CW: suggestive

Villain leaned back against the brick, nonchalantly checking their watch. Above them, the moon was full and bright, lighting the secluded city block in a blue glow. They looked to their right, casually humming, content, just waiting for a familiar silhouette to appear. 

“Villain,” a voice said to their left.

“Hero,” Villain responded, smiling before they turned. 

As they looked, Hero was already closing in, reaching for Villain’s chin.

Villain caught their wrist before they could, causing an immediate frown. “Wait.”

“I did not come here to talk,” Hero warned. Villain knew they were barely allowing themself to be held back.

“Wait,” they repeated anyway. “Let me at least look at you first.”

Hero exhaled, annoyed, but used their free hand to remove their hood and undo the clip keeping their cloak together. It fell to their feet, revealing neat, perfectly tailored clothes that heavily clashed with Villain’s rugged streetwear.

The shadows had disappeared from their face, allowing moonlight to illuminate their elegant features. Next, they shook out their hair, letting it settle over their shoulders in glossy waves that Villain had always longed to run their fingers through. Finally, Hero returned to them with a glower, brows arched in silent reproach.

Villain spent a long moment drinking in the sight before them. Their gaze was so hot that Hero couldn’t help but let it warm them, feeling a rare flutter in their chest. Almost unconsciously, they lowered their arm, and Villain let go of their wrist, instead resting one hand lightly on Hero’s waist and slowly raising the other towards-

“Be very careful,” Hero whispered, “what you do next.”

“It’s all right,” Villain murmured back. “Have some faith in me, Hero. I know you.”

“You do not touch me above the waist. You do not touch my face. If you cannot follow my rules-”

“I will do anything you want me to, as long as you get to be mine in these moments,” Villain told them gently. “But if you let me in—if you admit you want more than a secret midnight kiss—then I will be all yours.”

Hero’s mouth was an unforgiving line, their eyes dark and hard as they removed Villain’s hand from their body. “I am not the one,” they said, quietly but with a harsh edge. “I will never be the one. I can never love you. Do not give me your heart, Villain. I will break it.”

“And I’ll let you, if you’d just show me yours, I don’t care what happens after-”

“I. Do not. Have one,” Hero snapped. “Do not go starry-eyed on me. Do not expect anything more than what you see. All I am is a shell with a pretty face who happens to enjoy using you for the night. I could walk away right now and never think about you again.” 

“So why don’t you?” There was a new coolness to Villain’s tone, a challenge that Hero didn’t like one bit. “Leave, then.”

Hero set their jaw, pushing their emotions far, far down, getting rid of any possibility that they could care about what was happening. They looked Villain as they did it, as if to prove to themself that everything they had said was true. “Fine. I hope—I hope you find someone better to love.”

At this, something in Villain’s eyes seemed to break. Hero turned away, but Villain caught their shaking hand, feeling so warm and real, calling their name like they were something impossible to live without: “Hero.”

“Villain,” they responded, so softly it was almost inaudible. 

Villain’s hand found Hero’s chin, and Hero grasped the front of their shirt like a lifeline, pulling them forward until their lips met and Hero’s eyes closed. The kiss felt desperate, as if they were fighting for their soul, trying to keep afloat as Villain’s body on theirs threatened to pull them under.

They tried to control their breathing, to stop the ripple of heat that was spreading over their skin, to stay in reality, but it was impossible when Villain’s fingers were suddenly buried in their hair, somehow drawing them closer, deeper, until all they heard was Villain’s heartbeat, all they smelled was Villain’s too-familiar scent, all they tasted was Villain’s mouth, their tongue, their smile, and all they felt was Villain,

Villain,

Villain. 

@whumpages-things @chaotic-orphan @whumplicity @watermelon-random @infinitorum @ice-dragon0501 @smitten-haematite-quartz @whatwasmyprevioususername @theoverworkingwriter @seagulleater @funwithmydem0ns @jumpywhumpywriter @whumpwritinglover222 (ask to be added/removed)

inspo under the cut

backstabbing | constellation | creative restraints

CW: head injury

Hero flitted through the treetops, leaping from branch to branch, from tree to tree, not hesitating for a moment even in the near-pitch darkness. The wind whistled in their ears, blurring out their senses, allowing them to focus solely on the wood at their feet and fingers, forgetting how far away the ground was, how careful they had to be to avoid falling. 

They periodically tapped a band on their wrist as they went, letting out a relieved exhale every time it vibrated in response. Though they didn’t distrust their partner for this mission, they couldn’t help the anxious flutter in the back of their mind. And what if they’d already been discovered? If the assignment they’d been working toward for months was over almost before it began? 

Two hours and four checkpoints into their journey, they reached the final one: a tall, unremarkable tree with a few long, sturdy branches. Hero perched on one, quickly ensuring their position was stable, and pressed the band three times. They watched the treeline carefully for any signs of another person as they waited for a response. The sliver of moonlight granted some visibility to see above and around them, but the forest floor was far too obscured by shadow to make out any details. After a tense minute, they triple-tapped the band again, biting their lip nervously. 

When they still hadn’t received a return signal, they circled the tree through its branches, staring hard into the dark. 

“Villain!” They whispered, covering their mouth as soon as the word escaped. Shit. 

They were met with silence. The wind had died down, lightly rustling the leaves around them. Hero moved to input the emergency extraction sequence.

A blinding pain erupted in their skull. 

Hero saw a constellation of stars, and then they were falling. 

***

“Are you awake, darling? Oh, my, perhaps I hit you harder than I meant…”

Hero’s eyelids fluttering weakly. Their head was pounding, a terrible ache that rendered their mind debilitated. They breathed in unsteadily, vision horribly blurry. They were leaning against something rough, their hands behind their back, legs folded beneath them. Something cool encircled their wrists, holding them together. The communication band was gone. Hero tried to move their hands apart, but was met with immediate resistance, the bite of metal on their skin. 

“There you are.” A finger hooked under their chin and lifted it up, letting dim rays moonlight shine over their face.

Hero blinked, and suddenly the world was crystal clear. Villain knelt in front of them, a casual smile playing across their lips. 

“Villain,” Hero managed to say, the words barely a murmur in the breeze. “Wh-what…”

“‘Solo’s not my style,’ remember?” Villain asked, tilting their head. “Well, I wasn’t lying. But I made a few more friends than you thought.”

“I-I don’t-” Hero’s breath hitched as a harsh wave of pain crashed into their brain, sending a shudder through their body. 

Villain’s grip on their chin tightened, keeping them upright. “Steady now. You wouldn’t want to be caught unawares when Supervillain gets here.”

Hero’s blood ran cold, realization sinking in like a glacier sliding into arctic waters. Their gaze finally locked on Villain’s. There was a new glint in their partner’s eyes, sparkling with coldness and mirth. “No.”

They let out a tinkling laugh. “You really shouldn’t worry. They’ll take wonderful care of you.” 

“Don’t do this!” Hero tugged at their restraints harder, but it seemed like the cuffs were nailed to the tree, stuck fast. “V-Villain, please-”

“As much as I’d love to see you beg, darling, I’d better be on my way. After all, this is only part of my plan.” Villain flashed them a grin, then released them, standing up and dusting off their trousers. 

Hero could hardly keep their head up to watch them go. Panic coursed through their veins, the agony at their skull steering them away from reason. Fury rose in their stomach, flames licking up their throat. “You w-won’t get away with this,” they called, anger hot in their chest. “When I find you, I won’t show you mercy.”

A chuckle. Villain paused, turned, smiled. “My dear Hero. I could always see straight through you.” 

@macknus @whumplicity @whumpwritinglover222 @lazytoshiko @jumpywhumpywriter (ask to be added/removed for Whumptober)

inspo under the cut

burn it down | mirror | confrontation

CW: trauma, psychosis, self-harm

Hero didn’t sleep much anymore. It didn’t matter how much medication they took before going to bed. They would still be wide awake into the early morning hours, staring up at the ceiling as if in a trance, a daydream, an endless stupor. 

They didn’t really mind. If they could fall asleep, all they would see would be nightmares anyway. Maybe their mind was trying to protect them, preventing them from resting so they didn’t have to relive their worst moments for the thousandth time. 

It didn’t use to be like this. Even after everything, they could let themselves sleep without worry. Their dreams were their escape in those days, the only place where they could forget their past and feel as happy as they had before. 

That changed when Hero first heard them. Familiar voices in their mind, the people who they were once closest to. Now, they were too far for anyone to reach. 

In the beginning, Hero was thrilled to have them. They hadn’t thought they would ever get to hear them again, of course they would welcome the intrusion. There was no one left to tell, so Hero stayed alone, perfectly content to sit and listen to the voices for hours on end. 

At first, they were kind, just as they had been when they were alive. They laughed and joked, retelling old stories just as they had when the team could all sit around the same dinner table. Hero sat in their kitchen alone, smiling along, chiming in occasionally. 

Then came the criticisms. Little comments on what Hero was doing, what they spent their time on, what they ate, what they wore. 

After that, it was insults. Digs that grew more and more hurtful as the voices forced Hero to repeat them to themself in the mirror, over and over until they believed it with real faith. 

Next were the commands. Take the matches. Keep them in your pocket. Don’t answer the phone. Stay in bed. Stop leaving the house. Stay here with us.

No. 

Wrong. 

You failed. You know what that means, don’t you?

Deeper this time. Good. Do better next time. 

No. 

Wrong. 

You failed. Get the knife.

Maybe they were wrong. 

Irredeemably so, broken, with false instincts and a malfunctioning brain. 

It was better to just go along with what the voices told them. After all, they knew best. 

They wouldn’t lead Hero astray. They were their team. They loved them. 

Stay awake. You don’t need to sleep. You have us, don’t you?

Just remember, Hero. 

We’re here for you. You need us.

And if anyone ever tries to take us away from you…

Burn it all down. 

@macknus @whumplicity @whumpwritinglover222 @lazytoshiko @jumpywhumpywriter

(ask to be added/removed for Whumptober)

inspo under the cut

fainting | broken dishes | last one standing

CW: death of a loved one, blood, trauma

Hero was finally making their way through the pile of dishes that had been sitting beside their sink for weeks. It had been an easy chore to forget about, to allow themself to ignore. It wasn’t like they used the kitchen much anyway. For a long time, they hadn’t bothered to eat much, and preferred takeout to cooking. They didn’t feel their body’s hunger cues anymore. Their agency-assigned psychiatrist said it was because of the trauma—like everything else wrong with them—and gave them on a nutrition plan that Hero immediately recycled. 

But they were doing something for themself. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? They were standing up instead of sleeping the day away. They had opened the curtains so that the sun shone brightly on their face. The kitchen window showed a beautiful morning sky, dotted here and there with fluffy clouds. Maybe Hero was making some progress after all, they thought as they moved to set a clean plate on the drying rack.

I’m so proud of you.

 The plate slipped through their fingers, fell to the floor, and shattered, spreading white porcelain shards over the tile. Hero gripped the edge of the counter, desperately trying to stop the sudden flood of memories. A letter appeared in their mind’s eye, penned in terribly familiar handwriting, stained with teardrops. 

Dear Hero,

If you’re reading this, then that means I didn’t make it. 

I’m so, so sorry.

Hero shook their head vehemently, as if that could expel the thoughts. They’d made it past this. They didn’t have to relive it again, frozen with shock and overwhelmed with devastating grief, sobbing for hours until they passed out from exhaustion. 

I want you to know that I’m so proud of you. You’ve grown so much from when you were just a child, a wild spitfire, eager to help make the world a better place. I am forever grateful that I had the chance to take you under my wing. 

Long hours in the training room, well into the night. Learning alongside their future teammates, or alone with the person they looked up to most in the world. 

This life isn’t for everyone, nor is it at all safe. You’ve lost so many friends to resignation, injury, and death. Sometimes, it will seem like an inevitability that you’re next. But you are incredibly strong, Hero, and I know that you have what it takes to keep going. 

Once, Hero had thought them infallible. Now, they knew that they were wrong about at least one thing, because Hero didn’t have what it took. Not at all. 

You are the bravest, smartest, kindest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. I have always admired how much you love this world. It has been the honor of my life to teach you and watch you flourish. I wish I could have seen more, because I know you’ll never stop surpassing my expectations. You were born to do this, to fight for good. 

But how could Hero ever do that without them? They used to feel so in love with their life, with the people and places around them. Now, they just felt cold, the neon city lights were so harsh, judgemental. This broken-glass world seemed to always be ready to cut them to pieces. 

This will be difficult for you. Healing isn’t linear, and you must forgive yourself for needing time to grieve. Sometimes, it might seem like there’s no sun in the darkness. But there is. I hope you’ll see it someday. Maybe it feels like you’re being thrown to the wolves now, without my guidance. But I’ve taught you everything you need to be able to succeed. You will find others who will love you like I do, the way I know you long for. You’ve already found the place you belong. Your heart is so big, and there are so many people that deserve to be in it. 

It was as if millions of demons surrounded them at all times, mocking them, making them paranoid and forcing them into isolation. Unendingly sweet, unrelentingly tortured. Their soul was damned to loneliness, as if they had already died young but their ghost was still trapped on this plane. 

Promise me that you won’t blame yourself for what’s happened. Everything I’ve done has been my decision, and none of it was in any way your fault. I am sorry that my actions have led to the hurt you’re feeling now. But I have always done what I believe is the right thing, and I wouldn’t change anything I’ve done for the greater good. 

They had disappeared into the sunrise that day, before Hero woke up, without telling anyone they were leaving. The reports said they had died by bleeding out. When Hero saw their body, they had at first been convinced they were sleeping, because despite the blood, they wore a soft smile. 

Please take care of yourself for me, Hero. And never forget that you are loved more than you could ever imagine. 

Keep chasing the stars. 

—Mentor

Hero let out an agonized sob, tears streaming down their cheeks, and screamed into the sunshine.  

@macknus @whumplicity @whumpwritinglover222 @lazytoshiko @jumpywhumpywriter (ask to be added/removed for Whumptober)

inspo under the cut

cardiac arrest | sacred place | withholding medical treatment

CW: heart attack, death

Hero was fairly sure that they were having a heart attack. They hadn’t panicked when they realized this, but instead laid down in the courtyard, spreading their fingers in the grass, allowing the breeze to brush over their tired body. They stared up at the night sky, stars twinkling a billion miles away. It was getting close to winter now, and it was cold this close to midnight. Hero sometimes thought they were made of the season, all prickles and flurries and icy contemplation. 

Maybe you were born out of winter blues.

Sometimes, they felt they could hear a voice inside their head. They knew it wasn’t real, but they had never bothered to try to vanish it away. It appeared sometimes when Hero thought they could simply drop dead, slip quietly into the void and never see or think again. It wasn’t a voice, anyway. It was a memory. Just an echo of the past, mixed with Hero’s feelings so that it dug under the skin and stayed there, burrowing into their veins. 

Praying you’ll slip through. 

Maybe that was what had done it now, then. All of their arteries were blocked by a million unfinished thoughts that would never be completed, never be satisfied. Instead they were tied in knots, a tangled clump of unwritten stories and unspoken desires. 

What’s a life if you’re not in it?

This was the chronic theoretical question they had asked themself every day these past few years. The immediate answer, of course, was that it was no life at all. Not one that Hero wanted to live, anyway. It didn’t matter how much wonder was in it if the sun had already winked out. All there was left to do was to tidy up the house with the little time you had left, and wait for oblivion to overtake you. It was true, Hero thought quite frequently, that if the sun did go out, then it would take eight minutes for Earth to be taken with it. 

Keep you close but at a distance.

Eight minutes for the light to disappear and for the planet to be pulled violently into an enormous gravity well and all existence to be expunged in one devastatingly kind blow. That wouldn’t be so bad, Hero believed. If just one person died, well, then that was quite awful, wasn’t it? But if everyone went, then what was there to mourn? After all, they were all about to go to the same place. If all meaning was erased in an instant, what could it matter if none were left behind to care? This comforted Hero. It was why they weren’t afraid to die. All of their meaning was contained within themself. When they died, there would be nothing to feel anymore. 

I’m waiting out my feelings.

Could you die without finishing all of your feelings? It seemed a silly thing to ask, but here they lay, still alive, with a line of emotions all prepared in the back of their mind. Maybe they each needed their turn before Hero could let their heart give out.

Some doors should never open. 

But this, too, was true. Not everything needed to be completed before one left the mortal plane. How could it? The human experience was as infinite as the universe, and constantly expanding at that. There was no way to open every door, even if Hero wanted to. Besides, they knew enough to leave well enough alone when they needed to. And hadn’t they done so well?

I wish I was all-knowing.

There was so much knowledge in the world, so many places and people that Hero had yet to see. So many things that they would never learn. Even if they had an eternity in this world, they couldn’t possibly discover it all. They had accepted that there was no point in trying. But wouldn’t it be lovely if they could?

I’m past the point of hoping. 

They had waited and waited to feel better. After the first year, they thought it might fade. Instead, Hero found the feeling had grown bigger, swallowing everything in their life until the only thing they experienced was grief and pain. They were terrified that this would be all there was, and all of their greatest fears had come true. 

Imagining I was laying next to you.

They believed that death was a soft thing these days, like falling asleep. As their heart failed, they pictured themself climbing into bed, beneath the blankets, the comfortable heat of another body beside them. Hero closed their eyes, and the memory was all-consuming, as if it had happened just moments ago. 

I’ll wait until I grow out of you. 

Hero thought of themself as a flower, sprouting to face the sun, leaves turned up to catch the light. A drizzle began, droplets landing on their petals. Slowly but surely, the rain fell harder, until waves of water swept over them, warm as a lover’s embrace, washing them away into the darkness. 

@macknus @whumplicity @whumpwritinglover222 @lazytoshiko @jumpywhumpywriter (ask to be added/removed for Whumptober)

inspo under the cut

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