An Idiot

I like to write though

[caker-baker]

Masterlist

(Each category will mostly be in order from oldest to newest!)

Hero x Villain Oneshots

Relationship Problems

Neutralized

A Pair So Unruly

I’m Sorry

Problems

The Author

Care

Free Falling

Prom Night

Polar Opposites

The First Time

Retired

Distractions

Do Over

Unexpected

Potion

The Loop

Saving Sidekicks

The Bully

The Fall Guy

Penance

Future Coffee

Acoustics

Mistaken

Nowhere To Go

Violin

Clipped Wings

Visitor

Eternally Yours

Backseat Driver

Misunderstanding

Tagged Out

Motion Sickness

Class

Interview

A Touch of Fear

Silent Message

Soulmates

Recruit

Order Forty Eight

Monologue

Say Yes

Teacups

Continuations

Close Call

Close Call II

Close Call III

Sneak Away

Sneak Away II

The Job Hunt

The Job Hunt II

Soulmates

Soulmates II

Hard to Say

Hard to Say II

Team

Team II

Again (Super Speed vs. Telepathy)

Again (Super Speed vs. Telepathy) II

Again (Super Speed vs. Telepathy) III

Again (Super Speed vs. Telepathy) IIII

Reunited

Reunited II

Spelled

Spelled II

Roommate

Roommate II

Villain x Civilian

Jealousy

The Break Up and Out

The Break Up and Out - II

The First Date

Hero x Villain x Civilian

Morning Coffee

The Newest Game

Reunion

Of Convenience

Royal Writes

The Final Battle

If There Was A Crown

If There Was A Crown II

If There Was A Crown III

Relief of Duty

To Be Arranged

Kingdom Come

Royal Rumor

Vampire Writes

The Art of Vampirism

Innocence in Bloodlust

A Monster

Bite

Mystical Writes

Existence

Halfling

All that Glitters

Mystery Prompts

Prompt

Prompt

Prompt

Prompt

Prompt

Prompt

Prompt

If you like these consider buying me a Kofi?

[caker-baker]

Due Diligence

The lights were sickeningly bright, even from behind the curtains.

The hero’s PR manager snapped her fingers in front of their face. “Hey. Hey. Pull it together.”

“I don’t do these.” They felt their heart in their ears, beating rapidly. “I don’t do meetings, the questions, I can’t, please don’t make me–”

“Hero.” Their manager’s voice left very little room for sympathy. “I know. But this is what happens when you get popular, they look to you for information.”

“Popular?” The hero repeated, the sweat on the back of their neck turning cold. “I’m not a celebrity! If I do this, I’m going to screw it up, and it’s like you said, I need to maintain a reputation.”

“Yeah, well, strong and silent isn’t working for the general public anymore.” She looked down at her tablet. “You have ten minutes to get whatever this is together. I’ll get you some water or something, just–” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “fix this.”

The hero had thought they wanted to be alone. They thought so terribly wrong.

They could feel themself begin to struggle for breath, and reached desperately behind for the wall, arms shaking as they slid down.

Press conferences, they asked for no press conferences, and there was an agreement. They would save the day, they would leave the scene. Strong and silent type, sturdy and dependable.

But the minute they opened their mouth out there, they would stutter, they would say something they’re not supposed to, they would mess it up, they knew they would.

Reputation could make or break, and with the hero’s public speaking ability, it would break.

People would stop looking to them for help, would start thinking of them as awful and horrible when all they wanted to do help. Quickly, quietly, just help.

“What a mess.” A voice spoke from the dark.

Though their arms still lacked a sense of firmness, they managed to pull themselves back up.

“Good, very good.” The voice said. “You were compressing yourself, making it harder to get air.”

“You.” The hero managed.

“Me.” The villain grinned, approaching them slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re still tensing your muscles.” Their arms shot out, placing their hands on the hero’s shoulders. “Relax these.”

“Why?” The hero shoved them off. “So you can fight me while I’m vulnerable?”

“No, so you can go out there and speak without losing your head. Do you want that?”

The hero’s jaw tensed, a sign that they didn’t want to hear anything the villain had to say, but they nodded nonetheless.

“Then listen. Unclench your jaw, take a deep breath in, now hold it, very good.” The villain once again placed their hands on the hero’s shoulders. “Breathe out, keep the pattern. You need to relax the shoulders, your back will do the same subsequently. Hey, the breathing pattern, keep it. Yeah? There we are.”

With one final steady breath out, the hero’s arms firm again and their stance solid, they wrapped their hands around the villain’s wrists, and removed their hold on their shoulders.

“I need to return you to the authorities.”

“Mm, no, you need to focus on what you’ll be saying to the swarms of reporters. Believe me, they’ll be asking bait pieces. Just remember that there’s no shame in taking your time to answer the question. They’ll think of you as thoughtful, and that’ll help with the strong and silent thing you have going on right now.”

Stepping back, the hero did a once over.

“Oddly sound advice. Why?”

The villain also took a step back, glancing to the hallway where the manager had disappeared to.

“I did want to shake things up a bit. Scare you, scare the public, but it looks like she,” The villain nodded towards the hallway. “got the scaring you part down. Expertly done, if I may add.”

“But the public?” The hero crossed their arms, eyes blazing. “Still want to try something?”

“Oh, relax. Don’t get yourself worked up. Seriously.”

The hero said nothing, continuing to scrutinize the villain, waiting for them to strike.

A strike never came.

“I appreciate your due diligence.” The villain admitted quietly. “And the people in this city like to tear people like you and I apart-”

“We aren’t the same-”

“But they don’t always think so. I appreciate your due diligence. I…appreciate that it’s tough work. I don’t want to see them turn that, or you, into something perverse.”

The hero raised a brow, then snapped to attention, as did villain.

Quick clicking heels, their expectant manager coming back.

“Breathing pattern, if you need it again, lean back and keep away from the mics. Time to consider an answer is good, and if you can throw in a thoughtful pose during that time, you might end up on the cover of a glam magazine, or get yourselves some very loyal fans who’ll fawn over your looks.”

“My look-?”

“I’ll be watching from the comfort of my home. Break a leg, Hero. Due diligence.”

The villain melted back into the small slips of darkness the studio allowed, very good at that trick apparently, something the hero would have to take note of in the future.

“Okay.” Their manager’s voice cut across the hero’s thoughts. “This is good, this is better.”

Handing them a bottle of water and a rag, she made a motion across her forehead.

“Dab off the sweat. You ready?”

“Strong, silent, and sturdy doesn’t work for the public anymore?” Looking back to where the villain was, the hero nodded. “Then let’s see what does.”

Due diligence.

[caker-baker]

Playing Sides

The detective allowed themself tense shoulders and whitened knuckles, if only to properly play the game.

Body language could make and break this meeting, and they needed to be a collection of fearful memories on display for the villain, an offering, appeasement, something else here and there.

If anyone other than the villain noticed the act, they were obviously choosing not to say something, going about their individual days, drinking coffee and politely nibbling on microwaved pastries.

But those people didn’t matter, not when there was something else much more pressing at the table.

“This seems a tad…” The villain sitting across from the appeasing detective took their time looking for the word. “incompatible.”

The detective only spared a sweeping glance at the rest of the cafe. “For you or for me?”

Chuckling, the villain raised their coffee cup to their lips. “Tricky, tricky, tricky. Always is with you.” They took an appreciative sip, eyes never leaving the detective. “What is this act you’re putting on? It’s good, believable, but not enough of a constant for me to place any value in it. I don’t appreciate attempts at flattery.”

The first thought was to argue, because why wouldn’t it be? The detective was a professional, their job was to unearth, discover, and find the final truth, the one answer.

Sitting in front of an anthropomorphized file of contradictions with the ability to lie, could, arguably, make the detective jumpy, twitching to argue and argue and argue until that final truth was revealed.

“Maybe it’s not an act.” The detective finally said, not exactly an argument, but a halfway concession, relaxing their muscles, loosening the vice grip on their coffee. “Maybe I’m scared.”

“But not of me.”

“Should I be?”

The villain offered a closed lip smile, one motion away from baring their teeth.

“I don’t so much mind you, my dear detective friend.”

“I don’t care for flattery, either.” The detective said.

“Good thing it wasn’t flattery. You would notice if I were to compliment you.” The villain watched them, particularly their relaxed hands.

The detective managed to rid the urge to move their hands then and there, stayed completely still even as the chill creeped up their spin.

“No, no, not flattery.” The villain continued. “Merely acknowledging the truth. We have a good deal going for each other.” They leaned forward. “Which is why this meeting worries me, why I was unconvinced of your taut facade, your attempts of appeasement.”

The detective straightened, knowing well enough that the villain was mocking their strategy.

“You were hoping to…what? Beg for some sort of help?”

“No.”

“Ask for something, then?”

The detective stayed silent, looking away as the villain stared them down, goading them on in their silent way.

The two did have a good deal going on, and if the detective was wrong, this could ruin that.

But they weren’t wrong.

“There have been whispers, Villain.”

“There tend to be, yes, old friend.”

“About something, someone, coming.” If the villain wanted to respond, the detective wasn’t going to give them a chance. “Now, you know me, you know us, our usual deal. I play both sides of the fence, just barely. Lately, during some of my data tracking for the heroes, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been forced to wonder something, I have a question for you. All I need is a simple yes or no-”

“Going to stop you there.” The villain set down their cup, fixing the detective with a colder, less amicable gaze. “I do know our usual deal, which is why I’m insulted now. You wanted information, pertinent, valuable information about something disturbing, and you were hoping to bargain with your fear?”

“Villain-”

Their eyes widened, the table under their fist began to crack.

“Careful.”

The detective couldn’t hide any body language from that, flinching at the tone of voice, tones, that the villain had - a million low voices all merging into one, horrific growl that sent shivers wracking up the detective’s spine, hurting their very bones.

“My guilt!” The detective spat out, ignoring the building bone nausea. “It wasn’t fear. You’re right. I’m not scared, not yet, but I’m guilty, and I will be terrified depending on your answer. If this ends up a yes, then I’m prepared to offer you something that I cannot take back, Villain. I’ll trade in something terrible for the rest of us, if it means I have the smallest chance to prepare.”

Those wide eyes narrowed, but the cracking table at least stopped, and the million low voices returned to one.

“Do tell.”

“Answer me first.”

“Tricky, tricky, trick.” The villain relaxed into their chair, amused now. “I’ll decide if it’s worth answering, Detective. Seem fair? Ask your silly yes or no question.”

Another sweep around the coffee shop, everything going according to how the detective had set up.

“Normally, your type gets quiet, goes under radar before a bigger stunt is pulled. I keep track, alert the proper channels, make sure not too many civvies are in a particular high risk zone at a given day. Some contacts in other big cities have reached out, said it’s been too quiet, everyone’s been too quiet.”

The villain’s amusement had already been fanned like a flame, crossing their arms and watching the detective lay it out for them as if it was some soap opera.

“I’ll spare you too many details, but I have reason to believe something big is being planned for here.” They held up a hand, watching the villain’s eyebrow quirk up. “I just need to know, yes or no, is this happening? Is my home going to be razed down for a personal vendetta? A final heroes vs. villains?”

The villain looked the detective up and down.

“If you knew the answer to that, what would you do?”

“Let you and yours duke it out with the heroes. Take the place if you want, it’s only a place, but I’d like to minimize civvy death count, Villain. I’d get in touch with those channels and start mass evacuation. I’d start it now.”

“And now the fun part.” They leaned in again. “What could you offer me in exchange for this answer? What could bring you of all people to guilt? You, whom I almost respect?”

The detective swallowed, and placed their bag on the table, letting the villain take a look inside.

Body language would make or break this.

“Power dampening cuffs. A prototype. I can’t guarantee they work. But I’m sure if you and yours worked together, you could figure something out.”

For the first time, the villain seemed surprised, hardly giving the prototype cuffs another glance.

“Detective-”

“I can’t guarantee they work.” The detective repeated. “But in this squabble of yours that may or may not be coming up, you could use these, and they would help, I know they would.”

“Hm. And you’ll let me walk out with these and the current schematics if I answer you? What if I lie? You make the wrong call, and I still have these. Maybe I will lie, maybe I want to see you be horribly wrong at such a cost.”

“You don’t.” The detective wasn’t wrong. They weren’t.

“Why’s that?”

“It would be no fun for you. You couldn’t almost respect me if this was the end of our partnership, my too easy failure.”

There was so much the detective was betting on, and knowing the villain was one of them.

The villain was a villain through and through, conniving, powerful, selfish, dangerous. And sometimes, those traits, the selfishness, carried into these little deals of theirs.

No, the villain wouldn’t want this to end without a bang. The villain would want to string along the detective until there was no more use of them.

“In a way,” The villain said, standing and grabbing the bag. “You’re right. It would be no fun. I don’t just want these, though. I want something else.”

“Answer the question, I’ll see what else I can do.”

The villain stared down at the detective for a long time. A minute. Two. Three. Or maybe it was only three seconds, stretched out into the fraying ends of a perfectly planned meeting.

“Yes.” The villain finally said. “The answer is yes, something is coming.”

The detective stood, not too quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. What do you want? Codes to inaccessible areas? You can have them as soon as-”

Reaching across, the villain grasped the detective’s shoulder. “The ramifications of razing this city down, as you so put, were lost on me. How could you and I keep this up if you’re running off, evacuating with the other saps?” They watched how the detective’s eyes flitted to the villain’s hand. “What I want, Detective, is to keep having fun.”

“Villain, there’s not much you or I can do to continue this deal of ours if there’s all out super war-”

“You play for heroes and villains, or, excuse me, just barely.” Their hand tightened on the detective’s shoulder. “Let’s see what sort of fun we can have with that.”

Before the detective could open their mouth, the villain smiled, and the two disappeared.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3388

“Do you work for me or not?”

“Well, I-” The hero paused, restarted. “Technically, yes.”

“Then, technically,” the mayor spat, “when I tell you to kill a villain, you do what you’re told. Or I’ll revoke your hero’s license, and you can find yourself on the other end of that order. Am I understood?”

[caker-baker]

There was a frigid silence as the hero stared.

“Understood.” They said, turning on their heel. “Oh, while I have you, could you pass along that I’ll pick Sandra up at nine?”

The mayor raised an eyebrow. “Sandra?”

With a positively Cheshire grin, the hero turned back around. “Yeah, I have a good date planned for her tonight. This might be the one where I pop the question.” They shot a wink.

Something about the hero’s stance entirely unnerved the mayor, too happy-go-lucky, even now, even under threat.

“Sandra…as in?” The mayor asked, the answer already clear in the hero’s eyes.

“As in your mother?” They tilted their head to the side, picture ready face sprinkled with confusion. “Oh dear, did she not tell you?”

“You son of a bitch–”

“Ah!” Holding up a finger, the hero’s picture ready face turned a deadly shade of serious. “I know she taught you better manners than that.”

“If you touch my mother–”

“Hey, I get it.” They slapped the mayor’s shoulder in a friendly jockish sort of way. “After tonight, we’ll reconvene about this little order of yours, hm? I would hate to disappoint Sandra in the meantime.”

“You’ll be ruined if you go near her!” The mayor shouted, creating as much distance from the hero as possible. “I’ll revoke your license here and now!”

“I don’t doubt it! So don’t doubt me when I say that tonight, I will fuck your mother.”

[caker-baker]

Hello.

I’ve never had writers block this bad.

To be honest, it is near frightening how little my brain refuses to work.

“But Baker, what about the asks?”

And to that I say,

the ideas aren’t happening there either. Any sort of piece longer than a sonnet isn’t working with me.

The solution?

This thing.

Enjoy.

King, king, king.

A statuette of ideology muscles under sheen skin brain under perfected brawn

Pounce, do you? on the enemies of your own design displaying your power power power

Paranoia in your lush throne green brush of envy yellow eyes of gold

Black striping of your past of wounded wants and needs needs needs

And the people’s freedoms of these ideologies a statuette you become

And become

And become

king, king, King.

[caker-baker]

Sign

They didn’t actually need to look to see who it was, nor did they need to move from their leaned position against the railing. “Do me a favor and fuck off for a minute.”

“Now, now, Hero. That’s no way to treat an honored guest.”

“Fuck you. We both know that identity isn’t yours.” The hero ran a hand over their tired face. “I don’t care, whatever angle you have tonight, but if you kill someone–”

“That would be a spectacle. You should have already guessed that tonight is about espionage, considering the stolen identity and all.” The villain rested their hands on the railing next to the hero, but did not fully relax.

“Fantastic.” The hero’s voice fell flat. “Go back inside, then.”

Despite themself, the villain’s eyes wandered over the hero’s slouched form.

Even in their current crumpled and defeated mannerism, the hero was a sight to behold.

Nothing but the finest of clothes these days, a hair and makeup team had undoubtedly fussed over the hero for hours to get the current superstar affect, and of course, those fine clothes highlighted those hard earned muscles, but funnily enough, the scars seemed to have been hidden.

“You look miserable.”

The hero took a sharp breath in. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I told you what it would be if you signed, if you gave yourself to the government, say the word and I’ll fix it.”

The villain nearly jumped when the hero’s head swiveled towards them, expression close to feral.

“Fix what?” They spat. “I never have to worry about another bill in my life, medicine, housing, food, they do it all, Villain.” The hero turned away. “And all I have to do is dress up sometimes? Pose for a picture so they can put my face on a lunchbox?”

“You’re a product, Hero. They wave you around to show off their new attack dog.”

“I am not–!” They slammed their fist on the railing. It cracked, startling the hero, who stumbled back a few steps.

The villain reached out a hand, only to retract it when the hero pulled away.

“Whatever. It’s an equal exchange.”

The villain’s typically wide and watchful eyes softened. “Why didn’t you take my offer?”

Huffing, the hero turned, straightening out their form as they prepared to go back inside. “Go to hell.”

The villain reached out, gripping the hero’s arm, determined not to let them pull away this time.

“You used to be happy! You used to take pride in doing good!”

“I also used to be hungry and on the verge of homelessness. Let go.”

“I would have helped you. Why didn’t you let me help you?”

The hero ripped away their arm, turning and coming face to face with the villain, a mere inch apart.

“You don’t know what it’s like to owe someone.” The hero stepped forward, the villain stepped back. “All of you rich assholes are the same. If you had helped me, me, your enemy, it would have meant something else entirely. I can’t do that.”

Another step, another, and another.

“I never would have held it above you, Hero.” The villain had to keep walking backwards until they bumped into the railing. “I’m not like that–”

“You are! You’re an awful person. Do you think that I believe you’d make an exception for me? And why? Just because you enjoy villainy? Because you find all this entertaining?”

The hero’s eyes watered. “For them, I take pictures, I sign autographs, I wear the brand sponsored clothes and go to stupid galas, and yeah, sometimes I’m just there to look scary, but you know what I’m not doing? Giving myself away in a sense that I could never regain. What would it be for you?”

The villain opened their mouth, and closed it again.

What would it be for them? They didn’t like to stop and think about these unspoken feelings, the feelings that drove them in an unfamiliar and warm way, feelings that made them go on espionage missions that weren’t actually important.

What were they hoping to gain by helping the hero? Praise? Gratitude? Admiration?

Love?

As if reading the villain’s mind, the hero spoke.

“What would it be for you? Because for all the money in the world, you can’t buy that.” The hero scoffed, backing away. “You know, they really try to play up the strong but dumb image, makes it easier for sponsors to buy into, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Suddenly, the hero’s eyes turned upwards, looking, looking, looking.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any cameras up here.” The hero’s shoulders dropped a little. “If someone found out I damaged the railing, they’d probably…”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “They’d probably…?”

“It doesn’t matter.” They held their chin high. “I’m going inside. Have your fun tonight, but any deaths and I will fly your sorry ass straight into the sun.”

“Naturally.” The villain smiled gently, although they were positive that if the hero could somehow survive in space, they would, in fact, fly the villain’s sorry ass into the sun.

But the hero didn’t respond, didn’t give any notice to the villain’s existence as they slipped through the door, a full photo-op ready picture of grace.

The villain let out a shuttering breath once the door closed again, heart hammering in their chest.

No, no, no time for that. The villain couldn’t let this new feeling distract them, there were things to be done, olive branches to be offered, and signatures to be burned.

[caker-baker]

Reblog bc I’m unfamiliar with the time zone I’m currently in lol

[caker-baker]

Sign

They didn’t actually need to look to see who it was, nor did they need to move from their leaned position against the railing. “Do me a favor and fuck off for a minute.”

“Now, now, Hero. That’s no way to treat an honored guest.”

“Fuck you. We both know that identity isn’t yours.” The hero ran a hand over their tired face. “I don’t care, whatever angle you have tonight, but if you kill someone–”

“That would be a spectacle. You should have already guessed that tonight is about espionage, considering the stolen identity and all.” The villain rested their hands on the railing next to the hero, but did not fully relax.

“Fantastic.” The hero’s voice fell flat. “Go back inside, then.”

Despite themself, the villain’s eyes wandered over the hero’s slouched form.

Even in their current crumpled and defeated mannerism, the hero was a sight to behold.

Nothing but the finest of clothes these days, a hair and makeup team had undoubtedly fussed over the hero for hours to get the current superstar affect, and of course, those fine clothes highlighted those hard earned muscles, but funnily enough, the scars seemed to have been hidden.

“You look miserable.”

The hero took a sharp breath in. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I told you what it would be if you signed, if you gave yourself to the government, say the word and I’ll fix it.”

The villain nearly jumped when the hero’s head swiveled towards them, expression close to feral.

“Fix what?” They spat. “I never have to worry about another bill in my life, medicine, housing, food, they do it all, Villain.” The hero turned away. “And all I have to do is dress up sometimes? Pose for a picture so they can put my face on a lunchbox?”

“You’re a product, Hero. They wave you around to show off their new attack dog.”

“I am not–!” They slammed their fist on the railing. It cracked, startling the hero, who stumbled back a few steps.

The villain reached out a hand, only to retract it when the hero pulled away.

“Whatever. It’s an equal exchange.”

The villain’s typically wide and watchful eyes softened. “Why didn’t you take my offer?”

Huffing, the hero turned, straightening out their form as they prepared to go back inside. “Go to hell.”

The villain reached out, gripping the hero’s arm, determined not to let them pull away this time.

“You used to be happy! You used to take pride in doing good!”

“I also used to be hungry and on the verge of homelessness. Let go.”

“I would have helped you. Why didn’t you let me help you?”

The hero ripped away their arm, turning and coming face to face with the villain, a mere inch apart.

“You don’t know what it’s like to owe someone.” The hero stepped forward, the villain stepped back. “All of you rich assholes are the same. If you had helped me, me, your enemy, it would have meant something else entirely. I can’t do that.”

Another step, another, and another.

“I never would have held it above you, Hero.” The villain had to keep walking backwards until they bumped into the railing. “I’m not like that–”

“You are! You’re an awful person. Do you think that I believe you’d make an exception for me? And why? Just because you enjoy villainy? Because you find all this entertaining?”

The hero’s eyes watered. “For them, I take pictures, I sign autographs, I wear the brand sponsored clothes and go to stupid galas, and yeah, sometimes I’m just there to look scary, but you know what I’m not doing? Giving myself away in a sense that I could never regain. What would it be for you?”

The villain opened their mouth, and closed it again.

What would it be for them? They didn’t like to stop and think about these unspoken feelings, the feelings that drove them in an unfamiliar and warm way, feelings that made them go on espionage missions that weren’t actually important.

What were they hoping to gain by helping the hero? Praise? Gratitude? Admiration?

Love?

As if reading the villain’s mind, the hero spoke.

“What would it be for you? Because for all the money in the world, you can’t buy that.” The hero scoffed, backing away. “You know, they really try to play up the strong but dumb image, makes it easier for sponsors to buy into, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Suddenly, the hero’s eyes turned upwards, looking, looking, looking.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any cameras up here.” The hero’s shoulders dropped a little. “If someone found out I damaged the railing, they’d probably…”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “They’d probably…?”

“It doesn’t matter.” They held their chin high. “I’m going inside. Have your fun tonight, but any deaths and I will fly your sorry ass straight into the sun.”

“Naturally.” The villain smiled gently, although they were positive that if the hero could somehow survive in space, they would, in fact, fly the villain’s sorry ass into the sun.

But the hero didn’t respond, didn’t give any notice to the villain’s existence as they slipped through the door, a full photo-op ready picture of grace.

The villain let out a shuttering breath once the door closed again, heart hammering in their chest.

No, no, no time for that. The villain couldn’t let this new feeling distract them, there were things to be done, olive branches to be offered, and signatures to be burned.

[caker-baker]

Valentine

“Ha!” The villain waved a pink piece of paper in front of the hero. “I’ve got a Valentine!”

“Do you now?” The hero asked, tilting their head and crossing their arms. “From whom?”

“A fan of mine, apparently. They appreciate my tech savvy, genius inventions, and fashion choices.” The villain tapped the note aggressively. “Complete with hearts and everything. Came with chocolates, too.”

The hero couldn’t really help the lopsided grin creeping on their face.

“A fan.” They repeated. “Really?”

“Yes! And they actually speak of my talents! What did all your fans send you for Valentine’s Day, hm? Poems about how much they just love your muscles?” The villain gagged. “No, thank you. I’ll take genuine appreciation, please.”

The hero’s smile dropped. “It’s not just the muscle poems, I get a good bit of chocolate, too.”

“I bet.” The villain turned away, examining their Valentine letter. “It’s a shame they didn’t leave their name, I would’ve built them a gadget to show my appreciation. Maybe I can examine their handwriting and match it to the person. It’s not hard to get into official written documents. I could create a program that cross examines spacing and pattern of–”

The hero’s eyes widened. “Don’t!”

The villain whipped around, eyebrows raised.

“Um, maybe don’t do that.” The hero continued, voice lowered. “They’ll probably get put on some watch list, you know, since they’re writing letters of adoration to a villain.”

“That’s good thinking.” They paused, almost thoughtful as they folded the note into some invisible pocket. “So you do have a brain in there. I was beginning to worry that all those muscles were restricting blood flow to your head.”

The hero scoffed. “I don’t think that’s how it works—”

“Sh! It is now. Anyways,” The villain nudged forward a bag on the ground with their foot. “I wasn’t going to do anything with this. You can take it to the bank, or whatever.”

Cautiously, the hero picked up the stolen bag of money.

“You just robbed the bank because…?”

“I wanted to show you my letter.”

The hero chuckled. “That certainly was a method. I still have to take you to jail, you know.”

“Do you though?”

“Yes, Villain. Stealing is still a crime.”

The villain narrowed their eyes, turned, and ran.

And the hero let them, watching until they were out of sight.

They were glad they could convince the villain not to look for their secret Valentine. After all, the hero had many written and signed documents on file. If the villain decided to look, it wouldn’t be long before they could match up the words on the letter to the hero’s handwriting.

Slinging the bag over their shoulder, the hero sighed, wondering if they overdid it with the pink paper and the hearts.

No, the villain seemed to like it.

They’d keep that in mind for next year.

[caker-baker]

Placate

The hero wanted to believe it was one of their friends, an agency member, someone else, anyone else, they would have taken a burglar at this point.

But no. No friend, agency member, or burglar would leave the front door open so purposefully, so dauntingly.

They knew this day would come, they just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.

The light turned on.

“Where have you been?” The villain asked from the lounge chair, petting the hero’s cat.

It was very obviously a rhetorical question, the villain knew where the hero had been, because now the villain was here, too.

The hero’s eyes flicked down to their purring cat comfortable in the villain’s lap, back up to the villain’s expectant face.

“I was–am on an assignment.” They wondered how fast they would have to be to get their cat and then get to the panic button.

Not fast enough.

If they needed to be placating, they could be. It would what drew the villain to them, they knew that now.

“An assignment that takes six months?” The villain asked, lazily waving their free hand around. “An assignment that gives you this? It’s cutesy, comfortable. Too small for my taste, but you know that.”

It was a test hidden behind poisonously pleasant words.

Will you be telling me the truth? Are you foolish enough to lie?

A question the hero didn’t want to answer, but there were limited options.

Placate, placate, placate.

“It’s my final assignment.” The hero clenched their fists, nails digging into skin, forcing upon them clarity to think, a reminder not to stutter, not to feel. “Going civilian, for my safety.”

“Oh?” The villain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “Do tell. What was so dangerous that your little agency felt the need to give you an identity change?

Another test.

“It was noted that the others–other–other villains,” The hero forced themselves to take a breath in, and clenched their fists even harder. “were targeting me, thinking it would hurt you.”

“Mm.” The villain cocked their head to the side, looking at the hero in an indecipherable way.

Disappointment? Amusement? Hunger?

The hero was never able to tell.

“Well. I can admit my faults, but this is an easy fix, my darling. I’ll handle the others. Now, the car’s been running just a bit too long, so if we could?”

The villain stood, still holding the hero’s cat.

“I can’t.” The hero’s fists unclenched, wondering if their cat could be swayed to jump from the villain’s arms. “I signed a contract. If I re-emerge, I could be considered an active threat, measures would be taken against me, um, I can’t.”

The villain smiled. “Now that is a bigger problem, but I could garner a few solutions. Come along, we can even bring…” They trailed off, looking at the cat’s name tag. “Chestnut.”

“I’ll become a public enemy. I don’t own the name Hero, I just use it, I–”

“And that’s the very problem, isn’t it?” The villain let Chestnut jump from their arms, watching the hero’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “This day and age of heroics and villainy, it’s all very theatrical. We used to do this because of values, morals, plans for world domination.”

They gave the hero a once over.

“The other heroes are good at the limelight, thrive, even, it’s the whole reason they sign the contracts and take the name, but they can’t beat you in character, and the numbers of casualties in their fights versus yours speaks volumes. You weren’t good at the attention, not until I got to you, at least.”

“And I thank you for the help, but I’m done with the cameras, interviews, the saving people.”

“What a shame. You used to talk about being a symbol, about helping people, a hero through and through, not any of that pretending you’re a movie star. It’s what makes you…”

“Malleable?”

“I was going to say unique. No need for the dramatics.”

When the hero didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even look like they were breathing, the villain’s polite mask dropped.

The hero hated that, how easily the villain could switch around their personality. They also hated the villain’s unblinking eyes.

The villain could blink, the hero was sure, but whenever it was just the two of them, the villain always made sure to be constantly watching.

“As I said, I can think of a few solutions to your problems.” They held out an expectant hand. “Shall we?”

“You were using me.” The hero blurted out. “You weren’t trying to help me be better, you were–you were–”

“I was what?”

“Making me into a tool. You would have turned me into a monster.”

The villain scoffed. “A monster? Please. You would have been beloved by the world, no contract or agency could hold you, you would have been second to none.”

“Except you.” The hero noticed that Chestnut was curling around the villain’s legs, slowly realizing that their best option at this point might have been to turn heel. “I would have been second to none except you.”

The villain smiled again, though it looked more like an animal bearing their teeth in annoyance.

“Eventually not. Once we’ve finished with the others, all the theatrics and the celebrity treatment, we could begin the real work. We could be equals, my darling.”

“You were manipulating me so that you could have the perfect opponent?” The hero felt bile rise in their throat.

There was evidence of the villain using them, solid proof shown directly after that scolding from the agency for allowing a villain to mentor them, but to hear it from the villain themselves was something else entirely.

“Twist my words in whatever way you’ll have. We both win. You won’t have to worry about the performance of being a hero, you can simply go out and save the day how you like. Tell me it’s not tempting. Now, it has been a treat tracking you down, my darling, they hid you well, but I must insist we leave. There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

“No.”

Chestnut had wandered closer to the hero.

“Ah, would you prefer we fly? It’s not my favorite, but–”

“I’m not going with you.” They reached down slowly, picking up Chestnut, hoping to make it look as though they were holding her for comfort.

The villain watched, their jaw clenched, anger barely concealed.

“I made you.” They seethed through an unusually quiet voice. “And if I have to, I will break you, and build you up again.”

The hero took a step back. “Find another hero to manipulate.”

With a deep breath, the villain collected themselves, never breaking eye contact with the hero.

“You know, part of the plan was to make you fall in love with me.” They admitted, taking only a step forward to match the hero’s step back. “Or at least have you grow fond enough of me that you wouldn’t betray me so easily. But obviously, it didn’t work. Lucky for the both of us, I can work with fear. You have an abundance of that, don’t you?”

The hero turned heel.

There was no placating a villain.

[caker-baker]

Umbrella

“Well.” The villain huffed, putting their hands on their hips. “This just ruins it!”

The hero had to inch closer to hear the villain over the pouring rain.

“I can see how this is going to go.” The villain glared at the hero who was now face to face with them. “You and your stupid water powers will obviously take the win here.”

The hero didn’t respond, and instead looked down at their utility belt, pulling out a compacted umbrella.

“What are you doing, dumbass? You control water, you don’t need that.”

Silently, the hero opened the umbrella, and handed it to the villain. The hero themself merely held up a hand, and the raindrops above them seemed to stop.

“I know it still might not be dry enough for your fire,” The hero finally spoke. “but if it can even the playing field–”

“Why?” The villain asked, knuckles gripping the handle of the umbrella far too tight. “Is there a weapon in here? Does it dampen powers? There’s absolutely no reason for you to have an umbrella with you.”

The hero only gave a one armed shrug. “Not everyone can control water. Would you rather reschedule to a clearer day?”

The villain’s immediate response was going to be to mock them, ‘oh please, nobody is that righteous’.

But clearly somebody was.

“No.” The villain spoke slowly. “No, this should be enough.”

It wasn’t really. Even with the umbrella, they couldn’t send out any long range attacks because the rain would immediately put out their fire, they would have to do hand to hand all the while holding an umbrella.

The villain shut their eyes. They weren’t going to let the hero win this fight just because of some stupidly kind action. They were going to try their best given the circumstance, give the hero a run for their righteous money, and throw the umbrella back at them.

That wasn’t at all how it happened.

There were opportunities, opportunities to burn the hero when they got close enough, opportunities to run away, opportunities to at least call a stalemate.

But the villain had ended up in a puddle, umbrella fallen next to them, the hero smiling apologetically above them before they disappeared.

They snatched the umbrella back as they stood, guarding themself from the rain.

It wasn’t something the villain could wrap their head around, why the hero didn’t just use some heavy sheet of water to knock the villain back and unconscious, especially when so much of it was readily at the hero’s disposal, why they let the villain have their pathetic wisps of smoke and their meager fight.

Why they didn’t take their umbrella back.

The villain huffed again, already plotting their next meeting, how, without rain, the villain would beat them with more than just opportunities, and then they would throw the umbrella right back to the hero.

But until then, they would hold onto the umbrella, and they would be shielded from the rain.

[caker-baker]

Prompt

The hero couldn’t pinpoint where the explosions were going off, only that each loud boom was in tandem with the orchestra music being conducted by the villain.

They didn’t know what to do to get it to stop, and could think of only one last Hail Mary.

“Haha! Band kid.”

The villain stopped conducting.

[caker-baker]

Window

Without thinking, the spy leaped from one ledge to the next.

It helped not to think, to keep the mind blank. Fear might have gripped them otherwise, a natural emotion they couldn’t shake. Hide it? Yes. Rid themselves of it entirely? No.

And they found, in their line of work, most people were afraid of something.

Primarily, the fear was of death, especially when the concept came face to face with the individual, unsuspecting and demanding.

It would be no different now, the spy was deciding, keeping their back flat against the wall as they creeped closer towards the window their informant had left open for them.

The princeling would be afraid, not knowing his death was coming. The spy would show no fear, and had none to spare, as far as anyone was concerned.

There was always an air of silence that followed the spy, even when the open window creaked gently, it was only the wind, and that’s all it could possibly be, for no human could be swallowed by their surroundings like that.

It was dark, which the spy liked. They had an ongoing deal with the dark – they did not disturb it’s peace and it cloaked them well.

Yes, most of the palace would be quiet at this dark hour, the few who were still awake would be in the lower levels, making little trouble for the spy.

Foot and ground met, step after step, that inhuman pocket of silence moving along with them.

And then there was noise that was most definitely outside their creation of quiet.

They turned, and they would have struck if not for the familiar sensation of metal against their throat.

“I’m giving you a choice.” Their target said, voice low. “Drop the dagger, and we could have a civil discussion.”

He looked at them, and the spy was forced to look back.

They didn’t make a habit of eye contact, especially not with the people they were meant to kill, but when a knife was presented to one’s neck so gracefully, well, habits could change.

“You said a choice.” The spy made sure to keep their voice level, drawing on that blank slated mind. “What’s the other?”

“Let’s not play pretend. We both know why you’re here. The other choice is to carry on, try and kill me.”

The spy could almost feel their blood rushing, a challenge.

There was undoubtedly a consequence of this action, so the spy took advantage of the silence the targeted prince provided, and listened.

No one else in the room, they were sure of that much, but outside the door…?

There it was, a small clank of metal.

The spy’s eyes snapped back onto the prince’s.

“So that the guards can rush in when they hear you scream? Clever little princeling.”

The prince smiled. “They told me you were good. Most other assassins never quite looked around enough, never listened. In and out, not a challenge.”

Not an assassin. The spy corrected sharply in their mind. I don’t just kill.

But the prince didn’t need to know that, he didn’t need to know more than what he believed, and if he believed them an assassin, so be it. That meant he didn’t have the whole picture, not yet.

“Well?” He said expectantly. “Drop it.”

The dagger clattered on the ground, but the knife at their throat stayed in place.

“Such formalities.” The spy tsked. “I did as you asked.”

“And you expect me to believe that was the only weapon you brought? If so, perhaps I overestimated you.”

The spy’s jaw tightened, and that blank slated mind turned nearly to anger, only nearly.

It wouldn’t work, this tactic of his, trying to get under their skin.

There had been a hundred before him, and there would be a hundred after him. He was not special.

“I have an offer for you. It pays well, allows you to live, truly a fantastic deal.”

“You want me to kill for you?” The spy laughed. “I have allegiance elsewhere, princeling.”

Though in the dark, they could see his face contort with something that wasn’t fury, not in it’s entirety, not yet.

“As do I, assassin.”

He seemed to know how much that phrase angered them.

“Which is why I need this job done.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“But imagine if you did. We have similar goals–”

“I doubt that, princeling.”

“Listen.” The prince pressed the knife ever so slightly further against their neck. “You don’t want me on the throne, you and your little party of thieves and beggars. Do this for me, I’ll abdicate, and you can put your pretender in the throne.”

“How do you know about–” The spy cut themself off, thinking, thinking, thinking. “You left the window open.”

The prince winked. “Clever little assassin.”

“Why?”

The prince’s face turned serious again. “Ask me. Ask me who I want dead.”

The spy’s voice dropped to a whisper, curiosity eating at them, horror growing.

“Who.”

“Her majesty, the queen. My mother.”

[caker-baker]

Winter Wonderland

The snow flurried around the shivering hero, who adjusted their thin coat.

The villain, bundled in appropriate winter clothing, raised an eyebrow.

“Frostbite will kill you before I do.” They commented. “Didn’t you check the forecast?“

“I don’t have winter clothes.” The hero said through chattering teeth. “I was relocated here with no notice.”

“Ah.”

The hero glared at the villain’s relaxed stance.

“Well? Are we doing this or not?”

The villain folded their arms, once again taking in the hero’s shivering form, down to the not snow appropriate shoes hastily put on over the normal fighting gear.

“Yeah, no. While I think the movement would be good for you, you’re most definitely going to slip and crack your head open the second you try anything risky.”

Huffing, the hero threw their arms out to the side, stamping one foot on the snow covered ground, creating a crunching sound. “What sort of villain are you!”

“A fair one?”

“You’re literally trying to blow up city hall!”

The villain rolled their eyes. “Well I was, until you managed to dismantle the explosives. Consider the day saved. We’ll do this part,” they motioned vaguely. “another time.”

“No.” The hero frowned. “We’re going to fight, and I’m going to take you to jail.”

With a smug grin, the villain cocked their head to the side. “Alright, then.” They held out their arms. “I’ll let you have the first shot.”

The hero lunged.

The hero slipped.

The hero fell.

But then the villain was there, catching the hero mere inches from the icy surface they had slipped on.

“We’ll do this another time, yeah?” The villain said with a sense of finality, hauling the hero upward, bringing them face to face.

The hero could feel their face burning in embarrassment, in frustration. They weren’t accustomed to being clumsy, and they certainly weren’t accustomed to the sudden proximity, the warmth that came with it.

Their face burned even more as they shoved the villain away.

“Yeah.” The hero said finally. “Another time.”

“Good. I look forward to you properly foiling my plans.”

The hero only nodded, thinking of how they would explain this to the higher ups.

“Well?” The villain’s tone was expectant, hands on their hips. “Run along. And by that I mean walk, carefully this time.”

Once the hero was well out of sight, the villain let themself smile, alighting their hands as they set to work, melting down the ice to create a more agreeable pathway.

They looked forward to their next encounter.

[caker-baker]

Could you continue “if there was a crown” :)

Hey! There are actually some continuations of this, but if you’d like a further continuation, just let me know!

Part 2

Part 3

[caker-baker]

Wingman

The civilian had begun to carry a knife in their pocket, something the villain hadn’t accounted for.

“Ha!” They laughed sharply once they had gotten free of the ropes. “Now what?”

“You are positively feral, you know that?” The villain said, not looking up from their book as they used one finger to lift the hero in the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I use my nonexistent powers to escape?” They struggled in their current state. “Not all of us can lift people with our minds.”

At that, the villain did smile. “I don’t expect you to use some imaginary power of yours. I do, however, expect you to be a good hostage and sit still.”

With another twirl of their finger, the knife went flying away.

“And I expect people to look me in the eyes when they speak to me.”

Sighing quite dramatically, the villain set down their book, and looked up at the hovering civilian.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you. So while I’m here, can I get a schedule of your kidnapping plans next week? I have a work thing.”

“Are you asking me to postpone? My sincerest apologies, but I do require the hero’s attention.”

“Oooh, someone has a crush.” The civilian was beaming ear to ear. “You can say you miss them, I won’t tell.”

The villain scowled. “Pest. I don’t get ‘crushes’ on people I work with. Nor do I go after people in committed relationships.”

“He’s not in a relationship.” The civilian raised an eyebrow. “Work with? What, do you clock in, take lunch breaks together?”

“I beg your pardon, what do you mean he’s not in a relationship? Aren’t you his partner?”

The civilian gagged. “I would never. He’s not my type, and you didn’t hear it from me, but the spandex doesn’t do him any favors.”

Oh.

Not ‘oh’ about the spandex, the civilian was right, but ‘oh’ about the lack of relationship.

“But all my intel–”

“Jeez, you stalker.” The civilian snorted, half joking. “We’re just friends. Practically roommates, at this point. That’s probably why you assumed we’re dating. I don’t blame you, a lot of people tend to think that, especially when he carries me to safety so often. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of your fault people think we’re a thing. Hey can you put me down?”

Obliging, the villain gently lowered the civilian, though still keeping them a few inches above the ground.

They were still a hostage, after all, and the villain was a professional.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” The civilian said flatly. “But I was serious. If we can work around next week–”

“Hero’s single?” They interrupted.

“Tragically so. I try to set him up every so often, but he’s always been uninterested. Now about next week–”

“How would you like to never be a hostage again?”

“Getting rid of me already? I thought we were friends. We did have that one lunch together.”

“Listen, pest. If you set me up with Hero, I’ll never kidnap you again.”

The civilian smirked. “I thought you didn’t crush on the people you work with.”

“I’m a villain, I’m allowed to change my moral code whenever I like.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a crush.”

Glaring, the villain twirled the civilian upside down.

“Hey!”

“What do you say?”

The civilian thought for a moment.

“And you’d never kidnap me again?”

“Well.” The villain cleared their throat. “I would at least be willing to work around next week. I still need something to get the hero’s attention if this goes well.”

The civilian grinned. “Consider it a deal…can you put me down now?”

“Pest.”

[caker-baker]

Peace

“You look beautiful.” The villain murmured, their lips light above the hero’s knuckles before letting go.

“You look hideous.”

It warranted a laugh from the villain, leaving the hero to wonder what was humorous in this situation.

“Shall we?” The villain extended a hand.

And in those fineries that the villain had prepared for them, the hero knew there was no other option than to take the hand, and to dance.

Dance they did, gliding across the floor in a beautiful grace, one might be breathless if they were actually watching.

But the hero knew that they weren’t watching, they were just there, dolls under the villain’s control.

“Do you have to have them here?”

“The other villains and heroes? Yes, I want them to see you.”

“But they don’t see me, not really, not when you’re in their heads.”

The villain made a humming sound, thinking of how best to phrase it.

“Think of it like a trance, they are there, they just can’t move.”

Ah, the hero was wrong. It just made the villain’s ability more horrifying, knowing that their friends were in there somewhere, trapped and waiting to get out, waiting for someone to save them.

And save them they would, the hero just needed to keep dancing.

So they let themselves be dipped, twirled, waltzed around while some lovely orchestra played some lovely song.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that to me?” The hero asked. “Rather than…” they couldn’t say it.

“Control the rest?” The villain could say it, of course they could. “I guess it would be. But I don’t want to, not to you. I respect you too much. I love you too much.”

“Don’t say that.”

The lovely song ended.

“What shall I say instead?”

“Say that you’ll let them go.” The hero pleaded. “Say that you’ll end it all.”

Another lovely song began, and the hero, somewhere in the back of their mind, wondered if the orchestra was also controlled by the villain, or if they were just paid handsomely.

The villain didn’t speak for a moment, they simply pulled the hero into another dance.

“I could have taken this whole city by storm.” They began. “I could have each and every civilian in my mind’s influence, and it would be painfully easy. Is that what I’m doing? No. I’m dancing with the person I want, in the place I want, surrounded by people we consider friends, the people who fight pointlessly. I want them to see that I could have stopped them all, that the fighting isn’t a choice so long as I’m here. The city’s greatest enemies in the same room together, and they have no choice but to listen. I’m not a villain, Hero.”

Ok, maybe the villain wasn’t doing the worst thing they could have been doing, but it didn’t make their methods anymore right. It didn’t make this right.

“And you think this is how you get it done? What’s next, world peace?”

“I don’t care about the rest of the world, I care about my corner, I care about this city.”

The second lovely song ended.

“Now what?”

“Now, there’s no more squabbling, they know that there will be consequences.” The villain shot the crowd of heroes and villains a look. “Now, I love how I like, and how I like is with you.”

The hero really didn’t know how to respond, so the villain continued.

“Do you remember fighting me? Back when I could only control one person at a time? The others,” they motioned to the heroes. “always had a group of four, for when I inevitably turned one against the rest. You came alone, you didn’t want to fight your own team, so you faced me by yourself. I knew I couldn’t control you then and there, I would never want to risk destroying the compassion and personality that I so rarely see in the others.”

The hero frowned. “The others have personality, compassion, kindness. That isn’t unique to me.”

In turn, the villain stared. “I’m in their heads, Hero. You shouldn’t lie to me on their behalf. I know the things they think, the anger they have, especially towards you.”

That made the hero step back. “Towards me?”

“They assumed I held my punches when it came to you. It didn’t matter if every other villain didn’t, because I did, and that was enough to earn their…hatred isn’t it, but it’s turning to hate now, as they see you with me, not stuck like them.”

“I didn’t ask you to let me go free.”

“Did you hear that?” The villain said, the message directed towards the frozen crowd, all the while still looking at the hero. “They didn’t ask for my affections, nor did they ask me to do this to you.”

The hero didn’t want to ask, but they wanted to know. “Do they still hate me?” And then another thought crossed their mind. “Or are you lying to me so that I’m swayed to your side?”

“There are no sides, Hero, that’s my whole point.”

They held out their hand for another dance, but the hero refused.

“Let them go, please.”

The villain cast a sweeping glance towards the crowd.

“And you will stay with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is as you wish.”

The crowd began to move again, some in marionette like movements, jerky and delayed, others more fluid, jumping back into the motion denied to them like an old friend.

But no one attacked each other, no one went towards the villain or the hero, no one dared to cross the one who could easily take control like that again.

“My gift to you, peace in the city. And now, we dance.”

The hero took the villain’s hand.

A third lovely song began.

[prompts-in-a-barrel]

“You don’t remember me.”

“I remember that I trust you.”

[caker-baker]

That single sentence could have unraveled the villain so easily like strings on a parchment, especially after all those silent years of pining and loathing.

A greedy combination, pining for someone you loathe, and in their mind’s mind, the villain knew it would never work.

But their hero trusted them deep down, an ideology that would be reciprocated.

“Sit.” The villain said, a simple invitation. “Eat.” They slid their untouched plate across the table. “You look halfway starved.”

“The others,” The hero began, picking up a knife reproachfully and turning it in their hands. “won’t tell me what happened to me. You’re the only other cape I found who I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I can feel it. What were we?”

The villain didn’t hesitate, they didn’t want to lose this trust. “Enemies, we were enemies, something I hope to rectify.”

Eyes suddenly darting towards the way out, the hero stood, knife in hand.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure a lot of people have told you a lot of things over the last few days. What do you know? That you’re a hero? You’re a cape, too?”

“Yes.”

“But they probably didn’t let you go home, if you have one, see any family, do anything that could jog your memory. You were probably cooped up in the hero facility, test after test run on you.”

“How did you know?”

The villain waved a haphazard hand, brushing the question to the side.

“I’m not going to hurt you. It would be unfair of me in this state, and I am not without my honor. Please,” they motioned to the seat across from them. “sit. Eat. All those blood tests and only the smallest of portions to keep you fit. It’s all very backwards, I know.”

The hero did sit back down, no sign of mistrust coming from them yet.

‘Yet’, a dangerous word the villain wanted to avoid.

“You know what happened to me?”

“Everyone does. You are the talk of hero-villain news.”

“But my family, if I have one, wouldn’t they–”

“I don’t know if you have a family, Hero. I’ve only just now learned what you look like, I never knew your personal life, you never knew mine.”

Until you wandered into my lair.

“So, what happened?”

“Supervillain was playing with his toys again. You’re sought after, you know, powerful. It wouldn’t surprise me if Supervillain did this to manipulate you to our side. He likes strong villains.”

“But I don’t even remember how to use my powers.”

“A side effect he probably didn’t intend for.”

A wave of silence washed over them, the hero picking at, and occasionally eating the offered food, and the villain just watching.

They were almost angry, now knowing that the hero trusted them all along, knowing that there could have been a friendship, maybe, beyond the fighting, knowing that there was always something more, but the hero would never say it unless they were stripped of all the things that made them Hero.

Then again, the villain never spoke on it either, the silent and assumed one sided connection, so this anger could not be justified.

“Could he get my memories back?” The hero asked.

“I don’t see why not. He’s a brilliant scientist, for all his madness.”

Ask me, please ask me.

“I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“That’d be the hero in you.” The villain smiled.

Please, ask me.

“Would you help me?”

Oh yes, the villain knew they would be unraveled.