#thepenultimateword

[yourheartonfire]

Reporter finds out that their city's hero is corrupt, and they make it their goal to expose them to the public. Somehow they fall in love. (Can go plucky reporter who openly confronts Hero, or cautious reporter who knows a corrupt hero is dangerous, so they get close under false pretenses to find evidence.)

Prompt courtesy of @thepenultimateword

"Wait. No. What is...?" The reporter's throat had gone dry as sand. They slapped the composition book shut, thrust it back into the gold paper wrappings. But it was too late. Afterimages of dates and names and dizzyingly high sums danced before their eyes - all in the hero's own neat handwriting.

"It's the proof you wanted, darling," the hero said, a dreamy smile on their lips as they gazed at the reporter through the candlesticks. "All the money I've been extorting from our city's villains in exchange for turning a blind eye to their wrongdoing. Happy one year anniversary."

The reporter stared from the hero's face back down to the gift, so beautifully wrapped. They had gotten the hero designer sunglasses. "You knew," they said. It was meant to be a question but... no. This was not a surprise. Somewhere over the past year, this had become an inevitability. "You knew I was..."

"Investigating me? Seducing me?" The hero chuckled and rose. The reporter managed to quash their flinch as the hero picked up the reporter's empty plate, then their own. "Darling, I spend my life foiling schemes. Yes, of course I knew."

The reporter sat, flooded in an adrenaline rush so strong they wondered if they were having a heart attack. The door to the hero's penthouse apartment was forty feet behind their back. Their fingers itched to grab that notebook and run - but some survival instinct kept them frozen to their chair as the hero prowled the dishes off to the kitchen.

"So," the reporter said evenly. "You've just been... toying with me, this whole time?"

"Toying with you," the hero purred, returning to cock a hip against the table and give the reporter that half-feral smile they had only ever seen behind closed doors. God help them, the reporter felt themselves blush. "Yes. That's a good word. You decided you'd try to seduce your way into my confidence, to uncover my secrets. So..." The hero traced a finger along the reporter's temple, teasing a lock of hair out to run between their fingers. "...I set out to seduce you back. And you win."

The reporter blinked. "What."

"You win." The hero gave a fond little tug to their hair and then let go. "I've fallen in love with you. So."

"You cant love me! I'm here to expose you!" The reporter scrambled backwards, clutching the notebook to their chest as if the hero hadn't just handed it to them, literally gift wrapped. "You've been blackmailing villains!"

The hero shrugged without a blush of shame. "Only those who would have bought their way out of the justice system anyway. Why shouldn't I cut out the middleman and use their money for crime-fighting?"

"Crime-fighting? You're lining your pockets!" The reporter waved a hand wildly at their luxury surroundings as they backed away. "The food, the clothes, the whole lifestyle!"

"And I'm the last hero of my generation still standing," the hero said, calm and steady as they paced forward. "You think that's a coincidence? Or you think it's because you and I both know sometimes doing the right thing means bending a few rules along the way?"

The reporter stopped dead again. "What are you talking about?"

The hero's hand closed on the reporter's wrist and - yanked was too harsh a word. It was a pull and a spin, like the sun dragging a meteorite into its gravity well and suddenly the reporter was wrapped up in the hero's arms. In their lover's arms, their back pressed to the hero's chest.

"This," the hero hummed into the protagonist's ear, swaying them both to the soft music trickling from the hidden sound system. "A year of lies and blurred lines and compromises to get your story. Hardly the stuff of journalistic ethics seminars. What would your friends and colleagues say?"

"So it's blackmail," the reporter whispered.

"If that's what you want. We could destroy each other. Or..." The hero's mouth pressed to the sensitive spot on the reporter's neck. They almost melted. "Or we could see what happens next, with all our cards on the table."

"You can't be serious." The reporter jerked away. The hero let them go. "You want to keep dating?"

"Of course. You're gorgeous, clever, a little reckless, and you have that flexible morality thing. It's like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other." The hero gave them a once-over so blatant the reporter blushed again. But they didn't move to corner the reporter. "Go home, think about it. Take the notebook."

"You won't chase me?" the reporter said before they could stop themselves.

The hero's grin widened. "How about I give you a head start?"

The reporter fled to the sound of the hero's laughter rattling in their chest.

[fantasci-side-blog]

A froggy day in the life of a young prince and a (to be) knight 🐸

Inspired by this prompt by @thepenultimateword! Based on my characters with @callmemeg

“And you confronted the witch head on because…?” young Prince Belir trailed, staring hard with his amphibian eyes at his equally amphibian as well as equally cursed wannabe-knight sister. Though, rather than nestling into the wet leaves for camouflage like he was, she was hopping around in the soil making a spectacle. She didn’t seem to realize that her usual move of athleticism did not transfer well to this small, round body.

“To protect you, of course!” she cried, struggling through a somersault.

"And what protection this is, thank you so much."

"Hey!” His sister’s throat swelled up and she involuntarily let out a croak.

Their bickering and frog-leaps eventually caught up to the witch. There she was, outside their vacation home, lounging in their family’s hammock, eating a croissant that- that- fine, they didn’t know it was theirs, but maybe their parents had bought it and she had stolen it from their kitchen!

“Hey, Witch!” Miana croaked.

The witch raised her sunglasses contemptuously. “Have your parents taught you no manners at all? That’s Ms Witch to you.”

If Belir had eyebrows, one of his would have been raised right now. 

“Oh, apologies,” Miana said without missing a beat. “Ms Witch!”

“Yes, children?”

“Turn us back!”

“Is that all?” She leaned down and turned both frog children to face the opposite direction.

“Not like that!” Miana’s throat swole once more. “We want to be human again!”

“Oh?” Her lips curved into a smirk, but her victims were… not bright enough for her to get the reaction she hoped for, so her face settled back into a tired look instead. “Don’t you know your magic basics and history?”

“Why, yes,” Belir answered. “Just yesterday I read that some cultures used to decorate magic wands with flower petals on special occasions.”

“Very good.” Belir proudly puffed out his little frog chest. “But I meant curses. Particularly the curse of turning people into frogs. Like your situation.” She gestured between the two of them.

“Oh. No, I can’t say I’m familiar.”

The wi- Ms Witch sighed, “Elvara and Doretan are going to hear from me,” she mumbled to herself. Then she sat up straighter and got out her teaching voice. “Turning people into frogs is a very basic and easy-to-break curse. It’s a very common curse, mostly used by people just learning magic or who just want to use a temporary spell. Its popularity is thanks to the famous fairytale The Frog Prince, that I will personally ask your parents to read to you tonight." Anyone else listening to their conversation may have heard some slight snideness at the last comment, but there wasn’t anyone nearby so that snideness was lost.

Miana nodded. “Thank you. But can you turn us back now?”

“No can do, frog princess. Only true love’s kiss will do the trick. You two do know what that is, I hope?”

“True love’s — HEY! No! What if we don’t have a true love?” Their trembling forms gave Ms Witch reassurance that there was at least some intellect in those heads of theirs.

“Well, I guess then you’d better start looking.” She lowered her sunglasses and resumed eating her croissant. 

With great difficulty, Ms Witch was able to control her laughter and her tongue while the two amphibians panicked their heads off.

Her entertainment was unfortunately put to an end when Ms Nerianne and Queen Elvara walked out the cabin door. 

“Jadi, remind me, do you have any allergies —” 

“WAHHHH! NENE! MOMMY!”

“MRS MOM! NENE! I DON’T WANT TO BE A FROG FOREVER!”

The two frog children continued wailing as two very surprised guardians looked on. They looked toward Ms Witch, Jadi, who had a hand on her mouth to try to muffle her snickering.

“My word…” Elvara rushed forward and picked up her kids, her slimy, crying kids, but her kids nonetheless. Memories of her children being small enough to hold in her arms resurfaced before her critical thinking did. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case for Nerianne.

“What did you do, Jadi?” She withheld the second croissant she had brought as hostage till her question was answered.

“Nothing! You wanted me to teach them magic, I’m teaching them magic!” With a wiggle of her fingers the hostage croissant had transferred to her hand.

“You made them cry!”

“Nuh-huh! I turned them into frogs. I never made them cry. In fact, they started crying when you two came. A suspicious correlation, don’t you think?”

“Oh Gods, Jadi.” Nerianne’s so-done voice was undefeatable.

“Sorry.” Jadi finally had the sense to look sheepish. “But, on the bright side, I agree to take them on as my pupils! Also, I’m allergic to eggplant.”

Nerianne sighed and took one of the children from Elvara’s arms. 

“Dory! Dory, come here!” Elvara called for her husband Doretan, still entranced by the fact that her children were so small.

Doretan walked out, still in an apron and flour, “Yes, Elly?” He paused at the sight of the crying frogs. He didn’t know frogs could cry, he realized.

“I DON’T WANT TO MARRY A WEIRDO WHO KISSES FROGS!”

“I DON’T WANT TO GET MARRIED AT ALL!”

Those voices were unmistakable. He sighed. It was only a matter of time before his children were turned into frogs, it was a very common occurrence among kids their age, either a curse by a jealous classmate or an accident while learning magic. Thankfully, the curse’s popularity meant its remedy was also very popular.

“So they’re finally frogs, huh?” He wiped his hands on his apron before taking one of the tiny sobbing creatures in his arms. “What kind of frogs are they? They’re so small," he mumbled.

“Aren’t they, Dory?” Elvara responded. “Almost makes me want to keep them this way. So small and tiny,” she freed Nerianne of froggy Miana and cradled her in her arms.

It took a while, but, eventually, Miana and Belir each received a kiss on their heads by their guardians. The kisses had turned them from two sad frogs back to their perpetually confused human selves. It was true love’s kiss. True family love. Tomorrow Jadi would go on to say that they would have known this if they had had better schooling in magic history. But today, they were ordered to get back to their chores and set the table for lunch with her instead.

---

Writing journey:

Had this in my head ever since I saw the prompt (which was... July! maybe) but couldn't write. I finally wrote it :D

I need help with ending paragraphs lol.

[heroes-villains-side-blog]

Web weave #2: Hero x villain whump edition!

---------------

Sources:

@bloodycapulet 🔗

@taxidermychrist 🔗

@screnwriter 🔗

@forevernevermind 🔗

idk via @thaliasthunder 🔗

Unknown via @thoughtkick 🔗

Nikita Gill via @nikitagill 🔗

Nikita Gill via @nikitagill 🔗

@hisworstnightmare 🔗

@chr0noromantic 🔗

@thepenultimateword 🔗

@thepenultimateword 🔗

@thepenultimateword 🔗

@literally-just-kirby 🔗

givemeabrekk via @gay-irl 🔗

@manywinged 🔗

teefscrubz via @promptgram 🔗 (the video that probably won't work so watch it here)

@wingsandpetals 🔗

@guinevereslancelot 🔗

@black-rose-events 🔗

[the-devil-is-an-author]

Date or Die story by @thepenultimateword

Snippet here

I finished the first 2 pages in 4 days but by the time I got to the fourth I lost motivation and grew irritated when drawing the last 3 panels

I’m hoping this turned out well

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I’m looking for some more tumblr writing blogs similar to yours if you had any recommendations you’d be willing to share!

There are a lot of hero and villain writers on tumblr! @creweemmaeec11 has a whole community going, so may be more up to date than me!

(Sorry if this list misses anyone! It's by no means exhaustive.)

@gingerly-writing, @yourheartonfire, @thepenultimateword, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @saltydumplings, @save-the-villainous-cat, @creweemmaeec11, @amethystpath-writes, @selene-stories, @some-messed-up-writing-for-you, @onestopheroxvillain, @booberryfun, @watercolorfreckles, @vigilantetendencies, @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers, @nuttynutcycle, @defectivehero, @caffeinewitchcraft, @recklessfiction, @snowshowerwriting, @deckofaces

Anyone else who writes in the hero/villain, enemies to lovers, romance/fantasy ballpark, please feel free to add your name so people can find you!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“You don’t seem too nervous…” The villain circled them lazily, looking the hero up and down as they took their time to walk around them.

Tied to the chair and a little too drowsy from being drugged, they found it quite irritating to stare back at the villain. Besides, the lights were too bright and the room was a little too dirty.

“What are you gonna do? Torture me?” they asked, slurred even.

“Mmm…a little old-fashioned, no?” They came to a stop behind the hero, leaned down and grabbed their jaw, fingers digging into skin like claws. “You know I like it better when you stay pretty.”

The hero’s heart started to burn and they really couldn’t tell for how much longer they could take this. They had been flirting for months now and the hero was seriously falling for their enemy.

The touches, the words…sometimes the hero was quite sure they were going insane. And falling for one’s enemy was exactly that — insane. Not even would the hero suffer but the villain would too. No matter how many solutions the hero tried to come up with, it never was the future they craved.

Maybe it was the one they deserved. Being unhappy and burying their feelings…

“Hm…aren’t you a sweet thing?” The villain’s lips nearly touched the other’s neck lovingly. But it wasn’t enough for the hero. They wanted more.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me some important stuff? You’re fooling around.”

“Hm.” The hero felt the breath on their neck and for a second, they decided to close their eyes and actually enjoy the close proximity between them. “Fine. I need some information regarding…a few projects.”

“You know I’m doing shifts outside, right? You know I’m actually not chained to the desk all day, right? You know that I’m the last one to get information on those projects, right?” The hero turned their head until they could see their enemy.

“And yet you’re my favourite.”

“Touché,” the hero answered. They had to smile. The villain walked around them once again until they were — thank god — standing in front of the hero. They looked good. Way too good.

The determination on their face was easy to find attractive.

“I…I really like you,” the hero said. They had to smile like an idiot, they couldn’t help it. However, the villain’s face suddenly changed from playful to bitterly serious.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” they said.

“What?”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” they repeated. Their eyes were glued to the ground. “We’re work-buddies, nothing more.”

“Work-buddies?” The hero wasn’t sure if they should be offended or sad. And yet, they could see a blush on the villain’s cheeks.

“Or enemies, if you prefer that.”

“We almost made out a week ago,” the hero reminded them. “We’re not work-buddies. You flirt with me constantly.”

Was this all a game to the villain? Did they play with feelings that easily?

“Flirting and being in love isn’t the same thing,” the villain tried to argue but the hero was already shaking their head.

“I didn’t say I love you.”

“You wanted to say it, though” the villain said. “Because you do love me, don’t you?”

“I’m not allowed to date my colleagues. You know, since we’re work-buddies.”

In this moment, even the villain realised that they would not get any information out of the hero today, even if they tortured them till the end.

"Please Don't Say You Love Me" by Gabrielle Aplin, requested by @writing-on-the-wahl

And thank you to @thepenultimateword for this cool idea!

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hey can you do literally anything with babey civilian / badass supervillain? Maybe a little bit of jealous hero who won't leave civilian alone?

All up to you your work is amazing have a chocolate 🍫 byeeee

This is choco anon i will be back

Hey Choco Anon! Sorry it took so long to reply to this, but yeah, I can give it a try! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

Thank you to @thepenultimateword for helping me on this one!

The sight of Hero made Civilian walk a little faster. They were anxious to get to their destination without being intercepted by the crime-fighter. Despite the good things the press always said about them, there was something about Hero that sent shivers down Civilian’s spine.

Civilian just reached their bus stop when a gloved hand came to rest on their shoulder.

“Well, hello there, pretty,” Hero said, “what are you doing out alone so late?”

Civilian gulped, their body stiffening. They turned to face them.

“I’m just waiting for my bus,” Civilian said quietly.

“Speak up, doll,” Hero said sweetly, “I have a lot of abilities, but super hearing isn’t one of them.”

“Just waiting for the bus,” Civilian repeated a little louder.

“Hm,” Hero mused, “you don’t usually take a bus to get home, where are you off to?”

Civilian faltered, how did Hero know about their route home?

“I- I’m just-”

“Hope you’re not going near that criminal’s base,” Hero continued, “I’ve noticed Supervillain’s had their eye on you for a while, you need to be careful, doll.”

Civilian nodded stiffly.

“I am careful,” Civilian said, forcing a polite smile.

Hero tucked a strand of hair behind Civilian’s ear. Civilian fought back a shudder.

“I know,” Hero said, “but you’d do well to have someone looking out for you.”

The sound of a bus stopping made Civilian relax just a little. Finally, they were saved!

“Well, uh, this is my bus, so, um, bye-”

Civilian went to leave, but Hero grabbed their wrist.

“Where are you trying to go?” Hero asked, “I can take you there. Statistically, flying is the safest way to travel.”

“Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist,” Hero said, pulling Civilian closer and starting to rise up.

Civilian’s stomach dropped.

“Hero!” a voice shouted.

Hero stopped a few feet in the air, turning to the source of the voice.

“Hands off,” Supervillain said, approaching them, “they’re not interested.”

“How would you know?” Hero asked, landing back on the ground, “have they told you that?”

“The look on their face says everything,” Supervillain said, charging two balls of dark energy, “let them go. Now.”

Hero chuckled, moving Civilian so that they were behind them.

“This’ll just be a second,” they said.

Hero summoned two fireballs and strutted toward Supervillain. Supervillain cast a glance at Civilian.

“Run,” they mouthed.

Before Hero could turn to see what Civilian would do, Supervillain clocked them hard in the jaw, dark energy spreading into their skin. Civilian didn’t stay to watch what would happen next; they bolted, turning a corner and running to who knew where.

…

Civilian hid in an alleyway, trying to catch their breath and slow their racing heart. A figure landed next to them. Civilian’s heart leapt into their throat, whipping around to face them.

“Supervillain,” they realized, breathing a sigh of relief.

Civilian collapsed against the alley wall. Supervillain approached them slowly.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Supervillain said, “they won’t bother you anymore. I made sure of it.”

“Thank you,” Civilian breathed, “thank you thank you thank you.”

“…Can I come closer?” Supervillain asked gently.

Civilian managed to nod. Supervillain closed the rest of the distance between them.

“Would you like me to take you home?” they asked.

Civilian shook their head.

“C-can I stay with you tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love. I’m going to pick you up now, alright?”

Civilian nodded again. Supervillain put their arms around them and lifted them into the air, flying back to their base.

“Next time you want to see me, don’t take the bus,” Supervillain said, “just call me and I’ll come get you.”

Civilian buried their face in Supervillain’s chest, muttering out a muffled reply.

…

Supervillain gently sat Civilian down on the large, plush couch in their living room. They crouched down to get a better look at their lover.

“Talk to me,” Supervillain said, “did they do anything to you?”

Civilian shook their head, tears forming in their eyes.

“I think they were stalking me. I don’t feel safe anymore. They’re so… grabby and forceful.”

Something dark glinted in Supervillain’s eyes, but it faded before Civilian could see it.

“Like I said, they shouldn’t come near you again,” Supervillain said, “if they do, I swear I will finish what I started.”

“What did you do?” Civilian sniffled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Supervillain said with a small smile, “it’s nothing you need to lose sleep over.”

Supervillain sat down on the couch next to Civilian. Civilian cuddled up to them, sobbing quietly. Supervillain ran their hand up and down their lover’s shoulder, shushing them gently.

…

Hero’s mangled body was rushed to a local hospital, where it was determined that Supervillain had shattered their arms, legs, and jaw. It would be a while before they had an opportunity to bother Civilian again, and if they did… well, the funeral would be a spectacle for sure.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @thepenultimateword

[epiclamer]

Lovesick - Laufey. From @thepenultimateword ‘s game. Song submitted by: @doublericenobeans

Hero hated mornings.

Aside from them being the worst time of day for waking up, they also never seemed to lose the feeling of the last night. The air felt the same, their things sat in the same spaces, and the only thing that ever seemed to change was what side of the bed was abandoned.

Not that that last part really mattered to the crime-stopper, but they somehow couldn’t seem to crush the spark of hope that sat in their heart. And with every new morning came the same-old shattered spirit.

God, what was the villain doing to them.

It seemed that no matter how high they held their head all day and all night, when the criminal was gone by morning it was always two steps back. It didn’t matter what the hero said before they fell asleep together, it didn’t matter if they begged the other to stay or to lay awake with them one morning. The villain had priorities, and attending to their nemesis’ wants was never at the top of their list. Hero eventually came to the conclusion that their name probably wasn’t on the list at all.

They hadn’t left the house that day.

And they didn’t feel like leaving today either, but they had used up all of their heartbreak-holidays now and another “sick day” would kick them from the force. So they hauled themselves up and into the kitchen, starting up their usual pot of coffee as they relished in the last of Villain’s scent on their pyjamas before dressing into their suit.

Maybe they could entice the villain for dinner tonight so they could meet at six instead of eight…

“So quick to get rid of me, huh?”

The hero spun around fast enough to give themselves whiplash and send them flying backwards into their closet. At the sight of the Villain, Hero wanted to die of embarrassment, they had always been the cool, calm and collected character and right now they were a blushing mess.

“Meaning the shirt, love.” Hero hadn’t even realized they had asked a question until the villain was answering it. And the villain huffed when the words got lost on the crime-stopper’s tongue once more.

“Wha… what are you doing here?” They gulped, audibly, before turning even redder, ears burning and eyes bulging.

Villain took a few steps closer, crowding the other against their closet doors. “I came to see you, obviously.”

“A-ah, yes, but uhm, why?”

The villain looked at them as if they were stupid. Had the hero’s pleas and begs finally worked? Had the villain had a last minute change of heart?

“You’re still wearing my emblem. It’s kind of my signature piece, yknow? Can’t really leave as ‘Villain’ if I’m missing the one thing that makes me, me.”

Oh.

The pin.

Of course, they had come back for the pin. Not to really see the hero nor be with them.

“Oh, yeah of course, sorry.” They unpinned it from their shirt, hoping that they hadn’t bent the metal in their sleep.

Villain smiled as the hero placed it in their hands, softly just like their lips, gently just like their kiss. “Thanks, love. Still on for tonight? Eight o’clock?”

“Y-yeah.”

They smirked, heading out the door before the hero could say anything else. “Perfect.” And the door shut behind them, shaking the raggedy apartment in its wake.

Hero hated mornings.

[autocrats-in-love]

[For @epiclamer and @save-the-villainous-cat's ask game

what is the ask game?

Original ask (submitted to @thepenultimateword):

hurt/comfort featuring Hero or Vigilante w a 'monstrous' power? Like, it's a part of their appearance (scales, tail, wings, fangs, or something), and they experience prejudice from the other heros and the public. Maybe panicking after a bad fight n Villain helps?]

Don't Think Like That

Be warned: discrimination based on looks/ fantasy racism, instances of violence, knives

The hero fell back onto the concrete. The villain pounced on them and pressed a knife to their neck. 

“You’re bluffing,” the hero said.

“Maybe. Tell me where the governor’s hiding and you won’t have to find out.” the villain said.

“Well, then you better-” 

The hero was interrupted by the villain being pulled off them. Someone roughly tossed their enemy to the other side of the parking lot. The hero heard a cry of pain as the villain hit the ground. The hero sat up and watched as a familiar blur of super speed ran to the villain and pulled them back to where the hero was, cuffed and kneeling, in less than a second. The villain looked very confused at the chains on their ankles and wrists.

“You’re welcome,” said the other hero, his smile glinting under the dim streetlights.

“Yeah, thanks.” The hero said. 

“I thought your type was supposed to be better at seeing in the dark. Still needed help, eh?” 

the hero looked down, self conscious of their green, reptilian eyes. A thumb subconsciously rubbed the spattering of scales on their arm.

“Anyway, I think I’ll take this one-” the other hero grabbed the villain’s bicep and hauled them to their feet. “-back to the precinct for you.” 

The hero sighed. “So you can get the credit? We’ve been fighting for like half an hour. I think-”

“I think you had a knife to your throat. Too bad you don’t have scales there, right? Would have been helpful. But you didn’t, and I had to save you. So it should have been my arrest.”   

The villain, who had been struggling against the other hero’s grip, raised an eyebrow at that. They gave the hero a look that the hero chose to ignore. They were well aware of the other hero’s interesting perspective.

“It was part of the plan!”

“Sure it was.” 

“I would have gotten information on their kidnapping plan for the governor. That’s the mission I was sent out on in the first place!”

“Hate to break it to you, snake face, but cold blood won’t make you bleed out any slower.” 

“Can we circle back to this mission of yours?” the villain asked the hero. 

“Shut your mouth.” The other hero kicked the villain in the shin.

The villain let out a cry of pain. The hero stood up and stepped closer to the other hero. 

“Don’t hurt my villain.” the hero said. 

“Are you sure this should even be your villain? Seems a bit too advanced for you. Do you get slow in colder weather?” 

The hero was done playing nice. They reached out and grabbed the chain of the villain’s handcuffs. In response, the other hero’s grip on the villain’s arm tightened.

“Get your hand off my villain,” the hero said sternly.

The other hero’s eyes narrowed. His smile at last dropped.

“No.”

“This is flattering,” the villain said.

“I said shut up.” the other hero snapped.

Before they could get another kick in, the hero wound up and punched them in the face. The other hero stopped and staggered back in a daze, eyes watering. His grip loosened on the villain, and the villain slammed their shoulder into his windpipe. A right hook from the hero, and the other hero collapsed onto the ground of the car park.

“Great punch,” the villain said. 

The hero grabbed the chain of the villain’s cuffs and tugged them close.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” they said. “Please.”

The villain was going to refuse point blank. But there was an intense panic in the hero’s snake-like eyes. 

“Sure. That guy was such a jackass, anyway. Does he say stuff like that all the time?” the villain asked.

  “Yeah.” the hero sighed. “It’s not just him. Not even just other heroes. But yeah.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Well none of them ever punched me in the face-”

“Twice.” the villain smiled.

“-twice, so I think I’m ahead in the ‘being a jerk’ department.”

“Well, how many racist comments equals a punch? I think you’re far behind.”

“Hmm. Fair point.” 

“Does it make you feel better to know I only hate you because of your personality?”

The hero laughed. They seemed much more calm than a minute ago.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Personally, I think your eyes are pretty.”

“I. . .”

The hero trailed off. The villain was still really close. They could see their enemy’s eyes travelling over their own. Over the scales on their forehead. Over their lips. The hero was frozen for a second, heart beating faster than they cared for. They pushed the villain away and ended the moment.

“Come on,” the hero said. “I need to find the keys to your cuffs off the person I just knocked out.” 

[watercolorfreckles]

The Pretty Prince of Avenglow

This is a secret santa snippet for @thepenultimateword ! Thank you for arranging this fun event for everyone, and for entrusting me with your prompt. I've been in a long writing rut, so this was really tough for me to finish on deadline. But I did it! I know this is far from the best thing I've ever written, but it is something! Hope you like it!

Her prompt was: "Fragile pretty boy x strong/buff lady. He is super smitten with her. This can be a hero x villian universe thing, or a prince and a lady knight, or a captured sailor/aristocrat/etc. and a pirate queen, or whatever you want, I just really love this type of relationship dynamic"

“Well, now, you must be the prettiest piece of treasure I’ve found all year.” 

The prince coughed and spluttered, thrashing at the coils of fishing net that entangled his limbs. His clothes, sodden and leaden, seemed to weigh him to the deck.

“Shh, hush now,” the pirate captain before him spoke again, crouching to his level, balanced deftly on her booted heels. “I take excellent care of my belongings.”

The prince stilled, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. He nearly choked again, though all seawater had since been purged from his lungs. 

The stories he’d heard, the wanted portraits pasted on village walls, paled in comparison to the figure leaning over him: Vespertine Crow, captain of the Evening Star.

His insides swirled.

She was a unique kind of beautiful, with long black hair twisted into a braid loosened and tousled by the sea’s salty breath. The contour of her silhouette struck him as statuesque, strong and muscled and gracefully carved. He imagined that she might be as impenetrable as stone, too.

“H-Hi,” he said dumbly.

Vespertine’s lips spread into an amused smile, sharp as the glittering knife twirling between her fingers. She wiggled her free hand in greeting. “Hi, pretty thing. I have to say, I hardly expected my nets to scoop up the Spare Prince, Evrin of Avenglow, soggy and half-drowned in the middle of the Tempest Sea. How serendipitous.”

As he swallowed, the prince's mouth felt abruptly dry. Though he couldn't see past the railing, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder toward the sunken wreckage of the ship he'd spent days on, cooped up in a damp and creaky cell.

Captain Vespertine followed his gaze, then tilted her head. “Poor thing. Taken and held for ransom, were you?”

The memories flashed behind Evrin’s eyes. It was while he'd been visiting the village to check on his people that he'd been ambushed near the docks, plucked away from the fragile safety of land to be thrown on board the traitors’ ship.

He'd been helpless, no better than a spoiled house cat tossed into the bath.

Evrin managed a nod.

Vespertine made a pitying sound. “Sweet thing. Sinking that vessel was my doing. Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?”

The knife in her hand moved and the prince jerked back.

Vespertine paused and tutted. “Now Your Highness, I could have nicked you. ‘Can't go risking that pretty face of yours, you should know better.” Her voice was a balm against the aching burn of him. Soothing, though the chill of it still had enough bite to nip at his nerves.

He stilled once more.

Unpicking the tangles of net with the edge of her blade, Vespertine cut him free.

It reminded him of a bird he'd freed once, legs and wings knotted up in fishing line. The mental comparison warmed his cheeks.

“That's better.” She tugged the shed netting over his head, tossing it aside and straightening onto her feet. A calloused hand extended out to him. “Up you get, pretty.”

Evrin hesitated, eyeing her hand. His limbs felt terribly heavy. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand if he tried. “Thank you, for….saving me.” The end of his sentence lifted into something more like a question.

That startled a soft laugh from the captain. Her eyes glittered with mischief, holding a Tempest Sea of their own. “My pleasure, Highness.”

When he didn't take her hand, Vespertine reached down, hands locking under his arms, and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. Wobbling on weary legs, he caught the pirate's sleeve, looking up at her.

His attention snagged on the fact that she was a few inches taller than him, and certainly far stronger. His belly did a stupid swoop.

“What are you going to do with me?” 

“Mm… That is the question. Let's discuss it in my cabin, shall we?” Draping an arm around him, the pirate captain swept him away, leading him down below deck and into her quarters.

Her will was as irresistible as the moon's will over the tides.

Vespertine gave his chest a light shove and the prince buckled back onto her bed. Catching himself on his hands behind him, his fingers curled around the woolen blanket atop it. It scratched lightly at his fingertips.

Evrin put up no fight, dazed. She drew his gaze with the same allure as the sky and the bottomless sea. Beautiful, dangerous, powerful. Graceful in its dance of crest and fall. 

He watched the captain as she rifled through her closet, pulling out a white, long-sleeved shirt with ties to lace the top, as well as a pair of gray trousers. “Here. I'm sure you'll feel much better when you're out of those clothes.”

The prince's cheeks warmed again. “You…want me to wear your clothes?”

“You're a delicate, skinny little thing, I'm sure you'll fit. Besides.” She unsheathed her sword, leveling it with his chest and using it to lift the fabric above his heart where his crest was attached. The prince's breath caught. “I'll need this from you to prove you're alive if I'm to collect the reward.

“Re…Reward?”

Vespertine shrugged. “I assume they prefer ‘reward’ to ‘ransom.’ One comes with a multitude of fewer threats and scandal. Which do you prefer, Highness?” She pressed the blade a fraction harder into his chest.

The prince itched to skitter away but kept still. “Reward is good,” he breathed.

“Good.” 

She wielded her sword like an extension of her being, fluid and quicker than his eyes could track. There was a slash and then his princely crest was in the captain's hand. His eyes darted down to the bare square on his chest, in the spirit of every novel he'd read where the protagonist had been stabbed or harpooned and was too shocked to process the fatality.

His skin was unmarred.

Vespertine threw the clothes at the prince. “Get dressed, unless you're waiting for me to do it for you. I could be persuaded, if you say pretty please.”

Evrin’s cheeks burned at the thought, casting his gaze away from her and down to the clothes in his hands. Awkwardly, he peeled his shirt over his head.

“Smooth, pampered skin.” Vespertine tutted, sheathing her sword and stepping closer to trace a finger over the soft curve of his shoulder. “You've never seen a day of hardship, have you?”

Prince Evrin shivered, shrugging the clean shirt on. Its weight rested warm and gauzy against his skin. Embarrassed, he shucked his trousers off next, replacing them with the clean pair as quickly as he could manage under the pirate captain's stare. 

“Not many, not of the physical variety, anyway,” he answered.

He straightened the clothes which fit surprisingly well, picking at the laces.

When he looked up again, she was grinning, blatantly pleased. “There, now. isn't that better? You look like a proper pirate. Very pretty.”

“Like you? I mean-” the prince squirmed, shifting to stand, then changing his mind. Submissive. “Sorry.”

She laughed again. “Sorry? For thinking I'm pretty? I'm flattered, sweetheart. You're quite lovely yourself. Now. Back to business.”

“...business?”

“Well, if I'm to return you safely, I expect a reward of… proper proportions. There's the money, yes, but I want something more from you.”

“O-Oh?”

Vespertine plopped onto the bed beside him, turning to face him. “Firstly, I want a pardon. A clean slate I can dirty all over again when it suits me.” She winked at him, and his heart fluttered between his ribs. “Secondly. Your brother took something from me. I want it back. You will get it for me.”

Transfixed, Evrin studied her face. “What did he take?”

She leaned closer to him, her gaze sharpening into something a fraction more dangerous. “My child.”

Evrin’s eyes widened. “Your child? Who–” He paused. “Iara? He said that she was an orphan; that he took her in to spare her a life of hardship and inequity.”

“Your brother lied.” Her voice was the crack of a whip; lightning striking water. When the prince startled, she softened only a fraction, looking him up and down. “You are…kinder than your brother, I can tell. Mousy, certainly, but. Sweet.”

“He is better fit to be king,” Evrin whispered. “Bolder and stronger and braver.”

“But crueler. Are you cruel, Prince Evrin?”

It seemed, suddenly, as though he was balancing on a very thin wire. He watched her face, tracking her every underlying thought.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Captain Vespertine smiled, the flash of a victory banner, and sat back. “Good. Tell me, Pretty. Spare Prince of Avenglow. How would you like to be king?”

Merry Christmas!

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

[starry-night-author]

Take Me to Church

My submission for @thepenultimateword's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza! I got @save-the-villainous-cat's submitted song, 'Take Me to Church' by Hozier!

Villain would always say that they were annoyed beyond all reason that they’d wound up in a forbidden romantic relationship. Not because they had to hide it- but because of course they would fall into the most overused trope of all time. 

“My very life is the same annoying cliche story that’s been told throughout history,” they’d grumble. “All for loving you.” 

Hero would barely pay attention to their forbidden partner’s complaining, only noticing that Villain had admitted to loving them. Their stern, grumpy, difficult to read, gorgeous, funny, wonderful Villain loved them.

So they let Villain complain, if only to hear those words again. 

That was part of what made it worth it. Knowing Villain loved them, was in this for them, made it easy for Hero to face every horrible thing about a forbidden relationship. The running out of alibis for where they’d been when they’d really been seeing Villain. The juggling they needed for their schedule to find time to spend with their beloved in the first place. The secrets, the hiding, the lying, the inability to talk about their love life with their fellow heroes because if anyone found out about this they were both dead. 

It was all so unfair, and being around anyone at the agency made it harder. With every passing day, it was harder and harder to go back to them.

There were always constant reminders there of just how wrong Hero’s relationship was with Villain. There was always talk of how nasty all villains were, how vile, how horrible. The rhetoric drilled into all of their minds that spilled easily from their throats without thinking. Without considering that it truly hurt Hero to hear it. Made them sad, made them angry. How dare they talk about Villian that way. Hero’s Villain wasn’t like that, if only they knew!

But again, Villain always made it worth it. It was worth it just to see them. Their smile, their movements, their stunning eyes, their gorgeous hair. It was worth it just to feel them- their touch, their hands surprisingly soft without their rough gloves, their warm skin, their arms around Hero. And their voice, the way they grumbled, the way they spoke softly when it was just the two of them alone, the way they laughed. 

Hero couldn’t get enough of it. If they were going to be hated for liking a villain, for this worship of a false, fallen idol, then so be it. Nothing would be able to tear them away from their love. 

It was the nights when Hero’s hurt, their anger, their guilt got the strongest. With or without Villain, it always crept up on them. 

But Villain always made it better. They would’ve drowned in it if not for Villain. Lying next to them in the dark, awake long after they’d gone to sleep. Watching their lover’s relaxed face, their body rising and falling from their gentle breathing. The way the moon outside outlined their features in a gorgeous silver, a halo lit behind their head.

They were irresistible. 

Hero could never stop themself from reaching out to touch them, ghosting their fingers down their skin, sometimes leaning in to kiss their forehead. Moving close enough to feel Villain’s exhales against their neck, their warm body pressed close to Hero’s. There was always the need to touch them, to feel them close, to know they were here and they were safe. They were loved. 

Tonight, Villain stirred. Shifting partly onto their back, adjusting the blanket. Accidentally revealing more of their stunning figure Hero could gaze at for hours. “Hm?” 

“You’re pretty,” Hero breathed into the room. 

“Y’woke me up jus’ta tell me that?” Villain’s brows furrowed, though their eyes stayed closed. Their voice was thick with sleep, their words sliding together. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hero moved close once more, tucking their face into Villain’s neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“Y’should be,” despite their annoyed words, Villain’s hand came up to gently hold the side of Hero’s face. Hero turned their head, kissing their palm. “What time is it?” 

“I’m not sure,” Hero murmured. “Late.” 

“You’re still up?” “Couldn’t sleep.” 

The hand on Hero’s face gently patted their cheek. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” Hero wrapped their arms around them. “I don’t want tomorrow to come. I don’t want to go back to the heroes, where they’re just going to keep telling me how wrong it is that I want to stay here with you forever.” 

Villain turned their head, kissing Hero’s forehead. “If this is so wrong,” Hero could feel their lips against their forehead as they spoke, “then why does it feel so right?” 

“That’s what I want to tell them.” Hero hugged them tighter. “But they’ll never listen. They’ll never change. They’ll throw me out.” 

“Hmm,” Villain’s hum was sympathetic, yet sleepy. Hero knew they were barely awake. They felt the criminal swallow, felt their head sag further against Hero’s, their soft breathing slow. Already back to sleep. 

Hero lifted their head, kissing Villain’s forehead. “G’night, love.” 

If only Hero could find it so easy. They pulled away, only to gaze at them once more. Admiring. Idolizing. Worshiping. 

God, they were everything to Hero. Hero knew they would go back tomorrow, they would face the agency. All to be safe enough to go another day seeing Villain again, without the agency getting suspicious. It was better this way. The safest place to swim was right beneath the shark. 

Closing their eyes, Hero took a deep breath, then opened them again, not wanting to look away from Villain for a moment. Memorizing their features in the darkness, the way the moonlight spilled over their face, their hair, their neck, their shoulders. Taking a mental snapshot, never wanting to let the image go. 

They let themself truly sink into the feeling of being with Villain, holding them close and taking another deep breath. They could have this, just for now. Tomorrow would be hard and the days after would get worse, but right now it was alright. 

With Villain, they were okay.

That assurance was enough to let them finally sleep.

[yourheartonfire]

An assassin with a speciality in dispatching super powered beings is hired to protect a blossoming rookie whose power, once properly trained, is predicted to turn the tides of the hero-villain conflict. (Bonus if they’ve also been hired by a separate party or kill them, and they’re unsure which order to follow through with)

Prompt courtesy of @thepenultimateword !

"Breath," the Assassin suggested, eyeing the rookie uncertainly as they quickly gathered up their knives out of their opponents. Their former opponents.

"I'm breathing," the Rookie wheezed, hands gripping their knees. "I've checked. Definitely breathing. My god, your hands. They're all- all-"

The Assassin wiped the blood off on their pants and hauled the Rookie close with their offhand. The attackers were down but who could say if that wasn't just the first wave?

"You need to transport us out of here," they murmured to the Rookie. "Can you do that?"

The Rookie locked their arms around the Assassin's neck. "I couldn't hurt them," they gasped. Their breath, hot against the Assassin's throat, was somehow still speeding up. "I'm sorry, I couldn't use the power-"

"And that was the right choice," the Assassin said with total and honest conviction. They'd seen the Rookie in training. From three clicks away. In a bunker. "You're not a weapon yet, kid. But you are our exit." Shadows moved in suspicious patterns. The Assassin chucked their empty clip, slammed in the next one from their belt one-handed. Stay calm. "Breath, kid. Think of somewhere safe and take us-"

The world warped around them. For a horrible moment the Assassin felt themselves stretch and warp too - and then the world snapped back into a new shape.

The Assassin and the Rookie tumbled to a softly carpeted floor. The dim room came into focus: a rug, looped with letters and numbers. Colorful walls, low shelves filled with baskets of toys and picture books...

"A preschool?" The Assassin sat up. It was dark here too but a pre-dawn, peaceful kind of dark.

The Rookie's breath was slowing, finally, their nose pressed to the gritty fibers. "Daycare," they said.

The Assassin started to reach for them - then thought better of it. They stood and made for the tall, adult sized cabinets. Wet wipes got the rest of the blood off, then there was a full first-aid kit and bags of emergency food. Now they returned to the Rookie with their prizes, smelling of disinfectant.

"Drink," they said, dropping a couple juice boxes on the Rookie's head. "Are you hurt? There's Pokémon bandages."

"Ow," the Rookie muttered but took a box. For a moment they both sucked down apple juice in silence. The Assassin made a mental note - daycares and preschools as makeshift safe houses, while figuring out how to hide their tracks - stage an animal break-in to the food? - when the Rookie cleared their throat.

"You didn't have to - why did you -?"

"I didn't have to kill them?" the Assassin guessed. They took the silence as yes. "Definitely did. Those weren't muggers, that was two of Supervillain's mid powered killers. You noticed how they were trying to kill you?"

"That's not how heroes fight!" The Rookie pushed up to their feet stubbornly. They didn't look particularly steady. "We fight to incapacitate, to defend."

"Maybe that's why your hero squad hired me to watch you," the Assassin said.

The Rookie's mouth opened and closed as they worked that one over in their head. "You think they hired you to... to send a message?" they said quietly.

The Assassin tossed the bag of boxed raisins and cheap granola bars at the Rookie's chest and let themselves collapse onto a pile of gym mats. "Shouldn't happen again anytime soon," they said gruffly. "(Supervillain)'s gonna have a harder time finding volunteers for the next kill squad..." Then their stupid, tired brain actually heard what the Rookie had just said. They sat up fast enough to make the kid flinch. "What do you think they hired me for?"

"In case I..." The Rookie's eyes dropped. "Well. In case something goes wrong..."

With me, was the unspoken end of that sentence. The Assassin's stomach gave another lurch.

"Just cause they pay me to do bad things doesn't mean I'd do anything for money," the Assassin snapped.

Another long silence. The Rookie's eyes widened slight, but they were smart enough to say nothing. The Assassin lay back, closed their eyes again. "We're both stressed and sore," they said. "Let's take a rest before we call for ground transport out of here. I suggest - no, I recommend that this conversation never happened."

The Assassin let the exhaustion take them. When they woke a few hours later, the Rookie was clearing up the last of the medical supplies.

"Let's go home," they said, face guarded, but their hand in Assassin's was warm and the squeeze real. The Assassin nodded and let the Rookie carry them back.

It was going to be really hard to keep lying, and more and more, the Assassin was realizing maybe, maybe, they could find a way to avoid it...

They were never taking a bodyguard gig again.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Partner in Crime

For @thepenultimateword's Song-Story Writing Challenge Extravaganza

Song prompt submitted by @starry-night-author - I hope this does what you'd imagined justice!

(song info at the end, read the snippet first :)

Empty shadows and dim streetlights. 

A locked door and a pair of headlights. 

Henchman slid down further in the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked strategically across the street from her quarry as the pale lights pulled around the corner and the silence of the empty street was shattered. 

--already late, got to hurry. He might have already left and if I blow this job--

Crooked tires and a slamming door. 

--do I have all the supplies? Yes, you checked twice you numskull, the code, the code, don’t drop anything--

The figure fumbled over their bags until a single finger snaked out towards the shining metal buttons that stood out against the weathered side of the of the old brick mansion that took up half the block. 

--there we go, 64729, yes now the handle, no!--

A thick folder smacked against the ground, and the  crouched awkwardly with their laden arms to reclaim it, turning enough that the streetlight gleamed off the smooth cheeks of the fresh-faced hero. 

When the door finally slammed shut behind them, Henchman dropped her focus, and the chaotic thoughts faded into the quiet buzzing of a trapped fly. 

Four weeks of nightly surveillance, and she finally had the last code they needed. 

Her pen scratched across the inside of her wrist. 64729. 

As the minutes turned to hours, she let her eyes close and her mind wander. He wouldn’t want to wait, not with the XX approaching, Everything else was already in place. Tomorrow, the wait would be over. 

The sky was two shades lighter when the door finally opened again. 

The figure reimerged, hands empty, and darted to their car, head ducked and eyes scanning the shadows. 

The red tail lights were still visible when Henchman blinked, and he was beside her, the driver's door already clicking shut. 

His thoughts hummed, flying by like a bullet train, smooth and blurred like they always were. “You got it?” It was more a statement than a question, and Henchman pressed her lips together to keep from beaming at the unspoken praise. 

“I got it,” she confirmed, twisting her arm to show him the numbers on her wrist. 

This thoughts zoomed, as fast as he was, until the train slowed into a single track of a toy train running circles under a tree as he caught her hand and slowly kissed the inside of her wrist. 

Genius, brilliant talent, indispensable. 

Henchman was glad for the shadows that kept the heat in her cheeks hidden. 

When his mind raced, it was like a override channel, white noise she could focus on to tune out the chaos of the crowds around her. 

But she loved even more the rich texture of his mind when he slowed down and his thoughts turned to appreciation. His praises never failed to make her melt. 

“You’re incredible, H.” 

She barely stopped herself from responding with “No you are.” It would have been too corny, and unnecessary. Villain was a genius, and he knew it. 

His thoughts picked up again, flying by but at a pace she could follow. A silver keypad, a brick hallway, a gleaming brass safe. His forehead brushed her as his thoughts slowed to a stop as the safe swung open and revealed their treasure. 

She looked into his dark scheming eyes, so close to hers. 

“Tomorrow?” 

Villain smiled the wicked smile she loved so much, and, in her mind, he leaned forward an inch until their lips finally met. 

He sat back into his seat, already running through the plan again. 

“Tomorrow.” 

-------

Hurry, hurry we’re going to be late!

Two cappuccinos, one americano, one diet americano, three blacks, two chai-- no three? Was it two? Mia, Thomas, Mindy? Did she have one?? Who am I missing-- 

Four blocks down and take a left--

I should have picked the black shoes, I can already feel the blisters forming. 

Can I just quit and sell books online? I don’t want to people today… 

Get out of the way you moron it looks like rain twelve dozen is not enough cute dog there she is I want oh sorry they’re calling again now please sweaters work open mine stopmyturnclosebootslatepeopleparkwalkinggo--

“Henchman.”

Large hands dropped on her shoulders, and the flood of voices disappeared as the purring hum of thoughts wrapped around her. 

Villain slid one hand down her shaking arms to grasp her hand. 

“Henchman.” 

At the second time, she looked up at him. 

“You can do this. Twenty minutes and we will be back at base.” 

Base. Headquarters. Safety. Home. 

The sanctuary Villain had made for her where no other minds could drown out her own. 

Henchman turned back to the street crowded with light and people. So different from its quiet shadows of the night. 

“Henchman.” 

She pulled her eyes back to Villain. “Six minutes of focus, and then it will be over.” His hand on her shoulder tightened. “Six minutes, just like we practiced.” 

She forced a swallow and a nod. 

His mind ran through the plan once more, and she did her best to follow as the voices pressed against her. 

When Villain was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall apart, he released her and stepped back. 

“We’ll just walk down the street like a happy couple and slip inside.” 

The nod came easier this time. It was an image she often pictured. 

The hand that was still wrapped around hers shifted until their fingers were intertwined, and her heart stuttered as he pulled her out of the alley and into the stream of pedestrians. 

The warmth of it occupied her mind until Villain pulled her to an abrupt halt and before she’d registered they’d stopped, the door was open and they were slipping into the narrow brick hallway. 

Henchman lost track of the turns as Villain pulled her through the labyrinth of hallways. 

Using the humming of his thoughts as a buffer as she used her powers to avoid guards and patrons as he dragged her through the repurposed mansion. 

Three minutes and fourth two seconds since they left the safety of the alley, they came to a stop in front of a wide mahogany door. 

Villain picked the lock in the blink of an eye. His hand on the handle, he turned back to her. 

Henchman shook her head. 

No minds were present behind that door. 

The safe was covered by the painting behind the desk. A cheap imitation of a Monet that was worth less than the gaudy frame that held it. 

Henchman dropped into the leather desk chair with a sigh of relief as Villain went to work at the safe.

The whirring of the safe handle was the only sound as Henchman shuffled through the desk drawers, pocketing a golden hilted letter opener and a ruby crusted pennant ring. 

Leaning back in the chair, she enjoyed the pillowing cushion of silence that eased the pounding headache that was building behind her eyes. 

Through the window she heard a dog barking and the distant echo of a siren. 

Henchman sat up with a jolt as the final tumbler dropped into place and the door to the safe creaked open. 

“Wait!” 

A cloud of mist exploded from the safe; her warning too little, too late. 

Henchman doubled over as the tear gas burned her eyes. The door they’d closed behind them slammed open, and the flood of mind-voices returned like a tidal wave. 

A room that blocked out the thoughts of others. Oh how foolish she’d been. Villain had created for her just such a space. 

The voices crested with the throbbing in her head that had returned tenfold.  

The loudest of the voices was filled with derision. 

“Did you really think we were such fools?” 

A hand on her shoulder. 

She ignored the judgment in the hero’s question and looked up at her partner in crime. His eyes were creased with regret. 

Villain. 

It was as if he was the one reading her mind this time. 

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. A ten lane freeway rather than a bullet train. 

Analyzing all the possibilities. 

But Henchman already knew the answer. 

He’d come back for her. 

She lifted her hand to his on her shoulder. 

“Run.”

The song for this prompt was Partner in Crime by Madilyn Mai

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword @sorrow-and-bliss @technikerin23 @deflated-bouncingball @talesofurbania1 @rivalriotrenegade @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[heroes-villains-side-blog]

Fics of a touch starved villain with death powers x hero who's the only one immune.

The romance-repulsed and touch-averse in me ⚔ wanting to collect the whole set

Anyway. For 2 and 3, I named them myself, not the authors. I thought they were funny.

For your reading pleasure:

Two-parter, happy ending by @thepenultimateword backup links: part 1 part 2

What are you gonna do? Stab me? by @yourheartonfire backup link

Villain was being annoying and made Hero angry and is scared now by @justsomeonewholiketowrite backup link

My "analysis" of @justsomeonewholiketowrite's snippet if you scroll down :3

4. Deathtouched by @arealphrooblem backup links: part 1

Honorable mentions

Medusa as the villain by @watercolorfreckles backup link

Hero with destructive powers, four-parter, by @auratusaria

Art which fits the theme out-of-context, by @awkwardosthe3rd and @unfried-mouth-wheat backup link

Prompt. Hero with destructive fire powers who hurts everyone they touch, by @gingerly-writing backup link

Fire villain but oh no! It's raining! by @/thepenultimateword backup link

Spoilers and not exactly but fits the vibe kinda by @/thepenultimateword

To blogs that were tagged: This list has existed for over a year now I just didn't know whether to tag you guys. But I've decided I will because you guys obviously have some interest in common + consider it a version of: 🐾

More of #my evil library management (link)

[the-devil-is-an-author]

Date or Die part 2(.1) by @thepenultimateword

This story by @thepenultimateword

I think I might end up posting every panel or two instead of all at once. My sanity can’t take it otherwise

Pray for me bc the party scene is going to kill me as I try to figure out a layout

[im-a-wonderling]

Safety Harness

This is my piece for @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. My song was "Bloodshot" by Sam Tinnesz, which was submitted by @epiclamer. This was a lot harder than I thought, but such a good exercise! Shout out to @writing-on-the-wahl for helping me out with this. She just has a way of making everything better. ❤️

Word count: 2.8k

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Hunter didn’t like using front doors. Nor did she like knocking.

That’s why, when she roughly pulled a gagged Kidnapee from her unassuming blue sedan, she went straight around the mansion to the French double doors at the back of Client’s house. She shoved the doors open with such force, they swung, bounced off the walls, and swung back in her direction. Hunter lifted a hand to block the door before it hit her. Kidnapee’s hands, unfortunately, were bound, and therefore he was unable to stop the door from hitting him in the face.

Client sat alone at the head of a long dining table of dark wood, several plates of food in front of him. He didn’t look the least bit surprised or put out by Hunter’s rambunctious entrance. He merely set down his fork. “That was quicker than I expected,” was all he said before lifting his pristine, cream cloth napkin to wipe his mouth. 

“I don’t mess around.” Hunter dragged Kidnapee to the other end of the table and forced them down into the chair.

Client rose to his feet, walking slowly closer, his eyes never leaving Kidnapee. Smoothly, Hunter stepped in between the two of them. “My money?” 

“Oh,” Client said with all his slippery charm, “come now, it’s crass to discuss–”

“Money, or I’m taking Kidnapee right back to where I found them.” She cocked her head. “Considering now they know where you live, that would not end well for you.”

Client’s upper lip curled. “Fine.” He slid his hand into his pocket, lifting out his phone. “Hello,” he said quickly. “I need you to transfer that money we talked about.” The voice on the other side of the phone garbled a bit. “Thank you, Barney.” He hung up and then made to walk around Hunter.

Hunter held up her hand. “Not so fast.” She pulled out her own phone, to wait for the number to increase. 

It did, by exactly the amount agreed upon.

Hunter dropped her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, tucking her phone into her pocket and leaving the way she’d come before Client could make her stay, whether for a drink or for participation in whatever nefarious treatment he had planned for Kidnapee. 

He hadn’t requested Kidnapee be blindfolded, so Hunter knew Kidnapee wasn’t walking out of this mansion.

And it wasn’t any of Hunter’s concern. All she did was find people and deliver them to her patrons. What happened after that was not her decision. 

Hunter was done having things on her conscience. 

All she cared about now was making enough money to follow through with her plans. Even after a month of doing these jobs, she still hadn’t made enough, but tonight, that could change. 

She knew firsthand how wealthy her next potential customer was. 

Hopping into her sedan, Hunter sped off into the evening traffic, heading for the Honey Cloud. No other diner in the city had as atrocious a name nor French fries as delicious as the Honey Cloud, but neither of those earmarked it as Hunter’s place of business. It was the alleyway behind it. Small, filled with trashcans, and dimly lit, it allowed for Hunter to keep her identity secret, and it was an easy location to litter with traps in case a meeting went poorly.

And should all her traps fail, Hunter always strapped herself into her harness. If anyone got too close, all she had to do was pull a strap, and the harness would yank her up into the air and onto the roof. She’d never needed the harness, but she knew the one night she didn’t have it in place was the night she would need it.

Once she was all strapped in, Hunter waited, heart pounding in spite of herself. 

She had her mask on, her hood up, her harness clipped on, and stood in the darkest part of the alley with a remote in her pocket that controlled all three hidden traps. She reminded herself that she was safe and prepared. If the conversation took a turn, if he threatened her, she could easily leave. In spite of her internal monologue, however, her hands shook as she waited for the customer to arrive. 

She didn’t have to wait long.

A car drove up to the mouth of the alleyway, and the backdoor opened, revealing the tall and imposing body of Villain himself. 

Simply by laying eyes on him, one could feel the sheer power contained in his tall, broad body.

Languidly, he got out, gave an order to the driver, and then shut the door. The car drove off, leaving Villain alone on the sidewalk, peering into the alley as he buttoned and straightened the blazer of his pale blue suit. Holding his head high, he walked into the alley, one hand lifting to check the knot of his salmon pink tie. As he walked closer, his nose wrinkled as the smell from the trash cans hit him. 

“That’s far enough,” Hunter called, taking on a voice a few tones deeper than her normal one. He was standing right on the edge of her first trap, and good customer service didn’t involve getting a weighted net thrown at you. 

Villain stopped, seemingly unsurprised with the sudden announcement of her presence. He then glanced around, probably realizing he stood directly at the edge of the direct light from the street. “You expect us to talk while we stand fifteen feet apart?”

“If you want to talk at all, yes.”

Villain pursed his lips in the nature of a man used to getting what he wanted, clearly unhappy with the arrangement and debating whether or not he was going to comply. 

Hunter nervously clenched the strap of her harness, ready to pull it if necessary.

But Villain finally bobbed his head once in a nod. 

“So what can I do for you?” Hunter asked, maintaining her alto tone. 

“I need you to find someone for me,” Villain said. 

“I would assume so,” Hunter said dryly. “That is the nature of my job.”

To her surprise, Villain didn’t frown or snap back. He just stood, squinting into the dark, rubbing his hands as if he’d just put lotion on them and was trying to spread it around evenly. 

Hunter’s nerves elevated. “If I’m going to find them, you’re going to need to be a bit more specific.”

Villain lowered his hands, sliding them into his pockets with a cool, practiced air. “I need you to find Hero for me.”

Hunter blinked, glad for the darkness and the mask to contain any surprised expression she might’ve made.

Villain was not the first person who’d come asking for her services in regards to Hero, but she’d expected him to come asking about a long-lost parent, a wayward henchman, even a recently jilted lover, not his nemesis. Her curiosity rose, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t beat it back. “Let me guess,” she said loftily, “you want Hero dead because–”

“No!” Villain snapped. “I want you to find her, not kill her.”

“Again, that is the nature of my job,” Hunter said. “But you’ll kill her once I bring her to you, yes?”

Villain shifted, clearing his throat. “What I do with her after you’ve located her is not in the nature of your job.”

“That it isn’t,” Hunter remarked. “But if you want to continue this conversation, you’ll tell me why you want to find her.”

Villain visibly faltered. “Does it really matter?” he asked. He must’ve really wanted to find Hero, because he didn’t try to intimidate or bully Hunter into leaving it alone, as if he didn't want to offend her.

Hunter stayed quiet. She wasn’t going to repeat herself, nor would she allow herself to get tricked into continuing the conversation anyway. Hunter once watched an interrogation once where the interrogator said barely three words the whole hour. The power of the interrogator’s silence was enough to extract any information they needed. She mimicked them now. 

Villain reached up a hand, loosening his tie. Was she imagining the beads of sweat on his forehead? “I…I owe her a debt.” Hunter tried to tame her interest, she really did. This was a business meeting, nothing more. 

But she needed to know.

“What debt?”

“Why do you want to know?” Villain countered, jutting his jaw forward, as if he were trying to make himself look more imposing. 

Hunter remained silent. 

“This information won’t affect your ability to find her or bring her to me,” Villain tried again.

Still, no words passed through Hunter’s lips.

“You’re being childish,” Villain scoffed. 

“You know, if you’re trying to get me to do this for you, insulting me isn’t going to get you very far.”

Villain stared at the ground in front of him, visibly struggling, but she knew the second he looked down that he was going to tell her. “She killed someone for me,” Villain said finally, looking back up into the darkness surrounding Hunter.

“You’ve killed loads of people.”

“You don’t understand,” Villain ran a hand through his neatly coiffed hair, messing it up. “For her, it is a big deal, she’s nothing like–” he cut himself off.

“Nothing like who?” Hunter asked softly.

“Doesn’t–”

“–matter?” Hunter finished. Villain turned to the side, staring at the trash cans as if he’d quite like to aim a kick at them. Hunter debated telling him that if he did so, he was responsible for picking up every piece of trash up again. 

Judging by the twist of his lips, Villain was two seconds away from walking out of this alley. 

“Last I heard,” Hunter said, trying for a bit of a drawl, “Hero broke your hand. How’d you go from that to owing her anything?” 

She expected Villain’s face to sour at the mention of his old injury. Instead his head bowed as he looked down at the appendage in question. He didn’t say anything. 

Hunter knew she needed to go back to the original topic. But as she watched Villain silently stare down at a bumpy scar on the back of his hand, she couldn’t bring herself to continue business. “Look, you want a bit of advice from me?” Hunter finally said. “Go home. Put your feet up. Forget about her.”

“No,” Villain said stubbornly.

“Trust me.” Hunter swallowed hard. “Hero’s not worth it.”

Villain pulled out his phone. “How much do you want?” His tone was cold and unyielding.

Hunter chewed on her lip, unsure of exactly what to do. She should end the conversation now. In fact, she should’ve ended it the moment he brought up Hero. But…she had no idea Villain cared this much about his famed nemesis. Her self-preservation pulled her one way, and her curiosity pulled her the other in a furious game of tug-of-war. “How much is Hero worth to you?” she asked finally.

“So you can ask for twice whatever I list? No, thank you.”

“No, I want to know.” Hunter ran the toe of her boot across the alley ground, creating a dim scraping sound. “How far are you willing to go to settle this debt of yours?”

Villain narrowed his eyes, still untrusting. His mouth stayed stubbornly closed. 

“Look,” Hunter said, adopting a tone of impatience, “if you want it quick and dry, go find the Beckham brothers and do business with them.”

Please, she added on silently. 

Villain shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They wouldn’t take the job. They recommended you.”

Again, Hunter was thankful for the darkness to cover any expression she might’ve made. The Beckham brothers would do anything for money, even if it was streaking on a college campus as part of a fraternity initiation ritual. “Why’d they turn it down?”

Villain pursed his lips. “Few people want to take on the agency.”

A flood of fear rushed through Hunter at the mention of the agency, but she tamped down on it. “The Agency is offering half a million to anyone who brings Hero to them alive.” 

Villain cocked his head. “Then why haven’t you taken them up on it?”

Hunter swallowed hard. She’d made a mistake, a huge mistake in mentioning the Agency’s price. She could see the enormity of her stumble in the thoughts that swirled behind those calculating eyes. 

“Step into the light,” Villain ordered. 

“Excuse me?” Hunter replied, her heart jumping into her throat as she tried to sound offended. 

Villain just stared into the darkness, and Hunter’s heart swooped. “Nothing,” he said finally, falling away a step, and then another. “Nothing, sorry.” But while his words and feet backtracked, his expression didn’t. 

An alarm bell urgently rang in Hunter’s head. This meeting had stretched on too long, and she needed to end it now. 

“I’ll take the job,” she said gruffly. “Transfer a hundred k to account number 4982–”

Villain took a sudden step forward, and Hunter cut off, reaching for the strap of her harness to launch her to safety. “Come closer,” Villain commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. 

Hunter’s heart pounded. What should she do? Did she cut her losses and escape? Did she try to continue the job? She needed the money, but…did she need it this badly? 

Villain’s expression turned uncharacteristically distressed. “Please…either I’m crazy or…”

That last word hung in the air. 

He knows, Hunter thought to herself, gripping her strap for dear life, frozen like a deer in headlights. He knows, he knows, he knows. She’d thought she was strong enough for this, but she wasn’t. She’d been so focused on the money she needed, she hadn’t thought this through, and now she was going to pay for it. 

She’d be better off cutting her losses and running. Screw the money, she could find it somewhere else. And yet, looking at the sharp desperation in Villain’s face, her will crumbled. 

Barely even aware of anything other than the man in front of her, she hit the button on her remote to deactivate all the traps. She edged closer to Villain, hyper aware that she was leaving the comfort of darkness, for once knowledge was known, it couldn’t be taken back. She was only three feet forward when the harness ran out of line, refusing to allow her even an inch farther. Hunter reached up to hold the buckle of her harness, still unsure of what to do. “What,” she rasped, “do you think you’re going to see?”

Villain’s eyes leapt all around the darkness, trying to seek out Hunter’s form. “The face of someone I very much want to see,” he said. Hunter’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Her common sense screamed at her to pull the strap, to get out while she still could. Villain chest rose and fell rapidly as he sucked in air. “The face of the woman I love.” 

Hunter’s heart took complete control of her body as she reached up to unclip herself from her harness. Taking a deep breath, Hunter stepped into the light, letting her hood fall. 

Villain lifted shaking hands and pulled the mask from her face, exposing her features to the light. His mouth went slack, and he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Hero.” The relief on his face was so sweet, it hurt.

Hunter turned her face away. “Don’t call me that.”

Villain’s hands came to her face with such gentle caresses, Hunter peeked to see the equally elated and incredulous smile on his face. “I’m not calling you Hunter.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse,” Hunter mumbled, letting her gaze drop to the ground.

Villain’s dress shoes stepped closer to her. “We can work out what to call you later,” he muttered, dipping his head.

The kiss he laid on her lips sent a quake through Hunter. She clung to the lapels of Villain’s blue suit, the only way she was able to stay on her feet. 

“I looked for you,” Villain said against her lips, inhaling like he wanted to breathe her into his lungs where she could never run away. “When I heard, I searched for you everywhere.”

To Hunter’s horror, tears pricked at her eyes. Villain pulled back, using his thumbs to brush the water away. “I thought that you were…” He shook his head up at the heavens, unwilling to say it. 

“I almost was,” she choked out. “I’ve been trying to get out of the city ever since, but the Agency took everything. My money, my apartment, all my things–”

Villain’s hand came to cradle the back of her neck, pulling her into his chest. “It’s okay, you’re with me now. We’ll get you out.”

“You were right,” she said, her words muffled by the salmon fabric of his tie. “I was on the wrong side.” 

Villain’s arms tightened around her. He didn’t say “I told you so” or chide her for not listening in the first place. He didn’t rush her away or immediately start cursing those that put her in this situation. He just held her.

And Hunter, in turn, gripped him like he was her new safety harness.

-

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers