From Theo, with Love

So sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out! I hope it's worth the wait.

TW: A lot of physical whump, knives, whipping, beating, blood, implied threat of noncon

Tag list: @ihaveacrushonjester @tears-and-lilies @starnight-whump @oswaldinator3000 @myst-in-the-mirror

Masterlist | Previous | Next (coming soon)

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Gabriel tried to hold back tears as the king spoke. The cuts on his chest burned and fear at what was to come flooded his body.

Glancing around the room, he saw that most of the guests looked excited. Aurelia, though, was unable to hide the concern and anger from her expression. Her father’s hand was placed firmly on her shoulder, stopping her from standing up. Gabriel knew there was nothing she could do. He was torn between the comfort he felt having a friend in the room and the shame and guilt he felt at her seeing him like this.

“So, I’ve decided that for tonight, a representative from each territory will have the opportunity to punish our prisoners personally! The method and which one you choose is up to you. We have all the tools you could possibly need. The only rule is that they both must live at the end of the night – no wounds too grave to treat in the infirmary. This is only the beginning of their sentence.”

Gabriel tuned out the enthusiastic chatter echoing throughout the room and tried to get a count of how many territories were in attendance. He couldn’t see everyone clearly, but if everyone was present, that would mean five different representatives. Five torture sessions to endure or be forced to watch.

“Stollbrook will be up first since the Duke has already gotten a head start,” the king declared with a laugh.

Cheers erupted from the Stollbrook section of the table. The Duke smirked and walked closer to Bennett. “Your highness, can I take the gag off this one? I’ll punch ‘im harder if he opens his ugly mouth to talk.”

didnt get bingo >:(

I’ll never forget the time I laughed my ass off at a horror movie while everyone else screamed hysterically. Also hmmmm I do have a whump playlist but it doesn’t have Hozier so...

No bingos but still super fun! :D Forensic files is my jam. And ooh, a whump playlist. I should get on that!

No, I did not go through three colors trying to x these out and that’s why they’re layered. Why would you even say that?

Thanks for the tag!!! Sadly no Bingo even though i was so close aaaah xD But this was really fun!!!

Ty for the tag Tabea and cowboy anon!! :D yay bingo! This was so fun to do:))

Thank you for the tag @froggywhumpy and @happy-whumper!

This was very fun and probably revealed far too much about me :)

Thank you for tagging me @froggywhumpy and @myst-in-the-mirror​!

I love royal whump! I’m always looking for new stories to read. So I’m starting a list of the royal whump stories I’ve read so far and recommend. If you’re looking for a new story to read, you can refer to this list to find one! ^.^

Just a note: these are the stories I’ve read! There’s a lot more out there, and there’s a lot more stories I want to read. I will add to this list once I’ve read more!

Taglist: @froggywhumpy @happy-whumper @serys-writes-stories @fromtheo-withlove @yesthisiswhump

CW: whipping, stabbing, blood, noncon touching/kissing (non-sexual), multiple whumpers, knifes, creepy/intimate whumpers

Last part: X

Masterlist: X

——————————

“Established guests and their families, I welcome you here tonight on behalf of my father, the king, and my mother, the queen.” Damien’s voice spread over the room.

Behind him, Lar shifted in their position, trying to find a comfortable way to stand with their arms pulled out on either side. Their attempts weren’t proven worthwhile. All they achieved was the chains rattling. Over the silence, the noise reverberated across the room, causing people to turn their gaze to them. They inwardly cursed.

Interrupted in his speech, Damien turned around to glance at Lar. He smirked as if this was what he wanted all along and then faced the crowd again.

“I hope you’ve all had a pleasant evening so far, but I know this is the part most have anticipated.”

Lar felt anxiety swim about in their stomach. How was this getting to them so much? Damien hadn’t even done anything.

“The pet you see behind me is my own, Lar, and they’ll be for your use tonight. Enjoy them: I don’t usually share.”

The crowd murmured, though it wasn’t from anger at his Damien’s blunt words. If anything, it seemed to get more excited and the faces around the room lit up.

Even before the pain to come, they could feel it on them. The crack of a whip on their back, a knife stroke down their arm, an assault of punches on their stomach. Lar looked round the room, saw the exited tittering of the guests.

Damien, after his short speech, came back towards Lar, grinning all the while. “Now for the final touch.”

He reached into his pocket, drawing out a white material, matching to the gag around their mouth. What? How would I need that?

The prince ducked under the chain holding up their left arm and went round to their back. “This’ll make it a bit more exciting.”

He brought it up and over their face, pulling the material over their eyes. The world went dark.

“You’ll see what I mean,” He whispered into Lar’s ear, tying the knot tightly behind their head. “Or, rather, you won’t.”

A hand went onto their shoulder and Lar had to prevent themself from flinching. They couldn’t be scared, not this early on.

Then, the hand left and everything felt empty. The movement of people around the room, some towards them, was all that was left for them to focus on. A brush of air streaked past them. Was something coming nearer? The chain jostled and it wasn’t caused by them.

For a second, everything seemed to go quiet around them. Still, as if someone was holding their breath.

Then, a sharp whistle of air, and pain split Lar’s back. They grit their teeth behind the gag. There was going to be a lot more to come, wasn’t there.

The whip cracked down again, slitting their skin like an earthquake the earth.

For a third time, it came down. Then a fourth, and a fifth, a sixth, a seventh. The person behind Lar really wasn’t going easy.

Blood started to trail down their back, hot and stinging. The whip continued its viscous attach. Harsh. Unrelenting. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

Stop, please stop, A treacherous part of their mind spoke. They knew it wouldn’t. No matter how much Lar begged, how much they pleaded for mercy, none was given. They always used to beg, resort to it when it all became too much. But Damien would do nothing to stop. Sometimes he would punish them more, sometimes he would mock them, sometimes he would ignore them, continuing as if nothing had happened. The worst times, however, was when he comforted them. He would stroke their head or cup their cheek, and, in the midst of their suffering, they could do nothing but find comfort in it. Find comfort in him.

The whip struck for a final time and Lar released a sharp breath.

“Hope you enjoy the rest of your night,” the person from behind them said, sneering in their tone. Then, the speaker went, leaving Lar standing in chains and bleeding, welts streaking their back.

The pain may have ceased for a moment, but Lar knew it wouldn’t be for long. More would be coming: there was a whole room full of people wanting to cause it to them.

They heard another person step up behind them and braced themself for the oncoming strike.

This is going to be a long fucking night.

———————————————

It was fifteen minutes in when they first screamed, unable to hold in the agony any longer. An hour passed and Lar didn’t know how anything could possibly be worse. Their back was burning, their arms were aching, their legs were bordering on collapse. Twice already, they had let their legs drop to give themself a break from standing. Twice already, they had forced themself to hold all their weight on their arms until they couldn’t handle it anymore and stood up again.

The people behind Lar had gotten crueller and crueller as the time had passed. Or maybe they were all the same. Lar couldn’t tell: it’d all started to blur together.

Some would stick with their back, happy to whip them and nothing else. Others would go further. Use other instruments of torture: Whacks of batons across their arms and legs; thin cuts across their skin; punches; slaps; other impossible pains they couldn’t identify. Many of the guests would laugh at them and whisper taunting things in their ear. A few of them would assault Lar in pairs, even more in groups. It was as if a wave of misery was washing over them, so ruthless they could do nothing to stop themself drowning.

Their blindfold was wet with tears as it continued. One hour blended into two blended into... Lar didn’t even know anymore. There were breaks, some shorter, some longer, but, even in the moments when they were able to stand there without bracing themself for the next hit, Lar knew what was happening. Damien wouldn’t give breaks for no reason. It wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart that he was allowing them to not be bludgeoned to death. He wanted them to last longer. He wanted them to provide for much longer than this.

The latest assailant finally finished after far too many rounds of carving deeply into their back. She walked away, Lar’s relief growing with every step they heard her take.

Around them, the gathering had continued like normal. They could hear the clinking of glasses, talking and laughing. Lar hated the normality of it. How can they not care? How can not a single one of them care?

Another pair of footsteps approached them. They let out a whine of helplessness and the person laughed. It was a low laugh, one they recognised. For fucks sake-

“Hello, darling, how’s your night been so far?”

They grunted through the gag, the only thing they were able to do.

“Sorry. Couldn’t quite catch that.”

They didn’t have time for this. It was too much. It was always too much. All they needed was to sleep, or at least be let down from here.

“You know, darling. I don’t think anyone did a good enough job with you. You have a much higher pain tolerance than that.”

Lar could only close their eyes behind the blindfold. Their head hung to their chest as they tried to process the information. Not anymore. Please not anymore.

A hand moved to their face, slowly tugging the material off their eyes. They blinked, the world too bright all of a sudden.

Damien was there, his black hair and pale skin looking ghostly in the dark ballroom. His lips were tilted into a smirk and a... knife was in his hand. Small. Black. Serrated.

They fought back at the fear threatening to drag them down.

“Now, darling, I think it’s time you know what real pain feels like.”

They whimpered through the gag. Wait. No, no, no more, no more, no more. Not the knife. Please, no-

It took only a second for Damien to flip the knife in his hand from a light delicate hold to a fist clutched around the handle.

Damien leaned forward and pressed his lips to their forehead. Lar stilled. He what-

The prince leant back slightly, his breath still hot on their face. “It’s just for the guests, don’t worry. You should be thankful I don’t make this worse.”

Their mind was still racing. He just- he just kissed me. Oh, god, he fucking kissed me-

A small prick exploded into pain as the knife’s blade sank into their shoulder to the hilt.

If Lar thought they knew agony before, it could never have compared. They let out a violent scream, bucking away from him.

Damien leaned back, grinning all the while, and kept his hold on the handle in their shoulder. A sickening grin plastered on his face, he tugged it down. Their scream grew louder and they desperately tried to pull away. Tears streamed down their face. Blood dripped from the wound.

No no no no no. It needs to stop. It needs to stop. Please. Please.

Damien stepped away. Through the blur in their vision, a figure stepped up next to him. They couldn’t recognise the details but the overly long blond hair was enough of an indicator.

Yet again, I’m going for the backstory. I think this might possibly turn into multiple parts. I wasn’t planning this but oh well :D

Masterlist

Taglist: @happy-whumper @froggywhumpy @serys-writes-stories @fromtheo-withlove @whatwasmyprevioususername (I’m sorry, it won’t let me tag u for some reason)

CW: Punching, slamming head against wall, noncon touching (non sexual), sort of attempted escape attempt but also kind of not, creepy/intimate whumper, Damien saying ‘darling’ far too many times to be normal :)

———————————

They struggled the entire way, pulling at the chains and the ropes, at Damien’s cursed touch. But, no matter how hard Lar tried to get away, the attempt was futile.

The room they were brought to was dark and cold, lit only by faint flickers of candlelight cast onto the blackened walls.

“This looks like a fucking torture room.” They spoke through gritted teeth.

Damien reached a hand to rub their shoulder. “Close enough. But I prefer to call it a training room.”

“You fucking bastard.”

“You’ve met my parents, remember, darling?” Damien grinned and tugged them over to the centre of the room, where a rusted iron ring was sticking out of the ground. “Anyway, it’s rude to call people names.”

Lar gave a dry laugh. “Because you’re one to know about being rude.”

Damien went closer to them, untying all their bonds save for the manacles on their wrists. “There’s the spirit, Lar. Always think positive.” He dropped their wrists and turned away, walking over to a large cabinet along the back wall.

Lar was motionless for a second before jolting to action. He just let me go? Momentarily, they wondered whether to attack him but decided against it, rushing over to the door.

“I wouldn’t bother.” Damien called from the other side of the room, “I wouldn’t have left you if there was a way out.”

Nevertheless, Lar franticly grabbed at the handle, pulling down on it with all their might. The door didn’t budge.

“Told you.” Without turning around, they could hear the smugness in his voice.

“Fuck you!” They kicked at the door, hoping it would break, shift, something. It was to no avail, only succeeded in making them panic more. They couldn’t get out of this could they? Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Calm down, Lar. Don’t make it worse than it is already.”

They spun to where Damien was standing, casually leaning against the cabinet. His stance unnerved them, collected and bored, as if he had done this hundreds of times before.

Their heart pounded, panic drenching them. “Ok-ok, Damien.” They said, putting their hands up. “I won’t try to run again. Just- just don’t hurt me.”

Damien lazily smiled, reaching behind him for the item he had pulled out of the cabinet. A chain. Long and circular, two ends attaching with a heavy padlock. Lar looked over to the iron ring on the floor and then back to the chain.

They went cold.

“Why don’t you come over here, then?”

They kept their hands raised, moving backwards towards the door again.

“I thought you didn’t want to make this worse for yourself, darling. That door isn’t going to open for you. I have the only key.” To prove his point, Damien reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key, throwing and catching it in the air. He pocketed it again.

“Don’t do this, Damien, please.”

“Beg all you want, darling. It’s not going to change anything, although I do enjoy it. Now, come over here and get this over with.”

Lar ran a hand through their hair, gripping tightly at the curls. “I can’t, I can’t do this. I really, really can’t do this. Don’t make me come to you. Just let me go-“

“You really are quite boring, darling. I’m pretty sure you’ve asked me to let you go at least three times since this morning. You could at least think of a more interesting way to phrase it.”

“I’m not going to phrase it for you! Nor am, nor am I going to let myself get chained down again like an animal!” Lar said.

The prince rolled his eyes. “I really hope for both our sakes you get more interesting as I train you. I’ll give you one more chance to get over here, or, trust me, you are going to regret it.” His previously light tone turned cold.

Lar tensed. Their mind was a rush of fear and formulating ideas, none of them with a chance at working. Panicked thought flew by, too fast to see, only causing a pit of dread in their stomach.

They thought back to the key in his pocket, the threat of staying echoing in their mind.

“Wait.” They said, throat tightening, “I’ll come.”

Damien’s smug grin grew on his face as Lar edged their way across the room, trying to stay as far away from the prince for as long as possible.

The chain in his hand seemed larger and more final every step they took, each slight clink with movement causing them to flinch. Damien’s fingers lightly tapped the chain, making it sway.

It felt like the end. Going towards him felt like giving up, even if they did have a weak plan they were sure wasn’t going to work.

They stopped before the prince, but stayed a few feet back.

“God, you should see your face, Lar. You look like you’re about to be sick.” Damien laughed.

They took half a step backwards.

“Now why don’t you give me your wrists.”

Lar felt the small pull of the cuffs on their arms and brought their hands closer to their body. I won’t be able to protect myself forever, they thought. How is doing this even going to help anyway? I’m just delaying the inevitable.

They breathed in, trying to ignore how it shook; even breathing was too difficult.

Slowly, Lar presented their shackled wrists but, before Damien could reach for them, they jerked forward, grabbing for his pocket. They had to get the key: it was the only way they could get out.

Their hand brushed along the fabric of his jacket pocket. They felt the cold metal of the key beneath their fingertips.

Pain slammed into their face. They cried out, stumbling back as the fist retreated.

Damien stepped forward, advancing towards them. “Oh, darling, you just made it so, so much worse.” The glee in his voice made them more nauseated than the throbbing on the side of their head. He reached up his fist again.

“Wait! Stop, please stop!”

A punch slammed to their gut, making them lean over and gag.

“No- no, Damien, please!”

The prince laughed and pushed their sorry form to the wall, slamming their head against it. Blackness blurred in their vision and they dizzily blinked it away.

Adrenaline rushed through them. They had to run- to fight- to hide! Their head slammed against the wall again and they let out a groan of pain.

“How are you feeling now, Lar? Glad you pulled that little stunt?”

“No...” they moaned, “Stop-“

“I don’t think so, darling. You asked for it, after all.”

“Wait- w-wait!”

No restrictions came. Damien’s genuine delight poured through with every punch he gave to them. They clutched their stomach with one hand and held up another, weakly trying to protect their face. It didn’t work. His fist collided with their nose and pain exploded across their face. Blood dripped down, spilling over their upper lip and dripping down their chin.

They cried out, pulling both hands up to clutch their face and drawing as far away from Damien as they could.

The prince rolled his eyes. “Oh, quit complaining.” Reaching out, he wrapped his hands round the chain between the handcuffs. “I didn’t even break it. You’re fine.” He tugged, pulling their hands away from their face, revealing the rapid flow of blood. Lar whimpered as their only protection left their face.

“Feel worse now about attempting to attack me? Don’t really think you got the outcome you were hoping for.”

Moving their wrists to one hand, Damien reached up and smeared Lar’s blood onto their lips. “There. You look a lot prettier now.”

They let out a quiet sob in their anguish, desperately trying to pull their wrists out of the prince’s grip.

“Now, darling, you don’t have any way to protect yourself from me.” Damien smirked, moving his hand to cup their face. His fingers felt cold against their cheek. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

They whimpered again, closing their eyes. “I- I’m, I’m sorry...” they whispered, barely forcing the words past their mouth.

Damien stepped back and reached into his other pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and slowly wiping their blood off his hands. Tilting his head slightly to the side, as if contemplating, a smile twisted his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to accept it. You have far more to learn before you’re good for me.”

Everything happened in a second. The prince’s hand grabbed their long hair and gripped it, pulling hard at their scalp, before smashing it against the stone wall for a second time.

Lar’s vision went grey and they felt their legs crumple beneath them. They couldn’t see, only felt the vague touch of hands against them, heard the faint rattle of a chain. Dragged to the middle of the room where the iron circle on the floor stood, they felt a sinking in their chest.

They weren’t going to make it out.

Use this link :)

For some reason the link keeps changing despite me saving it correctly. To use it, just delete the “https :// href. li /?” part. (I had to split it up otherwise it links it haha.)

If anyone can find good male picrews, please send them to me, thanks!

Not a ton of options, but this one surprisingly captured my features very well. And the clothes are adorably hilarious. Hehe, worm shirt. Feel free to do OCs as well :D

Thank you for the tag! @amethystpath-writes :D <3

My hair is actually longer ahaha but the other hairstyle wasn’t looking good so ponytail it is :) 

Also the last time I had worn dungarees was ages ago when I was very young ahaha but the shirt kind of looked incomplete or too casual haha  

No red hair but I’m naturally brunette so that works too.

I guess this is what my hair will look like in three weeks, it’s still too long 😅

Here’s me, doing this because picrews make me so very happy😌.

This scene takes place at the start of Lar’s captivity, roughly a year prior to this part

Taglist: @froggywhumpy @serys-writes-stories @happy-whumper

CW: chained to a wall, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touch (non sexual - only in a taunting manner), swearing

“What are you doing? Let me out of here!” Lar hissed, yanking at the shackle on their wrist, leading down a short chain attached to the prince’s bedroom wall.

Damien stood a foot away from them, only an inch from their grasp, “Oh, but I thought you loved my bedroom. You certainly did when-“

Their voice quivered. “Shut up. Shut up, Damien. Let me—let me the fuck out of here now.”

“I thought you wanted a political alliance between us, Lar.” He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out so soon.”

“Damien...” their tone leant into desperate, “This is wrong. We both know this isn’t at all what an alliance between the Lyons and the central kingdom is supposed to be so drop the act and let me fucking go. What you’re doing... this isn’t political in any way.”

He grinned, “Darling, I’m a prince. Anything I do is political.”

“Let me out of this!”

“Oh but Lar. It’s so much more fun seeing you squirm.”

“Damien.” They gave an exasperated sigh. “What are you trying to get out of this? We were fine yesterday. What did I do?”

“Everything, darling. Everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer. “You were never going to stay. Not unless I acted on your petty crush.”

“What? I-“

“Darling, you’re from a gang. You would never be good enough for me. What did you think would happen, you’d date me?”

“Damien... I-“

“There’s no chance in a lifetime I would go for someone like you.” The prince looked them up and down. Lar took a step back in humiliation. “The only reason I ever pretended to like you in the first place was so you’d be more lenient on our deal.”

“Then why,” they wrapped their arms around themself, “am I still here?” Lar looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

Damien stepped forward and reached out a finger to wipe a tear from their face. Lar hadn’t even realised they’d started crying and cringed away from him.

“You may be almost worthless but I can still make some uses for you.”

He reached out again, picking up a strand of their shoulder-length, curly, auburn hair. “Some things will have to be changed.” They pulled away further, pressing up against the wall. “But I’ve always wanted a pet and you’ll do nicely.”

“S-stop this. Just let me go.”

Damien looked down at them and smirked. He stepped forward, keeping Lar backed up to the wall, and put a hand against the marble beside their head, effectively trapping them there. Lar’s heart started to race. The prince leant closer, bringing his face towards theirs until they were inches apart. Their eyes widened at the proximity.

Damien looked directly at them. “I don’t care about your opinion in this. I want you for everything and nothing. You will do whatever I ask of you. There will be no disobeying, no talking back. You will never be enough for me but I can only improve you from here.”

He pulled away, striding over to a table beside his bed and shuffling through some papers there. It was as if they didn’t exist any more.

Lar didn’t know what to think. It was too much. They were disgusted, they were scared, and they were... they didn’t want to think about it. The conflicting feelings inside of them were too confusing and they felt another tear fall.

“Why me?” They whispered.

Damien didn’t turn around. “You were easy. Practically threw yourself at me. It wasn’t exactly difficult.”

“But if you dislike me so much, why d-didn’t you just find someone else?”

“I never said I disliked you. You just would never be a worthy partner. I need someone strong, both politically and individually. You’re far too pathetic for that. I only spoke to your gang in the first place because they were taking up too much territory across the borders. Otherwise, you and your sorry Lyons would have never been noticed. But-“ he turned to face them -“someone so limited can have their uses. And I don’t have time to go find someone else.”

They tried to think of another way to convince him. “Your father. He doesn’t like having me around.”

The prince only smiled, “My father is old and useless. I’ve run this country since I was a child far more than he has in a lifetime. He won’t live for more than the next few years.”

“Damien, please, just think about what your doing.”

“That’s the great thing: I don’t need to. Who, exactly, is going to stop me?”

“Someone will notice. You can’t just keep a captive in your castle and not have it noticed!”

He turned back to his papers. “My guards won’t talk. They’re all military trained and well paid. Their status here is not worth gossip.”

“There aren’t just guards here. Dozens of ordinary people pass through this castle everyday.”

“Well,” Damien opened up a draw in the desk to put the pile of neatly shuffled papers in, “Thank you for that advice. I’m sure I can use some more helpful tips from you on how to keep a prisoner.”

Lar tugged on the chain. “Damien, for fucks sake, just let me go. I won’t talk, I’ll even get the Lyons to move out of the country if you want, just stop this.”

“Ah, darling, I thought we went over this. I wanted a pet and I won’t have any disobedience.”

They felt their emotions slowly blend into one. Anger. “Let me fucking go!”

“And where’s the use in that?”

“The use? The use? I’m a human being. I’m not going to be used!”

“I hate to break it to you, darling, but you’re not human. Not anymore. You’re just my pet now.”

“Fuck off.”

“I think we need to calm down that language. You’re not in your gang any longer.”

“Oh, quit patronising me!”

“Then quit disobeying me.”

Lar stood silently for a moment, gaping at the absurdity of the situation, “Damien, please.”

“That better, darling. You’re starting to learn.”

“Oh for fucks sake-“

The prince clicked his tongue. “And to think we were just making progress.”

He moved away from the desk, a smile on his face.

They waited. They expected agony, broken bones or burns or- They felt gentle fingers on their wrists, softly grazing the scars there.

“I didn’t do that…” they whisper, and the sidekick manages to open their eyes. The villain was holding one of their hands, examining the markings along their arm.

“Who did?”

They didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

“Who. Did. This?”

“H-Hero.” They squeaked, trying to pull their hand away but villain was too strong, they didn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re coming with me.” the villains voice was shaking with rage, sending the sidekick into a panic.

“What?! No, wait-“ the villain scooped them up, their struggles and protests ignored, “Let me go, please!”

They start to sob, scrabbling at the villain. “He’s going to be so angry, please, no, please..”

It was a short drive back to the headquarters, with sidekick buckled in and the door locked. They leaned their head against the car window and sobbed, and the villain was trying to think of the best course of action. They couldn’t go soft, of course not, but this kid needed help…

The headquarters was the penthouse of Orange Grove Apartments, a glistening building of shaded glass and metal.

They pulled up and parked in front, and they turned to the sidekick, huddled in the passenger seat, shaking like a leaf.

Don’t go soft, don’t go soft... they think to themselves.

“Hey.” they reach over, shaking they gently by the shoulder, “Listen to me.”

There’s a small “Mmhmm” noise, but that’s it.

“Sit up straight, and look at me.”

They obey, forcing themselves to look the villain in the eye. They don’t look as terrifying now, sitting beside them in the drivers seat.

“We’re going to walk in the front door and into the elevator. No messing around.”

They nod. What choice did they have? They’d learned to keep quiet, keep their head down, it’s what they always did. They didn’t want to get hurt anymore. But it was just the beginning wasn’t it? The villain would take them upstairs and then…

More tears fell as they got out of the car, the villain taking the sidekicks hand. They tell themself that it’s just to keep them from running away, that’s it. Nothing more.

That’s what the sidekick tells themself too, disgusted with how grateful they are for the warmth, the lack of what pain they could be causing.

The lobby is wide and open, but what the sidekick mostly noticed was the floor. They kept their eyes on it, head down, silence as death. It was beautiful grey and black tiles that shone like water, and they could almost see their reflection in them. The villain pressed the up button, waiting for the dial to drop to 1, before climbing into the elevator and inserting their penthouse key.

The elevator took them up, and deposited them directly into the villains “living room”. The sidekick took a quick glance, and all but collapsed in tears.

There was a big metal table in the middle, a glaring light above it, and terrible looking metal instruments on a tray beside it. Restraints dangled over the side and the side kick wished they had died before getting into that car.

The villain didn’t understand what they were crying about, but didn’t ask. They probably had lots of things to cry about, and so the villain merely scooped them up again, setting them gently on the table.

They struggle violently as the villain tries to get a better look at their arms. “Stop. Or I’ll have to tie you down.” they threaten, holding onto their wrist but they keep struggling.

“Fine then.” The villain genuinely didn’t want to do this, would rather just fix them up normally but at this rate that would take days.

The sidekick is weak, easy. Their wrists are so thin that the cuffs go down to their tightest setting with plenty of room to be comfortable, and the sidekick goes limp, arms held down by their sides and legs held down to keep them from kicking.

“No, no, please don’t do this, please, I don’t know anything, he doesn’t tell me anything I promise…” the sidekick.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s like the sidekick can’t even hear.

“I don’t know anything I promise. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I don’t know! I’ll listen better I promise! I promise, please-“ their voice is cut off with a hacking cough, and the villain lays a hand on their chest, rubbing in circles, trying to ease a little of the pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll be better next time, I will.”

“What are you talking about?”

They don’t respond, merely crying louder and turning their face away. The villain grabs their chin, turning their face back towards them. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t, please no more, I’ll be good, I’ll be good…” they cry, seeming not to be even looking at the villain, but past them, and they realize that this is way worse than they had thought.

The sidekick seemed lost in their own head, like they were having a night terror or…

Rage flared up in the villain. It was a trigger, a memory.

They undid the straps immediately, scooping the sidekick up and hurrying away from the table and the bright light, into what could be more accurately called a living room.

They laid the sidekick across the couch, damn it all to hell, they were going soft and it was the right thing to do. “Hey, you’re not in trouble. You did good, you- you did it right.”

The sidekick perks up slightly, eyes still vacant and glossy. “Yeah. You did really good. You need to rest now though, okay?”

aw hi new whump friend! here are some things I see in a lot of intro posts:

your basic intro bit (hi I'm vic and this is my new whump blog!)

tell us a bit about what tropes you like! this helps people who are into the same things to go "hey I'll check this new blog out" when they see your intro post

if you have characters or storylines already posted you could link to their tags or your masterlist! if you're not that far yet, a snappy summary can get people interested and eager for more!

what's your main interest as far as type of content you want to make - prompts? drabbles? art? gifs? let people know!

if there are blogs you've enjoyed reading, go ahead and tag them! they might reblog your intro, say hi, drop a follow, or all of the above!

this isn't a strict list of course, there's no set formula and you can put whatever you want in your intro, but I hope that gives you some ideas!

Here is the second half of part 10. If you enjoy this snippet consider giving it a reblog, as it gets the lowest number of notes out of all my snippets but I think these guys deserve some more love! Let me know what you think down below!

Previous parts here

The hero nodded and followed the villain as they weaved through a couple of corridors and climbed a few sets of stairs until they went through a final door and walked out onto the roof. 

“Was coming all the way up here really necessary?” Rhys asked, trying for a playful tone. 

Silver shrugged as he walked over to the roof’s edge, “Maybe not, but I don’t wanna risk anyone else hearing about it. Either way, it helps add to the dramatic mood,” he added, joking, sitting down to dangle his feet above the city below. 

“Fair point,” the hero agreed, sitting down next to the other. 

The chill of the night air blew past them. Despite the bright city lights, Rhys could manage to pick out a few stars in the dark sky above them. The warm glow of the streetlights below illuminated the villain’s face next to him, and the hero felt something akin to deja-vu. For the first time since it happened, Silver looked nervous. Anxious and uncomfortable. Smaller, somehow, like the aura of power he usually exhibited, had been replaced with air so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“The last time I saw you look that nervous has to have been way back when I first learned about the incident. Is this story really that bad?" 

To his surprise, Silver snorted a laugh, shaking his head, "You need to remember who your talking to,” he replied, watching the world below him, “My definition of bad is probably different than yours. It’s not like I derailed a train full of children and puppies. Though it certainly isn’t that good," 

"That doesn’t mean much, though,” the hero replied without missing a beat, “I mean, I’ve heard people give the same description about grocery store sushi, so." 

Silver fell into quiet yet startled laughter, shaking his head fondly. Rhys had to smile at his ability to make the villain feel better, even in bad situations. 

For a few moments, they both fell quiet until Silver took a deep breath and began speaking. 

"So, I know you know about the bomb,” he began, “And I’m sure your smart enough to have connected the dots that the Brass Razors were the ones responsible," 

The hero hummed in agreement. 

"You don’t have any powers, do you?” Silver asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Uh, no, not to my knowledge anyway," 

"How much do you know about them? About how they work?" 

"Uhhh, not much?”

“Well, I won’t bore you but, they can be tricky. They can also react and go off to emotion. Anyway, when I was a child, mine were… volatile, to say the least. I know you’ve figured out my first power is metal kinesis, but my second is electricity. Those are a very deadly combination," 

"Yeah, I can think of some ways those might not go together so well,” Rhys admitted. 

“My actual childhood didn’t exactly help. Bad parents, bad school life, I’m sure you’ve heard the sob stories before. But back then, I would accidentally hurt people all the time. I was a baby and nearly killed both myself and my parents in a car crash. They were arguing and screaming in the front seat, and suddenly the entire car swerved off the road. We were lucky it only hit a tree. I won’t bore you with the details but, I learned early on people didn’t like my powers, so, I tried to never use them. I just suppressed everything. Emotions included," 

"I’m so sorry,” the hero replied gently, “That’s awful," 

The villain just shrugged, "It’s whatever now. It’s in the past, and it wasn’t all bad, I suppose. But now I guess you know why I don’t like putting my men in danger. Kids need parents, so no one else has to turn into me,” he replied, looking down at his hands, “Not that it was all their fault either but,” he took a deep breath, “that’s a story for another day, but now you know my sad, pathetic origin story, so-" 

"No, no. I’m going to stop you there,” Rhys interrupted. 

The villain looked at him in confusion. 

“Nothing about any of that is pathetic. End of discussion," 

Silver huffed, rolling his eyes. However, he wore a small smile regardless.

"Anyway, maybe we can talk about the details of my childhood another time, but the point was that was when the emotion and power suppression began. It was early on, though I didn’t do it to please anyone or get them to like me; it was mainly because all emotions or powers ever brought me was more headaches. The bomb thing happened years later, when I was relatively new to the villain world, but my fighting and business skills helped me grow quickly. Quick enough to be considered a threat to the Brass Razors. So, they sent the present. The person who…" 

"You don’t have to-" 

"It was my childhood friend.” the villain forced himself to say suddenly, “He was… well, my only friend, I guess. Anyway, the gift arrived in the mail, and I don’t know what possessed him to open it but, he did, and, well…” he took a deep, shaky breath, “I heard the explosion from way down the hall. He was already unconscious by the time I got there. He uh, he died in my arms," 

Rhys looked at Silver in shock, by the villain was simply looking in front of himself, staring off into the horizon almost distantly. In the warm glow of the street lights below, Rhys could make out the single tear the fell on Silver’s cheek. 

"Anyways,” the villain said suddenly, sniffing and wiping his cheek as he cleared his throat, “Despite everything, I still managed to keep it all inside somehow, motivated by the determination to find who was responsible and absolutely destroy them. I refused to admit it was revenge or hurt that was fueling it, though. I treated it like a business venture, like a country responding to a declaration of war. I tried to keep it professional as I searched, lying to everyone, including myself, that the reasons were strictly non-personal. I planned. I planned about how I would take apart every aspect of this person’s life and leave them with nothing, all so that they couldn’t interfere with business again," 

Rhys wasn’t sure what to say. What could he say? Nothing would make the situation better. The hero tried to put himself in Silvers’s shoes. All the pain, devastation. Obviously, he would want revenge, but would he want to do more than just get legal justice? Had he been reading a novel, he would have unapologetically rooted for the villain to get justice. Hell, in some stories, the villain might have even been written as a hero. 

But this wasn’t a novel. These were real lives they were talking about.

"About a week later, I finally found out who it was. I was coming home one night and found a note on my door. It began by apologizing for the bad birthday present, saying they were wrong to think so little of me. They were impressed by the fact I quote, "Willingly risked one of my own, having them open the present before me to ensure it was safe.” They went on to say they had decided to make up for it by giving me a truly good present, which was their offer to hire me,“ 

"That’s… so sick and twisted…” Rhys muttered in disbelief. 

Suddenly the hero saw the villain’s hands clench into fists in his lap, knuckles white with tension. 

“They insinuated that I choose to… the audacity to assume I intentionally-” he took a deep breath, fists and posture relaxing a bit as he regathered himself, “The note was signed: Sincerely head of the Brass Razors," 

There was a pause, the only sounds being the distant bustling of the city below. "The second I saw that name, all the planning I had done went out the window. I saw who was responsible, and the only thing I could see was red. I didn’t even enter my house; I turned right around and went straight to their headquarters on Vincent boulevard along the coast. I had called one of my men whom I knew had connections to them and lied about wanting to talk to the boss. He told me where the building was, and he also said all the higher-ups were there for a meeting that night. It was this sizeable office-type building away from all the others, at the end of the street with a winding driveway that went past the beach until rounding back to the top of the hill overlooking the ocean," 

"It… was??” Rhys asked in confusion. 

Silver huffed a laugh, “It’s uh… no longer standing, shall we say. I walked up to that building and… I let all hell break loose," 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, up until this point, I still hadn’t used my powers, especially in villainy or around others. However, that night there were also a few people outside the complex. There were about twenty or so members in the parking lot, gathered around to discuss something while four guards stood by the main doors, not that I even got that far. I-" 

Suddenly the villain cut himself off and fell quiet, hands tightening their grip on the edge of the roof. 

"Silver…” Rhys prompted quietly, “What? What did you do?" 

"I let go,” he replied simply, taking a deep, shaky yet steadying breath before continuing, “I was tired, tired of holding it all back. So I let the dam come tumbling down and watched it flood. Everything came bubbling to the surface, and I let it, encouraged it even, and I felt it all. Every tear I’d held back when dealing with my drugged parents, every fist I didn’t throw in school, every bit of the sorrow and regret of losing my friend… every insult, every failure, nightmare, fear; every ounce of pain and anger that I had ever suppressed. For the first time since I was six, I let myself feel; I made myself feel," 

He paused for another moment. 

"My memory of what actually happened is kind of fuzzy. I remember electrical devices started exploding first. A lamp post blew, then a cellphone in someone’s purse, then a generator. I remember a nearby car suddenly erupting into flames. Then people started shooting. I just remember the sound of all the gunshots going off, but I never got hit once. I’m not entirely sure how. Bullets are metal, so it’s possible I deflected them, but…" 

"What other explanation could there be?" 

"There are rumours that they were incinerated by electricity I had whipping around me,” Silver explained, shrugging as if that was some kind of everyday feat! “I heard someone say it was like I was standing in the middle of an ‘energy tornado’,” the villain explained, making bunny ears at the description. 

“Holy crap…” Rhys muttered, stunned at the mental image of such a thing. 

“I don’t remember one way the other,” Silver explained with a shrug, “the next thing I remember was my vision going white. I remember zeroing in on the building, focusing all the emotion and pain onto it,”

Suddenly the villain’s face turned hard, “And I ripped that building up by its god damn foundations,” he explained, tone almost close to a cold snarl, before taking a breath, so his voice returned to normal.

“I can’t remember what I was thinking at the moment, if at all. It was all just.. so much. In the end, the entire building went the way of Atlantis," 

"Wait- you mean you-?" 

"Yep. I somehow managed to launch it out to sea," 

Rhys stared, eyes wide. For the first time since they sat down, Silver glanced over at the hero. 

"I mean-! I’m not sure how far- it’s not like I sent it cascading into the horizon or anything!” He sputtered in response to whatever look was on Rhys’ face. 

“All I know is where ever it ended up; the water was deep enough that I couldn’t see the place once it sank. I managed to get myself home somehow before collapsing,” he continued, “Luckily, it was late at night, and the only other people around were other criminals, so it never made it to the press. Criminals are good at spreading rumours, though, and this one spread like wildfire. I’m not surprised it was Thorne who broke it to you though, she was one of the villains there that night in the parking lot,”

“Well, at least I now understand what she meant…” Rhys replied almost mindlessly. 

“What do you mean?" 

"She told me I had the equivalent of a quote 'nuclear bomb on a leash,” the hero recited, before sputtering, “I get the bomb part, I mean! not the other part- I’m not trying to control you or anything!" 

Silver laughed in amusement, shaking his head fondly, "No? That’s good. Leashes aren’t really my thing anyway; clashes with the suit," 

This time it was Rhys turn to laugh.

"Anyway,” the villain continued, “That’s pretty much the story. It’s not that I’m… ashamed of it… and I certainly don’t regret getting my revenge. It’s just not something I’m proud of either. Emotions and powers are messy things. Still, they are a part of who I am, which is why I’ve started using them a bit, usually when others aren’t around," 

"I know what you’re afraid is about to happen,” Rhys said suddenly, “What you and probably Thorne thought would follow, but my opinion of you hasn’t changed," 

Silver’s head snapped to look at him, eyes wide with shock, "What?" 

"You’re a villain,” Rhys shrugged, “I know that. I knew it before we were friends. You might not be a good person, but I don’t think you’re an evil one either,” the hero looked over at the other, “I’m still your friend," 

The villain blushed and looked away, but Rhys caught the smile on his face, "good… That’s good…" 

The hero bumped his shoulder against the other playfully, "And hey, if I ever need help moving furniture around-" 

"Oh my god," 

"wait! If my phone dies, can you charge it again?!" 

"I regret everything,” the villain groaned, though he was smiling. 

“I don’t have powers! I can’t do anything cool!” the hero complained.

“You think throwing an office into the ocean is cool?” Silver asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean…” Rhys hesitated, “If I saw a villain in a comic-book do that, I wouldn’t say it wasn't cool?" 

They locked gazes for a moment until the villain faltered and rolled his eyes. 

"Give me your phone,” he sighed in mock annoyance, extending his hand. 

This was, by far, the worst kind of torture Sapphire had ever endured. In the years since he'd come to this hellhole, he'd never known this kind of pain, this kind of suffering, before.

Every muscle in his body tensed up as Carnelian cried out brokenly, the cane hitting his back again. Carnelian sagged, head rolling forward, as Sapphire lunged forward uselessly, the restraints tight around his wrists and ankles keeping him from moving more than a few inches away from the wall.

"Leave him alone!" Sapphire screamed, eyes focused on Carnelian, but his words directed towards the Jeweler. "It's me who fucked up, just let him go!"

The Jeweler barely looked in his direction, merely smirking and continuing to mercilessly beat Carnelian with the cane. "My sugar knew what he was doing when he made that deal with me, sweetheart," he said with another flick of his wrist, Carnelian's sob echoing slightly. "You're in no position to bargain with me now."

"No!" Sapphire tried, he tried so fucking hard to get to Carnelian, to protect him, because he was the one meant to do the protecting, not Carnelian. Carnelian was still whole, unblemished. Sapphire wasn't. "Just let him go, dammit! Please!" His voice broke on the last word and he sagged, feeling the warm blood from where he had torn his wrists up drip down his arms.

The Jeweler stopped, turning to smile at Sapphire. "Sweetheart, you know how I love hearing you beg." Sapphire felt a flicker of hope, before- "but it's not your turn to beg right now. So be quiet and keep looking pretty like that, or I'll keep going until I can see my sugar's bones."

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>:)!!! finally some whump!!!! I thought this chapter was a bit longer than my others, but I checked the word count and- no. It’s not. I hope people enjoy the shorter style because all of my stories are kinda like that. I think this chapter is pretty good, too!! Enjoy our poor baby Ezra learning the consequences for his actions >:)

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Tagging: @milk-carton-whump @whatwasmyprevioususername @myst-in-the-mirror @happy-whumper @abitefullofwhump @starnight-whump @cowboy-anon @whumpasaurus101 @fromtheo-withlove

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CW: Whipping, knife mention, yelling, swearing, fear of heights, Drew is really mean and Damion is sadistic

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