I Dont Really...have The Emojis So I'll Just List Em...post Nightmare Cuddles, A Warm Hug, Fluffy Blanket,

Prompt #168

"You didn't show up to fight, so I figured you were taking a sick-day. I- uh- I brought you soup. You like chicken and noodles, right?"

Prompt by @gingerly-writing

“Run.”

“If the potion only makes you attack the people you love, I’ll be fine. I can stay here and stop you from attacking anyone you actually do love-”

“I love you!” the villain snarled, concrete fracturing under their fingers. “Now run.”

There was little for the hero to do to stop themselves from being horrified.

Up until then, the villain had refused to look the hero in the face, but now, the villain’s slow and concentrated fury was on full display.

“Before I kill you.” That was the final warning, the concrete that barely stopped the villain nothing more than dust.

The hero bolted, frantically feeling around their belt for anything that might hold the villain off. For the first time in a while, they didn’t want to use their powers on them.

Earth shattering footsteps pounded mere paces behind the hero.

There was a grappling gun, and while it couldn’t do much against the villain’s sheer strength, it might work in slowing them down.

Blindly, the hero shot behind them, hoping they hit somewhere around the villain’s legs. That’s when they stopped, and sidestepped, making the villain trip forward, charging into thin air.

While the grappling gun lay discarded a mere distance away, the hero still had their fists. They tackled the villain, straddling them on the ground.

The villain, in turn immediately tried to reach for the hero’s neck. Keeping the villain’s murderous hands away took far too much of the hero’s strength.

“Stop it!” The hero commanded. They hadn’t noticed the villain’s bloodshot eyes.

Whatever reply the villain did try to make came out more animalistic, a contorted face with a hoarse and frustrated voice.

The hero jolted when the villain tried to wrestle out of their grasp.

With limited options, and a villain almost free of their grip, the hero did the first thing that came to mind.

True love’s kiss was only for fairytales, sure, but who decides the difference between life and a fairytale?

The hero felt awful, because at first, the villain was frozen, making no effort to reciprocate or pull away. They did, however, try and pull the hero closer. The hero felt less guilty about kissing them with that motion.

When they parted, the villain managed to rasp out a few words

“Needs to be-” the villain stopped, their hands twitching in the hero’s hold. “Needs to be out of my system. Lab. Go.”

The hero felt questions bubbling out of them, but had no time, as the villain leaped forward with more strength than the hero possessed, breaking the previous hold.

Now, instead of looking down at the villain’s face, the hero looked up, wasting no time in kneeing the villain’s stomach, and grabbing the discarded grappling gun just inches from their hands.

Once again, the hero shot, hooking the grappling gun’s cord around the villain’s feet. They were behind the villain in a flash, one arm wrapped around their throat.

Three, two, one. The hero counted in their head, listening for even breaths. When they heard it, they finally turned the villain around, lifting them in their arms.

The villain’s tear stained face was on full display for the hero, stray drops leaking from their eyes. Gently, the hero wiped them away.

“You said a lab?” The hero asked, mostly talking to themselves. “We can work on your vagueness when you’re you again.”

you are worth more than what you can give to other people. you deserve love, too. (insp)

Prompt #156

Villain's who are all tough around people but turn soft when they're with that person.

Villain's lips were pulled back into a heavy snarl, his eyes a dark abyss of anger as he stared down at the person in front of them.

"Move" villain ordered, his voice nothing less of a growl that a wolf would do before attacking it's enemy.

"S-sir?" the civilian in front of him stuttered, wondering why villain came into the coffee shop at 9 am and was demanding civilian to move.

Villain's fingers found the material of civilian's collar, bunching the clothing up in his fist as villain leaned down so the two of them were eye to eye. "Fucking move right now or else–"

"Villain?" A soft voice called out.

Villain's cheeks instantly flushed over with red as he threw down the civilian in his hands, turning to hero.

"O-oh hi, hero." Villain stuttered, toying with the button of his jacket.

"Were you. . .were you just threatening that civilian?"

"Of course not–"

‏‎#sellartonline #sketchbooktour #sketchbook #originalcharacter #OGcharacter #OC #drawing ‎‏ https://www.instagram.com/p/B5fhdAyh-64/?igshid=yuvrv161qy2o

Prompt 172

"Hi, I'd like to shamelessly wingman myself to you."

Drew my friend as his favorite anti-hero, he's gonna get crazy over it when I'm finished. #drawing #drawyoursquad #portrait #sketchbooktour #sketchbook #sketch #sketching #artoninstagram #art #artwork #fanart #venom #venommovie #venomverse #marvel #marvelfanart #marvelfan #antihero https://www.instagram.com/p/B-aCt7MBizL/?igshid=9avr86wvt3a9

Me once again asking you for one more continuation of the same story ahaha :) If you don't mind could you please write one more part for the villain prince and the hero baker?

This was more complicated than it needed to be. The baker made it more complicated than it needed to be. Though, the prince supposed, this was more the hero than the baker, he was just used to seeing a timid baker. He almost missed the baker’s timidness, and would give anything to get it back.

Anything might be a stretch, only because the prince knew how to find the hero, no help would be needed, nothing would have to be sacrificed.

It was easy to track them, easy to buy the brooch back, easy to listen who had sold it for what price, and easy to narrow down where the seller would go next.

The only inn that far in the outskirts of the kingdom, yet just close enough to hear the words and rumors of traders leaving the kingdom. Hero had made fast progress in a manner of days, while the baker blended in with the crowd.

The prince knew he was right, he could almost feel it, the hero was as good as his.

That didn’t stop any of the obstacles from trying to prevent the prince from reclaiming his newest charge.

There was the matter of his father, and how much trust the old man had in him. Officially, the prince was hunting with his group. His group was sent to a summer palace, a summer palace ‘Villain’ would have to target, just in case any of his group got a bit mouthy.

Going incognito while being a member of the royal family was proving difficult. The crown’s only heir was well recognized, to the point where the trail of people he was following would jump at his every word.

He became more worried about loose lips the longer he looked at the bumbling inn-keeper.

“The prince.” She had gasped, dropping the tray to the ground. “Your highness.” She followed suit with the tray, dropping into a low curtsy.

That set off an array of chattering, something he hoped to avoid, especially if the hero was around, especially if they now knew he was here.

Regardless, he bowed, mustering his most kingly smile.

“One can only dream of such hospitality, my lady.”

She blushed at that, rising from her position, forgetting about the fallen tray, and whatever patron she planned on giving it to.

“How can I help you, your highness? Would you be needing a room?”

The prince didn’t scoff, but he was close. Here? A room here? He was almost certain the hero’s cell was nicer than this place.

“No, my lady, that won’t be necessary. I’m afraid my friend and I were separated during our touring of the kingdom, and was hoping to find them here.” The lie came easily.

“Of course, my prince. What might their name be?” She asked, scurrying behind the counter to reach for a large ledger.

A smile bloomed across the prince’s face. He didn’t suspect the baker had much experience with being on the run, probably even used their real name.

“(Baker’s name).”

After a moment of trailing her finger across the pages, the inn-keeper looked up. “Ah, yes! Right here, room eight. Shall I fetch them for you?”

“No!”

The inn-keeper’s bright face dimmed, taken aback by the prince’s outburst.

He managed to collect himself in less than a second.

“Forgive me, my lady.” He threw in a bashful smile. “I only wish to surprise them after their days of loneliness.”

Her bright face returned. “Of course, your highness! Would you be needing a key?”

“If you would please, my lady.”

She handed it to him with a grin and a hardly stifled giggle.

“Thank you for your kindness, my lady.”

Gullible.

Gullibility was expected, though. How could one manage an argument against a prince?

He tried to quiet his boots, he tried only of focusing on the hero’s face, the baker’s face.

The prince did not focus on how he missed this, the chase, the inevitable draw. He did not focus on how it’s better for the hero to stay locked away. He did not focus on his father. He would not.

But it was all he could do to focus on the hero’s sleeping form. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

The prince cursed himself for that. He was meant to be a brilliant strategist, and yet, he didn’t take this into possibility.

Walking out with the hero in his arms would be suspicious, prince or not. The best course of action would be to awaken the hero, tell them that if a prince couldn’t ruin the lives of everyone here, a villain could, and take the hero away without much of a struggle.

But he didn’t want to. Why would he want to?

“Damn.” The prince cursed softly. “Damn you and your games.”

In truth, he knew the hero wasn’t playing games, not like the prince was. The hero was simply trying to hold themself and the kingdom up, especially against the siege of the villain.

And the prince was trying to be greater than any of the kings and queens before him, greater than his father, greater than the dangers that lurked with the hero’s second job. If this meant a few lives were lost, so be it. If buildings were burned, so be it. It would all burn, eventually, and it would all rise higher than before.

But pesky heroes didn’t understand that. And overbearing kings don’t understand the complexity of heroes.

The prince buried his face in his hands. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go

Something cold on his neck had him much more grounded.

“Don’t say a word, little prince.” Said a voice that now lacked a cheery disposition. “Royalty or not, you don’t get to harm them.”

“That was never my intention.”

“Was it not?” Another voice asked, the hero now sitting up without a hint of tiredness. “Or did you just want to use me for some twisted game because of your own boredom?”

“A trick.” The prince would’ve laughed if there weren’t a knife to his throat. “Clever and pesky.”

“An awful combination.” The hero finished for him. “Here’s how this is going to go-”

“You don’t-” the prince tried to interrupt, only for the inn-keeper to yank him farther back with the knife. “You wouldn’t.”

“They wouldn’t.” The inn-keeper agreed. “I, on the other hand, wouldn’t hesitate. I always told them they were a tad too soft to be a hero.”

“Besides the point.” The hero focused them back on track. “You’re going to leave me alone, your highness. And whatever you’re hiding, you’re going to tell us, now.”

Us? Them and the inn-keeper?

“Why do you assume I’m hiding something?” The prince didn’t let his emotions bubble to the surface, as tempting as it was.

“What was it he said, baker?” The inn-keeper asked, the grin evident in her voice. She was enjoying this a little too much. “‘He’s not the only royal who has a problem with heroes’?”

“Something like that.”

The prince grit his teeth. Not how it was meant to go.

He slammed his foot onto the inn-keeper’s, and when he felt her try to push the knife down, he grabbed onto the arm holding the knife, and twisted her around.

“I wouldn’t hesitate either.” The prince seethed, the knife feeling unfamiliar and heavy in his hand. “Pesky hero, this is how it’s going to go-”

“Is it? Two against one, even if she’s incapacitated.” The hero winked at the inn-keeper.

It was getting harder for the prince to keep his cool.

“I can harm her, or we can walk away. The two of us. You’d live comfortably, and out of the way.”

“Out of the way?” The inn-keeper hissed. “From you.”

Ah, so she knew. That made it problematic.

The prince knew what he must do, and didn’t bother masking the grimace. “My way, the kingdom’s way, who can keep track? Regardless, you, my lady, are an obstacle.”

As soon as the knife came a centimeter closer to her, the hero pounced.

When the blade met skin, the hero met the villain, a strong and graceful arm swinging around the villain’s neck, the other pulling back the villain’s arm. An equally strong and graceful leg kicked the inn-keeper forward.

Then they fought, like heroes and villains often did.

The inn-keeper grasped at her neck, relieved to find herself still breathing, still alive, and able to help.

Despite something warm dripping down her neck, she joined in, scraping and clawing at the villain with unkempt ferocity.

The inn-keeper might have made a better hero, a more straightforward hero, but her vicious streak was brutal.

A prince eventually found himself on the floor, a baker on top of him.

“Tell me!” The baker demanded, carefully investigating the pinned down prince. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, pesky thing.”

“It is,” the baker gritted, their grip on the prince beginning to shake. “when you imprison me.”

“Imprisonment is a strong word, a correct word, but still-”

The hero punched the villain, and a baker began to shake, while a prince only smiled in appreciation.

“I’m not trying to fight you.” He claimed, eyes drifting to the hero’s hands.

There were bandages. Presumably the cuts made from the hero breaking and jumping from the window.

“Oh, that’s rich. Not trying to fight the one person who’s been-”

“Inn-keeper.” The hero stopped her before moving onto the prince. “You know what an indirect attack is?”

And the prince, who had seen battles, did. The villain, however, struggled with this.

“You don’t harm me directly. You go after people I care about, places I care about.”

They were right. The question was if it was an attack from the prince or the villain, as he had a habit of slipping into both roles unknowingly.

“True enough.” The prince conceded. “But there’s no other way. I need you gone, you won’t go.”

“Yet you won’t kill me.”

“Baker!” The inn-keeper exclaimed.

“I know what I’m doing.”

The prince took another glance at the hero’s hands. “Most definitely you do. No. I won’t kill you. I would never kill you.”

“You want a trophy, then?”

“No. I have no need for those.”

The hero didn’t glance back to speak. “You should go, inn-keeper, make sure your patrons are alright.”

“Baker, I can’t leave you, he’s manipulating you, and-”

“No he’s not.” The hero said, still focused on the prince beneath them. “He can’t. Please, inn-keeper. Whatever happens in here will be for the good of the kingdom.”

With sly eyes, the inn-keeper focused on the prince and the baker, some sudden realization hitting her.

She snatched the discarded knife off the floor before she left.

Then a baker and a prince were alone.

“Do you plan on staying there the whole time, or are we going to be able to talk civilly?” The prince’s tone was joking, his face anything but.

“You are about as civil as a wild animal.”

“That’s not right. I have excellent manners and social poise.”

The hero scoffed, releasing the hold they had on the prince before standing.

“Plead your case, your highness.”

“You should come back with me, quickly, quietly.”

The hero snorted. “Horrible argument. Why should I?”

“I could threaten you all day long. Hurt the inn-keeper, destroy your bakery, have the kingdom burn, but none of it would work. You ran, knowing well enough that I could have destroyed your bakery.”

The hero glared, trying desperately to ignore the growing pit inside their stomach.

“Killing the inn-keeper would do nothing. I would have nothing motivating you after the fact.”

“Don’t try it again. You’d have better luck killing me.”

The prince rolled his eyes at the melodramatics.“So, Hero, Baker, whatever title you prefer. This isn’t me threatening, manipulating, indirectly attacking, this is me asking you to come with me. To stay out of the way, please.”

“Hm. You still haven’t given me any reason to. I don’t enjoy your company. I don’t like villainy. I prefer free range.”

“Most people do, but you do not have the opportunity to be most people.”

“Why?” The hero demanded. “You really believe you’re doing the best for your people, why is this the best?”

Standing in an inn room, a prince spoke, and a hero listened.