#hero whump

[whump-queen]

a hero coming to a villains compound, surrendering themselves, their friends dead and gone, they’re giving up, falling to their knees, head bowed, wrists held aloft in surrender.

[epiclamer]

Hero shot up, the first thing they knew was that they couldn’t breathe, the second was that it was because they were vomiting. Or, at least, their body was trying to.

They keeled over the side of their bed, clutching their spasming abdomen with one hand while the other held desperately onto the mattress. Their blanket swamped their legs, their shirt was glued to their back with sweat, and their hair was plastered to their burning forehead.

Again, they couldn’t breathe, every muscle in their body squeezed relentlessly as it tried to rid itself of the contents of their stomach. They gagged, shook, and breathed, then the cycle repeated itself. Over and over again, Hero hadn’t even realized it, but they were begging.

Please, please, please, please—

Begging someone or something to save them, to stop this. They convulsed again, eyes rolling back, mouth open, but nothing came of it.

Eventually—after another thirty seconds or so—it stopped. Hero wheezed, their whole body was sickly cold and yet somehow also sweaty, their head was reeling and they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore, they just collapsed.

They had expected to hit the ground head first with a thud, their grip on the mattress was loose and they knew what was in store for them, instead, two arms swooped them up before they could collide, pulling them in close to the stranger’s chest. Hero’s first instinct was to pull away, fight, claw themselves out, but then they recognized this feeling, those arms, and that chest.

“Villain?”

The light on their nightstand flicked to life with a dim yellow glow and with a good twist of their neck Hero could see their nemesis as clear as day.

“Hey, Hero.”

Unwillingly, the hero’s body relaxed, practically melting into the criminal’s arms as they were hauled back up to their bed. Once they could see the villain again, Hero noted the sad smile they were sporting. They looked tired, definitely not as tired as the hero did, but there were bags under their eyes nonetheless.

What time was it anyways? Hero turned to check their alarm clock, it was four in the morning. What the hell was Villain doing in their house?

“Do you know what… that was?”

Hero startled out of their thoughts, eyes meeting the villain’s once more. They nodded, slowly but surely and with some weird ever-growing shame gnawing at their gut. “Nightmare.”

The villain let out a small chuckle, “That is what your nightmares look like?” Their expression however was one of fear.

They nodded, their nightmares had just been getting worse and worse lately there was no use trying to hide it. For whatever reason Hero hoped that being honest would get them some comfort from their lifelong enemy.

A silly thought at best and utterly ridiculous at worst.

Villain pulled the blanket up to Hero’s shoulders, tucking them in carefully. “Are they all like that? Or are some just worse than others?”

“It depends, yeah. This one was one of the more… difficult ones.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” It came out faster than the Hero had expected, almost like the villain had been keeping it on the tip of their tongue this whole time.

The villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they locked and finally Hero could see that their nemesis was actually worried. Not scared, or sad, or tired, it was worry. Hero had to fight to keep down whatever emotion bubbled up at the thought of someone actually caring enough to worry about them.

“It’s just violence. Senseless killing, or running from being killed, or chasing after someone to kill.” Their cheeks burnt up in shame, they were a hero, they weren’t supposed to have dreams like these.

They must’ve been deranged, it was the only plausible answer. Heroes were peace-keepers, not killers, clearly, their subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo.

“I’m sorry.”

Hero’s thoughts skidded to a halt. What.

“I’m sorry.” The villain repeated, placing both of their hands against the blanket as if they could read the hero’s mind. “That sounds terrible. I-I can’t imagine what it feels like…” They trailed off, somewhat lost in thought.

Hero’s stomach clenched again, this time out of pure nerves. The worst part of this was that the villain seemed so genuine; Hero was smart enough to know they didn’t deserve that.

“You should really be apologizing for breaking into my house—” They chuckled and even though it was a last-ditch attempt to lighten to mood it seemed to have worked.

Villain scrunched their nose in response, shooting a glance over their shoulder at the pile of notes they had been filing through just a moment ago. Suddenly coming back to the current situation and the realization of what they were doing—caressing their nemesis in bed.

They stepped back and Hero shot up, reaching for the villain before they could stop and think. Tears welled up in their eyes, their breath quickened, the horrible thought of being alone again to manage their own dreams struck them like a blow to the head.

“Wait, wait, wait, please— please stay, Villain please don’t leave me—” They were blubbering, they could feel it, but it didn’t matter; they were desperate. “Please, just stay for one night, please…”

Villain only thought about it for a second, they didn’t need any more time to decide to crawl under the duvet.

[whumppromptoftheday]

Hero runs out of the room, tripping over their feet, "I'll come back with help, I promise."

Villain watches them leave, ropes digging into their wrists. "Hurry."

[letters-unsending]

No. 50

////

Hero and Villain, fake relationship

////

“How are you feeling, dear?”

“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”

“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.

“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”

“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”

Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.

They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.

“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”

“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”

“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.

“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”

“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”

“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”

Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.

“Why are you still wearing the ring?”

Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”

“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”

Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.

“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”

Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.

“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”

Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.

“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”

“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”

“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”

“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.

“You.”

“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.

“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”

“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”

“Will you stay?”

[automeris-io-moth]

I told you this would happen

Version 1

“Oh love, I told you this would happen.” 

Hero looked up with wide eyes, legs trembling as they tried to push themselves further against the wall. 

Their eyes burned with the heat of tears they denied themselves to shed in front of their captor, Supervillain thrived in vulnerability, they fed off of it like a leech and Hero would not give them such satisfaction. 

They watched with shaking breaths as the other approached, cold sweat running down their back as the looming figure of their master’s enemy leaned down, towering over them even when bent over right in half, having them feeling like a scared mouse in the corner of a cage. 

A warm hand cupped their cheek, and Hero was far too scared to flinch back, caught frozen. Supervillian’s thumbs stroked their cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t remember if I locked the door this morning,” Supervillian said, kneeling down before them, gently twisting their head, forcing Hero to look straight at them. The pure worry in their eyes made Hero dizzy. “Is that how you got out?” 

Hero found themselves absentmindedly nodding. 

Supervillain sighed “I’m sorry, love, I know how impulsive you can be when given the chance, it won’t happen again.” 

Slowly, as if with a scared feral cat, the criminal approached their victim. Pulling them in by the neck, and leaning to kiss their forehead. 

Then, they felt it. The prick of a needle, the sharp pain of metal breaking the skin, a weave of nausea, and the feeling of laying in wet fabric. 

The hold tightened, they were being rocked. 

“I know you don’t like it when I use it, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Supervillain whispered, pulling Hero impossibly closer “but I know you won’t behave on the way back home, you get so angry when this happens. So this is for both of us, okay? To make the way as comfortable for us as we can.” 

A foggy drowsiness started to overtake, and whatever words Supervillain offered as comfort muddled together into a pile of nonsensical gentleness accompanied by the soft touches of hands responsible for so much bloodshed.

Hero trembled still.

Their head fell full weight over the other’s shoulder. 

*

“What happened to your pet? They look horrible,” asked Villain, entering the studio. 

“Escape attempt,” Supervillain answered, eyes not leaving the sleeping face of the hero laying in their lap, brushing their head off of their face “didn’t get too far, those traps really roughed them up.” 

“I didn’t go to the trouble to get them for you just so you can break them, take care of your things.”

“I do, Villain, I’ll make sure they never want to pull something like this again once they heal. Now, what did you want here?” 

Villain smiled halfheartedly, throwing the front page of the newsletter to the couch Supervillain sat on.

A YEAR AFTER THEIR DISAPPEARING, EFFORTS TO FIND [HERO] HAVE ALL BEEN DISMISSED.

Gently despite the enthusiasm, Supervillain pulled Hero up, pressing them against their chest and smiling with their face buried in the other’s hair. 

Finally.

_

Masterlist

More short ones people, I need to practice after like two months of writing nothing but scienc-y stuff.

I wanna do a little small bunch of short pieces starting with the "I told you this would happen" dialogue, just because.

[whump-in-the-closet]

“Come on, come on. Breathe. In and out. You can manage that.”

Field Whump Time >:)

Hero collapsed in the moss. The smell of grass rose up to meet him, new and green.

His leg throbbed. He didn't have to look to know that the soft ground was soaked with blood.

His team caught up with him, their voices filling the air with anxious whispers. To him, it sounded like they were shouting.

"Hero?"

"Are you alright?"

"Hey! C'mon mate, get up!"

Hero, with a desperate sound, put his hands beneath him. He pushed himself up on all fours and then, digging a hand into a tree trunk, stood.

The faces of his team blurred together. He blinked and they cleared. He shook his head, putting a hand out to wave them aside. "I'm...I'm okay." Breathing should not hurt as much as it did, but other than that...he was fine. He refused to look at his leg.

"Are you sure?" asked Leader.

Hero took his hand off the tree to prove exactly how fine he was doing. Putting weight on his injured leg sent a spike of pain up his entire body, fresh and horrific. "Yeah," he gasped.

Medic looked at Hero for a long moment, their expression unreadable.

Hero broke eye contact first and took a step forward, to further prove himself. "We need to keep going--AH--" Hero crumpled to one knee, his leg betraying him. His face went white.

Medic turned to Leader and shook their head. As quickly as that, his sentence was passed.

Hero struggled to stand, but Medic put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Lie down. We have to remove the bullet." They spoke like they were simply announcing the result of a calculation.

Hero looked from Leader to Medic, searching their faces for any way of escape, and found none. He turned to his teammates. Nothing. "No, you don't have to do this." His voice shook. "No, please."

Medic crouched down next to Hero, unraveling their pack. Hero caught a glimpse of shining metal and shuddered. Medic caught him looking. "We have to work quickly." They did not say don't worry, it won't hurt.

The air contracted around Hero as Leader gently pushed him to the ground. It seemed to shimmer, as unreal as this whole situation. He dug his nails into the soft moss when he heard metal clinking against metal.

"Please," Hero tried again. "Please--"

"Give him something to bite down on," said Medic. "You two, grab his arms, don't let him thrash around."

Hero tried to jerk upright at this but his teammates already had him pinned. One whispered an apology as they pressed him into the ground, the other said nothing and would not look at him.

Leader squeezed his hand sympathetically, then held up a piece of leather, waiting to see if he would take it.

Hero blinked.

He was back.

Villain standing above him, just out of his line of sight--

No, no, no, n--no

"Keep begging like the dog you are."

The flash of steel-- the sudden brightness of it inside him-- digging under his skin, biting deep. Deeper and twisting--

Hero was shaking, suddenly aware of Leader and the moss and Medic cutting away his pant leg to reveal not one, but two, bullets embedded above his knee.

He nodded. "Give it to me." He bit down on the leather and hoped it would muffle his screams.

Villain's favorite pastime had involved a knife and Hero under his blade.

Medic pressed cool steel against the wound and Hero tried to scramble away, back arching.

Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Leader telling him to breathe.

He dug his hands into the moss, green and white behind his eyes. The smell of iron grew stronger. He couldn't--

"Come on, come on. Breathe. In and out. You can manage that.”

Hero exhaled a shuddering breath.

Medic dug deeper.

He screamed into the gag.

"In and out!" snapped Leader. "Breathe in and out."

Hero was shaking. He inhaled shallowly, more out of instinct than obedience.

Then came Medic's clear voice, "Got the first one."

Leader patted Hero's shoulder in sympathy.

Hero exhaled. His breathing came at a quicker and quicker pace, hands buried in the dirt, as Medic dug out the second bullet.

The color green danced behind his eyes, dull and pounding. He tried to drown himself in it. It didn't help. The taste of leather in his mouth felt wrong-- like vinegar or something sour-- warning bells going off too late.

He didn't hear Medic's relief when they said, "We're done." He only felt the tight pressure of the bandages being wrapped. His teammates let him up and when he spat the leather gag out, he noticed, vaguely, the dirt under his nails was bloodstained.

He worked his jaw in a circle, trying to erase the taste of wrongness. "Fuck you guys," he muttered.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (VII)

The Great Escape

Part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s okay.

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

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

Bad Moon Rising.

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

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

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

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

Fucking FUCK!

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

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

A six-digit code.

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

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

He just wanted to get to Superhero.

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

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

Or he would have.

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

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

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

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

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

Kit started crying.

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

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

Kit began eating.

*~*~*~*~*

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Kit.

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

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

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

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

Ambrose relaxed in his stance.

I can sit like this all day.

Kit said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Untie yourself, you dick.”

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

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

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

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

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

Kit froze at that. Kit didn’t kill.

He didn’t kill.

He wasn’t a murderer he was a hero.

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

“Harder,” Ambrose said with a strained breath.

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

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

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

“Go fuck yourself.”

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

“Get this thing out of my head!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It feels good, thank you Ambrose.”

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

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

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

He couldn’t take someone’s life.

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

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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

*~*~*~*~*

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

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

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

[blackrosesandwhump]

How to Whump Your Hero (or Villain)!

For those times when you have the perfect whumpable hero or villain and don't know what to do with them. Use this generator to get ideas!

You have your character. What do you use to whump them?

Axe

Bandages

Barbed wire

Blindfold

Branding iron

Cage

Chains

Club

Coffin

Collar

Dagger

Drugs

Duct tape

Fishing line

Gag

Garrote

Gibbet

Handcuffs

Hatchet

Knife

Manacles

Operating Table

Oxygen mask

Pistol

Pitchfork

Plastic

Poison

Rapier

Rope

Scalpel

Scythe

Spear

Straightjacket

Stitches

Sword

Syringe

Taser

Whip

Using this random number generator, for example I get #5 Branding iron. Time for some painful branding for my poor villain!

Happy writing!

[favouritefearlesswhumper]

The shift from fighting a villain to fearing them is so good.

Where once, they looked at him with a distrustful glare, fists raised up, and fire stirring in their chest- now?

They fear him.

He places his hand on their face, strokes the side of it, and they tremble.

He pulls them close, presses them flush against him, and they shake.

He places a hand on their thigh. He rubs the skin there, slowly sliding his hand up higher and higher, and they whimper.

Sometimes he thinks about taking a photo of them, like this. The pathetic, fearful, mewling pet. He has pictures of them from before.

They will never go back to what they were.

And it's glorious.

[shywhumpauthor]

Cheap

I started writing this with the intent of it being whump, but well- read it, you’ll see. Not really whump, but I’m still tagging it as such.

Cw: violence, manhandling.

A strangled gasp clawed its way from the hero’s throat, raking against their windpipe as pain exploded from their sternum. The force of the blow knocked them back, stumbling against the wall as the breath rushed to leave their lungs. Brick snagged at the back of their uniform, uneven edges of the stone trying to twist its hold on them by the threads.

Cheap shot. That’s what it was. That’s what Villain was. That cheap, petty, good-for-nothing, disreputable asshole. They fought dirty, like the fucking rat they were. Not an ounce of self-respect to their technique, they would fight tooth and nail. Hero had the scratches, weeping blood down their cheek from where Villain’s fucking claws caught them—when was the last time they cut their goddamn nails? Not to even talk about how much grime was certainly on their hands, Hero was appalled anyone, especially the street rat criminal who practically lived to scrounge around the disgusting alleys, would dare touch anything in the city without gloves on.

Tears welled in their eyes without will, Hero rapidly blinked them back as they pushed themself forwards. Their chest burned, breath lodging in their throat as they used the wall to brace themself in the moments preparation before they lunged back at Villain.

Hands caught their shoulders, but instead of the shove backwards they were anticipating and already planning for, they were tugged forwards, their momentum used in a cruel twist as a knee was brought up to meet their stomach. Hero choked out a gasp, a shock jolting back through their body ad they were manhandled back up and slammed against the bricks. Their head hit back against the wall, without any distance to try and ready themself. Specks of white buzzed in the corners of their eyes, pain like cracking cement ripping through their skull. It dazed them, for a moment too long. Villain’s hands ripped down their arms, calloused fingers wrapping around their wrists and steeling in place like iron. Twisting their arms up and shoving them against the red stones, pinned to either side of the hero’s head.

Then they could feel Villain’s breath against their cheek, warm and intrusive and wrong, their lips so close they almost brushed the shell of Hero’s ear as they leaned in-

“Oh my little Hero,” Villain whispered, their voice so quiet left a resounding echo humming through their mind. They slowly drew back, leaving a numb prickling spreading across their skin as a sudden cold replaced the unwanted heat. They stopped, eyes level with Hero’s. “When will you ever learn? You can’t win against me.”

On any other day, Hero would’ve fought back. They would’ve stomped down on Villain’s foot and returned the blows with the same graceless disorder Villain fought with. But they were tired. Their body hurt and their head buzzed with exhausted anger and what was certainly the forming of one hell of a headache.

But instead they just stood there, letting their head fall back an inch to rest against the brick. Let the criminal take on their weight as they pressed their body against theirs. If Villain was to step back, they’d crumple.

Then slowly, with a certain care to contrast the brutality of the blows they had dealt, Villain shifted Hero’s wrists to one hand, pinning them to the wall above their head while their free hand dipped down to brush along Hero’s jaw, the back of their finger tracing a swelling bruise on their jaw.

“I told you,” Hero murmured, their exhaustion seeping into their tone as Villain’s hand follow the outline of the scratches across their cheek, a nail brushing just outside the bleeding edge. A warmth of touch to battle the chill air. “Not- not the face,”

Villain’s fingers curled beneath their chin, a thumb smoothing softly over a spot on Hero’s wrist.

“Oh love, I’m sorry,” Villain’s eyes softened, tilting the hero’s head to the side as their eyes flicked over the shallow wounds. They leaned in, pressing their lips to Hero’s jaw carefully over the forming bruise. “But when have I ever listened to anything you’ve had to say?” A whisper of the taunt returned to their voice, visible in the spark behind their adoring gaze.

Hero only sighed, the night cold fading into a soothing warmth that bled across their skin as Villain’s hand slipped down to cup their neck, their eyes fluttering closed as the villain guided them in and brought their lips together.

Tomorrow, they’d fight back. Tomorrow they’d repay Villain everything they’d dealt and more.

But tonight- tonight Villain won.

And Hero was alright with that.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

It Hurts

For @epiclamer , who evidently is in dire need of Hero whump with a Villain caretaker!

"Hero, Hero! Calm down, what's wrong?"

Hero's sobs could be heard on the other line.

"I-it hurts," Hero cried, "Villain, it hurts!"

Villain clutched the phone tight in their hand as they made their way out the front door.

"Where are you?" Villain asked.

"S-somewhere in the city park."

The line went dangerously quiet.

"Hero, stay on the phone. Keep talking to me. What happened?"

"Other Villain- *hiccup*- Other Villain, they jumped me, injected me with something. Villain, it burns."

Villain's heartrate picked up at the sound of Hero's sobs. They got in their car, completely disregarding the speed limit in hopes that they'd reach Hero soon.

...

Hero writhed and thrashed on the ground. Their injection site stung and burned, but all of their veins felt like they were truly on fire. Hero didn't even register the footsteps rapidly approaching them.

Villain dropped to their knees and cradled Hero's head in their lap.

"Hero, I'm right here, it's gonna be okay."

"Make it stop," Hero begged, "please."

Villain didn't know what to do. They could take Hero to a hospital, but then their identity might be compromised. There was only one thing they knew to do to ease Hero's pain.

"Hero, I've got a sedative in my belt," Villain said slowly, "it'll put you to sleep until whatever this is wears off. Do you want it?"

Hero only howled in response, tears streaming down their face. That was enough for Villain. They took the syringe out of their belt pocket and gently brought the needle into Hero's skin, injecting the contents into their system.

Hero still felt pain, but it was becoming more distant as their eyes grew heavier. They felt Villain lift them up into a bridal carry before the world went dark.

...

The first thing Hero felt upon waking was a faint burning in their body. The next thing they felt was a hand carding through their hair. They opened their eyes and turned their head to the side.

"Villain?" Hero asked dazedly.

"Hey there," Villain said, "how are you feeling?"

"It still hurts but... not as bad."

Villain looked visibly relieved.

"Good," Villain said, "that's good to hear."

"Where... where am I?"

"My base."

Hero looked around. They were in a large, plush bed in an even larger room. The curtains were drawn shut, and only a sliver of light trickled through.

"Try to rest," Villain said, "now that you're awake, I have some business to attend to."

Villain started to leave.

"Wait!"

Hero swung their legs over the side of the bed and stood to follow them, but they overestimated their ability to support themselves. Their shaky knees buckled. Villain whipped around and dove to catch them.

"You were sedated, remember?" Villain asked.

"I wasn't really paying attention," Hero admitted.

"Well, you're still gonna be weak and out of it for a while," Villain said, depositing them back in the bed, "just rest and wait for me. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" Hero asked.

Villain pulled the covers back up to Hero's chin.

"To take down Other Villain, of course."

Villain planted a small kiss on Hero's forehead, then left to get their revenge. After all, no one hurts their Hero and gets away with it.

--------

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88  @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld

---------

Ko-fi

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 151

"Villain?" Hero, pulled on Villain's limp arm. "C'mon. Get up, we don't have time for this. I barely touched you."

The silence rung deafening.

[epiclamer]

Good god (tw: some light undertone themes of suicidal thoughts and self destruction/harm) but with lots of comfort to come so dont worryyyy

The rain poured down the hero’s face, they had their chin tilted up high towards the light grey clouds as if the mist surrounding them was suffocating. Their eyes were closed, but that didn’t stop the pelting droplets from finding their way under the hero’s eyelids.

It felt somewhat like relief, the cool water soaking through every single layer of their clothes. It eased their mind and their wounds, washed the blood from their chin and nose.

It stilled such a busy world.

On the other hand, the hero was freezing. It must’ve been at least six hours since they had had their arms wrenched behind their back and duck taped together to keep them bound to a school yard post. A singular piece covering their lips to keep them from shouting for help.

It was so simple compared to the intricate traps they had been stuck within before. Nonetheless, for some reason it was also the hardest to escape.

Partially, Hero knew it was because they had no will to. They had gone through the darkened alley behind the school knowing they were going to get jumped. They had let themselves be beaten and hogtied, they had accepted a concussion and a busted nose.

Hero knew if they were ever to talk this out with the Agency’s therapist there would be words strung out around the concept of ‘goodness’ and ‘greatness’.

Hero didn’t feel all that good—let alone great.

Hero didn’t feel anything except exhausted. So they had slumped back against the post, legs sprawled out against the asphalt, haphazardly painted with basketball gym lines.

Their arms were burning from the awkward position and consistent strain and the hero ignored it all the same. It was the weekend, so there would be no concerned teachers to save them and definitely no kids out to play in this weather. And sure, if they wanted, they could break free—they were a hero after all—but for now they just sat.

Unwilling and unwanting of any form of further freedom as the hypothermic chill coating their skin slowly reached into their bones.

“To freeze or not to freeze…” Hero’s eyes snapped open at the sudden familiar voice coming from behind them. “That is the question~” Villain’s head poked out from around the post where the hero lay still bound.

They stepped around to face the hero straight on, crouching down to meet at their level. “Sucker for punishment? Or are you just really too weak to get yourself out of some lousy tape?”

The villain grinned, even through the heavy rain the hero could practically feel the other’s heat and see their sultry eyes. They squirmed, suddenly all too uncomfortable in their position as they tried to push themselves up into a standing position.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” The criminal laughed, watching their nemesis wriggle helplessly and increasingly more desperately against their bonds. They reached up, one hand delicately cupping the hero’s face as the other ripped the duct tape off their lips in one swift movement.

Hero gasped mostly in pain, slightly due to their racing heartbeat. “Fuck— Villain—”

Gently the villain’s thumb brushed over the hero’s bottom lip, wiping the blood away with the rain water that tainted everything it could touch. Hero took in another deep breath, collecting themselves from a moment ago before looking into the villain’s eyes again.

“Need some help?”

The crime-stopper wanted to shake their head no, they wanted to spit at the villain and break free on their own, instead they mumbled an incoherent form of yes and let themselves be brought to their feet in a single pull. The villain’s hands did not leave the hero’s sides even after they were steady on their feet and Hero couldn’t help but notice just how cold they truly were without the villain’s warmth.

The villain didn’t question them a second time, once they were sure the hero could stand on their own they reached one hand into their pocket for their smaller knife. Flipping it open while their other hand still rested against the hero’s hip, wrapping their armed hand around the hero’s body to cut away the remaining tape from their arms.

And for the few seconds their bodies stayed pressed together, Hero wondered if this was close enough to be considered a hug. Then, in a sickening moment where all of the blood rushed from the hero’s head to their now free arms, they swayed and collapsed against the villain.

The criminal had barely enough time to catch them before the hero relaxed their weight completely into Villain’s chest. Head pressed into the crook or the villain’s neck, Hero’s icy fingers clawed at the fabric of their nemesis’ suit with what little energy they had left.

Hero was searching for heat, they had forgotten just exactly how badly their body craved it when they had let themselves rot against the post. Now that the villain was here though, they needed to warm up and they only wanted to while trapped in the villain’s embrace.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, Hero. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Villain reassured them, voice soft and inviting as they shifted their arms around to help walk their nemesis back to their car. “Do you know how long you’ve been out here?”

Hero took their first few shuffling steps with the villain’s support, making up for a lot of their weight. Their eyes flicked to the villain’s worried expression, “A few hours.” But they couldn’t hold their gaze.

They were ashamed now. They had been caught in their own self-destruction and saved by their mortal enemy. The person they fought tooth and nail almost every single day for the past two years.

Now that person was helping them into their car and out of the rain, where initially the hero had hoped to stay forever. How embarrassing.

The villain didn’t say much else, only answering with a curt nod before returning their focus to bearing the hero’s weight in their steps. It was safe to say the hero hadn’t expected to be as weak as they truly were and that maybe if the villain had never shown up, they wouldn’t have been able to get away.

That was worrisome. Worrisome enough to dry the hero’s mouth up in a second and send shivers down their spine.

Villain reached out, hand grabbing onto the passenger side door handle and they slowly opened it to reveal the inside of their beloved car Hero had heard about so many times in battle. Yet, they had barely even registered the walk from the school yard to the parking lot, let alone the fact that their enemy was actually helping them.

Hero looked to Villain, who gave them an assuring smile. “I’ll take care of you, or bring you straight home—no questions asked. Just don’t make me leave you out here any longer.”

That earned them a small smile.

[whumppromptoftheday]

Hero letting Superhero push them in training, punish them after a failed mission, take any anger out on them because they can take it and Whumpee/other members of the team can't

[letters-unsending]

No. 47

////

Hero only wakes in times of crisis and will not sleep until the problem is resolved. Hero and Villain teamed up to vanquish Villain and they win, but Hero is still awake.

////

“Goodnight,” Villain murmured.

The statement was perfunctory—they’d spoken it to Hero almost every night throughout war, but it was different now. Back then, he’d said it while pushing aside a fold of their tent with his arm. Hero would nod at him from across a candlelit table, still poring over maps and penning down strategy, and Villain would know, without a doubt, that he would find Hero in the same place the following morning.

However, they occupied Supervillain’s castle now. Hero reviewed charters and laws instead of war plans.

“You can rest,” Villain offered, eyeing the papers in Hero’s hand.

Hero glanced up at Villain. From his lifted pen, a bead of ink dripped, oozing darkly onto the topmost page.

“I need to see the city settled before…I rest.”

“No, I didn’t mean that kind of rest. I just meant,” Villain gestured in the air, leaning his temple into the doorframe, “you can relax now. I don’t know when you have to go, but I thought, maybe, you could enjoy the peace for a while.”

“I am not made for peace, [Villain].” Hero lifted the paper before the stain could seep through and set it aside. “I will have my rest soon. And this work, it is of no consequence to me.”

“You’re exhausted, [Hero].” Ever since they’d vanquished Supervillain, Hero’s power had flagged. His tireless facade waned into shaking hands and short breaths; the only work he could manage anymore was desk work. And so they’d labored side by side, discussing edicts and decrees. “I think—I think you’ve needed to rest for a long time now.”

Hero stared down at his ink-stained fingers. “There are things I need to do.”

“I am quite capable of running this city. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I know you are capable, [Villain].” Hero sighed. “By far, you are the most honorable man I have met in all my waking hours.”

At that, Villain shoved himself off the doorframe. “Then, why? Why do you insist on wasting away in this office?”

“The [magic] let’s me stay as long as there is something required of me.” Hero splayed his hand over the papers. “I have to work to stay awake. This is all I can do.”

“Then tell your [magic] that I need you.” Villain rounded Hero’s desk. “Tell it that I need you to rest, and that I need you with me.”

Hero shrunk back in his chair as Villain loomed over him. “The [magic] does not work so frivolously. You can not simply request it—”

Villain yanked Hero up by his lapel and tugged him out of the room. “I will not have you die reading over grain reports.”

“Where,” Hero winced, his lungs burning with each step, “where are you taking me?”

“To my room. To sleep.”

“[Villain],” Hero hissed, “I am not going to wake up.”

“You will.” Villain insisted, slowing as he heard the cramped hitch in Hero’s breath. He shifted his hand down to his forearm and clasped Hero’s terribly thin wrist. “And if you don’t, I will find a way to wake you.”

“You do not have my permission to start another apocalypse.”

“I wasn’t—,” Villain turned to catch the glimmer in Hero’s eye, “don’t joke with me about this, [Hero.] You shouldn’t have to continue saving the world if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to wake up every other century and fight for every second you’re conscious.”

As Hero opened his mouth to reply, Villain gave him a look and pushed him into his drawing room. He unpinned Hero’s cuff links and pulled off his overcoat before doing the same to himself.

“Even if I were to sleep and find myself in an era eons from now,” Hero proclaimed as Villain unbuttoned his vest, “I would remember you.”

In the wan light, Villain floated like a phantom, a shadowed slip of skin and silk, but Hero could still see his smile in the shadowed wrinkles around his eyes and in the gleam of his teeth.

“And I would recall you for the many years until my death.”

////

“I’ve never fallen asleep on purpose before.” Hero whispered.

Villain shifted closer and pressed his forehead into Hero’s shoulder. He reached over to settle his palm over Hero’s sternum. “Close your eyes.”

“Well, I understand that.” Hero protested.

“Close them, [Hero.]” Villain flattened his fingers and Hero took a deep, shuddering breath. As he relaxed, he set his hand overtop of Villain’s and squeezed his knuckles.

“I want to wake up tomorrow.”

“I will wake you.”

“If I don’t, I want to say—”

“Goodnight, [Hero].”

[amethyst-writer]

For @epiclamer who requested villain caretaker! (cause it’s my fav trope)

TRIGGER WARNING: briefly mentioned/suggested SA, but nothing too graphic, AND mention of death at the end

Villain made their way deeper into Supervillain’s lair. “What the hell?” they snarled, as a prison cell came into view. “Since when did you hold prisoner’s captive?”

Supervillain curled their lip. “Since about two weeks ago. Come, see my newest prize.” They led Villain over to the dimly lit corner.

As Villain approached, a face came into view. Even though it was stubborn and exhausted, they’d recognize that face anywhere. “Hero?” Villain asked, a laugh breaking through. They smirked, glaring down at their nemesis. “Oh, wow, Hero, how far you’ve fallen. Villain reached in between the bars and tilted Hero’s chin up with their hands. “Someone finally brought you to your knees, huh?” 

Supervillain chuckled. “Yeah, in more ways than one.” 

Hero blinked hard and turned away, worrying their bottom lip. Villain snatched their hand back immediately as though they’d been burned. “What?”

Supervillain sighed. “Consider this a blessing, Villain. I don’t think they’ll be bothering you anytime soon. In fact, I’m even willing to let you have a turn.”

Hero shuddered. 

“What...” Villain slowly turned to face Supervillain. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Supervillain rolled their eyes. “Oh, I forgot how possessive you are. But don’t worry. I fixed them. You should be thanking me. They needed to know their place, and now they do. They’ll be whatever I want them to be.” 

“You... you...” Villain felt like they were going to be sick. “You violated them.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Supervillain scoffed. “I didn’t force them to do anything. It was just a matter of them putting that mouth of their’s to use. They could have walked out whenever they wanted to.”

Villain turns to glance at their nemesis, whose face was burning with humilation. Villain clenched their fists. “Is that so, Hero?”

Hero lowered their eyes, ashamed. “I... it was better than the other thing they wanted from me.”

Villain scowled. “And what was that?”

“They wanted me to... to kill you. And I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t do it. Even if we hate each other. I can’t, and I won’t kill someone.” Hero wouldn’t meet Villain’s alarmed gaze.

Filled with an emotion they could not place, Villain turned back to their boss. “How could you?”

“How could I? We’re supposed to be the bad guys here. I was just making sure your pathetic little hero knew that we weren’t to be messed with.” Supervillain jeered at Hero, to which they shrunk away. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“That is not... that is not fun. You assaulted them! That’s not the same as robbing a bank or an art heist or even a ransom kidnapping, and you know it. It’s just... it’s cruel.” Villain’s hand hovered over their dagger. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To break them the only way you knew how?”

The sinister look in Supervillain’s eyes told Villain everything they needed to know.

Without a second thought,  Villain plunged their dagger into Supervillain’s chest. Crimson spilled over the knife as Supervillain crumpled to the ground, but Villain had already turned their attention to Hero, punching an emergency signal into their phone.

“Are you alright?” they breathed, already knowing the answer. 

Hero laughed brokenly. “I don’t know.” Their voice was weak. “Can you...” They paused, clearly embarrassed. “I need help.”

Villain ran a hand through their hair. “Yeah, Hero. I know. Help is on the way, alright?”

Hero nodded, silent. Their shoulders began to shake, and they leaned over onto their knees, silently sobbing.

Villain startled. “Jesus, Hero...” they trailed off, at a loss for words. They extended their hand through the bars, careful to let the Hero decide if they were comfortable with it.

Hero peeked up at them, and then leaned into the contact. “I’m so, so sorry,” they cried.

Villain’s hand wound through Hero’s hair. “Shhh. It’s not your fault, okay? Listen to me: it is not your fault.”

Villain began to pull away, trying to give Hero space, but Hero grabbed their wrist weakly. “Wait. Please.”

“Help is on the way,” Villain repeated.

Hero grimaced. “I know, but- Villain, please. Don’t... don’t leave me here.”

Villain’s resilience shattered, and suddenly it didn’t matter whether or not they were discovered. This was an extenuating circumstance. and knowing their nemesis was quite literally begging not to be left alone...

They decided it was worth the risk.