Would You Ever Write A Fluff Piece About Hero And Villain Getting Distracted From Their (already Quite

The vampire wrenched away the religious bauble and tossed it aside. Their hair dripped with holy water. The hunter stumbled back, their injured leg giving out. They scrambled for any weapon left, but came up empty.

The vampire loomed over them. The hunter did their best to stand, using the wall for support. Cornered in an abandoned church. How fitting.

"A pity this should end so soon," the vampire said, tracing the hunter's jawline with a sharp nail. "You fought valiantly, my faithless little hunter."

"Quit stalling and kill me," the hunter spat, flinching from the hand and flattening themselves against the church wall.

"Ah. The faithless hunter is so quick to be martyred." The vampire laughed low at that. "Perhaps I want to make you mine. I have a weakness for the fallen."

"I won't become like you."

"Oh?"

"Your kind destroys lives with what you do." The hunter trembled. "You... You destroy homes and families. I'd rather die."

"You seek vengeance, but it will not absolve your grief," the vampire said, a shadow cast over their features. "Just as you seek death, though it will destroy your hopes for vengeance. What an exercise in futility."

"It is not futile to give others peace," the hunter bit back.

The vampire shook their head and brushed aside the hunter's hair. "Poor, faithless hunter. In the end you are still forsaken."

"I don't want to hear that from a creature who lives off stolen time," the hunter said, swatting away the hand. "How many have you killed for your miserable half-life?"

The vampire smiled wide, fangs glinting in candlelight. "Enough to survive. I live off the corrupt and self-righteous. When such prey wanders in so freely, why deny myself?"

"Because even monsters get lonely," the hunter said with a mocking smile. "How long must a beast live alone to beg for companionship from their hunter? How many came to pity you before your hunger reminded you of what you are?"

That struck a chord. The vampire's eyes grew wide, feral with fury. "If a beast is what you seek, it's what you deserve."

They pushed the hunter onto their bad leg, who then toppled sideways. The vampire gripped a fistful of hair and drew them close. They flailed, and the vampire wrapped another arm around them to hold them firm.

Fangs grazed their neck. Their pulse fluttered.

"What are you waiting for?" the hunter hissed. "Do it."

A droplet of salt hit the vampire's tongue. A single tear streaked across the hunter's face and down their neck.

"Do it," the hunter whispered, going slack. "I have... Nothing." Their voice soft and broken, a confession.

The vampire drew back, and wiped the tear from the hunter's face.

The hunter's eyes shot open in silent betrayal.

"Kill me, you coward," the hunter growled.

"No." The vampire cradled their head and gently laid them across the floor. They knelt beside them and cupped their cheek.

The hunter lunged, or tried. The vampire caught their wrists and held them there. The hunter screamed raw and anguished.

They fought the vampire's hold until they exhausted themselves.

"I've lost my appetite," the vampire said, and stood.

Their soft steps echoed through the old church. They paused to pick up and toss back the religious bauble. The hunter caught it.

"Perhaps one day you'll find some use in that," the vampire said. "If only to remind you of the day a beast took pity on you."

And then they were gone, leaving the hunter alone with their thoughts.

Part 2

"You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."

a sluge 😔

"I wish I wasn't so weak."

"You're not meant to carry everything alone."

"Listen," Cara said. "I love you. I care about you. But there comes a time when I feel like I can't reach you." She brushed aside Cup Ramens, soda bottles and chip bags. Bugs skittered out of the way.

"Yeah." Grenda stared at the ceiling.

"Please... Please, for god's sake, go to a phychiatrist. Hell, go to a General Physician. You're not happy, you're not functioning, you're not--"

"Worth it," Grenda said, voice heavy. "I'm not... Worth it. I'm..." She rolled on her side. "God, why am I... Why am I h-here..."

Cara sighed heavily. "Grenda." She tried to grab her arm, but Grenda pulled it away.

"I'm a burden on you," Grenda said. "Aren't you sick of it?"

"No. Grenda..." Cara laid beside her on the floor, touching her head.

"I could just--" Grenda started, but stopped.

"I--... I get tired too," Cara whispered. "I wonder... I wonder why I'm here."

Grenda choked a little. Blew her nose.

"This place is disgusting," Grenda whispered, voice raw. "But looking at it just... I feel like if I keep letting it pile up, maybe I'll drown in it. Just like I deserve."

Cara closed her eyes. "I love you, Grenda. I'm not going to pretend seeing you hurt doesn't hurt me, but... I don't want you to pretend you're fine."

Grenda sobbed. "I... I feel like I drag you down--"

"No." Cara grabbed her hand. "...No. Life... Drags me down. We are keeping each other afloat as best as we can." She kissed her hand.

"Why do you put up with me?" Grenda said. "Don't you hate me?"

"No," Cara whispered. "I just want to help you get better."

Grenda whimpered slightly.

They lay side by side in silence, until something crawled on Cara's arm. She shrieked and bolted upright.

"Grenda... I'm helping you clean your house," Cara said. "Go shower and... I'll start taking out the trash."

"But--" Grenda started.

"If you'll allow me," Cara said.

Grenda took a deep breath. "I... Thank you, Cara. Thanks. But I want-- no, I need to do this myself."

Cara deflated. "But--"

"I don't want this to be our relationship, you constantly having to save me," Grenda said.

Cara nodded gently.

"But you made me feel better," Grenda said. "I'm grateful to have you for a friend."

"Let me help you just this once," Cara said. "And use that energy to see a doctor. Think of it as investing in the future."

Grenda sighed. "You won't let this go, will you?"

"Not when it's about your health," Cara retorted.

Grenda groaned and covered her face. "Yeah. Okay, yeah. Just don't judge what you find."

"As long as you tell me if this is any good," Cara said, holding up a Fantasy novel with a suggestive cover.

Grenda snorted. "It isn't, but all the more reason why you should read it."

"I'm not depressed."

"You haven't showered in three weeks."

"That's just because I'm a terrible, disgusting person whose life is never going to amount to anything so why even bother trying, right? But I'm not depressed."

"Nowhere for you to run," the detective said.

"You always do this," the thief said with a sly grin. "Always end up pinning me against walls."

"You always do this," the detective scowled. "You try to get me flustered when you're out of other options."

The thief pressed close, and whispered hot in their ear, "I also like seeing you flustered." And then, gently, nipped their ear.

The detective yelped and flinched away, face red. The thief pushed forward. They toppled. The detective's glasses clattered behind them.

The thief grabbed them first.

"Give those back," the detective demanded.

"I don't think I will." The thief teased.

They moved to stand, but the detective pulled them into a kiss. The thief, caught off guard, let go of the glasses.

"S-see? I can strategically disarm you as well," the detective said, pocketing their glasses.

The thief blushed and stared intently.

"I-- I'm so sorry," the detective said. "I shouldn't have done that. That was incredibly inappropri--"

They couldn't finish as the thief stole their lips. They melted a little in the warmth.

"I'd better run," the thief said. "Same time and place as usual." They grinned cheekily, holding up the detective's wallet. "You're paying."

Then they were gone.

The detective, a little dazed, went home to prepare for their date.

How the Turns Have Tabled

Hero approached the cell with all the feet-dragging reluctance of someone who was in way over their head. They dug through their pocket for the key, mumbling something about stupidity and youth mortality under their breath. A quick glance through the small window nestled in the door revealed a form unmoving laid out in the corner.

To their minor relief, it appeared their guest was still out cold.

The hinges squeaked as Hero slowly pushed open the door. They watched closely for any movement and saw none, so they continued.

Once inside, they dropped a bundle of fabric at the feet of the sleeping figure and left a plastic bottle and an aluminum package on the ground. They were back out the door quickly and the lock clicked back into place just as fast.

Hero turned away from the door and let out a quiet breath as they moved away.

A few steps in, a creak sounded from behind them.

Shit.

Hero froze, then spoke calmly into the stale air,“The exits out back.”

Lowly, a gruff voice responded, “Not that easy.”

Hero winced.

“Worth a shot.”

By the time their hand shot to their belt and they made to spin around, Villain had already closed the distance. Their knife was knocked from their hand the second it was drawn. The villain kicked it away in the same move he used to grab the hero’s wrist. Hero used their free hand to punch him in the face, landing a hard hit before Villain used his leverage to twist, forcing their arm behind their back and shoving them face-first into the wall.

Hero groaned into the cinder block, “Fuck my life.”

They would not have even realized that they had said that aloud had it not been for the confirmation of a deep but quiet chuckle.

Fingers curled lightly into their scalp as Villain spoke, “Other hand.”

Hero squeezed their eyes shut and offered up their free hand into the borderline-painful grip behind them.

“You want to tell me where the ties are?”

Hero turned their cheek against the wall so their jaw was free to move with the words.

“Second shelf from the bottom, other wall.”

They were lifted from the concrete and pulled backwards to the opposite side of the room. A plastic tie soon zipped into place, pinning their wrists together before the villain shifted his grip to their arm to lead them forward.

“In.”

They stepped through the door into the dimly-lit cell, and Hero scowled at the lock hanging broken off the latch.

“Sit,” he ordered with a shove towards where the crumpled blanket rested on the stripped down cot.

The hero stumbled but did as they were told, settling with their back against the wall and feet planted firmly on the floor.

They watched as Villain dragged in a folding chair, flipping it around in front of him to plant a leg on either side and sit backwards, conveniently blocking the doorway.

“Kidnapping, huh?” The villain begun to question, “Is that what you do now?”

Hero leveled their eyes on the blank sheet that was the adjacent wall in lieu of a response. Villain tilted his head at the silence and leveled a disappointed glare at the hero.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

At that, Hero dragged their gaze slowly to the man in the chair.

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe you walked in here of your own free will?”

“Right,” the villain leaned forward, placing his elbows on the seat back and planting his chin on his palms. “And the lock was for decoration.”

“Obviously, given how easily it broke.”

The distaste shown on the hero’s face suggested that they would be having more than a few words with Masterlock customer service.

Villain grinned almost imperceptibly.

“I must say, this is giving my style, not yours.”

“Yeah, well,” Hero bit their lip and averted their eyes again, “shit happens.”

They took the time to notice all the numerous cobwebs in the room before Villain opened his mouth again.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t moving his tongue to push for an explanation.

“You know, they say mimicry is the highest form of flattery.”

Hero, taken slightly aback, could only find the highly dignified words, “Fuck off.”

Instead of lashing out like the hero had predicted with muscles tensed, Villain simply pointed out, “You’re the one who brought me here. I think I might just stick around and find out why.”

With that, he stood. The chair slid across the floor and into the wall as he pushed off.

“It’s in your best interest to answer, so I’d suggest doing that.”

Hero did not dare take their eyes off his form as he approached. He towered over the low-lying cot, and Hero may or may not have forgotten to breathe as he leaned in.

“Or have you forgotten your position here, now?”

Hot breath warmed their ear and Hero bit their tongue.

“You thought you could lock me up?”

“I…made an error in judgment.” Hero spoke carefully, suppressing a shiver.

Another chuckle had Hero silently begging for a Time Machine. An arm was planted on either side of them, leaving them feeling like a bird in a cage, or an ant under a microscope.

“I sure hope the five minutes of success didn’t get to your head,” Villain spoke with faux pity, lips slightly pouted in obvious mockery.

“I think they took five years off my life, actually,” Hero admitted, figuring it was probably clear at this point how they felt about their decision to… well, abduct the villain.

“It sure sounds like you’ve learned your lesson, then.”

Hero almost cheered when Villain rose back to his full height, out of their immediate personal space. That was, until he continued.

“But really, it is best to be certain.”

“How, exactly, do you plan on being certain?” Hero inquired carefully, not that they really wanted to know the answer. Their heart beat a rapid warning inside of their chest.

Villain tapped his chin thoughtfully before a familiar grin spread slowly across his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got just the idea.”

Worrying did not even begin to cover the fear that sparked in the hero’s chest at that statement.

“Sit tight,” commanded the villain as he sauntered out the door, not bothering to replace the lock or even so much as close the door.

The hero was left to gawk at his abrupt departure from their place in the corner, unable to gracefully rise and follow him with arms stuck behind them as they were.

A few seconds passed, and they slumped as the adrenaline finally started to drain out of them.

They breathed out into the quiet air as the villain’s footsteps receded, “I am going to die so young.”

"P-please don't kill me," Hero whispered.

Villain recoiled. "Who said anything about killing you?"

"You did. Multiple times. You have a knife to my throat."

"That-- THAT WAS FLIRTING!" Villain shouted in exasperation.

"WHO FLIRTS LIKE THAT?!" Hero screamed.

"Ugh. This is all wrong." Villain cut Hero's ropes and put away the knife. "Listen, I completely misread the situation. Just... Just go."

"Wait, no, we need to talk about--"

"There's nothing to talk about," Villain said quickly.

"Yes, we do! Clearly we need to communicate!"

"No. Let me die of embarrassment alone," Villain grumbled. They moved to leave, but something slapped their wrist. A handcuff.

"You're not going anywhere," Hero said, tightening the other cuff to their own wrist.

"Did you just CUFF ME?" Villain screeched.

"We're going out and having a proper date WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."

"You shot me! In the foot!" The god whined, curled up on the floor.

"Well, yeah," you said. "You were about to destroy the whole city."

"My foot! Do you know how long that takes to heal?! I'm going to have a limp!"

"You also killed people. I really can't feel too sorry for you."

"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?!"

"I know exactly who I'm dealing with." You crossed the room and knelt in front of him. "Do you?"

The God raised his head to glare at you. "Some pathetic human who got lucky," he said at last.

You smiled and raised the gun to his head. "No, I was sent here," you said. "But try again."

"A couple of puny humans--"

"You're too old for this foolishness."

The God quieted, at that. His eyes went wide as something registered. He shrank a little in terror.

"You were summoned by the Gods, weren't you?" he whispered.

You stared down at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. "The Gods will give you a lighter sentence if you come with me quietly."

It was then the room shifted, or tried. You could feel him pull at the fabric of reality, but you wouldn't let it budge.

"You tried that already," you said. You placed a hand on his shoulder. "No more running."

He tried to grapple you, but his power was never in brute force.

"You chose this," you said.

You gripped his head. He shrieked, wide-eyed and terrified, clawing at you desperately. His hands shrank, now short and stubby. His shoes flopped to the ground, feet too small to hold them. The bullet wound became but a tiny birth mark. His head shrunk, his eyes more soft and wide. Soon enough, he was nothing more than a harmless human baby.

You cradled him in his shirt. He screamed and cried and babbled.

"You will live among the humans, stripped of your memories, stripped of your godhood," you said gently. "For as many lives as you have taken, you will be reborn. That is your punishment."

The baby fussed and spit up a little.

"...Lovely. Now, let's go introduce you to your parents."

You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.

The villain found the hero stocking cans in Big Box Store.

"Is this why I haven't seen you lately?" The villain asked disappointingly.

"Heroism doesn't pay," the hero said. "My folks want me doing something more practical with my time."

The villain leaned on a shelf. "They do if you work for the Agency."

The hero grunted and plopped a particularly enormous box down. "The Agency rejected me multiple times. I have to- ugh -earn money somehow." They sliced the box open violently. "Besides, you think those hospital visits were cheap?! Move over. You're blocking the shelf."

"Wow, someone's a little grumpy," the villain said. They shifted to block the shelves even more.

The hero slammed down a can. "I told you to MOVE OVER--"

"Hero!" Someone barked.

Hero froze. The manager.

"I am deeply sorry for their behavior," the manager hurriedly said to the villain. "Hero, you do not under any circumstances raise your voice at one of our guests. That is not Big Box Store behavior. Apologize this instant or consider this your dismissal."

"Sorry," the hero mumbled.

The manager glared expectantly.

"I'm very sorry," the hero tried again. "I should not have raised my voice. It was not a reflection of Big Box Store values, and it will not happen again."

The manager gave a satisfied nod and left.

"... You think I can get them to make you kiss my shoes?" the villain snorted.

The hero launched at them.

By the time the fight was over, half the canned foods aisle was in shambles. Needless to say, the villain had their nemesis back the next day.

However, the hero started receiving a generous stipend from an anonymous benefactor, making the job search a bit less urgent...

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.