winters-dream

[winters-dream]

MORE SUBMISSIVE VAMPIRE MEN PLEASE ‼️‼️

When the villain walked in, they didn’t know what demanded more attention: the hero decaying on the couch or the scary amount of bottles of blood around him.

“You called?” they asked him and walked around the couch. Calculating in their head, they came to the conclusion that at least five people would be dead by now if those bottles full of blood were the result of his killing.

“Yeah…”

However, they also suspected that those were donations. He would never kill anyone.

“Doesn’t seem like you need my help, though,” the villain said. Nevertheless, they took off their jacket.

“This blood tastes like shit,” the hero said. “Been trying to get used to the taste for a week now. Maybe I’m getting sick or something.”

“Is that even possible?” the villain asked. They took off their shoes.

“Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Maybe you just missed me,” the villain said and before he could say anything, they sat down on his hips, making his eyes squeeze shut when they moved.

“Maybe…” he mumbled. He cursed quietly but eventually, his hands found the villain’s waist. “God, I hate you.”

The villain smiled, excited to make this more interesting.

“You’re not a very good liar.” They went through his hair a couple of times and tried to be gentle.

“Ugh, gimme a break. I’m trying.”

“What’s this about?” the villain asked. Their lips were on his neck instantly, kissing cold skin as softly as possible.

They knew this wasn’t the kind of relationship that they wanted. They knew this wasn’t supposed to be including feelings. But they couldn’t help it.

Admittedly, the villain had pushed their feelings away for months now, had tried to ignore the hero and his kind demeanour. His sweet laugh and his soft fingers.

It hadn’t been easy. It hadn’t been fun.

And when they had accidentally hooked up one time, the villain had almost freaked out, fearing the coming days of awkwardness. However, he had never made them feel that way.

One hook up had turned into two, two had turned into four and now the villain searched for every excuse to visit him.

But it didn’t give them the satisfaction they craved.

“Why’d you call me?” the villain asked.

“…had a bad day at work,” he said. His fingers ran along the villain’s spine but his eyes seemed absent. “Needed to see you.”

“Poor boy,” the villain murmured. This time, they kissed him on the lips, still gentle, even though he seemed to want a little more.

“Work wasn’t even that bad, maybe I’m just having a bad week? I can’t tell.”

“When did this start?” they asked. The villain sat up on the hero’s hips and watched him carefully. “Do you need me to get you more blood? Any preference? Want me to kill people with a specific blood type?”

“Nonono,” he said. His eyes were half-lidded and the villain shifted their hips a little more to stir him up. Immediately, the hero grabbed their waist. “You evil little—”

His eyes widened.

“When did this start?” they asked, slightly amused at the hero’s fingers digging through the layers of clothes the villain had on.

“After you kissed me for the first time, I think.”

“Oh, was it that bad?”

“No, it’s…I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about having you.” The villain raised an eyebrow. “Please, just kiss me again.”

“What was that?” The villain’s lips curled into a smile. Their hand found the hero’s jawline, forcing him to look at them.

“Please kiss me,” he repeated. He bit his bottom lip nervously and it showed off his little fangs. It was adorable.

“Is that all you want?” the villain asked, leaning over him. They were cruelly close, lips nearly touching.

“Oh, come on…” His eyes dropped to the villain’s lips, to their neck.

“What else?” the villain asked.

“Can I bite you? Please? I will be gentle, I promise. You just taste so…fucking good.”

“Go on, what else?” The villain’s hand found his neck. They didn’t squeeze.

“Please, don’t make me say it.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“…a little.” The villain laughed softly. There were so many ways to say “sleep with me” and yet, the hero was still too nervous to say it.

“C’mon. Compared to you, I don’t bite. Unless you ask me, that is. So…tell me what you want.”

“Please be mine,” he said. “Be mine forever.”

The villain froze.

They had not expected that.

#fnfnfnnffn #I'm in love with your writng style #sosososo good

[winters-dream]

[winters-dream]

“You don't have to do this.”

Villain paused mid-speech—mid-stride—and glanced at the hero. Tied up in the corner of Villain’s lair, Hero watched as Villain had gone on a rather long and boastful speech about their plans for the city. Now that they had Hero captured, nothing stood in Villain’s way. They could set the city on fire if they so wished. Hero would be helpless.

They stood in front of the hero, a smirk wearing at their lips as they stared them down. “Of course I do. I want to run this city and now I can.”

Hero shook their head. “No. I meant this,” they said, gesturing towards themself as best as they could with their hands tied behind their back. “These grand gestures, the holding me hostage, the big talk. I can tell it’s mostly just big talk.”

Villain’s smirk faltered slightly. “It’s not just big talk.”

“But it is,” countered Hero. “I’ve been at this a long time. I know a tough facade when I see one. You’re trying to be impressive. To impress me.”

Villain scoffed and turned their head away, shame bubbling deep within their chest. They’d be lying if they said a great bit of this was theatrics to come off as impressive. They did want to be spoken of in high regard. But that didn’t have anything to do with the hero . . . 

Or at least that’s what they told themself.

“You think you have it all figured out?” asked Villain as they struggled to fight the blush that threatened to color their face and neck. The hero’s giggle made Villian look back at them. They expected mockery for being so painfully obvious, ridiculed for catching feelings for the enemy and wanting to impress them. Shame began to kick in tenfold, unwilling to look their nemesis in the eye. 

But what they saw was the opposite. They were greeted with warmth and admiration instead.

“I do,” Hero stated simply. “I’ve noticed the way you glance at me when you think I’m not looking, Like you’re searching for my admiration.”

Villain’s mouth went dry as they let out an audible gulp. 

“But you don't have to do all of this,” Hero continued. “I already think you're amazing.” 

“You do,” Villain asked mutely. It came out as more of a statement. 

Hero nodded. “Of course. I’ve been watching you through our years of being enemies. And I’ve grown fond of the person you’ve become.”

Villain had to look away from the hero; they couldn’t stand the look in their eyes. The same big adoring eyes they gazed at Villain with so many times now. They remembered the first time they noticed that look. The first time Hero and Villain set their work aside and held a real conversation together. Villain had allowed Hero to perceive them as a human being instead of the villain persona they usually wore around them. And vice versa.

Villain liked to think that’s when their initial crush on Hero had solidified. 

“Villain, come here,” beckoned Hero. And Villain listened without a second thought, kneeling before Hero so they were eye to eye. Villain had their eyes cast down to the ground, Hero’s sweet gaze too intimidating to face.

“You don’t love me,” Villain blurted. “You love the idea of me. How smart I am with a computer. My powers, how you could probably use them to overthrow SuperVillain if I switched sides or something. Or how—”

Something landing on his wrist interrupted his speech; Hero’s hand. Hero had managed to undo their own binds. Villain finally met Hero’s eyes, finding that same affection now mixed with a somberness Villain couldn’t quite place.

“Stop measuring your value based on the things you can do for other people,” said Hero. “You’re more than that, and I see it. You don’t need to convince me to love you.”

Villain let out a long breath, tension leaving their shoulders as well. They almost allowed themself to feel relief, a small hint of a smile making way to their lips. 

“You love me,” they said. 

They received a nod in response, and Villain leaned forward. Their forehead found purchase on Hero’s shoulder as Hero held them tightly yet gently. Their hold radiated a warmth that filled a piece of Villain they never knew was missing until now. They allowed themself to relax in Hero’s embrace and feel for the first time, the warmth of real love.

#im alive #my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #villains and heroes #villain prompt #hero prompt #hero and villain #heroes and villains #vilain and hero #captive #imprisonment

[winters-dream]

everyone: what's your goal in life?

me: to write a story so soul snatching, so gut wrenching and so devastatingly beautiful that it leaves you crying at 3am when you have a 8am lecture/shift and it inspires people to write entire essays, to write entire fanfics, mood boards and playlists based on it.

#absolutely

[winters-dream]

Hey I just read through your whole writing tag and I super enjoyed it. I know it's old but I especially loved the vampire/princess snippet :) Two of my favorite tropes, together at last.

Thank you 😊 I had a lot of fun writing that one

#no writing #answer for an ask #so sweet

[winters-dream]

Sometimes writing a first draft is delightful and eloquent and sometimes you're like DESCRIBE THE BREATH AS BREATHY AND JUST FUCKING MOVE ON

[winters-dream]

For everyone who wanted a part two 💖:

part one

Villain stood in their lair, their eyes trained on their TV as the news played on the large screen. The news anchor had just announced the death of the city’s beloved Hero, and Villain almost wanted to let out a haughty laugh as they turned to face Hero who sat comfortably on their couch, very much alive. 

Hero watched the news silently as the anchor gave a rather dismissive farewell followed by a montage of their work. They stared at the screen blankly, their face void of any emotion as civilians were given a chance to recall their memories of the Hero.

Villain turned the TV off, cutting the news report short as they stared down at Hero, sitting silently on the couch. They sat with their knees brought up to their chest, staring blankly at the TV, seeming unbothered that Villain had shut it off. 

“Are you okay?” Villain asked. They sat down beside Hero, careful to leave some space between them, still unsure how to act around the one they used to share their deepest secrets with, the one who’d kissed their worries away, shared a million ‘i love you’s with. That all disappeared when Hero lost their memory.

Hero gave them a minute shrug, resting their chin on their knees. “The whole world thinks I’m dead. The news said so.” 

Villain gazed at the Hero, guilt wracking their every nerve as they stared at Hero’s sullen expression. They softly sighed through their nose as their eyes followed the movement of Hero’s fingers picking at the corner of a throw pillow. 

“I’m sorry,” they said. And they truly meant it. None of this should have happened to the hero. That fight shouldn’t have happened, Hero should have never gotten amnesia. If Villain had just stayed home that day . . .

“Are you behind this?” asked Hero. 

“No, honest,” Villain answered too fast for their own liking, panic evident in their voice. “I promise, I didn’t know anything about it until just now.”

Hero nodded with a small motion, leaning back to relax against the back of the couch. They put Villain’s pillow, now with loosened embroidery stitches, in their lap and resorted to fluffing it instead. The action seemed to calm the hero’s mind so Villain didn’t stop them. Even if it was about to cost them a good pillow. 

“You know,” Villain started. “It's not too late. Your death just now came on the news. You can go out there and show everyone you're still alive. Your memory is still shit, but the agency will be thrilled to see you.”

Slowly, Hero shook their head. “I don't think so. That's not who I am anymore. They're all going to look at me and expect me. The person I was before all of this. They're going to expect me to remember. They'll look at me with disappointment when I don't.”

Their eyes met with Villain’s. “It's the same look you give me.”

Villain shook their head. “I'm not disappointed that you don't remember.”

They lied. Of course they were disappointed. They looked at Hero and saw a shell of who they used to be, the years of memories Hero has yet to regain. The distance behind their eyes where there used to be love. The passion they used to have, long gone. The determined set of Hero’s jaw as they conjured a plan to save the city. Their pride. 

All gone within the blink of an eye.

Yes, Villain was disappointed, annoyed at themself for expecting Hero to suddenly remember. It wasn’t fair to Hero.

“Let’s stop worrying about the past,” Villain said suddenly. “Because who knows if you ever fully recover. Focus on the now and make new, better, memories today.”

Hero shifted slightly in their seat and Villain saw the first glimmer of hope flash in their eyes. 

“You really think I can move on from this?” they asked. "It'll be that easy?"

"Well, no it won't be easy," Villain admitted. “But you'll have me with you the whole time."

They reached out and placed their hand on top of Hero’s. And for the first time since the incident, Hero smiled.

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #writing snippet #villains and heroes #villains #heroes #amnesia #memory loss

[winters-dream]

Hero has amnesia from an injury Villain caused. Guilty, Villain took them in until their memory returns:

Hero halted in their tracks, their breath caught in their throat. Villain, fresh out of a shower, stood in the middle of the room with only a towel to keep them decent. Their hair, still very damp, dripped small water droplets onto their shoulders that ran down their perfectly sculpted chest.

Their perfectly sculpted chest that Hero was openly gawking at. A wave of heat rushed into their cheeks, coloring their face and neck scarlet. They wanted to turn away, leave the room. Something to give Villain back their privacy, or at least make themself seem less of a pervert. 

But they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the scar that took up most of Villain’s torso. Pale in color, the scar ran from the top of their left shoulder to the center of their stomach. The surrounding skin was warped and Villain’s shoulder looked like it took most of the damage. Hero found themself wondering if it ever healed properly, if Villain had full use of their shoulder. 

“It’s rude to stare,” said the villain, their voice cutting through Hero’s thoughts like a knife. Hero’s eyes shot up to the villain’s face, a deep scowl present on the criminal’s face. “It’s even more rude to walk into one’s bedroom without knocking. Did you forget your manners as well?”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Or to stare at you, you’re um,” Hero rushed their words out, pausing momentarily as their eyes drifted back down to Villain’s scar. “I, uhm, I just had a question, I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

They looked back up at the Villain’s eyes, their cold stare not wavering for a moment. They felt frozen in place. And hopeless. Villain often had that effect on Hero. Their frightening aura alone was enough to set alarms off in Hero’s head. They were helpless, like a deer staring at oncoming traffic, unable to move out of the way before they got hit. 

Hero could hardly imagine what made them think they ever had a chance in a fight against Villain, what their pre-amnesia self was thinking.

“Are you going to actually ask the question?” asked Villain. “Or are you just going to stare?”

“Uhm.” Hero couldn’t remember their question, the surprise of seeing the half-naked Villain threw their train of thought off track. They averted their gaze away from the Villain’s annoyed stare, their eyes falling back to their scar. 

“Your scar,” mumbled the hero. “What happened?”

Villain tensed at the question, something of pain, anger, and resentment flashed in their eyes. They turned their head away from the hero, hero could see the muscles of their jaw working as they ground their teeth together. 

“I had a big fight a few years back,” they spoke in a hushed tone. 

Hero could only muster a small ‘oh’ as they stepped closer to the Villain, their hand outstretched towards them hesitantly. Villain said nothing as the hero’s fingers brushed over the scar, the tissue rough and bumpy compared to the surrounding skin.

“Does it hurt?” hero asked. Their head hurt, something about the scar seemed vaguely familiar, though Hero couldn’t place how.

“It did when it first happened,” admitted the villain. “But not anymore. Physically at least.”

A strange sense of guilt swam through Hero’s chest the longer they stared at the scar, a pained expression contorting their face as they pulled their hand away from the Villain’s chest. Physically at least.

“The person who did this was close to you?” Hero asked.

Villain looked away, the pain they felt in their heart too great to look the oblivious hero in the eye. “Something like that.”

Hero looked away from Villain's chest, focusing their attention on their own hands. “That must be awful. I can't believe that someone you were supposed to trust could do that to you.”

Villain’s gaze snapped back onto them, pain and anger evident in their eyes. They didn’t speak, just stared at the hero with a hardened gaze. Heavy with many years of heartache, pain, anger, guilt. Hero knew they were the cause of a great deal of it. And they wished they could remember all of it so they could at least try to make things right . . .  

“It was me,” they realized. “I did this to you.”

A deep sigh left through Villain’s nose as they backed away, turning towards their closet. 

“Yeah,” they whispered.

Hero averted their eyes back to the ground, guilt heavy in their heart as flashes of a memory came back. The putrid smell of rain mixed with blood. The shine of a sword swiping upwards, cutting into Villain’s skin. Blood and dirt mixed together as Hero tried to stop the bleeding. 

Their head was pounding now. 

“Why were we even fighting?” asked Hero. They heard the rustling of fabric and looked up to see Villain had put on some sweats and was in the process of searching for a shirt. Hero could only bring themself to be a little appalled that Villain didn’t mind the Hero’s presence as they changed.

“I don’t remember the reason,” said Villain. “The fight was so long ago.”

They turned back to face Hero as they pulled a shirt over their head, covering the scar as they did. They walked closer to the hero, lifting a hand up towards their face. They used their knuckle to wipe away a tear Hero didn’t even know they had shed. 

“I’m sorry,” whispered Hero. “I'm a horrible person. I don’t know why you’re helping me.”

Villain gave them a long look. “Me neither.”

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villains #heroes #amnesia #memory loss

[winters-dream]

Oliver

cw: under-negotiated kink, allusions to historical homophobia, blood drinking, biting, anal sex, handjobs, unprotected sex 

male vampire x male human

Word count: 6k

a/n: This is technically a prequel to Vows but can absolutely be read on its own as a oneshot, it’s the story of how Oliver came to stay with Rook

Vows Masterlist

Six hours. 

Six hours he’d been sitting outside this god-forsaken gate causing as much of a ruckus as he was humanly capable of causing. 

And for six hours he’d been ignored. 

He’d arrived at the sprawling mansion in the evening, a reasonable hour, set on talking to the man inside. 

He’d heard so many things about him. Good things, at least to Oliver. The people who’d said it hadn’t been quite as well-intentioned, 

They also told tales of blood-drinking and murder but he knew exactly how bad rumors could get about people with his inclination. He was willing to forgive a lot if it gave him a kindred soul. 

However, he was unsure if he could forgive six hours. 

He collapsed to the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest and clasping his hands under his thighs. 

He’d be fine. That’s what he always told himself. It didn’t feel particularly true right now but it didn’t matter. He would tell himself that anyway. 

He’d come with fairly high hopes, artificial or not. The gate had been locked with no way to signal to anyone inside that he was out here but he was a resourceful fellow. 

It only took a few minutes of waiting before his patience crumbled. 

It was fine. He’d just hop the fence. 

As he tried to wrap his hands around the metal bars of the gate, his hand had crumpled, unable to fit in the wide gap between the bars. 

He tried again on the next gap and once more, his hand was unable to pass through what looked like nothing but air. 

Maybe the rumors of dark forces residing in this home weren’t so unfounded. 

He refused to be deterred, grabbing a stick off the ground and jamming it through the gate. Still nothing, no way to get it through and try to pry it open. 

Fine then. He took about twenty steps back, giving himself a good start, and then ran full force at the gate. 

He slammed right into it, the gate not budging an inch. Oliver fared less well than the looming gate. His shoulder was sure to bruise. He just hoped that maybe it would bruise inside these walls. 

He did the only thing he could think of to do. He started to shout. The yelling began with pleas to be let inside and requests for help but after the first hour of yelling, as his throat began to hoarsen, his words became a bit more vulgar. 

The sun had long since set but he refused to go home, not after all this

Maybe he could annoy the people inside enough that someone would come out here and yell at him.

He could handle being rejected, but he should at least be able to plead his case first. 

And maybe dart inside while they were doing so. 

He just kept trying for as long as he could. 

For. 

Six.

Hours.

Surely even the strongest of wills would collapse in the cold night after no one had responded for so long, he couldn’t be blamed for this. 

He fell to the ground, despair overtaking him. Even drawn into himself, conserving his heat as best he could, he felt so much colder than before. 

He fell to his side, his cheek meeting wet dirt, leaves sticking to his face. 

This was his last hope, his only real chance. He’d been delusional, thinking there was somewhere that would be safe that didn’t require him smothering himself. 

He sniffled, not bothering to wipe at his nose as he wallowed on the ground. 

No. He wouldn’t let it end like this. Getting up seemed like a monumental task but shouting didn’t. Shouting he could do. It was like his baseline now. 

At this point, it was just vague cursing at the bastards inside more than a plea for help but shout he did. 

And then the gate swung open, right into his side. 

The man standing in the entryway looked sheepish, pulling the heavy gate back and away from Oliver. He looked like every cruel thing they’d said about him, with sharp, cold features, suspiciously perfectly tousled dark hair speckled with gray, and sickly pale skin. A pair of sharp fangs were revealed as he winced at the sight of Oliver being smacked with the gate.

Oliver sat up as quickly as he could, wiping at his face, trying to remove all the grime and dirt that had accumulated on his skin. He’d meant to look more appealing than this, or at least look more sane. But here he was, a grimy boy sitting in the mud after screaming his voice hoarse for six hours. 

“Didn’t mean to hit you,” he said with a grimace.

“I hate you,” Oliver chimed back, his voice cracking as he spoke. 

The man got even paler, if that was possible. “This may have been ill-advised.”

“You’re telling me.”

The man sighed, seeming upset over something, before kneeling down by Oliver’s side. 

“Not you,” he said quietly. “You’re fine, you haven’t done anything wrong. Come on, let's get you inside.”

He sat up with a huff, in absolutely no mood to go anywhere with this man. 

“You couldn’t have stopped a little sooner, could you?” His tone was light in a poorly practiced way, trying and failing to lift the mood of the conversation. 

“Why, was I annoying you?” he asked, still sitting in the mud. He was sure he had leaves and dirt in his hair but trying to pick them out felt less dignified than just leaving them be. 

“No, you just made me lose a bet.”

Oliver scrunched up his nose. The idea that this asshole had just been sitting inside betting on how long he’d wait out here angered him beyond belief. 

“Sorry I wasn’t weak-willed enough for you, I’ll only scream at you for a couple of hours next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He held out his hand to help Oliver up. “I’m Rook.”

He stood on his own, giving Rook a suspicious look. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell strange men my name. You’ll steal my soul or something.”

“If I wanted your soul so badly, I wouldn’t have taken six hours.”

Rook had apparently decided that they’d moved past the incident enough to joke about it. Oliver disagreed. 

Oliver stood across from him, arms crossed, unimpressed. All this time he’d been waiting to be let inside and now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go.

Well, he did want to. He just didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction.

“Come on in, it’s cold out here,” Rook said, not privy to Oliver’s internal struggle. He had a grand sort of voice, one that screamed he thought he was better than everyone. 

Oliver wanted to attack him. 

His eyebrows furrowed with a huff. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Come on, I’ll apologize inside. I can’t start groveling until I’ve rectified my mistake by letting you in.”

That sounded more like it.

“Alright, but if there’s no groveling I just might start screaming again.”

“Good, I think I might deserve it,” he said, quiet enough that Oliver was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear it. But he was good at hearing things, great at it even. He always thought he’d make a good spy if only he could keep his mouth shut for long enough. 

Oliver followed him inside, silently cursing the gates as he walked through them. 

The castle grew no less imposing as he got closer to it. The front doors were massive, looming things and Oliver decided he might honestly prefer the gates. At least with them he could see what was on the other side. 

The doors swung open, despite the fact that Oliver could see no one who’d opened them. He considered congratulating Rook on the cheap magic trick but was worried he might think he was being genuine. 

“I told you he’d wait,” a man's voice called as he stepped inside the doors, them swinging shut once more behind him. 

Rook went to take his jacket and Oliver made sure to get as much mud on him in the process as he possibly could. He winced but allowed it to happen as mud smeared down his perfectly fitted clothes. 

“How’d you know?” Rook responded, hanging the tattered, dirty jacket up with his arm fully extended, like he was half convinced it had fleas. 

“I would’ve,” the man responded. 

“Would’ve?” Oliver asked, turning to see an older man who looked decidedly less harsh and cold than Rook did. “So you didn’t make him wait outside for six hours.”

“He wasn’t trying to break in and cursing me out on my front lawn.”

“I only did that because you made me wait!”

“You tried to scale that fence after ten minutes.”

Okay, so maybe he should’ve waited longer before getting quite so antagonistic. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

Rook ushered Oliver into a nearby room, trying to send the older man away with a hushed, “You don’t need to be here, Petyr, I can handle this.”

“No, please,” Oliver called back. “Let him stay.”

As they both shuffled in and sat, Rook in the biggest chair sitting behind the desk and Petyr in one of the smaller chairs near Oliver, he scanned the room for weapons, just in case. He took note of a nearby letter opener, angling himself so he’d be ready to reach for it if he needed to. 

“So, may I have your name now?” Rook asked from behind the desk, handing some papers over to Petyr as he spoke. 

Oliver tried to read the papers as they passed but couldn’t quite manage it. “You may not.”

“Alright, that’s fine. There will be time for that. Well then, why are you here?”

“I don’t know, maybe I got curious. They say lots of things about you, you know. They say people come in and they don’t come out,” Oliver lowered his voice conspiratorily as he spoke. 

“And yet here you are.”

“Maybe I just don’t value my life,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you?”

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Rook said, looking amused yet almost a little frightened of Oliver. 

Good. 

“I had a whole speech prepared you know,” he said, still scowling. 

Rook leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”

Oliver shifted back and forth, feeling inspected under Rook’s gaze. “Doesn’t really feel like the right time for a heartfelt speech.”

That got half a smile out of Rook, amusement shining in his eyes. “No, it doesn’t, does it? You can just pick a room, they’re mostly bedrooms and they’re almost all empty.”

“What?”

“That is what you wanted, isn’t it? To stay here?”

“But… you’re just going to let me? Don’t I have to grovel or something?”

“I think you’ll remember I’m the one who was supposed to be groveling here.”

“I do. And yet there you are, no groveling to be seen.”

Rook laughed and Oliver had half a mind to inform him that he was, in fact, not joking, but he was a little worried he might be pushing his luck. 

Rook stood and paced out of the room, looking behind him towards Oliver. “You coming?”

Oliver’s eyes darted between Petyr and Rook before deciding that he was willing to risk being alone with him and running to catch up with Rook. 

“Alright, pick a room.”

“Any room?”

He nodded. “Whichever you’d like. Now, I have to go speak with someone, have fun choosing one.”

There were seemingly endless doors, a whole castle's worth of rooms to choose from. But he was uninterested in them. Instead, he went in the direction Rook had gone, ears straining to try and figure out where he’d left to. 

When he approached the office from before, he heard muffled voices and decided quickly to sit on the ground and push his ear against the old wood. 

Rook’s voice echoed through the door clearly enough, having already started a conversation. 

“...a bit unpleasant. Bad attitude and absolutely no manners at all. And he’s not as cute as he thinks he is

Oliver scoffed quietly at the words, having half a mind to storm in there and show him just how bad his attitude could really be. He wasn’t even sure why he cared what this guy thought. In the short time he'd known him, all he’d been was rude, abrasive, and worst of all, he was apologetic about it. One second he was being an asshole and the next second he had that awful sorry look on his face that only served to make Oliver want to smack him. 

Despite all of this, he leaned against the door, fuming as he eavesdropped. “Worst of all,” Rook said, “he’s nosy.” As the words left his mouth, the steady wood Oliver had been leaning on fell out from under him, leaving him exposed and tumbling to the ground. 

Neither of the men seemed surprised by his sudden appearance and he couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was them putting on a show for him. He decided to believe it was most of it, for his own sanity. 

“Clearly I couldn’t pick any room,” he said from his less than dignified spot on the floor. 

Rook looked around at the small study. “I mean, if you want it that badly, you can sleep in here. The desk might be a bit uncomfortable but to each their own. 

“I don’t want it anymore. Not after you slandered me in here.”

“Are you really trying for the moral high ground? In your position?” Rook said, looking down at him still sprawled across the floor. 

Oliver jumped to his feet, brushing off his already filthy clothes. 

He stormed off, set on finding somewhere to clean himself where he could get away from these assholes. 

Picking a room was not nearly as exciting as Oliver had hoped. Almost every room in this place looked identical, similar layout and beds and sheets. All beautiful and expensive, but none interesting. 

He found some unfortunately empty baths but with no idea how to fill them, other than asking for help, he opted instead to dump a pitcher of water over his head, hoping it got most of his grime off. 

As he wandered, sopping wet and bored, he wasn’t checking the rooms anymore. Not really. Because the house had quieted down as the sun rose and Oliver had a more interesting target in mind. 

He threw open door after door, revealing boring room after boring room until behind one door, he found his less-than-gracious host. 

Rook looked up from where he was lying in his bed, decidedly more surprised at his sudden appearance this time, and Oliver felt himself puff up a little with pride.

“What are you doing here,” he asked as he evaluated Oliver in his doorway. 

“I mean, you did say any room.”

“Have you been entering every room in this house until you found mine so you could bother me?”

Oliver averted his gaze. “No.”

“Right. Just browsing then?”

“Exactly.”

Rook chuckled and Oliver could see his fangs poking out, a reminder of how dangerous this could be. “What do you think of this one?”

He was playing mind games, that much was obvious. And Oliver would not let him win. 

“I really like it. I think I’ll choose this one.”

It was a dangerous play, he knew that. Trying to aggravate him like this. 

He’d keep doing it anyway. 

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll have to go find another one,” Rook said, standing up from his comfortable spot on his lavish bed. 

Oliver reeled back. “What?”

Rook shuffled out of bed and past him in the doorway. “Goodnight, enjoy your room.”

And then, without so much as another word, he was gone and Oliver was left stupified.

He’d taken his room, did that mean he won? It didn’t feel like he’d won. In fact, it felt very much like he’d lost that particular interaction. 

He looked at the now empty room, signs of life scattered haphazardly around. The clothes he’d seen him in a few hours ago were folded neatly in a basket in the corner. 

Only then did he think about what Rook had been wearing. A loose-fitting silk shirt draped across his chest, the smooth fabric laying perfectly against his skin. It looked soft. Oliver pushed the unbidden thought violently from his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. That was how you lost. 

The blankets were a mess, a dip in the mattress where Rook had been moments before

Oliver climbed in, set on sleeping in here. Anything else would be a sign of weakness, he was certain of that much. 

A woody smell overtook him at first, with notes of something sweet following behind. It was a pleasant combination and as he chased the smell, he found a mug with a mahogany liquid inside. 

As he got closer, taking a better sniff of the steam floating up from the mug, he noticed a sharp coppery smell undercutting the sweet, chocolatey scent. 

He grabbed the warm drink, taking a sip to confirm it to himself. He winced a little as the taste of blood and chocolate filled his mouth. 

He set it back down, filing the information away for later as he settled into the massive, lonely bed, feigning sleep for at least a few hours. 

When he was tired of pretending he would get any rest that night, he got up once more, set on finding something to do with himself. 

He settled upon what he was planning on doing the second he saw Rook, sitting peacefully at a table all alone. 

His peace was swiftly broken as Oliver barrelled in, saying, “Strange drink you had in your room last night.”

Rook paled to an impossibly lighter shade than he already was and Oliver took it as a sign to keep pushing. “I’m not one for pairing blood and chocolate but maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

“I forgot that was in there,” he said quietly and Oliver almost felt bad. Almost. 

“So you do drink blood?”

Rook looked at him like he was an idiot. “Did you not know? I assumed…”

“I mean, they said you killed and ate people but they said a lot of stuff. About you and me. I know better than to believe everything they say about someone. The mug of blood was pretty damning though. Regardless, you haven’t eaten me yet so things could’ve gone worse.”

“No, I don’t kill people. Eat people?” He tilted his head as he considered it. “I suppose you could call it that. You could call me a monster for it if you wanted to, but they don’t tend to mind.”

He said it with a crooked smile, head resting on his hand like he was trying to look casual, but it was too stilted. There was a tension throughout him, a sense of worry behind the dangerous flirtation he was attempting. 

“Are you coming onto me?” he asked incredulously and Rook’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his chest. 

And then his head dropped to the table in front of him, a look of despair passing over him. 

“I swear I’m good at this,” he said as he lifted his head, his hair shifting from an intentionally fluffed mess to a true disaster, pieces sticking straight up awkwardly, held in place by whatever product he put in it. “I can flirt with most people, or at least figure out when they’re not interested, but god, you’re impossible.”

“I am not.”

“You are!” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t been able to have one decent interaction with you. Every time I try you ruin it.”

“I ruin it?” Oliver gasped, outraged. “Excuse you, I have done nothing wrong. You left me out in the cold, you insulted me, you keep playing these weird games.”

Rook looked at him sheepishly. “I swear I meant it in a fun way. Always in a fun way.”

“Well, I’m not having fun.”

Rook cocked his head to the side, looking Oliver up and down. “Aren’t you? One second I agree and I decide to stop but you keep pushing me right back into them. You’re furious when I play and indignant when I stop. What’s left for me to do?”

“Well, maybe you’re not playing right.”

“And how do you want to play,” Rook asked, his voice low as he leaned towards Oliver. 

No. Not that. It was too real when he did that. 

He turned heel and ran. Through the hallways, feet moving faster than his racing mind. 

He didn’t know if he was running to get away or to be chased. He doubted Rook did either. 

He went back to his room. Rook’s room. Someone’s room. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

Unfortunately, once he reached Rook’s room, he was alone with his thoughts, his least favorite place to be. 

Dozens of feelings washed over him in the silence, almost all of them unwanted. The anger he was fine with, the doubt acceptable. His want he could take or leave. The fondness that washed over him, the anxiety, those were unacceptable. 

A knock at the door pulled him from his mind and if it weren’t for the familiar voice that followed, he might have appreciated the distraction. 

“Can I come in?” Rook called. 

“I mean, it’s your room. Or… hold on, is that a vampire thing? I’ve heard that’s a vampire thing. If it’s a vampire thing then no, you’re forbidden from ever entering.”

Rook seemed lost. “It’s not a vampire thing. So I can come in?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Right.” He stepped cautiously through the door. “I’m here to apologize.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. It was a trap. It had to be. “No, you’re not.”

Rook held his hands up in surrender. “I am. I think I have handled this poorly. So, I’m sorry, and I’m here to say it’s in your hands now.”

“What?”

“I won’t push any longer. If you want anything to happen, to start anything, you must do it yourself. I’m done.”

Oliver felt his face fall and Rook watched him in quiet amusement. “Come now,” he said, moving to rest his hand on Oliver’s back and then seemly remembering what he’d just said and pulling away. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes again. It was another game. Declaring that he’d play no more games with him was in itself a game. It was untenable. It was indefensible. It was a shocking relief. 

“Right,” Oliver said, scoffing. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I’m afraid I prioritized my fun over you feeling safe here. It’s in your hands now.”

Oliver stared, baffled, as Rook gave him a patient smile, stood up, and walked towards the door. His own bedroom door, one he’d given up to Oliver on a whim. 

“Wait,” he called, and Rook stopped, his hand inches away from the door handle. 

“Yes?”

“You drink blood.”

The confused look he’d gotten the last time he’d discussed this was nothing compared to the look of befuddlement and concern that crossed his face this time. 

“We had this conversation not moments ago, surely you can’t have forgotten already.”

Oliver scowled at him and Rook at least had the good sense to try and hide the smile the look pulled from him. “Who’s blood?”

“Petyr and Beatris’s mostly. You’ll meet her soon. Animals when I need some extra.”

“Do you want to drink mine?” Oliver asked, trying his best to look disinterested. 

“What are you asking?”

“I said,” he responded, raising his voice before Rook raised a hand to stop him. 

“No, what are you really asking.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Not everyone speaks in riddles.”

A huff of laughter escaped Rook. “No, they most certainly don’t. You do, though.”

He decided to ignore that comment. “Does it hurt?”

“That’s not what you want to ask.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want to ask, just answer the question.”

“I don’t think I will. Do you want it to hurt?”

Oliver smiled. “Just a little.”

Rook paced over towards the bed, leaning down over him. 

“I can do that,” he said, his voice low. 

It would take a lot more than that to shut Oliver up. 

“How often do you need to drink?”

“Couple times a week. Do you always ask this many questions?”

“No. How often do you take from them?”

“As often as they’d like me to. Within reason. Sometimes you humans get greedy. Someone has to look out for you. 

Rook pushed forward again, moving to crawl over him before Oliver pulled back, hissing out a quiet, “Wait.”

He stopped immediately, concern overwriting everything else. “What? Are you alright?”

Oliver spoke softly, a horrible twinge of vulnerability present in his voice. “Is this really okay? Because the flirting is all well and good but sometimes… You’re just not going to freak out after, right? They always freak out after.”

Rook reached out, cupping his face in his hands and it took everything he had not to pull away, like the affection burned him. “You know you’re not the first man I’ve slept with, right?”

Oliver scoffed, his bravado falling back into place. “Right, of course. Silly of me to ask.” 

“Stop that, listen to me. You came here for a reason. They were right about me, I am a monster, but I take care of my own. No matter what. Besides, who would I be to judge you?”

Oliver laughed a sad little laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re a real freak. Unlike me.”

“Be careful not to insult me too hard, what would that say about you?” Rook gave his hand a gentle squeeze but his words were still playful. Oliver appreciated it. Too much affection and he was afraid he might make a run for it again. 

“I’d rather have bad taste in men than whatever you’ve got going on.”

Rook rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

“Yes.”

It came out much breathier than Oliver had meant it to but it certainly got Rook’s attention. 

“Which first?” The words were tense and Oliver could feel his ego inflate at how he was clearly affecting the man. 

Oliver tilted his head, at first in consideration and then to expose his neck. “Come on, show me just how much of a freak you are.”

Rook took his time, his hands rising to thread through Oliver’s hair and pull his head back as he moved beside him. 

Impatience began to well up in Oliver’s chest as Rook pressed a gentle kiss into his pulse point before burying his nose into his neck, still no sign of those fangs that Oliver couldn’t help but eye when he spoke. 

An impatient whine got him nothing other than a quick laugh, squirming as it pushed a puff of cold air against his neck. 

Rook held him in place as he shifted, not letting him move from the position he’d put Oliver in. 

And then, with no warning, he felt the sharp pain of two fangs piercing his skin. 

They were gone almost as soon as they had come, leaving two seeping holes in his neck. He relaxed as Rook lapped at them, the teasing long gone. All of Rook’s attention was now firmly directed on the warm liquid flowing out of him. 

It left him almost pleasantly numb, the feeling of his warmth leaving him and flooding into the other man almost calming. 

More than the pain, he began to feel cold. A numbness spread to the tips of his fingers as Rook pulled away from his neck. He flexed his fingers as they suddenly became fascinating to him, feeling cold and foreign to his woozy mind. 

He hadn’t even realized Rook had left until a bandage was being attached to his neck. 

Immediately his attention shifted to the other man. He was wearing altogether too many clothes, Oliver decided. They both were. 

He moved up to pull at Rook’s shirt, unbuttoning the first few buttons and beginning to impatiently tug it down his shoulders. 

Rook watched him, amusement shining in his eyes. He made no move to help Oliver’s attempt to undress them. 

“You did so well. You know, my favorite part,” Rook said, in that low voice that irritated Oliver endlessly, “is always the trust.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Can you just shut up,” he said as he crashed their lips together, promptly silencing Rook. 

He finished tugging off Rook’s shirt as they kissed, a familiar hint of copper invading his mouth as they did. 

He had to pry Rook’s arms away from his face in order to do so. They rose right back up moments after, his hands threaded into Oliver’s hair, holding him close. Even as the kiss ended he kept their faces pressed together, noses touching, a hint of a smile on his face. 

He pressed a kiss onto the tip of his nose and Oliver fought the urge to roll his eyes and the urge to smile simultaneously. 

And then Rook pulled away from him and instead of whining, like he so desperately wanted to, he took the opportunity to undress, making quick work of his clothes. 

When he turned back, Rook had a bottle of some sort of oil in his hands and Oliver snorted. “Someone came prepared.”

“It was my room,” he said as he tugged Oliver closer. “Now, any preferences?”

He looked up at Oliver expectantly and he quickly answered, “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to bite you.”

Rook laughed as he coated his fingers in the oil. “I think we should leave the biting to me.”

As if. 

He pushed Oliver onto his back, looming over him as he sunk one finger inside of him. 

Oliver sighed. He needed more but he loved it, the feeling of being filled for the first time after being empty. 

That contentedness did not last. Barely a minute passed before Oliver was whining for a second finger, one Rook gave him easily, slowly beginning to scissor him open. 

He smiled down at Oliver, a sickeningly sweet look on his face. “You’re so eager,” he said, and if Oliver wasn’t certain it would slow down this already devastatingly slow process, he would’ve said something rude. 

Instead, he opted to ask, “Can you hurry up?”

“I’m not done,” he said.

Oliver pouted. “Come on. It’s no fun if it doesn’t hurt a little.”

Rook rolled his eyes but gave in, lining up with Oliver’s hole and slowly, torturously slowly, began to push in. 

He was slick with oil and thick and just too slow. It was going to drive Oliver crazy. 

So he took matters into his own hands. His legs wrapped around Rook’s hips, locking around them and pulling them flush with him, sighing as he was filled completely. 

Rook's hand rose to his jaw, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You are an impatient little thing, aren’t you,” he said as he rocked slowly back and forth. 

He was too careful with him. Oliver didn’t want careful. 

So instead he pulled him close, Rook’s cold chest lowering to rest against Oliver’s. 

And then, with this newfound closeness, Oliver bit him, his teeth digging into his shoulder. 

Rook hissed and snapped his hip again, twice as hard as before. “You little bastard.”

He pulled out and before Oliver had the chance to whine and complain and make him regret leaving, he was being spun around and pushed face-first into the mattress, Rook’s cock sliding inside him once again. 

He began to calm as Rook's pace got harsher. He was much more docile when he was getting what he wanted. 

Part of him worried he might be drooling, his dick getting just a little friction against the sheets with every sharp thrust. 

Rook’s hands were gripping his hips, almost hard enough to bruise. He could feel the man’s lost control and couldn’t help but grin, letting out soft moans at every punishing thrust. 

Rook groaned out, “Fuck, I’m gonna…” He was too far gone to finish his sentence and Oliver basked in it. 

Oliver lifted his hips up to meet his thrusts as best he could and while it may not have been the best effort he’d ever put forth, the sight alone seemed to be enough to push Rook over the edge, burying himself deep inside Oliver as he came. 

He winced a little as he pulled out, clearly sensitive, and Oliver laughed. 

“You’re so bad at this,” he drawled, his brain still left fuzzy. “I didn’t even come. Selfish man.”

Rook chuckled as he sat back against the headboard, pulling Oliver’s back flush with his chest, arms wrapping around him. He pressed a kiss to his neck, right on top of the bandage, and lazily wrapped his hand around Oliver’s dick. 

His hand, still slick from before, felt incredible against Oliver. He couldn’t help but wish he was still being filled, the cum slowly dripping onto him onto the now ruined sheets a reminder of how empty he felt. 

But Rook was in no rush and his steady, sure movements brought Oliver closer and closer. 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this gentle with him. He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever been. It brought this horrible, queasy feeling to his stomach. 

As Rook pushed on, pumping Oliver with one hand while rubbing reassuring circles into his chest with the other, it all became too much. He bucked his hips up into Rook’s hand, letting out a whine that sounded pathetic, even to him. He threw his head back, cum spilling out of him and dripping down, over Rook’s hand and onto his sheets. Someone’s sheets. He still wasn’t sure. 

“Who’s room even is this?” he slurred out and he snuggled back into Rook’s embrace, uncaring as to the mess they found themselves in. 

He laughed. “Maybe we can share it.”

Oliver huffed as Rook’s clean hand rose to play with his hair, his mind beginning to drift off at the gentle touch. “I’m sure we can come up with some sort of arrangement.”

#just too good 😍 #oliver is hands down my favorite character #i absolutely love his wit #10/10

[winters-dream]

Hey, do you do tag lists for your writing? I’d love to be tagged :)

Hi, I don't have a tag list, I don't quite know what that means or how it works. I might make one in the future, but right now I don't have one.

#no writing #answer for an ask

[winters-dream]

“Beg.”

Hero nearly stopped breathing at the command, they could feel the heat radiating off their face as they looked at Villain with wide eyes.

“Are you serious?” they demanded. “There is another villain terrorizing the city—a villain that you don’t want around either—and you want me to beg for your help?”

They were only met with an expectant stare from the Villain, a smug grin pulling at the corners of their lips.

Hero let out an annoyed huff, their face getting redder by the second. “Villain, I do not have time for your silly games. Are you going to help me or not?” 

“I’m waiting,” Villain said in a sing-song voice. They leaned back in their chair, swiveling side to side in a carefree manner as they bore their eyes in the hero’s. 

Hero heaved an embarrassed sigh, eyes cast down to the ground. “Please?”

 “No, no. Not like that.” Villain shook their head with a breathless laugh. They snapped and pointed to the ground. “On your knees.”

Hero looked everywhere but at the villain. “Is this really necessary?”

“Do you really want my help?”

Hero’s gaze shot back to the villain, their finger still pointing down to the floor. Hero really did need their help, this other villain was too sharp, too quick. Hero needed Villain’s powers combined with their own to stop this other villain. 

So they conceded. With a tomato red face and a chest heavy with shame, the hero sank to their knees. They kept their gaze locked onto the villain’s, hating the smirk that spread over their lips.

“Please, help me,” they begged. Their heart rate picked up as Villain leaned forward in their seat, elbows resting on their knees. 

“Say it again.”

An involuntary shiver ran down the hero’s back at the dominance that coated the villain’s voice, and Hero knew that Villain would never let them live this moment down. 

“Please,” their voice crack over the word. “Help me.”

“Again.”

“Please, help me.” It came out in a whisper, the shame finally getting to the hero. They watched as Villain rose from their seat and crossed the distance between them with a few steps. They crouched down to Hero’s level, a hand coming up to grip their chin. They held eyes with the hero for what could have been hours but Hero knew was probably only a few seconds before rising again. 

“You know, I was going to help anyway,” Villain said with a chuckle. “Be ready in five minutes.”

They began to leave their office without another word, leaving Hero to sit in self-loathing for a solid minute before they, too, rose and followed Villain out. 

“You’re sick, you know,” they called out, earning a hearty laugh from their nemesis.

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heros and villains #villains and heroes

[winters-dream]

Human!hero x Vampire!villain

The cell was cold, chilling Hero to the bone as they pushed the heavy door open. Its hinges groaned loudly as it swung open, revealing a dark room still of any life. Dead silence filled the small cell, Hero’s own breathing rang loudly in their ears. A flicker of doubt ran through their head, wondering if they had broken into the wrong cell until they made out an odd shape tucked into the corner’s shadows. A shape that looked suspiciously like Villain.

They took a few tentative steps forward, their eyes slowly adjusting to the dark as they took in the scene in front of them. Villain sat propped up against the wall, scars shining brightly against their paled skin, obviously caused by silver since they have yet to heal. Their  own blood stained their skin, streaks of it painting the floor in various directions. An alarming amount of blood, enough for Villain to die if they were human. 

Their chest heaved up and down feverishly despite not needing to breathe. Their eyes stayed shut as the hero approached them. Hero didn’t know if that was a good sign. 

“Back again?” croaked the villain. Their voice was light despite the obvious pain laced within it. Their whole demeanor screamed calmed and laid back despite the absolute horror scene that has been made of them. “Didn’t break me enough to your liking the last time?”

Hero stood frozen. They didn’t know what to say or how to approach the villain. Their carefree facade did little to convince Hero they were okay. They could see the tension in their jawline, the  caution of every breath they took, the grimace that wanted to creep onto their face. They could have fooled anyone else, but Hero knew them too well.

“The silent treatment, huh?” said the villain. “That’s okay, the sound of your voice makes my ears bleed. I can go without the headache.”

“Villain,” Hero called.

Villain’s eyes shot open at the sound of their voice, a mixture of shock and relief danced over their features. 

“Hero,” they breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Hero stepped forward, crouching down in front of the villain, their hands finding the shackles that kept Villain chained to the ground. They were thick and heavy, each link the size of Hero’s wrists. They dug dangerously into the villain’s own wrists, threatening to cut into the skin.

“I’m breaking you out of here,” said Hero. They gave the chains an experimental tug, letting go with a wince at the pained hiss that left Villain’s mouth.

“My knight in shining armor?” asked Villain. “That’s sweet.” 

They noticed the light blush that dusted over the Hero’s cheeks, visible to them even in the dark. A groan slipped past their lips as the hero continued to feel around the chains. “But it’ll be safer for you if you leave. You know better than I do how unpredictable your precious Superhero is.”

Hero tightened their grip on the chains, opting for trying to pull them out of the floor. “That’s all the more reason why I need to get you out of here before you die.”

“Awe, you care,” cooed Villain, a small smirk made its way to their face. They let out a series of fleeting gasps as Hero pulled on the chains once again. 

They gripped onto Hero’s arm, to prevent them from pulling again. Their soft skin, warm to the touch and thrumming with life. Their pulse beating rapidly below Villain’s thumb, their blood running through their veins. Their sweet scent filtering through their nose. Villain bit their lip, aching for a bite. 

"When's the last time you fed? How long?" asked Hero. And Villain didn't know the answer, couldn't even tell Hero how long Superhero has had them here. The days, weeks, months, all blurred together in an endless cycle with no clear beginning or end. 

Hero huffed a sigh, displeased with the lack of response. They shuffled closer to Villain, hands tugging at the collar of their own shirt which earned a light chuckle from Villain. 

“What are you doing?” they asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Come here and drink my blood.”

Hero shuffled closer, a leg tossed over one of the villain’s. The scene almost looked strangely intimate, if it weren’t for the blood that surrounded them and the deathly look on the Villain’s face. Hero wasn’t sure how long Villain had left to live, but they were certain that they were the criminal’s only hope right now.

“Hero, I’m starving,” said Villain. “If you let me drink your blood, I’ll likely kill you.”

Despite their words, they pulled Hero closer, their chains rattling loudly against the floor. They inhaled deeply, the hero’s intoxicating scent flooding their senses. It was heavenly, Villain’s favorite scent.

Hero couldn’t help the small scoff that climbed up their throat. “Since when did you care whether I live or die? Given your reputation of hunting heroes, I expected you to kill me years ago.”

Villain tilted their head to the side, their signature smirk returning to their face. “You’re an unexpected exception. But don’t worry, your last breath won’t be today. I’ll be gentle when I drink from you.”

Their hands traveled down Hero’s back, slowly making their way to their butt, but Hero was quick to divert. They pulled their hands away and pushed them against the ground with a shake of their head.

“I’m only offering you my blood.”

Villain never lost their smirk as they shook their head as well. “Of course.”

They leaned forward, wasting no time to find the hero’s pulse and sink their fangs into their neck. They heard the hero’s pained gasp, but made no move to let up. Hero’s blood was warm, fresh, heavenly on Villain’s tongue. It sated a hunger so deep within the villain, they never knew a sweeter relief. It took every little ounce of inner strength the villain had left within them to not drain Hero dry right now. They took gulp after gulp, finally taking one last drag of the hero’s blood before letting go with guttural sigh. 

They slumped back against the wall of their cell, a smile spread over their lips as they felt the blood do its work and heal what was wrong with them. Their energy renewed, their wounds closing up, their mind clearing and senses more acute. They were forever grateful to the hero and their delicious blood they graciously offered them. 

Their chains rattled, a weak tug at their wrists. They opened their eyes to find the hero weakly pulling at the chains keeping Villain glued to the floor. Their efforts made Villain laugh as they replaced the crime fighter's hands with their own, breaking the shackles off their wrists with ease. They let out a relieved hiss, rubbing their wrists as feeling slowly returned to their hands. They glanced at Hero once more, giving the side of their face a light pat and stood up.

“You did well, Hero.”

Hero could only nod as the villain pulled them along into a stand, their footing uneasy as they swayed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And just where do you think that is?”

Hero whipped their head around, Superhero standing in the open doorway with their arms crossed over their chest. Hero stood still, like a deer caught the headlights. They’ve been caught. Freeing the enemy. Superhero met them with a disappointed look. 

“Hero, what are you doing?” 

The sound of Superhero’s voice snapped Hero into action as they quickly moved to stand in front of the villain to shield them. A huge wave of dizziness ran over them, their vision coming in and out of focus as they moved. But they stayed their ground, refusing to leave Villain’s side. They noticed the superhero’s eyes dancing over their body, focusing on their labored breathing, their tired eyes, the obvious puncture wounds on the side of their neck, the blood drying around the edges.

“Hero, are you out of your mind?” demanded Superhero. “Feeding that demon? Giving it your blood?”

“They were starving,” defended the hero. “You locked them up and waited for them to die from starvation. That violates our code of conduct, I should report you—”

“Report me? I’m doing the world a favor, keeping that thing locked up.” Superhero placed their hands on their hips, fingers brushing over the stake they had tucked into their belt. They gave Villain a look filled with a mixture of disgust and fear before scolding the hero once more. 

“It’s a demon, a bloodsucking parasite who will stop at nothing to drink away the entire world’s population,” they said. “Demons like this one are always hungry. And you willingly gave it your blood. It knows what you taste like now and will cling to you like a leech. It won’t stop until it’s taken every last drop of blood from your body.”

“If you want to survive at all, you need to kill it now.” Superhero tossed their stake at Hero, Hero catching it clumsily as the large amount of blood Villain took from them delayed their reaction time. They simply looked at the silver weapon before meeting Superhero’s eyes. 

“I’m not killing Villain,” they said. “I’m not like you, I don’t kill people.”

Superhero scoffed, loudly and dramatically. “Listen to you, that demon has you wrapped around its finger. Its charming words and pretty face has you throwing away the very core of your beliefs. It’s not human, it’s not people. Killing it is what’s good for the world.”

Hero’s chest was heavy with disgust at their superior’s constant insistence of calling Villain an ‘it’. They were talking circles around each other. It almost felt like Superhero was a parent scolding a stubborn child, Hero refused to let Superhero win this argument.

“I’m not killing them.”

“You make a poor excuse of a vampire hunter then,” said Superhero. “If you’re so quick to defend the very reason we even need heroes in the first place. Need I remind you, this monster has killed countless humans. Countless heroes. You shouldn't feel sympathy for them, and definitely shouldn't spare their life.” 

Hero simply shook their head, reiterating that they don’t kill people and call it heroism. Superhero’s face slowly morphed from one of disappointment to fear the more they stared each other down. 

“Hero, you’re making a mistake,” they said. Their voice wavered as they spoke, their eyes locked onto the villain with a fearful gaze. “Villain is not someone you should be protecting.”

Superhero took a step forward, their arm outstretched for the hero. But Villain was faster. At a speed higher than Hero could follow with their eyes, Villain had moved to stand between the two heroes with Hero’s stake in their hand. A blink of an eye was all it took and Superhero was on the ground, Hero’s stake plunged deep into their neck.

Hero, too stunned to speak, stared at Villain as they turned back to face them, a wicked grin plastered on the criminal’s face. They pulled Hero close to them with ease, securing their arms tightly around their waist. 

“I really must thank you, Hero,” said the villain. “Superhero was no easy feat. They’ve been on my list for years now.”

It began to click together. “This was all just a plan to kill Superhero?” asked Hero.

“Of course,” Villain’s hand came up to lightly caress Hero’s face, a shock going down their spine from the tender touch. “And you played your part out perfectly.”

“Played my part?” Hero asked. Villain nodded, their face so close to Hero’s, their breath fanned over their face. “You knew I would come save you.”

“Was counting on it. We make a pretty good team, you and I.” Something in Villain’s eyes changed, an idea coming to them. A wonderful idea that left Villain feeling almost giddy at the prospect.

“Why don’t we do just that? Become a team. We can reign terror on the world together, kill heroes together. We’ll be the Bonnie and Clyde of the twenty-first century. Only more dangerous. And more powerful.”

Hero glanced between the villain’s hopeful gaze to the dead superhero on the ground. The superhero they inadvertently helped Villain kill. Bile rose at the back of their throat at Villain’s plan, what they were asking. They wanted Hero to turn their back on the very core of their being. Do evil instead of fight it. 

They glanced at the villain once more, mouth opened to speak. But before they could usher out a single syllable, they lost consciousness, the exhaustion from blood loss finally catching up to them.

Villain grinned.

#im alive #my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero and villain #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #vampire #vampire x human #captive

[winters-dream]

tw: death

“Don’t touch me!” shouted the villain. They scrambled away from Hero to the best of their abilities with a smashed in rib cage and shattered ankle. “Don’t come anywhere near me! Don’t treat my wounds, don’t help me. Just stay away!”

They scooted away from them until their back hit the cold concrete of the basement wall. They heaved in a wheezing breath, they were ninety percent sure their ribs had punctured both their lungs and heart. And the entire right side of their body was a bruise. A deep purple, the same shade as a plum. They weren’t sure of their chances of survival, but they were definitely sure they didn’t want Hero’s help. Not after everything they did.

“Villain, if I don’t treat your wounds you will die,” said Hero. They knelt in front of Villain, medical equipment in hand but Villain used their good foot to kick it away. Hero watched as it slid against the far wall then turned back to face the villain.

“I’d rather die,” sneered Villain. “I’d rather die a thousand deaths than be indebted to you, not after what you did.”

Hero shook their head, confused. “After what I did?”

“Yes, after all of this torture, being beaten bloody and electrocuted and torn apart over and over," Villain said. They coughed, turning their head to spit blood. "You want to swoop in and patch me up just to throw me back to the wolves? Forget it."

Another shake of the head, Hero spoke. "None of that was me, Superhero did this to you."

Villain rolled their eyes with a scoff, the action causing a sharp pain to spread through their chest. They winced from the pain but still pulled away when Hero reached out a hand.

"No, all you did was hand me over on a silver platter," they said. "You walked me in here, watched the other heroes lock me up, disappeared for months while Superhero did what they wanted to me. You're the reason I'm like this."

Hero gazed down at the broken mess of the villain’s  body, their eyes watering at the realization of the truth behind Villain’s words. They turned Villain in, they left them in the agency's care, they lived their life like normal. They were promised Villain would be in safe hands, they didn't know this was Superhero’s idea of 'safe'.  They didn't know.

"Villain, I had no idea you were being treated like this, I thought you’d be safe—”

“Safe—” Villain shouted the word, but that seemed to be a mistake as a sharp pain pierced through their chest, knocking the air out of their lungs. They gasped for air, a hand clinging to their chest as an invisible fist seemed to close tightly around their heart. Still, they pushed Hero’s hands away, refusing any ounce of help from the person who put them here.

“I should have died my first night here,” they choked out. “I’ve been through Hell and back and again. You have a sick concept of the word ‘safety’.”

“I didn’t know,” whispered Hero. “The plan was to only have you imprisoned for a couple years and then I’d help you escape. If I had known Supervillain would do this, I—”

They broke off with a hitch of their breath. They reached out and held onto Villain’s arm, refusing to let Villain shake them off. 

“You’re my best friend, I would never hurt you.” Villain made a noise at the back of their throat, but Hero continued. “It’s not too late. I can fix you up and get you out of here. I’ll keep you hidden, you’ll never have to face Superhero again. Just please, let me treat your wounds.”

Tears had begun to cascade down their face, Villain’s hate-filled eyes, usually so full of life, becoming duller by the second. They shook their head, angling it to face away from Hero.

“How dare you call me your friend?” they muttered. “You lost that title years ago when you literally stabbed me in the back. Piss off.”

They felt a few tears of their own to fall, but they refused to acknowledge them. 

“So you’re going to refuse help that you desperately need just because I’m the one offering it?”

It took more energy than Villain cared to admit to shrug their shoulders, to act like their next words didn’t hurt them as much as they hurt Hero.

“It’s better to be dead than receive help from the enemy.”

That was that last thing they said before they couldn’t anymore. They tasted blood in the back of their throat, felt the thick liquid rise up, cutting off their air supply. They took one last gasp of air, the pain in their chest unbearable as they did. They lifted their gaze to Hero, their crying face the last thing they saw as death finally took them.

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #whump #imprisonment #captive #corrupt superhero #corrupt hero agency #tw death

[winters-dream]

cw: spicy

Hero slowed their running to a stop, their chest heaving up and down as they caught their breath. Their lungs burned slightly and their blood zinged with adrenaline. Their eyes landed on the villain, their back leaned up against a building as they also caught their breath. A smirk came over their features as they took in their tired form.

The chase was over. Hero had Villain in the palm of their hand. Honestly, they could have caught up to them much sooner, but they loved the chase. They loved this game of cat and mouse they played with the villain. The flustered look that always came over their face when Hero caught them. 

Just like the one they wore now as Hero pressed them firmly against the brick building, deep in the shadows where no one could see them. Their disheveled appearance, their face flushed a deep red, their heartbeat racing a mile a minute against Hero’s own chest. Hero loved Villain like this, flustered and weak in the knees for Hero. It fit them so well.

Villain tried to break free from the Hero, but to no avail. Hero had their hands pinned above their head and a knee wedged between their legs. Villain was helpless against Hero, they weren’t going anywhere.

“What do you want, Hero?” asked the villain with a defeated sigh. Hero pressed closer, their noses barely brushing against each other as they spoke.

“You know exactly what I want,” said Hero. “I know you were on that team that stole those diamonds.”

“You think Supervillain is going to destroy the city with a bunch of diamonds?” asked Villain. This earned a laugh from the hero, head thrown back and everything. 

“Oh, villain, you crack me up,” they said. “No. I couldn’t care less why they want the diamonds, I’m just simply assigned to take them back. And lucky for me, you were on the heist team.”

Their free hand came up to ghost over Villain’s jawline, angling their face up to gain access to their neck. They placed their lips on the villain’s neck, starting with a few pecks just under their ear. Hero could feel them tense up upon the initial contact before relaxing against them. A winning smirk took form on their lips, the villain always reacted the way they wanted.

“Where are the diamonds?” they asked.

“You can’t seduce the answer out of me,” sighed the villain, but despite their words, their head moved on its own to grant Hero more access.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Hero. “It works like a charm.”

They lightly ran their fingers down Villain’s side, making sure to graze over every sensitive spot Villain had. They stopped at the waistband of Villain’s jeans, dancing their thumb over the exposed skin above their hip and earning a shuddering sigh from their criminal.

“Not this time,” Villain said. A choked gasp escaped their lips when the hero’s leg made firm contact with the area between their thighs. They subconsciously jutted forward to chase the friction of their nemesis’ leg. “I promised Supervillain I wouldn’t tell, they’ve been planning this heist for years.”

Hero breathed hotly over Villain’s ear, thoroughly enjoying Villain’s reaction to their every move. “Don’t worry love, I’ll keep your pretty name out of my mouth.” 

They moved away from Villain’s neck, looking them in the eyes as they batted their lashes and put on their best puppy dog look. Their lips brushed over the Villain’s as they spoke.

“C’mon, Villain, won’t you tell me?” they asked prettily. “Please?”

Villain sighed audibly, Hero’s free hand had made it all the way under their shirt, cool fingers playing with sensitive skin. They couldn’t think with the hero’s hands all over them, their leg pushing between their thighs in a beautiful friction, their lips so close to their own, their sultry voice like music in their ears. 

They knew they shouldn’t but they caved, muttering the exact location of where to find the stolen diamonds and exactly how to get past security. They knew they wouldn’t be able to keep the secret for long; Hero was too good at bending them to their will, too good at getting what they wanted. They felt too good against Villain for them to not give in to them. They could feel the movement of Hero’s lips as they formed into a smirk. 

“Good Villain,” the hero praised, causing a sense of pride to swell up in Villain’s chest. They loved being praised by Hero, they way the words fell so easily out of their mouth like a villain being good was the natural thing.

“It’s time for your reward.”

Villain didn’t wait for Hero to move, they lurched their head forward, mashing their lips with the hero’s in a much needed kiss. They melted into the kiss, drowning in the sensation of having them pressed so wonderfully close to them. Hero hummed against their lips, quickly taking control as they pulled Villain impossibly close. 

They took their time to undo the villain, ravaging them in the secluded alley. They raked their nails over Villain’s skin beneath their clothes, sucked numerous hickeys into hidden places as well as very obvious places. They marked the criminal as theirs, abused all of their sensitive areas with experience that came from multiple sessions like this between the two. They turned the villain into putty in their hands, drawing out long-winded moans Villain had to suppress with their hand.

By the end, they were clinging tightly to each other and panting heavily into the others’ mouths. Villain’s hands clutched hard onto Hero shoulders, a blissed out expression on their face as they eyed the hero’s smirk.

“You’re an evil hero,” they sighed. This earned a chuckle from the hero, who stole yet another kiss from Villain’s swollen lips.

“Only for you, pretty,” replied the hero, their own hands wrapped around the villain in a way that looked like a hug. “Same time next week? I believe you've got a crime of your own I need to stop.”

Villain nodded enthusiastically, probably a bit too enthusiastically, but they couldn’t bring themself to care. This game of cat and mouse was too exciting, too addicting for the villain to stop. They craved the attention they got from the hero, their body zinging with anticipation every week. 

They knew the dangers of this; the feelings that would eventually catch on, the mess it could easily turn into if they’re not careful. The potential loss of one another if feeling ever did catch. The pain of an unrequited love. 

But for now, they focused on the present. The hero’s strong arms around their waist and the endless stream of kisses they always left on their shoulders. The promise of another chase through the city. Another game of cat and mouse that will eventually end in disaster.

But only if Villain stayed oblivious to the fondness that resided behind the hero’s eyes as well.

#my own #writing #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #cw spice #dom hero #sub villain

[winters-dream]

Backup pt. 2

part 1

The next day, Villain stood in the middle of their kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee clutched in their hand. The time on their microwave read 1:02 pm and they were still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Last night had been more time-consuming than they cared to admit. Sidekick had really done a number on that villain, Villain didn’t finish the clean up until the sun had already started to rise for the next day.

They sighed as they took a slow sip from their coffee, mind racing with thoughts of the Sidekick. They had clearly been horrified by their own actions, this was obviously going to be a burden the kid would carry for the rest of their life. Villain just hoped they wouldn’t become a hero who killed in the name of justice. 

They didn’t have much time to ponder over the events of last night as a frantic knock sounded throughout Villain’s home. Villain sighed as they set their coffee down and trudged through the living room to the front door. They looked through the peephole to see Sidekick standing on their front porch, their eyes red from nonstop crying. 

They opened the door with a surprised hum, idly wondering how Sidekick knew their address. Sidekick looked at them with wide eyes and let out a sigh of relief that they knocked on the right door. 

Villain crossed their arms across their chest and leaned against the door frame, a frown etched into their face. “Well this is an unpleasant surprise. What are you doing here?”

Sidekick sucked in a sharp breath at the villain’s tone. Villain supposed they could have been nicer, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care enough.

“I got it from Hero,” said Sidekick. “They keep a record of villains with their addresses in their office.”

Villain rolled their eyes at this. Of course Hero kept a record. But still.

“Why are you here?” They repeated. 

Sidekick took a deep breath to calm their racing heart before speaking. 

“I left the agency,” they said, earning a raised eyebrows look from Villain. “I couldn’t go back, not after last night. Not after I . . .” 

They couldn’t finish their sentence, unable to acknowledge what they’ve done. They took in a shuddering breath in an attempt to suppress their tears, a hard lump forming in the back of their throat everytime they thought about it. 

“After you murdered that villain,” finished Villain. They watched as Sidekick sucked in a sharp breath, their eyes becoming glossy and unfocused. Villain sighed. They supposed they could express some sensitivity, Sidekick was just a kid after all. Villain didn’t need to scare them more than they already were.

“Listen, kid. Heroes kill people all the time,” they said in a gentler tone. “That’s the harsh reality of it all. And what happened last night was an accident. You’ll take a few days off to get back to your normal self and then you’ll continue your hero work like normal.”

Sidekick shook their head, fresh tears streaming down their face. Their eyes stung and they were honestly surprised they had more tears to cry, and even more surprised when the villain placed a comforting hand on their shoulder. It was strange, receiving compassion and care from someone they were supposed to view as the enemy. But they didn’t pull away, the small gesture oddly made them feel less alone.

“I don’t want to kill people,” they whispered. That was the loudest they could speak now without bursting into a fit of sobs. “That’s not why I signed up.”

“I know,” muttered the villain. They pulled Sidekick through the entryway and settled them on the couch before their knees could give out on them. The sidekick was shaking like a leaf.

“Heroes aren’t supposed to kill people.”

“I know.”

“No one should have that kind of power.”

Again, Villain spoke a soft ‘I know’ as they rubbed a soothing hand over the back of their shoulder blades. They let a sigh leave through their nose, this time full of sympathy rather than annoyance. In a strange sense, they were proud of the sidekick for leaving the agency instead of allowing themselves to become numb to the concept of killing. And they told the ex hero as much.

“You’re proud of me?” Sidekick sounded surprised to hear such words come from the villain. But Villain nodded, sending them a reassuring smile.

“Yeah,” they said. “It takes a lot of strength to not let yourself be sucked into the cruelty of what really happens behind closed doors. To claim to be good when they have more blood on their hands than the villains they condemn.”

“It’s cruel and unjust,” they continued. “And you did the right thing by pulling away instead of becoming a new cog in the system.”

Sidekick sent them an odd glance, calculating as they studied the criminal beside them. “You seem to know a lot about the hero agency.”

The villain matched their calculated look with a sad smile. “Yes, well, believe it or not, I used to be a hero myself.”

This piqued Sidekick’s interest, they’ve never known that about the villain. Hero and Villain had been enemies for years and Hero had never mentioned that. Had they been partners in the past? Did Hero condemn Villain for changing their ways? Did Hero even know that about Villain?

“What happened?” asked Sidekick. They received a solemn look from the villain and a flicker of pain that went as soon as it came. 

“It’s a very long, complicated and horrific story,” said the villain. But Sidekick insisted. They wanted to know what made Villain a villain.

So Villain shared their story. Of how the greatest hero the world had ever seen fell and became the villain they were today.

#its a bit later than i said i'd post but it's here #i promise i didn't forget #my own #writing #writers of tumblr #female writers #fantasy #imagines #oneshot #hero #villain #heroes #villains #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #sidekick #villain x hero #hero x villain #death cw #corrupt hero agency

[winters-dream]

Backup pt. 1

cw: blood, murder

Fuck. 

Out of every situation heroism came with, Sidekick never thought they’d end up in this one. They sat crouched into a ball in an alleyway, blood covering their left hand up to their elbow. Not theirs. The owner of the blood laid in front of them, an empty cavity in their chest where their heart should be and a pool of blood seeping out from under their lifeless body. 

Sidekick had let their anger get the best of them, let their powers get out of control. Used their powers to their fullest capacity and crushed the villain’s heart from the outside. They killed the villain. All because they let their emotions get the best of them. This was bad, very bad.

Sidekick used their clean hand to pull their phone out of their pocket, shakily opening up their contacts. They scrolled down the list until they found the number they wanted. They hit dial without a moment’s hesitation, their voice wavering as they spoke to their person on the other line.

Sidekick leaned their head back against the brick building, taking in deep breaths to help suppress the tears that threatened to fall. It didn’t work and their breathing soon became shallow as they began to wrap their head around their actions.

“My, my, when you called, this was not what I had in mind.” 

Sikekick’s eyes fell shut at the sound of Villain’s voice coming from the entrance to the alley. A sigh passed through their nose as they heard the footsteps of the villain coming closer to take in the scene before them. 

“A dead villain with their blood on your hands,” mused Villain. “Not very heroic, don’t you think? Heroes aren’t supposed to kill. What would Hero think?”

Sidekick’s eyes widened at the mention of Hero and they began to shake their head. Hero couldn’t know of this, Sidekick wouldn’t be able to face them if they knew. The disappointment they’d see in their eyes would be too much. the guilt of what they've done too much to handle.

“No?” asked Villain. “You don’t want to see their reaction? You don’t want them to know?”

Sidekick didn’t need to look at the villain to know they were smirking, they could hear it in their voice. 

“You’d rather they never knew?” Villain pressed, seeming unconcerned with the almost-hero’s rapid breaths. “You want this to fly under the radar so you can keep that pretty little image the public has of you?”

“Villain, stop,” muttered Sidekick. “I didn’t call you to hear your taunts. I called because I thought you’d help.”

“Help with what?” said Villain. Their voice no longer held a playful hint to it, now filled with anger and annoyance. “Lead yet another hero to corruption? Add to the list of heroes who kill villains and face zero repercussions?”

Sidekick shook their head more violently, tears cascading down their face like waterfalls. 

“No, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just—” they cut themselves off with a gasping sob as the full weight of their action came down on them. Villain suddenly appeared before them, crouched down to their level. 

“It was an accident,” whispered the sidekick. “I didn’t mean to.”

Something in the villain’s gaze changed as they took in the petrified look of the sidekick. They were still a child, Villain could tell. They silently cursed the hero agency for allowing teenagers to join them.

Forcing them to be responsible for an entire public when they’re barely able to be responsible for themselves. They saw the fear that resided in Sidekick’s eyes, saw a bit of themselves in them. Villain let out a defeated sigh and closed their eyes for a moment before reopening them.

“Go home,” they said. “Go home, try to get some sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

Sidekick looked at them with wide eyes, unable to believe Villain was actually going to help. Sure, they called them. But they half-expected Villain to tell them they’re on their own. Their eyes drifted down to the dead body laying behind the villain, a sick lump forming in their stomach.

“What about. . .” they could bring themselves to say outright what they did. And they didn’t need to, Villain followed the line of their gaze to the dead villain. They were a minor villain, one to commit smaller scaled crimes like a bank robbery. Villain didn’t recognise them, but that hardly mattered. 

“I’ll take care of everything, Sidekick. Just go.”

They could see the hesitation in Sidekick’s eyes as they took a few steps back. The fear and horror that took over every inch of their body as they turned around and fled the scene, leaving Villain to clean up the mess. Villain sighed as they let another hero get away with murder.

#part two will be up sometime next week #my own #writing #writers of tumblr #female writers #hero #villain #heroes #villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #sidekick #villain x hero #hero xvillain #death cw #corrupt hero agency #fantasy #imagines #oneshot

[winters-dream]

cw: blood

The night was a silent one, the sky as black as pitch. The entire city had been tucked in for the day and the only sounds that could be heard were the crickets and the frogs singing their songs to the moon. Hero laid comfortably in their bed, tucked under their thick comforter with the outside sounds acting as a lullaby. 

They slept peacefully and deeply, soft snores coming out of them as they slept. Dead to the world, oblivious to all of their surroundings. 

. . . except for the loud scratching/banging noise that rang throughout the entire apartment, pulling the exhausted hero out of their slumber. Hero ignored it . . . tried to ignore it and they rolled over with their back towards their bedroom door. They had too long of a day to worry about who or what was outside their apartment right now. 

They almost drifted back to sleep when that noise came back, louder and more insistent. A strangled human-like cry followed after, sounding suspiciously like Hero’s name. That, Hero couldn’t ignore. Only one person new their real name and if Villain was bold enough to disrupt their sleep, it had to be something life or death.

And life or death it was. Hero pushed themself out of bed and tiredly hobbled out to their living room. The banging/scratching noise came again, with the call of their name. This time they were sure of it. They swung the door open to find the most gruesome image they have ever laid eyes on.

"Hero," cried Villain. The normally bold, fearless Villain stood on the other side of the entryway, drenched in blood. It covered them in a thick layer, saturating their hair and all the way down to their shoes. Hero couldn't even tell where the source of the blood came from, let alone whether it all belonged to Villain. They could hardly recognize the criminal. 

"Please," they said. "You have to help me, turn me in, hold me hostage, arrest me. Whatever you want. Just as long as I'm safe from them. Please."

Hero could only step back, unable to articulate the words necessary to question the villain. Like who "them" was, or how they could cause so much damage and fear to emanate from the villain’s eyes. 

Not that Hero would get an answer from Villain anyway. They were a blubbering mess, only able to mutter out a string of pleas as they begged for their life as well as refuge. 

Hero quickly ushered Villain inside, leading them to the bathroom to clean up. They ran about the small space frantically as they looked for towels and a first aid kit to clean up with. They said each item aloud as they grabbed them, only stopping when a bloody hand grabbed onto their arm.

"What?" They questioned. They faced Villain, their shaky hands pawing at their arms, chest, side, face. Everywhere, searching for the source of all of this blood. They found a multitude of small, yet deep, cuts decorating the villain like they just came from a horror film.

"What is it?" Asked the hero. "Do you feel dizzy? Faint? Do you need ibuprofen? Tylenol? Pain medication? Or-or—"

"Hero," whispered Villain, their voice just as distraught as Hero felt. They looked down between them, a pained expression coming over their features. They tugged on Hero’s arm and pulled them into a tight embrace, seeming to forget about the thick layer of blood that covered them head to toe.

This was new. In all their years in this odd relationship of sworn enemies to friends, Villain had never sought comfort in the form of a hug. They’d always claimed that touch was too intimate, displayed too much vulnerability. If Villain was hugging Hero right now, something really fucked up must have happened. 

Hero’s arms came up around the Villain, hugging their head into their shoulder. The blood squished into the Hero’s clothes and skin with an unsettling noise, but they pushed that feeling down in order to be here for Villain. 

“Hero,” Villain whispered again. That seemed to be the only thing they could say, whatever they were really trying to say seeming too difficult from them to say out loud. Their breath hitched in their throat as they pulled Hero closer, feeling like they couldn’t be safe unless they crawled inside the hero and buried themselves behind their ribcage. 

“Villain,” replied Hero. “You’re safe here, no one is going to hurt you. You can tell me what happened. It’s okay.”

Slowly, the villain pulled their head away from Hero’s shoulder, tears streaking paths down their mud and blood-caked face. The vulnerability in their eyes mixed with the trustful look on their face reminded Hero how much younger Villain was than them. 

Freshly in their twenties, barely a full adult. Hero’s first fight with them was when they were a young teenager. They were angry at the world, and understandably so. Whenever Villain spoke of their past, Hero was able to see the path that led them to where they were today. 

Hero had found themselves becoming a sort of parental figure towards them quickly: scolding them when they did crimes, bailing them out when someone else caught them, taking care of them when they’d find them injured. everyone at the agency knew not to mess with Villain. Even Superhero left them alone.

At first Villain had responded to the care with anger, hating that Hero felt the need to look after them. But soon enough Villain had started coming to them when things had gotten too far, gotten too much in trouble with the law. Hero had quickly become their security blanket of sorts. 

“Do you remember my old mentor?” Villain asked.

Hero tensed at the mention of them, fighting back a sickening shudder for the villain’s sake. They could never forget the horrid stories Villain shared with them. All of the cruel and inhumane torture they put the villain through. How they beat the empathy out of their ‘students’ at a young age. It had taken years for Villain to relearn their kindness, and to this day they still struggled with it. 

Hero had been lucky enough to never meet this person, but they had no doubt they’d be easy to spot in a crowd. They always imagined the mentor with a dark aura that demanded submission out of fear rather than respect. And with how shaken up Villain was tonight, Hero had found themselves wishing to be the one to personally send them to Hell.

Hero pulled Villain closer to them, squeezing them tightly before remembering the wounds that littered the criminal’s body. They didn’t need to hear the words come out of Villain’s mouth to know their mentor was the cause of all of this. It physically pained the hero to see their nemesis like this, tears of their own fell from their eyes as they spent the remainder of the night cleaning all of Villain’s wounds.

They tucked Villain into the bed of their spare room (at this point, the room pretty much belonged to Villain. Half their stuff filled the quiet space as Villain spent most nights here anyway), and let out a relieved sigh when Villain fell asleep. They watched them for a moment before returning to their own room, silently promising to never let this mentor hurt Villain ever again.

ps: I know I write a lot of prompts similar to this (character seeks out help from the enemy), and I intend on writing different prompts in the future. I just wanted to get this last one out of my system before moving on to other tropes. I also really wanted to write something with a villain really just needing parental-like guidance in life and a hero willing to provide that. I have an entire list of other prompts to write about as to not bore my audience (I, myself, am bored with this prompt), so please stay tuned. I have other, more exciting prompts to write and I can't wait to share them with you

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