#vigilante whumpee

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you please continue ‘The Stranger’ it’s my favourite series on this app

The Stranger (V)

Read part one here // Continued from here

OHHHHHH IT’S ANGSTY YOUR HONOUR?!!!! WOWUH!!! To whoever wanted the stranger continuation!!! sorry it is a day/two late!!!! I hope you enjoy!!!! dedicated to @ehobep

*~*~*~*~*

Vigilante was a ball of nerves. His ears ringing in his skull as Karma drove him into the city again to Hero who was waiting for him on the roof. Karma was singing along to the radio, in a better mood than he had seen the monster in… maybe ever. His finger drummed along the steering wheel, humming when he didn’t know the words, the perfect image of peace and ease.

Vigilante wanted nothing more than to pull the steering wheel and let the car spin out into a ditch. A branch going through the driver’s seat lancing Karma through the chest. Or the skull, it really didn’t make a difference. As long as he died.

At least Hero would be safe.

If Karma hadn’t compelled him to behave like a fucking dog Vigilante could do that! He could save Hero, he could stop Karma— he could— he c— he couldn’t do a thing to stop him, except glare from the corner of his eyes and worry about his great mood. Vigilante had to be smart. He had to be smart or who knows what Karma might do to Hero?

“Ah, here we are,” Karma said turning the key in the ignition and smiling at Vigilante. “Come along, Vigilante. We have a hero waiting for us.”

There was no compulsion in his words but Vigilante obeyed anyways. It unnerved him when Karma started walking towards his and Hero’s rooftop, something so sacred and safe for the two of them.

“How did you know I’d be up there?” Vigilante asked.

“Hmm?”

“On the rooftop, the first time we met. How did you know I’d be up there?”

Karma smiled. “I have eyes everywhere, Vigilante, or haven’t you realised that by now?”

Vigilante glared at him. “Besides, when I saw you save the Mayor’s kid you got on my radar and I followed you until I could intercept. When I saw you go up to that roof, well, I knew it was my chance to speak to you, and then, who comes up after me, but the number two Hero in the city? I could sell your scandalous story to the media if I wanted to.”

Vigilante felt his cheeks flush. “That’s not— we’re not— there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Who cares?” Karma said with a shrug. “It would be juicy gossip, a media circus, and, in the pandemonium I could probably kill the mayor and it would be page seven news.”

Karma beamed at the blushing Vigilante, holding the door to the roof access open. “After you,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his hand. Vigilante swallowed the lump in his throat as he passed, taking the stairs up to the roof where Hero was waiting for him. Unbeknownst of the threat that was waiting for them.

If he could scream, maybe warn Hero, he could— he could maybe save them. That’s what he’d do. Without warning, Vigilante started sprinting up the stairs not caring if Karma was following or on their tail or anything. They ran up the stairs to the roof access and climbed the ladder to get the roof in record time and there—

Across the roof he saw Hero and he screamed: “Hero! Run!”

Hero frowned, rushing towards Vigilante, but Vigilante shooed them away. “Run! Just go! It’s a trap! It’s not me. It’s a villain, Hero! The suicides you need to—”

A hand clamped over Vigilante’s mouth, a razor edge pressed into his throat and yanked him back into Karma’s hard chest. Karma’s chest rose and fell quickly, tired from the exertion, but he chuckled darkly in Vigilante’s ear, freezing their struggles.

“Naughty, naughty Vigilante, Hero’s going to have to pay for that.”

“No!” Vigilante yelled through Karma’s hand but it was muffled as Karma’s grip turned bruising, wrestling Vigilante’s head back and dampening any hope of Vigilante calling out to warn Hero.

“Oh yes,” Karma hummed. “Just be a good little hostage.”

Vigilante’s wide terrified eyes found Hero’s who was still here. Why were they still here?! Why were they being a hero right now? Of all the people Vigilante had to try to save, they had to save a fucking self-sacrificial idiot who got payed to be risk their lives for others?!

It was all some cosmic joke.

“Hey, we can talk about this,” Hero said, hands out placatingly, their eyes going between Vigilante’s and Karma’s. “Just… just let Vigilante go and we can talk, right?”

Karma dug the knife deeper into Vigilante’s neck, pricking it lightly and letting Hero see the bead of blood he drew just for funsies.

“I think we can talk perfectly fine like this, Hero. You, me, Vigilante. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

Vigilante grabbed Karma’s hand covering their mouth and tried to dislodge it but Karma didn’t budge, pressing his lips beside Vigilante’s ear he whispered: “stop struggling, Vigilante. Unless you want me to unmask you here and now in front of Hero.”

Vigilante froze. Karma chuckled. “Ohh… they don’t know either, do they? Interesting. That was a stab in the dark, Vigilante, you need to stop being so readable. It could get you in trouble.”

“Hey! Look, I think you need to release Vigilante right now, or else—“”

“Or else what?” Karma asked. “You’ll fight me? What if you hit poor Vigilante here?”

Vigilante told Hero to do it, to take the risk, but Karma smothered the words until they were just spongey syllables that got lost on the wind. Karma chuckled.

“Tell you what, Hero,” Karma said. “You’re right. I want to chat. So if I let Vigilante go, we don’t have to come to blows?”

Vigilante’s struggles renewed as they tried to shake their head, visions of Karma telling Hero to jump off the roof returning tenfold and making them want to throw up.

“Nngh! Nngh!” Vigilante protested, wishing he could scratch Karma’s eyes out but that fucking command was still lodged in his stupid brain that he couldn’t hurt himself or Karma; his struggles in vain.

Hero swallowed, eyes going between the pair before they nodded. “Deal.”

“Good,” Karma said. “When I release you, you will fall to your knees and remain silent.”

“Nngh!” Vigilante protested, frustrated tears gathering behind his eyes as he pawed uselessly at Karma’s hand. Karma removed the knife first, making a show of taking it from Vigilante’s throat and lifting it away.

Now.

Vigilante had to move now.

Karma’s command was conditional. If Karma released Vigilante, Vigilante would have to obey, but if Vigilante broke free… then nothing.

Vigilante shot forward like a bullet. Karma’s attention focused on Hero allowed his brain to stutter as Vigilante barrelled forwards, throwing themselves ahead and fell to the ground, rolling on the rooftop until they came to a stop beside Hero. Hero’s hand was on him, helping him to his feet, but Vigilante didn’t take his eyes off of Karma the whole time.

Karma threw his head back and let out a booming laugh at the sky. It didn’t sound like a proper laugh, it was chilling, crazed, the kind of laugh anime villains do when they’ve captured the hero or revealed their master plan. It made the hairs on the back of Vigilante’s neck stand on end.

“Vigilante, you slippery little fucker,” Karma bellowed, his laughter dying down to manic little chuckles as he tilted his chin down to stare at Hero and Vigilante again.

“Vidge?”

“You need to get out of here, Hero,” Vigilante said, pushing them behind his back. “He’s a charmspeaker you need to run, he’s the cause of all the suicides and—“”

Vigilante ducked to the left, dodging the knife that was hurled straight for his head.

“Spoilers, Vigilante. Come on, at least play fair.”

“Play fair?!” Vigilante sputtered as he started backing up on the rooftop, Hero behind him. “Nothing’s fair with you, you fucking psycho!”

Vigilante kept pushing Hero back. “Vidge, I’m not leaving you here with him. We can go together!”

Vigilante’s heart hammered against his chest, his blood rushing fast in his ears like a waterfall. The pressure and sound of the spray deafening everything else around him. He wanted so badly to get away, to run from Karma, but if he got his hands on Hero, who knows what he’d make Hero do.

Vigilante shook his head, eyes narrowing as Karma advanced slowly towards them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge of the roof.

“Vigilante~,” Karma sang, tutting him for his defiance. “Didn’t I tell you to behave when we met with Hero?”

“Go fuck yourself!” Vigilante snapped.

Karma smiled at Hero, as if he was Karma’s bold child that just disturbed Hero. “Sorry about him, he’s so spirited, isn’t he?”

“Just who the hell are you?” Hero demanded, their voice hard after they realised that Vigilante wasn’t about to go running with them.

Karma sighed, running a theatrical hand down his face and grabbed his chin as if he were pondering something. Then his lips stretched across his face as he held a finger up in the air, pointing towards the sky. “Ahah! I have a good idea, Vigilante, you come back over here now, and your punishment won’t be severe.”

“Punishment?!” Hero yelled now, stepping protectively in front of Vigilante. Vigilante grabbed Hero’s wrist, feeling their power thrum under their skin and pulled slightly. Hero planted their feet and let out a soft grunt of discomfort as Vigilante pulled on their ability. “You’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Karma smiled, exposing every tooth in his mouth, his half-lidded eyes amused, smirking a little at the pair. “Vigilante, I’ll give you to the count of three to surrender. Three.

“Hero we have to run,” Vigilante told them quietly, pulling at their shirt. “Trust me, please. I’ll explain when we’re safe, just please.”

“If this is the maniac who’s ordering all the suicides Vidge, I can’t just leave him free.”

“Two!”

“If we don’t leave him free, then he’ll take me back and do god knows what to you, Hero. Please!” Vigilante hissed, yanking Hero back. Hero fell back the step, and Vigilante’s hand tightened on Hero’s arm as Hero turned and they started running to the end of the roof towards a shop roof over.

“One!” Karma sang as Vigilante jumped. The sound of Karma’s fingers snapping rang over the wind of the roof, carrying to Vigilante’s ears like the sounds of church bells, deafening and dread filled. The moment Vigilante landed he turned and saw Hero on the edge of the rooftop on their knees.

Vigilante’s eyes blew wide, tracking Karma who was walking slowly towards Hero. “No! No, hero! HERO! GET UP!”

Karma chuckled, reaching into his grey duffle coat and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He nodded at Vigilante as he walked towards the little step he sat on when he first took Vigilante.

“They can’t get up, Vidge,” Karma said, his words like a spear in Vigilante’s guts. “But I’ll grant you grace and give you five seconds to be by my side on your knees, grovelling, maybe with some tears, I don’t know yet, surprise me,” he continued conversationally, shrugging as he took a breath and light his cigarette between his teeth.

When he looked at Vigilante again it chilled him to the core. “Or this time, Hero walks off the roof and you won’t stop them. What’s another suicide in the city, hmm? Poor Hero, their heart couldn’t take that kid killing himself in front of them.”

Vigilante snarled at the air, his eyes on Hero’s bloodshot ones like the Mayor’s son, willing them to stand up. To get up! To laugh it off and say they were just fucking with Vigilante and that they were about to fight Karma with all the fury that Hero could muster, but Hero just stared blankly ahead at Vigilante, like a marionette with its strings cut, knees perched just before the ledge.

Oh god, if they had been faster when Karma did that Hero would have fallen to the pavement below.

“Five~” Karma sang and Vigilante ran across the roof to get a running jump onto the ledge. It was going to be harder than the initial jump because the usual rooftop was maybe a foot or two above the one Vigilante was on.

“Three!” Karma boomed. Vigilante wanted to scream at him and fight but he didn’t have time. If he wanted Hero to live he’d have to obey everything Karma said. Vigilante jumped and the minute he did a pit opened in his stomach. He realised after his feet left the ledge that he wasn’t going to make it cleanly.

His hands found ground on the rooftop’s ledge but his body slammed into the brickwork, robbing the wind from his chest. Vigilante gasped, fingers white knuckled, his feet doing tiny sprints on the bricks below as he tried to gain purchase on something to boost him up.

“Hero,” Vigilante said, his voice quivering with the effort. His foot found the ledge of a pipe and he wrapped his forearm around the ledge as he pushed himself up. Then his foot slipped and he was dangling. His bodyweight yanked him towards gravity and he cried out, his shoulders screaming at him to get up!

A sole pressed into his fingers and Vigilante cried out but he couldn’t even swing at Karma the bastard. He shifted his feet towards the pipe again and launched off it until he had two hands back on the ledge and—

His eyes widened. Hero stood with Vigilante’s fingers under their boot. “He… H-Hero?”

Karma stood beside them, eyes twinkling dangerously as he exhaled a plume of smoke from his lungs. “Mmm, what do you think, Hero? Should we let him up?”

Hero stomped on Vigilante’s hand. Vigilante lost their grip from the shock and the pain and now only one hand held them up on the ledge. With the momentum Vigilante swung, his eyes locking on the thirteen story drop to the street below. The world seemed to zoom in and out of focus as panic and his laboured breaths clogged every rational thought in him.

He glanced up again to see Hero’s foot hovering above Vigilante’s over fingers, Karma drinking in the chaos. “You’re right, Hero. I did give him a chance and he directly disobeyed me, what to do, what to do.”

Karma took another drag as Vigilante wrestled his hanging hand back up to the ledge, scrambling desperately. “Hero! Please!”

“Hero?” Karma echoed and Hero’s foot came down on Vigilante’s wrist. Vigilante screamed out a grunt of pain and he shook his head.

“Karma! Karma! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Fuck!” Hero ground their heel into Vigilante’s hand until he almost lost his grip again and screamed.

“Alright,” Karma said with a shrug. “Let him up.”

Vigilante barely registered the words before Hero bent over, foot still on Vigilante’s hands and yanked him by the back of his shirt over the ledge and onto the roof. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath before Hero yanked him up, marching him back towards Karma who had sat against the raised concrete where Vigilante first met Karma.

Hero shoved Vigilante to his knees in front of Karma who looked down on him as if he were a king on a throne and Vigilante a traitor to the realm. A peasant, nothing more than the dirt on his shoe.

“H-how?” Vigilante demanded. It was the only thing he could say. His mind racing back to the first night on the roof, Karma told Hero to forget him and forget meeting Vigilante. Karma had to use eye contact or at least… that’s what Vigilante thought.

Karma took another drag of his cigarette, Vigilante watching the white burn away down to the coffee coloured butt. “I called them,” Karma said.

Vigilante frowned. “But— don’t you need to do that weird shit with your eyes?!”

Karma let out a startled laugh, nodding, smoke stuttering out his nose into the cool air. “Yes,” he said, grinning. “I do.”

Vigilante’s frown bled away to a picture of confusion. “Then how—”

“Face time, idiot,” Karma said fondly, waving Vigilante’s phone in his face before their gaze went to Hero holding Vigilante down. “The wonders of the modern world, hmm? Poor dear thought you were in trouble, when they answered they were so concerned. I think they really like you, Vidge.”

“But— we had our backs turned,” Vigilante protested, desperate. Karma grinned leaning down until he was crouched in front of Vigilante. Vigilante could do it, he could use Hero’s power and leave a hole of light burned through Karma’s chest but then he would hurt Hero too, and he wasn’t prepared to do that. Hero was innocent.

“It’s like a magician’s command,” Karma told him, eyes glinting with cruelty. “When I snap my fingers, you’ll sleep and when I snap them again, you will believe you are a chicken. All premeditated commands, I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Vigilante swallowed.

“Yup,” Karma hummed, tapping out the ashes of his cigarette. “It was worth it. A little planning never killed anyone, did it? Maybe if you thought of that you wouldn’t have tried to run and Hero would be blissfully unaware of having to hold you down, against your will while we chat. Didn’t I say I was going to punish you for that, too?”

Vigilante squirmed in Hero’s grip, pushing back away from Karma who tipped forward and pinched Vigilante’s cheeks in a bruising grip, yanking his face towards Karma.

Karma raised his cigarette and pushed the burning red eyed tip towards Vigilante’s eye. Vigilante’s eye watered immediately and he widened it so his eyelashes wouldn’t catch on the smouldering ember. He stiffened, struggles ceasing, his breath coming out in sharp, stuttered pants.

“Karma… d-don’t—”

“Don’t?” Karma asked, inclining his head. “Didn’t I tell you to behave? Didn’t I give you a chance to repent? To avoid this nastiness? And what did you do? Oh yeah, that’s right. You didn’t.”

Vigilante threw his weight back but Hero kept him locked in place and Karma kept his face close to the butt. Karma smiled. “But hey, I’m a forgiving sort of guy, so for now, I won’t burn your corneas out of your skull.”

Vigilante released a sigh too soon after Karma retracted the burning butt from his eye. It got swallowed into a scream when Karma forced the burning ember instead to the tip of Vigilante’s cheekbone and Vigilante thrashed, the cylinder sizzling against his skin, the hear burning his eyes as he tried to move back but Hero wouldn’t let him so Vigilante didn’t think. He just let the power in him flow.

Only it wasn’t Hero’s power he had.

It was Karma’s.

Vigilante hissed, barrelling back, tippling feet over head with Hero across the roof until they got Hero under them and forced them to look into Vigilante’s eyes. Hero went to punch them but Vigilante caught it, their cheek burning from the wind pulling at the wound and he half-shouted: “HERO WAKE UP! SNAP OUT OF IT!”

Hero tried to punch them with their free hand and that one caught Vigilante in the jaw. Shit! It wasn’t working and they could hear Karma’s footsteps getting closer and closer. Fuck! What was it! What was it?! What did he say?!

His eyes widened as they locked on Hero’s again. “I release you!”

Hero blinked up at Vigilante, melting under them, resistance leaving their limbs as they stared up at Vigilante.

“Vigilante? What’re you… oh, shit, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t— I couldn’t control it, I—” Hero reached their hand up to Vigilante’s face, their thumb ghosting over the burn, but not touching it. Tears sprung to their eyes. “Vidge, I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

A loud, slow clap sounded from the other side of the roof drawing the pair’s attention. Vigilante looked up to see Karma standing at the door to the exit of the roof.

“How touching,” Karma said, hand on his heart. “But I didn’t even show you my command for you Vigilante.”

Vigilante’s blood ran cold, not moving from where they were straddling Hero to the ground. “What?” A whisper more than a word.

Karma’s eyes glimmered even from the distance with a malevolent delight at Vigilante’s plight.

“You know, the one that makes you do whatever I say. The one that turns you into my perfect little murder machine, all those special skills, Vigilante, you are a terror.”

Vigilante’s eyelids fluttered, trying to comprehend what Karma was saying behind his words, trying to make out the threat he was making because there was always a threat.

“Vidge?”

Vigilante looked down at Hero, his heart breaking with a small oh leaving his lips. If he didn’t go with Karma, Karma would make him kill Hero.

Hero who answered the call because of him.

Hero who was concerned when they saw Vigilante’s name flash across their phone.

Hero who was innocent in this, just another one of Karma’s victims.

Something hollow took root inside Vigilante’s chest as he stared down at Hero. Something protective and so unselfish that it threatened to swallow him whole. He placed his hands on Hero’s cheeks, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I… I’m doing this because I—” no, that was too much, too much for a time like this, so Vigilante swallowed and started again. “I’m doing this to protect you, Hero,” he whispered.

Hero stared, not quite comprehending yet. Not until Vigilante leaned down a little more, a stray tear hitting Hero’s cheek.

“Don’t, don’t do this, don’t go with him,” Hero pleaded, grabbing Vigilante’s wrists. “I won’t— I won’t give up. I won’t stop looking for you.”

“I know,” Vigilante whispered, his bottom lip trembling. “Which is why I have to do this. Hero, you’re going to forget me. You’re not going to—” his breath hitched, “look for me or worry about me anymore.”

“Vigilante please,” Hero cried.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” He said, leaning down further, keeping Hero’s eyes in view, keeping them ensnared in his swirling gaze. Then he whispered: “you don’t know where the idea came from but you know that there is a villain out there with charm speak who is behind the suicides, someone from the wealthy side of town and you will find him and bring him to justice.”

Hero was stupefied beneath him as he retreated slightly. “And you’ll forget this too,” and Vigilante finally, for the first and possible last time ever, pressed his lips to Hero’s and wept as he pulled back, strangling his emotions into submission he rose from Hero’s body and walked towards Karma whose glittering eyes never left Vigilante.

“You made the right choice,” Karma said, patting Vigilante on the back. His breath reeked of smoke and cold, and Vigilante wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but he just walked past him and down the ladder before making his way back down to Karma’s stupid van, leaving the only person who he ever loved on the rooftop without any memory of him.

[shrimpwritings]

Finally throwing my hat into the ring of whump prompts with Living Weapon Whumpees!

If you wanna use any of these prompts, you’re more than welcome to! Just please tag me so I can read what you came up with!

Whumpees who used to have normal lives being altered by a person, magic or other force that leads to them becoming something to use for protection, combat, etc.

Whumpees who have been tasked to protect one person by any means necessary, sometimes using whatever enhancements gifted to them for much more destructive purposes. As long as their loved one is safe, they don’t care what happens.

Whumpees with invulnerability or an accelerated healing factor covered in scars, not knowing where they came from or how old they are. They never worry about themselves, only about their loved one or whoever they’re trying to protect.

Whumpees who have to play caretaker to comfort the person or loved one when times get too hard for them.

Whumpees feeling immense guilt and fury when the one they’re protecting is captured or injured. Whumpees who will burn the world to the ground just to get them back or avenge them for being injured.

Whumpees bandaging their own wounds because they don’t have anyone to do it for them. They hide injuries from their loved one so they don’t worry.

Whumpees who work themselves to the bone, fight after fight, never stopping to rest because they’re scared to fall asleep. What if someone attacks their loved one/the one they’re protecting when they’re vulnerable? What will happen?

Whumpees who learn that their trauma is meaningless; the enhancements, bad guys, everything they went through was for selfish entertainment. Having to start fresh, not knowing how much they missed out on their lives, and being forced to create an identity for themselves based on things they aren’t sure are true. They begin to doubt even their loved one is real.

[clickerflight]

Voltober 12. Better Than You - Fallen

Author's notes: A short one today! Just exploring what Alpha-2's life as an active weapon is like with a side character who may or may not show back up later in the main story line :3

Challenges Masterlist - Voltober 11

Content: living weapon whumpee/whumper, vigilante whumpee, multiple whumpees, creepy whumper, hunted down, bolus, net, captured, bound for travel

@voltober

Living Weapon | Android/Robot | “Kneel”

Powell skidded on the wet concrete, the near silent sound of feet right on his heels. He was exhausted. He had been chased for 10 blocks now while maintaining his camouflage and he was running out of steam. He felt like he was going to throw up.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the man chasing him. More of a predator than a man. He never missed a step, his eyes hidden behind tactical gear that likely made it easy to keep track of Powell, and a single mindedness to his every moment. He cared about nothing except capturing Powell and the vigilante knew it.

Powell skidded off down an alley, finding a fire escape to get up to the roof of a building. He was good at roof running and his camouflage worked really well against the night sky. He could get out of here. As long as he could get to one of the vigilante union buildings he’d be safe. He just had to make it.

Something sang through the air and pain zinged through his ankles as a bolus wrapped tripped him up.

He caught himself hard on his hands, landing on his hip and skillfully kicked the boluses off before getting back on his bruised feet, running as fast as he could, zigzagging so his pursuer couldn’t get another bolus around his ankles. He was so close. He was so close!

He leapt off the edge of a building, heading for the next roof, only for a bang below to draw his attention. A net wrapped around him before the rope attached to it dragged him violently down.

He screamed before he hit the pavement. He lay there, unable to breath, his head aching where he smacked it into the cement. He lost a few moments to the pain and dizziness, and when he opened his eyes again, the man who had been chasing him was walking toward a woman wearing armor and head gear much like the man was wearing.

“Well done, Alpha-2!” she said in a cooing tone. “Come here.”

Powell groaned trying to push himself up as the man padded up to the woman. He looked like a dog, ready for a treat. It was uncanny and it made Powell even more nauseous.

“Kneel,” the woman said, and to Powell’s surprise, Alpha-2 dropped to his knees, bowing his head. She ran her fingers over the buzzed hair on the man’s skull, scratching at his scalp.

Powell shuddered as he realized what was going on. He had heard rumors of trained weapons roaming the underworld of the cities. He had just been run down by one of these weapons and he had no idea what these people wanted with him.

The woman looked over at Powell and smiled, reaching up to take off her gear so she could look him in the eye. “Hello, Kamo. Or should I call you Powell Kendrick?”

Powell swallowed hard. “What do you want with me? If I don’t report to the union they will come looking for me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about reporting to the union,” she said with a cruel grin. “We will handle it for you. You’re under our care now.”

Powell’s eyes were drawn to the still kneeling weapon who was being stripped of gear and put into traveling bindings without so much as a wince on his face. He was terrified of whatever ‘care’ she was talking about.

VTB Part 13

Fallen Masterlist

Fallen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @snakebites-and-ink @starsick1979 @galaxyofwhump 

@scatteriskity

[iwritewhump]

Bloody clothes

day 6 of @whumptember

431 words

warnings: teenage whumpee, bloody clothes, conditioned whumpee (implied)

part one | part three | part four | part five | part six

---

Hero sits next to Villain, cheek resting against his shoulder as the sun rises. She sighs and looks up at him, “Do you wanna go wake him up? I need to get back before Superhero sends a search party. I didn’t tell him I was coming here. Didn’t think it’d be the best idea, y’know?” 

Villain smiles and nods, “Just…wait here? I didn’t tell him I was calling you.” 

“Sure,” Hero smiles, “Yeah, that’s probably best.” 

Villain stands up and takes their empty mugs to the kitchen, gently setting them in the sink before walking down the hallway and knocking on the door. 

“Vigilante? Are you awake?” He pushes the door open and takes a step in the room. 

Vigilante shoots up from the bed, he pushes back to the headboard and pulls the blanket with him. Panting, he looks at Villain. 

Villain raises his hands slowly and takes another step forward, “Sorry, I…I should’ve waited for you to answer. Are you alright?” 

Vigilante scoffs but relaxes a little, the white-knuckle grip on the sheets loosening a little. “What’s going on?” 

“I called someone and she’s going to take you with her. You’ll be safer with her than I could ever imagine you being here.” Villain flips the light switch on and Vigilante winces at the brightness. “Do you wanna go meet her, or do you want her to come in here?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t-I’m not gonna leave you. I don’t feel safe with anyone but you. Please…don’t make me go?” 

Villain sighs and sits on the foot of the bed, ignoring the pang in his heart when Vigilante pulls farther away. 

“I can’t keep you safe,” he says softly. “She’s good at doing that, she kept me safe for a long time, and I know it’s scary. But it’s what’s best. Trust me?” 

Vigilante leans his head against the headboard and takes a deep breath. He looks back at Villain and nods, “I’ll go out there. But…not right now? 

“Yeah,” Villain smiles and laughs in relief, “Of course! Take your time.” He stands up and turns to leave, but his eyes catch on something. 

A small pile of clothes are heaped in the corner of the room, blood spotting the cloth. Villain walks towards it and picks it up, “I’ll wash these for you, yeah?” 

Vigilante stares blankly at them, he shakes his head. “Just throw them out.” he closes his eyes and curls into himself. “Please.” 

Villain nods and holds everything under his arm, trying his best to hide all the dark brown stains from Vigilante. 

[neon-kazoo]

A Misunderstanding

[Context: A vigilante and a villain have an arranged, cooperative deal between them. That is, until something goes wrong, much to the vigilante’s confusion. This story takes place from the POV of the vigilante, beginning in the middle of an unrelated mission/project that the villain is unaffiliated with.]

(Warnings: threats, kidnapping, gun mention, knife violence, blood, fairly descriptive cut/stab wounds, interrogation/torture, helplessness, self-harm kinda, more language than usual, sexual harassment mentioned with implied past experiences)

Note: Technically these are ocs of mine, so if you catch any unexplained details that’s where they’re from. This whole snippet was intended to develop their dynamic, but at this point it’s really just whump lol. I just realized I had over 4000 words written that would otherwise never see the light of day so I made some tweaks to post it. If I missed any name replacements you saw nothing; there was a lot of words ok?

This is extremely long and heavier than most of my snippets, so be careful!

———

“Vigilante, grab some tubes from that room down the hall. I think it’s the third door on the right.”

I left the room to grab the materials for the project. Walking down the hall I lazily counted: one…two..

I reached the third room, and I could see the PVC from the doorway. Eyes locked on the stack at the back of the room, trying to figure out how I was going to carry so many large pieces, I missed the uninvited guest lurking beside the open door, allowing him an opportunity to catch me off guard and shove me into a wall. I opened my mouth to yell for the team but my eyes processed faster than my mouth and stopped me in my tracks.

What was Villain doing here?

I must’ve looked shocked- because I was. A personal appearance from this man could mean nothing good.

I racked my brain for any reason he might have to come find me. I came up empty. I certainly didn’t remember doing anything to him worth wall-slamming me over.

The slight ease I had at identifying the familiar face disappeared when I looked closer at his expression. There was a subtle anger painted on his usually-carefully-blank features.

“I’d suggest coming quietly,” he stated in his signature effortlessly-menacing tone. He spoke easily, like he executed an impromptu abduction every Tuesday morning.

“Come where?” I questioned, immediately suspicious. What was this?

“Somewhere to answer some questions,” he replied. His words were vague. Empty. His tone suggested I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him, but I felt the urge to press.

(Why not here, why now, what was so important?)

I knew better than to argue, but I hadn’t quite grasped the gravity of my situation yet. I shifted, ready to plead that I was in the middle of something rather important, when a knife appeared at my throat, pulling me right back down to Earth.

“Or we can skip the questions.”

Questions it was.

I walked obediently when prompted and he held solidly to my arm. We exited the building via fire escape (how did he know I was here?) We reached the doors of a black SUV parked conveniently in an alley a block over from my operation. As slowly as I could manage, I worked my fingers up into my sleeve. PSAs about the odds of surviving being taken to a second location flashed in my head but were interrupted by the introduction of a gun at my side.

“Press it, and you’re dead.”

Well, fuck.

On second thought, I actually adored second locations. I dutifully climbed into the back and used my remaining energy trying to stay calm as my hands were secured to the seat and a bag placed over my head. My bracelet was, of course, removed.

I love car rides. I tried to imagine this was just another trip, it was just….dark out. At 9 in the morning. Yeah, and I had no idea where we were going. I would be trying to think of how I was gonna play this—whatever this was—but I genuinely didn’t think I had ever risked pissing Villain off. As a result, I was painfully unprepared for whatever was about to happen. I wanted to say how unnecessary this all was, that I would come willingly if asked, but something stopped me.

Fear. Something was wrong.

It was probably just a misunderstanding.

Probably.

I lost track of time and turns, instead just counting my breaths. In for four, hold for four, out for four, repeat. I successfully held my panic at bay and was able to stand on my own two feet when I was finally pulled out of the car and led to who-knows-where. I blindly shuffled all the way through somewhere to a chair in front of a table to which my ankles were secured. My hands were left free and the blinding sack was removed.

The ceiling was covered in fluorescent lights that my eyes struggled to adjust to. I dropped my gaze to the floor, which was clean white tile with a silver disk in the center. Villain stood by the door, and apparently the ride had given him enough time to re-craft his careful features back into a perfectly smooth slate. The air in the room was uncomfortably cold, enough to raise goosebumps on my arms if it weren’t for my jacket.

A proper interrogation, but for what.

“Empty your pockets onto the table.”

He was all nonchalance now, and it was extremely off-putting. He studied me closely, and I barely refrained from squirming under his gaze. In the spirit of cooperation(survival), I obeyed the order, laying out a substantial array of multi tools, first aid, gadgets, and more onto the table top. When I finished, Villain strolled over to the table, studying the items before swiping them into a bag which he settled by the door. All but a switchblade, which he left sitting closest to his side, out of my reach.

He rounded the table to my seat, gesturing for me to slide off my jacket—which he threw by the door, much to my chagrin—and kneeling to pat the rest of me down. He found nothing.

He was silent as he returned to sit in the chair opposite me across the table.

Logic told me to copy his stare and his silence, but my anger and confusion made me reckless. The urge to speak overrode my rational mind.

“Dude, what the fuck.”

Hopefully, that statement would confirm my innocence, as it was definitely designed to do. I was not at all pissed about the deliberate jacket move, or being dragged out of an important mission against my will. Humanizing myself. That’s good, right?

“What? Are you surprised your actions have consequences? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” His voice dripped with condescension.

He placed his hand over the switchblade and I came to the sickening realization that there was a drain in the floor.

“I thought you were smarter than this, I really did.”

“What the fuck,” I repeated slowly, “are you talking about?”

He stood, and the knife was open. I ignored the blade and kept my eyes locked on his.

“I cannot defend myself if I don’t even know what you think I did.”

“You do not play dumb with me. I do not give second chances.” His voice entered a register that I had never had the misfortune of hearing before.

This was not the man I knew. This man was somehow more dangerous, and he wasn’t making sense. He wasn’t listening.

“I wonder if you keep your knives sharp,” he spoke aloud with mock curiosity, twisting and turning the tip of the blade against his fingertip. He advanced around the table and I could do nothing to stop him. This stubborn, arrogant man was about to hurt me over nothing.

I had my hands, but they could not reason with him. They could only hold tightly over his wrist as he held the knife close to my skin. Rapid acceptance flushed through my brain as reality finally registered like a heavy weight descending upon my shoulders.

If he could be stubborn, so could I.

“Fuck you, Villain.”

The tip of the blade pierced the skin of my arm and I held my mouth firmly taut. He was cutting right above where the foundation and concealer covered the tattoo on my upper arm. The leaking blood was going to ruin my careful color correcting.

Blessedly, he skipped over the rest of the upper arm and focused his efforts on my lower arm instead, which he now held in an iron grip. I hated the feeling of being grabbed but I wouldn’t show it. He did not need any more power over me.

“You’ll take a lot for that man,” he noted incorrectly as he traced down my skin with the metal.

I was at a loss.

“For who?” The pain made my words fierce. I was angry and there wasn’t anything I could do about it except let it leech into my mouth.

“I am not an idiot, [real name].” He leaned in, and fuck him.

I seethed, “Apparently, you are, since you’re spending your time cutting up someone who doesn’t know shit about what you’re on about.”

The knife plunged deep into my forearm, and I gritted my teeth hard.

“Is he worth it?” Villain taunted.

“WHO?” I demanded, still trying to guess, to figure it out before I got diced like a vegetable but the pain made my brain foggy and I just couldn’t concentrate. The knife twisted slightly, and with it brought heat and a sickening pulling sensation.

This was not what I signed up for.

The blade came up to my face, mixing blood with sweat and the salt of involuntary tears as it slid across my cheekbone.

“To think, all this time, you were just [Politician]’s bitch,” he whispered.

Affronted was an understatement, but my offense was overridden by confusion.

“Who the fuck is-“ I stopped as the gears in my brain finally started to turn, greased by the crimson dripping across my skin.

“Are you talking about that asshole counselman?”

The gears were rusty but- what was his name? CM [Olitic]? [Politi]? [Politici- Politician]! CM [Politician]. The man I blackmailed into tipping me off about low-profile cases because he couldn’t keep his hands off interns? I was getting scored like sourdough dough with my own knife for HIM?!

Villain didn’t react, just continued to drag the knife down my neck and lined it up at my collarbones. He had to cut and pull my tank top down slightly for better access.

“You’re his spy. What have you told him?” He hummed, and I took a second to gather myself despite the biting pain.

“His WHAT. Where the fuck did you get that from because let me tell you I would not kill an ant for that man let alone spy for him-”

The knife slashed over my other collarbone, and I raged.

“ARE YOU INCAPABLE OF A CIVIL CONVERSATION? LISTEN, YOU ARE WRONG. Wrong. Use your fucking words.” I wanted to spell it out. One more cut and I would be sent over the edge. “You absolute. Mother. Fucker.”

“Just a loyal. Little. Dog.”

He punctuated his dig at my supposed obedience with a hand wrapped around my throat. Possessive.

Oh, so he was trying to make me angry. I really should have seen the angle earlier because damn him it was working.

I couldn’t keep giving him the satisfaction. I took one deep breath and then another, ignoring the sting it brought up across my chest, and the restriction around my neck.

“Ask me a question, and I’ll answer it.” I looked him dead in the eyes when I continued, “or kill me and go fuck yourself.”

“What is your deal with him?”

A silent sigh of relief. Finally, something productive.

“He tips me off for counsel cases,” I explained-rather graciously might I add, given the circumstances. “He didn’t ask me to do shit for him, nor would I. I am not his personal spy. I keep the association off his back, and that is it.”

I reserved a few more choice words about his questioning techniques and waited while he absorbed my response. I sounded far more civil than I felt.

“And why would he do that for you?”

I thanked every god I knew that he seemed to finally be playing ball. Words I could work with, knives I could not.

“Blackmail,” I answered simply.

“Explain.” He raised an eyebrow, and also my knife.

“The association opened a case on him for sexual harassment. I have evidence that would prove rather unsavory for him, I hold on to it in exchange for his information. Basically, he tells me shit and I don’t bury him.” I looked to Villain expectantly. I had nothing else to say on the matter.

He tilted his head. He wanted more, or worse, he knew I had more.

My lips stayed shut.

He had a dangerous glint in his eyes when he spoke, “You don’t withhold from me.”

“Since when. That was not part of our deal.” Anger, deeper and older, burned cold inside me.

“It is now.” It was not that simple.

“I gave you enough,” I told him. I intended my words to be final. He had no right to ask anything of me anymore.

“You don’t get to decide.” Like Hell I didn’t.

“It is none of your business,” I spit back.

“I’m making it my business.” He just kept going. What I wouldn’t give to wipe that self-assuredness right out of every cell in his body.

“Cut me again and I swear you’ll never hear another word out of my mouth,” I blustered. With every fresh drop of blood, he was taking a middle finger to our entire arrangement, everything I had built.

“I highly doubt that.” He flipped the knife around in his hands. He ran his eyes along each of my new, bloody, decorative lines. Fine, maybe I was all talk. But he definitely didn’t need to know that.

“Put the knife away.” I smiled sweetly, but I was getting angry again, and I was losing the will to stop it. My self control spilled out of me in the streams of crimson blood that ran down my face and chest and arms to where it would ultimately flush down the drain and leave me defenseless. Still, that was exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t let him win.

“Or are you too scared of an equal conversation?” I challenged. Two could play at the angering game.

Unfortunately for me, Villain was focused elsewhere and didn’t take the bait. He had found a thread and he intended to pull it.

“Tell me the proof.” Impressively, he just didn’t know when to stop.

“No.” Welcome, Villain, to the hill I was willing to die on. “You cut me up for being a spy, which I’m not. I didn’t break our deal, but you just did. I owe you nothing. I will give you nothing.”

I wanted to tell him that he would never see another cooperative action out of me for as long as I lived, that he should watch his back, that he should expect to see me again soon, but I still needed to live through this and threats were definitely not in my best interests. I wouldn’t betray myself like that.

My skin burned and my arm throbbed. My heart beat aggressively against my rib cage but my adrenaline was crashing. I hurt and I was tired and I just wanted this to be over.

All that trust, and all for nothing.

Villain did not get the hint that I was done. For real this time.

When he brought the knife back, I grabbed it. I pulled it towards me to catch him off guard, sinking it inches into the flesh of my hip before ripping it from his hand and flipping the blade back towards him. He must not have thought I would do it, because he stayed close enough for me to be able to sink the blade into his stomach before he wrestled my arms under control.

A second later, I couldn’t move and I knew it was over.

“I hope it fucking hurts,” I spit coldly, blinking away my burning tears.

A flash of something–maybe surprise?– passed briefly over his face. I hoped it was fear. I needed the win. Before this all got worse.

My wrists got strapped to the chair and Villain was out the door quickly, knife still sheathed in his abdomen. I rolled my head towards the ceiling, eyes unfocused and blinking out tears. I felt satisfaction, then something darker tried to push its way to the surface.

I paid it no mind, just breathed and let it pass. That wound would not be fatal.

Exhaustion soon sent me into a state that was a pitiful excuse for rest. My head rolled forward and the burning faded into the background. I floated for an indeterminate amount of time.

The door opened, closed. A prick. I didn’t care.

I dreamt in flashes of hands and grabbing and helplessness. Fingers, digging into my arm, pressure, where there shouldn’t be-

When I awoke, I was on a cot covered in a thin layer of sweat. I was confused by the freedom of movement and the light smell of laundry detergent. I must’ve slept like a rock, because my cuts were cleaned and my forearm bandaged. I was also bundled in my freshly-clean jacket.

What on Earth-

Was this a motel?

No sooner than thirty seconds after I sat up did the door open and none other than the devil himself appear.

“I figured we’d try again,” the ghost of a grimace passed over his face as his eyes landed on me. “…differently.”

I blinked.

Unconsciousness had returned a bit of my clarity, and if I looked closely, Villain appeared…sheepish. A slight hunch, face pained like he was trying hard not to avert his eyes. Was he…remorseful?

I almost laughed at the thought, but managed to maintain a plain face.

“Uh huh,” I sounded cautiously, shaking off the last of my sleep-induced disorientation. What exactly did that mean: differently?

I gathered something had changed, but I did not voice this, knowing the man in the doorway would never bother to explain himself to me.

Instead, I added humorously, “be a shame if I didn’t believe you.”

I rubbed my eyes and smiled ruefully and he actually looked away. Villain, the original Big Scary Man, was unable to make eye contact with me. Instead, he pointed out a bathroom and said he’d be back in five minutes. The win was too good to be true.

It wasn’t until I made to slide down my waistband that I remembered the self-inflicted wound on my hip. It had also been tended to, a medium size gauze pad taped over the opening.

Now that I was once again aware of its existence, I noticed certain movements did send a shooting pain along the skin and into the fat that had been cut. I wondered how I didn’t notice it earlier. I suspected I would find stitches if I removed the patch.

Carefully pulling the elastic back over the medical tape, I stood in front of the sink, cupping my hands under the faucet and drinking until it no longer burned to swallow. Water drenched the front of my tank, but I didn’t care.

I checked my bandages and studied the open cuts in the mirror. A few had the skin held together with butterfly closures, the rest slathered in Vaseline or Neosporin. I ran my fingers gingerly along the cut on my cheek and wondered if it would scar. Keeping still had worked in my favor though, it didn’t seem too deep.

My left arm took the brunt of the damage. The rose on my upper arm was uncovered and wiped clean, and I thanked several deities it was untouched. I opened and closed my fist to make sure the hole in my forearm didn’t take out anything too important. I was no doctor, but I determined it was probably fine. Villain knew what he was doing, after all.

I studied my reflection one last time, shrugging my jacket back over my arm carefully. I took in my face, discarding the uncertainty and anger and leaving my features assured and closed. The Villain special. I walked out the door.

Villain was waiting.

He didn’t touch me, instead we walked side by side back into the room I had woken up in, which now had an apple sitting on a table to the right when we walked in. Ignoring all of it, I went straight to sit on the bed. I didn’t know what to make of his complete 180, so I drew one knee up to my chest and waited. I let a little hope trickle into my thoughts.

Maybe it just took a good stabbing to force some common sense into Villain.

He paid my refusal to sit at the table no mind and just casually tossed the apple to me after taking his own seat. The hunger I felt must have been built over many, many hours because I did not hesitate to take a bite. And another. And another. The juice dripped down my chin and I didn’t bother to catch it.

Villain respectfully waited until my more ravenous bites had passed before he spoke.

“I propose a trade.”

I just about spit out my apple. Pushing past my knee-jerk response of dignifiedly telling him to “eat shit,” I studied the man to try and determine if he was being serious. His gaze was unwavering. He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but I wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. I felt clearer but also…off.

“Information for information,” he continued.

Wow this was a really good apple. I turned it over and studied it in my hand. A gala, maybe?

He clarified, “I want your evidence on the counselman.”

Yeah, no shit. So he does know how to use his words after all.

My apple was reduced to just a core. I supposed I had to speak sometime, lest the knife make a reappearance.

“Do you slice, dice, and drug every person you want to make a deal with, or am I just special?” I cocked my head but cast my gaze past the table towards the door.

In my peripheral, I caught his face still impassive.

“I acted on bad intel.”

Villain? Explaining himself? And I thought anger-inducing Villain was scary. Remorseful Villain was straight up terrifying. I was probably reading too far into it, just telling myself what I needed to hear, but—if I squinted—I could imagine it was an apology.

But on further evaluation, I accepted that it was all an act. Every moment I’ve spent with him carefully crafted. This was just another angle.

But what could I do about it?

Knowing didn’t make it better. The cuts were real, my fear was real, my pain was real.

In the end, I still put myself into this world, and I wasn’t going to stop.

“And what do I get out of this?” I questioned. My life? To leave? Some negotiation that would be.

“What do you want?”

Putting the ball in my court is new. Concerning. Is this a trick? How badly does he want to bury this guy?

A terrible, horrible idea hit me. I wouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

I couldn’t resist.

“Apologize.”

I stood up, walking over to the table and taking a seat, looking him dead in the eyes, and waited.

It was his turn to blink.

For what I presumed to be the first time in his life, the man in front of me had been stunned to silence.

Because of me.

Joy flooded me with the thought.

“I-“ he coughed, and I smiled with a sweetness that would send anyone without a functioning pancreas scrambling for insulin.

“My apologies,” he started, and to his credit, it didn’t sound too forced.

“For?” I pushed, and the look in his eyes suggested I was seriously pushing my luck.

I didn’t care.

“For,” he forced out, “the ‘slicing’ and ‘dicing’. The drugging, I believe, was justified.”

“You stabbed me first,” I shrugged nonchalantly, adding, “You got a pen?”

He held my gaze for a moment, before slowly getting up to retrieve a branded notepad and pen from the nightstand across the room.

He slid them towards me, and I clicked open the pen with a motion that jolted my forearm. I hid my grimace and somehow refrained from dropping the writing utensil onto the carpeting. I wrote down the number with a degree of difficulty. I pushed it towards him, but kept my fingers on it for a second.

“Wait 24, then call it.”

I could tell he wanted to ask for more details, but he wisely considered this ordeal to be over and my civility worn out.

I walked right out the door, and he didn’t stop me.

I thought about trying to get word to the team, but decided against it. I wasn’t integral to the plan. They could go on without me, and most definitely had considering the importance of the mission and the estimated time I had been gone. If they even knew I had been taken—I seemed to remember the building we were using having cameras—the chances that they would interfere in my business were limited.

So I probably had about 12 hours, give or take. Long enough for a natural nap and a rushed processing session with fuzzy pajamas and ice cream. I would have also indulged in a nice warm bath, but unfortunately I was correct about the stitches, making the whole watery adventure ill-advised.

After I had totally-effectively self-cared the whole experience away, I went out on the town.

I was making a round up City avenue when I spotted a shadow trailing behind me.

Round two, baby. Let’s go.

I stopped, and the shadow closed in.

“What kind of game are you trying to pull?” The shadow confronted angrily.

“You didn’t call the number,” I stated plainly.

“I traced it. It comes back to one [full legal name]. Do you think this is funny? We had an arrangement.” I couldn’t say why, but his words just didn’t seem as scary.

“You’re one to talk about the sanctity of arrangements. We did have one. One that you spit on. Or have you already forgotten?” I could tell he wanted to advance on me, but he was hanging back. “Speaking of which, I don’t really know when to take these stitches out.”

“So you think you can just walk away from this?”

It didn’t seem like he really believed that. It didn’t really seem like he knew what to believe.

“‘I am not an idiot’, Villain.” I threw his words back at him. It was the least he deserved. “I don’t work with people who break my trust. I made an exception. Do I need to take it back?”

He’s smarter than this, isn’t he?

He took a single step forward.

“Wow, you are thick lately. I gave you exactly what you asked for but you just can’t open your eyes and see it.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he held the scrap of paper up in a tight fist. “I asked for evidence, and if you’re not gonna give me what I clearly asked for-”

“Put your threats away and use your brain for once. Dust off the cobwebs and whatever the fuck has you so messed up and just think.”

I wasn’t angry, just exasperated. I knew my words were entering dangerous territory, but I felt they had to be said. This was not what I was used to dealing with. A brick wall would be more reasonable.

“If I was trying to trick you, I’d give you the number of the local pizza place. If you can’t get this I can’t help you.”

A pregnant pause.

“You,” he breathed.

Finally. A connect-the-dots champion.

“Me,” I confirmed.

“Witness?”

So close.

“Victim.”

I could almost hear the click. His whole demeanor shifted, his walls building back up, self-assuredness back in place.

“I see.”

He looked me up and down one more time with newly-appraising eyes before abruptly turning around and walking away. He melted back into the darkness, disappearing without so much as another word.

Asshole.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️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 @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

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

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

House Guest (Superheroes) TW Past Abuse, Implied Self Harm

There was something so serene about it, which was strange. Rapid sat in an armchair, staring out of the windows and watching as the rain poured down on the city outside. To her right, a fugitive laid fast asleep, curled up on the pull-out couch.

There was no fear or anger in the room, just gentle snores and the sound of rain.

The first aid kit, scissors, needle and thread, and melted ice packs still laid on the coffee table, but Rapid was too tired to get up and put them away.

When did Rapid let herself become a safe haven for villains? First it was Violet, which, fine, she owed Violet a favor, but this? The man --boy, more accurately-- that she had let sleep on her couch was a pretty new villain admittedly, his only crimes being a few burglaries, but Rapid couldn't help but lament her bleeding heart.

His name was Orias, kind of an ironic name given how small he was. Without his mask and cowl he was about as intimidating as a puppy. Picking out your cover name was a rite of passage at this point, Rapid's name had come from her super speed. Once the boy woke up she'd have to ask where his name came from.

Sirens rang outside, moving along as quickly as they came. Villains were nothing new, but Pharaoh's goons had been more active lately. Rapid had to pull Orias out from underneath a group of henchman.

Some of the wounds on Orias were older, though. Healed cuts on his arms, cigarette burns on his shoulders and back, things that someone doesn't just get by accident.

More questions for when he woke up, Rapid supposed.

Rapid stood up, throwing another blanket over Orias's body and beginning to pick up the medical supplies.

[sunnynwanda]

The Darkside: Part 4

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

Warning: mentions of physical torture and trauma, a somewhat graphic description of rape in the 2nd chapter, blood, broken bones, healing and aftercare for Villain, revenge, murder & death(s).

Sneaking back into the city wasn’t particularly difficult. Finding their former friends fast asleep in their beds wasn’t hard either. Kidnapping them and hanging them up by their toes in an abandoned building was almost too easy. Making several deliberate cuts and leaving them to bleed out as they beg for mercy was... a delight. The one thing that was actually hard was not letting them die. Not that easy. Not by Hero’s hands.

They smile to themselves as they dismount their motorcycle in front of the cabin. They left their former fellows chained upside down, helpless and slowly bleeding. They wouldn’t die. But they wouldn’t have enough strength to free themselves. Not until Hero returned, anyway. They grab their bag and stride into the cabin, directly to the kitchen. Villain is still asleep, so they make coffee to keep themselves awake and start preparing breakfast.

“You’re back.” The statement catches Hero off-guard. They whip around, smiling at how dishevelled Villain’s hair is. As if noticing their gaze, Villain runs a hand through their untamed curls.

“Morning,” Hero smiles, gesturing for them to sit down. Villain visibly limps, and Hero has to turn away to give them privacy. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“You were gone for a while,” Villain states, their eyes narrow as they watch Hero’s back stiffen. They manage to find a comfortable position before elaborating. “I needed a shower before going to sleep. It took some time. You still weren’t back.”

“The closest town is quite far away,” Hero lies. They can feel Villain’s eyes boring into the back of their skull and turn around, forcing a smile onto their face. “Did you need anything?”

Villain shakes their head, falling into silence as Hero serves breakfast and sits on the opposite side of the table. They can tell something is troubling Villain but avoid pushing by focusing on their food. Villain does the same for a while, partly because they are starving after god knows how many days without a proper meal. 

“I appreciate everything you did for me,” Villain starts out of the blue. They are back in the living room, sitting with their back to the fireplace because their hair is still quite damp. Hero smiles at them from the sofa. “But that doesn’t erase what they did.”

Hero nods once, expecting Villain to continue. They do not, seemingly deep in thought. “Why are you saying that?” The question drags Villain’s attention back to the outer world. They glance at Hero for a moment, examining their countenance before speaking up again. 

“I’m past any reservations, Hero.” Determination is evident on their face, but that wasn’t exactly new to Hero. Villain clears their throat. “You can’t hold me back anymore.”

The wheels in Hero’s brain halt for a second, then start motion in reverse. They shrug. “Who says I want to?”

Villain’s expression is serious yet concerned. They wonder if their nemesis understood at all. “What?”

“I want you to unleash your rage on them,” Hero says matter-of-factly like that doesn’t mean eliminating their entire base and killing their mentor. “And I want to help.”

“Okay...” Villain is still processing the proposition. Since when do you have no problem with homicide? They are about to ask just that when Hero interrupts their deliberation again. The excitement in their voice makes the hair on Villain’s nape stand. 

“So, where do we start?” Hero paces the room before stopping by the window. Villain doesn’t exactly have a plan as of now, but that is the least of their worries, it seems. “Cause I might have done... something.”

They dart across the hall, leaning against the wall as Hero unlocks the metal door. It was only two hours ago that Hero revealed what they had done. Now, they are about to face two of the most respected crime fighters in the city. They walk into a dark cellar, waiting for their nemesis to turn the lights on. The scene that opens before their eyes would be disturbing in other circumstances. Right now, it brings a smile to their face. They watch their captors dangling from the ceiling, blood dripping down their arms and pooling under them. Hero stays behind, watching them approach the heroes, dagger in hand. They crouch down to be face level with them, dragging the blade across one’s cheek. The man whimpers, choking on their own tears. 

“Can’t even bring yourself to beg for mercy, can you?“ Villain asks, turning their attention to the woman that stepped on their throat while Superhero smashed their hand. “You know you don’t deserve it.” 

She lets out a muffled moan, nodding. Villain tilts their head, thinking for a moment. Then they rise, throw a short glance at Hero and release the chains, allowing their prisoners to land on the floor in a pile of twisted limbs. Hero remains silent. 

“I’m not going to kill you. You don’t deserve even that.” They cut the “thank-yous” short, ordering the heroes to shut it. “The only thing I regret is that Hero had to dirty their hands in your rotten blood.”

One of them tries to apologize, to come with an excuse of being forced by their boss, but Hero interrupts, stepping forward. “You will run without a glance back. Cause if you do, I won’t be as kind as Villain. I can promise you that much.” 

Their voice sends a shiver down Villain’s spine. They want to ask how Hero knew taxidermy cuts. Did Superhero teach them? Or perform those on them as punishment? Villain isn’t sure they are ready to learn the answers to the questions circling in their mind. What they are sure of is that no one can survive those cuts, not after bleeding out for so long.  

They reach the headquarters by sunset. Infiltrating the facility takes less than twenty minutes. They locate Superhero in the interrogation room and shut down the lights in the building, locking themselves in. When Hero swings the door open, Superhero doesn’t even turn to face them. It’s only when the door shuts behind Villain’s back that he reacts. 

“Lovely of you to show up,” he smirks at Villain, then turns his attention to Hero with sickening satisfaction in his eyes. “I’m glad you delivered, pet.” 

Villain’s blood freezes in their veins. They stiffen, watching Hero nod, then round the table to stand by Superhero’s side. No. It feels as if boiling water was poured over their head burning them to the bones. Their eyes start to water, and Villain blinks, unable to comprehend what is happening. No.

“What’s the matter, dove?” Superhero tilts his head and barks out a laugh, gesturing towards his apprentice. “Did you think they were helping you for real?

Hero doesn’t meet their eyes. Villain’s breath hitches in their throat, heartbeat frantic. They can feel their blood thumping in their temples. Their vision blurs, and they don’t even know if it’s tears or their body shutting down in shock. The room is spinning. They know they are outnumbered, but they also know they have nothing left to lose. And they won’t go down without a fight. 

“How naive,” the condescending tone awakes something absolutely feral in Villain. Their entire body vibrates with rage. They clench their jaw, pressing their lips together to hide the tremor that runs through them. “That’s what I always liked about you, Villain. You play fair. And I make up my own rules.” 

Villain’s mind is reeling, wailing in their head because they cannot fathom how dumb they were. They shake their head despite the lump in their throat that is threatening to explode into sobs with every passing second. They were so, so stupid to get deceived that easily, to believe the enemy, to trust someone trained by the very person that ruined them.

Hero takes a step back, gesturing for Superhero to proceed. The man smiles, nodding in appreciation. 

“Tell me, Hero, what would you like in reward for such a lovely gift?” He reaches for the handcuffs and licks his lips, a disgusting smile plastered on his face. “A taste of them, maybe? I could let you use them all you want, for torture or pleasure. I’ve had my fun with them.”

Villain growls, low and raving. Hero knows they will not hesitate to kill themselves if in a desperate situation. Villain draws their dagger, ready to fight for life or death. Superhero moves towards them, and that’s when Hero springs into action. Villain barely registers the movement when Hero grabs Superhero by the neck and bends him over the table, banging his head against it several times. They use a combat knife to nail one of Superhero’s hands to the table, cutting through the metal and disregarding the anguished roar from their mentor.

“How about I let Villain do whatever they please to you?” Hero kicks the back of Superhero’s knees, making his legs buckle and smashing his face with a fist until it’s covered in blood, nose fractured in multiple places. 

“What are you doing, pet?” The man wheezes out, struggling to pull himself up. “Have you forgotten which side you belong on?”

“I know perfectly well which side I am on.” Hero restricts his free hand, cuffing it to the table leg. “ It’s you that has lost it.”  

Villain is too dumbfounded to react. They stare with mouth agape, their brain refusing to process what is happening until Hero looks up at them. The expression in their eyes is batshit crazy.

“We’ll talk about the fact that you believed I’d betray you later,” their breathing is laboured as they speak; voice laced with emotions that Villain is unable to discern. “Right now, he is yours.” 

Hero gets off Superhero’s back and walks to stand by the door. Villain is motionless for a long moment before attacking with demented madness. They make cuts, one after another, the same ones Hero used on their coworkers earlier, except deeper and more painful. 

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Villain asks. Superhero snarls, muttering curses under his breath. Villain twists his hair between their fingers, bending his back, causing the handle of the knife in his hand to tear into the flesh. “Like how it feels?”

They circle around the table, bending down to look Superhero in the eyes with chilling calmness. “Should I show you what the rest of what you did to me felt like?” The man laments, trying everything to fight back as Villain drags their gun along his spine. “Let’s see how you like it, huh?”  

Hero steps out of the room. They catch a glimpse of the gun barrel and try not to think what Villain plans to use it for as they shut the door. They can hear the muffled cries and curses as Villain rips him apart for hours. Hero stays by the door for the entirety of it, pacing back and forth in expectation of a gunshot that’s never heard. They dare not open the door until Villain calls on them. It’s past midnight.  

When they walk in, Superhero is still alive and bent over the table; an expression of utter madness stains their face. Hero realizes his hand is no longer pierced by their knife when Villain hands it to them. Hero’s face is stern when they nod in agreement and position themselves behind Superhero. They fist his hair, arching the man’s back and making him face Villain. 

“Get a good look - they are the reason for your demise,” Hero growls into his ear before slashing his throat, cutting it open and watching blood gushing onto the table. They let go when Superhero’s body stops shaking. 

They are seated on a rooftop when Hero presses a button on their phone. Villain is gobsmacked as they watch the headquarters crush down, burying Superhero’s body under tons of concrete and debris. They gaze at Hero with wide eyes, anticipating a grain of regret or sorrow but catch none. All Hero offers them is a small smile of relief. 

Villain did not expect to find a friend in their foe or to become allies with the enemy. They did not anticipate the sudden change in their consistently cheerful and kind nemesis. They couldn’t have imagined how unhinged Hero can get once pushed hard enough. And they certainly wouldn’t have pictured themselves being the reason for that. Yet, when the sun comes up next morning, colouring the sky in hues of warm yellow, they sit on the porch of their cabin with a cup of coffee in hand and a friend by their side, watching the outline of the city on the horizon. A city rid of criminal minds and sadistic saviours. A city now free.

​ Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

Masterlist

Hi, loves!

This ended up pretty long and cruel, I hope you won’t mind either of those. Felt quite new to me as well, especially on this blog. You’ll be deciding what the next story is, so feel free to vote and let me know what you’d like to see. 

And thank you for reading this :) 

P.S. @pigeonwhumps tagging you as promised. 

Love, 

Sunny :)  

[whumppromptoftheday]

vigilante begging hero to team up with them to take villain down and hero having to explain that it's already been taken care of

[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, Day Five:

It’s not as bad as it looks: Handcuffs // swelling // flinch

CW: mention of blood, cuts, past fight, injuries, bruises

*~*~*~*~*

Hero practically fell down the stairs they were running so hard. Mentor and Medic practically jumped out of Hero’s way as they barrelled past, Mentor shouting: “slow down!” after them but Hero barely heard it.

They turned the corner to the entrance of the precinct and saw Superhero standing at the doorway, arms folded tight over a broad chest, their back to Hero.

They were just in time.

“Superhero!” Hero called, slowing to a half-walk, half-jog as they weaved in and out of the few detectives and officers milling about.

“Not now, Hero. Get back to headquarters.” Superhero’s voice was hard, finite. Authority oozing out of every rumble of command. Hero ignored them and stepped up beside them.

“Superhero,” said Hero again, a little breathless as they finally stopped. “They’re innocent. I’ve worked with—“

“I don’t want to hear it, Hero.”

“-but I know Vigilante,” Hero implored, “they would never—“

“And yet they have,” Superhero snapped, sharp blue eyes cutting into Hero’s. It was enough to make Hero want to stop their defence. To turn and run back up to Headquarters and pretend like none of this matters to them, but it did. Vigilante was their friend. They had saved Hero more times than they could count.

“Superhero, please just listen.”

Superhero grabbed Hero by the upper arm, grip bruising, and turned them, marching them into one of the empty interrogation rooms and closing the door over slightly. Hero tried to shrug out of Superhero’s grip but the fingers just tightened ever so slightly to stop their struggles.

“No, Hero. You listen,” Superhero seethed, turning them to face Superhero again.

“I have entertained your every whim because you show great potential and I have no doubt you will be an excellent Hero. I have heard your every thought on every move I make because I value Mentor’s advice and they asked me to let you be involved in decision making, for experience. What I will not tolerate,” Superhero said, looming over Hero, grip tightening on Hero’s arm and fear settling into the back of Hero’s chest as they continued:

“Is you questioning my authority in the middle of HQ when I have just finished an arrest. That is where I draw the line. I don’t care if Vigilante is your best friend, if they saved you a million times, if you feel you somehow owe them— and do you know why I don’t care?”

Hero grimaced, pulling their arm back sharply, “you’re hurting me, Superhero.”

“Do. You. Know. Why?”

“Because I wasn’t there…” said Hero, shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Exactly,” said Superhero, finally letting go of Hero. Hero took a step back, trying to create some space between them. Hero glanced down at the red handprint that was definitely going to bruise with a frown.

Superhero let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. Clearly trying to calm down from whatever had wound Superhero up so tight. Hero just stayed silent.

“You didn’t see them defend Villain in the same way they defend you. You didn’t see them take down Sidekick and Other Sidekick without so much as a hint of remorse. So do not question me again in the middle of the precinct regarding your friend. Do I make myself clear?”

Hero swallowed and nodded. “Do I make myself clear, Hero?”

“Yes superhero.”

“I will have no repeats of this. This is your only and final warning. The next time you question me you will end up in a cell next to your friend to teach you some manners. Do you understand?” Superhero growled. Hero nodded, mutely, and flinched back as Superhero slammed the door to the interrogation room open, stepping out like a rapid dog.

Hero’s eyes went to the slowly closing door and they let a sigh escape their throat as they caught the door before it closed and stepped out after Superhero.

The doors to the precinct opened and Vigilante was escorted in by two police officers holding each arm on either side. Their wrists handcuffed behind their back, but that’s not what caught Hero’s attention.

It was the blood dripping from their hairline, tracing the contours of their dirty face in a gruesome deep red, it looked almost black. One eye was purple and black, swollen shut and their nose had two streams of black blood that stopped at their lips, then continued down their chin. The corner of their mouth was puffy, the shining purple bruise of their cheek pulling their features so they looked drawn.

Hero’s face must have betrayed their horror, because Vigilante tried a smile when they saw Hero and said quietly: “it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Hero was about to reply when a hand settled heavy on their shoulder, fingers biting into the soft flesh. Hero’s lips clamped shut at the silent warning. Vigilante noticed, because they always noticed. As soon as their features had softened to be reassuring for Hero they changed again for Superhero. Vigilante glared up at Superhero, their face morphing into a mask of hatred.

“Take them to powered holding cell one,” came Superhero’s cold command and Vigilante was pushed away from Hero, down the stairs to the right. Hero moved to follow but Superhero’s hand became like a vice holding them back.

“I forbid you from seeing them while they are here, Hero.”

Hero batted Superhero’s hand away from their shoulder and whirled on Superhero. As quick as the bravery came it dwindled and extinguished in their chest at the cold glare that burned from Superhero’s eyes.

What I will not tolerate is you questioning my authority in the middle of HQ.

Their gaze promised to make good on the threat to throw Hero into a holding cell beside Vigilante and so they backed down. They didn’t say anything as they turned and walked back up to the Hero quarters above the precinct.

They were going to see Vigilante. They were just going to make sure Superhero wasn’t there when they did.

[paladinsandruffians]

Short Snippet #2

"Hero, put him down." The stern voice came from behind. Hero turns just barely glimpsing as a dark figure seems to peel away from the neighboring shadows. She grits her teeth, fist balling tighter around the struggling villain's shirt. She ignores the warm, sticky substance trailing down her arm, focus snared by the intruding man.

"You can't stop me, vigilante." She jerks the villain, evoking a gargled gasp from the battered man. "He," she growls, "Took everything from me."

Villain whimpers, trembling hands reaching for his front. His tears glisten in the pale moonlight.

Vigilante sighs, shaking his head in a slow, morose manner.

"No, Hero. He did not."

[iwritewhump]

lashing out

day 8 of @whumptember

618 words

warnings: teenage whumpee, implied abuse, conditioned response, cursing

part one | part two | part three | part five | part six

---

Villain finally takes down Hero’s ‘we left, he’s with me now <3’ note off of the fridge and lays it on the counter, not quite ready to completely forget about what had happened only a month ago. He smiles softly and dials Hero’s number. 

Her voicemail runs and he nods along until the beep, “Hey, Hero! I’m just checking in on you and Vigilante. I know you’re keeping him safe and I don’t have anything to worry about, but I just want to talk with him if he wants to. Anyway…just get back to me, thanks!” 

He sets the phone on his table and swings the refrigerator door open and bends down to find something to eat. With a small, contented chuckle he grabs pizza from the shelf and takes a bite. 

Villain’s phone rings, Hero’s number is on the display. He smiles, sets the pizza down on a napkin and answers, “Hey! Glad you were able to-” 

“Villain?” someone whispers. 

After a moment, Villain recognizes the voice. Under the hoarseness and fear, it was Vigilante. “Vigilante? Are you alright? Where’s Hero?” 

Rustling comes from his end and Villain can tell he’s running. “I need you to come get me. I’m running to the lot behind the forest next to Hero’s base. Please.” 

“Y-yeah,” Villain stutters. “I’ll…I’m leaving right now. Hang tight.” 

Instead of an answer, the phone falls to the ground and Villain can hear as it crashes against something hard and breaks. Without wasting a second, Villain grabs his keys and jacket, pulling his jacket on as he runs down the stairs of his apartment building. 

He ignores the shouts from neighbors, and mutters apologies to the others in the hallway that he barrels past. The elevator goes too slow, so he gets off after two stories and flies down the barely used stairwell and makes it to his car in record time. 

The lot by Hero’s base has never been a welcoming place, and the sun going down and the new moon shining no light definitely didn’t help. Vigilante sits against a tree trunk with his knees drawn tightly to his chest, vigilantly searching for anything coming for him. 

By some miracle, he sees Villain’s car before he hears it, grateful that he took the time to take note of the keys in Villain’s coin dish by the front door. 

He almost laughs and stands up, stumbling to the middle of the lot where Villain parks the car. Villain steps out of the car and Vigilante collapses in his arms. 

“Thank you for coming,” he sobs. Villain cups the back of his head with a hand and uses the other to open the passenger door and guide him in. 

After buckling Vigilante, Villain pulls away and studies him in the low light. 

Bruises litter every inch of skin Villain can see. He has barely scabbed over cuts and scrapes. Swollen lip, black eye and a cut on his cheek where blood still trickles out. Villain reaches his hand out, pulling his jacket sleeve over his hand to wipe it away and Vigilante flinches back so aggressively that he hits his head on the headrest. 

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “What happened to you?” 

Vigilante stares up at him, eyes glazed over, and shakes his head. He pulls the door shut and hugs his knees to his chest. 

The ride back to Villain’s apartment is deathly quiet, Villain glances over at Vigilante every few seconds and every time he’s staring blankly forward. 

“Vigilante…”

“No.” he snaps. “No. You don’t get to ask.” pulling his knees closer to himself, he shakes his head. “It’s all your fault, you should’ve known. So you don’t get to fucking ask.” 

[cakeinthevoid]

I was rereading an old work to continue and I just had to share my favourite part I wrote so far :)) Content: Interrogation scene excerpt; slightly inhuman whumpee; muzzled (not explicit); detention; restrained

The detective leaned forward. “See, I don’t think that makes sense.” 

Dang. Guess not. 

“So why would you lie about that?” 

Double dang. 

He stayed silent, clearly wanting her to speak up. 

Auretta resisted and counted the seconds. 

About two and a half minutes later he stood up. Auretta jerked back. 

“Relax, I’m leaving.” The buzzer sounded. “I’m leaving ,” he repeated. 

Auretta felt a panic bloom. 

“Wait,” she coughed out, interrupting her rhythm. “Wait, don’t, I’m sorry, please don’t go.” She coughed and tried to restart her breathing pattern through gritted teeth.

The man sighed. “I want to help you, I really do, but this only works if you’re answering truthfully. You’ve lied, at least partially, at least three times in the past however many minutes. Not to mention the obvious limitation with the mask—” 

“I’ll speak. I’ll talk. Please don’t go.” If she were alone, she would only be able to focus on the chains, the muzzle —no, at the very least, she needed the stimulation.

The detective looked sad. She only caught the expression for a moment before he masked it with unreadability. 

“Okay.” He sat back down. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Continues here! 

[turn-the-tables-on-them]

what is one thing you’d love to share about your characters but can’t find a way to work into the story

hope you feel better:)

Oh I adore this ask.

One thing I'm trying to bring up in story is that Nemesis was born with white hair. It's a genetic defect.

Another is that Slipknot was never sadistic. He didn't enjoy being a whumper, and only did it when he had to. His waterboarding Nemesis was his way of trying to scare her into no longer interfering in his plans. He didn't want to kill her.

Thank you for the kind wishes!

[sunnynwanda]

The Darkside: Part 3

Part 1   Part 2   Part 4

Warning: mentions of physical torture and trauma, a somewhat graphic description of rape in the 2nd chapter, blood, broken bones, healing and aftercare for Villain cause I love them. 

The motorcycle comes to a halt in front of an abandoned cabin. There are no lights in the windows, as far as Hero can see, which makes it even more plausible that Villain is here. They turn the keys, stop the engine and take off their helmet as they walk to the door. They pin the lock and step into the silent darkness of the cabin. Hero stops, searching for signs of human presence, but senses nothing. They take a few hesitant steps, glancing into the kitchen, then moving toward what looks like the living room. They hear laboured breathing to their right and turn just in time to dodge the dagger aimed at their shoulder. 

“It’s me,“ they offer. A silhouette behind the sofa's back shifts to get a better look at them. “Villain, it’s me.”

“Why are you here?” Villain's voice is barely audible. Hero suspects they haven’t had time to treat any of their wounds. Villain brings another dagger up, pressing it to their own throat. “I’ll die but won’t be taken back, Hero.“ 

“I’ll die but won’t let them take you,” Hero claims, unwavering. They cannot blame Villain for not trusting them after what their mentor and colleagues had done. After everything that Villain had to endure because Hero was too slow. “I swear.” 

Villain does not reply, but they do drop the dagger down. With a relieved sigh, Hero crosses the room, walking around the sofa and dropping their bag to the floor. They crouch in front of the fireplace and light a fire, then scan the room, fetching a blanket upon locating it. 

“Shh, don’t move too much.” They place their palm on Villain’s chest, pushing them back on the sofa. “What do you need? Water?”

Villain nods, wordless from exhaustion and concern. “Why are you here?” They repeat after Hero returns with a large glass of water and a jar. “And what is that?”

“Honey,” Hero’s hands are shaky, they attempt to ignore it for now. “It’ll give you some strength before I can get some food in the morning.” 

Villain takes the spoon with their right hand, the left safely tucked away under the blanket. Hero shudders, remembering the state of it, what was done to it. They reach for their bag, pulling out their first aid kit. Something they learned to use to heal themselves while in training. Villain had no need of knowing that. 

Villain scoots away the moment they notice forceps. “No, no, no, please, no...” Hero looks up, not yet understanding what’s gotten into them. They stop Villain from jumping off the sofa and follow their frightened gaze, locked onto the instrument. 

“No, God! This is not... I want to treat your wounds, Vil.” They explain, putting everything aside and holding their hand in their own. “I would never hurt you.”

They can see the panic subsiding in Villain’s eyes, but the fear is still there, ever-present in the back of their mind. “I don’t have to use those, okay?” The enthusiasm with which Villain nods shatters Hero’s heart into the tiniest pieces. “Let me have a look at your hand first, alright?” 

They are still hesitant, eyeing the forceps with utmost hatred when Hero puts those away into the kit. “I can heal, remember?” Hero prompts, pulling their jacket off and discarding it onto the floor. They push the hem of their shirt aside. “I got this when you threw the giant doughnut at me.”

“You didn’t have it the next day,” Villain attempts to smile, opening the cut on their lip. “Shit.”

“Hey, stop with that!” They stop Villain’s sleeve mid-way to their face. With a sigh, Hero moves closer to them, taking Villain’s face into their hands. “Lean back and just trust me.” 

They allow their fingers to move gently over Villain’s lip, wiping the crusted blood and then using their power to heal the cut in mere minutes. Villain looks shocked but remains silent when Hero’s fingers move up to their cheekbones, then forehead, ghosting over every bruise on their face. Once they are done, Hero shifts, pulling the blanket off and revealing Villain’s mangled hand pressed to their stomach for protection. Hero shudders, sounds of flesh and bones crushing under repeated hammer strikes fill their ears.

“It’s...” Villain starts, but is unable to finish. They blink back tears that sting their eyes and take a sharp breath when Hero lifts their hand onto their lap. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, love,” Hero says as they attempt to straighten their crooked fingers. They disinfect the wound - the entire hand from the wrist down. Villain hisses, teeth digging into their lower lip. “Hey, I just healed that! Don’t you dare damage it again!” 

They chuckle at the stunned expression on Villain’s face, happy for the distraction as they snap their phalanges into place. It’s rough and painful, but they know it will heal right. There is no time for surgical precision. Villain inhales sharply but does not pull their hand back, watching Hero tear their hand apart and then work their magic to fix it.

Twenty minutes later, Hero looks up with a small smile. “Done.” They shake their head when Villain waves at them, delighted at their fingers moving freely. 

God, they are so cute, so pure. Hero cannot comprehend how deranged one must be to inflict such torment on them. Without a word, they hook their palm under Villain’s knee, bringing their leg up to examine the damaged foot. Villain shifts, leaning on the couch and watching Hero peel off their impromptu bandage. 

“A T-shirt?“ Villain shrugs. It’s not like they had a bunch of supplies at hand. Hero knows Villain spent whatever time they had in the city to go meet them. Warn them. It takes a moment to compose themselves and start talking because the fabric is stuck to their skin, and it’s about to get painful again. “That’s a pity. I liked that one on you.”

Villain chuckles at the attempt at distraction while Hero’s fingers gently soak the fabric before tugging at it. They bite the inside of their cheek to suppress an anguished moan. Their vision is blurring.

“I’m so sorry.” Hero’s expression is pained, and that provides comfort to Villain. They needed to know there was someone who didn’t take pleasure in their suffering. They tug again, finally ripping it off their skin. “Sorry. This was the last one, I promise.”

Villain nods, blinking to refocus their eyes. They notice their foot is bleeding when Hero starts breathing frantically. Their hands hover just above the wound, almost touching the skin to rush the process. They stop, from time to time, to fix the positions of some bones or make sure they don’t lose functionality. After what feels like an hour, Hero leans back with a satisfied groan. “Can you move your toes?” 

Villain wiggles their toes, and Hero can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of their mouth. This idiot.

“Good. Now take off your shirt.” Villain does not move for a good minute, staring at them with a mixture of emotions that range from surprise to something Hero is better off not discovering. “I need to check your shoulder.” 

“It’s not that bad,” they start, pulling the collar tight around their neck, but Hero’s gaze oozes determination. 

“One touch sent you flying across the street, Vil,“ Hero reasons. They can see the hesitation colouring Villain’s features but do not budge. “Let me take a look.“ 

This time, Hero asks gently, and that’s what breaks Villain. They exhale, looking away to hide the glint of tears in their eyes as they unbutton their shirt and pull it off one shoulder, revealing the bite wound. A large deep purple bruise surrounds the area, and the skin around the torn tissues is red and swollen. 

“Shit, it’s infected.” Hero knows there’s a tremble in their voice but cannot bring themselves to care about that right now. They are thankful Villain doesn’t question it. 

When Hero finishes treating Villain’s shoulder, the sky is dark grey on the horizon. Both are exhausted and sleepy, but a question keeps eating at Hero’s heart. They know Villain did not expect to see them again when they came to warn. They wouldn't allow Hero to see what was done to them otherwise. Yet, as much as they knew Villain hated the idea of them knowing, Hero had to ask. They had to, despite knowing very well the answer would be a resounding no. 

“Vil, can I...” Hero stops mid-sentence, looking down at their hands covered in Villain’s blood. They wish it was Superhero’s. Elbow deep. Villain shifts in the corner, using a pillow to prop themselves up. Hero takes a deep breath, then another, attempting to steady their heartbeat. “Can you allow me to...“ 

That is when it dawns on Villain what Hero’s question implies. What they are asking permission for. What remaining wound of theirs they are referring to.

“No!” Their voice sounds fragile. They sit up, using their legs to push themselves further away from where Hero is seated. They dreaded this moment, this topic from the second Hero walked in. “No fucking way. No.”

“Vil, you know I would never... I want to help.” It takes everything in Hero to keep a sob from escaping. Unable to handle the terror behind Villain’s eyes, they cover their face with trembling hands, dissociating from the horridness of the situation. 

“I know.” Villain is silent for a long moment, waiting for their words to sink in. I know you won’t hurt me. I know you would probably murder Superhero for this. But I can’t. “But no.”

Hero remains irresponsive, so they continue. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t need help.” They lean forward, placing a hand on Hero’s shoulder. Their muscles feel tense enough to crumble under Villain’s touch. “Trust me on this one.” 

Hero nods, still not taking their hands away from their face. It takes them several minutes to collect themselves, pulling the pieces of their broken self into a person-shaped pile. They look up, offering Villain a small smile, then drape the blanket over their nemesis. “Get some sleep. I’m gonna go grab some food.”

“You’ll come back?“ It sounds more like a request than a question. Villain’s eyes are closed when Hero reaches the door, their breathing uneven. 

“No matter what.” With the doors locked, Hero hops onto their motorcycle, pulls a black mask over their face and departs. Once again, they have three hours till the sun is up. Until then, they need to reach the city, complete their mission and return to Villain. No matter what. 

Part 1   Part 2   Part 4

Masterlist

[theiceemperor]

So... I got into MHA.

*Laughs in whump writer*