#my whump snippets

[unforgivenn]

Hai a request for writing how about a whumpee that gets washed ashore by the river in a forest and someone finds them ( that someone can be either a whumper or stranger your choice :D )

CW: Isolation, betrayal, minor injuries, panic, desperation, false sense of security, abduction, drugging

Whumpee's figure lay motionless across the riverbank. The currents had carried them, like a fragile leaf in a storm, until finally depositing them gently onto the soft bed of moss and ferns.

The fresh breeze blew gently on their face as their eyes blinked open slightly, trying to figure out just what the fuck happened. They sat up coughing violently. With trembling hands, they clawed at their parched throat, desperate to expel the water that still lingered within.

But it wasn't just the water that sent shivers down their spine. It was the eerie silence that enveloped the forest, broken only by the distant whisper of the river. The usual cacophony of bird songs and rustling leaves was conspicuously absent, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation.

Whumpee looked down to see the small cuts and bruises on them that had formed during their little swim. They hissed slightly forcing themselves to stand up their survival instinct kicking in.

"H-Help! Someone! Plea-!" They were cut off from their shouting by the spluttering from their dry and hoarse throat that hadn't gotten water for god knows how long.

Whumpee's heart raced as panic surged through their veins like wildfire. The realization of their isolation sank in like a heavy stone, pressing down upon them with suffocating weight. Each labored breath felt like a desperate plea echoing into the void of the silent forest.

Disoriented and vulnerable, they stumbled forward, limbs trembling with exhaustion and fear. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig beneath their feet, sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through their battered body. The forest seemed to close in around them, its towering trees casting sinister shadows that danced mockingly upon the forest floor.

Tears blurred Whumpee's vision as they frantically scanned the treeline, searching for any sign of salvation amidst the oppressive silence. But there was no one—no comforting voice to answer their cries, no friendly face to offer solace in the face of their terror.

And then, just when Whumpee's resolve began to falter, they heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching through the undergrowth. Their head snapped behind him to see a person, an actual man.

Whumpee squinted their eyes, blinking them for a while to make sure they weren't hallucinating before they broke down in wracking sobs stumbling over to the figure.

"P-Please" Their voice sounded high-pitched as they gasped for breath between cries.

The man walked towards Whumpee looking down at the younger person. His gaze was calculating, boring into whumpee's tear-filled eyes. Whumpee could feel that they were almost judging them.

Whumpee knew they looked absolutely pathetic on the layer with torn clothes and cuts in a state of broken sobs. But as the man neared, Whumpee's hope turned to horror. The calculating gaze bore into their soul, stripping away the façade of safety. In that moment, they knew—they were not the savior they had prayed for. The injection pierced their skin like a dagger, the venom of betrayal coursing through their veins.

As consciousness slipped away, Whumpee's last sight was the mocking smirk of their assailant, their fate sealed in the darkness that closed in around them.

[automeris-io-moth]

Reunion

That morning Hero felt particularly tired. 

Perhaps Villain had noticed early when greeting them at breakfast, such was the reason the servants were fetched to help them shower, help them dress and eat, fed by hand as if not humiliated enough by then, trapped by the fact they were indeed unable to lift the cutlery. 

Perhaps it had been Villain’s doing. Perhaps it had been the tea, perhaps it had been something else. 

Later, Hero was taken to the main hall of the former gubernatorial palace right in the heart of the city, where a wood and gold throne laid. Hero had once, long ago, made a joke about Villain compensating for something with such a cartoonish display of power, but then they had no energy to obnoxiously repeat it, as they did every time they entered the place. Mockery was one of the few things Hero had left after all. 

Yet, that day they could barely keep their head upright, a foggy sense of nausea crepting up their throat, a heavy weight pushing them down from the top of their head kept them glued to Villain that morning, head laying on the other's shoulder as Hero laid across their lap, their enemy's hands stroked up and down their arms and back, warming them from the coldness of the room. 

"Let them in," Villain's voice boomed across the hall, the echo remaining a second longer. 

The old wooden doors creaked open, uneven steps entering the room, as if being rushed, and Hero hid their head from the sharp noise. 

"What do you think I should do, love?” Villain asked the Hero this time, pressing their lips against their hair  “Four intruders wandering around, trying to enter our home to steal god knows what.” 

And Hero tried, tried to twist their head to look at the people standing before them, distinguishing them on their knees, half aware of the number mentioned, half aware of their factions, of what they wore. 

Half aware that they knew them. 

“I told you, Leader,” one said, a whisper too sharp to fulfil its purpose of being discreet “they sold us out.” 

“Shut up, Teammate, what about that?” The called answered, face straightening and, for a moment, Hero could swear they made eye contact “What are you looking to prove with this display, Villain?” 

Villain huffed a laugh, turning Hero’s head back to them  “Come on Leader, do you really think I put this show just for you?” 

They had, Hero thought, Villain usually preferred if they weren’t seen. Just for their eyes, they had once said, when they were, as that day, too out of their mind to talk back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“I would never hurt them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they answered, hands pulling them ever so close to their chest, curling if only lightly to embrace them “I’m not like you.” 

“We never…” 

“Yes you have,” they answered “I’ve seen every scar in their body, and I’m responsible for only one. Don’t lie to my face please.” 

“They knew what they were doing! It was for the greater good,” Teammate answered this time, sweat dripping from their forehead to the blood, taking the dirt with it. 

“Such a funny concept is the greater good. I can assure you it holds no meaning to me, there is nothing greater than keeping what's mine close and unblemished, and you have scarred it, sadly.”

With a hand on their hip, and the other on their neck, Villain twisted Hero’s head slightly to the right, where their team knelt, eyes glazed, barely open enough to discern their shadows, they could see one turn away from their unintentional stare. 

“So what would a fitting punishment be,” they asked in the air, looking down at Hero “I accept suggestions, my light.”

_

Masterlist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I know you’ve done at least two “hero tortured in front of the villain who can’t do anything because their relationship is a secret” but may I kindly request the opposite? Superhero, fed up with the hero’s “I almost got them but they slipped away at the last second” shenanigans, captures the villain themself and subsequently tortures them in front of the hero, who must sit there and do nothing but watch as their lover suffers “in the name of justice”.

It was the kind of feeling that pressed the hero’s ribcage together. That kind of feeling when they looked at a person and simply knew the bad news they’d deliver. That horrible feeling when they got the call they’d tried to avoid all day.

The hero took in a deep breath and tried to remember their training. They tried to remember the rules they had to follow to avoid a panic attack. Usually, they weren’t someone to lose their cool that quickly but right now, they were sure they had to throw up.

“You look quite pale,” the superhero mumbled. They cocked their head curiously but the hero couldn’t even bring their eyes to look away from the villain’s broken form on the ground.

Hell, there was so much blood.

And they weren’t moving anymore.

“Are you done now?” the hero asked. “I have work to get back to.”

The superhero balanced the pipe they’d used to beat the villain with on two fingers, almost as if they were part of the circus and tried to impress the hero.

But the hero wasn’t impressed by their ability to balance a pipe that still had blood dropping down its metal nor were they impressed by how little the superhero cared about making a person being suffer like this.

“You don’t look like you enjoyed this. I did you a favour.”

“I don’t really think beating a prisoner has anything to do with justice.” The hero tried to keep their voice up but they could feel the lump in their throat. They could feel the tears and the pain in their nose that announced them.

They’d kissed the villain this morning softly. They had told them they’d have to be at work a little longer. And the villain had promised to take everything slow, after all, they were still recovering from a horrible cold.

“They’re a villain and you failed to do your job.” The hero couldn’t do this. They couldn’t look at the villain.

Something in their chest seemed to crack. Something deep down was breaking into pieces. The hero wanted to strangle the superhero right here, right now. They wanted to run up to their lover and call the medics.

Was the villain still alive? God, the hero couldn’t do this. They clenched their jaw, desperate for some stability.

The villain must’ve been weak and the superhero must’ve realised that they were struggling. It was sick to think about it, sick to imagine their lover who was supposed to be in bed, being punched over and over again by the hero’s boss.

“I apologise if any of my work didn’t satisfy you,” the hero said. “But this isn’t appropriate.”

Broken fingers. One ankle was definitely cracked too. The superhero had broken most of the villain’s ribs as well. If even one of them was piercing the villain’s lungs…The hero didn’t want to think about that.

The villain’s whole respiratory system must’ve been fucked.

“This is mercy,” the superhero said. “I could’ve done worse things to them.”

They put a hand on the hero’s shoulder but the hero didn’t think there was anything worse than this. Death would’ve been more merciful. Death for the both of them.

“I could’ve done worse things to you,” the superhero clarified and the hero realised this wasn’t the villain’s punishment. It was theirs. It was the hero’s fault. The superhero rather beat up a villain than one of their own.

But their actions were clear. If the hero allowed themselves to slip up one more time, it was them who’d be fighting for their life.

This was a warning, a demonstration of power. It was intimidation. It was cruel.

“I understand,” the hero said. Their eyes found the villain again. The bleeding villain who didn’t move at all. The same villain who had promised not to go out today. The same villain who would’ve probably done it anyway to buy some flowers for the hero. The hero couldn’t think about it. They couldn’t think about the villain’s smile. About lazy kisses in the morning or how gentle they were when the hero was covered in injuries.

“That’s a good puppy.” The superhero squeezed their shoulder hard enough to leave bruises before they walked towards the door. “Oh, another thing…see these cameras?”

The hero followed the superhero’s index finger with their eyes. Four in total. Each corner. Perfect view of the entire room.

“If you talk to them, if you touch them, I’ll know. Your job is to observe them. Nothing else, got it?” the superhero asked and the hero only nodded weakly. “Once they wake up, we’ll be ready for round two.”

The hero really needed to throw up.

[villain-enthusiast]

tw: very toxic/possessive relationship and behavior, captivity

“Would it hurt you to smile a little more?” the villain mused, eyes trained on the reflection of the hero in the vanity’s mirror.

“Hard to do when there’s nothing to smile about,” the hero muttered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. The villain had given them—or rather forced them into—an intentionally revealing outfit for the night.

The hero hated the villain’s parties. They hated the false luxury of it, the wealthy spectacles, the self-conceited conversations of people whose money was bought through blood. They wouldn’t let themselves get swept away in any of it—not when they knew of the people suffering beyond the villain’s gilded walls.

But if they wanted to live, if they were ever going to have a chance of making it out of this hellhole, they had to tolerate it. They had to pretend they liked it all—the sheer shirts, fine wine, the penetrative gaze of the clamoring guests…

“I’ve given you so much to smile about.” The villain tilted their head in a similar way a snake does to analyze its prey. “Silk clothes, a warm bed, good food.” A corner of their lips tilted up seductively before they added, “My love.”

A shudder ran down the hero’s spine and they looked away from the mirror, determined to avoid the villain’s possessive expression.

Fast as lighting, the villain’s hand shot out and grabbed the hero’s chin, forcing their face back towards their reflection. They squeezed their eyes shut. They didn’t want to look at themselves anymore, didn’t want to see how vulnerable they were, laid bare for the the hunger in the villain’s eyes—

“Darling,” the villain purred, the word dripping with venom. “By now you should know what the rules are.”

“We’re not at the party yet,” the hero retaliated. “I don’t need to follow any rules—,”

The villain’s fingers dug painfully into their jaw and the hero inhaled sharply, cracking their eyes back open.

They could do nothing as the villain tilted their head back ever so slightly, just enough to keep their eyes locked on the mirror while the villain leaned down to press feather-light kisses to their exposed throat.

Helpless. Just the way the villain liked it. The hero’s eyes burned with the embarrassment of it all.

“And here I’d thought we were past your disobedient stages,” the villain murmured against the hero’s skin, sending goosebumps skittering down their jugular. “Do I need to remind you who you belong to?”

I don’t belong to anyone, the hero wanted to snap, but they held their tongue, knowing better than to answer with such defiance.

The hand holding the hero’s chin trailed down to curl around their neck, the villain’s thumb fitting right over the hero’s racing pulse. Their free hand brushed slyly over the hero’s bare abdomen, tracing sensitive circles up and down their torso.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. The hero couldn’t stop the whimper that clawed up their throat, and at the way the villain’s eyes flashed with lust, the hero wanted to risk looking away all over again.

“I want you to say it, Hero.” The villain tilted their head in that predatory way again. “Who do you belong to?”

The hero swallowed. Their skin flushed with heat, even with the sparse amount of clothing they had on. They knew what game the villain was playing at, knew what part they had to act, but they still hesitated.

I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t belong to anyone…

The villain’s grasp on their throat tightened in warning, enough for the hero’s breath to hitch. “Say it,” they whispered, deadly.

“You,” the hero bit out. “I belong to you.” Their eyes shuttered as they fought the instinct to close their eyes and pretend that the shame gnawing through them was just as fake as their words.

The villain smirked. “Good.” They let go of the hero’s throat and ruffled their hair in a mocking show of playfulness, as if whatever just happened was all a joke. “I’ll be back in five to take you to the guests.” They made their way to the exit and paused at the doorway. “Oh, and do me a favor and smile a bit more when we get down there. You are mine, after all.”

Only when the door slammed shut behind the villain did the hero finally close their eyes, silent tears tracking down their cheeks as the villain’s words echoed incessantly through their head.

[chaotic-orphan]

Recapture

Hello! I’m sorry I have been absent, but the next two weeks are my exam times and I most likely won’t be active, but good news is that my exams finish on the 17th! Which means a whole summer of more writing!! Thank you for being patient and here’s a lil whump drabble to scratch that itch

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker was dragged through the camp struggling like a worm on a hook. Two of Whumper’s men stood on either side of them, marching Caretaker by their arms to Whumper. Caretaker’s hands were zip-tied awkwardly behind their back, and no matter which way they moved their wrists the plastic cut into them sharply.

Caretaker saw Whumper before they reached their tent. Slightly larger than most, big enough to hold a cot and a space for tactics. Whumper’s war room. Whumper’s hair shone like a star in the darkest night’s sky, the moonlight reflecting off of the silvery strands. It always looked a little off, a little too unreal. A little too beautiful.

Whumper smiled when they saw Caretaker being dragged towards them, dismissing the people they were talking with to greet Caretaker with open arms. Literally.

“Caretaker,” they said, voice happy and light. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I must say I missed you.”

“Yeah, well,” Caretaker replied, their voice coming out weaker than they would’ve liked. “You’re like a rash I can’t get rid of.”

Whumper’s eyes widened slightly as they glanced over Caretaker’s head to see if there would be another in zip-ties like Caretaker. Looking for Whumpee. Then they fell to one of the guards holding Caretaker. Without a command, the two guards threw Caretaker to the ground. Their hands shot out to catch themselves but caught on the zip-ties, and the best Caretaker could do to not eat a face full of dirt was to let their shoulder take the brunt of the impact.

“Caretaker, Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a long sigh. Caretaker watched Whumper’s shiny boots draw closer to them. Then swing back out of sight swiftly. Caretaker barely had enough time to catch their breath before it was forced out of them, let alone try and turn away as a gleaming boot came down in a flash. It hit their ribs and Caretaker gasped, curling into a ball but it didn’t stop the next kick, or the next, or the next.

Whumper’s boots stopped in front of Caretaker’s eyes. Whumper sighed above them, and crouched down. Leather creaked as Whumper ran their fingers through Caretaker’s hair and made a fist before yanking. Caretaker cried out as Whumper craned Caretaker’s head back until they were looking into Whumper’s cold, impassive face.

Whumper tilted their head to the side. “Where’s my favourite pet, hmm? Where did you leave them?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Caretaker spat. “I just know they’re far away from you.”

Whumper’s smile could freeze hell, and seeing it sent shivers down Caretaker’s spine. Whumper released Caretaker’s hair and pushed them onto their back, leaning a knee down on Caretaker’s chest.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Caretaker.”

“Fuck you!” Caretaker ground out, then let out a sharp cry after Whumper punched them in the face. Their head smacked back off the dirt ground of the camp and Caretaker felt a headache creep into their skull.

For a long moment, Whumper just stared down at Caretaker, the same cold smile on his lips. Then Whumper got to his feet and waved his hand at Caretaker. Caretaker didn’t have to wait long to know what that gesture meant before the guards were taking his arms again and yanking him up.

Caretaker kicked out at them, catching one of them on their hip and turning to twist out of the other’s grip. The other yanked Caretaker towards them, throwing them off balance. Before they managed to correct it the guard they kicked had their hands on Caretaker’s elbow again and between them they managed to subdue a feral, cursing Caretaker.

Caretaker stopped struggling when their eyes were enthralled by Whumper’s, as if they were caught in a snare. It made their blood run cold. Not Whumper’s eyes or cold smile, but his current bare index finger and thumb that was removing their remaining glove from their hand.

“Caretaker…” Whumper said with a sigh. “I really hate to do this, especially to you. You’re my— you were my closest friend. You and I were like family.”

Caretaker fought to urge to try and back up in the guards hold. Everything in their body screamed at them to flee. To run, but they forced themselves to remain in place.

“We were friends before you needed goons to do your dirty work for you.”

Whumper’s eyes flashed with amusement as they advanced on Caretaker, reaching forward and ignoring Caretaker’s flinch, stroked the back of their knuckle along Caretaker’s jaw. Something so familiar about it broke Caretaker’s heart, but only now did they see the manic possession Whumper mistook for love in their eyes.

“That’s right, we were. Back when you were the one to do my dirty work for me, right?”

Caretaker swallowed the lump in their throat, or tried to, because it was still lodged there.

“Then you had to go and get noble, Caretaker. All for a pathetic nobody who wouldn’t return the favour.”

“I’d do it again.” It was a confession.

Whumper had the gall to look a little sad as they said softly: “I know. And you know what I must do now.”

Caretaker tried not to cry. They wanted to greet their maker with dignity. “I do.”

Whumper steeled their expression, jaw clenching, moulding their face as far to impassive as they could.

“For what it’s worth,” Caretaker said softly, their voice scratchy as if they had just swallowed sand. “You were my fiercest friend too. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to betray you.”

Whumper’s stoic expression cracked a little. In their left eye, Caretaker saw the telltale twitch and they smiled. They knew if they were alone Whumper would have expressed their doubts too, but Caretaker knew it had to end this way when they broke Whumpee free. Whumper knew it when they found Whumpee’s cage empty.

Caretaker nodded. Then closed their eyes and waited for the final blow.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Caretaker heard the most devastating sound they would ever hear.

“WAIT!”

Caretaker’s eyes shot open meeting Whumper’s smirking face. Caretaker lurched forward, renewing every struggling effort to get free of the guards’ hold but Caretaker didn’t get very far.

“Whumper, wait! Whumper! Don’t,” Caretaker cried, trying to squirm out of the guards’ hold but every time they got a bit of leeway the guards would change their position and keep Caretaker firmly between them. “Whumpee! RUN!”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a smile. “My men already have them. They’re bringing Whumpee up now.”

Whumper turned their attention back to Caretaker, a cruel glint in their eye that scared Caretaker. “Looks like you betrayed me for nothing,” Whumper told them and Caretaker’s seemed to disintegrate in their chest.

It wasn’t gentle, more like a shrapnel bomb going off inside them, pieces of sharp metal lodging in everything. It was difficult to breathe as if Whumper had his goons submerge Caretaker in a barrel of water and was waiting for them to drown.

When Whumpee’s eyes caught Caretaker’s they wanted to scream.

Why didn’t you run?

I told you to run!

This wasn’t apart of the plan!

I risked everything for you.

Whumpee’s expression was entirely apologetic, and it broke something else inside Caretaker. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t let you die.”

Whumper let out a little laugh at that. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, certain every emotion was crossing their face. Until Whumper stepped between them and Caretaker’s gaze strayed to his face instead.

Whumper reached a hand out and settled it under Caretaker’s chin, tilting their head up to face Whumper. They wanted to cry, to scream, to spit. All they did was stare.

“See what heroics gets you?” Whumper said gently. Caretaker couldn’t speak, emotion clogging their throat and not letting air or words through.

Without breaking eye contact with Caretaker, Whumper said: “bring Whumpee back to their cage, and make sure you double the guards around their tent.”

All adrenaline left Caretaker’s body in a quick flush leaving them drained and defeated. “You’re coming with me to my tent, Caretaker,” Whumper promised, something dangerously soft colouring their voice. “We have much to discuss.”

[painonthebrain]

Content: Manhandling, needle/syringe, drugging, captivity (implied)

The phone rings.

Whumpee is wrangled to the side, pulled by their hair. They choke.

Whumper reaches for their syringe.

“No no nono n-”

The needle plunges into their skin.

The syringe is thrown to the side, clinking as it hits the floor.

Whumpee sways, and whumper steadies them enough, leading them to the couch.

They then let go of them, letting them crumple against the cushions.

…

“… Hello?”

A pause.

“Ah, Darian!” Their voice lilts with recognition.

…

“No, I didn’t forget.”

…

Whumper laughs. “Of course! I have them all here.”

…

“So, what are we thinking?”

…

“Mm, good choice! I think it’ll be great. Thanks. Bye.”

They hang up, turning back to whumpee.

They sigh, smiling, watching as whumpee stares off, in some other world.

“So it’s a date.”

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[whumporama]

Writing snippet

Caretaker is somewhere in the room, chatting away as they rummage through some stuff. Whumpee closes their eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of the pillow against their cheek, and not the pain coming from all over their body, or the sickness they can feel inside of them.

“Alright-y, here,” Caretaker's voice comes from nearby, making Whumpee open their eyes again. Caretaker is holding out a potion, clearly expecting Whumpee to take it. “Drink this, then I can patch you back up.”

Whumpee knows what it is, what it does, and rationally knows Caretaker just wants to help. But sensations of touch flash over them, hands on their head, forcing their face up and their mouth open. Liquid being poured inside, a hand over their mouth and nose, taking away their breathing until they swallow.

They turn their head away. “No.”

“Eh,” Caretaker frowns and doesn’t move away. “No to the potion or no to the patching up?”

“I don’t need a sedative,” Whumpee grumbles. They hate feeling like this, having to rely on someone else to take care of them. Even if that someone else is Caretaker. 

Especially if that someone else is Caretaker.

“Just get it done.” 

Caretaker sighs. “I know you are an idiot, but not this much of one,” they get closer and shoves the potion towards Whumpee's face. “So just drink-”

Whumpee sees the hand coming and doesn’t think, just reacts. Their hand shoots out and grabs Caretaker's wrist, stopping them from getting closer. They know it’s fine. They know. But their mind doesn’t care, taking them away.

Nobody else is in the room, but Whumpee can feel hands on their body, touching them, hurting them. But their body is not their own, even without the chains they can’t move, can’t think. There are voices, taunting them to get up and fight. But they can’t. No matter how much the anger roars or how much their hatred tries to fuel him, their body won’t obey him. 

They are powerless as their captors laugh and do what they want.

“No,” they manages to grind out, only letting go as Caretaker pulls their hand back, offended.

“Ow, fine,” they hiss and tosses the fruit away. “Suit yourself.”

Whumpee pulls their hand back and lets it rest on the soft bed again as Caretaker grumbles and sits down at their side with the medical supplies. When their burnt skin touches the blanket, fresh pain shoots up their arm. But it hurts no matter how they move, so Whumpee just closes his eyes and endures.

It's all they can do, all they could do. Back there.

Endure.

[the-bar-sinister]

“You’ve had me here for weeks now. Please tell me you’re going to untie me. I won’t try to escape.”

“Sorry, babe , trust isn’t won that easily.”

“How can I get you to trust me, then?”

“You could kill someone. How about that? I’ll bring someone here, and you kill them, and then I’ll trust that you’re not going to run away and cry to the cops about this.”

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Day 31: Bonus Day

Cape

“Your suit must include a cape,” cut the Designer dryly. “If you’re a Hero, you have to wear a cape.”

Hero squirmed uncomfortably:

“But- didn’t the Edna Mode School of Thought say-”

The end of this sentence died on their lips as Designer glared at them, waving dangerously with their scissors gliding in their hand:

“I know what they say. Do you fly?”

“N-no?”

“Then most of the risks are averted. All clothes have dangers, if you put it like that. You can trip on a scarf or on new shoes too.”

“But capes do nothing.”

“Excuse me? The propaganda has come too far!”

Designer rubbed their forehead:

“Look, if you’re cut from help and backup, trust me, you’ll be grateful for the extra fabric. You can carry things or a person with it. You can rip it apart for bandages. It can be used as a shock blanket or a way to protect anonymity. ”

“I-I didn’t think about that-”

“Exactly.”

Designer stepped forward and poked at their forehead:

“So you’re gonna walk out to the world with your shiny new suit, you’re going to heroically cover a citizen in need with your crazy useful cape, and you’re going to look damn good doing it. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, Designer.”

"Don't be ungrateful to the Cape and its wonders. Or it will end you."

*

Aaand that makes 10 snippets. Thanks for the event @augusnippets, it's been fun !

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist

Whump/Horror Masterlist

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

Rules

Part 1 (Disgraced apple pie) Part 5 (A way out)

TW: mind control, whump, mentions of murder

Villain walks through the front door of Supervillain's lair panting heavily. The alley was further away than they thought. They quickly take their shoes off and walk towards the living room. The room is dark and only lit by the reading lamp in the corner. They try to cross the room as fast as possible to get to their room. They had kept Hero a secret way too long. They’re going to be in so much trouble. Maybe if they can reach their room in time, Supervillain might leave them alone for tonight. 

“Hello, dear,” A voice that made Villain shiver travelled through the room. “You’re home quite late,” Supervillain is petting Villain’s cat on the couch and all Villain wants to do is rip it out from under their claws and protect it. “I thought i’d let your little friend out of your room, since you took so long to get back,” Villain puts on their carefully crafted mask of emotional distance that they had to create years ago. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I got the USB and the Sidekick is dropped off,” Villain manages to say in their cold tone, although that’s becoming rather hard. The Supervillain stands up from the couch and lets the cat go. While Supervillain walks towards them, their cat runs off to their room. “You are always so good for me. The best one of our family. Good strategist, deadly powers, never loses control,...” Supervillain says as they walk closer and closer to Villain. “So, tell me, why would you hang out with a hero?” Shit. This is bad. This is really, really bad. “Well?” They insist. 

Villain takes a deep breath. “I- I don’t know. We met after a fight and they wouldn’t leave me alone and then that one time turned into a couple of times. It meant nothing, just something to pass the time,” Villain answers, not daring to speak above a whisper. Supervillain hums in response. “Meant nothing?” Villain silently nods. “You do realise you broke one of the rules?” Villain nods again, a lump forming in their throat. “How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers, especially heroes? And now that Hero of yours suspects something and might find out what my power is. Do you see the problem?” Villain can only nod. They did this to themselves and they are going to have to pay the price. “You broke the rules, dear. You know what that means right?” Tears are forming in Villain’s eyes. They know what this means. “You obviously can’t be trusted with the freedom I gave you.” Supervillain sighs as they caress Villain’s face. “And you were so good for so long, I really thought I would never have to do this again.” Villain lets their tears fall freely and sobs quietly. They don’t want this. Not again. They had to do so much awful stuff last time. Please, not again. Their mask was broken and every bit of their hard work from the past years fell on the ground and shattered in a thousand pieces. They had to start from zero again. 

“Shhh, It’s going to be okay,” Supervillain whispers in Villain’s ear. They had pulled them into a hug, putting Villain’s head on their shoulder. “It will be over soon and you won’t even notice. You can just let your mind rest while I do the hard work for you. No need to think or worry anymore.” Villain continues to sob in Supervillain’s shoulder. They were so scared. They are going to have to do bad things again. Worse than they were already doing, and they couldn’t stop it. As much as they tried, they couldn’t stop it. “Shhh, it will be over soon,” Supervillain continues to sooth while placing a hand on Villain’s head. They try to match the Villain's breathing and let their powers do the rest. Supervillain’s eyes turn white and Villain’s heartbreaking sobs fill the room. They plead and cry out asking Supervillain to stop but they don’t listen. They try to push them off but the tight hug in which they are trapped doesn’t let them. They trash around and fight trying to find a way out. After a few more seconds the sobbing stops and Supervillain can feel Villain’s muscles relax. They let go of Villain and looked into their eyes. A white glaze covers them. They look unfocussed and as if they were staring into a void. Supervillain sighs in delight. “There you are, my dear. No more distractions, just the two of us.” Villain looks at them with a numb expression, nothing behind their eyes. Supervillain kisses their cheek and caresses their face again. “Now let's see if your hero still finds you so sweet now you have nothing holding you back.” Supervillain traces circles with their thumb. “Let them see why I keep you close.”

~

From their room, a tear stained face watches the scene unfold. The villainous sidekick wonders what it was Villain and Supervillain were doing. Just as Supervillain lets Villain go, Assassin walks by, probably going to the kitchen. As soon as they see what's happening in the living room and Sidekick lurking from their room they push SIdekick inside their room and quickly follow. “What was that? What were they doing?” Sidekick immediately asks. “You don’t want to know, believe me.” Assassin answers pacing through the room. “No, I do. They were hurting Villain,” Sidekick says sitting at the edge of their bed, looking up expectantly. Assassin sighs. This wasn’t going to be an easy talk. Assassin sits down on the bed and starts telling the story. “Just like you, we were all asked to join Supervillain. Some in their early twenties like me and Other Hero, others like yourself and Villain when they were only teenagers. You were convinced pretty easily. So was Other hero. I pushed back a bit more and when Supervillain can’t get you to do what they want, they take control over your mind.” Sidekick looks a bit shocked at Assassin. “I know,” Assassin continuous, “They only had to do it a few days for me to comply and I never want to experience that again. Villain is the one that pushed back the most, but also was the one that Supervillain wanted the most. You’ve seen them when they are angry, they are deadly if they allow themselves to be.” Sidekick silently nods as they remember the time Villain ripped an intruder in pieces from the inside out. They got a few nightmares after that, not that they would tell Villain because they didn’t want to hurt them. “So you understand why Supervillain wanted them?” Sidekick nods again. “Villain didn’t go down without a fight. When Supervillain controlled their mind they were able to break free a few times before they broke. The first time the mind control lasted six months. The second time they refused an order and it lasted eight months, and then it happened a few times more and the time varied. The last time was brutal. They made Villain kill all the heroes in the city, not only the ones from the Agency. That’s why there is an entire new league. I don’t think they ever recovered from that,” Assassin says as they look at the door, feeling sorry for their old friend.

“I thought all the old heroes retired.” Sidekick says looking at their sheets. “That’s what the Agency wants you to believe. They were too ashamed to tell people that their great heroes were killed by a then eighteen year old,” Assassin answers.

“I know I am not naturally calming like Villain, but do you want me to stay with you?” Sidekick nods. “You’re not going to hit me with a pillow again, are you?” Assassin chuckles as they pull Sidekick into a hug and lay down. “I can’t promise you anything,” They answers smugly and with that they fall asleep together.

Hi! It has been a while since the last part but I really wanted to do this right. I hope you still enjoy the series and I am really thankfull for all the nice feedback I got on this series!

[unforgivenn]

In the dimly lit room, Whumpee sat huddled in a corner, arms wrapped protectively around themselves in a feeble attempt to give themself comfort from the insufferable pain. Their eyes darted nervously towards the door as Whumper entered, their presence sending a shiver down Whumpee's spine.

Whumper began with an unsettling calmness, the kindest smile playing on their lips. A simple facade to get Whumpee on their fingertips. "My dear Whumpee.." Their voice dripped with false sweetness and pity. "You know my love for you is boundless.. But it comes with expectations"

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, their heart sinking. Whumper had loved them so much. And They couldn't even give them back the love that was given to them. They were so.. so selfish.. "I-I'm trying.." They stammered, their voice barely above a whisper from the unrelenting embarrassment. "Please.. I-I'm doing my best" Whumpee's voice cracked, tears filling up in their closed eyes which were too ashamed to meet Whumper's eyes.

Whumper's smile faltered, replaced by a cold glint in their eyes. "Your best isn't good enough" They spoke in a mocking manner hiding a threat under the grey covers of what they said. "But if you meet my expectations, oh, how wonderful our relationship can be."

Whumpee whimpered, their breath coming in a hitch. They knew what whumper expected- Submission, Obediance, compliance. "I-I'll do anything sir..." Whumper simply smiled at their innocent victim.

"That's like it whumpee." Whumper patted whumpee's head, a touch in which whumpee completely melted in. It was as if they hadn't been touched in forever. And Whumper was the one to let them feel it again. How generous whumper was..

Whumper turned around to go as whumpee was left alone in their dark abyss once again, silently resigning themselves to the endless cycle of manipulation and abuse.

[automeris-io-moth]

Short #1

“Oh my,” Civilian heard in the distance, a fog blurring their sight, and the unshakable feeling of exhaustion confusing their head “poor little thing, left for dead.” 

The figure approached, kneeling in the ground beside them, softly grabbing their head with both their hands, guiding it upwards, towards them, stroking their sweaty hair, wet with something sticky, something dark and too agitating to think about at that time and place. 

A weave of nausea quickly catched up, forcing Civilian to react, moving in a quick motion their head to the side, throwing up all over the floor beside them and the stranger handling them with so much care. 

“Oh love, that can’t be good,” the figure continued, pulling them close once again, a handkerchief cleaning the corners of their mouth with light taps “what do you say I take you home? I can make it all better, I bet that you’re feeling quite uncomfortable right now.” 

Civilian nodded absentmindedly, only half processing what they were agreeing to, immediate relief from their pain and turmoil coming right before self preservation. Vampire related incidents were on the rise in the city, it was an open secret. 

The stranger smiled warmly. 

“I’m glad,” they said, twisting the young person in their arms to carry them comfortably to the elegant white car waiting for them, door opened, man waiting beside it “you’re gonna be the perfect example for Hero, he needs to learn how dangerous they are when rejecting their sires help, they must not have even realised they left you there dying.” 

The stranger sighed, getting them inside the car, resting Civilian’s head over their lap, not caring for the blood and grime staining their pants and car seats. 

“Don’t worry, pretty thing, I’ll take care of you until they are capable, even if that takes a couple decades.” 

_

Masterlist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

knife torture in a creepy basement perhabs? maybe a shady mercenary has captured a hero on a supervillain's behalf but wants to have some fun with the hero before they give them up

“I’ve been told that you’re not very easy to capture,” the mercenary said. Their collection of knives was impressive and the hero was, simply put, getting ready for the torture.

They had survived a lot of similiar sessions. Guns, knives, water, fire — by now, the hero could slip into a state of simply enduring it all. No panic, no screaming. Their entire energy was spent on survival and usually, they got away with it just fine.

“Not because of you, but your little guard dog...” The mercenary looked at them intensely and suddenly the hero realised this was about to get more complicated. “Kinda dangerous. Making it that obvious.”

The hero smiled dryly, feeling dread fill their stomach.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. Do you think I’m that dumb?” The mercenary pressed a knife against their thigh and slowly, the sharp end dug into the hero’s skin, splitting layers of skin until it reached muscle. Until it reached bone.

The tears came quickly and the hero’s pathetic moans filled the basement. Their hands were bound behind their back, so they tried not to move at all. The wound would only get bigger.

“Christ,” they hissed, almost shouted. “Fuck—”

There was so much blood. The hero had forgotten how much they could bleed.

“Frankly, I don’t care about your little romance, the only feeling I have for it is somewhere between disgust and annoyance. I mean, who the fuck even cares?” They pressed the knife deeper into the hero’s thigh and scraped their femur terribly. The hero swallowed a scream, tried to maintain their composure but their tears wouldn’t stop and neither did the wheezing.

“What do you want?” the hero asked. For the first time, they were terrified. The mercenary knew about the villain. What if they had caught them? What if the villain was enduring this too right now? The hero couldn’t stomach that.

“Oh, you know…just wanna have some fun. I’m actually retired. Don’t get to do a lot of field work.” They pulled out the knife and the hero gasped in pain, praying that the villain was alright. Maybe the mercenary was simply toying with them? Surely, the villain was clever enough to get away from them. “Ah, shit. I guess you need that so you don’t bleed out? Hmmm. My bad.”

They jammed the knife back into the hero’s thigh, slightly above the first wound.

“Ouch, sorry. Not really good at aiming.” The mercenary shrugged. “Happens. Anyway. Your little lover? Do you think they’ll save you from all this drama?”

“God, please stop.” The hero struggled in their restraints, desperate to escape. They didn’t know what was worse: the knife? Or the psychological toying?

“Do you think anyone is gonna find you? I can tell you already, it’s not that easy. I’m no amateur.”

“You’ll kill me,” the hero whispered. “I’m gonna die here, I’m gonna bleed out, oh God…”

“You’re not the brightest, are you?” the mercenary asked. Again, they pulled out the knife and the hero’s thigh felt scorchingly hot. They didn’t want to know what kind of scars would be left on their thigh after this, how they’d explain it to the villain. “I need you alive. Blood loss is just helping me a little. Makes you dizzy, makes you sleepy. Makes you weak, just like the supervillain wants you.”

“You’ve made a pact with the devil,” the hero said. They leaned their head against the wall, tears still streaming down their face. The villain…they would save them, wouldn’t they?

“Very poetic.” They traced lines down the hero’s thigh, the knife digging into their skin every now and then. “But I don’t care that much about the money. I’m just curious if your lover will show up? People tend to think our lives should revolve around love. So, how much does your dear villain actually love you? Will they show up? Will they save you?”

They laughed and it almost sounded gentle.

“Let’s break all that trust you have in them, hm? At the end of the day, man eats himself. You’re terribly and very sadly, on your own. Just like the rest of us.” They whispered the last words. For the third time, they pressed their knife back into the hero.

The hours passed. And the villain never showed up.

[villain-enthusiast]

Could you write a hurt hero and guilty caretaker villain fic where they fight and villain accidentally hurts hero too much and feels bad after?

tw: injury, blood/gore

The hero wheezed, the sound too breathless for the villain to be completely sure that they only sliced their abdomen.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The villain’s hand tightened over the hilt of their knife, which was coated in a little too much blood. They struggled to muster the courage to turn around and make sure their opponent was not as injured as they sounded.

Please be okay. Tackle me, throw me down while my back is turned, please—

Thud.

The villain whipped around to see the hero collapsed on the ground, a hand pressed desperately to their side as red seeped from between their fingers.

“Shit, Hero.” The villain scrambled over to them, falling to their knees to examine the injury and immediately felt their heart drop.

Stab wound. Deep, deep stab wound. Definitely internal organ damage, likely fatal without immediate treatment.

The villain dragged a hand through their hair frantically as they felt panic rise in their throat. How could have they been so sloppy? Just a cut, it was just supposed to have been a cut—

“Villain,” the hero suddenly rasped, cutting through their spiraling thoughts. “Why the hell are you still here?”

The villain blinked. “Wh-what?”

A rattling cough shook the hero’s frame and they spat blood to the side, much to the villain’s dismay. “You won, you got me. Kill me already, goddamnit.” The hero’s glassy gaze flicked to the dagger still in the villain’s tight grasp. “Just…make it fast.”

Realization jolted through the villain and they threw the knife to the side like it had been set on fire. “No. No no no, Hero. I don’t, I didn’t…” they trailed off, struggling for the right words as guilt clawed up their throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this, I’ve never even killed anyone before—,”

“Woah, hey.” The hero’s brow furrowed, although the villain couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or how their sworn nemesis was literally apologizing to them. Maybe it was both. “Since when did you get sentimental?”

The villain barely processed the hero’s light-hearted tease. They felt like their head was underwater, their lungs choked up in their own remorse. “I—,” they choked out, “I don’t know. Oh God.” Their hands hovered over the hero’s stomach, frozen, unsure of what to do or where to go.

The hero groaned minutely, clearly trying to stifle the sound. “Y’know,” they panted, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it would be so much better if you could just send me to heaven now.” Their eyes shuttered. “Whether you meant to stab me or not, I’m in a lot of pain, Villain.”

The villain felt their gut twist violently. They could just end it now, put the hero out of their misery—but the villain knew they wouldn’t be able to do that, and yet, they couldn’t leave the hero to bleed out in pain…

They shook their head. God, they were wasting time. Life was seeping out of the hero with every passing second, and they still didn’t know what to do—

They jolted. My house. I can get them to my house a few blocks from here.

Stupid stupid stupid. How did they not think of it before? The villain sprung into action, tearing off a long strip of their shirt. “Hero,” they said—shouted, rather to keep their opponent from losing consciousness, “I’m going to wrap your wound, okay?”

The hero huffed a sound that might’ve been a chuckle if they weren’t so weak. “That’s totally going to save me. A thin piece of your cotton shirt.”

“I’m trying to help you!” the villain retorted as they tied the cloth strip around the hero’s abdomen, wincing when they grunted in pain. “I’m taking you to my house. It’s five minutes from here, less if I run. Can you just,” they swallowed around the lump in their throat, “try to not die for a little longer?”

The hero smirked sloppily. “No promises,” they joked, but their gaze darkened. “You better run fast.”

The villain gathered the hero up in their arms as gently as they could and began to sprint down the alleyway. “You’re going to live, Hero. You have to live.” They clutched the hero a little closer to their chest. “I need you.”

The last three words tumbled out of the villain’s mouth before they could stop themselves. But from the way they felt the hero jolt in their arms, at they way their eyes widened slightly, the villain knew that their confession was giving the hero the strength to fight everything in them to stay awake.

And for the villain, that was all they needed to do exactly what the hero needed them to do: run fast.

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic betrayal (ix)

Read part one here // Continued from here

THIS SERIES HAS NINE PARTS??!?! IT DOESN’T FEEL THAT LONG, MAYBE FOUR OR FIVE WOW!!!

*~*~*~*~*

Hero woke up buried under extremely heavy sheets. It felt like a net of blankets weighing down on her, like a giant warm hug of safety. The first thing she did when she woke up was nestle deeper into the warmth, letting out a light hum as she did. She was entirely too comfortable, her mind rosey and hazy, exactly how she liked it.

A heartbeat steadily under her ear, warmth radiating off her mattress. The fog in her mind turned thick, impenetrable and she wanted to be sick. The warmth around her clawed at her desperately, trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

She had bolted from the bed, backing up until she hit the wall behind her, before she properly opened her eyes. Her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she glared at the man in her bed.

Flynn peered at her with one eye open, casually throwing an arm under his head to prop himself up. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low from sleep.

“You fucker,” Hero hissed, her mind flashing back to last night when Supervillain fixed her nose. Flynn had settled her mind for her, leaving her in his artificial weightless-haze. “You said you wouldn’t use your powers on me.”

Flynn shrugged. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“No, you didn’t want to see me suffer, and there’s a chasm of a difference between them,” Hero huffed, crossing her arms over the shirt she was wearing. “Then sleeping with me?”

“You never complained before,” Flynn said with a lazy, cocky grin.

“That was before I knew you were a fucking scheming bastard, who,” Hero continued, walking towards her door and opening it. “Coincidentally, has his own room in this hell house. So please, get out.”

Flynn stared at her through half-lidded eyes, two hands behind his head now. Hero hated when he did that. She hated how it exposed his muscles and somehow made him hotter. He knew it too. He knew that she liked it when he reclined like that, because she told him once after a long night.

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m a comfortable liar.”

“I hate you,” Hero snapped. The cocky smile dimmed on his face, and she took a little bit of satisfaction at it. Ignoring how it pulled a little on her heartstrings too.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Hero swallowed, lingering by the door, arms folded across her chest. “Were you here all night?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat up.

“Why?”

“Because you said you didn’t want to be alone,” he answered honestly.

Hero scoffed. “No doubt from your loopy induced haze in my head.”

“Despite what you may like to believe,” Flynn said, getting to his feet. He was fully dressed in the shirt and tracksuit he was wearing last night. Decent and gentlemanly. Infuriatingly. “I can’t sway your ideas in your head. If you want me to, I can find a telepath for you to put all your blame on.”

“Oh yeah? And will you kidnap them too?” She snapped, eyes blazing.

Flynn scoffed, grabbing his socks and shoes before walking towards Hero by the door. Hero’s heart beat double-time the closer Flynn got to her, but she maintained her resolve.

That was, until Flynn stopped in the doorway beside her. She shifted her feet under his gaze, feeling his eyes travel over every pore, lingering on every feature, tracing a line down the curve of her neck.

Her breath hitched when he reached forward, a hand cupping her cheek, the heel of his palm tilted her head up. So gentle. Filled with too much everything— Flynn knew her better than anyone, knew what made her tick, what made her nervous, her fears. His touch lit a fire under her skin, but his eyes laid her naked before him, and sent shivers down her spine.

“We could make this so nice,” he whispered like the snake tempting eve in the garden, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “We could go back to the way things were. We were happy.”

How Hero ached for that to be true. How she wanted to abandon her defences, to forget the heartache at his betrayal, and run into his awaiting arms. He could make her forget everything, what he did to Sidekick, what he was doing to her. Hell, he could make her forget that she was ever a Hero and it would be so easy.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she swallowed a sob and covered his hand with hers. “That was before you betrayed me, and everything I thought you were.”

“Hero…”

“How can I believe anything you say? How do I know that you weren’t seducing me as some plan you concocted with your father?” She asked, breathlessly. He dropped his shoes and socks with a clatter to the floor and stepped closer to her, caging her in against the door.

His eyes implored her to trust him, to love him, to believe him. She couldn’t look at the desire in them, so she looked at his lips instead. His soft lips.

“You know what we had was real,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning her face. “Believe in us. Believe in what your heart knows to be true. I love you, Hero.”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled against his touch. She swallowed and turned her head away, pressing her hand against his chest with more restraint than she thought herself capable of.

“Please, Flynn,” she said, her voice soft like the static in the air before a thunderstorm. “Just leave me alone.”

Flynn paused, his touch faltering and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her anyways. Something heartbroken inside her that still loved him told her that he would never do something like that. That there were lines of decency even a traitor wouldn’t cross.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hand from her face and stepping back, scooping up his discarded shoes and socks. Hero did the right thing. She knows she did the right thing, so why does it feel like something just tore a hole through her chest? “Look, I know we were friends once, maybe more than that, maybe not, but right now Hero? I’m your only friend here. Your only refuge.”

Hero felt as if she had just been slapped. “Is that a threat? Be nice to me or else?”

Flynn had the audacity to look hurt. “No, that’s not—”

“Goodbye, Flynn,” she ground out through clenched teeth, stepping away from the door and grabbing it in her hand, ready to slam it in his face.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “See you later.”

The moment he stepped out of door frame she closed the door and leaned her back against it, sliding down and hugging her knees to her chest. She let the tears fall when she was alone, unaware that on the other side of the door, Flynn was listening to her, a pained expression colouring his features.

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later a knock sounded on her door. Hero ignored it. She watched the door handle open from her bed, her back propped against the headboard, her legs stretched out, crossed over at the ankles a book with its spine broken between her fingers. She inclined her head when the door opened, expecting it to be Flynn but froze when she saw a mess of black hair.

Villain was wearing a red leather jacket, contrasting against his sharp pale features and dark hair, making him seem other worldly. He smirked when he noticed Hero’s tension, he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I’ve been told to call you for dinner.”

“Like the good dog you are.”

“Woof,” Villain replied, a grin that made her skin crawl spreading across his features. “Of course, you hurt Flynn’s feelings so he’s licking his wounds in his room. You get me instead.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my appetite looking at your face.”

Shadow hands sprung from the backboard of the bed and grabbed Hero’s wrists before she realised what was happening. They squeezed, hard, until she dropped the book, shackling her in a ring of icy coldness, that yanked her arms back sharply and pressed them against the headboard. Hero didn’t even struggle and suppressed her whimpers of pain, but it must have shown on her face because Villain’s grin got wider as he stepped into her room.

“I would be nicer to me, Hero.” Villain cautioned, his fingers curling slowly into a fist in his hand, the shadows tightening more until Hero couldn’t keep her cries locked behind her teeth anymore. “We could be friends, like you and Flynn, hmm?”

“Friends don’t hurt each other,” Hero ground out, pulling against the shadows keeping her pinned. With all the effort she put behind it, it only resulted in her muscles shaking in her arms.

“Well, we’re not friends yet, and besides, it’s not hurting each other. I’m just hurting you.”

Hero looked away from Villain, staring pointedly at the wall to her right just to piss him off. Who did he think he was? Another cold hand stroked a finger along her jaw. Hero shivered at the touch, but refused to look at Villain. That’s when she heard footsteps round her bed until she was staring at worn, red leather in front of her.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Villain said, crouching down so he was eye-level with the stubborn Hero. He tilted his head with a smile. “Hmm? You’re stuck here, y’know. Unless you grow a spine and want to kill your friend, in which case, well, you’d belong here.”

“Let me go,” Hero snapped, pulling against the shadows. Villain let out a dark, breathy laugh, standing again as he shook his head. His hand shot out, as cold as his shadows and pinched her chin between his fingers tilting her head up sharply.

“The sooner you learn your place here the better, I mean,” Villain said, sucking in a breath as if it hurt. “Upsetting Flynn? The only person here on your side? Not a smart move, not one I would make. Or Supervillain if he were in your shoes. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be smart? Isn’t that your whole thing? Cause god knows you’re not strong.”

Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl and she shot her leg out. Shadows caught her ankle before it made contact and yanked her down the bed, but the hold on her wrists didn’t budge and so her body was stretched taut, pulled in two directions.

Villain released his grip on her chin when his shadows caught her foot and now he just stood back as she cried out and tried to gain purchase on the bed with her other leg for support.

“You know, it’s not nice to kick people.”

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, Hero. Why? Do you want me to be?” Hero’s breath caught in her throat at the very thinly layered threat in Villain’s voice, and the sick fuck seemed to feed off her panic. “Relax Hero, I’m not that kind of Villain. I won’t touch you until you beg for it.”

His words sent shivers down her spine, and when the shadow on her ankle dissolved Hero quickly pulled it into her chest, retreating up her bed back to where her hands were pinned, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

Villain hummed, then turned and walked towards the door. He lifted his hand and clicked his fingers without looking at her. The shadows dissipated, leaving her wrists red raw but otherwise unharmed. “Come along, Hero. Like I said. Dinner’s ready.”

On the way downstairs, Villain rapped on Flynn’s door and yelled: “grubs up.” Hero didn’t take her glare off of Villain’s back the whole way down her U-shaped stairs to the second floor. It wouldn’t matter either way considering all the shadows he could utilise to torture her, and there was no way she could keep eyes everywhere.

Though when Flynn’s door opened, she paused on the last step of her stairs, watching him as he walked out of his room and shut the door. He didn’t look at her as he followed Villain down the stairs. He may as well have slapped her in the face. Actually, she’d rather he would have slapped her, or looked at her, or even paused when he saw her in the corner of his eye. But he continued through the landing and to the stairs like she wasn’t even there, and Hero swore her heart broke inside her chest all over again.

She followed the brothers down to the dining room in silence. Flynn and Villain were already sitting down at the Supervillain’s side of the table, both on either side of where Supervillain sat. Hero stared at the chair beside Flynn, something urging her to sit beside him, but instead she sat at other opposite head of the table. Yanking her chair out and sitting down.

Why should she be the one who’s suffering or feeling guilty? Flynn should be the one feeling guilty. It was his fault she was here. His fault that she was on Supervillain’s radar in the first place. His fault that Sidekick is in the hospital.

Villain’s cunning eyes went between the pair. “Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?”

“Oh shut up, Vil,” Flynn snapped.

Hero leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her as if she was about to conduct a meeting. She smiled sweetly at Villain, sickeningly sweet. “Yes. No trouble at all, Vil. I wouldn’t touch a villain with a ten foot pole if I could help it, but considering I’m on house arrest with a family of villains, I’ve had to make some concessions.”

Flynn shot her a scathing look, his cocky smirk sliding onto his face. “That’s not what you said when you were cuddling me this morning.”

Villain’s entire face lit up, eyes going between the pair, enjoying the two of them silently fuming at each other. “Damn. You could cut the tension with a knife. Get a room, guys.”

Supervillain stepped through the doors that joined the kitchen to the dining room with two steaming plates. “Dinner’s ready!” He exclaimed happily. Noticing the atmosphere, he raised his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“A lover’s tiff,” Villain answered at the same time that Hero and Flynn bit out: “nothing.”

Supervillain hummed, walking down to Hero and sliding a plate in front of her. It smelled divine, like last time, and Hero’s stomach grumbled at the sight. Two steaks of salmon and green beans and cauliflower. “For your strength,” Supervillain beamed at her, then walked to Villain and served him next.

He disappeared through the doors again. Villain smiled at Flynn. “I got mine first, I’m the favourite.”

“You wish,” Flynn said, folding his arms across his chest. “He serves me last because hr wants to make sure my dinner is still hot.”

Supervillain appeared again and sat at the table beside Flynn, handing him his plate too. “Ah. Bon Appétit.”

They ate in relative silence, Villain or Flynn would say something and they’d start a conversation that would ebb and flow while Hero ate quietly, trying her best not to scoff the whole plate down in seconds, but she didn’t have breakfast or lunch today, so she was starving.

“How’s the nose, Hero?” Supervillain asked.

“It’s fine,” Hero replied coldly, then stiffened, thinking better of disrespecting him and added a quiet, “thank you.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. I actually got you some papers today.”

Hero raised her brows. “Oh.”

“To keep you up on the news,” Supervillain told her, his smile reminiscent of his son’s, though maybe a bit more civil, but no less shark-like and menacing. “Don’t want you completely disconnected from the world.”

Hero pushed at the remains of her dinner with her fork, tightening her grip on the utensil. “You just want to torture me as much as possible, is that it?”

“Torture you? What would be the point? I have you immobilised and incapacitated. I don’t need to torture you any further. I just thought you’d like to know—”

“How the world’s doing outside my fucking prison?” She demanded, raising her gaze to meet Supervillain’s. Supervillain’s smile remained on his face and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the table and slap it off. “No thanks.”

“Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Supervillain tilted his head to the side, steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You didn’t let me finish, Hero. Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero, or—”

Hero felt the cold hands of Villain’s power grab her wrists again and yank them behind the back of her chair, her fork clattering along the floor of the dining room. “We can make it very, very difficult for you if you’d prefer. Which would you rather, now that you’ve tasted the cell and the room?”

“I’d rather you let me go, you fucking dick!” She hissed, trying to yank her hands free, but each time she got an inch her hands were clamped down tighter, almost dragging her over the chair, but she planted her feet on the ground, resolute, and glared at the man. “Stop threatening my friends and give yourself up to the proper authorities while you’re at it! That’s what I’d prefer over this playing house bullshit!”

“Hero,” Flynn cautioned. Hero scoffed. She would have threw her arms up if she could, bordering on hysterical.

“Now you deign to talk to me?” She cried. “Save it!”

She turned her gaze, crueller now, back to Supervillain, adopting a false sense of innocence. “I mean, this isn’t really a proper family, is it? Where’s the mother figure after all?”

Hero only got the briefest of seconds to enjoy Supervillain’s easy smiling expression dipping, turning to cold fury before a shadowed hand grabbed her throat, followed by Villain who grabbed her where the shadow hand did, and slammed her back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Hero spit at him in reply, cracking a smile despite her face that was steadily changing from red to purple at her oxygen being cut off. It wasn’t a proper glob, more like a spray of saliva, even her fucking spit was limp at her circumstances.

“Villain,” Supervillain said as Hero gasped on air that she wasn’t getting. Hero could barely hear him when he spoke again, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she clung desperately to air. She fell to the ground deadweight, head smacking off the floor but she barely noticed it as she gasped in oxygen like a fish being thrown back into a river.

Her throat screamed at the abuse, screamed at her to stop fucking tempting fate and cruelty of the family of villains but she couldn’t bring herself to care if they killed her or not. It would be preferable, honestly.

But then who would help Sidekick? Her stupid, logical voice chimed in as she pushed herself up by her hands. A pair of tailored trousers met her gaze as she righted herself, she had only begun to tilt her head up, her mind cloudy when she felt a hand lock around her upper arm and drag her to her feet.

She stumbled up, her leg faltering behind and falling again but the grip didn’t loosen and the legs didn’t slow down and Hero was forced to make her legs work after depriving them of oxygen for the last twenty seconds.

“Dad.” Flynn’s voice. “Dad!”

“Enough, Flynn.” They were in the kitchen Hero realised, the wood of the dining room floor replaced with the black tiles. Supervillain was holding her, dragging her to the far side of the kitchen and she had the sense to start digging her heels in when they reached a door she wasn’t familiar with. “We tried it your way, Flynn. Now, we’ll try it Villain’s way and compare notes.”

“Dad, no. Wait!” Flynn cried. Hero turned her head over her shoulder to see Villain’s sharp grin, arms around Flynn to stop him from following Hero and Supervillain wherever they were going. “Dad!”

“Ladies first,” Supervillain said after he opened the door and with a pause, he pressed his hand to Hero’s back and shoved her down the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*

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