#surrenderanask

original ask submitted by @save-the-villainous-cat for the ask game!

“Morning, baby,” the civilian yawns wearily as they plod into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes softly. The supervillain turns in a beat, smiles, and then focuses their attention back onto the pans over the stove.

“Good morning, my love,” they answer smoothly, not stopping from flipping over a pancake when they feel arms wrap around their waist and a forehead nuzzle into their back. “Have a good sleep?”

The civilian nods, sighing. “Yeah. I didn’t even feel you come back last night.”

That’s because the supervillain didn’t, but they wouldn’t tell them that, of course. Once the pancake is flipped, they turn and cup their cheeks, kissing their lips softly.

The civilian looks at them and smiles happily, and the supervillain almost wants to drop the breakfast and whisk them right back to bed.

“Another late night at the office?”

The supervillain chuckles, like that’s funny. It is, a little bit. Their lover was too naive for their own good, and the idea that they would be content with an office job was quite amusing.

“Unfortuantly,” they simply respond, and the civilian huffs, like they’re offended themselves.

“They can’t keep doing that, you know,” they pout, eyes fluttering slightly when the supervillain brushes some hair from their face. “Can’t you complain so I get to spend more time with you? You’re always so busy.”

They peel away, reluctantly, and the supervillain sees the playful pout on their lips, smiling to themselves.

“The overtime is criminal,” the supervillain smirks, and the civilian laughs, shuffling away.

“You’re funny.”

The supervillain turns back to the stove, checking on the pancakes. They have some bacon and egg on the go, simply because they feel the need to spoil their lover like there was no tomorrow. They were theirs, after all, all their obliviousness aside. They just didn’t know it.

The civilian hums softly to themselves as they set the table and pour some drinks, and the supervillain relaxes into the tune. It makes them work more efficiently, until they’re dishing up, and letting their eyes linger on their pretty lover easily.

“Wanna eat and watch TV?” The civilian asks, an eager glimmer in their eye. “Unless you have to rush...”

The supervillain was their own boss – it didn’t really matter to them, not when the civilian didn’t even notice their lackluster “office hours”. They kiss their head, herding them into the lounge.

“Go on, then,” they smile, handing them their plate and watching them get comfortable on the couch with a little smile. The supervillain joins them, and they attatch themselves to their side like glue, but the supervillain doesn’t mind. They eat their fill of bacon and an omelette, while their civilian shovels added pancakes into their mouth as well.

Sometime during a programme, the supervillain’s phone rings. The civilian’s head lifts in curiosity, and they answer it. It’s work related, but they don’t leave the room, letting their hand gently card through their lovers hair as a distraction. Not that they needed it.

“Uh huh, and that’ll be ready to use by tomorrow, will it?” They absentmindedly question, their annoyance piqued by the delay of their supplies. “Just don’t fuck up the encryption. It’s sensitive, one wrong move and it’ll be your head, do you understand?”

They end the call, and the civilian shifts, glancing at them with an amused smirk. “Encryptions? Sounds fancy.”

The supervillain laughs. Not because it was funny, but just because the civilian was absolutely clueless. They lean forward, kissing their head, a roaming hand landing on their thigh.

“You know what?” The supervillain drawls. “I think I’ll have today off.”

The civilian frowns softly. “That’s the fifth time in the past two weeks. This is why they’re keeping you late, you know.”

Admittedly, the hero’s lips on the villain’s neck felt good, good enough to ignore the headache and incredible pain. The hero seemed to be too deep into it, acting instinctively instead of thinking about their actions too much. And the villain didn’t want to interrupt that.

As their breathing got heavier, they found themselves in a peculiar position; wishing the hero could do this more often. There was comfort in this pain, in fangs buried deep inside them and the knowledge that the hero needed them to survive. The fact that this was probably one of the few examples of being truly close to someone didn't really help.

Eventually, the hero stopped drinking and with one last lick, parted from the villain.

“You got some…” The villain pointed at the hero’s mouth where blood dropped down their lips and the hero — clean as they were — mumbled an “oh shit” and went over their lips with their tongue.

The villain on the other hand was about to pass out. They grabbed the hero’s wrist as their vision got white and searched for the next best chair to fall into. Thankfully, the couch wasn’t that far.

The sounds they made were embarrassing.

“Hey, are you okay?!” The villain only nodded absentmindedly as they tried to force some oxygen back into their system.

“Yeah, just…just donated blood a few days ago.”

“You what?!” The vampire’s hand was on the villain’s jaw immediately, pushing their chin up until their eyes met. The hero was definitely not pleased. “Then don’t ask me to bite you, please. Why on earth would you do this?”

“I’m sorry,” the villain mumbled. “I wanted you to eat enough.”

The hero shook their head, still evidently angry that the villain had offered their blood.

“Lay down.” The villain did so, still holding onto the hero’s fingers weakly. They didn’t know what they’d done wrong. Didn’t the hero want their blood anymore? Were they jealous that the villain had donated the blood? Did they hate them?

“Your body needs more time than a few days to recover from a donation.” They grabbed the villain’s wrist. “You can’t offer me blood when you’ve recently donated. Did you drink enough water?”

“Hmm.” The villain took in a deep breath. The hero was mad at them, weren’t they? Maybe their blood had tasted a little different? Could a donation do that?

Their head spun and their body turned against them. Pain sparked here and there, making it hard to concentrate.

“Look at me,” the hero said softly. The villain tried their best to focus on them and, unexpectedly, it took them a while. “Your health is more important than this.”

“I’m sorry,” the villain whispered again. The pain in their head was indescribable. A thousand needles breaking through their skull. At least the hero was satisfied — more or less. Every once in a while, they met up and the hero would drink their blood.

The villain’s blood type was Rhnull, the rarest blood type in the world. They didn’t know why but the hero preferred it, not only because of the blood type but also because it was the villain’s. They drank the villain’s blood only.

In return, the hero would turn a blind eye on a few of the villain’s plans. As long as civilians were unharmed.

It left the villain in a lethargic state every time the hero drank from them but that was honestly part of the thrill. It was pathetic, they knew that. Longing for touch, longing for something intimate. Sometimes, the villain suspected that they would take any type of love, any type of affection, even if it was cruel.

They stared at the hero.

They had never been cruel to the villain. Had never used them, had always given them apple juice and chocolate after. One time, the villain was ill and the hero hadn’t cared about the blood. They had only cared about the villain’s fever.

“Why do you prefer my blood?” The headache was really getting to them but they didn’t mind. With the hero’s hand on theirs, they felt invincible.

“Shush. Don’t ask questions, just relax.” The villain smiled. Despite the…absence of their clear thinking, they were rather clever when it came to the hero. They liked to think they knew them better than anyone else. That was just wishful thinking, though.

“You don’t want to answer, that’s fine,” they said.

“It’s not…it’s not that easy.” The hero probably preferred sweet blood and didn’t want to admit it. That was the only explanation the villain had.

But they weren’t sure if all blood types had different tastes.

“I’ll get you some chocolate,” the hero said. “You’re still awfully pale. I don’t like that.”

The back of their hand found the villain’s forehead, as if they were checking for a fever. The villain’s heart seemed to stop beating and their mind was going crazy. God, what was wrong with them today?

It probably was the scary amount of blood loss. They had really, really hoped that their body could handle this a little better. Because being stranded on the hero’s couch wasn’t really the goal.

The hero was almost out of the door but they turned around, looking directly at the villain.

“You’re staying over for the night. No debate, please.” All the blood they had left went to their cheeks. They could only stare at the hero. “Got it?”

The villain nodded and they weren’t sure why they were so excited.

what is the ask game?

Original ask (submitted to @thepenultimateword):

hurt/comfort featuring Hero or Vigilante w a 'monstrous' power? Like, it's a part of their appearance (scales, tail, wings, fangs, or something), and they experience prejudice from the other heros and the public. Maybe panicking after a bad fight n Villain helps?]

Don't Think Like That

Be warned: discrimination based on looks/ fantasy racism, instances of violence, knives

The hero fell back onto the concrete. The villain pounced on them and pressed a knife to their neck. 

“You’re bluffing,” the hero said.

“Maybe. Tell me where the governor’s hiding and you won’t have to find out.” the villain said.

“Well, then you better-” 

The hero was interrupted by the villain being pulled off them. Someone roughly tossed their enemy to the other side of the parking lot. The hero heard a cry of pain as the villain hit the ground. The hero sat up and watched as a familiar blur of super speed ran to the villain and pulled them back to where the hero was, cuffed and kneeling, in less than a second. The villain looked very confused at the chains on their ankles and wrists.

“You’re welcome,” said the other hero, his smile glinting under the dim streetlights.

“Yeah, thanks.” The hero said. 

“I thought your type was supposed to be better at seeing in the dark. Still needed help, eh?” 

the hero looked down, self conscious of their green, reptilian eyes. A thumb subconsciously rubbed the spattering of scales on their arm.

“Anyway, I think I’ll take this one-” the other hero grabbed the villain’s bicep and hauled them to their feet. “-back to the precinct for you.” 

The hero sighed. “So you can get the credit? We’ve been fighting for like half an hour. I think-”

“I think you had a knife to your throat. Too bad you don’t have scales there, right? Would have been helpful. But you didn’t, and I had to save you. So it should have been my arrest.”   

The villain, who had been struggling against the other hero’s grip, raised an eyebrow at that. They gave the hero a look that the hero chose to ignore. They were well aware of the other hero’s interesting perspective.

“It was part of the plan!”

“Sure it was.” 

“I would have gotten information on their kidnapping plan for the governor. That’s the mission I was sent out on in the first place!”

“Hate to break it to you, snake face, but cold blood won’t make you bleed out any slower.” 

“Can we circle back to this mission of yours?” the villain asked the hero. 

“Shut your mouth.” The other hero kicked the villain in the shin.

The villain let out a cry of pain. The hero stood up and stepped closer to the other hero. 

“Don’t hurt my villain.” the hero said. 

“Are you sure this should even be your villain? Seems a bit too advanced for you. Do you get slow in colder weather?” 

The hero was done playing nice. They reached out and grabbed the chain of the villain’s handcuffs. In response, the other hero’s grip on the villain’s arm tightened.

“Get your hand off my villain,” the hero said sternly.

The other hero’s eyes narrowed. His smile at last dropped.

“No.”

“This is flattering,” the villain said.

“I said shut up.” the other hero snapped.

Before they could get another kick in, the hero wound up and punched them in the face. The other hero stopped and staggered back in a daze, eyes watering. His grip loosened on the villain, and the villain slammed their shoulder into his windpipe. A right hook from the hero, and the other hero collapsed onto the ground of the car park.

“Great punch,” the villain said. 

The hero grabbed the chain of the villain’s cuffs and tugged them close.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” they said. “Please.”

The villain was going to refuse point blank. But there was an intense panic in the hero’s snake-like eyes. 

“Sure. That guy was such a jackass, anyway. Does he say stuff like that all the time?” the villain asked.

  “Yeah.” the hero sighed. “It’s not just him. Not even just other heroes. But yeah.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Well none of them ever punched me in the face-”

“Twice.” the villain smiled.

“-twice, so I think I’m ahead in the ‘being a jerk’ department.”

“Well, how many racist comments equals a punch? I think you’re far behind.”

“Hmm. Fair point.” 

“Does it make you feel better to know I only hate you because of your personality?”

The hero laughed. They seemed much more calm than a minute ago.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Personally, I think your eyes are pretty.”

“I. . .”

The hero trailed off. The villain was still really close. They could see their enemy’s eyes travelling over their own. Over the scales on their forehead. Over their lips. The hero was frozen for a second, heart beating faster than they cared for. They pushed the villain away and ended the moment.

Prompt surrendered by @some-messed-up-writing-for-you

When the hero woke up, they were in a bed. That was alarming. They had definitely been on a roof when they'd looked forward, and forward, and...

"You're awake. Finally," It was villain who swam into focus through the shimmery aura that was the hero's vision. A moment later, an oversized thermos cup and a plastic straw scratched against the hero's dry lips. "Drink this."

Water, room temperature and plasticky-stale tasting. The hero sucked it down like it was nectar.

Only once the hero could drink no more did they clear their throat, think back on their memories, and shudder. "How long...?"

"Two days," the villain said. "Thirty-eight hours to be precise." They gave the hero a half-hearted smirk. "I beat you that bad in the future, huh?"

The hero looked at them. The villain's face glimmered in the post-trance aura, but even through the ripples, the hero could see their gaze drop.

"Nothing." The hero tried to sit up, and quickly gave that up as a wave of nausea washed over them. "I saw nothing. Not even rubble. Emptiness. Void."

"Ah," said the villain quietly. The color had gone out of their face. "The great unmaking."

"You knew." A rush of adrenaline and the hero sat up anyway, despite the pain. "That's why you wanted me to look that far forward. Send me hurtling into a void, for something you knew!"

The villain shrugged. "I suspected. Now I know." They cleared their throat. "I would not have risked you like that for anything less dire than the end of the world."

The hero squinted at villain. Usually so light and cheeky, usually so quick with a quip. "Not you that ends it all, I assume?"

"Of course not," the villain snapped. "Even if I could. I like the world. It's the only place you can get ice cream and money and sex. No." They sat down heavily in the chair by the bed. "There's rumors about a new powered individual. Somebody they're calling the Ultimate Weapon. Rumor has it that for once, the name is no exaggeration."

"The Weapon," the hero repeated. "Not the Warrior, or the Killer, or a person name. A thing. Somebody already has them?"

The villain nodded grimly. The hero shut their eyes with a groan. They could guess now why the villain had set this up. They could guess who would give a powered individual such a dehumanizing name.

"We have them," the hero said wearily. "My side."

The villain tilted their head. Confirmation. "Your Agency has never met a weapon it didn't want to use. At some point in the next few years, they're going to use it and end us all. So. What are you going to do about it?"

"Me?" The hero eased themselves back down into the pillows. The pain was receding rapidly now, but no need to let the villain know that. "Obviously somebody on your side provokes it."

"Somebody on-?" The villain sputtered to a stop. The hero shut their eyes and waited. "Okay, fine. Fine! What are we going to do about it?"

---

"Please, Hero!" Sidekick's desperate voice sounded through the room. "I know this isn't you. Think of who I am! C'mon, Hero, please!!!"

Tears streamed down their face as they desperately kicked away fro the 'stranger' before them. That wasn't Hero/ Surely Hero wouldn't do this!

They whimpered as their back hit the wall, gulping hard as they watched Hero continue to stride towards them, switchblade twirling in hand.

"Oh, but Sidekick, don't you understand? This is me. All this time I have been trying to hide it,but now, bow it's too late. You've gone too far. You're a disappointment to not only me, but yourself."

Sidekick gulped as the words carved antagonizingly slow into their heart, their chest growing tight as they tried to keep their breathing level. Their eyes flickered up to Hero's, tears threatening to fall. Their voice came out as a weak rasp, "This is-isn't you..."

They had given up hope at this point, how were they supposed to get through to Hero???

A fist tightened in Sidekick's shirt and hauled them to their feet before they were suddenly slammed against the wall. Sidekick wheezed as they felt all the air leave their body, their eyes blowing wide.

They flinched hard as Hero raised their fist, squeezing their eyes shut as a whimper ripped from their throat but Hero's fist quickly collided with their cheek.

Blood splatted against the ground as they coughed, "He-h'ro... 'm.. pl'se..." Blood ran down from their mouth, their vision spotting. Punch after punch was delivered until Sidekick screamed, breaking into sobs as their body shook with each cry.

As Villain entered the door, Hero instantly dropped Sidekick to the floor. "Hero, to me."

Sidekick watched in horror, wheezing on the floor as Hero quickly made their way over to Villain before dropping to their knees.

Sidekick tried to swallow back bile as they slowly sat up, "Wha-what did you do?"

Villain chuckled softly, a cool smirk painting along their face as they looked at Sidekick, "Oh, this? Oh honey, what I did to Hero is exactly what I am going to do to you. Now Sidekick," They clicked their finger, "I need you to focus on my voice and my voice only."

From this ask game. Thank you @epiclamer for reaching out!

Prompt: Whumpee having night terrors and caretaker is an empath and puts out waves of calmness until whumpee falls asleep peacefully.” From @warmblanketwhump

---------

Caretaker stirred in bed, sleep threatening to drag them right back under. It almost did, had it not been for the screaming that started in the adjacent bedroom. Caretaker bolted upright in bed. Whumpee.

Caretaker ran to Whumpee’s room, where they found their friend thashing in bed, screaming fearful words that made no sense. Their face was scrunched up in fright, and any efforts Caretaker made to rouse them proved completely unsuccessful.

“Whumpee,” Caretaker tried, “it’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. Wake up, please wake up!”

Whumpee continued to thrash around. Caretaker took a deep breath. If they couldn’t wake Whumpee, they’d have to try something else. Extending a hand, they placed it over Whumpee’s head and summoned their power. Caretaker took deep breaths, calming themselves. They transferred calming energy into Whumpee’s mind.

“You are safe,” Caretaker said quietly, their eyes tinged with a slight glow, “you are safe.”

Whumpee’s thrashing died down and their body relaxed in the bed. Their breathing, which had been quick and erratic up until now, slowed to a deep and even rhythm. Their features relaxed as the last dregs of the night terror faded away.

The next morning, Caretaker waited for Whumpee in the kitchen. Whumpee showed up, a sleepy smile on their face.

“Mornin’,” Whumpee yawned.

“Good morning,” Caretaker said, “how did you sleep?”

Whumpee sat down next to Caretaker, where a plate of breakfast had already been prepared for them.”

“I slept great,” Whumpee said, “I didn’t have a single nightmare or anything.”

Caretaker smiled back.

“That’s great to hear, Whumpee,” they said.

Caretaker sipped their coffee as Whumpee ate their breakfast. Caretaker made a mental note to use their power again as soon as Whumpee fell asleep that night, and the next night, and as long as it took until the night terrors went away for good.