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rainey-day-reads · 12 days

Note

In need of some hurt comfort😭😭.

What about a tired, but stubborn hero and patient, lovely villain that slowly helps them rest? Know it's very cliché I just will always love itt(sorry for bad English)

Have an awesome day!

“Oh God,” the hero whispered. They kneeled on the ground of their kitchenfloor, staring at the white tiles. Their knees hurt, their shins burnt.

All they could do was stare at the broken mug in front of them.

It was getting worse and they could feel it. They were losing their mind, becoming more and more of a restless zombie that wandered around the city.

Now they were seeing shadows, they heard whispers. They forgot things easily and even lashed out more frequently. They could barely tell what kind of person they were anymore.

“Sweetheart…” The villain’s voice was clear and soft. At least the hero still understood that. They turned their head and looked up the villain. “…it’s three in the morning.”

“I…I wanted something. I think I was making coffee…?”

“I think you should be in bed right now,” the villain said. They kept their distance.

“What are you doing here?” the hero asked. Their gaze was glued on the mug again. A birthday gift from their parents.

They were saving people on a daily basis and their parents gave them a mug for their birthday? Weren’t they worth a little more than that? Hadn’t they actually achieved something spectacular in their relatively short life?

“I was actually going to…steal some documents from you. But I heard you and…” They didn’t have to say much more.

In the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the hero just as insignificant as everyone else? But their achievements couldn’t possibly be for nothing.

Or was this a sibling thing? Were their parents trying not to make the hero’s siblings feel left out? But even then, to be fair, the hero had accomplished more, they had been more successful, they had fulfilled their potential.

What more could their parents ask for?

What more could the hero give to them, except for their pure flesh and bone?

“I’m not really sure what you’re doing,” the villain said. “But I’m pretty sure you should be in bed.”

“I wasn’t asking for advice.”

“Consider me concerned.”

“Consider me annoyed.”

“You’re bleeding, do you know that?” the villain asked and when the hero looked down their hands, they could see it too. They had cut themselves on the shards of the mug and the hero had been too concerned with other things to realise it.

When had they become so sloppy?

“Goddammit…” They stood up — making their knees and ankles crack from sitting too long — and cursed quietly as the blood was running down their arms. They went to the sink and turned it on.

“…I’m not really supposed to talk to you when I’m stealing from you but, uh, are you okay?”

“I’m totally fine.” The hero turned off the water but that didn’t really help. The cuts were deep and they needed to stop the bleeding. Lost in their thoughts, they grabbed a dish towel and pressed it against their palms.

Now, the villain took a step forward. Then another. And another.

They grabbed the hero’s hands.

“Sometimes I don’t know what team you’re playing on. That’s a little scary.”

“Excuse me?” the hero asked.

“I can’t always tell if you’re one of the good guys or not,” the villain said. “Just let me be the bad guy to your good guy, okay? That would make it a little easier.”

“Are you asking me to be your nemesis?” the hero asked.

“I guess so. Get some more sleep. Don’t shoot at the good guys. Be a little…nicer?”

“Haven’t I done enough for the city? Haven’t I saved enough people already?” the hero asked. Suddenly, their anger boiled up again but their hands burnt enough to focus on that instead of that giant dark hole in their stomach.

“Isn’t that the thing about heroism? This doesn’t end. And you can’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s how this works, huh?” The hero’s chuckle was empty. “I thought I’d be feeling more fulfilled.”

“I’m not really an expert when it comes to this but I know from experience that people turn into wild animals when they haven’t had enough sleep or enough food. You’re not thinking clearly.” Their hand landed on the hero’s forearm and slowly, they pulled them towards the bedroom.

“You’re pretty nice for a villain.” The villain took the bandages from the nightstand (the hero usually came in through the window, bandaged their wounds and passed out immediately on bad days) and started wrapping them around the hero’s palms.

“Say that again when I kick your ass on Monday.”

“We have a schedule now? Really?” The hero rolled with their eyes. Somehow, these nasty voices and shadows weren’t as bad as before. They didn’t feel the urge to be violent to get rid of them.

“Yes, I’m your nemesis,” the villain said. “And believe me, I’ll find out what’s going on with you.”

Wasn’t that going to be fun?

#save the villainous cat #oh my goddddd yesssssSSSSSSSSSS #love love loooove

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rainey-day-reads · 17 days

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villain taking care of (maybe even bathing?) hero who was stranded in the wilderness for a while??

Request #7

"You didn't need to run, you know," the villain said, hands gently stroking through the hero's hair - untangling a week's worth of stubborn knots and dirt, sometimes even small clumps of dried blood. The hero wasn't hurt though: the blood wasn't theirs. "You could have come to me. You can always come to me."

The hero remained silent, watching the water below them gradually grow murkier as the villain worked. They hugged their knees against their chest, eyes red and sore, tears still streaming down their cheeks accompanied by the occasional sniffle. The first thing the hero had done when the villain had found them was cry... They hadn't stopped since.

"And of all the places to go - the woods, in this weather? You might have been cleaner living out on the streets."

That had been the first place the villain had looked. All those dark alleyways: the little nooks and crannies of an overpopulated city that people just rushed by, aware and yet unseeing - blind because they wanted to be. The villain had searched for four days before even thinking to turn their gaze outside of the city limits.

Carefully, their one hand came up to cup the hero's chin. "Head back, eyes closed."

The hero complied and the villain filled the small cup they kept by their side, letting warm water slide down over the hero's head once more. A second rinse through and the villain finally felt like they'd succeeded in taking the majority of the gunk out, reaching for a bottle of shampoo and bringing a small amount to a lather within their palms before easing it through the hero's hair, massaging the other's scalp gently. There were still a few knots but those were quickly worked out. The villain did two more rinses before deciding it was time to change the water again, jaw clenched slightly as they watched the dirty liquid drain out. When the hero began shivering - wet skin now exposed to cold, open air - the villain put the plug back in and turned the tap on to refill it, stroking small circles into the hero's back and shushing them as they waited for the tub to fill.

"You should have come to me," the villain said again. Their tone wasn't angry or annoyed - they didn't want to scald the other, that wasn't their intention at all. If anything they were venting more to themself but clearly the hero didn't hear it that way.

"I'm sorry," they whispered.

The villain paused - it was the first words they'd heard the hero speak. Then immediately the regret and guilt hit them, the realisation that they should have been watching their words more carefully coming just a second too late.

"Hero, no, that's--" The villain moved so that they were in the other's line of site, cupping the hero's face gently and forcing their gaze up. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident. I just wished you'd have let me help you sooner - that's all."

The hero shook their head. "But a-aren't you scared of me?" they asked.

"No. Never."

"But I--"

"You won't hurt me, Hero," the villain assured. "You can't hurt me."

The hero started to tremble a little, eyes glancing off to the side as though some horrific scene was playing out within their mind. "You d-don't know that..."

"But I do," the villain said. They tried to coax the hero's gaze back but the other retaliated for a moment, trying to pull their head from the villain's grasp and whimpering when the villain only held on tighter. "I am the one person who could possibly help you through this and you know that. That's why you let me take you, isn't it? You didn't fight me, you let me help - you know that I can help."

Silence.

When the hero's eyes finally turned back to them they were more fearful than the villain had ever seen them, but there was a hope that lingered there - a small fragment of trust that shone through the faint glimmer of tears.

They held that gaze for a second longer before the villain let out a sigh, eyes slipping down to fresh, warm water as they moved to turn the tap back off. The hero swallowed and let their head turn downwards once more, expecting the other to go back to trying to clean them when they suddenly felt the villain's arms slide around them - soft lips pressing firmly against their forehead.

"You will overcome this," the villain said. "It will take time but you will manage it and during all that I will keep you safe, alright? Right here - here with me - is safe, do you understand?"

For a moment the hero merely blinked. But when the villain continued to hold them, continued to whisper reassurances in their ear, practically begging them to give them their full trust - to let them help no matter what - the hero slowly felt themself start to nod. Any words they had got caught in their throat though it didn't seem to matter because the villain caught the small movement almost instantly.

"Thank you," they said, pressing yet another soft kiss to the hero's forehead. "Thank you. I will keep you so safe, Hero - so safe... Nothing like this will ever happen to you again."

#saltydumplings #oughhhhh this is so goooooood #the tenderness.......... the care............

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rainey-day-reads · 1 month

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One Question

Tw: Implied abuse

“If you were a type of tea, which one would you be?”

Hero paused, foot still only halfway across the threshold of the dingy cell room. “…what?”

Villain adjusted the cuffs around their bruised, red wrists and grinned. “Well I think you seem like a chai sorta guy, you know? Relatively popular, but still somewhat of an outlier.” They leaned towards the bars that seperated them. “But I’d like your input.”

Trying their best to mask their confusion, hero closed the door behind them. “Look, Villain, I know it’s been rough down here, but I’m trying to convince Superhero to move you somewhere less… depressing. I just need you to try and stay sane in this cell a little while longer.”

“You never let me have any fun.” Villain muttered sarcastically, accompanied by a theatrical eye roll. Now that they were leaning into the light, Hero couldn’t help but notice the blood dripping from villains temple, the dark bruises all over their face and chest, the hastily applied bandages around their torso.

“I told those dicks to stop doing that!” They crouched down, abandoning all sense of professionalism they’d clung to moments before. “How bad?”

“Not too bad.” Villain smirked. “Worried about me, are we?”

Hero scowled. “I’m trying to help you!”

Villains expression turned cold. “You weren’t “trying to help me” when you threw me in this shithole.”

“That’s not fair. What was I supposed to do? We’re enemies!” They sighed. “I didn’t know it would be this bad or I wouldn’t have I swear. How can I prove it?”

Villain went quiet, eyes furrowed in thought. “Just answer me one question.”

Hero sighed in relief. “ Anything.”

A familiar smirk graced Villains face. “If you were a type of tea, which would you be?”

“You cannot be serious.” Hero groaned.

“As a heart attack.”

“Fine.” Hero thought for a moment. “I guess you were pretty accurate with the chai tea. Now let me see those wounds.”

#prettyboytortureclub #love this lil dynamic!!!#the seriousness. the not at all seriousness. the perfect blend (for a tea)

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rainey-day-reads · 2 months

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Your eyes have always been something that you’re ashamed of. It isn’t hard for you to be so ashamed, when everywhere you turn, people flinch away or make cruel comments. Their colour and the strange sharpness of them, is incredibly unnerving, even your parents struggle to look at your eyes without fear or disgust crawling up onto their features.

Your one salvation has been reflective, darkly tinted, glasses. It didn’t take long for the teachers and other figures of “authority” to stop asking you to take them off, not when doing so meant having to see your eyes for themselves, some even would go so far as to ask you to put them on. Hiding away your eyes, is really the only way you got by, the only way you still get by.

But today, everything had gone wrong. First, your car had broken down, then your boss had called you in and nervously given you your walking papers and a box to put your things in, looking anywhere other than your face, despite your shielded eyes. When you had finally left the building, it had instantly started pouring, and with the bus and taxi being out of the question, you had resigned yourself to walking all the way home in the rain.

With how heavy the rain is coming down, you can barely see anything in front of you, your rain splattered glasses certainly not helping. Still you decide to keep walking, already soaked to the bone and miserable. You wanted nothing more than to hide beneath a mountain of blankets right now, even if only to pretend the world wasn’t so utterly shit.

As if to prove to you that your day could in fact get worse, someone came hurrying around the corner, accidentally walking right into you and sending everything spilling across the pavement. The stranger cursed and sank down with you, quickly helping you put everything back into your box. Though you couldn’t really focus on them right now, not when your glasses had gone flying in the collision.

Seeing your panicked motions as you looked around frantically, they apologised, assuming you were upset that your things had gotten wet. You could barely hear them though, frantically searching for your glasses whilst keeping your head down, not wanting to see the disgust and fear from yet another stranger after such a shitty day.

“Are these what you’re looking for?” The stranger spoke, question somehow cutting through the panic.

Not quite thinking straight, you jerked your head up, gaze zeroing in on the cracked glasses in their hands. Anxiously, you reached out for them, not taking your eyes off them, as if fearing they would disappear once more. They remained still however, and as their voice once more cut through the silence, and you twitched, realising your mistake.

“Woah….” There voice came out low, laced with shock.

Strangely, you heard no disgust or fear in their tone, this alone making you unwittingly lift your head completely, eyes locking with their own, waiting for them to lash out. Instead, you found them leaning in closely making you flinch in shock, eyes widening as they stared at you with some emotion you had never seen before.

“Your eyes are gorgeous” They said slowly, breathlessly. There was nothing but genuine wonder and awe in their tone, and for once, you didn’t know how to respond.

#write-it-motherfuckers #YESSSSSS I LOVE THISSSSSS #beautiful op thank you

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rainey-day-reads · 2 months

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truth potion/serum 😌

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They try not to shift.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, is that a no?”

The hero wants to know where this is headed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I go easy on you?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” No. “I do.” It’s weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hero almost whines. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

@badthingshappenbingo

#avvail #OBSESSED #beautiful stunning amazing incredible #yknow i aint seen a truth serum story thats like. so evilly tender. im in LOVE

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rainey-day-reads · 2 months

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The Colour of Fire

"This must be tough on your lot, huh?"

"What do you mean," Palira asked, already knowing where this conversation was headed. Her tail coiled instinctively beneath the desk.

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean." The customer was human, as they so often were. He counted out his coins on the counter, as if she wouldn't have to tally them herself. "I don't know what the right word is nowadays. Is dragon still allowed? We're not supposed to say wyrms, right? Or is that wyverns?"

"Dragon is fine." She didn't bother outlining the difference. If he cared, he wouldn't already know. "But I understood the your lot, as you so diplomatically put it. I meant the other part. What must be tough?"

"Look, you know, getting rid of coins and that. The paper money. You people like piling it up, right? Hoarding? What are you going to do - make a stack? Build a mattress out of wads of notes?"

"That's a stereotype." Palira let the you people slide. Some days she was just grateful for people. "The idea that we sleep atop of a mound of gold. It really doesn't work that way."

Her ancestors would have swallowed him whole, but evolution had seen them go the way of the giants, adapted for life in the crowded cities. She'd kept her tail, her wings, her penchant for pyrotechnics, but wore clothes and worked behind a counter; the same number of scales, just scaled down. No less a dragon, but more of what his sort would recognise as a person.

She began the process of counting his coins away, keeping a tally as she went. This change to paper money was welcome, but it involved an awful lot of hassle: all of the old coins would need to be taken out of circulation, with notes issued in exchange. Vast exchanges had been set up to manage the transition, with dozens of trusted workers like Palira having to manually convert between the two. It wasn't too bad, when they let her concentrate.

"Right, that's what I'm asking." The human really wasn't getting the hint. "How does it work, then? You just pile it up to look at it? You don't eat it, do you?"

Palira sighed, a wisp of frustrated smoke escaping from her nose. "Traditionally - and I don't speak for all dragons here, because we're all individuals - we've just been drawn to gold for the way that it gleams. In our culture, it's the colour of fire, which is obviously also sacred to us. It's that lustre we revere above all else. Not how much is can be traded for at the greengrocers."

They'd always loved gold for its appearance - just as his ancestors had, before they'd gone and made it weird. Humanity had declared this simple metal to be the unit of all worth, the symbol of trade, and then also used it as the marker of their greed. A love for gold was seen as toxic, the root of all their sins, whilst loving other things was still allowed. Dragons were painted as the embodiment of miserly evil, when they were aesthetes: they'd only ever cared about the beauty of the gold itself.

Of course, the human translation of gold-as-money had also made it incredibly hard to get hold of the stuff. Even those who didn't care for the colour needed it to eat every day, to invest in new clothes, to save to put a roof over their heads. They started hoarding it, hiding it, packing it away in bank vaults where nobody could admire it at all. For Palira and her lot, the transition to paper money couldn't have come sooner.

No wonder so many had applied to work at exchanges like this: handing out the new notes, and taking the redundant old coins in exchange. Finally, they could show the world how little they cared for money: they would make an arrangement of that gold, yes, now that it was no longer legal tender. They would remove it from circulation all right. It had been freed up to be worshipped, just like in the olden days. Legally worthless, but still worth everything to them.

"Fire's red," the man told her. "Everyone knows that."

"You have a good day," Palira said, handing over his wads for safekeeping. She could easily find out where he lived, if she thought he needed more of a lesson, channelling the fury of her ancestors for the modern age. That was the other good thing about paper money, she thought: it was much more flammable.

#ambiguouspuzuma #LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS #the idea of dragons getting used to paper money? incredible

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rainey-day-reads · 3 months

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Prompt #265

Hero bursted into the alley just in time to see Villain thrown against the wall, a flash of electric blue boots and red cape disappearing over the rooftops.

Hero blinked after them then at Villain as they pushed off the wall with light wince.

“Thanks for that,” they grumbled, rubbing one shoulder.

“Did I— Was that Cerulean?”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for capes.”

“You’re dating, Cerulean?”

Villain frowned at the ground. “We’re not “dating”; we’ve just been on dates. …And kissed a bit.” They looked up abruptly. “Don’t tell them I told you. Or anyone else.”

“Ok?”

“They don’t want any heroes finding out they’re spending time with a villain. Sort of the problem with going out with heroes, none of them want to risk their reputation.”

“Heroes? As in plural? As in you’ve been involved with others before Cerulean?”

Villain shrugged. “I have a type.”

“And you’re ok just hiding it forever for their sake? What if you really did start dating? Are you still going to feel fine with them keeping you a secret?”

“It doesn’t even feel fine now,” Villain snapped. “But I’ll do what I have to, so just go away and make use of you judgmental attitude somewhere else. Just because we’re nemeses doesn’t mean we need to see each other every day.”

Villain stormed a couple feet away, and Hero went quiet. They didn’t leave though, simply stared at Villain’s tight back. Eventually they said, “Wouldn’t it be easier to date other villains where you don’t have to hide it.”

“I don’t trust other villains not to stab me in the back,” Villain grumbled. “At least heroes only do it metaphorically. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Guess not. I certainly don’t get secret relationships. If I liked a villain, I’d just date them. All that cloak and dagger nonsense sounds exhausting.”

#thepenultimateword #love this. the implications. the vibes. the slight awkwardness #perfect 10/10

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rainey-day-reads · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump day 3: "Bite down on this,"

Content warning: gunshot wound, rough caretaking

“Damnit, why the hell would you do that?!”

“I didn’t–I–,” Hero only stuttered in response, barely understandable. They were practically limp at Villain’s side, arm draped over Villain’s shoulder as they were dragged through the wilderness surrounding Supervillain’s forest.

Hero’s breath was coming out in panicked, choked wheezes, eyes wide and distant. Each frantic beat sent another gush of blood down their body, dripping from Hero’s side to fill the space between Hero’s and Villain’s bodies. Villain could feel the blood beginning to drip down their leg.

“I don’t need you to take a damn bullet for me! Not when we have no idea what Supervillain is capable of!” Villain hissed, voice tight.

“I don’t know why this is happening–!” Hero squeaked, a half scream. Their usual confidence was shattered, replaced with a genuine, raw fear that put Villain’s teeth on edge.

Villain didn’t know why it was happening either. Hero had taken far, far worse than a bullet without so much as bruising. A bullet should’ve been nothing to them. That fact was the only reason Villain had agreed to their teamup to defeat Supervillain. Hero was there to act like their shield, a big, dumb wall of muscle between Supervillain’s men and Villain.

So when Hero, that ever smug grin plastered onto their face, had swooped in between Villain and the barrel of Supvervillain’s gun, Villain’s only concern was the self-satisfied comments they would have to endure for allowing Hero to save their life.

They hadn’t expected shock to replace Hero’s grin. They hadn’t expected Hero to drop to the ground like a rock at their feet, eyes wide as red spread across their torso. They hadn’t expected a gleeful cackle from Supervillain, nor that the next sound to come out of Hero would be a scream.

And now they were running, dragging Hero’s half-limp body through the forest, Supervillain’s henchmen on their tails. They would die out here, hunted like simple prey animals, if something didn’t change soon.

“We’re stopping here,” Villain abruptly spoke, stopping when they found a small clearing. They moved over towards a fallen tree and, ignoring Hero’s cries of protest, rearranged their body to rest in a sitting position.

Hero’s body shook with effort as they tried to sit down. Their strength failed them halfway through, knees buckling and nearly sending them crumbling roughly to the ground. When they were finally positioned against the tree, Hero’s hands instantly moved to cover their injury.

Villain kneeled down and batted the hands away. Hero’s bloodied fingers still hovered anxiously near their torso.

It looked like a normal bullet wound, a fact that itself put Villain’s nerves on edge. Blood poured insistently from it, the red stain spreading with each second. Hero wouldn’t survive losing blood at that rate for long.

Villain leaned closer, until their eyes caught a flash of light. In the darkness of the forest, Villain could see something flashing a dull, unnatural green inside the wound. Whatever Supervillain had created to attack Hero with, it was still inside.

“I’m going to take the bullet out. Hold still.”

“W-what?! No-nononono I don’t–,” Panic instantly gripped Hero, their already paleing face nearly turning sheet white. They attempted to stumble to their feet, only to crumple back down with a choked gasp. “I’ve taken worse than this! Just–don’t touch it!”

“You have taken worse. I’ve personally thrown worse at you, and I’ve never once seen you bleed,” Villain pulled away for a moment, digging through their toolbelt to find anything they could use. “Something is wrong. Whatever bullet Supervillain made, it’s nullifying your powers. We have to remove it; you’ll either bleed out or be killed by Supervillain’s forces otherwise.”

“No!” Desperation laced the shout, so raw that Villain couldn’t help but stare at Hero in shock. Hero’s eyes were wild with terror as they squeezed their body against the tree, as if they could sink into the wood and hide away.

“I–I’ve never had to do anything like this! Nothing–,” tears were flowing unbidden now, leaving Hero to gasp pitifully. “Nothing’s ever hurt me! It’s gonna hurt, oh god it’s gonna hurt…I can’t do it!”

For a moment, Villain only stared, taken aback at hearing Hero, brave and obnoxious Hero, blubbering like a civilian.

The cruel part of their nature wanted to laugh. Here was their brave nemesis, someone who flew into danger without a second thought, who had faced countless enemies without fear, sniveling like a child at the doctor’s office. It was laughable, that Hero would be so terrified by something as simple as pain.

But the true terror, so foreign on Hero’s features, killed any humor Villain could feel at the situation.

It was very possible that Hero was right, that they’d truly never experienced something so natural as pain. When would they have, when even deadly force did nothing but inconvenience them? If a building falling on them couldn’t cause a bruise, what chance did everyday life have of harming them?

Hero had spent years, perhaps their entire lives, flying above the woes of mankind, immune to the pain they fought to protect others from. They’d simply never been hurt. And now their first taste of that so natural of hardships came in the form of a bullet lodged in their side.

For a brief moment Villain envied their usual immunity. For a much longer moment, they pitied Hero for their ignorance.

But they didn’t have time for pity.

“Please!” Hero sobbed, “Please, just leave it! It hurts, it’ll hurt–,”

“Look at me,” With rough hands, Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, silencing their pleas. They forced Hero’s tearful gaze forward. Terrified, shining eyes meeting Villain’s own determined glare.

“Yes, it will hurt. It’s going to hurt like hell, and you’re going to act like the damn hero you claim to be and take it. Do you understand me?” Villain didn’t break their stare for a moment. “I am not letting you die here. Supervillain doesn’t deserve the privilege of ending you. It is going to hurt, and you are going to endure it and save both our asses. Alright?”

For a long moment, Villain thought Hero would continue to fight them. They were still trembling, jaw shaking with muffled sobs, tears dripping onto Villain’s hand. Their whimpers were the only sound in the clearing.

But then something shifted in their eyes. It was not their usual strength or determination, it wasn’t bravery. It was something tearful and weak, but so trusting that it nearly knocked Villain off their feet.

So faintly that Villain almost mistook it for a tremor, Hero nodded. Villain nodded back.

They made quick work of preparing themselves. They turned to grab a handful of their cape, quickly tearing several strips to act as bandages. They scanned the forest floor and, after a moment of searching, found what they were looking for.

They brushed the dirt from a nearby stick, and presented it to Hero.

“Here, bite down on this. You’ll need it.”

Hero didn’t reach to grab the offered gag. Arms still pinned to their torso, Hero opened their mouth, leaning forward only slightly. Not unkindly, Villain placed the wood between their teeth. Hero bit down.

Gently, Villain moved Hero's body to the forest floor, laying them flat to expose their wound. Hero whined, low and pained, but their eyes never left Villain.

Villain returned to their toolbelt. After a moment of digging in their toolbelt, they found what they were looking for. A pair of long, thin tweezers, usually used for handling delicate wires, was held in their fingers. It would have to do.

Villain pulled themselves closer, trapping Hero’s legs with their own so they could sit over them, giving themselves full access to the injury. “Now, I need you to let me see your hands.”

Hesitantly, Hero’s hands moved instead to rest against Villain’s knees. They squeezed, grip tight.

Villain reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Hero’s face.

And then they got to work.

#hurtmyfavsthanks #YESSSSSSSSSS #this is beautiful amazing stunning incredible

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rainey-day-reads · 3 months

Text

False Pretenses

Part 1: The Spark

At the peak of the war between angels and demons, a demon general finds out a newly captured angel is his soulmate - or is he?

Stuck in enemy territory, an angel needs to escape before his nemesis finds out his true identity - or worse, before the lie he’s weaving between them comes to light.

When his friend goes missing in enemy territory, Nimai loses all reason. It’s not a good idea to sneak into demon lands searching for them, and yet he makes a plan that’s bound to fail and goes anyway.

He is the first one not to be surprised when he’s found and captured.

The demons bind his wings in an uncomfortable harness meant to keep angels grounded. They touch them to do it, which is worse than the harness itself. The crawling sensation makes Nimai grit his teeth and fight not to lash out and make the situation worse for himself. If he fights back, they will break them.

They hang him up by his wings and leave him in a cold, dark cell, waiting.

What a foolish way to die. He hopes his friend will never know what happened to him. They are probably dead. Nimai is a pragmatic angel, and maybe - just maybe - he doesn’t want to live in a world without them.

It takes about an hour before the door opens again and none other than Commander Zeran walks in.

Despite having made peace with his circumstances, the sight of the demon still makes Nimai tense up. There’s no real way to escape, no one will come to rescue him. Now it’s a matter of going out with dignity, and keeping his lips sealed.

That won’t be possible if Zeran recognizes him.

Nimai hides behind his hair, head hung low, and listens as the footsteps approach.

“I am told you were found putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Zeran says, a hint of amusement to his words. “Awfully unwise of you.” He takes a minute to circle Nimai’s bound form, watching him, his bound wings, the simple uniform he’s wearing - not his usual, proper uniform, thank the gods.

When he’s done, he comes in front of him and reaches for his hair, taking hold of the roots and pulling Nimai’s head back. “Now, let’s see what…” His voice trails off, his dark eyes going a little wide.

Nimai looks back at him, blank faced, slowly breathing out. “Commander.” For once he allows his accent to give the words a gentle lilt. “A pleasure.”

The demon tilts his head gently to the side, eyes strangely intense. “Hello, darling.” A soft murmur, almost awed. “What a situation you got yourself in, mh?”

#levwrites #a SERIES YOU SAY #oh i am gonna eat this shit UP #obsessed already

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rainey-day-reads · 3 months

Text

Prompt #256

The henchman was new. A tall, muddy-eyed specimen sent over from Supervillain’s labs to—by Villain’s best estimation—watch them.

Villain had intentionally placed them in their personal security detail to prove that they had nothing to hide—no hidden agendas or plans of mutiny here. Yet, after two weeks, the henchman’s gaze still followed them closely. Even now, as Villain bent over the newest batch of truth serum, checking each bottle for it tell-tale luminescence, their neck prickled under the henchman’s stare.

“Do you need something?” Villain said coldly.

The words reverberated and disappeared into the dark depths of the laboratory. The lack of an immediate reply blanketed the space in even greater quiet.

“Just thinking about how pretty you look in that lighting,” Henchman finally said.

Villain did not react. Responding strongly would only bring on whatever satisfaction Henchman hoped to get out of this exchange. However, they could not help but touch a finger to their temple, the start of the network of pale scars that traversed their entire face. Sometimes they could still feel the sting of the blade under their skin.

“Please refrain from mocking me.” Villain shook another vial, illuminating their face in a burst of spectral green, before placing it in the box of successes. “You might not like the outcome.”

“I’m not making fun,” Henchman said, tone sober. “You are attractive and intelligent and vicious, and if you’d let me, I’d like to take you out.”

“I bet it would make a good story for the barracks.”

“I wouldn’t have to tell.”

“I don’t care what you do.”

“Is that a yes?”

Villain half-turned toward Henchman, a rejection sitting on their tongue. The grunt stood like a solider, hands clasped behind their back, but the look in their eyes was not to protocol. Too rapt. Too longing. Too…intrusive.

Villain’s insides squirmed. Henchman was undeniably lovely: chiseled face, impressive figure, hair your hands could get lost in. Word had it they’d already been invited out by several other henchmen and lab techs. But they’d never asked anyone themselves before. What would it be like to experience romance with such a desirable creature, even as a joke? Romantic intentions from anyone was only a dream they could wake up from.

They clenched their hand at their side before it could wander back to their scars. “Yes.”

#thepenultimateword #YESSSSSSS i love evil 1 x evil 2 dynamics #thank you op i am obsessed with this

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rainey-day-reads · 3 months

Text

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

#strangelittlestories #oh my god yes yes yes YES YES YESSSSS #beautifully written amazing story short and sweet #10/10 no notes

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rainey-day-reads · 4 months

Text

Biggest Fan

“So. You’re a villain,” Hero said.

Villain stretched their arms over their head and averted their eyes to the next rooftop over. “Yup.”

“How’d you get mixed up in the whole…uh…hostage situation?”

“Supervillain doesn’t really care?” Villain said. “They literally just pick people off the street. Doesn’t even check who they are. I’ve been an accomplice to their crimes for five years. They still don’t know my name. Or apparently my face. Or maybe they just didn’t mind if I died.”

Villain swung their legs back and forth over the edge as the hero took that in. For some reason, they felt guilty. Guilty that they weren't a civilian and that they'd put Hero in this awkward situation. Maybe that was ridiculous--it wasn't as if this was their plan--but they still couldn't shake it.

“Would you have still saved me?" they muttered at their knees. "If you knew?”

Hero immediately turned to face them, eyebrows scrunched into a ridiculous expression of concern. An expression meant all for them. “Of course. I…uh…might have left out the 'your hero is here to save you' part though.”

They blushed, and Villain chuckled.

“If it helps…I am a fan.”

“What? Really? Is that even allowed?”

Villain shrugged. “Villains don’t really do rules…or friends. So who’s going to stop me? Supervillain? They've never been to my house, and I keep the poster in my bedroom anyway, so--"

"Poster?"

It was Villain's turn to blush now. "Th-there was a special at the store. The poster came free with a book I bought. I didn't just go buy a poster of you. I'm not weird. And even if I did, there are two thousand people in this city with the same poster, so what does it matter if I'm a villain? I'm still a person! I can think a hero looks attractive in their uniform. Not that I'm saying...you are..."

They trailed off into mortified silence, but when they finally dared meet Hero's eyes, they were smiling. So warm.

"Would you sign my trading card?" Villain blurted out before they could stop themself.

Hero actually laughed this time, and it was beautiful. "Only if you sign mine. Which villain are you? Sorry, I don't think we've even introduced ourselves properly."

Villain froze. They weren't prepared for this to end yet. For Hero's charming smile to morph into loathing and disgust. They didn't have to tell them, right? This memory didn't have to sour. It wasn't like they would really see them again anyway.

"Um...I'm new," they lied. "I don't have a card yet."

"But didn't you say you've helped Supervillain for five--"

"Henchman work!" Villain said. "I worked for Supervillain as a henchman. I only recently reached actual villain status. They don't really give you a card until you reach a certain level of notoriety."

"Then I'll make one for you!" Hero said. Their face was absolutely beaming. "Just for fun. What are you calling yourself?"

"I uh...well... Green...no er... Dark..." Villain gave up. "You know, I haven't really figured that out either."

"Then how about I just call you Savant? I mean, you know way more about me than I do about you."

Villain stared at them dazedly. They could be washed away in those ocean blue eyes. "Sure..."

Hero grinned wide, obviously pleased with themself. Silly thing, it was just a name. "I'll...see you next week? Same time, same place, with our cards?"

"Yeah," Villain said.

"Great! Then I better get going. More people to save." They swung over the ledge and landed on their feet in mid-air as if it were solid ground. "Can you get down on your own?"

Villain thumbed over the shoulder toward the stairwell.

"Ah," Hero said. "Right. Then...I'll...see you around."

They shot Villain one last smile then a blasting air current rushing beneath their feet carried them away.

Villain dropped their face in their hands, a late rush of warmth searing their fingertips. Their heart pounded loud and heavy in their ears.

They were in so much trouble.

Part Two

#thepenultimateword #BANGER of a series #obsessed with heroes and villains having trading cards too????? hilarious #read this it fucks severely

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rainey-day-reads · 4 months

Text

tasty tasty little whump detail: someone gently adjusting an oxygen mask to hospitalised whumpee’s face, while cupping their face, caressing the straps, and stroking their hair. bonus points if whumpee is all sleepy and delirious and caretaker looks at them so so lovingly

#cookies-and-coffee #youre so right!!!!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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rainey-day-reads · 4 months

Note

Can we get an inexperienced/new Villain with a Superhero who has much more experience and knowledge. Maybe the Villian is a little shy and doesn't know what to say to the Superhero since it's The Superhero™

“First time?” the hero asked.

The villain looked up, terrified. Their foot had been crushed by the rubble coming from above when the ceiling had collapsed onto them. Honestly, they had panicked, had realised there was a kid still inside the building. They rushed towards them and had somehow managed to save them.

Are you a hero? the kid had asked and the villain had been in too much pain to answer. They had choked out a “go” and pushed them away to safety. For the last thirty minutes they had been contemplating cutting off their own foot.

God, they couldn’t do it. Apparently, they sucked at this, too.

They nearly sobbed.

“Oh, hold on…” The hero pushed up the concrete the villain was trapped under with ease — something that super-strength was really useful for — and let the villain crawl out. Like a deer in headlights, the villain looked around, stared at the hero, at the collapsed building. They tried to run but their foot didn’t work.

And so, they gasped for air and fell over, back into the dirt. Their lungs hurt. That broken foot was clearly not the only thing that held them back from fleeing.

However, the hero walked up to them and crouched down.

“Relax,” they said, stretching their hand out as if to calm down an anxious animal. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Go away—” the villain said, almost begged but the hero only eyed them and tilted their head gently.

“Deep breaths, come on.” Once again, the villain tried to stand up and go but their feet failed and their muscles betrayed them. There was glass on the ground, thousands of shards and they cut their fingers. Red blood covered the pavement in seconds and the pain was, once again, almost too much to handle. They sat down and leaned against a wall that was still standing, trying to grasp the fact that they were gonna lose their foot. The adrenaline wore off.

The villain was sure the hero would kill them or at least arrest them. They’d been a fool anyway, thinking they could shape the world into something better, into something more secure. But bombing senators and politicians didn’t seem to go all too well for them.

“Hey, look at me.” The hero’s voice was soft. Too soft. “It’s okay.”

It was just the two of them. And still, the villain felt overwhelmed. They pressed themselves closer against the wall and kept their eyes on the hero. Someone like this was scary for villains on TV. But right now, they seemed a little too friendly.

This was the hero. The city’s hero.

“Your hands, please.” The villain didn’t have a choice, the hero’s hands were around their own and turned them, until both of them could see the bloody palms.

“That’s quite a mess you’ve made. I’ve been watching your moves for a while now.” They observed the villain’s hands, found a little shard inside their flesh and pulled it out. The villain winced. Suddenly they pulled out bandages — the villain assumed that was normal for heroes — and carefully bandaged the villain’s hands.

“I…”

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t say anything. I’m not allowed to do this, actually. And you could get into more trouble,” the hero said. They seemed to be telling the truth which confused the villain even more. Wasn’t the hero supposed to be the bad guy? Why on earth were they helping them if it was against the rules?

“I don’t understand,” the villain admitted.

“You don’t have to, I just ask of you to hear me out. Your foot is crushed and I doubt your ribcage is doing any better. I can bring you to our facility and the medics will take care of your wounds.” They paused for a moment, thinking about how to word the next part. Obviously, there was a catch. “But you will be questioned for what you have done. You will be punished for it.”

The hero finished with the bandages.

“You may never walk again if you don’t come with me,” the hero said. “I know your motives are something only you can understand completely. But from what I’ve seen, you’re not trying to hurt innocent people. I don’t do this normally but I’m giving you a choice.”

They hadn’t let go of the villain’s hands yet.

“Maybe it’s not too late to switch sides,” the hero said.

“I know what side I’m on,” the villain whispered. “But I’ll accept this. I need help.”

The hero nodded.

And both weren’t aware that they’d change each other’s lives forever.

#save the villainous cat #YESSSSS I LOVE THISSSSS

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rainey-day-reads · 5 months

Text

Partner in Crime

For @thepenultimateword's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza

Song prompt submitted by @starry-night-author - I hope this does what you'd imagined justice!

(song info at the end, read the snippet first :)

Empty shadows and dim streetlights.

A locked door and a pair of headlights.

Henchman slid down further in the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked strategically across the street from her quarry as the pale lights pulled around the corner and the silence of the empty street was shattered.

--already late, got to hurry. He might have already left and if I blow this job--

Crooked tires and a slamming door.

--do I have all the supplies? Yes, you checked twice you numskull, the code, the code, don’t drop anything--

The figure fumbled over their bags until a single finger snaked out towards the shining metal buttons that stood out against the weathered side of the of the old brick mansion that took up half the block.

--there we go, 64729, yes now the handle, no!--

A thick folder smacked against the ground, and the crouched awkwardly with their laden arms to reclaim it, turning enough that the streetlight gleamed off the smooth cheeks of the fresh-faced hero.

When the door finally slammed shut behind them, Henchman dropped her focus, and the chaotic thoughts faded into the quiet buzzing of a trapped fly.

Four weeks of nightly surveillance, and she finally had the last code they needed.

Her pen scratched across the inside of her wrist. 64729.

As the minutes turned to hours, she let her eyes close and her mind wander. He wouldn’t want to wait, not with the XX approaching, Everything else was already in place. Tomorrow, the wait would be over.

The sky was two shades lighter when the door finally opened again.

The figure reimerged, hands empty, and darted to their car, head ducked and eyes scanning the shadows.

The red tail lights were still visible when Henchman blinked, and he was beside her, the driver's door already clicking shut.

His thoughts hummed, flying by like a bullet train, smooth and blurred like they always were. “You got it?” It was more a statement than a question, and Henchman pressed her lips together to keep from beaming at the unspoken praise.

“I got it,” she confirmed, twisting her arm to show him the numbers on her wrist.

This thoughts zoomed, as fast as he was, until the train slowed into a single track of a toy train running circles under a tree as he caught her hand and slowly kissed the inside of her wrist.

Genius, brilliant talent, indispensable.

Henchman was glad for the shadows that kept the heat in her cheeks hidden.

When his mind raced, it was like a override channel, white noise she could focus on to tune out the chaos of the crowds around her.

But she loved even more the rich texture of his mind when he slowed down and his thoughts turned to appreciation. His praises never failed to make her melt.

“You’re incredible, H.”

She barely stopped herself from responding with “No you are.” It would have been too corny, and unnecessary. Villain was a genius, and he knew it.

His thoughts picked up again, flying by but at a pace she could follow. A silver keypad, a brick hallway, a gleaming brass safe. His forehead brushed her as his thoughts slowed to a stop as the safe swung open and revealed their treasure.

She looked into his dark scheming eyes, so close to hers.

“Tomorrow?”

Villain smiled the wicked smile she loved so much, and, in her mind, he leaned forward an inch until their lips finally met.

He sat back into his seat, already running through the plan again.

“Tomorrow.”

-------

Hurry, hurry we’re going to be late!

Two cappuccinos, one americano, one diet americano, three blacks, two chai-- no three? Was it two? Mia, Thomas, Mindy? Did she have one?? Who am I missing--

Four blocks down and take a left--

I should have picked the black shoes, I can already feel the blisters forming.

Can I just quit and sell books online? I don’t want to people today…

Get out of the way you moron it looks like rain twelve dozen is not enough cute dog there she is I want oh sorry they’re calling again now please sweaters work open mine stopmyturnclosebootslatepeopleparkwalkinggo--

“Henchman.”

Large hands dropped on her shoulders, and the flood of voices disappeared as the purring hum of thoughts wrapped around her.

Villain slid one hand down her shaking arms to grasp her hand.

“Henchman.”

At the second time, she looked up at him.

“You can do this. Twenty minutes and we will be back at base.”

Base. Headquarters. Safety. Home.

The sanctuary Villain had made for her where no other minds could drown out her own.

Henchman turned back to the street crowded with light and people. So different from its quiet shadows of the night.

“Henchman.”

She pulled her eyes back to Villain. “Six minutes of focus, and then it will be over.” His hand on her shoulder tightened. “Six minutes, just like we practiced.”

She forced a swallow and a nod.

His mind ran through the plan once more, and she did her best to follow as the voices pressed against her.

When Villain was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall apart, he released her and stepped back.

“We’ll just walk down the street like a happy couple and slip inside.”

The nod came easier this time. It was an image she often pictured.

The hand that was still wrapped around hers shifted until their fingers were intertwined, and her heart stuttered as he pulled her out of the alley and into the stream of pedestrians.

The warmth of it occupied her mind until Villain pulled her to an abrupt halt and before she’d registered they’d stopped, the door was open and they were slipping into the narrow brick hallway.

Henchman lost track of the turns as Villain pulled her through the labyrinth of hallways.

Using the humming of his thoughts as a buffer as she used her powers to avoid guards and patrons as he dragged her through the repurposed mansion.

Three minutes and fourth two seconds since they left the safety of the alley, they came to a stop in front of a wide mahogany door.

Villain picked the lock in the blink of an eye. His hand on the handle, he turned back to her.

Henchman shook her head.

No minds were present behind that door.

The safe was covered by the painting behind the desk. A cheap imitation of a Monet that was worth less than the gaudy frame that held it.

Henchman dropped into the leather desk chair with a sigh of relief as Villain went to work at the safe.

The whirring of the safe handle was the only sound as Henchman shuffled through the desk drawers, pocketing a golden hilted letter opener and a ruby crusted pennant ring.

Leaning back in the chair, she enjoyed the pillowing cushion of silence that eased the pounding headache that was building behind her eyes.

Through the window she heard a dog barking and the distant echo of a siren.

Henchman sat up with a jolt as the final tumbler dropped into place and the door to the safe creaked open.

“Wait!”

A cloud of mist exploded from the safe; her warning too little, too late.

Henchman doubled over as the tear gas burned her eyes. The door they’d closed behind them slammed open, and the flood of mind-voices returned like a tidal wave.

A room that blocked out the thoughts of others. Oh how foolish she’d been. Villain had created for her just such a space.

The voices crested with the throbbing in her head that had returned tenfold.

The loudest of the voices was filled with derision.

“Did you really think we were such fools?”

A hand on her shoulder.

She ignored the judgment in the hero’s question and looked up at her partner in crime. His eyes were creased with regret.

Villain.

It was as if he was the one reading her mind this time.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. A ten lane freeway rather than a bullet train.

Analyzing all the possibilities.

But Henchman already knew the answer.

He’d come back for her.

She lifted her hand to his on her shoulder.

“Run.”

The song for this prompt was Partner in Crime by Madilyn Mai

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword @sorrow-and-bliss @technikerin23 @deflated-bouncingball @talesofurbania1 @rivalriotrenegade @valiantlytransparentwhispers

#writing on the wahl #this is so fukn cooooooool i LOVE it

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rainey-day-reads · 5 months

Text

in the dark

“You know? Hostage or not, sometimes it’s just nice to be held.”

The villain nearly jumped six feet in the air. They’d just flicked on the old light in the lair basement, not expecting to come face-to-face with their old nemesis. At least not on a Monday morning. Clearly their villainous co-conspirators had other plans and now deemed Monday mornings were for hostage-taking.

“Jesus Christ,” the villain swore, nearly dropping the boxes they’d been carrying.

“Nope, just me.”

The villain resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

Their golden little hero was indeed tied to a chair in the now-dimly lit basement. A gag lay discarded on the floor where the hero had evidently spit it out. The villain raked their gaze over the hero, taking in the scene. It really wasn’t fair how the hero still looked so golden after a, well, kidnapping. A bruise bloomed on their jaw and their eyes were a little too bright, as they usually were when faced with an obstacle. Or a fight.

“See something you like?” the hero drawled.

The villain rolled their eyes this time, setting down the boxes. “I came down for cleaning supplies. The lab’s a mess.”

“Hmm… I'd help but I haven’t had a chance to look around.”

The villain snorted.

The hero continued, prattling off while the villain gathered up Windex and Clorox. “I asked your coworkers for a tour of the rest of the building. Particularly those shiny labs you lot are always monologuing about.”

“Ah, and what did they say to that?”

“I think I was actually getting through to them this time! That is, until they sedated me.”

The villain shook their head in mock sympathy. “Tough crowd around here.”

“Evidently.” The hero leaned back in their restraints. “It wore off quickly though. Do you have the time, by any chance?”

The villain frowned. “What are you doing here, exactly?”

“…you took me as a hostage.”

The villain regretted asking the question as soon as the hero’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the realization that the villain was in the dark about this specific operation.

“You weren’t behind this, were you?” The hero asked. Though, it was less of a question and more of an easy deduction. Amateur on the part of the villain, to let that slip. They now fought the urge bury their head in their hands.

“I wasn’t behind this,” the villain confirmed.

The hero smiled gleefully. “I knew you had a soft spot for me-”

“That has nothing to do with-” the villain took a centering breath. “I wasn’t behind this, believe it or not.”

“I should have known. I mean, other than you screaming like a little girl, they didn’t even use the right dosage to keep me out. It’s honestly a blessing you came along when you did. At least you know how to properly drug me.”

The villain stilled, narrowed their eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“The whole night, probably.” The hero caught themselves. “Not that it was a problem or anything-” They added quickly.

“You were here? In the dark?”

Anyone who knew the hero knew their… phobia for lack of a better term. Back at university, before the villain and the hero were ‘the villain’ and ‘the hero,’ the villain had deemed it nyctophobia. The Greek word for night, and well, phobia. Fear of the dark. They’d had to keep a night light on in their university dorm. The villain had teased them mercilessly for it, until they’d finally found out why.

“I was fine, really.” The hero assured them. “I can handle it.”

“Uh huh.”

What the villain had been taking for pure cockiness – joy derived from prattling off aimlessly in the direction of the villain – was actually... relief.

The hero cleared their throat, evidently wanting to move on as quickly as possible. “Do you happen to know why I’m here? Obviously, you didn’t know I was here, but now that you’ve found me. Are there any… plans? Or anything? Anything ring a bell?”

“I fear I’m in the dark as much as you.” As soon as the words left the villain’s mouth, the door to the basement slammed shut with a bang that caused the villain to jump another six feet into the air.

Then, the lights flickered. And went out.

“Shit.”

#abrokenherocomplex #aughhhh heroes with phobias!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! delicious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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rainey-day-reads · 5 months

Text

The Hero and the Infant: part one

Is this title my cheeky little nod at EPIC the musical? Absolutely, enjoyyyyy!

*~*~*~*~*

The heroes came running when the world was on fire. They always came running. Hero was at the bar, where they always were, watching the news. A neat whiskey clutched between bandaged fingers.

The door slammed open. Hero didn’t have to turn to know it was Superhero’s sidekick. “Hero –”

“Not interested.”

“But Villain –”

“I know. Don’t care,” Hero replied. Daryl, the bartender, shot Hero a look and Hero pretended to not see it.

Sidekick sat on the stool next to Hero and ordered another: “whiskey; neat.”

“Mmm, I love being bribed,” Hero smiled, winking at Daryl.

“Villain’s destroying the city.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And you’re here, drinking.”

“Perceptive,” Hero purred, taking the whiskey glass from Daryl and pouring the honey liquid of it into their glass. “They’re a minor,” Hero whispered to Daryl conspiratorially.

“I’m not.”

“Well, then. You’re on the clock. Can’t fight crime if you’re impaired.”

“And yet somehow you manage.”

“Somehow, I’m always called in on my day off. Blame your boss for disrupting my plans. Not the other way around, sunshine.”

Hero took a sip of their drink. In their peripheral vision they saw Sidekick turn their body to face Hero. Mmm, getting serious. Hero loved serious Sidekick. It’s like a puppy trying to be mean.

“You know Villain best –”

“Bullshit. Your Superhero knows them longest.”

“Villain likes you best,” Sidekick amended, and Hero nodded.

“So? Are we match making heroes and villains now? Is that Superhero’s excuse, hmm? Will that same explanation slide if I come up against a new villain?” Hero put on a high-pitched voice as they said: “oh I’m sorry superhero. This new villain’s rising sign is Virgo. I’m a Scorpio, we’re gonna clash.”

“This is different, and you know it.”

“How is this different? Because your beloved Superhero says so? Are you just a little dog with no mind of your own? Does Superhero whistle and you come?”

“I’m not here to trade insults, Hero. God knows that could well be your superpower,” Hero took the words as a compliment as the kid continued: “I’m here to ask you to help me stop people’s lives being ruined. Normal people’s lives. Fuck Superhero. Fuck villain. Fuck the whole fucking system. I’m here to ask you, to help me. Please.”

Hero looked at Daryl and Daryl looked at them. Hero rolled their eyes and tipped their head back, the whiskey running hot down their aching throat. Then they stood. Empty glass on the bar. Hero shrugged their trench coat on and patted Sidekick’s shoulder fondly.

“Pay Daryl for me will ya? And a big tip, for the inconvenience. See you tomorrow, Daryl,” Hero waved over their shoulder. Whistling as they walked out the door of their local pub.

“Thanks Daryl,” Sidekick said, paying the man and leaving a generous tip.

“Thank me all you want kid. Hero’ll just be back in here after the fight. It’s good to see them getting out, even if it is under these circumstances. Y’know ever since –”

“I know, Daryl. Thanks.”

“Later kid.”

Sidekick followed Hero out the door, where Hero was waiting a lit cigarette hanging from their lips.

“So,” Hero asked, flicking their zippo lighter shut with a satisfying click, shooting Sidekick their signature lazy smirk. “What’s Villain up to today?”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

#patchworkorphan #love this im obsessed with sidekicks that end up the more responsible of the two lmaooo

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