#villains and heroes

[whumpberry-cookie]

Villain *calls Hero on video cam* Well hello there. I believe I have something of yours.

*there's a cinnamon roll teammate on the screen, clearly in distress*

Hero: They have nothing to do with this!! Release them!!

Villain: "release"?! Dude, come collect them IMMIDIATELLY. They grabbed me in the mall saying they got lost and recognise only me and now they won't let go of my sleeve! I have shit to do, you know?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! The way you write so eloquently always astonishes me, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your work. Would you be able to write some hero/villain whumpee/whumper for us? I haven’t seen any of that in a while and I LOVE it! Thanks for all the amazing writing you do, I want to mix it all up in a stew and eat it. <33

"You know, this would be easier for you if you just -" The villain aimed a sharp kick at the hero's ribs - "stayed down."

The hero doubled over to the floor again, wheezing. Dull and not so dull pain throbbed through their body. "Nah," they managed. "You enjoy it too much. Couldn't deprive you."

Before they could claw their way up onto hands and knees, yet again, the villain placed a boot on the side of their head. They didn't put any pressure. But it was there. Ready.

The hero froze.

A moment passed, two, broken only by the sound of the hero's ragged breathing.

"Look at you," the villain said softly. "You're halfway to broken in all but spirit. Isn't that enough?"

"Gonna have to break me the rest of the way if you want to get through me."

"No, darling," the villain said. "To do that I merely have to apply a little pressure."

The hero swallowed.

They felt the villain's weight shift, not hard enough to crack their skull open like an overripe melon, but certainly enough to grind their cheek into the concrete. To make them infinitely aware of the way a melon or a brain might look dribbling pulp.

Their bruised, bloodied fingers flexed on the floor. The villain hazed in their vision.

"To do that," the villain said, "all I need to do is shatter your kneecaps the rest of the way so you can't get up. However hard you try. Crack your spine, perhaps."

The hero shuddered. They wished the fear wouldn't come, but it did, like bile. Anxiety lodged in their chest.

"I could then leave you to the mercy of whoever finds you," the villain continued. "You see your will, indomitable though it may be, cares very little for the limitations of your meat sack. Is that the path we need to go down to make you understand that?"

"Screw you."

The villain laughed, without mirth. "Is that fear or recklessness talking?"

"If you can do all that, why don't you?"

"Maybe I'm enjoying myself too much."

"So what you're saying is..." The hero made a sudden grab for the villain's leg, and yanked, rolling to dislodge their positions. "I could do anything and you wouldn't finish it."

The villain landed hard on their knees. The second after that, they'd snapped both of the hero's wrists.

The hero gasped with pain. Black spots danced behind their eyelids.

The villain grabbed a fistful of the hero's hair, dragging their swaying body up in mirror before they could hit the ground.

"Or maybe my ability and willingness to hurt you does not extend to my fucking pleasure." In an instant, the villain's voice was a growl. "Stay the hell down. What is wrong with you?"

"You're the one keeping me up." The hero's voice slurred. They realised they probably shouldn't say that. Shouldn't admit to that. It was getting a little difficult to focus.

The villain's grip on their hair tightened, pulling their head back further as the villain rose to their feet once more. The hero was left contorted, peering wobbly up at them. The villain's other hand cupped their cheek. The anger faded, leaving behind only implacable waters. A leviathan submerged.

"Not looking to make it easier on me," the hero said. "Looking to make it harder for you. Sorry. Wouldn't be doing any of this for easy. May as well commit, you know?"

They weren't sure if they meant the words as conciliatory or goading, but the villain snorted. They patted the hero's cheek.

"Well, now I could accuse you of enjoying it too much," the villain said.

The hero laughed. Or maybe they just sobbed. Choking on it. On the pain on it.

It would be nice to stay down. To not get up again. To rest. To just...stop.

"You'll pass out eventually," the villain replied. Half kindness. Half cruelty. "And I'll move on. I put in contingency time for dealing with you, you're not saving anything."

"But I'm trying."

"But you're trying."

The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's head then let them unceremoniously drop the floor. They stepped back as the hero wheezed all over again, coughing up a glob of blood.

The villain rolled out their shoulders. They checked their watch. They waited.

The hero forced themselves up again.

[run-little-hero]

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

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

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

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

“From Supervillain?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hero plans on sleeping in and waking up alone.

—

snippet #3

[assortedcriminality]

Thursday - part III

part I part II

Tuesday

It took Civilian a few moments to adjust to their surroundings when they woke up on the couch the following day. They tossed a blanket they didn’t remember putting on to the side, yawning. Sunlight shone through the closed blinds. It seemed to be mid-morning already. They stood, smoothing their rumpled clothes, before starting down the hall to their room. Halfway there, they heard a muffled voice coming from the kitchen. As Civilian approached, they could only make out a few words, most of them curses. Slowly, they peeked inside the room, one hand resting on the doorframe. 

At the table, Villain was leaning over an enormous binder, flipping back and forth through the pages. Each time they turned one, they muttered something colorful under their breath. A mug and an empty coffee pot sat precariously on the edge of the table, liable to fall with one shift of the binder. After a few seconds, Villain’s head lifted suddenly, as if they had just sensed Civilian’s presence. The circles underneath their eyes were dark, the kind Civilian would have to cover up after a long night of doing Hero’s paperwork. It was still odd to see them in normal clothes, as they had been on Sunday. No costume, no mask. Just a regular person anyone could brush past on the street a million times and never take note of. Well. Maybe Civilian would. “Good morning,” Villain said, returning their attention to the binder after a moment’s pause. “I have… something to talk to you about, once you’re ready.”

Civilian stifled a yawn. “Okay.” They supposed a conversation was inevitable, however uncomfortable both of them were around the subject of Civilian’s captivity. With a last flick of their eyes to Villain’s hunched form, they started down the hall again to their room.

A few minutes later, they returned to the kitchen with damp hair and a new outfit just as neutral as the previous one. Villain had brewed a new pot of coffee for them. The bitter scent filled the air, reminding Civilian of countless early mornings at the office. They poured themself a mug and sat in the other chair, looking at their captor from across the tiny table. 

Villain was the first to break the silence. “I don’t have any creamer or sugar,” they said apologetically. “You can probably tell I don’t spend that much time grocery shopping.”

“Seems like you do spend plenty eating yogurt, though.” Civilian recalled all of the containers they’d seen in the fridge. 

Villain’s laugh caught them both off guard, somehow sharp and warm at the same time.. “You noticed?”

The corners of Civilian’s mouth turned upward. “Hard not to.” They took a sip of their coffee and gestured to the binder. “What’s this?”

Villain leaned back on their chair, huffing a sigh. “These are all the files I have on Hero—their powers, their associates, their deals, everything. I’ve been compiling it since they became my nemesis.”

“Am I in there?”

They flipped to a page near the very back of the binder. There were only a few lines written and no picture. “It was a lot harder to find anything out about you. I don’t know why, but Hero updated security after firing their last assistant. That’s why I didn’t recognize you when you showed up. Usually, I would have. I should’ve dug deeper—it’s dangerous for Hero to have a card up their sleeve like that.”

Civilian’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I can’t believe you said all that so nonchalantly. You’re such a stalker.”

“I am not!” Villain bristled at the assessment. Civilian’s brows rose higher. “Well, I am,” they admitted, fidgeting with the hem of their jacket. “But that’s my job. It's yours, too, though, you knew what you were signing up for.”

“In my defense, I never imagined this,” Civilian pointed out. 

“Fair.” Villain was quiet for a moment. “I figured I owe you an explanation. This all must be… confusing.” That was an enormous understatement, but Civilian nodded. “Hero is a manipulator. They puppeteer this entire city according to their whims. I never know what their next step is. Since they chose me as their nemesis, I’ve tried to get closer, learn more about their plans.”

“Hence, the binder,” Civilian said, gesturing to the monstrosity in front of them.

They gave a rueful smile. “Yes. Anyway, I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I haven’t fought Hero in weeks.”

Civilian blinked. It seemed like the two were always fighting, every instance just blended into each other. “Really?” 

“Usually they’ll contact me at least once a week. Sometimes it's taunts or a tip, sometimes it's to tell me to meet them. Often they stop by while I’m working, to fight or just to see what I’m doing. They like to keep tabs on people.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Well, you know what they’re like, don’t you?”

Civilian shrugged. “Kind of. They tend to keep their distance from me. They’re almost never in the office. I go in in the morning and find a new stack of paperwork and a bunch of reports to fill out. When they’re there, they just ask me to make them coffee or order food.”

“I guess I’m not surprised,” Villain mused. “But the point is, I wanted to know what they were up to. I told Other Villain and some others I know Hero talks to that I had big plans for Thursday. Nothing specific, something about Town Hall and a few innocent lives in danger.” 

“You baited them,” Civilian said slowly, “and they sent me to call your bluff.”

“Hero doesn’t like to be toyed with. I should’ve known better. But before they stopped fighting me, I felt like I was close to uncovering something.”

“A conspiracy?”

“How Hero can pull so many strings, keep everything running the way they want.”

“Maybe they’re scared you’ll uncover whatever it is they’re hiding.”

Villain scoffed, running a hand through their hair—a gesture so human it took Civilian by surprise. “Hero isn’t scared of anything. Least of all me.” 

Civilian shook their head, “I can’t believe you’re what’s under the mask.”

The criminal stared at them with a confused half-smile. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so… normal. When Hero told me to deliver that letter, I was terrified. I’d always thought that anything I did for them was for the good of the city, so I went through with it. But you’re not scary at all.”

There it was again: that laugh Civilian didn’t know what to make of. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat that to anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“So why did you do any of this in the first place? Why did you become Villain?”

In answer, Villain raised their hand in the air. The binder moved along with it, as if it was being pulled up by an invisible string. With a slight shift of their finger, the binder flew to the other side of the room, landing with a small thump on the counter. “I can move things with my mind. You have to do something with that kind of power. Why not crime?” They gave a dumbfounded Civilian a self-satisfied grin, but it quickly faded. They leaned forward, eyes overtaken by an oddly intense look. “I work very hard to keep the mask up. It's the only way I can keep any semblance of sanity in a life like this. I don’t have any family or friends because it's too dangerous for anyone to know me. I save the real version of myself in this house so I don’t lose my mind. I like books and detective movies. I like yogurt. That’s the real me, and only Hero knows that.”

Civilian rocked their nearly-empty mug from side to side. “And now me.”

Villain raised and lowered one shoulder. “You’re like an extension of Hero. You don’t count.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

“I-that’s not-I didn’t-“ Villain sputtered, eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant! I didn’t try to hide any of this because Hero knows anyway, and you’re their assistant, so there’s no point! You’re not-I mean, you’re nothing like them-“

Civilian’s peal of laughter interrupted them, lasting long enough for a Villain to hesitantly join in. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Actually, I’ve just had it on good authority that I’m shockingly normal and well-adjusted,” they replied primly. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Can’t I have this one thing?”

 Civilian threw up their hands. “I’m a prisoner in this house! Let me have my fun, you scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?!” Villain put a hand over their heart, feigning betrayal. “Do you really think of me like that?”

“Give me a few seconds and I can come up with something much worse.” 

“I think I liked it better when you were paralyzingly afraid of me.”

“You mean when you choked me half to death?”

Villain winced. “I did apologize for that.”

“Not nearly enough!”

“I’m sorry! I thought my whole life had been compromised!”

“It’s not like anyone would believe me anyway if I told them you secretly loved yogurt!”

The two looked at each other, little smiles playing on their faces. Civilian wondered how long it had been since Villain had talked to someone openly like that. Probably not since they donned their criminal persona and become subject to Hero and their whims. They may have been able to salvage a life for themself, but it wasn’t much of one. 

After a while, Villain stood up abruptly, pushing in their chair with a scrape. “I should take care of a few errands. I can pick up a few things from your apartment, too, if you want.”

“Sure, some toiletries and clothes would be nice. Maybe a few books.” Anything to stave off the boredom.

“Okay.” Villain moved to leave the room.

“Wait, don’t you need to know the address?”

The criminal half-turned to face Civilian, their guilt apparent. “…uh. Yes?”

“I thought you didn’t have much on me!”

“Well, I didn’t know what you looked like, but an address is easy enough to find. You can read through the files if you’d like, by the way. Not exactly a fun read, but there’s some good information in there.”

Civilian shook their head in mock disgust. “Stalker! Scoundrel!”

“All right, I get it, I’m leaving!” Villain offered them a final smile before disappearing out of the doorway. 

Civilian sat at the kitchen table for a little longer, eventually getting up to pour out the cold dregs from their coffee mug. They spent most of the rest of the day reading through Villain’s files, which were so dense they found themself nearly falling asleep on the binder multiple times. Most of it was about Hero and their plots over the years—or at least the few details Villain had managed to discover about them. There were hundreds of question marks and crossed-out statements, along with blurry pictures and names that Villain had marked as ‘definite aliases.’ Every page made Hero look worse and worse, uncovering their criminal associates and what they’d threatened people with to get them to assist in their schemes. But none of those schemes seemed to have a clear point or end goal aside from keeping as many people as possible under Hero’s thumb. Civilian marked the pages that seemed to have the most significant information with some sticky notes they’d found to talk about with Villain later. 

When Villain got home later that night, they dropped off Civilian’s things from their apartment outside the spare room door. They found Civilian watching another old movie on the couch. They weren’t asleep yet, but their eyes kept closing for longer and longer periods. Villain sat a foot or so away from them. It was strange how much their eyes were drawn to Civilian rather than the movie. It certainly wouldn’t help them get past the stalker accusation, but… they couldn’t help it. 

Before Civilian could fully drift off, Villain turned off the TV. “There’s no way you’re going to make it through the rest of that.”

“Try-“ Civilian’s own yawn cut them off. “Try me.” 

“Come on, it's late.”

“And what exactly do I have to do tomorrow besides sit here like a damsel in distress?”

Villain arched an eyebrow.  “Are you in distress?”

“A horrible evildoer turned off my sole source of entertainment for the night, so, yes,” Civilian said sleepily, burrowing deeper under their blanket. 

They snorted. “Hardly. Now, are you getting up or not?”

“You could carry me to bed with your mind.”

“No chance.”

“Worth a shot.” Civilian stretched, yawning again before tearing off the blanket and getting to their feet. “Good night, scoundrel.”

Villain rolled their eyes. “Good night, Civilian. Sleep well.”

“How am I supposed to do that in the home of such an incorrigible fiend?” Civilian wondered while they made their way out of the living room. 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out,” the criminal called after them, unable to stop the smile tugging at their mouth.

That night, just as predicted, Civilian fell asleep as soon as their head hit the pillow. Villain lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the image of a face lingering in their mind’s eye, wondering how they were going to make it past Thursday.

word count: 2219

@sausages-things @chaotic-orphan  @and-we-shake-the-iron-hand

[writinggremln]

Prompt 2

"Supervillain," Villain's mouth was dry, "don't... don't do this."

"I warned you. I gave you an order." Supervillain's voice was eerily calm. "You deliberately dissobeyed me."

Villain gulped. "Supervillain, please-"

"Be quiet." The voice of the greater villain turned harsh, their grip on the bound hero under them tightened, causing Hero to whimper in their gag. Villain shut their mouth, cold sweat dripping down their face.

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out?" Supervillain's jaw clenched. "How exacly were you going to go about this, Villain? Were you hoping to, I don't know, possibly fake your deaths and live as normal civilians far away from here, happily ever after?" Both the hero and the villain flinched. Supervillain's mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Oh, you can't be serious."

Villain took a small step forward. "Supervillain, listen to me," they begged, hands up to show they were unarmed, "we can talk about this. Please," they met Hero's gaze and their heart clenched at the fear in their captured lover's eyes, "please don't hurt them."

Supervillain only huffed out a small laugh. "You think I'd let you go unpunished?"

Villain paled as Supervillain suddenly grabbed Hero's face, their nails scratching the crime-fighter's cheeks. "You listen to me, Villain. And you listen well. You see them?" They cocked Hero's head forcefully toward Villain's, who clenched their hands into fists at their lover's muffled cry of pain. The supervillain continued, a flicker of sadistic amusement flashing in their eyes. "Take a good, long look, Villain," they smiled slowly, "because this will be the last you'll ever see of them."

[liberandi-causa]

Warmth

"Most absurd is," Hero scowls, "you cuddling me to sleep on the basis of a fever—do you really have a fever?"

"Mmhm, all thanks to you." Villain craddles Hero closer, full lips settling to the top of Hero's head.

"Then, why are you the big spoon?"

"The sick one gets a pass, now hush and sleep."

And they did, a blissful one — surprisingly even to Hero, who has been suffering from recent episodes of insomnia.

Little did Hero know, aside from controlling the flames, Villain can also regulate his body temperature freely.

[villainousauthor]

Villain arches their brow as they hold the paperback novel pinched between their fingers. Hero tries to ignore the heat creeping up their face. Villain doesn't even bother to speak, their face saying saying more than words could.

"I told you already, get the hell out of my house." Hero bites. They can't keep the tremble out of their voice.

Villain doesn't bother to respond to the demand, eyes going back to the book, then back to Hero, then back to the book again.

"I didn't know you were a reader." They begin, mirth beginning to color their tone. The corner of their lips twitch.

"Just shut up and-"

"Loving The Villain, what an interesting title." They're fighting a smirk at this point, as Hero begins to shake visibly. For once, not from fear or irritation in Villain's presence, but unrelenting mortification. They hadn't expected Villain to pull a home invasion today, interrupting their afternoon reading.

Villain returns the book to the coffee table gingerly, before examining the stack of books nearby. Undoubtedly Hero's recent reads.

"Get out." Hero demands again, words wobbling pathetically. Villain pays no mind. They run their fingers down the spines, some books worn from frequent rereads. Favorites, most likely.

"Touched by The Villain, Saved by the Villain," They drawl, "Villain's Mistress." They snicker, picking up another book and noting the risqué cover.

Hero manages to unplant their feet from the ground, stalking over and ripping the novel from Villain's hands. "Leave my stuff alone."

"No way, this is too interesting. I'm learning so much about you today." Their grin stretches from ear to ear, looking more delighted than Hero has ever seen them. "Is it safe to say you have a type?"

Hero moves to stand in front of their book pile, blocking Villain's view. "It -" They lick their lips, hesitating to find the right words, "It doesn't mean anything. It's just books."

Placing a warm hand on their hip, Villain slides Hero out of the way, not commenting on the gasp they let out at the sudden manhandling. They're absolutely not done picking apart their nemesis' literary interests.

"Sure. I'm positive 'My Sweet Villain' has absolutely no connection to anything at all." They tease, picking up another book as they read the synopsis. Villain may be many things, but a fool is not one of them.

"Well, you're an absolute freak," They say, thumping the book into Hero's chest as they instinctively catch it, "Maybe we should start a book club."

[avvail]

truth potion/serum 😌

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They try not to shift.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I go easy on you?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

@badthingshappenbingo

[girlwithherheadinthestars]

Supervillain monologuing to the entire civilization of Villains: I will burn this world down and remake it into a thriving, beautiful metropolis where we will all be free to do as we wish without all that bullshit --

Hero (leaning against the wall, studying their nails): Language.

*everyone turns to look at Hero in shock; they didn't see them come in*

Hero: Oh, were you having like an epic bad guy moment there? Sorry for that man, I’ll just back up and you take from the top…

Supervillain: What-what are you doing here? Didn't I kill you?

Villain (hanging from the ceiling): Yeah, well, it clearly didn't work did it?

Supervillain: AND DIDN'T I FIRE YOU?

Villain: *shrugs*

Supervillain: AND HOW DID YOU TWO EVEN GET IN THIS IS THE MOST FORTIFIED BUILDING IN THE WORLD?

Villain: Well I'm glad you asked allow me to explain my brilliant idea -

Hero: You mean my brilliant idea --

Supervillain: Why do I even bother -- what do you two want?

Hero: Um, it's literally in my name. I'm a hero. I'm here to beat up villains. So unless you can prove yourself to be a good guy in the next two seconds it’s gonna get ugly.

Villain: i am so in love with you right now.

[creadigol]

Prompt #7

"So a siren takes the form of whoever you most desire?"

Supervillain rolled their eyes at Henchman, "It takes the form of whoever you love the most. Love and desire are not the same thing. You would die for someone you love, not someone you only superficially desire."

"Yeah, okay...but Villain is on deck right now and..."

Supervillain whipped their head around, "What do you mean Villain is on deck?! I expressly gave the orders for everyone to stay below!"

"I know but sir...."

"No buts! Go out there and get them back inside!"

"You should really see..."

"Really see what?"

Henchman rubbed the back of their neck, "The form the siren took for Villain, to lore them outside...it looks like..."

Supervillain narrowed their eyes, "Like who?"

"Like Detective."

[chorusofcrows]

Villains who are polite and elegant while commiting crimes. Their fighting looks like a dance form. They're well-versed in how to act for/ preform for/ entertain the rich (they are the rich, "villainy pays well"). Genius (actual braindead idiot).

On the other hand, a hit-hard, ask-questions-after kind of hero. They're a disaster, and quite frankly help others because they don't know how (or don't want to) help themselves. Braindead idiot (accidental genius).

Now make it enemies to lovers.

Hero "hates" villain for their mannerism, but they're really just infatuated with them. Villain's taunts make them think about their actions.

Villain's attraction is "why are people in their midlife crisis so hot" and moronsexual™️. Hero makes their brain shortcircuit.

Hero: "Oh poor you, your perfect, greasy, pretty hair is singed."

Villain: Are they flirting or insulting me? God they're so bad at it no matter which on it is (It's both), that's so sexy

Hero, bruised and bloody, getting up with shaky legs, smiling. It's very attractive: "I've been hit harder"

Villain, nose bleeding: "Hello, sailor"

Villain, dusting off their now riped-in-shambles suit, and straightening the cuffs, "I just got this suit after you destroyed the last one. I would ask you to purchase me a new set of attire, but I doubt you can afford it."

Hero, their brain thinking 'No, I deffinately cannot' to 'I'd like to see them without the suit entirely' to 'Wait, what?' and 'God, I hate them, their lovely voice, their hair that smells like how honey tastes, the way they smile when they reveal their plans' and would really like to see villain without the suit entirely (even through villain looks great in all of their suits): "Just stop wearing suits and wear something that can handle me."

Villain, wondering if Hero is doing this on purpose (they aren't) and what their relationship even is: "Hot"

Hero: "What"

Villain: "What"

Hero: "Did you just call me ho-"

Villain, paniking: "You're on fire"

Hero: "???? No, I'm no-????"

Villain, pulling out a flamethrower and shooting Hero (dw they're flame-proof): hO t.

[the-modern-typewriter]

“You know,” the hero said, as they touched down on the villain’s rooftop. “People keep telling me I’m yours.”

“Do they.”

The villain seemed entirely unperturbed by both the statement and the intrusion; eyes possibly closed behind their shades, all artful laziness as they sprawled upon a deckchair by the pool. Their long limbs seemed to stretch for miles of unmarred skin. It was obscene. A brazen promise that the villain needed no armour, no defences, whatsoever.

“With varied looks of awe, jealousy and absolute terror,” the hero said.

A smirk curled the villain’s lips, then, just briefly.

“You wouldn’t happen,” the hero crossed the space between them, “to know anything about that, would you?”

The villain slid the shades up when the hero blocked the sun; looming over them, hands on hips. Their head tilted as they considered the hero. Their gaze simmered.

The hero leaned down slowly, bracing their arms on the back of their chair on either side of the villain’s shoulders. They raised their eyebrows to repeat the question.

“You know,” the villain said, “normally when you get in a mood to interrogate me it’s at least about less obvious things. Don’t tell me you’re getting slow on me now. You’re much too young and pretty to be taken round back and shot because you’re past working age.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Babe.”

It seemed impossible that one word, so fond and so mocking all at once, could contain quite so much chiding. The hero’s face burned.

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“And I’m sure the earth didn’t sit down and have a formal chat about orbiting with the sun either,” the villain said, “and the moon didn’t negotiate tide times with the ocean. C’est la vie. The facts of the universe remain.”

“I’m pretty sure we are not a fact of the universe.”

“And yet…” The villain hooked their fingers into the front of the hero’s shirt, tugging them closer, until their lips were inches apart. “Like a gravitational pull, here you are.”

The hero kissed them, then, savagely.

It was their first kiss, but the villain didn’t miss a beat. They slid their legs apart so that the hero could settle with one knee on the lounger braced between them. They tugged the hero’s shirt again like perfect choreography, the elegant execution of another mastermind plan, drawing the hero closer still. They claimed the hero’s mouth, in turn, despite the fact that it was so clearly not a claim that needed making.

“You are such a piece of work,” the hero muttered, breathless. The moved to bite the villain’s neck, obnoxiously higher than the line of their collar. “You can’t just go around telling people I belong to you. Screw you.”

The villain laughed. Their other hand slid around the hero’s back, sun-soaked palm smoothing down before their fingers squeezed the hero’s arse. Their bodies rocked together, pooling heat treacherous and molten in the pit of the hero’s stomach, making them gasp. The villain’s other hand stayed locked around the hero’s shirt, keeping them close.

“Babe,” the villain said again, all teeth and delighted, terribly delightful malice. “Do you really still think I had to? Do you actually think that’s a conversation I bothered to have?”

“…Ugh.”

The villain caught the hero’s chin, turning their head up again. They captured the hero’s mouth in another fierce kiss, and it did feel as inevitable as gravity, as inescapable as a riptide.

The hero was mortified to hear a small moan leave them.

“People are going to think I have terrible taste,” the hero said. “Oh my god.”

“You do have terrible taste,” the villain said. “We could have been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Say that again when you manage to stop kissing me.”

The hero huffed. They forced themselves to stop, panting, and immediately missed the feel of the villain’s lips against them.

The villain laughed again, shaking their head. They slid their hand from the hero’s collar, up to their throat, fingers splaying over the hero’s racing pulse.

“I don’t mind you fighting it,” the villain said. They bit their lip, eyes dark. Their thumb caressed the hero’s jugular. “You know I like watching you fight. But you hate liars, babe, so at least do us both the courtesy of not being such an unconvincing hypocrite. You wouldn’t stand up anywhere near so well under my interrogation.”

The hero glared at them. They didn’t protest again, though. The villain wasn’t wrong after all. They tried not to think what that brand of interrogation might entail. They failed.

“I hate you,” the hero said, instead, and it didn’t feel like enough.

“Mm.” The villain was once more unperturbed by such a declaration. “You’re still blocking my sun. Your options are to either move, or I’m putting you beneath me. I need to get my back anyway.”

The obvious option was to move. To fly away the way they’d come and keep flying. The hero's heart pounded in their ears. Want drummed through their veins, like poison.

“Maybe I’m not yours,” the hero said. “Maybe you’re mine.”

"Oh, love.” In an instant, the villain had flipped them.

The hero’s breath hitched.

The villain, oh so leisurely, straddled the hero’s hips.

The hero imagined the villain’s hands on their wrists, pinning them down, taking what was wanted without the hero needing to ask or give up anything. Their mouth felt dry.

The villain looked at the hero like they knew, too well, all the ways in which defiance could be surrender. Mere bravado. A lie that the villain was only thinly indulging, and only because they were getting their way anyway.

The hero swallowed.

The villain smiled. They leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses to the hero’s lips – just enough to stoke the fire – and then settled. Cuddled. It would have been sweet on someone else, if it wasn’t so infuriating. If the hero didn’t feel like they were about to explode. Itching for a fight or – or –

“Of course I’m yours, babe,” the villain said, against their ear. “Do you really think that’s going to save you?”

No.

No, as the hero stared up at the gloriously clear blue skies, they really rather thought they were screwed.

[run-little-hero]

“What surprise awaits me today?” Hero leans against the bars of Villain’s cell, smiling. It’s their daily ritual, something Villain hates to admit they always look forward to. Hero is kind to them.

“You have such high expectations of me. You guilt me delivering them.”

“And you never disappoint.” Hero drops their head to meet Villain’s eyes from outside the cell. Villain smirks like they’re sharing a secret.

They hate that this is the happiest they’ve ever been—behind bars, swooning at the attention of the hero who put them there.

Villain retreats to a small desk in the corner of their cell. It’s littered with graphite drawings, a privilege granted for ‘good behavior.’ Villain scoffs at the irony, but decides not to challenge it.

They return to the bars, slipping a choice drawing through. Their fingers brush against Hero’s as the drawing is passed along. It’s calculated, Villain knows it. Just like the visits—a prescription to keep them from going off the rails and trying to escape. Villain swallows the medicine.

“Beautiful. As always.” It’s a landscape. A recreation of something they sketched years earlier. Hero seems pleased.

Emboldened by their reaction, Villain tests, “When do I get a surprise from you?”

Hero is nothing if not generous. They play along. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”

“Give me a hint?” Villain sets a hand on the bar, They shift their weight so the motion is hidden from a security camera in the corner.

Hero isn’t phased by the gesture. “What would you want from me anyways?”

“Hm…” Villain trails. “Something genuine. Something beautiful. That’s what my art is to you, isn’t it? You should return the favor one of these days.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

For a moment, Hero’s hand finds Villain’s against the metal cell before they leave. Villain knows their routine by heart. They know Hero will never return their affections unless they need information or expertise out of them. But they’re content to play along, bask in a bit of that attention.

Villain believes Hero is kind. But at night, Villain does everything to squash the fractional piece of their heart that believes Hero cares for them.

Hero appears outside Villain’s cell late one afternoon.

“Where’ve you been?” Villain asks, approaching the bars. “It’s nearly dark. I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” They keep their voice light, agreeable.

“I’d never. I just needed to prepare something.”

Villain crosses their arms. “And do I get to know what that is?”

Hero is beaming. “Of course. I tell you all my secrets.” Liar. “Come here.”

Villain indulges them and steps forward. Before they know it, Hero grips their arms and pulls them close. They embrace through the bars of the cell. Villain’s stomach plunges and their eyes dart towards the security camera.

“What are you—“

“I’m looping the footage. We should have about five minutes before it goes back to normal.”

Villain focuses on Hero. “Are you crazy? What the fuck are you—“

“You wanted a surprise,” Hero interrupts. They grip Villain’s side, steadying them. “How’s this for one?”

Hero’s lips crash against Villain’s before they can comprehend the fingers lacing through their hair. They can’t believe this is happening. They give into the desire they’ve been fighting since their first battle with Hero.

They part slowly. Villain keeps their gaze low. “Why did you do that?” They mutter.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while.”

Rationally, Villain knows it’s not the best idea to trust a hero. “We’re enemies. You put me in prison.”

Hero grins. “But, you have to admit. Now we get to see each other more often!”

Despite everything, Villain can’t deny the gesture. “You’re insane.”

“You know, we still have four minutes. Care to do it again?” With a nod from Villain, Hero takes the lead and connects their lips again.

Villain supposes they can figure out what this means for their relationship tomorrow.

—

snippet #12

[assortedcriminality]

prompt #2

“Shit, you’re way more tired than I thought,” Villain said, easily dodging a poorly-aimed kick and ducking to avoid a malformed punch.

“Not tired,” Hero grunted, pausing the fight to half-fall into a wall, using an elbow to support themself. “Mmfine.”

Villain raised an eyebrow. “I see. Then you’ll be able to easily escape when I do this.”

Blindingly fast, they grabbed Hero’s shoulder and shoved them hard to the ground. The crime-fighter let out a sharp cry, pain radiating through their back. Their nemesis was on top of them before they could even think to move, straddling their hips and pinning their wrists to the floor.

“Go on,” Villain said, eyes gleaming as they locked gazes with their enemy. “Get up.”

[writinggremln]

Prompt 1

"Look, please, we need to fix this."

"I like it when you beg," Villain interrupted with a smirk on their lips, "Do it again."

Hero sighed. "Villain," they said, trying to keep a cheery tone and failing miserably, "we do not have time for this! You're literally bleeding an ocean! Let me help you."

Villain chuckled softly, as much as he could anyway. "Still like it when you beg though." They winced. "Do it again and I might consider you touching me."

"Oh my God..."

This was going to be a long night.