villainimaginesby-i-t

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

“You’re nice, I wanna know you,” Toga tells you dreamily, grinning at you as she leans on the bar. “You’d look better bloody, though. Can I carve you up?” You humor her with a smile, but before you can respond a hand wraps around your neck and a solid body presses up against your back, pinning your hips to the bar as you freeze. 

“The only one allowed to carve them up is me, little girl,” Tomura growls, four fingers drumming against the soft flesh of your throat as his fifth finger hovers threateningly. Toga looks a little disappointed, but her eyes lock onto his grip on your throat like she thinks he’s going to finally drop that finger and turn you to dust as she watches. With a smug smile, you hum in agreement and lean back into Tomura. 

“You heard him, Toga,” you grin. “My blood is already spoken for.”

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

Gilgamesh’s newest pet was pretty, you could appreciate that, but she was disrespectful to you as if she thought that bedding your husband put her above you. You knew that Gilgamesh could see her little act, but he was far too amused by it to say anything. Normally, any person who dared disrespect you would be put to death, but her little illusion was just so funny you couldn’t help but toy with her. That is, until she went so far as to presume that he loved her. That little delusion, you had to correct. 

“You have a pretty face and share his bed, little girl, that doesn’t make you special,” you purr, tilting her chin up to look at you as you corner her in the empty room. “I am the only one who will ever own his heart.” Her eyes grow wide and she opens her mouth to speak, but you aren’t finished. “You’ve had your fun, but don’t think that your place in his bedroom will protect you from the executioner. He can always find another you.” 

Neither of you sees him, but behind you, Gilgamesh watches from the doorway and grins at your beautiful, possessive display.

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

“Oh, poor baby. Do you still think that lover of yours is going to come and save you?” Carmilla asks him tauntingly, dragging a sharp nail down his bruised and bloody cheek, all the way down his throat to the collar fastened there. “You betrayed them, remember? And even if they still wanted you, they’ll never find you here.” She grins with all her teeth at his broken expression, but she’s interrupted by the sound of an explosion in the distance. Faintly, with the strength he has, Hector starts to grin. “What are you smiling about, puppy?” Carmilla snarls and he chokes out a laugh. 

“I know something you don’t,” he rasps, tilting his chin up and back to show off his neck. The collar shifts and her eyes go wide when she sees the perfectly circular scar that had previously been covered. A bite that marked him as a vampire’s mate. Your mate. 

There was another explosion, closer this time, and your voice rang out through the halls clear as a bell. 

“Oh, lover boy! Where’s the wicked bitch who’s been keeping you from me?”

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

The photo paper he kept in his pocket was worn to almost nothing at the edges, but your likeness there in the middle was pristine. He hadn’t been able to save his wife or his son and he hadn’t been able to save you. He would never forgive himself for that. 

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

He had tried to create companions before. His Vision and his beautiful Jocaste, but they had both been mistakes. Not only had they failed him, but they had turned against him. Ungrateful and, in the end, weak. But this time his work would be flawless. Perfect. His perfect other half, his perfect partner. His (Y/N).

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

The cloud of gas exploded in your face and the shock of it forced you to gasp and get a lungful. The foreign substance made you hack and cough, but nothing compared to the way the walls warped and the chair you sat in melted to your skin. The molten metal seared your skin and kept you stuck fast as you tried to pry yourself away, the shiny metallic liquid keeping you trapped. As you pulled and pulled you couldn’t get free of the melting aluminum and a scream bubbled up in your throat and past your lips. The fear was all-consuming. It was the most you’d felt in years.

The dose must have been small, because the effects wore off faster than you expected them to. Faster than you wanted them to. As the walls solidified and your skin cleared of the silver your mind had imagined, you turned to your doctor with a manic look in your eyes.

“Do it again,” you almost demanded, leaning forward across the table. Your body nearly collapsed under you, but you had enough strength to grab Dr. Crane by the collar. “Please, Johnny. Give it to me again.”

Never before had Crane seen a reaction like yours from anyone. Out of all his Arkham patients, none had ever asked to be subjected to his gas again.

“You want to be gassed again?” he asked, his voice muffled and warped by the mask he wore. Trailing your fingers against the rough material, you gave him an unhinged grin.

“That was the most I’ve felt in years, Johnny. Of anything. Make me feel it again.”

Not able to help his curiosity, Jonathan pressed the button again to release the gas. You took a deep breath and threw yourself back into your chair, and as Jonathan watched you scream he thought to himself that he just might have to keep you around. For scientific purposes, of course.

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

Fingers trailed against your skin, across your shoulder blades and down your spine. You were half asleep and the sensation would feel amazing if it didn’t sting so badly.

“Stop touching my sunburn, Jim,” you mumble into the pillow, shifting away from his touch.

“Why? It’s fascinating,” he said, pressing his finger into your irritated skin, watching as it changed color with the pressure and returned to its marred state.

“Yeah, well stop. It’s annoying,” you groaned, trying again to shift away.

“What will you do to make me?” He asked, sounding smug. 

“I’ll take the kit you keep right here under the bed and go blow up that apartment you keep visiting. Where is it again? Bleeker Street? Baker Place?” You teased, peeking one eye open to see James pouting. 

“You’re no fun,” he whined and you grinned.

“Then leave my sunburn alone. And keep away from that Holmes prick while you’re at it,” you said, turning on your side to face him. 

“Why?” James asked, a grin spreading across his face again. “Jealous?”

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

“We have a problem. A big problem,” Matty said as she pulled up a video feed in the war room.

“How bad is this problem?” Jack asked, barring his teeth in a grimace, already regretting his question.

“Worse than Cairo Bad,” Macgyver answered from behind him, watching horrified as the live video feed focused on an empty prison cell, the door wide open into a hallway with a smoking hole in the wall. “That’s Murdoc’s cell.”

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna believe who broke him out,” Matty said, rewinding the video feed by half an hour. “Watch this.”

On screen, the team watched as the thick concrete wall of the prison exploded inwards, whiting out the feed for a moment with dust. The audio was corrupted, but guards could be heard running and shouting. Even before the dust could settle, two things were discernible on the video. A dark figure emerging from make-shift entrance and a column of fire that preceded them.

“Is that a flame-thrower?” Jack asked in disbelief. “A little much, isn’t it?” 

The dust settled quickly after, revealing a group of guards littering the hallway and a woman punching in the access code to Murdoc’s cell, flamethrower abandoned on the floor.

“How did they get the code to his cell?” Riley asked, frowning, but Jack cut off Matty’s answer.

“More importantly, how did our Joker’s Harley even know where we were holding him?” He asked, turning to look at the occupants of the room for answers. Mac cleared his throat and directed his attention back to the video.

“Actually, Jack, I think we may have arrested Harley. Not Joker,” he said. Jack turned back to look at the video and pulled back a little in shock at the sight of Murdoc pressed against the wall by the throat, held tightly by the woman as she kissed him fiercely and he responded just as enthusiastically. 

“No facial ID match, no fingerprint matches, none of my contacts have ever seen her in their lives. This woman shouldn’t exist, but apparently Murdoc knows her very well,” Matty said, pausing the video and turning to the team.”I want you to find out who she is and bring them both in.”

[villainimaginesby-i-t]

“You know, she doesn’t love you. She’s incapable of loving anyone, let alone you,” the man told you pointedly. “It’s not real.”

For a moment you let your smile fall and your eyes widen to broadcast misery across your features, just to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t keep it together for long. Just as the smugness spread from his eyes to his smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from collapsing into a fit of giggles. You laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

You composed yourself quickly enough, sitting down to enjoy how his smugness had vanished.

“I know she can’t love me, my dear, dear Mycroft, she practically reeks of psychosis and antisocial personality disorder,” you tell him, on the brink of laughing again, “but it doesn’t matter to me.” He frowned as you spoke and his confusion made it all the better. You shrug as you relax, leaning back.

“Her hands are soft and when she’s with me my stomach feels all fuzzy. I like her and she makes me feel nice, so who gives a damn whether it’s real or not? Certainly not me,” you explain, and the British Government doesn’t say another word as he leaves you to yourself in your cell.