Hello, I Saw From Your Introduction That You Are Hoping For An Ask And I Think I Have A Prompt For You:

Hello, I saw from your introduction that you are hoping for an ask and I think I have a prompt for you: A villain who is tasked with poisoning the hero only to realize that the hero is their little sibling. You don't have to write it if you don't want to, but it came to me while working on my introduction and I thought you might enjoy it.

Anyway, have a good rest of your day. :)

This is such an awesome prompt, thank you so much!!

(Edit: part two)

The villain was a lot of things, but they weren’t one to use poison. They planned, they sabotaged, unleashed mind games and carefully tilted domino effects—but they didn’t use poison.

But some ostentatiously rich benefactor wanted the hero to die without the mess of broken buildings and bones, so they had paid off a higher up, who paid off someone else, until an envelope filled with a packet of poison ended up tucked into the villain’s hands.

So here they were, at a party, a vial of something toxic and deadly and shimmering tucked up their sleeve.

Someone bumped into them, muttering an apology, and they straightened their suit. It took two seconds to snag a champagne glass off a waiter’s tray, one to empty the vial into it, and four, to arrive at the hero’s side, grin fixed on their face.

“Having fun yet?”

The hero turned, blinking beneath a masquerade mask—wouldn’t do to reveal their identity, now would it—and smiled, slightly.

“Absolutely loads of it.”

The villain glanced at the table the hero stood at, all but abandoned, and hummed.

“Looks like it.”

The hero did nothing more than sigh, elbows resting on the standing table. Somewhere, the mayor laughed. The hero winced.

“Why don’t you go talk to him,” the hero gestured with their head. “He organized this for us to make peace, you know?”

The villain slid a baleful look at the center of the party.

“He organized it to parade us around like dogs.”

The hero simply went back to studying the half crumpled napkins.

The villain blew out a breath.

They nudged the glass of champagne towards the hero’s hand. The hero didn’t take it.

“Peace offering,” the villain urged. The hero gave something between a grimace and a frown, eyes darting between the villains face and the glass.

“Oh. I mean, uh—thank you, but really, I can’t—” the hero went to rub the back of their neck, and stopped halfway there.

“Too much of a goody goody for alcohol?”

When the hero didn’t rise to the bait and take the glass, the villain clucked their tongue. “Come now, it’s only champagne.”

This time, they took it, fingers hesitant, as if they had never held a champagne glass before.

Too trusting, their hero, with their wide eyes and still soft face.

The villain clinked their glasses, indicating for the hero to drink. The hero downed their glass whole—which they hadn’t expected but made this a lot easier—and coughed.

“It’s champagne, not whiskey,” the villain laughed, and the hero squinted at their now empty glass. “You have to admit this is a relatively nice bottle.”

The hero coughed once more, looking a little green.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had it before.”

“What, champagne?”

The hero shot them an unreadable look.

“Alcohol.”

The villain paused. “What are you, sixteen? You sound like my youngest sibling.”

The hero choked on a breath, face flushing slightly as they looked away.

“Strange comparison,” the hero said, voice slightly strangled, and the villain simply stared at them.

A moment later, they shoved off their elbows. “I should go, mingle or whatever—” the hero stopped, frowning, as they swayed slightly.

They made to raise a hand to their head, and simply stared at it as it shook.

The poison was fast acting, then.

“I—bathroom. I should—“ the hero’s hand dropped, and they took a stumbling step.

A moment later, the villain had an arm around their shoulders, guiding them through the crowd with an easy smile. They were light, shorter than the villain, and for that, the villain was grateful.

They were one step into the bathroom when the hero dropped like a stone, slamming into the side of a stall with violent thud.

“Shit,” the villain murmured. They clicked the lock, leaving them alone together. “They didn’t say it would be this fast.”

Really, they just wanted to make sure the hero’s power didn’t go off, decimating the entire building. The villain knew it could—and under their right mind, the hero would never let it. But while dying…

The hero let out a sob into the bathroom tile, and shadows began to trail their way across the floor, as if desperate.

Control of shadows was an expansive and brutal power, stealing thoughts, forming beasts, sending terror down spines in broad daylight. It was the one thing the hero and villain shared—the shadows, even if the hero was gentle and the villain was brutal in their usage of them.

That’s what made it so, so easy for the villain to scatter them from the hero’s grasp.

The hero shuddered, and managed to shove themselves upwards in time to vomit into the nearest toilet. The building shook around them, and the hero’s mask dissolved from their face.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t want you to die like this,” the villain admitted. “You deserve a valiant battle.”

The hero heaved again, and those shadows blasted outwards, as if on reflex. The villain tucked them away.

The hero managed an incredulous laugh.

“I didn’t think you would poison me.”

The villain blinked.

“You see too much good in people.”

The hero rested their head against the toilet, face still turned out of view.

“You hate poison,” they offered, and the villain hesitated.

The villain hated poison, yes, but there were very few people who knew that—one person who knew that, bearing the memory of small fingers swallowing pretty colored liquids and the number for poison control. Weeks in the hospital, their younger sibling’s hand clutched in theirs, as the villain watched them recover.

But the hero couldn’t know that; they had made sure nobody knew that.

The hero was just delirious, that was all.

“You seem to be grasping at straws.”

The hero laughed again, and it sounded like it tore something in their chest. “I forgot how much this hurts.”

The hero had been poisoned before?

“Hero—”

“It was never supposed to end like this.”

The villain took a step closer and the hero didn’t flinch, even though they undoubtedly sensed them.

“We’re on opposing sides, someone was bound to get hurt—“

“I never hurt you,” the hero shivered, and then retched once more.

“You’re a hero, you’re not supposed to.”

The villain took a step forward, until their shoes almost touched the hero’s sprawled legs, and the hero slumped further.

“I never caught you, either,” they murmured, and the villain frowned.

Something was wrong. They were missing something, a vital piece of information.

“I was supposed to keep you safe.”

The villain froze.

“Hero, what are you talking about—”

“I’m sorry,” the hero sobbed. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt. If I wasn’t your hero then someone else would be and they would hurt you and catch you, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t—“

The hero dragged a hand down the back of their neck, as if wiping off sweat, and their hand came away smothered with concealer.

The villain stopped breathing.

There, on the hero’s neck, half covered by foundation, was a birthmark.

A birthmark only one person carried, imprinted into every childhood memory and scrapbook photo the villain had.

The hero was still rambling, half desperate and half broken, but as soon as the villain touched them, their voice fell away.

They hauled the hero up, glancing desperately over their sweaty face, their unfocused and half delirious eyes, body shivering with pain. Those too trusting eyes latched onto the villains face, and the hero smiled. A smile the villain had been looking at for the past sixteen years. A smile that had never had a drink before. A smile that had been poisoned once, by a cleaning product under the sink. A smile the villain looked forward to seeing every day. A smile that belonged to the only person the villain had left.

“You were never supposed to poison me,” their sibling whispered—and collapsed into the villains arms.

(Part two)

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“You should find a better way to source your goons,” the new kid remarked. They straightened, rolling their shoulders as if lifting some unseen weight. They had looked terrified before, all doe eyes and heaving chest and stuttering questions.

Now… now they looked prepared.

Adelaide eyed them with uncertainty.

This was not the new kid she had brought into the fold for their uncanny ability to crack safes. This was not the gawky teenager whose tragic backstory shimmered at the edges of their eyes.

No. This was someone else entirely.

“You are not the person I hired,” Adelaide tugged a bit on the edge of the handcuff, found it binding her to the edge of the car door.

The new kid smiled, all polished confidence.

“No, but I play them well, don’t I?”

Police sirens began to howl as the museum alarms stirred to life, as if blearily saying “something has been stolen, something is missing, someone has been bad.”

If it was up to her, they’d be long gone.

The new kid tucked their hands into their pockets.

“Who are you,” she asked then, because what else was there to say? The rest of her team had fled into the framework of this city, like they were trained to. It was just her, and the person wearing the costume of the new kid.

The new kid shrugged, jauntily.

“Youngest up and coming agent, at your service,” they tipped their head. “High test scores, fast reflexes, people pleasing perfectionism. The works.”

Adelaide studied their face, the outright arrogance, and frowned.

“That’s as much of a mask as the one you wore earlier.”

The new kid’s eyes glittered.

“They did say you were the best,” they said amicably. They sauntered closer as police cars threw themselves onto the pavement around them, corralling them in walls of metal.

The new kid grabbed Adelaide’s collar and pressed their mouth to her ear. She flinched against their hold, and their fingers tightened around her lapel.

“I’ll have you out in three days time—the valuables will be sold and dispersed, and the money filed into an impossibly long line of untraceable accounts. By the time they realize the money trail is cold, you’ll be gone with the wind.”

The new kid glanced towards the cop cars as doors slammed.

“Now. Act as if I’ve taunted you. All arrogant young operative high off their own success, yes?”

Confusion flooded her—then cool understanding.

“You do this every day? Double cross the police and propagate crime.”

The new kid pulled back, cat like in the satisfaction smeared across their face, and grinned harder.

“Only on Tuesdays.”

They winked at her, and she lunged for them, screaming obscenities.

“You bastard,” she put as much conviction in it as she could. By the reactions of the police, they bought it. “You traitorous piece of—“

The new kid—or more aptly named, Monarch—had them out in three days, as promised.

They ruled the city in two months.

A ten, but….

I got tagged in by @jay-avian in their post here, (thank you by the way) and thought it looked fun! So here are a couple of my characters, kind of organized by what story they’re from, kind of not.

Melody—is a ten, but is the daughter of a serial killer and has already masterminded a plan for how your first introduction to her will go

Agent Jules—is a ten but is falling in love with a highly intelligent and slightly feral child of a serial killer

Lucy—is a ten and can rob you and kill you in under twenty seconds but her ace ass is awkwardly avoiding her best friend so he doesn’t have the chance to confess his love

Aletheia—is a ten but made a deal with a demon and then got kidnapped

Riven—is a ten but is a sassy little shit (and also a demon)

Travis—is a ten but literally ran away to Oklahoma to avoid his problems and proceeded to fall in love with a country boy and spill his secret identity

Shawn—is a ten but is also just kind of an asshole

Alex—is a ten but keeps shattering windows when he gets excited and his powers flare

Drake—is a ten but keeps getting stuck half phased through walls

Clarke—is a ten but is insane and plotting to take over the world

Briar—is a ten but got peer pressured into playing a children’s horror game and got yanked through a mirror into the reverse realm and was replaced by her reflection

Rain—is a ten but lives in an poisonous rain apocalypse and is used by the government to cause chaos so no-one questions why they haven’t found a cure (they have, it causes superpower mutations) (guess who has those)

And that’s the main ones! Or at least, the most fleshed out ones. Thanks for reading, and I’m going to tag @meadowofbluebells @ettawritesnstudies @kittensartswriting @iloveyou-writers @rehnwriter to join in the fun! (If they want)

Love your writing! An idea, if you like it: villain finds out that their lover is actually their hero nemesis. Villain leverages this in their confrontations by threatening the hero's lover--ie their own secret identity. Basically a villain using their intimate knowledge of their lover to gain an advantage.

Part of them knew it was wrong to enjoy their lover like this - jaw clenched in steely determination, eyes wide and bright with an intoxicating combination of terror and bravery.

That part was drowned out entirely by the bit of them that stepped giddying closer, smoothing their palms down the desperate thump of the hero's chest. The horror of it.

"You think I didn't know?" the villain murmured. "About your little love affair?"

"If you lay so much as a hand on them-"

"-You'll what?"

The hero looked so protective, so willing to do absolutely anything for them. The hero's jaw clenched further; an animal baring of teeth. They took the villain's hands off them and squeezed, hard enough to hurt.

"Perhaps I'll reconsider my policy on murder."

The villain laughed, at that. It wasn't really funny so much as, yet again, giddying. When it was just the two of them alone, their lover was the gentlest person alive. Good and kind and oh so sweet. Seeing the person in front of them...

"Sexy," the villain purred.

The hero shoved them back.

The villain bit on their lip, unable to help it as they considered the hero. "What do you think your love would think of the blood on your hands?"

"If it keeps them safe, it's worth it."

"Oh?"

The hero's gaze raked over them, searching for an open. Futile, really. Their love was not a killer. The villain would never push them to that. Still.

"Alright, alright," the villain pretended at grace, stepping forward again. They scooped the hero's fists in their hands and pressed a half-mocking kiss to their knuckles. "Easy, tiger. We both know I'm more interested in you."

The hero's hands twitched, but they didn't pull away.

"Just stand down and get out of my way and I'll have no reason to hunt them down."

They imagined detailed ransom videos. They wanted to see what the hero looked like when they heard them screaming, praying, begging for mercy. Patience. They could see the hero's fury and their despair and their love most of all.

All the love they struggled to express when it was just the two of them, as if fighting villains was more important.

"I tell you this," the hero said, "and next time you threaten them again, ask for something else."

"Before you think about killing me, please bear in minds that I've put in fail safes should I die. Ruining your love being one of them."

The hero swallowed. They seemed to be trying to decide if that was true or not.

"I know so many of their secrets," the villain confessed, "everything that would ruin their comfortable life with you, every dark and dirty thing that they would hate the world to see. I don't have to hurt them to hurt them, my dearest hero."

"Don't call me that," the hero snapped.

But the villain knew they'd won.

The hero hadn't pulled back and they hadn't lashed out, not physically. They were always fine with a threat to themselves, but this?

The villain almost hadn't thought they could have so much power.

They never wanted to let it go.

But, they never wanted to let the hero go either. They never wanted to wake up one day to a world where someone else had hurt them, when they were already gone.

"Stand down," the villain whispered. "And you can be so very happy."

And, at least for a little while, the hero did.