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The villain turned their back on the strung-up hero and made their way over to their alcohol tray. The hero tried to catch their breath with the villain finally away from them, but each breath sent a searing shock of pain through their body. At this point, the hero was unsure if the pain was caused by their weak body being hung for days on end, their bruised ribs from the villain’s fists or from their stab wound that the villain was making little effort to heal correctly. That was likely to be the first thing that killed them if they didn’t escape soon. The hero felt rather pessimistic about that escape.

The villain poured a clear liquid into a simple, crystal glass, filling it, and strode back toward them.

‘I understand the aesthetic for whiskey but,’ the villain lifted the glass to eye level, looking through as if it were a kaleidoscope and the hero had turned into pretty geometrical shapes, ‘I just never got the taste for it. Vodka, however, is simple, it understands what I want, and it provides.’

The villain stopped a breath away from the hero. Up close, the villain's eyes were truly black, not just a deep, dark brown that needed light and soul-staring to learn the true colour of. No, these eyes were true black, true darkness.

‘Quite unlike you, dear hero,’ the villain continued, ‘who knows what I want, yet refuses to give.’

The villain poured a drop of vodka onto the hero’s open wound. The hero tried, they tried not to scream, but the villain poured more and more and then the glass was empty and the hero had tears running down their cheeks and silent sobs left their mouth.

‘Oh no,’ the villain’s smile was inhuman, ‘I spilled my drink.’

The hero wanted to beg; they didn't care anymore. Pride be damned. The villain grasped onto their jaw, holding it in a crushing grip. Bruises would be left. They pulled the hero’s head towards them, close enough to smell the vodka, close enough to feel their sticky breath on the hero’s lips. Close enough to feel when the villain spoke again.

‘I hope you know that was your final warning. Speak.’

Anyway enjoy x

**

Avery stood under the old clock tower. The exact same place, the exact same time, the exact same day of year. She had long since lost count of the number of times she had come here to wait for them, but she was here again, and she’d be here next year and the next and the next.

This year it was snowing. Most years it was snowing, considering it was Christmas in Western Europe, but Avery loved the snow and didn’t mind waiting in it. It made the moment ever so romantic, she always said when her lover showed up and fretted over how cold she must be. But that was why she really loved it, all that extra attention and care and proof that she was loved after all.

It was hard being an immortal in love with a time traveller. Especially one that was only able to control their location once a year and every other time was random with no control over when or where.

For the first ten years they were together, Avery had tried to help their lover learn how to control their abilities, and every minute of the rest of the year she was searching for answers. But after so long of nothing, their lover grew tired and begged Avery to spend the little time they had together, focused solely on each other and their love. She had thought for a brief period of time, that her lover was giving up on her on then. But if they were giving up on her, they wouldn’t show up year after year and cry in her arms over how much they wished they could stay. They wouldn’t hold her tighter than anything until their abilities sent them off to some unknown time.

Somehow, in all the years Avery had been alive, she only found her lover once that wasn’t underneath their bell tower. She could never forget that feeling in her heart, pounding and pulling and breaking and welding back together all at once. It’s impossible, she thought, it’s not them, it can’t be. But it was and the smile on their face when they saw her as well was so unbelievably beautiful and heartbreaking because as soon as they saw her, they were fading. As soon as Avery reached them, they were gone.

That was the first time Avery had thought she couldn’t keep this up. The first time she questioned what this was worth. The first time she considered not showing up to the bell tower. But she couldn’t. The thought of her lovers face appearing in the falling snow and her not being there waiting (because she was always there waiting) was so heartbreaking it sent her into an entirely new mental collapse.

She went that year and held onto her love twice as hard, which was almost impossible because they both held onto each other so tightly every time that they always nearly injured themselves.

An icy gust of wind blew into her face, causing Avery to put her head down to shield her bare skin. When the wind past, she looked up and there they were.

‘Wren!’

Avery began to run. They looked perfect, god they looked so perfect and confused? They were looking around them as if they didn’t know why they were here and when Avery reached them and held their face in her hands and looked deep in their eyes, the confusion ran deep. Avery began to panic.

‘I’m here?’ Wren’s voice trembled.

‘Wren, what—’

‘It hasn’t been a year.’

Avery’s eyes widened.

‘What are you saying?’

Wren lifted their hands to hold Avery’s cheeks. The touch of their skin on hers was instant relief.

‘No.’

The hero shouldn’t have been surprised by the response, yet they still faltered after hearing the words leave the villain’s mouth so casually, so emotionless.

‘So, I was nothing to you?’ they finally managed to reply.

A pause and then, ‘No.’

‘Then what was I?’

‘You were useful, for when I needed you.’

The villain’s gaze bore through the hero. The hero wasn’t sure if the villain even saw them, if they ever did.

‘You are cruel.’

‘You expected too much.’

‘I expected what I should have given what we did, what you said. I am not naïve-’

‘I beg to differ.’

Tears began to fall from the hero's eyes.

‘You told me I was your salvation.’

‘You shouldn’t trust people who rely on you to save them.’

‘What about people who tell me I’m the only person they’ve ever loved.’

The hero was pushed up against the door to the bathroom stall, hands were travelling under their shirt, grabbing and scratching every inch of their skin. It wasn’t unusual for the villain to leave bruises on the hero, the hero just never expected it to be like this. The hero’s hands, in return, were pulling at the villain’s hair so harshly it must have been painful. The hero had a slight suspicion that the villain was enjoying that.

The villain’s lips began to kiss their way down the hero’s neck, leaving large love bites along the way. The villain’s lips found the hero’s bare chest and kissed lower. The villain got on their knees. The hero yanked their hair, forcing their head up.

Quinn raised their fist to pound again and froze mid-air as the door was pulled open. The villain stared into the bloodshot eyes of the hero. Had they been crying? Or...

Quinn looked down, a mini bottle of whiskey dangling from the hero’s fingers. They were drunk. Yeah, that made sense.

‘Sky, what–’ The hero turned before Quinn could finish, not that they knew what they had wanted to say anyway.

Sky stumbled back into the room, aimed to sit on the large bed and missed, sliding to the floor instead. They rested their head against the foot of the bed, sighed loudly and shut their eyes. Quinn followed them inside and shut the door behind them.

The sound of the door closing caught the hero’s attention; Quinn could tell by the way their ears slightly pricked, like a dog. Even inebriated Sky’s heroic side showed. It made Quinn wonder why they were standing alone in a hotel room with the hero. Could Sky really believe they were safe, alone with the villain?

‘Sky, why–’

‘Shhhh. C’mere.’ Sky patted the ground next to them.

The villain watched the hero sitting on the floor for a minute. It could be over so quickly. A year and a half of this back and forth and it could be over, the hero could be over, in one single moment.

Quinn slid down next to Sky.

They let the silence linger. Let the hero accept their presence. Finally, they spoke. This time they weren’t interrupted.

‘Why am I here Sky?’

Sky turned their head to look at Quinn with half open eyes. ‘You tell me.’ Their voice was slightly slurred. Quinn swallowed.

‘You’re the one who called me.’

‘You’re the one who came.’

Goddammit. Quinn thought back to when the hero had rung them an hour ago. They wished they could say they had taken a moment to think about what the hero was up to. That they had heard the vulnerability in Sky’s voice and thought ‘yes, this is it, I can end them’. Yet, the villain had heard the trembling voice of the hero over the phone and their first thought was ‘are they okay’.

Quinn leaned their head back, turning it to look at Sky. They had closed their eyes again, but their face was still facing Quinn’s. Had the villain ever been this close to Sky before? They must have been, yet this felt different, intimate.

Quinn’s eyes wandered, observed. Large bags lay under the hero’s eyes, larger than usual, and a fresh bruise sat on their cheek.

Quinn’s eyes glanced down. The scar on Sky’s neck always stood out to Quinn, not because it was large or gruesome, but because it was the first scar Quinn had ever given them. The first time Quinn had actually had the chance to kill the hero. Remembering the well of blood around the knife as Quinn had sunk it deeper was not something they liked to think about. Nor the pure terror that they had seen on Sky’s face, the moment they had believed to be their last.

Quinn hadn’t been able to do it. And that was something they thought about every day.

Quinn wanted to touch the scar. Something to think about some other time.

‘Something must have happened for you to be raiding the mini bar. And why are you at a hotel? I know you have an apartment on the other side of town.’

‘You sound like a stalker saying stuff like that.’ Sky’s eyes opened. ‘I got fired.’

Quinn shot up. ‘What!? You mean you’re not–’

‘No, you idiot. I got fired from my normal civilian job.’

Quinn’s heart had begun to pound. Why were they so worried about whether Sky was a hero or not? ‘Oh’ was all they said.

‘Being a hero doesn’t exactly pay when you don’t work for some kind of organisation y’know.’ Sky raised the whiskey, still in their hand, downing it.

‘It’s probably not wise to be drinking from the mini bar when you have no source of income anymore,’ Quinn observed. ‘And you haven’t answered why you’re here.’

‘That’s not important right now.’ Sky began to stand and immediately stumbled. Quinn awkwardly grabbed them before they fell on their face, helping them to stand.

And now they stood, facing each other, Quinn holding Sky’s arms. The silence lingered, the closeness between them becoming too aware. Quinn could taste the alcohol from Sky’s breathe. Could hear their own heartbeat grow louder.

‘I still don’t get why you called me though.’ Quinn spoke soft and quiet, as if they didn’t want Sky to actually hear the words.

‘I...’ Sky lowered their head, leaning ever so slightly closer, ‘I don’t know why I called you. I just knew that, at that moment, you were who I wanted to be here.’

‘Even though I’m your enemy and I could harm you?’

‘You wouldn’t though, would you?’ When Sky’s eyes met Quinn’s, they were alive. ‘How many chances have you had to seriously harm me. You’ve held a knife at my throat before, dug it so deep it left a scar. There’s no reason for me to be alive other than you wanting it that way.’ Sky swallowed before saying, ‘If you were really my enemy, I would be dead.’

‘It’s dangerous to think like that.’

Quinn didn’t know what else to say. What Sky was saying made sense, it was probably even true. But if they allowed themselves to think about that kind of stuff, what the hell did that mean?

Quinn’s hands had unconsciously tightened on Sky’s arms, accidentally pulling them in closer. A breath. That was all that was between them now. As Sky’s gaze bore into Quinn. And as Quinn broke the contact to glance down, first at the scar, then up to their lips. Sky’s hands rose to lay on Quinn’s chest, grabbing at the material of their shirt, pulling them even closer together. Quinn could feel the movement of Sky’s lips against their own as they spoke.

‘I should probably go to bed.’

The words dragged them both back to reality. They had almost gotten lost. Quinn couldn’t stop thinking about how badly they wanted to get lost.

Sky pushed their enemy away. The sudden gap was so insanely too much that Quinn didn’t acknowledge their movement forward until they felt Sky’s hand on their chest again.

‘I should go to bed,’ they repeated, ‘but I don’t want to be alone.’

Quinn faltered. ‘You, I–’

‘I want you to sleep in the same bed as me, just, not sleep with me.’ The little smirk the hero gave made the villain squirm. ‘Got it?’

‘Okay.’

The second time the villain kissed the hero it wasn’t real. It was in the hero’s dreams, again and again. For days they dreamed of nothing else. These kisses differed; sometimes the same roughness, sometimes slower. The hero always woke, though, moments before they could kiss back. Their heart would be pounding, the sheets tangled around their legs, the warmth of villain's lips still somehow engrained on the hero’s mouth.

The third time the villain kissed the hero, the hero kissed first. The villain had been avoiding them, they hadn’t seen their rival in weeks. The hero had begun to think they wouldn't see them again. And then, they were there. Somehow, the hero had imagined the villain would look different, be different. But they were the same. Their lips, which the hero found themselves staring at, were the same. And, after dreaming about it for weeks, the hero finally realised how desperately they had wanted to kiss the villain back. And how angry they were that the villain had run away.

They were alone, thankfully, and the hero didn’t waste a second. The villain, obviously thinking they were approaching for a fight, braced themselves for the wrong thing. The hero lunged, grabbed the back of the villain’s neck and kissed them. It was rougher than the first time, rougher than anything in their dreams. The villain pulled them away, held their cheeks tight, stared into their eyes, and pulled them into such a gentle kiss the hero barely felt it.

The hero readjusted their grip on their few possessions. A spare pair of clothes – brown trousers and brown shirt – a toothbrush and a bar of soap. Anything else they wished for would be earned over time, so they were told.

If the officers only knew who they were, they would be walking into this prison with gold bars in their pockets. If the officers knew who they were, they supposed, they wouldn’t be walking in here at all. The hero had been caught as their civilian self, and even though they would have likely been let go if they had revealed their identity, some things weren’t on the table for the hero. Their secret identity was one of the true freedoms they had in this world. They wouldn’t let that go. Besides, they had always wondered what life was like for the criminals after the hero had captured them.

The guard walking ahead of them stopped and unlocked a cell to their left. The hero was pushed through the door, the guard shouted out, ‘New bunkmate Blue,’ and the cell door was shut behind them.

The hero took in their cell; sparse desk underneath a tiny, barred window; an odd few pages of what, at first glance, looked like poetry, stuck to the walls and finally, along the right wall, a bunk bed. The top bunk was occupied, a long body lay out, book held above their head – Blue, the villain, put away by the hero five months prior.

The hero didn’t step further into the room, not yet. They regarded Blue, waiting for them to look down.

‘You ever been in prison before, newbie?’ Blue didn’t look away from their book.

‘You tell me, Blue.’ The hero knew Blue had recognized their voice. Their hands had paused, mid-way through turning a page.

Blue lowered their book, pushing up on their elbows to look down at the hero. Their eyes widened, mouth opening slightly, before they laughed. A true laugh of disbelief.

The villain’s hair had grown, now brushing their shoulder, since the hero had last seen them. It was the first thing the hero noticed. The second was a large bruise on their cheek.

‘Well, well, well.’ Blue shook their head, hair falling into their eyes. They jumped down from the bunk. The villain came to stand a foot from the hero, searching their face, as if still unsure who it really was. ‘Y’must have done something fair bad, Kass. A hero locked up alongside the crooks you put away. Tell me, do they even know who they’ve just locked up?’

Close up, the bruise on Blue’s cheek looked worse, deep purple tinging green. Seeing it shot a spark of anger through Kass and then a spark of confusion. They were pretty sure they had delivered worse blows to the villain in their time fighting.

‘No, they don’t know. And they’re not going to find out.’

‘You and you’re secret identity.’ Blue began to walk around the hero, observing them. ‘You literally have a get out of jail free card, yet here we are.’

Kass took a few seconds before they spoke again, waiting for Blue to round back to face them.

‘Nice little coincidence that we’re bunk mates, huh?’

The villain tilted their head slightly. ‘You planned this.’

‘No, actually. It does make my job a hell of a lot easier though.’

‘Oh? Do tell.’

my messages and asks are open for anything and everything !

enjoy x

*

inspired by this prompt by @vigilantetendencies

(slightly nsfw, nothing major though)

*

'Didn’t I say you’d be back.’

The villain stood, looming over the hero’s sidekick. The sidekick, who was currently strapped to a chair with course rope, mouth gagged, blindfold finally removed. The sidekick didn’t know where they were, it was a different room than last time. Definitely a nicer room. Last time they were in this position, they were in some kind of dank basement lit by a single lightbulb in the center of the room. It was all rather dramatic and unnecessary.

Now, they were in a living room, albeit still rather dramatic one. A fire roared in a large fireplace, lighting the room with a flickering, golden light. A set of elegant leather armchairs sat watching the flames curl and collapse and reform within. Most of the heat from the fire was blocked by the villain’s body. It had been raining when the sidekick went to find the villain, and their clothes were still slightly damp.

The sidekick shivered both from the cold and the dangerous eyes watching them; bound and helpless. The sidekick tried to respond and faltered, gag blocking their words.

‘My apologies, you’re cold.’ The villain, acting as if they didn't have someone tied up in their living room, moved away from the fire, rounding the back of the sidekick’s chair, out of sight.

The full heat of the fire hit them, like walking out into the boiling heat of the day after spending hours inside a cool room. The sidekick allowed themselves to enjoy the warmth spreading through their limbs, even as the villain’s hands came to rest on their shoulders. The sidekick didn’t tense, per se, but they didn’t relax into the touch.

There was an air of anticipation floating around them. The sidekick had come to the villain, and the villain knew why. The memories of the last time the two of them had been alone together hadn’t once stopped clouding the sidekick’s mind since that night. The sidekick had grown sick of the old memories. They wanted new ones.

The villain was rounding back in front of the sidekick. They crouched down so the two were eye level. The sidekick had almost forgotten how severe the villain’s eyes were. Like golden clouds at sunset.

The sidekick shifted in their seat, moved their mouth again before remembering that they couldn’t speak.

‘Would you like to say something.’

The villain, ever so slowly, pulled the gag from the sidekick’s mouth. And the sidekick pushed forward, as much as they could what with being tied to a chair, and pressed their lips hard against the villain’s. The villain didn’t hesitate, they kissed back eagerly, ferociously, and then pulled away, pulling the gag back up into place as if their lips had never touched.

‘My, you are eager to be back. Tell me baby,’ the villain stroked the sidekick’s cheek as they spoke, ‘is it me or all these ropes tying you up that has you so aroused. If I remember correctly, last time we were in this position, you begged me to keep the ropes tight as I fucked you senseless.’

And the sidekick drowned, the words flowing from the villain’s mouth engulfing the sidekick, pulling them under. They forgot how to breath.

The feelings the sidekick felt, sending sparks through their trembling body, was all new. They had never felt like this before and now that they knew these feelings, they weren’t sure they could live without them. Thoughts the sidekick had been pushing away all night surfaced, thoughts of the hero, the people they were supposed to be protecting from the villain. The villain, that was now leaving hot, wet kisses down the sidekick’s jaw, nibbling at their neck. The sidekicks’ thoughts blanked too easily. They were brought back to the present in an instant.

The sidekick ached for the villain’s touch. Nothing seemed enough. The rough press of the villain’s lips against theirs, their tongue tasting their body. They were also aching for the burn on their wrists as the rope dug into their skin, the gag muffling their moans as their body was ruined. The villain was intoxicating, but being helpless, unable to move, at the complete and utter mercy of someone else, somehow made the sidekick lose all sense of themselves.

And now the villain knew this. The villain had become ten times more dangerous. So why were they begging for their touch?

The villain removed the gag again but kept a strong hold on the sidekick’s chin. They couldn’t move their head. The sidekick’s mind was clouded with desire. They couldn’t decide whether they wanted to look at the villain’s eyes or mouth more.

‘What would your hero say if they saw you now?’

‘Don’t mention them.’ It came out as a growl.

‘What’s wrong baby, you feel ashamed? You feel like a traitor? Don’t worry, I have no wish to turn you to my side. I have no use for a little sidekick of my own.’

The words should have impacted the sidekick more than they did, but the villain had begun to pull on the ropes at their wrists, tightening against their tender skin.

The sidekick didn’t want to think about the villain’s words. Not right now, when they were so close together. They could allow themselves to forget about their life, for a few hours. They would deal with their mistakes tomorrow.

‘It’s a good thing then,’ the sidekick remarked, ‘that I have no interest in being your sidekick.’

Part one here

***

The hero’s feet hurt. They had been pacing, the ugly green carpet of the motel room surely wearing away beneath them. The hero rung their hands, placed them on their hips, ran them through their hair, they didn’t know what to do with them; so they did everything, over and over.

The hero stopped in front of the window, the thin curtain outlining the carpark lit up with the streetlamps. It was so silent out there, a normal night. For the rest of the city at least. What were their friends – ex friends? – doing now? The hero couldn’t shake the memory of their faces from their mind. Pure betrayal turning to pure anger. They must have told everyone they were on the villains side. We’re they going to be hunted down now, treated like a villain now? Maybe this was what the hero deserved. No. No matter how guilty the hero felt, no matter what their friends said, they knew they weren’t betraying their people. Kissing the villain didn’t turn you evil... Right?

The hero began to pace again. If they had just, not kissed the villain back none of this would be happening. They would be at home, cozied up in bed. They would wake up on a new, fresh day, not a worry in the world. Except for the evil that always lingered around their city and the people who claimed to love them yet never left the hero with a moment of peace, and their friends who the hero couldn’t be themselves around. So maybe kissing the villain was the right thing to do? The hero wanted to scream.

‘You know, when you suggested we go to a motel, I didn’t expect to be alone in bed, let alone still fully clothed.’

The hero stopped pacing and glared at the villain lounging on the bed. Now this was a bad idea. Sneaking off to a motel with your mortal enemy after being caught kissing them was not the smartest thing the hero could have done. But they had panicked. They had been caught up in the villain’s presence and despite their better judgement, they didn’t want to be free of the villains company quiet yet. They also feared the thought of being alone after the events of the night. Still, there may have been better places than a motel.

‘Oh no, don’t mind me, just dealing with the downfall of my entire life right now.’

The villain was too relaxed. It was stressing the hero out even more.

‘Oh come now, you’re overthinking this,’ the villain propped themselves up on their elbows, ‘If you feel it truly affects you so much, just say it wasn’t me. It was dark and your friends were a floor below us, I was merely a stranger that looked like your amazingly handsome nemesis. See, simple. Problem solved, life fixed.’

‘But I ran. We ran. What reason would we have for running if you were a stranger. I made it worse before it was even bad.’

They wished they could pretend. Yet there in the back of their head, a tiny nagging voice was asking if that was really what they wanted. But did they really want the world to see them as a traitor? The hero placed their head in their hands. They were going to cry. They couldn’t cry. They wouldn’t. But they sure as hell wanted to.

The villain slid off the bed, their footsteps near silent as they approached the hero. They gently pulled the hero’s hands away from their face, grabbed their chin to make the hero look up. The villain’s eyes were dark, searching. The hero felt exposed with the intensity of the villain’s gaze, but they didn’t look away. Instead, they tried to search back, staring deeply into the villain’s eyes, trying to understand them. Why they were still here, why they had come to them in the first place. There must be answer, but all the hero saw was rich brown with flecks of gold.

‘I don’t get you,’ the villain finally said, ‘you complain, to me of all people, about your friends not understanding you, about the people not leaving you alone. And still you would beg for their forgiveness. You said to me earlier that your motives for being the hero aren’t what they should be.’ The villain paused for a second, brushed a strand of hair behind the hero’s ear, ‘I hate to tell you this dear, but if your motives have changed, well, you shouldn’t really be a hero anymore.’

The hero stilled. Not because what the villain said shocked them, but because they knew it was true.

‘I am not a villain.’ The words stuck in the hero’s throat. They may cry after all.

‘I’m not saying you are. In fact, I don’t believe you are even slightly capable of evil. But, and I’m guessing from the look on your face that you agree with me, I believe it’s time for you to reconsider how you want to live your life from here.’

The hero closed their eyes, relaxing into the villain’s hands, which were now holding their cheeks. This should not calm them, they shouldn’t feel safe in these hands. Yet…

‘What about you?’

The villain tilted their head. ‘What about me?’

‘What will you do if I leave?’

‘Finally take over the city, of course.’ The villain said it with a small smile.

‘Ah, see now you’ve lost your argument.’ The hero returned the smile.

‘There will be someone along to take your place in no time. No need to worry about me.’

‘You’ll miss me though.’ It wasn’t truly what the hero wanted to say. The words were on the tip of their tongue. We can leave together. They didn’t say it. The hero couldn’t help their eye’s flickering down to the villain’s lips, however.

‘And you’ll miss me,' the villain replied.

 The hero only now noticed how close the two had moved together. The hero cursed their heart, as ever, for beating harder.

‘What will you do?’ The villain’s voice had grown softer, their eyes unable to keep from drifting down.

The hero – ex-hero, they guessed – didn’t know when they had actually decided to quit, but when the villain asked that question, they knew. They weren’t the hero anymore.

The ex-hero took a breath, looked the villain in their eyes, before they said their next words.

‘At the moment, there's only one thing I want to do.’ It was the surest the ex-hero had ever sounded.

my asks are open for anything and everything you may want to ask!

The hero stood, with their blanket and their tea, the bird’s song filling the air, but they did not feel peace.

‘No tea for me?’ the villain’s voice sounded behind them. The hero should have jolted into action, they should have been scared. They weren’t.

The hero didn’t turn when they replied, ‘I didn’t expect you to be awake so early.’

‘I’m always awake, in some way or another.’

The two fell silent, nothing but the birds and the soft breeze that had begun to blow. If the hero closed their eyes, they could imagine that they were alone.

The villain took a small step toward them, then stopped, seeming to be making up their mind whether to approach or not. Were they nervous? They finally decided, quiet steps nearing the hero. The villain's arms wrapped around the hero’s waist; they pressed a soft, tentative kiss to the hero’s neck. The hero shivered and they wished they could blame it on the cold morning air. They leaned back into the villain’s chest. Somehow, they were warmer than the tea and the blanket.

The villain’s head still lay in the crook of the hero’s neck, their lips gently brushing skin.

‘I hope you slept well.’ The feel of the villain’s lips moving against their skin sent dangerous feelings through the hero’s body. They steadied themselves with a deep breath and a long drink of their tea.

When they responded, the villain had moved their head to rest atop the hero’s.

‘I did, surprisingly enough. It’s not often I don’t have nightmares.’ The hero hadn’t been planning on telling them about not having a nightmare for the first time in years. It was a weakness, being someone who had nightmares in the first place, but also for the villain to know that they were the cure. It was foolish, the hero shouldn’t have said anything.

The hero pulled out of the villain’s arms, turning around to face them. The glow of the morning sun beamed off of the villain, lighting up their face. The hero had to look away, suddenly scared of how human the villain looked. How had they forgotten. The villain was a monster, capable of terrible things. Things the hero had witnessed, things they had fought to stop. And they had just allowed them into their home, into their bed. Let them see the most intimate and private parts of themself.

The hero’s sudden distress must have shown on their face because the villain reached out a hand to cup their cheek.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ The softness in the villain's voice was too much.

The hero pulled the villain’s hand away from their face. They held it a moment, looking at the scars they had probably helped make. They let go.

‘I think you should leave.’ The hero didn’t look at them when they spoke.

When the hero finally looked up, the villain had a small, pained smile on their face.

‘I should have known you would be back playing hero before too long. Couldn’t have at least made me breakfast first, no?’

The villain’s smile dropped, and the hero almost took a step back. The villain, the true evil that the world knew them to be, had returned.

‘Please, you don’t need to turn this into a fight.’ The hero wasn’t prepared to fight the villain. They would be destroyed.

‘Like you wouldn’t love that. You’re the one kicking me out.’

‘You never should have been here in the first place.’ The hero was being cold, they knew. They only had themself to blame for this situation anyway. It had all been their idea. The villain had been at a loss for words when the hero gave the suggestion last night. They wished they hadn’t. The hero would have preferred the embarrassment of rejection over whatever this was turning into.

‘God, you are unbearable. I can’t believe I ever – ‘

‘Ever what!?’ The hero’s voice had risen. They didn’t want to argue but they couldn’t help it. ‘You can’t honestly say you ever had a serious crush on me. What did you think, we’d fall in love despite all odds? Run away together? Start a family?’

The hero went quiet at the look on the villain’s face. Their cheeks had flushed red, eyes boring into the ground. But the hero could still see the anger radiating from their gaze.

The hero sighed, ‘Look, I should never had suggested this. If I had known – if I had known how you felt . . .’

The villain looked up; eyes ablaze. ‘I knew you didn’t care for me. Even when you came begging, it was all just desperation and loneliness. But I’ve gotten into your head now. Left trails of my kisses across your body, left you feeling all hot and bothered. The way you begged for more and more and more last night, oh my.’ The villain’s voice was cruel, their words dripping like acid. ‘I’m not as easy to forget as you want, my love. I’m going to be in your head, your dreams, your bed for weeks.’

The villain stepped forward, leaving no space between them. The hero didn’t know whether the villain was to be believed, but they did know that they had rattled them, the words stinging more than they should have. For the first time in a long time, the hero felt truly unsafe in the villain’s presence.

‘And to think,’ the villain continued, voice quiet, pure danger, ‘you just let me in.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ the hero returned, trying to summon their hero’s courage.

The villain leaned down to their ear, ‘Tell that to your trembling body.’

They turned and left.

***

The hero had come to the balcony to be alone, to take a deep breath away from the prying eyes of... well everyone. It had been a month since they revealed their identity to the world and every day since then they wished they could go back in time, or erase everyone's memories or do something to just make the people forget.

The sound of laughter broke the hero from their thoughts. They looked down to see their friends leaving the main ballroom, seemingly to get fresh air as they themself were. They hadn’t told their friends about how they were feeling. Their friends had never understood why they had kept it a secret at all.

‘All the adoring fans.’ ‘People would line the streets to see you.’ ‘You could get anyone in the entire city, hell probably the world.’

They wouldn’t, couldn’t understand. The hero didn’t want just anybody in the world.

They let out a sigh, watching their friends laughing below, wondering how they felt more comfortable up here alone then they ever did when they were in the group.

‘Looking for some company?’

The hero whirled around at the voice. So much for being a hero if they couldn’t even hear someone approaching them from behind. The hero’s eyes landed on the owner of the voice and – they laughed.

‘Of course you’d be here. Not like you to miss out on an elegant event is it.’

The villain smiled. ‘Not when we’re celebrating our favourite hero. Having fun, I see.’ They gestured to the empty balcony, far away from all the guests.

‘I’ve had more fun, I’ll be honest.’ The hero had long ago allowed themselves to ignore how easy it was to tell the villain the truth.

‘You regret telling the world who you are. It's interesting, most people would revel in that glory.’

‘Yeah well, I’m not everyone am I.’ The hero turned to face back out to the grounds below them.

Soft footsteps sounded behind them.

‘If you’re not having fun, dear, why not just leave?’ The villain's voice was a whisper, sounded right next to the hero’s ear. A shiver ran the length of their body, their heart quickening. They willed for their heartbeat to not be too loud.

The villain brushed their hand along the side of the hero’s face, barely touching yet leaving a hot, tingling trail behind. ‘Come on, we can leave together. I won’t tell anyone, promise.’

As the villain said it, they pressed a soft kiss to the hero’s neck. The hero grabbed onto the railing, sure that their legs would give out on them.

‘What dangerous plan are you hatching, hmm. Trying to kidnap me at my own event.’ Their voice was not as steady as they would have liked.

‘It’s not kidnap if you leave by your own free will. Besides, we both know you’re too obsessed with me for me to actually have to kidnap you. You’d come just for the curiosity of it.’

‘I’m not obsessed with you.’ They weren’t, not really, well... dammit, obsessed was the wrong word.

‘Is that so.’ The villain had begun to kiss up the hero’s neck to their jaw. ‘Then why is your heart beating a hundred miles an hour.’

The hero felt the villain’s smirk against their skin as they said it. They scowled, glancing up at the sky to try compose themself.

The hero turned – to push the villain away, to save themself from their treacherous heart – but they hadn’t expected the villain to be so close. Barely an inch from their lips, the lips that had left the hero’s neck prickling, the lips that the hero had dreamed about so often, too often. The hero swallowed, and the villain, picking up on the hero’s sudden nervousness, grinned.

‘Do I make you nervous, dear?’

The hero watched the villain’s mouth as it formed the words. They barely heard the question over their rising pulse. They forced their eyes up.

The villain leaned in then, to whisper in their ear. ‘You should learn how to hide your emotions better.’

The villain pulled away, stepping past the hero to lean on the balcony rails. ‘You never answered my question. Why not leave?’

The hero gave a low laugh. ‘It’d be so easy for you wouldn’t it.’ They moved to stand next to them. ‘Believe it or not being a hero is a lot bigger than what I want. The people need me.’ But even as they said it the words didn’t feel true.

‘If the people are so important,’ the villain said as they turned their body to face to hero, ‘then why aren’t you down there with them? Why aren’t you celebrating with your friends? No, you're up here, talking to the enemy.’

The villains voice had gone soft, quiet, almost caring. They were trying to trick the hero, lure them into a false sense of security. The hero knew this. But the damned words were working. The hero didn’t enjoy their life. They had lost their anonymity, their freedom. The hero felt like a pawn, to be called upon at will. It’s not that the hero didn’t want to save people anymore. Of course they did. They weren’t about to run off and become a villain. Though by the look at the villain standing across from them, it was exactly what they wanted.

‘It’s not the same,’ the hero began, ‘being a hero when you’re known to the world. Everyone expects you to be there all the time, ready to go, when they’re able to reach you, able to find you. I just,’ the hero looked up to meet the villain’s eyes, ‘My motives for doing it... they’re not the motives that a hero should have, not anymore.’

A flutter of laughter rose to the balcony, bringing attention back to the hero’s friends below.

‘Do your friends know how you feel?’

‘God no. They never understood my desire to be unknown. They never understood me. There isn’t really reason for us to be friends.’ The hero went quiet, looking down at the people they should have been having this conversation with. When they looked back to the villain, they had a dangerous smile on their face.

‘Well,’ the villain said, ‘let’s show them that you don’t need them.’

The villain stepped forward, grabbing the hero’s waist and pulled them in, crashing their lips together. The hero froze for a moment, but when the villain moved their lips – impossibly soft, yet impossibly rough – against their own, the hero unfroze, hands raising to the villain's neck, their hair. The hero kissed back forcefully, the desire they felt overwhelming their body and they held onto the villain tighter, pressed closer to their body. The villain’s lips felt so much better than they had in their dreams, and the hero marveled in the way the hands on their body burned with each tight grab. The hero’s grip in the villain’s hair tightened, causing a moan from their lips. The villain bit the hero’s lip in response.

The hero pulled back slightly, licking the blood from their lip. The villain looked disheveled and the thought that it was the hero who had caused it sent a wave of pleasure through them. The villain leaned in to close the gap once more but, for just a split second, the hero glanced down to the grounds below them. To where their friends had been standing. The hero’s eyes met six. They pulled away from the villain and stared down at the shocked expressions on their friend’s faces. Except it wasn’t just shock, but anger, betrayal. Because all they saw was the city’s hero making out with the villain. The hero quickly shut down the part of their brain that tried to question what else it was than that.

The hero turned to the villain, grabbed their hand, ‘We need to leave. Now.’

***