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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

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Heroic Betrayal: part five

Read part one here

Continued from this point here

*~*~*~*~*

What kind of idiot were they to be stuck here? Hero should have told Sidekick when they got the tip about Villain… they should have told them that they were going to rough Villain up a bit, get the information they needed on Other Villain’s whereabouts and beat the shit out of them. Just a little revenge for touching a hair on Sidekick’s innocent head.

Even if they managed to catch Villain and mete out justice on Other Villain, they would have beaten the ever-living shit out of the wrong person, and that was something Hero didn’t want to think about in that moment.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

Hero didn’t know how long they sat and stewed on that thought. Long enough that their nose stopped bleeding anyway. Hero tentatively reached up to their upper lip, their hand came away from it dry, the blood caked and flaked onto their face now.

“What happened to your face?” Hero angled their head down from where they stared at the ceiling to see Flynn standing on the other side of the cell bars.

“Fuck off, Red,” Hero grumbled, and fought the wince at their casual nickname for Flynn slipping out of their lips. “I’m not in the mood.”

A jangle of keys and the cell door was open, footsteps approaching Hero in their cot in the corner. Hero’s heart ached with every beat as Flynn came into their line of sight, concern drawing his features together.

How many times had they seen that same concern on his face? Told Hero it was going to be okay. Cleaned their wounds, laughed about the bruises the next day?

How much of it was a lie? — Hero wanted to ask. The question burned a hole on the tip of their tongue, but they didn’t dare speak it. They just stared up at the ceiling as best they could.

“What? You piss someone off already?”

Hero sighed. Flynn sat on the edge of the bed, moving closer to Hero, his hands going to inspect the damage like he so often did. It made something ache in Hero’s chest. Hero slapped their hands away, tears burning in the back of their eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Flynn,” Hero bit out. “You don’t get to betray me and then pretend to be my friend and concerned about me.”

Flynn stared; eyes sad as he said: “okay. Guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve so much more,” Hero said, eyes burning with hatred, voice barely above a whisper. “How many of our friends died because of you? Hmm?”

“Hero, not all of it–” Flynn began then stopped, huffed out a breath of air through his nose, hand running through his hair. “Not all of it was a lie. I am your friend. I do care about you.”

“Oh really? Then you’d never use your power on me, right?” Hero demanded, echoing back Flynn’s words against him. Flynn had the audacity to even look guilty at that, and Hero leaned forwards, hands on Flynn’s as they said: “I forgive you, okay. I forgive you if you let me go. Flynn, please.”

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together, clearly conflicted but he said nothing. After a moment, Hero let out a breath of disbelief and sat back against the wall again.

“Yeah,” Hero scoffed, “we’re friends.”

“You have blood all over your face, Hero. You really want to just leave it?”

“Why the hell not?” Hero said, trying to force their tone into some form of neutrality.

Flynn sighed and stood up from the cot. “Supervillain wants an audience with you. I was sent to retrieve you.”

Hero rolled their eyes but got to their feet no less. “Of course,” they said, pushing past Flynn to the door. “God help you actually wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Hero—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Let’s just go.”

“Hero that’s not—”

Before they could get the fourth word out, Hero had whirled on them eyes blazing hotter than any hells furnace.

“Fair?!” They asked incredulously, their voice jumping two pitches at the sheer audacity of the word on their lips. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Flynn didn’t back down this time. Instead he stepped forward, looking down his nose at Hero.

“Yes. That is what I was going to say.”

“You are unbelievable!” Hero snapped matching Flynn with a step forward of their own. They held their cuffed hands up in Flynn’s face as if to remind him exactly why Hero was there in the first place. “If you’re my friend you’ll take these off.”

“Hero you know I can’t—”

Hero didn’t let him finish. Instead they placed their palms on Flynn’s chest and shoved them as hard as they could. Flynn looked about as bothered as if a fly had flown into the room.

“I can’t uncuff you Hero,” Hero said, lowering their voice to mimic Flynn’s and shoving him back again. “I can’t let you go Hero.” And again. “I can’t fucking think—” shove “for myself” shove “Hero.”

Hero glared up at Flynn trying to fight back the frustrated tears building behind her eyes. Anger was easier to focus on in the moment rather than that vast aching pit twisting uncomfortably in their gut.

“But I promise I’m your friend, Hero,” Hero mocked, shoving him back again until Flynn’s back hit off the wall. Flynn’s eyebrows curved down and it left a pang in Hero’s chest that they hated. “And then you have the gall to look hurt. As if I betrayed you.”

Hero ignored the tears that fell at the last sentence, or at least tried to. They tried to be firm and act tough, but saying the betrayal out loud, acknowledging it when it was just the two of them was too much.

“Would you trust me if the roles were reversed?” Hero asked, not even wanting to look at Flynn for the answer. The more they saw the conflict on his face the harder it was to hate him. Flynn however, didn’t take this into consideration when he put his hand on Hero’s face and tilted it back to face him.

Hero narrowed their eyes at him, pushing every ounce of anger into their gaze hoping they would turn into actual daggers and stab him.

“No,” Flynn breathed softly, thumb wiping away the tear streaks from Hero’s face. “I wouldn’t trust you if the roles were reversed, but I would hear you out of you tried to explain it to me.”

“And if I took you to Supervillain?!” Hero asked, their voice low and furious as they stepped out of Flynn’s touch. “The enemy we’ve been trying to stop for months?”

“You.”

“What?!” Hero demanded hotly.

Flynn’s gaze hardened, his face devoid of all emotion now except for his usual mask of easy confidence, smirk on his lips as if he didn’t just wipe Hero’s tears away.

“The enemy you’ve been trying to stop for months,” Flynn said again taking a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Hero matched his step with one back, cautious, hackles raised. “I mean the man you borderline obsessed over, Hero. Don’t you want to meet the genius who eluded you, the great detective, for all that time?”

“Not particularly,” Hero said through gritted teeth, with another step back that Flynn matched, getting closer and closer each time.

“That’s what you called him though, right? A genius,” Flynn teased, his grin showing his teeth. “I mean, fuck, Hero some of the moves he made you were damn right impressed with. You even said you’d have done exactly the same thing if—”

“I was in his position,” Hero cut Flynn off. Flynn’s smirk grew wider as he took another step closer, dipping his head conspiratorially.

“Now you can be,” said Flynn with a wide gesture of his hands. Hero followed his hand to the cell door that they happened to be right beside. Hero was keenly aware that Flynn was backing them towards the door the whole time. “Even just for the intellectual stimulation if nothing else.”

“Go fuck yourself, Flynn. I’m not willingly walking into the Lion’s den.”

Flynn’s eyelids fell half over his eyes. “It is less dignified to be dragged, Hero, but if you insist.”

Flynn made a grab for Hero’s arm but they dodged at the last minute, turning to shoulder Flynn out of the way. Flynn didn’t so much as budge from his spot. Instead he caught Hero by the strap of their scabbard and yanked them into Flynn’s chest.

“The hard way, wonderful. I wouldn’t expect any less of you Hero,” Flynn said, wrapping an arm over Hero's chest and keeping them close as they stepped out of the cell, pushing Hero forward with their own body weight. “Let's go introduce you to Supervillain.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The orphanage roll call (tag-list): @shywhumpauthor (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

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patchworkorphan · 4 months

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Heroic Betrayal: part three

Read part one

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

They stopped at a car parked right on the edge of the park, pulled in on the other side of the road. Secluded, and remote. Villain was already on the other side of the road, and when they saw Hero and Flynn they walked around the car and opened the boot, then turned to smile at Hero.

Hero stepped back unconsciously, shaking their head. “No. No. No.”

Flynn grabbed the crook of Hero’s elbow and pulled them forward but Hero made themselves grow heavy, dead weight. Flynn’s hand slipped off Hero when they landed on their arse on the frozen muck. They pushed themselves back on their feet, trying to escape.

“No! No! Flynn don’t, please! Please don’t do this!” Hero cried. They kicked out a leg at Flynn when they came closer. “Please, please don’t put me in the trunk please.”

Flynn put a placating hand out to Villain as they crouched down in front of Hero. “I’ll make you forget,” Flynn said softly. Hero’s heart slammed against their chest as tears pooled in their water line.

“No, Flynn. You can’t. I’ll know! You can’t please, please—”

“Hero,” Flynn said, tone a little more firm. “If you drive with us in the car, I can’t trust you not to crash the car or do something stupid.”

“I—” Hero said but the words were whisked away with the hitch in their breath. They couldn’t go into the trunk. Hero reached pathetically for their power as Flynn advanced but it was silenced by the power dampeners and Hero cursed.

They didn’t notice Flynn getting closer until it was too late. Flynn wrapped a hand around Hero’s ankle and yanked them forward. Hero yelped, then screamed for “someone! Someone help! So—”

“Flynn shut them up!” Villain yelled, as Flynn grabbed each side of Hero’s head and locked their gaze on Hero’s panicked ones. Hero felt their body go numb with Flynn’s gaze alone.

“Ssh, there we go. Hero you’re going to forget the journey to Supervillain’s house. You won’t remember you were trapped in the boot the whole ride there. Tell me.”

“I won’t remember the journey to Supervillain’s house. I won’t remember being trapped in the boot.”

“Good,” Flynn said with a smile. Then he took the opportunity to get the dazed Hero to their feet and walk them over to Villain.

“It’s so creepy when you do that,” said Villain. Flynn flashed a grin in reply. Villain grabbed Hero's arm and said, “start the car. I’ll put them in the boot. Knowing you, you’d let them ride in the passenger seat in a heartbeat.”

“You’re not wrong,” Flynn laughed. He left the pair of them and walked around the car to the driver’s seat before sliding in and shutting the door. He let out a sigh as he turned the key in the ignition. He forgot Hero was claustrophobic. How could he forget that? He remembered Hero telling them that fact in confidence, during one of their late night stake outs. How scared they sounded.

He should have made them forget before they saw the car, but it was too late now anyhow. Villain climbed into the backseat where the windows were blacked out, and closed the door. Flynn put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road, as nonchalant as ever.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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creadigol · 4 months

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iff you want could you maybe continue this? this ask is a request ofc and idk if you do continuation, so if you don't want to then it's okay!! ^_^

Hey y’all! Apologies for the long absence, but I’m back in town and have finally come up with a continuation of my Hero Domestic Violence/Abuse snippet.

I have had many requests to continue this one so I spent a lot of time trying to make it good!

As before, there are very heavy mentions of such topics stated above in this snippet as well as mentions of violence, emotional abuse and choking. Please be safe my darlings! I love y’all!

Part 1

Hero must have blacked out or entered into some sort of daze, because the next thing they knew Hero was sitting on an exam table in what must have been one of Villain's many bases.

Though the room itself was no doubt a medical facility, Hero knew this by the various medical equipment and smell of antiseptic, but there was a certain ambiance about the room which did not match any hospital or medical offices Hero had been to before…and Hero had been to many.

If Hero only ever went to one, people would catch on. So Spouse was always sure to bring Hero to a different facility every time.

Everytime.

God, this was a mess.

This room wasn’t lit like typical exam rooms. Rather than harsh fluorescents of busy ER rooms the lights held a warm sunlit-type glow. Welcoming, yet still bright enough to see. Instead of the stupid grey-white walls which everyone had switched to in the early 2000’s, it was bright wood paneling. Oak of some kind, Hero guessed. It complimented the warm glow quite nicely.

And it was warm! So warm! Villain must have had the heat up to at least 75 and Hero was basking in it!

At home, Spouse kept the heating down to 65, due to their powers causing them to run hot. Hero didn’t mind of course, they understood, but it did cause Hero to feel cold constantly. They had never had much in the bodyfat department and there was more than one night when Hero would go and take a bath just to unclench their frozen muscles.

Until Spouse complained about the water bill that is.

Taking stock once more of the room they were in, Hero noticed that the main door had been left open by a crack. Not that they could have gotten up and run out, not with their side, but they wondered if Villain had done this to make them feel more comfortable.

Speaking of Villain, they had yet to reappear. Villain and Henchman had helped Hero to a car after the rather embarrassing display on the rooftop and once they had made it to this base, deposited Hero here and left. That had been about twenty minutes ago.

Maybe they were planning something nefarious? What if this was a kidnapping? Honestly, this was the weakest Hero had ever been in front of Villain. It would be easy, tricking them into willingly walking into a trap with the promise of medical help…Hero had been a mess after all. Supervillain wouldn’t have hesitated in killing Hero on the spot.

But then again, Villain was not Supervillain. Hero had seen Villain display acts of humanity on several occasions. Sure, they broke the law and believed their government to be the ultimate evil, but they never went in for harming those who didn’t deserve it.

Didn’t deserve it? God, Hero was starting to think like Villain. No one deserved to be hurt. That was Hero’s motto.

Things really were confusing right now.

Maybe they should just go home. Surely, Spouse would understand why they didn’t answer their texts for the past few hours. An hour of yelling tops and then Spouse would see the error of their ways and apologize and try to make up for the original fight in the first place by a heated night of…

Hero stopped that train of thought. No, this had to stop. Hero had to get out of the relationship and start thinking straight again…but, then again, Spouse held all the cards. The apartment and car were in Spouse’s name, their bank account was joint, the phone plan was set up by Spouse because they could negotiate better on cellular deals…not to mention, Spouse was more powerful than Hero. Much more powerful than Hero. Even back at the Academy Hero had never won at hand to hand against them. It was what made them seem so strong and confident and…perfect at the time.

Hero suddenly realized what they were doing and how it would not end well. There was no way Villain could hold against Spouse when it really came down to it. Spouse was constantly bragging about how if Villain had been assigned to them and not Hero, the problem would have been resolved years ago. Hero didn’t want that on their conscience.

Perhaps they should look at the texts…just to assess the situation. Damage control.

They picked up their phone.

As the screen lit up a voice interrupted Hero before they could look at the no doubt anger fueled words.

“Hero,” Villain stood in the doorway holding gauze, antiseptic, a board of some kind and an ice pack. “Sorry, had a hard time finding an ice pack that was the right size. We’ve gotta get that swelling down on your neck or else you’ll never be able to harass me with those classic witty comebacks again.”

Though it was said jovially, Hero could sense the hardness behind the tone. Not to mention the look of hatred as Villain glanced at the phone.

Wanting to respond, but not being able to, Hero nodded once.

“Great!” Villain strode over and placed everything on the side table. Picking up the board, Hero saw it was a dry erase. Villain handed it to them along with a red marker.

“Henchman uses this to put up daily reminders for everyone. They thought it would serve for you to tell us what ails you.” Villain glanced back at the door, “They wanted to come in and help, but I didn’t know if you would want that. Figured I’d ask first.”

Hero couldn’t help the small smile. They had always liked Henchman. Like Villain, they certainly had committed their fair share of crimes and violence, but they also seemed to live by a code. Unlike Supervillain.

If it hadn’t been for Henchman, Hero was sure they would have passed out on that rooftop and who knows who would have found them if that happened. Hero uncapped the marker.

Henchman can come in.

Villain smiled, “Anyone ever tell you your penmanship is crazy good? God, it’s like looking at Victorian script.”

They turned towards the doorway once more, “They said it’s fine Henchman!”

In an instant Henchman was walking through the door. They must have been just waiting on the other side.

“Hey Hero,” they said. “Hope you’re doing better.”

Hero nodded at Henchman.

“Good,” Henchman looked between Hero and Villain for a moment, it looked like they were debating who to talk to next. They settled on both of them. “Looks like it’s just going to be us. Doctor said they couldn’t make it until morning. Still at that conference.”

Villain nodded as if they knew this was going to be the case and addressed Hero.

“Anything serious? Or are you okay to wait for the Doc?”

Hero thought for a moment. Their neck should be fine with the ice, their jaw had certainly been hit harder, but their side…

I think everything is fine, but I’m not sure about my side. Hero wrote. They gestured to their left side as Villain and Henchman read the script.

“Alright, let's take a look then. Shirt off.” Villain ordered.

Hero hesitated. Oh, right. To look at their side, Villain would have to have their shirt off. And to take off their shirt was to expose the…history written across their chest, back and torso.

Hero was shy about their body. Sure, there was the occasional scar made by Spouse, but most of them were from past fights while Hero had been off hero-ing. They knew it was an occupational hazard, but they also knew it wasn’t great to look at. God only knew the many times Spouse had commented on their unsightly appearance during their intimate times.

Villain seemed to notice the hesitation and said, “What? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all in this line of work. You should have seen Henchman last month. Supervillain’s Henchman got ‘em pretty bad.”

Henchman nodded, “Not pretty. Gained me a few cool new scars though.”

Cool new scars, huh? Perhaps it won’t be so bad.

Hero took off their shirt slowly. It was difficult and painful at first, as it zipped in the back, but Henchman wordlessly walked to the other side of the bed and helped. Villain supporting Hero’s side as they undid the clasp and unzipped.

“Want to take off the mask as well?” Henchman asked.

Hero made a face.

“We’ve already seen your face. Remember? Three months ago it fell off while we were grappling in the snow.” Villain smirked.

Hero peeled the mask off. They had forgotten about that. The snow had made the normally sticky mask slide off. It was something they had never told Spouse.

Once deprived of their shirt and mask, Villain took a step back and surveyed the damage. Hero tried not to squirm under the gaze.

Hero expected Villain and Henchman to make disgusted noises or grunts of anger at their bruised up side and swollen jaw, along with their neck, but instead Villain looked calculating. A slight hint of irritation coming though with their twitching eyebrow.

“Alright, I’ll have to feel those ribs. They don’t look broken, but it’s best to make sure.”

Hero nodded their permission to Villain and tried to sit straight.

“No, no, don’t straighten up yet,” Villain flew to their side. They placed one hand on hero’s back while the other poked and prodded their ribs.

Everytime Hero hissed or flinched, Villain apologized and would move onto another part. It was strange. This whole night was strange. Hero had never seen Villain act this way before. Sure they had their own scruples, but Villain was never…gentle.

Henchman stood off to the side looking rather anxious as Villain examined Hero. That was another strange thing. Why did they both seem to care?

“Well, good news, they’re not broken. Bad news, I’ll still have to wrap them.”

Henchman immediately grabbed some wrappings from the cupboard behind them and handed them to Villain.

“So, Hero,” Villain began as they tightly wrapped their ribs. “Want to tell us how this happened? We need to know if we’re going to treat your injuries effectively.”

Once again Hero could tell Villain was stating things conversationally for their benefit. Hero made no move for the marker board.

“We already know who did it, all I want to know is how,” Villain continued.

Hero thought back. It had seemed like a haze when it happened. All the adrenaline and fear. The normal evening that went from good to horrific. The slight mess up on Hero’s part, the yelling, the grabbing, the throwing…the hands. The hands on their person…the hands on their neck…

Hero felt tears slip past their eyes once more, the sadness and fear coming back. Their jaw shook with unshed sobs.

They felt the marker and board being pressed into their hands.

“You don’t need to push yourself. I just need to know what to check on you,” Villain’s voice was soothing and once again uncharacteristically gentle.

Hero shook as they wrote; the script that Villain had complimented earlier suffered for it.

It’s never been this bad. Hero wrote.

They knew it was a cliche response, but they also needed Villain and Henchman to know that it had never gone this far before. Henchman made a noise in the back of their throat as they read the words.

“How bad?” Villain prodded.

Before, Hero hesitated in writing. How could they word this?

Before I could always justify it as my fault. I mess up alot. I’m not so good at relationships.

They waited for them to read this before erasing for more room. Villain had their jaw set and Henchman’s cheeks were getting red.

I know it’s stupid. I know it’s bad. I just wanted to pretend it away. That was easier. I’m not stupid, I know what’s happening.

Villain nodded at the words. Hero didn’t know why they were starting out like this. There was just a part of them that needed Villain and Henchman to know that they were still competent. Despite putting themselves in this situation, they weren’t stupid. There was just so much more going on.

“I don’t think you’re stupid Hero. I never have. I meant it when I said you’re the best this city’s ever seen,” Villain said this while not breaking eye contact or blinking. As if the stare itself would get the words into Hero’s brain.

Hero nodded with a small smile. They needed that.

They’ve never gone so far before. The other times, I knew I would recover. But this time…Hero stopped writing again. Once again looking for words. They let Villain and Henchman read.

“What happened this time?” Henchman asked softly. Hero couldn’t tell if the softness was for comfort or if they were so angry they couldn’t raise their voice higher.

This time, Hero spelled, I really thought they’d kill me.

Their hands shook terribly now and they had to stop and take a breath.

Villain looked up at the ceiling for a moment while Henchman turned around. It seemed this news really affected them.

“How?” Villain once again looked Hero in the eyes. They didn’t even try to hide the anger now.

I can’t remember everything. I know I was thrown into our coffee table. Spouse hit me in the face, Hero paused and let them read while gesturing to their jaw.

Villain nodded for them to continue.

They’ve never tried to choke me before… Hero couldn’t seem to finish that one.

“I understand,” Villain said. “Anything else?”

Hero thought for a moment and then shook their head. That had been the most of it. The violence itself had only lasted a couple minutes, but it had been the most painful couple minutes of their life. Not only physically, but emotionally. They had never felt so betrayed.

“Are you going to leave them?” Henchman asked. Hero looked at them and noticed fear in their eyes. Henchman was very concerned with Hero’s answer. Villain made a gesture at Henchman, but they were undeterred.

“Are you going to leave them?” Henchman repeated.

Hero uncapped the marker again.

I want to.

“But you feel you can’t,” Villain finished the sentence for Hero.

Hero nodded.

It never ends well. I know I need to, but they hold all the cards. Hero shrugged sadly.

“Who cares?” Henchman said angrily. “So they have your money or whatever? That’s not worth you!”

Hero was touched by the sentiment, but felt the need to explain.

It’s not only that. They’re more powerful than me. More powerful than anyone really. I shouldn’t even be here. The last time someone tried to help…it was bad.

Villain felt their blood freeze, “What do you mean more powerful?”

It was hard to think of anyone more powerful than Hero. Except themselves of course.

“Who tried to help?” Henchman asked at the same time.

Hero grimaced,

Do you remember Other Hero?

“Oh god,” Henchman whispered.

“Your Spouse did that?” Villain asked, shocked.

Hero nodded.

I don’t know what they will do to anyone else, or the city itself if I’m not there. I hate it, but it’s the only way I know to protect everyone.

They looked at Hero to continue.

I knew it was bad not long after our second anniversary, but by then Spouse was too dangerous. They need to be in jail, not only for me, but for everyone else they’ve hurt. I just don’t know anyone who can take them.

Villain made a noise, but Hero raised a hand to silence them while they wrote more.

In a way this is my ultimate sacrifice to protect my city.

“Hero,” Villain breathed.

Henchman looked like they had tears in their eyes, “Hero, I’m going to hug you now if that’s alright.”

Hero looked at Henchman quizzically, but nodded.

Henchman wrapped their arms around Hero carefully and squeezed with a force that was both powerful, yet calming.

“You really are the best the city’s ever seen,” Henchman spoke against Hero’s hair. “All this time you’ve been living in hell and it was to protect all of us.”

Hero released more tears. They patted Henchman awkwardly on the back.

“They’ve always been a hugger,” Villain chuckled as they watched the scene. “If you can’t tell, Henchman has been a fan of yours for a while.”

Henchman released them with an undignified HEY at Villain. Villain shrugged and turned their attention back to Hero.

“Hero, I don’t care what danger it might put us in. I knew this was going to be messy the moment I saw you on the roof. Anyone who can take you on is going to be a threat. I knew that and helped you anyway.”

Hero nodded at Villain’s words.

“But what I need to know now is who Spouse really is. I don’t think I’m far off in thinking that they’re a part of the hero agency?”

Hero nodded, there was hesitation in their eyes.

“And they’re more powerful than the other heroes.”

Hero looked down, but nodded again.

“And you two went to the academy at the same time didn’t you?”

Hero winced and nodded.

“And came to the city at the same time.”

Hero closed their eyes and nodded.

“Villain, what are you getting at?” Henchman asked slowly. In their voice Hero could tell they were on the same train of thought, but didn’t want to believe it.

“Hero,” Villain waited for Hero ‘s red rimmed eyes to look up and meet their gaze. “You’re married to Superhero aren't you?”

Hero nodded.

“Shit.” Henchman said.

Hero nodded their agreement.

There was silence while everyone processed the news, Villain and Henchman the knowledge and Hero for sharing it. Finally Villain broke it.

“Well,” they clapped their hands together, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Tonight we do nothing.”

“Hero, tonight I want you to focus on yourself. I know you want to look at your phone, but maybe hold off until tomorrow morning, yeah?” Hero made to protest, but Villain continued.

“Look at it like this. You said this is how you protect the city. Now I don’t doubt that, especially knowing who Spouse is; but I want you to picture it like you're on a sinking ship. Lots of people need saving, but you can’t exactly help them into the lifeboats if you yourself are still in the water.”

Hero wrinkled their eyebrows.

“You’ve got to climb into the lifeboat first before you can pull anyone else in.”

Hero was taken aback. That was…that was…really good advice.

Villain smiled, “So for tonight, leave the phone and get some rest. We can make a plan tomorrow about what to do. You’re no longer in this alone. I don’t want someone like Spouse protecting my city.”

“You’re not alone in this anymore,” Villain reiterated.

Hero couldn’t help the smile on their lips or the hope in their chest. They weren’t alone in this. Perhaps this time, Superhero really could be caught. Hero could stop pretending. They suddenly felt so tired.

Seeing this, Henchman helped Hero lay down and placed the thin, long ice pack on their bruised neck.

“I’ll stay here a while, there’s an all night Friends marathon on right now,” Henchman nodded to the TV on the wall, “I always fall asleep during that show.”

Hero knew Henchman just wanted to keep an eye on them in case their throat swelled anymore, but they appreciated the company. It had been a while since they had people around them that knew everything and still wanted to be with them. They nodded.

“Great,” Henchman walked over to the television to get it started. Villain followed them.

“Once they fall asleep initiate plan orange,” Villain whispered so Hero wouldn’t hear. Henchman kept flipping through channels, but Villain saw their eyes harden a moment.

“Are you sure?” They whispered back.

Villain nodded as they looked at the channel guide.“Yes. Tell Supervillain we have a mutual enemy,” Villain glanced back at Hero, “And the key to defeat them. Once and for all.”

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mirohtron · 4 months

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im writing for @kaiwewi for this year's Secret Santa :) their prompt was:

Please write a story about a villain who is more of a mascot for their group of competent 'henchman' rather than an actual boss/leader.

—

Technically, the villain should've had the foresight to see this coming. They should've, probably, mentioned it to their leader, and if not them at least some lower-tier henchman. At least casually. Been like, hey, if I get kidnapped, you'll wanna save me, right? Could be hard to replace me.

Oh, man.

This wasn't really happening, was it?

A rough, hard punch to the cheek sent their whole world spinning. A pink leather-clad hand yanked them up from the back of their hair to keep them from sinking. The villain considered screaming for help and quickly thought against it. They had to stay put. Had to.

"Got you now," said the crueler hero. What was her name again? Something pretty and harmless that didn't match her dreadful grin. The guy beside her was all red and gold muscle. The villain had seen him grace the covers of a couple magazines before; their mother had been subscribed to Vanity growing up.

Oh, if only their mother could see them right now. Getting kidnapped in a back alley in the dead of night. In civilian clothes too, at that. Embarrassing.

"Took you long enough," the villain replied, and the next punch knocked a tooth out. They spat it out in a bloody glob, staining the red hero's boots. On the black asphalt, their molar looked like a red fucking star. Or perhaps a bloody ship lost at sea. Their saliva was salty and their breath metallic.

Fuck. Fuck, they should've brought this up with their leader at least once.

Red circled Pink like a slinking cat, waiting to strike at her say-so.

"Hurt them," she ordered, and Red drove his knee into the villain's gut, driving all the air out of their lungs, and threw them to the asphalt. Their palms scraped against loose gravel. Their tooth was right beside their little finger. The villain's lungs spasmed and they could barely catch up to their pain.

Their henchmen never hit them. Sure, the villain was used as a mascot, was the assigned 'fall guy' if it all went to shit, but their henchmen never hit them. Why would they? There was no reason to damage your mask... unless they ratted you out to a bunch of heroes.

What a wonderful excuse that would be. Hitting them to build up pain tolerance so they wouldn't go around breaking in interrogations. The villain wasn't even sure what these heroes did to get people like them to break. They'd heard horror stories about electrocution. Hallucinogens. It made their stomach churn.

Pink dug the heel of her boot into the villain's sternum, watching them struggle to breathe. Beside her, Red silently watched the scene occur like a good toy.

"Look at them," she remarked. Her eyes were alight with a predatory glow. "Helpless without their minions."

"Like you without your bitch," the villain rasped.

Pink's expression turned terrible, and she brought her boot down on their face with fury.

The world went white.

—

There is no point in explaining how they got into this position. The only thing you need to know is this: despite the fear surrounding the villain’s name and their face, despite their grandeur, and even despite the terrifying speeches they spent hours poring over before releasing to the public, all the villain was, was a mascot to their henchmen and their shadowy leader. They were powerless, merely a result of perfect cues and perfect illusions. Behind the scenes, they were as replaceable as a magician’s cards.

—

The villain could not see for several hours.

It was possible that nobody was coming. A small part of their mind, harbouring a particularly loud voice, feared that their henchmen were already looking for replacements. Maybe they already had a list of candidates that they were crossing out.

In the most pathetic parts of the villain's mind they considered giving up every bit of information they knew, inclined to believe that somewhere out there, was a body double suited up and in the midst of memorising a script. Perhaps in exchange for information, they’d be offered a stable life. How delusional.

Someone had taken their sweater off, and some skin on their forearms was raw and red from when Red shoved them to the ground, tender in the chilly air of whatever room they were held in.

Rough hands forced their arms to wrap around the backrest of a metal chair. The villain took in a wheezing gasp and struggled as they heard the rustle of a thick cord being unwrapped.

"Ugh," came an apathetic voice, and a third hand wrapped around the back of their neck and forced their head down. They couldn't struggle like this; the metal dug into their flesh and they weren't strong enough to put up a fight.

The cord was fastened, and the blindfold over their eyes was yanked out.

Neon lights as bright as the sun blinded them, and they caught the glint of water just below their vision.

“Now,” commanded a voice, and a red hand caught their hair, and before the villain could register a goddamn thing they were drowning.

The villain made the biggest mistake of their life: they breathed, and their brain went into instant shock as water burned their airways. They opened their mouth to gasp and choked on liquid death, ears popping, their body's temperature dropping. The bowl's edges dug into their neck and jaw and they struggled and struggled, feet kicking the floor, hitting table legs and air and other useless things.

The hand on their neck kept them down, cold, unfeeling. Murderous. The villain's lungs burned; the water remained ice cold. Their heart jack-knifed in their chest, threatened to break out of their ribs. The water suffocated them mercilessly.

They were dying. They were dying and nobody was coming to help.

The world went as white as those neon lights.

—

Cold water ran down their chin, wetting their chest, making their hair stick to their face. The skin on their arms burned from the metal chair. The interrogation (torture?) room was all metal walls and neon lights.

The villain's lungs burned with each breath, but they took in air graciously. Had they blacked out?

A blurry face, pale and cruel, came into view, haloed by the lights. Behind Pink, the villain spotted cuffs hanging from a stained wall. Beside her feet were worn cords, dried blood on them.

The metal on this chair was rusted. They'd need a tetanus shot if they got cut from this, right?

Pink turned to Red, who stood behind them. "Dim the lights."

The hand on their hair left. Pink caught the villain's jaw, leaning down to look at them eye to eye.

The villain took in another noisy, unsteady breath. Their stomach still churned. Their chest felt as cold as their chair.

The lights dimmed until Pink's features were highlighted ghostly white, shadowed menacingly. Red's presence behind the villain felt radioactive.

Someone had to come. Someone had to. They were a good mascot, weren't they? But acrobats were as replaceable to circuses as playing cards were to a magician. They clenched their corded hands into tight, trembling fists.

Her grip threatened to bruise. "I knew there was something wrong with you," she said. "So brave playing the evil guy, treating the city like it's a stage, but without your employers, you're just another regular crook, aren't you?"

The villain’s chest seized at the accuracy with which she’d clocked them, but they forced themselves to give her the most cutting grin they could muster. "We're much more similar than you think, you and I."

Red pulled their head back and pressed something metallic to their neck—a blade. The villain let out a terrified sound, and Pink laughed. "Look at them," she said. "Shaking like a leaf at a blunt knife."

"I could do a lot of damage with it," said Red. He dragged the knife down, rusty just like everything else in this damn room, trailing grime down their skin in its wake. He aimed the point of it at the hollow of their throat, and the villain choked on a noise. "Could poke here with enough pressure, see what happens."

The villain desperately shook their head as much as they could. Pink seemed to delight in their reaction.

Oh, god. They scrambled for some lines stored in their head, from watching movies and reading scripts and writing speeches. "Come on," they tried, struggling to get their voice to adopt a careless lilt. The blunt point of the knife felt suffocating. Was it blocking their blood flow? "Can't we all come to an agreement here?"

They weren’t even expecting a proper response to that. But Pink’s entire attitude seemed to flip, and the look in her eyes went from sinister to eager with such swiftness that it made the villain shiver. "Oh, we could," She said, crouching down and looking up at them with sudden kindness. "Tell me," she said, "what your henchmen are up to." She traced her thumb over the villain's knee. "And I will personally assure your safe withdrawal from them, and you'll never see us or them ever again."

The villain looked down at her in silence, unnerved. A cold drop of water dripped down from their hair, down the bridge of their nose. They wouldn't snitch. They couldn't.

She traced the outline of their kneecap patiently. Behind her, Red stood in silence. His knife was gone. The villain could hear their heartbeat.

"You know," said the villain. "Oddly enough I don't believe that."

Pink lit their knee on fire, broke a fucking bone, did something horrible, because their kneecap lit up in absolute agony and they screamed, and Red was drowning them again.

—

Their chest was soaked, their jaw ached from all of the punches and backhanded slaps they'd received, and their scalp felt bruised from the harshness with which Pink and Red manhandled their head.

Nobody was coming. The lights were dim and the sun was probably rising outside, and a rising sun meant no shadows for their leader to travel with. They couldn't tell how long it'd been.

It'd been long enough for an alarmingly red bruise to start forming on their knee, though. Perhaps a couple hours. Their leader’s right-hand had once told them how long it took for bruises to form. They reckoned this one would turn a hideous purple in a couple of days and stay like that until next week. If they were alive until next week.

They coughed up water and phlegm. Pink nudged them with rough fingers to their temple. Red sharpened that blunt knife with a whetstone, the sound of it piercingly loud in their ears. It wasn't rusty. It bled, staining the water red, making it glint like the devil's eyes in the low light.

Pink held out her hand. "Bring it over."

Like a fucking dog, Red obeyed. Pink flicked the knife around like a magician did their cards. The villain flinched.

She laughed. God, that dreadful laugh. She pressed the cusp of her palm down on their forehead and a whimper eked out of the villain's throat, but they couldn't snitch. They couldn't. Yes, they were expendable. Yes, they knew their henchmen looked down on them to some degree. And yes, all that they were, was a mask for a coalition of bad guys to hide behind.

But. But.

They didn't have anywhere else to go.

The knife pressed cold against their neck. Red walked over to see, curious like a child. The lights were so dim that the ceiling was pitch black.

The villain stared at Pink with wide eyes, unsure if this was a threat or the real deal. But then the knife began to slice, and the villain jerked and flinched in their restraints.

Oh, god, oh god oh god oh god. The villain strained their wrists against the cords once more, dug their toes into the fucking floor, wishing something would swallow them up.

"I'm sorry!" they said in their absolutely ruined, drowned voice. "I'll—I'll tell! I swear I'll fucking rat those guys out like it's no tomorrow."

"There it is," said Red in his detached voice.

"There it is," repeated a pleased Pink. She turned the knife up and pressed it to a vein that the villain knew was important because the leader's right hand had mentioned it once. The jugular, or something? They choked on a breath. "Let it all come out, honey."

Oh, god, were they really going to do this? The villain looked at the ceiling, praying for something to come and help them. Their legs and arms shook. Their knee ached. They looked at a shadowy, void-like patch tucked away in the upper corner of the ceiling as though it would save them.

The void stared back.

The villain choked again.

One eye, glowing gold like a ring stared at them. Then another. A pair of eyes staring back at them, familiar ones, gold, like...

Their leader’s face emerged from the shadows, a finger pressed to her lips. Burning relief flooded the villain's veins.

Pink stared at them intently, patiently still. Waiting for a response. Their leader slinked back into the shadows, snake-like in her smoothness, and the villain scrambled to put on a mask.

Like an actor on stage, they twisted their face up in pain, anger, hurt, grief. "They're such cruel people," the villain said, staring deeply into Pink's eyes. "Such terrible, cruel people."

Their leader approached.

Pink leaned in, handed the knife over to Red to pocket. "Poor thing," she remarked.

The villain nodded, leaning in with her. "Yes," they breathed. "Poor you."

They kicked her knees and heard a crunch. Pink screamed, stumbling back, and their leader shot out of the darkness, fist curled and glinting—brass knuckles?—and punched the back of her head. She went down like a rag doll.

"Holy shit—" Someone snapped their cords off, and the villain was quickly hauled up to their legs, that same blade pressing into their neck. They seized.

Red's fist shook as he clutched the villain's hair. The knife quivered.

Their leader froze.

"Get down." Red's voice was calm, but his chest rose in unsteady breaths behind the villain's back.

The other raised her hands up placatingly, slipping the bloody brass knuckles off. At her feet, Pink's body twitched, her hair stained, blood pooling around her head and spreading at an alarming rate. Her twitching seemed to make Red tick worse.

The villain's heart felt close to bursting. Their chest was still wet from that water bowl, and their knee threatened to give out on them. The room was growing darker. "Stop that," gritted out Red. "I'll give you your mascot if you leave us alone. I need—I need to fix her."

"You'll remember us. You'll remember them." Their leader carefully gestured to the villain. "I can't let that happen."

Red didn't want to hear that—the blade twitched against the villain's neck. They whimpered in fright. The shadows twitched closer. "You hit the back of her head."

"Yes, I know how to give someone amnesia."

"I can heal the wound, but the brain damage will remain. She won't remember anything, and, and—" Pink twitched again, some horrible noise escaping her throat. Red's glove squeaked with the effort it took to not simply drive the blade into the villain's neck. "I'll give you your goddamn mascot if you take back the shadows, just let me save her."

The leader looked at the villain, no doubt taking in their dripping wet hair, the slowly forming bruises on their cheeks, the steady way the tiny cut on their neck bled.

The shadows retreated. Red shoved them forward and dove to Pink, quickly removing his gloves and hovering a shaking hand over her wound. He whispered soft, soothing things to her and caressed her bloodstained hair as his hand took on a healing, golden glow.

The villain stumbled into their leader's arms, completely wetting the front of their shirt, but the leader didn't seem to mind. Her arms wrapped firmly around them, protective, and pressed them closer. The villain gladly melted into their embrace, taking in trembling gasps.

Their leader bowed her head to whisper into their ear, "You betrayed us."

The villain bodily flinched. They looked up at their leader, but her expression was blank, unreadable. "What?"

One hand left to fish something out of their pockets, the other arm remained to keep the villain pressed close like a cord. Their leader pulled out a gun and the villain froze, paling, but she merely struck the butt of it against Red's head. It was too harsh; his whole body moved with the hit, and he was thrown to the side. His fingers were still stained with Pink's blood. "You broke, didn't you? You must've told them bits and pieces of information, to keep the pain at bay."

"I—I didn't..." The villain didn't what? They knew they should be defending themselves. But their throat was merely closing up. "Madame," they restarted. "She put a knife to my neck."

Their leader cocked their head to the side, as though they were trying to spot a lie. The villain stepped back and looked down at their feet, pressing a finger to their bleeding neck.

Stationed outside of what turned out to be an old, run-down building was their leader's right-hand. They took one look at the villain's limp and clucked, giving them their arm to hold on to.

It was still a couple hours from sunrise. The villain glared at the ink-blue sky stretching out into the horizon and let the right-hand inspect all the bruises and cuts they could see.

Their leader left to pull out the sleek black car they'd be travelling in.

—

So their henchmen hadn't come because they cared. They'd just come to protect themselves. Technically, the villain couldn't blame them—they'd been desperate enough to consider spilling all the information they knew to save their own skin.

But still. But still. They'd been drowned.

The villain stared out at all the buildings and streets they passed and tried to get any depressing thoughts out. They'd get out of this. They'd clear their name. And their leader would trust them less, but at least they'd still have a home.

—

The ache in their knee grew worse with time. To their chagrin, the right-hand carried them into the lair like a bride, and the mascot (they didn't need to pretend anymore) stubbornly stared at their hurt knee, chest still squeezing, heart still pounding.

The right-hand wanted to take them to the med bay; their leader told him to look after the mascot in her quarters. As the right-hand moved aside paperwork, bottles of ink, and stacks of files and folders from their leader's desk, she went fishing for a medkit in her ensuite.

Right-hand caught their chin, tilting their face up to the light. They brushed a thumb against the corner of the mascot's frowning lip. "They punched you?"

"My tooth's gone."

The right-hand perched them over the expensive wood, their hands steady and oddly comforting. Gone as soon as they were done. "And what happened to your knee?"

"I don't know. One of them squeezed it or something."

"I see." The right-hand brushed their fingers over the front of their damp shirt, frowned, and went to look for drier clothing.

Their leader came back and placed the medkit down on their desk with too much force. The mascot flinched. Their right-hand glanced at them from where they fished for new clothes.

Her expression said: explain. The mascot swallowed.

"I didn't tell them anything," they said.

Their leader tilted their head to the side, and it made the mascot's chest squeeze. She leaned into their space and the mascot clenched their fists. "I'm being very gentle because I know you don't like pain, and I know that that would've made you betray us back in that old warehouse. That red hero knew you were a mascot. What else did you tell them?"

"I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"You would."

The mascot shoved them. The right-hand glanced at the two, alarmed. "If you were as helpless as me, you would crack too!"

Their leader, to the mascot's frustration, showed no reaction to that shove. They went down on their feet despite their hurt knee, putting more distance between the pair. Their hands shook. Some papers flew off of the desk, and the mascot didn't care that they stepped on them.

"I know I would have." Their leader took on a faux-soothing voice. "That's why I'm asking you—what did you tell them?"

"Nothing!"

"You were ready to rat us out like no tomorrow. That's not nothing."

"What?" the right-hand asked from near the wardrobe.

"Shut up!” yelled the mascot, feeling slightly hysterical. This wasn’t going well. This wasn’t going well at all. “I had a knife to my neck!" They pointed to their cut. They could feel their throat closing, their voice growing croaky. "I was drowning, and they were hitting me, and—" To their embarrassment, wetness was coming to their eyes. They felt terrible. Of course their leader wouldn't trust them; the mascot didn't trust her either. But they felt hurt regardless.

They thought they were worth saving. Weren't they?

"Oh." The leader sounded disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't cry like that."

The mascot threw a bottle of ink at them. It shattered against their chest, staining it black.

Their right-hand was frozen. The mascot swayed on unstable feet, head pounding. Their leader looked at the mess on their chest in mild shock, eyes imperceptibly wider than before. That didn’t make the mascot feel better.

A tear, traitorously, escaped and ran down their cheek. The mascot covered their red face. They could hear their heartbeat. It drowned out every other noise there could be.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," they confessed. A soft hiccup escaped their throat, and their body felt tight in their discomfort. "It's not like I shattered. I was afraid the moment they caught me. I was afraid I was going to be replaced up until the moment I saw you. But I didn't say a single thing, not until they cut me, because they were cruel—I didn't want to lose my fingers and teeth to people who would never come to save me."

For a very, very long moment, nobody said a goddamn thing. The mascot wished to disappear. Someone touched their shoulder and they swatted that hand off. "Don't touch me."

The moments ticked on. The mascot stared at the floor in a quiet, tired sort of anger. The kind that a toddler experiences after throwing a tantrum that gets them nothing but a tired body and a tear-soaked face.

They should’ve never been saved.

“I’m sorry,” came the leader’s quiet voice. The mascot glanced up and saw that she was not looking at them. “I have misjudged you. I shouldn’t have.”

It would be the mature decision to accept that apology, but the mascot didn’t want to do that. So they stared at their feet and said, bitterly, “When have you not?”

Their leader’s hand was stained with ink, as dark as their shadows, and they rubbed the pads of their fingers together. “You can retire to your quarters now. I’ll send my right hand to check on you soon.”

The mascot was thankful for that; they stepped out of the room and burst into tears immediately.

—

The right-hand’s fingers rested on the mascot’s hip as they applied a salve to their hurt knee.

“I’m sorry,” came their quiet apology.

“What are you apologising for?”

They didn’t meet the mascot’s eye. The right-hand gazed at their thumb, which traced circles on the villain’s slowly numbing knee. “It wasn’t a unanimous decision to save you, I admit. There was a fight. But the leader and I wanted you back. We were all divided. But she insisted.”

The mascot laughed wryly. “‘Cause I’d leak information?”

“That’s not what was on the forefront of her mind.”

“Then what was?”

The right hand looked up at them, and they really did seem regretful. They cupped the mascot’s jaw. “I knew you were missing a tooth the moment I saw you. We found it, you know, in a back alley near your apartment. She flipped before we could even confirm it was yours.”

“You…confirmed it was mine?”

The right-hand turned a bizarre shade of pink. “When you first joined us, you gave up your medical records. And that includes your dental records, so…”

“...Oh.”

—

Crickets chirped past their bedroom window. The mascot stared into the darkness of their room, sleep slow to catch up to them. The salve’s effects were wearing off, the pain coming back in growing aches. Faint rays of five a.m. sunlight trickled into their room through gaps in their curtains, glowing prussian blue.

When their eyelids began to grow heavy, the shadows in their room curled towards them, hesitant to touch, keen on encompassing.

“You came,” the mascot mumbled tiredly. The shadows came nearer. “Because you thought I was hurt?”

I was afraid for your safety, said the shadows. But I didn’t make that clear, and I let my paranoia get ahead of my better judgment. For that, I am sorry.

“But you still came,” they repeated, “To save me.”

As soft as morning mist, the shadows slithered around before their lips. I did, it agreed. Of course I did.

The mascot drifted off to sleep, safe and snug.

#secret santa #kyles.writing #so sorry. if the dynamic is weird. i tried to cook #AND SORRY THAT ITS LONG OH GOD 4K WORDS 💀#omfg but shes done 😭😭😭 FINALLY #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain x villain #mascot x villain #mascot x villain x right hand #if you squint #i tried to cook as i said #hero x hero #if you squint marginally less #theyre kinda....idk #pink x red #kaiwewi

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gingerly-writing · 6 months

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Prompt #3494

"Hero, can I use you?"

They choked. "Uh-"

"For the training exercise!" Superhero managed, cheeks flaring red. "You know, the-"

"No, yeah, got that, thanks, no problem-"

#hehehe #prompt #my prompt #heroes and villains #suggestive #hero x hero

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anivynyx · 6 months

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Prompt #3

Okay so we all know this:

Hero: I'll save the world even if I have to sacrifice myself.

Villain: I'll burn this world down for you.

But what about this:

Hero 1: I'll save the world even if I have to sacrifice myself.

Hero 2: I'll burn this world down if it meant you're by my side as long as I breathe.

#ofcourse Hero 2 cares about civies but we all know who is the fav #character dynamics #ship dynamics #prompts #writing prompt #reading #who do you think I'm talking about here?#ofcourse it's #bakudeku #did you know it goes both ways?#hero x villain #hero x hero

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notthehero · 1 year

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Hero: "What are you doing here?"

Villain: "Heroing. Heroin? Heroine? Hero-ing--"

Hero: "Why?"

Villain: "Because you died, stupid. I can't let villains rule my city. Besides, it's my turn to get to be the hero."

Hero: "Well, I'm back now."

Villain: "Too bad. Move your feet, lose your seat."

Hero: "That's not--"

Villain: "Tell you what, you can be my sidekick."

Hero: "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

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automeris-io-moth · 1 year

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Guard.

At the shot of a dart Hero fell limp, held tight on Villain’s arms, grip secure, stance unafraid, unshaken by the scene unfolding right before them.

It was all too familiar, it made Hero sick.

On the other side of the room, barely illuminated by the blinking red lights of an alarm pulled, the beaten figure of Superhero dragged themselves to push on the steel-reinforced door, trying, and failing, repeatedly to squeeze through the small crack left by the entrance of Villain to the holding cell.

To ask for help.

Bleeding was making everything far too blurry to think of something else, and their arms pulling them down on their own weight.

“I warned you what would happen,” Villain said softly, brushing Hero’s hair from their face.

Superhero could not tell who they were talking to for they had too been warned about the danger that Hero posed to their team.

“Your pride got the best of you, Superhero,” Villain continued, pulling their attention from their failing escape “I told you could not control a power like Hero has, like Hero is.”

A teammate coughed somewhere behind them, fighting to breathe.

“They are lionhearted, as you said, of course, but courage and passion burn as hard as anger, and my Hero has collected quite their share of rage,” Villain lifted Hero, carrying with their head resting on their shoulder, their legs hanging from their back "But, for what’s worth, I’m sorry you had to be witness of such.”

Superhero tried to speak, to scream to Hero that they were not angry, that they were still wanted, that they would fulfil their promise to them. Yet, the looks of terror in their team’s faces stopped them, the recoiling forms pushing themselves impossibly further into the walls, into the corners.

They stayed silent.

“We’ll be taking our leave then, I wish you a complete recovery from all the events of today.”

Hero did react to that, kicking and struggling weakly on the other’s arms, “Superhero"s and “Teammate”s spilled from their mouth, asking for help with a hoarse voice, mentioning everyone by name. Apologising once, twice.

Villain stopped them before they breached to begging, making Superhero feel guilty about the relief they felt when they finally got quieted down. Whispers being told in their ear, hands, when able, drawing circles on their back.

How could Superhero never notice such familiarity between both.

They sighed, nothing could be done at that moment, nothing but attend to their injured and leave through the door Villain had finally opened at their leave.

Masterlist

Feels very rushed idk, might correct it later

#hero x villain #villain x hero #hero/villain #villain/hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero and villain #villain and hero #hero #villain #my writing #creative writing #superhero #superhero x hero #hero x hero

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desired-realitea · 1 month

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Stray

A small WIP.. First time writing a fanfic. I’ll get a consistent style eventually! Not proof-read.

Prologue

Miguel O’hara has you cornered in his lab. You’ve been in similar situations before, captured and bound by him. It’s a normal part of your routine. Yet, this is different. You aren’t giving false threats, and he isn’t retaliating with empty promises. There isn’t the usual sound of you trying to escape; He isn’t attempting his usual power play. No, you’re both stuck within a familiar red-lit office. He is rummaging through the disorganized lab, throwing items half hazardously. His increasing frustration, drowning out any other noise.

His glowing eyes leave a distinctive trail. You follow it, your own eyes squinted and weary at the sight of the monster pacing before you. Your skin crawls as your own spider senses detect disarray. You’re picking up on his frantic heartbeat. His haste accompanied by a nearly undetectable swift motion. You flinch, yet your eyes catch him impale his shoulder with a neon mock-tail injection. Stricken with silent horror, your eyes remain on the mystery liquid as it drains from the tube. You only pry away from the sight when you hear muffled breathing. Your attention darts to his face, noticing his grimace. The change of expression almost reminds you that somewhere in there; he is part human.

But you two aren’t friends. You don’t owe him that realization.

You’re just a stray spider, and him? He’s the revered leader of Spider Society.

#enemies to lovers #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #no smut #hero x hero #atsv #fanfic #prologue #summary post #first fanfic #angst #surface tension #slow burn

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 1 year

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Short Prompt #1135

“So… how are you faring so far?” The hero asked, popping in from the sidelines.

The sidekick barely dodged a laser beam sent their way as they screeched at their mentor. “What do you think?!”

#hero x hero #hero x sidekick #writing #writeblr #hero #sidekick #prompt #short prompt #writing prompt #heroes and villains #hero x villain community #writing community #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you

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patchworkorphan · 4 months

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Heroic Betrayal: part four

Read part one here

Continued from this

TW: Blood

*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Hero remembered they were in a cell on a bed, the cuffs still firmly around their wrists. They didn’t remember how they got there, or where they were, something Hero could no doubt credit to Flynn. Though Hero felt the salt trail of tears hardened around the corner of their eyes and down their cheeks.

So much for not using their power on me.

They were thankful Flynn had left them with their scabbard at least, straps still wrapped tight around their chest, scabbard reassuring on their back. They could grab their daggers anytime.

As soon as Flynn took these stupid handcuffs off, Hero thought mulishly, staring down at their trapped hands balanced in between their bent knees.

There was a door opening somewhere nearby and Hero raised their head to look at the cell bars, waiting for whoever it was to come gloat. Somewhere, in the dark side of their mind, a sad, quiet voice wanted nothing more than to see Flynn’s stupid face on the other side of the bars.

Instead, it was Villain who appeared. Hero struggled to keep their face neutral. They didn’t want to show Villain what impact they left on them. Villain and their stupid fucking shadows. Hero fixed Villain with a bored stare, resting their head back against the cold wall.

“Miss me?” Hero asked, wanting to celebrate that their voice didn’t betray them. Unlike Flynn.

Villain just stared, cocking a brow at Hero. Then the shadows slipped from their palms and under their clothes, slowly, dreadfully slowly, dripping, slithering along the ground and through the bars of the cell. Hero’s heart hammered against their chest, but they forced themselves not to move. Not to react. That’s what Villain wanted, for them to scream and cry.

Fine. Maybe they would, but Villain would damn fucking sure have to work for it.

“If you want to give me a hug, Villain you can come in here and do it yourself.”

“Cute,” said Villain, cocking their head to the side, a smile slipping onto their face, “but I think I’ll leave that for Flynn.”

Hero’s heart panged at that, and they hated themselves for it. They shouldn’t be sad. They should be angry. Pissed off, but their stupid little heart ached at the mention of Flynn, and they couldn’t wrestle the feeling away.

“What was it like?” Villain asked, leaning their hands through the bars and clasping them together. Their eyes shining with malice, “realising your best friend and greatest ally was all lies. Did it hurt? I bet it hurt.”

“Ehh. You win some, you lose some,” Hero shrugged, subtly retracting their feet to their chest to evade the shadowy claws that were crawling up the legs of the bedframe.

“Ah. You seem more confident than before. Have you had time to process it all? Compartmentalise? Is that what they taught you during Hero training? Maybe I’ll ask Flynn…”

Hero smiled, the result humourless and wan. “You do that.”

The cold was the first sign that the shadows were on them. A hand wrapped around Hero’s ankle, slowly pulling their leg down. “What about you?” Hero asked, wanting to take their focus off the shadows pulling at them.

Villain’s eyebrows raised in question. “What about me?”

“You must have missed him,” Hero continued, nonchalant. “I mean when Flynn was pretending to be my friend. The late nights, the early mornings. The stakeouts… we got close. Maybe they were lying to me about being a villain and a traitor, but still… all that time they spent with me they weren’t with you. How does that feel?”

Villain didn’t answer. Instead, they drew their arm back sharply and the shadows yanked Hero down the bed. Hero kicked and fought, but they were struggling against air and shadows. With their hands locked uselessly in front of them and without their powers Hero could do nothing as the shadows kept dragging Hero towards the bars where Villain stood.

“You’re not worth the effort,” Villain spat as they reached up and pressed their actual cold hand to Hero’s throat, keeping their chin up and forcing them to look into Villain’s cool black eyes, burning with an old kind of hatred.

“Mmm,” Hero said, clearing their throat with a slight cough that highlighted Villain’s hands on their throat. “Maybe you should ask Fly—”

Villain cut Hero off by squeezing their hand around Hero’s throat. Hero pulled back, but it was as if a wall was behind them squishing them towards the bars, to Villain’s hand and their unyielding grip. Hero couldn’t even use their hands to free themselves because they were squished between their rib cage and the iron bars of the cell.

Eventually Villain let go and Hero pushed back a little, gasping in lungfuls of air.

“I don’t even know what he sees in you,” Villain hissed, and Hero looked up through their lashes, still wheezing for oxygen and said: “my devil may care charm, perhaps.”

A hand gripped the back of Hero’s head and slammed their nose into the bars in front of them. Hero gripped the bars on instinct when a loud resounding crunch echoed through Hero’s head, along with their sharp cry of pain. Warm blood started flowing down their nose and lips, dripping passed their chin and onto their shirt.

“Motherfucker,” Hero gasped out. Then their head was shoved down again and Hero cried out in pain, the impact hitting their bridge square on the bars and causing the blood to gush, some going down the back of their throat and Hero coughed, the taste of iron staining their mouth. Enraged Hero spit some of the blood into Villain’s stupid, smirking face.

Villain smiled and it seemed to suck all confidence from Hero’s very soul. A smile so dark it struck fear straight to Hero’s heart.

“Ah. I see now what he likes about you. You look perfect when you’re bleeding and scared.”

Hero couldn’t help themselves as the words spilled from their mouth: “you creep. At least buy me dinner first.”

Then Hero was forced onto their knees by the shadows holding them. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, tilting their head side to side, examining them. Hero tried to push back, to stand up, to do anything. But the shadows kept them exactly how Villain wanted them.

“There. Beautiful,” Villain said. Hero’s blood was dripping onto Villain’s hand, but they didn’t seem to care. Hero sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and choked on some of the blood, sputtering slightly. Villain’s eyes seared into Hero’s soul, watching them struggle and revelling in it. Villain pressed their hand that was soaked in Hero’s blood to Hero’s cheek, wiping the remnants on Hero before straightening up properly.

Villain released them and Hero fell to all fours, coughing out the blood onto the concrete floor. Painting the miserable grey, a bright red. When Hero looked up again Villain was gone, but the fear they had trapped in Hero’s chest was still very much there.

Lingering.

Hero retreated to the back wall of the cell, sitting on the cot again and resting their head back against the wall, waiting for the blood to stop falling and cursing themselves.

That Flynn…

Their Flynn was the one who put Sidekick in the med bay.

Sidekick, who was still in the med bay, where Hero should be, but no. Instead, they were here, powerless and bleeding and it was all their fault.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage, or, the tag-list: @princess-bubble-blossom @morning-star-whump

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