whumplicity - Tumblr blog

whumplicity · 19 hours ago

Text

And only over one year later, I present part three of my favorite snippet—by popular request.

Part one (Choo Choo) Part two (Honk Honk)

Beep Beep (The Briefcase- Part Three)

Turns out, when you try to run more than twice, you get hand cuffed to the steering wheel.

Who knew, right?

At least that dispelled any obligation to keep cooking up half-baked escape plans and executing them to the worst of their abilities. Unfortunately, this also meant that Hero had to drive. With the busted ankle they were pushing pedals two-footed, which was inadvisable under most circumstances but Hero felt they could make an exception for this one. As long as they remembered right foot was gas and left foot was brake, everything would be fine.

Well, almost fine. Not really, though.

Villain had wasted no time grabbing their wrist and cinching shining silver metal down over it. The quality was once again infuriating to the hero that attempted to discreetly yank on the cuffs as hard as they could, revealing only that they were more likely to pull out the entire steering column than to get themselves free. Villain must have noticed, Hero knew he did. They could clock that amused look even just out of the corner of their eye, but graciously he let them have their silent tantrum, knowing damn well they weren’t going to get anywhere with it.

First the stupid shoes, and now these stupid cuffs. Where did Villain even get this shit? Someone—and Hero wasn’t pointing fingers here—should have put these things to better use and handcuffed themselves to that case and avoided this whole fiasco in the first place.

Speaking of the case, where on Earth was it?

A better question, what was a random—different—briefcase doing in the back of a random semi. Hero had yet to figure out what was even in the original case, but whatever it was certainly hadn’t been in the second one. Villain—in a rare unveiled moment of rage—had snapped it open in anger by swinging it repeatedly against the concrete until it cracked open and all that had fluttered out were fifty plus blank pieces of paper.

Whoever was on the other end of that phone was in a lot of trouble. That was still a mystery to Hero too.

Regardless, Hero was trying their best to master the new skill of restrained driving. Luckily, Villain was available to be an excellent motivator, sitting right beside them with the eyes of an eagle and the bullets of a Glock.

At least, their current chances of being noticed were pretty high. They had covered a lot of ground since the semi incident, but police presence would have to be elevated if anybody had heard those shots. This was optimistic for such a rural area, but Hero really hoped most hunting was currently out of season. Not to mention they were driving a car that was still riddled with bullet holes. If that didn’t get someone’s attention, Hero didn’t know what would.

Abruptly, Villain ordered, “Turn here.”

Hero turned into the lot, which was full of rusted and half-assembled cars. A long building held several garage-like doors, but Villain directed them to park tucked beside a smaller building off to the side. A faded and broken wooden sign, barely visible under two small outdoor lights, read “Bill’s Auto.”

Great, a car switch. It was almost like they manifested it.

Hero was tired of Villain being two steps ahead of their every thought. Sure, they were impulsive, reckless, and sometimes just plain stupid, but occasionally they were pretty capable of things. They hadn’t felt capable since before they got on that train.

Villain left the car and slipped inside the shack-like office, returning just a moment later with a new set of keys. He came back to unlock them from the wheel and Hero groaned as they attempted to heave themselves out of the truck.

The past forty-eight hours—or-so, they really stopped keeping count—were starting to catch up with them. Hard. They were so tired it wasn’t even funny. And on top of that, everything hurt. Apparently, they had also lost Advil privileges, which Hero was incredibly salty about. Sure, it was their own fault, but really, what were they supposed to do? Hand over the briefcase and pray Villain wouldn’t use it to end the world or something? For all they knew, his plan was to go kill innocent babies with it. They’d take a mosaic of bruises over the fall of civilization any day.

Okay, they were probably being just a little dramatic. Surely, it would take more than a sixteen inch briefcase to end the world as they knew it.

It was really best to be sure though, wasn’t it? For the babies' sakes.

At any rate, they weren’t going to have anything figured out with an empty stomach. They hadn’t seen Villain transfer any snacks to the new car they were driving, and though the cracked tan upholstery was starting to look rather appetizing, they figured it probably wouldn’t sit right.

“I’m hungry,” Hero stated neutrally, which was quite the understatement in their opinion. Starving was more like it, but they feared rejection if they sounded too whiny. It wasn’t like they were on particularly thick ice at the moment. Right on cue, their stomach growled like a jet engine, providing them ample evidence to back up their claim.

“That’s too bad,” came the lilting reply.

It had to be past midnight, and there wasn’t really a lot of options around to begin with, let alone ones open at this hour. Hero had been scouting for drive thrus for the last thirty miles, fantasizing about sizzling drinks and greasy food. So far, all they had seen was a sketchy Dollar General that was suspiciously still open with several shady figures hanging around. Hero was already a part of one too many conspiracies this week, so they opted out of trying that one. This new tank was three-quarters full, so they couldn’t finesse a gas station stop. They just had to hope Villain had no real interest in leaving them to starvation, as it would be pretty unfortunate for Hero to run them both off the road because their blood sugar dropped.

Speaking of, a glorious sign had just appeared, peaking out of a break in the never ending line of trees just up ahead. A giant yellow M.

Hero gasped.

Villain looked over in mild alarm before rolling his eyes.

“Can we—”

“It is two a. m.”

“They’re open twenty-four hours,” Hero argued.

“No, they aren’t,” the villain stated.

“The lights are on.”

Hero activated their turn signal and started to lightly press on the brake.

“We are not stopping,” Villain insisted, grabbing the steering wheel with one hand to keep them from turning. Hero frowned disappointedly but kept the vehicle on a straight forward path. The turn lane slowly disappeared and Villain took his hand off the wheel.

“Well,” Hero sighed, “it’s a good thing you’re not driving.”

Before Villain could pull out any creative new threats, Hero jerked the wheel at the very last second, cutting across the double yellow line and sending the car swinging into a very improper partial u-turn. They pulled into the desolate parking lot at a frowned upon speed, barreling towards the overhang with two yellow arches and blatantly ignoring the gun now shoved into their side.

“What the—Hero, I would think seriously about your next mo—“

Hero hit the brakes hard and rolled the window down. Villain recoiled from almost being folded into the glove box. Hero figured that would teach him to wear his seatbelt.

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s,” an employee droned through the dying speaker. “Will you be using your mobile app today?”

"Hi,“ Hero started, hesitating briefly from the villain whispering lowly in their ear.

“Say a word that isn’t on that menu, and you can forget about eating anything ever again.”

Hero’s skin blanched slightly.

“…No I will not.”

“Alright, what can I get for you.”

Hero took a deep breath, which was unsatisfying with the increasing pressure at their ribs.

"Can I get a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese, a large fry, and a Dr. Pepper, please. Large.”

"Oooookay, and will that be all?”

Hero recovered from the earlier moment quickly and turned to face Villain, asking him casually, “What do you want?”

Villain, to his credit, only gaped for a moment before answering.

“I’ll take a McFlurry.”

A suspicious beat of silence followed.

“Uh, sorry." The essence of a minimum wage employee leaked through speaker. "Our ice cream machine is broken.”

Hero tried and failed to smother a laugh with their free hand. That was the best thing they had heard all week. Villain, perpetually unfazed as he was, didn’t miss a beat.

“Just a coke, then.”

Ugh, unbothered bastard. He just had to ruin it.

The worker shared their total and asked them to pull forward and Hero happily complied. They noticed the villain staring daggers at them as they lifted their brake foot and lowered their gas foot as gently as they could.

“What?” They looked over to see Villain’s eyes shift to their wrist. “Oh,” Hero rolled their eyes. “Please, it’s two a. m. Everyone is either too high or too tired to notice.”

And if they did, they’d probably just assume it was a kink thing, but Hero wasn’t going to mention that.

Villain reached into the backseat anyway, grabbing Hero’s discarded jacket and throwing it over their arm. Just in time, as the window opened and a shaggy-haired employee read out their total again. Hero held out their hand expectantly. Villain stared at their palm, making no move to fill it with anything.

“You have money, right?” Hero questioned. Briefly, they started to wonder if Villain had reached levels of thievery that surpassed all need for legal tender. He disproved this theory when he finally reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty, handing it over with an unreadable look on his face.

“Would you like to round up for Ronald McDonald house?”

“Of course.” Hero smiled as they passed two drinks into the car.

Was this stop their smartest idea? Probably not. Okay, definitely not. It was just so hard to think. Bad decisions were kind of their default lately, as they had unfortunately come to find out.

By the time they were handed their bag, Hero could barely form a coherent thought. It was a good thing the worker never spared them a glance because they were salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

They pulled out of the drive thru and into a random spot—well, more like two spots with the way they took the faded white lines as more of a suggestion than a proper guide—and threw the car into park. They immediately reached for the bag that had been warming their lap, but Villain beat them to it. He snatched the food with a loud crumple and Hero’s heart fell. He pointedly looked straight out the windshield while placing the bag strategically to his right side. He reached in, pulling out a straw. He struck it against the door once before placing it between his lips. Turning his head, he pointed it at the hero and blew the wrapper off. Hero froze, too dumbstruck to retrieve the crumpled paper from where it had fallen onto their seat after striking them right in the forehead.

He took a long sip of his coke and was surely relishing in the overwhelming tension in Hero’s body as he did. He picked two fries between his fingers, bringing them leisurely up to his mouth. When he smacked his lips, Hero almost lost it, stopping themselves just short of lunging across the car and catching something—or someone—with their teeth.

He must have seen them jerk, because he chuckled in a way that made their face burn.

“Pull another stunt like that,” he spoke amusedly between fries, “and you will be upgraded to cargo in the trunk.”

Hero nodded slowly, eyeing their lost meal with immeasurable grief.

Point taken.

Villain handed the bag back, short one box of salty paradise.

A small price to pay.

Hero dug in like a ravenous raccoon, tearing the bag in at least two places as they did.

“Damn it,” they groaned, unwrapping their burger and lifting up the bun. “They forgot the cheese.”

——————

The cuffs came off when the sun rose and they entered a quaint little town, marked by few pedestrians and a colorful welcome sign. Just the click of a tiny key and they could almost pretend they were just on a typical miserable roadtrip and zone out accordingly. Villain took a phone call that briefly pulled the hero out of their self-induced road hypnosis. They caught a place and time—Betty's at noon. He didn't elaborate and Hero didn't ask, unwilling to push their luck any further than they already had.

Another routine bathroom break and gas stop later, Villain had them pull into the center of a lot facing a cute torquoise-themed cafe. He twisted and pulled the keys out of the ignition after they parked, tucking them into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. Hero watched as he shot off a quick text before climbing out of the car. He slammed the door shut unnecessarily hard—probably used to the old beat up thing they had left behind at the auto shop—and left without so much as a teeny tiny threat. Hero watched him walk away skeptically, their scrutiny intensifying as he held open the door for a woman with kids heading out.

Inside, he approached the figures of a man and a woman before disappearing behind a pillar. On the other side, Hero saw them moving with a proximity and some body language—namely laughter and a clap on the back—that suggested they were something akin to old friends. A host lead them to a table of which Hero had an unimpeded view of through the main window.

Villain seemingly thanked the host and settled into a dainty chair facing the back of the restaurant, gesturing for his companions to sit across from him. The woman crossed one leg over the other under the table, revealing a pair of pointed velvet heels—and Hero recognized that shade of maroon. They all situated at a little round table and picked up their mini menus with what Hero could only assume was faux interest—given all they surely had to discuss.

Glancing away for a moment to process, Hero spotted something that almost had them short-circuiting. Laying on the leather of the front passenger seat was the key ring, engine key attached. Hero blinked, switching their gaze rapidly between the seat and the window.

He left them in the car. With the keys.

Hero looped their finger through the ring and pulled it towards them, lifting it up in disbelief.

This felt like a test.

…

But what if it wasn’t?

He didn’t show it, but Hero knew Villain had to be exhausted. Running around for three days straight without any more than one proper meal a day took a toll on even the most indestructible of people. It was entirely possible the keys just slipped out of his pocket, his mind occupied elsewhere with tracking the case—though maybe that was just their own exhaustion talking.

It was time for a pro/con analysis.

Pro: leaving meant getting the fuck out of here. They could forget this whole thing and go home. Alone. Nobody to steal their fries, a long hot shower, and an ulcer-inducing amount of Advil. And sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Con: they were already this far in. If they left now, not only would they be on the run with a pissed off Villain on their tail—not that that was particularly new—but they would also have no access to information about the briefcase. If they bailed now, the past thirty-six hours or-so would all be for nothing. It was hard to consider just giving up now, sunk cost fallacy and what not.

Pro: not giving in to their enemy. They couldn’t have Villain thinking that he broke them. Hero was never one to stay down, even when they probably should. As previously demonstrated.

Con: if this was a test, they risked being thrown in the trunk and losing any future—real—opportunities to escape.

The likelihood of this con being applicable was rising steadily in their mental assessment. Villain had yet to make any mistakes so far, at least not since the case had fallen in the water—and that really wasn't even his fault. Hero knew from past encounters that his calculations were almost automatic—and very rarely flawed. There was really no way he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he left the keys in the car and went inside the building, sat facing pointedly away from them.

So it was definitely a test.

Well, if Hero knew how to do one thing, it was fail.

Within a moment the engine was ignited and the tires squealing as Hero threw it in drive. The woman inside the cafe gave the villain a polite tap on the shoulder as the sedan shot off with a light rhythmic thump Hero didn’t remember it having before. They paid it no mind as there were far too many other things to be stressed about at the moment. Like the old woman and two children crossing the road in front of them.

Hero panicked. They had assumed there was no one around, as it was when they pulled in. Hero laid on the horn and hit the brake hard—except no, that wasn’t the brake.

That was the gas.

“Wrong foot! Wrong foot—“ Hero cursed.

They spun the wheel and hit the curb, thankfully preventing them from fulfilling a real-life trolley problem. They didn’t dare look back at the cafe, instead gritting their teeth. They shifted into reverse and threw their arm over the passenger seat like a teenage boy on a movie date to make sure there were no more pedestrians to potentially become pancakes behind them. The car dropped off the curb with a concerning thunk and oh—that tire was definitely blown.

Well, too late to stop now.

Hero floored their right foot—on purpose this time. The thunking unfortunately continued as hero attempted to turn onto the two lane road and the sound quickly turned into a metal-on-concrete screech.

Hero winced and yelled “Sorry Bill!” in no particular direction.

It seemed Bill didn't appreciate the sentiment—either that or he wasn't big on forgiveness. In the rear view, Hero could see lumps of black on the concrete that totally weren't rubber. And if they were, they definitely weren't from the sedan. Even with their gallons of denial, they could only pretend they were hitting endless potholes for so long before it became painfully clear that this car wasn't going to last the next two blocks, let alone get them to a place where they could safely ditch it and head home. This fact rapidly ushered in the fifth stage of grief: acceptance that they were going to have to run.

The all-too familiar flood of adrenaline felt a little too much like dread for their liking as they used numb fingers to unbuckle their seatbelt. They threw open the door and swung their legs out to stand, catching a glimpse of disfigured silver hubcaps when they rounded the car.

Ah—where to go?

They spun to do a quick scan of their surroundings. Back towards the cafe? No. The woods surrounding town? No. A gas station, a laundromat, another car—

Suddenly they were spinning again, but this time in the opposite direction. There were hands on their shoulders and in the next second they were falling—no they were pushed—into the surprisingly soft interior of the sedan. A quick glance back revealed a figure leaning against the door behind them, maroon shirt blocking most of the window from the outside. Semi frantically, Hero looked forward to see a woman holding open the door they had just fallen into. Last but certainly not least, with arms braced on either side of the opening, Villain leaned into the car after them. He loomed like the manifestation and personification of every terrible decision that had led them here—which was a lot.

Hero looked at him with bleary terror. By their own count, this was strike three. They expected to see fury-filled eyes, a threat on the tip of his tongue, maybe even a knife between his fingers. Instead, they saw nothing but stone. He looked back at them for an indeterminate amount of time, and every second that passed just unsettled the hero further.

But there was nothing scarier than the words he finally decided to speak.

“I think it’s time we have a talk.”

Those interested: @whumplicity @sp00kyssscary

#*INCOHERENT SCREECHING*#I LOVE THIS SERIES #WHY THE CLIFFHANGER #HOW DARE YOUUUU #OH NO NOW I HAVE TO LOOK FORWARD TO THE NEXT PART 😏 OH NO WHAT A TRAGEDY 😏😏#I CAN'T WAIT #I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH #AAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #hero/villain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero/villain #captured hero #writing #original writing #not my writing #neon-kazoo #neon-kazoo's writing

19 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 22 hours ago

Text

Last night I was hit with the wonderful concept of characters fainting at an airport.

There are plenty of contexts this could be placed into, but specifically what I was considering was the idea that they came down with something very quickly and suddenly while on their plane, without warning, and spent the latter half of the flight shivering and dizzy and trying to stifle coughs in their elbow.

They make it off the plane somehow, shaky and weak though they are, keeping their eyes straight ahead on whatever point on the floor isn't moving at the moment.

But halfway down the walkway to the baggage check, they get hit with a wave of lightheadedness that doesn't just go away even when they squeeze their eye shut. They're sleep deprived and dizzy and nauseous and suddenly overheated, sweat soaking their back and neck, and so violently in public that the sheer social terror of being sick is worse than the discomfort itself. They try to ease themselves slowly to the ground but before they make it their knees turn to water and they collapse to the ground, to the shock and concern of their fellow passengers.

148 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 22 hours ago

Text

Forever obsessed with Character A finding out Character B is sick when B falls asleep against them and at first it's just cute and cuddly but then A realizes they can feel feverish heat radiating from B's face where it's pressed against their shoulder

610 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 22 hours ago

Text

Tw: noncon drugging

Living weapon A meeting living weapon B.

In A's eyes are a bone-deep tiredness that can only been noticed by another weapon.

A and B waiting for medical attention after an intense mission. Them lying against each other, one trying not to fall asleep, the other trying not to cry.

A and B forming a silent bond after their handlers working together for a long time. And A finds out that B and their handler had left. Trying to control their emotions when they realize they never got to say goodbye.

A waking to B's screams every night, knowing that they're not allowed to help B. Some nights it's worth the resulting punishments.

A having to watch B being drugged and delirious from a punishment. Watching B's cries while knowing that their handlers are watching them. A getting beaten for sobbing when B cries out for them.

A and B constantly having to preform emergency medical treatments on each other. Not having the proper tools and their only experience with it was when a doctor did it to them.

A and B sharing a room and staying up late together while trying to deal with their trauma.

Handler swap!? It's just a chill training day and the handlers decide to swap weapons for a day, see how it goes! They definitely wont come crawling back to their old handler begging them not to give them to the other handler. And both weapons apologizing for how awful their handlers are.

A and B are always given their meals together. A is always still hungry and B always gets full quickly. Sharing is caring after all!

A being extremely broken and B still being a defiant asshole. A watching B get slapped around for their sarcasm and begging for B to stop. A trying to teach B what to do and what not to do and helplessly watching as B breaks all the rules. A fearing that they might get punished for to being able to keep B in check. Eventually, A planning an escape attempt and inviting B with them. Their heart breaks as head B's refusal. "No, there's no point, we're just weapons,"

B preventing A from picking at their healing wounds.

A and B are together 24/7, they don't have anything else to talk about, they just enjoy the other's silent presence.

The pair planning an escape attempt.

The pair being separated when their handlers catch them.

"My weapon has never acted like this! Yours is a bad influence!" "No! Mines never had any feelings or wants till yours came around and ruined them!"

Because A and B are always together, they catch the same illness and are useless until they recover.

A and B curling up in the same bed "for warmth." That's what they'll tell their handlers at least...

512 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 22 hours ago

Text

Prompt (630)

A crisp wind ruffled the villain’s hair. They stood at the edge of a tall cliff, overlooking the vast ocean below. It was serene. They could almost pretend they weren’t losing their mind.

“What are you doing?” Came a voice behind them.

The villain turned around. It was the hero, suspicion lining their unfortunately pretty face. It would be so easy, the villain thought, to reach out and touch them. But the villain wasn’t that stupid.

“Nothing,” the villain said. They pushed past the hero with their shoulder. “Mind your own business.”

41 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 23 hours ago

Text

let’s talk about tough, brave, scarred and bitter characters whose voices soften and whose hands move patiently when they interact with someone terrified and hurting

70K notes · View notes

whumplicity · 23 hours ago

Text

Water creature Character A saving human Character B from drowning. Love it.

But A gets captured when they drag B to shore. No good deed goes unpunished.

Is B told about this? What do they do? Are they conscious when A gets captured? Do they weakly protest before being taken to medial care?

Just a calm moment of A looking at B as they wake up, holding them to make sure they're okay. Right before a net is thrown over them and it's chaos, hissing and panic and fighting, but it's no use as they're dragged away and sedated.

23 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 1 day ago

Note

Oooh I would absolutely love to see some civilian x villain 🫶 maybe a civilian who's a little standoffish and a villain who really likes to annoy them

Here you go! 🖤

The Villain's Favorite Toy

Civilian was standing in their kitchen, stirring their dinner in the pot when they heard the familiar "click!" of the window lock being picked.

They groaned in annoyance as they turned to look at the Villain dropping in.

"Honey, I'm home!" They said with their devilish smile, "Miss me?"

"The only thing I could ever miss about you is your absence." They glared.

Villain approached them and slid their hands around Civilian's waist from behind, resting their head on Civilian's shoulder, "Aw, you don't really mean that."

"I do, and if you dont want to lose your ability to have children one day, I suggest you let go of me."

Villain chuckled low in their throat as they reached around, turning the stove off. "You and what army, gorgeous?... oof!"

Villain released them and crumpled to their knees, clutching their stomach, groaning in pain.

"Not bad, you still missed, though." They ground out around the pain.

"You'll live." Civilian looked down at them in disgust.

"You just admitted you missed me." Villain smirked up at them, still knealing before them in their kitchen.

"You're insufferable."

"So you dont deny it?" They stood, and Civilian took a step back, an infuriatingly excited grin on Villain's stupid face.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Don't 'uh-huh, sure' me!"

"Whatever you say, boss." They made a mocking salute before making their way back over to the window, they threw one leg over before looking back at them, "Next time, text me when you're cooking dinner, I'd just love to join." They winked.

They closed the window just in time for a spatula to fly right into it.

86 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 1 day ago

Text

Part one Part two

A Price (Nothing Comes for Free part three)

Cw: soft restraint (for medical reasons), wound care without anesthetic/analgesic

In an bittersweet turn of events, Hero got to see Sidekick after all. Well, 'see' was a strong word, their vision blurring as it was. They could barely make out a figure laid out on the white sheets of what must have been a medical bed, similar to the one they now found themselves on.

"Hero? What the hell?"

Hero didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed that Sidekick was awake. Thinking was like moving through sludge, and they almost didn't register the danger that they were currently in, like hearing an alarm blaring while your head is underwater. At the very least, it was nice to hear their partner's voice.

Suddenly, pain broke sharply through the fog and Hero reached to clutch their side.

"Uh uh." Hands closed over their wrists before they could reach, pushing them back against the thin foam to their sides. The villain's form leaned over them, switching their grip for that of a softer but just as unforgiving material.

With their arms restrained, Hero attempted to curl their other two limbs towards the wound. Weak as they were, it was easy for the villain to push their thighs back down, but they seemed exasperated as they did.

"This was easier on your unconscious counterpart," Villain mumbled, though maybe that was just the blood rushing in their ears that made them sound that way.

"Let me—" Sidekick started to swing their legs off the bed before they were quickly interrupted.

"You pop those stitches and I'm not redoing them," Villain warned, pointing an accusing finger back across the room.

Sidekick retreated immediately, laying their head back with tight lips that suggested Villain's warning wasn't the only thing keeping them from springing upright.

"I ran out of lidocaine on my earlier patient. So, to put it lightly," Villain informed them with all the sympathy one would use to regard a rock, "this is gonna hurt."

Hero groaned as Villain hopped onto the bed and settled their weight onto their thighs. They couldn't quite find it in themselves to care as they cut away the bottom of their shirt and reached for the supplies laid on a small table pulled to the edge next to them. It already hurt, they weren't really sure it could get much worse.

Spoiler alert: it absolutely could.

Rubbing their hands together with what was probably a sanitizer, Villain started by tearing open a packet of some type of powder and holding it in their off hand while their other headed for the scrapnel. They poked gingerly around the edges for a moment and Hero bit their lip to the point they tasted blood.

"Hm, doesn't look too deep—"

With no warning, they yanked it out, immediately covering the hole that was left with a hefty sprinkling of powder and replacing the metal with a heap of rags. Villain leaned their entire upper body into pressing the cloth against the wound, taking weight off of Hero's legs in the process.

Hero wasn't quite conscious enough to hear the sound that escaped them as this happened. Next thing they knew, all they could register was Sidekick's voice, sounding like it was shouted from the other end of a tunnel.

"-reathe Hero. Breathe!"

Hero sucked air past their swollen lip and slowly the spots dancing in their vision faded out one by one.

"Still with us, Hero?" The villain mused, much closer and clearer than before. "I'm impressed."

Hero groaned again, though a little more out of annoyance this time.

"You f—”

Villain raised an eyebrow and Hero wisely decided against finishing that statement. Instead, they directed their attention to the other person in the room.

"Sidekick, are you okay?"

Something akin to startled and weak laughter travelled across the room, before Sidekick answered, "I think I'm doing better than you."

Hero would've laughed, if they could lift their diaphragm without excruciating pain.

"Since you feel like talking, care to tell me what the hell you were thinking?" Sidekick called over.

"I don't believe 'thinking' factored into this decision," Villain cut in, reminding Hero that they were still there and privy to this conversation.

"Yeah, that checks out," Sidekick spoke with an eye roll Hero couldn't see but could still sense all the same.

"Excuse me for not wanting you to die, Sidekick," Hero grit out.

"Says the one actively bleeding to death!"

"You almost died first!"

"And here I thought I was capturing heroes, not children."

Finally, Villain shifted their weight, lifting up the towels briefly to check if blood was still flowing. They must have started clotting, because Villain didn't replace the pressure. Their enemy grabbed a bottle from the table and spun open the top, moving to straddle the hero now instead of sitting completely on them.

"Hey, you could at least take me to dinner fir—" Hero choked as they poured antiseptic into the wound, soaking some into a clean rag and using it to wipe around the edges.

Sidekick's voice returned but with its edge, soothing in a way that not many people could master with the hero. "Breathe, Hero. In and out."

Closing their eyes momentarily to focus, Hero missed the villain pick up a needle and thread. They pinched the skin together and Hero hissed as they started stitches, but opening their eyes and watching their sidekick conduct a pattern of breathing kept them grounded.

By the time their wound was dressed and their arms released, Hero could barely keep their head off the foam.

"This comes with a price, you know?" Villain patted atop the dressing, hard enough to hurt but not enough to risk a stitch popping or a recurrence of bleeding.

"They know," Sidekick answered, something regretful in their tone.

They were all well aware, nothing comes for free.

Those interested: @piplupfluffwritingstuff2 @autisticdryspaghetti

#EEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK #NOM NOM NOM #hero/villain snippet #hero #villain #sidekick #heroes and villains #writing #request #hero x villain community #surrender #not my writing #neon-kazoo #neon-kazoo's writing

43 notes · View notes

whumplicity · 1 day ago

Note

I’ve not seen any starved touched hero stories so may I request a starved touched hero and the villain finds out and helps them. It’s fine if not:)

"Tell me," the villain murmured, as the hero's breath came out quivering. "When was the last time that someone touched you?"

It wasn't what the hero had expected.

"People touch me all the time."

"Kindly."

"You're not kind."

But the villain's touch was such a gentle thing; the hero's brain refused to register it as cruelty, even as the villain's fingers were curled around their throat. They didn't squeeze though.

The hero should have pulled back already. They should have shoved the villain away. They did none of those things. They leaned limp against the wall, almost hypnotised by the back and forth sweep of the villain's thumb brushing sweetly against their pulse point.

It was pitiful for a nice threat to feel like affection. They were pitiful.

The villain's gaze was intent.

"What are you doing to me?" the hero whispered.

"I'm not doing anything." The villain's powers worked with touch, but they had never touched the hero before. The hero had always been too quick. The villain had managed that time though, advancing, shoving the hero to the wall and then - then this. The villain had touched their skin and then they'd gone perfectly still for a few seconds. The villain could expose all secrets with a press of their fingers, do all manner of things, but...

The hero swallowed, eyeing them. They genuinely didn't think the villain was doing anything.

Each second that ticked by seemed a confession, a betrayal, a plea for something.

The villain's hand slid slowly to to cup the nape of the hero's neck. "You didn't answer my question." The villain pulled the hero a step closer, dragged them flush. The villain's other hand wrapped around the hero's back.

They were being hugged.

A confused, entirely too soft sound left the hero's throat. Questioning. A little choked. It felt like a trap and it felt entirely too desperately lovely.

The villain tightened their grip, tucking the hero's head against their shoulder.

"Skin hunger," the villain said, softly. "Touch starvation. You are a famine, love, I can feel it."

"I-" The hero didn't know how to finish the sentence. The villain was so warm against them, a solid and reassuring presence. That couldn't be right. "What?"

"It has been entirely too long, hasn't it?"

"You're not doing anything?"

"I'm hugging you."

"Your powers-"

"-Mean I know exactly how you are feeling. How much you need this. So are you going to be good and shut up and let yourself have it?"

The hero choked out another gasp of air.

Was that was why the villain had stopped? Why they'd seemed to switch gears so abruptly when they could have finally won? The hero swallowed and shut up, even if it was a bad idea. Inch by inch, when the villain did nothing more but hold them, the hero relaxed. They melted.

"Why are you doing this?" the hero managed, pressing their face against the promise of the villain's shoulder.

"Kindness?"

"You're not kind."

The villain huffed, breath rustling the hero's hair. They pressed a kiss atop the hero's head. "Mm. Temporarily benevolent. No strings attached, pinky promise."

It was definitely suspicious, but it really did feel so unbelievably good. The hero felt like they'd settled into their bones for the first time in years. Maybe longer.

They really couldn't remember the last time someone touched them kindly, for an extended period of time. A brush of accidental touch in a crowd. A hairdresser's clinical contact. None of it was anything like what the villain gave them.

"That's better," the villain said, with a sigh. "Your nerve endings have stopped screaming at me."

"S-sorry. I-"

"It was merely an observation. You don't need to be sorry."

The hero expected the villain to get back to it, or step back. They didn't. It was probably the longest hug in the world.

Finally, the hero let themselves reach out, wrapping their arms around the villain in turn.

"Good," the villain said.

"Are we still...I shouldn't let you touch me. I'm not stupid."

"No."

"Are you going to let go of me?"

"When you actually want me to, sure."

"And you can...feel that?"

"Yes."

The hero squirmed with embarrassment. The villain tightened their grip again. The hero went still.

"Years," the hero whispered, finally. "It's been years. I can't remember the last time."

"Mm." The villain nuzzled into them. "That's not going to happen again. I don't believe in torture."

Neither of them much felt like fighting when they finally broke apart.

3K notes · View notes

whumplicity · 1 day ago

Text

Aftermath of Sacrifice

Nothing Comes for Free part 2

(Cw: description of injury, blood, captivity)

Coming to terms with what they had done seemed like a monumental task, so Hero simply decided not to waste the energy. Instead, they focused their worries solely on their companion.

They sat on the floor with their back against the wall, hands wringing through their belt loop behind them. The way that they had been dumped in an empty room and forgotten was at least giving them hope that Sidekick was getting the attention they needed. Hero tried not think about how much blood they must have lost along the way. Villain would keep them alive, and then they'd be healthy and safe.

They had to be.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Villain returned to the room holding a key. Hero almost folded in relief that the ache in their arms was soon to be released. Before that though, there was a more pressing concern that needed to be addressed.

“Are they ok?” Hero blurted and the villain barely blinked. They hauled them up by the arm, spinning them around to face the wall and sliding the key into the cuffs with a click. Hero tried to turn back around once their hands were free, but a palm between their shoulder blades kept them pressed against the wall.

“Empty your pockets.”

Hero made no move to obey the order.

“Are they?” they repeated.

“Empty your pockets or you won’t get to find out.” Came the villain’s harsh reply.

Reluctantly, the hero reached into their gear’s many compartments and started dumping various pocket junk to the floor, passing anything dangerous directly into the hands of the villain behind them. Nothing too exciting, as all of their main weaponry still lay on the ground of the battlefield clipped to the belt that they had discarded.

“Please, are they alive?” the hero asked quietly, and it came out just a little broken.

“Your little sidekick is alive, yes.”

Hero let out the sigh of the century. Hand finally removed from their back, Hero turned and faced the villain that had stepped back.

“Can I see them?”

“No,” Villain answered easily. That wasn’t terribly surprising to Hero, but their stomach dropped nonetheless. With Sidekick's safety (somewhat) confirmed, they couldn't help but wonder what exactly they had signed themselves up for. Surely, there wasn't much harm in asking.

“What now?”

Villain considered them for a moment. Their eyes trailed up and down their body with cold appraisal, putting the Hero slightly on edge. Hero shifted on their feet in the silence. They just barely caught the shift to harsh scrutinization in the villain's eyes before they spoke, catching the hero off guard.

“Lift up your shirt.”

“What?” Hero questioned, confused. They weren't hiding anything; they wouldn't couldn't risk Sidekick's life like that. They wrapped their arms around themselves warily. The villain's demeanor had completely changed, overtaken by what Hero could only guess was some kind of thinly-vieled anger.

They took a long step forward and Hero took one back.

What did they suspect?

“Lift. Your shirt,” Villain ordered harshly. “I won’t ask again.”

Shaking hands grasped the crusted hem of their top. At the serious look on the villain’s face, Hero obeyed slowly, peeling the fabric up to the bottom of their sternum.

“Idiot,” Villain scoffed, their eyes trained on the hero’s side. Confused, the hero followed their gaze down to find their abdomen slicked with blood. Their blood, not Sidekick’s. A piece of shrapnel was embedded tightly between their ribs with blood oozing out slowly but steadily around it.

“Oh,” the hero spoke dumbly. “Shit.”

Right on time, a wave of dizziness hit them suddenly and they reached their arm out to brace it on the wall. Unfortunately, they miscalculated how close they were to said wall, sending their arm through nothing but the air and subsequently their body stumbling.

“Sit down,” Villain droned. “I’m not gonna catch your dumb ass.”

Hero heeded the advice, finally finding the wall and sliding down it unceremoniously. Well, that wasn't good. Hero sucked a large breath in and their abdomen pulsed strongly in response. They hissed, slowly curling loosely into a fetal position and breathing as shallowly as possible.

In front of them, the villain seemed exasperated, or maybe that was just the judgement of a hero in hypovelemic shock.

For all intents and purposes, the villain griped, “You two are more trouble than you’re worth.”

The hero could only groan in response.

52 notes · View notes