love your hero villain dynamics , can you write something where the hero is scared of the dark and the villain takes advantage of it while mocking them
"No." The hero's voice cracked. The sound was far too loud, too obvious, in the devouring dark. They pivoted on the spot, squinting, as if that would do them or their hammering heart any good at all.
There was nothing. It did nothing. Of course there wasn't.
They jumped at the touch of a - hand? tendril among the living night? Feather-light, grazing along their throat. Gone when they whirled.
The hero bit back a whimper.
"Your pulse is racing," the villain murmured.
In the fog of the hero's panic, their voice seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere. As elusive to snatch as the shadows themselves.
"Only because you're annoying!"
The villain laughed. Soft, mocking.
The villain's powers gave them absolute control of the dark, turned it into something physical and concrete, the ever-twisting manifestation of a childhood nightmare. In the light, the villain was a prettier thing.
Light. The hero fumbled for their own powers, but their fingers shook too hard. The dim candlelight they managed to summon to their fingertips felt like it barely penetrated the crowding gloom.
The panic rose in the hero's throat, bubbled over.
In an instant, the darkness pounced. It cradled them softly, wrapped them up in an unbreakable hold, sliding around their wrists, their ankles, like silk upon their eyes. It poured into their mouth until they gagged on it. Tasting of promise, and threat, and nothing at all.
"You look good scared," the villain said. That time, the hero felt a definite touch, the press of them against the hero's back. Lips against their ear. "Especially when you're scared for me."
"Isn't it?" the villain asked. Their hand trailed down along the line of the hero's throat once more, along their side. The hero's breath hitched. "Is it not mine?"
The hero closed their eyes, for a moment, because was it a fraction more bearable than staring out into nothingness.
"You don't know what I look like. It's dark."
"You think I can't see in the dark? You think I can't see you?"
"I think this is a cheap trick," the hero snapped. "And you wouldn't dare face me in the sunlight."
"Of course not," the villain said. "I'm not stupid enough to challenge you on home territory. How's it going for you?"
The hero had been determined when they headed out into the night; to face their fears, prove them worthless, to defeat the villain once and for all.
It had, clearly, been a wild miscalculation.
The hero swallowed. They searched for something clever to say and came up empty.
The villain laughed that soft laugh again and placed a kiss just above the hero's damning pulse.
"Don't worry," the villain said. "I'll be merciful."
"I didn't know that was a word in your vocabulary."
"I'll let you go if you answer just one question for me."
The hero turned their head, desperate to see the villain's face, though they couldn't. Their lips brushed the villain's at the motion, though. They both stilled. The villain's breath was warm, human. Maybe that revealed something even their expression couldn't betray. Neither of them recoiled. The villain's free hand rose, grazing along the hero's jaw, their hair.
"What's the question?" the hero asked.
"Is it worse to be in my hands, in the darkness, or to be alone in it?"
The hero faltered. They imagined themselves stumbling through the villain's night, lost and blind, trying to conjure enough light to find some way out of the maze of it all. They shivered. Pressed themselves a little closer to the villain, to their more personal darkness, before they could stop themselves.
The villain hummed. The silence stretched, its own kind of answer.
"I am the worst thing you will ever find in the dark," the villain said. "Let the other monsters scuttle back to the light, where they foolishly think it's safe, and you are waiting for them."
But the hero was. They'd taken pride in it. The things that scuttled from the dark feared them far more than ever feared the dark itself.
"There is a solace in shadow," the villain said. "Away from prying eyes, and pretence. Is that was frightens you so, then? Knowing exactly what you are in the dark when nobody is watching?"
"And you're not letting go."
No. The hero wasn't. They were barely even struggling, hadn't thought to try for another light in a while.
"You're scared," the villain said. "But don't worry." They captured the hero's mouth, sweet and aching and hunger-filled. "I don't kiss and tell."
In the breathless aftermath, the hero finally summoned a light. Gentle. Exposing them both. The darkness around them melted away, leaving them uncaged, uncradled. Strangely bereft.
The hero caught a glimpse of the villain's face - not so mocking, raw - and then they stepped back into the darkness and were gone.
The hero was alone, in the light beneath a streetlamp, where they were safe.
And if part of them missed the villain, wondered about that kiss -
Well. They touched a finger to their lip, still tingling, a terrifying and tantalising thing. They were safe.
But they couldn't help but feel differently about the dark after that.
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