#team whump dynamics

[distracted-obsessions]

Living Weapon Whumpee having a bad day after one of the missions and finding the team they're assigned to sitting around and playing cards. Whumpee getting down on their knees next to one of the team members and hesitantly resting their head against the team member's thigh. Whumpee silently begging to be pet like a dog or at least just allowed to say here because they just haven't positive, non-painful human contact in years and they're just... cold.

Bonus points if they choose the member of the team that hates them the worst because that's the one they feel the biggest need to please.

[whump-in-the-closet]

A hero infiltrating supervillain’s base only to find a severely malnourished and miserable villain cleaning the floors.

They lock eyes and there’s a dead glint in villains gaze.

Hero is horrified. “I- I thought you were second in command.”

Villain slowly stands up, the chain on their ankles rattling. “I was. Until I let you go.”

A heartbeat of a pause. An almost apologetic look. “I can’t show you mercy again. Not now, not ever.” And then they call for Supervillain.

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#1)

Preventative Measures

so like. this is a thing. been toying with this little guy in my head for a few weeks and like, almost nothing is concrete but I'm hoping I'll turn it into a series.

content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, just like a LOT of manipulation, collars/collaring, referenced electrocution, low self esteem, subtle threats, guilt trips

I've never done this before, let me know if I missed something!!

masterlist | next

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Villain has finally been given a chance. A chance to prove he's more than what the whole city has always thought of him, more than what his father raised him to be. He wanted to do good in the world. The heroes were finally giving him a chance to be more than they've always thought of him. 

...or so he thought.

He gulps as he stares at the shock collar in Team Leaders hands. It's a small thing, sleek and unassuming. But he knows exactly what it is because Team Leader had shown him how it worked.  The man is currently speaking to him nonchalantly. Villain should really be listening to the hero that holds the key to a better life. But that collar... shakes Villain's faith in Team Leader. Just a little.

"Villain," the man says shortly. Impatiently. Shit.

Villain jumped to attention, nerves only growing worse. 

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just-just a little confused. I thought... I was a part of the team..." He tries to keep the heartbreak out of his voice. He doesn't quite succeed. 

"If you'd listen..." the Team Leader sighed deeply. Villain was going to throw up. 

Team Leader began again, speaking slowly as if to a child. Or a stupid person. Villain thinks he fell into the latter column. "I was just saying this will help you better mesh with the team. I'm sure you've noticed people are a little nervous with you around."

Hostile. Villain would use the word hostile.

"Given your past, everything you've done," the man drawled. Villain can't hold back a wince. 

"So, to ease their worries, and allow them to see how great I know you can be, this is just a little precautionary measure. A bit of a show."

Ryan swallowed thickly.

"So... It wouldn't be used..."

He tries to keep himself from thinking about electricity burning the sensitive skin of his throat as it shoots down his spine and into his skull to paralyze him. He's familiar enough with the feeling; he doesn't need to imagine it.

Team Leader gives him an easy smile. "As long as there are no issues, of course not."

"...Issues?"

"Oh, stuff that'll never happen. Just breaking any of the rules."

Villain arched his brow, slightly dubious. "Rules.”

"Yeah, like, follow orders, don't fraternize with any of your old contacts, don't leave our level, don't work unsupervised, don't harm the team. Stuff you've been doing this whole time."

"Wait, don't leave the level?

"I mean, that's pretty obvious, bud. If we can't see you, we can't know that you're following the rest of the rules."

He nods mutely, gaze wandering. this whole thing just. He didn't know. It hurt.

Team Leader gently tilted his head up. "Villain, I'm only doing this because I trust you. I know you'd never do anything that could jeopardize your place here."

He doesn't trust that Villain is a hero though, obviously. That he's good. Because Villain could never be good. Not now. Not after all he's done. 

No, he can only hope to do good. And the only way he'll be able to do that is with the team. If this is what it takes to ease his team into working with him, if this is what it takes for him to stay, then he'll do it.

"O-okay."

"Atta boy, Villain! I knew you could do it, man."

Villain nods, trying to give him a smile.

Team Leader moves towards him all too quickly, and he can't help the flinch. The man doesn't seem to notice—or at least he doesn't acknowledge it—and is soon once again gently tilting Villain's chin up from where it had fallen. 

Villain fights the urge to lean into the touch.

While he's distracted, Team Leader swiftly brings the collar, already disengaged and bent open at the hinges, and presses it to Villain's skin. 

Villain jolts at the cold metal and fights to swallow as it's closed around his neck.

The locking mechanism clicks right up against his spine. He can't help the shudder that trickles down his back at the finality of the sound.

"I'm so proud of you, bud," Team Leader says with a big smile and a ruffle of Villain's shaggy curls.

The tightness in his chest eases, just a little. A little part of him flares in anger at how easily he's comforted. He doesn't deserve the comfort.

But he's trying. The collar now fit snuggly around his neck, like it was made for him, is proof of that.

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

ps ex-villain whumpee on the hero team but whumped by the hero team is my all-time favorite trope and it is so hard to find I have finally hit the point of needing to produce my own story to scratch the itch

[macknus]

Febuwhump: Day Five

Prompt: Not Trusting Reality

Caretaker ran ahead of Team. They made sure Whumper wasn’t home before rushing in, the rest of the team clearing the house while Caretaker ran downstairs to the basement; to Whumpee.

They flicked on the light as they reached the bottom and gasped. Whumpee was chained to the back wall. Her arms were spread wide to her sides, shackled at the wrists while a thick metal band was wrapped around her throat. She was in scraps of clothing. Her bralette and what looked like boxer shorts.

She didn’t lift her head when the lights flickered. Fear grabbed Caretaker’s throat and forced their limbs forward, mumbling Whumpee’s name. “No, no, no. Whumpee, please… please don’t be dead.”

Caretaker grabbed her cheeks in his hands, lifting her heavy head. God she was so much skinnier than last time he saw her… what did— Whumper would pay for what he did to her. Caretaker would make sure he’d suffer.

Whumpee moaned. Caretaker’s heart fluttered in his chest and he gasped. “Whumpee, hey,” he said softly. “Whumpee it’s me. It’s Caretaker.”

Whumpee opened her eyes. For a moment she stared at him as if he were a ghost. Then recognition flashed across her eyes. “It’s me,” Caretaker continued. “I’m here with team. We’re here to rescue you.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened with fear. “No! No! NO! NO!” Whumpee screamed, thrashing in her restraints. “No! NO! NO! NO! I WAS GOOD! I WAS GOOD! PLEASE YOU PROMISED!”

Caretaker grabbed her, trying to still Whumpee’s jerking movements that looked painful. Whumpee’s head shot forward, neck straining as she gnashed her teeth at Caretaker going to bite him.

Caretaker recoiled. “Whumpee! It’s me! It’s real.”

“YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T MAKE ME SEE THEM ANYMORE, PLEASE WHUMPER! PLEASE!” She wailed like a banshee. “I was good! I was good. I have been so good. I obeyed. I followed the rules. Why?! Why! Why! WHY! WHY!”

“Whumpe—”

Rage contorted Whumpee’s red face. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” She roared. Then she started growling and snapped her head back against the concrete wall of the basement. Caretaker lurched forward, putting a hand between her head and the wall.

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” She didn’t stop trying to slam her head against the wall. She was acting like a wild animal, thrashing in the chains that held her firm.

“Caretaker?” Leader asked as he descended the steps. He paused when his eyes found Whumpee. Caretaker turned his pleading gaze to Leader.

“Help me! I don’t know what he did. She— she… she doesn’t think it’s real. That we’re… actually here.”

Whumpee slackened when she saw Leader. All of a sudden her fight left her and she went boneless in the chains. Leader stepped in cautiously, a warm smile on his face.

“Hey, Whumpee. You remember me?”

“I was good,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t. I was good. I’ll be good. I’ll be… I’ll be better I promise.”

“Whumpee, it’s Leader,” Caretaker said, but Whumpee trembled in her chains. Tears welled behind her eyes as she kept her head bent. Submissive.

“Please. I was good. I’ll be good, Whumper, please.”

Leader and Caretaker froze. “Whumper… please stop. I can’t see them. I can’t see Caretaker, please, I was good.”

Rogue barrelled down the steps. “Guys, what’s the hold up?”

She was walking towards Whumpee before Whumpee could cry out or protest. She lifted her hands to the chains and they burned a radioactive red, melting the chains that held Whumpee to the wall. First on her hands and then the one with the collar around her neck.

Rogue looked at Caretaker pointedly. “Well? Grab her and let’s go.”

Whumpee looked up with wide eyes. “W-what?” Her hands fell heavy to her sides, slapping against her thighs. She glanced at Leader. “What’re you doing? Stop it! You— you never made them free me.”

“Whumpee, I’m not Whumper,” Leader said, his voice thicker than before.

“Don’t— Stop them! No! Get off ME!” Whumpee screamed as Caretaker picked her up bridal style. She thrashed in his hold, but he held her firm as she squirmed.

“Stop! STOP! NO! WHUMPER I DON’T WANT THIS! I DON’T— I’M SORRY!” She screamed as Caretaker walked past Leader and took to the stairs.

Leader stood frozen, staring at the place Whumpee was. Whumper had… Whumper had made her think that Leader was… Leader was him? A hand on his shoulder startled him and he glanced up to see Rogue, her face impassive but he could sense her unease.

“We’ll get her back, Leader. We’ll undo what Whumper did to make her think that you… are a threat.”

“I…” Leader began, but words caught in his throat. What could he even say?

“Come on,” Rogue said, turning him and pushing him ahead of her to the stairs. “Everything will be fine. We have her now. She’s safe.”

Leader couldn’t stop the knot of dread tying itself in his gut. Whumper would… he tightened his hands into fists and took a deep breath.

No. First, get Whumpee better. Then… then they can get revenge.

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @whump-in-the-closet

[cpt-winters]

Framed or Betrayed (Teammate Whump/Angst)

Teammate let out a quiet grunt, squirming futile against the firm boot pressing into their back.

"You really think we wouldn't find out, huh?

Teammate's fists curled into the wet mud, eyes widened as they strained to catch a glimpse of their attacker.

"..L-Leader?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Leader snapped as he stooped down, rainwater trickling down his pistol to pool on Teammate's cheek. "You know what you did."

Teammate's mouth opened, heart thudding against the ground as words struggled to form. "I- Wh.. What?"

"You sold us out! How.." Leader swallowed. "I never thought- you..."

Teammate's breath hitched, eyes blown wide as they couldn't quite turn to face him, cheek still half-squashed into the dirt. "I didn't- I- I would never."

They gritted their teeth, nothing but the pitter of rain hitting the soil to fill the brief silence that passed.

"Liar."

[bleedingintogold]

The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

[solar-eclippse]

One trope I really enjoy is "forced family". A group of misfits thrown into the same space or situation, expected to bond and have each other's backs, without knowing a single thing about the people around them, and completely unable to change their circumstances.

Starts out awkward - it's no fun if they click right away, but they learn to work together. Maybe they do find a close bond later down the line, maybe familiarity breeds resentment and they end up wanting to kill each other, or maybe they're still awkward, unsure of what to do, when they finally part ways.

[caledine]

Leader’s birthday

( Prompt: Forgotten birthday)

It started with bubbling glee. Leader blinked his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling. His birthday— in fact his first one with the team since he was on mission during his last one. Today however was different. The team was all home and Leader had been bouncing with excitement for days to spend it love-dazed on their day off.

He tried not to smile, still wrapped in his duvet and sat up. Childish delight overflowed him at the seams drowning his usual calm demeanor. He sat up glancing at the clock. 8:00 am? God he’d slept in and no one had woken him. Must be his birthday treat! He stood up and started getting dressed in his favourite blue sweater as he watched raindrops shiver down the window.

He stared at himself in the mirror a moment trying to look his best and sighed at the dark eye bags that stared back. Today would be a well deserved day off.

He left his room and skipped steps down the stairs. He entered the kitchen where the team usually hovered for breakfast. Empty. He opened a cabinet or two which followed suit. Empty. He swore he’d bought a new packet of his cereal yesterday— no biggie, he shook his head, he wouldn’t let this ruin his big day. He glanced at the calendar where his squiggly handwriting announced his birthday with little doodled balloons.

He poked his head in the living room where a couple members of the team sat watching a nature documentary in their pyjamas and finishing paperwork. A grin immediately plastered his face and he marched in trying not to bounce on the spot. “ Leader, you're blocking the tv. You were out of bed late— best not slack off on the armory reports now.” Second scoffed, tugging him down onto the floor and pushing a stack of papers into his hands. His eyes didn’t move from the TV paying no attention to Leader's confused state. He instinctively gripped the papers but his eyebrows furrowed. He bit his lip, wide eyed at the rest of the team who seemed absorbed in themselves.

Does he dare mention it? No— no that would make him seem self centric and that he expected them to dote over him…Is that what he wanted? No, not really, maybe an acknowledgment. The excitement that buzzed inside of him earlier that morning evaporated (he thinks his breath joined it). He blinked around again and sucked in a shallow breath. Not an ounce of attention was sent his way and he wasn’t usually an attention seeker but maybe he really wanted a little today. He always seemed to blend into the background and just be ‘the admin guy’ or the one who organised everything. His grip tightened on the papers. Maybe it was a surprise party waiting to happen? A little hope resurfaced and he turned to Medic who was sitting on the couch.

He looked up at her gently with his fluffed hair and favourite sweater, she was normally the nice one and maybe she’d say he looked nice today. He just wanted a little bit of care; he swore he wouldn’t be selfish. Just a little and he’d convince himself he was allowed because everyone else got celebrated on their birthdays and had cake and cards and parties and… He blinked at her, full of diminishing hope. Her eyes flitted to him and his heart sparked under her gaze. “ Leader, stop staring at me and finish your work. Jesus christ you’ve done nothing since you arrived.” Her eyes narrowed and she placed a heavy hand pushing his head back down towards the papers. He gasped quietly. They forgot? or maybe they didn’t care. Well he couldn’t make them care. He hesitated picking up his pen and flipped open the first form.

Maybe today wasn’t his big day. He wasn’t to have presents or cake. He wasn’t meant to deserve a card or even a wish. He hadn’t been good enough this year— but next year he swore he’d do more and work harder and earn his celebration just like everyone’s earned their own.

He sighed, blowing imaginary candles and made his little wish. Next year he’d make it their worthwhile.

Part 2

[befuddled-calico-whump]

me when there's two questionable guys who do terrible things and have an intensely fucked up relationship

[chaotic-orphan]

Defiant Leader x Confident Villain (6)

Read part one here! //Continued from here

TW: VERY INTIMATE CREEPY WHUMPER WHO DOESN’T RESPECT BOUNDARIES, WHUMPER WHO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND NO, boundary pushing whumper, close proximity whumper, whumper making whumpee uncomfortable, borderline SA? Kind of? Idk how to tag it, just kind of borderline implied douchebag but i think it can be triggering for people so beware

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Leader?” Villain asked, lunging forward and grabbing Leader’s face in their hands. “Hey, hey. Leader?”

There wasn’t anything except panic racing through their mind as Villain’s fingers trailed down to Leader’s neck, pressing in gently on his pulse. Only then did they relax, tension leaving their shoulders and calves as they pushed back on their heels and just stared at Leader.

“You scared me, you dick,” Villain muttered to nobody. Leader must have passed out from the pain. Doctor did warn them that that could happen when she was training them. Maybe it was a good thing Leader was passed out while his bones fused themselves together again.

Villain ran a hand through their hair, blowing a breath through their lips as they began to pack up their bag. They unclipped the used needle head and put it in the bag of disposables. Supervillain wouldn’t notice one more used anyways, the bag was half full.

No, their rational voice drawled, sarcasm thick. Supervillain wouldn’t notice something so minute at seeing Leader’s healed hand that he took the effort to break. He’ll never notice.

Villain ignored it as they stood, bag in hand. It would be fine. They’d burn that bridge when they came to it.

Villain cranked the metal door open and froze. Supervillain’s sharp eyes met theirs. Villain, the usually calm and cool, collected Villain froze like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Their skulduggery was even childish, quickly hiding the bag behind their back as if Supervillain hadn’t just seen it in their hands.

“Villain,” Supervillain said with a winning smile. Supervillain held a hand up to the person he was talking to, muttering something Villain couldn’t hear before he started walking towards Villain. “So funny, I was just looking for you.”

“Oh, really?” Villain asked, their voice coming out higher than they would’ve liked so they cleared it and pitched it down. “Well, I was just doing my rounds, sir.”

“Were you? So vigilant. How about I inspect it? Like the old days?”

The lie died on their lips at Supervillain’s pointed look. The look that didn’t accept No for an answer. Villain swallowed and inclined their head.

“Of course, sir,” they said pushing the door to Leader’s room back open. Supervillain stepped in and told Villain to shut the door again. Villain didn’t hesitate, though their arms felt heavy as they cranked the door shut again until it sealed properly.

Villain turned to face Supervillain. Even he was dwarfed by the size of the room. It was a bunker from World War II, Supervillain told them when he first showed Villain around. It stored plane parts and guns, ammunition. It was a giant concrete void of space, that Supervillain had repurposed to be his interrogation room.

Villain was far less flashy. The more claustrophobic the better for his victims, though… Leader was able to find the flaw in that approach.

“Hmm,” Supervillain said, drawing Villain’s eyes to his face. “Would you look at that, Villain. Leader’s hand is miraculously healed.”

Villain stepped forward. It was better to admit their guilt now then draw it out and incur Supervillain’s wrath twice.

“I can explain.”

“Can you? I’d love to hear it.”

Villain swallowed and paused, searching for the words because what the fuck were they supposed to say? Villain was Supervillain’s second best interrogator, his best torturer and here they were floundering for words to defend healing Leader’s hand. Their enemy. Supervillain’s prisoner.

Supervillain tilted his head. “No? Do you want me to explain?”

“No, Supervillain… I— listen, I—”

“No, no, no, no,” Supervillain said, wagging a finger at Villain. Only gently scolding them. “I have an even better idea. How about we ask Leader what happened?”

Villain’s eyes shot to Leader, still slumped in his seat and back to Supervillain again. “He’s passed out.”

“I can rectify that,” Supervillain said sweetly. Villain shook their head, holding their hands up placatingly.

“Wait, wait, wait — Supervillain, please. I can—”

“Explain. Please,” Supervillain said, bending to pick up the hammer. His kind, pleasant smile still on his face as he swung the hammer between his fingers. “While I still have some semblance of patience.”

Villain gathered their composure, stuttering wouldn’t help them pacify Supervillain. Villain forced their body to relax before speaking. “You broke every bone in his hand,” Villain said. “The risk of infection was high and then you’d get nothing out of him.”

“And what do I want to get out of him?”

Villain shifted their stance. “He knows exactly who hired him from the commission. He knows who is gunning for you, personally. Shouldn’t we at least try to extract that information before we ki—”

Villain choked on the word. Desperate eyes realising their mistake flashed to Supervillain, searching for sympathy.

“And we can’t extract that information from someone with a broken hand, can we, Villain?” Supervillain asker, sarcasm coating every word. “You’re the expert after all. My expert.”

Supervillain walked around Leader’s chair towards Villain, hammer still in hand. Villain swallowed hard, forcing themselves to remain upright. Not to falter or show weakness. They had no reason to be afraid of Supervillain. Supervillain was their friend. Supervillain trusted them.

Now if they could just assure their heart of that fact maybe it would stop jack-rabbiting in their chest. Supervillain stopped in front of Villain, staring down at them. Villain couldn’t quite meet their gaze so instead they stared at his shoulder. Supervillain swung the hammer between their fingers, but Villain didn’t flinch. Then the metal head of the hammer was under their chin, forcing their head up to meet Supervillain’s icy eyes.

Every muscle in their thighs tensed and released, getting ready to run which was ridiculous because why would they run from Supervillain? If their body could just catch up to their brain that would help them a bunch in this moment.

“I want you to grab the medic bag and bring it back to the medbay,” Supervillain told them. The tension almost melted from their body at his words. See? There was nothing to worry about! Villain nodded, though it wasn’t very effective with the hammer under their chin.

“Of course, sir.” Villain said, moving to grab the bag. The hammer stopped them, this time lightly on their cheek, turning their attention back to Supervillain. Something else hid behind Supervillain’s eyes now, like glittering amusement.

“I’m not finished. When you return the bag, I want you to grab the other for me.”

Villain’s brows drew down over their eyes. “The other bag, sir?”

“Yes,” Supervillain said with a grin. His eyes seemed to glisten with malice, drawing Villain further and further into their crystal blue depths. “Your toolkit.”

Villain stiffened. Supervillain’s smile cut into his face.

“And bring it back here, hmm? I think you’re right, Vil. I think we need to get information from him. Leader seems like a tough nut to crack, but, well, I don’t have to tell you that. You probably know all the things that make him tick. Where to poke and prod, and slice.”

Villain’s hands started shaking at their sides, which they quickly balled, trying to hide the tremble from Supervillain. The reluctance. Fuck. Fuck!

Supervillain wanted Villain to torture Leader… that is not what he meant when he said interrogate him! Villain was just trying to come up with a way that would leave Leader still breathing.

Because you care for him, a nasty voice said in the back of Villain’s head. Even after everything, you still care for him, and Supervillain knows.

This is a test.

Villain nodded again. “I couldn’t agree more, sir. Leader would never turn on his team without incentive.”

Supervillain hummed his approval, dropping the hammer from Villain’s cheek. “My, my Villain. You’re going after the whole team now. I didn’t know you could be so vicious.”

Villain inclined their head, a coy smile on their lips that made themself sick. “Of course you did, sir. It’s one of the reasons you keep me around.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Supervillain’s smile was pleasant. His words held a very thinly veiled threat. We’ll see if you stay around after torturing Leader. “Don’t be long! I can’t wait to see this.”

Villain didn’t trust their voice so they nodded. It seemed satisfactory enough. Villain grabbed the bag and walked to the door, cranking it open and stepping out. They froze as the door closed behind them, for just a second. They had to do this. They had to do this. They had to torture Leader, or else they would both end up on Supervillain’s to-be-killed list.

Villain didn’t want to end up in a cell next to Leader. Not with how hard they worked to climb the ranks of Supervillain’s organisation. Not to mention some of the enemies Villain had made here who would just love to see them taken down a peg. Reduced to nothing, another prisoner for them to torture. No, Villain refused to put themself in that position. Not even Leader would get in their way of that.

They took their time bringing the bag back to the medbay, grateful that it was on the other side of the bunker, closer to the entrance. It made sense if anyone got injured in the field, but… it was also closer to Villain’s room. Or rather, their workshop, as Supervillain called it.

Villain’s footsteps seemed to echo down the halls, bouncing off the walls and back to their ears, as loud as gunshots. They shouldn’t have tried to help Leader in the first place! What kind of idiot were they? Healing a prisoner? One that Supervillain had personally seen to! They let their emotions get in the way once, they were not about to make the same mistake twice.

Villain opened the door to their workshop. It was a glorified shed of a room with all different torture devices hung perfectly on the wall. Everything was even from the hooks to the actual tools; sorted in groups that made sense to Villain, whips and blunt objects on one side, knives in a group of their own, and miscellaneous others, like tasers and pliers on the other.

Villain glared at the objects now, bending and grabbing his leather bag from under the metal table. Their mutinous brain was working against them, cataloging all the different things that would make Leader break. The knives were Villain’s favourite, but they doubted Leader would break under that kind of pain. It stung, but only for a little while. Still… It was Villain’s specialty and Supervillain would raise his brows if Villain came back without any.

Villain packed a few, and their nasty whip that left their victims screaming and sobbing in their restraints, begging for mercy.

Villain froze as a horrible thought crossed their mind. Leader would turn into one of their victims now. One of their actual victims. Villain was going to have to make Leader beg and plead and cry and scream— they screwed their eyes shut trying to scrub the image from their mind.

It would soon be undeniably in front of them as they caused the damage anyways. They just needed to retreat to that unemotional recess in their brain. Turn on survival mode, just do what they needed to do and hate themselves later for it.

It would be easy, they told themselves. Maybe if they told themselves that enough, they might actually start to believe it. Well… they could live in hope.

“Knock, knock,” Villain straightened, their back going rigid at the voice. “Hey Vil, I saw you sneak into your friend’s room earlier. Are you bringing them something to keep them entertained while they visit?”

Villain turned, not bothering to hide the look of revulsion that appeared on their face whenever they saw Rival. Rival was the definition of a piece of shit personified. He was tall, a creep that made Villain’s skin crawl, and handsome which automatically gave him a licence to be the world’s leading expert on how to not respect people’s boundaries. Rival thought everyone was in love with him, and could give a masterclass on: how to be a bastard while sucking up to your superiors.

“Yeah. Do you want to come? I can beat the shit out of you while they watch, that should keep them entertained.”

Rival smiled his horrible, handsome smile. He had to bend slightly to step through the door into Villain’s workshop. Villain glared at him as he walked over to the wall of knives and took one between his fingers.

“Oh, how I’d love to come and watch…” Rival said, shooting Villain a sideways glance. “You know how much I love to watch you work.”

Villain’s nose scrunched up in distaste. “You ratted me out to Supervillain.”

“Ratted you out? No. Never,” Rival said, turning his body to Villain’s and stepped closer. Rival pressed the flat of the blade under Villain’s chin, tilting their head up to look him in the eye. He had chocolate brown eyes that reminded Villain a little of Medic’s, but where Medic’s were cold and logical, Rival’s were a sickening kind of warm. “Supervillain just asked about your whereabouts and I told him the last place I saw you was in the medbay.”

Villain’s glare turned cutting. “Oh don’t look at me like that, Vil,” Rival said with a pout. “We’re on the same team here.”

Rival stepped impossibly closer, forcing Villain’s head up at an uncomfortable angle. “Why is it you can get along with everyone else but me, hmm?”

Villain’s arm twitched up but they stopped when they felt the blade knick their throat. Rival’s eyes got brighter as Villain felt a bead of blood surface.

“Maybe because not everyone here is a creep like you.”

Rival smirked down at Villain. “It’s just the two of us here, Vil,” Rival said with a honeyed voice, dragging the blade up, tracing the outline of Villain’s skull with the tip of the dagger. Rival’s hand replaced the blade at Villain’s throat, tightening when Villain tried to step away. “You like all the attention I give you. Admit it.”

Villain swallowed, feeling the weight of Rival’s hand like a collar as they did.

“Supervillain’s expecting me,” is all Villain replied, expression blank. The corner of Rival’s lips twitched up, but he let Villain go. Villain went back to packing their bag, as if Rival wasn’t there.

Villain was glad of the distraction, ignoring the slight tremble in their hands that usually followed an interaction with Rival. They walked over to the chemical cabinet. The drugs that drove Supervillain’s prisoners mad, that heightened all sensation and set nerves alight in agony.

Supervillain was more sadistic than Villain. He liked when people screamed and cried, and writhed in pain. Even when Villain told him it wasn’t necessary to get information. Especially traitors. He liked to sit in and watch them in their lowest moments, screaming and begging for help, for a mercy that Supervillain would never give.

Rival’s eyes never left Villain as they moved about, packing the last of the things they needed in their bag. They grabbed the handles of their bag in one hand, about to zip it up when Rival’s hand slid over Villain’s and stopped them.

“Take this one too, Vil,” Rival said, depositing the knife he used to knick Villain’s throat into the bag. Villain shivered as Rival brushed the small cut on their throat, ignoring his hungry gaze. “Trust me when I say it’s work is delightful.”

Villain didn’t say anything in return. They zipped up the bag and turned away from Rival, only focused on getting away from the monster beside them. Once they stepped out of the corridor of their workshop, Villain put their hand over their mouth and sucked in a startled breath, tears pricking the backs of their eyes. They wanted to be sick, but Supervillain…

Supervillain was… Supervillain was expecting them. They took the moment to gather themselves before straightening again and walking purposefully towards Leader’s cell.

Villain held their head high. They could compartmentalise that encounter until later. Right now they had to be Supervillain’s Villain. Supervillain’s protégé, his in house torture expert and interrogator. They had no time to be regular Villain.

Hell… Villain hadn’t seen that vulnerable side to themselves in a while. Maybe Leader did make them weak. Maybe they would have never reached their potential if they had stayed with Leader… and Medic and Rogue…

They steeled their heart once they turned down the hall of Leader’s cell. Reminiscing wouldn’t help them with what was to come. In fact, it would most likely hurt them and prevent them from doing what they had to do. What needed to be done. Their loyalty to Leader was dead and they had to prove it.

Villain wasn’t an idiot, this was a test. To see when it came down to it, who was Villain really? The pathetic nobody that Leader remembered or a valued member of Supervillain’s organisation?

Not only that, but which one served them better at this moment in time? This was the last thing that Villain wanted to do today, but whatever God that was watching them was a sadistic freak that liked to see Villain suffer. Maybe they deserved Rival’s attention, maybe it was their karma for what they were about to do.

Villain took a breath and opened the door then disappeared inside, the metal cranking closed behind them.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

A.N — Sorry it’s short, and also a cliffhanger, it would have been too long if I continued it but next part soon!!! Thank you for reading :)

Orphanage roll-call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @nameless-beanie @aarika-merrill @criohfreeze @bandnbookbag @gala1981 1 @theonewithallthefixations @libellule888 @cardboardarsonist @shywhumpauthor r r @written-by-jayy @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @icarusignite @shirtzip @honeyed-euphrates @shameless-dumbass s @dutifullykrispyland @starlight-hope @thatlittlefirestarter @iskrapolumianka @withercat22 @elizaisnotokay @jumpywhumpywriter

[distracted-obsessions]

Hybrid Whumpee wearing a shock collar that all members of the team have a remote to so any of them can shock Whumpee at any time

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1342

Submitted by @red-river-potato01 - thanks!

Character A is the black sheep of the team and isn't very well-liked by most of the others. Because of this they often lash out at the others since all they ever get is negative feedback. When the rookie Character B joins, A assumes they'll be like the others, especially when the team warns B about them. Yet to their surprise, B ignores all that and is nice to A. A isn't sure what to think, but they soon become very protective of B, enough so that they put themselves in harm's way for them...

[fleur-a-whump]

Overloaded (#2)

late night sparks

guys guess what!! little villain guy has a name!! it’s Jasper and we love him dearly. also team leader’s got a name too, it’s Miguel, but we don’t really care about him because he’s a bitch. plus new character reveal: Chase, a teammate. he is also, unsurprisingly, a bitch.

Content: ex-villain whumpee, hero/leader whumper, manipulative whumper, collars, electrocution (for realsies this time), implied referenced abuse of a minor, referenced bullying, bad team dynamics, adult language

in which Miguel gets worse. takes place probably a few months after "preventative measures"

previous | masterlist | next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jasper's back was sore. And his arms. And his everything.

He sat kneeling on the kitchen floor, determinately ignoring the pins and needles that pricked at his calves. He couldn't stop, couldn't take a break till the floor was spotless. Chase had once again threatened some mixture of violence and telling on him to Miguel for insubordination if he didn't do the man's chores. 

Big man-child, Jasper thought bitterly.

So, here he was, scrubbing well past midnight, after having spent the day straining his powers in the lab and doing his own chores. 

Jasper sat back to indulge a long, dramatic yawn. He nearly jumps out of his skin when an impatient ahem cuts through the previously dead silent kitchen. His bleary eyes take several long moments to focus on Miguel, leaning against the doorway. The hero would look casual if it weren’t for the peeved look on his face. Jasper’s stomach does a somersault.

Sheepish, Jasper drawls, “Heyyy, Miguel…”

Miguel is not amused. “What the fuck are you doing out here,” he snaps.

Jasper squeezes his hands into fists to quell the tremors. He stutters, “J-just cleaning.”

The villain can hardly finish the statement before the unsettling and painful electricity of the collar arcs through him. His muscles seize and ache and burn and it feels like death and he can't breathe—

Just as quickly as it began, the electricity stops. He gasps and collapses to the side, just barely able to catch himself on his forearm. Small, choked-off whimpers escape him as he tries to catch his breath and keep his volume to a minimum. His father never liked to hear him whine.

Jasper continues to shudder as his powers go haywire. The typically comforting restless skittering of his own electricity under his skin now burns as it travels across the newly fried neurons. More than that, it feels wrong for such a core part of his being to cause him pain. The feeling is everywhere, from the tip of his nose to his toes, and it is everything. Little sparks and crackles of energy fly from his shaking hands as it becomes too painful to completely contain his powers. Simply existing—not to mention actually using his powers—will be painful while his body tries to recover from the unnaturally strong current, engineered just for him.

As his body gradually backs down from its state of panic, ire at the punishment surges within him. The hero didn’t even let him explain. It was Chase who ordered him to do his chores; ordered him to not leave this room until it was spotless.

“I was just following orders!” he bursts.

Oh shit.

A quick glance at Miguel and his quirked eyebrow lets him know just how badly he just fucked up. And even if it didn't, the second burst of electricity from the collar definitely spells it out for him.

A guttural groan escapes his clenched teeth as he feels the current worm its way through his neurons, igniting them. The burning, all-encompassing pain is all he knows. Spots cloud his vision. Seconds feel like minutes, feel like hours, feel like eternity, until he wonders if that's all he'll ever feel. Nothing but the gut-wrenching pain of his greatest gift, so deeply intertwined with his being, turned against him and ripping him apart from the inside out. 

And then, it stops.

Jasper’s body fully gives out this time, his chin bouncing off the tile and teeth clacking painfully. He's a pitiful mess of useless limbs. His muscles feel like jelly and yet are still forced to endure the waves of aftershock, twitching and spasming irregularly. Each movement is agony.

He gulps oxygen, having still been out of breath from the first shock. He can hardly hear his own moans and whimpers bouncing around the kitchen with each breath over the ringing in his ears, and he has zero energy to control them this time.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he can't help the delayed but violent flinch that ripples through him. But the hand is soft, gentle, as it pulls him to lie on his back. It guides his hand to rest on someone's chest, to follow as it rises and falls rhythmically. He latches onto it, using it as a guide to breathe and bring himself back to reality. Another hand gently cards through his loose curls as he works to steady his breathing and his vision clears. If he eagerly leans into the gentle touch, well, he can blame it on his delirious state.

When Miguel's face finally comes into focus above him, a shiver runs through him, and he averts his gaze. He'll blame that on his still-spasming muscles.

Miguel’s soft voice calls for his attention again. He focuses back on his leader’s face, haloed above him by the bright kitchen lights.

“There you are. You're alright, it's okay,” he soothes.

The hero lets Jasper relish the contact a moment longer before gently returning his hand to his own chest.

Jasper swallows the whimper at the loss.

Miguel lets out a long-suffering sigh. It gives Jasper whiplash how suddenly the familiar weight of anxiety settles back in his chest.

“I don't like doing that, man. You know better than to be in the common areas after your curfew, and you definitely know better than to talk back, bud. I don't wanna have to punish you, but the rules are rules for a reason. Yeah, they're to protect the team, but they're also to protect you. What if you'd had another episode with your powers?”

He decidedly doesn’t think about the ‘episodes’ Miguel is referring to. Still, the disappointment in his savior's voice hurt almost as much as the electricity. His eyes flood with tears as guilt settles like a rock in his stomach. The hero was right. He knew the rules, and he agreed to them. Anything to stay. Anything to be good.

His voice breaks, small and shaky, as he says, “I-I'm really s-sorry, Mig-guel.”

The villain’s not one hundred percent sure what exactly he's sorry for, but, fuck, is he sorry.

“Okay, that's alright, don't cry. I think you've learned your lesson. You're fine.” 

The words should be comforting. The edge to his tone, however, is not. Jasper blinks hard to clear the tears, not wanting to annoy him. That was another thing his father didn't like.

Miguel brings him back to the present, asking, “Why are you cleaning the floor anyways? That's not on your list for this week.”

Jasper swallows hard past the lump still in his throat. He’s afraid of what Chase will do to him if he tells Miguel and Miguel decides he doesn’t like that. However, he’s more “Chase s-said I should be busy all the t-time to k-keep me out of trouble…”

Miguel hums in thought, ever casual as Jasper trembles on the floor below of him. 

“I actually like that idea. We wouldn't want you getting bored. You'd be helping the team out a lot too, taking some work off our plates so we can train more. I'll work on the new chore schedule in the morning.”

Jasper bit his lip. He could read between the lines.

“A-and, my training?”

“We can reduce it some,” Miguel says, thoughtful. “I know you've been struggling to keep up.”

He makes it sound like a kindness, voice full of sympathy. No matter how gentle the tone, Jasper has to blink the tears from his eyes again. He knew he wasn't the strongest or the most capable, but that was the point of training. He'd never be good enough to redeem himself without the chance to train.

Miguel sighs again and stands. He suddenly reaches towards him. Jasper has to carefully control the urge to flinch, not knowing what to expect from the movement. He never knows what to expect.

Miguel simply holds it out towards him, however, expectantly. It takes Jasper a moment to realize he's trying to help him up. He takes the hand after that moment's hesitation and wavers on unsteady feet as the blood finally rushes back into his legs. He blinks spots from his vision, gripping Miguel for dear life until he's sure he's not going to pass out.

The hero gives him an easy smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder just a bit too hard. He nudges him in the direction of the bedrooms.

“You look tired, man. I think it's time for bed,” he all but coos.

It sounds like a caring gesture, or at the very least a joke. Jasper knows it's an order.

He dutifully mumbles, “Goodnight,” before making his way to the door slowly. He knows he probably looks like a newborn fawn as his jittery body tries to carry him to his bed.

“And Jasper?”

A slight jolt of anxiety stops him as he turns back to his leader.

“If I catch you out past curfew again, we're going to have an issue worth more than a little jolt, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the villain says, too tired to bite back the honorific once totally engrained in him.

He doesn't notice the way Miguel preens at the submission.

“Attaboy, Jasper. Goodnight.”

The praise rings hollow after the night's events, but as he makes his way back to his room, dead on his feet, he allows the praise to warm him. 

He'll take what he can get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jasper doesn't deserve this :( but he will get more >:)

tags!! lmk if you wanna be added (or removed, I added some extra people)!!

@whumpsday

@sergeant-jasper (yo i didn't even realize lol)

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@crystalrose141

@aloafofbreadwithanxiety

@paingoes

@elizaisnotokay

@quaggasus

[macknus]

Febuwhump Day Eighteen

Prompt: Living weapon

I took this prompt with a grain of salt 3:) sort of— also sorry not sorry for making all my Supervillain’s hot af

Febuwhump Master-post

Supervillain grinned when the Hero team swarmed the opposite side of the pier. Leader levelled Supervillain with a glare that could saw through cartilage and bone. Supervillain was alone as usual. He didn’t need an army to do his dirty work. He was an army himself. A living weapon.

He wore his usual grey trench coat that reached the middle of his calves, slightly obscuring his black combat boots, combat trousers and black t-shirt. His hair was perfectly styled to look messy as it fell in waves of silver to his chin. Grinning eyes sat above a smirking mouth as he stood casually with his hands in his coat pockets.

Supervillain tilted his head. “You took your sweet time, Leader. I could have levelled an entire block by now.”

“And yet you’re just standing there,” Leader replied coolly, straightening to his full height.

Scout came through over Leader’s earpiece. “He didn’t plant anything, and I can’t detect any ambush waiting,” she reported. Leader knew she was on roof of the warehouses beside them.

Leader didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Rogue told her to stay alert. She replied with copy.

Supervillain’s smirk widened, revealing his teeth. He looked over Leader’s shoulder to Youngest who glared back at him with as much hatred as she could muster.

“Hello Youngest,” he cooed. Youngest didn’t bristle, didn’t flinch. Supervillain let out a hum of approval. His eyes flicked to Leader. “You’re so serious all the time. You should lighten up. Don’t you let them have any fun Leader?”

“Oh, we have fun,” Second promised darkly, a cold smirk painted on her red lips. “Especially when we have to knock arrogant, little upstart shits like you down a peg or two.”

Supervillain’s laughter boomed through the pier. “I always liked you Second. You have a murderous streak that would benefit you more as a Villain, darling.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Why’re we here, Supervillain?” Leader demanded, almost bored. He had been hyped for a fight, not a chat.

Supervillain’s grin lessened, returning to a handsome smile as the wind whipped his jacket and hair around him. “I’ve gathered you all here for a heads up.”

“A heads up?” Leader asked, cocking a brow. “For what?”

Scout shifted above them. “Scout, do you sense anybody else?” Rogue asked.

“No,” she answered. “There’s nobody else here but us.”

“I’m tired of beating you heroes all the time. All you with your little teams. It… well, if I can be open and vulnerable for the moment, it has been very lonely. As I’m sure you know, Leader, how lonely it can be at the top. Isn’t that why you have a team? You know you’re the only Hero who could take me one-on-one. There’s no need to bring a group of your friends, but you do. Every time.”

“We balance each other out,” Second snarled.

Supervillain inclined his head at her, condescending. “I’m sure that’s what Leader’s told you. But let’s be honest, Second, if I went against you, I’d flatten you and then turn you to ash beneath my boot.”

Second surged forward but Leader grabbed her arm, stopping her. “This is exactly what he wants.”

Supervillain shrugged across from them, going to lean on one of the mooring anchors ships tied their ropes to when docking.

“Anyways,” Supervillain continued with a wave. “I decided I wanted a loyal dog, too. A little puppy. Someone to come with me on jobs like this, we can quip back and forth, y’know, fun team building stuff.”

Leader rolled his eyes. “Anything, Scout?”

“Leader, I swear. We’re alone.”

Leader narrowed his gaze at Supervillain who didn’t take that stupid smirk off his face. “Okay. Thanks for the heads up. We’ll be going then.”

Leader began to turn when Supervillain stopped him. “Don’t you want to know who I chose as my protégé, Leader?”

“I’m sure I’ll find out during our next encounter,” Leader said with a wave. “Later.”

“But they’re here right now.”

Nobody moved a step. Leader took a breath. Back turned to Supervillain, he whispered: “Scout?”

“T-there’s… there’s nobody else here but us, Leader.”

A ripple of unease went through the Hero team at Scout’s report. Leader’s mind started racing, did… no— none of his team would betray him. He couldn’t even—

“Got your attention now, Leader?”

“What the hell do you mean?” Leader snarled, turning to face the smirking Supervillain again.

“Exactly what I said.” Supervillain said softly, pushing off the mooring anchor. His eyes glittered dangerously. Happy to have ruffled Leader’s feathers.

Leader turned to glance over his shoulder, but Supervillain chuckled and Leader whipped his head back. “What?!”

“None of your team knowingly betrayed you, Leader,” Supervillain said, as if reading his thoughts. Leader balled his hands into fists by his sides. Screw hiding his emotions. Supervillain knew exactly how rattled he was at this revelation. Supervillain tilted his head to the side. “Or don’t you trust them?”

“Shut up!” Second yelled. “Just shut the hell up! Leader, he’s obviously lying!”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Second spat. “He’s just doing this to rile you up.”

Supervillain kept his gaze on Leader, the same casual stance so arrogant. So cocky. So at ease. Leader knew he wasn’t bluffing. Leader taught back on Supervillain’s taunts and words and he stiffened.

Supervillain wanted a loyal dog. A puppy. Someone he could train and influence. They were… the team was set in their ways.

Leader swallowed and turned. He looked into two pale green eyes. Youngest blinked as Second turned too, a hand over her mouth. Second whirled and started running for Supervillain, screaming: “no! NO! You can’t have her.”

Rogue joined Second and then there was the clashing of magic and blades as they fought. Youngest blinked at Leader.

“I- I didn’t,” Youngest choked out. “I don’t want to go with him,” she said. “Please Leader. Don’t let him take me.”

A rush of warm air passed by Leader’s ear and he lunged before he knew what he was doing. A flurry of movement. Leader locked with Supervillain in a tornado of a lethal dance; strike, counter strike, block, kick. Blow after blow they traded, until Leader felt his power surge and he slammed Supervillain into the cement wall of the pier with so much force it cracked under Supervillain’s weight.

Supervillain let out a loose, crazed laugh, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Leader shoved him further in until Supervillain bent double, folded over in the concrete.

“I don’t need to take you, Youngest,” Supervillain cooed, laughing as he pushed against the concrete. “You’re already such a good little Mutt.”

Leader curled his lip back and grabbed Supervillain by the shirt and drew their fist back. Before he could punch Supervillain a hand caught his wrist and Leader’s blood went cold. Supervillain’s smile got wider as Leader glanced at Youngest.

“Youngest?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Let him go, Leader,” Youngest said. Her voice… it sounded the same. As if she was talking about the weather.

“Youngest,” Leader repeated, breathless.

“I won’t ask again, Leader,” she told him. Leader let go of Supervillain and back up a step. He turned to face Youngest, reaching a hand out to her.

“Youngest, you—” Leader didn’t get to finish before Youngest slapped his hands away and snapped her palm against the air. Leader gasped as a wall of wind slammed him careening backwards across the pier. His back hit the ground first as he tumbled over himself as he lost speed. He groaned as he stopped finally, dizzy as he pushed himself up onto his palms.

“Leader!” Scout shouted down the ear piece, but Leader ignored them all as he saw Youngest help Supervillain out of the wall. Even from this far away Leader could see his stupid, victorious grin.

He pushed himself to his feet, running at the pair, not aware of anything over the rushing in his ears. “SUPERVILLAIN!”

Supervillain saluted Leader as he grabbed Youngest around the waist. “Until next time, Leader.”

Leader roared as he pushed his body faster, harder, but just as Leader reached the place they stood, they disappeared.

“FUCK!” Leader screamed as he whirled in place. “Scout?! Tell me they’re—”

But Scout was breathing raggedly down the line and he cursed again. “They… they’re gone.”

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @whump-in-the-closet @anxious-mess19 @scoundrelwithboba

[cpt-winters]

Forced Surrender - Leader Whump

"I knew you'd come."

Whumper's lips curled into that familiarly sickening smile as the metal gate rolled back, creaking on its hinges as Leader approached.

"I'm here, so let them go," he ordered.

Whumper's fingers waved a vague motion to the henchmen behind, promptly followed by kicking and scrapping against the gravelled ground.

"Get the hell off me!" Teammate One shouted, jerking against their restraints.

Three froze in their tracks, eyes widening as they landed on Leader. "Leader? What are you.."

"We had a deal," Leader answered, steely gaze refusing to break under Whumper's tangible glee.

"What? No- You can't-"

He stood rigid as the henchmen pushed his team past him, holding Whumper's gaze as he got to his knees.

"Leader-" Teammate Two started, desperation seeping into their voice. "Leader, don't do this!"

He set his jaw, composing himself from his teammate's distant pleas as Whumper drew closer, cuffs in hand.

"Leader! Please!"

Leader let out a breath as he drew his wrists together, offering them up to Whumper. He closed his eyes as cold metal wrapped around his skin, the light click of the cuffs a death sentence.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League – Hold Him Still

Masterlist

Follows this piece. August has a fever and needs to be held down while the doctor cleans his wound. Painful but necessary caretaking. No one handles it well. @alittlewhump beta read.

Theo stopped at the top of the stairs, favouring the left side of the step to avoid the creak. Shadows of the banister spanned the hallway like Roman columns. Stretching onto the ceiling as though they’d been cast by flame, soot left in their wake. It lent an air of grandeur, as though he might find champions or gladiators reclined after a battle instead of a gaggle of misfits, sloshed and lucky if they made it onto a bed. Door open, closed, or ajar served little indication of the state of what lay beyond. 

There wasn’t a room in the house Theo hadn’t stayed in for some length of time over the five years since they’d had it. He was always the one to trade if there were tensions between roommates, happy to give up a room to himself if someone sick or injured needed it, and was usually the first to share with a new addition to help them settle in. Normally, that would have meant August taking the spare bed in the room at the end of the hall with him but nothing about August’s arrival had been normal. 

He started at the room next to his. Hugh would already be awake. The youngest in their ranks was the lightest sleeper and the only one who never drank as a hard and fast rule. 

“Can you come down?” He whispered, glancing over at Jack to make sure he hadn't disturbed him. Unlikely, given the fact that he smelled like a distillery. 

Hugh nodded, brow furrowing but he didn't pause to ask questions.

Finding a second recruit wasn’t as straightforward. Those on the clock would be sober but with posts all over this side of the city, it would take too long to get word to one of them. 

Theo jumped when Hugh appeared at his side, dressed and ready. And looking all too proud at his ability to sneak up on others. 

“Were you at the pub earlier?” Theo asked, keeping his voice low. “Do you know who else—”

“What going on?” Alfred came out of his room, looking irate at being disturbed even though he was fully awake. “His pacing sounds like a drum line. Did the little spy run off with all the notes from the safe?”

“We need another pair of hands to help with something downstairs.” 

“I’ll do it.” 

“We need someone sober.”

“Haven’t had a drop,” Alfred said, crossing his fingers over his heart in mock seriousness. “One of us real grown-ups—no offense, Hughey—” 

Hugh shrugged, more occupied with what exactly he’d been volunteered for. 

“—Had to stay clear-headed with Wyatt gone off the rails.” 

“Don’t I count?” 

“Thought you’d be catching up on sleep after the docks.” 

“Oh…thanks.” Theo couldn’t help but be impressed, though the reason for it was less than ideal.  

“Yeah, I’m likely to be sainted any day now. So, what are we doing?” 

Downstairs, August lay on the dining table, still dead to the world in his fevered state. Doc was setting out all manner of instruments beside him, bright and sharp. Wyatt’s fists tightened with each addition, his percussive footsteps echoing through the room. 

What with the mantle of responsibility he shouldered, Wyatt was never far when someone in the house was hurt. Be it on a job or a foolish mishap, he took pains to stick around for them to get stitched up. A hand on their shoulder, a flask ready at their side. Grim-faced and tense as though he truly shared in their pain. But every time the dining room was transformed into an operating theatre, one would think he’d never seen blood. 

Alfred crossed his arms in the doorway. “You’re not fucking serious. This is what you pulled us out of bed for?”

Wyatt stilled with his back turned. 

“Take it easy,” Theo warned. To one or both, he wasn’t certain. 

Hugh grimaced from behind Alfred, eyes darting to Theo’s.

“Unless this is to pick up where we left off—”

“Where you left off?” Wyatt grated. “If you hadn’t been so heavy-handed, he might not be this bad off.”

“I still think he got off easy.”

“Excuse me?”

As the battle lines were drawn, Hugh ducked through the doorway, seeking neutral ground beside Theo. Or, rather, just slightly behind him.

“We could have gotten a lot more out of him.” 

Wyatt whirled. “Of course it didn’t occur to you to simply ask. That all of the scars—”  He gestured to the boy in question, prone on the table, looking for all the world to be on his deathbed for how frail he was. “Not to mention the fresh wound bigger than his own hand on his side—might be an indication that he would more than happily flip on Keats.”

“I—well—”

Too slow. “Your impulsivity once again leads to unfavourable consequences. This is becoming a pattern.” 

Alfred was still floundering. This was usually the moment— 

“And you?” Alfred countered. “This isn’t the first time you’ve shown yourself more loyal to some stranger.”

—things got worse. 

Theo held up his hands. “All right, Doc’s—”

“Loyalties?” Wyatt took a step forward, rising to the bait and bringing his voice along with him. “You’re speaking to me of loyalties?” 

Alfred held his ground, matching the volume. “You can’t expect us to blindly follow your lead when you’ve been locked in your room with some stray and we don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” 

“I have done more than enough to earn your trust.”

“And not a damn thing to keep it.”

“Unbelievable. Do you refuse to see the consequences of your actions before you? In what way would this fill me with confidence? All this has shown me is that you lack any sense of discernment.”

“Fuck off,” Alfred yelled. “I was doing what any of us would have done. You’re the one hiding something! Ever since the warehouse, you’ve been different. Are you working for Keats? Is that why you came down to ‘rescue’ his man?” 

Wyatt lunged, shoving Alfred against the wall. “Accuse me of treachery one more time.” 

Alfred swallowed, suddenly more selective of his words though he didn’t concede to the threat of Wyatt’s hands so near his throat by raising his own in defence. “You ask us to trust you but you don’t extend that same trust to us,” he spat.   

Theo took a step forward. “Why don’t we—”

“Fuck off your high horse,” Alfred said at the same time Wyatt growled, “Stay out of this.” 

Theo held up his hands, retreating. Hugh grimaced, looking ready to cut and run. This was absolutely going to make matters worse but fine, let them beat the shit out of each other, see if he cared. 

Alfred fists tightened at his sides. “I think—”

“As entertaining as this is,” Doc interrupted, pausing to look at them flatly, demonstrating just how unamused he found it. “Time is of the essence. Can we begin or will we need to find another set of hands?” 

“There is no one else,” Alfred said, still glaring at Wyatt. “The boys were doing forfeits tonight.” 

Wyatt held his ground one beat longer than necessary before releasing him wordlessly and turning his back to check on August. 

Alfred fumed. 

So that’s how it was going to be. 

“Alright, let’s each of you take hold of him,” Doc instructed. Alfred, the strongest holding his hips. Hugh held his ankles. Wyatt and Theo on either shoulder and wrist. 

“Are… are you s-sure this is necessary?” Hugh asked. “He’s o-out c-cold.” 

In truth, it felt ridiculous, taking such positions around the ghost of a boy on the table, but August came to immediately, “No, no, no!” He twisted easily out of Theo’s underestimated grip. 

“Shit!” Theo narrowly avoided getting bitten trying to catch the boy’s shoulder again. 

Hugh and Alfred scrambled to regain a hold as he fought. August would have fallen off the table completely if Wyatt hadn’t caught him by the waist, keeping him still long enough for Alfred to pin his hips again. 

“Steady lads.” Doc had his trousers almost to his knees which had the benefit of restricting his movements some, though he fought all the more for what ground he lost. 

“Please!” He kicked Hugh squarely in the chest when his ankle was released for the underbreeches to be taken all the way off, sending him staggering backwards. 

But as soon as Doc finally pulled away the fabric, he fell still, eerily so. If his breath wasn’t so audibly fast and ragged, Theo would have wanted to check it was there at all. 

One by one, they released him, watching his expression closely but his eyes remained closed, limbs as limp as before they’d started. Doc covered him with a sheet, folding one side to the middle to reveal the wound. 

Alfred hissed in a breath. “That ain’t pretty.”

Theo made sure not to look. 

Wyatt was as white as the aforementioned sheet, which did not bode well. He turned away, putting one hand against the wall and covering his brow. 

“All right, Hughey?” Theo asked. 

He nodded, expression tight. His gaze was stuck on August’s sleeping face, like he was trying to figure out how someone who looked near death could put up such a fight. 

Doc pushed his rolled sleeves up and ran his thumbs under his braces. He met Theo’s gaze and then glanced at Wyatt, eyebrows lifting. “Let’s give him a minute to rest while I step out for a smoke, then we start.” 

Alfred and Hugh all but jumped to follow him. Hugh didn’t even smoke but Theo understood his desire to escape this room. He was itching for a cigarette himself but Wyatt needed him more.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as restful a moment as prescribed. 

Every few breaths, August would whimper, tossing his head back and forth. “No more. Please, master. Please, no more.”

And each time, Wyatt would soothe, “Hush, lamb,” and place the boy’s limp hands on the bedsheets that covered him. “Nothing like that’s going to happen.” 

No sooner than August recognised himself to be swathed in the sheets, would he fall out of consciousness again. Only to come round once more, moments later and repeat the whole process. 

“August, lad, just rest.” Wyatt swept the hair off August’s forehead and the boy’s face crumpled, a sob escaping his lips. 

“Please, master,” he whimpered.

Wyatt stopped stroking his temple but the younger boy only sobbed anew at the departure, turning his head to chase the touch. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Wyatt breathed, hand hesitating in the space between them. He curled his fingers into a fist but not before Theo saw them tremble. Wyatt’s red-rimmed eyes flicked up to his and then to the door. He sat up straighter, burying his hands in his pockets.

“He’ll not remember,” Theo said, rounding the table and keeping his voice low enough that the others coming down the hall wouldn’t hear. “You’re doing right by him.” 

Silent tears started to fall steadily down August’s cheeks, his brow still creased in distress.

Theo wondered if Wyatt was going to make it through this. He would have suggested he step out for some air they were out of time. 

Doc instructed them back to their positions. “Let’s get this over with, lads.” 

“Pleasepleaseplease—no-no—” August’s eyes flew open as soon as they laid hands on him again but this time they were more prepared. 

The display of force against someone so vulnerable left a bitterness in Theo’s already-sour stomach. His fingers well overlapped the younger boy’s delicate wrist. 

“It’s imperative he remain still,” Doc reminded, raising his voice over August’s protests. “I don’t want to cause any more damage than has already been done.” 

“This gonna hurt?” Alfred asked, looking to Wyatt. 

But Wyatt only had eyes for August. 

He was sobbing, pleading only growing more pitiful. “No more, master. Please, I beg of you, I can’t—no more—” 

“Ready?” Doc asked. 

As ready as they’d ever be, which was to say not in the least. This was considerably worse than any of the times they’d held down a fellow comrade, drunk to his gills, so Doc could dig out a bullet. 

August howled when Doc’s blade met his wound. He thrashed against their hands with renewed vigour, twisting and pulling, desperate to find a point of escape. There was no question he’d have bruises for how hard he fought but Theo began to fear he’d wind up with worse, feeling the bones of his wrist twisting and grinding in his grip. 

“Fuck fuck fuck—” 

“W-why… why hasn’t he p-passed out yet?” Hugh asked, raising his voice to be heard. 

“He’s fighting it,” Doc said without looking up. 

Alfred snorted. “We’re shit out of luck if it’s as hard as he’s fighting us.” 

“Godfuckingdamnit—”

Doc paused to clean the blade and August stilled, breath ragged. He looked into their faces, one by one, as though he were looking for one he recognised. Wyatt took pains to angle his face away, gaze locked on his fingertips, white where he gripped August’s shoulder to keep him immobilised. 

August’s eyes were still glassy when they locked onto Alfred’s. “Please, please,” he begged breathlessly. “I’ll tell you anything. Just make it stop—” He screamed when Doc started again, head falling back onto the table with a thud, arching his spine and trying to twist away. “Nnngh—Make it stop!” 

“Interesting,” Alfred said, again looking to see what rise he could get out of Wyatt. “What have you got?” 

“I’ll not have you turning a medical procedure into an interrogation,” Doc said flatly. 

Alfred wouldn’t drop it. “If he’s willing to share…” 

“Please, anything you want—” August lifted his head again, gaze settling on Theo this time. “I’ll do anything!” 

“I’m sorry,” Theo told him, beginning to feel as though they’d had a hand in the original injury, torturing him so. It was grotesque. 

“I’ll make it good—Ah! Fuckk—nnnnghh—I can show you such a good time—” 

Hugh made a choked sound in his throat, drawing August’s attention.

“Don’t let them do this—” Tears started running down his face, voice straining as he held back sobs. Hugh looked to Wyatt but he wouldn’t look up. “Please, please, I can’t do this again. I can’t—” August’s words grew incoherent, mangled by cries that sounded as though they might tear his very lungs. He pinched his eyes shut, shaking his head back and forth, fingers clawing at the air with every pass of the blade.

Theo hoped he was reaching his limit, that he might finally lose consciousness, and be saved some suffering. He must ask Wyatt about the chloroform later. 

“The infection is deeper than I thought.” Doc paused again, raising his voice to be heard over August’s sobbing. “It’ll be a bit longer.”

“Please, please, sir.” He’d found Wyatt this time. Had to lift his head and crane it back, bearing his whole throat, to catch his gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, rushing to speak before Doc started again. “Please. I’m yours, sir. I don’t need it. I know I’m yours, sir. I’ll never run! I promise, sir. I swear. Please—”

August slammed his head against the table when the blade found him again, his expression twisting in pain. When he opened his eyes again, they were even less focused, tears running steadily down his temples but he still looked in Wyatt’s direction. 

Wyatt stared right past him, refusing to engage. 

“You promised,” August cried hoarsely. “You can’t even look at me. You lied. You’re just like him.” Alfred had the gall to force a laugh but even that didn’t get a reaction from Wyatt. August sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as though he couldn’t bear to look at Wyatt anymore either. 

Theo hoped he might slip into unconsciousness now but he lifted his head, cracking it down on the table.

Wyatt closed his eyes. 

August hit his head against the table again.

And again. And again. 

“You’ll need to put a stop to that,” Doc said without looking up. 

“Stop him how?” Theo asked. “If we let go—”

“Now!”

As soon as Theo let go of his shoulder, August twisted against the hold on his wrist, lifting more of his right side off the table and using the momentum to slam his head even harder against the table. For a moment he was still, seeing stars. 

“Jesus Christ, Theo. That’s definitely worse,” Alfred said. 

“Oh, piss off,” Theo snapped, pinning August’s shoulder again while he was still dazed but it was only seconds before August was beating his head against the table again. “Doc, maybe if you give him a break—”

“I’m nearly finished. Just manage it.” 

“Wyatt, can you give me a hand?” Theo released August’s wrist instead, clapping his free hand over the boy’s forehead but as soon as he did, August reached up to claw his neck and face. 

“Ow! Fuck!” The feral thing managed to draw blood and catch him in the eye. He grabbed August’s wrist again but of course the lad slammed his head into the table again as soon as Theo had let go.

Hugh started shaking his head, eyes flicking between August and Wyatt. 

“Wyatt,” Theo shouted. “Fucking do something! Anything!” 

He was a statue at August’s side. 

“Shit. I think he’s made himself bleed.” Theo leaned over and sure enough, there were splotches on the sheet. “Doc—” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Alfred groaned. “I’ll pin him so you can stop him caving his head in. Hold on—” He hooked his foot around one of the chairs and pulled it up to the table.  

And Theo had thought this couldn’t possibly get worse for August. “You can’t be serious—Hugh, you gotta hang on. We need you with us.” 

Hugh pinched his eyes shut, giving up on any reassurance from Wyatt, his shoulders up to his ears like he wanted to block out the sounds too. 

“Wyatt,” Theo tried one more time. “Please, we need you. Help us.” 

Alfred already had one knee on the table but before he could straddle August’s thighs, Wyatt caught the back of August’s neck. He took hold of the boy’s hand, bringing his arm up across his chest and using it to keep him down. 

“August, look at me. I—” Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts but we have no choice.” 

“I—I don’t—I don’t believe you,” he managed to gasp, breath thin and quick now that he’d doubled his pain. 

“I know.” His voice was as hollow as his gaze but August was in no position to notice. 

The lad let his eyes fall closed, tears still streaming down his face. Wyatt held him fast and little more than a few whimpers escaped his lips as Doc finished. 

“The worst part is over,” Doc finally said. “I’ll just—”

Wyatt let go of August and walked out. 

“I—sir—” His eyes swam as he tried to look for Wyatt. 

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Alfred grumbled. 

Hugh looked even more cross than Alfred. 

“Just…hang on—” Theo gingerly released August and, once certain he was staying still, hurried after Wyatt. 

It had just begun snowing outside. A dusting of white covered the messy streets, blurring all of the roughness of the city and leaving a clean slate to glow under the street lights. 

“Wyatt!” Theo called to stop him before he disappeared into the flurry. 

He paused but didn’t turn. 

“You can’t leave, not now. Not after that.” 

Nothing. 

Theo curled his fingers into fists. “Are you so blinded by whatever hold August has on you that you can't see what's going on?” He was yelling but still Wyatt wouldn’t turn. “We’ll be lucky if we see Hugh inside a fortnight and Alfred’s ready to—”

“Go back.” Not a request, a command. 

Theo’s blood boiled. 

Wyatt pulled his collar up and started walking but paused again. “For me,” he added, half turning toward Theo for a moment. 

“This isn’t how we do things,” Theo called back but he was just shouting into the wind. 

Masterlist

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @hold-him-down was already taken lol