I don't really write, but I do day dream like crazy so here's an idea that's in my head right now; a "reformed" (or at least captive) villain working for a hero agency arrives at the base, and heads to his working station. On the way there, he casually asks a passing hero if there is a med bay somewhere in this agency- nobody ever gave him a tour or cared enough to explain such to him. The hero completely ignores his question too. An hour later they find him passed out and covered in blood, since his quick at-home stitches broke.
I saw 'prompts for whumpee being scared of caretaker' and read it the other ya round but now I'm obsessed with the idea; prompts for caretaker who's scared of their whumpee?
Oooooooooo, equally as interesting, arguably maybe even more
Whump Prompt List: Fearful Caretaker
"Whumpee? Is that you?" Caretaker shined the flashlight on everything that dared to move. Finally they located their target, jumping aback at the monstrous form that meekly ushered themselves out of the darkness. Then it clicked, that facial structure, that hair...
"Please caretaker, please- I need your help." The wounded whumpee pleaded, growing more dejected with every word they spoke, knowing that they were revealing their fangs uncontrollably. Despite caretaker's shaking, they neared closer through slow cautious steps.
"I know it hurts whumpee" Caretaker circled them, watching a feral gaze reflect through a deadened glance, their friend laboring up a panicked angry breath. Caretaker tried again, "I'm not going to hurt you."
They stared at the unconscious living weapon in their medical bed. In all honesty caretaker had hoped they would appear peaceful in sleep, but a unhappy face remained on them. Caretaker turned around to sort put back all the medical equipment. Right as their peripheral left whumpee out of view, they leapt up from the bed, and launched onto caretaker.
Caretaker analyzed the living weapon cautiously, the whumpee thrashing underneath the tight restraints. They cursed and threatened, pulling and attempting to free their wrists especially. Caretaker could only rely on the promised durability of these restraints.
"I don't know what you are..." Caretaker lowered the aim of their gun though, "But you're hurt..."
Hero scrambled to get up from the kitchen floor, letting out a startled sense of the word no. Villain finished clambering through their window. Like a sack of potatoes they fell to the floor. Half-collapsed where they landed, Villain let out a struggled, "Help... me..."
I wrote the prompt. For @elle297382, who requested comfort (and then I had to write it all).
CW: Violence, including physical abuse like slapping, punching, and beating someone with a belt. Blood. Knives. Broken bones. Verbal abuse & Swearing. Civilian Whumpers, Villain Whumpee, Hero Caretaker
With his final burst of energy, Villain sent a long, crystallized blast at Hero’s feet, forming a small, solid mountain of ice that froze their combat boots to asphalt.
Hero tried lunging for him, swinging out a strength-enhanced fist that Villain easily backed away from. The ice held firm as Hero strained against it—a sign that they, too, were fatigued—and Villain danced further away with a grim smile.
“Ha…Well, guess you aren’t catching me today. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got some merchandise to get back to the boss.”
Gloating was a little overboard considering he was retreating, but still, it was worth seeing Hero’s face flare red as they tried even harder to break free.
“Villain!” They seethed. “Stop! You can be better than this!”
Villain scoffed. “Yeah, like I care.” He turned his back on Hero, starting a hasty jog towards the meeting point. “So cliché,” he muttered to the wind. “Idiot Hero.” The backpack bounced heavily against his back, stolen items jangling loosely inside.
A small crowd of onlookers had formed on the outskirts of their fight, and a few of the smart ones scrambled out of the way when they saw him coming. They couldn’t know that he’d just depleted his powers and wisely assumed that they’d become targets too if considered a threat.
Though one burly guy, some kind of tradesman by the clothes and the bag of tools clutched in his hands, took a little longer stepping back, face twisting up in anger. Villain flashed him a grin, raising his hand in an ominous gesture for good measure. The tradesman moved, and Villain breezed by him easily enough, scanning the street ahead to figure out the best route.
With the sound of his heart pounding in his ears and his shoes pounding against asphalt, he didn’t register the heavy thuds racing up from behind until it was too late.
Villain veered around in time to catch a blinding metal crunch to the forehead.
Stars exploded in his eyes, the pain bright and crushing and sending the rest of him slapping down into pavement. Hot blood poured over his eyelids, stinging, and his fingers blindly scrambled to press against the gushing wound.
“Got ‘em!” A deep voice thundered above, and Villain felt rough, calloused hands manhandle him belly first on the asphalt, and Villain cried out as his throbbing head bounced off the ground. “You’re not going anywhere, asshole.”
The straps of the backpack were jerked down his arms, sending a spike of alarm through Villain.
No, no those are for boss…
And despite the dizziness, a red haze that made him want to vomit, a little surge of adrenaline drove Villain back up to his knees, his hand swinging out wildly and shooting a pathetic mist of ice at his attacker.
“Can I get some help over here?!” The owner of the rough hands called out, shoving him back down. “Don’t be scared, he’s all out of juice!”
Fear cut through the haze, shearing down to his bones. No…nonono. Shit Shit Shit!
He bucked off the rough hands, but they returned like a vice to his wrists, and more hands arrived, pushing down on his legs, his arms, his head. The asphalt pressed back coldly against his cheek, jagged rocks scraping his exposed skin and clothes. The pain drumming in his forehead beat harder, the blood pulsing out and slicking down to the ground instead of over his eyes, though his vision remained a stinging, blurred mess.
A loud groan left his mouth, but no one seemed to hear—all kinds of voices spun around him, growing angrier and louder. Then something cold and tight cinched around his wrists and ankles. It took a second of struggling against them for Villain to recognize the firm plastic as zipties, but then he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt, hauled up into the air so fast his stomach gave another sickening lurch.
His eyelids blinked rapidly, fighting for sight, and through one eye Villain could make out a sea of furious faces surrounding him. He let out a small whimper, his knees sinking but the rough hands keeping him upright.
“Look at him!” The shouty voice gave him a firm shake. “Wasn’t so hard to take him out, right guys?” Then the man snorted in disgust. “What’s the point of having a city full of heroes if we can do a better job ourselves?”
The crowd of bodies stirred, growling its assent.
Shouty man continued. “All the heroes do is take our tax dollars while the villains that are supposed to be locked up keep escaping and making our lives hell!”
Voices shouted in agreement, and Villain squirmed against the man.
“Like this one here!” Callused fingers threaded through his hair and yanked his head up, eliciting a pained yelp. “Stealing, destroying our buildings, freezing people to the streets. Treating the city like a playground, our lives like games. I’m so damn sick of it!”
The buzzing in the crowd intensified, and the air seemed to charge with a dangerous sort of energy. The hairs on Villain’s arms rose, but no amount of struggling helped. A tide was rising, a dam groaning against the pressure. And Villain, bloodied and bound, could do nothing but hear the cracks bursting.
“You know what I say?!” His captor roared. “Let’s make ‘em pay!”
The invisible line holding back the crowd snapped, and a woman in green ran forward and slapped Villain hard on the cheek, her ring biting his cheekbone. She yelled something too, but the words were lost as someone else pushed her aside and punched him square in the jaw. Agony bloomed from the blow, his vision blurring again.
Within seconds, another fist drove into his gut, and he hung wheezing, limp in his captor’s relentless grip. And then Villain was lost to wave after wave of punches, a kick between the legs, slaps, his voice crying out, but being drowned by the next hit or scream. Suddenly it stopped—or maybe he’d passed out—but whichever happened, the next thing he registered was his shirt being torn open, and the jingling sound of a belt buckle unfastening.
Molten fear spurred him to yell out louder through his aching jaw and slurred lips.
“Sstop! Plea-“
The metal end of belt buckle whipped across his cheek, releasing a glob of blood from his mouth and a sob that met deaf ears. The belt buckle whacked again and again against the hard bones of his ribcage, and he cried, he begged, each strike more agonizing than the last. Until finally, mercifully, it stopped. Only to replaced with a cold point that pressed into the exposed skin of his chest.
Villain couldn’t see anymore—not with his eyelids swollen shut—but seeing had little to do with knowing the feel of a knife tip.
Voices jeered loudly, though the chaos was forming into a low-thrumming excitement, similar to how a drunken uproar quiets as the losing team sets up a last Hail Mary pass. A feeling that made Villain’s chilled spine arch away in horror.
And there was laughter.
“Isn’t this what you do for a living, Villain?” The deep voice from behind asked. Villain shook his head weakly, breaths stuttering. Shouty man clicked his tongue. “Don’t be a liar. We know how much of a piece of shit you are.”
“ ‘ease,” Villain whispered, wishing for an end to this.
But the knife pushed in, piercing into the skin of his chest and curving around like a pen stroke. The harsh sting released another whimper, and someone snickered. He tried to restrain the pain then, grunting stiffly as the knife continued to carve its way across his chest.
At last, the cold blade left his skin, but whatever relief that gave him congealed in his blood as his captor murmured to the crowd, “Looks like everyone else agrees. You’re nothing but shit, Villain.”
Harsh chuckles spurted around him, and Villain felt his throat tighten. They…they didn’t…
“I think we did good today, everyone!” Shouty man boomed out, shaking Villain’s deadweight. Villain moaned with the agony throbbing through every corner of his body, even as the crowd gave a little cheer. “Now, we don’t want all our hard work to go to waste, right? Or rather, how about we finish off the job right, and take the shit out to where it belongs.”
Villain groaned again, louder, panicked. But too quickly he was being dragged by his wrists, which screamed out painfully as the zip tie dug deeper furrows into his skin. His shoes skidded along the pavement, his limbs too heavy, too weak to even try kicking out with his bound ankles.
He was too weak to stop what was coming. Villain felt the tears stinging from the corners of his swollen eyes. Useless, incoherent pleas babbled from his split lips. Please…I’ll…be better….please…no…
They stopped.
“This is good. Just lift that up.”
Metal clinked, and then scraped across asphalt. From far, far away, Villain thought he heard a scream.
“Nnnn,” Villain whined. No. Nonono!
“Good riddance, you piece of shit.”
And Villain was dropped into a hole, floating for one horrifying moment in freefall, then landing with a shattering crack that made all the pain in him explode out at once.
And then the darkness swallowed it whole.
____________________
Villain awoke to black, agony his sole companion.
Head thick with pain, all Villain could really think was that everything hurt. Breathing hurt. His head hurt. And even the smallest of twitches sent jolts of lightning from hip to toe.
He laid still, whimpering, crying. Something dripped, something rushed like water.
Something shriveled inside him as more time passed, and no one came.
Who’d come for him? Supervillain? Hero? Villain shook his head mentally. No…not Hero. Hero hates…me.
Villain replayed that last battle in their mind, regretting freezing them to the street, wishing he hadn’t gloated. God, he was such an idiot. A crumpled, broken heap lying on the ground of the sewers. A piece of shit. The words pounded against the walls of his skull, and he sucked in a hot, pitiful breath.
Time slowed, or sped up, Villain couldn’t really tell. It could’ve been minutes, or hours, lying against warm, wet concrete, waiting, wondering if and when he’d die.
Metal scraped from above.
Villain’s heart lurched.
Boots clanged against ladder rungs, followed by a thud. Then footsteps, approaching quickly. The glow of red beyond his closed eyelids signaled light. Who…
“Villain.”
Their cry was soft, almost anguished, and he felt them kneel at his side.
It couldn’t be.
“Hhhhrrr,” they tried to say. Hero.
The tunnel fell quiet, except for the dripping. The rushing of water. And the extra set of labored breaths. And then Hero’s voice returned, oddly small and tight. “Yeah, it’s me. Hero. Sorry it-it took me so long. I was a little stuck.”
Villain could’ve laughed—stuck—but instead he felt an overpowering surge of emotion, tears once again stinging his eyes, a sob cracking from his throat. It’s…Hero.
Overwhelmed, his brain drifted to hysteria, leaving him crying and panting simultaneously as his ribs burned. Part of him relieved, beyond relieved to be saved. The other part mortified, shamefully aware of the state he was in, of the word scrawled into his chest. And when Hero’s hand brushed against his shoulder, Villain flinched away, gasping.
“Shh shh shh, don’t move. You’re alright.” Hero spoke quietly, and their hand returned to his shoulder, gently rubbing with their thumb. “It’s gonna be okay now. I’m here.”
Villain wanted to say so much, wanted to understand why Hero had come, why Hero was being kind to him. But his thoughts were becoming slippery, and words weren’t working either. He could only cry, and after a short moment, he felt the strands of Hero’s hair brush lightly against the side of his head, felt their chin rest on their hand, still on his shoulder. Their warmth close. The breaths from their mouth trembled against his ear—they were crying too.
“I-I’m here,” they whispered hoarsely.
_______________________
Days later—days blurred with careful stitching and wrapping, warm soups brought to the couch, and a meltdown in front of the bathroom mirror that ended with Hero holding him for who knew how long—Villain finally asked the question that had been bothering him since that moment.
“Why were you crying?”
“Hm?” Hero glanced down at him, tightening their grip around his shoulder and pressing him closer to their side. The lights from the movie flashed over their face, a puzzled frown tilting their lips down.
“That day…in the sewers. Why were you crying?”
Understanding flickered in their eyes, and their mouth pursed. “Villain. I don’t think you understand how bad it smelt down there. My eyes watered for hours afterwards.”
“Hero…”
Villain’s soft plea made Hero sag. “Fine. I cried because you were crying too. What can I say, I’m an empathetic crier.” They tried to look nonchalant, but their eyes started to grow distant, and they unconsciously hugged Villain closer with their one arm. “I-I felt so bad, Villain. It hurt, seeing you like that.”
“Don’t you think I deserved it?” Villain blurted out quietly, fingertips tracing over his shirt, feeling the bandages covering his chest.
Hero’s hand enclosed firmly, but gently around his. “No,” they said with a matching tone.
“But everything I’ve done…”
“Is what you did, Villain. It’s not who you are.”
“Then what am I?” Villain whispered.
And Hero sat up, wrapping their other arm carefully around him, their warmth secure and safe. A fact he’d slowly grown accustomed to over the days. “Whoever you want to be, Villain.”
“That’s so cliché,” Villain muttered into their shoulder.
“Only because it’s true.” Hero held them closer, and Villain scoffed, hiding a smile.
Villain let himself slide down the wall of the street, in a state of shock. He shut his eyes tightly. Tears escaped anyway, and he didn't try to stop them. He hugged himself tightly, trembling violently.
It was his fault. By his carelessness, he had led the heroes to his secret base. And now everyone he loved was dead.
He pushed his closed fist against his mouth, forcing himself to stay silent as he sobbed. He had managed to escape before his home exploded, with the bodies of his friends still inside, but the heroes were still after him. He had to keep a low profile, but how could he think of that when everyone he had ever cared for was gone ? They had trusted him. Even as they had noticed the heroes approaching, none of them had fled from his side.
They should've.
Villain froze, his eyes shooting open. He had heard something, close by. He stayed as still and silent as he could, but he couldn't stop trembling, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.
- Villain, I know you're here. You're losing a lot of blood, aren't you ?
He was. He was weak, injured, and crying like a child. And hero's voice so close was only making him shake more.
- Surrender now, and we won't hurt you.
But villain didn't believe him. It was a lie. They would hurt him, they would torture him and kill him like his friends.
So when the hero's flashlight began to illuminate the ground near him, he just curled up tighter and continued to tremble silently.
There is so much potential for villain whump where the villain develops a chronic illness.
Not something fixable, but definitely treatable. But because of their pride (or fear of supervillain deciding they’re useless), they do everything in their power to keep people from noticing. Noticing that they’re losing weight, that they run out of breath too quickly, that they now avoid direct combat.
I’ve mainly been thinking about this because I have developed gastroparesis and before I knew what it was my symptoms were HORRIBLE. Chronic dehydration is a big part of gastroparesis, turns out.
For a villain, I’m thinking gastroparesis caused by nerve damage sustained during an abdominal operation to treat an injury sustained during a fight.
Probably a more uncommon cause of gastroparesis, but diabetes is very hard to ignore without dying immediately (from my experience with a diabetic family member, maybe that’s not universally the case).
I guess hypothyroidism is also a narrative possibility but I think it being indirectly caused by the heroes is very whumpy >:)
But dealing with dehydration, malnutrition, and vomiting+stomach pain WHILE being tired to hell and back is very whumpy as well
warnings: vague talking about potentially risky situations, being kicked out
~
Hero runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He stands up and walks over to the microwave just before it goes off and opens the door. His microwaved mush is done so he takes it out and peels the film off the top, discarding it in the trash. He grabs a plastic fork from its box and makes his way to the living room, past the framed decades old newspapers of his victories on the wall, where he sits down on his couch and turns the TV on to a nature documentary.
He pulls the lever for the footrest and stirs his dinner, frowning at the chunks of ice in the middle, but he takes a bite nonetheless, tasteless slop is tasteless slop, it doesn’t matter if it's hot or cold. His mouth curls in disgust and he chews slowly, trying to keep his tongue on the roof of his mouth so he can’t taste it. Swallowing thickly, Hero sets the bowl down on the floor and leans back in his chair and stares at his ceiling. He closes his eyes and exhales heavily, allowing sleep to overtake him.
A noise pulls Hero from his unrestful sleep, he sits up in his chair and slams the footrest down.
There’s a knock on the door and he takes a step towards it, his foot instantly sinking in something. He looks down at the very same moment he remembers the chunky brown “dinner” he’d set on the ground. He groans and closes his eyes for a second before there’s another knock on the door.
“Give me a minute!” Hero shouts, pulling his sock off of his foot. He leaves it in the bowl and opens the door. “What?”
He stares at Villain in front of him and sighs. She looks more tired than he is, her eyes are bloodshot and half closed. Her hair, usually well maintained, is unkempt and tangled, there might even be a few chunks missing, and her clothes look like she stole them off of a clothes line.
He whistles and leans his head against the doorframe, “What happened to you?”
She exhales shakily and looks at the ground, then back up at him, “Why do you only have one sock on?”
Her voice is tired, more tired than he’d ever heard her. Even when she had to postpone one of their fights so she could study, or when she had to bring her backpack with her so she could get back to homework right after.
“Long story,” he says dismissively, “What are you doing here?”
She sighs and shakes her head, “Probably a longer one. But you told me when we first met that if I ever needed help with something you’d be able to…help me?”
He nods, “I did. God that was a while ago, wasn’t it?”
“Almost two years.”
“Feels like longer,” Hero says, taking a step aside and waving her into his home.
Villain steps in and looks around cautiously, eyes wide and searching for anything that might be a trap. She snickers and covers her mouth, stifling laughter.
Hero follows her eye line and if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be embarrassed at her finding the sock filled microwave dinner on the floor.
“What kind of help do you need?” He asks, walking into the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. “Need someone taken care of? I know a lot of the people in Supervillain’s social group aren’t exactly upstanding citizens. Now that you’re not a child anymore they’re probably suggesting a lot of things.”
“No, nothing like that,” She says with a small smile. “I just…need a place to stay for the night? I kinda-well. The thing is I-I sorta…” she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, “I got kicked out and Supervillain can’t put me up anywhere because all his connections would basically-well you know what they would do to me.”
Hero nods. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring lazily at the slowly filling coffee pot. He blinks a few times and looks at her, “How do I know this isn’t a trick? A ploy so you can be in my home where my guard is lowered and kill me? All you’ve done for the past two years is try to defeat me. How can I trust your story?”
Villain’s entire body slumps, her carefully curated mask slips and shatters on the ground beneath her. Tears well in her eyes and sobs start to choke her, sticking in her throat. Her arms, usually super glued to her side, wrap tightly around her stomach and her stomach turns inside of her.
Hero watches as her facade falls, her entire demeanor changes before he can close his mouth.
“My story?” Villain hisses, spittle hitting Hero square in the chin. She takes a deep breath and tries to regain her composure. With each breath, Hero’s words echo in her head. “I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave you alone and figure something else out.”
Without giving him a chance to try and fix what he’d done, she turns around and walks out of the house. She stops at the door and looks back, tears streaming down her face.
“I thought you’d believe me. Out of anyone I thought you would believe me.” she sniffles and slams the door behind her.
Hero runs after her, opening the door and hoping for her to catch his eye. He sighs heavily and shakes his head, closing the door again.
Villain stared at the cement ceiling above them, vaguely aware of their surroundings. They looked around, the ringing in their ears doubling as they forced themselves to a sitting position. The hand cradling their abdomen was covered in crimson blood, making their stomach churn. Superhero's chuckle brushed the outside of their consciousness and for a moment they considered standing and continuing the fight, but they couldn't seem to form a direct string of action.
".......concussion....."
What? Concussion? They shook their head, trying to clear the fog from their brain. As their eyes traveled over the walls around the warehouse with a lazy gaze a voice pierced through the haze.
"Villain?"
Why was Hero here? This wasn't their sector... or maybe it wasn't Villain's sector? They weren't even sure anymore. The conversation behind them urged them to focus in and listen but the throbbing pain starting to creep up their chest distracted them. They looked down, watching the blood seep through their clothes until they felt a hand on their knee.
"...villain...villain what-"
They looked up, Hero kneeling in front of them. The long-due panic now began to set in, and Villain scooted away, starting to stand.
"Hey- hey woah slow down." Hands wrapped under their arms, a firm grasp keeping them from falling back to the cement.
"gotta...gotta keep go'ng.." Villain slurred.
"Woah, woah no. You're not doing anything, you need to go. I got you five minutes."
Villain thrashed weakly in Hero's grip who had swept Villain up into their arms.
"nn..no..hero.."
"No Villain, stop. Stop trying to play the hero, okay?"
"What happened?” Hero demanded as they helped Villain to the couch. Their nemesis all but collapsed onto it, breathing strained.
“They fuckin’ ditched me,” Villain gritted out. “My team. Used me for the mission and then left me for dead.”
Hero swallowed hard and tried to suppress their anger as they took in Villain’s black eye and the bruise forming on their jaw. They didn’t care that they were supposed to be enemies. They didn’t care that Villain was bleeding all over their nice couch or that they shouldn’t have even known where Hero lived in the first place. All they cared about was making this right. “Superhero did this to you?”
Villain nodded weakly. They tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the movement caused them to groan in pain and clutch at their side. “Yeah,” they said. “I’m sorry, I know you hate me but I—I didn’t know where else to go.”
Hero sighed. “I don’t hate you. And I definitely don’t want you bleeding out in an alley somewhere, so...I’m glad you came here. Even though I’m kind of freaked out that you know where I live.”
Villain managed to laugh at that. “What kind of nemesis would I be if I didn’t keep tabs on you?”
“Right.” Hero rolled their eyes. “Just hang tight, okay? I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.”
When they returned, they knelt in front of Villain and went to work cutting away the torn remains of their suit, which was soaked with blood (the halfhearted “At least buy me dinner first” went unacknowledged.) Hero drew in a shaky breath when they were able to see the extent of Villain’s injuries—bruises covered their skin along with dozens of smaller cuts and a few gashes that looked sickeningly deep.
“Shit,” Hero muttered, nauseated at the sight. “I can’t believe Superhero would do this. I’m going to kill them.”
“I think one of my ribs is broken.” Their voice had dropped to a whisper. “Feels like it’s stabbing my lung.”
Hero reached up a hand to cup Villain’s cheek. It was supposed to be comforting, but their trembling fingers smeared blood on Villain’s face. “You're gonna be okay. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”
Villain looked down before shutting their eyes quickly and letting out a small whimper. “Fuck, that looks bad. Oh my god.”
“Do not pass out on me,” Hero ordered. “I’m going to clean and stitch these, and you’ll be fine. Then you can rest while I hunt down Superhero and knock their teeth out.”
Chapters listed in rough chronological order. Numbers next to the chapter title indicate writing order. (Next and previous links in the chapter follow WRITING order).
Here we go! you asked, and I'm happy to deliver! Decided whether or not I wanted this to happen, but I was bored and ended up keeping it! This one is shorter, but I hope you enjoy!!
CW: Hospital setting, waking up during surgery, lmk if I need to add others idrk what else to put
"........Heartbeat increasing......"
"...Medic......."
"...asleep......they need........"
"I don't usually........."
Villian felt their consciousness returning, sure they were in recovery. They remembered Hero finding them in the street, the gas flowing into their nose, and then... now. Light shone above, casting a pink glow that Villian could see behind their eyelids. The beep of the heart monitor pulsed steadily behind the conversation they could barely focus on.
"They need more, where is it?" An unfamiliar voice demanded; their question followed by a 'plop'.
"I don't know, but it's out. Good thing, too. It looks like it's going to burst any minute now."
"Hero, they're going to wake up, their heart rate is increasing..!"
There was a pause, and Villian felt eyes on them.
"I think they already have... Villian?"
A small voice in Villian's head told them that Hero wanted their attention, that they should respond, and they forced their drooping eyelids open.
"Shit... Medic, we need that anesthesia right now."
Villian watched Hero drop something shining from their hand and turn to Villain's head. A tiny, almost foreign bloom of panic and confusion. They looked side to side and strained to force their muscles to obey. Hero noticed, placing a gentle yet firm hand on their shoulder.
"Can't have you doing that, you need to stay down."
Villian tried to argue but their lips seemed unresponsive, only managing a weak groan.
"I know, I'm sorry. Are you in pain?"
Villian looked around with a frantic gaze, breath quickening, and panic pulling them away as they tried to command their body to move, but it wouldn't obey.
"Hey, hey focus in. Blink once if you're in pain, twice if you aren't.
Villian blinked twice and Hero breathed a small sigh of relief.
"Found it!" The other person announced, and they crossed around Villian to the IV stand. Villian's gaze followed the other person and to the tin on the table next to them. They couldn't focus enough to try and understand what it could-
"Hey, hey no don't look over there, look up, look at me."
Villian obeyed and Hero nodded.
"Okay, all hooked up! About thirty seconds." The other person proclaimed.
"nnn...not.....done?" Villian slurred, fatigue already pulling them down as Hero shook their head.
Could you please write something like Hero let Villain rest at Hero’s house after Villain was beaten up and half dead injured, but Villain sneaked out Hero’s house as soon as they regained consciousness and when they were still burning up because they thought they were such a burden, now Hero had to find Villain in the rain and persuade them they were not a burden at all
Golden Boy
(A/N) This sat in my inbox for a MINUTE. I got a little behind 🤏 but I’m here! I made it. I did it. I got…*drumroll* a Kindle Scribe! Best device I have ever owned and I have written, not one, but TWO stories in just one day. This is just one of them. Thank you all for your continued support. Here’s some well-earned fluff (enjoy it while it lasts- you know me).
<3
******
“Villain, are you insane? You’ll freeze out here in the rain!”
Sure, Villain heard the hero- loud and clear, actually- but she had to keep walking. Her leg stung badly, and Villain wasn’t sure she would make it, but she was alive. She could push through. All she had to do was-
“-Villain!”
Her breath caught in her throat and she choked back a cry as she collapsed. Her leg. God, how it hurt.
Rain poured down on Villain, pelting her face and loosening her bandages, though clinging against her skin all the same. The pain of everything should have made her sick, but all she could focus on was Hero’s footsteps growing faster. She wasn’t his problem, so why was he running to her?
“Villain. Villain, hey. Are you alright?” His footsteps began to slow. She grimaced, wondering why he couldn’t just leave her alone.
“I don’t need your help,” she seethed.
He ignored her- blatantly. His hands were placed delicately on her shoulders, tugging at her and trying to convince her to turn and face him.
“Don’t touch me,” Villain snapped, and she gulped at the pain in her stomach as she twisted away from Hero.
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry.” His words were rushed. “Did I hurt you?”
He wasn’t worried for her. He couldn’t be. “Is it that difficult to believe a girl doesn’t want to be stalked in the dark by a man and be dragged back to a home that isn’t hers?” This, of course, wasn’t the problem. Her own home didn’t come with a medic, or any first aid for that matter.
She faced him now, only to see him gnaw at the dead skin of his bottom lip. His gaze fell to a puddle forming on the road beside Villain, and she could see something like remorse glint in his eyes- or maybe it was just the rain.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just- what are you doing out here? I heard a noise in the kitchen and by the time I could throw my boxers on, you’d already gone out the front door.”
“Oh, don’t do that. Pretend you care and…” She trailed off, her voice sharp as she made an attempt to stand. It burned, stung, and throbbed, but she pushed, pushed, pushed until the pain was so great that she ultimately collapsed again.
Something pulled- her skin, and it was warm where it ripped.
“You reopened the wound. Let me take you back, Villain.” He held his hand out to help, but Villain rejected it with a swat of her hand. “You need re-bandaged and then you need to rest.” He didn’t touch her shoulder this time, didn’t offer a hand again, but he looked at her. Looked at her like he was pleading with her.
“So what? So I can use up all your medical supplies? I- I can bleed on your couch and-”
“Bed,” he corrected, “and yes, so you can do all those things and more. Whatever you need if it makes you better. You really think I care about inventory and dirty sheets?”
Villain rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to pretend you care about me. I already know I’m the last person you want laying on your couch.”
Hero opened his mouth to speak, but Villain beat him to it.
“Bed,” she corrected this time. Villain took a deep breath and held it deep in her chest before making a second attempt to stand. Somehow, despite the open, bleeding wound in her stomach, and the pain of her battered leg, she managed to stand this time. Painfully, she began stumbling away on her own.
“You’re not a burden, you know?” Hero’s voice was muffled by the rain between them, but she heard well enough to stop in her tracks. He struck a chord.
Instead of accepting it, she bit back. “Bet that’s real easy for you to say, Golden Boy.” Her voice was breaking. The pain throughout her body was becoming impossible to ignore. She swallowed. Could Hero even hear her? Did it matter? She should keep walking, Villain thought, but Hero’s voice stopped her before she could.
“Who made you feel this way about yourself?” His voice was closer than Villain expected, having just walked away from him. When did he come so close?
A breath whistled from between her parted lips. When did she become so tired? And when did she place her arm on Hero’s arm for support?
“Maybe it was me,” Villain said. “Don’t they say you’re your own worst critic?” She tried to chuckle, tried to show defiance at the first sign of care, but she coughed instead. Perhaps she should have taken it as a sign, but Villain was stubborn. She didn’t feel she deserved Hero, not with as many problems as she came with. “Go home, Hero. Take your boxers off and enjoy your silk sheets.”
Hero looked down at her now, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t have silk sheets.”
“You do. In the closet, across the hall.” She was running out of breath.
He hummed. “You found clean sheets and remade my bed before deciding you were too much. What an awful being you are. How horrible. How terrible and-”
“Smart-ass doesn’t fit you,” Villain rasped. “And neither do those boxers. Not from that dusty old closet, too, are they? Her hand brushed against his bare chest as she felt her eyes slip back, and she shuddered awake, feeling the goosebumps along his skin- a reminder that it was cold and raining, and that her clothes were soaked and bloody…”Will you walk me back?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Will you run off again?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. What if your blanket slips and I see something I don’t want to see?” Out of breath, out of breath. Breathe. Breathe, Villain. Was she talking to herself or was Hero talking to her?
“As if you wouldn’t be the one pulling it off before you left.” Hero was already turning around and supporting Villain as she matched his actions.
“Right.” It was all Villain’s lungs had the capacity to say. She would banter later, when Hero was changing her bandages in the morning- on her stomach and leg, places she’d have to lift her clothes or pull them down in order to see and access.
Villain hummed, and for a second time she woke herself up from her exhaustion, jolting and grasping at Hero’s chest. She hadn’t meant to hum at her own thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” They were already at the front door. Hero must have left it open, assuming he would be returning with Villain in hand.
“I know that you’re sleepy. Here, lay down. I need to change your bandages first.”
And so the night went, Villain’s bandages were changed, and she swore not to run off again. She swore, too, once Hero left the bedroom, that she wouldn’t let herself dream of the golden boy in boxers, running in the rain to tell her she’s not a burden. She refused, but then hadn’t she also refused refuge?
Yet here she was. Fresh, silk sheets- though perhaps a little dusty from the closet- on a thick-foamed mattress and a boy without boxers in the next room over.
He looked like Villain, but at the same time, he didn’t.
The man on the floor looked wrong.
Villain’s once slick, shiny hair was now greasy and matted, his fraim unhealthily skinny, and his eyes surrounded by dark rings.
Not only Villain’s appearance, but the whole situation, was alarming for hero.
He was in Superhero's home for the first time ever, even while being Superhero’s successor. Hero had been invited for a “special occasion”, which it definitely was, and nothing could have prepared him for it.
Villain, the cunning, criminal genius, was on his knees, above the icy floor of Superhero’s apartment, staring upwards at Hero in awe.
“Hero, sir!” A wide, genuine smile spread across Villain’s face, squishing his sunken cheeks.
Hero was frozen still, the sight in front of him seeping into every inch of his brain. He almost didn’t notice Villain’s next move. Hero jerked his entire body backwards, almost ramming into the wall.
Villain should’ve been fighting, screaming, throwing insults, just like he had when he had been arrested months prior. When Hero arrested him.
Instead, Villain had been bent down kissing his shoes.
Hero’s.
Shoes.
It couldn’t be Villain. Villain would have never done anything remotely similar, not ever, and he definitely wouldn’t have done it of his own free will.
“N-no!” Hero exclaimed, an expression of shock and disdain on his face. In return, Villain's face fell.
“I’m sorry sir! Please, I-I didn’t mean to upset you!” Villain looked frantic, Hero had never seen him so unkempt before.
“Villain what’s- don’t call me- are you in danger? What’s going-”
“Sir,” Villain met his eyes, a smile returning to his distressed expression. “I’m finally better for you. I’m good. Superhero sir says so.” His hands clinged onto one another, as if begging to Hero.
The slender man swiftly crawled closer to Hero, and clasped with weak hands onto Hero’s pant legs.
“I’m a good boy, sir. I promise. I worked so hard.
For you.”
Before Hero could react, a rough hand clutched to his shoulder.
“You like your gift? I worked pretty hard on it.” Superhero bent down, ruffling a large hand through Villain’s shaggy hair. Villain visibly leaned into the touch, his wide smile returning fully.
“What… what happened, Superhero?” Hero managed, eager to shove the rising bile back down to his stomach.
“You’re pretty surprised, aren’t’cha? I guess I would be too if my nemesis was groveling at my feet.” A deep laugh echoed throughout the room. Superhero walked leisurely toward the kitchen area. “Let’s sit down first, I’ll have the pet make us some tea.”
“Superhero.” The footsteps ceased.
“Tell me what happened.”
A moment passed filled with silence. Hero’s gaze burning a hole through Superhero’s head.
“Damn kid, okay. Didn’t realize you’d be so excited to find out.” Hero’s fists tightened. “You remember when you captured him, yeah? Ah, he was so different then, so fiesty.” His fingers twisted through Villain’s hair.
“Well he didn’t go to prison like you thought he did. He was instead, the first patient in a program set to reprogram villains. To fix them.
“Wait-” One word left the Hero frozen in their tracks. Behind them they heard the soft shifting of fabric and a choked whisper. “Don’t leave me, please.”
They turned. Against every warning, every regulation, they faced the Villain. The sight before them nearly knocked the breath from their lungs. Bleeding, frightened, half-conscious. Their enemy no longer appeared as the Villain Hero had come to know so well.
Villain coughed, a gut-wrenching wheeze that splattered red upon the concrete. Again they looked up with a gaze so pitiful that Hero felt their heart wrench. “Help-”
For the first time, Hero rushed to the Villain’s side without hesitation.
Kai was idling in the hall, absolutely dreading the impending meeting. He knew it was important; knew the reasoning behind regular Hero League briefings. But they were just so boring.
He had sent his team ahead of him into the massive semi-circle auditorium that was currently filling to the brim with just about every hero in the League. If he already wasn’t looking forward to spending the whole meeting sitting still, he definitely didn’t feel like going in early and suffering small talk with teams he didn’t know.
He was planning to pace the hall just outside one of the main entrances until the meeting started, but the weird looks he’s getting combined with the cacophony of chattering heroes spilling out quickly becomes too much. He wanders deeper into the maze of hallways as he tries not to think about what the meeting will be about. He’s sure it will either stress him out or piss him off. Or both. That’s happened before.
There was a bathroom down this hallway. Figures he’d make his way to water. He lets his core pull him even closer, feeling the water flow all around him through the pipes. Kai turns the sink’s faucet just long enough to manipulate some water flow through the air. He sends it flying back and forth between and around his hands, playing with it like a fidget toy. The water flattens down to a thin disk between his hands before he pops it up to spin on the tip of his finger. It was his newest trick he’d been working on.
Kai is suddenly startled by a rough groan and a shaky, quiet voice exhaling a curse. The precarious disk splashes down over his hand as he loses his concentration. He shakes it off as he peeks down the bathroom corridor. The stalls are all open, but he can make out someone kneeling in the last one.
He sighs as he moves towards it, knowing he’ll probably regret it. He knocks lightly as he edges his way in.
“You good, man?” he calls.
The man kneeling in front of the toilet nods and takes a breath, only to lurch forward, dry heaving. He shudders violently in his crouched position, swaying.
Kai is behind him in a moment, steadying him by one shoulder. He stands there sort of awkwardly while he makes sure the dude isn’t about to crack his skull on the tile.
“Is, uh, is there anyone I could get to help you maybe?” he asks, equal parts concerned and uncomfortable.
It seems like the man hesitates before shaking his head. He spits into the toilet one last time before slowly, shakily rising to his feet. Kai backs off to give him space. He wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet before turning towards Kai.
Time seems to slow as the man turns towards him. Kai’s eyes narrow as he meets unmistakeable bright blue eyes and curly brown hair, mussed and sweaty but recognizable. Despite not wearing his typical gas mask-like villain disguise, Kai’s all but sure he’s looking at a notorious villain.
“Tinker?”
Tinker stiffens just slightly, enough to confirm Kai’s suspicions.
He lunges.
Two pipes on either side of the villain suddenly burst at the pull of the superhero’s powers. Water rushes fast and unforgiving, slamming into the villain’s chest with sufficient force to throw him into the tiled wall. Kai directs the water to pin and encase his charged hands for good measure. He lets out a strangled groan at the pain of being thrown into the wall and gasps to catch his breath.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kai growls.
He lets out a breathy chuckle as he adapts to the situation, scrutinizing Kai for a moment. “Nalu! I missed you, man. Didn’t you miss me?” the villain jokes with a playful grin, only a slight strain to his words hinting at the immense pressure of water on his chest.
“I'm not fucking playing around, Tinker,” he snaps. “Look around. We're in a bathroom. I could drown you without even trying.” His powers pull at the water just beyond his fingertips, ratting the pipes and fixtures for good measure.
Tinker's grin melts off his face, just fast enough that Kai knows it was a front. “Look man, I'm supposed to be here. I promise, just ask Miguel Toro, ask Shadow.”
“How the fuck do you know that name?”
“I—because, dude!” Tinker bursts, then immediately flinches slightly at his own outburst. Kai raises an eyebrow at him, and Tinker sighs with another little groan.
“I-I know him because, I told you, I’m supposed to be here. I’m on his team,” Tinker says in measured words, clearly trying to control his frustration.
Kai glares down at him, trying to read the kid. He was a few inches shorter than Kai and looked skinnier than he’d last seen him. Dark circles like bruises stained his under his eyes, making his already intense blue eyes stand out even more. He’s slightly green still—a subtle sheen of sweat across his forehead—from being sick. From this close, he could just make out the faint edge of a bruised jaw and cheek covered with makeup. The kid doesn’t look too hot. Weird.
Most importantly, though, Kai can’t see any sign the villain is lying. He is a villain and being a good liar is practically Villain 101, but Kai can’t imagine how he could possibly know Shadow’s real name besides him now, bizarrely, being with the Hero League.
He sighs, easing back on the water pressure. Tinker drags in a deep breath.
“What do you mean you’re supposed to be here?” Kai prods.
“I’m—the new villain reform initiative, I’m the guinea pig. I came to the Hero League; they—they’re giving me a chance,” the villain says quietly.
Kai scrutinizes him one more moment before sighing and pulling the water away from. The kid slumps against the wall when he’s released, breathing heavily. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Tinker was more hyperventilating with fear than anything else. But this is Psychosis’ protege; he’s one of the most notorious new villains in the city. He's bested Kai several times. There’s no way he’s that afraid.
Kai forces the water back into the pipes he burst, wincing slightly at the damage. Two very burst pipes and maybe a dozen destroyed tiles. Plus the holes in the wall. He might’ve gotten a little carried away again. He grabs the villain’s arm tightly, freezing the holes in the pipes shut and making a mental note to let his supervisor know. Mari was gonna kill him. Six pipes this month. He sighs and shakes his head.
“Come on, let’s go find Miguel,” Kai grinds out, frustrated that this was now his problem. He pulls the pliant villain out of the bathroom with a tight grip on his arm.
They make their way through the halls in tense silence, only occasionally interrupted by Kai’s huffing and annoyed grumbling as it takes longer and longer to find Miguel in the maze of hallways around the auditorium.
Kai is just about ready to start yelling again when he suddenly feels a sharp, painful jolt of electricity shoot up his arm. He swears loudly, dropping the villain’s arm as fast as he can. He’s about to burst some more pipes in preparation for a fight when he realizes Tinker has yelped in clear pain and completely collapsed to the ground. The kid’s muscles are so tense it looks painful as he twitches and groans on the floor.
What the fuck, Kai thinks.
He crouches next to the villain, who’s clearly in severe pain, not sure what to do. Since when did Tinker’s electricity hurt him? Kai’s seen him use his powers plenty of times before, and he’s never seen anything like this. Is this some kind of weird trap? He doesn’t touch the kid, not wanting to get shocked himself, but his hands hover over him, not sure what to do.
Eventually, it seems like the electricity that’s rendering the villain totally immobile subsides and he gasps, tears suddenly spilling over. He shakes and quivers through the aftershocks, gulping oxygen. His pain seems too genuine for this to be a trap.
He puts his hand on the kid’s arm and he flinches like he’s been burned. The kid whimpers in pain, eyes glazed over and not quite there. Kai realizes he’s mumbling something under his breath and leans closer. He can just barely make out what the kid is saying.
“I-I’ll be g-good, I’m sorry. I’m trying, p-please, I’m s-sorry,” he stutters.
Kai grabs his arms a little more firmly this time and doesn’t let go even when the villain flinches again. He shakes the trembling kid lightly, trying to get him to snap out of it.
“Tinker? Come on, man. What the hell is going on?”
Tinker’s eyes eventually clear. He blinks up at Kai—so openly vulnerable and confused and scared that it startles him. He’s not sure what to do with that, so he decides to focus on anchoring Tinker in the moment, clearing his throat.
“There you are. You good?”
Tinker gives him a hesitant and shaky nod that’s not really convincing. Kai watches as the kid blinks a few times and a clearly well-practiced mask slips into place, hiding the raw emotions he just witnessed. He struggles to push himself into a sitting position, and Kai helps him sit up.
“What the fuck was that?” Kai asks when he seems more lucid.
“Uh, it’s—well, it’s a warning. Miguel must be l-looking for me. I-I have to get back to him, like now,” he says, a little panicked.
He struggles to his feet before Kai can do anything to help. He has to stand quickly himself to steady the villain before he crashes to the floor again. His steps are clumsy and unsteady, but urgent as he looks around, trying to find his way back to Miguel.
Kai hurries after him, even more confused and alarmed now.
“Wait, what the fuck do you mean ‘a warning’? Was that not your powers?”
Tinker shakes his head, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side wordlessly to expose a thin metal ring around his neck. Like a collar.
“Again, and I cannot stress this enough, what the fuck?” Kai exclaims.
The villain shakes his head, dismissing Kai’s question, and suddenly lets out a very relieved sigh when he peaks around the corner.
“Miguel! I’m right here!”
Kai follows after the villain, now jogging towards Toro.
Miguel does not look happy. “Get the fuck over here, Jasper. Where the hell did you go?”
Jasper? Kai thinks. It’s strange to think of the villain as anything other than his villain moniker.
Jasper slows slightly, nerves returning to his shaking frame. “I-I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I was sick and, and then, uh,” he breaks off, looking back pleadingly at Kai for support.
Kai’s really not sure why he opens his mouth. But he does.
“Yeah, I, uh, held him up. That’s my bad.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He fixes his gaze on the team leader, “Um, he’s on your team, Miguel?” he asks.
“We’re keeping an eye on him.”
Kai could swear he sees Jasper deflate a little out of the corner of his eye.
“You’re getting ready to hear about it. Why don’t you head in to sit with your team, Kai? We’ve gotta go get Tinker here set up,” Miguel says, stiffly, grabbing Jasper’s arm tightly and starting to tug him away.
Jasper looks back at him once more, gratefulness and something else hard to read, something maybe like resigned fear, swirling in his eyes.
Kai watches the pair go, Miguel pulling Jasper close by the collar of his shirt as he drags him down the hall, whispering something sharp and terse in his ear. The villain tenses, stiff but yet still pliant in Miguel’s grip.
Kai sighs to himself.
What the fuck.
~~~
Grumpy caretaker is grumpy! Not sure when or how that happened because I really didn’t plan on him being grumpy he just kinda manifested that way lmao. He a little confused but he’ll get the spirit I promise. Elijah might have to bully him into it a little bit tho.
tags!! hello again!! I love you!! I hope this actually works this time!! lmk if you wanna be added or removed anytime :)
