#everyone whump

[little-peril-stories]

Hey Kate, here's a Just Because Ask™, for whenever or ifever you have a minute to answer!

You've shared so many delicious snippets of Angsty Heist WIP™, but I'm dying to know more! The names of the characters, their backstories, even just what they're heisting and/or angsting about! (I know I'm being demanding and you'll get to it when you get to it. Please feel free to just tell me to fuck off 😂). But I am interested in anything you care to share! 🩷

In that case, here's a Just Because Reveal™

The names of the characters? Their backstories? Click here. 😁

But new friends (well, not all friends 😬) include Jean Regent, Andreas Munk, Hugo Sloane, and Izzie Leclair.

What are we heisting for? As it stands right now, a lousy piece of paper. (this is an element of the story I have limited confidence in. subject to change.)

What are we angsting about? Why, everything, of course. but a few notable reasons: loneliness, guilt, relationship insecurity, past trauma, and worry for a loved one. :) oh, and A BIG SECRET.

I'll also add the nano version of that banner that I made to (try to) misdirect everyone. Enjoy all the stock photos, feel free to speculate on what they all mean.

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

Everything hurts

I’m going insane

Go read

[anxiouscaretaker]

me when the character canonically gets little to no rest

[captainkirkk]

I'm a big fan of hurt/comfort tropes where the hurt is ongoing and escalating. Characters trying to cope with their situation and insisting that it's fine, they're fine, even as things get worse and worse and worse - especially if no one around them knows what they're going through.

Characters hiding their illness, even as they grow sicker and sicker. Characters trying to cope as their homelife becomes increasingly abusive or neglectful. Characters ignoring their injuries, only for them to become infected. Characters being stalked/ tormented by a villain and pretending that everything is fine, even as the villain continues escalating. Characters left homeless as winter approaches and their money dwindles.

I could go on. There's something very satisfying about seeing a character frantically trying to pretend like everything is okay until eventually they can't hide it anymore and get caught (and helped) by the people around them.

[whump-in-the-closet]

a disorientated whumpee at a party with whumper's hand uncomfortably wrapped around their collarbone. There's a spiraling fear that they can't quite name-- they're losing themself in this nightmare of insinuating whispers.

The music is pounding and Whumpee can feel it in their teeth.

Whumper pulls them into a dark corner to push a drink up to their lips. "Your friends are coming," Whumper's voice is low, it's calm, it's measured, and Whumpee's skin crawls. "You're going to tell them you want to stay with me."

"No--"

"Or one of them will take your place."

[whamber]

Merwaine Fest day one: "i’m sorry i fell in love with you." + angst

HAPPY MERWAINEFEST TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE!

[kittykatninja321]

The funniest thing about the fanon whump fics where Tim is getting locked alone in his house with no food by his parents or something is that a lot of the times they have Jason, a character who actually did experience neglect and starvation as a child be like “wow Timmy your childhood is so sad :(“ absvwjsbsa

[gh0sdae]

I'm all for viktor manhandling jayce, but let's be real. Jayce is LUCKY viktor chose that path

Had viktor approached jayce in human form, hugged/cradled him, held his face, and soothed him with sweet nothings, that man would have FOLDED like a lawn chair

After months of torture? HIM??? He would not survive

[retributory]

if you think binghe is bad now i want you to take a moment and imagine how bad binghe would be if sy transmigrated right before binghe joined the peak. take a moment with me to imagine how terrible binghe would be in a world where he is coddled and enabled every second of every day by his shizun up until the exact second he is shoved into the abyss. a binghe who was routinely abused and ostracized by his shizun for several years still manifested ways to trip into his boobs and massage his thighs. "am i pleasing to look at" . . . he would be unstoppable if he had only known an sqq who loves him with a sort of sickly fervor. if he had only known the sqq that physically cannot stop himself from petting binghe's head, scratching his chin, pinching his cheeks, wiping his tears away . . . just to throw him away in the end. hold my hand and frolic in these lucious fields with me

[totallynotashieldagent]

dick grayson who can't stand being called "pretty boy"

dick grayson who was thrusted into gotham high society that is full of creeps and pedos at the age of 8 and was labelled a "pretty boy"

dick grayson who had his cheeks pinched by old ladies and told he'd be a real heartbreaker once he was old enough and how pretty he already was

dick grayson who had old men clapping his back and rubbing his shoulders and grinning at him how he had such a pretty face

dick grayson who couldn't be protected by bruce wayne because he grew up in this same horrid place and thought this was normal

dick grayson who had the gotham gazette counting down to his 18th birthday and the entire city was drooling for him to be legal

dick grayson whose picture was on every tabloid for weeks around his birthday month with labels of pretty boy of gotham turns 18

dick grayson who wants to called intelligent, athletic, brilliant, smart, but never "pretty"

dick grayson who would feel bile rise up his throat whenever someone comments on his beauty before his brain or strength

dick grayson who loves his titans because they praise him for being a good leader, a brilliant strategist and an amazing mentor

dick grayson who made sure that none of his siblings had to deal with what he did

dick grayson who made sure no one touched his siblings the way he was

dick grayson who can't stand being called pretty boy

Drabble Master List.

[little-peril-stories]

Intro: The Queen of Lies

AU for The Prince of Thieves / WC: keeps changing, will let you know someday

Masterlist | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

I sold myself to a loveless thing / And I walk'd to the altar and there I lied

C.W.S., Harper's Weekly, 7 July 1866

At a Glance

Genres: romance, historical, whump

POV/tense: 3rd-person, past tense

Small main cast; single narrator two narrators lol

You can enjoy the story without reading TPOT - the side characters just won't feel nearly as fleshed out here (I think so, anyway.)

tbh it's a romance with added bonus of torture, captivity, dread, angst, intimidation, and fun whumpy happenings

Description

THE QUEEN OF LIES is a tale of quiet courage, inner strength, and forbidden love—and the ways we can change our lives for the better if only we dare to take a leap of faith.

Four years ago, Breanna Cooper made a choice that altered the course of her life forever.

She stayed.

Instead of running away from a man she knew did not and could not love her, she remained—and became Mrs. Breanna Hatchett. Now she exists quietly in a life half-lived, striving to be the perfect wife and always falling short.

One day, a chance encounter in Constable Baden Hatchett’s prison brings her face to face with a captured thief from the notorious thieving gang Iustitia aecum. Though she swears she will forget the boy to whose brutal punishment she bears witness, it soon becomes clear that forgetting him is something she simply cannot do.

On a whim, for the first time in years, Breanna takes a chance and seeks out the thief—and yet again, her life is changed forever.

Vibes & Tropes

Forbidden love

Tragic backstory

“Who did this to you?”

Gazing through cell bars

"I'll fight for you"

“Why are you helping me?”

Gloomy skies, autumn leaves, rain & thunder

Against all logic and reason…

"I will always find you"

Alternatively, if you are a music-minded person, I collected some song lyrics that make me think of this story.

Cast of Characters

Main & Major Characters

BREANNA HATCHETT: Our heroine. Four years ago, she married into an abusive relationship, and since then she has been going through her life like a ghost, doing as her husband says and trying to be the perfect wife. When fate sends her careening into the story of an imprisoned thief, her entire world is rocked to its core.

FOX/THE THIEF: Our hero. If you’re new here, enjoy spending 50% of the story not knowing his name. Sharp-tongued and defiant, impulsive and reckless, the thief is determined to take his secrets to his grave to protect his family, if that’s what it takes. He is slowly losing hope…that is, until he is granted unexpected kindness by the least likely person imaginable. Suddenly, there’s more hope and light in his life than he ever expected to see again.

CONSTABLE BADEN HATCHETT: Our bad guy. Breanna’s husband. Vindictive, controlling, and manipulative, he wields his power and influence inside and outside the prison where he works as a constable. Above all things, he despises disobedience and disorder the most. When Breanna begins to take her life into her own hands, he will stop at nothing to gain control over her once again. Whatever it takes.

JUNIOR CONSTABLE CURTIS LENTON: A constable who is not-so-secretly pining for Breanna. He is a friend to her in the only way he knows how, but this means he is sometimes overprotective of her—to a fault.

DR. ALLAN ARMSTRONG DALE: A newly employed doctor who has a habit of getting in over his head no matter what universe he's in.

SPIDER: An elusive woman who helps to run the thieving gang Iustitia aecum.

HARE: The fourth and final member of IA’s inner circle.

WOLF/THE THIEF’S BROTHER: A mysterious character whose identity the thief goes to great lengths to protect.

ALICE: Breanna’s friend who encourages her to take more risks in her life.

Other Characters

MRS. BRISTOW: A nurse working at the prison. Better at the job than the medic.

MRS. DENNISON: The Hatchetts' housekeeper.

MR. GYSBORNE: The prison medic.

JUNIOR CONSTABLE MICHAELSON: A vicious officer who works under Baden Hatchett. Notable for his leering gaze and sadistic tendencies.

MARGUERITE: Breanna’s other friend.

DR. RICHARDS: The other, not-so-nice doctor.

INSPECTOR BULWELL: The head of the prison where Baden works.

MISS DUGFORD: A cruel bully of a nurse

FAQ

What will I like about TQOL?

Well, if you liked the thief’s snark in TPOT, then it’s, like, tripled, especially in the early chapters here. But this is a different story—far more romantic—and you might like getting to see a much softer side of him, too.

You might like Breanna’s character development from a very frightened and sheltered wife to a courageous young woman who is willing to take risks and face her fears.

If you like romantic tension, forced proximity, pining, and lots of caretaking/comfort, then I hope you’ll like this story!

How do I know if this story is for me?

You can check out the Contents/Warnings here. There are spoilers in that post, so click at your own risk.

For TPOT readers:

>>>>>

stop here if you don't want any vague spoilers for The Prince of Thieves!

>>>>>

What are the biggest differences between TPOT and TQOL?

Shorter. Fewer but often longer chapters. 3rd-person past tense.

There's the whole name thing. The name "Cooper" only shows up 3 times in the whole thing. "Mrs. Hatchett," on the other hand...

In TPOT, we know the thief’s name right away because he and two other inner circle members are POV characters. Breanna is the only POV character in TQOL........uh....listen. We just have to wait until she learns his name. For stylistic reasons.

Since Breanna didn't run away and never joined IA, all her serendipitous meetings with the thief in her past never happened. Her first encounter with him is in Chapter 1.

Obviously, since they're married, the relationship between Baden and Breanna—while strained and 100% toxic, problematic, and unhealthy—is not as antagonistic as it is in TPOT.

In the beginning, we get a little less existential dread because the thief isn’t expecting execution but rather long-term imprisonment, labour, or exile to a penal colony (no actual plot reason for this, I just wanted to play with the stakes and see how it changed the dynamics. because I can). This means that Ezra Johnston (the captured runner from TPOT) was never hanged and so we catch up with the thief in a slightly better mental state than the same point in TPOT.

Wolf and Jr. Constable Michaelson have reduced roles (compared to TPOT), while Jr. Constable Lenton (who literally only appears in two TPOT chapters) has an elevated role and gets a first name.

The time period is slightly different (because of reasons), but I doubt this is actually noticeable in the writing, only in my brain. I had to do a decent amount of research for this one particular plot thread, so now I know what decade we’re in lol.

What’s the same between TPOT and TQOL?

Well, Hatchett is still an asshole, and actually, so is the thief (affectionate)...he's still a snarky, potty-mouthed rascal. The IA setup is pretty much the same, the tattoo hasn’t changed, and the thief’s determination to keep the inner circle safe and out of Hatchett’s clutches is as strong as ever. On the IA end, everything up to the flogging has played out pretty much the same (see above q for a few lil differences). It's Breanna's life that has been wildly different.

In terms of tropes/plots….yes, I repeated a few. I don’t want to say them here bc spoilers but if you really want to know, send me a DM and I’ll spill which TPOT parts get their own AU twist.

Thanks for reading! <3 Hope you like it!

If you've made it this far, here's your reward:

Image ID: a square image of the external wall of a brick building with barred windows. White text reads: “No, not a hanging. It’s not for ladies to see or think of. No need to trouble yourself with such things.” End ID.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

“she covered up murders” “she threw mike’s pills into the river” okay and? 🤨 god forbid women have hobbies. what happened to supporting women’s rights and women’s wrongs.

she has sad eyes, daddy issues, and a sweater. i rest my case.

[whump-side]

My piece for the ABCs of Whump zine @thewhumpyprintingpress My letter was T for Torture ! If you want to acquire this very whumpy zine, there are physical and digital copies still available. Make sure to visit The Whumpy Printing Press Tumblr for more informations

[kennahjune]

Trauma bond? No. Bro bond.

Was having Steve and Lucas bro bond thoughts that accidentally turned into Steve whump.

…

Steve and Lucas bonding over sports more than anyone realized they ever would.

Like yeah, everyone knew Steve played basketball and was on the swim team in high school; that was practically his entire personality for a bit. But they never realized how much he actually /liked/ the sports.

Until he was geeking out with Lucas over a new play they’d thought of.

It was odd for them all to see Steve so excited. They watched on from their seats on the front porch steps. Eddie and Jonathan each had a beer, the both of them sharing a blunt with Argyle. Nancy and Robin sat on the steps below them, watching on while Steve and Lucas payed them no mind from the driveway.

It was almost comical— how the moment Lucas showed up on his bike Steve was up in an instant. After confirming it was indeed not a code red, Steve was quick to join Lucas. Especially after being told it was basketball related.

Steve had kicked his own beer over in his haste to get up.

Now Steve and Lucas were in the driveway, the garage door down (to prevent damage to the cars) and the Harrington’s basketball hoop out. Both were blissfully unaware of the eyes following them. Well, the eyes following /Steve/, it was more like.

Circling back the earlier thought; they’d never seen him to engaging in something. So excited. So…happy.

Which was really sad to think about.

“I’ve never seen him so excited over something,” Nancy said, speaking everyone’s thoughts.

Well. Except Argyle’s, it seems. “Nah, man. He gets like this anytime he starts talking about sports. We were watching a soccer game on TV last night and he was like— totally freaking out! Waving his hands around and talking a mile a minute.”

He took a puff of the blunt and passed it to Eddie, unaware of how he just tilted everyone’s worlds.

“Wait—“ Eddie took a drag and his voice was strained while he kept in the smoke “—he actually talks to you about that shit?”

Argyle hummed and looked at Eddie oddly. Eddie blew the smoke out and held Argyle’s eye.

“Yeah dude. All the time. Might help that I played volleyball back in Cali but— really, I just like hearing him talk. And I think he likes talking. He talks a lot.”

Argyle was getting extra talkative now, his sentences becoming shorter and more frequent. That’s how you knew he was high enough to not care.

“He’s never really been that talkative,” mumbled Robin, a sudden kind of dread settling uncomfortably in her chest.

Argyle shrugged. “Maybe you don’t talk about what he likes to talk about. He likes talking about sports. And romance books. He reads a lot of romance books.”

Well isn’t that something, Eddie thought. Steve Harrington likes to read.

(It brought up a distant memory from high school, from Steve’s sophomore year and Eddie’s junior year. Back before “King Steve” meant “jackass”.

“Well well, looky here, fellas! King Steve is gracing us peasants with his presence.” Eddie called mockingly to the young man sitting at the table in the library.

Steve— only 15 at the time, not 16 for another couple of months— looked up from his book with furrowed brows and a pout on his pretty pink lips. A pout that 21 year old Eddie would come to love.

Steve hadn’t done to much in the interaction. He more or less sat in silence while Eddie went on and on about something he couldn’t remember now.

When Steve had gotten up from the table, he doggy-eared his page (like a monster) and tucked the book under his arm. Eddie saw the title only briefly, “Forever Amber”.)

“Do we really never talk about his interests?” asked Jonathan to the sky, his head tilted up while he blew the smoke away.

They all startled when a series of shouts and laughs came from Lucas and Steve in the driveway. Eddie looked over in time to watch Steve pull Lucas in for a hug where they both patted each others backs aggressively. Eddie’s seen the guys do that at games. Some kind of weird bro-hug.

Eddie continued to watch when Steve bent down to pick up the rolling basketball. Eddie’s mind went other places quick enough when Steve pulled his shorts up a little higher. Robin smacked his calf.

“Seriously, you guys never talk to him about sports?” Argyle asked, flabbergasted. And I suppose he had every right to be. These were some of Steve’s closest friends. His boyfriend and his best friend! And they never got to listen to Steve rant about a particular basketball game from high school? About some specific swimming stroke and how it helped him win swim competitions?

They were seriously missing out.

Robin hung her head in shame and thought about it, her eyes misting over the more she realized that— yeah, she never talked to Steve about sports. Let alone his other interests. (Did he have other interests? That fact that she had to ask this question made her want to cry and hug Steve.)

Robin picked her head up and propped it in her hands. She looked on with everyone else as Steve and Lucas cheered about something or other.

.

Steve tossed Lucas the ball in the driveway. He bent himself at the knees and placed his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily.

“Alright, Sinclair. Hit me.” he smirked.

He and Lucas had been tossing the ball back and forth for close to an hour now, both excited to get this play right. Lucas dribbled the ball three times on the ground quickly before he set into motion.

Steve cut him off to the left, but Lucas swerved to the right so fast he nearly toppled himself over. Steve turned and jumped in front of him just in time to body slam him slightly. Not nearly as rough as he could’ve been, holding back because they were outside on concrete and Steve wasn’t going to be responsible for a concussion.

The ball rolled away into the grass, unnoticed while Steve gave Lucas a hand and pulled him up.

Lucas was taking heaving breaths, and for a scary moment Steve was worried he’d slammed him too hard and knocked his lungs around. It’s possible. That’s why Steve himself had an inhaler in the drawer closest to his bed.

But then Lucas was laughing, and soon Steve was to.

“Dude! How’d you do that? I’ve never seen anyone move like that man!” Lucas praised over his heavy breathing. Steve chuckled and took his own deep breaths.

He clapped Lucas on the shoulder, grabbed the ball, and steered him towards the porch. “Plant your feet next time.” He felt a ping of anger and sadness at the words, but tramped it down.

It was only when he’d reached the porch with Lucas that Steve realized they were alone outside. Had everyone gone inside? Did sports seriously bore them so much that they just up and left? The thought made something bitter churn in Steve’s gut.

Whatever.

He led Lucas through the door and dropped the basketball on the porch by the door. It was muddy and his floors were going to remain white for as long as possible thank you very much.

They both left their shoes by the door and traveled to the kitchen, Lucas talking about how fast he’d ducked and wanting to know what Steve meant by planting his feet. Steve agreed to another playing session the next day with a grin. It was nice to have someone who enjoyed what he did.

He tossed Lucas a bottle of water from the fridge and made sure the kid drank it all. They sat with each other at the counter for a minute, Steve idly sipping his water and listening to Lucas’ still heavy breaths.

“Damn, I still can’t catch my breath man.” Lucas laughed lightly.

Steve smiled and set his water down.

“Wait here, don’t do anything stupid.”

Lucas gave him a two finger salute as he walked off upstairs. Steve was sure to avoid the living room and was quick to grab the aforementioned inhaler from his drawer. He jogged back into the kitchen and sat next to Lucas one more.

“Ok, so I’m assuming you know what an inhaler is.”

Lucas nodded, staring at the inhaler in Steve’s hand oddly.

“I don’t have asthma,” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

Steve chuckled. “And neither do I. But there are times where you get knocked around too much or too hard, and it can rattle your lungs. I found that out the hard way when I was 14 and had my first asthma attack. My lungs had rattled so much they got trapped between my ribs and my mom had to take me to the hospital.”

Lucas winced. “Seriously? How the hell did you manage that?”

My dad got a little too rough, Steve thought. But decided against saying that, obviously. He smiled and shook his head. “Not important.”

Steve uncapped the inhaler and gave it a good shake. “Ok, I’m assuming you know at least a little about using one of these but one things for sure, you’ve gotta fix your posture.”

Lucas immediately straightened his back.

Steve went on explaining about how curling into yourself like that basically compressed your lungs and made breathing harder.

He held the inhaler to Lucas’ mouth and instructed him to breathe in and hold it for as long as he felt he could before releasing slowly.

Lucas did as instructed, and after no more than two puffs Steve instructed him to simply keep his back straight and take deep breaths through his nose and to release slowly through his mouth.

Lucas left on his bike a few minutes later with a few snacks and an extra bottle of water in his bag. Steve told him to talk to his parents about getting him a medical inhaler if he planned to stick out basketball for all of high school. Steve knew how aggressive those kids could be, and while it wasn’t always necessary it was helpful.

When he closed the door behind Lucas he went straight to the living room.

Where apparently everyone had relocated.

“Uh.. hey?” Steve waved pathetically. He had really no idea what to do with the 5 pairs of eyes on him.

“Ok? Um— seriously why are you all looking at me like that? It’s fucking freaky.” Steve curled in on himself a little, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders.

Robin was the first to shoot out of her seat on the couch. Steve was given no warning before he was engulfed in a hug.

“Oh? Ok—“ He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “What happened, Robs? You alright?” he asked from where his face was tucked into her neck.

She nodded, but it was obvious something was wrong.

When Robin let go she dragged Steve by the wrist to the couch and sat with him. He looked at everyone else settled in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t like— an intervention or something, right?” he tried to joke. Argyle seemed to find it funny at least. Steve smiled at him where he sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Then there was an arm wrapping around his waist from the side Robin wasn’t pressed against and Steve wasted no time leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What’s up with you guys, huh? You’re quiet and it’s scary. I don’t like it.” Steve muttered the last part under his breath and more to himself. But Eddie squeezed his hip reassuringly.

“Nothing’s up, baby. How was everything with Lucas?” Eddie asked. Steve barely gave himself time to pause before he answered, “Good. He’s been moving a lot faster lately.”

He bit his tongue against the slew of words he wanted to spill about everything they’d done in that hour they’d been outside. Instead he said,

“Sorry. Totally ditched you guys for the ball.” He chuckled, trying to take the weight of the words off some. Eddie tutted.

“Don’t apologize, Steve. You looked like you having fun.” Came Nancy’s unexpected reply. Steve’s head shot up to look at her before traveling back to Argyle, who gave him a vague “go on” gesture with his hand.

“Uh..” He pulled his eyes back to Nancy. “Yeah, had a lot of fun. Um— you guys alright?”

Jonathan groaned and Steve watched Nancy hit him on the arm. They had a whole argument with their eyes before Nancy deflated. What the hell?

“Steve.” Jonathan started. Steve flinched slightly and didn’t relax when Eddie squeezed his hip.

He braced himself for the laughs, the jeers. Them telling him they didn’t care that he had fun and that they had to go.

“We’re sorry.”

Steve blinked. You’d think an apology that sounded so heartfelt would lower his inner walls a bit, but it only served to raise them higher. Because—

“What the fuck? Why?”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head and let Nancy take the lead this time.

“For brushing you off.”

Steve blinked, his inner walls no longer rising but not lowering either.

“For not showing that we cared whenever you started talking about your sports and things.” Was Robin’s add-on from beside him.

Steve flinched and made to get up but remembered he was kind of held down by both Robin and Eddie.

“So this is an intervention? Guys it’s fine, seriously—“

“No. It’s not. Stop talking for a second and let us be sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie’s grip tightened again and Steve tried to find comfort in it like he normally did, but he was so uncomfortable right now it was unbelievable.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been apologized to. Not like this. Not with such sincerity.

It scared him, honestly.

“We’re sorry we didn’t bother trying to show interest in anything you did even though you always made sure to show interest in ours,” was how Eddie finished.

“Even with all the teasing you add in.” Chuckled Jonathan.

Steve found a bit of the comfort he was searching for.

He cleared his throat. “Um ok— so—“

“Not done.” Demanded Nancy.

Steve shut up.

“We’re sorry that we made fun of your interests and maybe made you feel like you couldn’t share your thoughts and feelings with us in fear of getting ridiculed.”

And good God if that wasn’t right on the money.

Steve swallowed against the tears that threatened to mist over his vision.

He laughed quietly instead. And maybe he looked like he was going insane but Jesus Christ— he couldn’t take this right now. He was not expecting a fucking apology after an hour of playing basketball.

What the fuck has his life turned into?

“Ok— done now?” he asked. And when nobody spoke up against him he continued.

“So um— thanks? For the apology? I guess— I guess I just don’t understand. Why are you guys apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong?”

That got him a chorus of groans that made him curl into himself more. He hung his head and pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer, a nervous habit he’d developed in middle school.

“Steve.” Robin gently said. “We have every reason to apologize and fucking grovel.”

Steve wasn’t given a single moment to protest.

“Sweetheart, what did you do yesterday when I was talking about my campaign?”

Steve looked at Eddie funny. “Dude I don’t know— I think you started talking about it while I was cooking?”

Eddie nodded. “And then you told me to hold on while you put the lasagna in the oven so you could give me your full attention.”

Steve blinked dumbly, not quite getting it.

“That’s the bare minimum, Ed. You were talking about something you really liked so I made sure you knew I was listening.”

And oh wow. It just dawned on him.

“Exactly, honey. None of us— except Argyle, apparently— have been giving you the attention you deserve even though you give us yours no matter what.”

“Steve you listened to me drone about types of cameras and film last week for three hours and didn’t complain once. I know for a fact that shit was boring to listen to because I’ve been told so by both Will and El numerous times.”

Steve stared at Jonathan.

“Ok, sure. But I don’t see— I don’t get— I don’t care that you guys don’t listen to me. Sports are complicated and yeah sure it kind of hurts when you scoff as if it doesn’t mean shit—“

Eddie’s grip tightened considerably.

“—but it— I get it. You guys aren’t obligated to listen to my shit. I listen to you guys because I want to. Because I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like Nancy and that new article for the school paper about the different recipe for the meatloaf that makes it taste like dirt, apparently. Or how Polaroid cameras actually date all the way back to like— 1948. Or—“

“But that’s the thing, Steve.” Nancy cut him off. “You listen to these things and remember them because you want to. Because you’re a good friend and good friends listen. We—“ he waved her hand around to all of them “—have not been good friends.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat while Nancy continued.

“The fact that you remember my exact words of calling the meatloaf dirt just proves that. Because we had that conversation, what? A month ago?”

“Three weeks ago.” Me mumbled uselessly.

Nancy sighed.

Robin sat up and took Steve’s face in her hands. “Stevie. We love you. So let us.”

And just like that, Steve was engulfed in a giant group hug.

He didn’t realize how much it’d affected him before now. How being scoffed at and made fun of— even if it was playful— hurt him so much that he’d just stopped talking about things.

When they pulled away Eddie kissed his forehead and Robin kissed his cheek. Steve giggled at the sudden affection.

…

Bonus:

The very next day, Steve saw the change.

Saw the change in how Eddie made sure to ask him about what he was cooking and then let Steve explain the process of a breakfast casserole. How Eddie simply smiled and even engaged with questions as if he was really interested. And maybe Steve didn’t completely believe he was interested, but that was ok. He’d come to his senses eventually.

Then at work Robin made a point to let him choose what they put on the TV for the day and didn’t even complain when he chose the Breakfast Club.

He was scared that they change would last no more than a week. That after some time they’d all go right back to how it was before.

But then a week passed. And two. And three. And then months we’re going by where Steve was allowed to rant and talk and argue about things like cooking and baking and basketball and soccer and volleyball and so much more because they would listen.

And then a year passed and it was April and it was his birthday and when he was surrounded by everyone— the kids, the older teens, even the adults— he opened a present and looked down at the book in his lap.

“Forever Amber”.

Steve will never admit to the tears that he cried that day.

…

Probably gonna do something like this with Lucas and the kids cause I love Lucas ❤️

Here’s that lol:

[abhainnwhump]

Whumper, ripping off the last page of their calendar and tossing it to Whumpee's feet: That's another year, darling. And not a single person has found you. Give up, because your friends already did.

[chaotic-orphan]

Heyyyy I was wondering if maybe you'd consider writing about a Hero that gets so depressed they start getting reckless in their fights, maybe going so far as to try and do themselves in. And can Villain or someone save them? Please? I feel a bit like Hero right now and I could use a Villain haha haha hahahahaha

Bestie this is why I write so many suicidal heroes getting saved by villains… I think we all relate to those Heroes sometimes, and y’know what? Most of the time, you have to be your own villain💛 but I’m writing this Villain to save you Nonny, don’t self destruct please, and do something nice for yourself x

*~*~*~*~*

“Hero! You’re here!” The Fire deputy said.

“Yep,” Hero said through clenched teeth, blood dripping down the side of their head from their previous altercation with Muscle Villain who was enjoying the luxurious experience of the back of a police car right about now.

“Flame hero is already in there, rescuing civilians but you’re—”

Hero nodded. “I’ll see if I can help.”

The Fire deputy protested but Hero was already in the burning building, their arm over their mouth and nose to lower the effect of smoke inhalation. Not that Hero was sure it mattered or not. They weren’t exactly trained for search and rescue in fires, but they could do it. They could help.

They heard crying from upstairs and they glanced up, the smoke singed their eyes and they let out a hiss as the heat licked at them from the flames. Wood crackled all around them as Hero went to the stairs. They grabbed the railing and cursed as their hand sizzled against the heat.

Fuck! Fuck! That hurt— shit…

“Hero?!” Hero glanced up to see Flame Hero, concerned eyes behind their signature goggles. Probably for the eyes. Hero should have gotten some before they charged in. “WHAT ARE YOU—”

Before Flame Hero could scream more a support beam crackled and groaned and fell, shaking the building. Hero had to jump out of the way as the a square of the second floor disintegrated and debris and dust descended, going up in a puff of smoke and catching Hero’s lungs. Hero coughed, their throat burning as they wheezed out the smoke.

“Hero!” Flame Hero cried through their mask. Probably filtered smoke from their lungs. “Are you okay?”

Hero blinked in the heat. The support beam had swung down between Hero and the stairs. “Yeah!” They screamed back. “I’m fine! I’ll look for survivors down here.”

Hero didn’t wait for a response. They started to get lightheaded, but they were lightheaded after their fight with Muscle Villain too, so they could take a little bit of smoke damage, right? How many minutes did people usually have before their lungs gave up? A few minutes? Under ten? They could do this. They’ve only been in here two minutes.

They turned the corner and the flames roared as a pipe exploded and Hero was thrown backwards and out the window of the ground floor out into the street. Their back hit the brickwork of the alley, stealing the last remnants of oxygen from Hero’s chest with a thud an a strangled oomph.

They were pretty sure they blacked out a moment on impact, because next thing they knew they were on the ground, on their stomach gasping and coughing as fresh air assaulted their senses.

Fuck… they really were lightheaded. But… they would be fine. They’re always fine. Hero got onto all fours and groaned as they pushed their legs out so their feet were stretched behind them in a plank. They pushed themselves up and got halfway before stumbling into the wall, grabbing it clumsily and falling again, scraping their side against it.

“Fuck…” they whispered, letting out laboured breaths. Their back was aching and did not appreciate Hero putting all their weight on their arms. Hero gasped as they felt something sharp pierce the skin of their palm and yanked their hand up to see a shard of glass. They glanced around and the alleyway was littered with broken pieces of glass that glittered like stars in the moonlight, reflecting Hero’s face back up at them.

Their knee also reflected Hero’s face and they hissed as they grabbed that big shard and yanked it out. They grabbed their roll of meditape that they used for just about everything and wrapped it around the knee to stop the bleeding. For now… at least. Then they tried to get up again.

Forgetting about the shard in their palm Hero let out a pained grunt as they felt the glass dig further into their skin on the ground and they threw their head back to stare at the black, velvet sky, tears pinpricking their eyes.

“Hero?!” Flame Hero demanded. Then there was the sound of footsteps and crunching glass and hands on their upper arms dragging Hero to a standing. Flame Hero looked angry. “What the fuck were you doing in there?! Huh?”

“I…” Hero began then descended into bouts of coughing.

“You could have died! You don’t even have a mask or goggles or anything! You could still die from the short amount of smoke inhal—” Flame Hero looked down at Hero’s hand. “Christ Hero! Your hand!”

Hero blinked, dazed. “M’fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Flame Hero hissed. “Look at me you thick skulled idiot, you are not fine! You are going to the hospital.”

Hero shook their head and pushed Flame Hero away with their glass-less palm. “No hospital.”

“Hero, you’re not really in a position to be arguing right now,” Flame Hero hissed. Hero batted Flame Hero’s outstretched hands away.

“Here,” Hero mumbled and grabbed the glass shard.

“Hero! No, don’t pull—“”

“Agh! Fuck!” Hero cried.

“I told you not to touch it!”

Hero pressed the flat of the glass into Flame Hero’s glove. “Did you save all the civilians?”

Flame Hero’s eyes hardened. “Yes.”

“Then nothing to worry about. Leave me be. Help the fire department,” Hero said and started to walk in the opposite direction of the fire department and trucks and paramedics.

“Hero!” Flame Hero looked back at the burning building and then down at the reckless hero’s retreating back. “Hero! Just… don’t do anything stupid!”

Hero waved them away but didn’t answer, limping down the alley until they got down the hill to Flood Street. Fuck… they were tired. When they got out onto the street they got out of Flame Hero’s sightline and pressed their back against the wall, then their head, closing their eyes.

Just for a minute… they just… they just needed a—

Their radio crackled to life. “Supervillain has appeared at the Industrial state by the port!” Hero’s eyes shot open. “We need every available hero to support—”

And then they were running again.

They were exhausted and their back was screaming at them as they pumped their arms to gain momentum. The port was only a short distance from them. Maybe if Hero got there first, they could—

Their vision tunnelled to a slit and the world swayed and Hero blinked and then they were on the ground.

What?… A warm nausea shot from their stomach through their throat like a bullet and Hero barely had time to turn and hurl the contents of their stomach out on the pavement.

Halfway through Hero had a brief respite from heaving, leaning back on their hands and moaning before the warmth returned with a vengeance and Hero was gagging and spewing again. They retched and coughed, saliva black and grey from the fire and when Hero wiped their mouth black soot stained their hand.

Fuck… they thought as they pushed themselves up, one hand grabbing the nearest wall and yanked themselves off their feet. They stumbled again but the wall caught them and Hero sighed as they felt strong hands hold them up.

“Thanks…” Hero mumbled, dizzy with exhaustion, their vision hazy.

“Anytime, Darling.”

Hero froze. They turned their head to see familiar blue eyes staring down at them and Hero lurched forwards. Fingers fisted through their hair and dragged themselves off back into a street out of sight from the main road and down again, turning a corner while Hero hissed and grunted at the pressure on their head.

When they rounded the second corner so they were parallel to the street with a building blocking the view, Villain slammed Hero against the wall and pressed their forearm against Hero’s throat when they tried to push away from the wall.

“Villain,” Hero said, voice scratchy from the vomit. Or the fire. Or being choked by muscle villain. Or all of the above. Their larynx was exhausted. So were they, but they had to keep moving. Keep going. “Come to kick me when I’m down?”

“Not at all, love, I can kick you down when you’re up just as easily,” Villain smirked. But it wasn’t his usual smirk. Hero swallowed hard but their throat burned and they grimaced after. There was something terrifying behind Villain’s beautiful face. Something lethal and dangerous and cold. Something Hero had never seen hidden behind his expression before.

Villain wasn’t fucking around.

This wasn’t a social visit then.

Hero gulped again at the long silence. “Hey… hey, Vil, I kind of have somewhere to be… if we could wrap this up quick then—“”

Villain’s eyes flashed dangerously. His smirk widened. “Oh I know, Hero. You do have somewhere to be. In a hospital, or your own bed at the very least.”

Hero scoffed. “What’re you, my mom?” They pushed against Villain’s arm on their neck, but Villain leaned all his weight forward on it until Hero was pressed flush against the wall, head angled to try and keep breath flowing through their body. “Vi—Villain.”

“Yes, Hero?”

“Can you…” a wheeze cracked the sentence and caught in Hero’s throat as they coughed, strangled by Villain’s arm.

“Can I bring you home and make sure you can’t get out of bed until you’re rested? Yes, Hero. Of course. So good of you to ask.”

“Mmph,” Hero protested, eyes wide as they grabbed Villain’s wrist and elbow and tried to shove him off. Villain, in reply, grabbed Hero by their jacket and threw them further into the alleyway. Hero tumbled, head going over heels until they landed on their back and groaned.

“Or we can go until you pass out, Hero, and then you’ll regret that I put you on bedrest. You’ll find I can be quite persuasive.”

“What’re you doing?” Hero demanded hotly, struggling to sit up. The world swam in their vision and they repressed a groan. “I need to—”

“Fight Supervillain? In this state? Where were you before this? You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What, were you cleaning chimneys? Fall off the roof?” Villain demanded, pointing to the dried blood pooling from Hero’s hairline. “I just found you throwing up like a drunk in the side of the street.”

“Whatever,” Hero grumbled. “You don’t know anything,” Hero said, getting to their unsteady feet and wiping their face with their sleeve. Their gaze hardened, filled with resolve. “I’m going to fight Supervillain. Even if I have to go through you to do it.”

Villain let out a barking laughter that went straight through Hero’s hazy head, piercing their ears uncomfortably. “You’ll go through me? Darling, please, gravity is proving to be too strong an opponent for you in this state.”

“Shut up.”

“No, Hero.” Villain said, a storm flashed across his expression and it scared Hero. “I have to take matters into my own hands now, don’t I?”

Hero gulped but didn’t risk a step forward. They weren’t entirely certain that they would stay standing if they stepped towards Villain, or away from Villain. They were stable standing in place, no risk of falling like this.

“I am a person perfectly capable of making my own decisions thank you very much! I don’t need you to coddle me or—”

Villain was in front of Hero in a second a hand on their throat and then they were slammed against a wall again. Hero’s breath ripped from their lungs as they gasped on the smack of their back against the brickwork.

“I am either bringing you home to get some much needed bedrest, or I am checking you into a psych ward Hero, because I don’t trust you not to hurt yourself in this state.”

Hero let out a scalding laughter. “Hurt myself?!” They demanded, hot tears welling up on their lower lid and blinding them as they started to fall. “You’re hurting me, Villain!”

“Violence is the only thing that gets through to you, Hero, for fuck’s sake!” Villain roared. Hero shrunk back, but Villain followed them, their face an inch or two from Hero’s but his eyes burning with a terrible helplessness. “You can barely fucking stand without assistance and you’re mad at me for stopping you from fighting Supervillain?! Of all people! She’d kill you with a snap of her fingers!”

“GOOD!” Hero screamed back, their voice high, and pitchy and desperate. “At least then my life could MEAN something! At least then I’d have died for a good cause! And be remembered as a Hero! At least then SOMEONE WOULD CARE!”

Maybe it was a trick of Villain’s gaze in the moonlight, but for a second it looked like Villain’s eyes were filled with tears. It was a brief flash, before Villain’s head darted close to Hero and something soft was on Hero’s lips.

Hero flinched.

Then melted.

Oh… villain… was Villain…

Hero kissed them back with a ferocity that they didn’t know they possessed. Something hot and wet hit Hero’s cheek and they didn’t know if it was their tears or Villain’s, but they didn’t care.

Villain was just as fearsome in kissing as he was in battle. He pressed his body against Hero’s, pinning them against the wall, their free hand going to Hero’s cheek and holding their chin up so Hero couldn’t pull away even if they wanted.

And they didn’t want to.

Their hands in turn went to Villain’s hair, his beautiful hair and around his neck and tried to pull him impossibly closer.

And all too soon, Villain pulled away, resting his forehead against Hero’s. Their breath mixing with the cold of the night, and Hero was dizzy for a different reason now. They don’t know how long they stayed like that, their chests rising and falling erratically until they calmed down again.

Then, in the cover of the night air in this back alley, Villain whispered: “you mean something to me,” and Hero stiffened. Fresh tears formed and flooded down their cheeks. “You mean the world to me, Hero. And I would let the world burn just to see you smile… to warm you up when you’re cold. I’d lock you up in a cage if it meant you’d never leave my side again.”

Villain’s hand tightened on Hero’s chin and tilted their head up to meet Villain’s burning gaze.

“I care about you, Hero. I have always cared. And I won’t just sit back and watch you destroy yourself like this, do you understand?”

Villain leaned down and kissed Hero again. A small, sweet peck of the lips. “I won’t let you go. So you’re coming home with me, whether you like it or not.”

Hero sniffled in the air. Something too big and too much to put into words unwound from Hero’s chest and all tension left their body at Villain’s words. A warmth they hadn’t felt in a while pumped from their heart out and around their body and they relented.

It would be so nice to have someone take care of them for once.

“Okay,” they whispered, because it was too great a thing to admit louder. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Villain said and scooped Hero up in their arms like a baby. Hero blushed.

“That’s not necess—”

“It’s okay, darling. You can admit I made your knees weak. That kiss was…”

Hero hit their chest while they cuddled into Villain’s shoulder, using it as a pillow. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.”

But they didn’t mean it, and Villain and Hero both knew it. “I know. But the world won’t fall apart without you for a long needed break, Hero.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, they were even too tired to feel the guilt at not fighting anymore, of letting themselves be saved.

Maybe Villain was right…

Maybe… this one time… they could let themselves be saved instead of saving someone else. Hold on a little longer so they would be able to save more people in the future.

They couldn’t be selfish and end their life in a blaze of glory… all the lives they could save if they just took a break, rested for a… a little while. Until they were better again.

Hero’s eyes grew heavy as Villain walked. The rhythmic tapping of Villain’s feet against the pavement a lullaby and for the first time in weeks, Hero slept peacefully.