#possible whumpee hero

[kaleidoscope-of-thoughts]

Soft Villain

“Stop, stop…” Hero whispered shakily as the shadows of Villain’s team surrounded them. They squinted their eyes shut while their ears rung, desperately trying to sink into the floor.

“Everyone move away from Hero…now,” Villain’s authoritative voice spoke from the crowd and the chatter slowly tapered off.

Hero still couldn’t see what was happening, but they sensed Villain bend down in front of them.

“Hey, are you okay?” Villain questioned in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “are you hurt?” Hero jerked a bit when they felt a soft touch, Villain was holding their hand.

“Shh, sorry, it’s just me…are you hurt, Hero?” They asked again, kindly.

Hero shook their head and finally opened their eyes. They were met with a sympathetic gaze from Villain who was absentmindedly rubbing their thumb up and down the back of Hero’s hand.

“Good that’s good, why don’t I help you up and you can come with me, hm?” Villain tilted their head in a questioning gesture, the corners of their lips lifting into an ever so subtle smile.

With some trepidation, Hero nodded. They had no where else to go anyway, but Villain didn’t need to know that.

Villain stood still grasping Hero’s hand and gently pulled them up, slipping an arm around their waist when Hero faltered.

“Easy, easy, I got you. Thought you said you weren’t hurt,” Villain gave Hero a once over to confirm or deny the earlier claim, but Hero spoke up first.

“Not…hurt, I’m just…tired,” Hero’s words were slurred slightly and they leaned further into Villain.

“Oh, I see, well I’ve got a nice warm bed waiting for you upstairs,” Villain smiled again and the pair slowly made their way through Villain’s headquarters to the extra bedroom

They had many questions for why Hero had showed up that night, for now though they needed some comfort, and Villain was going to give just that.

[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.

[whumble-beeee]

A New Enemy Has Entered The Arena

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 6

Content: disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, tied up/handcuffs, (brief) dissociation, noncon partial undressing, noncon touch, attempted noncon

* * * * * * * *

Except from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters Dr. Vaughn Verhulst

["Make them fear the wrath of god, then remind them the only god they should fear is you."]

* * * * * * * *

“So, this is the capture, huh?” The new voice drawled. Despite the exhaustion and the agony lacing throughout every part of his body, Stan's managed a look up at the new situation. Directly into a pair of steel blue eyes that made his breath stutter. “Not much to look at, huh?”

Stan scooted backward, but Deeby seemed to beat him to the same idea, stepping in front of the man and completely blocking him from view.

“There's no way you're the one doing the pickup. What are you doing here?”

The new man tried to side-step Deeby. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to interrupt your smooch-fest, just wanna make sure you aren't breaking our new toy–”

Deeby stepped in front of the man again, the man barely stopping short of crashing directly into him, just long enough for Stan to gather his scattered bearings and realize there was a new person here and all the distinct possibilities of what that meant for him.

And suddenly he felt lightheaded again.

“Dude…”

“What.” Deeby insisted slowly. “Are you doing here?”

This new guy… honestly, not much to look at himself, from what Stan saw. He couldn't have been too much older than Stan, fluffy light brown hair, an accent he couldn't quite place, but… probably European? He also wasn't wearing any sort of mask or anything to hide his face, which was only vaguely concerning, Stan decided to believe. Not to mention, this new guy had been wearing a knit sweater vest? It looked soft. Stan almost had to remind himself that the guy must be a threat, just like Deeby, or why would he even be here?

He just looked so corporate.

“I told you, checking on the capture, getting some intel. Making sure you didn't crap up the very simple plan, or kill him. It’s a real concern with you, I'm sure you understand.”

The man tried to side-step Deeby once again, and once again the mercenary blocked him. Stan started to scoot back away from the two, his ankle chain softly clanking as it dragged across the floor. Whatever was going on between them, he wanted no part of it.

“He's secure. And alive. Not fatally wounded, and will continue to stay that way.” Deeby stated. “You can leave now.”

Sweater-vest ventured an exaggerated glance over Deeby's shoulder, just barely giving Stan another view of his steel-colored eyes. Something about them made his heart skip a beat.

“You sure about that, big man? Kid doesn't seem to be doing so hot.

“Yup.” Deeby didn't even entertain a glance back. “Buh-bye now.”

Stan could practically hear the eye-roll that accompanied the groan that Sweater-vest let out. “Well excuse me for not trusting you as far as I can throw you. Look, I'm not just here to mess with you, I'm here on Lana's orders. She wants you to call her.”

Stan stopped scooting dead, an icy coldness surging through his chest, a sudden darkness swirling around his head. Lana. That sounded like a real name. Why was this man using real names? Deeby didn't use a real name, he was very dead set on that! Why was this new man using real names?! Real names were bad why was he using real names–?!

Deeby also stiffened at the name. He hand clenched for just a fraction of a second. Then he shook his head and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Why didn't she just call me instead of sending your sorry ass to deliver the message?” Deeby finally seemed to settle on.

Sweater-vest's eyes flicked over Deeby, up and down, before an unnerving grin spread across his face. “I know something you don't know~” he sang slowly, like some sort of horror movie villain.

“You planning on telling me? Or you just gonna stand there like a skin-walker.” Deeby look just about ready to blow.

“Soon as I verify the little super lives up to our wildest hopes and dreams.”

“Y’know, technically we’re supposed to be on the same side.”

The man sidestepped Deeby one last time, and this time, the mercenary just let him pass by. Stan shrank back as the piercing gaze of Sweater-vest appraised him, looking him up and down as he slowly walked closer.

“A bit worse for wear, no?” Sweater-vest noted, almost to himself.

“Yeah, little shit tried to escape. Got pretty far too, he's stronger than I thought. Got me right–” Then he noticed Stan had backed up halfway across the room instead of stayingin place on the floor right behind him. And sighed. “Kinda a wuss though…”

“Die.” Stan growled, scowling at the mercenary even as he clutched his knees to his chest.

“Oooooh” Sweater-vest cooed, and Stan nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized how close the man had gotten to him. “Feisty little guy, huh?”

Stan kicked out at him and skittered back, only to realize he was almost out of room to skitter. So he reluctantly stood his ground. Well, sat his ground. “Get away from me!”

“He's mostly talk,” Deeby called again. “Mostly…”

Stan barely even registered what Deeby said. His vision completely tunneled on Sweater-vest as he slowly advanced on Stan, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Dang, Dick Biscuits, you really got a handle of him, don’t you?” Sweater-vest's eyes never once left Stan's. “Leashed and collared, like a little puppy dog… “

Stans cheeks turned a bright red. He glared at the man as hard as he could, jaw clenched so hard it could have broken, because honestly, how dare he?!

Deeby sighed, like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was now. Stan could relate.

“Yeah… It's necessary.”

“Oh, I agree wholeheartedly.”

The man crouched directly in front of the trembling Stan. “Hi,” he said softly, disarmingly, giving Stan just the slightest tilt of the head. “My name's Vaughn, its–”

“Christ man, would you cut it out with the names!” Deeby yelled, causing the both of the smaller men to jump as he marched over. Stan reflexively curled up into a little ball, gut swirling with a new and terrifying form of dread and suddenly very aware of his restraints once more, while Sweater-vest–... Vaughn… sprung up to face down Deeby.

As much as Stan was absolutely terrified of Deeby, he had to admit he agreed with the bounty hunter on this one. The way Sweater-vest threw out names like that felt… Dangerous. On a visceral level. He hugged his legs closer to his chest.

“Why?” Sweater-vest taunted. “It's not like he's gonna live to tell anyone.”

“Nothing's ever 100% with these things,” he growled. “Unless you want to get fifty to life here as well. You'd be doing me a huge favor, honestly, and bring Lana down with you while you’re at it. But leave me out of it.”

Sweater-vest hummed, considering. Glanced Deeby up and down. Then scoffed. “Don't you have an important phone call to get to, Deeby? I’d hate to have to tell Lana that her least favorite ex disobeyed her direct orders and needs to be dealt with.”

The mercenary stared down Sweater-vest. The intensity of it almost entranced Stan, it seemed to go on for an eternity. Then, finally, Deeby let out a small grunt, and took a slow, deep breath.

“Stan!” he yelled. Stan nearly yelped. “If he tries anything, kill him, he deserves it. And you.” he turned his attention right back to Sweater-vest before Stan could stutter out some sort of question or affirmation. “Don't fuck with him.”

“Aw, so protective, falling in love already?”

“I'll be back in a few, don't try anything!” He yelled as he made his way toward the door. Then, only slightly under his breath, “Pinche pendejo.”

The smile on Sweater-vest's face immediately dropped and he whirled around.

“Krijg de tering, vuile teringleier!”

The door slammed shut, the crack of metal against metal deafening in the sudden silence. And they were alone. Together.

Stan stared at the floor and clenched his fists, trying to calm his racing nerves. Did his best to keep his breathing even. Be still, not show weakness while also not challenging the man he was now alone with. He never thought he would ever actually miss Deeby's presence. But here they were.

“Brute.” Sweater-vest seethed under his breath as he sauntered back over to Stan. “Should've just put him out of his misery years ago, swear to God.”

Then his demeanor completely shifted once more as he stood over Stan. More professional, more cold, more demanding.

“Anyway, stand up, let me get a look at you.”

“Are you ‘The Guy?’” Stan blurted out before he had time to even realize he was doing it. Anything to break the sudden unbearable tension.

Sweater-vest tilted his head with a raised eyebrow and a small laugh. “The Guy?”

“Yeah…” Wow, suddenly he wished he never said anything. “The uh, the guy. You know the guy…” Stan's voice wavered as the man scrunch his nose at him. As if Stan was speaking an entirely different language. “Like. Like the guy. The guy who, uh, who…”

He took a deep breath, and blurted out “The boss guy who had me kidnapped!”

A brief pause. The man stared at him.

“No,” he snorted. “No, I'm not ‘the guy’, as you so eloquently put it. And your ‘guy’ is actually a lady, the lovely Ms. Lana who I mentioned earlier. And I'm Dr. Vaughn Verhulst, you can call me Vaughn. Pleasure to meet you.”

Stan shrank into himself slightly. “Oh…”

Again with the names. They made his skin crawl, like tiny ants crawling up and down his arms. The full name this time too, Dr. Verhulst. And Lana. Where had he heard that name before? Lana...

Stan didn't have time to ponder the question, though, as the man surged forward and reached down toward Stan's vulnerable neck, and Stan screeched and jolted back trying to get away.

But the man was surprisingly fast for a guy who could be mistaken for an office drone.

“Alright now, stand up.”

Then suddenly Stan was choking as the two fingers looped under his collar and dragged him upward, squeezing Stan's windpipe fully shut with Stan gasping and clutching at the collar trying to free himself and allow his body the sweet air it so desperately begged for the whole short distance up. And when he was finally standing and the collar loosened just slightly, Stan coughed and wheezed and tried to double over on himself to lessen the pain, if only the man wasn't still holding him straight up by the collar. He finally managed to get his own fingers under the collar just enough to pull it away from flush against his throat, his body shifting from world-shaking coughs and gasps for air to shuddering wheezes and shivers, and only then did he realize that Vaughn’s other hand wasn't just sitting idly by. No, instead it settled on his arms and ribcage, pressing into the tender bruised flesh that marred his entire body.

He felt a sudden sharp pain at his side and twitched away from it, only for a steadying hand to fall on straight onto another bruise on his waist and press in, clutch at it, holding him in place and sending jolts throughout his entire body that made him dizzy. All the breath left his body. He froze.

“What– What're you–?... Stop, let go…” It felt almost taboo to break the sudden stillness. He tried to pull away, but the grip on his collar just tightened, knuckles pressing harder into his neck as Sweater-vest continued to press into his side.

“Shhhhhh, dropje. Just let me do my work.”

“Your work?...” The hand pressed into his broken rib, and Stan yelped out and shoved the offending hand away from the tender area.

“STOP! Stop touching me! Stop!” Stan cried. This was too much. What was even happening here?

Vaughn's dark gaze fixed on the place that had made Stan cry out, calculating, jaw set. Stan withdrew into himself sightly before he remembered himself, and stared defiantly right back. Then the gaze drifted slightly lower, softening with an almost mischievous smile and a low hum before he finally, finally, looked Stan square in the eyes.

“Take your shirt off.”

Stan's heart turned to ice.

“WHAT?! No! You’re insane!”

Stan managed to rip free of his grip and launch backwards, only for his back to slam directly into the wall. Damn it. He saw stars, and the world rocked around him.

He pressed into it regardless, held his cuffed hands up in front of his torso as some sort of measly defense. “Get– Get away from me! I'm not taking my shirt off! You're crazy, get away!”

He scowled, then reached into his pocket with a deep sigh. A glint of steel gleamed in the light as Vaughn pull out a pair of very sharp-looking scissors and waved them lazily at Stan's chest.

“You are.” Sweater-vest stated simply. “I'm a doctor, dropje, I have to take a look at your body, make sure that ass didn't leave any lasting damage. You worry too much.”

Sweater-vest suddenly went to reach around his arms and get at the top button of his shirt, and Stan slapped them away, earning himself a glare from the man as he stepped closer once more and boxed him in completely.

“Stan… Schatje…” he spoke lowly, voice sickeningly sweet. The scissors drifted so close to his throat. “I'm going to make this so simple for you, yeah? I'm cutting your shirt off now. If you make things difficult, then your shirt won't be the only thing cut, got it?”

Stan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to become so small. Small enough that the threat wouldn't see him anymore and he could run away and never have to deal with it again. This was insane. This was insane, right? This guy was insane!

“No, no, no, no, no, don't, get away from me, get away from me.” He tried to inject as much hissing venom as possible into the words, but they still didn't come out much above a squeaking, shaky whisper.

Vaughn reached for his top button, and though Stan pressed into the wall as much as he could, arms up and ready to strike at any moment, this time his fingers weren't stopped from undoing the top button. Then continuing down from there. Then he gently grabbed Stan's wrists and moved them downward and continued unfastening, all the way down until the front of his shirt was completely open, the cool air giving Stan goosebumps.

“Oh.” Vaughn said, almost to himself, running his finger over the strap of Stan's chest binder. “I didn't realize you were transgender, Stan.”

The swirling mass of thoughts in Stan’s head finally meet the one overwhelming his gut and crashing down upon him, breaking the fragile spell keeping him paralyzed.

“DEEBY! HELP!!” Stan cried out, loud as he possibly could. As if Deeby would ever help him. As if he would save him. All Stan knew was that in that very moment, he would prefer the physically abusive mercenary a hundred times over this guy, the guy who looked at him like a lion at an antelope, the man who feigned kindness, whose smile seemed just a bit too perfect, who made weird cryptic comments and who threw names around as if it didn't matter whether or not Stan knew them. As if Stan would never live to escape. As if the horrors Stan would endure were cursed to echo the walls in which they occurred, never to be heard by another soul.

“Oh calm down, Stanny, he's not going to come save you.” Vaughn dismissed, quickly pulling down the sleeve of his shirt and cutting it open down the seam, the quick repetitive snip snip snip of the scissors filling the room completely. Stan's weak attempts to slap away the scissors or otherwise stop his disrobing were all but brushed off by the ‘doctor.’ A quick but very intentional blade to the neck was all he needed to freeze Stan up and allow him to continue.

Very soon, Vaughn had the shredded fabric that used to make up Stan's shirt sprawled across the floor at their feet. Stan didn't even feel the coolness of the room goosebumping his skin anymore, not with the burning red in his cheeks and the again wandering hands of Sweater-vest to keep him unbearably warm.

He could scarcely breathe. His brain started to feel farther and farther away from his body. His hair was standing on end, shivers running throughout his entire body making him twitch. And he wondered if he should even put in the effort to ground himself. Maybe it would be easier if he was far, far away for all of this anyway.

“It's not like I care, Stan. It doesn't matter to me. I'll even let you keep your chest binder thing on, if that’d make you more comfortable... Hey.”

He snapped a few times in front of Stan's eyes, and Stan despairingly snapped back to reality. So close too. Just for Sweater-vest to smile his weird creepy smile at him. There was no way to misconstrue the malicious gleam in his eyes, the one that made Stan's own eyes go wide and his breath halt entirely as he stared into them. His other hand was on Stan's back now. He was practically holding Stan in a facsimile of a hug. Pressing in his lower back. Lower. Just a bit too low for comfort.

“I'm serious, I can work with that,” he reassured, hand now dipping under Stan's waistband, and before Stan could react, he pulled the captive in close to him, pressing his pelvis securely into Stan's lower stomach while brushing to closed blades of the scissors along Stan's jawline and up his cheek. “It's not what I was expecting, but it doesn't change what I'm going to do to you.”

And that's when Stan pulled back and punched him square in the jaw.

* * * * * * * *

Next

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 8 - "Why won't it stop?"

CW: torture gone wrong, blood, possible death, hemophiliac Whumpee

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The picture that played out in front of Hero let ice run through their veins, a grin as filthy as the bastard wearing it proving their failure.

At this pace, the precious intel Hero wanted to squeeze out of Villain literally flowed down the warehouse drains, an unstoppable stream united from hundreds of wounds his body was littered with. Every cut had been a threat, ones Hero couldn't take back anymore.

They were about to lose the only trace still left, hours of questioning thrown away out of carelessness.

"Did-didnt exp-p-pect that, huh?" Villain stuttered through bloody teeth, "have f-fun with the leftovers."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[syncope-syndrome]

— Everything You Know

"Unhand that civilian, Villain!"

This isn't the first time you've used some variation of that phrase. This isn't even the first time you've heard that phrase this week, which makes you wonder about how — or if — The League of Heroes communicate with each other.

The look on Villain's face is almost worth it, however, as they set down their half-empty cup and regard the blue-clad hero with an expression of utter contempt. lips curled into a patronizing sneer.

"Tell me, dear Blue..." Villain says, sweeping a hand over the table laid out between them. "Does this... anything about this... look like a kidnapping to you?"

You can see Blue's brow furrow as they take in the scene before them in full — the cups of tea set out in delicate porcelain saucers, the half-eaten charcuterie board, the Villain's loyal hound curled up at your feet, the lack of restraints on your arms. "What... What is this?"

"It's tea." Villain raises their own cup as if to emphasize. "Customary to serve to a visiting friend, in case the League is unfamiliar with hospitality."

"A... friend?" Blue's baffled gaze turns to you instead. The uniform shields their face, but it does nothing against the heat of their stare. Blue makes a sputtering sound, gesturing a hand weakly towards Villain. "Do you... Do you know who this is?"

"We've been friends since we were children, Blue," Villain explains, lowering their cup only to fill it again. Steam curls up and caresses their cheek before it vanishes, and the teapot is set down again with an elegant clink against the glass table. "They're so rarely in town, and given they're here for such a tragic reason, I felt it best to invite them over and provide a bit of succor."

Blue's arms fold across their chest. "What reason?" Villain's mouth opens, and Blue raises a hand to silence them. "I want to hear it from them, thank you."

"A cousin's funeral," you say quietly. "They were... killed, suddenly. I came to help get their affairs in order." Shock still coursed through you when you spoke the words out loud. Yellow hadn't asked, simply turning away with a judgmental scoff, and Red hadn't asked before they'd tried to attack Villain over the kidnapping that wasn't happening. Your family, even as they started to converge to attend, was disquietingly close-lipped about discussing their own emotions, so this is unfortunately, the first you felt able to speak about it.

Villain's gaze is sympathetic. "So, as you can see," they say to Blue curtly. "I'd prefer you and your silly little heroics did not interrupt someone's grieving. Again, mind you."

You see Blue's shoulders rise and fall with the heavy breath they take. "Forgive me," they begin. "But can I ask how?"

"No you can not." Villain cuts you off before you can reply. "You can, however, see yourself out. If you're too dull to remember how to properly exit my facilities, Henchman is more than willing to escort you."

"No, Villain, it's okay —" You speak just as Henchman manifests themselves behind Blue. "They're... My cousin worked for the local news... apparently they were reporting on an incident within the city, and... they couldn't get out of the way as some debris came down." You can still see the footage clear as day, even though you could never stomach watching it again. Their panicked waving as they tried to tell the camera person to run, their hand reaching out to shove them to the ground and to safety... their scream, and the camera panning over to the wreckage they were buried under...

"Journalist?" Blue says, and you look up at the sound of your cousin's name in surprise. "Yes, we know them. ...You... have our condolences." Blue's body language is suddenly tense, posture as rigid as stone. They give a final curt nod to you and Villain, hands clasped tight behind their back, and retreat just as swiftly as they came. It's so abrupt you start to rise to go after them, but Villain stops you with a flick of their wrist and a murmur of dissent. "Henchman," Villain calls to their ever-loyal butler. "See after them. My friend and I would like to continue our visit in peace." Henchman sweeps into an elegant bow and departs, leaving just you, Villain, and an unspeakable weight in the air.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TW: mild/implications of torture, kidnapping

Villain does not let you leave empty-handed. Their parting gift is a dagger, engraved with gorgeous silver filagree that hides a paralytic toxin inside. You try to refuse it, but they insist, something about having a feeling you'll need it during your stay here. And you do, almost immediately. But you're overwhelmed before you can even think to reach for it.

Your poor defense — or, more charitably, their impressive offense — brings you here, in the center of a cold, dark room, strapped far too tight into a rickety dining chair. Blood oozes from your nose, and bruises ache with every shiver that runs through you. Your vision's blurred from a repeated assault, hitting you again, and again, and again, always with the same questions, always expecting a different answer. "I really don't think they know anything," says an unfamiliar voice from the shadows. Another snarls at them to shut up, a red-gloved hand fisting itself into your shirt and dragging you closer with a yelp. You stare at the big, black eye covers in their bright red mask as the hand shakes you again, hard, rubbing the rough hempen bindings against your already sore skin.

"Don't act fucking dumb, Civilian," says Red, as Green sighs in the background. Yellow simply stares, arms folded tight across their torso, saying nothing as Red continues their assault. "You said so yourself! Villain's your friend! What the fuck do you know about them?"

"I don't —" you try to say, but Red's hand comes down and slaps you across the face again. A fresh wave of blood bubbles from your nose and falls into your gasping mouth, coating your tongue in the taste of iron. "I can do this all day, Civilian," Red sneers. "You're going to tell us everything and anything you know about Villain. I don't give a shit for your little innocent act, you're fucking friends with a literal supervillain!"

But it's not an act. Villain moved away to Metropolis after graduation, and you'd barely kept in touch until they'd had the grace to reach out to you. You didn't know what they had been up to in the years since then, too busy eking out an existence in Beachfront City to keep up with almost anyone, let alone them. You'd bought their story of being a military arms dealer and researcher, understood their unusual requests for how they'd bring you to their abode, tactfully ignored the armored car and tinted windows and the near unnecessary amount of security upon arriving... but that was it. This was your only exposure to their so-called villainy — someone who'd been so kind to invite you to their home, and let you cry on their shoulder over a terrible grief.

And these so-called heroes were... hurting you, for that.

"Red," calls a voice from the doorway. Your head snaps up despite the hurt at the sound of it, at the heavy thud of their footsteps against the tiled floor. You don't need them to step into the light to know who they are, but they do, looming over you and a snarling Red. "Stand down."

"Fuck you, Blue," Red pushes you away from them, whirling on their companion and jabbing a bloodied finger into their chest. "This was your idea in the first place!"

"I know." Blue steps around them to stare you down, and you see their head move as they look you over, taking in your pathetic form. Your skin crawls with betrayal and fear, your hurt multiplying at the news that it was them — not Red, nor Yellow — who decided to treat you this way.

"But you don't know when to change tactics, Red," Blue says coldly, kneeling down to meet your eyes. "I do. And I know we're not going to get anywhere if we don't use the best weapon we have against them." Oh God. Your body starts to shake, your eyes squeezing shut in preparation for anything they might throw at you. A superpower? A knife? A syringe? A hostage that they'll threaten unless you talk? Your mind scrambles to think of who they could have possibly taken when Blue's voice cuts through your panic, sharper than any blade they could have taken to you.

"Villain was responsible for the building collapse that killed your cousin. They killed Journalist. Along with hundreds of others. That's the kind of person you're protecting."

"I'm not protecting them..." you whisper, tears spilling out of your eyes from shock. You strain against your bindings, not caring about how raw your wrists are. "I don't — know a-anything, I don't know! I've said that! W-Why are you doing this?"

"Alright," Green says suddenly, stepping forward now to pull Blue away. "Alright, that's enough. Think of what Vi's going to say to this —"

"Justifiable restraint of a rumored enemy to the state," Blue rattles off, yanking themselves out of Green's grasp. There's nothing save for your sobs, your mind trying and failing to wrap itself around the idea of someone you thought you knew so well, someone you'd been through so much with, causing so much harm to others. You and Villain had never had the easiest lives, but... you'd vowed to fight that hurt, to end that cycle. What had happened to them while they were gone...?

"F-Fine..." you choke out. Guilt surges through you at the thought of even remotely betraying your old friend, but Red's started to advance again and if Villain is really the person the League says they are... then even you can't justify letting them go on. "I-I was just a childhood friend. That's it. But i-if you stop, I'll talk. Just — stop, stop this, please."

"And what use is that information going to be to us..." Yellow speaks up for the first time all evening, only for Blue to cut them off with a raised hand. You can hear the smile in their voice when they address you again, and it makes you nauseous.

"I knew you would cooperate," Blue says, their voice suddenly, sickeningly kind. "Tell us everything you know."

[theiceemperor]

So... I got into MHA.

*Laughs in whump writer*

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

살인자o난감 - A Killer Paradox - Whump List - 🇰🇷

Whumpee: 이탕 (Lee Tang) played by 최우식 (Choi Woo Shik)

Synopsis: The story follows Lee Tang, an ordinary college student, who gets into an argument with a customer during a part-time job at a convenience store at night. He is attacked and unconsciously swings a hammer, killing his attacker. Suffering from guilt and fear of murder, Lee Tang learns one day that the person he killed was a serial killer and slowly realizes that he has a supernatural ability to identify bad people. He soon becomes a dark hero who punishes people who committed unethical evils in the past. (MDL)

Genre/Tags: Thriller, Cop/Crime, Little to No Romance, Vigilante, Superpower, Trauma, On the Run, Constant Emotional/Mental Whump, Beaten

Watch On: Netflix (Original), DramaCool, KissAsian

⚠️ CAUTION: attempted s**cide at 38:00 in ep. 1.02⚠️

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

1.01 : slapped, beaten, (flashbacks/present day: bullied, scared, kicked, fighting back, scared), panicked, fell, visual/audible hallucinations, crying, (imagination: in handcuffs, scared, manhandled) ::: anxious, paranoid ::: anxious, crying ::: anxious ::: visual/audible/tactile hallucinations

1.02 : woke up with blood on his face ::: anxious ::: stressed, threatened ::: implies he hasn’t eaten in 4 days ::: attempting s**cide multiple times, concern for him, manhandled, punched in the stomach, fell to his knees, groaning, holding his stomach, isolating himself ::: emotional ::: woke up with blood on his face, stressed

1.03 : anxious ::: stressed ::: nearly hit by a moped, fell, hurt his arm, concern for him, groaning ::: in an ambulance, cut lip, holding his arm ::: arm treated in the hospital ::: arm in a sling ::: anxious ::: (flashbacks: beaten, fought, beaten, fought, collapsed) ::: (flashbacks: unconscious, helped to walk, laid on the floor of his apartment) ::: concern for him

1.04 : (flashbacks: homeless ::: asleep) ::: (flashbacks: unconscious, helped to walk, laid on the floor of his apartment)

1.05 : (nightmare: visual/audible hallucinations) ::: anxious ::: visual hallucinations, scared, chased, tripped, scared

1.06 : (nightmare: choked out) ::: thrown over a table, kicked, hit repeatedly, held down with a hand over his mouth, stumbling ::: bloody mouth, crying

1.07 : crying ::: emotional

1.08 : at gunpoint, shot at, fought, at gunpoint, concerned for someone, scared, emotional, crying, at gunpoint, nearly stabbed, saved ::: at gunpoint, shaking, fell to his knees, sobbing, shaking, in a burning building, scared, crying ::: anxious ::: held by police

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

[wh3nturtlesfly]

Hello @epiclamer ! I saw you were looking for some hero whumpee and villain caretaker, I hope this could suffice :)

CW/TW: Hypothermia and frostbite, near death experience, whump

The room was immersed in white. Creeping over the metal walls and across the concrete floor. Icicles hung from the ceiling and left the floor slick and shining. The patterns would have been beautiful in any other case, spindling across the room in delicate flakes, but now they left the Hero shivering.

Their thin t-shirt served as almost no defense against the blistering temperatures- their coat had been taken long ago. Now Hero shook, red blotching their exposed forearms and stinging their cheeks.

Hero shifted, trying to touch as little of their bare skin to the concrete as possible. The chill numbed their muscles, though it didn’t take the pain of the bruises away. Supervillain had made sure of that.

Energy seeped out of them too fast to keep up. Too many times they had caught their eyelids threatening to slip shut. Their fingertips had frozen to the point they couldn’t feel them anymore. Hero was helpless, trapped in the pain that couldn’t even be healed by sleep. Their tears crystallized when they couldn’t hold it in anymore.

When the click of the latch sounded, Hero went rigid. Fingers numb, they couldn’t form so much as a fist, much less fight off anything more that came their way. Supervillain knew this as they strode in.

“My, you’re looking a bit blue my dear,” Their lips split in a cruel smile. Supervillain stepped forward and Hero inched back. They couldn’t do it- couldn’t fight-

Hero’s back bumped against the wall and they flinched from the new wave of cold that shot up their spine. Trapped, and Supervillain was well aware.

“Don’t look so afraid now. You know what I want,” They stepped forward before Hero could scramble away- not that they had the strength to- and grabbed a fistful of their hair. It crackled with the frost that had settled in their locks. “You’re only making this harder on yourself, and really, I don’t think you have much left to give.”

Supervillain yanked harshly on Hero’s hair and received a sharp cry in return. Hero fought to pry their fingers away but their own muscles were stiff. It was like moving through molasses, they couldn’t even manage to grasp Supervillain’s hand.

“It's lovely seeing you struggle,” they chuckled, pulling Hero so close that they could feel the breath upon their cheek. Warm. Their hands shifted to either side of Hero’s cheek, and they couldn’t help but lean into the touch, starved of heat for much too long. “Now, give in and we can forget this mess.”

They eyed Hero expectantly, brushing a finger down Hero’s cheek and leaving them chasing the trail of warmth that followed. It was a wicked game to play, though it was working. Hero wished to be free- to have their bones no longer encased in ice. It hurt to think, hurt to breathe. Supervillain’s touch was like fire, beautiful and comforting- and yet-

“I c-can’t.” The words were broken as they fell from Hero’s mouth.

Supervillain’s expression darkened. “You insolent fool,” their grip tightened, fingernails pricking Hero’s skin.

They hurled Hero to the ground and their cheek collided hard with the concrete. Pain shot through the Hero. It was all so cold. Hero groaned as they pushed themself up. Not a moment later and a foot connected with their stomach, sending them into the back wall.

“You just never know when to stop, do you?” Supervillain chuckled, eyes alight. “This time I’ll make sure the message is clear.”

“No- please,” The words were choked as Hero clawed at their ground. Their muscles refused to move, stiff with the chill and reddened with bruises and the smear of blood. Supervillain stalked forward and seized Hero by the throat, pinning them against the wall.

Hero gasped as the air was forced from their lungs. It burned. Squeezing, squeezing, they could feel Supervillain’s hands crushing their windpipe and yet there was nothing they could do to stop it. Pins and needles lingered in their joints. They couldn’t move.

The corners of their vision began to grow dark. Hero’s eyelids were heavy and a new wave of panic shot through Hero. They were falling unconscious. Fingers flexing, reaching for any sort of movement. They couldn’t close their eyes- they wouldn’t wake up again.

“Not so strong now,” Supervillain cackled, squeezing tighter and grinning when a choked cry fell from Hero’s blue lips.

Hero fumbled through pleas but no sound came out. Flakes swirled around Supervillain’s head like a halo, though they were anything but. Their lips were spread wide into the cruelest of smiles, nails pinching into Hero’s skin. They had to stay awake- they had to hold on-

They had to…

Hero went limp and fell into the void of ice and darkness.

***

Words mumbled above their head as if suspended in a fog. Hushed at first, a silent plea. Hero’s head lulled to the side as their eyelids lazily peaked open.

“It’s alright-” Were they being spoken to? Their eyes searched the space, but they couldn’t see anything. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Hero was dizzy. Everything felt distant. They couldn’t remember. This voice, it swirled around their form, but it was undeniably kind, comforting even. Supervillain would never-

Supervillain. Panic shot down Hero’s spine. They leapt up from where they had been laid only to discover they were trapped. Eyes darting frantically around, they trashed in the covers that held them down. Get out, they had to get out-

A hand pressed against their chest and Hero fell back onto the covers. Blankets, they must be in a bed. Why would they be in bed?

“You mustn’t move too much, no need to start any new wounds.”

Hero looked up to find the Villain staring at them. Worry shone in the wrinkles by their eyes though they hid it behind a gentle smile. The hand that wasn’t resting on the blankets held a damp rag. Beside the Villain was a bowl of water, steam pooling gently above the surface.

Villain dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out until droplets of water no longer fell into the bowl. They reached forward and began to peel away the layer of blankets that were wrapped around Hero’s form.

“No! Wait, please!” Hero shouted before they could stop themself. They pulled desperately at the covers, their warmth. They couldn’t feel the scrape of cold air against their skin again. Couldn’t live with another second of clouded breath and silent shivers.

Sorrow crossed Villain’s face and they laid a hand on the Hero’s own, warming it with the touch of their fingers. “I have to treat the damaged skin. I promise I won’t hurt you.” They studied Hero’s expression, waiting until the tension in their shoulders faded before taking Hero’s arms from beneath the covers.

For the first time Hero noted the pinkish-blue tint of their fingertips. They had been too stunned to care before, but now the tingling sensation made sense. Frostbite.

Hero couldn’t help but sigh as the rag was wrapped around their hands. It spread like fire, licking up their insides and settling in a pool of heat. The cuts that covered their skin no longer screamed with pain, and the coloring returned to their complexion.

They stayed like that for minutes, breathing softly under the embrace of heat. Villain then removed the cloth to dip it back in the bowl.

“How did you find me?” Hero asked as Villain tucked them back beneath the blankets.

“It was late, and I still had yet to see you,” Clear droplets fell into the silver bowl as Villain squeezed the rag tighter, “I found your jacket in an alleyway, and Supervillain isn’t so secretive about their ventures.”

Hero tensed at the thought of the Supervillain, but Villain caught their gaze. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them touch you again, ever.” Their expression darkened as they spoke, though was soon replaced by a reassuring smile.

This time they held Hero’s chin gently and brushed the towel across their nose. The stroke of Villain’s thumb across their cheek left searing trails and Hero longed never to lose the feeling of their touch.

Villains retrieved a small device from their pocket, a thermometer, and ran it gently across Hero’s forehead. After a small beep sounded, they observed the reading with a pleased expression.

“Your temperature has gone back up,” they said, “You’ll have some scabs, but they should heal in due time.”

Villain gathered the bowl and rag and set them at Hero’s bedside. The thermometer was tucked into their pocket, but as they moved to stand, Hero stopped them.

“Wait-” Hero grasped their arm, all the numbness had gone from their fingers and they now latched onto Villain like a lifeline. “Stay.”

Arms outstretched, desperate, Hero tightened their grip ever so slightly. They couldn’t be alone again. They wanted Villain’s comfort and the warmth that came with their touch. They wanted Villain at their side.

And the Villain listened. They settled back onto the bed and shifted close. When Hero remained with their arms outstretched, they understood and carefully wrapped their arms around the other. Hero melted into the embrace, burying their face into Villain’s shoulder. They hadn’t even realized they had started to cry…

Villains rubbed soothing circles on their back, carding through their tangled locks even when Hero’s tears soaked their sleeve. They were safe.

Hero hugged Villain tighter, latching onto them as if they were the only one left on earth, and in Hero’s world, they were. “Please don’t let go,” They mumbled into Villain’s sleeve, and ever so softly a hand rose to cup their cheek.

“I won’t Hero, I swear with everything that I never will again.”

[whumpsoda]

Fixed - Part Three

Fixed Part 1 Fixed Part 2 Finally got around to it!! Kind of obsessed with the fact that you (or at least me) can really see the improvement in my writing with this one compared to the others :D

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @meddlingclocks (as you expressed interest in being tagged)

cw: pet whump, conditioning, brainwashing, villain whumpee

———————————————————————

The strong, overwhelming smell of sweetness wafted through the apartment, taking a hold on Hero’s room especially. Villain could clearly hear the other man’s faint whistling as he cooked, while the former criminal lie silently in bed.

Villain had been awake for hours, unable to sleep for long with the rush of his mind. It was probably well past morning, yet the air smelled as if Hero was making some sort of breakfast food. Villain was unable to place the scent, considering he hadn’t had a nice breakfast in a long time.

His mouth watered, and he clawed at his growling belly. The urge to exit Hero's bedroom was growing, food tempting him to make such a risky move. What if Hero got mad? Hero hadn’t gone over the rules yet, and Villain couldn’t bear making a mistake in the first twenty four hours of being there.

Time ticked past, and he couldn’t pry his thoughts from the thick smell enthralling him. His stomach was screaming, and Villain knew Superhero hadn’t fed him at all the day prior. 

But Hero seemed kinder than his predecessor. He’d always appeared that way, even before Villain’s rehabilitation. Maybe he would go easier on Villain if he messed up.

Rolling out of the bed, as silently as possible, Villain positioned himself on his tattered hands and knees. Gingerly, he crawled his way through the junk covered floor, trying his best not to mess with any of his master’s belongings. The door led right to the kitchen, and he made his way to a spot where he was sure Hero would take quick notice of him.

Hero stood above the stovetop, flipping a thick, pillowy pancake to its cooked side. He eyed it for a moment, before turning to face the man on his knees. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, taken a bit aback. Villain hung his head low, bangs concealing a majority of his face. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were up.” He gave Villain a soft grin, his heart fluttering at the sight. Superhero never smiled at him.

Hero gestured to the pan in front of him. “You hungry? I didn’t really know what you liked so I just did pancakes. I think I’ve got some bacon in the fridge if you want that too.” 

Hero seemed so genuine, Villain couldn’t tell if it was a vicious trick. Pancakes? For him? The idea just seemed ridiculous. He still had yet to prove his worth to the man, so why would he ever?

Villain gave no response, instead his stomach did it for him. He winced at the sound, grabbing at his tummy as if to cover the noise. Hero simply huffed back a chuckle. “Just give me one sec. You can sit at the table and I’ll bring it over.”

Villain ignored most of his words, the single command captivating his attention. His vision turned to the rusted, foldable table and chair in the corner. He eagerly made his way over, knees thumping painfully against the hard flooring, simply happy to complete an order.

He followed dutifully as Hero bumbled around the tight space, putting together a messy plate of magical smelling food. His bulky socks shuffled over the ground with every movement, and occasionally Villain would catch a glimpse of the cartoonish cat plastered on the front of them. 

Hero finally turned to Villain’s direction, making his way to the table and eyeing the man on the floor as he did so. Villain practically drooled when he caught a glimpse of such bliss, as the plate set to the table with a tap.

“You can sit up here.” Hero stated, gripping onto a metal chair. 

Villain tensed, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his palms. Hero was testing him. Testing him to see how obedient he could really be, how well Superhero had trained him. Villain couldn’t entertain the possibility of failing.

The two past enemies just stared back at each other, and awkwardly so. “Do you… need help? Standing, or something?” Hero questioned, and it was obvious he expected an answer. 

Don’t speak unless spoken to.

“Uh,” Villain’s voice cracked. “Um, well, I can, um…” He was unable to voice his confusion with the situation, to his increasing dismay. Hero listened to his attempt at words, before reaching a hand down to Villain’s level.

Villain swallowed thickly, taking in the sight. Hesitantly, he lifted his own sickly pale hand, delicately placing it atop Hero’s. Hero took it gently, before grabbing for Villain’s other hand as well. 

His bony legs buckled for a second as he made his way up, but Hero was there to keep him steady. Hero softly guided him into the chair, to which Villain quickly tucked his legs back under himself, resuming a kneeling position. He could sense Hero’s judging eyes at the behavior, but he said nothing.

The hearty meal looked even more delicious up close, and the pleasant smell was even more intense. Thick, gooey syrup dripped off the stack of savory, plush cake. He couldn’t resist licking his lips. 

Was this really for him? Was it possible?

He turned to Hero timidly, who stood tall over Villain. Hero nodded for him to continue, but it wasn’t enough. 

Hero must’ve taken the hint from the other man’s hesitancy. “Do… you can eat, man. It’s all yours.” Villain’s hopeful, puppy eyes were tearing into his heart. “I promise.”

Villain slowly began to eat, before he was overtaken by such extreme lusciousness that he wildly dug in. His lips were soon covered in a layer of sticky syrup, but he was too starving to even think about cleaning himself up, in favor of shoving more food down his throat. 

Soon though, a severe knock pounded to the front door, Villain flinching in surprise. Hero didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the furious sound, like he was expecting it. “I’m gonna go get that, ‘kay? Be back in just a sec.” Villain tried to reply, but his words were far too covered by his full mouth.

Villain picked up Hero stepping outside, presumably to speak to whoever was at the door. Muffled voices conversed in the hall, too dull for Villain to make out. Not that he would dare eavesdrop on his master. 

He quickly finished his meal, smiling sincerely with satisfaction. The delightful tastes still coated his mouth, and Villain eagerly savored them on his tongue. 

While Hero continued his conversation, Villain studied the room. Ingredients and tools still littered the counter, and of course his dirty utensils still sat in front of him. Maybe Hero would be proud of him if he cleaned it all up. He did a lot of cleaning at Superhero’s home anyway, and Villain was practically made for it. 

Enthusiastically he began his adventure, first placing his dishes into the dishwasher. He next returned all of Hero’s ingredients to their respective cabinets, noting which ones they belonged to as he went along. He soon found the cleaning products and supplies under the sink, starting off by wiping down the counters as his nerves began to rattle.

Hero had been outside for a long time. The voices were still noticeable, but were so incoherent they didn’t really help ease him. What if Hero was hurt? Kidnapped even? What would he do? His powers were off limits, he was well aware of that, so how could someone as weak and stupid as him help?

Villain expelled an audible sigh of relief as the front door clicked and Hero stepped back inside. Villain could almost make out the visual of someone behind the man, but was soon covered by Hero stopping to cover them.

“Villain!” He exclaimed nervously, eyes noticing the rag in the pet’s hand. “So, I have someone here to see you.” Hero said, hands motioning for the person behind him. He stepped out of the way, to reveal them. 

Villain’s eyes stayed warily on Hero, as he smiled uneasily. They only turned to the stranger when they stepped toward him. 

They were decked out in a bundled outfit of all black, only their eyes and a few strands of hair visible. Only when a leather gloved finger reached to their mask did Villain finally place who they were. 

“Villain…?” He stumbled back at the words, clutching to the countertop. Assistant’s eyes were watery as she watched him, a smile creeping to her lips. “Do you remember me? I’m so glad to see you.” 

This couldn’t be happening. She was here. A criminal, a dirty, nasty, scummy criminal. One he knew. One he had cherished once, in another life. He hadn’t thought of Assistant in months, the memories of anything villain related having been brutally beaten away. But she was here.

“Get- get away!” He shouted maliciously, stumbling back in an attempt to distance himself from the woman. “V- villain! Evil, evil, evil, villain!” Villain yelled, checking Hero’s bewildered expression.

Why wasn’t Hero doing anything? Why would he let a disgusting freak like her into his home?

“Villain!” She growled, both irritation and hurt elicited by his reaction.

He didn’t even hear what she said next, continuing to spew hateful cries. “Disgusting criminal! Terrible, terrible, terrible! Get away, get away, get away! I hate you!” He was already across the room from her, his back pressed against the wall. 

Assistant, ignoring his wails, continued closer, her arms stuck out before her. “Villain! Hey, what the fuck? It’s me!” Her voice wavered as she yelled over him, and Villain could tell she was holding down her emotions to her best ability.

Attempting to fully block out her noise, he hollered louder, eyes shut tight and head thrashing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Disgusting, stupid, sick! I hate you!” He went on and on, raising his voice so loud all he could hear was himself. 

Fat tears slipped down his caving cheeks as he banged his head into the wall behind him, still screeching. Burly hands rushed to grab at his shoulders, gripping him to a stop. The flesh was warm and commanding, and his wide eyes opened to meet with Hero. Faced with his master, Villain’s voice trailed to a whisper.

Villain made an instant glance for the woman, but she seemed to have left. He hoped she would never come back.

The two made no moves for a beat, before Hero softly wiped the liquid from Villain’s cheek.

“H- hey. Are you with me?” Villain rigidly nodded. “Are you okay?” Villain supplied no response.

He slipped from Hero’s grip, sliding clumsily to his knees. “I- I didn’t, um, master, I- I’m a good boy, good, good boy, nice and fixed,” He stumbled horrified over his words, before his face twisted in agony. “Please don’t hurt me, just wanna be a good boy, not a bad, bad villain-” 

He leaned into Hero’s leg, enveloping his face into the crisp denim pant fabric. His tears soaked in as he continued pleading, hugging Hero’s leg in a tight embrace with all four limbs. “Please, I’m, I’ll be so good for you, a good boy, a fixed boy.” 

Yet again, Hero was stopped with the terrifying decision of what to do next. 

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, Day Twenty-nine:

It’s really not that big of a deal: bruises // secrets // acceptance

CW: bruises, implied abuse, abuse of power, unaware victim, unaccepting victim, beating, aftermath of beating, concerned caretaker, extreme whumper, gaslighting, blood, punishment, unfair treatment of Whumpee,

Extremely unedited, i am currently s-i-c-k… so I wrote it and didn’t want to tag but now I have time to tag, yaaayyyy

P.s. if there’s any tags I missed please tell me my brain is dying <3

*~*~*~*~*

It was two pathetic knocks on Villain’s door that roused them from sleep. Followed by another weak one and then there was a heavy thud against their door. Villain was out of bed after the first knock, bare feet hitting hard wood and padding out to the living room in their apartment. They grabbed their gun from table beside the door when they heard the thud and peeked out the peephole into the empty stairwell. They clicked the safety off and quietly drew back the hammer.

Frowning, they left the chain lock on the slider and unlocked the door, positioning themselves into the crook of the opening and pulling the door open. It flung open and Villain aimed the barrel at the floor to the figure slumped there.

A very bloody Hero.

Villain blinked back the sleep in their eyes, but they were right the first time. They cursed and closed the door again, sliding the chain off the latch and opening it again. They clicked the hammer back, put the safety on their gun and placed it on the table again before bending down to their crumbled Hero.

“Hero? Hey, Hero,” Villain said, snapping their fingers in front of Hero’s eyes. They got a minuscule moan in reply and Villain cursed to themselves. They put an arm around Hero’s shoulders, the other under Hero’s knees and hoisted them up.

Hero’s eyes sprung open, gasping cradling their side and hunching in on themselves. “Hey! Hey, Hero. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Villain. I’m just taking you inside, okay?”

“V—Villain, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry,” Hero whispered against Villain’s chest and Villain shushed them as they closed the door to their apartment. Trying to pretend that Hero’s ragged breathing wasn’t pulling at every heartstring, and gently lay Hero on their couch. “No! No, I’m bleeding… the couch… it’ll— agh, s-stain,” Hero protested but Villain put a firm hand on Hero’s shoulder to keep them lying down.

“I can clean the couch, Hero,” said Villain softly. “It’s really not that big of a deal. You’re more important.”

Hero opened their mouth to protest again, but before any words could come, Hero grimaced, clenching their teeth as they held their side, fingers digging into their waist.

“I’ll get ice,” Villain said after a quick once over. Hero’s clothes weren’t bloody (except from the obvious blood dripping down Hero’s forehead and nose) but the rest was most likely some bad bruising. Villain stood and walked around the couch into the kitchen, calling back to Hero. “Tell me what happened.”

Villain looked into the freezer and only saw a half empty tub of vanilla ice cream and three gel ice packs. Villain took the ice packs, leaving the ice cream a shut the door. They stopped at the sink on the way back, wetting a clean towel and walking to Hero who was still trying to sit up.

“Stay still,” Villain said, “you’re obviously hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Hero denied, but recanted after the deadpan stare from Villain. “Okay. I’m not fine.”

“Can I take your jacket off?” Villain asked, setting everything down on the coffee table.

Hero smiled. “So forward of you Villain.”

Villain smiled back. “You’re bleeding on my couch, Hero, I think we’re past the dinner date phase.”

“Fair enough,” Hero laughed, then stopped with a wince. Villain set their jaw and stood, trying to remove Hero’s jacket as gently as possible.

Hero’s arms were always a shock to Villain. Littered with so many different scars and bruises and burns at any give time, and Hero used them as if they weren’t damaged at all. Continued with their life as if they didn’t even notice they were hurt. Sometimes Villain wondered if Hero even felt the pain anymore, and was kind enough to not ask about the several deepest cuts on Hero’s wrist.

There were certain lines they never crossed with Hero. Some secrets that were still their own… despite the recent blurring of lines between friendship and enemies Hero and Villain had been towing.

“What happened?” Villain asked again, breaking the gel ice pack and handing it to Hero. Hero took it gladly, pressing it against their abdomen while Villain cracked another to activate it and glanced up at Hero for permission to help them.

“My… my ribs, I can—“

“I can too,” Villain told them and Hero bit their lip before nodding and pointing at the sorest spot. When Villain pressed the ice pack to it Hero jerked away, hissing sharply.

“Villain. Villain. Wait— ow! Ow! Ow! Okay. Okay! We switch, okay?” Hero howled, dropping the ice pack on their abdomen and grabbing the one by their ribs with the opposite hand. Tears were in their eyes, so Villain didn’t fight them on their pain. A shaky hand went over Villain’s and Hero said: “it’s okay. I got it.”

So Villain let go and sat back on the coffee table, clasping their hands between their thighs and levelling Hero with a pointed stare.

“Superhero put me on 1st tonight,” Hero began. 1st being the rich quarter of the city with the banks and the businesses and the Hero tower as it’s shining jewel. “I told them I knew the dregs better but they refused, put Other Hero there instead,” Hero grumbled and Villain had to smile at the disdain colouring Hero’s voice.

Other Hero was a fanciful prick at best of times and dangerously incompetent at their worst. Which was all the time.

“So I went on patrol on 1st, and Other Villain appeared for the first time in two months since they blew the warehouse at the docks,” Hero told them and Villain nodded, remembering the burns on Hero’s arms after they rushed in headfirst to save a ship worker. “I reported it and Superhero told me to give chase so I did.”

“Did other Villain do this to you?” Villain asked, voice hard, eyes narrowing. Hero shook their head, and a drop of blood fell onto their cheek. Villain reached forward with the wet towel and brushed it away. Hero’s eyes widened marginally as they glanced at Villain’s gentle hand, then to Villain’s face.

Villain found Hero’s eyes and their breath caught in their throat at the pure openness of Hero. They remembered reading somewhere that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if so, then Hero was the best person Villain had ever known.

“Did Other Villain—“ Villain began again, but Hero smiled a little sadly and said: “no.”

“No, they got away. Fled into sixth, but I’m pretty sure I stopped whatever destructive plan they had for the night so that’s a bonus at least.”

Villain frowned as they wiped the blood from Hero’s upper lip and leaned back on the coffee table. “So who did this to you?”

Hero didn’t say anything. Though they did gasp when the wet towel touched the bruise on their cheekbone. Villain wiped at the small cut in the centre of it, while Hero avoided any and all eye contact.

Villain nodded silently, pursing their lips slightly and sitting back on the coffee table again. They grabbed the spare icepack and stood, walking to the kitchen.

“Do you like vanilla ice cream?” Villain asked, pausing at the doorframe and glancing back at Hero. Hero peeked over the couch with confused eyes.

“What?”

“I have a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. You want some?”

Hero let out a short huff of laughter. “Umm. Sure.”

“Okay then.”

Villain got to work. They put the bloody towel into the sink, the last ice pack into the freezer and took the tub of vanilla out. They grabbed two spoons and walked back to Hero, sitting down again on the coffee table and opening the tub with a swift and comforting clack clack clack to fill the silence.

Hero gestured with their elbows uselessly and Villain looked down at the spoon in their hand, then back to Hero’s occupied hands pressing the ice packs to their abs and ribs. Villain looked back at the spoon, then dug it into the ice cream and got a decent sized scoop before bringing the spoon to Hero’s closed lips.

Hero laughed then winced, and said: “you’re going to feed me?”

Villain threw their free hand in the air, a helpless gesture. “If you don’t eat it it’ll melt and you’ll be wearing it.”

“Okay,” Hero said with a smile and opened their mouth wide enough for Villain to put the spoon into Hero’s mouth. Villain swallowed as if they were the one eating ice cream, and drew it back out, going back to get another scoop.

They raised it again and Hero shook their head with that same smile that made something warm flutter in Villain’s chest and said: “no, no. You now.”

Villain glanced at the spoon, the same one Hero had just eaten off, and put it in their mouth. Hero’s eyes crinkled at the sides when they rested their head back against the arm rest of the couch.

Then their expression melted into one of sadness, their eyes going to the ceiling. They bit their cheek, then said so quietly Villain nearly missed it:

“Superhero did this,” they said and Villain paused mid scoop. Their head snapped to Hero who was still staring at the ceiling. “When I reported that Other Villain fell out of my jurisdiction and handed it to Other Other Hero in 6th, Superhero called me to their office. So I went, knowing I was going to be punished for letting them—“

“Punished?” Villain repeated, tightening their grip on the spoon in the ice cream.

Hero just nodded, their throat bobbing as they swallowed hard.

“Punished for— for what?!” Villain demanded hotly.

Hero just kept staring at the ceiling.

“For not catching Other Villain. I should have been faster. Should have been better as Superhero’s protégé,” Hero spat the last word. “I let them down. Embarrassed them by being useless. So I get punished for letting them go.”

“You didn’t let them go!” Villain protested, slamming the tub of ice cream onto the coffee table. Hero finally — finally — looked at them. “They left your jurisdiction! It was another Hero’s job to catch them.”

“To pick up my slack—“

“No!” Villain yelled, and Hero flinched. Villain let out a long sigh, running their hands through their hair to try and calm down. This was barbaric, how could Hero be so okay with this? This treatment? Villain’s eyes widened at the realisation, shock colouring their voice as they whispered: “it’s not the first time, is it?”

Hero’s eyes shuttered close, letting out a shaky breath of their own. That was all the confirmation Villain needed.

“Fuck. Fuck! Hero! How long? How long have they been beating you?”

“It was apart of my training,” Hero confessed. “It wasn’t physical punishments at first… they just told me to do extra reps of push-ups, pull-ups, extra ten minutes on the treadmill. To make me stronger, make me fast, build my stamina. Then one day I couldn’t bench the weight Superhero gave me and— and I told them it was too much…”

“Hero,” Villain whispered, reaching forward and putting their hand over Hero’s on their abs. They just needed to touch them, to show them that they were they for them.

Hero shook their head, tears streaming down their cheeks as they continued: “they… they spotted the weight and told me to put my knuckles back on my collarbones so I did, while Superhero put an extra weight on either side of the bar… I was so scared that I just lay there, waiting…

Then Superhero put the bar back down on my hands and it crushed me. I tried to push it up, but I couldn’t, it was too heavy, too heavy for me and the more it stayed there the harder it got to breathe and my whole body was shaking… Superhero just watched me from above, this look of utter… utter disgust. I was trying to make them proud, and I was disappointed them no matter what I did… they left me there until I was able to push the bar up myself and get myself out and when I did they were so proud.”

Hero cut themselves off with a sudden burst of sobs and Villain tightened their hand on Hero’s. They felt so… so useless. How do you react to that? How you do even begin comforting someone who’s been through that.

“That was only the beginning,” Hero sniffed, “after that Superhero started beating me personally, called it sparring. Training, to make me better before my debut. To make me unstoppable. And I still let them down to this day.”

The look Hero gave Villain shook Villain to their core. The desperation on their gear stained face, the puffiness of their eyes and the steeled determination behind them.

“I just want to be good, Villain. I just want to do good and make them happy, but I’m useless. I’m pathetic. I can’t even stop one villain! I deserve this. I deserve this, I don’t deserve your kindness,” Hero said sniffing, pushing Villain’s hand away and sitting up with a grunt of pain. Villain tried to get them to lay back down again but Hero held up a hand and said: “don’t.”

“Hero, please. Let me help you. Superhero is psychopathic! You don’t deserve to be treated like that! Please, please just— just stay the night. We can talk more in the morning, okay? Not even about this is you like.”

“No Villain, I need to—“ Hero winced as they put their feet on the ground. Villain lunged to catch them and right them again.

Villain took Hero’s chin in their hand and tilted their head up to look at them. Hero was breathing heavy from the sudden exertion and stabbing pain.

“You know what Superhero is doing is wrong. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come here, Hero,” Villain said softly, raising their other hand to Hero’s cheek and stroking a thumb under Hero’s eye, catching a stray tear that was about to fall. “You wouldn’t have come to let me help you, so let me help. I won’t ask again, I’ll just keep you here against your will. So please, stay. Just for tonight.”

Hero leaned into Villain’s hand, their soft, gentle touch and let out a sigh of defeat. “Okay,” Hero whispered and Villain smiled.

They reached a hand down and helped Hero to their feet. “Wait, Villain—“

“You’re sleeping on the bed, I’ll grab the couch.”

“No, agh, Villain—“

“No arguing Hero, I won’t change my mind.”

Hero was tired, so they walked with Villain to the bedroom and allowed themselves to be taken care of, for just one night.

[epiclamer]

hey, could you do a hero caretaker x villain whumpee where the villain comes to the hero and needs help. So the hero helps them through the usual whumpee trauma reovery steps, sorry if this is confusing, I haven't done many requests before. Thank you in advance, I love your works so much, you are so talented and cretive.

Eyyyy thanks for the compliment and request! You did great!! (With help from my pretty princess @save-the-villainous-cat )

cw: trauma (could be interpreted as mental, physical or sexual violence just be careful!)

Used

Both their hands were up in surrender. “D-Don’t shoot.”

Hero didn’t laugh. They were too busy trying to wrap their head around how the villain had managed to make it to their front steps in their condition.

It looked bad. Really bad.

Physically and mentally, Villain was a wreck. Hero hadn’t wasted anymore time in letting them in, guiding them to the couch and turning on the stove.

On the sofa, Villain worked their own wounds, cleaning and bandaging while Hero worked in the kitchen, cooking with the few ingredients in their cupboards. They didn’t prompt the criminal and they definitely didn’t touch them, the last thing they wanted to betray was the villain’s touch now.

Idly, Hero stirred a pot of pasta as it boiled. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Villain was close enough to hear—their flinch proved that—but they kept up their healing, otherwise unbothered by the hero’s last request. If they weren’t ready, Hero wouldn’t press them, but they had a terrible itch in their brain that pestered them about their lack of knowledge.

They didn’t ask again, not until the pasta reached a perfect cook, then sauce and cheese melted together to create a perfect balance and it was all stirred equally and dished into two separate bowls. Hero walked it over to the couch, placing both bowls down as they silently reexamined the villain’s work on their wounds. Trying their best not to judge the sloppy stitches and loose gauze pads.

“Mind if I?”

Villain nodded, trading out their medical supplies for a steamy bowl of noodles that smelled heavenly. With so little on hand, Hero sure knew how to cook a meal.

As gently as possible, the crime-stopper began to tidy the prior work. Their perfectionism kicking in as they righted every bandaid and flushed out every scrape. It was unnecessary and hard work, but it took their mind off the millions of questions tumbling around in their head.

The villain’s bowl was polished clean after only a few minutes. They gobbled down every last bit like they hadn’t eaten in weeks—which was probable since they looked thinner than ever before, in the most unhealthy way possible. Every time the hero glanced at them, they slowed down, pretending like they had more self control than they presented.

It wasn’t believable, but it gave them a false sense of control, which must’ve been consoling in the moment.

“I let my guard down once.” Villain chuckled, tears glazing their eyes as they stared off into space. “And they use me.” They shook their head, feeling the tears fall freely down their cheeks. “Like I’m a fucking animal.”

Hero let them talk, burying things was only going to harm them more. If they needed an outlet, Hero would always be available.

“I thought it was only going to be a few hours, Hero, I thought they were going to leave.” Villain leaned back against the sofa arm, throwing their head back as they laughed even harder, slipping into their horrible memories. “They. Never. Fucking. Did.”

The hero checked a particularly lazy stitch that would reopen soon. It was heartbreaking to hear the villain’s story and see the actual results of their mistreatment.

With the uttermost care they could come up with, the took the medical supplies and gently cut the strings and restitched the whole thing. The villain didn’t seem to mind.

“People say pain makes you stronger,” the villain said. “But it doesn’t. It makes you feel miserable. Being used like that…”

Hero tried to sympathize, they really did, but they had no concept of what the villain had gone through. Sure, they had had their fair share of gruelling interrogations and knifepoint fights, but nothing like this. Not anything like this.

“I understand.” They didn’t, and the villain knew that. But it felt wrong to say nothing in the silence that hung thick in the air.

Villain didn’t answer, eyes clouded as they relived the past, suffering from merely their mind now, but that was the hardest to escape.

“You’re going to be okay.” Hero squeezed their arm gently, egging their attention to return to the present. It worked, a little, and Villain glanced at them with sunken eyes. Through the exhaustion Hero could’ve sworn they had seen a flash of hope if only for a second.

“Thank you.”

Both of them slept in the hero’s bed that night, apart but still together, a feeling they had both missed dearly.

[abhainnwhump]

What to know what my favorite kind of bad Caretaker is? The kind where they help Whumpee only for their own benefit. They exploit them for their ego.

(Content warnings: Bad caretaker, manipulation, forced sickness, exploitation, possible toxic relationship)

They only care about Whumpee because it means they get the praise of "you're such a good person!" and "you're a hero!" that Caretaker adores. They're the type of person to donate to a charity or help a cause just to say they did it, not because they care about the problems. Their ego gets higher and higher every time they're complimented, so they keep "taking care" of Whumpee. And when Whumpee has "ugly" symptoms such as being unable to care for themselves or aggression they manipulate/ignore them instead of help. Whumpee starts to want Whumper instead. At least they didn't hide the fact they wanted and were going to hurt them.

Caretaker goes as far to hurt Whumpee worse, trigger their traumas, and make them sick so they keep caring for them. They repress their healing for their own selfish gains. As long as they keep getting compliments and get put on a pedestal of heroism, they won't stop. But they may move on to a new Whumpee to avoid suspicion.

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

Any idea for hurt & comfort prompts?

DO I?

Oh yes, yes I do.

-"It's over now, sweetheart. It's over."

-Whumpee's team has all of their favorite things ready for when they get back from the mission, ready for Whumpee to unwind after everything they'd been through.

-A hero carrying the villain they just beat up to the hospital for treatment.

-Caretaker tucking Whumpee into bed, stroking their back gently until they can finally fall asleep.

-"Why did you save me?" "Why wouldn't I?"

-A sick Whumpee being doted on by their team, anything they could possibly need is taken care of.

-"You aren't a burden, you were never a burden. A burden is something that isn't wanted."

-Broken bones that need to be set, Whumpee powering through the pain of having their bone reassembled as Caretaker rubs their shoulders.

-Whumpee's favorite tea brewing on the stove, the kettle whistling as Whumpee hisses from the pain of stitches.

-"Trust me, trust me when I say you will never be hurt like this again."

-"Here, squeeze my hand, this might hurt a little."

-Caretaker being so, so gentle as they wash the blood from Whumpee's face,

-"Please! Don't touch me!" "I'm sorry, that wound needs to be treated!"

-The Ol' Fashion "I didn't know where else to go."

And more, to be put in their own lists.

Enjoy!

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Surrender An Ask Game! - "Dreadful Meetings"

CW: dehumanization, captivity, implied past torture.

Heheheehe, this has been quite fun! Hope you all enjoy what I cooked up! <33

Ask game made by: @epiclamer & @save-the-villainous-cat

What is the game about?

~~~~

Ask submitted by @livingforthewhump

Prompt: "This is hyper specific, and probably doesn’t make much sense, but imagine Whumpee was originally part of a team, before Whumper took them. Maybe a few months pass, and Whumper has a meeting with their team Leader over something completely unrelated. 

Maybe this is a league of Villains bargaining with a League of Heroes or something. Whumpee is leashed and collared with a muzzle over their face, kneeling at Whumper’s side. At some point, the meeting turns ugly, with Leader being (understandably) distressed seeing Whumpee in such a state, and starts threatening Whumper. At which point the Whumpee starts 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 at their former team leader.

Whether they’re genuinely so far gone that they see themself as less than human, making animal noises, or they’re trying to speak through the muzzle is irrelevant. Both parties are in shock. Whumper is delighted, and 100% rubs it in team Leader’s face, but team Leader suddenly loses their will to fight.

Bonus points if the Whumpee is quite big and muscular.”

~~~~~~~~

The door swung open with a soft creak as Leader entered the room. They stood tall, chin held high with a perfectly blank expression in the face of their enemy. The villain greeted them with an equally blank facade, shaking hands before guiding them to a pair of chairs.

Even before the leader got a chance to sit down, they noticed the third presence in the room... and promptly ignored it. Their heart couldn’t handle seeing yet another person suffering. With so much already weighing on their shoulders, they paid the stranger no mind.

Villain would fall soon enough. They just had to push through. Just push through…

The two foes quickly plunged into conversation, discussing the Hero League’s most recent offer. It was important... and yet sounded more and more like mindless buzzing to Leader’s ears the longer it went on.

They spoke their piece expertly, doing their best to convince the villain to agree, but their focus kept drifting away. The leader’s eyes couldn’t help but glance at the unfortunate soul kneeling by Villain’s feet.

Despite their attempts at doing otherwise, Leader studied the stranger closer. Their muscular body - clearly fit and powerful - was covered by shaggy rags with a thick, leather muzzle covering half of their face.

“A guard dog…” the leader surmised in their head. “Dear god, they have so many scars… What has this bastard put them through…?”

Anger boiled in Leader’s veins the longer they stared. To subject a fellow human to such horrors, such degradation, it’s… it’s…!

A cold dread washed over them for a split second. “It’s… Whumpee…?”

When those once shining eyes met theirs, the recognition of their lost teammate set Leader’s fury ablaze once more. In the short time they had frozen and stared at the whumpee, Villain noticed their realization.

With a knowing smirk, the criminal asked, “Do you like my pet? I trained it myself.”

The leader’s fists clenched hard enough to go numb, their teeth grinding together as they spoke. They whipped towards Villain with a fiery stare. “You…”

Jumping to their feet abruptly, Leader knocked the chair backwards in their rage and loomed over the enemy. “What have you done to them?!”

The villain, to their credit, appeared unfazed if not amused.

Their smug face only raised the leader’s anger to levels they had never thought possible. “I swear, if you don’t release them at once–” Leader began their threat, but the moment they took a step forward, their words fell silent when a growling sound filled the air.

Surprised, their head snapped to the source of it, finding nothing but the whumpee.

Their lost teammate was staring at them with wide eyes, snarling like the rabid dog they had been degraded to. Every muscle in their body was suddenly taut, ready to spring forward should their master be endangered.

That was why Villain had never bothered to stand; they had no need to.

The coldness in Leader’s chest came back tenfold, suffocating whatever fight had just been there. They… didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for them, once the villain had gotten their fill of causing anguish, they chirped, “I’d advise you to sit back down, Leader. I’m willing to overlook this little… tantrum of yours and get back to business.”

Tantrum. Tantrum…

Villain’s lips had twitched with such vile amusement at the word. Leader didn’t want to “get back to business”! They wanted to grab Whumpee and get the hell out of there! Their teammate was right there!

But alas… they couldn’t.

Whatever remained of the whumpee they knew, so feral and destroyed, drove them to a feeling of defeat. They fell back into their chair.

The growling stopped, and Whumpee spared them no second glance.

Villain’s smile only grew as Leader’s soul cracked into ever-tinier pieces. The anger was gone, replaced with a shameful exhaustion they couldn’t bring themself to oppose.

The meeting continued, but Leader barely paid the words any mind. Their thoughts raced, relentlessly bashing their psyche with a mental crowbar.

“How could I have failed so horribly? Do I… even deserve to be called a leader?”

[whump-blog]

Okay here comes the request. Hope this isn’t too specific :)

Caretaker finds their friend Whumpee drunk out of their mind. They don’t know what happened but nevertheless they bring Whumpee home and take care of them. Whumpee, being rather incoherent, accidentally confesses something (maybe their treatment with whumper, maybe a love confession of what they think is unrequited love, maybe something else…)

Sorry it took me so long to answer this, but there wasn't enough creative juice in me, haha. I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but I still hope you like what I wrote :)

Thank you @whumpinthepot for helping me with this and doing a proof reading.

CW: drunk whumpee, abuse, alcohol abuse, protective caretaker, wounded character

“What are ya' doing Hero?” asked Civilian blinking slowly, trying to get used to the light in the flat while Hero dabbed his face with a wet cloth.

“What am I doing? I'm trying to wipe all the scratches off your face, you- idiot!”

“Wh- what scratcheees?”

“The ones you got when you decided to start a fight with that guy from the bar.”

“Ooh yeees! Well- he deserved it. He shouldn't have taken my drink.” Civilian swayed, and Hero had to grab his shoulder to keep him still.

The night among friends had been going smoothly with drinks and laughter, until Hero lost sight of a drunk Civilian for a few minutes and things got out of control. Resulting in Hero having to drag him out and take him home.

“That wasn't your drink!" Hero started, but he knew it was a lost cause, "ahh- never mind, can you take off your shirt? I want to see that you don't have any more cuts under it.”

“Heh, are you trying to flirt with me?” Civilian teased, trying with trembling hands to remove his torn clothes.

Despite the evening's outcome, the friends were enjoying their time together, but when Hero saw under Civilian's shirt, his face turned pale and the room fell silent.

The multiple scars covering Civilian's chest showed just how negligent Hero had been as a friend. How was it possible? Hero wondered. How was it possible that someone had been hurting his friend and he hadn't noticed? 

“Who- who did this to you? When did this happen? Why didn't you say anything?!” Hero bombarded Civilian with questions, while guilt and worry overwhelmed him.

“Wait- m’ head…” -Civilian pressed his eyes closed- “don't talk so- so loud," he said as if what Hero had just found out was not a big deal.

“Tell me, and I swear I will see to it that you get justice.”

“Wha- what ar-e you talking about?”

“Don't play dumb. Where did all those scars come from? Civilian, someone's been hurting you and that's- that's not right...”

In the silence after Hero spoke, all that could be heard was the gentle breeze ruffling the curtains. Civilian was quite drowsy from all the alcohol, and looked as if he would pass out before answering Hero's questions. Until he finally managed to put his words together to give a halfway coherent answer.

“I- well, all these here," Civilian pointed to his scars, "you don't have to wo-worry Hero, they we-were my fau-lt.”

“Civilian..." pity could be heard in his voice, "I don't know who told you that, but it's not true. None of this can be your fault.”

“Yes, yes it was. I- I got involved with the- the wrong-g people. If I had never met Supervillain… things wouldn't have gone this far.”

Civilian seemed lost in thought. But Hero now had more questions than answers. Suddenly, nothing seemed to make sense.

“So, was it Supervillain who hurt you like this?”

Hero was trying to remain calm, but a storm was raging inside him. What could Supervillain want with Civilian? No matter the reason, as soon as he got his hands on that son of a bitch, he would make him regret ever having scratched a kind and gentle person like Civilian.

“Well, yes- in part…”

“In part? What do you mean? Has someone else been hurting you?”

“Ah well…yes… hm- erm, I,” Civilian hesitated looking at Hero in the eyes, “I told you it was my fault… if only I had been better… I brought this on myself."

“Civilian, you have to tell me the truth, you can't go on like this." Hero pressed.

As the conversation went on, Civilian looked more and more stressed until a few tears managed to escape from his eyes. “I- I just, I don't want to tell you.” 

“Why?”

“You're going to get mad at me.”

“Civilian, that's not true, we are friends.”

“You won't want to be my friend anymore.”

“Everything is going to be okay. Just tell me. I can't see you hurt like this”

Hero took Civilian's hand into his own in a gesture that was intended to reassure his friend. But, which in fact ended up breaking Civilian, who began to sob inconsolably.

“I'm sorry, Hero, I'm sorry... It- It was you-”

If the night hadn't been strange enough, that last sentence had knocked him off his feet. That was not possible. For a long moment, Hero stood frozen without saying a word, without moving a muscle, just listening to his friend sobbing in the background. Until finally it all clicked. The answer had been so obvious. Only, he had been too blind to see it.

“Villain?” the question leapt from his mind and escaped his lips.

At the mention of that name, the sobbing turned to heavy weeping, and that was more than proof enough. Hero hesitated for a moment, but ended up sitting on the sofa next to- his friend? Perhaps the years of friendship had been a lie, all a great manipulation. It was the first thing that crossed Hero's mind. If it wasn't for the alcohol, Civili- Villain would never have revealed his identity. But the good times he had spent with his friend had felt real, Hero couldn't remember Villain ever taking advantage of Hero's ignorance of his identity and trying to get information out of him as Civilian. Besides, the scars on Villain's body were very real. Those could not be faked. Now that he thought about it, on occasions when Hero had fought with Villain, he had inflicted wounds to defeat him that he could now see reflected in some of the many scars on Villain's body. But he was definitely not the cause of all of them.

With that in mind, Hero moved his arms slowly until he wrapped Villain in a gentle hug. At the unexpected physical contact, his friend flinched, but when the surprise passed, he just rested his head on Hero's shoulder and cried there for a long time. By the time Villain had calmed down, the night breeze had stopped.

“So- you don't hate me?" was the first thing Villain asked, "can we still be friends?"

“Of course I don't hate you. Whatever happened doesn't change anything, you have been my friend for many years and always will be.” Hero shook his head. “I- I just don't understand why Supervillain would do something like this to you, you're his ally.” 

If Hero wanted answers, it would be better to get them now. Once the alcohol had cleared out of Villain's system, he would probably return to his charmingly stoic and cocky self. But... was it really the right thing to do to take advantage of the situation? Villain would never have confessed to something like this in his right mind. But before Hero could further question the morality of his actions, Villain voiced one last thought.

“H- he do- doesn't like useless- people. Losing to you…” he sighed, “I will always be a failure to him…” 

After that statement, a last tear rolled down Villain's cheek as he fell asleep in Hero's embrace.

Hopefully the next morning he won't be able to remember anything, Hero thought as he laid Villain on the couch to finish treating his wounds. Some of which he had apparently caused himself.

He would definitely pay Supervillain a friendly visit tomorrow.

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Possible Monthly Themes

Pet Whump

Conditioning/Brainwashing

Recovery

Environmental Whump

Slavery

Nonhuman

Sickfic

Lab Whump

Role Changes (ie. whumper-turned-whumpee, whumpee-turned-caretaker, etc.)

Magical Whump

Sci-Fi Whump

Tiny Whump

Angst/Emotional Whump

Comfort

Captivity

Intimate Whumper

Living Weapon Whump

Hero/Villain Whump

Immortal Whumpee

Psychological Whump

Torture Methods

Historical/time-period Whump

Hostage Situations

Winged Whump

Dystopian/totalitarian Whump

Mind control/possession Whump

Carewhumper/Soft Whump

Team Whump

Royal Whump

If your fave isn't here, feel free to submit it in the askbox!

NSFWhump won't be a monthly theme because I want it to be possible for minors to participate in this event if they so desire. However, if a lot of people want it as part of the event, I would be open to including a week's worth of NSFWhump in the alt prompts with precautions in place so minors can avoid it easily.

I will update this as I receive submissions. Make sure you're looking at the root post so you're seeing the most recent version of the list.