Latest Posts by chaotic-scraps - Page 2

#136

Not many villains are brave enough—or stupid enough—to come straight through the front doors of the agency, so the agency never thought to put up anything more secure than a barrier for heroes to scan through on their way in.

The villain saunters in, hops straight over the barrier, and loudly demands, “Which of you assholes is meant to be [Hero]’s boss?”

The heroes leap on them, of course, and twenty against one is barely a fight. The hero’s boss, it turns out, is just the guy they wanted to see anyway.

“Why are you just strolling through my agency?” the superhero asks incredulously.

“Someone's clearly dramatised my entrance. I didn’t get past reception,” the villain corrects with a scowl. “And it’s not my fault you lot have the same amount of security as a train station. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to tear you a new one.”

The hero standing behind them makes a noise dangerously resembling laugh. Even the superhero quirks an eyebrow disbelievingly. The villain is sitting in his office in cuffs, sure, but this is only the beginning of what will be an ass kicking.

“You villains are so violent.” The superhero tuts, opening a tin box next to him with a shake of his head. “Has anything happened to warrant this so-called new one tearing, or is this just routine?”

“I’m glad you asked. Did you not notice [Hero] was missing?”

“Oh, yeah I did.” A biscuit comes out of the tin and promptly disappears into the superhero’s mouth. “Are they with you then?”

The disgusted silence the villain leaves is a second too long. “… Yes.”

The superhero nods mindlessly. “Cool.”

This silence is even longer. The villain can hear the hero behind them shuffle awkwardly. “You don’t care,” they say flatly.

“[Hero]’s a rookie,” the superhero offers with a shrug. “Catch one of my best, and I’ll consider coming to visit sometime. I don’t send rescue parties for just anyone.”

The villain can only stare at him in disbelief as he nonchalantly fishes about for another biscuit. Villains would never do that. Villains leave no man behind. The idea that they could be trapped somewhere, in enemy territory, with no promise of at least someone coming for them, is a horror enough to haunt their nightmares.

The villain really thought they’d done something when they’d managed to catch the hero. The hero was scared, of course, but the villain had put that down to the usual. A hero in a villain’s grasp won’t be without injury for long. But the hero had had a certain defeated look in their eye as well, and it’s only now that the villain is realising that that was probably because someone like them disappearing into a villain’s lair means they aren’t getting out.

The cuffs rattle slightly, and the villain heaves a deep breath to stop their hands from shaking. “I've heard them crying every night, knowing you’re not coming for them,” they snap coldly. “You’re heartless.”

The superhero can just about be bothered to meet their eye for a second before his interest diverts back to the food in his hand. “You don’t become a superhero by loving everyone, [Villain]. Do we have a cell set up?”

The hero behind the villain clears their throat. “We do.”

The superhero waves them off, and that’s the end of the conversation. The hero shoves the villain into a cell, and several hours later finds the back of that cell blown clean out with the villain’s friends at the detonator.

The villain never had a doubt they would be set free—they always are. Villains may not be looked upon favourably, but having a posse of like-minded outcasts can make some real ride-or-dies.

-

The hero wipes their eyes when they hear the door at the end of the corridor opening, rubbing their sleeve against their nose in an attempt to look a little less pathetic. They glance up to realise it’s not just the villain, but several of their friends too, all watching them with curiosity. Their stomach drops.

“You got it bad, huh?” the villain says lightly.

The hero doesn’t know what to say to that. They turn their gaze down at their hands to avoid everyone’s burning stares.

There’s a heavy clunk, and out the corner of their eye they can see the cell door swinging open. The villain shoots them a smile as they look up confusedly.

“We were wondering if you’d like to come with us,” the villain continues. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay in here, in the cold and the damp, like a hero. But, y’know…”

The villain shrugs. “We don’t leave people behind, I’ll say that much.”

A hero should never consider an offer from a villain. It’s a trap, the superhero always said. It’s common sense, it’s the right thing to do, it’s what a hero would do.

They didn’t think heroes were left at the mercy of their enemies by their own either, but here they are.

The hero wipes at their face again and clears their throat, painfully aware of how much they’ve been crying. “Um,” they say, their voice a horrible rasp. “O-Okay.”

They all cheer as the villain reaches in to pull them out. Someone hands them a thick jacket. “Put it on,” someone else says. “You’re in the gang now!”

It almost feels like they’re happy to see the hero as one of them. It’s a new feeling, and one the hero finds they like.

Prompt 16 - Hot Chocolate

“Do you have any hot cocoa? It’s freezing outside.” Villain rummaged through Hero’s cupboards.

“There’s hot chocolate powder in the cupboard closest to the fridge.”

“How do you turn on your stove?”

“Just microwave a cup of water.”

“Microwave? I didn’t know you had such terrible taste,” Villain said, affronted.

Hero cracked an eye open, but they couldn’t see Villain from their current position. “What’s the difference? It’s just hot water.”

“That’s another thing. You make hot cocoa with water?”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s so much better with milk!”

Leave it to Villain to pick fights over the smallest and strangest things. “Milk is easier to burn and more expensive than water.”

“But it tastes better!”

“It tastes perfectly fine either way.”

“You sound so boring!”

“And you sound childish.”

“See, this is why we can’t be together!”

“It’s not because you’re a villain and I’m a hero?”

“No! It’s because you insist on settling for subpar satisfaction when there’s better options available to you! You can’t let yourself truly enjoy anything because you feel guilty every moment you’re not suffering!”

Hero stared at Villain, speechless. How were they supposed to respond to that? How did the argument go from hot chocolate preferences to Hero’s guilt complex?

“Woah, that got a bit heavy,” Villain said. “We really need to talk about your mental health, but that’s a conversation for another time. What I’m trying to say is, you should indulge yourself every once and a while.” They shoved a mug into Hero’s hands. “Here, just try it.”

Hero didn’t want to admit Villain had a point, but it did taste pretty good. “How about I compromise by microwaving the water until it’s boiling, then adding milk to it?”

“Fine, but you’re on thin ice.”

You, the villain, faked your death and started over years ago. But you never expected the hero to stumble into your new favorite bar, laughing with their friends.

CW: implied abuse, wrongful imprisonment

It had been five years.

Five years since Villain heard that laugh.

Their blood ran cold. Their heart pounded in their chest. Too afraid to turn their head. With shaking hands, they pulled out their phone and angled the camera to view behind them.

It was them. Oh God, it was them. Sitting with their friends at a table, like everything was normal. Like they were normal.

Every nerve was in high alert. Throat constricted. Villain left cash on the table and rushed to leave--

THUD.

Villain fell back. Phone slid across the floor.

"Oh my god, I am so so so sorry," the person who ran into them babbled. They held out a hand to help them up. "I didn't even see you-- Are you okay, are you hurt? Let me help you up."

Villain glanced up at the friendly voice. Hero's Sidekick.

Villain quickly ducked away and ignored the hand, instead opting to crawl towards their phone and grab it before--

"Oh, is this yours? Here."

Those boots. That voice.

Villain couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Hero crouched face-to-face with them. Holding their phone. Rooted on the spot.

"... Villain?!" A flurry of emotions crossed Hero's face. "You're-- you're alive?!"

Villain bolted. Hero screamed for them to come back. Past the parking lot, past the tree line, into the thick of the forest. Not the best place to cut through to get home, nor the fastest, but an easy way to shake someone off.

They didn't stop running until their legs gave out. Lungs stung with the exertion. They upchucked everything from the bar.

Villain had escaped them. They had faked their death so perfectly. Vanished without a trace, all away across the continent. Hero wasn't supposed to ever find them. Yet here they were.

Villain leaned against a tree to stand up shakily. They needed to get home, grab their cash and whatever they could carry, and leave.

They arrived at their door covered with leaves and dirt. No time to shower.

First thing to do was to grab the money. They crossed the room halfway before they stopped. Something was off. Something was wrong, but they couldn't place what.

Peppermint. They never had peppermint in their house. Hero ruined it for them. Yet they smelled it now.

They turned to leave too late.

Hero was there, blocking the front door.

"You left your phone," Hero said, holding it up.

Villain backed away. "Let me go," they pleaded. "Let me go, please."

The back of their legs hit a coffee table, and they fell backward. The table cracked and collapsed. Hero stood over them.

"Why would I do that?" Hero said. They pressed onto the villain's chest with their boot. "You had me fooled, I'll give you that. Look at the life you've made for yourself here. Nice little apartment. Friends."

They clicked cuffs over Villain's wrists.

"You and I both know your only home is behind bars," Hero whispered in their ear.

"Please..." Villain withered. "Please take me to the proper channels. Please take me to prison."

Hero patted their cheek. "You wouldn't last five minutes in prison, my pet. I built the basement solely to keep you safe and out of trouble."

Villain shook. They tried to keep down the building panic attack and couldn't. They were sobbing, gasping for breath.

"I missed you, " Hero said, caressing the side of their cheek. "You're as perfect as I remember."

They carried Villain into the back of the car.

"Wow. You caught a bad guy on vacation?" Sidekick said.

Villain hung their head.

Hero startled. "Sidekick? When did you get here?"

"I followed you in case you needed backup. You left in such a hurry."

"I don't need your help," Hero said hurriedly. "This is a... Special case."

"It's not trouble," Sidekick said with a smile. "What'd they do, anyway?"

Hero's eyes darkened. "I'm sorry, Sidekick, but that information's classified. Please forget you saw this."

Villain peeked at Sidekick from the corner of their eye.

Sidekick glanced back. If Villain didn't know any better, they would say they looked worried.

"Okay," Sidekick said. "We're still driving back together, though, aren't we?"

Hero groaned. "I thought you were driving back with the others."

"No, they're taking a detour and we need to get back."

Hero relented, and for a while they drove in silence. Sidekick kept checking the back seat.

They reached a rest stop. While Hero was in the restroom, Sidekick ran to the back door.

"Quick. Here's some cash," Sidekick said. "Get out of here before Hero comes back."

"Why--" Villain tried to say.

"I recognize you. You were Hero's first sidekick." Sidekick looked away, expression pained. "I... I know your story. And I believe you. I know why you did it."

"...Thank you," Villain whispered.

"Get out. Now. That truck's leaving."

Villain nodded, then ran for the truck that was pulling away.

Hero screamed. "No, no, they're GETTING AWAY! STOP!!!"

Sidekick smiled and waved sadly as Villain watched them fade into the distance.

You, the villain, faked your death and started over years ago. But you never expected the hero to stumble into your new favorite bar, laughing with their friends.

The Empty Envelope

A blank white envelope lay at Hero's doorstep.

They turned it over in their hands. "To Hero," written with flourish. No return address, but it was unmistakably Villain's handwriting. Inside was a slip of blank paper.

Probably a secret message, Hero decided. They brought their paper in for testing.

Nothing showed under a UV lamp. No discernible indentations to uncover. No heat-revealing ink.

Carefully the hero unfolded the envelope to check the inside for some kind of clue, cipher, anything.

Wait, a white flag -- a sign of surrender. Was Villain surrendering? That didn't sound right. Maybe they were waging a war on... The paper industry?...

Confused, Hero dialed the Villain's number.

"Yes, hello?" Villain answered distractedly.

"Villain, I'm going to need you to explain what this note means, because the blank page is a little vague."

"Oh, right, the note. I meant to fill it out before I left it, must have forgotten. Yes yes, I have your little friend, they're in danger, blah blah blah-- NOT important right now."

"You have my-- Villain, you kidnapped my friend?!"

"Well, yes, at first--"

"Hero," their friend called over the speaker. "I need to see you! You would not believe what happened--"

Hero seethed. "You let them go, or I'll--"

"Yes, yes, anyway--" The Villain quickly hung up.

Hero, of course, broke into Villain's base immediately. They heard chattering through the vents, and crawled towards the sound.

"... No. You're so much better off without them. They do not deserve you," they heard from the room below them.

"We've been together for a few years, but--"

Hero jumped down from then vent. "Back off! I'm here to save my friend!"

They found themselves in a circle of several henchmen, villain, and their friend, all wearing comfy clothes. Takeout and chocolate wrappers littered the ground. Someone was painting their friend's nails. They looked as if they'd been talking for a while.

"Oh, hi, Hero!" The friend waved cheerfully.

"Uh, hi?..." Hero stared down at a cluster of bottles. One of the sobbing henchmen patted the seat beside them. The hero hesitated, but Villain shot them a threatening glare and they took the offered seat.

"Thank you all so much," Friend gushed. "You all have been so... SO supportive-- I think I'm going to do it. I'm going to break up with my S/O."

"You're breaking up with your S/O?" Hero interjected.

"Yes, keep up, Hero," Villain snapped. "Your friend's S/O threatened them for allowing themselves to be kidnapped by me and--"

Hero's eyes lit up. "Wait, no, for real? You're breaking up? FINALLY?! Oh thank GOD--"

"RIGHT?!"

"I know, I know!" Friend waved their hands. "I should've left after they stole my credit card to sabotage my college funds--"

"They did WHAT--" Villain screeched.

"They didn't want me to leave." Friend explained. "It was... Sweet."

"They RUINED YOUR CREDIT SCORE!" Hero yelled, "INTENTIONALLY! While you were in the HOSPITAL!"

"Friend, listen, you're not just breaking up." Villain clasped Friend's shoulder. "We need to teach your ex a lesson. A permanent lesson."

They all looked at Hero as if expecting a retort.

"Are you kidding?" The hero smiled with a bloodthirsty glint in their eye. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this. I have so, so many ideas."

im not usually big on hero x villain whump but today im thinking of the two hottest roles in them. villain and medic. i want to combine the two

villain's own medic treating them

"doctor's orders"

"i said bed rest"

"you might be a criminal mastermind or whatever but believe me, those sutures do not care"

villain's medic being the only one in a cushy position

"you know medic, if anyone else talked to me like this, they wouldn't have their tongue now" "but i'm not anyone else, am i?"

villain's own medic being their favourite on the team

"they're the most useful"

"all of you other idiots are practically useless"

villain being their own medic because i guess the evil budget only allowed for evil henchmen

the enemy medic begrudgingly treating villain

"i'm only doing this because i have principles"

"i'm under oath"

"suffering is suffering, and i just can't bear to watch it"

the enemy medic sabotaging villain's recovery

"i've never wanted to leave anyone to suffer before... that changed today"

"you know what's in this syringe? no? good"

evil medic moments?? so good. top tier. both a villain and a medic hold so much power and im just ahdhfj feral for them

Missing in the Snow

Villain drove slowly on the dark, ice-covered roads, their eyes searching frantically. Hero fought with Supervillain and barely managed to escape. They had to find Hero before Supervillain.

They'd installed a tracker on Hero's phone, and this was Hero's general location, but they were nowhere to be found.

They could be lying in the snow, bleeding out, or worse.

They rolled down the windows and tried calling Hero's phone. The cold air stung their eyes. They drove back and forth until at last they heard Hero's telltale ringtone.

They leapt out of the car and dug through the snow.

Their stomach dropped.

Just the cellphone.

For the next two hours they called out for them, frantically digging through snow and circling the area for clues or footprints.

Then a thought struck them.

Supervillain must have them.

Supervillain must have kidnapped Hero.

It was only a matter of time before they did something horrible to them. They had to act fast.

Villain nearly lost control of their vehicle in their haste to return to base.

They left the car running, dashed inside. They had to suit up, grab a weapon and some supplies--

"Whoa, whoa, hey, what's the hurry?"

The villain froze.

Hero emerged from the shower, steam rolling out behind them, wearing cozy pajamas and a towel on their head.

"Yeah, things got really bad with Supervillain. Mind if I crash here?"

Villain stared at them, wild-eyed and speechless.

"…Maybe I should've asked--"

"Why," the villain croaked, "Don't you have your cellphone on you."

The hero blinked. "Oh, shoot, that? Yeah, I had to ditch it because someone tried tracking me. Why, did you call?"

Villain stared at them a little too long, their eyes a little watery. "I, uh, got snow in my eye," they said, and brushed past them into the shower.

"O-oh, okay! I'll make you some hot cocoa!" Hero called.

Hero picked a movie for them to watch. Villain returned puffy-eyed and unusually quiet, and refused to let go of their hand the rest of the night.

Part 1 Part 2

The Beast (Part 3)

The henchmen dragged the hero out to the hall by their collar, snarling and snapping. They tried unsuccessfully to wrestle them onto a gurney, the hero's panic only matched by their raw fury. The villain watched on with a reverent fascination.

The hero glared with wild eyes as the villain calmly approached.

"Darling, you'd best behave." The villain reached to brush the hero's face. "I'd hate to muzzle such a gorgeous creature."

The hero growled in challenge.

"You want to be human again, don't you?"

An uncertain whine.

"Yes, that's right. I can help you if you stop fighting me."

This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake, the hero thought frantically. If the villain made them human, they would not let them go free.

Who else would help them, though? The Agency? Their understaffed, in-network hospital? They could be stuck like this the rest of their life. They had to trust that they would have a shot at escaping later.

The hero swallowed hard and laid back on the gurney.

"I thought so."

The henchmen exchanged glances and clamored to affix the straps. They pushed the gurney into a cold and sterile room. An exhaust fan whined in the corner. Surgical equipment laid out on a small table.

"Don't worry, darling, we're just running some tests today," the villain said, pulling out a small razor. They trimmed small patches of fur and grabbed a syringe.

The hero tried to pull away, but the straps were firm. They felt the telltale prick, and squeezed their eyes shut.

"Blood sample," the villain explained. They filled several vials.

The henchmen pulled up some kind of machine and stuck little wires all over the hero's arms and legs. The villain typed something into a laptop and the hero felt another prick.

"You'll tell me if you feel something, won't you, darling?"

A jolt shot through their arm. The hero yelped.

"Good. Very good."

Another prick. Jolt. The hero's eyes watered. This went on for a while.

"No discernible nerve damage," the villain said, very pleased. "Excellent response time."

They continued to poke and prod them for a while, looking at their teeth, shining a light in their eyes, feeling the pads of their palms.

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

The villain began wheeling them towards a narrow tube-shaped device. The hero began to struggle again.

The hero had been in vents and crawl spaces and tight corridors before. They'd encountered walls that closed in on them, been trapped in a sinking car, and once had to be cut out of a drainage pipe by a rescue team.

All these experiences did not do favors to their anxiety response. They began struggling despite themselves, the straps digging into their flesh.

There was a high beeping noise beside them. Their heartbeat was being monitored. When did that happen.

The villain stopped the gurney. "Sh, shhh-sh, hush now, you're safe."

The hero struggled, because no they certainly were not, half the times they were trapped in dangerous situations was thanks to the villain--

Another prick.

"Rest now," The villain said, petting them gently.

The hero awoke back in their kennel. They had no idea how much time had passed. They felt a pain in the back of their head.

Stitches.

What had villain done while they were out?

Part 4

AN// Thank you for reading and asking to be tagged @sausages-things and I hope you enjoyed! If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! (or if you want to be removed, please also don't hesitate to let me know!) I'm hoping to finish part 4 in the next couple of weeks!

The blank page

There was something intimidating about the blank page. No words seemed good enough, she thought to herself. She looked at the blank page again, crisp and white, like a snowy field frozen in time. "You could be anything", she thought. A furrowed brow. An ink pen caught in between two fingers while scratching her scalp with the rest of them. The rain pladdering against the window 🪟🌧️☔

A Man of His Word

(Context: Civilian has a friend that is well known for never breaking promises. This friend also just so happens to have a secret, and Civilian has figured it out.)

Cw: threat of death, knife violence

Civilian smiled across the kitchen at Friend. He was helping them put their groceries away, transferring things from the floor to the fridge. Plastic rustled as he removed milk from one bag and various cheeses from another.

“Thanks again for helping me carry these. You know how much I hate doing two trips.”

Friend sighed, rolling his head back dramatically as he replied, “I know you just keep me around for my arm muscles.”

Civilian glared at their friend, who was now flexing his biceps, for all of two seconds before a smile broke back out across their face.

“But really, it’s no problem at all.”

Breaking the comfortable silence after the amendment, Friend bunched up an empty bag, throwing it straight at Civilian instead of shoving it into the bag-of-bags looped around the pantry door handle.

Civilian gasped as they batted it away, instinctively going for the closest thing on the island that wasn’t breakable. They clutched the freshly-bought apple in their hand before throwing it mercilessly at their friend. Luckily, Friend caught it with a laugh, keeping the fruit from being bruised.

Civilian joined in with some light giggling of their own as they watched him take a bite with a satisfying crunch before continuing to stock the fridge while they conquered the pantry.

“Hey! That was supposed to be for a pie!” They protested.

“Please,” he started, pulling some scissors from the kitchen drawer and cutting open the plastic rings from a six-pack of soda they had broken into earlier. “I saved it from a terrible fate:” He finished, tossing the bird-safe remains into the trash, “The horrors of your baking.”

Civilian gaped in offense.

“No more birthday cakes for you!”

“The best gift I could ever ask for,” he winked, coming over to throw an arm over Civilian’s shoulders and ruffle their hair.

The normalcy sent off a pang in their chest.

A thoughtful, dependable, goofy guy. It was just so easy to believe.

It was a shame they knew it was a lie.

Friend had started to relay some adventure from earlier in his day, which Civilian tried their best to attend to. In the background, the TV in the living room was playing some stupid sitcom with a shitty laugh track that was definitely being overused. They leaned against the counter, basking in the peace of it all for just another moment.

Before it all went to shit.

Civilian made their move after the pantry was shut and they both headed for the next room.

“Hey,” Civilian checked their nails as they spoke, “I want to talk to you about something, but you have to promise me something first.”

An innocently confused, mildly concerned expression plastered itself over Friend’s face as he stopped short of the couch. Civilian’s stomach twisted at the sight.

“Yeah, of course. Anything.”

Friend crossed their arms and leaned against the pony wall disarmingly.

“You have to hear me out. Give me ten seconds.”

An awkward chuckle.

“What is this about?”

Civilian met their friend’s eyes seriously.

“Just promise me. Ten seconds.”

“Okay… Yeah sure, ten seconds,” he assured, shooting them an uneasy smile.

Civilian took a deep breath.

“I know who you are.”

And just like that, Friend was gone. Instead, there was Villain, pinning Civilian to the floor, holding a blade a hair’s width from their jugular.

Where he had hidden the knife, Civilian had no idea, not that was particularly important right now. Only one thing was.

“You promised!” They squeaked out, hating how helpless they were in that moment, how they were betting their life on there being a kernel of their friend left in the man on top of them now.

Inflectionless, he responded, “Nine. Eight.”

Civilian’s relief was very short lived. Shit, they should have said fifteen.

Trying so very hard to stay still, to keep that sharpened metal away from their carotid, they practically whispered their desperate plea to the stone face above them, “I don’t care. I swear to anything I don’t. You have a plan to take down Hero. In- in three days. I need to help.”

“Two.”

Frantically, they stumbled over their words as they added. “Oh! and um- dead man’s switch.”

Despite themselves, they scrunched their eyes shut as their internal countdown hit zero. When nothing happened, their eyelids fluttered open again to see utterly unchanged features. No reaction at all.

“What,” Villain spoke, in a voice that Civilian no longer recognized, “does that mean?”

“If I live, your identity stays between us. If I die…”

A sharp pain lit up their arm as, presumably, the knife that had been at their neck relocated itself into their flesh. Civilian swore.

“Who,” Villain growled lowly, leaning close to their ear, “The fuck. Do you think you are?.”

“Someone with a will to live?” Civilian choked, no longer scared to take deep, heaving breaths to the side now that there wasn’t a blade directly above their artery.

“Clearly not. People who want to live keep their mouth shut and run far, far away,” he spit.

Their head was wrenched back into a forward-facing position via a hand in their hair.

“How long?” Villain demanded.

Civilian blinked. Right, the switch.

“Fifteen minutes.”

Suddenly, they were being hauled up by the collar, then unceremoniously shoved into the light blue accent wall, conveniently within sight of where their laptop rested closed in the middle of the room.

“Disable it.”

“I can’t. It's automatic, every 8 hours. No off switch.”

Spots arose in their vision as their arm was grabbed in a rather unfortunate location.

“Disable. It.”

“I can’t. I swear.”

“I can get the code one way or another,” Villain warned.

“I know you could.” Involuntary tears dripped down their face as they explained, “There’s nothing to get. The answer changes every time. It’s randomly selected. I don’t know it till I see it.”

“You’re lying,” he accused, and Civilian didn’t have to look to know that they were bleeding somewhere else now with just a swipe of his hand.

“I’m not! Give me the laptop, we’re running out of time.”

Civilain gestured wildly to the oak wood coffee table.

“The only person running out of time here is you.”

With that, Civilian was thrown back to the floor, Villain straddling their horizontal form before they could get their legs underneath them to scramble back. The knife returned, only this time it would not be pressed shallowly, and there would be no more counting, no more promises of time, no more hesitation.

”Look! Hero killed my parents, okay?!” They blurted, a last, desperate attempt at getting through to him before he ended their life.

Maybe there was a shred of Friend left in the villain after all, because Civilian caught the slightest moment of pause in his movements, a blip they might never have noticed having never spent time with the man.

“Please, I would never stop you,” they pleaded, searching for another blip deep inside their former friend’s eyes. They came away empty.

They didn’t really know how it happened, but somehow they ended up perched on the couch, laptop open and propped on shaking legs. Villain breathed down their neck every second, watching them like a starved hawk.

They were lucky they could even punch the code in with the amount of nervous movement in their fingers and hands.

“That’s it. We’re good for another eight hours,” they confirmed, slowly closing the lid of their laptop and sliding it back onto the table next to the coaster. “Guess we’re partners now,” Civilian laughed weakly.

“No,” Villain dissented, in a tone that left no room for argument. “You’re a temporarily-alive prisoner.”

He appeared in front of them, pulling them up and off the couch with an alarmingly harsh grip.

“Don’t forget it.”

The hero lay on the floor curled in on themselves, willing the pain to go away. The creaking and clinking from the other room told them the villain was rooting around in their stuff again.

"Ugh… Villain?" They called.

Silence.

"Villain, I know you're out there."

They groaned and tried to stand. Not a good idea.

"Villain, if you're out there, bring me my meds, will you? They're on the counter?"

A pause in the shuffling. Footsteps.

A pill bottle hit their face.

"Ow!"

The villain retreated.

Silence.

The hero shakily lifted the pills to their lips.

The villain returned with a bag of bread and a bottle of water.

The hero looked up at them questioningly.

"You're not supposed to take that on an empty stomach," the villain said simply.

"Who eats bread from the bag?" The hero grumbled, but they pulled out a piece to nibble on anyway.

"You're lucky it's not poisoned," the villain replied.

"Am I?" The hero groaned.

"Lot of pain, huh?"

"…Yeah."

The villain knelt down in front of them. "Good."

The hero glared up at them. "Any chance of giving me a break today?"

The villain snatched the half-eaten bread and bit into it greedily. "I think you forgot we're enemies."

The hero laid back down. "Yeah, okay."

Uncomfortable silence.

"So, uh, this normal for you?" The villain tried. "You look a little… Not good."

"I'm kicking your butt so hard when these pills kick in," the hero grumbled. "Can you at least get back to looting my house?"

"I mean, I could kidnap you right now," The villain said. "You're at your most vulnerable."

The hero threw the bread at them. "Just because I'm not up to fighting you doesn't mean I'm helpless."

The bag hit the villain's foot. They gave the hero a deadpan stare.

"I'll bite your ankles," the hero tried.

Then the villain kidnapped them, and they went to Urgent Care together.

The board decided to level the hospital. It wasn't profitable enough, they said. One nurse practitioner refused to leave. It was a death sentence to the town, she said. They claim they didn't know she was still inside when they began demolition.

For a long while after, it was a five hour drive to the nearest hospital. People of the town made do with what they could. Teledoc, MayoClinic, homeopathic remedies. Prayer. Nevertheless, the funeral director kept busy.

The old hospital foundation, naturally, was rumored to be haunted. Teens used to sneak up to the grounds in the dead of night for a chance to catch a glimpse of The Nurse. Adults of the town tried to discourage such behavior after a few kids went missing, but teens insisted The Nurse was only dangerous if you looked at her face.

It was late one night when one of the twins was skating on the old wheelchair ramp and fell face-first into the pavement. Their friends watched from afar as The Nurse approached. The Nurse stood over them and healed them with a radiant glow.

Naturally, the news of The Nurse spread quickly in the desperate town. They filled the old foundation with lawn chairs and handed out blindfolds to anyone who waited. Some would wait all day, even after they determined she only came out at night. The elderly of the town hosted a monthly potluck in honor of the Nurse, and a group formed to help keep the patients company as they sat blindfolded in the dark.

Then the news spread further. Tourists started coming to the old foundation in hopes of curing their ailments. The foundation became something of a tourist destination, and vendors sold paintings with a side profile of The Nurse, along with framed debris from the site.

News got around to the landowner, who shut down the vendors and roped off the foundation. They began charging an entree fee to see The Nurse, a fee no one in town could afford. People of the town tried to sneak in some nights, and were arrested for trespassing.

The death toll rose again.

The landowner was rebuilding the hospital on the old foundation when he disappeared one day. No one's sure what happened, but they suspected he looked at The Nurse's face, while others speculate she held a grudge.

Nevertheless, the town regained their hospital, and The Nurse was never seen again.

They say that going to that mountain, where the now-bare foundation of a hospital sits silently, can cure any disease or injury. Simply sit in a chair on the grounds, wearing a blindfold in the dead of night, and The Nurse will arrive to cure you. But you must never look at her face…

Lively chatter and the swell of festive music warmed the cold air. The protagonist had settled into a rhythm passing out food in the soup kitchen, greeting their guests with a smile, when they locked eyes with a certain unexpected visitor.

"T-this isn't what it looks like," their rival stammered.

The protagonist stared back, because how could they not. "I thought your parents were rich," they blurted.

"T-they... They are," they said, face burning red.

"Then why are you here?"

The Faithless (Part 2)

Part 1

The hunter approached the end of a misty alley, following little red droplets that led behind a derelict building. Crawling away in the dark was the wounded vampire, tired and worn.

“Ah... My faithless little hunter,” the vampire rasped. “What circumstances to be reunited. You appear stronger since last we met."

“I am,” the hunter agreed. They closed the space between them, looming over the fallen vampire.

"It seems faith is no longer a... necessary shield," the vampire murmured. "And yet, you kept the bauble, I've noticed."

“I saw what you did." The hunter tucked the bauble away from view. “Attacking the Guild leader in plain view. Very bold.”

"Well deserved."

"A foolish target, in any case."

The vampire laughed, then coughed at the effort. “Why the... Pleasantries? Savoring your victory?”

The hunter knelt. "The entire Guild is after you."

The vampire grimaced. "It seems you shouldn't stall, then. Others may take your prey."

"They won't," the hunter said. They brought out a dagger.

The vampire stared, and a very human fear flitted across their face.

"I've reached the end of the road," the vampire conceded. "I won't claim to embrace death, but I'd rather it be you."

The hunter tilted their head. "How unlike you to give up."

"I've carried out my vengeance." The vampire tilted back their head. "Now satisfy yours."

"I had a different plan," the hunter said. They nicked the end of their thumb with the dagger's edge, and pressed it to the vampire's lips.

Wonder. Confusion. "You've truly lost me," the vampire whispered. "You're doing this... To what end?"

"Paying what is owed. Stop asking questions."

"You're playing with fire." The vampire's voice was low with hunger. "Offering your blood to one such as I. It seems you haven't shaken your wish for death."

"I've spilled more blood while training," the hunter scoffed.

"And if I forget myself?" The vampire whispered. "What then?"

"You're in no position to worry about that," the hunter said. "Drink."

With little other option, the vampire accepted the tithe of blood. Their cheeks flushed, and their wounds closed with unnatural speed.

"That should suffice." The vampire licked their lips and pulled away. "Thank--"

"I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing." The hunter stood and backed away, eager to put distance between them. "We are not friends."

"Then, what are we?" The vampire gazed up at them, strangely vulnerable.

The hunter avoided their eyes. "Follow the path down to the ravine. If you leave now, you will reach the next town by sundown."

"Hunter--"

"If I see you again," the hunter said, "I will end you."

"Ah." The vampire stood and approached the hunter.

The hunter backed away, raw with a sudden panic. "D-didn't you hear me?"

"Your hand is still bleeding."

The hunter hit wall. "Hardly."

"Let me tend to it."

The hunter reluctantly held out their hand. They took the wounded thumb and gently bandaged it. Then, boldly, they pressed a small kiss in the small of their palm.

The hunter stared, then tore their eyes away with a blush.

Shouting sounded from the end of the alleyway. The Guild hunters.

"They're here," the hunter hissed. "Go, now."

"Till we meet again," The vampire whispered. "My faithless little hunter."

And then they disappeared into the mist.

The villain found the hero stocking cans in Big Box Store.

"Is this why I haven't seen you lately?" The villain asked disappointingly.

"Heroism doesn't pay," the hero said. "My folks want me doing something more practical with my time."

The villain leaned on a shelf. "They do if you work for the Agency."

The hero grunted and plopped a particularly enormous box down. "The Agency rejected me multiple times. I have to- ugh -earn money somehow." They sliced the box open violently. "Besides, you think those hospital visits were cheap?! Move over. You're blocking the shelf."

"Wow, someone's a little grumpy," the villain said. They shifted to block the shelves even more.

The hero slammed down a can. "I told you to MOVE OVER--"

"Hero!" Someone barked.

Hero froze. The manager.

"I am deeply sorry for their behavior," the manager hurriedly said to the villain. "Hero, you do not under any circumstances raise your voice at one of our guests. That is not Big Box Store behavior. Apologize this instant or consider this your dismissal."

"Sorry," the hero mumbled.

The manager glared expectantly.

"I'm very sorry," the hero tried again. "I should not have raised my voice. It was not a reflection of Big Box Store values, and it will not happen again."

The manager gave a satisfied nod and left.

"... You think I can get them to make you kiss my shoes?" the villain snorted.

The hero launched at them.

By the time the fight was over, half the canned foods aisle was in shambles. Needless to say, the villain had their nemesis back the next day.

However, the hero started receiving a generous stipend from an anonymous benefactor, making the job search a bit less urgent...

I love love all your writing and jealous villains / possessive villains always make me kick my feet!! Can I request a hero that’s been under appreciated by the city and getting hurt / almost killed by civilians they were meant to protect? And the villain finds the aftermath? ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

"My god." The voice was strained. Familiar. Them.

It really wasn't the hero's day, was it? They released a slow, pained breath, pushing themselves gingerly off the grimy, rain-puddled street. "Enjoy the show?"

"What show? You could have taken them. You should have taken them."

The hero grunted. They straightened. They wobbled.

The villain appeared out of the shadows, at their side, in an instant. It took the hero a moment to realise that the villain had placed a steadying hand on their arm.

The villain's face was harsher in the streetlight; all firelit edges, beautifully demonic, orange pinpricks glinting almost red in their furious eyes. Rain spat down, soaking into the villain's hair and clothes. They didn't seem to care.

The hero did a double-take. The flippant comment they'd been about to make died in their mouth.

"How much did you see?" the hero asked.

The villain's jaw clenched. "I just got here."

It was an unexpected confession. On closer inspection, the rapid rise an fall of the villain's chest suggested they'd been running.

"Huh," the hero said.

The villain's gaze raked over them, taking in every bruise and scrape and bit of blood. "You didn't fight back. Why didn't you fight back? You could have pulverised them. Made them fear ever hurting someone again. That's what you do if I attacked you."

The hero shrugged, awkwardly. They eased their arm free of the villain's grip.

"That's not an answer," the villain snapped.

"I would have killed them. Normal people can't deal with my powers."

"So better to let them nearly kill you?"

The hero shrugged again. Everything ached; they weren't especially in the mood for hearing about how wrongly they'd handled getting the flying spit kicked out of them, they weren't in the mood to explain how the villain was different. Even at war, it was easier with them.

"You're in uniform," the villain said. "They knew who they attacked."

"Oh." The hero hadn't realised. The truth of it struck them like a low blow and their shoulders slumped, as if it wasn't already far too late to brace and curl into a foetal position to guard the heart of them. "Right. Yeah. Well, bold move on their part!"

They tried for chipper. They failed completely.

The whole time, they'd been so preoccupied, they'd thought the strangers had no idea. A wave of stupidity, prickling with humiliation, washed over them. Their eyes felt hot.

The hero swore under their threat.

"I'm going to kill them." Possessiveness threaded low and heated through the villain's voice.

"I don't need you to do that."

"I know. It will be my absolute pleasure." The villain grabbed the hero's arm again as the took a step and stumbled. "They shouldn't-"

The hero could feel themselves beginning to shake, a myriad emotions welling up inside them, threatening to explode, as they listened to the villain's insistence that really no one else should be allowed to touch what was theirs.

"I said, I don't fucking need you to do that."

The villain went quiet. Still.

The hero closed their eyes again, already regretting their sharpness. A treacherous tear rolled down their cheek. Christ. That was all they needed, wasn't it? Cherry, meet the top of the garbage pile. They swiped furiously at their face and didn't say sorry. They couldn't say sorry. They'd never stop, they were sure of it.

"What do you need?" the villain asked.

The hero glanced up at them, startled.

It wasn't that the possessiveness was gone from the villain's face, only that the burning of it had finally cleared enough for the hero to see what lay beneath it.

The care, the sincerity, in the villain's question felt like a knockout blow. They didn't know what to do with it. They had no armour for it, no shield.

"What do you need?" the villain asked again, softer, when the hero said nothing. Their other hand rose, cupping the hero's cheek. "You want me to get you home? Your leg's screwed. You can't walk."

"I can walk." The hero looked down at their leg. They could...well, it wouldn't be fun walking. They eyed the villain. "Seriously?"

"Well, I'd prefer to hunt the bastards down and kill them, but I also do an incredible taxi service, yeah."

"Thank you."

The villain looked almost as uncomfortable as the hero felt. They shrugged. Their jaw worked, eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the hero's injuries again. The hero could feel the villain's fingers flexing against their skin with barely leashed violence - and, yet. It was leashed.

The villain dropped their hand.

"My car is this way. Can you - can I - I can help you get there. If I'm allowed."

"You're asking permission to touch me?"

The villain glared at them.

Despite everything, the hero managed a weak smile back. "Yeah," they said. "You're allowed."

The villain nodded, wrapping an arm around the hero, before pulling them up into an unexpected bridal carry. They were strong. All lean muscle and warmth against the hero's frozen body.

"I'm going to get blood on you," the hero said.

"Because nobody has ever bled on me before ever."

The hero huffed.

They let the villain walk them out of the alleyway, brain still sluggishly working its way through all of the implications of the villain's sudden appearance.

They'd come running when - what? When they learned the hero was in trouble? When they learned that the hero wasn't fighting back to the full extent they were capable of?

Thoughts were hard and the villain's car was warm, the heating soon on full blast.

Thank you. It welled in their throat again. The hero choked on it.

They didn't think they'd ever been as well looked after as they were that week.

Part 1

The Beast (Part 2)

The hero awoke. Still disoriented, they stared at their hands.

Claws.

Last they knew... They had transformed into some kind of beast and taken refuge in the villain's warehouse. The villain then tranquilized them.

The room appeared to be some kind of kennel. Concrete floor and walls, and sturdy iron bars with a locked door. Something soft beneath them-- a bed and blanket. They rolled to stand. Something clinked, and they felt a pull on their neck. A collar chained to the concrete wall.

A beast chained to a wall.

Ironically, they were in the one place where being a beast was safer than their real form. If they managed to escape, they weren't safe outside--

Deep breaths.

They just needed to call--... Well, text someone the situation. Surely someone would come save them.

They reached down and felt only fur.

Only fur.

They couldn't focus. They couldn't breathe.

Even their breathing sounded monstrous--

Their thoughts were interrupted by the creak and scrape of the kennel door opening and closing. They scurried under a blanket.

Villain.

"Good morning, darling," the villain cooed. They were dressed head to toe in protective clothing. "How did you sleep?"

The hero grit their teeth. They wanted to demand to be let out, to scream for help. They wanted to proclaim they were a human, not some beast--

All that came out was a horrible yowl.

"Shh sh-shhh... Don't worry, I'm here now." They brushed the hero's face with their fingertips. "Are you hungry?"

The beast snapped.

"I'll take that as a yes," the villain chuckled. They pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Bring him in."

A horrible scream echoed through the corridor.

"What's going on? Where are you taking me? I'll make you regret this!!"

Two henchmen stopped at the door holding a writhing prisoner. They wrenched a bag off his head. His indignant cries became a small whimper.

"Meet my beloved new pet." The villain threw a hand around the prisoner's shoulder. "They haven't been fed recently. Do you know how hard it is to find good, fresh meat? Do you have any pets?"

"W-what is that thing," the man stammered.

I'm human, the hero wanted to scream. I'm human, and I can help you. They pulled hard against their chains, even as the man trembled in fright.

"Gorgeous," the villain said proudly. "And very hungry."

"Fine! I'll give you the codes! Anything! J-just get me away from that thing!"

That thing.

The hero shrank back.

That thing.

They retreated to the back of the cage.

That thing.

Tears sprang from their eyes. They tried to wipe them away with furry hands.

The villain seemed to notice their struggle, and that made it all the worse.

"Take the prisoner to the drawing room," the villain said. "I'll follow in a moment."

Both the prisoner and henchmen, eager to leave, clamored out of the room.

The villain turned to the beast before them.

The hero curled into a ball, hiding their tear-streaked face.

"What's wrong, darling?"

A small, plaintive whine. The hero shook in a futile effort to contain their sorrow. They hated themselves for crying in front of the villain.

The villain laid a gentle hand on their back.

"Look at me," the villain said.

The hero turned to them with haunted eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling. I can tell that upset you deeply." The villain softly stroked their fur. "The way he yelled at you. I'll make him regret those words. I promise."

The hero shook their head vigorously.

"No?"

The villain pet them absentmindedly, deep in thought.

"Wait... You can understand me, can't you?"

The beast hesitated. Nodded.

The villain looked a bit taken aback. "Oh. I see. Oh my. I thought-- well, can you speak?"

A yowl. The hero shook their head. They pulled at the fur on their arm.

"This form is... New?"

Nod.

"You're trapped in this form." The villain gave them a look of intrigue. "Oh. Oh my. What caused this? Do you know?"

The hero shook their head.

The villain clapped their hands. "Oh, oh, very exciting, very exciting." They patted the hero's back, who snarled indignantly. "We'll get to the bottom of this, you and I. This is fascinating."

The hero had a very, very bad feeling about this.

Part 3

How the Turns Have Tabled

Hero approached the cell with all the feet-dragging reluctance of someone who was in way over their head. They dug through their pocket for the key, mumbling something about stupidity and youth mortality under their breath. A quick glance through the small window nestled in the door revealed a form unmoving laid out in the corner.

To their minor relief, it appeared their guest was still out cold.

The hinges squeaked as Hero slowly pushed open the door. They watched closely for any movement and saw none, so they continued.

Once inside, they dropped a bundle of fabric at the feet of the sleeping figure and left a plastic bottle and an aluminum package on the ground. They were back out the door quickly and the lock clicked back into place just as fast.

Hero turned away from the door and let out a quiet breath as they moved away.

A few steps in, a creak sounded from behind them.

Shit.

Hero froze, then spoke calmly into the stale air,“The exits out back.”

Lowly, a gruff voice responded, “Not that easy.”

Hero winced.

“Worth a shot.”

By the time their hand shot to their belt and they made to spin around, Villain had already closed the distance. Their knife was knocked from their hand the second it was drawn. The villain kicked it away in the same move he used to grab the hero’s wrist. Hero used their free hand to punch him in the face, landing a hard hit before Villain used his leverage to twist, forcing their arm behind their back and shoving them face-first into the wall.

Hero groaned into the cinder block, “Fuck my life.”

They would not have even realized that they had said that aloud had it not been for the confirmation of a deep but quiet chuckle.

Fingers curled lightly into their scalp as Villain spoke, “Other hand.”

Hero squeezed their eyes shut and offered up their free hand into the borderline-painful grip behind them.

“You want to tell me where the ties are?”

Hero turned their cheek against the wall so their jaw was free to move with the words.

“Second shelf from the bottom, other wall.”

They were lifted from the concrete and pulled backwards to the opposite side of the room. A plastic tie soon zipped into place, pinning their wrists together before the villain shifted his grip to their arm to lead them forward.

“In.”

They stepped through the door into the dimly-lit cell, and Hero scowled at the lock hanging broken off the latch.

“Sit,” he ordered with a shove towards where the crumpled blanket rested on the stripped down cot.

The hero stumbled but did as they were told, settling with their back against the wall and feet planted firmly on the floor.

They watched as Villain dragged in a folding chair, flipping it around in front of him to plant a leg on either side and sit backwards, conveniently blocking the doorway.

“Kidnapping, huh?” The villain begun to question, “Is that what you do now?”

Hero leveled their eyes on the blank sheet that was the adjacent wall in lieu of a response. Villain tilted his head at the silence and leveled a disappointed glare at the hero.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

At that, Hero dragged their gaze slowly to the man in the chair.

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe you walked in here of your own free will?”

“Right,” the villain leaned forward, placing his elbows on the seat back and planting his chin on his palms. “And the lock was for decoration.”

“Obviously, given how easily it broke.”

The distaste shown on the hero’s face suggested that they would be having more than a few words with Masterlock customer service.

Villain grinned almost imperceptibly.

“I must say, this is giving my style, not yours.”

“Yeah, well,” Hero bit their lip and averted their eyes again, “shit happens.”

They took the time to notice all the numerous cobwebs in the room before Villain opened his mouth again.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t moving his tongue to push for an explanation.

“You know, they say mimicry is the highest form of flattery.”

Hero, taken slightly aback, could only find the highly dignified words, “Fuck off.”

Instead of lashing out like the hero had predicted with muscles tensed, Villain simply pointed out, “You’re the one who brought me here. I think I might just stick around and find out why.”

With that, he stood. The chair slid across the floor and into the wall as he pushed off.

“It’s in your best interest to answer, so I’d suggest doing that.”

Hero did not dare take their eyes off his form as he approached. He towered over the low-lying cot, and Hero may or may not have forgotten to breathe as he leaned in.

“Or have you forgotten your position here, now?”

Hot breath warmed their ear and Hero bit their tongue.

“You thought you could lock me up?”

“I…made an error in judgment.” Hero spoke carefully, suppressing a shiver.

Another chuckle had Hero silently begging for a Time Machine. An arm was planted on either side of them, leaving them feeling like a bird in a cage, or an ant under a microscope.

“I sure hope the five minutes of success didn’t get to your head,” Villain spoke with faux pity, lips slightly pouted in obvious mockery.

“I think they took five years off my life, actually,” Hero admitted, figuring it was probably clear at this point how they felt about their decision to… well, abduct the villain.

“It sure sounds like you’ve learned your lesson, then.”

Hero almost cheered when Villain rose back to his full height, out of their immediate personal space. That was, until he continued.

“But really, it is best to be certain.”

“How, exactly, do you plan on being certain?” Hero inquired carefully, not that they really wanted to know the answer. Their heart beat a rapid warning inside of their chest.

Villain tapped his chin thoughtfully before a familiar grin spread slowly across his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got just the idea.”

Worrying did not even begin to cover the fear that sparked in the hero’s chest at that statement.

“Sit tight,” commanded the villain as he sauntered out the door, not bothering to replace the lock or even so much as close the door.

The hero was left to gawk at his abrupt departure from their place in the corner, unable to gracefully rise and follow him with arms stuck behind them as they were.

A few seconds passed, and they slumped as the adrenaline finally started to drain out of them.

They breathed out into the quiet air as the villain’s footsteps receded, “I am going to die so young.”

Prompt #82(pt. 2)

(Y'all begged for a part 2, so here it is! Enjoy ;)

Part 1

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain huffed, their cheeks tinting a shade of red. They hoped it wasn’t noticeable to the hero. They were already feeling so embarrassed. “What do you know about being a villain.” They tried to sound annoyed.

The hero didn’t stop, though. They snorted, taking another step forward. “I was one, a long time ago.” The villain looked into their eyes; all they could see was honesty. 

“Right, sure. I believe that.” They babbled. How could the number one hero ever have been a villain? From what they could recall, the hero had endangered their life more than multiple times to save the civilians. 

The hero’s lips widened again, their eyes crinkling at the corners. It was hard not to stare at the hero. The villain licked their lips nervously. 

“You’re rather cute, you know that?” The hero teased further. 

The villain swallowed. “You–...what?” Their eyes widened, caught off guard. They were about to lose their cool and fall to their knees. It wasn’t fair– what the hero was doing. Using the villain’s inexperience to their advantage. 

“What? You are. First of all, you come in here, again,  sniffing my coat rather confidently. And lying about it–you’re not hard to read even in the dark. Then you ogle me shamelessly. I mean, how cute can you get, you know?” 

The villain let out an involuntary whine. 

The hero brought up a hand to the villain’s cheek, and the villain immediately nuzzled into it. “You should leave.” 

The villain didn’t move. 

“So desperate, it’s almost pathetic.” The hero mused, their thumb gently caressing the villain’s cheekbone. The villain sighed in response. 

The villain opened their eyes; their faces were a breath away. They stared at the hero's lips. The hero smirked, before closing the gap and kissing them.

The villain, in fact, stayed there the whole night.

Plumes of smoke clouded the dark horizon. The smokey scent of a campfire wafted through the cold air. The villain pulled the hero close and kissed their head.

"What are we?" The hero asked softly.

"Cupid's a chaos goblin," the villain stated, skewering a marshmallow onto a tree branch. "I love you, in case you haven't noticed. What are you feeling?"

The hero smiled fondly. "I... feel the same."

"But?" The villain gazed at them. "Your tone tells me there's something else."

The hero paused, then nodded and hugged themselves.

"You love me now," they whispered. "But... You haven't seen my unloveable side."

"You know I have an unlovable side," the villain retorted around a mouthful of marshmallow. "Why are you so afraid of me seeing yours?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the hero scolded. "That's a choking hazard."

The villain rolled their eyes.

"I... Everyone just... Eventually..." The hero struggled to articulate their thoughts. "There's something everyone really, really hates about me. I don't know what it is."

"Well, you are dating a villain." The villain threw a marshmallow at the hero's face. "Plus, you could stand to lighten up. We started out fighting, so it can only get better from here."

The hero glowered. "Can't you take ANYTHING seriously?!"

"But you're so good at that!" The villain said. "Why would I take your job?"

The hero grabbed the marshmallow bag and threw a handful at them. "What is WRONG WITH YOU?!"

The villain shook off the marshmallows. "I don't know, but I'm shocked every day you put up with me."

The hero's groaned and buried their face in their hands.

The villain reached out and gently touched their shoulder. "...and it makes me want to be a better person. You make me better."

The hero's expression softened, and they kissed the hand on their shoulder. "You make me better, too."

"I'll try to get better at... This." The villain gestured between them vaguely. "Maybe... Maybe you can try to have faith I won't just walk away from you. Not without a proper conversation."

"Deal," the hero said, and rested a head on the other's shoulder.

The villain pet their head gently, then reached stealthily for a fallen marshmallow.

"You're not eating those marshmallows off the ground," the hero said, eyes closed.

"Oh, come on--"

Too Many Beds

(Reverse Trope: Too many beds, as seen on @out-of-jams )

Context: Hero and Villain forced to work together and need a place to stay for the night

Hero had been sent back to the car to gather their things while Villain booked them rooms for the night. Refusing to use a readily available luggage cart, Hero pridefully piled several bags across their body. They held two in each hand, two more were strapped crossbody–one resting on each hip for balance–making them so wide they would have had to step through the lobby door sideways. That is, if they could open the door in the first place, considering their hands were full and this hotel was sketchy enough to be skirting the ADA.

When Villain came back outside with only one room key, Hero could only hope that there would be two beds awaiting them behind shoddy wooden door.

Image their surprise when they unlocked the door to find not one, not two, but three beds clad in all-white linens.

Villain, ignoring the gobsmacked hero, pushed all the way into the room and made a bee-line for the bathroom. In a rather fittingly-villainous move, Villain had refused to relieve Hero of any of their cumbersome stuff during the trek up to their second-story room. The hero finally gathered themselves and their bags enough to step into the room, throwing villain’s bags on the far bed, placing their own bags on the bed closest to the wall, and sitting themselves on the bed in the middle. Immediately feeling their aching joints relax, hero fell back into the plush dramatically. They contemplated the merits of stealing some of the extra pillows to transfer to their bed before a light bulb lit up over their head. After a moment’s consideration, they stood up and started pushing the center mattress towards the one on the wall.

Mega Bed. First come, first serve.

“Hey! I got that one for me,” yelled an incredulous voice behind them. Apparently, Villain was back from the bathroom, and they were very very jealous of Mega Bed.

“You don’t need two beds!”

“Neither do you!”

“Sure I do!”

To punctuation their point, hero belly-flopped dramatically onto their claimed, enlarged sleeping arrangement.

“If you wanted more room to sleep, then you should have booked a room yourself!”

“What kind of motel has rooms with three beds anyway?!” Hero’s question was muffled by the comforter as they held their ground starfished face down over the blankets.

“This one does,” stated the villain from what sounded suspiciously far from his allocated regular-sized bed on the other side of the room.

“Obvishushlee,” the hero mumbled in reply.

“…”

The hero recognized this as a dangerous silence. The silence of plotting.

“Look, we can be adults about this-“ Hero was cut off with a yelp as they were dragged by the ankle out of Mega Bed and onto the questionably-clean carpeted motel floor. Villain attempted to step over them, presumably to claim Mega Bed for themselves, but Hero caught onto their ankle in a grand feat of revenge, thus preventing Villain from crawling into the rumpled sheets.

Hero would not give up Mega Bed without a fight.

As Hero and Villain tumbled on the ground, knocking over the lamp and accidentally turning the TV to the Spanish channel in the process, a stroke of genius hit. Hero grabbed Villain by the back of the shirt, stalling their scramble for the bedpost, playground-king-of-the-hill style.

“Stop! Stop-,” Hero shouted, then added placatingly, “I have an idea.”

And thus the Super Mega Bed was born.

The villain emerging from their hiding spot. "Oh. This is sad."

The hero startled, dropping a pie. The pyrex glass shattered on the floor, and they screeched in dismay.

"VILLAIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Before them was a sizable feast, lovingly and meticulously labeled and surrounded by holiday decorations. They must have been at this for hours, cutting and mixing and basting and roasting.

Villain crossed their arms. "Why aren't you at the party at Superhero's house?"

Hero stopped, hands hovering over broken glass. "There's... A..." The hero blinked. Stared. "But... Superhero said I was hosting this year."

"You're not picking up that glass with your hands," the villain said disappointingly.

"Did... Did they text me about this?" The hero pulled out their phone and scrolled with rising panic. "Look, see? See?! They ASKED me to host this year!!"

They sunk to the floor. "M-maybe I missed a follow-up text. Why would they do this? Why would they--"

They went silent, scrolling through post after post on social media. Heroes laughing, smiling, playing games. Their friends.

"They... N-no one told me the plans changed," the hero whispered.

The villain grabbed a plate.

"W-what are you doing." Hero glanced up with watery eyes.

"You're going to eat all this yourself?" The villain snorted.

"You chose a bad day to infiltrate my base," the villain says.

"Because you're planning something?" The hero demanded. "I've seen people in and out all day. What are you up to?"

"It's a holiday, Hero, in case you've forgotten," the villain sighed. "I'm just trying to survive my family."

"O-oh." The hero looked lost in thought. "I, um, forgot."

"You know what?" The villain put an arm around their shoulder. "You might as well join. Everyone else wants to poke their nose where it doesn't belong. You'll fit right in."

"Oh, no, that's okay." The hero's eyes went wide at the crowd they were being dragged to, digging their heels. "This is for family, and I really should be going--"

"I'm introducing you as my fiancee," the villain stated with a mischievous grin. "Aunt Bertha will hate you."

"You fell right into my trap," the villain said. They didn't sound gloating, or even happy. In fact, they sounded worried.

"Y-you're going to lock me up, right?" the hero said hopefully.

The villain pinched the bridge of their nose. "Listen." They sighed heavily. "How do I put this. You're... More... Incompetent than usual."

The hero froze. "W-what do you mean?" They laughed nervously. "I-I trashed your lab. I got your henchmen to fight amongst each other. I even--"

"Yes, yes, you're still a thorn in my side, don't get me wrong." The villain frowned. "It's that you've fallen into this same exact trap three times in the last month. You know this wall shoots netting if you press a certain tile, and it's like... It's like you've intentionally been pressing it!"

"You expect me to memorize ALLLLL the little traps in your base?!" The hero scoffed. "Do you realize how WEIRD you sound?!"

The villain stared, deadpan, as they allowed a detailed map of their base to unfurl. Marked in red was every trap and trigger in the building. "Care to explain this?"

"That's not mine," the hero squeaked.

"Okay. That's it." The villain threw up their hands. "I'm letting you go. My henchmen will escort you out." They stalked over to an intercom on the wall.

"Wait, okay, fine!" The hero relented. They worried their lip. "I... The Agency... The Agency..." Their voice cracked a little. "F-fired... me..."

The villain stopped, hand hovering over the intercom button. "They what?!"

"They just..." Tears sprung in the hero's eyes. "Told all the other heroes I was compromised. They think I'm helping you."

"Why do they think that?" The villain snorted. "You're the bane of my existence. I can't have a moment's peace without you wrecking something."

"Yeah." The hero smiled, sadly. "Yeah, I am. But... They won't even talk to me."

The villain blinked. "Sooo... You're trying to... Prove yourself by being bad at your job?"

The hero flushed in utter shame. "Uh. No. I... " They laughed, high-pitched and strained. "It's warm in here. The cot in your cell is really comfortable. The food's not bad, either."

The villain's face pinched. "I give you stale bread and gruel."

"Yeah." The hero chuckled fondly. "It's filling, though." They curled into themselves. "They froze my bank account, evicted me, cut off my phone access. Can't even call my friends."

They shrugged. "Though, most of them work for the agency and have direct orders to not interact with me. So, there's that."

"You have nowhere else to go." The revelation was like a punch in the villain's gut. "You're homeless."

The hero bristled at that. "I'm just between homes," they stated defensively. "I'm working something out. It's temporary. I just need to get a new job--"

"You're hired." The villain set to work freeing them from the net. "Room and board in exchange for your work."

"...What?" The hero shrank back in disbelief. "No, I don't want your-- wait, really?"

The villain peered down at them. "This is not out of pity. You know better than anyone the weaknesses in my defenses, and you've seen my henchmen."

The hero cracked a genuine smile at that. "How do you know I won't betray you?"

The villain dabbed a tear from the hero's cheek. "... I have a hunch," they said fondly. "Besides, just having you out of my hair will save me so much on insurance."

Hi, welcome. I'm chaotic-scraps and I post scraps on here. Pronouns are dealer's choice.

If I complete a story on here, you have witnessed a miracle. I occasionally reblog other stories and/or art/comics/animation.

Feel free to leave asks/requests.

You're an average citizen who tried cosplaying once and was mistaken for a hero. A villain captures you and you realize a few things about yourself. Now you've become a hero in hopes of being captured by them again.

(or the reverse)

"Nowhere for you to run," the detective said.

"You always do this," the thief said with a sly grin. "Always end up pinning me against walls."

"You always do this," the detective scowled. "You try to get me flustered when you're out of other options."

The thief pressed close, and whispered hot in their ear, "I also like seeing you flustered." And then, gently, nipped their ear.

The detective yelped and flinched away, face red. The thief pushed forward. They toppled. The detective's glasses clattered behind them.

The thief grabbed them first.

"Give those back," the detective demanded.

"I don't think I will." The thief teased.

They moved to stand, but the detective pulled them into a kiss. The thief, caught off guard, let go of the glasses.

"S-see? I can strategically disarm you as well," the detective said, pocketing their glasses.

The thief blushed and stared intently.

"I-- I'm so sorry," the detective said. "I shouldn't have done that. That was incredibly inappropri--"

They couldn't finish as the thief stole their lips. They melted a little in the warmth.

"I'd better run," the thief said. "Same time and place as usual." They grinned cheekily, holding up the detective's wallet. "You're paying."

Then they were gone.

The detective, a little dazed, went home to prepare for their date.

Their hand was warm in yours. The night was still, the moonlight sprinkled through the canopy of trees. You lay there and wish the rest of the world could disappear.

"I love you," they whispered softly.

You brought their hand to your lips. "I love you too."

Wind rustled through the trees. Something wet hit your cheek. The soft rumble of thunder tore you from the moment.

You both stood. They opened an umbrella and pulled you close.

"My place isn't far," they said.

You gently placed a kiss on their cheek. They smiled.

"Lead the way," you said.

"P-please don't kill me," Hero whispered.

Villain recoiled. "Who said anything about killing you?"

"You did. Multiple times. You have a knife to my throat."

"That-- THAT WAS FLIRTING!" Villain shouted in exasperation.

"WHO FLIRTS LIKE THAT?!" Hero screamed.

"Ugh. This is all wrong." Villain cut Hero's ropes and put away the knife. "Listen, I completely misread the situation. Just... Just go."

"Wait, no, we need to talk about--"

"There's nothing to talk about," Villain said quickly.

"Yes, we do! Clearly we need to communicate!"

"No. Let me die of embarrassment alone," Villain grumbled. They moved to leave, but something slapped their wrist. A handcuff.

"You're not going anywhere," Hero said, tightening the other cuff to their own wrist.

"Did you just CUFF ME?" Villain screeched.

"We're going out and having a proper date WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."

In fairy tales and fantasy, two types of people go in towers:  princesses and wizards.

Princesses are placed there against their will or with the intention of ‘keeping them safe.’ This is very different from wizards, who seek out towers to hone their sorcery in solitude.

I would like a story where a princess is placed in an abandoned tower that used to belong to a wizard, and so she spends long years learning the craft of wizardry from the scraps left behind and becomes the most powerful magic wielder the world has seen in centuries, busts out of the tower and wreaks glorious, bloody vengeance on the fools that imprisoned her. 

That would be my kind of story.