P4 Loving A Villain

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Part 3 here

Regarding my last ask (here), I thought I might give you guys a little treat. To celebrating 1,000 followers:🥂 To my minors, toast with rootbeer.

******

As Hero’s cries became louder and more broken, Villain tapped her jawbone with a finger, signalling her to look at him. She did. Of course she did, for what other choice did she have? He was Villain, a lover- a former lover at that- and he was a villain. His wish was her demand, now, wasn’t it?

But when Hero opened her swollen eyes, the first thing she noticed was Villain’s own finger pressed against his lips. “Keep crying,” he said. She thought it was another cruel trick, a continued and vile evilness that would revisit her every waking moment. But Villain continued, “Not so loud that you cannot hear me, but enough to muffle what I’m going to say.”

This had her attention. Naturally, Villain always had that of her, but now…it seemed more genuine than before, though maybe it was only Hero’s broken brain which told her so. Regardless, she believed the sincerity all over again.

She cried quieter now, sniffling and trying to suck what snot was beginning to escape her nose back into whatever cavity it came from within her body, letting a small whimper rise in her throat every now and again, and sucking in a breath when she occasionally realised she hadn’t inhaled in quite some time.

“There is a camera in this room,” Villain explained quietly, “with a microphone. If you didn’t cry by the time I left this room, Supervillain would take my place.”

“What are you-” saying? But he shushed her with a sharp sound of his mouth.

“Just listen,” he whisper-shouted. Hero caught a whiff of panic in the air, and for the first time, it came from Villain, not herself. “I’m going to get us out of this. And- and we’ll run like we did before. More successfully this time, okay?”

He swallowed, his grip on Hero’s chin finally loosening, as if he forgot about the camera- or maybe he knew the quality of the footage being captured was so low that it would allow such comfort as a loosened grip. “Because I’m- I don’t know, Hero, but I’m sure there’s- there’s somebody out there who can help us. There has to be.” His lips fell into a firm line and his eyes welled up with tears. “You were there for me. Why shouldn’t there be someone for the two of us. Or you, at the very least?”

“I don’t know that I believe you,” Hero whispered, and her gaze fell from her lover’s- no enemy’s- no…she didn’t know anymore’s- eyes. She couldn’t bare to see the betrayal again. Damn his eyes. Damn the lips she was staring at, too, the ones now drowning in salty tears. Hero had to admit, those water drops were rather convincing, but hadn’t he been convincing all along?

“That’s okay,” Villain swore. “Be afraid. Be afraid of me until I can manage your escape. Hate me. Seethe at me. Do whatever you like. I’ll make it up to you, Hero, no matter what.”

Hero wasn’t sure when Villain put the bread down, but he was picking it up off the cold floor now.

“Eat,” he told her, and shook the flimsy slice. “For yourself, if not me. Please don’t let yourself die down here when there’s so much waiting for us out there.”

Us. What a comedic word when it was Villain who tricked Hero into waking up just nights ago, walking her straight into who she thought was both their enemy. Us, both, we, they- how ridiculous of Hero to think a villain could ever love her without a motive. “I hate you,” she said, not minding her volume- all the better for the camera.

But dammit she was looking at those eyes again, and this time, all she saw was hurt and anguish.

“And yet I love you so,” they both said.

“You remember that, don’t you?” asked Villain. “Keep remembering it for me.” His voice lowered into a whisper once again. “You grew to love me once, and I you. We can do it again, I promise. You don’t have to believe me now, my love, but I will prove myself to you every day, for the rest of our lives.”

With this, he stood and sent a nod to the camera- and a scorn towards the girl whom he loved beneath him- and left without another word, afraid if he apologised again, he might just break down. And what would become of Hero, then, when they were both so broken?

******

Part 5 here

Prompt #182

"A staff? You're no king."

"Maybe not yet," Villain tutted, tossing their cane from hand to hand, "but I will be soon enough." The cane struck the ground with a solid thunk, pommel clenched in a fist. "How would you like to rule the world with me?"

Prompt #170

Villain weighed the box in their hand. The wrapping was...mediocre to say the least. Gift wrapping wasn’t Villain’s forte, but they doubted it would matter much once Hero saw what was inside.

The two would be meeting up soon, presumably so Hero could berate Villain for something stupid they did. It happened more often than not. Now, though, with such an extravagant gift, Hero wouldn’t be able to scold Villain.

“You’re here already.” Villain looked up to see Hero walking through the door to the lobby. “Usually, you’re late. Have somewhere you need to be later?”

“No,” Villain drawled, “but I do have something I wanted to give to you.”

Hero quirked a brow. “Do you now? Should I be worried?”

“Not at all.”

Villain held the poorly wrapped box out, waiting for Hero- who raised their other brow- to take it. When they did, Villain smiled.

“This is a dagger,” Hero said after opening the giftbox.

Villain nodded excitedly.

“Is this supposed to be a threat?”

“Wha-”

“Is this your way of inviting me to fight you?”

“Hero, no, I-”

“Because I won’t hesitate to-”

“I thought you would think it’s pretty.”

“It’s a dagger.”

“Yes!! Do you get it yet? Daggers are pretty-” just like you, Villain almost said.

Hero blinked. “It’s a weapon.”

Oh riiiight. “I suppose you’re going to scold me for implied violence now, aren’t you?”

You guys are very interested about my boyfriend 😂 He does read my posts, so you might as well all say hello haha.

Can you be passionate about passion itself? Because we both are.

Other than that, mine are obviously literature, and as much as he enjoys that, his greatest passion is nature :) We go on hikes quite often.

Three Simple Words

******

“Villain.”

At first, the voice was unrecognizable, broken and desperate- something no one ever used when speaking to Villain of all people. Despite the shock factor of such a voice calling his name, Villain strolled passed another painting, stopping only when he turned a corner and found himself in a room of sculptures. Some day he would sit on that bench over there and put the three dimensional objects onto paper. How fascinating, to make the multi-planed into just one.

“Villain.” That voice again. What could the person even want? Maybe it was only in Villain’s head.

This sculpture. This one was his favourite- a body so still, and yet seemingly alive. Asleep on a bed of marble, yet with a face twisted in pain, as if they were living in a nightmare, and no one lent a helping hand. No one tried to wake them up from their obvious misery of eternal night.

Who was the sculptor, Villain wondered? Who was so angry that they took it out on this block of rock? And how dare they make this pain immortal? Why put it on the face of a man- one that would surely be stared at by another-

“Villain.”

“What?”

Juniper Trees P2

Part 1 here

******

Snot ran into Hero’s mouth constantly as she ran through the woods, stumbling over both roots and her own toes. Who knew how easy tripping would be when you couldn’t see? The worst part of it all was the biting wind, which nipped every inch of Hero’s skin, and froze the forever-pouring tears on her cheeks and at the corners of her mouth.

Villain was meant to stay behind, to let Hero take this trek on her own, but she didn’t fully believe he wouldn’t follow from a distance at which Hero couldn’t hear him. He would follow, like he had before when he caught her, and he’d catch her all over again, and she’d cry, and he’d tell her to be quiet- tell her that she was being annoying.

And, and, and.

There was always an ‘and.’ Always a ‘What’s next?’

Vengeful Souls

“They’re not totally gone,” the kingdom’s scribe said. “True, their body is gone, decomposing, but their soul is-”

“Gone,” the Queen muttered. “Or it damn well better be.” She stared at the vessel on the stone table in front of her and her trustees. When would that light ever fade from it? “Can we not bust it on the ground?”

The scribe’s brows wrinkled and his lip quirked up. “That would make capturing it in the pot pointless.”

“Mind your tone,” one of the soldiers warned, although it would have been hard for her to admit it wasn’t a ridiculous question. Breaking the vessel would only set the soul loose again.

The Queen said, “Set it ablaze then. I will not have a vengeful soul on my grounds.”

“Technically, it would be beneath the- right.” The scholar caught the soldier’s glare and casted his own down. “A soul cannot be burned. It cannot be destroyed in any mortal way. There is...” He swallowed. “There is a book in the Archives, one that will- will teach you how to summon-”

“Yes?”

The scribe shook his head. This was an awful idea- this was an absolutely foolish idea.

“Speak,” the Queen demanded.

When he didn’t do so, the woman guard stepped forward from the wall, something held against the scholar’s back. “If I were you, I would not go adding to your ‘vengeful souls’ collection.”

“Are you saying you would haunt me for not protecting this kingdom?”

“I am saying I do not feel particularly motivated to speak when my life is presently being threatened. Tell your guard to take a step back and maybe I will tell you.”

The Queen considered having him killed anyways. The book was in the Archives; all she had to do was find the book. Would that be done easily when there were literally thousands of books? Of course not. The Queen nodded at her guard to do as the scholar said. She did.

“You can summon one of the gods, but- hold on, hold on.” He could see the antsy look on his queen’s face. “If you try to summon one yourself, it will kill you.”

“He only says that because he doesn’t want you to do it,” the guard scoffed.

The scholar agreed. “You are right that I don’t, but it is not for the reason you are thinking, alright? Listen to me, fully.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “No mortal can survive the perils of summoning something so otherworldly. It requires a strength, a- a bondage that we do not possess. We would quite literally be ripped open in the process.”

A torch’s flame flickered out as the Queen said, with arms crossed, “I suppose you think I am mortal.” She was. Still, it was rude to imply she wasn’t as great as the gods.

“If you were not, then you would not require my knowledge.” Moving on. “There are half-mortals who exist in our world, and even they will not summon a god- if they are wise. They created us, they created the world, and now we might as well be a part of their dump-yard. They do not care and will be offended if you waste their time on something as stupid as this.”

The Queen’s only response was this: “We will see about that.”

Continued from here

“Do you really think Nick almost died?”

Colter shrugged by the fire as he blew more flames into it- like any other day. Hopefully, the weather would warm up soon and he wouldn’t have to light the fire and keep it going all day. He could ask Sarah to keep it going herself, but she was still fearful of fire, even coming from Colter himself. She was more accustomed to it- accepted it- but it still freaked her out. Evidently so, if she was asking about Nick.

“Probably. I roasted him pretty good.” Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. “Dear old Nicholas has the tendency to surprise me, and usually with a knife or something flashy. Very persistently, too.”

“I feel cruel,” Sarah said. “I told them I’d let them burn.”

Sighing, Colter stood from the fire and made his way over to Sarah, who was…rather distant. Not in a way that Colter had to walk across the entire room, but in a way that he could see her mind was somewhere very far away, possibly somewhere dark.

"Remember what they did to you, who they are, Sarah."

"I know," she whispered, and Colter heard her sniffle. The sniffle was louder than her words. He knelt beside her, taking one of her hands in both of his own. "I just"- she sniffled again.

Her hands were hot and sweaty. Colter couldn't help lifting a lip at the feeling. He wasn't very fond of water- in any form; sweat was just the same as H2O, only with more salt. It dampened his ability and made him feel uncomfortable. Colter put that fact aside, though, as he told Sarah, "They walked away. No harm was done."

She took her hand away. "But there was harm. Colter, they aren't just going to...to forget I told them they were breaded wings to be thrown into a deep fryer."

"Are you worried about their feelings, or your safety?"

Sarah's eyes met Colter's for the first time. She hadn't considered that question. Was she worried about herself? It would have made sense; a whole team against two people- a healer and a flame thrower.

"It'd be selfish of me to be concerned about myself when I said such horrible-"

"Selfish?" Colter's face contorted in disgust- more disgust than when his palm touched Sarah's sweaty one. "Don't you see that's just another spoon of bullshit they fed you so you'd do their bidding?" He stood from his kneel and began pacing. "They're wicked, Sarah, manipulating you like that. Look at yourself. Worried for a crew who only fed you any minimal amount of food, or gave you shelter, or gave you your own room, just because they wanted a behind-the-scenes...immortal crafter."

Sarah nodded. Taking a deep breath, she said, "They used me," and she repeated it, again and again. She forgot this fact so often and it slowly ate at her. It seemed to her as if she and Colter had this conversation every day.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?"

Smiling, Sarah nodded. "With vanilla and cinnamon?"

Now, Colter smiled. "Have I ever made it any different?"

Sarah's smile broadened. She was happy here- with Colter. This was where she was meant to be- not with the team who only pretended to care because Sarah was a convenience to have around. Sarah was a human, worthy of being a friend, and only Colter had ever been able to see that. He took care of her, and that's all Sarah needed.