#caretaker civilian

[thepenultimateword]

Prompt #124

“Civilian?” sounded the voice tentatively from the dark.

Civilian didn’t bother lifting their head from their pillow. They were used to these late night check-ins by now. “Hm?”

“Do you…love me?”

Civilian’s eyes shot open. That was new.

Supervillain stood huddled by their bedside, head bent, arms folded tightly across their chest.

“It’s just, you saved me, and you’re nice to me, and you let me stay with you, so I thought maybe… Sorry, stupid question.”

Civilian caught Supervillain’s wrist, immediately regretting the abrupt movement as the ex-criminal’s entire body flinched away from them. Civilian released them fast, holding up their hands in a soothing motion even though they knew it was too dark to see.

“Hey. It’s ok. It’s all ok now.” They took their hand again, this time softer. “Of course, I love you.”

[warmfungi]

What fucks with me is an evil, despicable character, lost and alone while violently ill – abandoned without anyone to care for them... And then someone Finds them.

Someone who has no connection to them or isn't even remotely aware of their actions. To them, it's just a stranger that looks to be on the brink of death. As the villain, who's got more blood on their hands than they can brag about spilling, collapses onto the ground, this person rushes to them, completely unaware they're about to save the life of someone who's not worth their time.

However, I'm tired of this trope ending up with the villain back to their old ways in an instant. If that's your thing, sure – but I always find it annoying. Sometimes, I think, it takes a monster facing its own death to realize they should treat people better – were it not for mere coincidence, death would have swallowed them whole.

Instead, it only got to graze them – because someone cared. For once, someone cared, and the villain didn't plan to use it against them.

Villain isn't a whumper. I don't like that dynamic.

[hywenhei]

trying whumptober out for the first time!! i'm aiming to be a first time completionist, but hopefully i won't get too burned out 😓

RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK: Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

CW: Panic attacks, sensory deprivation & sensory overload

Whumpee has kidnapped Whumpee and sent their team a ransom message along with a link to a video. The link takes them to a grainy livestream with a countdown clock that shows the team how long their precious Whumpee has to live. They'd better get searching, or else Whumpee's a dead man...

Caretaker is a civilian who's asked the police multiple times to send out a search party for Whumpee. Unfortunately, Whumpee isn't considered a high-risk case, and their casefile is constantly sidelined and abandoned. Well, if you want something done right, the only way is to do it yourself.

Just as Whumpee loses all hope of rescue, a search party bursts into the room, and Whumpee and Caretaker finally have their long-awaited reunion. That is until, Whumper gatecrashes the party with some reinforcements to keep Whumpee's friends from leaving.

A search party break in to Whumper's house and find the sensory deprivation room where Whumpee's been kept for weeks on end. Due to the sudden sensory overload that is the rescue mission, Whumpee is sent spiraling into a panic attack.

hopefully this is a good prompt list :] see you tomorrow for day 2!!

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Bloody Love Letter

The overdue fluff (I tried, okay?) snippet for @thelazywitchphotographer

TW: Blood, murder mention, knife mention

To most people, the sound of footsteps padding across asphalt in the middle of the night would have been worrying, but Villain didn't exactly fit into the category of 'most' people. Besides, these particularly heavy footsteps were dragging across the street slowly, probably belonging to a drunkard, all the more reason for her not to give a damn.

Still, she decided to humour her unfortunate stalker, turning around to face them, the expression on her face something between irritable and smug, one dark eyebrow arched and a very slight upturn of her lips.

The familiar mask that she was so used to wearing seemed to practically melt into nothing as she realised who the footsteps actually belonged to: Civilian. The man was dressed in his usual business casual, a pair of jeans and a white shirt, except this time, it was more of a shredded rag of blood-stained fabric than a shirt.

Scratches and bruises littered his face, dark crimson encrusted on the corner of his lips, and he was also sporting a black eye. Except the civilian was unfazed in the slightest, as though this was some sort of everyday occurrence. "I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," he remarked casually in response to the look of utter shock the villain had failed to hide, her eyes going wide.

"What happened?" she questioned, as the muscles of her face worked to pull it into a neutral expression.

The civilian snorted incredulously. "I skipped my skincare routine, so I don't look as pretty as usual," he retorted, his lips stretched into something between a smirk and a dark scowl.

This was the kind of insolence that the villain would kill people for, but Civilian had been sharp enough to notice he was an exception, an idea that was frankly poisonous to the villain. She wished to remind him exactly just how dangerous the game he was playing was, but in his current state, it really didn't seem like the time.

So, she simply ran a hand down her face exasperatedly, "Who did this to you?" she demanded, a slight edge of well-concealed anger to her tone that she knew the man would catch.

"What I did to him. You should've seen the other guy." He grit his bloodstained teeth in a feral grin, an expression the villain had never known he was capable of, thanks to his usually mild-mannered nature.

The villain sucked in a sharp breath, folding her arms across her chest. Whatever had warranted this kind of reaction from the civilian was definitely terrible.

Or maybe, if his words and cocky attitude weren't misplaced, this was an indication that the man was a lot more dangerous than he'd seemed, and she just wasn't entirely pleased with that conclusion.

"Alright, hotshot. What did you do?" she challenged, her own piercing blue eyes trained on the civilian's sage green ones, trying to stare through him as though he was no more than a sheet of paper, as though something in his resolve would crumble.

It was the civilian's turn to take in a heavy, measured breath, his gaze refusing to meet the villain's. He seemed almost lost, for lack of a better word, worrying his lip between his teeth, his smug attitude crumbling incredibly fast. "I- killed him," he admitted, trying hard to hide the solemness in his tone with a matter-of-fact intonation, a poor cover-up he failed to paint over the nervousness.

The civilian was never the type to take risks. Before he'd met the villain, he was as cautious as could be, a normal man with a normal job who lived in a very normal neighbourhood. Or that was what the criminal had took him for at first, until she'd found out that this was merely the tip of the iceberg. The civilian had gotten tired of trying to glaze over every side of him with well-fabricated normalcy.

But to confess to murder? That was lightyears away from "trying to change things", from driving a little faster than he was used to or any of the new things he'd done after he'd known her. If there was any shred of his old self, of any basic common sense, he should've already noticed by now that there was a great chance he'd ruined his life, shredded it to pieces.

"Why?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, instinctually feeling like she would despise his answer.

This time, there was no hesitation in the civilian's tone. "He said he'd go after you. Said he'd hurt you, and I wasn't giving him that chance. Consider it my bloody love letter," he half-snarled, his fists clenched and the muscles of his face taut with conviction.

The villain tried for a few false starts, only for nothing to come out, her lips left parted in surprise. 

At that, the civilian's expression softened into something she'd never seen before, into something she realised she wished to see more often, something that lit up his features beautifully. 

The civilian was a good-looking man, in a strangely dishevelled sort of way. Dark, wind-ruffled hair with very slight flecks of grey and unwaveringly bright tourmaline eyes that never seemed to dim no matter how exhausted he was. Surprisingly, the crimson streaked across his face seemed to highlight the high-set cheekbones; somehow rendering his current frazzled state even more beautiful than what he usually looked like.

And the realisation that she found the civilian attractive seemed to hit her like a freight train, as did any wave of strong emotion she wasn’t accustomed to. Still, the lingering tension in the air as he crossed the distance between them was very palpable.

“I love you.” The soft smile he gave her at her expression of surprise was equal parts cruel as it was kind. The villain had never been the oblivious one, the shocked audience of a plot twist. So openly vulnerable with someone who downplayed his own cleverness more often than not as a protective tactic.

But she wasn’t exactly sure she hated it. Quite the contrary. She’d evaluated their relationship as that of two unlikely friends aware of each other’s attractiveness and no more, something surface-level and entertaining, but she’d come to realise in that moment, that she’d been wrong. 

“I love you too,” she offered as the civilian’s surprisingly warm fingers skirted across her hand, and Villain tentatively got closer, her lips pressed to his jawline, almost fitting there perfectly. She didn’t mind the blood on her mouth, she probably didn’t even notice as the civilian pulled away for a moment, her breath catching in her throat until he got closer again, a soft, almost high-pitched laugh of euphoria escaping his lips as they made contact with the crown of her hair, velvet-soft and blissfully cool against her skin.  

“Do you trust me enough to let me take you home so I can fix you up?” she asked.

He pulled away again, a wild, wolfish look in his eyes. “You know, I didn’t even need a knife to kill him,” he answered cryptically, except between the two of them, this was a clear enough response.

✨Timeskip✨

"Just one more left," she said placatingly.

"Well it burns," he hissed, pulling himself away from the cloth soaked in antiseptic near his face, and yet he made absolutely no effort to stop her from pushing him down on her lap again, unless you considered a petulant mock-pout an effort.

"I'm sure you've seen a lot worse," the criminal replied swiftly, quoting him from earlier with her lip curling upwards subtly as she wiped away the last of the blood and dirt on him. The civilian looked significantly younger with all the gunk off, the white hairs seeming to have shown up prematurely, with him being so stressed half the time.

Except right now, he sported a lazy half-smile, looking at her admiringly through half-lidded eyes, lashes so enviously long they fell against his cheek when he blinked. He lifted himself upright, easily pulling her into his lap and tracing the shape of her cheekbone with his finger and then slowly kissing it. "It's never been fair, how gorgeous you've always looked, but now that you're mine, maybe it is, only slightly more just," he crooned, kissing the other cheek with a haunting gentleness that made it seem impossible that he could've killed someone, but with enough passion to prove the previous assumption incorrect.

The villain hummed thoughtfully, pulling him even closer somehow and running her fingers through his hair, smooth like strands of silk now that he'd showered. She felt him shiver, knowing full-well he was touch-starved, "It's alright. You'll get used to it."

"I will," he replied with a smirk, except he leaned further into the touch as she ran her hands through his hair and down to his shoulders, still unaccustomed but the small smile on his lips as he closed his eyes indicated his approval of the touch.

Love is not as concrete as we like to believe. It is certainly senseless to try and learn the exact mechanisms of it because only a fool would wish to learn of something that does not exist and never could. And sure, it is a terrifying product of fate, an outcome of a game where you can only control half of the moves, but still, love is such an awfully human quality; just as wild, just as unpredictable and just as beautiful. It holds the power to draw blood, to start fires but also to bring the taste of euphoria to your lips better than any drink or drug could ever hope to.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @whatiswhumpblog @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[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.

[automeris-io-moth]

Tis, I the weirdly obsessive fanatic of your blog. Yes, I have slipped into your asks. No, you cannot get rid of me, I will forever be a piece of gum stuck to your shoe.

Anyway with that being said, (I dont know if you are open to part two requests but if you are) may I request a part two of “One to go”? I know you’ve posted it very recently but I’m a selfish, greedy fool who is in desperate need of your writing.

Sincerely, the weirdly obsessive fanatic.

(Seriously though, if I’m getting annoying feel free to spray me with a pesticide.)

- 🤎

One to go pt.2

Part one

The room smelled of ash and wood, warm, orange light illuminated the room, flickering shadows on the walls. The walls were painted in an ashy kind of brown, as in their father’s old studio back at the hills, tainted in a light yellow undertone. Then, they concluded, it could not be the Hero’s base Civilian last remembered being, they wouldn’t smoke and leave ash roaming around for long enough to taint inside of their building, the press would talk. 

Civilian was finding themselves counting aimlessly the cracks and lumps up in the ceiling looking to dissipate the fuzziness they still felt, the usual sensation of being barely woken up, known and common, still, that time, it felt heavier, harder to break off of.

Something was off, many things. Their head was heavy, and an odd feeling settled deep inside their stomach, they could identify the reason for neither, swallowing harshly to soothe the dryness on their throat, and trying with that to ground themselves a little better. 

Warm fingers settled over their freezing skin, holding their right arm carefully, thumb caressing over her skin steadily, almost mechanically. 

Until it stopped. 

“You’re awake,” a voice said, a voice they remembered having heard from somewhere, even when the where was still quite blurry “I’m glad, how are you…?” 

It was nausea, they came to find the unsettledness in their stomach, as they sat up straight, throwing their head over the side of the bed and emptying their stomach on the dark wooden floor. 

…On the dark wooden floors.

There was no such thing in their home not in the base of the friend they had so stupidly go to visit, it wasn't worth it, everyone said, with blood and ash constantly staining the carpets and marble, fancy, expensive wood was simply a bad idea, harder to clean, easier to stain. 

They sat up back straight after thinking themselves finished, holding their arms close with their hands, aiming to prevent the shivering from both the morning coldness and the fear building in their back and their arms and their legs.

“You’re all right, Civilian,” Supervillian said, voice calm for such a situation “oh dear, you certainly can’t handle sedatives very well, I’ll write it down.” 

“Se…sedatives?” their voice trembled.

The other stood, gracefully reaching for a glass on the nightstand, handing it to the Civilian, who watched it closely yet never really took it.

“None of that now, you need to drink something, you’ve been out for two days and a night,” they said, pushing further against the other’s hands, Civilian shook their head, pushing it right back at them.

Supervillian sighed, gulping down a drink from the glass, then offering it back again. 

“It was not me who drugged you.” 

After being offered it yet again, Civilian grabbed it quickly, drinking it down to wash the taste left in their mouth. They took a deep breath, and stared back at the criminal sitting so casually before them. 

No one said anything for a minute. 

“It wasn’t Hero.” 

“Were they not?” 

“Of course they were not!” of course, they repeated in their head, trying to remember the events of the night prior.

“You don’t remember, do you?” the criminal asked, brow lifted and smile amused. “You were laying on the secondary living room when I reached the place, they kept the fire on, so very considerate, smoke gathering around a very closed room with a very much locked door.” 

Civilian laid back, nausea threatening to return. They stayed focused or so they tried, in the other’s words. 

“You did say some very interesting things, probably was the fever more than the sedative speaking.” 

“What did I say?” Civilian asked, heart racing at the thought of saying something they shouldn’t have with such a character listening. 

“You talked about Hero quite a bit, how excited you were for them to return, you didn’t quite finish telling them about your discovery, the DNA fragment which predisposes, after a certain activation through epigenetic changes, the appearance of powers, if I remember correctly.” 

“I don’t…I shouldn’t.”

“I’m guessing they weren’t a fan of your discovery, circumstances given.” 

But of course there was an explanation, Civilian thought, an event of great relevance between them telling Hero about their investigation, being locked in a room full of smoke, and Supervillian getting to them. They were not even sure if what the criminal said was true or a very elaborated story to make them hesitate andescape. 

They wouldn’t, of course, they had to leave, they’d already talked enough.

“I’d love to have that head of yours on my side.” 

Civilian threw up once more.

***

Supervillain stared at the security cameras in their office. 

First escape attempt, three hours and forty-five minutes after leaving them to sleep. 

They had to go catch their new official personal scientist. 

_

Part three

Part four

Masterlist

I am, in fact, open to requests for second parts, even more so for one that I was really excited about doing.

It feels a bit strange that people are really liking what I write, I'm quite happy about it.

Thank you very much for the request :) I hope it lives to the expectation, maybe I will continue it to a third part with a bit more Supervillain-Civilian closeness

By the way, rereading some pieces I've seen that I have some typos and grammatical mistakes, I've been correcting them as I go, sorry :(

That's all, bye :)

[whumpdrivethru]

Hey.. uhh.. can I get an order of enemy soldier finding a civilian who's injured and takes pity on them? Civilian is probably shot or has a broken bone and soldier provides basic first aid and comforts them and stuff. Maybe even a side of trying to keep civilian awake?? It can end with whatever you want :3

Hi there! Let’s get that started for you! Thanks for choosing the Whump Drive Thru!

Soldier marched down the streets of the ruined city. They were meant to be looking for survivors. Gunfire rang out behind them, sounded like one of their fellow soldiers had found a survivor. Soldier shuddered and heard a whimper and the sound of rubble shifting. Soldier whipped around, aiming their rifle at the noise. They stared into the frightened eyes of a civilian.

“P-please,” they begged.

Soldier held their rifle tighter, despite their shaking hands. Their finger hovered over the trigger, but they couldn’t bring themselves to squeeze. Another gunshot in the distance. Another survivor. Soldier cursed and slung their rifle over their shoulder. They knelt down next to the civilian and started pulling the rubble off of them. They saw their eyes start to flicker in and out of focus. Their lids started to slip closed.

“Hey,” Soldier said, slapping them, “none of that. Talk to me. What’s your name?”

“C-Civilian,” they said tearfully.

“Keep talking,” Soldier said as they worked, “are you hurt?”

“Yes,” Civilian said.

“Where?”

Soldier got their answer when they removed the last piece of rubble trapping Civilian. Their leg was bent at an unsightly angle. Soldier winced at the sight.

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” Soldier said, “it isn’t safe here.”

Soldier heaved Civilian up into a bridal carry. Civilian screamed.

“Shush!” Soldier hissed, “I know it hurts, but you can’t make noise.”

…

Soldier laid Civilian down on the bed. They didn’t know whose house this was, but they obviously didn’t need it anymore. Half of the roof was blown off and it was a wonder the bedroom was intact at all. Fortunately, this part of the city had already been scoured by Soldier’s comrades. No one would be coming back here anytime soon.

Soldier pulled out a first-aid kit from their pack.

“I need to set your leg,” Soldier said.

“Please, no-”

“I know what I’m doing. I was in medical school before the war. Please, it needs to be treated.”

Civilian looked at Soldier with pleading eyes, then nodded. Soldier worked quickly, trying to ignore Civilian’s screams. Once their leg was in the splint, Soldier sat back and breathed a sigh of relief.

“There,” they said, “that will keep it still. You need to see a proper doctor, but this will do for now.”

Civilian sniffled and nodded.

“Thank you,” Civilian said.

Soldier sighed again.

“I’ll take you to the train station in the morning. We can only go so far on foot.”

“Train station? I don’t understand-”

“We need to get you to a doctor. The nearest town is several miles away.”

“But why are you helping me?”

Soldier smiled ruefully.

“I don't agree with killing civilians. Besides, I’ve just betrayed my country for you. Seems a pity to abandon you now.”

Thanks again for choosing the Whump Drive Thru, you have been served by Huffle!

[meraki24601]

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

I successfully completed Whumptober! Woohoo!!!

I never thought I would actually make it to the end between work, making my Halloween costume, and prepping for NaNoWriMo, but here we are! Here is a list of all my posts for the challenge with short descriptions of each.

All of my posts have OCs. Please don't use or repost any of my writing, but you're welcome to use the prompts as inspiration. If you do, I would be grateful for a short shoutout. I'd love to see your work!

Fast List:

Not Sick (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)

Prompts (Dialogue, Concept)

Accidentally Triggered

Pulling Punches

You're a Liar

Dawn (Part 2 and Part 3 written after the event)

Cliff (Part 1, Part 2)

First Mission

Quotes

New Collar

Taken Away

Not Tonight

Thief (Version 1, Version 2) (Part 2 of Version 2 written after the event)

Just a Fever: Part 3 (Part 1 and Part 2 written previously)

A New Pet: Part 3 ( Part 1 and Part 2 written previously)

You Look Awful

Don't Look at Me

Scented Candle

Held

Empty

Day 1- Not Sick: Part 1

Prompt: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Content: sickfic, refusing medical care, collapse

Whumpee is sick, dizzy, and completely in denial. Could they ask Caretaker for help? Yes. Are they going to hold out until Caretaker finds out on their own? Also yes.

Day 2- Not Sick: Part 2

Prompt: thermometer

Content: Sickfic, fever, touch starved, touch aversion, weak whumpee

A continuation of part 1, Caretaker is taking care of a very sick Whumpee. They'd never seen Caretaker so kind. It was kind of nice.

Day 3- Accidentally Triggered

Prompt: "Make it stop."

Content: Panic Attacks, learning triggers

Whumpee was just trying to research the symptoms of a panic attack. They didn't expect it to trigger their own. It's a good thing Caretaker was there to help them through it.

Day 4- Not Sick: Part 3

Prompt: "You in there?"

Content: Sickfic, fever, hiding, weak whumpee, found, protective whumpee

A continuation where Whumper comes to bring Whumpee back. If they weren't sick, maybe they could have done something to make sure Whumper could never find them or Caretaker.

Day 5- Pulling Punches

Prompt: Pinned down

Content: Hiding injuries, nongraphic blood, passing out, protective Villain

Hero has to fight Villain with injuries from another enemy. Of course, Villain doesn't know this. They can't let Villain know. Villain would kill them in a heartbeat, wouldn't they?

Day 6- Not Sick: Part 4

Prompt: Made To Watch

Content: Sickfic, fever, vomiting, implied self-harm, non-graphic torture

A continuation where Whumpee makes a deal with Whumper. If that deal happens to involve watching as Whumper hurts their friend, well, they don't really have a choice, do they?

Day 7- Not Sick: Part 5

Prompt: “Can you hear me?”

Content: Sickfic, fever, blood, mentioned blades, past torture, passing out, restrained

A continuation where Whumpee and Caretaker deal with the immediate aftermath of Whumper's visit.

Day 8- Dialogue Prompt

Prompt: Outnumbered

Content: Dialogue only, impossible situation

A few lines with two characters discussing the future.

Day 9- You're a Liar

Prompt: “You're a liar.”

Content: traitor, confrontation

Sidekick has betrayed Hero and given Villain their plans. Hero needs to gather proof before Sidekick realizes they know.

Day 10- Not Sick: Part 6

Prompt: broken phone

Content: Sickfic, fever, touch aversion, weak whumpee, injured, checking for injuries, refusing medical care

A continuation where Whumpee and Caretaker attempt to help each other recover now they both have a bit of their strength back.

Day 11- Dawn

Prompt: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.” and animal trap

Content: Vampire Whumpee, trapped, left for dead

Whumpee is caught in a bear trap. Will their only hope (a human hunter) save them, or leave them there to die in the morning sun?

Day 12- Not Sick: Part 7

Prompt: “I haven't slept in days, but who's counting?”

Content: Sickfic, fever, blood, insomnia, injuries, ptsd, weak whumpee

A continuation where Whumpee and Caretaker are finally able to rest. Whumpee fully intends to do so, but they have to do something first. They can't rest until their job is done.

Day 13- Not Sick: Part 8

Prompt: “I don’t feel so good.”

Content: Sickfic, fever, weak whumpee, falling asleep, talking about mental health

The end of Not Sick. In this, Whumpee and Caretaker talk about what happened. Maybe if they're honest with each other, they'll both make it out alright.

Day 14- Cliff

Prompt: water inhalation

Content: drowning, falling, knocked out, passing out, rescue

Villain threatens to kill Civilian by dropping them off a cliff. Can Hero save them, or will they die trying?

Day 15- First Mission

Prompt: “I’m fine.”

Content: injured, worried, getting advice

Mentor is worried about Hero. Hero is worried about Sidekick. Can they talk it out or is there a reason for greater concern?

Day 16- Quotes

Prompt: “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Content: Hospital, LOTR quotes, hurt/comfort

Whumpee is a nerd. Their love of quotes means more when they're dying.

Day 17- New Collar

Prompt: Collar

Content: pet whump

Whumper is buying their pet a new collar. A friendly sales associate stops to help them find the perfect one. It amuses Whumper to know they don't know the collar is for a human, not an animal.

Day 18- Taken Away

Prompt: Blindfold

Content: Kidnapped, chloroform, knocked out, betrayal

Whumpee is terrified as they're taken from their own home. The heartbreak of being betrayed by the ones closest to them only makes it worse.

Day 19- Not Tonight

Prompt: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Content: Suicidal ideation, mind control, protective villain

Villain is ready to fight, but Hero is ready to die. When Villain realizes this, what will they do? Will they take advantage of the situation or force Hero to fight to survive?

Day 20- Whump Prompts

Prompt: Blanket

Content: Whump scenarios

Whumpy situations to put your favorite Whumpee in.

Day 21- Cliff: Part 2

Prompt: “Don't move.”

Content: Drowning, secondary drowning, waking up, rescue

Civilian and Hero survived the fall, but can they make it back to safety before anything else goes wrong?

Day 22- Thief Version 1

Prompt: “Watch out!”

Content: homeless, stealing, hiding injuries, framed, protective villain

Villain catches Hero stealing from their store. What happened to their rival? Is this the end for Hero, or do they deserve to be saved?

Day 23- Just a Fever: Part 3

Prompt: Stalking

Content: Sickfic, stalking, weak hero, kidnapped

A continuation of a series started before Whumptober where Hero finds themselves at the mercy of Villain. Taken from their home, can Hero even stand or will they anger Villain?

Day 24- Thief Version 2

Prompt: neglect

Content: homeless, stealing, hiding injuries, framed, protective villain

A second version of the story where Villain catches Hero stealing from their store. What happened to their rival? How is Hero even still alive? What will Villain do about it?

Day 25- A New Pet: Part 3

Prompt: Storm

Content: Pet whump, related caretaker and whumpee, injured, blood, training, kidnapped, previous torture

Caretaker has been reunited with Whumpee. Now, they just have to get Whumpee away from Whumper before they're killed.

Day 26- You Look Awful

Prompt: "You look awful."

Content: Sickfic

Whumpee is sick. Caretaker is ready for dinner.

Day 27- Don't Look at Me

Prompt: Scars

Content: Scars, Hero x Villain, panic attack

Hero is weak. They're not strong enough to be worthy of their enemy. Not in battle, not as a lover, not at all. Unsurprisingly, Villain disagrees.

Day 28- Don't Pass Out

Prompt: “We might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now.”

Content: Stranded, non-graphic blood, injury, trapped, rescue

Hero and Villain are both stranded in the middle of nowhere. Will Hero follow their new orders regarding their enemy?

Day 29- Scented Candle

Prompt: Scented Candle

Content: Panic attack, flashback, triggered, hurt/comfort

Whumpee is triggered during their birthday party. Caretaker helps.

Day 30- Held

Prompt: Bridal Carry

Content: Injured, waking up, carried

Whumpee wakes up in Whumper's arms.

Day 31- Empty

Prompt: Empty

Content: Depression, ptsd, dissociation, threatened

Whumpee is scared, and the only way to deal with that is by making sure they're numb any time they're around Caretaker. Unfortunately, Caretaker isn't a fan of that plan.

[whumpasaurus101]

Heyyyyy! Your writing is absolutely amazing I love it! I was wondering if you could do something with a civilian being chased by a group of men, they quickly turn into an ally and hide as the men run past but the villain is there and see’s the civilian so they try to scare them but they realize that the civilian is badly injured so villain decide to help civilian?

WAAAAAA oh my goodness thank you youre so sweet!!!!!! I hope this is okay!!💜

-

—-

Civilian’s heartbeat was practically thumping in their ears. Their throat feeling tight as they took in choked gasps. Their body felt on fire.

Each step they took lit up every nerve in their body. They ran with one hand, the other clutching over their side as blood dripped from the gash. They grimaced but forced their legs to keep moving.

“Get back here you little shit, we’re not done with you,” One of the men roared. God, how did they get to this?? One minute they met a stupid bet and the next they were being chased by a bunch of hooligans.

Civilian’s eyes darted around the street before they saw an opening between two buildings. They forced themself to quicken their pace and turned into the alleyway.

Their back hit the wall as they watched the men run by, completely oblivious.

They were heaving for air, bloodied hand clutching to their side. They gasped in breaths, not enough for their liking.

“Well well well, what a pretty little thing to be wandering around these kind of streets.”

Civilian tensed as they unwillingly turned around, “St-stay back!” They tried to ignore the way their voice shook as they spoke.

Villain stared at them for a moment before bursting out laughing, taking a step forward as they tucked a curl behind Civillian’s ear, “My my, you are a cute one, hm?”

Civilian practically trembled under their touch, looking up at Villain with tears brimming their eyes. Villain gently shushed them, dragging a knife along Civillian’s kneck, stopping just under their chin, “You scared?”

Civillian couldn't even muster up the words, their mouth opening and closing, only a rasp escaped their throat as they watched the Villain- who loomed over them- with wide eyes.

“Ohhhhh, I could have my fun with you~ you’d look absolutely devine with my name branded along riiiiight-” they dragged the knife down Civillian’s throat, ghosting it just under their collarbone and stopped, “Here.”

Civilian flinched back, whimpering as their head spun, Villain’s voice barely coherent. They felt their knees buckle and watched as Villain’s face quickly turned to concern.

Villain was quick enough to catch Civillain, “Heyheyhey, easy,” Villain whispered against them, “Who did this?

Civilian let out a sob. Clinging onto Villain’s shirt as the pain engulfed them. “Please make it stop,” They sobbed, “Ple-please… it-it hurts.”

“It’s alright,” Villain whispered, “I’ve got you. I need a name though…”

Civillian whimpered, looking up at Villain, tears slowly rolling down their face, “He-Hero-“ they choked out before breaking into sobs, “Hero and their g-gang, they- they did it! I uhm..I made a be-bet and.. and I lost and- they did it…”

Villain stopped. How could Hero? Not only the city’s protector- but Villain’s own significant other? They held Civilian tighter, “Don’t worry… I’ll sort them out. They’ll never hurt you again.”

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Found Part 3

Here we go folks, part 3. This one is kind of long and I thought about breaking it up but it’s not like I am lacking ideas for this, so enjoy this longer piece. 

CW: Not too much that I think needs a warning happens here. Villain insults and threatens them a lot. They change bandages, talk about pain meds, mention of alcohol. 

Part 1

Part 2

~

Civilian ended up falling asleep on the armchair. They had been debating whether or not they should, since the likelihood of Villain trying to force himself to move too much was high. In the end the decision was made for them after they closed their eyes for a split second and then woke up to the morning sun.

To their surprise Villain was asleep across from them, hands gently resting on his chest, rising and falling slowly. They watched him a moment , eyes trailing over the bruises on his face, the swelling around his eyes having gone down completely. His bandages looked clean and fine, no bleed through, a nicely wrapped Villain laying on their couch.

Civilian rubbed their hands over their face, so much for avoiding trouble.

They stood, closing their laptop and putting it on the dining table. Some breakfast, that will make them feel better. They went into the kitchen and pulled out a pan, turning on  the heat as they searched the fridge for bacon, grabbed the eggs along the way.

As they cooked they heard a grunt from the couch and took a moment to step away and peer over the bench.

“You better not be trying to sit up by yourself again,” they said, watching him indeed attempt that.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Do you want my help?”

“I thought we already established that, no.”

Civilian raised my brow, “do you need my help?”

He couldn’t really turn to look at them, but the silence spoke enough. Civilian flipped the bacon before leaving, rounding the corner to see Villain struggling to prop himself up on his arm. They waited a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to snap again before gently grabbing his arm, supporting his wait as they eased him up.

Villain held his breath the whole way, releasing it an exhausted puff as, together, they made it up. Civilian let him catch his breath.

“Do you need some water?”

Villain’s jaw set, his fist curled in, white.

“Yes,” he ground out.

Civilian simply nodded and left again. They grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and this time they opened up another drawer and took out a silicone straw. Vilian eyed it before taking it, and Civilian watched with eagle focus as Villain took the weight of the glass, using both hands to hold it up as he drank. Half way through his hand began to shake and Civilian reached out, supporting the glass. Villain glared but did not argue as he continued drinking, and when he was done Civilian uncuirled their hand and let Villain rest the glass in his lap.

An exhuastion claimed Vilian’s features and he leant back against the couch, slowly taking in a breath. Civilian walked back to the bacon, took out the cooked bits and flopped in some raw ones before moving over to the medicine cabinet. They grabbed a box.

“It’s not as strong as what hospitals will give you but better then the basics,” they said walking back.

Villain eyed them, scoffed. “Like I’m going to trust that.”

“It’s a sealed packet of meds, I don’t exactly keep a press or whatever in my apartment, I’m not some estranged mastermind. Their prescription pain killers, they can make you a little drowsy and a little nauseous if your body doesn’t like them but that’s it.”

Villain stared at the packet, things flickering through his expression, little micro flinches before he turned his head.

“No,” he said.

Civilian sighed. “Fine, but if you want them, they are here,” They placed them on the bench behind him, “only two at a time, spaced 6 hours a part.”

Villain showed no interest, and Civilian worked their jaw, struggling not to say anything. They took a breath, went back into the kitchen and continued cooking. They put some toast in the toaster while they cooked the eggs, leaving them just a little runny, but hard enough for minimal mess on a clumsy persons lap. They thought about more but didn’t want to overwhelm Villain. If it had been a while since he’d properly eaten then eating too much wouldn’t be of help to him. Civilian severed everything up and walked back out.

“Breakfast,” Civilian said as they held out the plate.

Villain eyed it. They could tell he debated saying no, but his body had to have been screaming for more food, and protein was only going to do him good in this state. Silently he took it, though Civilian helped him lower it to his lap as the same tired arm shook again. They propped the cushion under the plate, and he balanced the food there, picking up the knife and fork. They really should have a lap tray or something… maybe they could go out and buy one, not that leaving him alone sounded like a good idea.

Civilian took their breakfast to the coffee table and sat on the ground in front of it, opening their laptop again. Out of the corner of their eye, Civilian could see Villain glancing at them, more questions on his tongue.

“What’s up,” Civilian asked, looking to him.

He looked to the computer. “What do you do on that?”

Civilian regarded their computer, their answer, and looked back to him.

“Important and secret work,” they said.

Villain glared.

“Really? You want me to be truthful and yet you’re going to lie to me?”

“Not a lie, it’s important to me and a secret from you,” Civilian smirked. When that didn’t amuse him, Civilian continued. “I’m a freelance editor and ghost writer.”

Villain thought about it. “So what you write things for no recognition?” He said.

Civilian shrugged, “recognition isn’t everything. I quite like being a ghost.”

“Ah, so it’s the power trip then, getting control over other’s words without anyone ever knowing,” Villain said.

Civilian’s brows furrowed.

“You are aware not everyone is a villain or a hero. Some people are just people and are perfectly happy with their mundane lives.”

“They may not be a villain or a hero in the larger sense, but on the inside everyone has a motive, they have a want they are trying to fill.”

“Yes, and my motive is getting to create things without the fanfair of the public knowing who I am. I find it fun, simple as that.”

As much as Villain tried, he could not find a lie.

“You’re strange,” he said.

“I’m strange?” They raised brow, “I feel like I am completely reasonable.”

“Everyone thinks they are reasonable,” Villain said.

“Then how can anyone be strange?”

Villain rolled his eyes, “that’s a none question to try and make yourself sound complicated.”

Civilian turned themself to him.

“So everyone is exactly the same and fits perfectly into a model of existence that only some people magically don’t match?”

Villain opened his mouth, but they kept talking.

“My point is everyone is different and everyone is unique, holding on to ideas of ‘normal’, especially in our world, is useless and restricting.”

Villain shook his head, “everyone may be detailed differently, but at the end of the day, deep down they are all the same. Desperate and greedy and ready to betray their friends the moment they need to.”

“I think that says more about you then it does anyone else,” Civilian said, turning back to the computer.

Villain hesitated, he had words in his mouth but his attention was pulled by the thoughts in his head. He had been betrayed many times, by many people, people he had thought had his back until they very end. They hadn’t, no one had. He was a villain and he was left in the dirt like one, so why would anyone else treat him differently? Villain found himself glaring at Civilian, though they had no part in the direction of his mind. He didn’t want to be thinking about these things, contemplating them and yet here he was, contemplating, and somehow it was their fault.

Villain turned his attention back to his food and the conversation dropped.  

This pattern of events continued for the next few days. Civilian would wake up, make some food, they’d have a stare off, but eventually Villain would eat and Civilian would work on their laptop until lunch time before prepping more food, all the way to dinner. The armchair became their new bed as well, too afraid he would try and do something if they weren’t in the room. Namely, get up. They had given Villain a pile of books, which he had of course refused at first, but boredom eventually made him give in.

That happened a lot, and Civilian got very good at being patient, and especially good at ignoring threats and insults.

“This (food) looks like a child’s science experiment.”

“Do you even know what you are doing?”

“Look at you, so kind and compassionate, what will your friends think when they find out you’re looking after the enemy?”

“You will pay for your disrespect.”

“Be careful or I will give you a reason to be so clumsy.”

And many more.

Had they been said at any other time, in any other situation they may have seemed even slightly threatening, but they felt so hollow and empty it amused Civilian more the anything. They were said out of pain and embarrassment and Civilian could read as much on his face. Smiling and laughing at him didn’t help that’s for sure, but they couldn’t help it, they were such blatant lies, such a desperate defence. However, they did get tiresome.

Civilian had moved the coffee table again and had a pile of fresh bandages on it. Villain sat rigid and straight as Civilian carefully unwrapped the bandages, moving as gentle as possible, but every little bump and tug sent new waves of pain through him.

After one particularly hard tug he snatched up their wrist. 

“Be more gentle will you,” he snapped, “a dog could do this better.”

And that was it. Civilian glared, pulled their arm out of his grip and dropped the half unravelled bandage onto the couch.

"You know what? Fine then,” they stood up. “You fucking do it then, see how well you do.” They pushed the coffee table edge right up against the couch. “I’ll go cook dinner, unless you think you can do that too?”  

Villain said nothing to that, just picked up the bandage off the couch.

“Fucking asshole,” Civilian muttered, storming off into the kitchen.

Villain waited for Civilian to definitely be gone before trying. He looked down, tried to, at what he had left to go but his face ached and neck twanged in pain and he withheld a groan as he looked back up. He tried reaching behind him but immediately his ribs took his breath away and that plan failed. Instead, he let go of the little bundle in his hand and found the loose layer on his chest, pulling it, the bundle unrolling beside him until he had it bunched in his hands.

It was frustratingly slow, but at least he was doing it, and gently he kept going, a little smug smile finding his lips. Cool air licked at his skin as he finally reached the last layer, his breath now short pants, arms aching. He was exhausted, and when he finally got all the bandages off he wanted to collapse back against the couch. His back ached, ribs sang, everything was hurting now really, and that wasn’t even the hardest part.

Villain ignored the thought that Civilian would already be halfway done now and reached forward for a new bandage. Once again he sucked in a sharp breath, stopping as his stomach twisted. He took in a longer breath, held it, reached forward slowly and wasn’t sure which felt worse.

He could hear Civilian in the kitchen and his jaw tightened. Were they just there to see whether or not he could actually do this? To listen to him struggle before laughing at him and intervening?

Villain snatched a bandage off the table and began unwrapping the plastic. He would prove them wrong, not that he needed to, he had nothing to prove. He was Villain, that was enough. But he would prove them wrong.

The darkness startled him, Civilian too as they swore, a pan clattering loudly to the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” they groaned.

A thick lump formed in  Villain’s throat and his heart ran like a rabbit across a field. He peered into the darkness, the void thick and pressing around him. Was it the heroes? Had they found them? Villain found himself unable to move, unable to think.

A light turned on next to him, Civilian’s face illuminated in the darkness as they placed a camping lamp on the table.

“You alright?” They asked.

“Fine,” he snapped.

They said nothing to that, pulled out another torch and turned it on.

“We aren’t being attacked,” they said and for some reason that made Villain relax. “I’m gonna go and see what’s going on though, will you be ok?”

Villain despised the genuine kindness in their voice.

“Of course I will,” he said.

Civilian once again did not say anything, only eyed him, before taking their torchlight back into the kitchen. He could hear them rummage through something, sounded like somewhere in the corner of the kitchen. And then, to Villain’s surprise, he heard the familiar unsheathing of metal, and not like a knife coming out of a knife block.

Nothing to worry about?

Villain tried to turn and see them. but between his body and the darkness he got nothing before they disappeared out of the apartment. The lump sat heavy in his throat, but he focussed on the bandages in his hand. He took the plastic off and threw it to the side, pulling out the end of the bandage.

He went to start, but then hesitated as a new problem arose. Unlike when it was already on him, Villain had nothing to help him pull the bandages around behind him, and his inability to reach behind his back had not changed.

But he was Villain and god damn it he could attend to his own wounds. With one hand Villain held the end of the bandage against him and with the other he moved it to the side of him, reaching as far as he could before blinding pain threatened him. Then, he threw the bundled bandage behind him. It bounced on the couch, rolled to the back and switching the hands holding the end, he picked it up. First layer complete. A stupid smirk took his face, and he imagined Civilian coming back, finding Villain with fresh new bandages and a drink in his hand, smirking like a glum idiot.

Villain brought the bandage around again, prepared himself for another throw, except this time the bandage did not roll to the back of the couch. Instead, it bounced off the couch, rolling mockingly away from him.

Villain glared at it, curses flying through his head as he tried to pull the bandage back towards him, only for it to continue unrolling itself. With no choice he continued until finally he hand a pile of unravelled bandage in his hands, and pent up frustration steaming inside of him. Wanting to get this done before Civilian returned, Villain continued the process, now dealing with an unruly pile rather than a contained roll, but with persistence and strained patience, he did it.

Victory blossomed in his chest and he pushed through the pain to look down at himself. The victory withered and died. It was an absolute mess. He had not thought to look out for twists in the bandage, and even without that they were much too loose to provide any benefit whatsoever.

Worst of all he had forgotten to change the pads underneath it all, too focussed on the wrap itself. The thought of unravelling it all, and repeating that whole process exhausted him even more, not to mention the pain he was already in from moving so much. Villain wanted to punch something, break it, strangle it, destroy something. But instead, he was stuck there, helpless.

And of course, the door opened. Perfect, of course they’re back.

“We’re definitely not being attacked,” they said, returning whatever they had taken from the kitchen. “But we’re not going to have power for a bit. Someone crashed into a power pole and took out the whole bloody thing.”

He listened to their footsteps approach, grit his teeth as their light met him. They looked to the bandage, back to him.

“Would you like some help?”

Villain said nothing but picked up the loose end that had already fallen out and held it out for them.

Civilian placed the torch on the table, its light shining onto the wall. They undid it all, removed the pads underneath and replaced them. Civilian didn’t say anything the entire time, neither did Villain. I took them not even a couple of minutes, and once done they stood, and picked up all the rubbish, taking it and their torch into the kitchen.

“Looks like we’re just going to have sandwiches for dinner. I have peanut butter, jam, cashew spread or vegemite, which would you prefer?”

“I don’t care,” Villain said. In all honestly he felt too exhausted to eat, but that’s exactly why he should eat.

Civilian didn’t respond and started moving about the kitchen. A few minutes later they came around the corner with two plates, a peanut butter sandwich for him and vegemite for them. Instead of taking it to their armchair, like he expected, Civilian placed the plate down on the coffee table and walked over to the TV cabinet across the room. They opened it, revealing a whole collection of board games and took out a deck of cards.

“Want to play?” They asked as they returned.

“Not particularly,” he said taking a bite of sandwich.

Wordlessly they sat down and began setting up a game of solitaire. Villain had played once before, like anyone had when it came with their computer back in the day. He remembered the vague rules, the timer. It had never interested him much back then, but watching Civilian play was a whole other experience. This wasn’t a casual game, nor a slow game. Villain watched as Civilian basically glanced at cards and immediately gave them a home, making suits faster then he had ever thought one could. It was skill, clearly, and he could tell they had done it a lot.

“I take it you don’t have many friends.”

They glanced at him. “How do you figure that?”

“No one gets that good at solo games if they have a lot of friends.”

“Well that’s stereotypical, maybe I just like Solitaire?” They said. “But you are right. People are complicated and difficult and I’d rather be working or doing things at home then suffer through that.”

Villain scoffed, leant back into the couch as carefully as he could. “So that’s why your bedside manner is so bad,” he said.

Civilian glared, “don’t start being an ass again, I’m not in the mood.”

But Villain was in the mood. “So what, you just don’t like people? You work all day, sleep all night and repeat it all the next day, doesn’t that get boring?”

Civilian said nothing.

“Have you ever even been to a party?”

“It’s not my scene.”

Villain scoffed, “of course its not. I bet you don’t drink either, you’re just the perfect little citizen who follows all the rules and doesn’t cause trouble.”

Civilian looked to him. “Except when I harbour wanted criminals,” they said.

Villain paused, that was a good point. The perfect little citizen would have had Villain arrested by now, if not left them for dead in the first place. And previously they had said they don’t even trust the heroes. They don’t trust heroes, but they take in injured villains…

“Whatever, your life is still boring.”

“Good thing you aren’t living it.”

Villain said nothing after that, just watched them play their boring game in the glow of the LED lamp. A lingering thought nudged at him, taunted him.

Boring, or peaceful?

~

Hope you folks enjoyed this. As always some parts I am unsure of so if you liked it let me know!

 Tags list:

@waddlethepenguin

@rivalriotrenegade

@pic-star01

@forest-theory

@urbigsockssmell

[hadesstan]

June of Doom Day 24

"I think I'm going to be sick"

| Bleeding out | Illness | Cold Sweat |

Cw: The tags above

...

Civilian had no idea what they were doing as they packed bandages into Supervillain's wound.

They had stayed home, in bed, all day because of their cold. They were drugged up on cough medicine and enough pain killers to down a horse, which was the only reason Civilian could justify what they were doing, kneeling on their kitchen floor, as Supervillain bled out in front of them.

They had stumbled in at the door, bleeding all over the carpet as Civilian was trying to make themself some soup, and Civilian had, for some reason, decided to help.

So there they were, on the floor, packing the wound with as much finesse as a twelve year old as Supervillain broke out into a cold sweat.

Civilian cursed, shaking Supervillain to try and wake them, but they only succeeded in causing a few bubbles of blood to foam out of the wound.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Civilian muttered, reapplying pressure to the wound.

"You're going to be fine," a voice said from behind them, and Civilian whipped around to be face to face with Villain. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us, Boss with want to talk with you when they wake up."

Civillian panicked, their breathing turning erratic before they promptly fainted, ending up on the floor beside Supervillain, equally unconscious, as Villain and Henchman bent down to retrieve them.

[thesakuragarnet]

Grand Gestures

Summary: After six months of dating, today is the day that Toya introduces Hawks as his boyfriend to his parents...at least...that's what today was supposed to be. (Another oneshot in my Civilian Social Worker Toya X Pro Hero Hawks AU timeline)

Tags: DabiHawks, Civilian Toya X Pro Hero Hawks, swearing, sickfic, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, vomiting, caretaking and cuddles

Word Count: 2,348 words

AO3 link

Maybe it was for the best…that’s at least the first place his mind went to. 

‘Thank God.’ 

That was his initial reaction when Toya Todoroki woke up feeling like he’d been run over by a bus and thrown in a blender for good measure. The flu had been going around the office, but Toya rarely got sick, so he hadn’t thought anything of it. Today was the day he was supposed to take his boyfriend to meet his parents. They’d been dating for six months, and Hawks hadn’t even mentioned it to the press. Initially, the thought of Endeavor finding out shook Toya to his core. His coworker dating his son…his male coworker dating his son. Moreover, the Number Two Hero dating a social worker…who took Quirk medication …how would that go over in the media? 

Toya shudders as he shuffles back into his bed, stomach growling from the sudden, unwarranted emptiness. His whole body aches, he feels like he’s on fire, and the nausea won’t subside no matter how many times he finds himself doubled over. It’s time to call Keigo. The white-haired man sighs as he grabs his phone off the nightstand and flips to speed dial, clicking on “Kei <3”. The phone rings once. 

“Morning!” Hawks’ chipper voice sings sweetly through the speaker, pulling at Toya’s heartstrings. 

“Hey…,” Toya rasps, his lips pulling into a disappointed frown. Keigo specifically requested today off of Hero Work for this, and now it was ruined. He’d been looking forward to seeing him. 

“Something wrong? The connection sounds kinda choppy,” Keigo remarks, and Toya sighs. 

“Yeah, we’re not gonna go to my parents’ place, today,” He sniffles, rubbing his temples. 

“Did something happen? I swear I haven’t told a soul, T,” The Pro drabbles, but he’s cut off when Toya starts sputtering into harsh coughs. 

“Are you sick?” 

“Flu,” Toya groans in reply. “Sorry, Kei. Enjoy your day off though. Do yourself a favor and don’t call back in. You work too hard. Love you. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“ Whoa , there. You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I’m gonna march my ass over there and take care of you. You sound like death,” Keigo demands, and Toya rolls his eyes. 

“No, no, no. I don’t wanna get you sick,” Toya insists, his voice cracking. 

“I’ve got the best HPSC docs loading me up with shit so that I have no sick days. I’ll be fine,” Keigo shrugs, and Toya’s brow furrows. 

“Takami, I can take care of myself. I’m fine ,” Toya growls despite the fact that he feels horrible . 

“I’m coming over. You shouldn’t have given me a key to your apartment if you didn’t want this to happen,” Hawks chuckles, and Toya can hear the sound of rustling papers. 

“What do you want from the store?”

“The store ?” 

“I’m gonna stop by on the way there. Now spill .”

Toya blinks. He’s never had someone take care of him before. When he was little, his Dad always told him to just “tough it out”...insisting it was good for him. This was totally new. He chews his bottom lip, lost in thought. 

“Just…uh…just get me…some Gatorade…and…y’know what, just Gatorade is fine. Just that,” Toya croaks before going into a coughing fit. His throat is all scratchy, and his eyes start to water. 

“And cough medicine, got it,” Keigo sneers, clicking his tongue. “Be there in a flash!”

…

…

Creeeak. 

Toya jolts awake to the sound of Keigo opening his bedroom door; he passed out shortly after the phone call. 

“Pro Hero Hawks to the rescue!” Hawks grins as he struts into the room with each arm loaded with grocery bags. “God, you look awful, babe.”

Toya rubs his eyes. His boyfriend ditched his Pro suit for a pair of gym shorts and a black compression T-shirt. 

“All I said was Gatorade,” He mumbles in surprise as Kei starts setting the bags down one by one at the foot of the bed. 

“Yeah, well. I took the liberty of treating you like a king, so…” Keigo trails off as he digs into the first bag. “First, we have…”

He pulls out two entire cases of blue Gatorade. 

“Gatorade!” Hawks gasps dramatically, turning the cases around as if they’re on display before setting them to the side. 

“Kei, I meant like two ,” Toya stammers, but the Pro completely ignores him, continuing to brandish each item like a host on a game show. 

“Cough medicine. Peppermint tea WITH honey. Tissue boxes. Mint Chip ice cream. Chicken soup. Popsicles. Not one but TWO kinds of cold and flu syrup. A new soft fuzzy blanket. Aaaand,” Keigo trails off before turning around, and a swarm of feathers suddenly darts through the open door before gently placing a vase full of white roses on the nightstand. “Just a little something.” 

“Wow,” Toya mutters, eyes widening, and his chest feels tight. Keigo was always the grandiose type, which is why he was concerned about something leaking to the press. After all this time, Toya still isn’t used to the grand gestures. It makes his heart twist in his chest with aching relief. It makes him wonder how Keigo could value him enough to do something like this…he doesn’t know how to respond. 

“Too much?” Keigo asks sheepishly, and Toya bites back a cough. 

“Ya think?” He sniffs before wincing at the pain pulsing throughout his body. Keigo’s smile fades, and he taps his foot as he stands at the edge of the bed. 

“What…what do you need me to do?” Keigo blurts, almost like he needs direct orders. Toya turns his head to look at the flowers and then back at Kei. He didn’t have to do all this. He could’ve easily just said “ok” when Toya told him not to worry and went about his day. Part of him enjoyed being alone when he didn’t feel well, but…now that he has Hawks…

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Toya repeats his words from earlier. 

“I don’t care if I get sick,” Keigo responds almost instantly. A few moments of silence pass between them, with the exception of Toya’s ragged breaths. He feels cold. Cold and achy and helpless. He hates feeling like this. He curls up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs as he tries to get comfortable. He doesn’t want to say it. It’s gonna sound so overwhelmingly pathetic. But…the thought continues to circulate the longer he looks at Keigo. 

“What do you want, T?” The Pro repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. If Toya wasn’t so pale, he’d be blushing from embarrassment. 

“I want…”

…

…

He hated that the idiot made him say it out loud, but that was all it took, and then Keigo was snuggled beside him in bed, acting as the big spoon. The red wings wrapped around Toya like a crimson shield. A safe haven where the outside world would never touch him. The moment the feathers brush his face, Toya silently lets a few tears fall from his eyelashes, and he’s grateful that Keigo can’t see his face. He feels so fucking physically awful, but, emotionally, he feels utterly at peace. Maybe it was okay that he didn’t close himself off this time. Maybe it was okay that he was receiving all of this attention. A chill runs down his spine, and Toya’s body shakes. Keigo whispers sweet nothings in his ear, gently pressing his lips to the nape of his neck and squeezing him marginally tighter. The sudden warmth on his skin is comforting...soothing...almost enough to make Toya forget everything. That is, until he's hit with a sudden wave of nausea. In a split second, he's shoving away from Keigo, scrambling to get out of the bed and almost tripping on the comforter as he darts into the bathroom. Keigo cringes when he hears him getting sick as he climbs out of bed to follow. Toya feels pathetic, his knees scraping the tile as he leans over with his head in the toilet. 

"Unghhhh...ffuck," Toya moans in discomfort before lurching once again. Keigo gently squats beside him, gently rubbing circles on his boyfriend's back in an attempt to provide comfort. 

"I'm right here. Just get it all out," Keigo huffs, squeezing Toya's shoulder with his other hand. Finally, Toya lifts his head, tears streaming down his face as he frantically spits and coughs, trying to get the nasty taste out of his mouth. 

"I don't fucking feel good," Toya wails, slumping to the side to lean against Keigo. The Pro immediately wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. 

"I know, baby, I know," Keigo murmurs as Toya whimpers into his neck. Toya feels utterly vulnerable and helpless, and it's turning him into a blubbering mess. A few feathers fly in and out of the room, whisking back a can of ginger ale with a straw and a dripping, cold rag. 

"Here," Keigo hushes, and Toya weakly takes the can, putting the straw between his lips as Keigo blots his forehead with the rag. Toya hums as he closes his eyes, slowly sipping as his wooziness fades. 

"Thank you," He croaks out as Hawks scoops him up into his arms. 

"No thanks needed. I love you," Keigo trills with a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry that you're feeling so shitty."

"You're helping me feel a lot less shitty," Toya smirks feebly, nuzzling into Keigo's chest. Keigo helps him get back into bed before pulling the soft blanket over him.

"I'm gonna cook you some of that soup to see if you can keep something down. Are you okay with that? I can leave the door open so you can call if you need me," Keigo offers, briskly kissing him on the cheek. Part of Toya melts at the fleeting contact, and he nods, still lost in the blissful reality that Keigo cares so much. He watches Keigo leave before reaching over and grabbing his phone. He still hasn't let his family know they aren't coming. He presses the number and lets the phone ring. 

"Toya? I was just about to call. Are you and your boyfriend still coming for lunch today?" Fuyumi's voice crackles through the speaker, and Toya sighs. 

"Raincheck. I'm puking my guts out," He mutters flatly, and he hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. 

"Oh no! Do you need me to get some stuff from the store? Are you gonna be okay?" 

Toya pauses, lifting his ear away from the phone as the smell of soup wafts into the room; he can faintly hear Keigo whistling a tune as he cooks. Toya runs a hair through his hair as he feels warmth blooming in his chest. 

"I think I'm gonna be just fine." 

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

The 24th One

TW: Blood, guns, attempted murder, fear, pain, stitches, painful wound cleaning, emotional breakdown, threats, slightly flirtatious drama queen villain, male whumpee

"Take it easy," a firm, but somehow saccharine voice called out from Civilian's living room.

Treading lightly and letting out an involuntary sharp gasp, her gaze flitted over to a figure mostly hidden by the shadows, like a charcoal drawing, the first rays of the sun peeking through the sheer, half-open curtain outlining his edges.

"Who are you?" she questioned, going back into her room to fetch a gun from the safe.

She tiptoed into the room, fingers tightening on the weapon as she flicked off the safety.

Civilian was met with a soft, amused chuckle. "I thought the spandex would be telling," the man she now identified as Villain replied, practically slouching in her armchair like he owned the place.

Her breathing went shallower, and her face paled. The all-too-happy figure in a dark, form-fitting suit with heavily mussed up light brown hair lounging around in her living room was one of the city's most dangerous criminals. And she was all alone with him and a gun she barely used. She wished to curse the fact that she'd chosen to live somewhere quiet, right on the outskirts, closer to her job. It didn't seem all too convenient now, did it?

"I'm gonna need you to put that down, love," the villain crooned, voice gentle and silky, but the hint of warning in it wasn't lost on her, much like a rose with thorns scattered across its stalk in a subtle manner, but still not invisible to the keen eye.

"And why should I do that?" she challenged, strengthening her death grip on the gun, defiance ablaze in her eyes. She wished she was as brave as she might have looked.

Except that didn't matter because the criminal seemed entirely amused with the situation, raising an eyebrow and letting out a soft laugh, greyish blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight with mirth. "Ah, as much as I admire the courage, I'm not in the mood for any games, so put the gun down and don't even think about calling the police. Not that it would save you anyway," he growled. The playfulness was still there in his demeanour, but he didn't make an effort to mask the threatening air of his tone.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking," he drawled lazily, pulling out a gun of his own and training it on Civilian's face.

"No," she stage-whispered, trying to ignore the nausea washing over her and the tightness in her chest. She mentally cursed herself for not shooting him the second she'd recognised him.

But killing people was not like the movies. It isn't something you walk away from, something a good night's sleep, if you could even afford such a luxury, would help you forget. Only truly terrible people, like the villain in her armchair, she presumed, could treat murder as a mundane part of their daily routine, like how one regards brushing their teeth.

But now, she didn't hold an inkling of power on the crime lord because while the civilian might hesitate, might back out completely, he wouldn't.

And besides, he had goddamn superpowers at his disposal; he could create wind. She would have to be extremely lucky to get a hit on him, and that was never something she was willing to gamble over when it came to her life.

She pried for any weaknesses, anything to use against the villain, but all she saw was a calm, almost relaxed person and a deadly weapon in his merciless grip.

"You know I really didn't want to do this. In all honesty, it's been a while since I've seen a girl this cute," he supplied, and if she didn’t know better, Civilian would've sworn he actually sounded disappointed, "but I don't like having to repeat myself," he concluded, a slight downturn of his lip being the only indication of any negative emotion he may have felt, with nothing behind those cold, steel-coloured eyes.

He rose up from the chair, and panic gripped the civilian. Both of them shot and missed, except the villain cried out, letting out a sharp gasp as he fell to the floor, holding onto the chair's leg like a lifeline. His gun was hurled across the room with a loud clattering noise, far away from his grip. A nasty laceration across his his abdomen spurted out blood.

She wondered how he'd gotten hurt if no bullets had hit him, and when the sunlight moved further into the room, she noticed that he'd popped some poorly executed stitches with his sudden movements. He tried to use his powers to pull his gun closer but to no avail. The pathetic, little breeze he'd created could barely move a leaf. Apparently, his injury had affected his power tremendously.

For a moment there, Villain looked terrified. Frantically groping around for his gun, looking two seconds away from howling out in agony as he moved as fast as his injured body could handle. There were bruises on his face, no doubt from a previous fight, and his eyes were wide as saucers, his breathing laboured. He was now at Civilian's mercy, and he knew it. This was his end, no way around it. For a man the heroes said claimed to 'dance with death', he seemed incredibly frightened of it. For the first time that night, he looked unbearably human.

She didn't understand why some sort of misguided empathy had led her to crouch down to his level and ask, "Can you walk?"

"What?" he choked out, snapping his head up sharply at her. And as though the fear from before had never been, he clenched his jaw, contracted the muscles in his face to pull it into something stone-hard and expressionless, trying his hardest to pull his form up into a semi-standing position, holding onto the coffee table with a white-knuckled grip. He tried again for his powers, but they failed him once more. Still, she could see the hint of wariness in his eyes as his gaze trailed over to her gun.

She got up and threw it aside. "Goddamn it," she snarled, drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling slowly. Well, if she died for being foolhardy, at least it would be a noble death. However, she'd made sure to keep both guns in her room. No more chances.

The villain's eyes widened again, not out of fear, but out of shock, clearly not being used to any displays of kindness. She walked over to him, letting him put his arm around her shoulders, struggling to shoulder his weight. He was incredibly tall, lean muscles outlined by his suit. The civilian finally managed to get him over to the couch. "I'm a med school student, final year," she supplied, and he let out an overly exaggerated sigh of relief.

She would've smirked, but she caught herself. Don't get too familiar. "Friendly reminder that I don't have any anaesthesia on hand right now."

He simply responded with a scoff, rolling his eyes at her.

"Alright tough guy, how would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?" she asked, looking for a needle, thread and some antiseptic.

"Seven," he answered coolly. It still surprised her how he managed to preserve his composure while wounded like this, no wincing or shivers. But she reminded herself again that he was not a normal person.

Civilian unzipped the suit down to his abdomen, and the villain gave her an unbearably cocky grin, somehow managing to do that with blood snaking down from the ugly laceration on his body.

"Don't flatter yourself," she scolded, and she didn't understand why she'd said that, as though they were old friends used to exchanges full of banter. The civilian wondered if she'd become so secluded and terribly lonely that human interaction with anyone seemed appealing to her.

"Don't flatter me yourself with those eyes, love- ahggg!" The velvety tone and the lazy, half-lidded gaze were swiftly replaced with a sharp hiss as the villain squeezed his eyes shut, contracting and relaxing his muscles rhythmically to distract himself from the agonising sensation of the alcohol seeping into his wound, leaving his skin feeling like it was on fire.

"Easy, it'll be over soon," Civilian soothed awkwardly, unable to conceal the pang of sympathy she felt for him right now.

"Don't coddle me," he snapped, clearly more concerned with his wounded ego above anything else. Even beneath the smug smiles and stoicism, he clearly loathed the vulnerability. He hadn't been afraid of dying, she realised; he was afraid of dying in such a humiliating state.

Tragically poetic how he had the words 'Pride is my sin' tattooed on his right arm in all capitals, dark ink and a stylish font.

The civilian got him through the stitches, years of intensive studying and practice overriding her nervousness, stopping her hands from shaking the way they desperately wished to. Villain barely shivered or flinched during the process, and while he raised a sceptical eyebrow at her when she offered him a glass of water and painkillers, he swallowed them readily.

She washed her hands and threw him an icepack for the swollen bruises.

"I'm going to get ready for bed, and you should be uh, fine here," she supplied, gesturing to the couch with one hand as she zipped up the criminal's suit with the other.

"I guess this means I owe you a favour," he stated bluntly, a thoughtful, enigmatic look in his steely eyes.

"What?"

"I'm a crime lord, but that doesn't mean I'm a complete bastard," he reasoned, "you didn't kill me even when you had the chance. It's only fair."

"Why would I need a favour from you of all people?" She raised an eyebrow at him, moving a strand of ash blonde, wavy hair away from her eyes.

"In this city, you'll never know when you might need a favour from a guy like me. Anyway, take care of yourself, love." He sounded genuinely concerned, and the civilian hated it, so she awkwardly nodded at him.

When she got into the shower, finally away from the villain, her emotions came crashing down on her shoulders like solid rock. Her brave face in front of the villain had been a facade. She was terrified, incredibly guilty, all of the worst outcomes tormenting her mind in flurries of terrible thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. There was no going back now.

Civilian may have preferred to stay awake after sunrise, but she was too exhausted. Or actually, she wished to escape her hellish thoughts, and this was the fastest and easiest way to free herself from her shackles.

We all dream of being kind, of offering help to those in need, yet in an imperfect world, acts of kindness come with an expensive price, one not everyone is willing to pay. This hour's enemy is the next hour's victim, today's proud and cruel are tomorrow's weak and defenceless. But the beautiful irony of life is that no matter how far one runs away from it, vulnerability is a destined fate, written in stone, an unavoidable risk. It is the one thing in a person's nature that marks a human being as such.

Almost forgot, tagging for comfort fics: @roblingoblin285

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[yanmuffins]

how are we feeling about a yandere! platonic! batfamily x neglected! vampire! reader with some heavy v*mpire t*e m*squer*de influece in honor of halloween season?? here's my cringefail concept that i might turn into a fic.

tw: neglect mention, non-con biting, non-con turning since reader isn't given a choice in being a vamp.

you're bruce's firstborn child who's lived in the manor for most of your life, with alfred being your primary caretaker and bruce not giving you much thought throughout your childhood - you're not fit to be robin (though he tried), you're not in the streets of gotham in danger or causing trouble - you're a well-behaved child who never gets in the way and never asks for too much. you understand when he breaks promises, when alfred shows up to special events in his stead because he's too busy with work, too busy being batman, too busy caring for troubled children who need his attention more than you do.

even as you see him make time for his other children, for his romantic affairs - even as the relationships you build with your siblings never goes beyond shallow small-talk and awkward silences, you understand. they have their own lives to worry about, their own issues, so many things they can bond over with each other but not with you. you're not a robin, you're not a vigilante, you're not athetically inclined and even as you do your best to be accomodating and warm, you can never get past their walls.

even when damian arrives and gets more familial bonding with bruce than you ever had, you lower your head and you walk away. you take his berating with a condescending smile and a disappointed sigh that makes him so irrationally angry, because he's a troubled child and he doesn't know any better.

you're ordinary, boring in comparison to them. you fade into the background with and without effort. you're just... easy to forget about. you don't require special care, or guidance, you don't go overboard trying to beat the living shit out of criminals like jason, you don't try to sneak out of the manor like damian. you don't disappoint. you don't impress. you're just... there. when bruce checks up on you, there's a signature smile you've perfected over the years you give him, telling him you're perfectly fine.

and you grow up. you grow distant. a bit of resentment, but you keep it locked deep within your heart. you are a student in gotham university, and you get intern for a big-shot from los angeles who just moved to gotham to expand their business. they shower you with praises and attention, taking you all sorts of places, introducing you to all sorts of people. because your father hid you from the public eye for most your life, the fact you're a wayne goes mostly unnoticed.

there's just one strange detail: it's a full-on night-shift. ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian. your family notices it, too: you don't dress like you used to, like you prefer to, there's a waver in your usually composed steps, bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep, an apparent mind-fog whenever someone asks you a question, a certain distance in your gaze. you sleep the days away, and the amount of times they've seen you entering and leaving less-than-ideal places (that one nightclub they have noticed suspicious activity on? just what are you doing there?) for a sheltered young adult to be during their patrols is starting to become concerning.

but you swear it's fine. it's all fine. you're fine. stop meddling.

and then there's the night - before any of the batsiblings start to really get a grip on what's going on with you, before bruce can give you a stern lecture on how you're exposing yourself to danger and how he's so disappointed and didn't expect this from you and force you to quit your job and just go back to how you were before - when that eccentric bigshot you're working for brings you to the VIP room at the nightclub, says you have potential, babbles on and on about how far you're gonna go, making you bubble inside with pride and happiness at finally being fawned over for a change.

and then they kill you.

draining you of all your blood, feeding you a bit of theirs before locking you up in a room where you'll be provided with proper refreshments to keep your hunger at bay until you've become a fully-embraced fledgling ready to learn the ins and outs of your new... unlife. you are a wayne, firstborn child of gotham's local billionaire, the camarilla's golden ticket to taking over gotham. they all expect much of you.

meanwhile, the text in alfred's phone says you'll be gone for a while. business trip to paris, your first ever, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity a rich girl with ample privilege and access to private jets couldn't possibly refuse. he doesn't believe it for a second, not even when you call to assure everything is just fine. he knows you're not, everyone knows you're not. there's a tracer in your phone and guess what, you're not in paris.

there is no comeuppance for your sire when the batfamily breaks you out of captivity, as they are long gone by the time the incident is ruled out as a bunch of goons targeting the wayne family for money (nevermind no ransom was ever requested). they'll come back for you, they swear, plans just got... delayed by this preposterous man wearing a bat-suit. until then, do as they taught you, keep yourself fed, don't break the masquerade.

but your newfound freedom lasts exactly a car ride to the wayne manor before you're prohibited from leaving the house for the foreseeable future. when the hunger comes, you can either tell them what happened or let yourself loose with a risk of hurting someone. when the sun shines through the windows and burns your skin, you won't be able to hide it anymore. the choice between your now overbearing family, still unsure how to help you, and the tutelage of your sire, being subjected to all the plans they have for you. the vampires are slowly crawling their way into gotham, and it's only a matter of time before batman becomes a problem.

you remember looking up at the bat signal shining in the dark skies of gotham city and feel a pang of relief in your chest, knowing it had nothing to do with you. now it just makes you feel anxious.

it's ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian.

[automeris-io-moth]

More? More please? Pretty please? I'm loving One to go so so much

One to go pt. 3

Part one; Part two

Supervillian held them tight against them, arms gentle, but firm as they kept them pined. Civilian trashed and cursed in their hold, trying to get themselves off the grasp, to keep running and get far, further away from the criminal’s base.

Cold air blew in their face, burning as if the sun was shining, the mountains ominous before them as they laid half in the ground half in the other’s chest, breathing harshly for their lungs ached with the rush and freeze around them.

Tired of their struggles, Civilian ceased after a couple more pulls, and a last, lazy, try to dislodge themselves from the other’s grasp. They looked up, half seeing the starry sky above them, greatly clearer, to their short-lived amazement, than the one in the city; and half Supervillian’s face, sharp eyes looking right back at them, a smile, not quite mocking yet very much entertained, shining right under. 

Unbothered, seemingly, was the other for the chase, no catching their breath, no sweat, no scrapes and no worry in their eyes, they had been certain the whole time, of the outcome, and Civilian felt like a fool thinking, without skill or knowledge of where they were, that they could outrun Supervillian, much less outsmart them, not in strategy to the one who had made professional Hero’s look like idiots in national television not even a month prior. 

How very stupid of them. 

Civilian hit the criminal leg three times, as a surrender, or so they expected them to understand, and tried, with an elbow on the rocky ground, to stand or at least sit straighter, attempts cut short once more by an arm tightening around their middle, aiding them a little further up yet still close against their chest. 

“Catch your breath first, there’s no need to rush,” Supervillian said over exaggerating their own breathing so the other could follow, and, after a moment, Civilian did, sinking in tiredness over the criminal “It was respectable attempt, you actually did almost tricked me into believing you were not preceding until tomorrow.” 

“It was stupid, I made a fool of myself!” they yelled “there was no way, I had no chance, I couldn’t have gotten away.” 

“Of course you couldn't have, of course,” Supervillian affirmed nonchalantly “but I must acknowledge a proper try when made, little I’ve seen of that lately, to be truthful, as my people I must highlight your triumphs.” 

“I’m not your people,” Civilian answered, face burning, for the coldness or the praise, they couldn’t yet tell, they weren’t used to being praised. 

“Yet.” 

***

The water was warm in the shower of the room, bathroom spacious, more lavish that what they had ever seen outside of Hero’s compound, certainly not thought for a prisoner, yet they were not stupid, Supervillian wanted them to lure them into their side. They had to wait just a bit more, Civilian was certain, their friend was coming to get them back. 

Supervillian left them a change of clothing on the sink, grateful they were that it had no logos or colours like the ones the employees wore outside the small apartment-like room they were being held in. 

Steam left the room with them, entering the main room, with the bed they had woken up in, and the blinking lights they’d failed to notice before, scattered around the room. 

A warm meal awaited them over the desk. 

Just trying to get in your good graces, they want you to work with them. 

Civilian drowsily laid in bed shortly after dinner, warm, clean and well-eaten. Academic life, heroic friendships and bills to pay allowed such luxuries in very scarce occasions, and if they could indulge in such for just a bit, perhaps taking the chance wouldn’t be so bad. 

The bed was soft, and big and…

Warm. 

It was very warm, not comfortably anymore.

It was too warm.

Was the fire on? 

Their eyes kept being closed, they couldn’t quite open them. 

The food was drugged again, the chimney was lit. 

What a stupid thing to think, they were trying to get in their good side, Supervillian wouldn’t, it made no sense. 

But then why were they short of breath, why was it so difficult to open their eyes and why were they so hot inside the room. 

Civilian cleared their throat a couple times, half their face pressed against the pillow, light on and over the covers.

“Supervillian,” they called barely above a whisper “Supervillain!” then screamed. 

 And after what felt like hours, the door opened. 

Someone said something, and the mattress dipped beside them. 

They could distinguish little of what the other person in the room said, but they could feel their hands gently handling them up. 

“Supervillian,” they called again. 

“Civilian, it’s me, I’m here,” the other voice in the room called, holding with callous hands their face with care “open your eyes, open them please, you’re panicking.” 

“Turn off the fire, please, turn it off,” Civilian muttered, breath quick and short, words scrambling without sense or structure “I won’t try it again, just turn it off.” 

“There’s no fire here,” they answered, slowly, understanding “but I can open the window if that would ease your worries.” 

A nod, multiple, harsh, bordering erratic. 

Supervillian didn't move, but the window did open, they could feel it in the cold air of the night. 

“If you let go for a little bit I can get us more comfortable.” 

Oh.

Civilian let go of the criminal, shaking still. 

Supervillian did as they told, laying across the bed with the other on top, this time, getting themselves comfortable close by, with their knuckles still turning white with their grip, and their head still spinning, yet, seemingly, more responsive than minutes prior. 

They drew circles on the other’s  back, slowly, aiming to ground them, to calm them just a bit before asking, even if the reason was clear and before them, even when they wished not to acknowledge it. 

Minutes ticked on the clock, and Civilian became heavier on them with every passing one. 

A light snore broke the silence. 

Or maybe, they could ask in the morning, Supervillian chuckled. 

The criminal slid their unwilling guest to the bed, brushing their hair away from their face and covering them up with the thick duvet, leaving the window open but closing the door behind them. 

Back in their office they fixed the camera’s of the room at the very front of the screen, for if anything else was needed through the night, they’d have loved to stay, but the heroes had already put an alert on Civilian, a hostage situation, for the moment, and they had still quite some things to do.

Part 4

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Masterlist

:))))))

<3

[gremlingottoosilly]

🎀𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕝𝕚𝕟'𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥🎀

Hi! I'm Gremlin, I write COD stuff and adore Konig. Mostly write on AO3, but some fics are posted here. I write yandere/perverted/dark stuff mostly, so please be advised. The tamest of my fics are dealing with perversion and romanticized possessive behavior, and the worst ones are straight up kidnapping and torturing. Ask me anything!! I don't deal with extreme degradation, humiliation, piss/scat, hurt/no comfort, but I am fine with dub-con/soft non-con, yandere, kidnapping, perverted behavior etc. I won't write for Nikto, Nikolay or Makarov. I also don't write anything related to the death of the major characters, angst and hurt/no comfort. Shoot me a DM!

My AO3 My ko-fi My TikTok(if needed)

𝒦𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔 𝓍 𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

【Ｏｎｅ　ｓｈｏｔｓ】 Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader) Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader) A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader 1295 kilometers (Konig x fem!Reader, a train ride) Also on AO3!

【Ｓｅｒｉｅｓ】

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi) Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (updated) Also on AO3!

If you need to be mean (husband!yandere!Konig x wife!fem!Reader) [Konig hates his new promotion. Being a colonel only makes him more miserable while forcing to constantly communicate with people below and above his rank. However, meeting a cute civilian on his latest deployment makes his life a bit sweeter.]

The Horror and The Wild (yan!Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Lovefool (yandere!kidnapper!Konig x fem!Reader) [Konig got himself a little trophy from the battlefield.]

Drinking song for socially anxious (monster!Konig x MonsterCaretaker!Reader) [People learned to live alongside monsters. Hybrids are better soldiers and warriors, but they have problems controlling themselves on the battlefield. This is where you came from, as the newest caretaker of a weirdly quiet percht hybrid who seems to never talk to anyone.

You are eager to take care of him, though.]

The Horror and the Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader) Fantasy/Medieval AU

[You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor.

Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.]

GHOST X READER Your Ride will be here shortly(poly!yan!141 x fem!Reader) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3