Between Mice and Magic

NOT A PR0MPT

Spicy (but not explicit- and only for a short bit, really)

******

“I hate to admit it, little mouse, but you are becoming quite the nuisance.”

Hero ignored Villain as best she could as she fought with the ropes which bound her. Her wrists stung behind her back and her ankles were screaming from another over-the-top restraint.

As anyone would know it, Hero was weak. Her skillsets relied on nimbleness. Being small and lightweight meant she was the best sneak anyone could afford, but it came at a cost.

This wasn’t to say she couldn’t fight. Swords were no match for her when they were easily knocked to the ground. And after then, it was only a matter of pushes and pulls in just the right places of her opponent’s body.

However, hand-to-hand combat meant nothing in the face of magic. Hero thought such a force was an outdated source of combat- after so many wars, so many imprisonments...as far as the world knew it, magic was a thing of the past, buried so deeply in earth that it could never be found again. It would remain unknown, even to the gods, many had thought.

Yet here she was, trapped.

The Sky Falls

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“I know the world is ending, but…at least we have each other, right? Is that too cliché to say?”

Hero’s eyes almost brimmed with tears at the sentiment behind his words. The sentiment, however, was less overpowering than the sadness which was starting to rupture her heart. “Villain, I can’t do this.”

“I know it’s scary, my love, but the sky will not fall on us. If it did, you know I would protect you.” He shifted on the plaid blanket, touching Hero’s hand. His fingers were stained with paint from the mailbox at home, and Hero couldn’t help but to smile.

So kind. So kind and thoughtful, but it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Villain. “I can’t die with this lie brewing endlessly.”

“Lie? What lie?” Villain didn’t seem concerned over Hero’s words. He never was. He was too in love to have caution when it came to Hero.

“Your love isn’t real. We captured you, Villain, and Other Hero charmed you. You don’t love me. I can’t let you think your love is real when the world is about to end.”

Villain stayed quiet for some moments, and then, it seemed as though something snapped. His once plump lips tightened into a harsh line, sharper than a pair a shears.

Other Hero said it would be that easy. ‘Never even hint at the charm existing. I’m not strong enough to make my will permanent.’ Hero didn’t want it to be permanent anyway. Something about taking another person’s freedom to love who they chose didn’t sit right with her, even if Villain would be unaware of it.

“How long?” Villain asked. Hero watched his fingers curl tightly in the woven grass, and heard the stalks pop from the ground. Her chest tightened.

Maybe taking a breath would make her feel better. “Four years.” Hero swallowed.

“I reckon that’s why you said ‘no’ when I proposed?” He chuckled, and it was a laugh Hero hadn’t heard in so long. The last time she did hear it…it was when Other Hero did the charm. Villain swore it wouldn’t work, that he wasn’t capable of love- ‘…especially not for any of you.’

His voice had become soft when he experienced love. He was polite, and his nose crinkled when he smiled. For a time, Hero forgot what his frown looked like.

“There was no other way to stop you, Villain. It had to be done.”

“So what!”

Hero was frightened. For four years, his voice never raised- only became louder when he was calling Hero from the kitchen.

“You take away my free will, and now look. The sky is red, Hero. I sure as hell didn’t do that. If I wasn’t under some uncontrollable gaze, I would have stopped this shit from even happening!”

“You knew about Supervillain?”

Villain ignored her and looked to his hands, plastered in a coat of lies. That paint wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Hero. He shook his head. “It was all I ever wanted- to not die. To- to live long enough…I was fighting my own battles, Hero. Did your team ever think of that? I knew this”- he gestured to the sky- “was happening. I was trying to stop it, dammit.”

“You said you were sick. We…I guess we thought it was a terminal illness. The charm would fix the illness, and it would stop your crazed ruthlessness. You would only experience love. We thought it was the right thing…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Villain repeated with a shake of his head. “Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

“You could have asked for our help,” Hero suggested softly.

“Your help? What makes you think I would have wanted to ask for it? All you have ever done is ridicule me.” Villain finally stood from the blanket and began pacing, like the ideas in his head pushed him to his feet, too full of energy. “I tell you there’s a villain- a real villain- and you turn me into this helpless, loving thing. I didn’t need love. I needed…I didn’t need anything. I was going to stop this from happening alone.”

“What about the sickness, then? Was it a lie, Villain? Something to make us feel bad for you so we’d let you go off killing again?” Villain killed. God, he killed everything. Humans and pets. Plants and fish in the ponds. Anything capable of a heartbeat was killed. For what? As far as Hero’s team was concerned, Villain was the end of the world.

“I was sick; it just wasn’t fucking cancer. I tried to tell you. Why did no one listen to me?” He sighed. “It was a disease, Hero. I don’t know where it came from, but it infected everything, and only the infected could see where it was. It was a curse- dark and evil and twisted. I watched it spread, and no one was going to stop it.”

Villain looked to the sky and a tear spring to his eye. “It used to tell me in my sleep, however seldom that was, that it was going to take over. I decided to kill it. I would kill every infected thing and then I would end it all with myself. I was going to save the world, Hero. Now there’s no hope for it at all.”

******

Tag list: @faeruine

Affogato

NOT A PR0MPT- happy ending, stay tuned for the end :)

Could you write about a villian with severe anger issues, but still somehow, they've managed to come to love hero, and so has hero. Now, as they live together, villian just one days, snaps at hero for small little things. And at night, hero just storms off. Villian at this point wants to hate the hero now, and when thru hear a knock, they almost bring in their knife, and when they open the door to hero, IT TURNS OUT THAT HERO JUST WENT TO BUY VILLIAN SOME ICE CREAM AND COFFEE. CUZ THEY REMEMBERED THAT VILLIAN LOVES THESE TWO TOGETHER, SO JUST TO BRIGHTEN THEIR MOOD, THAT'S WHY HERO STORMED OFF. Cue the villian breaking down into tears as they hold their selfless hero in their arms and cry and apologise and kiss the hero and the hero just absolutely not minding it at all, cuz they are understanding enough to know that villian is going through something that is making them act like that, and they don't really mean it.

Just anything like this :")

This request is long overdue. Thank you, and all nonnies, for your patience <3 May I bestow upon you a long snippet for a long request? It’s quite nice if I do say so myself.

******

“I don’t know, Hero. I don’t know. I don’t know!” Villain snapped. “God, you keep asking me questions. Why the hell would I know how aglets are put on shoelaces? Or- or what type of plastic is supposedly safe to eat from? Or when- exactly, as you asked- sugar turns into caramel in a skillet? I don’t know, Hero!”

Hero’s lips parted halfway through Villain’s outburst. Shock took up many of her emotions, but somehow hurt triumphed them all. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, and her voice was hardly heard. “You’ve just been gone all day; I wanted to make conversation.”

Not seeming to understand just how much damage he was already doing, Villain continued. “Yeah, well, I’m tired. It was a long day and the last thing I want is someone asking a thousand questions a minute.” He repeated, “I’m tired. I just want to sit here- here, in my goddamn chair- and watch a show. Can I please, for the love of everything in this universe, just do that?”

He sounded like an old man with nothing better to do than to wrap his lips around a cigar, while watching Casablanca for the tenth time in a week, wearing a fedora that went out of fashion seventy years ago.

“Do you have a show in mind?” Hero tried.

“No.” Without another word, Villain closed his eyes, laid his head back, and slept in his chair as he wished.

When Villain awoke, his mind was still in a place of dread, and the feeling intensified as he watched Hero’s small figure dart about the house as she gathered her things.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice darker than before. Neither he, nor Hero, could tell if it was sleepiness or irritability which made his voice so low and unwelcoming, though caring little about what her lover’s voice meant, Hero responded, “Leaving.”

Her purse was already tucked into the crook of her elbow, and she had her wallet. Now to find the keys.

“You’re leaving?” Incredulous. “What the hell are you leaving for?” By the time Villain asked it, Hero had found the keys- in plain sight, on the kitchen counter- and business-walked to the front door. “Don’t forget the rest of your things! You’re going to leave me with your clothes and jewelry and all your other shi-” The door slammed shut. Villain began talking to himself instead. “Why would I ever think that she’d stay here with me? Why would I ever think she was any different from anyone else I’ve ever known? The hell is wrong with me?”

In the next hour, Villain moped around his home, drinking glasses of water, eating the crumbs out of old chip bags in the cabinet, and watching tv. It wasn’t particularly horrible; Villain just felt…off. As angry as he sounded, he wasn’t. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t sad, wasn’t much of anything other than another human who was overwhelmed and burnt out. There was no emotion- only exhaustion.

The sky outside was darkening more and more. If Villain squinted in search, he’d find a few stars shining through hazy clouds. It made him wonder, now, if Hero was ever coming home, or if this was really the end to…to them. Had he really been so horrible that she’d leave with nothing else but her wallet and keys? Maybe so.

Then again, Hero was easily saddened. She’s overreacting, Villain thought, because facing the fact that he might be the one in the wrong was preposterous.

Villain shifted in his chair and uneasily pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. He dialed Hero’s mother.

“Villain?”

“Yeah, hey.” His voice was typically more enthusiastic. Not now. “Is Hero around?”

Hero’s mother hummed. “No. No, I haven’t heard from her since this morning. Is everything okay? Are you home?”

He took a breath and closed his eyes. Yes, he was home. No, everything was not okay. Maybe Villain should have called Hero first, but then he considered a scenario in which she wouldn’t pick up the phone, and that thought infuriated him. What if he was worried? It was getting dark, and she wasn’t home. If she didn’t pick up the phone, it’d make him worry even more, and how was that fair to him?

He didn’t give thought to her answering the phone.

“Villain? You there?”

“I’m here,” Villain assured. He inhaled once again, and as he breathed out, he said, “I fell asleep earlier, and her keys were gone when I woke up. I figured she might have headed out there, but she might have just gone to Friend’s.”

“Did Hero not pick up the phone when you called?”

“I didn’t call,” Villain admitted. Then, “I had a nightmare, and I guess my mind just went to the worst place. I’m sorry. I’m- uh- I’m going to call Hero. I’ll get back to you when I know she’s alright. I’m sure everything is okay.” It was too difficult to admit he got angry, and Hero left him because of it. “Anyway, I’m going to-”

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’ll get back with you later.” Villain hung up, then scurried to the kitchen where he had immediate access to steak knives.

Soon after, Villain recognized the sound of keys rattling in the lock. But who else had keys to the house except for himself and…“Hero?”

Her face emerged into their home as the door creaked open more. “Little help?” She yelped as a bag dropped to the wooden floor. “Shoot! Oh, I hope the eggs weren’t in that one. Could you- you’re holding a knife.”

“You went grocery shopping.”

“I did. And you’re holding a knife. Should I,” Hero ventured, “go back to grocery shopping?”

“No. No, I”- Villain put the knife down- “was just shocked. We argued and then I fell asleep and then I woke up and then-”

Hero extended her free hand out to Villain. Free, as in, it held only one item, and that item was for Villain. “It’s probably half-melted by now- sorry. It’s an af…afro…afrogato? No, that means cat, doesn’t it? No, that’s gato.”

“You got me an affogato?” Villain’s brows pinched and his lips jutted out. Someone who didn’t know Villain, they would interpret his expression as anger, but Hero knew better. He was only confused.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can tell you’re struggling. I thought this might help brighten your night.” She smiled sweetly, then tilted the small paper cup towards Villain, reminding him that he might want to take and eat it, or else he won’t get the chance to enjoy it. “If you can help get the groceries in really quick, I can put them away so you can enjoy the ice cream.”

Speechless, Villain took bags off Hero’s arm and rushed them to the kitchen island. He stuck his affogato in the freezer, then rushed to his and Hero’s car in the driveway. “Sit down,” he called out behind him. Hero didn’t like the grocery store; it exhausted her.

After the groceries were brought in, and Villain, not Hero, tucked them all away in the fridge, freezer, and cabinets, Villain took his treat- one he didn’t feel he deserved- and sat beside Hero on the couch.

Hero curled in, toes tucked between the couch cushions, and her arm wrapped around Villain’s. “You keep shaking your head,” she said. “What’s wrong.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Villain replied, head still shaking with his lack of understanding.

She sat up, then, and looked into his eyes. “Everyone deserves love. All tonight means is that we have some things to work on. We,” she emphasized, “not just you. I shouldn’t have taken off the way I did. It wasn’t helpful to either of us.”

Maybe she was right. Still, Villain’s outburst…“You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes darted away for a moment but came back as quickly as they left. “I’m sorry, Hero.”

Nodding, Hero tucked back into her love. “I’m sorry, too. Now eat your afro-cat.”

Gasps of Air

NOT A PR0MPT

Tw: spicy themes

******

“You’re not getting through,” Hero declared. She stood in front of the door, arms spread like wooden, plank barriers.

Villain could only raise a brow and stalk closer. One step, then another. “Move.”

Hero’s chin jutted up in response. “No. You’re going to have to-”

In a moment, Hero felt herself gasp as Villain’s hand found her throat. Then following, her back met the same door she guarded. Without thought, her own hands shot up, as if she could help herself, as if she could pry the already placed hands away when they were so adamant on keeping her still against this surface.

“Let go,” she seethed through a stretched neck and gritted teeth. Hero made every attempt to meet anything but Villain’s eyes. She repeated, “Let go of me.”

“Funny,” Villain remarked, “how just a few months ago, these pretty eyes were pleading for more.” His fingers flexed against her soft skin ever so slightly. “Now, I can see they beg for mercy, not pleasure. Experiencing some spotty vision, Hero?”

She tried to respond. So desperately, Hero attempted to act as though she was unaffected- both physically and mentally. Truth be told, she was gasping for air, watching blobs of pastel colours float by her vision as she, for once, tried to focus on Villain’s face- only because it was the nearest thing to focus on.

“I remember how these eyes used to roll back.” Villain’s fingers loosened around Hero’s neck and he hummed at the way she gasped heavily for air, whilst clutching his wrists, almost like a ‘Thank you,’ when he was only giving her a right to the air which everyone breathed for free. “It was…endearing,” he said, and though he was unsure of his word choice, he continued, “to watch you believe you were relinquishing control to me, only to realise you never had it to begin with.” His fingers were tightening again, and he smiled as the hero’s breaths became more rapid- frantic, even.

Villain smiled now, and his tongue just barely peeked out to wet his lips. If Hero weren’t so occupied, she might have noticed and thought he was going to kiss her against this door.

“What’s really so cute is that you could get out of this so easily.” He looked down and took note of her knee, took note of where his own weak spot was. The two lined up almost perfectly. “You don’t,” Villain murmured, “because you still have feelings. You’re enjoying this.”

I’m not enjoying anything, Hero would have defended, but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, she was cut off by another squeeze.

“Are you going to step aside?”

Now wheezing, Hero shook her head. Her eyes rolled back as she felt the desire for oxygen in her body to swell. She needed it. She needed air. Something so simple, so necessary, but so simple to take away. Right now, Hero resented Villain for what he was- someone so suave and calculating, so poise and utterly evil, but someone she ultimately couldn’t help but continue to love.

“You try to act so valiant,” Villain remarked, “but you’re the one who’s shaking beneath my hand.” He shrugged, then acted without notice, side-stepping, then bending his elbow, and sending Hero forward, away from the door.

Before walking out the door, Villain looked to Hero again. “You always were pretty looking up at me.” He almost felt tempted to walk over to her, to hold her chin the way he used to, and to pull her up with a fishhook finger. “I expect you to be here when I get back. On your knees.” Then he left Hero there, grasping her own throat where his hands used to be, where they had been many times before. They would be there again.

Distracted

(NOT A PR0MPT) A story where hero and villain are training together, and she gets caught staring.

I only know who the ‘she’ is because I know the person who sent the request, and I’m displeased with you, but you already know this. Rat.

TW: suggestive 👀

******

Mountains and smooth-flowing rivers. Greek sculptures made lively, even with marble.

Villain was beautiful.

"You keep staring off into space and it'll be easy for a threat to grab hold of you. Stay aware."

It wasn't space that Hero was staring at at all. It was the winding roads that made up Villain’s arms- the muscles which, no matter if he were using them or not, always seemed flexed as the two sparred.

“Hey. Listen up.”

Hero shook her head and found Villain’s eyes. “Sorry- uh. I was just thinking about dinner.” Dinner? Really? “I have chicken thawing at home, but I don’t know-” Stop talking. “It doesn’t matter, really.”

Villain angled his head and squinted his eyes, but he ultimately shrugged it off. Hero couldn’t help but to glance at his shoulders as he did so. Even with sleeves, he managed to show off.

“Keep your eye on your opponent’s chest. That’s where you’ll be able to predict their next move, alright?”

Of course, Hero nodded, but her mind was occupied wondering what muscles were beneath the front of his shirt. And the back, now that she thought of it. “You need to size down,” she blurted.

“Sorry?”

“You’re tall,” she reasoned, but it was a lie. Truthfully, she wanted him wearing a smaller shirt so she could see…“It’s an unfair advantage.”

“So what? You’re going to demand Supervillain crouches down while you think about how to cook your chicken?” Barely closing his eyes, Villain chuckled and hunched slightly in on himself.

Hero took his vulnerability as an opportunity to charge, to put what little focus she’d maintained on striking his arm. Or trying to strike his arm. Hero’s fist was caught in the same moment Villain’s chuckling ceased. She gasped at his hand, now holding her wrist, and at his forearm, larger now as he used it to immobilize her and stop her attack. Hero progressively trailed her eyes further up, catching sight of Villain’s bicep and shoulder, which weren’t flexed, but were still just as impressive as his grip and forearm.

“You’re distracted,” Villain finally said. When his eyes met Hero’s own, she quickly looked away before trying to take her wrist away from Villain’s grip. “Ah, ah.” He snatched her other wrist and held them both separately. “What’s got you so distracted, Hero? Surely, it’s not this.” Villain lifted her hands for emphasis. As she tried to tug down, he kept her in place- his bicep flaring as he did. “Stop.”

She did, but not before swallowing. “We’re training,” she retorted.

“I don’t think you were doing much of anything besides imagining. You like this, don’t you?”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know you get defensive when you’re trying to hide something.” He smiled. “I’d have never guessed you were into this. You like being controlled.” This time, Villain tightened his grip- just enough to make her cheeks go flame-red.

“Stop looking at me like that.” But as she said it, her cheeks darkened, revealing how much she did like what Villain said and did.

Still holding her wrists, Villain hummed. “You’re only training two days a week?”

Hero nodded.

“Let’s make it five.” Without another word’s notice, Villain released Hero with a shove. “Go home, Hero. Try not to think about how easily I could pin your wrists above your head as you lay in bed.” He walked to the wall, where he previously tossed his bag, threw the bag over his shoulder, and walked towards the door. “Can I count on you to drive home undistracted?” he asked over a shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, Hero was shocked and speechless. She managed a nod.

“Drive safe, Hero.”

******

Spare a reblog?

To Kill Kindly

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“Oh, Hero?” the prison guard asked. “She was magnificent once, fought villains off the streets, sabotaged crooks, did everything until Supervillain came along.”

“What did he do that made her…made her into this?” She sat in that cell, huddled in the corner, arms crossed, nails digging into the skin of her triceps, talking to herself in harsh-sounding whispers.

“It wasn’t what he did. Not entirely.” The guard spoke as if he knew her, as if he were there, standing in the background of the hero’s life. “He gave her a choice- Supervillain did. He handed her a gun when she had nothing else left to fight with. ‘Choose one,’ Supervillain told her. It was her father and sister, the only people left in her life, and she shot both. Couldn’t stand the thought of losing one now, only to inevitably lose the other in the future. Killing them both then saved her the grief of losing another later. Now she doesn’t talk to anyone but herself- afraid to get attached to someone, just to lose them, too.”

“But Supervillain is dead.”

“She doesn’t believe that and you can’t convince her otherwise.”

“I could talk to her.”

“She’ll kill anyone that shows her kindness.”

No Blade

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

Regarding Hero in the corner with a sweet smile, Villain held out a hand- an offering, if Hero would take it. The poor sap was too busy wielding a knife to reach for aid.

“Darling, I know how intimidating it is to awaken in an unknown place, but do you really think I would bring you here and simply leave you a useful weapon to fend me off with?” Villain nodded at the knife which Hero held clutched to her chest. “It is a decorative knife- goes with my decorative plates. I am sure you saw those platters as well?”

Hero swallowed, then nodded- if only to avoid possible harm. Who knew if this person would hurt her or not when they didn’t even have the decency to tell Hero their name first? They must have been a part of the agency.

“That blade will not hurt me, no matter how deeply you push it.” They kept their hand held out. “I will not stand here forever.”

Then don’t, Hero thought, and let me go. Or at least explain why in the world she was here, huddled beneath a kitchen counter, holding a useless knife as a weapon. Wait- “A knife is a knife.” Shaking breath, shaking hands, shaking legs, shaking everything. “Why wouldn’t this knife hurt you?”

“No blade can, even if it pierces my heart.”

“And your brain?” Hero wasn’t brave enough to attempt either body part, but still, it was nice to know...as if she would ever tell anyone else how to kill another person.

Villain released a small chuckle before withdrawing their hand. “Not that either. Believe me, I have tried.”

Believe me, I have tried. “You’re the one in the hidden file,” Hero whispered. One image after another came to mind, then, of that dusty flash drive, of the moment she plugged it into her laptop, of the singular folder that appeared, of opening every one of those files. The person in front of Hero now seemed very familiar, and also very helpless. She dropped the knife. “What they did to you...”

Day 1: Subject 000 possesses nearly all human qualities. While some of our crew members claimed the subject had control of retractable fangs, extending from the lateral incisors and canines, we have found no evidence of this in the bodily analysis. Tests remain to be conducted.

Day 2: Subject 000 has shown signs of comprehension of the English language. When asked if it were comfortable, it shook its head. No, we did not think it would be comfortable. The table is metal, and the subject is surrounded by We have taken this response to mean, ‘No,’ but are not certain. Tests regarding language comprehension will be conducted.

Day 3: When faced with a knife, the body of Subject 000 convulsed in a shaking and almost humanly fearful manner. We predict it has been exposed to-

“What they were going to do to you,” Villain returned. The lids of their eyes dropped like a veil, and they nodded once again, this time at their hand, another polite invitation for Hero to take it. She did, and he pulled her up. “You would have been killed. Whatever information you found, you should have left it alone.”

No, Hero wouldn’t have left it alone. Something like that, experiments to the scale her agency was conducting, they deserved to be explored and...and exposed. At the very least, whatever- whoever- was wronged, needed to be taken care of properly.

“Who are you?”

This brought a smile to Villain’s face. “You are the first person to ask me that question in a very long time.”

Who. Hero had said ‘who’ instead of ‘what.’

“Long ago enough that I am no longer sure how to answer that question. I am Subject 000, and my origins, in English, are unknown.”

“You learned our language as the agency observed you.”

Villain nodded. “I knew no language before then. I breathed,” they said, and that was all.

“You drew and exhaled breaths. Did you eat?”

“They tried starving me,” Villain told, “and seemed disappointed that my breathing continued. They extracted my teeth, as well, to see if it made any difference.”

Retractable fangs. “What made them think your teeth were dangerous?” What made Hero think they weren’t? That Villain hadn’t been hiding them all along by some unseen will to remain unseen?

“Humans are fickle-minded. They see what they want to see and nothing else. Nothing more, nothing less, as they say.”

“You seem as though you’ve observed us, and yet you didn’t even have words before us. How could you comprehend what we possess and don’t? How could you comprehend anything?” Hero was becoming closer and closer to rewording her ‘who’ to ‘what’ as the conversation continued, as she understood less and less of the person- or whatever they were- in front of her. They seemed to understand her species perfectly well, but...well, it started to make sense all the desperate curiosities of her agency. Not that Hero would ever experiment on someone as they had been, but she was beginning to understand the urgency.

“I still have a need for survival, just as you do. Just as you know and will acknowledge as a reason to stay in my home, versus running rampant through the streets.”

Hero would have frowned at the thought of someone thinking her so foolish. She wouldn’t run through the streets like a crazy person because if anything this being said was true, then she’d be killed by the agency for discovering their well-hidden secret. A flash drive abandoned in cobwebs and dust. However, Villain was clearly unaware of the hidings of a human being. Humans possessed more intelligence than hiding in plain sight.

Speaking of hiding, “Where are we?” It didn’t seem right for a being as Villain to have such a nicely decorated kitchen or dining room. “And who are you?” Maybe this last question was hopeless, but Hero had just the feeling that Villain knew more than he led on. 

P2 Wrists

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Part 1 here

Hi!!! I love your writing, could you please continue the one with the wrists? I think it’s literally called wrists, it’s amazing! thank u xx

Hi! Absolutely, and thank you, dear <3

******

Hero sat at the dining table, wrists pressed firmly against the arms of her chair with rope. Of course it was her wrists, as if she could ever do anything with them anyways. Villain always captured them. And he was right when he said she was only freed every time they fought because he let her go.

“Eat.” It sounded like a careless demand, but really Villain simply didn’t appreciate the thought of his self-harming guest starving herself to death.

“First, no. Second, I don’t know how you expect me to when my wrists are tied down.”

Villain looked up beneath hooded eyes. “Fight your way out.” His gaze fell to his plate once again and he stabbed a roasted potato with a fork before bringing it to his lips.

“Fi- Villain!” There was no wriggle room. The rope might as well have been Villain’s fingers wrapped just beneath the bones of her wrists. “This is impossible.”

With a shrug, Villain told her, “Then stay there. I don’t care if you sleep in a bed. I’ve made up a room for you, but it’s up to you if you use it or not.” He picked another potato, chewed it, and swallowed. Then he speared a piece of asparagus and took one bite after another until it was gone.

“What was the point?” Hero asked. She now pulled at the ropes, however uselessly.

“In bringing you here?” Villain laid his fork down, finished with its utilities. “I told you already. I’m done seeing your self-sacrifices.”

“Then stop watching!” It couldn’t be that hard, could it? If Villain were so tired of watching Hero throw herself at him then he should have simply stopped being one to throw one’s self at! Easy concept.

Something about this struck a chord with Villain, though, one Hero would have never expected in a hundred years. “You say it as if I am able to choose. I didn’t make myself a villain. No one does.”

So what? He thought he was a hero?

“I bet you didn’t choose to be a hero either. You were pressured into doing something, and once your capabilities were seen, you were forced to continue.” Villain stood from the table, knees extending. As he took his plate in one hand, he began walking towards Hero’s now-still figure.

“You’ll tire of it if you don’t learn to cope- if you don’t learn how to fight, and they’ll discard you, and you’ll get angry, Hero. They’ll try to make an ongoing star out of you while you only want peace and quiet. Your duties,” he explained, “will never be finished. You will callous as I did, and the world will hate you for it.”

Now approaching Hero’s chair, he dragged a nail against the top of the backside, scratching it with eerie intentions while Hero cowered, leaning forward and away from Villain.

“If you listen to me, you’ll never become me. Learn from my mistakes,” Villain told her, “and break free of the ropes that bind you.”

******

@whatwhumpcomments @1becky1

We Can Ascend

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“Come with me, Hero.” Villain extended a hand as a sad and sympathetic smile overtook the corner of his lips. “I know the expectations of this city are crushing you beneath the pressure. You deserve mountains over drowning oceans.”

A drift of wind over the waters captured Hero’s blonde hair, lifting it, and stretched it across her face. The golden strands stuck to her puffy, wet cheeks. Before long, goosebumps adorned her bare arms.

“We can live a life so much different than this one,” Villain pleaded. He took her hand in his when she wouldn’t offer the act herself. His hair nearly whistled in the breeze through the silence between them.

He tried again. “Your golden hair and skin need not be dented by the hammers of prying attitudes. Leave with me. You would never be a sacrifice again. Do you hear me? We can be free of this city, this country, the people, the world. We can ascend.”

She sniffed and another tear ran away from her eye, stopping as it met soaked and salty hair. Villain pushed the darkened strands behind her ears, allowing another tear to escape further- this time to her cheek, and then into the dry sand. “It’s not fair of me to leave.”

“Why not!” His brows pinched and he blew out a breath. “What could you possibly owe them?”

“Everything, Villain!” Whatever caused the mood sent between them also caused Hero to rip her hands and cheek free of Villain. Her hands now formed fists at her hips and her lips were pulled harshly into a thin line, a knife’s cutting edge. “This is my home. This is where I was born.”

“So what,” Villain yelled. “You think you’re the vacant cities’ birthright?” He shook his head- huffed. “If I could destroy the world for what poison it’s tainted your mind with…” Villain trailed off. Maybe he would destroy the world. Maybe he’d find a way to its core and make solid the molten metal, then melt the rest. An inverse world to reverse all the damage it caused Hero.

“We deserve more than a wretched existence- more than wicked expectations. Do you understand that? That you’re worth so much more than they allow?”

Hero’s gaze fell from Villain’s own. “I know you believe that,” she whispered, and her voice was almost undetectable over the sound of waves and wind.

“But what?”

“But this is where I discovered love. Passion. Liveliness.”

Villain sighed. “We can find it elsewhere. Together. I will help you rediscover those feelings, Hero. Please.” She would kill herself if she stayed here a day longer. She would kill herself trying to please the un-please-able. “Please,” he begged again, to which he was given no answer, and he finally awoke, the memory nothing but a faded dream.

P2 A Kidnapping in Pixels

Part 1 here

(NOT A PR0MPT)

I liked the hero kidnapping villains child, will you do a second part of it? @extrabitterbrain

I think this is the one you’re talking about. In which case- yes, I will gladly continue it :)

(because I don’t know enough about the tagging situation, I’m going to give warning of...“heavy ‘bad medicine’ usage”

******

“What are the alarms going off for?” Hero asked Sidekick.

The two were at a desk, overlooking screens. Sidekick sat in a chair with poor back support while Hero stood as a semi-circle.

“I don’t know. All the cameras are off.”

They weren’t off. If the cameras were off then the monitors would be pitch black, not fuzzy grey. Fuzzy grey meant the cameras were busted somehow- still connected by a wire, but not working.

“What order did they go out in?” The sequence of their outage would tell them where whatever was causing the problem was going. Maybe it was a pesky raccoon.

Sidekick shrugged. “I didn’t get here until right before you did. We never have problems with the cameras here. You think the kid did it?”

With a scoff, Hero straightened out. The kid was in a room playing with cards and trying to make a tower of them. And after that, she’d be toying with magnets, trying to understand why, when she put them together, they wouldn’t cling. She wouldn’t know that opposites attract. “The kid’s occupied.”

“Villain?”

“We just took the kid. He wouldn’t be back for her already.”

“Unless he cares about her…and I do.”

It didn’t take Hero or Sidekick a moment to twist their heads to the doorway, to Villain- who was currently tugging his sleeve down his wrist, tidying it.

“How did you-” Sidekick started, but Villain was quick to cut them off.

“You have my child. If you take me to her, I’ll be swift in taking your heads. Otherwise, you can have fun breathing in a washing machine while your limbs are swimming around you.”

Sidekick’s eyes bulged at the threat, unsure of Villain’s seriousness.

Hero didn’t seem to mind the threat. “She’s safer with us. Why else would we have taken her?” So, she’d admit that she kidnapped Villain’s child, and she’d be even more stupid to defend herself for it.

The nonchalant attitude filled Villain with such a fury, he was surprised his hand didn’t shoot out to choke either person in front of him. This was his child, his life and blood.

“You’re really going to believe that when I’m finished with you.” Villain had a thirst for blood now. And at this point, he wouldn’t have cared if his daughter walked into the room and witnessed the bloodshed. Someday, she would understand. She’d remember the terror of being stolen and missing her father. She’d remember the way her father came to save the day. Villain wasn’t a hero to nearly anyone, but he would be to his little girl.

You think she’s worse off with us?” Hero questioned with a short laugh. “I’m sorry, but that’s a real funny joke you suggested. You can’t possibly think a drug dealer can have a child and expect to be able and care for her.”

“Do you know why I sell drugs, Hero? Why it’s so necessary for me to?”

No, she didn’t, and no excuse he came up with would mean anything. The kid wasn’t even five years of age yet. How would she feel years from now when she learned her own father ruined life after life after life? If she even survived that long. Being a drug dealer for long enough would eventually make Villain a target instead of a provider. Someone might very well kidnap Villain’s daughter for more sinister reasons than what Hero was.

“When her mother died, all the money went to, not me- with her own damn child- but her sister. We had nothing, Hero. This was my only option. Lives lived and lost be damned. I’m saving my little girl no matter what I have to do.”

“You’re going to get her killed.”

“I’m saving our lives,” Villain persisted, and he turned his back on his so-called enemies.

Sidekick said, “We want to help you, Villain. You and your daughter.” But he wasn’t listening to them. He was staring down the hall, head turned, silent. Then there was a sniffle.

“I don’t just sell them,” Villain said, then paused, and paused, and paused…

“You use them?” Hero guessed- to which Villain nodded slowly.

He faced Hero and Sidekick once again. “Keep her, but please- please make sure she knows her daddy’s trying. I didn’t mean to become this person, Hero, Sidekick.”

“We know.” Sidekick nodded, eyes squinted in an attempt to prevent their emotions from peaking out. “We’re going to help you be the dad your daughter deserves.”

******

If you liked the story, consider donating to the college student behind it?

In the Papers

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Thank you for the kind words @whoopdyprompts ! I strayed a wee bit from the prompt, but I hope you can enjoy it all the same!

******

In Hero’s eyes, she was throwing swift fist, after swift fist. Of course, her fast fists were being caught and thrown right back at her, and she was aware of it, but it only meant she was evenly matched. That was okay. Hero needed to keep pushing. Keep throwing fists- despite the tightness in her chest.

Through the thick of ‘intense’ action, Villain said, “Hero, you need to slow down.” Slower than what she was already being, anyways. She needed to sit down.

“Why? So you can win? So you can cause yet another panic?”

Villain caught another fist, twisting it this time, and ultimately rearing Hero into an uncomfortable and disabling position. With her wrist tucked into her back, and her back pressed so tightly against Villain’s chest, there was nothing she could do to either fight him nor become free. “Why?” Incredulous. “Because your face is beet red and I’m afraid you’re going to pass out. You’re not getting enough oxygen.”

“What would you know about my oxygen?” she seethed, attempting to yank her arm free. Although now that she heard Villain’s words, there was an awful lot of mucus in the back of her throat, blocking her airways. And she felt hot- very hot.

“Your face,” he repeated, “is beet red. You have asthma, Hero. Stop before you end up killing yourself.”

Asthma? How did Villain know about her asthma?

As if reading her thoughts through her stillness, Villain explained, “There was an article in the papers. ‘Is Our Hero Really Our Hero?’ I wonder the same thing only because of how stupid you’re being right now.”

“You’re going to call the person who’s about to pass out stupid?” Shit. She didn’t mean to admit she was near fainting.

“Because you are about to pass out and you will not stop squirming around.” Villain spun Hero in a one-eighty, pinning her arms to her sides with two strong arms of his own. Maybe they wouldn’t be so strong if Hero had enough oxygen in her system for her blood to actually circulate as it was supposed to.

“Let go of me,” Hero spat, and Villain did. And she staggered one step, and then two steps. Her head swayed as a dark vignette grew in her vision, coming closer and closer to an all-black image. Before she knew it, Hero was falling.

Preventing Hero’s fall wasn’t easy with as quick as she fell, but Villain managed. He wouldn’t try talking her down just to let her hit her head. “You know it was out of a caring heart that I told you to stop, right?” She was blinking at him, still conscious, even if just barely. He paused, smoothed Hero’s hair behind her ear. “Why do this to yourself?”

“Why do you sound like you care?” She sucked in a quick breath and swallowed, coughed.

Villain shook his head, walking Hero over to a wall. “Hands behind your head.”

“You’re arresting me?” She wheeze-laughed.

“Do it. It’ll help open your airways.”

She knew that. “I don’t trust you won’t do something to me.”

A tautness took over Villain’s face. He clenched his slightly crooked jaw and looked to the ground. “I wouldn’t take advantage of anyone’s disability. I wish you knew that.”

But Villain didn’t get to say this last part in full because Hero snapped, “It’s not a disability.” She didn’t like that word- it made her feel helpless, useless, weak.

“So what if it is or isn’t, Hero! You’re not breathing normally dammit.”

The two both took a moment to breathe- Hero more so than Villain for obvious reasons. She laced her fingers together, palms on the back of her head, elbows stuck out like misplaced wings. Meanwhile, Villain paced.

“I wreck corporate parties because they all have underground operations that are destroying people’s lives. But you wouldn’t know that because you waste your lungs fighting me instead of using your brain to investigate them.” Was Villain angry? Yes, but that was quite the understatement. His anger wasn’t caused by Hero’s naivety. Rather, it was because she was pushing herself too hard. “It’s not your fault that you have asthma. But it is your fault that you don’t take care of it when it’s acting up. You’re not hurting anyone by saving yourself, Hero.”

“I could be stopping you,” she said. Her breaths were fuller now, more effective in taking care of her body. “It’s what they all want.”

“Because they don’t know the honest threat.” Villain sighed. “I value you, Hero, for being the icon everyone can look up to, but you’re not seeing what it’s doing to you. You read that article, didn’t you?”

The newspaper? Yes, she did.

“And you blocked it out of your memory- began wondering why you suddenly couldn’t exist with asthma. You can’t wish it away, however much you want to. And I know that sucks, I know, but listen to me. You are no lesser of a person for having a disorder- whether that’s asthma or anything else.” He neared the wall which Hero still stood at, and seeing that her breathing, her complexion, was back to normal, he took her hands in his own, gently rubbing his thumbs over her cracked knuckles. “If anything, I applaud you for your ability to exercise at all. You haven’t let it discourage you, no matter how much you tried to shelter it. I’m proud of you.”

A tear slipped down Hero’s cheek. She nodded. “I needed that,” she told Villain, watching his thumb glide across her skin. A loving touch, a caring thought. It was all she needed to realize she deserved more than pressure and doubt. Hero deserved the appreciation and concern. “Will you walk me home? It’s several blocks away and I don’t trust myself to not jog back.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said, “but you need to tell me where your inhaler is so I can shove it down your throat next time you do this.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I think that would make my breathing even worse.”

******

@whatwhumpcomments

P5 Loving A Villain

NOT A PR0MPT

Part 4 here

Hi I love what you write and I'd LOVE another part for Loving a Villain please pretty please ??

******

Villain’s stomach dropped as he stepped into the monitor room. Supervillain sat, laid back, one ankle crossed over the other, watching Villain as he opened the door. For the barest, most vulnerable moment, Villain almost considered apologizing for his fault in Hero’s lonely room, for whispering to her and reassuring her, but then-

“You’re right,” Villain said, “about her weakness.” He crossed his arms, leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, and took a breath. “She’s desperate- hopeful.” How was he going to play this off- as if he didn’t care about Hero, as if he wasn’t falling back into his old self- the one Supervillain was clawing at? The change couldn’t be too sudden. “There are other ways, Supervillain, to manipulate. You don’t have to go about it by making me hate you, by making her hate me.”

Good, Villain thought to himself, let him think I’m willing to join him- only not in this way. That, he thought again, would give Hero the chance to be released, to escape. If Supervillain understood he was only harming his ultimate goal, he would change his methods.

“You made me think we were friends,” Supervillain returned.

“We were brothers.” It wasn’t the same thing, no matter how either of them wanted to see it.

“Then you betrayed me. That pissed me off, and yet…here we are.” He gestured to the monitors behind him, and Villain blinked his eyes away from the image of Hero huddled in the corner. “Working together once again.”

We aren’t working together, Villain wanted to say, but it was useless. “You can let her go without losing me.”

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t follow her if I released her?”

Villain swallowed. He would follow her, undoubtedly. “I would have her followed,” he said, and hoped it was a convincing enough of an idea that Supervillain would accept it.

“Would you.” Not a question, but a bored statement- because he knew Villain was lying. The two were acquainted for years; they had to have been if they were brothers living in the same home. “Hero is my leverage over you, Villain. She is the only thing that will keep you in line as long as she’s in my possession.” He sighed, uncrossed his ankles, and stood from his chair. “You’ve strayed too far from our goal, Villain.”

Scoffing, Villain pushed off the doorframe and broadened his shoulders. “Remind me what that goal is because last I recall you were blindly sending me off to take people out.”

“It wasn’t blind, and you know it.”

Did he? “Then why would you never, in a million years, tell me who the hell I was going out and killing!”

“You were better off not knowing, I told you that. I always told you that, Villain.”

The conversation was no longer about Hero. She, for once, wasn’t what was on Villain’s mind, for this was something rooted in Villain, something he felt the need to fight for. Not that Hero wasn’t something to fight for, but- but this was different.

“You lost me when you kept me in the dark,” Villain told his brother. Their cause was supposed to be worth something. The two of them would be heroes, a two-person organization taking out the bad guys hiding behind money, or title, or whatever disguise they used. Villain and Supervillain were to be the anti-terrorists.

Supervillain shook his head, gritted his teeth. “It was for your own good, Villain.”

“Why? Was it better for me not knowing, or you?”

Silence fell between the two like a gross static. Both men were waiting for the other to say something, waiting for another opportunity to attack.

“You have ruined my life,” Villain yelled, “and for what! What was it worth for you to lose me as you have? To- to follow me and drag me back to hell, only to carry out another useless ‘deed’? What was it all worth, Supervillain?”

Looking at the monitors now, seeing the love of his life so miserable, so scared, all because of him ripping the strings of trust, he needed to get her out of this place. Away from Supervillain, away from himself.

Villain whispered, though loud enough for his brother to hear in the room of hard surfaces, “You were going to kill her.” He shook his head. “I should have let you do it.”

“To save yourself?”

“To save her, you dumbass.” Never had his teeth ground so hard before; he thought they might break. “She didn’t deserve this, but I’d have gladly done it to you.”

“I’m your brother.”

“You want to talk about family now?” Villain scoffed. “Our own parents gave us up, Supervillain! It’s not too late for me to do the same with you.”

This struck a chord, Villain could tell.

Supervillain stepped towards Villain, and for a moment Villain thought his brother would attack him. But he only stepped through the doorway and kept going. “You’re not going to abandon me, Villain, because that would mean leaving your lover behind. Believe me, I can make her just as blind as you. Weren’t you the one to shove a needle in her neck?” He turned when he came to a door. The corners of his mouth were strung up in an amused arch.

“Because the alternative was worse.”

“You just said it was better,” Supervillain returned. “You said you’d rather kill her than to let her take up space here.”

“I said-”

A hand cut Villain off, and he watched Supervillain gesture to the door he stood at with a nod of his head. “You might want to be careful what you say. Your guest is right here.”

******

Part 6 here

Tag list (if anyone would like to be added or removed, let me know): @booberryfun @tobeornottobeateacher @dabi-s-whore

P3 Loving A Villain

(NOT A PR0MPT)

can u do a part 3 of loving a villain?❤️

hey love your writing! do you think you could do a part 3 to “loving a villain”?

Continuation of this piece (Part Two), as requested :) Thank you for writing the title in the request, anon; it’s super-duper helpful!!

******

Two days passed, and Hero still hadn’t eaten the four plates of stale bread offered to her by Villain’s hand. Maybe if it were from Supervillain’s hand, someone she expected such deception from, she would eat it.

“You’ll starve yourself to death,” Villain said. He came in the morning, as he always did, with another useless plate.

“What else would I do?” Hero gestured to the rest of the room- the empty room with tarnished and yellowed white paint. There was a stool in one corner, though, with one leg broken, making it useless to sit on.

She wanted her voice to sound strong, defiant- anything other than broken as she was, broken as the stool. Alas, Hero was hurt. Her bulletproof vest meant nothing when it shielded her heart instead of her mind.

Logic told her she should hate Villain, and that there shouldn’t be a question of whether he could be forgiven or not; he was evil, a betrayer, a manipulator, someone who didn’t deserve her kindness or forgiveness.

Her heart said Hero was still in love, and it screamed of possibility. Maybe, Hero would think, Villain was being forced into this scheme, to pretend again that he didn’t love her, when in all reality, this was a better alternative to whatever else Supervillain proposed. His hand, Hero would think, was forced. Villain loved her. He loved her, okay?

“Are you hearing me?” She felt the smack before she heard the words. Slap was a kind word for a soft and flimsy piece of bread. Flimsy. Flimsy meant fresh. “I don’t want you to starve, I said.”

“You mean that?” It blurted out and she hadn’t meant to say it- not so hopeful anyways.

Regardless, Villain smiled softly at her, and for a moment, Hero’s heart fluttered, floated in her chest and into her throat. She was choking on a love she wished still existed. “You think lowly of me now.” Was it just Hero or did his voice crack?

With a quick defense, Hero said “I don’t.” How could she think lowly of him when he was the one to hold her in the middle of the night, waking her from dreams- nightmares- she couldn’t bare on her own? How could she think lowly of the man who kissed her cheeks and wiped the sweat from her brows amid anxiety attacks on the street? “I love you,” she admitted, as if this were the first time she muttered those words.

“So, you’ll believe me when I tell you I tried my best.”

But what did that mean? He tried his best to love her? To care for her? “What.” Tried your best to do what?

“Supervillain is- you know how he came out of nowhere. We killed him, Hero, and yet”- his voice dropped into a whisper as he glanced around the room, seemingly afraid the man whom he spoke of might appear out of thin air- “he found us, my love. He found me, and I only led him to you.”

This was familiar, Hero thought, the rambling and the hunched over panic that overtook Villain. “You don’t have to apologize,” she told him. “This isn’t your fault.” She was confused, so confused, and lost, and manipulated, and she had no clue about any of it- only because she didn’t want to believe it. Hero was strong in that sense, in her determination to remain naïve and continue in the love she thought she and Villain possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Villain said anyways, and he knelt beside Hero, holding her cheek as she closed her eyes, pushed closer to the show of intimacy. He hummed. “I’m sorry, Hero, that your life is so pathetic and you’re so blind to the ill intentions around you.”

Hero flinched away from Villain, but he gripped her chin, forced her to stare into eyes which should have been warm with endearment but were instead glinting with amusement. She blinked and whimpered involuntarily.

The mix of emotions, the- the hate, and then the love, and the confusion, and love, and hate, and- and- Hero busted out in tears, weeping, and sobbing so loudly it echoed back into her ears, telling her just how pathetic she was, just like Villain told her she was. Hero was a fool, and she was desperate, and she couldn’t understand why this was happening to her. Hero was good, so why was she being given such heartbreak?

“You’re a fun one to have around, you know that?”

******

Part 4 here

Imaginative

NOT A PR0MPT

“You think this scares me?” Villain tutted. He reached up with an arm, tapping the metal which was pressed against his forehead. It was unsurprisingly warm against his fingertips.

Hero almost batted his hand away with the gun, but thinking ahead, she knew it was what he would want- for her to focus on anything other than keeping the gun against his head. “Why wouldn’t it? You’re at my mercy.”

This made the corners of Villain’s lips lift before splitting and revealing a glistening pair of teeth- all the while, he dropped his arm. For the barest moment, Hero thought they were fangs, and in any moment, claws would appear at her throat. She faltered with the gun, but ultimately pushed it harder against Villain’s skin.

He laughed- of course, he did. “See there? Something made you hesitate.”

“It wasn’t hesitation,” Hero spat. It was thought.

“So it was. You get carried away in that little head of yours too easily. I wonder...” He lifted a hand once again, this time not reaching for the gun, but Hero’s cheek instead. Soft, he almost remarked.

“Stop reading my mind.” She twitched, breath hitching. Sweat was beading up in the palm of her hand, making the gun in her hand slippery. Her grip, regardless, remained tight, until-

“If I just make a gun with my hand”- and Villain did, pressing his middle finger, alongside his pointer, against Hero’s temple- “you’ll quake.”

And she did. Her twitches became more frequent, her breaths faster, panicked. Hero was forgetting how to salivate, how to keep her mouth from drying out, becoming the driest desert on Earth.

“Imaginative,” Villain purred, eyes thinning in amusement. “It’s as if I’m the one with the gun.”

“Do-don’t touch me.”

“You’re the one with the real gun,” Villain said- no, whispered. Whispered in that devious tone of his, the one which could have churned the world- “so stop me.”

I can’t. Not while the gun in her hands was shaking. Shaking even as she was holding it with two hands- when did that happen? She was afraid, it was obvious, but when did the fear strike? Why did it strike? One moment, Hero was the one with the gun, and in the next, she was cowering before something as simple as a hand.

“Your skin,” Hero said after a swallow, “it’s cold.” Villain was always cold, with not enough blood leaving his brain to keep him warm. He needed that blood to read minds, to drive Hero mad.

“I don’t reckon that’s why you want me to remove my hand.” He moved it, then, but not away. Rather, Villain unfolded the rest of his fingers, dropping his hand just enough that he could cup Hero’s chin and cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone. “I think it’s because you’re reminiscing what you used to feel at my touch.”

Hero hadn’t realized it before, but in this moment, she horrendously thought, He’s right. That touch used to mean different than it did now. It didn’t used to be threatening, or demeaning, or whatever this was. It certainly didn’t used to be as cold as it was now. “You changed,” Hero croaked. Anyone would have known she was about to burst out in tears. “You loved me.”

Villain’s fingers jumped against Hero’s skin, riling a high whine from her. “Not anymore.” He mimicked the sound of the very gun pressed against his head whilst jolting his hand against his former lover’s cheek. Hero screamed, jumping with a stupid fright, only to open her eyes and watch Villain begin walking away, his back facing her gun.

She could…so easily, she could shoot him. Just pull the trigger. But she couldn’t. For another day, Villain would walk the streets. For another day, Hero would wish he was still hers to love, and she his.

Heart’s Content

NOT A PR0MPT

Hero suffers from anxiety after saving the world from The End which Villain wrought. Villain understands regret and can’t stand himself after seeing this new version of Hero.

******

“I was only trying to draw,” Hero said- whispered. She almost seemed in despair. “I-I pulled a pen out, and I was about to click it, and I saw it.”

“The blood?” Villain asked.

She nodded. Yes, the blood, the blood beneath her nail. She didn’t remember it getting there, didn’t remember how the bright red- now dark- would have come to be. She didn’t cut herself, or anyone else for that matter.

“Did you draw anything?”

“No”- obviously- “there was blood and I stopped.”

Hero’s voice was empty in a way Villain couldn’t think to describe. She almost seemed to exist as a capsule, one whose soul was currently leaking out through a too-large hole. Her soul was escaping fast.

It was just a little blood. Nothing major. It ran a trickle down her neck and into the collar of her shirt, sure, but she wasn’t dying.

“Well, what happened?”

Crickets chirped. Then, “I don’t know.” Broken, confused, sorrowful.

It was a dot. Villain could see the exact spot on Hero’s bare neck where the blood had oozed from. It was probably an old, scarring pimple that she accidentally scratched. “You’re not bleeding out.”

Obviously not. Hero opted not to say it, (1) because it would sound snappy, and (2) she might start sobbing if she tried speaking again. So, instead, she shook her head, agreeing with Villain- that, no, she was not bleeding out.

There was no blood on the paper, or even the pen, which Hero intended to use. “You could still draw if you wanted,” Villain stated, as if Hero was a kid and couldn’t use logic.

Of course! Hero could still draw if she wanted, but did she want to? There was blood beneath her fingernail. There was blood…beneath her fingernail. And she didn’t know when it happened. I thought it’d gotten better.

“Hero, hey.”

A hand landed on Hero’s shoulder. She hummed, her head unmoving.

“Hey, can you tell me what’s going on?” Hero didn’t act like this- never so torn down and beaten by…by nothing. It was a scratched pimple, nothing else. “I want to help.”

He didn’t want to help before. Didn’t want to help when Earth was casually catching on fire and houses were burning down, or when there was all that lightning in the sky, the winds, everything. Anything. Villain wasn’t there for that. Hero was falling apart, then. He should have been there then. What did it matter now if he was present because it was then, not now?

Without another word, Hero pushed her feet against the floor, extended her legs, and pushed her chair back- she didn’t care that the chair hit Villain. Her butt lifted and she scooted to the front of her seat before crossing her arms at the front of her body, clutching the hem of her shirt, and pulling up, up, up until her shirt was turned inside out on her highly outreached arms. “My back,” she said around a sob, “look at it.”

Villain was hesitant- of course, he was- but he stepped up, having been knocked back before, and he did as Hero said. He looked at what he should have been able to consider a blank canvas, an untouched back. But it wasn’t untouched. Little dots- like the one on Hero’s neck littered her skin. One- no two, no three- on her left shoulder. Three times as many on her right shoulder. And her spine- there were at least two dozen speckled about, as if her back was a scatter plot. It wasn’t- at least, it shouldn’t have been.

“I keep doing it,” Hero said, “without even realizing it. I’m- I’ll be doing something and then the next thing I know, I ‘m asking myself why my fingers feel wet. Or I’m wondering why there’s a raindrop running around on me when it’s a cloudless day. I don’t-”

“Come here.” The command was soft, gentle, as if Villain were cooing to a bird, a dove. It was nearly a purr- from a loving cat. He stepped away from Hero, opening his arms in a sort of surrender. Not surrender, no. It was a simple motion that let Hero know he meant no ill-will. Did she believe it?

Hero squinted, for why wouldn’t she suspect? This was Villain, and as she so thoroughly thought before, he was no help before- not when the world was falling apart with himself on it. Why would he care now- now, when everything was just fine, and Hero was the only one suffering the trauma of it all? It made no sense.

“We’re gonna go wash that all off, okay?”

The blood?

“Yes, the blood.”

She didn’t know she said that out loud. Hero was in a daze, a dizzy, somewhat nonexistent daze. The world felt mishappened, altered in some augmented reality. Villain wasn’t actually here, was he? And neither was she. They couldn’t be because the world must have ended. Living was a dream.

“If we wash it away, it’ll be like it never existed, yeah?” Villain would know- he would know what simply erasing something would do. It brought peace of mind, sanity, freedom. Freedom from guilt, from pain, from regret, from feeling.

Swallowing, Hero nodded. Yes, she thought, wash it down the drain. Get rid of it. But it wouldn’t get rid of the scars, not in the same way Villain had gotten rid of his own- though Hero didn’t know about that, about Villain’s ploy of escape.

Villain in the lead, the two walked to Hero’s bathroom, where a faucet was turned on, and the sound of water smacking against the hard surface of the tub was heard like waves crashing against a stone wall. Violent, violent, violent, never-ending.

And then there was stillness, a silence.

And then Hero was being cradled, lowered down into the water. She sighed as the warmth enveloped her, even as her clothes floated about, lifting up in the water, tangling against themselves. Hero was relaxed.

“That’a’girl,” Villain whispered, pushing Hero’s hair back, away from her face (though it floated right back). He placed a hand on her furthest temple, saying, “As one capable of causing pain, I now take it away.” He didn’t have the peace of mind he sought out before, and so it was only with words that he could perform this action. That he could take Hero’s memories- her pain- for himself. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “that I let you suffer like this. I didn’t know The End would be so difficult- not if everyone experienced it together. I didn’t expect you to be the saviour.”

Something sparked in the tips of Villain’s fingers, his hands, arms, shoulders, chest, head. His chin darted to the right and he blinked with the suddenness of Hero’s sad memories, of her poor and endless suffering since that fateful- and yet not so- day.

“I’m sorry,” he said again as her head lifted from the water. “This isn’t the mind you deserved.” With a slowness only caused by rust in a swinging bench, Villain lifted a finger to his mouth, began chewing on its edge, on the hardness of his nails. The feelings he possessed, the ones he stole from Hero just now…they were overwhelming, and Villain didn’t have the energy to place the worry elsewhere. Nowhere beyond the now-jagged tips of his fingers. “Draw, Hero. Draw to your heart’s content, and don’t fear the blood beneath your fingertips.”

Prompt #197

“You should feel honoured to be loved by a villain. Should feel protected.”

Prompt #196

Just you wait.

You see what you did?