#invalidstories

"Is that really you? I thought I’d lost you forever."

"I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms again. Now that you’re here, it feels like all my wounds are healing."

"I kept hoping, even when everyone else gave up. And here you are."

"The world was so dark without you. Please don't leave again."

"Your absence was a hole in my heart."

"Now that you’re back, I feel whole again."

"All the pain and suffering seem worth it, just to see your face again."

"I missed you every second. Your presence is the greatest gift I could ever receive."

"I carried you in my heart every day. Now that you’re here, it feels like coming home."

"I'll meet you in every lifetime, you can never leave."

"All this time, I felt a part of me was missing. Now that you’re back, I feel whole again."

"I survived by holding onto the thought of seeing you again. You were my strength."

Potion Problems

This was very fun to write lol! Hope this is what you had in mind.

Warnings: Potions

The villain had one job; steal the enchanted amulet, knock out the hero, and escape. Simple. Clean. Professional.

Instead, they were currently hiding behind a marble pillar, palms sweaty, heart pounding like a war drum, because oh no, oh no, oh no

The hero looked good.

Not just their usual brand of infuriatingly attractive. No, this was something far worse. The way their gloves flexed when they cracked their knuckles, the way their stupidly perfect hair caught the light, that smug smirk that should have been grating but now sent the villain’s stomach into frantic somersaults—it was unbearable.

"You’re really bad at hiding," the hero called out, voice laced with amusement.

The villain pressed their forehead against the cool marble. "Shut up, I’m strategizing."

"From behind a pillar?"

"Yes! Pillars are—very strategic—oh hell—" The villain peeked out and immediately regretted it, because the hero had taken a step closer, and wow, their eyes were so blue, and—

ABORT. ABORT.

They lunged sideways, only to tangle themselves in their own cape and face-plant directly into a potted fern.

The hero’s laughter was bright and far too delighted. "Okay, what’s wrong with you today?"

"Nothing!" The villain’s voice was muffled by leaves. "I’m fine!"

Strong hands gripped their shoulders, hauling them upright. The villain refused to meet the hero’s gaze, but they could feel the way those eyes studied them, could practically hear the smirk in their voice.

"You’re bright red."

"Allergies."

"To me?"

The villain’s traitorous mouth opened, then closed. "...Maybe."

A beat of silence. Then, impossibly soft, the hero murmured, "...Huh. Cute."

The villain’s brain short-circuited.

"This is the worst," they groaned, covering their burning face with their hands.

Masterlist

Why not write about a supervillain inviting the hero to a dinner to a fancy restaurant. The hero would accept and he would be either dumbfounded or happy to be treated well (or any feeling you would like but something strangely positive). The supervillain would be a gentleman, the hero would be able to eat what he truly wants and not what is cheaper (broke hero perhaps?)…

I feel like I’ve been super specific already so I hope you enjoyed the prompt and if you pick this prompt, hopefully you’ll have a good time writing it.

Dinner with the Villain

This was so fancy to write lol, I love how it was more specific. I hope this is what you had in mind.

Warnings: Poor living conditions

The hero stood outside the restaurant, staring up at the glowing sign with a mix of disbelief and apprehension. Le Clair de Lune was the kind of place they’d only ever seen in movies—crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, waiters in tailored suits. Not exactly the kind of spot you’d expect to be invited to by your arch-nemesis.

But here they were, clutching the embossed invitation in their hand, the words “Join me for dinner. 8 PM sharp. No capes.” scrawled in the villain’s elegant handwriting. They’d almost thrown it away, convinced it was some kind of trap. But curiosity—and the gnawing hunger that came with living on instant noodles—had won out.

The moment they stepped inside, a waiter greeted them with a polite smile. “Ah, you must be our guest of honor. Right this way.”

The hero followed, their boots squeaking awkwardly on the polished floor. They felt out of place in their patched-up jacket and scuffed jeans, but the staff didn’t seem to notice. Or if they did, they were too professional to comment.

The villain was already seated at a table near the back, dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than the hero’s entire apartment. They looked up as the hero approached, a smirk playing on their lips.

“You came,” the villain said, their voice smooth and amused. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Yeah, well,” the hero muttered, sliding into the chair across from them. “Free food is free food.”

The villain chuckled, gesturing to the menu. “Order whatever you like. My treat.”

The hero hesitated, their eyes scanning the menu. The prices were astronomical, the kind of numbers that made their stomach twist. But the villain had said whatever you like, and the hero wasn’t about to pass up the chance to eat something that didn’t come out of a microwave.

They ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, along with a side of truffle fries and a dessert they couldn’t even pronounce. The villain raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply sipping their wine as the waiter took the order.

“So,” the hero said once they were alone, “what’s the catch?”

The villain tilted their head, feigning innocence. “Catch?”

“Yeah. You don’t just invite me to a fancy dinner for no reason. What’s your angle?”

The villain leaned back in their chair, their smirk widening. “Can’t a villain simply enjoy the company of their favorite adversary?”

The hero snorted. “Favorite adversary? You tried to blow up my apartment last week.”

“And yet, here you are,” the villain said, gesturing to the table. “Eating my food, drinking my wine. Clearly, you’ve forgiven me.”

“I haven’t forgiven you,” the hero shot back, though there was no real bite to their words. “I’m just… curious.”

The villain’s expression softened, just slightly. “Perhaps I’m curious too. We’re always fighting, always at each other’s throats. I thought it might be… refreshing to see what happens when we’re not.”

The hero didn’t know how to respond to that. They were saved by the arrival of their food, the aroma of perfectly cooked steak making their mouth water. They dug in without hesitation, savoring every bite. It was the best meal they’d had in years.

The villain watched them eat, their expression unreadable. “You know,” they said after a moment, “you don’t have to live like this.”

The hero paused, a forkful of steak halfway to their mouth. “Like what?”

“Like you’re always one paycheck away from disaster,” the villain said, their voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re a hero. You save lives. And yet, you can’t even afford a decent meal. It’s… tragic.”

The hero set their fork down, their appetite suddenly gone. “What are you saying?”

The villain leaned forward, their eyes gleaming. “I’m saying you deserve better. And maybe… I can help with that.”

The hero stared at them, their mind racing. This had to be a trick. Some kind of manipulation. But the villain’s expression was sincere, their offer genuine. And for the first time, the hero wondered if maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to do this alone.

“Why?” they asked finally. “Why would you help me?”

The villain smiled, a rare, genuine smile. “Because even villains have their soft spots. And because… I think you’re worth it.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. So they didn’t say anything. They just picked up their fork and kept eating, the weight of the villain’s words settling over them like a warm blanket.

For the first time in a long time, they felt… hopeful.

Numbness

Thank you for the ask anon! It was such a fun idea to write. Warnings: Drinking The bar was a blur of neon lights and thumping bass, the kind of place where people went to lose themselves. The hero sat slumped at the counter, their third—or was it fourth?—drink in hand. They didn’t even taste it anymore. It was just something to do, something to fill the hollow ache in their chest. The world outside felt too heavy, too loud, too much. And yet, here they were, chasing numbness in the loudest, most chaotic place they could find.

Across the room, the villain watched from the shadows, their sharp eyes tracking every movement. They’d been following the hero all night, though they couldn’t quite explain why. Curiosity? Spite? Something else? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the hero was clearly not themselves. Their usual sharpness was dulled, their posture slack, their guard completely down.

The villain’s jaw tightened as they noticed the stranger sidle up to the hero, all smirks and sleazy charm. They watched as the man slid a drink toward the hero, something in his eyes that made the villain’s skin crawl. The hero, too far gone to notice, accepted it without a second thought.

“Idiot,” the villain muttered under their breath, their fingers curling into fists. They told themselves they didn’t care. The hero’s recklessness wasn’t their problem. But when the stranger leaned in, whispering something that made the hero laugh weakly, the villain’s resolve snapped.

By the time the stranger tried to coax the hero to their feet, the villain was already moving. They stepped into the dim light, their presence commanding and cold. “I think that’s enough,” they said, their voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The stranger blinked, startled. “What?”

The villain’s smile was razor-sharp. “Someone you don’t want to mess with. Now, unless you’d like to find out why, I suggest you walk away. Now.”

The stranger hesitated, glancing between the hero and the villain, before muttering a curse and slinking off into the crowd. The villain watched him go, their expression unreadable, before turning their attention to the hero.

“You’re a mess,” they said, their tone biting but not unkind. “What are you even doing here?”

The hero looked up, their eyes glassy and unfocused. “Trying to feel something,” they slurred, their voice thick with exhaustion. “Anything.”

The villain’s chest tightened, though they’d never admit it. They sighed, running a hand through their hair. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here before you do something even more stupid.”

The hero didn’t resist as the villain slung an arm around their shoulders, guiding them toward the door. The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the bar. The hero stumbled, their head lolling against the villain’s shoulder.

“Why are you helping me?” they mumbled, their words barely coherent.

The villain hesitated, their gaze fixed on the empty street ahead. “Because someone has to,” they said finally, their voice softer than they intended. “And because I’m not about to let you throw your life away on some pathetic self-destruction spree.”

The hero didn’t respond, their breathing already evening out as they leaned heavily on the villain. For a moment, the villain allowed themselves to feel it—the weight of the hero against them, the faint tremor in their frame, the vulnerability they’d never shown before. It was unsettling. It was infuriating.

And yet, as they walked into the night, the villain couldn’t bring themselves to let go.

The Rescue You Didn’t Ask For

Thank you for the request, hope you like it!

Warning: Mention of broken bones, injuries, blood, destruction, kidnapping and violence

The hero stumbled through the alley, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from a gash on their forehead, staining the pavement beneath their boots. Their ribs screamed with every step, and their left arm hung uselessly at their side. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not while the city was still in danger.

Behind them, the sounds of chaos echoed—screams, explosions, the distant wail of sirens. The villain’s latest scheme was in full swing, and the hero was the only one standing in their way. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Right now, they could barely stand at all.

“You’re in no condition to fight,” a voice said, smooth and familiar. The hero froze, their head snapping up to see the villain leaning casually against the alley wall, their arms crossed. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch.”

The hero glared, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way they swayed on their feet. “Get out of my way. I don’t have time for this.”

The villain pushed off the wall, their expression unreadable. “You’re bleeding. Badly. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve got at least two broken ribs. Maybe three. Do you really think you can take me on like this?”

The hero didn’t answer. Instead, they lunged forward, their fist swinging in a clumsy arc. The villain sidestepped easily, catching the hero by the wrist and pulling them close.

“Stop,” the villain said, their voice low and firm. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The hero struggled weakly, their strength fading fast. “I have to… stop them…”

“Them?” The villain’s brow furrowed. “You’re not even fighting me right now, are you? Who’s out there?”

The hero didn’t answer, their knees buckling as the adrenaline finally gave out. The villain caught them before they could hit the ground, their arms surprisingly gentle.

“You’re impossible,” the villain muttered, though there was no real anger in their voice. “Stubborn, reckless, and utterly impossible.”

The hero’s vision blurred, their words slurring as they tried to speak. “Have to… save them…”

The villain sighed, adjusting their grip on the hero. “You’re not saving anyone like this. And I can’t have my favorite hero dying on me. So, for once in your life, just… stop.”

Before the hero could protest, the villain pressed a small device to their neck. A sharp sting, and then darkness.

When the hero woke, they were lying on a soft couch, a blanket draped over them. The room was dimly lit, the air warm and quiet. For a moment, they thought they were dreaming. Then they saw the villain sitting in a chair nearby, flipping through a book.

“Where…?” the hero croaked, their throat dry.

“My safehouse,” the villain said, not looking up. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The hero tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in their side made them gasp. The villain was at their side in an instant, a hand on their shoulder.

“Don’t,” they said firmly. “You’re still healing.”

The hero blinked up at them, confused. “Why… why are you doing this?”

The villain hesitated, their expression softening just slightly. “Because someone has to keep you alive. And apparently, that someone is me.”

The hero stared at them, their mind struggling to process the words. The villain, their enemy, the one they’d fought countless times, was… helping them?

“You kidnapped me,” the hero said finally.

The villain smirked. “I prefer to think of it as a strategic relocation for your own wellbeing.”

The hero couldn’t help it—they laughed, though it quickly turned into a wince. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve been told,” the villain said, sitting back in their chair. “Now, rest. The city can survive without you for one night. And if it can’t… well, maybe it doesn’t deserve you.”

The hero wanted to argue, to insist they were fine, but the warmth of the blanket and the steady rhythm of their breathing made it hard to stay awake. As their eyes drifted shut, they thought they felt the villain’s hand brush against their forehead, their voice a soft murmur.

“You’re going to be the death of me, hero.”

Masterlist

Warning: Pinning, unmasking

The abandoned warehouse was eerily silent, save for the faint drip of water from a broken pipe and the sharp, uneven breaths of the hero. She was pinned against the cold concrete wall, the villain’s gloved hand gripping her wrist tightly, his other arm braced beside her head. His smirk was infuriating, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Let me go,” she hissed, twisting in his grip, but he only tightened his hold, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against her cheek, his voice a low, velvety purr.

“Now, now, darling,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Is that any way to treat someone who’s just trying to have a little fun?”

She kicked out, her boot connecting with his shin, but he barely flinched. Instead, he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Feisty as ever. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“You’re insane,” she spat, her free hand clawing at his arm. “Let. Me. Go.”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not until you do something for me.”

She froze, her eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

His gaze dropped to her mask, the sleek black fabric that hid her identity from the world. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the edge of it. She jerked her head away, but he caught her chin, his grip firm but not painful.

“Take the mask off,” he said, his voice soft, almost coaxing. “Let me see you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming faster. “No.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Why not? Afraid I’ll like what I see?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. But the way he was looking at her, the way his voice curled around her like smoke, made it hard to think straight.

“You’re not getting my mask,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. “Darling,” he said, his tone almost playful, “you’re not in a position to negotiate.”

She glared at him, her jaw clenched. “You’re not getting it.”

He sighed, feigning disappointment. “Stubborn as always. But you know what? I think I’ll take it anyway.”

Before she could react, his hand darted up, his fingers hooking under the edge of her mask. She gasped, her hands flying up to stop him, but he was faster, yanking it off in one swift motion.

For a moment, they both froze. The villain’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something almost… reverent. “Well,” he said quietly, his eyes tracing her features. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t in years. But she refused to let him see her fear. “Happy now?” she snapped, her voice sharp.

He tilted his head, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Not yet,” he murmured. “But I’m getting there.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was equal parts possessive and tender. She froze, her mind reeling, before she shoved him away with all her strength.

He stumbled back, his smirk returning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Worth it,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

She glared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re going to regret that.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “Oh, darling,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I already do.”

Masterlist

When the Hero Falls

Thank you for the ask anon, I really enjoyed writing this. Kind of ashamed of how long this took, hope you like it though. Warning: injuries, blood, wounds The rain fell in sheets, drenching the city in a cold, unrelenting downpour. The hero stood at the edge of the abandoned warehouse, their silhouette trembling against the flickering streetlight. Blood dripped from their side, staining the puddles beneath their boots a faint crimson. They shouldn’t have come here. They knew they shouldn’t have. But desperation had a way of making even the unthinkable seem reasonable.

Inside, the villain sat at a makeshift desk, fingers steepled, their sharp features illuminated by the glow of a single monitor. They didn’t look up when the door creaked open, though their lips curled into a sneer. “Well, well. To what do I owe the honor of this intrusion?” Their voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it faltered when they finally glanced up.

The hero was a mess. Their uniform was torn, their face pale and drawn, and their breathing shallow. They leaned heavily against the doorframe, one hand clutching their side. “I… need your help,” they rasped, their voice barely audible over the storm.

The villain froze. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Then they laughed—a cold, bitter sound. “You’ve got to be joking. You, the paragon of justice, coming to me for help? What’s next? Asking me to hold your hand and sing lullabies?”

The hero didn’t respond. Instead, their legs buckled, and they collapsed to their knees, a pained gasp escaping their lips. The villain’s smirk vanished. They stood abruptly, chair scraping against the concrete floor. “Oh, for—really? You’re not even going to try to make this convincing?”

But the hero didn’t move. Their head bowed, rainwater dripping from their hair, their shoulders shaking with the effort of staying upright. The villain hesitated. They took a step forward, then another until they were crouching in front of the hero, their gloved hand tilting the hero’s chin up.

The sight made their stomach twist. The hero’s eyes were glassy, their skin clammy. This wasn’t an act. This wasn’t some elaborate trap. This was… real.

“Who did this to you?” the villain demanded, their voice sharper than intended. They hated the concern that crept into their tone, hated the way their chest tightened at the sight of their nemesis brought so low.

The hero managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “Does it matter? You’ve always said you wanted to see me fall.”

The villain’s jaw clenched. “I wanted to be the one to do it,” they snapped. “Not… this.” They stood, pulling the hero to their feet with surprising gentleness. “You’re lucky I hate wasting resources. Come on. Let’s get you patched up before you bleed out on my floor.”

As they half-carried the hero to the back room, the villain couldn’t shake the unease settling in their chest. This was wrong. All of it. They weren’t supposed to care. They weren’t supposed to feel this… whatever it was. But as they laid the hero down and began cleaning the wound, they couldn’t help but wonder what could have driven their fearless hero to seek help from the one person who despised them most.

And, more troublingly, why they couldn’t bring themselves to turn them away.

Chained

Warnings: Forcing, threats, mentions of bombs, and fighting

The villain’s hands trembled as they planted the last explosive charge, their breath coming in shallow gasps. The warehouse was rigged to collapse, another "mission" completed under the Supervillain’s command. Another sin to carry.

They never wanted this.

But choice had been stolen from them long ago.

"Disobey me," the Supervillain had whispered once, fingers digging into their shoulder like claws, "and I’ll make sure you watch as I burn everything you ever loved to the ground. Starting with her."

So they obeyed. They stole. They sabotaged. They lied.

And with every order followed, a piece of them withered.

The Hero caught them in the aftermath of a bank heist, the villain’s mask cracked, their shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The fight was half-hearted, both of them knew it.

"You don’t have to do this," the Hero said, lowering their weapon. Their voice wasn’t angry. It was knowing.

The villain let out a hollow laugh. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

"I think I do." The Hero stepped closer, eyes sharp but not unkind. "The explosives at the docks last week, rigged to detonate away from civilians. The stolen tech you ‘accidentally’ left behind for us to trace. I wouldn't expect it for someone who didn't want to be caught."

A lump rose in the villain’s throat. They wanted to scream. To beg. To say, "Help me."

Instead, they whispered, "It doesn’t matter. He owns me. There’s no way out."

The Hero’s gaze hardened. "Yes, there is." A hand extended to pull them up. "Tell me who’s making you do this."

For the first time in years, the villain felt something dangerous.

Hope.

Masterlist