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chaotic-orphan · 5 months

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Intoxicating Fear (VII)

The Great Escape

Part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

Kit tied Ambrose up with duct tape. It wasn’t the best thing to restrain Ambrose with, if he really wanted to secure Ambrose the only thing to do would be to tie up his mind. Or use power dampeners.

And as it happened Kit wasn’t able to do either of those.

So he tied Ambrose’s hands behind his back, and duct taped his mouth but Kit was pretty sure Ambrose could use his powers with eye contact alone so he wrapped a long sleeve t-shirt over Ambrose’s eyes and went to his phone.

If Superhero got here by the time Ambrose woke up, he could sort it. He’d have power dampeners and Kit would finally be free of him. Once and for all.

Kit saw his red eyes flash up at him from his phones black screen, and felt nausea climb up his throat at the sight.

It will go away with time, Kit reassured himself, just like the blue does.

Time was of the essence now; he could worry about his fucking eyes later.

Kit unlocked his phone and went to his contact list again. He glanced at Superhero’s name and clicked it. Sure, enough Ambrose’s phone started ringing, bad moon rising echoing around the house again and Kit hung up.

That’s okay.

Ambrose doesn’t know Superhero’s civilian identity, so he was fine.

Kit scrolled down to Superhero’s real name and clicked the green call button.

Bad Moon Rising.

Kit froze in his home. There’s… there’s no way Ambrose knows— there’s no way he forced Kit to tell him was there?

No. Kit was just being paranoid. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

He knows he wouldn’t. He could never betray Superhero like that…

Kit went down to Other Hero’s name and pressed call and Bad moon rising started playing again.

Fucking FUCK!

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything’s okay. Come on. The Agency’s number is online he could get that, and call and he would be fine.

Kit opened his browser and tapped the search bar. The screen dimmed and a parental control password came up.

A six-digit code.

Kit glared over at the unconscious Ambrose and wanted so badly to kick him in the face. He couldn’t just leave Ambrose here, could he? What if he woke up and got out and used some innocent civilian as his own puppet?

It wasn’t very heroic of him, but Kit honestly didn’t care.

He just wanted to get to Superhero.

Superhero would know what to do. He always knows what to do.

Decision made, Kit grabbed his jacket and keys and left his useless phone and walked out the door.

Or he would have.

If the second he walked out the door he didn’t get an eardrum shattering headache that made white flash behind his eyes and brought him to his knees. Kit cried out, backing up and once he was back in the house the pain stopped and Kit could breathe again.

He let out short, useless pants trying to ground himself and make sense of what just happened, even though he already knew.

Kit got to his feet again, and this time he ran out the door.

It was like a fire alarm going off in his brain, paralysing him. His breath stolen from his lungs and he couldn’t breathe, choking on air like a fish out of water.

Kit scrambled desperately back towards the house, his vision turning black at the corners of his eyes like a vignette as he dragged himself over the threshold of his apartment and collapsed, wheezing. Greedily gasping in gaping breathes and choking on them, his lungs screaming at him for depriving him of oxygen.

Kit started crying.

He sobbed, which didn’t really help the breathing matters, out of pure frustration. Ambrose had let him free. Given him hope that he could somehow win and the whole time, the whole time he knew it didn’t matter if Kit overpowered him, because Ambrose had already ensured that Kit could do nothing even if he was unconscious and incapacitated.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, crying, glaring at Ambrose, but eventually he got hungry, and made his way to the kitchen where Ambrose’s breakfast was waiting for him. Still a bit warm, Kit took some bacon and pudding and sat down with his back to his front door staring at Ambrose because he couldn’t do anything else.

Kit began eating.

*~*~*~*~*

Ambrose stirred within the hour. Groaning and shifting, trying to get comfortable. Then he mumbled something incoherent behind the tape on his mouth. Kit just watched him come to terms with his situation and wondered what kind of sick satisfaction Ambrose got from watching Kit struggle and try to get his bearings.

Ambrose inclined his head, staring directly at Kit even through his makeshift blindfold.

Is all this really necessary? Ambrose asked, voice in Kit’s head.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Kit.

“You’re a fucking bastard, Ambrose. How does it feel to be the one on the back foot?”

I don’t know, Kit. Tell me. How does it feel? Being free. Being so close to escape and yet so far?

Kit clenched his hands into fists and grit his teeth, leaning forward from his place on the ground and wrapping his hands around his knees.

“I guess we’re both stuck like this until you undo whatever you did to me.”

Ambrose relaxed in his stance.

I can sit like this all day.

Kit said nothing.

Or I could always make you untie me, Kit. You don’t want me to force you to free me, do you? Do you really want everyone you love to die by your hands?

“I think you’re threatening me because that’s all you can do. I got something right, didn’t I?” Kit said. “Covered your eyes, do you need your eyes to compel me to do something? Or your voice? Or your hands?”

I think you’ll go mad before you wait me out, Kit. I’m willing to wait, silent and restrained. Want to see how long you can go without speaking to someone? I don’t mind.

Against his better judgement, Kit stood and walked over to Ambrose and yanked the blindfold off. Ambrose stared up at him grinning, dark eyes smug. Kit didn’t waste time going gentle with Ambrose’s gag. He ripped it off and smiled as Ambrose winced, his lips even more red than usual.

“Thank you,” said Ambrose with a smile. “You can untie me now.”

“Untie yourself, you dick.”

“I made you breakfast Kit, come on now. Don’t you want to leave the house?”

Kit’s hands crackled blue sparks up his left arm to his shoulder, glaring down at Ambrose who grinned up at him. “Ooh. Careful, Sparkles. You might hurt yourself there. Your eyes are almost the same colour as your blood.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kit yelled, feeling the currents run through his hair. Red sparks flew from his usual blue angry and pulsing and dangerous, the red wrapping tight around his fist like a force of its own just begging to let Kit use it to hurt Ambrose.

Just to wipe that stupid smirk off Ambrose’s face, it would be worth it…

“Scary. Go on, kill me,” Ambrose said, leaning forward, closer to the sparks than safety would grant. “Go on. You could do it. You could kill me, if you wanted to.”

Kit froze at that. Kit didn’t kill.

He didn’t kill.

He wasn’t a murderer he was a hero.

“I won’t sink to your level,” Kit said, his voice echoing static with the sound of the sparks flying. The electricity ran from his body in an instant, drained and dissipating. Kit stalked to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the knife block before storming back and kicking Ambrose onto his stomach.

“Harder,” Ambrose said with a strained breath.

Kit dropped down to his knee, dropping his other knee onto Ambrose’s spine and smiled at the grunt of pain Ambrose let out. Then he cut the duct tape around his wrists and got off Ambrose, keeping the knife in his hand as he went and leaned against the door.

“Now get this fucking thing out of my head.”

Ambrose got his hands under him and got to his feet. “I never ate breakfast,” Ambrose said instead, taking the last of the duct tape off his wrists and heading to the kitchen. Casual as if being tied up is an everyday occurrence. “Do you want an egg?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Ambrose shrugged, grabbing the oil and pouring it into the frying pan. “That’s not an answer, but I’ll make two anyways.”

“Get this thing out of my head!”

Ambrose turned slowly. Dark black eyes settling heavy on Kit, cold and threatening.

“In the course of my nap, have you forgotten what I can do to you?” Ambrose asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. A piercing screech rang out in Kit’s mind, and he screamed, hands flying to cup his ears and stop the unmerciful ringing, pounding tight in his brain as if every blood vessel was being stretched and contorted and pulled and twisted, trying to get away from the sound.

The screech got louder the closer Ambrose got to Kit, and louder and louder until it was unbearable— white flashed behind his eyes and Kit was on his knees, screaming for relief, bent double and crying at the floor. It didn’t stop when Ambrose’s boots came within Kit’s sight line. A cold, lithe hand reached down and grabbed Kit’s chin tilting it up. The moment Ambrose’s cold hand made contact; the screeching stopped.

Kit was panting, brain and eyes still fuzzy from the aftereffects of the mental assault. Ambrose tilted Kit’s head all the way back, until he was sitting upright on his knees. Panting and shaking, exhausted. Brain caught between a frenzy of anxiety and a tired induced sloth, like trying to wade through a swamp.

“I could keep you on your knees like this forever, Kit. Like a pretty little statue, something to stare at, something that doesn’t speak or think. Just a dazed little angel, would you like that?”

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat and sniffed, his nose running from crying and screaming. In answer he reached a hand up, pulling at Ambrose’s hold but Ambrose grabbed his wrist before it made contact and bent it back on itself.

Kit hissed out a breath through his teeth, glaring through pained eyes at Ambrose who just smiled down at him.

“Let go of me!” Kit grumbled pulling his head back. Ambrose twisted his wrist more in reply and Kit cried out, trying to yank his hand free, jerking back. Ambrose’s grip didn’t relent, in fact, he tightened his grip on Kit’s face, pinching his cheeks together with one hand.

“Kit,” Ambrose sighed, stepping forward, forcing Kit’s body to bend back uncomfortably. Kit’s head moved with Ambrose’s hand and Ambrose put more force on bending Kit’s wrist back. “If I let go you have to promise to be good.”

Kit pinched his lips together, but Ambrose didn’t let him. He squeezed Kit’s cheeks until his mouth formed a crude ‘o’ shape.

“Uhck-you agh!” Kit cried as Ambrose twisted his wrist further, tightening his grip until it turned bruising. Kit struggled and tried to back up, but his head hit the wall and he was trapped between Ambrose’s body and the wall.

“Oh-kay,” Kit managed, furious, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

Ambrose smiled, said, “good,” and true to his word Ambrose released him.

Kit’s head bobbed forward immediately, wrapping a hand around his wrist and rubbing it soothingly. Ambrose just went back to the kitchen, whistling, not even entertaining Kit’s glare following him. Kit got to his feet, the world tilting slightly as he stood but he ignored it going to the bathroom and slamming the door.

Angry red eyes found Kit’s in the bathroom mirror. Kit’s hand went out quick, too quick to think and the next thing he knew his fist had shattered the reflective glass. Broken shards fell onto the sink and the tile with a glimmering tinkle, so Kit punched the mirror again, and again.

He would have done it again, if he could, if it wasn’t for the cold rinse of Ambrose’s power flooding through his arm stopping his fist from punching the mirror until he broke his hand. Instead, Kit turned and opened the bathroom door against his will, stepping out into the living room to see Ambrose setting up Kit’s first aid on the table.

Kit’s feet dragged him to the table and forced him to sit and hold out his hand for Ambrose to inspect.

“I hate you,” Kit declared, a furious childish part of him wanted Ambrose to know that.

“I know Kit,” said Ambrose, taking his wrist delicately, the same wrist he had tried to fold in on itself not two minutes ago. “Seven years bad luck to break a mirror.”

“Fuck you,” Kit replied emotion colouring his voice. Ambrose’s touch was tender on his hand as he inspected it for damage. Shards of glass were sticking out of his hand that was steadily streaming blood onto the table.

“I’m going to have to take the glass out to bandage your hand,” said Ambrose, dark eyes dragging up to Kit’s face. Ambrose’s expression twisted into one of pity, as if he could actually feel human emotion and it somehow made Kit feel worse. Kit’s heart hammered against his throat as Ambrose reached over and wiped fresh tears from Kit’s cheeks. “It’s okay, Kit. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

Kit didn’t even realise he was crying until then. Frustrated, helpless tears were streaming sad and steady down his cheeks. “Please just let me go,” Kit whispered, half leaning it Ambrose’s hand. He couldn’t do this anymore. Ambrose sighed, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Kit’s cheeks.

“If you want, I can make you go to sleep while I do this?”

Kit sniffed, blubbering like an idiot. He didn’t want to be forced to sleep again, he hated that groggy feeling of waking up after it, completely unaware and vulnerable.

“No,” said Kit eventually. “No, I’ll stay awake.”

“Okay,” Ambrose cooed, drawing his hands back and going to the first aid kit to pull out tweezers and the disinfectant. “I’ll make sure you don’t feel a thing.”

True to his word, Kit didn’t feel anything as Ambrose worked. Not the disinfectant that would have stung. Not the glass being plucked out of his hand and onto the table. Not the bandage as it was tightened around his hand.

Ambrose moved with graceful fluidity, like this wasn’t his first time. Kit just watched him work in silence. If he imagined hard enough, he could be Superhero or Medic stitching him up after a fight with another villain. A friend looking after him telling Kit that he’s an idiot, and why did he punch a mirror. The thought made Kit’s heartache more than his hand would have.

“Okay,” said Ambrose with a smile, a genuine small happy smile. “You’re all done. How’s that feel?”

On Ambrose’s question, feeling flooded Kit’s body and he clenched his hand and opened it again. It was tight enough to hold and loose enough to have full range of motion.

“It feels good, thank you Ambrose.”

The words escaped Kit’s mouth before he registered what he said. Wide eyes went to Ambrose’s dark ones, but it wasn’t the smug pride he saw there. Ambrose smiled sympathetically at Kit and nodded.

“You’re welcome, Kit. How about you go get some sleep? I’ll clean all this up and we can go back to hating each other after.”

Kit nodded numbly. He was exhausted and deflated at his almost escape, he should have known Ambrose would have thought of everything Kit would do. The only way to defeat Ambrose properly would be to kill him and Kit knows he would never do that.

He couldn’t take someone’s life.

So, he stood and walked to his bedroom, shutting the door and collapsing onto his bed. Kit curled up under the covers and cried until he fell asleep.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) — @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @mj-or-say10

*~*~*~*~*

Hello, it’s orphan this is a sneaky PS that I am in the process of moving my work here to a new, primary account @patchworkorphan because I stupidly made this blog a secondary one

I am uploading my backlog of posts to that new blog, updated and edited shocking!

Okay thank you for reading, have a good day, watch the late late toy show! It’s officially Christmas!! okay bye!

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whumpshaped · 4 months

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im gonna try to explain this in the least unhinged way.

villain is a big scary powerful person. there is a whole team of heroes and they just can't defeat this one guy. but then a bigger, more powerful villain comes along, and the original villain offers a truce. they'll join the hero team and work with them to get rid of this threat.

seeing villain's powers from upclose is even more terrifying, but very useful. villain, on their own, can effortlessly demolish the enemies the hero team struggled to defeat before. it's quite... efficient, to have villain on the team. it's kind of great.

..too great.

the leader of the hero team is starting to notice that the rest of the team are getting a bit too attached. theyre flocking to villain all the time, asking for help and stuff. too quick to let their guard down around someone who's still acting like kind of an asshole and was setting buildings on fire just a month ago. the rookies the leader was trying to train are now hanging around villain, asking for tricks and tips and watching in awe whenever villain shows them something. in meetings when leader is trying to explain the plan, whenever villain has another idea, the entire team supports them more. even if villain doesnt have an idea and is just sitting there quietly, the team asks for their opinion anyway.

leader is fuming.

eventually, they defeat the bigger threat. its time for them to part ways again, and leader is eager to kick villain out of their base — but the team doesnt want to let go.

when villain gives a mocking grin and says "well, only one way to resolve this! come with me, then." several people step forward

#is this anything #am i making sense #whump #whump prompt #hero villain whump

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patchworkorphan · 5 months

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The Hero and the Infant: Part Two

Read part one here

*~*~*~*~*

“Villain.”

The hero didn’t shout it. They didn’t need to. Villain would hear them fine even over all the destruction and screaming and emergency services. Hero just stared from the street up at Villain and Villain looked down at Hero. Hero lifted their hand in a wave and then pulled the cigarette from their lips, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“Hero –” sidekick began but Hero shook their head.

“It’s okay kid. I got it from here,” Hero said still staring at Villain. “So, you gonna invite me up or do I have to climb twelve flights of stairs?”

Villain just stared. Sidekick moved forward, suddenly hesitant in bringing Hero here. Just as they opened their mouth to say it to Hero, Sidekick was wrenched into the sky by an invisible hand and suddenly Hero and the street were below them.

“Fucking shit,” Hero cursed, flicking their cigarette to the ground as they started running to the apartment building to the left of Villain and taking the stairs two at a time.

Villain stared at Sidekick with a probing, scientific kind of curiosity, like they were able to look under Sidekick's skin and unravel all their secrets with enough determination.

“You’re new,” Villain purred. Their voice like liquid silver dancing its way through the sky to Sidekick’s ears sending a shiver down their spine.

“Yeah. I’m Superhero’s sidekick.”

Villain tilted their head to the side and asked, voice deadpan, “do you know the mortality rate of Superhero’s previous sidekicks?”

Sidekick stared Villain in the eye as they said, “I do.”

“And you took the job anyways?”

“I did.”

“Hmm. Not very chatty. You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“Forgive me, I don't usually chitchat while floating this high in the air."

"Hmm," Villain rumbled, "how about falling?"

For a single terrifying moment, Sidekick felt gravity's effects on them, yanking them back to earth and they gasped, reaching forward and grabbing Villain's leg like their life depended it.

"NO! Nononononononononono, wait! FUCK!" Sidekick cried as their grip on Villain faltered and they slipped. They fell an inch further in the air before they were suspended again, this time with their back to the ground below, staring up at Villain with wide frightened eyes. The only thing keeping them from the hard tarmac below thirteen stories below and being alive.

Villain turned over in the air, rolling onto their stomach and lying like a schoolgirl on their stomach with two hands supporting their head as they grinned down at Sidekick, drinking in their fear.

"You sound just like my favourite hero, Sidekick. I knew letting you fall would loosen your tongue a bit."

Villain was fucking insane, Sidekick realised, their heart still pounding like a rabbits at seeing a hungry dog catch their eye.

"Hero, I’m guessing?" Sidekick said eventually, though their voice still came out higher than it should have.

Villain smiled a fond smile that went to their eyes and lit up their entire face. “Yes. My dear cantankerous hero, so foul-mouthed."

“I met them today," Sidekick said, just trying to keep Villain talking and keep themselves suspended until Hero was able to talk Villain into hopefully letting Sidekick go. Where the fuck were they?

Villain's interest was piqued and they dove slightly towards Sidekick, grabbing Sidekick by the collar of their shirt and sitting on their waist, legs dangling over either side. Somehow, Villain made sure that even flying in the air, Sidekick could still feel the restrictive weight of Villain on top of them.

"And what did you think of them?" Villain asked.

What did Sidekick think of Hero?

"They were... difficult," was the first word that came to mind. Villain grinned and nodded sagely, agreeing with Sidekick as if it was a sacred moment.

“Nothing easy is worth having, Sidekick. Some parting advice.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Oh yes,” said Villain with a disarming smile. “Quite literally.”

Sidekick didn’t have time to process Villain’s words before Villain shoved Sidekick down below them and wind rushed through their clothes, through their hair, through them as they fell like a comet to earth. This was how they died.

Then their momentum stopped suddenly, and they were swinging into a brick wall, their arm yanked out of its socket and Sidekick cried out in pain. Craning their neck up, they tried glancing up to see Hero above them, leaning half out a broken window, two feet planted on the sill and pulled Sidekick up despite their cries and cursing.

“God, I know. I’m sorry Sidekick. You shouldn’t have been here, god where the fuck is Superhero in all this!” Hero pulled Sidekick in the window and into their chest before stepping back and setting Sidekick down on the window sill.

“Fucking what the fuck?!” Sidekick mewled cradling their arm to their chest.

“I'm sorry, Villain doesn’t usually act like this,” Hero told them.

Sidekick blinked, pain lancing through their shoulder and down into their chest. “What?”

“They don’t usually act this way. First impressions are everything, but I swear there’s good in them.”

Sidekick blinked at Hero, shaking their head. “You’re defending them?!”

“Well, it’s my fault you see. This whole temper tantrum. I haven’t been returning their texts.”

“You haven’t—” Sidekick asked, then blinked and let out an exasperated “what?!”

“Your shoulder—” Hero said. “It’s dislocated.”

“No fucking shit!" Sidekick mewled. "You yanked it out of its socket!”

“Would you rather be a splat on the concrete? Cause I can still push you out the damn window, kid.”

Sidekick walked to the stairwell, fury and pain mixing in their heavy breaths as they braced themselves against the wall. Hero stepped forward a warning on their lips: “kid, I wouldn’t do th—”

It was too late. Sidekick had already thrown themselves against the wall. A resounding pop echoed throughout the stairs, followed by a sharp shriek of pain from Sidekick as they slid down the wall, breathing harshly through gritted teeth.

Hero opened their mouth, but Sidekick just held up a finger from their good arm and wagged it in Hero’s stupid face: “don’t. Say. A thing.”

Sidekick braced themselves against the wall, sliding up it with a groan of pain and rolled their shoulder. Forwards. Backwards. Then they set their furious eyes on Hero and without a word turned and started ascending the stairwell to the roof.

Hero laughed, stunned at the kid’s resilience, and followed them up the stairs. “Do you want some—”

“Just shut the hell up,” Sidekick said, kicking the door to the roof open and looking down pointedly at Hero who was midway through taking a bag of sweets from their pocket. “And go out and do your job.”

“Yes boss,” Hero said with a smile, putting a fizzy lace through their teeth. They emerged onto the roof, arms spread wide and yelled: “Hey! What the fuck are ya doing?” to Villain who was no doubt still floating in the sky, and Sidekick sat down heavy on the steps and took a few deep breaths.

They nearly just died.

Villain almost just killed them.

They would have killed them if not for Hero, and all they wanted to do was cry, but they were too angry.

“Just go out and do your job,” Sidekick chastised themselves, standing and wiping the remnants of tear trails from their cheeks before joining Hero on the roof.

Crying could come later if they lived that long.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued Here

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ownlittleuniverse · 8 days

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scenario #2 - the hero’s in deep trouble

warning: wounds, implied violence

“What happened?”

”Nothing… and why would you care?” the hero snapped, having no patience for the villain's sudden kindness.

First, they broke their body yesterday during their fight, making the hero look weak in front of their team. Then they break into their apartment through the window, and to wrap it all up in a nice little bow, they had the audacity to ask if the hero was okay. Like they cared about them.

The villain slowly walked over to the hero leaning on their bedroom door. They softly brushed their hands over the hero’s wounds, making the hero wince. The hero hated the way their heart was beating in the villain’s presence.

The villain sighed, slowly lifting the hero’s arm, taking a disinfectant cloth from the first aid kit and quickly dabbing it over the angry bloody skin.

The hero sucked in a breath, and it scared them. Not the pain, no. The villain being so abnormally kind.

The worst part, it felt… good.

The hero sunk into the wood door, their eyes watching the villain’s handiwork closely. The villain's soft fingers stroked their arm as they tended the hero, leaving goosebumps all over, making their breath hitch.

The hero wasn’t sure if the villain was doing it to distract from the pain, or maybe they didn’t even realize they were unconsciously comforting them.

”Let me take care of you,�� the villain murmured, still cleaning the wounds and looking them dead in the eyes.

The hero wanted them to. Let the same person who gave them these wounds clean them until the hero sank into their comfort.

They were in deep trouble.

The hero’s breath hitched, their body tensing when the villain's hand swiftly grabbed the hero’s chin. The only thing that didn’t completely scare the hero was that their grip was firm but still gentle.

”Then afterwards—”

The hero’s mouth fell slightly open as the villain came closer and closer to their face, their fingers rubbing back and forth.

Their eyes had that glint in them that killed. All the amusement, all the calmness from before had drained from their face. There was only anger left. The hero gulped.

”—You can enlighten me about the handprint on your face that I didn’t leave.”

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whumpsoda · 7 months

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Fixed part 2

Fixed Part 1 Fixed Part 3 A lot of people liked the first one so I really wanted to continue it a bit!!!

———————————————————————

Villain was at his house.

Villain, his sworn enemy, was in Hero’s house.

What was worse, was the fact that he appeared ecstatic to be there. Villain was in a kneeling position, the same he had been in at Superhero’s home, a wide smile plastered across his face. He peered eagerly at Hero.

Villain had only gotten on two feet once Hero had rushed out of Superhero’s home, desperate to escape, and It had been evident from the look of awe on Villains face that he wasn’t let outside much, if at all. His sickly pale skin was a telltale sign of that fact.

The entire car ride was silent, Hero fixated on his thoughts, and Villain with his cheek pressed to the window.

Hero now leaned against the cluttered countertop, trying to gather his thoughts. Villain sat right at his feet, eyes piercing into him, which did not help.

“Sir?” Hero stiffened.

“Yeah, man?” Hero kept his eyes fixed on the wall.

“What are, um, what work do you require of me?”

In confusion, Hero shifted his gaze to the other man. “Work?” He questioned.

“Yes, sir,” Villain maintained a genuine smile. “Work. That’s what I’m trained for, helping you! Superhero sir helped me so much, so I can help you now.”

“Oh, uh, no Villain, I’m not like Superhero, I promise.” Hero crouched down, placing a gentle hand to Villain’s shoulder. “You’re okay now. You’re not with him anymore, he can’t hurt you, ‘kay? You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

Unlike Hero expected, Villain did not relax, nor did he begin acting like Villain. Instead, his brows furrowed, and his face fell to a state of confusion and worry. “I- sir, I’m not pretending, I promise! I really, really wanna serve you, please!” Villain was practically begging, his strained smile sending shivers down Hero’s spine.

Hero sighed, slipping his hands over his face. He stood up again, leaning his back against the counter. “Look, I know… you’ve gone through something, shitty, but it’s all fine now! I’m letting you go, Villain. So you can be evil and stuff again, okay?” His eyes met with Villains, and the look of terror on Villain’s face did nothing to ease his nerves.

“Y’know, I think I’m just gonna call Assistant, your friend, y’know? Maybe she can help you-”

“No! No, sir, no!” Villain was yelling, his weak hands frantically clinging to Hero’s ankles. He pressed his forehead to the cold tile floor. “Please, I’m a good boy, I promise! I’m not evil anymore, an’ I’m not bad! I promise sir, I wanna be a good boy for you, please!”

Hero stared down, mouth agape and wideyed.

“Please don’t send me back, with- with the villains. I’m not evil anymore, Superhero helped me! I’m made to serve you now, sir, I can’t go back. This is my purpose.”

Hero stared back, slack jawed, as Villain gazed up with pleading eyes. For a moment, neither made a sound.

“Villain, let's get you to bed.” Hero pushed his weight back onto his feet, standing up straight. Hero leaned down slightly, stretching out an open hand to his nemesis.

“But- sir- what about work?”

“No work, Villain. It’s ten at night, and you look exhausted. I need you to sleep.”

“So I can work super hard tomorrow?” The words made Hero stiffen.

“Yeah, dude, whatever. Just… go to bed now, ‘kay?” Villain timidly curled his fingers over hero's, pulling himself onto shaky legs.

The two carefully made their way to Hero’s bedroom, which was not exactly what one would call clean. Clothes, papers, and unrecognizable items littered the floor, making it increasingly hard for the two to navigate the room without stepping on anything. When they made their way to the at least nice looking bed, Hero gestured to it.

“You… want me to sleep in a bed? In you’re bed?” Villain hung his head low, greasy strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I need to order a bed for you tonight.” Hero chuckled slightly.

“I, um, I sleep on the floor sir.”

“Villain. Bed, now please.” Upon the command, Villain carefully stepped to the bed, next to Hero, and fixed his eyes on the pristine sheets. He knew it would be so wrong. He should be cleaning, not sleeping, let alone in Hero’s bed.

Hero pressed a tender hand to Villain’s back, steadily shifting him onto the mattress. Villain sat down rigidly, his hands folded tightly in his lap.

“C’mon, lie down.” Hero coaxed. Begrudgingly, Villain placed his back against the blankets under him. Hero leaned to the floor, grabbing a large, fluffy blanket and placing it over Villain’s body. It enveloped his small frame, making it so he was almost completely unnoticeable underneath.

The warmth and comfortability of the blanket felt foreign to him. Drowsiness began to seep into his brain, taking a hold on him. As much as he needed to fight it, part of him didn’t want to. Hero was rubbing his shoulder, sweet, circular motions. “Just sleep now. I have to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Goodnight Villain.”

Hero received only a tired hum of recognition in response. As he walked out of the dark room, he watched as Villain snuggled deeper into the soft bed.

…

Hero held his fist to the door, hesitantly knocking his knuckles against it. He had no idea if anyone would answer. He wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t. They definitely didn’t know that he knew where they lived, and they definitely would not take kindly to that fact.

Especially since he not only knew where they lived, but he showed up to their place of residence. In the middle of the night. Unannounced.

Yet, moments later, the door opened, but only a sliver. “What are you doing here?” Hero felt his throat run momentarily dry.

“I-I need your help.”

“And why the hell would that be? I’m not coming out so you and your Hero friends can capture me, just like Villain.” A strike of guilt struck through the hero's body.

“I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Then there's no reason for you to be here, and I’m sure there's no possible reason you could ever need my help. So leave.” Hero watched as they went to shut the door.

“It’s about Villain!” The door opened a smidge more, allowing a faint outline of the figure to become visible.

“What?” Hero swallowed.

“I need your help. For Villain.”

#whumpblr #whump #brainwashing #hero x villain #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #conditioning whump #hero villain whump #my writing #writing drabble

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greatgigintheskiess · 10 months

Text

Here's a little Hero/Villain whump prompt :P

Cw: Minor whumpee, Child whumpee, bruises, kidnapping, restraints

Everything was bathed in pitch black when Whumpee had opened their eyes. They sat on a cold ground, back against the wall and felt the bounds wrapped tightly around their thin wrists. With the smell of a basement rising into their nose, they wept quietly what only came out as a muffled whine as their mouth was covered by some thick tape. Whumpee tried to struggle helplessly and panic stricken had looked around, trying to recognize where they were right now.

They didn't remember much. Only that they had been knocked over by something, losing their consciousness right after. They had been on a mission with Hero and that was also the last thing they remembered. And Whumpee didn't know how long they had been here.

The noise of a heavy metal door opening with a loud creak and some steps coming closer suddenly echoed in the room, scaring the poor child only more.

A light from the hallway shining through the door blended Whumpee as their eyes had completely adjusted to the darkness and further muffled sounds mixed with sheer fear of the one that approached them. The dark silhouette kneeled down in front of Whumpee, ripping off the tape from their mouth to which they reacted in a whimper. A pair of eyes stared directly into the child's terrified face, studying them with a stoic glance. And only then Whumpee recognized them. It was Villain.

Another almost inaudible whine escaped the child's throat, when Villain grabbed their wrists. They knew what Villain was capable of. Hero had told them countless times how they had slaughtered so many innocent lives just for fun. They were ruthless, sadistic, pure evil.

During their training sessions, Whumpee remembered, Hero used to tell them these stories while they had beaten up the little defenseless child. Hero always said it was for their own good and only this way they could learn what it meant to be a true hero. No pain, no gain was their favorite saying that seemed to have burned into Whumpee's mind since.

And now they were in Villain's clenches and scared to the core. Whumpee already imagined how they would torture them while laughing viciously, only to kill them afterwards anyway. But then they felt the bounds on their wrists loosend, being cut through by Villain's knife.

As if that wasn't confusing enough, now followed something Whumpee had never expected to hear from their mouth.

"Have you eaten today, kid?"

After some hesitation Whumpee instinctly shook their head and Villain handed them some food afterwards. They stared a while at it, then again back at Villain who raised an eyebrow, indicating them to eat. Whumpee didn't take long and accepted the food silently, eating all up.

Villain watched them patiently without any other word. They winced though when Villain's fingers tucked under their chin, forcing the child to look at them. But instead of hurting them like Whumpee expected, they turned their face a bit to the side, revealing some dark bruises on the child's neck and shoulders.

"Did they do this to you?" Villain asked sternly but not mean or in any spiteful tone. Their voice sounded almost concerned. "Hero?"

Whumpee tried to avoid their look but failed as the fingers still held up their chin, making it impossible for them to turn away. But Villain knew the answer all along. They knew how Hero had treated Whumpee. And they knew exactly what Hero told the child about them. So their reaction was only justified.

The child nodded slightly and the hand finally let go off Whumpee's chin. And the next thing they felt confused them even more. Villain laid a soft blanket over their delicate shoulders, their hand resting gently on their back.

"Relax, kid, I ain't gonna hurt you." Villain added when Whumpee reacted with another flinch.

"Y-you don't?" Their voice quivered as their little body still shivered in a mix of cold and fear.

Villain didn't answer but helped the child getting up, giving them a bit of support on their shaky legs.

"But I don't understand... Hero used to tell me you're evil." Whumpee chirped confused, leaving Villain in right with their only assumption about them.

"Didn't you ever think that maybe they were the bad guy all the time?" Villain retorted. "And put all the blame on me?"

Whumpee didn't know what to say anymore.

Yes, it's true that Hero had always blamed Villain for their misery, making them the scapegoat. And Whumpee also had to learn that Villain is no one to trust, that they want to kill them whenever they crossed their ways.

But why did Villain act so caring now? Was this all just a trick? Hero wouldn't have lied to them, or would they?

Standing on wobbly legs Whumpee soon felt their strength giving in. They were so confused and too tired to think about this more. They just wanted to sleep. And as if Villain would've read their thoughts, they eventually lead the child to the door with their hand still resting on their back.

"C'mon, kiddo. You must be very exhausted. You can take my bed for tonight."

#whump #whump community #whump prompt #bad hero #hero whumper #villain caretaker #good villain #child whumpee #sidekick whumpee #hero villain prompt #hero villain whump #whump writing

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shywhumpauthor · 4 months

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I am obsessed with the villain rehab writing and the whumper turned whumpee writing you did! Would you ever write a continuation to either of them?

Haha let’s pretend this wasn’t from February I’m so sorry

I always liked this piece, I never really had any motivation to continue it. I got an ask from an anon earlier this month for a continuation of this but from a different angle. That was my intention when writing this, but it was getting to be too long so the ideas in that ask will be included in the next part

To the anon who sent the ask earlier this month, it’s coming! I pinky promise. I loved the idea so much actually. Hero better hurry up

Villain Rehab Part Two

Continued directly from Part One

Cw: institutionalized abuse/torture, vague medical malpractice, manhandling, restraints, torture disguised as “treatment”, blood, sensory deprivation, starvation, blunt force trauma, implied broken bones, captivity setting, light suffocation/choking, vague themes of abandonment, mentions of accidental self harm/burning (villain has fire powers)

The guards were on them a moment later, barking orders, pushing and shoving them. A cold numbness that budded in their chest was quickly spreading, swallowing the voices and sensations around them. Vaguely, they registered a guard unhook the chain connecting their cuffs to the table, another grabbing them under an arm and hauling them up to stand. Villain’s feet moved along with them, steps hesitant but unresistant as they were led from the room.

The bag of food Hero had brought remained on the table, untouched. The thought of eating left a bitter taste in Villain’s mouth.

When they got to the corridor Villain knew their room resided in, a small spark of relief flickered through the fog that clouded their body. A sudden, intense longing to bury themself under the thin blanket on their bed seized their chest. Instead of pausing by the door, the guards that flanked them continued walking, leaving Villain to look back over their shoulder, faltering slightly. One of the guards’ hands found their hair, twisting their head around to face forwards.

“Don’t resist,” the guard ordered gruffly as Villain stumbled, not giving them a second to center their balance as the pair continued to pull them forwards.

They didn’t move that much further before stopping outside a different door. It looked similar to that of the block Villain was assigned to, but instead of a big “E” painted on it to indicate the hall, the blocky letter “F” glared back at them.

Over the months, they had learned the system, or at least their own interpretation. The “A” block was the most lenient, with the smiling patients and the group activities and the walks through the courtyard. The ones that weren’t a danger, that could be trusted. The “B” block required a bit more supervision, but they were often allowed to interact with the residents of the A block, most of the same privileges as far as Villain was aware. They had never been in either, so they weren’t really sure of the differences, if there were any. The C block was isolated from A and B, contained within their own wing. Villain hadn’t spent any time there either, but they knew that from C and up, the sectors did not interact.

Villain had started in “D”, so they knew a bit more about that. They hadn’t spent long there. Most of the patients were kept separated from each other, each had their own room and such. Villain remembered the beds—actual beds, not cots. They were far from perfect, but looking back they were a luxury. That described every aspect of D, honestly. The food was crap but at least it was food. Chicken, vegetables, rice, standard meals with little flavor or seasoning. It had reminded them of cafeteria food, but in comparison to the tasteless crap they gave in E, it was the most delicious thing they’d ever tasted.

D had had actual staff members, not just guards. Attendants and nurses would deliver their meals, stay and talk to them for a short while if they wanted. Villain had never earned the privilege, but they knew that things like books and puzzles were obtainable in D with “stellar behavior”, as they’d been told.

Restraints in D had been rare and based off true necessity, never left on for long. They remembered the padded leather feeling against their wrists and ankles, the terror that had bubbled in their chest when they were first secured to their bed following an “outburst”. A staff member had checked on them every so often, shadowed by a guard. It couldn’t have been more than six hours before they were released, once they had been determined to be stable and no longer a threat. They couldn’t believe how they had felt the first time, how pathetic it was. How pathetic they had been. They’d long since gotten used to the restrictions of the cuffs.

They couldn’t have spent more than a week in D before they were moved due to what the doctors would refer to as the incident. It had been an accident, they really didn’t mean to. No, if Villain had meant to, things would’ve turned out much worse. They hadn’t even been awake, it was a nightmare. They had jolted awake in a panic to burning blankets, blisters swelling along their palms. They were moved to block E before breakfast.

The difference between D and E was drastic and certainly for the worse. They had spent the rest of their stay in E, until now. The unspoken threat of the next corridor had kept them in line, and though there were small incidents along the way, but nothing big enough to warrant a level change. Those slip ups were dealt with, consequences such as loss of meals or increased therapy sessions following.

They couldn’t think of why they were being moved up. They were far from perfect, but hadn’t it been clear that they were trying? No, obviously not.

You’re not willing to put in the effort, that’s what Hero had said. Villain’s stomach flipped.

There were two scanners on either side of the door. Both of the guards had to scan their keycards and enter a code for it to hiss and slide open. They escorted Villain in, and the door closed behind them.

It was noticeably colder. The compound couldn’t be considered warm, at least not the parts Villain had ever been in, but this was freezing freezing. The hallway was shorter than the others, doors stationed evenly on either side. There were numbers above each door, stretching from 1 to 12. The hall was narrow, so much so that it was tight for the three of them standing shoulder to shoulder, each guard only inches from the wall. It was darker, though the lights seemed brighter. Cold, LED whites that burned Villain’s eyes to look at. At the other end of the hall, there was another door, slightly different from the rest. Instead of a number, above it simply read “Control”. Villain wasn’t sure what that meant, or if they wanted to find out.

The guards pulled them down the hallway, stopping outside of a door with the number 9 above it. There was a bolt lock at the top and the bottom, both already undone. Above the handle, there was another thicker deadbolt lock, and another scanner like the one outside of the hall’s entrance. The guard to their left reached for the identification tag at his chest, pulling it against the retractor to reach the sensor. A quick buzz and a small green flash of light granted him access, and he tugged open the deadbolt above the handle, pulling the door open, sidestepping so it didn’t hit him.

The room was bare and small, a low ceiling that Villain could probably touch if they stood straight and raised their arms. The walls and floor were all made from smooth concrete, as was the ceiling. It was dark, but with the light seeping from the hall they could see the outline of a flat light on the ceiling, and a vent near the light. It was empty, completely empty except for the black eye of a camera above the door, a red light indicating its functioning status, a small circular drain in the center of the floor, and a metal hook built into the wall opposite the door, close to the floor. Connected to that hook was a short chain, couldn’t be more than a three feet long, with a thick metal loop opened at a clasp.

Villain’s stomach dropped as one of the guards pushed them forwards, rough hands on their shoulders shoving them down to the floor. A dull flare of pain jolted up their arms as they caught themself with their forearms, the cuffs around their wrists clinking against the floor.

“Wa- wait,” Villain croaked, their voice scraping against their throat and they tried to twist around, but a boot planted firmly in their back, forcing them down. A strangled grunt escaped their chapped lips as that boot soon turned into a knee, digging into their spine as the guard knelt down. Their chest heaved as they tried to draw in air against the pressure pinning them to the floor, which the guard must have mistaken as an attempt of protest. It didn’t take him a moment to react, a hand twisting in Villain’s hair and quickly slamming their face into the concrete.

“Stop resisting,” the guard growled.

Villain grunted, a flash of light exploding in front of their eyes as their head made hard contact with the ground. They swore they heard a crunch, the taste of iron quickly flooding their mouth and clogging their nostrils. The guard reached forwards, the pressure on Villain’s back increasing as he put more weight against them in order to reach the chain. The metal links scraped against the floor as he pulled the looped end closer, fooling with it for a moment.

Hot tears welled in Villain’s eyes, the initial shock of the impact quickly shrinking to the pain radiating back through their skull. Something seared against their hands, burning but they barely registered it. Something cold pressed against their throat, digging in for a moment before it latched with a click, catching a few strands of their hair in the clasp.

The pressure on their back released and Villain twisted to their side, blood dripping down their throat. They stumbled up, but a pressure around their throat tugged them back down, the links of the chain clinking with their movement. They coughed, spitting blood as their chained hands rose to their face. Their palms were burning, heat twisting down their forearms but that was a pain they were used to. Their lungs were starting to ache, but each attempt to draw in air only brought more blood flooding into their mouth. They looked up, vision blurred with the tears that freely dripped down their cheeks, mingling with the blood on their chin. All they saw was a flash of the two guards, both looking down on them with disgusted expressions before the door shut heavily, and all they heard was the mechanical click of the lock, followed by three heavier thumps of the deadbolts being pushed into place.

The room was dark, completely dark. Not even a sliver of light filtered beneath the door. The only thing they could see was the small bead of dull red light, letting them know that they were being watched. It was silent, not even the hiss of the vents could be heard, only their own heaving breaths and strangled sobs.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero x villain #captivity whump #whump drabble #kidnapped whumpee #hero villain whump #medical whump

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hadesstan · 10 months

Text

June of Doom Day 23

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

| Poison | Rash | Double Cross |

Cw: The tags above.

...

Villain had flown in and scooped Hero up so fast that Sidekick didn't have a chance to stop them.

They'd been perched on a roof nearby as they watched Sidekick stab Hero in the back, literally.

That wasn't on Villain's to do list. They had plans. Big plans. And none of those plans involved Hero getting killed by Sidekick.

So here they were, carrying a half-unconscious Hero through the skies as they flew to their base.

They landed and strode in, not even offering a word of explanation to their henchman as they dumped Hero unceremoniously on the kitchen table and began gathering supplies.

Hero didn't move from where they were put, too injured to even try.

Villain was halfway through stitching up the wound when they noticed the rash.

The skin around the slit was red and swollen, but that was normal for a stab wound, but it was beginning to spread. The slightly patterned rash had spread up to Hero's shoulder, and that definitley wasn't normal.

"Henchman!" Villain called, and their loyal servant came. Villain tossed them the knife. "That poison?"

Henchman inspected the blade, sniffed it, then nodded, and Villain cursed.

"Get me an antidote, now."

Henchman only nodded and scurried off as Hero began to stir.

Villain shook them.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" they asked, waving two fingers in front of Hero.

Hero's brows scrunched together. "F-four?" They managed and Villain cursed again, grabbing the bag of supplies in preparation for a long night.

#whump #whump drabble #whump writing #june of doom #whumpee #whumper #hero villain whump #villain caretaker #hero whumpee #hero x villain

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whump-a-la-mode · 1 year

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"You're our prisoner, now. You've also just been through hell. So, you're going to get fixed up, whether you like it or not."

#whump community #whump #whumpblr #whumpee #hero villain whump #whumper #hero villain prompt #caretaker #whump writing #whump prompt

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writingpromptsworld · 2 months

Text

Prompt #61

If the hero was angry previously, they were furious now. They had gotten to the place where the villain had planned to fight them, on a rooftop of some burned looking building. It wasn’t what the villain went for usually, because in their opinion, it was more “fun” to damage the skyscrapers. But that’s not the reason the hero is mad. They are mad because the villain still hasn’t arrived. It has been two hours, almost three in less than 15 minutes. Honestly, where were they?!

They gazed at the empty sky that was darkening by the passing seconds. They were about to get off the floor, and leave, when they heard footsteps behind them. They stopped, their expression hardening as they frowned determinedly. They were going to make sure the villain knew that they didn’t have all day for them. They turned around, and their frowned fell just as quickly as it appeared as they saw the villain.

The villain was in no condition to fight, in fact, they looked like they might pass out the next minute. The hero’s eyes faltered and they quickly went to the villain’s side. The villain grimaced, their right hand clutching their left arm. They were breathing heavily, and the hero swore they could hear their heartbeat. Their eyebrows knitted in concern and confusion. “What happened?” They asked, willing the villain to sit down slowly. The villain winced at the uncomfortable movement, and sat down.

The villain could barely make out the words, as they whispered it: "Your fellow hero friends took the liberty of hunting me down, and beating me to death." They mumbled, the left side of their lip a little bruised, and pinkish red.

The hero's eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “Why didn’t you fight back?-” The hero started, tracing circles on the villain’s back in a gentle motion. The villain glared in response, their eyes like burning out fire, barely there, but the hero could see it. They flinched.

“Because I thought you’d come. I tried to fight back, I tried. But, then I couldn’t. And I waited and waited for you but you never came to save me.”

“I didn’t know.” The hero replied, now frowning in somewhat of a fury of their own. How could the villain blame them? They had done nothing wrong, they didn’t even know the villain was being tortured by those heroes.

“That’s not the point! You knew where my hideout was, you could have! Besides, how did the other heroes find me? Only you knew of my location…oh my god, please don’t tell me you gave them my location.” The villain’s furious face was now turning into one of a sad and terrified. The realization that the hero could have betrayed them makes them want to die right then and there. Of course, it was an assumption, but that made it all the worse. The fact that they could even think as far as that.

The hero’s eyes widened in disbelief that the villain could ever think of such a thing of them. They would never do that. “I would never. Why would I do that? I didn’t do it. I promise.” They said, softly.

The villain swallowed, and looked down. This was all getting to their head right now. The injuries, the wounds, the pain. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…of course you wouldn’t.” They said, meeting the villain’s eyes again, but this time with more calmness and understanding.

The hero nodded slowly, even though the villain could trace hints of sadness in their eyes at the assumption the villain made. The villain gently cradled the hero’s cheek. “I’m so sorry.” They whispered again. The hero nodded, smiling slightly.

“Let’s get your injuries treated.” They said, and lifted the villain up in their arms.

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chaotic-orphan · 1 month

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Hi, hope you’re having a nice day!! Love your writing :) Could you please continue heroic betrayal if you’re planning to?? Not to rush you or anything, it’s just got me slightly hooked oops! Thank you!! :)

HEROIC BETRAYAL (6)

Part one here

Continued from here

This part has had so many drafts, so so many, because I couldn’t get Supervillain right at all, and today? For some reason! It all just flowed! So you are in luck! It’s the paddy’s day weekend, struck gold! Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

They walked in a tense silence that made Hero squirm. The two of them were always chatting, or having banter back and forth. When they fell into a silence it was an easy one that never felt awkward or uncomfortable. Now, with Flynn marching Hero up a set of stairs, it felt as if they were two strangers. As if Flynn was actually a Villain.

He is, a voice sniped in the back of Hero’s mind. Flynn is a villain. The lie was his Hero façade.

Hero kept their guard up as they stepped through the door at the top of the stairs. Hero expected to be greeted with the view of a warehouse, or some top secret villain base. Maybe something from the movies, or an equal to the Hero tower HQ.

Instead, their gaze found a house. Hero frowned, wanting to turn their head and comment on it to Flynn but they didn’t. They refused. Flynn didn’t deserve their comments or thoughts on anything anymore.

“Through here,” said Flynn, pulling Hero to the right. Hero caught only a glance of the framed pictures hanging on the wall, of Flynn and Villain as children and a man and woman smiling in the picture above them. Hero swallowed.

Were they in Flynn’s childhood home this entire time?

It’s not what Hero expected at all. It was clean, almost pristinely so with wooden oak floors and a warm, homely feel to it. Clean and yet lived in.

Hero closed their lips, and just let Flynn guide them through another door into a dining room. Hero’s brows raised to the ceiling, looking at Flynn in question before they could help it.

Flynn curled his top lip inward, his tell for when he was embarrassed. “Supervillain insisted,” he said by way of explanation and brought Hero to the end of the table. It sat six people, two chairs on each end and two on both sides.

Flynn pulled out Hero’s chair and quirked his lips at them. “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”

“You can always stop me if I do,” Hero replied sweetly, sugared smile not quite meeting their eyes.

Flynn’s smile was cold in return. “I can. Or Villain, whichever is quicker.”

Hero felt that cruel pang of betrayal bloom in their heart like a rose’s thorns wrapped thick around it. Hero didn’t reply to that, they just sat down on the chair lifting their handcuffed hands onto the wooden table and let Flynn push in their chair.

Flynn sat beside them, on their right. Hero could have laughed at the horribleness of it all. Flynn sat on Hero’s right because after endless sparring they had both realised it was Hero’s weaker hand. If Hero was going to do something stupid, going for their right hand side would be easier to subdue than their left.

How had they not seen the warning signs? How had they not realised that Flynn was working against them this entire time?

Hero trusted them. They thought if the world ever went to shit, or turned against them, Hero could turn to Flynn and still find a home in him.

Now all their trust was twisted against them mercilessly, and Flynn was a stranger who could smile at them with a bloodied face — and possibly broken nose — and threaten to have the person who broke it hurt them more.

Hero heard movement and voices behind the two doors in front of them, different than the door that Flynn and Hero entered the room through. There was a lively bustling of movement and then a man in his late thirties, early forties walked through the doors with a wide friendly smile holding two plates of something.

He had wavy brown hair, slightly overgrown around the edges, some strands tucked behind his ears Hero noticed. His eyes were sea-coloured, somewhere between green and blue, but shining with a happiness that Hero didn’t expect of Supervillain.

Then it hit Hero that they were staring at Supervillain. The Supervillain! Hero’s nemesis, their foe— the man who was always one step ahead of Hero. Hero glanced at Flynn, almost mutinously before Supervillain drew Hero’s attention back to them.

Supervillain set a plate of food in front of Hero with a big smile, then walked around Hero and placed one in front of Flynn. It was what looked like roast chicken and green beans and roast potatoes. Hero stared down at it, their mouth watering slightly and a gnawing yearning in their gut for food.

How long had they been here? Overnight at least because it was day time at the moment. Hero looked at Flynn. Flynn glanced at Hero then to Hero’s plate and dragged it over to him.

“Hey—”

“Relax, I’m just cutting up your chicken. You’re not getting a knife.”

Hero waited, watching Flynn cut up the food. Then they sat back against their chair, eyes going to the doors to see Supervillain was gone. Flynn pushed Hero’s plate back in front of them. Then Supervillain came through again followed closely by Villain, a shadow like fist holding something that was dropped in front of Hero. It smacked against the table lightly with a bounce and Hero realised it was a plastic fork.

Everyone else had proper utensils.

Hero waited until Supervillain and Villain sat down before speaking. “If you think I’m eating this, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Supervillain’s smile didn’t dim. “As you like it, Hero. Though, if I drugged you with the chicken or the vegetables I would have drugged us all.”

Hero didn’t move to grab the fork, no matter how much their stomach wanted them to. Flynn grabbed Hero’s plate, “we can swap if you like.”

Hero’s head snapped to him. “And how do I know this wasn’t all some planned ploy?”

“You don’t,” said Flynn honestly, meeting Hero’s gaze earnestly. Hero had to look away before they cried. Stupid fucking Flynn.

“If I may,” said Supervillain, his voice smooth and steady, drawing Hero’s gaze. “If I wanted to starve you, I wouldn’t have plated you up a meal. I would have handcuffed you to the chair and let you smell the food and watch us eat.”

Hero swallowed, gaze hardening into a glare as Supervillain tilted his head and shrugged lightly. “However, if you don’t want to eat I won’t force you.”

Hero sat back stubbornly, eyes not leaving Supervillain as he tucked into his divine smelling meal.

“Flynn said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do,” Supervillain replied. “As soon as we have eaten. It’s bad for the stomach to mix work and pleasure.”

Hero blinked at him, then stared back at their plate. The steam was still rising from it, begging for Hero to eat it. Hero swallowed again, finally reaching for the fork that was discarded in front of their plate.

Nobody at the table made any remarks as Hero took their first bite of chicken. They didn’t even feel eyes on them as they ate, and with every bite the possibility of the food being drugged became less and less important as they filled the hole in their stomach.

All too soon their plate was empty and Hero set their fork back on the plate, sitting back in their seat, satisfied. Supervillain smiled at them from across the table.

“Well?”

Hero swallowed. “Really good.”

Supervillain’s smile beamed at them. “Good. Flynn, would you and Villain mind cleaning up?”

Flynn’s eyes went between Hero and Supervillain, and he opened his mouth to protest, but Supervillain looked at him. It stifled the words in his throat and he nodded and gathered his and Hero’s plate. “Sure.”

Villain did the same with their and Supervillain’s plate. “Thank you. We shouldn’t be long.”

Flynn cast one last look over his shoulder at Hero, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Then the double doors shut on both of them and it was just Hero and Supervillain alone.

Hero’s chest got tighter at the realisation. How many times had they longed to get to sit down with Supervillain and pick his brain on his strategies and plans? How long had they wanted to know his motivations behind it all? What the bigger picture was…

Now, Hero wanted to be anywhere but here.

Supervillain leaned forward, elbows resting on the table hands folded in front of him. “Flynn tells me you’re a fan of mine.”

Hero scoffed and looked away. “I’d hardly call myself a fan.”

“Of course,” he replied pleasantly. “A hero would never admire a villain after all.”

“That’s in the job description.”

“Tell me, did you ever admire Flynn?”

Hero’s eyes snapped back to Supervillain. His smile was less pleasant now, more shrewd. Intelligent, inquisitive, intimidating— his eyes narrowed in curiosity, the corners of his lips still quirked into a smile.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was always a Villain.”

“Yes. However, that is not what I asked you.” Supervillain said lightly, not letting Hero off the hook. Hero swallowed in reply. “Did you ever admire Flynn?”

“Yes,” said Hero patiently. They couldn’t lose their cool now, they had to match Supervillain’s relaxed demeanour. “He was my partner. Obviously I admired him.”

Supervillain let out a breath. “Tut, tut, Hero. He’s a villain. How can a Hero ever admire a Villain?”

“If you want to get into some philosophical debate I’d rather Villain bash my nose against the bars of my cell again.”

Supervillain’s lips pursed. “If you like.”

The words ran like cold water down Hero’s spine. “However,” he continued, “I’d rather pick your brain before Villain rips it from your skull.”

Hero swallowed the lump that was rising in their throat. How can he be so nonchalant about telling Hero that he had no reservations about Villain killing them? It isn’t anything like Hero thought he would be.

“You wouldn’t let them,” said Hero licking their lips, making an effort not to make a face at the taste of salt and iron of dried blood dancing along their tastebuds.

Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. “No?”

“No,” Hero echoed then swallowed. “Even if you did let Villain hurt me or torture me, or whatever, you wouldn’t let them kill me. You’d rather draw it out slowly.”

Supervillain raised his hands, elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he stared at Hero. His sea green eyes looked stormy now, the twisting murky colour piercing through Hero’s soul. His smile was anything but friendly now.

Now, he looked like Supervillain, like Hero expected him to be. Confident, perspicacious, formidable. This was the opponent Hero had been playing alongside across the city for months now. Hero noticed their heart beating faster in their chest.

“And you say you’re not a fan,” Supervillain said, a perceptible knowing coating every smooth syllable.

“I’m not a fan of you hurting people. Killing people.”

“And yet it’s all you heroes ever seem to respond to.” Hero’s retort died in their throat. “If it takes violence to goad you out of your precious hero tower, then I will resort to violence.”

Goading? What goading? Hero’s brows furrowed down over their eyes, shadowing them slightly as their mind ran over Supervillain’s words.

“Hmm,” Supervillain hummed fondly. “Flynn said you have a look when you’re trying to solve a riddle, this must be it.”

“I don’t have a look,” Hero spat, ignoring the blush that coloured their cheeks.

“Of course you do, dear Hero. We all do. That’s why in poker you have to learn to mask your tells.”

“Are we playing poker, Supervillain?”

“No, hardly. Though I’d wager I could win your money as easy as it took me to tank that developmental property on seventh.”

Hero hope their glare was burning a hole through Supervillain’s skull until they realised they were playing right into his hands and dissolving. Hero licked their lips and leaned forward in their chair too, hands clasped on the table in front of them.

“This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, was it? You wanted me to follow Villain. You wanted them to catch me,” Hero said. Them was much easier than saying Flynn out loud.

Supervillain smiled appraisingly. “Yes.”

“And bring me here to meet you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Supervillain’s eyes flashed, something glinting within them. “Because Hero, I’ve wanted to meet you as much as you’ve wanted to meet me.”

Hero held up their cuffed hands. “Couldn’t have done it more civilly?”

“Oh please,” Supervillain scoffed, resting his palms flat on the table and pushing his chair back. Hero’s heartbeat quickened as Supervillain stood up and started making his way slowly, predatorily slowly, towards Hero like a cat playing with a mouse. Hero wanted to not move, to not show him the effect he had on Hero, but their body didn’t get the message. The closer Supervillain came to Hero the more they shrunk back into the chair, hands braced on the table ready to spring to their feet and — and then what?

Supervillain stopped beside Hero’s chair, one hand on the back of it, the other hooking a finger around the small length of chain that kept Hero’s wrists locked together. He pulled it up, Hero’s arms going with it involuntarily until Supervillain held Hero’s arms up high over their head.

Hero grit their teeth as their shoulders strained from their sitting position.

“We both knew one of us would have to be in chains for us to be able to chat,” said Supervillain tilting his head. All friendliness had melted from his face leaving a cold grin and hungry eyes feasting off the sight of Hero at his table. “I just decided it wasn’t going to be me.”

Hero tugged their arms down suddenly but they may as well not have for the lot of good it did them. Supervillain leaned down, his face close to Hero’s as he grinned.

“You should have struck first, little Hero. Then maybe the roles would be reversed, but as of right now—” Supervillain’s eyes darkened. “I control the board.”

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill

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whumpshaped · 3 months

Text

anon asked:

A villain that's being tortured by the hero, because the hero thinks they had something to do with the death of their teammate. But villain didn't have anything to do, it was all supervillains plan, but hero doesn't listen to them. Even if they beg, scream, or plead, the hero doesn't... doesn't behave like a hero. Where did all that mercy go?

---

tw death mention, murder mention, interrogation (sort of), torture, burns, revenge (directed at the wrong person)

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Villain screamed, tears streaming down their face from the utter agony Hero had put them through so far; and which they showed no signs of stopping. “I had nothing to do with it! Do you think I even know all your dumb fucking friends? Do you think I spend my day hunting them down? I barely care about you!”

Hero didn’t seem fazed. They didn’t even seem angry, really, and that was the scariest part. They seemed cold and detached, devoid of all the good parts of their public persona. All Villain was left with was everything else, the things Hero cleverly dressed up in flourish and respectable morals: brutal efficiency, a calculating mind, and the terrifying ability to pinpoint others’ weaknesses.

They would’ve made a vicious villain, a fact Villain liked to taunt them with every now and then. Hero always came back with some ridiculous monologue about how all the wealth in the world was nothing compared to the worthy cause of helping others. Villain really, really wished they’d launch into a monologue like that right about now.

“Say, does fire hurt you at all?” Hero asked instead, unfeeling eyes boring into their soul. “I know it doesn’t kill you. Does it hurt?”

“Hero, listen to me. I’m not the one you fucking want! You’re torturing the wrong guy! Do you not care about it at all? Are you just torturing me for the sake of it? Because if so, maybe we’re on the same fucking team!”

Hero didn’t answer. They grabbed a lighter from the table next to them and put it right under Villain’s chin, and they couldn’t do anything except crane their head to get as far away from it as possible. “I suppose it does, yeah? You wouldn’t be squirming so much if it didn’t.”

“Please!” they blurted out, their angry facade crumbling under the threat of third degree burns. “Please, I’m telling the truth! I had nothing to do with it! I don’t know who did it! I would tell you, I swear I would! Hell, I can help you hunt them down, just listen to me! You’re supposed to be the good guy! You’re supposed to be just!” Their voice was getting more and more desperate, and while they weren’t proud of it, they wouldn’t be proud of several burn scars on their face and neck either. At least the memory would fade away.

“Just?”

Hero flicked the little thing on, and the flame started licking at the sensitive skin of their throat. They could withstand the heat better than regular people, but they couldn’t take it forever — an inhuman scream was eventually ripped from their chest as it became too much, too painful, too hot. Hero didn’t seem to care. They continued dragging the lighter along their jawline, grabbing them by the hair to steady them when they started thrashing too much.

By the end of it, Villain was a sobbing mess, unable to even let their head hang. It hurt too much. It was ironic, the fact that they’d be forced to walk around with their head held high, because putting it down would be all too painful.

“It wasn’t just when I lost my friend to your little scheme.” Hero tossed the lighter back onto the table. Some of their anger was seeping through their words, now, and Villain would’ve grovelled and apologised at the sound of it, had they been the one responsible for the murder.

When they saw Hero grab the can of gasoline, they decided it didn’t matter whether they were responsible. “It wasn’t! It was unfair, and I’m sorry! I– Do you want me to say it was me? What do you want? What do you want from me? Even if I was responsible, what would this change? I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do to help you, but I’ll– I’ll do anything! I’ll be a spy, I’ll be a fucking rat, I’ll help you catch whoever did it! I’ll stop with my little schemes! Please!”

None of their pleas were heard. Hero completely doused them, not caring whether the liquid would make the previous burns worse. Villain supposed it didn’t matter, not when they were about to do something so much worse.

They coughed and sputtered and tried to get the disgusting taste out of their mouth at least, but they couldn’t get it off their face enough to open their eyes and see what was going on. In the end, they didn’t have to. They could hear it very clearly when Hero lit a match.

And the rest? The rest they could feel.

#asks #whump #whump drabble #hero villain whump #death mention #murder mention #interrogation #torture #burns #revenge

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patchworkorphan · 5 months

Text

The Hero and the Infant: Part Three

Read part one here

Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

Hero threw their arms wide as they strut onto the roof in a gesture of questioning: “hey! What the fuck are ya doing?”

That got Villain’s attention. Violet eyes snapped to theirs, floating a couple metres off the roof. Out of reach for Hero.

“Silent treatment? Really? You just tried to kill a kid, Villain.”

“Superhero’s new sidekick. I did warn them about the mortality rate of such a job before I dropped them,” Villain said with a shrug. Hero looked back over their shoulder at the sound of the roof door opening and Sidekick stepping out, fury winding all of their limbs tight.

“See?” Villain said, getting Hero’s attention again. The Villain’s hand was spread to Sidekick’s appearance. “They’re fine!”

Hero rolled their eyes, scoffing. “Is that supposed to be a justification for attempted murder?”

Hero felt the strong invisible hand wrap around them and yank them up into the air straight into Villain’s awaiting arms.

“Maybe I just don’t like the company they keep,” said Villain, grabbing Hero by the lapels of their duster and pulling them close.

Villain’s nose crinkled up as they said: “you smell like whiskey and cigarettes.”

“It was never a problem before. In fact, I think I remember you enjoying the smell at one point,” said Hero with their dashing smile reserved for only Villain.

“Why are you running around with Superhero’s new scapegoat?”

“Why are you disturbing these good people just trying to do their jobs?” Hero shot back.

“I am a Villain, my dear. It is what we do.”

“And I am a hero, at your every public beck and call. To make sure you don’t do irrevocable damage. Such as killing a child,” Hero admonished and yelped as they felt Villain’s power vanish from under them and they were falling.

Villain held them with one hand over the precipice in their usual showmanship of power. Hero narrowed their eyes and shifted their weight, so they were almost a perfect 45-degree angle to the ground thirteen stories below.

A challenge coated their words as they spread their arms wide, “if you want to kill anyone Villain, do us both a favour and kill me.”

Villain searched Hero’s face for any weakness. Any sign that they were lying and found none. The next thing Hero knows wind is whistling through their ears, stopping only when their back cracks off brickwork and they crumbled to the ground hands catching themselves on the ground, gasping for the air that was wrenched from their lungs.

“Hero!” Sidekick yelled in surprise from the opposite roof.

Hero barely had time to force themselves to stand again before Villain was in front of them, fist bunching in the collar of their shirt. Villain threw a solid left hook. Hero countered, taking the brunt on their forearm before an invisible hand grabbed Hero’s wrist yanking it above their head and keeping it there. Hero’s toes barely scraping the roof below them.

“No fair,” said Hero with a grunt, levelling Villain with a knowing scorn.

Villain’s smile was more of a snarl as they said: “when have I ever played fair?”

Hero threw their other hand out, but Villain caught it and slammed it back against the brick wall, drawing another grunt from Hero. Villain stepped in close, close enough that Hero felt Villain’s breath on their face as those violet eyes peered down at Hero, tightening their grip on Hero’s wrist.

“You look good, Vil,” said Hero softly. “What happened that made you rage against these innocent people today, hmm?”

Villain’s free hand settled on Hero’s cheek and Hero leaned into the touch. “I don’t need a reason.”

“We both know you’re not like that,” Hero said, smiling sadly.

Suddenly Hero was released, and they dropped to their feet, knees bent. Villain was recoiling to the side, hand on their cheek as a once invisible Sidekick became visible again.

“You alright?” Sidekick asked as Hero straightened and nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed help,” Sidekick said, a little breathless and Hero searched the opposite roof wondering how Sidekick had got there so fast but didn’t question it. They could ask later.

Hero fixed their jacket, rolling their neck as Villain’s gaze turned to face the pair. “I had it handled.”

“Sure, you did,” and Sidekick was invisible again. Villain’s eyes burned like the cold fires of hell down at Hero and Hero shrugged with a smirk.

“Kid’s annoying,” said Hero. “But sure, what can you do?”

“Drop them off a building again. Maybe it will work this time.”

“Probably not,” Hero said with a flash of their teeth. “Not as long as I’m here.”

“Well then perhaps I will force you to watch,” said Villain as they shot their hand out. Hero sucked in a breath and felt the pop in their ears as they reappeared behind Villain. They whistled and Villain turned. Hero threw a punch which Villain caught, clenching their hand down around Hero’s fist and stepping forward, pushing Hero back. “You always did think I relied too much on my power.”

“Eh,” Hero shrugged with tired eyes. “It’s an off day.”

Villain’s eyes narrowed, their tone dipping dangerous as they turned Hero’s arm. “Maybe you should have answered my texts then and we could have arranged this on a non-drinking day for you.”

“Come on, Vil. You know me better,” Hero said with a toothy grin. “They are no non-drinking days.”

Villain pulled Hero in and brought a sharp knee to Hero’s stomach. Hero gasped, as Villain leaned in. “We’ll sober you up yet. Just like our academy days, huh Hero?”

The comment had barely registered when Villain squeezed Hero’s fist with their hand, their force backed by Villain’s unfair power.

“No wait, Villain—” Hero protested just before there was a resounding crack over the roof. Hero screamed bloody murder as Villain kicked them back, and unable to catch themselves, Hero stumbled back and fell, their head hitting off the stone roof. White spots burst behind their vision as Hero shuffled back on their good arm. “Motherfucker!”

Hero looked down at their hand, their index and middle finger bent backwards. A deep purple and black colouring the battered flesh. They had to get off the ground. Hero sucked in a sharp breath closing their eyes. Then a boot came to their chin and Hero cursed as their world rocked and their head hit the ground again.

A headache was already forming, and Hero just wanted to lie on the ground and give up then and there. Then he thought of Sidekick who would no doubt lecture them which would only make their headache worse. A rock and a hard place, headache, or worse headache. Before they could decide, Villain stomped on Hero’s ribs, and Hero’s eyes shot open. Their good hand pushing at Villain’s ankle to alleviate the pressure.

“No popping out if your brain’s clouded with pain, ain’t that right Hero?”

“Normal people just say: I missed you,” Hero hissed, they let out a harsh cough. “They don’t try and kill you.”

“What can I say? I’m not normal people,” said Villain with a smile of their own. Then their hand shot out on instinct and Sidekick reappeared two feet away, gasping on no air. Their hands went to their throat with wide eyes. Hero sat up suddenly, but Villain just put more pressure on their leg keeping Hero pinned. “No. No. Don’t get up. Stay.”

“Let them go, Villain!” Hero cried. Sidekick dropped to their knees, face going purple as they choked on nothing, hands clawing desperately at their throat.

Villain tilted their head at Sidekick’s struggles. Hero reached their hand into their pocket, taking out their lighter. “It’s not every day I don’t kill someone first try. The last, and not to blow my own trumpet, but only time that happened Sidekick was with…” Villain turned back to Hero. “Well, was you, dearest.”

Hero shot their hand out, setting fire to Villain’s trouser leg that was currently weighing on Hero’s ribs. Villain gasped, concentration broken, stepping back and Sidekick sucked in a lungful of air. Hero looked at Villain.

“I’ll be back,” they said to Villain as they lunged for Sidekick’s arm, hand clamping around their wrist. Hero closed their eyes, sucking in a breath.

Then pop.

*~*~*~*~*

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