Prompt #40

Prompt #40

The villain had been gone for a whole month and the henchman was glad to say that they'd held down the fort successfully. The supervillain's request for their superior's help had come as a shock for sure - and on such short notice too - but it was hardly an opportunity they could turn down. Hardly an opportunity that the villain would want to turn down: they'd dreamt of working with the supervillain for years...

In a selfish way, the henchman was afraid. They loved working for the villain. If this became something permanent - if the villain's new work excursions changed from a month of hands-on scheming to a fulltime employment then where would that leave them? The business the supervillain ran was different. There was no room in it for the henchman, or any of the other small criminals that the villain had roped together under their own small company. If the villain left, then they supposed that would leave them in charge but the henchman didn't want that.

After all, they'd never entered the business of villainy for their own gain.

They liked playing the role of assistant. They liked being able to support the only person they had ever truly cared about.

The henchman shook themself a little as the doors to the office opened, quickly brushing down the villain's seat and standing to the side of it - eyes roaming over every little detail even though they already knew everything to be perfectly in place.

"Villain, welcome b--"

They cut off almost instantly. The shadow of their superior that stood before them so uncharacteristically small.

The villain was pale. Their shoulders hunched inwards and their eyes stayed focused down - the skin of their left cheek mottled with purple and black, the narrow cut there barely a few days old.

"Villain?" the henchman asked, and their voice had never been softer. They drifted forwards slightly, hands itching to reach out. "Are you okay?"

A breath.

The villain's eyes turned up ever so slowly, the corners shining with unshed tears.

"Henchman, I...I think I made a mistake."

when doese one make fanart for a man you adore

Happy May!!

Wait-

HIS BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP WE GOTTA ACT FAST--

i like the drawing, i have no context for anything

just smile and nod

Hii I absolutely love your writing!

I know you just posted it..butt I was wondering in you could make another part of #270 ? The prompt From @some-messed-up-writing-for-you

(The one with the rich supervillain and the reporter who somehow knew the villain was dating sv for 8 months)

Thank you so much!! It's taken a couple days but here's part two!

For any new readers, you can read Part One here!

A steady wrap on Villain's steel door resonated in all four walls of their apartment, sending a vague little shock into their bedframe where it pressed against the wall.

Villain untangled themself from their mess of thick blankets and stumbled to the window, peeking warily from a space below the curtains. Supervillain stood on the landing in sunglasses and a white, double-breasted wool coat. If they were anyone else, Villain would have pegged them as lost or stupid for walking around this part of town so richly dressed. But seeing as this was Supervillain, they worried more for the petty thugs that might mistake them for an easy target.

Villain yanked the chain off the door, flinging it open wide enough that they could properly throw themselves around Supervillain's neck. "Supervillain!"

One of Supervillain's hands went to the small of their back and the other to their face as they dipped down and pressed their mouth to Villain's. Their shampoo, mouth spray, and cologne blended in a fragrant harmony of pinewood, peppermint, and jasmine that made Villain heady. They were roughly dropped back to reality as Supervillain abruptly pulled back.

"Did you just get up?" Supervillain asked.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Morning breath." Their nose wrinkled involuntarily as they said it, and Villain's face warmed.

They loosed their hold on Supervillain and scanned their apartment. Toothbrush, toothbrush. Before they got two steps, Supervillain reeled them back for a second, longer kiss. A few moments later they held them out in front of themself and thumbed some leftover foundation out from under their eye.

"And you're still wearing last night's makeup?"

"The bathroom was taken when I got home and I was tired." Between Villain and the complex's 7 other tenants, the bathroom was a coveted commodity. Since sharing was dicey, they often found different facilities, public restrooms and gym showers, but all of them were still always fighting for the convenience of a restroom right outside their door. Villain had not been in the mood for a screaming match through the door at 12:30 a.m. nor for sitting outside holding their place in line for who knew how many hours.

"Remind me why you won't let me put you up in a better apartment?" Supervillain said, passing over the apartment's threshold and flicking off their sunglasses to glance around distastefully at their stained floors and scanty furnishment.

"I like the neighborhood?" Villain tried.

"Ah, yes, the killers and cutthroats, wonderful neighbors."

"You're one to talk," Villain said.

Supervillain sat down in one of the wicker chairs at Villain's wobbly table and crossed their ankle over their knee. "Hm. I wonder if any real comparison can be made between a diamond and a stone. This place is a birthing place for mediocrity. Just chunks of worthless mineral crumbling off the same barren cliffside."

"Stones like me?"

"There's always a vein of gold mixed in with the gangue," Supervillain waved nonchalantly, then more intensely, "Why would you even say that? You seemed happy to see me a moment ago and now you're angry again? Is it still about last night? I know it was hard on you. Let me make it up to you."

"I'm not angry." Slightly annoyed maybe, but not angry. What right did they have to anger when Supervillain was about to find out just how massively they'd screwed up?

"What do you want?" Supervillain asked, surrounded by an air of confidence that they could provide anything Villain wished. "Clothes? Jewels? Car? You're always browsing those motor scooters on your phone. Oh! Do you want a new phone, baby?"

A part of Villain faltered at the temptation. It was just so easy for them. Two taps on their phone, and they could have Villain's dreams already ordered and shipped. But the part of Villain containing their pride resisted. The same pride that kept them in this dump and gave them a fighting chance with Supervillain when they were still nothing more than a feisty two-face in tired clothing. They couldn't bear being dependent on anyone. It made them feel small and pitiful. In any case, even if they could convince themselves that an expensive gift was payment for yesterday's torture, the guilt gnawing in their stomach wouldn't allow it.

"Supervillain," Villain said quietly. "I need to talk to you."

The self-assured curve of Supervillain’s mouth lowered into a frown, and their fist tightened on their knee. "If you're breaking up with me, I want my kiss back." They said it with humor, but the edges of their tone were sharp and chilling.

"No!" Villain seized their white-knuckled fist in both hands. "It's nothing like that."

Supervillain visibly relaxed, leaning forward on their elbows to cup Villain's jaw as they knelt in front of them. Their eyes urged--no, commanded--them to explain further.

"I..." Villain played with Supervillain's fingers. "I messed up. I really really messed up, and I should've said something last night, but I wasn't completely sure, but now... Supervillain, I'm so sorry."

"Love, you're not making any sense."

"Last night, when you left me on the balcony, a reporter talked to me. He was nice, so I let my guard down. At one point, he mentioned something about us dating for eight months. I didn't deny it. I didn't even realize until later that he'd said it. He knew, or at least suspected, and now because of me, he knows we were lying."

Supervillain reclined back in their chair in a fit of chuckles. "That's what you're so worried about? Villain, it's a reporter tactic. They trick you into agreeing in passing to something they've made up and then they blow it up in the papers. I do wish you'd told me yesterday so I could have gotten ahead of the press, little hope of that now, but if that's it, we can just deny it. Say you were confused. He can’t do any real damage.”

"Yes, he can," Villain moaned.

"No."

"He can. There's more."

"Ok, what else?"

"It was Dean Ashley. He works for Lime Light Magazine."

Supervillain raised their eyebrows. "Yes, I'm familiar with him."

Villain spilled out the rest as quickly as they could. "Eight months is a really exact guess. It made me wonder how he could have known. So I thought about everyone who knew about our real relationship. And the only option-- Well, I compared pictures last night. It's the same chin, same eyes. He uses different speech patterns as a civilian, but now that I know, his voice itself is practically unchanged."

"What are you talking about?" Supervillain said, stern enough to make Villain swallow and focus on the point.

"He's Hero."

Supervillain's reaction was like a kettle coming to a boil.

"You're telling me," he started calmly, "that you spoke to Hero. On the very night we dedicated to eradicating any and all public doubts, you spoke to Hero and CONFIRMED EVERYTHING?! YOU REVEALED OUR IDENTITIES? MY IDENTITY?"

"I didn't mean to!"

Supervillain ripped out of Villain's grip, looming over them like a winter storm. "DO YOU THINK THAT MATTERS? 'It was an accident.' 'I'm sorry.' Do you think 'I'm sorry' changes the fact that the only person who could actually prove something knows everything? It's only a matter of time before I wake up to my face plastered on every screen and magazine cover with a big bold headline: BILLIONAIRE BADDIE! You know to look for the tricks in people's wording! How could you have been so careless? Because he was nice?"

"I was tired!" Villain defended weakly, feeling the tears well hot in their eyes.

"It was one party!"

"It's not that easy for me!"

"Why?" Supervillain demanded. "You can pull an all-nighter for a flawless heist, hustle cops without batting an eye, build an explosive under high-pressure, what could possibly be so difficult about standing around and dancing?"

All the frustration Villain had swallowed yesterday, half-dissolved and unsettling their stomach like a disagreeable hard candy, rushed up their throat and burst past their lips. "I was tired of erasing myself for your reputation!"

Supervillain stopped short, contorted expression freezing in harsh lines. "What?"

Villain grabbed the legs of their sweats in handfuls. “I get it. Obviously, the real me is a horrendous match for [SV Civilian Name]. But I wasn’t expecting that I’d have to sell a person as well as story. I can’t turn my personality off and on the way you do. Being someone else is hard. Can you blame me for falling for the first trick that let me be me?” They held up their hands quickly. “And I’m not trying to excuse myself. I know that I screwed up. I just…well… It hurts being nothing but a coverup. Like I’m a hollow shell for show and nothing else to it.”

A poignant silence filled the air, accented by the shrill of cold wind coming through a space in the window. Villain couldn’t meet Supervillain eyes but they could feel their gaze boring into them.

“Villain,” they said finally. “Why do you think I told you to use your real name?”

“So I could use my own ID. Saves you from looking like your hiding something if anyone ever digs too deep. My civilian name is a dead end, but if they notice a fake name they might get too curious.”

"You really think a reporter could untangle an alias I’ve designed? If I wanted to give you a new identity, I would have given you a new identity.”

It was Villain’s turn to stare.

Supervillain crouched down in front of them, the ends of their coat spreading out behind them like the train of a king’s robe. “For the year I've known you, my life has been split in two. One public, one secret. No cross-over. It was non-negotiable. But putting you in the ‘secret’ category has always been my biggest vexation. You say it’s hard to be someone else, well, it was hard for me to treat you like something shameful. When the truth is...”

Villain awaited the next words hungrily, but Supervillain simply rubbed the bridge of their nose and started anew. The disorder of their thoughts was surprising. The master criminal was usually so expert and smooth at, well, everything.

“I needed big news for my reputation, that is true. But more importantly, I didn’t want to hide you anymore. I needed a way to insert you into my public life. A way to spend time with you anywhere I want without worrying whether it will all crash down on me. One carefully selected cross-over that wouldn't cause any harm--" They stopped again. "And that's what Hero noticed." They let out a long sigh. "It's not your fault."

"But I’m the one who talked to Hero. If I had been more aware—”

Supervillain wiped the remaining tears out of their eyes. “I’m the one that made him suspicious. If you hadn’t confirmed anything he would have kept looking.”

Villain’s bottom lip trembled, and they buried their face in Supervillain’s chest, the white wool scratchy on their cheek. A sudden thought jolted them out of the warmth.

“What about Hero?”

“Well, my little genius, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting you to figure out his secret identity while he was uncovering ours. We’ll give Dean Ashley a little call. I wonder how he’ll react to the idea of his name being dropped to every villain in this city. I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”

Part Three

I love you misunderstood villain who’s been through the worst kind of hell and wasn’t able to come out of it unscarred.

I love you villain who is well understood and just likes doing bad things for pure pleasure.

I love you villain who is loved by the fandom.

I love you villain who is hated by the fandom.

I love you villain who has to cry alone and lick their wounds in the dark because they’re too scared to let anybody see them vulnerable.

I love you villain who’s not scared to shout all their pain and trauma at the top of their lungs for the world to hear.

I love you villain who’s on their knees begging to be accepted and loved for once.

I love you villain who never bows down to anyone.

I love you villain who hides their scars like their deep, dark secrets.

I love you villain who shows their scars like trophies from the battles they won.

I love you villain who wants to create a better world, even if their way of trying to achieve the goal is different than hero’s.

I love you villain who wants to burn the world down.

I don’t do that Anti Shit in my house

this is so lovely, I'd love for it to continue. I can picture the scenes and thoughts really nicely ^^

snippet #2 — constantly rotting

CW — depressed / burnt out henchman , bed rotting , mentioning of medications, dissociating

Henchman hasn't picked up any of the calls from the Villain lately and dear god, Villain was displeased.

And for a good reason, Henchman was the most trusted out of all henchmen in the organization with how well they perform and how they had stayed with the villain since the beginning.

so, how did it all change? They showed up less and less ever since That incident, even if Villain had called or visited them, they didn't have the energy to get out of their bed- their boss being unhappy with their lack of presence was reasonable.

all they do is rot in bed. constantly felt like they were only wasting their years.

Hell, Henchman doesn't even have enough money to live anymore so not only were they on the brink of getting fired or even considering retirement at this point but also getting kicked out of their own apartment.

This is stupid.

They were unemployed in their personal life and even if they did show up at work again, they felt nothing but guilt as others started to talk to them less or try to avoid them ever since. They didn't even know what they did wrong?

so every conversation they tried to take part in felt awkward because of that.

They looked around their room, everything was..a mess.

They sat up on their bed, looking down at their scar filled arms. Why are they even willing to devote themselves to a criminal, thus risking their own life?

many thoughts ran to their head until their phone started to ring again. another daily call from their boss, apparently.

they let it ring until it hung up on itself, while waiting so they finally got up, put on their uniform, and got ready.

if they had remembered correctly, they were called for a personal meeting upon stepping in the building.

And if Henchman was being honest, they were anxious. but at this point, do they even care what would happen to them? no.

–

Well, that didn't go well. for the henchman, at least.

It felt like a counseling session rather than a meeting and it took them back to when they were in highschool.

back to when they got so fucked up that they got sent to therapy and put into medications.

the villain was..worried, yet displeased. they not only had known each other for awhile on the job but they've also been close.

fuck, they felt even more terrible after they were dismissed. going back here was a mistake.

They were ordered to organize more paperworks and, even if the villain didn't say it directly, they didn't want to disappoint the villain even further so they got to work.

Now here they are, printing copies of the documents the villain gave, I mean, most of the time they were dissociating anyway.

nothing felt real at this point, they felt extremely disconnected from their body. almost as if their own body doesn't belong to them.

they wanted to go back rotting in their room again but it seemed like it wasn't an option now that they were here.

they were just staring at the printer as the machine does its thing, well, at least their body is. they didn't seem to hear the knocking on the door of their little office the villain provided them until they felt a tap on their shoulder.