“So…” the hero purred. They scratched three perfect lines into the villain’s forearm, their lips close to the villain’s ear. “…when are you going to regret having kidnapped me?”

The villain squeezed their eyes shut and waved with their hand, as if to shoo the hero again.

“I didn’t know you’d be this annoying, that’s for sure,” they said. They stared back at their phone and continued with the scrolling.

“You can also let me go…” the hero suggested. They grabbed the villain’s forearm and squeezed until the villain was staring at them. “…I mean, it’s kind of a waste of my talents. To sit here. Do nothing.”

“You’re always welcome to watch TV,” the villain said.

“That’s not exactly what I want.” They let their gaze crawl down the villain. “You know, you brought me here so, technically, you’re responsible for entertaining me.”

“Is that so?” They let their eyes drop to their phone again.

“Yeah. I get bored easily.”

“I can tell.”

“Come on. Let’s spar.”

“Not right now,” the villain said.

“Then tell me what you did today.”

“Burned down an orphanage and ran over three cute puppies,” the villain answered bluntly.

“You’re not funny.” The hero stopped leaning over the villain and stood up fully. They crossed their arms in front of their chest, their eyes narrowing.

It had been over a week and the hero was beginning to feel like this was getting somewhat ridiculous. On day one, they had tried to punch through the walls. On day two, they had used their powers. On day three, they had started questioning the villain.

To no avail - the villain wasn’t talking. Attacking the villain wasn’t going to lead anywhere, so, the hero was trying everything they could to get some information out of their nemesis.

Why on earth were they stuck in an apartment that was certainly not the villain’s with the villain coming and going whenever they pleased?

What was going on?

The hero took the villain’s phone.

“There’s no SIM card in there,” the villain said. They looked unimpressed. “In case you were planning on contacting anyone.”

“Talk to me, baby,” the hero said suddenly. They put the phone aside and sat down on the villain’s lap. Their hands found the villain’s neck easily and although their nemesis tried to look annoyed, they didn’t push the hero away. “Talk to me. Don’t be shy.”

“You’re really testing my limits here,” the villain whispered.

“Is that so?” The hero leaned forward and they could see how very quickly, the villain started to look very shy. The hero loved it when the villain let their guard down in front of them. It was very sweet, very rare too. They were so grumpy and mysterious all the time. It was lovely. “I just want a few answers, pet.”

“What do you want to know?” The villain put their hands on the hero’s lower back, but rolled with their eyes at the same time.

“Why am I here?” Their gaze dropped to the villain’s lips.

“Because I kidnapped you.” Still no answers, then.

“Do you want me all to yourself, is that it?” the hero asked. They let their thumb follow the curve of the villain’s bottom lip. God, for how long had they been tiptoeing around each other?

It was probably a year by now.

Their other hand played with the hem of the villain’s shirt and their knuckles brushed against their enemy’s naked abs accidentally.

The villain took in a deep breath.

“I mean, I’m not complaining, you’re so very good to me. But there’s a lot of helpless civilians out there that need my help.”

“Do you think I care about civilians?” The villain asked. They leaned their head back against the armchair.

“No, but I think your greed should be a bit obvious to them. After all, civilians don’t like sharing their heroes with villains,” the hero said. “And you know what happens when the people get upset…”

Admittedly, they were getting greedy themselves. They wanted their nemesis. They really did. Maybe more than getting answers.

They kissed their jaw. Was the villain a good lover? Were they passionate? Or shy?

“Damn you,” the villain whispered.

The hero let their fingers go over the other’s stomach, exploring carefully. Whenever they could feel scar tissue, they took their time to follow it.

“What?” They kissed the villain’s temple next. Then their cheekbone. They exchanged looks, both clearly longing for the enemy.

This was only happening once. The hero couldn’t allow themselves to do this regularly.

“Is it a possessive thing?”

The villain let out a pained sigh. Their fingers dug into the hero’s lower back softly.

“It’s a a-lot-of-people-want-to-kill-you-thing,” they said, defeated almost. They looked away.

“Aww, you care about me.” Their gaze jumped back to the hero. Both of them were aware how much the villain was blushing.

“I don’t. Now, kiss me properly.”

“Say please,” the hero said.

“Kiss me, please.”

The expression looked like a grimace at best.

"Villain," Hero ventured, "are you...not used to smiling?"

Sorry it's short, I am very dead

"Fuck you." Villain snapped as Hero tied their hands behind their back.

"Would you like to? We've got some time before the police arrive." Hero smirked, running their hand over Villain's arm as they came back in front of them.

"You know that's not what I mean, jackass." Villain glared.

Hero sat on the ground in front of their nemesis. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered." Villain rolled their eyes. "You're insufferable."

"You just gonna sit there and pretend you're not interested as always? It wouldn't kill you to show a little interest." Hero winked. "I know you find me at least intriguing."

"And what would make you think that?"

"Because you're still here."

"You tied me up. Where the hell do you expect me to be?"

Hero stood up and leaned close to Villain's ear. "I tied the knot so it's essentially in your hands. You could've easily gotten out by now if that's what you wanted."

Villain hated themself for the blush they felt burning their face.

The hero stared at the supermarket shelf, their mouth agape. It was nothing more than another cruel joke that got in line to torment them today.

Everything seemed to be conspiring against them — being late to work, getting their ass kicked for a solid hour and now, the chocolate they craved on top of the shelf. Theoretically, the hero would be able to reach it, but their stitches were still fresh and their bones ached persistently.

On top of that, the supermarket was playing heartbreaking songs. Although it did fit the hero’s overall mood, they would have welcomed something more upbeat.

“Long day?” They looked at the person next to them and to their surprise, their nemesis was standing close by. They wore a hoodie and a cap, hiding their face and physique rather well. At first, the hero frowned, looked away, but then their eyes found the villain once again.

Their bottom lip was swollen. Their knuckles bruised.

“Kind of,” the hero said. Their voice was embarrassingly hoarse, so they cleared their throat. “Definitely exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The villain took a bar of chocolate from the shelf and turned it in their hand, examining it arrantly. Their nose wrinkled. Suddenly they turned towards the hero and lifted the bar in their hands. “Putting mint and chocolate together is an actual crime, like…who the fuck thought that would be a good idea?”

They shook their head and basically threw the bar back to where they had taken it from.

“What an absolute loser bullshit.”

And the hero, for whatever reason, the hero had to giggle. The villain seemed to be genuinely agitated by it and the hero couldn’t help but find it delightful.

“Sounds personal,” the hero quipped.

“Intrinsically personal, believe me.” The hero didn’t even realise how their smile was glued to their face until soft quiescence overcame the both of them.

The hero dared to look at their nemesis, but the villain’s eyes were on them already.

“You okay, though?” they asked, almost whispered the words. It was something out of a dream.

In the hero’s experience, most people didn’t really like those who were complicated. Understanding someone else is difficult. Challenging. Messy.

It is work and most people are already working enough for them to go crazy. So, demanding even more work was preposterous. It was ridiculous.

But when the hero was with the villain, it was so easy. All of it was so easy.

Barely any miscommunication. Mutual respect. Compassion. The hero swallowed.

Why did they have to be on opposite sides?

“Yeah,” the hero said. They stared at the shelf. “I’m okay.”

“No, be honest.”

“I am being honest.”

“Not quite,” the villain said.

The hero looked back at them.

“I…I am just a little mad at myself for being precarious, I guess,” they said eventually. “I suppose you took care of them, though?”

“Yeah, wasn’t pretty.”

More silence.

“Listen…you don’t have to—”

“Don’t give me that crap.” The villain’s eyes were on the shelf, as if it was the only way of communicating with each other. As if this shelf was the equivalent of looking into each other’s eyes. Both seemed to be really bad at that right now. “I make my own decisions.”

“Are you badly hurt, though?” The hero asked. They shifted a little bit closer to the villain until their shoulder nearly bumped against the villain’s biceps.

“Looks worse than it is.” The hero could feel their little finger brush the side of the villain’s palm. They pulled their hand away. “Don’t worry about me. You on the other hand…”

“I’m okay,” the hero repeated. Again. Their hand against the villain’s fingers. And the villain’s fingers against theirs. Testing the waters. “…did you follow me?”

“I know most of your routines, I figured you’d buy some stuff after such a big fight.” The hero kept staring at the shelf and the villain did the same. The hero didn’t even dare to breathe. They didn’t know what they were doing, didn’t even remember if they were allowed to do this.

“You’ll never beat the stalker allegations,” they joked. Somehow, their little finger hooked around the villain’s slowly. The villain’s fingers were warm. Oh so comforting.

“I’m not— I mean…really, I…you mentioned buying sweets after a big fight once, so—”

The hero giggled again. Their index finger brushed the villain’s sensitive knuckles carefully. Were they allowed to take their nemesis’ hand? Were they allowed to be this close?

The hero was losing their mind, but they supposed the villain was feeling something very similar.

“I was just joking, I know you’re very attentive…” They took in a breath but their chest hurt a little too much to inhale properly. “…thank you for checking up on me.”

“Of course. Always.”

Ultimately, the hero let their fingers intertwine, making their heart race in their chest vigorously.

They couldn’t remember holding hands being such a big deal to them. Big enough that they couldn’t even look at the villain now.

The villain’s thumb kept rubbing the hero’s cold skin. Gradually. Very gradually.

“I know it’s a lot to ask and you can decline anytime…but can I take care of your wounds?”

The hero looked at them and finally, their nemesis did the same.

“I’d like that,” the hero said. Their cheeks felt hot.

“Okay,” the villain breathed. They stretched out their other arm without letting go of the hero and grabbed the bar of chocolate the hero had eyed on top of the shelf. “This one is on me.”

The hero's mouth curled into a smile. "You mind repeating that?"

But the villain was quite serious, although their grip around the hero's forearm loosened.

"They will kill me if anything happens to you, you know that," the villain said.

"Womp womp."

The villain laughed hollowly and stared at the hero in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable."

Their nemesis had always been an incredibly unserious person - and an annoying one - but ever since the villain had been captured and assigned to protect them, it had gotten worse. Somehow, the villain couldn't blame them. The hero was, after all, a secretive person who didn't need any type of surveillance.

"I don't need a bodyguard," the hero said. They bobbed their head confidently. "I am not the best ranked hero in the entire city for nothing."

"Come on, don't be cocky now. I wouldn't be here if the agency actually believed that," the villain said and they meant every word. It was a kind of community service that was meant to reform the villain. Protecting people, watching the hero work - they assumed that was the goal of this entire operation.

However, the hero made it very easy to dislike heroes in general. They had a big mouth, viewed themselves as some kind of saint and (arguably) the worst thing above all: they also looked good while doing it.

The hero let out a big sigh and started stretching, followed by a yawn and a bored expression. It was clear that the hero wanted to fall into the bed of the shared hotel room and sleep until the afternoon.

"Little piece of advice?" They sat down on the bed. "Don't read too much into it. I doubt they know what they are doing themselves."

"They are in charge of internal security, they should know what they are doing."

"You think it's smart to put two nemeses in a hotel room with only one bed?" the hero asked. They wiggled with their eyebrows and all the villain could do was roll their eyes. "This agency is a real shit show and everyone smart enough should stay as far away from them as possible."

"I have no choice in that matter. You die, I die too. They will find a way to blame me. I'm supposed to jump in front of you when people shoot at you. I am nothing more than a human shield."

"Gorgeous human shield."

"I'm flattered," the villain said flatly. They took in a deep breath and let themselves fall next to the hero on the bed. They put their head in their hands and rubbed their face. If the hero continued to be reckless, if they continued to be so stupidly bold, the villain would start to feel the consequences pretty quickly.

"Don't be. I'm merely observing objective beauty."

"Ugh. Fuck off." The villain squeezed their eyes shut. They needed to think. If the agency was experimenting on them, the villain was meant to be the test subject which meant the agency wanted to control them.

The villain knew they had implanted a chip in them which tracked heartbeat and location. The only question now was: how was the agency going to kill them? Was the chip responsible? Was it something else?

"You're worrying so much, no wonder you are always so grumpy." The villain raised their head and before they could answer, the hero's hand was already on their back, delicate fingertips digging into sensitive spots. The villain bit back a moan and pulled back gently.

"Let's not...complicate things."

"Of course not," the hero said. "But honestly, don't break that head of yours trying to figure out their next plan. They won't kill you until absolutely necessary and I am very good at taking care of myself. So unless you are very incompetent - which you are not - you are good for now."

"For now," the villain echoed. They had to admit, the hero's fingertips had felt good on their back. They had never expected the hero to be capable of being serious enough to try comforting the villain. If it even was what they had tried to achieve.

As the villain looked at them, they couldn't help but concentrate on their jawline. On the darker colours of their eyes. Their fingers. Those damn fingers.

The villain hadn't recovered from that quite yet and they started to regret their words. They knew the hero flirted often, but they weren't sure how much of it was boredom and how much was real.

And even if something was to happen tonight, the agency would know about an increased heartbeat in the middle of the night in the shared hotel room.

Which in the worst case, they would interpret as a fight.

But it was more likely that they wouldn't.

The villain bit the inside of their cheek. Shit, they needed to concentrate. The hero always threw them off their game.

"Did they chip you?" the villain asked.

The hero pulled up their sleeve and very suddenly the villain realised that they had never seen this arm naked. And they understood why - the entire forearm was covered in scar tissue.

"The better question is: how many times did they try?" the hero said. They covered their arm quickly again and cocked their head. "The agency learns pretty slowly but they realised eventually I wasn't willing to play any games. When dumb people get a fraction of power, no matter how small, they will abuse it."

The hero had never been this serious before. Not with the villain. And the villain could do nothing but stare as the hero casually told them how much the agency truly sucked.

"It's inevitable. But when it comes down to it, who is stronger? Some written words on a paper or a true superhero? These people are just people and I was sick of listening to someone tell me where to go or what to wear or what to say or whom not to save. I wanted to save as many people as possible. And that's exactly what I am doing now. Without someone monitoring my body or actions."

"And yet, you're with the agency," the villain pointed out.

"I made a deal with them. I will play nice with them in public and in return...they are keeping someone safe for me."

"A lover?"

"I wouldn't share this bed with you if I had a lover. And I wouldn't say the things I say to you," the hero said. They stared at their own hands and the villain saw little scars all over them. Like a messily woven rug. "It's my sibling. Outside of the country, I didn't want them to grow up here. But...yeah. They write me every week."

The hero smiled but they didn't seem to be happy.

"I'm not allowed to write back. Ever. I know it's better that way, but...I know they will forget me eventually."

The villain didn't say anything. They had never thought the hero would tell them something like this. And they had never expected them to go beyond their cocky persona. It was a little more than strange to hear this from someone whose main priority was flirting during battle.

"Maybe it's hypocritical of me. To say all of this and yet I am working with them to protect my sibling and pretend to be on good terms with them, but for my family, I am gladly the sinner. I would become the enemy to protect them."

"That's very admirable," the villain said. And it was. It was impressive. It was horribly understandable, too. "You're very special, I hope you're aware of that. You're a good person."

And now, the villain couldn't really hate them anymore. They couldn't even find a reason to. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They took in another deep breath and tried for the last time today to think clearly.

"I appreciate that you told me this. But I think it’s late and we both need some res-"

"I know, I know, darling. Take good care of my secret, though. Or I’m afraid I’ll have to kill your pretty ass," the hero said. They pursed their lips.

"You're welcome to try." The villain had to grin.

"Hm, tempting…not right now, though.” They leaned over and traced the villain's collarbone with their index finger. "Or the poor agency will think we are doing worse things than fighting. Those chips are scarily precise when it comes to counting beats per minute."

Idk if i explained myself well, english is not my first language, sorry.

Have a lovely day/night! I love your writing. <3

“Are you alright?” the villain asked. They felt the shaking in their fingers, how the blood shot through their veins and this oh so familiar feeling of being crushed to death.

They wished they had some power to control their state of panic. They wished there was something they could do, some neat mind controlling trick they could use on themselves to bring their heart rate back to healthy 80 beats per minute.

“I’m still alright, yep!” the hero answered, grinning at the villain, their face still decorated with their own blood. “Just like five minutes ago!”

“Good, good,” the villain said but their body didn’t make any efforts to reduce their own miserable state. They were gasping for air right now.

They could’ve lost the hero.

The villain had recently thought about when losing to the hero had become losing the hero and why the latter was the bigger fear out of the two. But honestly, the villain couldn’t tell. Everything blurred together. It had happened a few months ago, maybe even last year…

“Are you alright, though?” the hero asked cautiously from the (villain’s) big desk chair in which they were sitting. “You look pale.”

“I’m good.” The villain tried to sound as cold as always but their voice seemed to break. “I’m alright. Do you need more painkillers? Do you want to take a nap? You must be exhausted. I can arrange something…my henchmen could…”

They looked at the bloody cloth on the desk, soaked in red soup. They hadn’t finished cleaning up the hero’s face…they knew they had to…

The villain felt their head spin, their muscles tense. They grabbed their desk so they wouldn’t fall over.

“Hey—” The hero made a motion as if they were going to get up.

“Don’t,” the villain warned. They squeezed their eyes shut. “Please don’t move. You’re hurt.”

“You are hurt,” the hero protested. They were still wrapped in all the blankets the villain could find in their basement an hour ago. “What is going on? Should I call someone?”

“No,” the villain gasped. They closed their eyes again, trying to blink the white shapes out of their vision.

“Are you freaking out right now?”

“Kinda,” the villain admitted and then there it was.

They started crying. They didn’t sob. They didn’t contort their face. They simply started zoning out, tears streaming down their face.

And all of it because the nasty nightmares they had tried to fight for the last hours came back into their mind and manifested as too real, too terrifying pictures in their mind.

The hero dead, beaten with blood all over them on their bed.

The hero dead, poisoned with vomit all over them on the ground.

The hero dead, burnt with nothing but ashes all over them in their own house.

“Hey,” the hero said softly, snapping the villain out of their little horror show. “You were great back then, I appreciate what you did.”

“Please stop talking,” the villain said even though this wasn’t what they wanted.

“I mean it.” The hero stood up and to watch them hold their wounds made the villain’s stomach turn.

They could only imagine the pain the hero was going through: their flesh torn apart, one gunshot wound, stab wounds, broken bones, countless bruises…

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay,” the hero whispered. They took the villain’s hand and squeezed it lightly. They pulled the arm that wasn’t in a sling out of the many blankets and let their fingers comb through the villain’s hair.

“Thank you for saving me,” they said as their fingers pushed hair out of the villain’s eyes, as they scratches lovingly their scalp, as they travelled down to the villain’s jaw and wiped the tears away. “I don’t know what to do without you.”

The villain felt themselves calming down. The hero was there. They were touching them. They weren’t dead.

“That’s a lie,” the villain said, a small smile on their face. Their hands were still shaking though. “You’re good.”

“I wouldn’t have survived without you.” Suddenly, the hero stood up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the villain’s cheek. “This is the least I can do. Let me help you calm down, okay? We can help each other?”

If you don't mind, can I request a grumpy villain x sunshine hero? And maybe with a bucket full of fluff?

Have a nice day :DD

The hero threw a popcorn at the villain’s head. That didn’t change how they read their book angrily, though. The hero didn’t even know it was possible to read angrily and broodingly and still look incredibly pretty but the villain had always been good at multitasking anyway.

The hero threw another popcorn at them before they let one jump into their own mouth.

“What?” the villain asked, almost lazily, and turned the page. They didn’t bother to look up from the hardback but the hero was already used to that.

“Did you think about it?”

“Yes,” the villain answered, their eyes following the lines on the paper. Though the hero’s whole day consisted of it, they still watched the villain’s every single move. Even at home.

It was their favourite thing in the world. Strength and determination defined the villain with scary precision. Which made it so funny to watch them curl up in a blanket and lay their head on the hero’s stomach.

Or how they would hug the hero from behind after coming home late. How they would read their favourite books out loud. How their little habits became more apparent to the hero.

All of it made the hero’s day a bit more brighter.

“What do you think?” the hero asked. Their hand disappeared in the large bowl, digging for the perfect piece of popcorn.

“My answer is still no,” the villain said. No explanation came after, they simply licked their lips — one of those cute little habits the hero had always liked — and let their finger run along the edges of the book.

“Oh, come on. You love parties,” the hero said.

“I hate parties.”

“You like talking to people.”

“I hate people.” The hero put the bowl on the living room table.

“But—” they got up from their side of the couch and crawled onto the villain’s lap “—you love me.”

The villain sighed and closed the book without putting a bookmark in it. As if it was an instinct, they hooked their arms around the hero, holding them close. The book was long forgotten, deserted, lying next to them as their brilliant eyes shot up to the hero who was grinning as if it was their birthday. They gave the villain a nudge with their nose and knew they had already won this argument with that.

“I don’t wanna go and spy on all the supervillains alone. It’s just one stupid gala. We can cuddle after.” At that, the villain’s attention truly zapped to the hero. Their eyebrows arched, their lips parted. They contemplated, weighing their options. Calculating as always.

“It’s just four hours and after that, we can relax for the whole weekend. I promise. Come on. Please. Please. Please—” The villain rolled their eyes dramatically but the hero could also see the slight smirk on their face.

“Fine. But I want you by my side the whole night. I can’t stand to be without you in public. It’s awkward and wrong.” The hero’s grin widened.

“Aw, do you love me that much?” They leaned in, their nose touching the villain’s.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” the villain answered, surprisingly without the usual hint of annoyance in their voice. Talking about feelings wasn’t their best field of expertise.

But their actions made up for that.