👻

They stood in front of the door for a few more moments before the sides of their mouth twitched downwards, confused at the lack of a response. Then, they knocked again, this time slightly louder in the hopes that they’d only been too quiet, rather than ignored altogether.

Another thirty seconds passed. Silence. A regular person would have assumed the resident to be out for the day, but Villain knew for a fact that wasn’t the case (how they’d come about this was not a relevant detail and required no further examination, of course).

Villain, petulent and persistent, did not like the prospect of being ignored. For Hell’s sake, they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t have an important reason. So, instead of leaving and returning another time, they knocked again.

And this time, they did not stop. Entirely aware that the house’s resident was home and capable of hearing them, Villain slammed on the door repeatedly and with increasing haste and volume until they heard protesting from inside.

“Ok, ok, ok, Jesus, I’m coming!” came a call from inside that made Villain’s hand retreat from the door and return to its former position: gently cradling the item in their hands.

Sharply, as though its owner was displeased (they were), the door swung open to reveal a particularly disgruntled Hero, hair unkempt and outfit making it clear they weren’t expecting company.

Before they could ask why on earth Villain was at their doorstep, they glanced down to the possession in their companion’s hands, and a look of utter exasperation washed over their features.

“Don’t say it. Don’t.”

“I have to, Hero. It’s the law,” Villain responded far more seriously than the situation required, like they were actually going to be apprehended for this. In actuality, it would be more likely for Hero to arrest them for disturbing them.

Hero didn’t endulge them with a response, staring deadpan at the criminal in front of them. It had been a long while since Hero had felt truly threatened by Villain, so made no move to defend their house.

“Can I at least come in? Because if we have to do this at your doorstep I’m more likely to burst into so—“ Villain was interrupted by Hero yanking them indoors by the collar uninterestedly.

Villain looked around at the furniture, surprisingly colourless and dull considering the date today. They were expecting at least a little something.

“You’re certainly a festive person, aren’t you?” Villain joked dryly as they took in the lack of excitement in the hero’s living quarters. It almost made them a little sad, but maybe they’d been busy or something. “What’s with the lack of celebrations?”

Hero made a notably disapproving face, like they could somehow convince the villain to drop the subject entirely even though they’d never been able to deter the criminal from doing anything.

Especially if it annoyed the crimefighter in particular.

Something inside of them seemed to wear in and they shut their eyes tightly, trying to at least block out as much of the situation as they could if it had to happen. Even though their vision was blocked, they could practically sense Villain’s excitement.

“I’m just not a birthday person, Vil. Not sure why you thought I would be,” they groaned, one hand raising up to softly massage their own temples.

The hero wasn’t the type of person who seemed to particularly look forward to anything, like they’d achieved all of their worthwhile goals and were now just waiting things out until their inevitable closure. Villain supposed they could relate, not one to usually have plans scheduled on their calendar, but at least they tried to put some whimsy into their work.

Hero never appreciated the whimsy. Usually because it made cleaning up a crime scene much less fun when glitter was involved.

“You’ve never been a birthday person before. I get it, your life is all grey misery and dull suffering,” Villain exaggerated their words, hoping that the hero didn’t take it as an offense even though it was true. “No time for happiness when there’s crime in the world.”

“Get to the point, Villain.”

“What I’m trying to say is that your favourite little agency is a bore. I’ve no doubt that you’ve never had a great birthday because I don’t think those morons have a single whimsical bone in their body. Me, on the other hand:” Villain attempted to gesture to themself, only to find their hands frustratingly full.

Their eyes glanced around the room. It was quite an open space, with both the living room and the kitchen sharing the same bland walls. Not a single painting was hung up, with no photographs on any surfaces. Part of Villain wondered if Hero had any photographs of themself that wasn’t just from a press conference.

Then, their gaze settled on the kitchen countertop. Empty enough to free their hands momentarily and almost professionally clean. It didn’t seem like Hero cooked here much. They probably didn’t get enough time (or money, knowing the agency) to cook something fresh.

The criminal walked over to the countertop and plopped down their gift. It was perhaps the most chocolatey cake both Hero and Villain had ever seen, and even looking at it had made their pair feel a tad nauseous.

On top was a concerning amount of candles, making the cake somehow a larger fire hazard than Villain was, a feat seldom acomplished. Villain didn’t actually know how old Hero was, so had opted for just as many candles as they could find ‘to be sure’.

Their uncertainty wasn’t due to a lack of trying, though. Villain had dug incessantly into Hero’s life, and found the agency kept very few documents regarding their personal information.

No government name, no age, no mention of close family or relatives. Just their hero details and a few notes about their recruitment. The only reason Villain had discovered Hero’s birthday was because the agency had a sickening habit of recruiting all their heroes on their birthdays.

“Look, Villain, I appreciate the effort, sincerely,” Hero did not sound in the slightest sincere, but Villain knew that was just how they talked. “But I highly doubt this is a problem you’ll be able to fix, enthusiasm be damned.”

Villain tilted their head slightly. They truly were the closest thing to an excitable puppy that a criminal could achieve.

“I just—“ Hero couldn’t finish their sentence and Villain felt they’d hit a sensitive point here, like a blade slicing easily through its opponents skin but jolting when it hit the bone.

The crimefighter looked up and for the first time today stared directly into Villain’s eyes. Something inside of them wanted to open up but had been so used to the gruelling nature of their job that it felt almost foreign to trust someone so innately.

Hero leant against the back of their couch, hand darting to their mouth as they appeared deep in contemplation. Villain walked over to them slightly. They hadn’t expected this to be something so serious for Hero.

Wordlessly, and after a few moments of shockingly not-so-awkward silence, they reached into their pocket and fished out something small and seemingly worn down by time, folded over so many times that the crease had whitened the paper.

Tracing a gentle finger over it first, Hero unfolded the photograph to reveal a group photo with a much younger Hero at the centre, seeming to be celebrating their birthday in years gone by.

Villain didn’t recognise a single face in the lineup. And that fact alone made them realise exactly what was troubling the hero.

Everyone knew that the hero agency recruited young. They were thrown into action quickly too, most reaching the battlefield before their sixteenth birthday even came around. Hero had been no different, recruited at thirteen.

Villain grimaced at the mental image of such a small, innocent version of Hero being pulled away from their family and friends at that young of an age, if nothing else but because it brought back memories.

Memories of someone they held dear, a few years their junior, being led astray by agency recruiters and never seen again. Villain never knew if they made it past training or not. But what they did know is the path it sent them down, first to hopelessness and grief, and then to an allconsuming desire for justice.

Hero’s voice brought the villain back to the present moment, as it so often did.

“I was never stupid, even then. I knew what they were training us to be. Expendable. And in some sickening way I made peace with the expectation that I’d never last this long.”

“But then you did.”

A brief pause. Hero’s breathing sounded shallower.

“Every time I go out on another mission, I think to myself this is going to be the one. You’ve run out of that foolish luck of yours, and you can’t keep outrunning the inevitable forever. I guess it just feels hard to anticipate the years ahead if it feels like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Villain can’t imagine what it must be like: to be trained to die. To be raised with the expectation that you’ll fulfill a short-lived purpose and then fizzle out, replaced by a sharper blade than your own.

The criminal slid a comforting hand around Hero’s side, signalling to the crimefighter that physical contact was welcome if they so desired it, but not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“I’m sorry Vil, this isn’t your problem, I shouldn’t be whinging to you like this. It’s just been on my mind this past week and I suppose you’re the first person willing to listen,” Hero explained. Clearly the agency had made a point to reinforce that vulnerability was a thing best kept to yourself.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what it feels like. The agency are far more evil than anything I’ve ever done, and I’m malicious by profession. But no matter what, I’m going to stay here as long as it takes for you to feel better, and then some, ok?”

Hero was visibly on the verge of tears, but Villain knew those drops would never fall, barricaded in by a wall of emotion resilience that nobody should ever have to develop.

“Why?”

“Hero, when I met you, it gave me something to look forward to. A reason to await the next sunrise with excitement, not just dread, because I would get to see you. I want to return the favour.”

The criminal shifts their torso slightly, angled towards their companion. Truly, all they want right now is to make sure Hero has someone today. It was supposed to be special for them.

“I don’t understand what it’s like to go through everything you did, but I understand how it feels to be without a purpose. To not feel like there’s anything to look forward to in your life. And it sucks. So I promise you, if nothing else, I will be that for you.”

Hero laughed bitterly, but their mouth upturned nonetheless. In spite of their present titles, they cared for each other dearly. Friends in every manner of the term except for officially as their respective bosses would crucify them.

Then, the do-gooder leaned in, closing the gap and resting their head on Villain’s shoulder, humming slightly as their friend began to stroke their hair in a mind-numbingly soft pattern. It was unfair how well they seemed to know what made Hero happy.

After a few moments of blissful peace, Villain spoke up again, mind still focusing on their original reason to visit.

“Want me to blow up the agency as a birthday gift?” Villain asked sincerely.

“I can think of something better.” Hero maneuvered to look the villain directly in the eyes again.

“Is it explosive?”

“Some might say.”

At that instant, Hero swooped in softly, hands cradling Villain’s face like they were a present themself, and met their lips gently, eliciting a surprised but certainly content noise from the criminal who reciprocated immediately.

“I’m here,” Villaim murmured in between the kiss, slightly breathless from the action. The pair only pulled away for a much needed breath.

“You taste like chocolate cake,” Hero commented lightly, a thinly veiled accusation.

I know it’s a cliche and has been written before but I love it so much. If you wanna spin it a different please do! Pretty much I just love a misunderstanding scene with a “who did this to you” or the villain realizing that the super hero is the real villain

The clattering that echoed down the hallways of Villain’s lair felt too obvious. Someone with enough skill to locate their base and get past security surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to make such a loud racket when they were trying to be stealthy.

A trap, probably. A pretty poor one too, considering it was Villain’s first thought, but if security were having a bad day perhaps someone with a skill of that caliber could have snuck past them.

It would make the most sense to send the guards in first. If they were trying to lure people over rather than go in all guns ablaze then they’d probably get outnumbered quickly by the amount of men under Villain’s formidable command.

However it had been a tediously slow week, and Villain was desperate for at least something engaging to happen. It wasn’t wise to go into a fight that wasn’t necessary to begin, but they were oh so bored and decided this might as well become something fun.

The cacophany of sound didn’t slow or halter as Villain’s footsteps drew closer to the origin of the noise. That crossed off the possibility of a poorly executed stealth mission — if they were trying to be subtle they’d at least stop rummaging until Villain passed by.

Villain turned a corner, noting how the door to their office was wide open so carelessly it was almost an impressive feat (or lackthereof), and entered the familiar room. It was a mess.

Papers spilled all across the floor, dripping down from drawers that had been hastily yanked open and suffocating the parquet wood that lined the ground. Anything that was initially locked had clearly either been jammed open or broken with brute force: no attempt to identify a key had been made.

Worst of all was the figure in the middle of the room: a dishevelled, frantic mess clawing their way through Villain’s personal belongings, eyes unfocused and still desperately trying to make some sense of the items before them. Like Villain’s water bottle might hold the secret to their latest victory.

“Hero?” Villain asked hesitantly. This was uncharacteristic for the crimefighter. And, impossibly more terrifying, it didn’t seem much like a trap anymore. Sickeningly, deep down, they were suddenly glad they hadn’t asked their security to apprehend the invader.

It would have been too easy.

“Go away, Vil, not right now,” the hero managed weakly. They sounded frail, like they were on the verge of collapse from either exhaustion or blood loss. Were they? It was hard to tell, considering their body was mostly covered from how hunched over they were, hips leaning against the desk like they had no other choice.

For a second, Villain is elated. Hero is in their base, vulnerable, and this is their chance to swoop in and finish them off. They’ve never really defeated Hero before, always one to opt for a stealthy escape rather than try their hand at a showdown they’d undoubtedly lose to Hero’s usual bravado. A bravado that currently isn’t present at all.

But that moment passes. Because the criminal starts to consider the timeline here and their dreams of conquest come crumbling down. Hero mostly likely got injured (if that isn’t the case, then at the very least something equivalent happened, because look at them). Then, within quick succession of that happening, they ended up at Villain’s base looking for something.

No time to go back to the agency and recharge. That was odd.

The criminal’s first assumption is that someone fought them on the way here. That makes a problem for the both of them, because this is Villain’s territory, every bastard should know that by now. Why would someone try and fight a superhero so close to their base?

Villain looked closer. Hero’s eyes were red; they’d been crying. Their pain tolerance was unfairly impressive and the criminal is certain that not even impalement would cause the crimefighter to shed a tear. This wasn’t a pain response, something had hurt them emotionally.

Judging by the fact that they’d opted to go on a mission in this state, instead of taking the day off to sob into some ice cream, this was normal. This was someone close to them.

Their blood boiled instantly.

Villain walked closer, any malice, frustration, or hatred wiped fascinatingly fast from their face.

“Hey, I’m not gonna fight you. But I need you to tell me what happened, Hero. Because I know something did.” They ushered Hero to take a seat but they refused, focus not at all drifting from the files. They didn’t even respond.

“What’re you looking for?” Villain had a lot of important documents, that was their speciality after all: information. In fact, they had so much that they weren’t entirely certain specifically what Hero needed right now.

“I just— I just need something. There has to something here. Anything. I can’t let— I can’t let it happen again,” Hero replied frantically.

“Is someone threatening you?” Was there a villain trying to kill them? Did they desperately need some dirt on one of Villain’s rivals in order to diffuse a proverbial timebomb?

Hero slammed their fist on the desk. It was a testament to their inhuman strength that the action left a notable dent in the wood. Villain paid it no attention.

“It’s you! I can’t— you just keep getting away and I can’t just let that happen again. I can’t. So there has to be something here I can use, and please just let me find it just this once,” they were somewhere between yelling and sobbing, terrified.

Villain didn’t target civillians. They targeted politicians, world leaders, superheroes. Anyone who gave them some sort of leverage. It was why Hero had never seen them as big of a threat as the rest of the agency did.

This distress over their lack of an arrest was not because they wanted Villain behind bars. But the criminal knew intimately that the agency sure did want them dead and deceased.

Just how far they’d go to achieve that goal, Villain wasn’t entirely sure.

The criminal bit down on their lip, entirely entranced in their own hurried thoughts. They didn’t like the hero. If they could, with a flick of their wrist, send them off to the other half of the world and never have to encounter their face again, they’d be more than willing to do as such.

Their determination to foil every Villain’s plans. Their persistance to keep pushing forward even when the odds were against them and their body was already brusied and broken. Their ridiculously kind nature that felt almost mocking with how brightly it shone through.

All were things that made Villain scowl at the sight of their nemesis. An annoyance, that’s all they were, and their hesitance to end their life at the easy swipe of a blade was not a comtradiction to that testament.

Nobody deserved to experience what they were going through right now, Villain thought internally. Not even them.

Villain reached out a hand. It hovered uncertainly before Hero’s cheek, dampened with sweat and silent tears, before changing its mind and resting on the crimefighter’s shoulder instead. They were painfully tense.

“Whose mission plan was this?” According to Villain’s deductions, someone at the agency had sent them out on a mission in this state with apparently no backup or real game plan. They’d keep that in mind once they’d gotten a name out of Hero.

“This isn’t an official mission, they’re not expecting me to be here. I’m— I chose to be here.” A lie, quite obviously. If this was of their own volition, they’d likely be less frantic about their methods.

But they believed the part about the lack of an official mission. Better to keep something like this off of the books when in case things go South and people ask why Hero was there in the first place.

“Then who made you feel like you had to come here?” Villain asked grimly. Hero flinched at that, usually one to comment on how piercing Villain’s gaze could be, deconstructing a person in seconds of meeting them and getting straight to that vulnerable, human core inside.

“If I don’t arrest you the next time I’m assigned to you, there’ll be a penalty,” Hero started to rationalise, voice quavering. “Obviously, I’m nowhere near close to catching you yet. I’m here to find something to fix that on my own accord, so please just let me have this.”

“That’s an awfully long name.”

Hero scoffed at the sardonic remark like they should have seen it coming (they should have). Villain didn’t want a longwinded explanation as to why. They always knew why. They just wanted to know who.

Who to direct all their anger towards: the anger bubbling ominously inside them that they couldn’t quite comprehend why it had formed in the first place.

“You really think I’m at liberty to be giving out names here? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

“If you were against the idea, you’d be arguing that you wouldn’t betray their trust, not that you’re banned from telling me. So indulge me as we both know you’re desperate to.”

Hero had their head firmly planted in their hands, distraught.

“Didn’t you hear the part about the penalties? If I don’t get a specific result — one which does not include divulging anything to you — I will be reprimanded,” they pleaded, trying their best to convince Villain to just let all this go and give them their pitiful win just once.

“Hero. There’s nothing here in this room that’ll give you the advantage. If you leave here without telling me anything, you’re going to lose and you’ll be penalised either way. But that won’t happen if I can do something about it.”

The villain slowly started to rub their hand in smoothing circles against the hero’s bicep in a somewhat awkward attempt to comfort them. They practically melted at the feeling, shivering like it was the first time someone had ever shown them kindness in their life.

Villain’s brow furrowed, impossibly more concerned.

Then, the crescendo inside of them seeming to become all too much, Hero broke, quick to bury their head in the stupidly safe and warm crevice of their neck, tightly gripping at Villain’s clothes like they were the one last safety net they had, and they were terrified of losing them too.

“I can’t do this. I can’t.”

There was a reason Villain had dirt on most of the agency. They hadn’t exactly dug up anything insignificant or trivial, like a highschool rivalry or slightly ill-tasted comment about a friend. Most of them had blood on their hands that were still fresh enough to drip.

Villain wondered just when the hero had worked all that out too.

“The next time Superhero sees me, they’re gonna kill me. They’re gonna kill me,” Hero continued, desperate for something to ease the fear inside them. For once Villain didn’t feel smug about getting Hero to accidentally reveal more information than they were intending to.

“It’s ok. You’re never going to have to see them again. I’ll make sure of it,” Villain reassured, and that was the last Hero spoke (intelligbly at least, the criminal couldn’t tell if any of their subsequent blabbering was meant to be a sentence).

The pair stayed in that room, paying no attention to the mess that littered the usually spotless floor, for an indistinguishable amount of time. Hearing the hero, usually so dignified and self assured, whimper terrified into their chest had made time stretch on tediously long for the criminal.

Once Hero had essentially sobbed themself to sleep, the villain elected to carry them towards the closest room, which happened to be their personal quarters (by pure coincidence and not due to an intentional miscalculation on Villain’s behalf), setting them down and watching their chest finally rise and fall in a calm, soothing pattern, no longer hyperventilating.

Outside the room, just as Villain stepped out, Henchmen caught them pulling on their gloves and double checking all their usual weapons were still on their person before they left.

if you haven't done it already, or if you feel inspired to, have you considered writing hero x villain from the pov of an exasperated teammate/sidekick yet? OO) alternatively,, power over usage hurt/comfort my beloved.....something about how a highly guarded and self sacrificial character being forced to be vulnerable for once

“You told me it didn’t hurt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your powers, you told me they didn’t hurt. You lied to me.”

Villain bit down on their tongue. They had said that, huh. They kept their gaze averted, not wanting Hero to see the glimmer of obvious pain in their eyes. Still, they could feel their companion’s hurt stare.

“You’re my enemy. Why would I tell you my biggest weakness? So you could trick me into using my ability to its fullest and taking advantage of the consequences? Or did you just think that criminals were above lying?” Villain spat.

Their words didn’t come across as malicious as they’d hoped. Just tired, because god were they exhausted. They hated their powers to no extent, and this was exactly why.

Hero wrapped the bandage around Villain’s shoulder one more time, hauntingly gentle with their work. The criminal had cut themself on a piece of stray debris once they collapsed.

“Does it always injure you like this? Or did you overexert yourself?” Hero asked.

Their confusion made sense. They’d only gained their powers from the agency, a gift once they’d proved they were worthy enough to wield them. As such, their powers were refined, righteous, and pretty.

Villain had been born with theirs. A curse that had weighted them down like metal chains all their life. Nobody had been there to carefully select which elements of their ability were kind enough to keep.

The display of superhumanity that the agency put on for the public infuriated them to no degree. All the good and wondrous without all of the bad that had left scars up and down their body since age thirteen.

“… it doesn’t always snap my arm into about twelve hundred different pieces, if that’s what you mean,” Villain responded cautiously.

Truthfully, they were lucky it was just their arm that had shattered. There was one instance where both their legs had gone, the bones inside them crumbling.

They didn’t tell Hero that, lest they end up trapped in some sort of bed with the hero refusing to let them up until they’ve fully recovered.

The average power level they needed to reach in order to defeat — or at least deter — a hero didn’t do this to them. It exhausted them to no end, and their body ached every time, but it didn’t annihilate their bones.

But for a split second, they’d panicked. They hadn’t been sure if their usual strength would be enough to take down their enemy. And, without considering the risks, they’d went overkill.

One limb shattered, the rest completely unstable from the pain. But they were alive enough to feel that agony. And so was Hero.

“I’ll be honest, I think your arm injury is a little above my medical knowledge. It looks, uh, really really broken. You need to get some sort of help for this.”

“I can deal with it, I know people with healing abilities, there’s no point going to a hospital If I can just—“

“That’s not what I mean,” Hero asserted. Villain stopped in their tracks, usually the crimefighter didn’t sound so forceful.

“Your powers are actively degrading your body. You can’t keep this up for long, let alone forever. One of these days your muscles are going to collapse and no superhero with a healing ability is going to be able to fix it.”

Frustratingly true. Most healing abilities could only fix short-term, acute damage. If they pushed themself to a degree that caused any long-term, chronic impairment, there’d be no reversal.

“It’d be convenient for you, wouldn’t it? If I either lost the ability to fight you or gave up before I took it that far? Yeah, real fucking convenient for you, I’m sure,” Villain bit back.

They weren’t mad at the hero, but they were hurt and quite frankly terrified of the whole situation. Snarling and barking was the only response they could muster.

“Hey, growl about it all you want, but right now we’re allies. That’s the whole reason we’re both here. That’s the whole reason you just shattered your entire arm to deflect a blow coming my way. Don’t act like I’m trying to kill you here.” Hero genuinely sounded hurt. Like they didn’t understand why this one mission didn’t just change their rivalry.

But, technically speaking, Hero was right. They were allies right now. They had to be, they were the only ones left, really. A large handful of superheroes had “suddenly” turned corrupt. Most of them were the highest ranked ones, leading the agency to grasp for straws.

Supervillains were recruited so long as the pay was tantalising enough. Villain had agreed cautiously, more than anything wanting the opportunity to eliminate a high ranking superhero.

Well, they’d achieved that at least.

Neither one of them had looked back at where Superhero was undoubtably laying, limp amongst the rubble. Villain had expected the hero to double check, or at least show some concern for a former friend and mentor.

All of their attention had been directed straight at Villain. Surrounded by the destruction and pandemonium that their powers would always inevitably bring, their gaze had not faltered for a second. It was flattering, to say the least.

“I could have killed you,” Hero murmured, clearly to themself but in a tone that was audible enough to raise a reaction from Villain.

“What are you talking about? How was any of this your fault, I’m the one who jumped in to kill them?” Villain was thoroughly confused. Hero wouldn’t have gotten them killed even if they were desperately trying to.

“I’m not talking about.. ugh,” Hero groaned in frustration. It sounded like it was anger directed at their own ignorance more than anything. “I’ve been pestering you to use your powers more this entire mission! Something I wouldn’t have done if you told me they do this!”

“And because you didn’t know that means nothing my powers do during this mission — to me or anyone else — are your fault. I know that being the martyr who takes the blame is literally your whole schtick but you couldn’t have known without me telling you. Which I actively chose not to do.”

Hero didn’t seem to listen to them. They were shaking slightly.

“I could have pushed you too far in this mission. I could have pushed you too far in any of our fights. Oh god, have I done that before? Have I left you broken like this?”

“Hero. You’re fine. I’m fine. This was an outlier, and one that I actively made the decision to do.” Technically, both were lies: this happened somewhat frequently and they absolutely did not mean to exert so much force. It was entirely instinctual but they had a feeling that would make Hero feel infinitely worse.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re the one with the broken bones and I’m the one panicking. I just— I just wish you’d told me sooner. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Villain swallowed. Perhaps they’d overestimated how mentally strenous this whole ordeal must have been for Hero, who hypocritically never vocalised their own struggles.

People they’d considered close friends had turned out to be sour from the start, idols that had brought Hero through their darkest times were staining the hero’s only dreams blood red. The agency had been betrayed by people they’d never even considered malicious.

And, to make matters worse, the one single person who had stuck by them without a single betrayal was their archnemesis. It must have been confusing, their entire worldview shifting slightly to the left as they realised they didn’t actually know who to trust.

“Stop worrying about me, Vil. I can see that look on your face. Superhero is dead and that means there’s no longer a threat nearby, so the next priority is fixing you up. Not whether I’m feeling too bad about it all,” Hero tried to reassure.

With that, Hero helped haul them up off of the street floor, an arm securely around their body to keep their debilitated legs from buckling beneath them. Villain’s right arm lay flimsy at their side, flailing slightly as they swayed, and the other one was secured around the crimefighter’s nape.

“How do you get yourself back to base when you’re like this usually?” Hero asked, hoping for some sort of inspiration.

“Involves a lot more crawling than I feel particularly encouraged to do when the streets are looking like this,” Villain gestured towards the road before them with their head. It was covered from start to finish with sharp fragments of wreckage.

“I could—“ the hero began to offer.

“Do not. Carry me,” they warned in response, face hot at the concept even though they looked too sickly to come across as flustered rather than flushed from their ailment.

“It’s a viable option,” Hero argued in response. Agency protocol probably recommended that civilians in distress should be carried to safety when they run the risk of collapsing or treading through sharp debris.

“Oh would you look at that my legs are suddenly fine and I can walk perfectly, no need to keep pestering after all.” Hero’s face dropped again at that, even though it was clearly a jest that even they (in all of their obliviousness) would get.

“You… aren’t gonna keep doing that now, are you? Now that I know what your powers do, you’re not going to keep injuries from me, right?” Hero asked as though that was a reasonable thing to request.

Like they were still going to be friends after this mission. A ridiculous idea. Surely.

“I’m sure you’re not going to give me the opportunity to even tell you if you keep on bugging me with check-ins like this,” Villain groaned back.

(Your work is fantastic as always and I'm always happy to see more of it^^ ⛄)

“You’re in the right place, don’t worry.”

Villain spun around at the voice behind them, looking up from their phone that they’d been refreshing almost obsessively. This definitely wasn’t Supervillain in front of them, that was for sure.

The figure half cloaked in the darkness of the alleyway wasn’t dressed in particularly identifiable gear. A dark, soft-looking jumper paired with black sweatpants didn’t exactly paint a formidable picture. It was their eyes that worried the villain: piercing with the intent to see right through them.

They felt terribly vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here.” Supervillain had told them that they’d be there in person to meet. Don’t trust anyone claiming to be my assistant, eyes and ears are everywhere we turn.

“A friend, hm? In this dingy little alleyway? A little grim for a quaint reunion. I would have gone with a coffee shop, personally.”

The stranger wasn’t all that much taller than Villain, but their chin was raised high enough so that they were looking down on the crimimal with that terrible gaze of theirs.

Villain didn’t really have a response to that. All they could hope was that Supervillain would turn the corner any moment now, and cut down whoever this was that had interrupted their meeting.

“Supervillain isn’t coming. They were detained less than 24 hours ago. Sorry to bring your hopes down,” the stranger remarked casually, like that didn’t mean anything at all. Like the implication that even Supervillain could be defeated by the agency wasn’t earth-shattering.

If Supervillain could lose to these guys — without even so much as a grand scene — then what hope did Villain have?

“That’s.. not possible. The agency couldn’t defeat Supervillain, they’ve tried countless times before. What makes this time any different?” Their rebuttal was pathetic, but it still did raise a valid point.

“The little heroes at the agency got desperate. Needed that bastard gone. 72 hours to do it with a hefty little bounty. I’ll tell them the news by the end of tomorrow, don’t want them docking my pay because I only took a third of the time.”

Villain swallowed. One guy to take down Supervillain? Really? Was that what this person was trying to insinuate? It would have sounded ludicrous if not for how terrified Villain felt in this killer’s presence.

“Besides,” they continued. “I have a little more business to conduct with the matter of Supervillain. I wouldn’t want those idiots sticking their nose in my affairs when they’re not all wrapped up.”

“Business?”

“We haven’t finished this conversation yet, have we?” For the first time, the stranger smiled, just a slight twitch at the sides of their mouth. Petrifying.

“You took down Supervillain. Singlehandedly. I’m not a concern to you, so what could we possibly have to keep talking about? Why are you here in the first place?”

“In order to find out when I should go about finding the guy, I had to check his little calendar. Imagine my surprise when I see a name jotted down there that I’ve never heard before.” Hero twirled something small and slim around in their hands as they spoke. It was probably a blade.

“There were two options: either a) you’re the most dangerous, most elusive criminal the world has ever seen, or — more likely — b) you’re a rookie. And Supervillain doesn’t work with rookies, not usually. Something made you different.”

Not even Villain was quite sure what it was that had made them special. What Supervillain had seen. They’d never killed anybody, they weren’t any good in a fight, and their poker face was evidently non existant. They’d hoped for answers today. Clearly they weren’t getting any.

“Now, of course, I could have just found out all your information myself. Your real name, your address, close relatives, your undoubtably traumatic, angsty past. But then I remembered — you won’t know Supervillain’s dead. You’ll show up to that quaint meeting. And you did.”

Villain gulped. Had this ‘hero’ (if that term even qualified here) worked it out yet? Did they have the answer Villain was desperate for? Villain couldn’t determine an answer from their demeanour at all.

“Like I said, whatever Supervillain saw in me isn’t something anyone else did. I’m not even in the business, and if Supervillain isn’t going to hire me, nobody else will. After today I’ll be a civilian. I’m not competition — or a client to you,” Villain responded tentatively.

“Mm, maybe,” their companion hummed. “That is, if nobody leaks Supervillain’s plans out to the rest of the criminal underworld.” The hero stepped forward, causing Villain to blurt out a jumbled what.

“A rookie that Supervillain saw something in will turn the heads of people who are much less kind about recruitment. At best you’ll be kidnapped. Interrogated would be merciful considering the likely option on the table is torture until you submit, or even worse—“

They stopped when they took notice of just how hard the villain was shaking right now. On the verge of a panic attack, no doubt. They never really wanted this. They hadn’t even been certain they wanted to join Supervillain if the offer was on the table. They just wanted to know why. Just wanted some answers.

“Breathe, Villain. Nobody’s gonna do that. Would be disadvantageous for me, at least. I make a living killing those guys, why would I offer them an intern?” Their face was close. Too close. They couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t think straight.

“Logically, Supervillain must have been wrong. You really don’t look cut out for this at all, huh,” the hero commented scrutinisingly. This was the most confused they’d sounded, like they’d only slightly lost the edge they had over the technically-a-criminal.

“And yet…” they mumbled under their breath.

Villain had never felt strong before. They’d always been the weaker one; the slower one; the one more likely to burst under just a tiny amount of pressure. An entire lifetime of being nothing. No-one. As impactful as a mayfly.

Then Supervillain had looked at them, and decided to glance a second time. Sure, Supervillain was a horrible person ethically, and Villain wasn’t exactly the type to feel anything but pathetic grasping at a blade, but god they’d looked and it had been wonderful.

They had just wanted to know why. What was this one thing that had made them special to someone? If they had made an inpression on a person, then surely they could do it again. Stand out for something. Be the kind of person someone was actively looking for.

But before then stood a genius miles above the perceptiveness and intellect of Supervillain, and not even they could notice anything notable about them. Maybe they’d been mistaken after all.

“… we haven’t crossed off all the possibilities yet.” The comment made Villain’s head snap up from where it had been lulling in shame and self loathing.

“It would be impossible to properly evaluate you from just standing in an alleyway. Not even I’m that good. It’s likely that whatever Supervillain saw in you could be something that needs to hit a certain angle in the light.”

“Wait, you’re talking like you’re about to help me. Didn’t you just say earlier that your job is to kill people like me?” That sentence made them nauseous. Though they’d never really done anything illegal, they were about to attend an interview to work as a lackey for Supervillain. They were a villain, technically.

“You’re unemployed without a criminal record. I sincerely doubt anyone is going to pay me to be bringing you to justice. Besides, you never officially signed that deal, did you? There may be a hero in you yet.” The stranger bit down on their lip slightly, clearly knee-deep in thought.

For all their intimidation and sheer terrifying aura, Villain did admit internally that they were quite pretty.

“A hero? You’re calling yourself that? I mean I probably would have gone with ‘criminal bountyhunter’ or, like, vigilante at best,” Villain joked lightly, unaware of the subtle change in the hero’s face as soon as their fear seemed to subside ever so slightly.

“Contemplate the semantics all you want, Villain. I don’t care what you call me, I care about doing my job, and more currently, what role you might end up playing in all that. If there is anything of value to you deep down, that is.”

Villain’s heart fluttered ever so slightly. They weren’t amazingly fond of their companion’s behaviour or overall attitude, they’d only trusted Supervillain because they were oddly amiable for a criminal mastermind.

But, there was a chance. A chance that this hero, this criminal believed in them. A chance that there might still be something worth salvaging inside of them after all. It was peculiar, but the dread inside of them had been replaced by hope.

“Well, we should probably start with the basics first.” Villain didn’t want to ask what they meant by that. “And for that it would be best if you were fully rested. Go home, get enough sleep. I’ll need you coherent for our examinations.”

“I— uh, no, yeah, of course. I assume you’ll mysteriously show up at my house after finding my address on the dark web or whatever?” Villain responded albeitly a little clumsily. Definitely not supervillain material just yet.

“No, of course not. You’d have a heart attack from the stress of not knowing when I’ll pop up. Give me your phone, you can have one of my numbers.”

Villain handed over their phone, noticing how the stranger grimaced at their entirely unprofessional wallpaper. A few taps later, their phone was handed back in one piece. Probably compromised and leaking all their data to the hero but, oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Enjoy the free time before your interview, Villain.”

Discovering Villain’s identity was supposed to be a good thing. And it was, Hero agreed internally. It gave them an edge against an enemy who had remained undefeated for months now. As Hero, this was great. As a person trying to just get through their work day, this was horrendous news.

It wasn’t even the fact that Villain was their coworker that upset them. Their job was probably one of the most basic ones out there and there were a handful of roles and employees. It was surprising but not entirely unlucky. But did it have to be them.

It had been almost a year now since they tranferred over from across the country and honestly Hero was impressed that nobody had socked them in the face yet or at the very least found a way to shut them up.

All they ever talked about was Hero. Seriously, nothing else left their lips. ‘Did you see Hero on the news today? There was a fire; oh, was Hero there? Hero saved a burning building a few blocks down from me it was awesome. Honestly I’d kill a guy if it meant Hero would come face me.’

That last part left a particularly sour taste in Hero’s mouth, all things considered.

The hero took in one last deep inhale, willing down the urge to storm into that office building and start throwing punches, and opened the door. Civilian didn’t know Villain was their coworker. So Civilian should act like it.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long before Villain entered the scene. Their desks were close together, and the criminal made a conscious effort to be as sociable with their coworkers as humanly possible.

“Civilian! How’re you doing? How was the weekend?” Villain grinned at them, and Hero couldn’t stop the chills that creeped up their back.

Villain had always been an unparalleled criminal when it came to how sinister they were. The mastermind had terrified Hero and their team for around a year now, and they’d grown no closer to overcoming their horror every time they faced off.

Seeing them so cheery, so amicable, so sincere, felt worse than seeing them scowl and brood. They almost felt human.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Hero forced out from within harshly gritted teeth. They didn’t bother asking how their weekend had been. Half of them didn’t want to know, and the other half knew the response would come no matter what they said.

Deep down, a part of Hero had wished that Villain’s injuries from their last face off would have been too severe, leading to them needing to take a break off of word. But, for some inexplicable reason, that felt mean to think, even though they’d never felt bad wishing ill on a villain before.

That was a thought: how many of Villain’s sick days had been Hero’s fault? How many times had the mastermind called in to complain about catching the flu, when in actuality they were busy fishing a bullet out of their own abdomen?

“I think this weekend might have been the best one of my entire life. Seriously, my heart could have just burst from the excitement!” The inflection and emphasis there didn’t soothe Hero’s anxieties at all.

“So, I went to the conference on Saturday,” they continued. “And Hero noticed me. Like, actually noticed me. I was in the front row — as you know, I always get to events super early — and we made eye contact! Twice!”

Hero’s stomach dropped like a hanged man in the gallows. They’d only just learnt about Villain’s identity moments before being thrust onto stage for a conference. Seeing Villain seconds later, staring right at them, unsettled them greatly. But they hadn’t thought they’d been obvious.

“You really like Hero, huh,” they commented, not entirely meaning to let that slip out. Villain looked noticably confused at that. Wasn’t it obvious?

“No, I talk about them because I hate them so much and I think they’re boring,” they retorted sarcastically, like a friend making fun of Hero’s funnily stupid comment. Like a friend.

Hero squinted slightly at the figure before them, uncharacteristically scrutinising (for Civilian, that is). This certainly wasn’t how they’d ever pictured Villain before, even with the familiarity of their facial features aside.

“You have bags under your eyes. Did you sleep well last night?” Hero stated. Keeping up a cordial work relationship, they told themself. It might be tactical to have Villain’s alter ego trust them.

Villain hadn’t fought a hero within the past three days, them being tired wasn’t to do with Hero’s meddling, so of course it would make sense to check. Maybe they’d find a lead, discover important info on a rival villain. That’s what it was.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was up pretty late last night. I promised Coworker I’d help her work through a few files, and you know how she is. Dropped the whole load onto me,” Villain laughed cordially. Hero grimaced internally.

Fuck, they did do that, didn’t they? Villain was an irritable coworker who prattled on endlessly about their own very narrow interests. Hero this— Hero that— et cetera et cetera. But they were far from a hostile one. They offered to help with tedious assignments quite often.

Hero didn’t know whether to soften up or raise their guard. They seemed so authentic, so genuinely willing to help people. It could have all been an act, true, but there was more than little doubt in Hero’s mind about it.

Maybe that was the point, they argued within themself. Maybe Villain knew this whole time, and this was part of a ploy to get Hero to trust them. See, Hero, I’m just as nice and sweet as you are, now hand over the documents.

“You know, we should meet up some time, after work I mean.” Hero regretted the words before they even tumbled out. The last thing they wanted to do was hang out with Villain, even if it meant a tactical advantage. But they needed to know. Needed to scrutinise. Needed to evaluate this threat.

Villain looked equally as shocked.

“Really? Us? I mean, I’m totally free, of course, but you’ve never really seemed that interested in talking outside of work. Trust me, I’ve tried to sway you on that, but you’re always busy or tired.”

They fumbled over their words a bit, seeming eager to accept but aware that eagerness would come across as slightly tacky. Just how much of it was an act, Hero contemplated.

“My, uh, friend told me I should be going out more, getting myself an actual social life.” Not a lie, Sidekick had berated them about their workaholism. “You’ve always been nice to me, despite all your— you know, and I just thought it might be nice to return the favour for once.”

You’ve always been nice to me.

Villain beamed at them and Hero swore they could feel their skin actively creeping, goosebumps swarming like insects spread all over their arms.

They hated Villain. They were a cold, sinister and calculating figure who never even seemed to blink an eye at the atrocities that they’d ensured befell their enemies.

They hated Villain’s alter ego. They were obnoxious and overly talkative, obsessed with a celebrity that would never love them back just to fill some gaping hole inside of them.

This discovery should have exemplified their hatred. How dare Villain prove to be capable of showing sympathy and care only to disregard it when it became inconvenient for the job. How dare they claim to care so much about Hero when they spent their double life carving wounds into their skin.

Instead, Hero was intrigued. They needed to understand this more, to look at Villain’s psyche as a whole and see exactly which parts of the machine had made them them. The facade of the detached criminal mastermind was oh so one dimensional. And they had just proven to be anything but.

“We could meet at one of the coffee shops down the highstreet if you’d like. I know you’re quite peticular about your coffee orders, hah. But I’m flexible with anything, honestly. Uh— except for my place. It’s, um, just so messy there all the time, I’d be embarrassed,” Villain offered.

That last part was clumsy. They didn’t want Hero to be around there because there were probably too many nefarious documents and terrifying armed men at each door. Were they baiting Hero into pushing? Were they worried their new friend might discover their inner self too quickly?

Which one was the inner self, anyways?

“Anything’s fine with me. We can talk more about logistics after the meeting,” Hero glanced down at their lock screen, viscerally aware that they were about to have to speak to a hoarde of potential clients after this fiasco of a morning.

“Oh— right! Right! Your meeting, of course. I forgot, that’s my bad, you should go get prepared for that! I’ll be at my desk if you need me; good luck buddy!” And then Villain was gone, smiling and not at all subtly fistbumping the air.

Me agaaaain! I still adore your writings ^^

I had an idea of rather a villain or a hero who have just been so sad/depressed recently and the other notices and wants to help them despite being on the opposite side

I loooove hero x villain 👏🏻🙂‍↕️

(No pressure to write it!! I’m just sharing my brain rambles again)

Villain stood awkwardly in the doorframe of the hero’s bedroom, shifting their weight from one uncertain foot to the other. This wasn’t part of their plan.

The heroes should have been at some award ceremony right about now: prime time for a criminal to go snooping around their residence. Villain had been feeling as of late that they were far from getting an advantage over the hero, and felt like remedying that.

However, as it appeared, Hero had elected to skip out on that award ceremony (even though Villain was sure they’d be winning something). In fact, it was almost evening, and they hadn’t seemed to have gotten out of bed yet. That was odd.

The hero had always been the most eager of the agency’s employees. Like if they failed to meet a heroic quota, there’d be punishment, be it self-loathing or corporal conflicts. It didn’t match their personality at all to be sat lounging around in bed.

Something had to have been up.

“You know I’m, uh, in your house, right?” Villain cleared their throat and awkwardly announced. They certainly could have worded it better, they contemplated internally.

This was the part where Hero should have leapt at them, fury and conviction clear as starlight in their eyes. Instead, they remained exactly where they were, not even bothering to look up and see the villain stood in their doorway.

Villain was mildly thankful for that. They hadn’t exactly dressed fashionably, not expecting there to be anyone home to question their colour co-ordination skills.

“Ok.” That was it. All they had to say. Okay. Like this was okay. Like Villain waltzing into their own bedroom was fine, and not at all a safety concern.

“You don’t see any problem with that?” Villain stumbled over their words slightly, mouth agape at Hero’s nonchalant behaviour. A free pass to snoop around felt so obviously like a trap, but Villain genuinely couldn’t say with certainty that was the case.

They sounded despondent, truthfully.

“Hero, why aren’t you at the ceremony?” Villain asked, softening their tone, once they realised Hero wouldn’t be answering their (only slightly) rhetorical question. Then, they stepped closer to the hero’s form in order to assess things. Maybe they were injured, or taking a sick day.

“Why should I bother? It’s a ceremony for heroes, not like I belong there,” Hero mumbled. It sounded like they’d been crying. Looked like it too, considering the tear-stained pillow they’d been muttering their dull responses into.

Villain crouched down to try and meet Hero’s eyeline. That didn’t matter, Hero refused to look at anything other than their bedsheets. At the very least Villain didn’t spot any visible injuries plaguing them. Nobody else had tried to kill them, Villain hoped.

“You should bother because it’s a ceremony for heroes. You’re a hero. Why wouldn’t you be?” Hero had been training intensely to be a superhero, Villain could tell. They put their all into every mission. People could make a lot of complaints about them as a person, but as a hero there was nothing to fault them on.

“You’ve saved countless lives, I was sure you’d be up for at least one award. Why else would I be breaking in to your house today?” Villain continued. This spiral of self-deprecation didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t anyone consider them a hero?

Had their teammates fallen out with them? Had their mentor grown critical? Had their civilian life come crumbling down?

If someone (rather than something) had caused this, Villain would make sure they found as many names as necessary. They pushed that thought down. Not the time.

“They could give me a million awards if they wanted to, that doesn’t make me a hero. Some shiny, prim, and proper trophy doesn’t change the past. Doesn’t make up for anything. Though I doubt they’ll be giving me an award.” Hero sounded bitter, almost. But bitter at themself rather than a person.

Unlike all the other superheroes, Hero always fought for redemption, rather than incarceration. Villain despised their attitude, they didn’t want some do-gooder’s worthless pity. But even they had to admit that Hero’s words resonated in a way that was impressive for someone who seemingly didn’t know what it was like.

They’d always told Villain that their circumstances hadn’t made them unforgivable. That they weren’t some sinful devil incapable of change or growth. It was shockingly profound, for a hero working for the agency at least.

The villain had assumed that the other heroes didn’t like Hero as much because of their constrasting beliefs, rather than any other personal grievances. Most of them fought to kill, or at least capture. Hero was sweeter, it seemed, but in no way shape or form weaker. They outclassed the rest of their peers with a natural ease.

Like they’d done the song and dance of fighting before. Like they knew how to predict a villain’s plan of attack with familiar ease.

Villain didn’t like to assume. It didn’t help that, usually, their wild predictions were humiliatingly far off. But this made too much sense. The pieces fit too well together for it to be a wild accusation.

“Hero,” they began unsteadily, not really sure what to say. Villain wasn’t exactly an example of hope and redemption. “If I took your advice, turned over a new leaf, and signed up for the agency, would it matter?”

The crimefighter sighed, embarrassingly aware of their own hypocrisy. If Villain was ever swayed by their monologues, and decided to become a hero in an act of absolution, Hero would be thrilled. They’d be supportive all the way, and wouldn’t dream of letting Villain feel like their hard work meant nothing.

“The same holds for you too, Hero. You’re saving lives. And I don’t know who you were before this, but I’m willing to bet you’ve rescued more people than you’ve ruined.”

Hero looked up at that, and Villain was sure if they didn’t look exhausted to the bone, they’d burst into tears at that. The idea made Villain feel nauseous, someone as dilligent and pure-hearted as Hero being left so destitute.

Maybe this was all a bad idea. They shouldn’t really be comforting their nemesis. Hero was weak, snivelling, and it would be unbelievably easy to take advantage of that. But that didn’t even cross their mind.

Villain pulled them in for a hug, Hero’s face buried in the fabric of the jumper that covered their gear. They could feel intimately how subtly they were shaking.

At first, Villain wanted to destroy. To find out through whatever means necessary which of the heroes had made some snark remark about their past and made sure they got the message that their behaviour wouldn’t be met without appropriate consequence.

But then they felt Hero’s hands, warm and surprisingly gentle. Tender with the way they clutched onto Villain’s auburn sweater. And they thought about how, not so long ago, those same hands had held up a blade with the same ferocity racing in Villain’s heart.

They decided they’d stick to the comfort, instead of the violence, in the meantime.

This was the first Valentine’s Day that they’d ever had the opportunity to spend with Hero as a partner, rather than just a rival who happened to be working on the same day. They’d wanted to do something special for it: mark the occasion.

Of course, they’d both managed to get horribly sick just in time for the holiday. Curse the winter’s dry air.

“I mean, we’re spending it together. That’s kind of what we planned, in a way,” Hero joked lightly next to them, an arm lazily draped over their eyes to block out the intrusion of the harsh sun.

That much was true, at least. They’d both been wise enough to call in sick today, and thankfully sidekicks and henchmen seldom spoke, so nobody would piece together the fact that both of them had gotten ill at the exact same time. Incriminating, because neither were particularly good at keeping their hands off the other, and had passed along the sickness within a day.

“I had so many ideas for today,” Villain moaned, mostly into the pillow. For a sick person, they were surprisingly coherent. “We were going to go to the fancy restaurant that you always call pretentious whenever we walk past it, and then you’d call me a sap but not too often because you’d still want me to cover the bill, and—“

“Did you have our entire conversation planned out in your head?” Hero didn’t know why they were asking. Of course Villain did. They were perfectionistic to a fault, obsessed with each detail falling into its designated place.

Ironically, there was always some twist of fate that screwed up their schemes completely out of their control. Great news for when their plan was to blow up a skyscraper, less fun when they’re in charge of date night.

“The point is tonight: was gonna be big. Memorable. And now we’re just gonna be stuck sniffling in bed because your colleague decided to show up to work with the flu.”

“Vil, we can still go to that snobby restaurant another time. I love you every day of the year, not just today,” Hero responded, trying to appear comforting even though their voice sounded nasally and exhausted. They were slightly further along in the sickness than Villain was.

“But— but it’s our first Valentine’s, that’s, like, a major thing, isn’t it?”

Hero smiled gingerly. They’d never actually cared about Valentine’s Day before, though it was evident that Villain certainly did and therefore didn’t want to shatter their shortlived dreams by saying they’d much rather do nothing at all.

“And we’re spending it next to each other in our bedroom instead of having to go and work the morning shift today. That’s a win, I’d say.” It was true, Villain would much rather stare lovingly at their partner’s sleepy form than have to pretend to slice at their suit.

Still. Their point still stood.

Kindly, they reached up and messed their lover’s stray strands of hair through their weak fingers. The warmth radiating from their forehead was almost comforting if not for how clammy their skin had grown to be. It was a testament to their patience that they hadn’t scolded Villain for being so clingy when they had a fever.

“Did I ever mention you’re my first Valentine?”

Hero rolled over to meet their eyes at that, slightly shocked. Sure, they knew that Villain was inexperienced in the whole social-relationships department, but they’d never fully scene the depths of their isolation.

The world had been incredibly lonely for the villain before the hero had brazenly stumbled into their life. Such was the life for most powered individuals (Hero was an outlier for certain), yet even their like-minded peers had shut them out too.

For once, Villain had caught someone’s attention sincerely, and for a split second they thought that maybe they could engage with the holidays like all the other people did. The criminal had spent hours searching up online what most people did for Valentine’s. This had to be perfect.

It was just their luck that stupid Superhero got sick when they did. Seriously, weren’t heroes supposed to be immune to disease or something?

“You know what I think?” Hero interrupted their spiralling train of thought. “I think today’s the best way we could have spent Valentine’s Day.”

“In bed all day with the flu and a horrible fever?” Villain retorted, sarcastic but still intrigued to see where the conversation was headed.

“We can spend as many weekends as we want going out on fancy date nights. However, today, we got to spend the morning in each other’s arms. Work wouldn’t let us do this if we weren’t sick to the bone.”

It was true. Life as a superhero shared many similarities with life as a villain: the hours were demanding. At any second, the opponent could strike, and they had to be prepared to deal with that no matter what exciting plans they had for the day.

Usually, by six-o-clock, the house was empty, both residents having rushed out of the door to catch the bus or the train. Even something as simple as a kiss to the temple was a rarity that only happened if they’d both risen within a few minutes of each other.

Today had been less that hectic. Despite the sniffling, it had almost been serene. The sunlight peaking through the blinds had woken the pair naturally, and the first thing they both saw was their lover’s form sleeping peacefully.

“Not exactly an exhilirating day,” Villain mumbled, though in complete agreement with Hero’s sentiments. They just had a penchant for being a contrarian, and knew they’d get extra cuddles when they were grumpier than usual.

“It’s special, though. Precious. Because we rarely get to have a day like this, and that makes it so much more valuable, no?”

Villain buried their head and whined against Hero’s chest, bathing in the heat that radiated from their lover as the former felt chills take over their body again.

Have just edited the pinned post to include all my main tags in the notes (hero x villain, writing, not writing, hero pov, villain pov) now for you.

“Oh come on! You’re losing on purpose, now!”

Villain grinned from underneath them, not quite smug but certainly pleased with themself.

As of late, it seemed as though their goal was less about actually causing villainous havoc and more about seeing what crimes got Hero there to apprehend them the fastest. Determination to defeat their nemesis, the crimefighter would have called it, if not for how giddy they seemed whenever they got caught in the act.

“Do you really doubt your own skillset that much? That you think I’d have to throw a fight for you to get your victory?“ Villain responsed, though they didn’t seem to be putting much effort into trying to sway Hero’s opinion.

“I don’t doubt myself. What I do doubt is that you, of all people, would lose a fight to one singular hero alone.”

Villain was terrifying as an opponent. When they first met, Hero’s entire team was not enough to defeat them. Hero had come close to leaving a mark but had failed to land the blow in the heat of the moment and the terror of watching their comrades fall with ease.

Something had shifted, Hero didn’t quite know when. Maybe it was when they’d attempted to fight Villain alone, quivering subtly but still determined to bring them to justice. Maybe it was when they’d been willing to sacrifice their life for the city, including all the villains that lived in it.

Villain had started drawing them away from the rest of the team, wanting to catch them alone. Private and intimate, almost. Hero had initially suspected a trap, though they far from followed through with any devious schemes.

The first time Villain had lost, it was clear something was up. They’d barely given any effort to fight back. The same person who had devastated the team within a few minutes had fallen in battle in the same amount of time.

An off day, Hero assumed. Perhaps they were sick, exhausted, or injured by another rival villain. Despite what their team would have thought, Hero had opted to let Villain go. They weren’t particularly keen on attacking civilians or causing property damage anyways, though they were powerful they weren’t a top priority.

And now it had happened again.

“You want me to win, Villain. Tell me why.” Hero pressed their weapon — currently caressing the criminal’s exposed skin — further against their flesh. It was an empty threat: Villain surely could have dismissed the blade at any time.

“You’ve never been bored before, Hero?” Villain asked, like this wouldn’t have been a life or death situation for any other human on the planet. Like they were just throwing a sports match, not a fight to the death.

Though, it made a sickening semblance of sense.

Nobody on the team had ever seen someone like Villain before. Their powers were immense and almost incomprehensible. If not for the positive connotations of the word, anyone would have called them godly. Untouchable.

Hero was doubtful that anyone had threatened the villain before. Sure, people must have tried, their personality was far from amiable, but it must have been tremendously easy to dispose of them.

Defeat was new to them. It must have felt exhilarating, to be the one beneath the blade for once. To feel human after a lifetime of near immortality. Perhaps that had driven them mad, and led them to a life of villainy.

“Let me rephrase that then, if you aren’t going to give me a precise answer.” Hero leant in closer, hoping to observe any subtle movement in their expression. They tried hard to ignore the way Villain’s cheeks flushed. “Why me?”

Hero wasn’t the strongest superhero, nor were they the most likely to let Villain do as they pleased. It didn’t make sense from a logical standpoint at least, didn’t feel like this was a calculated decision.

Villain paused for a moment, looking as though they were internally computing how the phrase this, like the way their words came across would really matter to the hero. Their eyes were wide and they shimmered unsettlingly.

This was the most fun they’d had in ages, to say the least.

“The other heroes are tremendously soft. They’re people who save the lives of the innocent,” Villain explained as though Hero’s colleagues were any weaker than they were. The crimefighter quirked an eyebrow, confused at the implication that they weren’t one to save lives.

“You, Hero, are the person who brings the guilty to justice. Very different attitudes to the same job title. The rest of them are all ever so determined to stop me, but you’re the only one trying to catch me.”

“I’m not sure I follow your semantics here, Villain.”

“Let me put it this way:” Villain leant closer to the blade pressed against their skin. If it were anyone else, it would have caused injury.

“I know you’ll never be able to defeat me. You’re weaker in a multitude of ways. But that glint of determination in your eyes can convince even me that you’ve got a fighting chance. You want to destroy me more than you want to save anyone from my antics.”

Hero had barely fought at all today, and yet they felt horribly out of breath already. Their chest was tight and each inhale felt laborious.

Everything Villain had said was true, nauseatingly so. Right now, they wanted nothing more than to tear apart the criminal and see if they were inhuman down to their core too. It would be wrong, to act with such impulsiveness on the job. There were protocols to be followed.

It was getting harder and harder to recall what their procedures had stated, not when the villain was practically begging for the hero to let go of their own inhibitions. They both needed this, simultaneously an outlet and a final, desperate attempt to feel grounded.

“My team know I’d never defeat you on my own. If I’m gone for a prolonged period of time, they’ll assume I’m kidnapped, or worse, betraying them.” Technically, most of their team would see indulging the villain as quite traitorous, but Hero willed that train of thought down.

“If I have to kidnap you then so be it.” Villain grasped the hero’s hands. A deliberate showcase that if they pleased, they could remove the blade from their clutches. They made no such attempt.

Something inexplicable about the hero made them feel alive. It ignited a primal fear in them that they’d lost amongst the numbness of invulnerability. Right now, they were a predator trapped beneath the dull claws of a prey animal. Exhilirating.

Despite themself, Hero smiled almost bitterly. A breathless laugh left their lips, in spite of how ludicrous the situation was. This should have been horrifying, yet a sense of wanting washed over them far too quickly.

“Something tells me you’d prefer it if I was the one kidnapping you,” they jested dryly. Villain ran a finger down their opponent’s blade.

The pair were close enough that their noses were practically touching. It would have been easy (and wildly tempting) to lean in and close the gap, but neither caved. Besides, a kiss was something soft and domestic. The tension between them was anything but.

“Your team are currently outside the building, and within five minutes they’ll have reached this very room.” Hero knew better than to ask how they could have possibly known that without looking. I have to leave was the very obvious subtext woven into their words.

(ignore any weird formatting, for some strange reason tumblr seems to always glitch out your asks anon)

Sorry this response took a long while to finish sorting! You’ll see why it took ages to get done underneath the cut haha. I was originally set on doing a rough description but came up with a different idea.

ALSO

Sorry if these messages are annoying, I’m not used to tumblr so I don’t know the proper courtesy of it very well yet, (if they are, let me know so I can stop or change how I do it because I really don’t want to be annoying) but I have a question…

Which story is your absolute favourite that you have written so far and why?

And do you have an appearance in mind when you think of them? Or just an overall appearance for what the characters look like in your mind whenever you write them?

Specifically what their hair looks like, if they’ve got any unique facial features or what their hero/villain suit looks like, anything honestly!

Thank you!

-🐉

These messages aren't annoying at all, don't worry! I appreciate and love every ask that I get, especially when I have reoccurring people who like my work:) The only reason I haven't been able to get to more of your asks is that I don't have much opportunity to write due to personal stuff going on rn so I have a heavy backlog of asks that I want to get to but struggle to fit in the time to write consistently.

In terms of my favourite snippet, I'm not entirely sure I could pick a single one, but I can list a few I like more than average. This one was my first ever on this blog so it does hold a special place in my heart. I don't typically write part twos but I liked this one enough to make a second one for it so I'd say that counts for something. This, this, this and this also get special mentions too I think.

For the appearance one, with pretty much most of my snippets I tend to think of my main ocs, with the only exception being for prompts and requests that wouldn't fit any of my pre-existing dynamics. I won't explain any full descriptions in this post as it might end up long and I just wasn't entirely sure if that's the kind of thing you were looking for, but if you're interested in getting an idea of the general appearance of my guys then *please* feel free to send another ask so I can make a full post about it rather than just tagging it on the end of this one!:D

Right now, they were freezing.

An icy chill had crept across their body and sent their nervous system into a haywire state. They were shivering, too, though admittedly that probably wasn’t from the cold, and was more to do with the fact that Villain was sat across from them on their very own couch.

This wasn’t the first time the pair had met, but they certainly hadn’t spoken nearly enough to be considered familiar with one another. Well, whether Villain had been stalking them amongst the shadows or not wasn’t exactly clear (nor was anything with them), but that was mostly besides the point.

They weren’t friendly and Hero certainly wasn’t strong enough yet to be considered anything akin to a rival. Villain has absolutely no reason to let them leave this room with their vocal cords in tact, and they’d demonstrated the capability to do so to heroes a thousand times over.

And yet they sat silently, fingers circling over a cup of tea that they’d helped themself to in Hero’s kitchen. It was their favourite mug, but they weren’t about to ask Villain to reconsider picking a cup that the crimefighter was less attached to.

That ever-present brooding look was still plastered on their face, except this time their glare wasn’t focused on anyone in particular. It was difficult to tell whether that was their default expression, or if they despised Hero’s interior design choices that much.

Hero wouldn’t blame them, honestly. The room, alongside the rest of the house, was barebones. A fixer-upper, it had been described as. They’d been stupid enough to think they’d have both the time and the money to do some renovations whilst working for the agency.

“Do you intend on speaking up any time soon?” Villain’s voice cut through the room sharper than an icicle. It was as apathetic as always, like everything that had happened today was uneventful for them.

“If I say something stupid you’re just gonna gut me on this sofa. I mean you’re probably planning on doing that anyways but, still, I’d rather not give you any more reasons.” Hero cursed internally at every word they spewed. As though Villain looked for reasons to kill people.

“True,” Villain responded bluntly, and Hero failed to mask their horrified surprise at how honest that was. Sure, they should have expected an agreement, but their instinct was to expect at least some social performance.

“Continue on anyways. Surely there’s something on your mind,” they ordered, a demand rather than an encouragement to keep on rambling.

“I was mostly just wondering why we’re at my place. Wouldn’t it be easier to take me out to the woods or something? I’m sure you of all people know how to kill a guy, I just thought that maybe this would be the first place they’d check.”

Villain quirked an eyebrow.

“Of all the events that have transpired these past…” they glanced down to check their watch, expensive as was everything else on their person. Likely stolen. “Four or so hours, your greatest query is my choice in location?”

“All the other questions I have end up with the same answer anyways, it’s all just ‘because they’re planning on killing me’. Didn’t wanna waste your breath explaining that.”

“How benevolent and thoughful of you. Though, your logic fails at the first hurdle. You were caught in my lair, overpowered. If everything I did was just to murder you, wouldn’t this be a bit much?”

A few days ago, the agency had discovered that a handful of villains had made a temporary alliance to defeat the heroes once and for all. Though it was headed up by Supervillain, Villain’s base seemed to be the main headquarters for all their meetings.

A large amount of agents, including Hero, were sent out to infiltrate. Hero got caught by the criminal in front of them almost instantly. It was laughable. Obviously, they were dead meat, but instead of an instant kill, Villain had opted to knock them out cold with a sedative, and inexplicably drag them over back to their house.

That didn’t really make a lot of sense, now that Hero ran through the events in their head.

“If you were walking in the woods, and you happened to stumble across two predators fighting, would you intervene to save one?” Villain mused.

“Uh, I guess it’s best to let nature decide who wins, natural selection and all that, right?” Hero responded hesitantly, taken aback by the apparent randomness of the question.

“I’m not looking for the correct answer here. I’m looking for what you’re instincts are screaming at you,” they clarified.

“Then, no, I don’t think I would.”

“If you were walking down the street, and you saw a puppy in the middle of the road, would you swoop in and save it from the cars?”

“Yeah, of course, what kind of question is that?”

Villain smiled very slightly, their eyes still icy but retaining a certain glimmer to them. Then, they leant closer to Hero, who found it impossible to move away and keep their distance. A second chill shuddered down their entire body. Intoxicating.

“You wouldn’t go in to save the predator but you would rescue the puppy, do you know why that is? That’s because the latter is helpless and utterly pathetic. Definitely not the type of thing that’s suited to the violent natures of the world.”

“Are you calling me a puppy?”

“You certainly do yap like one.”

Before Hero could internally question where on earth this conversation was headed, Villain crept closer, the apathy leaving their expression. Hero had hated how careless they always looked, but now they wanted back the comfort of the familiarity of that expression.

A person who didn’t care about you wouldn’t hurt you in any way that wasn’t necessary. A detached act of violence. Right now, Villain had singled them out. Likened them to a puppy in distress. Something about them specifically caught Villain’s attention and that was dangerous.

It was equally exhilarating, too.

“Why are we here at my place, Villain,” Hero repeated gravely, their name sounding blasphemous on their tongue.

“Those sprawling idiots have co-opted my lair, and unfortunately, for our plan to work, they had to have access to all of my safehouse locations. If I’d kept you there, one fool would have stumbled across you and gone for an easy kill.”

“So you’ve decided to kidnap me and keep me hostage inside of my own house?”

“I wouldn’t say hostage, specifically. I have no qualms with you running off wherever you please. As fun as the puppy analogy was you don’t need my supervision all day long. I have evil schemes to conduct.”

A confused silence was enough of a response from Hero, who was currently unsure if not saying anything would lead to a better outcome than digging their own grave here.

“But. I will be back. You can think of it as a wellness check if that helps, to make sure you haven’t wandered off into some other enemy’s territory and gotten yourself executed. And I’ll know if that happens, Hero. I have eyes everywhere.”

That part was undeniably true. Villain always seemed to know everything. The innerworkings of any organisation, lawful or otherwise, seemed to be clear as day to them. Either they had spies everywhere or they were simply as omniscient as they’d made themself appear.

“Thank you for the tea and for not spending the whole time pleading and begging. You make an amicable hostage,” Villain’s typical demeanour returned to them as they headed for the door.

Besides, they were intelligent. They could have easily guessed that, even if this did start off as truthfully nothing, it would eventually spiral into something between malice and affection.

Making out with the villain was not a hobby that could have ever been casual.

They couldn’t help it, though. Not when it felt so unbelievably natural. Like they’d kissed the criminal a thousand times before and they were about to swear to do it a thousand times more. Their lips met like it was a natural place of belonging, as though they were reuniting aftter being apart instead of joining together for the first time.

Villain’s hands trailed down from their companion’s chin to their waist, entirely trapping them between their arms. Sickeningly, it felt almost like a warm embrace. The criminal’s heartbeat pulsating through their wrists pressed against bare skin made the hero feel nauseous from reassurance.

This line of work was, to sum it up in a singular phrase, adrenaline-enducing. When both party left after a battle, brutal and exhausting as always, it was hard to wind down. The aforementioned adrenaline refused to simply just leave, aware that it would be back soon enough. They’d had to find ways to calm down in their spare time.

Coincidentally, they’d both turned to casual intimacy. A simple way to release all that pent up stress without overstraining those muscles that already screamed and wailed just from standing up to grab a snack from the kitchen.

The hero agency certainly might not have agreed with it, risks of ruining a reputation and what not, but what the crimefighter did on their time off was frankly none of their employer’s business. Up until the things they were doing turned into Villain. Just Villain.

It turned out that the pair had a mutual friend of sorts who connected at least a few dots enough to draw a similarity here and there between them. Two people concerningly stressed out by their jobs that could probably relate to their parallel struggles, their friend had surmised.

The introduction was embarrassing, to be told you’re about to meet someone who you remind people of, only to be face to face with one you’ve never despised more. Like looking into a portrait that you’ve told is supposed to be a mirror only to slowly start to see the resemblance the more you scowl.

And that should have been the end of it. One humiliating encounter that both of them desperately wanted to put right in the past. It should have been. That would have been similar.

Neither brought it up in words the next time they’d fought. Not vocally, at the very least. It had been the same bar a little awkwardness here and there that truthfully was to be expected.

But then the fight finished, anticlimactic and leaving the pair slightly dazed from injuries. Once again that godforsaken adrenaline was soaring through their bloodstream and they wanted nothing more than an outlet.

If anyone asked either one of them who initiated the kiss, both would deflect the blame and immediately point fingers. They couldn’t remember, heat of the moment hypnotising their brains and removing their inhibitions. Then, when they left, it had been together, eager to try absolutely anything to stop the pounding in their heads.

That should have been the only time. A mortifying mistake caused by some concussion or maybe due to overworking. But it had felt strange in a liberating way, and like a drug they realised they’d started needing more.

Nobody else had reciprocated the same level of intensity and desperation that they had. Nobody else had been in this line of work.

“Are you seriously going to be in a mood this entire time?” Villain pulled away to comment, clearly noticing that familiar spiral in Hero’s eyes. They’d been thinking it all through again. Wondering how they’d gotten here and what had made them fall so far from untouchable.

“We shou—“

“We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. This means nothing. If you’re going to moan about the moral implications of it all can you at least come up with a new catchphrase. You’re getting boring, Hero,” Villain groaned, and a twinge of guilt twisted in Hero’s stomach.

Most people didn’t really like it when the person they were kissing spent the entire time whining about how horrible of an ordeal they’d found themself in. It was a fair complaint. Villain surprisingly hadn’t ever seemed to show a similar side of regret. Only shyness when it was all over.

God, when the hell did they start feel bad about wounding a criminal’s feelings?

“You know what your problem is, Hero?”

The hero only gave a look in return that was supposed to come across as disapproving but only really seemed mildly concerned with it all.

“You keep judging this whole situation on normal people values. And you are not a normal person. You’re like the weirdest, most strange and off-putting person there is.”

“That sounds like you’re just awkwardly trying to insult me,” Hero remarked back, unaware that the knot in their stomach has loosened ever so slightly at Villain’s tone.

It had become evident from the first time they’d met like this that Villain had been putting on an act, and they weren’t as intimidating 100% of the time as they’d convinced everyone into believing. It was almost adorable, watching the shift.

“What I’m saying is: we’re both fucked up people. If we weren’t, we simply wouldn’t be in this situation. Don’t hold yourself to such high moral standards for once.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘not screwing the city’s most wanted criminal’ is a particularly high standard. That’s sort of just the bare minimum, you know.”

“This job isn’t easy—“ Villain started, exasperated by how desperately Hero was clinging onto their beliefs.

“Understatement of the fucking year.” Came Hero’s response, clearly not yet buying into Villain’s belief system.

“Exactly. It’s shit. Being powered on its own is excruciatingly difficult, let alone having to spend your time fighting other powered people day in and day out. Taking a mindful walk isn’t going to do anything to deal with that much stress. So, for once, just accept that we both need this.”

Hero bit down on their lip. Villain was right, nothing had really worked to calm them down before. They’d felt like a balloon constantly on the verge of popping for so many years and while this hadn’t fixed it, it had been the first thing to lessen the stress in years.

Both supers were breathless, tension still evident in their muscles, yet the mood had certainly been lost. As Villain rolled over, clearly having given up on their plans, Hero lay there next to them awkwardly.

“You’re not going to kick me out? I mean, if we’re not gonna—“

“It’s three in the morning and I cannot be bothered to send you out. I don’t care what you do. Just..” Just go to sleep. Just stay here with me. Just let yourself have this one nice thing: to stay in silent compant for the night.

-LL

“They love you.”

Hero hadn’t heard Villain approach, their footsteps characteristically silent: a result of years training to be stealthy enough to take on a superhero. They’d only felt their arms wrap tightly around their waist from behind and a familiar scent nuzzle itself into Hero’s shoulder.

“You’re jealous,” Hero remarked fondly.

The television screen before them spat back images and shakily recorded videos of the most recent attack on the city, snippets of explosions and debris painting the pavements. Between them all, it cut to segments of various reporters explaining the situation.

Hero had been the one to stop that attack, truthfully they usually were the one to arrive first on the scene. Other heroes didn’t drop everything like Hero did, especially when the call came in at three in the morning. Resultantly, they’d found themself the city’s favourite as of recently.

Villain didn’t particularly like that, evidently.

“They all want your attention,” Villain murmured, voice muffled as they pressed a soft kiss into the crevice of their spouse’s neck.

“So do you, sweetheart. Guess that makes you part of the Hero fanclub, hm?” Hero teased lightly before taking a sip of the warm drink they’d been warming their hands with.

“As if,” Villain scoffed. “Like any of your little fanboys can say they’ve kissed you before. That’s my privilege.”

“Hmm, fanclub leader then?” Hero mused, feeling the familiar way their spouse pouted at that without even having to look behind them. Then, they felt Villain shift their arms slightly and spin them around until the pair were facing each other, eye to eye.

Their partner’s eyes always looked much brighter in the winter, as though the snow falling outside the window brought out the light, cool tones splattered across their iris. Unsurprisingly, accompanied by those shimmering hues on Villain’s face was a pout.

Hero gave them a slightly questioning tone, clearly enjoying their partner’s sudden wave of bashful possessiveness. Villain had made it clear several times before that they weren’t overtly fond of just how much ‘competition’ they had, but they’d never been this grumpy about it.

“Weren’t you complaining a few months ago about how ‘these idiots should be praising you rather than some other heretical lunatic of a hero’? That’s what they’re doing now, dear.”

Hero’s sudden reputation boost had been quite recent. Beforehand, other heroes certainly took the spotlight, not that Hero minded. Villain, on the other hand, did.

Even though they were technically classed as ‘redeemed’ by the agency (although Hero did pull strings internally to ensure their partnership would be approved), they still despised heroes just as much as before. They just happened to develop a soft spot for one in particular.

“I take it back, I want them to be stupid again. I don’t like sharing,” Villain groaned. It was rather adorable, especially because they were still dressed in comfortable, baggy pyjamas, never the first of the pair to rise in the morning.

“Darling. I married you a month ago. Random civilians that I happen to save once or maybe twice at work are far from being on equal footing when it comes to winning my attention.” Hero took their spouses hands in their own and softly rubbed circles over the dorsal side of their hand.

Their courtship had first began over Villain’s seemingly all-encompassing fear of losing the hero. The latter had almost died in battle and the criminal’s terror-stricken demeanour gave it all away that they cared far more than they let on.

Villain had worked through a lot of that anxiety now, years into their companionship. It still shone though occasionally, like a strong beam of sunlight penetrating an unseen gap in the patched-up rooftop.

The villain grumbled a few unintelligible sounds that could almost be interpreted as ‘yeah, yeah I know that’, and in response they embarrassedly turned their head to the side. They’d made it abundantly clear how abashed they felt over just how quickly Hero could fluster them.

Before them, Villain was considered truly stone-faced by their peers. Now, not so much. A kiss on the cheek was enough to send them into a stumbling, blushing mess.

Wordlessly, Hero leant forward and stamped a chaste kiss upon their lover’s lips, who, as they went to pull away, grabbed at Hero’s shirt and pulled them in to kiss them deeper. The crimefighter laughed adoringly.

Villain only pulled away when, resonating from the TV came the sound of Hero's voice, painted with the usual tone they used when discussing things with the press. Comforting in a professional way, more like a teacher addressing a worried student than a lover calming their overly jealous spouse.

The criminal peered their head around to tune in to the television, always one to complain about the idiocrasy of all the reporters at every chance they could. After their retirement from villainhood, complaining seemed to be their favourite hobby. Second place was crochet.

Hero didn't particularly mind the whining and the grumbling. If they had, they likely wouldn't have pursued a professional supervillain whose job was literally to hate things when it came to the game of love. The crimefighter found that side of them adorably domestic.

In the background audio of the interview, a few doting fans cheered out Hero's name and Villain visibly scowled.

"Notice how none of the people in that video get to steal my pyjamas and wear them on Sunday afternoon?" Hero comforted jokingly.

"I'll have you know the mauve in them brings out my eyes, thank you very much."