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writinggremln · 5 days ago

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『 Enemies with Benefits 』

@autocrats-in-love's prompt

The hero pulled the villain into the closet and yanked the door shut with more force than grace. A coat hanger jabbed into their shoulder. A shelf loomed too low above their head. It smelled faintly of mothballs and cologne, and far too much of them—the villain, pressed up against their front with barely an inch to spare.

Before the villain could say anything (which they inevitably would), the hero clapped a hand over their mouth.

“Mmmph,” the villain said, annoyed.

“Listen.” The hero’s voice was a hiss, barely more than breath, words skating hot along the villain’s cheek. “I’m not getting us killed because you decided to snoop around my boss’s house. So shut up or I’ll make you live to regret it.”

The villain licked the hero’s hand in response.

The hero jerked. Their elbow banged into the side of the closet; their head clipped a shelf.

“Hello?” A voice rang out from the hallway. “Is someone there?”

The hero’s heart launched itself up their throat.

They shoved the villain back, forearm pinning them across the chest. The villain, predictably, grinned.

“I’m going to kill you,” the hero hissed.

The footsteps halted just outside the room. In the suffocating dark they froze, pulses thundering in their ears, hung by baited breaths.

A beat passed. Another.

The floor creaked faintly, a weight shifting.

The footsteps resumed—slow, uncertain—then grew softer, retreating down the hallway until only the whisper of distance remained.

“Thought you liked keeping my mouth busy,” the villain murmured at last, barely muffled this time. Warm breath curled against the hero’s fingers.

The crimefighter’s eyes widened—just slightly—then narrowed with simmering heat. They drew their hand back slowly at first, the tremble in their fingers betraying restraint.

Their nemesis grinned, clearly pleased with the reaction

…before the hero’s fist came back up in a hard arc, cracking the villain clean under the jaw.

Their head thunked into a shelf with a dull clunk, a coat slipping from its hanger.

The villain groaned, voice rough around the edges. “Shit. Was that—ugh—really necessary?” They coughed, blinking through the dark. “I think I bit my tongue.”

“Yes,” the hero hissed. “And I held back.” They turned away, groping for the door. Even in the pitch dark, they could feel the villain’s eyes burning into them.

They pressed one ear to the door, straining for any hint of danger. After reciting the parody of the national anthem for the sixth time in their head and detecting nothing amiss, the hero cracked the door open a smidge. They peered out.

Warm arms snaked around their shoulders. “Why,” the villain whispered, breath heated and maddening against the hero’s skin, “are we still hiding? You’re not afraid, are you?”

The hero scoffed. “At this rate, you’re going to get us both killed,” they snapped, “and I will make very sure that you get there first.”

The villain grinned gently, inhaling the scent of the hero’s hair. “Can’t imagine anyone would want to shoot me.”

“Oh, everyone wants to shoot you.”

“Yes, gorgeous.” The villain also peered through the sliver of light—two children banking on Santa. “You're not getting out of here without a distraction,” the criminal said eventually. “So what’s the plan, hero?”

The hero swallowed. “The plan was not having to explain to my boss why I brought a known criminal into their home and shoved them into their wardrobe.”

“Then maybe…” The villain reached past them, fingers brushing the hero’s hip as they shifted. “Let me help make the distraction.”

“Oh no,” the hero said, “I know what your distractions look like.”

“You didn’t complain last time.”

“That’s because last time didn’t involve my job on the line—”

The closet door creaked as the hero pushed it open, their hand hovering near the grip of their gun. The air outside was cooler, less claustrophobic, but no less tense. They stepped out in a low crouch, scanning the room. The villain followed with significantly less caution, brushing dust off their sleeve.

The hero signaled for silence, finger pressed to their lips, then drew their sidearm with a soft click. The villain raised an eyebrow, then unholstered their own weapon from an ankle holster with a bit more flair than necessary.

“Stay behind me,” the hero muttered.

“I’ll try,” the villain said, which was not reassuring in the slightest.

The bedroom was vast, fell in plush carpet and streaming sunlight. A light veil fluttered faintly at the edge of an open window, barely ajar. The villain padded over to it, peering out with narrowed eyes. They pushed the veil aside and glanced down.

��Can we get out that way?” the hero asked, still keeping their voice barely above a whisper.

The villain grimaced. “It’s a four-storey drop and the trellis is for decorative purposes only. Unless you want to add ‘broken everything’ to your resume, I wouldn’t.”

The hero sighed, lips pressed into a tight line. “Figures.”

They both glanced uneasily towards the open doorway, leading back out to the hallway.

Wordlessly, they crept towards it, soft-footed over the carpet, every creak of the floorboard cracking loud against the silence of the room. The hero halted, pistol raised in both hands, eyes fixed on the shadowed hallway. Then, a glance to their wing—the villain, gun in one hand, offered a jaunty thumbs-up with the other, flashing a handsome grin. Utterly unhelpful.

The hero set foot on the threshold and paused. Light streamed and bloomed across the hall, pale and golden, warm on their faces.

The previously deafening alarms, when the hero had found the villain trespassing, were now silent. The guards had also seemingly settled. They frowned.

Everything went very still as their brain slowly caught up with them.

…Who had disabled the sirens? Who’d called back the security?

A voice, smooth and cold and far too close, broke the silence.

“I do hope,” it said, “you’re both enjoying yourselves.”

The hero and villain both spun—guns snapping up in unison.

A figure stood half-shadowed in the corner of the room, no more than two metres away, like they'd always been there. Eyes sharpened and mouth thin, suited black-on-black. They, also, pointed a pistol steadily at the villain.

The villain actually jumped, which for them was rare. “Bloody hell,” they hissed, staggering back a step. “Where did you come from?”

Nearby, a small internal voice was screaming within the hero. Loudly. Relentlessly. It mostly said: fuckfuckfuckfuck—

The hero did not lower their weapon.

“Sir—this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like,” their boss said, voice as dry as desert bones. “You broke into my house, with them—” they gestured disdainfully at the villain, who gave a sarcastic little bow, “—hid in my closet, touched my blazers, and now you’re tracking dust across a seventeen-thousand-dollar rug.”

The villain perked up. “Oh! Is that Handmade Kashan? I thought the weft felt familiar.”

“Shut up,” the hero and boss said in perfect unison.

The boss stepped forward. “And here I thought you had better judgment.”

“I do,” the hero snapped, then immediately regretted it.

The boss’s gaze didn’t flicker. “And yet you thought it wise to tresspass.”

“Well—technically—” the villain drawled, nudging forward with the ease of someone entirely used to talking their way out of a hanging, “I only got in because your employee let me.”

The hero felt a cold sweat gather at the nape of their neck.

The boss turned to them. Still calm, their stare unreadable. “Is that true?”

The hero swallowed. “They—they were already in. I was going to handle it. Contain the situation.”

“In a closet.”

“Oh yes,” the villain murmured, leaning their shoulder into the doorframe, “very contained.”

The boss’ gaze hardened. “Hands above your head, and on your knees. Now.”

The villain cocked their head, expression flickering between incredulity and amusement. “Oh… Is this a kink thing, or…?”

The gun shifted, sight narrowing to center mass. “Now.”

“I don’t take orders from heroes, much less superheroes,” the villain said airily, gaze cooling nonetheless.

The hero could see it coming, the way the boss’s finger curled infinitesimally on the trigger.

“Wait—” they started.

The gun cracked.

The villain stumbled back like the rug had yanked itself out from under them. For a breathless second, they looked down at themselves in surprise—then their knees gave out, dropping them hard to the floor.

“Ohhh you sonuva bitchhh,” the villain gasped, clutching their side. “You shot me! You actually shot me. That’s—God—that’s fucking rude. Fuckkkk—”

“Correct,” the boss said cheerily. “Now you’re on your knees.”

The villain groaned and tipped sideways onto one arm, blood beginning to seep through their fingers.

The hero’s heart thundered in their chest, too loud, too fast. “You didn’t have to do that,” they snapped, stepping in front of the villain automatically. “They were unarmed—”

The boss raised an eyebrow . “You want to be the one on your knees, hero? They were armed,” they sneered, nodding toward the villain’s gun, which had skittered away on impact and now glinted dully on the floor.

“They weren’t aiming,” the hero tried.

“That’s the part I corrected.” The boss took a single step closer. “Stand down.”

The hero’s grip tightened on their sidearm. It trembled minutely in their hands, and they hated that it did. Behind them, the villain let out a low, pained breath and muttered something obscene in a language the hero didn’t recognise.

“I said stand down,” the boss repeated, their voice dangerously low.

The air between them went taut, wires drawn too tight.

Then the hero lowered their weapon—slowly, deliberately—until the muzzle touched the carpet.

“Good,” said the boss. “Now. Move away from them.”

The hero didn’t. “You shot them. I’m not leaving them to bleed out on your…antique rug.”

The boss’s eyes narrowed, something colder settling into place behind them.

They reached up, pressed a finger to their earpiece. “Security. Drawing room. Now.”

A faint crackle. “Copy.”

The hero’s stomach turned to lead.

The villain coughed weakly, still curled against the carpet. “Oof,” they murmured. “That’s never good.”

The hero half-turned. “Villain?”

But the villain’s hand was already darting out.

Their fingers closed over the hero’s sidearm, surrendered on the floor. The hero lifted their boot and stamped it down on the villain’s scrabbling fingers. The villain cursed and yanked back in one brutal jerk—and swung up with it the freed gun, toward the boss, grinning.

“Don’t!” the hero shouted, lunging just as the villain aimed, crazed-eyed, and the gun fired.

The shot went wide—barely—burning a hole through the curtain inches from the boss’s face. Dust motes exploded in the sunlight.

The boss flinched but didn’t duck. Instead, they stepped forward, ice in every line of their body.

The hero tore the weapon from the villain’s grip and threw it down with a snarl. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Saving our asses!” the villain hissed back. “You were too busy playing loyal lapdog!”

Heavy boots pounded down the hallway.

Within seconds, guards burst into the room—five, six, maybe more, all in black, rifles trained and ready. The laser sights danced over the rugs and up the walls.

“Down!” one barked.

The hero didn’t move.

“Now!”

Strong grips on their shoulders and upper arms from behind, and they were forced to the ground, knees jammed into their back, their wrists yanked behind them. Cold metal cuffs clamped down.

The villain didn’t resist. They were dragged up by two guards, staggering, still clutching their bleeding side. “Could’ve gone worse,” they said with a bloody grin.

“Shut up,” one of the guards growled, wrenching their arm tighter.

The hero was hauled to their feet beside them, jaw clenched, rage and panic thundering behind their eyes.

The boss stepped closer, smoothed a speck of dust from their cuff.

“Search the room. Burn the footage. Lock them both up.”

“But sir,” a guard started, “the hero—”

“Dungeons.” The word cracked like a whip. “They can explain themselves later.”

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writinggremln · 8 days ago

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Day 13 of Writing Challenge (This one: https://medium.com/@EelKat/30-days-writing-flash-fiction-challenge-mint-green-edition-0188b54891a7) Prompt was 'It's Not Human'

“Is this really where you’ve been hiding all these years?” Mentor asked, not turning to see Hero entering the room. His eyes instead were on the infant asleep in the cot and Hero couldn’t help freezing. “Is this what you’ve been doing?”

“Step away from him,” Hero said as calmly as he could, though the fear lacing his tone was clear to anyone with ears. Did Mentor come alone? He’d just put the others asleep; had he just left them defenceless? Mentor didn’t move, so for good measure Hero added a ‘please’ at the end.

Mentor turned around, though he kept his hand on the cot. He looked Hero up and down with a look Hero recognised as disappointment, perhaps even disgust.

“What is this, Hero?”

“It’s just what it looks like,” Hero replied, eyes casting over Mentor. He was in his hunting gear: silver sword on his waist, pistol across his chest, a few potions hanging from his belt. The circular interlinking figures of the twin goddesses hung from a chain around his neck glinted in the moonlight. Hero remember how safe touching his own pendant used to make him feel. The prayers he used to sing every night before bed. How warm he once felt under their light. How that same light burnt now.

“It isn’t human,” Mentor scowled.

“Neither am I,” Hero challenged. “Not anymore.”

Mentor looked at him again. Cold, calculating eyes analysing the being before him. Hero looked much like he did in life, but his skin had grown unnaturally pale, and his eyes once a deep evergreen now possessed a milky hue. Mentor took a step forward, and Hero would have breathed a sigh of relief if he had any breath left.

“Who did this to you?” Mentor asked, taking another step closer. Hero took a step of his own to the side, trying to subtly make his way towards the dresser where he his old pistol.

“What does it matter?” Another step. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“I’m not asking again, Hero.”

Hero was nearly at the dresser now, only a step or two away.

“Maybe it was the divine grace of Aisha herself,” Hero scoffed.

Mentor’s scowl deepened and he went to take another step forward, but Hero was already at the dresser. He reached out towards the draw as quickly as he could, pulling it open and reaching a hand in- but Mentor was faster. With the click of the hammer, Hero froze in place as Mentor’s own pistol was aimed directly at him.

“Pull it out,” Mentor instructed. “Slowly and with the tips of your fingers.”

Hero did as he said, cursing his new body for being so fucking slow.

“Drop it on the floor and slide it over.”

Again, Hero did so.

Mentor didn’t bother picking up the discarded weapon. Though he did make sure to kick it under the cot where it couldn’t be reached easily.

“Let’s try this again,” he began. “Who did this to you?”

Hero said nothing.

Mentor sighed, then took a step back towards the cot, pulling out his sword and placing it at the throat of the infant in one fluid motion. Not quite touching the skin to prevent the burn from the silver from waking the child.

“No-!” Hero instinctively took a step forward but forced himself to stop under Mentor’s glare. “Mentor, please,” he pleaded. “Please, he’s just a baby-”

“Tell me.”

“Mentor-“

“Tell me or I slit its little throat. And if you don’t tell me after that, I’ll drag out one of the ones asleep downstairs.” He tilted his head. “I wonder how many of your little pets I’ll have to go through before you finally answer my fucking question.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Mentor raised his sword arm-

“Stop!” Hero screamed. “Villain! It’s Villain, alright?!”

He pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal the beginnings of the soul binding glyphs just above his heart. It was used to keep his soul in his body. To prevent him from passing on. And like all glyphs a signature pattern unique to the caster spread out from it: an inky tattoo seeping from the etched markings. Mentor had seen enough of Villain’s monstrosities to recognise his handywork. He muttered a curse under his breath.

“M-mentor,” Hero said near whispering. “C-could you- please…”

He stared desperately at the sword hovering over the thankfully still sleeping infant. Mentor turned his own eyes to gaze down at the cot.

“Why?” Mentor asked.

“He’s just a baby-“

“Why did he bring you back?” He looked back towards Hero and could tell the man had gone pale despite the impossibility.

“I- I don’t know-“

Mentor turned his head back to the baby.

“No! I swear!” Hero pleaded. “If I knew I’d tell you. Please!”

Mentor’s eyes whipped back as Hero shouted. A piercing shriek filled the room as the infant was finally awoken by all the noise. Neither of the two moved as Mentor assessed whether or not Hero was being truthful. Hero meanwhile was fighting every instinct in him not to run to his child and pull him safely in his arms.

Thankfully, Mentor relented. He sheathed his sword and stepped away from the cot, pistol trained on Hero the entire time. Hero didn’t move until Mentor stopped and gave the okay for him to move. At which point, Hero practically ran towards the cot, pulling the baby into his arms and against his chest. He shushed and rocked the child, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Mentor.

The older man meanwhile couldn’t help feeling disgusted watching his once perfect pupil in such a state. Not only that, but watching him cling to that thing. Could he not see its bulging black eyes? Or the ink-like feathers that seeped out of its head like a mockery of hair? Was Hero so blind that he couldn’t see the demon child sinking its claws into his flesh as he held it?

But the only thing bleeding of Hero now was his heart. Mentor stopped his scowling and thought about that. He looked at the waxy lacerations under Hero’s ripped shirt. He knew from experience that the undead did not heal naturally. For one spending so much time around monsters, Hero’s body was surprisingly untouched. And then there’s the matter of decay…

“He’s still restoring you, isn’t he?” Mentor accused.

Hero said nothing but held the child closer.

“How often?” Mentor scoffed.

“…Every few days or so,” Hero answered hesitantly.

“And he’s never said what he wants from you? Never asked you to do anything? You never asked him?”

“Of course I asked him!”

The creature wailed and Hero cursed under his breath.

“For gods’ sake,” he hissed. “Could you just give me a minute.”

Mentor scoffed, considering Hero for a moment before acquiescing. He sat himself down in the armchair in the corner, pistol still trained on Hero though his form was more relaxed.

Hero meanwhile began humming a hymn he used to sing. The words themselves would burn on his tongue nowadays. But the tune was painless, and he hoped the message still carried.

Mentor waited until the baby had begun falling back asleep before he spoke again.

“I’m guessing none of this was his idea, right?”

Hero shook his head.

“He just lets me get on with it,” he replied. “Doesn’t care what I get up to so long as I’m not trying to contact any of you.”

“What in the world possessed you? I’m sure I taught you better than this-”

“You taught me to fight monsters,” Hero cut in calmly. “And I did, from the day you took me in until the day I died. And I never once questioned it. Never once thought about where they came from or why they did what they did. They were just monsters.”

Hero remembered the day he died. Remembered the teenage girl with jagged appendages for legs, a hole in her stomach filled with teeth, and claws that could extend all the way to the ground if she wanted. He remembered being shocked enough to see one so young, and being unprepared for the fatal blow he took. But most of all, he remembered her pleading as he got himself up. How much she apologised and told him that she didn’t want to die. How she cried.

Hero never made a step towards her. Never drew his weapon. He simply sat down against the wall and told her that everything was going to be fine. Amaya had brought him a kind death.

“Gods dammit, Mentor. Can you really look at something like this and still say it’s a monster?”

Mentor said nothing. His face was blank and Hero hoped it was him contemplating. He flinched when Mentor finally rose from his seat.

“Put the creature back in the cot.”

“Mentor-“

“Do it or I’ll put a bullet through you both.”

Hero held the baby closer.

“If you hurt him-“

“Do as I say, and I won’t.”

Hero shook as he held the infant, trying desperately to think of a way to protect him. He only had Mentor’s word to go off. Would Mentor lie to him? Hero knows he wouldn’t have before, but now…?

Mentor took a step closer, losing his patience, and Hero quickly and carefully placed the baby into the cot. The child thankfully didn’t wake up from the rough transfer. Mentor waved his pistol, and Hero stubbornly only took a single step away from the cot. He walked up to Hero and grabbed him by his hair, pistol beneath his chin.

“I taught you to fight monsters?” he scoffed. “I did more than that. I made you a fucking masterpiece. Efficient. Relentless. Kind. And so gods-damned devoted to the church. The people loved you and you let yourself be killed by a low-level abyssal because it carried the face of a child?!”

He pinned Hero up against the wall, slamming his head into it. Hero fought through a wave of dizziness as he reached a hand up to try and pry Mentor’s grip from his hair.

“Did you think this was over? That you could walk away and play families with these abominations for the rest of your existence? That I was done with you?”

“L-let go-“

Mentor threw Hero to the ground before taking a second to compose himself. As Hero tried to pull himself up, he noticed how quiet the room was. For a second he’d worried he’d gone deaf from the head blow.

“Such a waste,” Mentor sighed. “But I suppose if you can’t be useful in life, this is the next best thing. I’ll be back in a week. Try and learn everything you can about Villain’s plans in the meantime.”

Hero was only half-listening. He could hear crying but it was faint, as if it was somewhere below him and not in the room itself. In the corner of his eye, a shadow moved. Mentor grabbed Hero by the neck and held them against the wall again. His face leaned in close.

“If you tell him or try to leave, I’ll tell the church about you and your pets.”

“And if I already know?” Villain said with the click of an abandoned pistol as his shadowed form wisped into existence behind Mentor. “What then?”

#holy shit you guys #hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #protagonist x antagonist #story snippet #possessive villain #ex-hero #not my writing

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writinggremln · 9 days ago

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Prompt 4

"Join me, hero."

"Sorry, what?"

The villain only smiled. "Join me."

The hero blinked, shifting on their seat. They tried to be comfortable, even though it was a bit hard with all the ropes digging into their skin. "Villain, what are you talking about?" They mumbled.

The villain chuckled as they approached. "Your abilities fascinate me, dear. They may seem common at first glance, but you..." they cupped Hero's cheek and raised their head to meet their gaze, "the way you use them, my dear, they leave me speechless."

"Thanks." Hero grumbled and wrenched their head away from Villain's hold.

"They don't appreciate your gift like I do, Hero. They can't even imagine a smidge of the potential you have." Villain said as they circled the tied-up hero, who was doing their very best to stifle a yawn. "If you were to join me, your powers would thrive under my care. You would feel so free, my dear Hero. You would level cities with them, countries..."

"Villain."

The villain ignored them, a manic grin on their face. "You would make the agency fall to your knees. You would make the world fall to its knees-"

"Villain-"

Villain's eye twitched. "You would become a god-"

"Villain!"

"Would you let me finish?!" The criminal snapped their head towards Hero, furious.

"It's four in the morning, Villain!"

"I don't care! Join me."

"No."

"Do you realize what I'm offering here?" The villain scoffed. "I am giving you the opportunity to finally use your gift as it should be used-"

"I want to go to bed, Villain."

"But my offer-"

"I'M TIRED, VILLAIN!"

#wait this is so cute #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #tired hero #writeblr

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writinggremln · 11 days ago

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mmm…enjoy a VERY long study in hero whump 🙈

tw: blood, depictions of violence, near death experience (kinda)

The hero could feel their body deteriorate with every step they took down the ship’s hallway.

Their sidekick, who had the difficult job of rescuing the rebels taken prisoner by the supervillain, had been caught in an altercation with several henchmen. The hero had arrived just in time to make sure their sidekick escaped mostly unscathed, but they weren’t so lucky.

Several of their ribs felt cracked, if not completely fractured. Their right arm was definitely broken, limp and throbbing at their side. Blood pulsed from a concerningly deep laceration in their side.

Pain seized them so suddenly that they had to stop and lean against the wall for support, vision dipping sharply. “Jesus fucking Christ,” they muttered.

The sooner they got the fuck out, the better.

They stumbled through the door of what seemed to be the engine room, confirmed a second later by the glowing yellow reactor in the center of the room.

If you take out the reactor, you take out the whole ship. The leader’s words echoed through the hero’s like an omen as they reached into their bag and began attaching small bombs to the reactor’s glass casing.

They wiped their matted hair from their face. Why was it so hard to breathe? They forced themselves to inhale and exhale, even as they felt blood dribble down their leg, sweat slide between their shoulder blades.

They furrowed their brow. Only a few more bombs.

Click. Click. Their right arm throbbed hot.

The last bomb in their hand clattered to the floor.

A hand twisted in the hero’s hair, slamming them into the glass before they were yanked backwards onto their knees.

Their eyes met the dark, simmering glare of the supervillain.

Fuck.

They scrabbled for the gun at their holster, but the supervillain slammed a boot down on their hand, pinning it to the floor and busting the communication gadget on their wrist. The hero gritted their teeth. There was now no way to know if the bombs’ timer had gone off, or if anyone of their team had received its signal.

The supervillain reached down and slid the gun from the hero’s belt, cocking the safety back and pressing the barrel against their temple. The hero felt their heart speed up wildly, hammering against their aching ribs.

The supervillain crouched down next to them, hand tightening in their hair, making them wince. “Where’s your little friend?” The supervillain’s breath was sickeningly hot on the hero’s face.

Sidekick. They had to be talking about their sidekick. “Fuck you,” the hero panted, adrenaline thick in their veins.

The supervillain’s boot dug into their hand in warning, and they gasped out, feeling the delicate bones of their fingers groan under the weight. “I know they’re out there somewhere saving my precious little prisoners. Just tell me where they are, and I’ll let you go.”

Like hell I will. The hero gathered everything they had and spit in the supervillain’s face.

The supervillain raised a brow, eyes flashing dangerously, gleefully, as they slowly wiped the saliva from their face. “That’s how you wanna play it, huh?”

“Fuck. You,” the hero bit out.

The supervillain whipped them with the butt of the gun so violently that they slammed onto their back, head colliding with the metal floor and sending a burst of stars across their vision.

They groaned between clenched teeth, feeling blood trickle from a fresh cut on their temple.

The supervillain trained the firearm at their face, and the sight of the barrel made them sickly aware of the fact that they were probably going to die here.

God, the hero hoped—no, prayed—the sidekick was no longer aboard the ship, that they were not pulling off some last minute heroics like they always do, checking for stragglers or looking for the hero because they weren’t answering their gadget.

“You really think you can protect them?” The supervillain cocked their head, all malice and venom. “When I find them, I will make them scream so loud you’ll hear them in the afterlife.”

The hero inhaled, shaky and clipped. Maybe the bombs would detonate soon and this would all just be over. “Go to hell.”

The gun fired off, and the hero jolted before they felt the heat of the impact next to their head, smelled singed hair of where the laser burned through. Fear settled dully into their bones, like lead in their blood.

”I could make you scream for them,” the supervillain mused, a horrid grin splitting their lips. Their eyes traveled down the hero’s battered body and paused on their swollen, twisted right arm.

The hero felt their stomach lurch violently. Nausea seized them hard and fast. No. No, they couldn’t—

“Let’s see if they come running for you, shall we?” The supervillain chuckled mirthlessly, and the hero barely processed the boot lifting before it came down, hard onto their broken arm.

Something snapped.

The scream that left the hero was beyond anything they’ve ever heard before, guttural and raw and desperate.

Pain. All-encompassing, nerve-shattering pain was all they could process. They felt their consciousness immediately dissociate from their body, barely hanging on, barely there. Their vision blurred, dizzying and hot and god they were just in so much pain—

Distantly, they heard someone call their name.

No.

The supervillain’s hand was back in their hair, and they were yanked up to their knees again, the sudden, sharp movement nearly making them vomit. Panicked footsteps thundered outside of the room.

“Hero?! Where are you? Hero!!”

No. Leave.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the supervillain sneered in their ear before gun returned to the hero’s temple, right as the sidekick came into view.

“Oh my god,” they breathed, eyes flicking frantically between the hero to the supervillain. Their lip curled. “You fucker.”

The hero whimpered as the supervillain dug the gun into their skin uncomfortably, somehow cognizant of the way the sidekick’s expression twisted with the hellfire of emotions—ever the fierce kid the hero had known for so long.

The hero blinked rapidly, head pounding, and tried to convey everything they couldn’t say through their pained gaze.

Get out of here. Please. Please leave. Go.

But their sidekick was having none of that. They trained their gun at the supervillain, even as their hand shook. “Let them go.”

“You only have two options here, love,” the supervillain said mildly, their amusement clear. “You put down your weapon and surrender, and I’ll let them go.” They pulled on the hero’s hair, and they whined lowly, unable to stifle it. “Or, I kill the both of you.”

The sidekick swallowed hard. “Hero,” they choked, distraught, hoarse. “I—fuck, I don’t—,”

Somewhere in the back of the hero’s mind, they think they should have better prepared the sidekick for a situation like this. “Sidekick, go,”they rasped, each syllable a wheezing, dragging effort.

The sidekick locked eyes with them, and the hero’s heart crumbled at the resolve in their unwavering stare. They weren’t going to leave, not one chance. They’d do anything to guarantee the hero’s safety. Anything. And the hero knew that more than anyone.

Their cheeks felt wet. When did they start crying?

“I’m sorry, hero,” their sidekick said as they laid down their weapon, empty hands lifting in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Above the hero, the supervillain laughed, loud and abrasive. “How sweet,” they mocked. “Self-sacrifices have always been my favorite show.” They shoved the hero to the ground and walked over to the sidekick, grabbing them by the collar of their shirt. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“No,” the hero tried, but all that came out was a croak, the letters caught in their throat.

The last thing they saw was the supervillain knocking their sidekick out before they lost consciousness.

#“when I find them I will make them scream so loud you'll hear them in the afterlife” jesus fucking christ 😦😦😦#hero and villain #villain and hero #injured hero #hero whump #villain whumper #hero whumpee #forced to watch #dark villain #sidekick #writing snippet #not my writing

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writinggremln · 15 days ago

Text

Prompt 4

"Join me, hero."

"Sorry, what?"

The villain only smiled. "Join me."

The hero blinked, shifting on their seat. They tried to be comfortable, even though it was a bit hard with all the ropes digging into their skin. "Villain, what are you talking about?" They mumbled.

"Thanks." Hero grumbled and wrenched their head away from Villain's hold.

"Villain."

The villain ignored them, a manic grin on their face. "You would make the agency fall to your knees. You would make the world fall to its knees-"

"Villain-"

Villain's eye twitched. "You would become a god-"

"Villain!"

"Would you let me finish?!" The criminal snapped their head towards Hero, furious.

"It's four in the morning, Villain!"

"I don't care! Join me."

"No."

"Do you realize what I'm offering here?" The villain scoffed. "I am giving you the opportunity to finally use your gift as it should be used-"

"I want to go to bed, Villain."

"But my offer-"

"I'M TIRED, VILLAIN!"

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #idk i thought it would be funny #hero x villain #villain x hero #tired hero #to be fair it IS 4 am for hero so ofc they'd be tired #free hero they only want sleep #villain free them #my writing #my prompts #writing prompt #writeblr

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writinggremln · 24 days ago

Note

I really liked the June of doom 18 thing you wrote! I was wondering if you could make a part 2?

Thank youuuu😭💖 Sorry if I'm a bit late. I actually had this in my drafts, but I had to write and rewrite it and then delete some parts because I wasn't satisfied. But I think I'm fine with this result now (I think).

(I actually had this flashback scene with Hero and their mentor for some reason, but the snippet felt too long [and I was getting a bit distracted from the whump lmao] so I took that out and saved it in my drafts. Maybe I'll post that later)

Also @whumplicity I think you were the one who asked to be tagged in this, right?

~~~~~

Part 2 of this

The knife would've plucked Hero's eye out if the hero hadn't arched their back at an impossible angle in the nick of time. They grit their teeth when the weapon grazed their cheek. The hero barely had enough time to correct their stance before Supervillain's fist connected with their jaw.

Hero whimpered loudly and put a hand over their mouth, glaring at the supervillain through unshed tears. The taste of dull metal invaded their mouth. They had bitten their tongue.

"Hero...!" They heard Villain gasp behind them and a breath hitch as their nemesis tried and failed to stand up, aggravating their wound.

"Don't." Hero whispered sharply, putting an arm behind them, reaching Villain's head. "Stay down. Let me handle this."

"You stupid fool..." Villain rasped, and Hero refrained themselves from telling them that 'stupid' and 'fool' were the same thing.

They gulped down the pain and took a step forward, letting go of Villain's head and spitting out blood. Supervillain stood a few steps away from them, grinning as they played with their knife between their fingers. First order of business, Hero noted, get this fucker away from Villain.

"You really should leave." They stopped twirling their knife and held the weapon tightly in their hands. "I have business to do, young hero, and despite my reputation, I despise to get my hands too bloody. Also, I have no time for... whatever this is." They gestured at Hero and Villain.

Hero growled and lunged forward, squaring Supervillain in the face. With the corner of their eye, the hero saw a glint and swivled their head away from the knife, which nearly caught their eye again.

"Got a thing for eyes, villain?"

Supervillain laughed, pausing for a moment. "Come on, now, little hero. You know my name." Then, in a flash, they were right in front of Hero, again. "Don't treat me like some common villain." They whispered, their breath tickling the hero's nose.

Hero gasped at the sudden proximity and instinctively surrounded themselves with fire. Well, more like heat. Oh, fuck. Not now! Not now, please! Hero had trained time and time again with their mentor just to keep their powers in check. They were lucky this time; only a flicker came out, thankfully.

Hero cursed. They couldn't afford to be reckless. Or not in control of their fire. Not with their villain still there, right behind them, sitting in a pool of their own blood.

"Oho?" Supervillain cackled. "We're using powers now? Perfect."

No, no, no, no, no! I was not! I was really not! Hero gasped when a sudden gusp of wind took their breath right out of their lungs, slamming them against a wall. Before they could fall to the ground they were picked up by some unseen force and slammed again. And again. And again.

And again.

I'm being beaten by fucking wind? Hero thought bitterly through the pain. Fantastic.

Hero groaned and fell to their knees. They thought they could hear someone sobbing. "H-Hero, no..." Funny, it sounded just like Villain.

Don't be stupid, Hero. Hero nearly laughed at the thought. Villain doesn't cry.

Villain doesn't beg either, but they were just a few moments ago too, dimwit.

...

Shit... I have to get myself together. Once the hero realized their eyes were closed, they forced themselves to stand up and open them. Their heart stuttered with fury and anxiety when they saw Supervillain crouching in front of Villain, their Villain, a cruel hand twisting their nemesis' hair.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Stop..! P-Please, Supervillain, I- ack!" Villain's body twitched when the handle of Supervillain's knife found their wound.

"I don't take traitors lightly, Villain." Supervillain whispered in their ear, ignoring the villain's begging. "Both you and Other Villain will face the consequences of betraying me." They pressed the weapon harder against the villain's abdomen.

Hero's stomach lurched as the villain wailed.

Without thinking, they raised a shaky arm towards Supervillain, balling their hand to a fist and then pointing their index and middle finger at them, mimicking a small pistol.

Do not fuck this up. Do not fuck this up.

Hero took a deep breath and aimed their hands towards Supervillain, who, despite their oh so self righteous 'I was betrayed and now I'm taking my revenge' monologue, was grinning wildly at Villain's tears. If I aim at them now, I might hurt Villain. The fire will be too wide. It'll consume both of them.

Hero grit their teeth. Then an idea formed. Do not fuck this up. They aimed at the garbage cans, a few meters away from the villains, which were conveniently on the other side of the alley. Do not fuck this up. Their hand shook. Their vision was hazy. Somewhere, Villain screamed again, their voice hoarse. Do not fuck this up.

They let out their breath and steadied themselves. They aimed. And they shot.

"Where are they? Where is Other Villain?" Supervillain demanded, the handle of their knife remaining against Villain's wound.

"I d-don't know! I don't know, p-please!" A scream. "...stop!"

"I'll stop when I get my answers." Supervillain replied coldly, not even bothering to hide their sadistic smile. "Now, tell me."

"Please!" The villain sobbed. "They left me! I don't kno- PLEASE!" Villain's body trembled violently. Not again. Not again. They can't go through this again. "H-Hero... HERO!" They can't be trapped in Supervillain's clutches again. "I need you, Hero, please!"

Supervillain's eye twitched. "Begging like they're your god." They scoffed and pulled the knife away just to slash it across the villain's face, giving the pathetic sobbing mess a scar across their face. "How far you've fallen."

The bigger villain grabbed Villain's face, causing their brand new scratch to bleed more. "Hero..." their voice was but a whisper now, terrified of Supervillain's wrath, "Hero, please..."

"You have no idea how-" Supervillain felt the heat before it hit them. They didn't even have enough time to shield themselves with their wind.

Supervillain's eyes widened and they literally jumped when the fire hit their back, their wind flying aimlessly across their body. But it was too late; their body was already in flames.

Villain heard their former boss curse as they jumped back and quickly twirl their fingers, summoning their wind in an attempt to put Hero's fire out.

Hero... Hero did that?

They heard a thud beside them. Villain fliched.

"Villain!" Impossibly hot hands grabbed their face gently, making sure not to touch their scar. Oh... Hero did that. "Villain, talk to me, please."

"You're still here..." Villain muttered in disbelief, their own voice sounding far away. They knew they had been begging pathetically just a few seconds before to be saved by them, but they didn't expect for Hero to actually... save them. Villain thought the hero would've left by now. Maybe to either get some help or just pretend this never happened, leaving them in Supervillain's mercy.

But no. Hero had stayed.

They'd stayed.

"Of course I am. I'm- shit..." The hero put a hand behind their head and brought it back to their field of vision; it was bloody.

"Hero? Hero, don't you dare pass out now." Villain's body trembled. "N-Not now, I-" I need you. "I can't get up."

"Oh, please." Hero scoffed and put an arm behind the villain's back and another under their legs. "I don't go down that easily." With a small groan, they stood up, taking Villain with them. Villain should be embarrassed by how their nemesis was holding them, but they were too busy trying not to jostle and hurt themselves too much. "You good?"

Before Villain could answer they heard a scratchy voice. "You..." Villain's blood went cold. Supervillain.

"Ah, fuck." They heard the hero mutter to themselves and felt their grip tightening, taking a few small steps back away from Supervillain, who had somehow managed to put out the fire.

"Well, I must say, young hero," Supervillain huffed and calmly fixed their clothes, as if they weren't even on fire before, as if Hero's flames meant nothing to them, "that stunt of yours did surprise me."

Villain pressed themselves harder against Hero's chest, wanting to hide away. They knew Supervillain was smiling, but years of experience told them that their boss was furious.

The villain whimpered. Hero's hold tightened.

"I know you heroes have some sort of a rewarding system depending on how many villains you arrest, but really," Hero took a small step back, and Villain, whose head was pressed against their chest, could hear the hero's heartbeat speed up, "isn't this going too far?"

The villain could feel Supervillain's gaze burning them. "Is that one really worth it?"

Hero didn't answer, but they did sway. The villain expected their nemesis to fall on their knees from all the blood loss at that moment, but the hero stubbornly stayed up, unflinching. Villain was so thankful for Hero's stubborness now, a trait that they had always despided whenever they had clashed against each other.

They heard the supervillain hum. The three of them stayed frozen like that, for what Villain felt like were eons. Then, in the distance, they heard sirens sounding out.

Warning sirens. Villain realized, their vision getting hazy. Sirens alerting citizens to shelter themselves and hide. It also alerted every hero in the city of dangerous superpowered criminals in the area.

"That damn kid." They heard Hero chuckle quietly to themselves. Before the villain could question them, they flinched as Supervillain started to laugh suddenly.

"Seriously? A villain alert?" They cackled. "Well, I suppose that is my que then. Don't get too relaxed."

Even though the supervillain's voice was a whisper, it seemed to be engraved in Villain's head. "This is not over."

Villain heard footsteps gradually leaving, which they assumed were Supervillain's.

After a while, the hero fell on the ground suddenly. "Oof! Well, that was intense." They chuckled lightly. "You alright? ...Villain?"

Villain desperately tried to keep their eyes open. "H-Hero, I... I see black spots."

They heard hero curse. "Just listen to my voice, Villain. You'll be fine. As soon as I get to use my legs again, I'll take you to my place and heal you. I promise I'll do everything in my power to- oh. 'Sup, Sidekick." A beat of silence. "Didn't I tell you to not get help?"

Oh, great. Villain sighed inwardly. It's Hero's fucking teleporting kid.

"Hero..." Sidekick's voice was filled with disbelief. "What the fuck."

That's all Villain heard before darkness consumed them.

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writinggremln · 24 days ago

Text

Febuwhump: day twenty-five

Prompt — waterboarding ( @febuwhump prompts)

PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THIS SNIPPET IS VERY GRAPHIC, VERY TRIGGERING FOR CHOKING, SUFFOCATING AND GENERALLY VERY DARK!

TW: waterboarding (VERY DETAILED) interrogation, team Whump, leader whumpee, interrogator Whumper, nonchalant torturer, traumatic event, suffocating, choking, gagging, vomiting, spewing, dissociation

PLEASE AGAIN READ THE TAGS MIND THE WARNINGS

Henchmen led Whumper down into the basement where they held the Hero team. Whumper followed, hands in the pockets of their black combats, eyes skimming the cold stone walls as they waited for Henchmen to open the door.

“Supervillain said they refuse to talk,” said Henchmen to Whumper, looking back over their shoulder at them and frowning. “Said you’re the best interrogator in the city.”

“Yeah?” Whumper asked, tilting their head, tone bored. “High praise from Supervillain.”

“You don’t look like a good interrogator.”

Whumper let out a small hmph of a laugh which Henchmen went pale at. “I— I mean, it’s just— you’re young. You look younger than me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Whumper with a shrug, half lidded eyes on Henchmen and the door. “I get paid hourly, so if you want Supervillain to pay me more, which I would appreciate—”

Henchmen shook their head and turned their attention back to the lock. “Right sorry.”

Whumper leaned their back against the wall and repressed a sigh. They weren’t a very patient person, which probably came with the job description but how many times had they had this same conversation with other employers.

The lock finally clicked and Whumper pushed off the wall, grabbing the door as they passed Henchmen. They met Henchmen’s eyes, looking up at them with the same blank expression they usually wore.

“Listen, henchmen, it gets pretty bleak when I’m interrogating. You sure you can stomach it?”

Henchmen nodded, though their face expressed their hesitance. “Supervillain said I had to accompany you.”

Whumper blinked, then glanced back at the stairs up to Supervillain’s house before sighing.

“Fine. If you want to impress him so damn much.”

Henchmen blushed, flustered. “I— I—”

Whumper was already walking down the stairs to the Hero team, ignored Henchmen’s embarrassment.

“You coming or what, sycophant?”

“Uh, yes!” Henchmen said and closed the door after them.

Whumper stood at the gate of the powered cell, frowning at the Hero team inside. Their eyes passed over each of them, Whumper knew some of them from the news. Especially the tallest one, Leader. One look at them and Whumper knew they wouldn’t talk if Whumper broke every bone in their body. The rest of them… well, Whumper had more faith in their own talents than the other member’s resilience.

Whumper’s eyes landed on a familiar face sitting furthest from the door, their lips twitching as they met Rogue’s eyes from across the room. Henchmen was getting to work opening the gate when Rogue spoke.

“Whumper?” Rogue asked, their voice a mix of confusion and fear. The rattle of chains as Rogue shifted forwards in the dimly lit cell, squinting.

“Hey, Rogue. Funny meeting like this, huh? How have you been?”

“Good,” said Rogue in that same guarded tone.

“Rogue?” Leader asked. “Who is this?”

“An old friend,” said Rogue, swallowing, their eyes going back to Whumper as Henchmen opened the gate and Whumper stepped through. “We grew up in the same neighbourhood.”

“Mmm,” Whumper hummed fondly. “In the Grouts of the city, eh, Rogue? How’s your mum?”

“She’s good.”

Whumper smiled. “Good, good. Tell her I say hi. She’s a lovely woman.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, I hope you know this is all just business,” Whumper said gesturing to the cell and themselves with their hand.

“You don’t have to hurt us.”

Whumper’s smile melted from their face, eyebrows raising. “Oh? Your team are all loose lips, huh? You’ll just tell me about Superhero and his secret weapon?”

Rogue went quiet, so did the rest of the cell. A humourless smile crept onto Whumper’s face. “Yeah… I didn’t think this job would be that easy.”

“What do you want?” Leader asked. Whumper flicked their gaze to Leader who was on his knees, hands cuffed to a ring in the wall behind him like the rest of the Hero team. Yikes, what kind of sicko was Supervillain to have metal rings embedded in stone? Whumper supposed it didn’t matter.

“I want to get paid,” said Whumper, stretching their arms above their head. “Ugh, then I want to go home and watch TV. That sound good to you, heroes?”

“I think he meant… like what do you want with them,” said Henchmen quietly to Whumper. Whumper frowned and made a verbal “huh!” in exclamation.

“I just told them,” said Whumper. “Supervillain wants information on Superhero’s secret weapon, I’m here to get that information and get paid.”

Leader curled his lip back into a snarl. “Good luck with that.”

Whumper shrugged. “Thank you, Leader. However I am a professional, I don’t need luck. I’m trained to get stoic people chatty.”

“You really think Supervillain hasn’t tried? Torturing us, depriving us of food and water? Leaving us down here to starve and then when that didn’t work going back to torturing us? We’re built to endure,” said Leader with a mirthless smirk. “We don’t break.”

Whumper nodded. “Okay. We can do this the hard way then.”

Whumper turned to henchmen and asked them to grab a cloth and a hose to attach to the tap. “Oh, and a chair, please, henchmen.”

Henchmen left the room, their footsteps ascending was the only sound permeating the cell. Whumper walked over to the girl sitting directly opposite Leader. The only person on the Hero team that Whumper didn’t recognise. Maybe a new recruit? Leader lurched forward, but Whumper just cocked an eyebrow at Leader.

“What’s your name?” Whumper asked her. “This isn’t the interrogation yet, don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me. Just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Whumper looked at Rogue who kept their eyes trained on Whumper. “How long have ye been down here?”

“A while,” Rogue told them with a huff.

Whumper nodded. “Supervillain really starve all of you?”

“Yeah,” said Rogue, a little sheepishly.

“Nothing you’re not used to,” said Whumper with a little laugh. Rogue joined in, although a bit awkwardly. Whumper’s eyes scanned the other people in the room who looked a bit dazed at the flyaway comment. Then they reclined their head against the wall. “Oh. Sorry. You never told them.”

“It’s okay,” said Rogue with a shrug. “They were bound to find out eventually.”

Whumper nodded again. Then let out a sigh. “You don’t want to tell me Superhero’s plan, do you? Save you all some suffering.”

Rogue laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well, god loves a trier.”

The door to the basement creaked open and Henchmen came down the stairs and left all the things Whumper asked for at the front of the cell, near the gate. “Ah. Wonderful. Thank you henchmen.”

Whumper stood in front of the team of heroes and cleared their throat while Henchmen attached the hose to the leaky tap.

“Okay. For my first trick, I need a volunteer. Leader?” Whumper asked with a smile. Leader scoffed but nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent.”

Henchmen freed Leader from the wall, the cuffs staying on and led Leader over to chair that Whumper stood at.

“Sit down,” said Whumper. Leader obliged them, and Whumper grabbed Leader’s arms and brought them up over the back of the chair. It was all very gentle, very professional, as if Whumper wasn’t trying to hurt Leader. It sent warning bells off in Leader’s head, but all he could do was follow along with what Whumper was doing.

Henchmen handed Whumper another pair of handcuffs and Whumper thanked them. Whumper attached one of the cuffs to Leader’s cuff chain, and the other to the chair so Leader couldn’t move his hands away.

“Henchmen will you get the legs?”

“Of course.”

Before long Leader’s ankles were cuffed to the chair as well and Leader couldn’t get up from the seat.

“Alright, people. Last chance.”

“Do you worst.”

Whumper smiled. Then they tipped Leader’s chair back. Leader let out a soft oomph as the chair fell back the rest of the way until Leader was facing the ceiling, Whumper and Henchmen standing above him.

The last thing Leader saw was a towel coming down over his head. Leader would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of what happened next. None of Supervillain’s men had taken his sight, or tied him to a chair just to force him awkwardly onto the ground. The top of his head was the only thing on the ground, that and his arms that were pinned beneath Leader’s weight on the chair, his legs in the air.

Another towel added to the initial one on top of Leader’s head, then another and Leader could feel his heart in his throat when he heard tape being ripped. The towels were wrapped in a single layer of duct tape over Leader’s eyes and another layer below his chin.

Leader swallowed, his hands balling into fists behind him that was already causing pins and needles in his arms.

There was a moment of silence: the atmosphere balanced on a precarious edge of fear and tension. Whumper nodded at henchmen to turn on the tap and picked up the hose.

“Any takers?” Whumper asked again. They weren’t usually this nice to the people they were torturing, but Rogue was an old friend. “No? Okay. Sorry Leader.”

That was all the warning Leader got before he was inhaling water. It was slow, trickling into his nose and Leader realised with a sickening beat that Whumper was water boarding him.

Leader held his breath on instinct, shaking his head, his arms trapped uselessly behind him. His legs were kicking at the cuffs that kept them locked to the chair.

“Leader?!” One of their team asked, voice shrill. Leader couldn’t tell who, and his lungs were aching with how much he was struggling to get the towels off his face, turning away from the hose that was relentless.

“Leader!”

“Wait! Stop! Stop!”

Whumper stared impassively at all the team members, eyes half-lidded, one hand in their pocket as they regarded them all as if they were all just waiting in line for a coffee.

“You can stop this,” said Whumper matter-of-factly.

One of the members beside Rogue spoke up: “Leader wouldn’t want us to.”

Whumper dropped their head, a sardonic expression crossing their features. “Are you serious? Do you really think Leader is thinking about his ideals right now?”

Leader gasped, unable to hold his breath anymore and he started gagging on the air, gurgling water and retching, his body spasming and limbs pulling at the restraints. Whumper didn’t even blink at the change.

“The instinct when being water boarded,” Whumper began, “is to hold your breath. Which Leader here just learned is a bad idea because eventually your lungs want air.”

“Whumper,” Rogue said in warning, yanking at the chains holding them back.

Whumper’s impassive eyes met Rogue’s. “Leader’s body needs air, except he was inhaling water which triggers his gag reflex and is effectively scorching his throat as we speak.”

“Stop it!” One of the members cried. “Stop narrating your torture!”

Whumper shrugged. “Fine. We can sit in silence if you prefer.”

Whumper did just that. They fell silent and so did everyone else. Leader was choking, convulsing, fighting, gasping, all very wetly, the water pooling around Leader’s head as his body tensed. Leader pushed against the chair, his body going stiff as he tried to tilt the chair back up to stop the easy onslaught of pain.

His brain was screaming at him, his body fighting and not understanding that he should stop trying to breathe but his mind wouldn’t let him stop panicking enough to let him hold his breath.

Leader threw his body weight into his legs forward and to his shock the chair went upright. Then Whumper caught the chair and Leader gasped in sweet sweet air, gasping, gasping, not getting enough air and started choking and spluttering on it.

“You had enough Leader?” Whumper asked, their voice matching their face that was a cold, emotionless thing.

Leader was still breathing in air, trying to get his heartbeat under control, drunk on oxygen.

“Leader?” One of the team asked.

“No… don’t—” Leader rasped, then descended into a coughing fit. “Don’t tell them anything.”

“Oh,” said Whumper, letting the chair fall backwards again. “Sounds like you got a bad cough there Leader. You need some water?”

“No! Wait!” Leader protested.

Whumper let the hose fall over Leader’s face again, and Leader held his breath again like an idiot. Whumper stared down at Leader’s chest, wired so tight, trying not to let drowning bother him.

Whumper looked back at the other members of the team. “This is the easiest way to get answers from people, in my professional opinion. Plus it’s not disgusting, no lasting damage on Leader or you guys, except you know, trauma and psychological damage, but you know what I mean.”

Four horrified expressions looked at Whumper. Whumper glanced back to Henchmen who stood at the tap, their jaw tight.

Whumper knew it was a professional, practical reason why they didn’t really react to inflicting pain on people, but at times like this, when even Supervillain’s right hand was uncomfortable with Whumper’s methods… that made them feel inhuman. Wrong.

Whumper’s eyes found Rogue’s that were burning into them from across the cell. Strangely, they were the only eyes that Whumper really cared about. So funny how the past can creep up on you.

Well, a job is a job at the end of the day, Whumper might as well do one that they’re good at. The people in this room were Heroes because it was their talent. Whumper’s talent was pressure point and pain, and knowing just how far to go to get someone to snap.

Leader gasped below Whumper, bringing their attention back to the writhing worm on a hook below them. “Ah. There we go. The inhale. Human anatomy fucks you everytime, huh, Leader?”

“You’re a sadistic bastard!” One of the team members screamed.

Whumper frowned. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s just a job. Same as you Heroes, and your Superhero. Ask yourself this, if Leader was in your position and you were in his, would he protect you or would he protect Superhero?”

“You’re a bastard!”

Leader wheezed, trying to push himself up again, but Whumper had placed a foot on the chair by Leader’s head. “Ah, ah, ah. Leader. You’re not breathing again until someone starts talking.”

Leader convulsed erratically under the water, trying to lift his head up to try and get some air in his lungs. He craned his neck up, but the air attacked his senses and Leader gasped and fell back again. The hose mercilessly flowed over his nose again.

Whumper looked up suddenly. “Hey, do any of you know if Leader has asthma? Cause if so you need to decide faster, this is not a good thing to do to people who are asthmatic.”

“And it’s a good thing for normal people?” One of them asked and Whumper scoffed.

“Semantics,” they said.

“We have to tell them,” said Rogue quietly.

“What?!”

“We can’t Rogue.”

“Listen,” Rogue said, their voice edging on desperate. “I know Whumper, okay?! They’re not going to stop until they get what they want. They can sit here all day and torture Leader and not feel a thing.”

“Rogue’s right,” said Whumper with a sigh. “I get paid by the hour, so really this whole debate back and forth is good for me. Financially I mean. Take your time. Leader, do you mind if they take their time?”

Leader gurgled and choked and spluttered.

Whumper smiled at the team. “See? He’s fine. Take your time.”

“Oh shut up, Whumper,” said the quiet girl. Whumper looked at her, the new one that sat opposite Leader and wouldn’t offer her name. When she looked at Whumper now her eyes burned with a sizzling hatred.

Whumper smiled at her, recognising that level of hatred as their own. Whumper remembers being where she was, powerless to stop bad things from happening to the people they loved.

It felt full circle, that moment, and it ignited something within Whumper that was a little feral, and broken, and wrong. Whumper’s eyes flashed at her, whose glare was unbroken and burning a hole through Whumper’s head, or it would if it could.

Below them, Leader was still spluttering and choking and gagging and wrenching and writhing but Whumper’s attention was fixed on the new girl now.

“Huh. You’re chatty now? Wanna share your name?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to die.”

“Thats a little forward, considering we’ve just met,” said Whumper, glancing at Rogue, whose wide eyes were fixed squarely on the girl. “They always like this, Rogue? Little rude for a Hero.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

Whumper hummed to themselves. They moved the hose away from Leader’s head and smiled wanly at the sounds of Leader gasping and coughing on air again.

“Still with us, Leader?” Whumper asked, not taking their eyes off of the angry girl.

“Go… go ffu—urself,” Leader wheezed between laboured breaths.

“Waterboarding is special, huh, Leader? You need breaks in between or it’s not as effective.”

“You—”

Whumper pressed the hose back to Leader and Leader immediately started coughing. Whumper smiled at the girl whose jaw tightened at Whumper’s blasé style of interrogation.

Whumper took the hose off of Leader again, to more coughing and spluttering.

“How’s the cough, Leader?”

“Ff—” Leader didn’t even get a syllable out before Whumper pressed the hose down on his nose again.

“Leader!” One of the other teammates exclaimed, but Whumper had their gaze trained on the girl. Watching her muscles tightening.

Whumper smirked.

Oh they just found the weak link. Maybe they had a special relationship with Leader.

Whumper told Henchmen to turn the tap off and dropped the hose to the floor. Things just got interesting.

“You can put Leader upright,” said Whumper to Henchmen as they walked to the angry girl. Whumper crouched down in front of her. She glared up at Whumper.

“Whumper,” said Rogue in warning. Whumper smiled down at the girl and said: “Rogue, if you try and dissuade me again I will have Henchmen gag you.”

The girl’s eyes flicked briefly to Leader who was pushed to an upright position. Leader spewed some water from his lungs onto the floor in front of him, head lolling forward and groaning.

“What’s your name, little Hero?” Whumper asked.

“Little Hero,” she replied, eyes hard as she stared at Whumper.

Whumper grinned. “Funny.”

Whumper got to their feet and walked over to Leader, purposefully. They ripped the towels from Leader’s head and grabbed one, coiling it meticulously into a shape resembling coiled rope. Then Whumper shoved it between Leader’s teeth, thankful that the towel was long enough to tie it behind Leader’s head and double knot it.

Leader groaned behind the gag.

“Okay,” said Whumper. “Because you all seem like good guys, I’m giving you a bonus last chance to tell me what I want to know before I really traumatise you all.”

Leader wasn’t even really there behind the eyes anymore, just trying to focus on breathing, on surviving. He wasn’t even pulling at the cuffs anymore.

“How can he answer?!” Rogue demanded hotly. “You just gagged Leader!”

Whumper’s smile seemed to suck all the coldness from the room. “I’m not asking him questions, Rogue. I’m asking all of you. Now then. We go again.”

This time, Whumper left the chair upright and just yanked Leader’s head back. Then Whumper grabbed the hose and grinned at everyone.

He stuck it on Leader’s nose. After a few seconds it was as if Leader was being electrocuted, his body convulsing violently against the chair to the cries of his teammates.

“Stop!”

“Stop it!”

“WHUMPER!” Rogue screamed, all of them struggling and pulling on their restraints. Whumper didn’t react. They didn’t even look at any of them.

“Stop please!” One of them cried wetly, oh yeah. Good. Tears meant they were almost there. On the verge of telling Whumper what they wanted to hear.

Leader’s hands and ankles were bleeding from how hard he was pulling and straining at the cuffs. Whumper had to commend the team, they don’t think they could withstand seeing someone they love and trust being tortured like this.

“THE WEAPON IS A PERSON!” Whumper pulled the hose away immediately, head swivelling to the confessor. Whumper grinned when they saw it was the little Hero. Oh, Whumper knew she would snap first.

Whumper smiled sweetly while Leader coughed and vomited water from his lungs pathetically. Whumper pulled the gag from Leader’s mouth and more water pooled out, Leader’s throat expanding and vomiting water onto the ground. Well, Whumper wouldn’t be a good interrogator if they let their leverage die.

“Who?” Whumper asked softly.

The entire team was shivering, chests heaving, emotion running heavy through them, as if they were all getting water boarded. Hero’s wide eyes were on Leader who had appeared to go unconscious. Whumper didn’t care.

“Who?” They asked again, more firm this time.

“Let him go.”

“Tell me who or I’ll slit his throat right now, Hero.”

Hero pursed her lips at Whumper, eyes burning.

“Oh,” Whumper said, glancing between Hero and Leader. “Oh… you’re not in love with him, are you? No. That wasn’t loving forlorn glances that was… that was guilt, wasn’t it?”

“Whumper please—” Rogue begged but Whumper held up a hand that effectively silenced them. Hero sniffed, eyes glued on Leader in the chair.

Whumper smiled. “Oh Supervillain is gonna laugh when he realises he had Superhero’s secret weapon locked in the basement this whole time.”

“Henchmen, will you be a dear and check Leader’s pulse for me?”

There was a few seconds of silence, the team waiting with bated breath that turned into a collective sigh when Henchmen said: “still alive.”

“Wonderful,” said Whumper. “We need to bring him upstairs with us—”

“No!” Hero yelled, struggling against her own restraints. “Leave him alone! It’s me you want, take me,” she pleaded, tears streaming freely down her face.

“To make sure he’s okay,” said Whumper pointedly. “When waterboarding goes wrong sometimes people get hypothermia, so we have to be careful. But don’t worry, Hero. You’re coming too.”

#peak team whump right here #i love whumper's personality in this one #not my writing #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #cw waterboarding #tw waterboarding #waterboarding whump #interrogation whump #team whump #tw choking #forced to watch #forced to watch whump #team leader whumpee #team leader whump #hero team Whump

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writinggremln · 1 month ago

Text

Continuation of this

A few hours later, Hero lay in Villain's bed, a wet towel on their forehead and covered in blankets. They had drifted off before waking up with a start multiple times, until they were finally sleeping normally. Villain sighed and sat on the chair next to the bed.

"I'm off now." The doctor Villain had called over, which was actually their assistant/mad scientist, said to them.

Villain only waved their hand dismissively. "Don't make too much noise when you go."

Their assistant knew better than to argue with Villain about their behaviour, so they just nodded. They still rolled their eyes though. Not that Villain noticed, they were too busy fawning over their nemesis.

It infuriated them, somehow. If Scientist had their enemy fall to a moaning heap on their doorstep, they'd waste no time in getting rid of them permanently. This would only cause problems in the future, they were sure. If Scientist wasn't so terrified of Villain, they'd just kill Hero right then and ther-

"Why are you still here?" Villain's voice was quiet, but it still made the assistant's heart pound wildly out of fear. It was amazing how the villain could install fear with just their voice.

"S-Sorry, I'll be leaving now." Scientist flinched quickly got out of the room, making sure to make as little noise as possible.

Oh well. The hero is Villain's problem now, anyway.

The villain sighed and their gaze fell on Hero again. Their fingers grazed the other's cheek. The doc said not to bother them, but a little poke won't hurt. They caught the hero's cheek between their index and middle finger and pinched slightly. "Mm." Hero's brows furrowed and they shifted slightly in discomfort.

"Tsk. For fuck's sake, darling." The villain released them and Hero's eyes opened slightly.

"...Villain?" They mumbled, their voice small, too small for someone as brave and loud as Hero.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep." The villain put a hand on their eyes gently, feeling the hero's eyelashes graze their hand as they closed their eyes. "And try to rest, will you? You're no good to me like this."

When their hero's breathing deepened, Villain took their hand away, taking the towel with them. It was only going to bring them discomfort anyways. They leaned back on their chair, never taking their eyes off of the sleeping figure on the bed. "...how the hell did you end up like this, huh, Hero?" They whispered and their own eyelids felt heavy. They did not close them.

Hero was dreaming. Flashing lights. Loud music. Distorted laughter. Then the dream changed. There was darkness. A figure looming over them. A voice. The figure spoke, it said something, something that made Hero's heart race and their whole body sweat uncomfortably.

The dream repeated. Flashing lights. Loud music. Distorted laughter. Darkness. A shadow. A voice, louder this time.

And again. Flashing lights. Loud music. Distorted laughter. Darkness. A shadow. A voice, telling them something.

And again. Flashing lights. Loud music. Distorted laughter. Darkness. A shadow. A scratchy voice, grating their ears.

The hero's heart pounded harder against their ribcage, threatening to shoot painfully out of their chest. Flashing lights. Loud music. Distorted laughter. Darkness. A shadow. A scratchy voice, whispering in their ear. "...-ould've made sure I was actually gone, little one."

Hero woke up with a start, their body jerking in shock, gasping for air.

"Oh, hello."

Before they even had the chance to recognize where they were, a heavy weight dropped on their stomach. "Oof!"

"Oh, you're fine, darling. You don't have any bodily injuries. I checked."

Hero blinked a few times and their eyes finally focused on Villain, who rested their cheek on one hand, the other poking Hero's forehead. Their long legs caged the hero's upper body and head. "Villain?" Poke. "Why am I...?" Another poke. Hero frowned. "Hey-" Poke. The hero slapped the villain's hand away. "Stop that."

"You owe me." Villain ignored them and, for some bizarre reason, squeezed Hero's face with their feet.

"Ugh! Enough!" Hero sat up, causing the villain to fall between their legs. For a moment the whole world spun and Hero squeezed their eyes shut with a groan.

"Yeah, that wasn't smart, darling." Villain sounded amused.

"Fuck off." While the villain let out a small chuckle, Hero tried to remember the events which caused them to be here. In Villain's room. On their bed. With said villain still sitting casually right in front of them, their legs wrapped around the hero's waist. They rubbed their eyes, wiping sclera and-

Flashing lights. Laughter. Shadow. Voice.

Hero hissed as a sudden headache, feeling nauseous.

"Hey." Villain whispered at them. "Hey. It's rude to ignore." A light tug on their hair.

Hero took their hands away from their eyes and glared at the smirking face in front of them. "What."

"You look like shit."

Hero gave them a look before pushing the other on the other side of the bed. They had hoped the villain would fall out of it, but of course, the bed was huge. What sort of freak has a couple's bed when they lived alone? Hero wondered as their eyes took in the room. It isn't just the bed, the room is the size of my whole apartment, too. All this space, and for what?

Whatever. The hero had other problems than judging the way Villain lived. They turned their back to the criminal and-

Lights. Laughter. Voice.

"Argh, fuck!" Hero grabbed their head with their hands, applying pressure to stop the pain.

"...Hero." A hand their shoulder. "Hey, don't ignore me."

"I'm fine." Hero's voice was harsher than they intended and they brushed the villain's hand away. "Just... just wondering how I got here."

"You were drugged." The villain offered helpfully.

Darkness. Flashing lights.

"I know."

"Do you know who did it?"

Hero sat on the side of the bed and crouched, resting their elbows on their knees, and sighed. "N-"

Shadow, voice. Blinding lights.

"-made sure I was gone-"

Hero stilled.

"Darling, you look tense." The villain hummed and put their hands on Hero's shoulders, squeezing slightly. "Want me to rub that tension away?"

"Supervillain."

"...That's not what I'm called."

"They never found the body." The hero mumbled, their hands shaking.

"So?" The villain released them, and sat next to them.

"They're alive."

A moment of silence. Then Villain snorted. "Impossible. They fell off a skyscraper. It was broadcasted live."

"Yeah, well," Hero huffed out a humourless laugh, "they didn't look dead to me."

A scoff. "Hero, you were drugged. Can you be really sure it's them? The whole world saw." The villain's voice sounded amused, but their eyes betrayed the unease they were really feeling. Seeing the strong keeper of peace and protector of the city trembling did that to a person. And the hero sounded too certain. And the bad feeling in their gut didn't help. "And even if it were them, it makes no sense. Why here? Why now? Why attack you?"

Hero's mouth went dry as Villain continued.

"Neither you nor this city had anything to do with their plans. I mean sure, their nemesis was Superhero, your mentor, but they started mentoring you after their big battle, right?" They didn't wait for an answer. "Which resulted in their death, by the way."

Hero shook their head. "They're alive." They whispered.

"Okay then, let's say they survived." Villain sighed. "What could they possibly want from you? And besides, Supervillain doesn't go around drugging heroes in secret, it just isn't their style. And what could Supervillain, of all people, want in a small city like ours-?"

"They're looking for someone." Hero's voice was low, but the villain heard them. They glanced curiously at Hero, who was finally remembering the events of last night. Well, bits and pieces.

They were at a club. Flashing lights. Loud music. "Feeling alright?" Distorted laughter. And then some mumbling that Hero could not quite recall. Not that it mattered, it was obvious to them what had happened. Their drink had been spiked.

"Looking for someone?" Villain's voice felt far away, as if they were underwater. "Who?"

But Hero wasn't listening. Their memories were fuzzy after that. Still, bits and pieces were better than nothing.

Darkness. Supervillain must've dragged them somewhere, away from the blinding lights of the club. Shadow. That must've been Supervillain themselves.

"Your villain sure is good at hiding their identity. You look like you're close to them." A voice, grating their ears. "Any tips? I can make a good use of them."

Their memories were getting fuzzier and blurrier. In the present, Hero paled.

"Darling, who were they looking for?"

"You should've made sure I was actually gone."

"You." Hero's voice was meek to their own ears.

"Huh?"

"Villain," Hero turned their face towards Villain, their voice wavering. "they're after you."

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writinggremln · 1 month ago

Text

The Trade

Enemy teams are exchanging hostages; neither of which are in great condition, though the hero’s captive; villain was quite the feisty capture.

Deep in the dust bowl of an empty crater they had either team set up. Hero’s team with a set of well trained ops, and villain’s team mirroring them on the other side.

Hostages with hands tied at the front wait for the negotiations to finalise. The two leaders call out to each other, discussing terms, and agreeing, bickering.

The little hero looks longingly over at their team, it had been a long couple days filled to the brim with every drop of cortisol their body could make.

The strong villain on the other hand seemed bored, eyes peering off to the side as they huff. They’d been quiet during their captivity save when the hero’s tried to triage, but they thought he’d at least perk up when he saw his colleagues.

It’s about a hundred metre walk, and it’s a long one with a busted leg. With a heavy limp Villain and hero begin the swap.

On the bright side, it looks like hero has been treated. Gauze wrapped protectively around their arm, patches on their face. Theirs eyes shone as they tried to keep themself from running into their team’s arms.

Villain on the other hand had their open wounds to the air, nose still crooked from their ordeal upon being apprehended.

Both sides are tense, both sides well armed with itching trigger fingers. They’d agreed to this though, a peaceful exchange so, they’ll do everything the can to make sure it stays that way.

Hero’s leader calls out and the walking commences. Hero is released, and given a light push and a nod, villain on the other side is just given the command “walk”.

He obliges. Even the lightest pressure feels like he’s rubbing raw bone into cement, but he does as he’s told. With a heavy limp he gets on with it.

Villain doesn’t give so much as a glance and he gets close to his counterpart. They limp too, not as horribly but a limp nonetheless. They ignore the big eyes, soft haired do-Gooder.

Ignore as they try and lock eyes, as they leave burning lines of their eyes over every inch of his body, as he alters his path to get a bit closer to him.

Ignores the soft whisper of, “Are you okay?” As he passes him.

Villain limps all the way to stand before their leader. Panting and struggling to stay upright they lift their head, trying to hold themself tall.

“Villain” the leader greets

“Boss.” They reply

The crack of the backhand can be heard across the crater, loud enough for the rejoicing hero team to crane their necks over to the sound.

They watch as the villain, still tied, is slapped into the dirt.

Then it’s a flurry of dust and kicks as they watch the villain leader send blow after blow down on Villain. They don’t stop, not until the cries and sounds stop. Then he regains composure, straightening his clothes and whistling to his grunts.

Like clockwork two of the grunts grab either side of villain’s arm and lift his limp body up and follow their leader.

“We have to do something!” Hero cries. “That’s no fucking right, no matter who you are.”

“We can’t hero. Not here, not now.” Their leader has their hand on hero’s shoulder as they pull them away into the waiting transport.

They agreed to peace here. Hero is their main concern, once they’re home and safe then they can start worrying about their second concern.

#oooooooh that's what I'm talking about!!!#whump writing #villain whump #team whump #villain whumpee #whump #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero whumpee #defiant whumpee #helpless whumpee #not my writing

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writinggremln · 1 month ago

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June of doom 18 - "How long have you been like this?"

Stabilization | Left for dead | Flare

Stupid. That's what they were. Stupid. An idiot. A fool.

Villain should've known never to trust the likes of Other Villain. That slimy bastard. After everything Villain did for them, they dared leave them for dead, with Supervillain still roaming around.

Villain hissed as they tried to move for the upteenth time. "Fuck..." They muttered and put a hand over their wound. They had tried to keep the blood from flowing, they really had. But it was no use. Every shift, every move they made, it only made matters worse. Their vision was already getting blurry.

Villain cursed as they tried to get up again. Logically, they knew that they should stay put, to minimize the damage. Logically, they knew they were being irrational. But they were a villain, one who had run away from Supervillain's clutches. The same Supervillain that was probably looking for them right now.

Villain whimpered and more blood leaked out of their abdomen. "Shit." Villain saw black spots as they leaned their head back against the wall, tears in their eyes. Would they die here? Was this how they died? Alone, betrayed, cold, in hiding?

They felt something fall out of their pocket. Dazily, the wounded villain peeked and eye open; it was the flare Hero had given them.

Hero, their nemesis, who was too trusting for their own good. Villain laughed at the irony. Who were they to judge on trusting others?

The second they had realized Villain was teaming up with Other Villain, they had given them a worried look and a flare.

"Just in case." They insisted. "You know I can't directly help you. But if anything happens..."

Villain laughed and with an impish grin said that they were only keeping it just to get the hero to shut up and not look at them like that. Hero blinked before giving them a soft smile. "Please, don't hesitate to use it."

So Hero was also a fool then. If the villain used the flare now, Supervillain would probably invastigate and find them like this. However, Hero...

Would the hero be quick enough? Or, if Supervillain found them first, would Hero be able to save them? Would they even want to?

Only one way to find out. Villain thought bitterly as they grabbed the flare with shaky hands. Before they could regret it, they lit it up. And then everything went dark.

Hero was patrolling with Sidekick when the sky lit up. Both the heroes glanced towards the red dot in the sky. Only one of them knew its meaning.

"What the hell?" Sidekick mumbled. "That looks like ours. Is one of our teammates in trouble? No, that doesn't make any sense, there weren't any missions, so why-"

"That's not from our team." Hero's mouth felt dry and they licked their lips nervously. "Sidekick."

Sidekick flinched slightly at the look on Hero's face and their tone. "...yeah?"

"Listen to me carefully." The hero grabbed their sidekick's shoulders in a near-crushing grip. "Call Superhero and tell them that I'm taking care of it. Do NOT come after me and do NOT send for help."

"What the... Hero, what's going on?"

"You have to trust me." Hero clenched their teeth. "Please, trust me."

Sidekick started at them in shock. They had never seen Hero so stressed. Still, they gulped and nodded. "Okay..." they grabbed their communicator. "Okay, go. I'll tell them not to worry."

Hero nodded grimly. "Thank you."

"Be careful."

The hero smiled grimly. "Who do you think I am?" And they bolted.

Rooftop over rooftop, with the wind rushing in their ears, the hero ran and parkoured, their eyes following the red light, which was dimming as every second passed.

What seemed like an eternity later, Hero finaly found the villain... on the ground, with a pool of blood under them.

"Villain!" Hero nearly shrieked. "Villain!"

They fell to their knees beside their nemesis, not caring if they were covered in blood or not. The villain was unresponsive. "Villain, no, no..." Hero put a hand on the villain's cheek and tilted their head. "Villain, talk to me, please."

The wounded villain's eyes fluttered and the hero felt their heart soaring sith relief. "Oh, Villain. How long have you been like this?" How did you end up like this?

"Ggh.." Villain tried to move. Hero stopped them. "H-Hero..?"

"Yes, yes it's me." Hero's eyes widend at the sight of the hole on Villain's side. "God dammit, Villain, I told you not to trust them."

They heard the villain laugh. "Y-Yeah... you did. Great j-job, Hero." They winced and the hero put a gentle hand over their wound and an arm around the villain's shoulders, pressing their almost cold body against theirs.

"Let's get you somewhere safe, yeah?"

"Why don't you leave this to me, hero?" A voice behind them purred. The hero flinched and the villain went still in their arms. They didn't need to turn around to know whose it beloned to.

Hero licked their lips. "Supervillain." Their voice was somehow even.

"No, no, no, no, no..." Villain mumbled and Hero shifted so the villain's face was presses against their chest. "Hero please, please run..." they heard the villain whisper and they felt a pang in their chest at how broken their nemesis' voice sounded.

"I'm sure you have other problems you need to take care of." Supervillain said casually, staying right where they were. Hero turned their head to meet their gaze, their expression neutral. "Don't bother with the likes of them. So, go on." They made a dismissive gesture at Hero. "Shoo."

Hero's eye twitched.

"Hero, leave, leave me, please." Villain mumbled against their chest.

Hero's grip tightened. Never. They'd never leave them.

Supervillain tilted their head. "I don't see you leaving, little hero."

Hero gave them a thin smile. Well, it was obvious what they had to do.

The hero gently released their villain and stood up. Slowly, they turned around fully, their body shielding the villain's.

Supervillain grinned. "So is that's how it's going to be?"

Hero huffed out a small laugh in return. "I'm afraid so."

Hero tried to ignore the fact that they had told Sidekick to tell the others that they were taking care of it. That they didn't need anyone coming after them. That they were all alone.

...Shit.

The hero hadn't counted on Supervillain, of all people, being here.

Shit.

They blinked and Supervillain was standing right in dront of them, a knife in their hand.

Shit.

#june of doom #june of doom 2025 #cw blood #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #supervillain jumpscare #whump #whump writing #my writing #writeblr #whumpblr

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writinggremln · 1 month ago

Text

Their First Villain

Secret Santa gift for @the-modern-typewriter Prompt: "Scary villain x hero in a Christmas setting of your [the writer's] choice. Could go spicy, could go whumpy, could go unexpectedly sweet!" Hope you like this! Merry Christmas!! 🎅🎁

“You recognised me,” the villain observes, his tone unnaturally flat. His face betrays no emotion.

“Kinda hard not to, with your…” – the hero tilts their head at where the villain’s magic continues to spread, coiling around their limbs and securely fixing them in place – “…snake thingies?”

The individual tendrils really do vaguely resemble snakes, although the magic in its entirety reminds them more of some writhing alien monster plant from an old Sci-fi B-movie whose title they cannot remember. It’s not a good comparison anyway. The movie hadn’t been scary at all.

They experimentally try to wrestle one of their arms free, but despite the magic’s apparent fluidity, the moment they push or pull in any direction, whatever give appeared to be there all but disappears and they can’t move a millimetre.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widen. “You can see it.”

“See it. Feel it. Didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

An awkward pause follows.

They are decidedly not blushing. It’s just warm. All of them is so warm now that the villain’s powers have moulded themselves around the hero like something liquid but alive. Wherever the tendrils touch bare skin – their ungloved hands and that area just above their ankles where their pants don’t quite meet the rims of their boots – the raw energy buzzes, prickles just short of stinging.

They’d been shivering just minutes ago in their much too thin poncho and the not seasonally appropriate Agency office uniform. Well, they still are shivering, just no longer from the cold.

Where the villain’s magic is fever-hot, his scrutiny runs icy.

“You can see it, but not fight it,” he muses. “How curious. The Agency must be understaffed to send their defenceless little office drones out into the field.”

The hero would be glaring if the villain weren’t underscoring the point by pulling his magic tighter with the mere flick of a finger. That small, anxious sound that escapes them in response brings a self-satisfied grin to the villain’s lips.

“It’s Christmas,” the hero says, once the magic has settled again.

The villain raises a brow.

“Most of the regulars are on holiday, Christmas being a time best spent with family … or so I’m told.”

“Yet you are working.”

“Don’t have anyone.” They aren’t technically without family just … Sometimes, family isn’t a place of refuge and welcome. Not a home to turn to for holiday celebrations or company. Some families fashion themselves exclusive clubs with strict rules that refuse or revoke memberships as they please. The hero forces some levity into their tone. “I have nowhere else to be today, so, I’m helping out here.”

The villain chuckles. “Helping is perhaps not what I would call that.”

“Hey, I did recognise you,” they say, defensively.

“And look where that got you.” His smile is sharper than before, meaner. “Am I your first villain? My heartfelt condolences.”

They don’t dignify that with an answer. But the answer is yes. The villains they watched being interrogated through one-way mirrors at HQ don't count.

“Pity,” the villain says with zero warmth, “that you couldn’t just look the other way. What is it with you people that you're always so eager to cause unnecessary conflict.”

“Reporting suspicious behaviour is kind of my job.” It comes out barely above a whisper and carries the distinct cadence of an apology.

“Ah yes, and my mere existence struck you as suspicious behaviour because …”

Admittedly, once they’d recognised the villain, they hadn’t taken the time to consider his appearance beyond the magic he’d been wearing around his shoulders like a particularly weaponizable scarf. The lack of a combat suit in favour of a sleek, dark coat over a woollen jumper and cargo joggers – either an outfit designed to blend in or just what the villain happens to like to wear when he isn’t working – hadn’t registered any more than the total absence of weaponry other than his powers. And while he could have hidden those better, it’s not like he could have simply left them at home.

There hadn’t been time to ponder. It had all happened so fast. Their eyes had met, and a moment later the hero had already been scrambling away from the crowd, past a stall selling mulled wine and into the nearest alley, where they’d scrolled through their contacts with stiff, unfeeling fingers. The villain had caught up with them before they’d managed to call for backup.

Their gaze darts to the remnants of their smashed phone, sprinkled across the muddy snow, mere metres away but entirely useless even if they could reach it.

What if the villain hadn’t had anything nefarious planned? What if the hero’s brain had naturally jumped to the most prejudiced conclusion all on its own?

Of course, it is unfair to treat his mere presence as if it is a crime. But the things he could do ...

They think about the parents with their cameras, filming their ice-skating children, the squealing toddlers on the merry-go-round, the nice old ladies selling tea out of the back of a car.

“You could be a danger to all those innocent people,” they defend their judgement.

“And you could be a danger to me,” the villain replies coolly. “Would be unwise, letting someone roam free who can pick me out of a crowd with a glance. Perhaps I should thank you for revealing yourself. Very ill-advised. But quite convenient. You were so obvious about it, too.”

He has crossed the distance between them while speaking. Close enough now to reach out and tuck an unruly strand of hair behind their ear with his cold, slender fingers. His other hand settles almost gently on their throat, atop the magic that has slivered around their neck at some point during the conversation.

The tip of a new tendril is in the process of worming its way lower, nestling into the collar of their shirt. It laps against the crook of their neck and they cringe away from the touch as much as the magic allows. It doesn’t hurt. It would be so much easier if it did. The touch is light; it kind of tickles and, given the overall direness of the situation, the hero really isn’t in the mood for that. Or, they shouldn’t be.

Unhelpfully, their traitorous mind supplies them with a thoroughly inappropriate image of what else someone who isn’t the enemy could be doing to them with magic such as this.

“Tell me,” the villain says as the power shifts upwards, tilting their chin back with the movement, so his nails can bite into the newly exposed skin below their jaw, “is there anything else troublesome about you, or is it just the eyes?”

He looks most pleased when their breath hitches despite their best efforts to remain stoic. His grip tightens. He’s studying them intently, staring at their eyes like those are priced gems he considers adding to his collection.

Maybe, underneath the mockery, he actually does consider them somewhat of a threat. If he didn’t, why would he be looking at them like that.

It’s stupid, truly and utterly stupid, to feel flattered. This is not respect, they know, just sharp, calculating consideration. His attention promises imminent danger, might turn lethal at any second. It’s not something they should revel in. Still, it feels good, too – being seen.

Has anyone ever really seen them before?

Or perhaps that is the lack of oxygen speaking.

They struggle to focus their vision but all the twinkling Christmas lights in the trees are starting to smudge into dull, red and golden blurs. Vertigo is clawing at them.

There is absolutely nothing they can do against the villain's grip. They're so pitifully out of their depth.

They think about their bland, only half-furnished two-room apartment; their first day at the Agency HQ; their nth day – no more eventful than the first – sitting at the exact same desk in the exact same office and working on the exact same old computer; their colleagues’ looks of pity when their 14th application for a transfer to field work is being denied and their boss tells them, in stern admonishment, that their skill sets just aren’t suited to solo missions. They think about her condescending smile when she finally does assign them the Christmas market job, clearly convinced the worst thing that could possibly happen here is people getting drunk enough on punch to start throwing punches.

They think of their first split-second impression of the villain as just another guy standing by the ice rink with a cup of something steaming in his hands and a mellow, unguarded smile curving his lips.

They hope this montage doesn’t count as their life flashing before their eyes. It’s way too sad a summary of their depressing lack of accomplishments.

They think, with equal parts age-old bitterness and new-found sarcastic vindication, about their colleagues’ infantile, unofficial, end-of-the-year office rankings where flashier heroes with more impressive abilities always receive titles such as most likely to hook up with a hot reporter or most epic battle or best one-liners.

Meanwhile, all the hero has to show for are three consecutive wins of least likely to die on the job.

Which might have been a reassuring sentiment if it weren’t so clearly code for “you’ll never be a real hero”. Real heroes risk their lives on the job all the time.

Well, look at them now!

Will their colleagues manage to come up with a new title for them in time, they wonder, if the villain kills them now, just a week before this year’s poll results will be released?

Most unexpected death has a nice ring to it.

They should be trembling in terror. Might have, if the villain’s magic weren’t encasing them so – tight but soft and deceptively warm, lulling them in. The sticky heat of it leaves them squirming, stuck in a confusing limbo between gooey not-quite-discomfort and hot-bath sluggishness.

They’re drifting. Until they’re not.

It’s impossible to discern how much time has passed or when exactly the villain has released them; but their thoughts are beginning to clear and their brain catches up to the fact that there is air in their lungs again, and that the breathless, hiccuping gasps uncontrollably tumbling out of their mouth aren’t sobs. It’s laughter.

“Are you enjoying this?” The villain sounds incredulous.

They shake their head. “I don’t know,” they manage, between hysterical giggles. “Maybe. Yes?”

“How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”

“I didn’t.”

That startles a short laugh out of him.

“I’ve never” – they pant, still struggling for air – “felt this alive before.”

“That sounds ... unhealthy.”

There is a long pause in which the villain silently stares at them while they are more or less regaining control over their breathing.

“You wouldn’t get it,” they say then, perfectly aware they must seem most unhinged. “Bet you don't even know what boredom is. Because your life is fun. Mine is not. I practically live at my stupid job, and my stupid job doesn't even pay well. No one there gives a fuck about me. And nothing exciting ever happens. So can I please just have this one damn moment without being judged?”

The villain hums, low. “And here I thought we were ruining each other’s days.” He presses a hand to their forehead. “Did the heat fry your synapses?” he asks, sounding more amused than concerned. His other hand comes up to cup the nape of their neck, as if he can’t help but reach out. Just as they can’t help but lean into the cooling touch. His gaze drops, as if drawn, to their lips. “Or, are you just naturally this unusual?”

They can smell gingerbread and mulled wine on his breath.

“Are you going to kiss me?” they ask, because yes their synapses are definitely fried and they do not care about consequences, awkwardness, or sanity anymore.

“Would you like me to kiss you?”

“I’d certainly much rather be kissed than killed. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeats, smirking. “But we've established I’m not about to kill you. And that wasn’t a yes.”

“It’s not a no either.”

“Not how consent works, darling.”

They scoff. “You didn’t ask for consent first when you strangled me five minutes ago.”

The villain laughs again, in genuine delight judging by how his magic ripples and purrs.

“Okay, fair enough,” he whispers, shifting so his lips almost brush theirs.

The kiss that follows is sweet, surprisingly chaste, and initiated by the hero.

“So, since you mentioned earlier you have nowhere else to be today,” the villain says, afterwards, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Have you ever had the pleasure of being kidnapped?”

Pleasure, as it turns out over the course of the next few hours, is an understatement.

If anyone at the office were to find out what the hero has been up to during their first (and best) and possibly only solo field mission, not only are they guaranteed to get fired, their colleagues will also surely create an entirely new office ranking category in their honour:

First to be seduced by a supervillain.

#finally reblogging this now that I have a writing blog yippeeee ^_^#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #scary villain x inexperienced hero #writing snippet #writeblr #not my writing

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writinggremln · 2 months ago

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Intoxicating Fear (Prologue)

Master-Post // Chapter one

Oh yeah, we're doing prequels now baby... just a little extra chapter for IF fans, I am working on the redraft atm and I hope you accept this as an apology for the absurdly long wait... but it shows the new route that IF is taking, with more plot and character development... whaaattt crazyyy

Also sorry for all the spam, I need another place to ramble for all my thoughts instead of here... if only twitter still existed, sigh...

*~*~*~*~*

Atlas ducked as another ball of flame was hurled at his head. He could feel the heat of the fire as it roared over his head and past his wall of refuge.

“Come out, come out little hero. I promise I won’t burn you alive, maybe scorch you a bit. Scars build character, Atlas, or are you too young to know that yet?”

Atlas huffed, his ears straining to hear when the stream of fire lessened over the villain’s stupid monologue. Too young to know about scars? What a dick. Atlas waited for the stream to burn out, listening as the roar from the fire-villain Arson lessened. The heat rippling in the air diminished as Atlas waited, before the absence altogether.

And then.

There.

Atlas vaulted the wall, clicking his fingers and relishing the familiar sound of cobalt electricity crackling around his hand, spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He sent one quick bolt of lightning towards the Arson as he landed on his feet and kept running. The second one he aimed at Arson’s head.

His aim was perfect; Atlas didn’t have to check to make sure. He watched as the electricity touched the villain’s face and simmered away. Atlas’s eyes widened as the villain laughed, his mouth lighting up like a jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. “Uh-oh Atlas... My turn.”

Atlas was too slow. He was too slow in moving to get out of the way and he saw the flames coming and he was too slow. He was going to burn. He may even die. No.

The wind was knocked out of him as he felt someone barrel into him just before the flames hit him and drag him behind the safety of an alley.

Archangel panted slightly, a smile on his face. “You were too slow.”

“My electricity doesn’t work with him,” Atlas replied mutinously, glaring at his hands. He was too slow. “I didn’t – I froze…”

“I saw.”

“Where’s Tempest when you need her?” Atlas asked, wishing the water hero was here to douse out the fire villain. He could hear the sirens in the distance, no doubt the fire trucks and police finally on their way here.

“Are all the civilians cleared?” Archangel asked. Atlas nodded.

“Yeah, I got ‘em out before he started burning down the entire block.”

Archangel nodded, pressing his back flush against the brick wall. He tucked his giant, white-speckled wings in tight so they wouldn’t be exposed to Arson’s attacks. “Good. Then we can wait him out.”

Atlas’s eyes widened. “Wait him out? He’s going to destroy every building if we wait!”

Archangel threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do? Hmm? Your electricity doesn’t work, and I can’t get to him without at least a distraction or back-up.” Archangel muttered, his wings flaring in irritation. “We want to keep casualties to a minimum. It’s not always about catching the bad guy.”

“Stop speaking to me like I’m your sidekick,” Kit hissed. “I know it’s about saving people, but the emergency responders are coming now. We have to stop Arson or at least incapacitate him before they come.”

Archangel stared at Kit for a long time, and for a moment his gaze softened behind his mask. “God, I’ll never escape Noble with you around,” he grumbled fondly. Kit smirked at the number one hero.

“Not a chance,” he replied. Atlas scanned the alley they were in. It wasn’t closed off at the end, the grey concrete floors and walls led to a corner at the back into another alley. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You slip behind the building and fly up and tell me when you’re on the roof. Then I’ll step out and distract him and you can attack from above.”

Archangel nodded. “You’re right. Nobody ever looks up.”

Atlas pressed himself into the wall as Archangel passed him, wings tucked in as he disappeared around the corner.

“Have I frightened you, little hero?” Arson yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of prodigy?! Noble’s apprentice, right?”

Kit’s blood ran cold at the mention of his Mentor. He remained silent as he waited for Archangel’s confirmation he was in position. The hero had wings, what was taking him so bloody long?

“You are, aren’t you?” Arson cooed, a smile in his words. God, Kit wanted to punch him in his mouth until he choked on blood, until he couldn’t speak anymore. “The original hero, and see how far he’s fallen little hero? Hmm? What does he spend his days doing now? Wiping drool from his chi–”

Kit burst from behind the wall, moving with the improved currents in the night air, and before Arson could get a stream of fire off at him, Kit’s fist already connected with the villain’s jaw, and they went down.

“Kit! Shit,” Archangel muttered through his earpiece, but Kit didn’t care. He couldn’t use his lightning alone to hurt the Villain, so instead he charged his muscles with it, using it to make his punches harder, to enhance the impact, the pain.

Arson’s head whipped to the side and straightened, and Kit punched him again and again and again, until Arson couldn’t move his head back. A flurry of wings and wind, but Kit didn’t get off Arson. Not when he knew he was down. Not when he knew he wouldn’t harm anyone tonight again, at the very least.

“Atlas. Atlas. Atlas!” Archangel yelled, grabbing Kit by the arms and dragging him up.

“Wipe the drool off your own chin now, motherfucker,” Kit growled as Archangel pulled him away from the fire villain. Archangel spread his wings wide, shielding the villain from Kit’s wrathful gaze and forcing him to look at him.

“What the hell was that, Atlas?”

Kit pulled free of Archangel’s hold, just in time as a bullet whizzed right where Kit was standing not two seconds ago. Once again, the breath was stolen from his lungs as Archangel grabbed him and shot backwards, away from the unseen shooter. No doubt Arson’s accomplice. Shit… can this night get any worse?

When they were successfully shielded from the shooter, a few bullets going wide, their radios cackled to life, scratching and cracking and behind it a voice. “—the old…” Both Atlas and Archangel leaned into the walkie talkie, ears straining to make out the choppy voice. “by the ferris…”

More interference cut the rest of the sentence off, but Kit and Archangel’s eyes met over the receiver. That was Tempest.

“Another Attack—”

Kit stood up. Archangel stared at him. “I’ll go.”

“No—”

“I’m useless here anyway,” Kit protested. “Tempest needs me. If I can help her, at least I’ll feel like I’m not completely useless.”

Archangel’s eyes softened. “How many lives did you save today? Hmm? Do you think saving people is useless?”

Kit waved Archangel away. “You know what I mean. I’m restless anyways, helping Tempest will help me calm down at least. Update us when this is clear.”

Kit met the fire trucks and ambulances as he rounded the corner, heading south towards the old pier. Tempest had said it was next to the old Ferris wheel, and luckily there were only two Ferris wheels in the city, the old one by the pier which had been closed for years now, and the new one they moved up town, closer to the wealthier district. The pier became the shipping docks and people got tired of seeing crates being hauled in when they were trying to have a romantic Ferris wheel ride.

The old fairground was only a few streets from where Kit and Archangel were fighting, and with Kit’s abilities, and the amount of static charge in the air he was able to propel himself faster than an athletic civilian. Though nowhere near as fast as Blitz whose power was super speed, or Crowe who could travel through any shadow, but still. Kit enjoyed the wind on his face, the power in his veins almost singing as he turned down a street and saw the Ferris wheel on the old fairground come into view.

His radio crackled to life again. It was Tempest her voice quieter now.

“Atlas… no, all heroes, stay away,” she whispered, the signal better the closer Kit got to her location. “Stay away from the old pier. I think…” Tempest cut herself off with a gasp, static crackling as Atlas pumped his legs faster. He never heard Tempest so scared in his life. “I think this villain is Omen.”

And it was as if all the wind had been stolen from Kit, ripped away in an instant. He stopped outside the ticket booth to the Fairground, his heart thundering in his ears, the waves echoing back his terrified heartbeat to him.

Omen… Omen was a ghost story, he wasn’t… he wasn’t an active Villain anymore. The only time he… God, Kit wanted to be sick. The only attack Omen was known for was his fight with Noble. Noble’s final fight that ensured he never worked again. That he didn’t even get to remember his own name sometimes, that he would be left, stuck, in a prison of his own mind.

“Kit…” Kit’s earpiece cackled to life, the sound of bullets and wind in the background as Archangel spoke to him. “Don’t go there. Wait for back up. Do not face Omen, do you understand me?”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he surveyed the wooden boardwalk. “Kit! God damn it Kit, for once just listen to me. I am your superior. Noble wouldn’t want you to–”

“Noble doesn’t want anything anymore,” Kit replied, voice cold. “Omen saw to that.”

“Kit! Kit don–”

Kit unhooked the wire from his earpiece and turned off his walkie talkie. This wasn’t about helping Tempest, or Archangel, or his restlessness anymore. No, this was personal. Kit jumped the railing onto the boardwalk, before he could talk himself out of it. His body screamed at him to wait, to fall back, but he couldn’t. He refused.

For Omen to appear one night, as if out of the woodwork itself… that wasn’t a coincidence, and it wasn’t a coincidence that Kit was on patrol so close either. Despite his fear threatening to choke him, and his limbs feeling a little lighter from exerting his power, Kit continued down onto the boardwalk, scanning the kiosks and listening for sounds of a fight between Omen and Tempest over the waves lapping against the rocks below.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[Sorry if you got tagged, I went through every part to make sure the tag-list was up to date, so if you want to be removed please lmk!!! Okay thank youuuuu]

Tag-list [lmk if you wanna be added/removed}: @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts

@whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @theauthorintraining @izzygraney @mis-graves @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dreaming-awayy @mononeigbour @notactuallyluska @stefaniesblogs @lindsay00000008 @xenlust @mj-or-say10

@honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @whump-till-ya-jump @whumplicity @bluzluna

@acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

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writinggremln · 2 months ago

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June of doom 12 - "It's no use."

Locked Door | Carry | Lost

"God fucking damn it!" Hero slammed their foot against the door of their cell, the metal clanging loudly in their ears. "I swear to fuck, if you don't open this door right now-!"

They slammed their foot again. And again. And again. "Superhero, if you don't let me out right now-!"

They refused to cry, even out of frustration. Even if they were angry tears, Hero would not shed them. This wasn't fair... This wasn't fair, goddammit! Superhero did not get to teach Hero all the things they knew, only to lock them up using those same techniques. Superhero had no right to betray them, after they showed so much care for them. And Superhero certainly had no right to tell them that humanity was good and that heroes served to protect, only to back out of their promise when it mattered the most. They had no right.

When their feet were tired, Hero decided to pound their fists, not caring how much it hurt. After a while, they decided to take a short break and slammed their head against the door gently and exhaled loudly.

Are there even any guards outside? Or has Superhero abandoned me completely?

"It's no use, young one."

Hero jumped and swished their head behind them. Their eyes focused on the dark corner of the cell, their heart nearly jumping out of their throat when they realized someone was there, sitting in the corner, watching.

"Who are you and how long have you been there?" Hero demanded, getting goosebumps at the thought of not noticing someone watching her try repeatedly and fail to gather someone's attention. Especially in a small cell like this.

The figure let out a small chuckle. "Oh dear. I did not realize the heroes would've forgotten me so quickly."

Hero's eyes widened and they took a small step back. "Supervillain."

The figure grinned and stood up slowly, taking their time as Hero followed their movements with wide eyes. "That's right." The long figure of the villain stretched with a satisfied groan, their eyes meeting the hero's.

"But, but you disappeared." Hero's voice was meek to their own ears. Supervillain grinned.

"Is that what your beloved mentor told you?"

At the mention of Superhero Hero felt another wave of rage washed over them. "Yeah." They growled. "...Of course they did." They huffed and turned away, tears threatening to spill at this other act of betrayal. To lock them up was one thing. But to lock them up with Supervillain, of all people. That was a new level of low.

"There's no need to be afraid." Hero flinched at the sudden hand on their shoulder. "I believe we're on the same side now."

"Hah." The hero sniffed and wiped their eyes quickly. "Apparently."

The most feared villain Hero knew mercifully ignored their tears. Their hand stayed on their shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"Not to worry," they could feel the other's smile and shivered, "I have a plan."

#...yeah not my best i know #juneofdoom #june of doom 2025 #my writing #whump #whump writing #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #betrayal whump #captive whumpee #hero whumpee #superhero whumper #supervillain jumpscare #writeblr #whumpblr

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writinggremln · 2 months ago

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Party Animal pt. 2

Guys, the exams were demanding my full attention, but I am back!

This work is inspired by this series by @jumpywhumpywriter.

CW: public humiliation, forced nudity, non-con touching, sexual abuse (touching)

---

Part 1

The light in the lounge was dim, giving the place private feel. It would be cozy, with its plush pillows, padded sofas and small table on cute legs- Instead it was earie. Hero could feel the goosebumps on her arms, tight knot in her stomach. She sat on the edge of the couch; knees drawn up close, just enough to remain socially acceptable, and dug her fingers into the cushion beneath her.

Two other heroes looked similarly… uncertain. Third was eager. And they were all waiting.

Clock ticked tack tick tack, the quiet strikes of each second its own kind of torture in otherwise silent room.

Tick tack tick tack.

Steps. Muffled speaking-

Tick tack.

The door opened. Her heart dropped.

Superhero dragged in the Villain by his leash, fresh blood trickling down his swollen cheeks, and he stumbled behind them, half-choking.

Hero forgot to breathe-

Superhero shoved Villain into the center of the room and he stood there, trembling, hunched over. Hero allowed herself to study his face—clean-shaven, but wrecked. A dark bruises marred his skin, and his nose bled slowly from a fresh break, crimson trailing toward his lips. His mouth was split at the corners, ugly fissures like cracks in dried mud; his eyes sunken, ringed with exhaustion, bloodshot.

She never thought she’d see him—him—like this.

And suddenly, she wasn’t so sure about all this. Suddenly, it wasn’t as easy when she wasn’t hiding behind mass of people… Suddenly, this felt wrong.

The hero on her right leaned back lazily, draping their arms across the backrest like a wealthy aristocrat. A perverse smile curled their lips.

“Oh, I was hoping for a more private introduction,” they purred, licking their upper lip. It sent shivers down Hero’s spine. “Always wondered how you looked down there.”

Their eyes dropped lower, where there was a clear bump under Villain’s thin clothes.

Superhero laughed and patted Villain on the cheek. “You heard. Strip.”

All the color drained from the Hero’s face.

Tick tack.

She became hyperaware of the clock, of the shock on Villain’s face, his hitched breathing. The twisted smirk on other hero’s face and god this was wrong.

Yet, he obeyed.

He pulled off the T-shirt, painfully slow, his movements stiff and limited—so unlike the movements of notorious killer he once was. He paused to fold the sleeves, straightening the pajama.

Superhero sighed, visibly annoyed. “Oh my god, don’t fold it.”

A flash of pain crossed Villain’s face, but he dropped the shirt.

Then the pants.

He wore nothing underneath.

Hero wanted to turn her eyes away, but the curiosity was stronger. She wanted to see what was done to him.

His skin—freshly scrubbed for the occasion—was pale and almost translucent, stretched too tight across a frame that already showed the toll of starvation. His ribs seem sharp, outlined by the fresh bruises, some black, others nasty shades of purple, red, and sickly green. His torso was mottled with lash marks that hadn't had time to scab fully, some still wet with blood, others smeared with what looked like antiseptic hastily dabbed on before the show. Burn marks—linear, deliberate—peppered his side and inner thighs, the skin there blistered and pink.

There was this tremor to him that wouldn’t stop, small and constant, like he couldn’t hold still even if he wanted to. Hero could see it best on his hands, as he tried to shield his groin.

The other hero did not like that. “Hands behind your back.”

Hero averted her eyes, not ready to see all of him. Not ready to partake in… this.

Villain obeyed with visible shame.

The other hero grabbed him crudely, pulling him closer by his most vulnerable part. He let out a soft, broken whimper.

“What a pretty sound,” other hero said, voice sweet, poisonously so. “For someone as repulsive as you.”

They squeezed harder. Villain twitched, fighting not to make another sound. His whole body flinched, but he stayed quiet.

“You can play with him later, Oleander,” Superhero said, amused. “For now, I have a game for us all.”

They looked down at Villain.

“Pet, on your knees.”

He dropped, ashamed, head bowed.

Superhero circled him slowly, one hand trailing through his matted hair.

“The rules are easy. You hurt each one of us in the past. If you can name the people you took from us—if you can answer our questions—you’ll be spared.”

They stopped in front of him, lowering themselves to eye level.

“If not…” They smiled, teeth bared. “We punish you.”

The other hero—Oleander—was the first to speak. They settled back on the sofa like this was a dinner party.

“So tell me… what was their name?”

This went on, for a while. Sometimes, Villain managed to utter a name Hero was vaguely familiar with, but mostly he gave them only weak: “I’m so sorry.” “Please.” “I don’t know.” And after that only grunts and cries of someone being beaten down.

Until it was Hero’s turn.

Villain was kneeling at her feet, hunched forward and barely conscious. His skin was so abused it was difficult to find untouched patch of skin.

He looked up at her. It took him a moment to focus, to place her—but then, slowly, guilt crept up to his face.

So he knew, Hero thought, as she waited for the names of Sparrow and Blue drop from his lips. He closed his eyes, his lips quivering.

“I killed your mother.”

Hero froze.

What? She didn’t know- She thought it was an accident-

“I burnt her alive.”

#HELLO???#the way my eyes widened #whump writing #whumpblr #villain whumpee #hero whumper #multiple whumpers #villain x hero #hero x villain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero villain whump #writing snippet #not my writing

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