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#…and botany then chemistry…gotta look over lab reports…acids…
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hii! it's me again🌷🌷
well, this night i had a dream where supervillain broke into the heroes lair and killed everyone but hero managed to escape and went to villain's house and it was like that "i didnt know where else to go" trope y'know, could you pretty please write something about this?? only if you want ofc!!!
hope you're doing well and happy birthdayyyyyy you're amazing!! <3<3
“I’m fine, I swear,” the hero said, eyebrows knit together. Aggravated, unfocused. The villain read them like an open book.
“You have just lived through a traumatic experience. You’re anything but fine,” the villain said. They stared down at the tea they had made for their nemesis. Sweet. The hero preferred sweet drinks. Would talk about coffee as if it was poison.
Smoothly, they let their eyes wander to the hero’s hand. Steady.
Hm.
They were trained incredibly well which shouldn’t have surprised the villain — heroes could be the coldest people on earth. Methodical, intelligent, calm. Who else could be capable of such a job?
A job that forced them fight others, payed them to be perfect, demanded to be obedient. No wonder most of them were just as fucked up as the villains they were fighting against.
“I’m a hero. My life consists of trauma,” they snapped but there was more to their usually cold tone.
“Ah, that’s why you’re so unpleasant.” The hero shot them an evil glare but stayed quiet. Without any other complaints, they picked up the cup of tea and drank slowly, carefully.
It was horrifying from what the villain had heard. In the middle of the night, the supervillain had attacked the lair, killing everyone but the hero. They weren’t wounded — thank god — but the villain knew they would have to deal with several symptoms of stress very soon.
The hero hadn’t been prepared to lose all their friends, despite the cold mask they put on, they had colleagues they got along with rather well. People they cared about. People worth protecting.
The villain exhaled audibly.
As of right now, the villain was the only one left for the hero and even though they were on opposite ends, had other values and morals, the villain saw how truly hurt the hero was. For a long time, the hero had had this little part in them that dipped them in darkness every now and then. And every time the villain noticed (they couldn’t deny it at this point) they pushed them to the light again.
They knew what hatred did to a person.
“When I was young,” the villain said, “like five years old, my mentors would lock me up in a tiny room with a body.”
The hero stared at them, eyes widened, horror reflecting. They nearly choked on their tea.
“What?”
“They locked me up with a dead body. Three times a week, maybe? I’d forgotten it, actually. Until I looked through my own file a few months ago.”
“Didn’t you kill your mentors?”
“I did,” the villain said. They let themselves fall onto the lavish couch as their own eyes bored into the red carpet under their feet. “I buried that for a long time. Made my performance suck.”
The hero stared into their drink. Bait swallowed.
Manipulation was something the villain found useful. Whether it was for their own secret goals or to simply destroy each other — it was an intriguing tool in their arsenal.
The story was true but the intention behind could’ve been considered cruel. Opening themselves to the hero, being vulnerable was a very important step towards gaining someone’s trust.
They felt bad and truly despicable but if they got the hero to talk about it, if they had the chance to find someone to trust, then maybe the villain could find peace on their own.
All the damage they had done wouldn’t be forgotten by one good deed. But helping the hero could make them feel a little more…human again.
“I’m not forcing you to tell me anything,” the villain said. “But carrying around all this stuff on your own doesn’t make you a better hero.”
It was sad to the villain that ambition was most likely to be this hero’s downfall.
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