibe.

part 1 ▷ next [series masterlist]

Money acquired, security evaded, and you need to get out of here. 

The unlocked Kia you had your eye on is gone. So much for a getaway car. 

You'll have to hitchhike. With any luck, you can steal the car from whoever picks you up and be off the grid in no time. 

One issue, the deserted road you ran down has almost no cars. The few that have passed are definitely not bold stupid enough to pick up someone dressed head to toe in black with a suspiciously bulky bag slung over their shoulder. Especially not when the windows to the nearby bank are shattered.

But you keep trying, thumb held as high in the air as you can manage. 

You're aware the sirens in the distance are searching for you and you're about to give up hope.

SKKKRRRREEEEETTTCHHHHH

A white van with the words “New Faith Church of God †” on the side swerves two lanes towards you and over the curb half a block down. 

A church van isn't what you expected, particularly one driven so recklessly, but you're not in a place to complain. 

You run to make up the distance. 

Expecting a van of grandmas, you're shocked when a heavily scarred man in his twenties dressed in all black steps out and gestures you in through the sliding door. His turquoise eyes follow as you hastily enter, sliding to an open seat by a white haired man with red eyes. You notice he also has quite a few scars.

“You're in middle,” his gruff voice mutters before he climbs in after you, taking the seat on your other side after slamming the door shut. 

The van lurches back onto the road and you're off. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you exclaim, still breathless from the sprint over. 

“Of course,” a blonde girl in the passenger seat answers, “We had to. Someone thought you were pretty.” She stares at one of the men next to you. He's... also attractive, you think to yourself. Cheeks beginning to flush. 

“Where are you headed, anyways?” asks the purple haired driver. He swerves slightly while gesturing back at you. 

“Anywhere, preferably far.”

“Well, you certainly got lucky today,” a man with a top hat and feather laughs behind you. His face completely covered by a mask. 

The silence becomes tense as they wait for you to recognize them. Unfortunately, you haven't had time (or a consistent location) to relax long enough to watch the news so you have no idea who these people are. But you do know one thing - 

“You're not really a church group, are you?”

The white haired man next to you mumbles “what gave you that idea?” Most of the others laugh. 

In the next hour, you learn a lot. Everyone introduces themselves. Their names are pretty easy to remember, you're certain most of them are made up. You debate on giving them your real name, instead going with the alias you typically use (which might as well be your actual name at this point, no one's called you anything else in years.)

You also get the feeling they're in the same boat as you: on the run in a vehicle that clearly doesn't belong to them after doing who knows what. They haven't asked you why you were in a rush to leave so you return the favor. 

At this point, they've realized you're not a threat (and definitely not about to call the heros on them) so they loosen up. You do too.

“Who wants to play a game?!” Toga asks. The two on either side of you groan but everyone else seems interested so she continues. 

“I spy with my little eye, somethinggg green!”

Turns out I spy is incredibly easy when all you can see are fields and distant mountains. After a few turns, you've tuned the game out. As have most of the others. Twice, Spinner, and Toga continue to play while everyone else begins to nap out of boredom. 

Everyone but one person. 

The gorgeous guy from earlier, who is the reason you’re here instead of a jail cell. 

He rests his hand on the seat between you, pinky brushing against your thigh. 

This will be an interesting ride.

next chapter - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

The following chapters start the same then split into separate Shig/Dabi routes.

This will probably be fluff/eventually suggestive, very minimal angst. I just wanted to make something light, fun, and easy.

Maybe a few smut side quests that aren't plot/are skippable, but idk yet. Those aren't written and i have no explicit plans for them.

This one is particularly short but they should all be pretty quick reads. This won't be a long series. (says everyone before dropping 20 more chapters of 5k words.)