CW: Zombie Whumpee x Human Caretaker. Nudity, blood.
Plot: Wounded and disoriented, "W" finds himself turned into a zombie in a post apocalyptic future. Not even remembering his own name, he stumbles upon a human survivor who seems to be inmune to the virus, and who is taking it upon himself to find a cure. Said human will grow curious about W, the only zombie who seems to be able to comunicate outside of the usual growls.
CW: Living Weapon Whumpee. War themes, mentions of NC.
Plot: Whumpee being a trained living weapon since birth with the sole purpose to destroy and murder the enemy in the trenches. He has no name, he is just a tool bound at the orders and mistreatment of the Regime. He has been named "War Monster" by the Enemy, the Resistance.
Whump scenario: A villain working for a powerful entity who puts a magical brand on him - the more time it takes him to bring the entity's plan to fruition, the more the brand burns.
The party fighting the villain would begin to notice that he becomes more desperate and angry each time they interfere with his plans. Each time they see him, he looks just a bit thinner, the shadows under his eyes darker. Finally, when they deliver a blow that could crush his plans for good, he breaks down. There's denial at first, but surprisingly little anger. He has no more fight left in him - the pain becomes so overwhelming he just wants it all to stop.
With the discovery of the brand, deciding his fate proves to be not as straightforward as the party had expected.
Whumper overestimates how much torture Whumpee can take. The once-defiant Whumpee is broken and catatonic, not speaking or reacting to anything anymore. And Whumper isn't happy about it. Though they loathe to admit it, they liked Whumpee's defiance. It was entertaining. Whumpee was entertaining. With them not speaking anymore, Whumper realizes that they miss the sound of Whumpee's voice. The snarky little comments, the sarcastic jokes, the curses screamed in rage.
Now Whumper is desperate to get the old Whumpee back. They're being extra "nice," giving Whumpee medical treatment and food, anything to make them go back to how they were before. Anything to fix their favorite toy.
Because like it or not, Whumper doesn't have anyone else.
From prompt #47
Tropes: Zombie whumpee, medic caretaker, whump, hurt/confort
TW: Blood, mild body horror, bite scars, needles.
He doesn't remember how he got here. To be precise, he doesn't remember anything at all. At some point, he woke up from what felt like a long slumber, and now he finds himself standing motionlessly here.
The first thing he feels isn't fear to have forgotten. Nor curiosity for who he might have been. No, the first thing he feels is hunger. And God, it hurts.
So he starts walking with a purpose. And then he starts noticing other things, much less minor but quite important as well. His left leg lumps, feels limp, and hurts. Oh, every inch of his skin hurts, actually. He grows frustrated with every step he manages to make. He stumbles and loses his balance, and falls hard on the ground. He spays his knees and hands, but when he looks at them closely, he can't seem to see blood on them. There's only pale, white, even purple-toned skin that feels like ice.
He's so cold. And hungry. And suddenly, a delicious smell. Something that grows stronger and makes his mouth drool. And he steps up again and starts dragging his damaged feet towards that appetizing thing that seems to lure him.
The streets are empty. He finds himself entering a yellow and blue building, getting closer and closer to the scent of meat. He is completely alone inside what seems like a department store. And at the end of a corridor, he finally finds what he was hungrily looking for: a piece of red meat scattered on the floor.
And he practically launches himself towards it.
He devours the flesh hungrily, even licking the blood that has leaked from the piece. The hunger calms itself inside him, and finally, contentment seems to flourish inside his entrails.
But before he can get a breath out of it, he feels something fall on him. He finds himself on the floor again and fights to get free from what appears to be a net. It claws at his sensible skin, and it draws purple marks on it. He tries to escape from under it, but stops when he hears a new voice:
"Putting up a little fight, huh? You'll do"
He freezes on the spot. And then his tired gaze makes out a figure, coming out of the shadows. His first instinct is to call for help, but when he tries to, only a low growl escapes his lips.
The figure, a tall man, approaches him. The stranger pins him to the ground with one knee, putting his full weight on him. Then he grabs at one of his arms and lifts it free from the net. Scared, he now sees how the strange man takes a syringe out of one of his pokets and sticks it to his pale forearm.
He feels a strange sensation. It seems like something has been spread inside him. He panics and starts struggling again. And without a second thought, he bites the strange man on his hand, the one holding him down.
The strange man yelps and steps up, getting far from him. He massages his left hand, which now has a visible bite mark. A trail of blood draws from it, but the tall man doesn't look very bothered. He looks back, a growl of disgust in his face.
"This won't work on me," says the stranger; then, like talking to himself this time, he adds, "I'll find a cure. I will."
And before he can even make out any of his features, still laying on the floor and scared, the tall man disappears again into the shadows.
He eventually gets out of the trap. His arm is burning up. He no longer feels cold or hungry. He is now in a lot of pain, radiating from where that needle has been stuck.
And he tries to call for help again. And again, words don't seem to escape his mouth; only growls.
"H-he… Hel…" he manages to say between moans of pain.
He still hasn't figured it out, but he is, indeed, dead.
The Tall Man returns after a day or two. Not that he can recall the passage of time anymore, though.
By the time the pain gets a little bit
W slips in and out of conscience as M carries him far away from the scary humans. He feels so small under M’s strong hold, and the warmth makes him sleepy and relaxes his weak body bit by bit. His eyes try to focus, but he cannot make out their whereabouts, so he finally desists and falls again into a deep sleep.
M looks down at his small zombie. They have already reached the mall again. Starting to walk up the stairs into M’s tiny living quarters, the Medic wonders how little W weighs in his arms. He could even hold him with just one arm. W says something, and M looks down again, realizing the zombie has fallen asleep. He pays no mind at all until after reaching his makeshift apartment: W is actually sleeping, without any drug.
M closes the door with his feet, and walks towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, the one surrounded by working stations and lab utilities. He hesitates, and decides to sit on the couch with W still on his lap. He closes his eyes momentarily. He is also so tired. The afternoon rays get inside the room through the blinds on the windows, and M feels like he could doze off for years without needing to wake up. He gets comfortable (as far as having W on top of him lets him do so), and looks down at his zombie again. “His”, thinks M… What an occurrence. W stirs again in his lap. His hands rest limp onto his naked torso.
M tries to better cover W inside his coat. Since W has been burrito’ed, his barefoot feet dangle free and about. The Medic looks at them, lost in thought. He then grabs the couch blanket, the one left on top of the backrest, and covers both of them with it. Since W does not emit any kind of heat, it does not feel stuffy at all under so many covers. M’s fingers run up and down W’s arm, caressing the cold limb. W’s skin is purple, and now has some red and blue marks from where he has been manhandled. M curses a bit, feeling bad about it. Since the first time he has inserted the vaccine into W, the geolocator has been stalled in W’s body — there’s no excuse for M not knowing the whereabouts of W.
The little zombie stirs again and lets out a sight. M finds it weird. Maybe it’s a reflex from when W was alive. As far as his investigation goes, M is sure these creatures do not need to breathe at all. He gets more comfortable on the couch, and hugs W tightly. He gets surprised again at how little W weights. Probably 80 pounds or less. He takes in the fact that W will need clothes when he wakes up — those lunatics have had him striped down. Oh and probably a shower, too… They both’ll need a shower, actually…
M falls asleep caressing W in his arms. The birds chirp outside, and suddenly, in the middle of an apocalypse, M feels like he’s got everything he needs just right between his arms.
Taglist:@whump-blog@cupcakes-and-pain@crunchypuppy06@silly-scroimblo-skrunkl@kona-luu @hurtthemgently @digital0reality (comment to get added/removed from the list!)
Villain suffers from depression, so the only thing that keeps them going is their little theatrics and evil schemes where they and Hero spend some time together. Villain focuses all of their remaining energy on planning and plotting, not really caring about the outcome, whether they will succeed against Hero or not.
Hero knows about it. Sometimes Hero can sense Villain haven't been able to put too much thought into it: a robbery without a getaway plan, a hostage situation where Villain hasn't thought what to ask for in return beforehand...
But Hero plays into it nonetheless. Even puts some theatrics too, letting Villain have their fun for a bit. Hero then will finally "succeed" in catching their enemy and putting them behind bars. And unbeknownst to many, Hero will also make sure Villain gets the most comfortable cell, and the easiest escape opportunity from it, too. Of course, it will all look like a huge coincidence...
(Maybe Hero is scared about Villain, whom would be unstoppable the moment they cease to care about anything else entirely...)
They finally did it. They have finally stopped the villain and aprehended them, locking them up for life inside the safest cell ever, carefully designed to surpress their powers.
Hero, tho, so happens to need more intel from them. So they finally come to Villain's enclosure, wanting to ask for their intel and so. But Villain is no longer the same person they were before. Their eyes are lost into the void their existence has became, now. With no longer a purpose, and having been defeated, Villain only seeks one thing, and is desperate to have it.
"C'mon, Hero, what are you wainting for...? Kill me... Do it already," mumbles Villain, seated inside their cell, back against the wall.
Hero sees the desperation in their enemy. Villain has no longer any purpose.
"I need you for one last time, Villain... You know names, places" His enemy sighs, scoffs even.
"Will you let me die, if I help you? If it has to be someone, I want you to be the one..."
Hero knows themself. They won't grant the Villain this one thing; they won't help this evil flee from the consequences of their own crimes. They can see the depression and the void nagging at their enemy's eyes, and a part of Hero feels glad about it. But Hero still needs the Villain, and asks themselves how can they fix such a broken being like that. An evil without any purpose.
The afternoon goes smoothly. Alongside the truck that Hero and his squad have occupied, several others accompany them. Dozens of soldiers unload food and medicine from the vehicles, organizing it into neat piles where civilians have begun lining up to receive their assigned portions. Everything is peaceful—some children are even running around.
Hero turns his head toward the truck, where he sees Vicci seated in the back, rifle in hand but lowered, observing the scene as well. He appears to be waiting. Unbeknownst to him, Hero has assigned nearly a dozen soldiers to keep watch over him, surrounding the vehicle and ready to fire if the order is given. The vehicle’s engine has been turned off, so the Weapon has nowhere to escape to. Still, Hero is anxious—anything can happen in wartime.
Suddenly, a small vehicle appears down the street, speeding toward the line of civilians. Alerted, Hero orders everyone to back away. The Captain unconsciously starts walking toward the truck, watching as two armed men exit the vehicle, shouting at the soldiers. Tension spikes. Civilians start yelling at the newcomers as well, and guns are raised. Chaos ensues.
Hero reaches the truck and sees Vicci already aiming his rifle at the newcomers, quickly shifting targets between the two men. When he spots Hero—no more than ten steps away—their eyes lock, clearly asking for an order.
“Hold,” Hero tells him. Surprisingly, Vicci seems to understand the command. Without lowering the weapon, he relaxes slightly, continuing to observe the situation.
As expected, the chaos settles somewhat. The newcomers come to terms with the soldiers. Eventually, weapons are lowered.
“They were allies—they just thought we were looting the place,” Hero explains. Vicci finally lowers his rifle, not understanding a word but clearly reading the room.
They wrap things up, everyone climbing back into their trucks and leaving the site. Hero holds Vicci’s rifle again, while the Weapon looks to be pouting.
“Stop it. A day without gunfire is a good day,” Hero tells him.
Vicci still looks bored. During the ride back to base, he starts fidgeting with his bandages.
“Hey, stop touching them,” says Hero. When he notices the bandages have fresh blood stains, he adds, “We’ll need to change those soon.”
Later that night, a quiet knock sounds outside Hero’s quarters.
The Captain looks up from the notebook—the same one he’s been translating every night. It doesn’t hold much information, but piece by piece, he’s starting to understand how the intricate world Vicci came from used to work. And it frightens him.
He glances at the door. “Yes?” he calls. A soldier steps inside.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but you should come see this.”
Hero scoffs. It’s clearly about the Weapon. He had ordered the soldiers to take Vicci to the showers about half an hour ago.
“It’s about him, isn’t it?” asks Hero.
The soldier nods. “You’ll want to see this, sir. It’s likely connected to that notebook we found.”
Now Hero is curious. He rises from his desk, pockets the notebook inside his coat, and follows the soldier down the stairs to the basement.
He finds five soldiers standing outside the shower room, and upon entering, he sees three more posted at the door, guarding the only exit. The floor and walls are tiled in white. On the far wall, Vicci stands naked under the shower, facing away from the soldiers. The collar remains around his neck, and he’s been chained to the wall—for everyone’s safety.
The first thing Hero notices, approaching slowly, are the scars tracing down Vicci’s shoulders and back. He’d seen them before—Vicci had spent most of his time in just underwear—but they still haunt him. His stomach tightens.
He gets closer, eyes tracing the limp dark locks now reaching Vicci’s chin. Hero crosses his arms and leans against the wall, watching the biological weapon. The water at Vicci’s feet runs dirty, cleansing skin previously caked in rain and mud. Vicci’s arms are clenched against his torso; he looks extremely uncomfortable, standing still, head bowed, bracing himself, shoulders arched.
He’s just waiting for it to be over, Hero thinks.
He reaches into the stream, checking the temperature—an unconscious gesture. He quickly pulls back from the icy cold water.
“You morons,” he mutters, glaring at the soldiers near the door. They laugh a little, exchanging glances. Hero grabs the handle, turns it, and warm water begins to flow. Vicci raises his head slightly, acknowledging the change. He starts biting one of his fingers absentmindedly while watching Hero.
The Captain walks back to the soldiers.
“So what was it you wanted me to see?”
“His left side, sir—some kind of number or ID,” one of them points out.
Hero turns back to Vicci. Now a bit more relaxed under the warm water, Vicci is inspecting his navel, tracing circles around it with his index finger as water streams down his skin. Hero moves to Vicci’s left side and spots it—tattooed vertically along the outside of his hip and down his leg: a series of numbers beginning near his hip bone and ending below the crotch. They’re clearly a serial number.
No wonder it hadn’t been noticed—they were hidden by his underwear.
Vicci glances at him and smirks when he realizes he’s being examined. He looks Hero over from head to toe.
“Not like that, you bastard,” growls Hero, turning away. But something about the number sticks. He stops, turns back to Vicci, and pulls out the notebook. Flipping through the pages, he finally finds the list he’s looking for. He checks the numbers again.
688-9904-6. It’s there. The number matches an entry under the list labeled “Cattle.” The aliases, like Vicci, hadn’t been cross-referenced before—but now it all makes sense.
“Vicci is…” Hero reads aloud, glancing at the number again. “688-9904… and 6.”
The room falls silent as the Captain circles the number in his notebook.
“Vicci…” he whispers, walking slowly toward the door. “Vi… VI. And so… six.”
“With all due respect, sir. He is an aberration made by men. A tool designed to kill. It is not ours to control—it’s far beyond our control.”
Hero is staring out through the window in his office, into the night. The room is full of people—the highest ranks available on-site. Word has spread about Vicci being Weapon Number 6. Finally, having confirmed the correlation between alias and code number, there’s no doubt about which entity they have locked under the base. By far, the most deadly of Vicci’s squad. And everyone is uneasy at the realization.
“We should just put a bullet through his skull. Kill that demon. One less thing to worry about,” says the Second Lieutenant, seated by the fireplace in an uncomfortable chair. He’s holding his third glass of rum of the night. He’s trying to contain his nervousness—and failing. His gaze falls onto a blank wall, his voice trembling slightly.
“Our ranks are scared… even suspicious… It’s not good for morale to keep… that thing here. The Major would’ve had him executed already,” mumbles the Senior Private, not wanting to raise his voice too much, as if afraid of being reprimanded.
Hero turns to the room, eyeing the notebook, opened to the page with Vicci’s—Number 6’s—stats on the battleground. Deadly. Unstoppable. “We cannot argue about how useful he could turn out to be, though.”
“For fuck’s sake, Captain! Almost a hundred deaths reported in each assault, says the damn notebook! Have you seen those records?!” yells the First Lieutenant, getting up from the sofa in a fit of rage. He walks straight to the desk at the center of the room and starts pointing at the open page in the old notebook. It may be in a foreign language, but numbers are numbers—and the evidence is clear. And terrifying. “How can you even feel safe around that monster? How did you have the… the guts to take the goddamn thing into the other base, just like a… a dog?!”
Hero sighs. Neither of the men have seen the understanding in the Weapon’s eyes like he had, earlier that day. “I’ll repeat myself, gentlemen. I did not give ammo to that soldier. It was a test—to see if he would fire, or wait for my orders.”
“Do not call that thing a soldier… He is not,” mumbles the Private again. He crosses his arms, uncomfortable.
“He has shown me he can hold fire at my command. That’s how he—it—works. He follows orders. That’s all.”
The First Lieutenant laughs at the absurdity. “And what will you do when he decides he doesn’t want to play the game anymore? When it goes rogue?”
The Captain breathes deeply, eyeing the numbers again in the old notebook. Vicci almost triples the death rate of any other biological weapon in his deployed squad. The records are certainly alarming. And Hero has seen it all for months—the madness, the hunger for blood, the aim to kill, to take lives. The will to destroy.
“Unlike the enemy, a weapon does not choose sides. The handler does. And I am his.” Hero finally
faces the other three men. “Guns only shoot when triggered. And I will be the one who aims it toward the enemy.”
The Captain, Hero, rounds the desk and finally sits on it.
“That is all, gentlemen. I will not tolerate more talk about it.”
And with that, the decision to keep the Weapon is made.
heyyyy, hope ur having a good dayyy. i was just curious about your favorite whump stories from OTHER creatorsss :)
Okay, this took me HOURS to find and link everything, so hope you like it! (HUGE shout out to all the wonderful whump writers out there like myself) There are so many good stories out there.
Here's are my absolute FAVORITE whump series (solo short stories are at the bottom)
The Bahkauv series by @deluxewhump (one of my top favorites)
Heroic Betrayal by @chaotic-orphan
Kane & Jim series by @whumpsday (vampire story)
Suppressing Fire by @whumperstorm (fanfiction of Kane & Jim series)
Bring by @serickswrites
Remember You by @robinrites (villain whumpee story)
Delirious Villain, Hero Caretaker by @chaotic-orphan
Into the Woods series by @knivestothroats
Blood & Tears series by @whumpisgoodwhumpislife (Another great vampire story involving a blind vampire-hybrid)
A Cure for Solitude by @jazztag
Lethal Weapon Whumpee by @serickswrites
The Rare Bookseller and the Vampire Auction series by @oliversrarebooks
Professional Victim series by @victimeyez (NSFW, read at your own risk)
The Crow and the Dove by @there-will-always-be-blood (has some NSFW chapters be warned -- not for minors)
An Apple a Day by @nami-writes
Defiant Leader Confident Villain by @chaotic-orphan
The Stranger by @chaotic-orphan
Happy by @a-whisper-in-the-forest
The Center by @whump-a-la-mode
Goldie the Vampire by @whump-only
Traitors Among Us by @dawnwriterimagines
Sidekick Whumpee x Hero Whumper by @whumpasaurus101
Fallen from Crestfallen Universe by @clickerflight
In the depths of an ancient Direnni ruin, I find my nemesis - the self-proclaimed "Witch-King of the Reach" - dangling helplessly from his own magical snare.
"My traps never ever work..." he sobs pitifully. "Ulfric was right, I'm pathetic..."
I lower my staff, caught off-guard. This fearsome Reachman warlock, terror of the Wrothgarian Mountains, reduced to tears by his own failings?
As I contemplate freeing him, I wonder: Is this victory... or an unexpected chance for understanding?
In High Rock's complex political landscape, today's enemy could be tomorrow's desperate ally.
Villain decides to start fresh after being let go from the prison. Hero isn't really convinced, so they follow the criminal around without letting get seen. Hero starts to realize they don't actually know Villain that well. Why is every homeless cat in the neighbour friends with the criminal? Since when have Villain been feeding them?
The notorious Reachman warlock, released from Daedric-warded cells, claims to seek redemption. Skeptical, I shadow him through the city's winding streets.
To my amazement, he stops at every alley, leaving food for stray Alfiq - those sentient housecats native to Elsweyr. The felines flock to him, purring loudly.
"Been too long, little ones," he murmurs, scratching ears.
I realize I never truly knew my enemy. How long has he cared for these creatures? What other misconceptions clouded my judgment?
In High Rock's world of illusions and politics, perhaps true character hides in the smallest acts of kindness.
There are almost fifty soldiers surrounding them, all pointing their rifles at Vicci. Some seem really scared, especially the cadets and young soldiers, while others just look angry. But everyone follows Hero’s orders, so when the Captain says “Hold,” everyone steps into formation and follows their Captain up to the first floor and out of the building.
Vicci keeps grinning at the scene, having a lot of fun seeing everyone afraid of him. Hero has to order him to look forward a couple of times, as the Weapon won’t stop sticking out his tongue every time a soldier calls him “monster,” “trench beast,” or simply “war pig.” Everyone gathers around the two of them, eager to see the prisoner who has been terrorizing the Republic for ages. Hero starts giving orders to everyone to step back and move to their assigned positions. Meanwhile, Vicci just stands there, chained and smug, trying to hide under his cap but at the same time excited by the reaction his presence is creating. He starts scratching at his arm frantically while following his Captain closely, keeping his head down.
They finally get into the vehicle, entering from the back. It’s a truck that will be used to travel to the location. Hero sits immediately behind the driver’s seat, back against the wall. He tugs the chain so that Vicci sits right in front of him, and the Weapon obliges. Nobody else dares to sit next to the prisoner, so the other soldiers, about five of them making up the squad, sit at the far end of the vehicle. Hero looks at them out of the corner of his eye. He identifies one of them as his second in command and orders the soldier to come forward. The truck starts to move, and everyone grabs hold of their seats.
The soldier sits next to the Captain, clearly trying to hide the fact that he is terrified. “Here,” says the soldier, handing Hero a rifle. As soon as the Captain grabs the firearm, the Weapon shuffles in his seat.
“I’m going to keep this for the remainder of the trip,” Hero tells him, and for the first time ever, the Weapon finally stops smiling and pouts. That’s his rifle—that is definitely Vicci’s rifle. Hero is convinced a soldier is practically married to their firearm on the battlefield, so he understands Vicci’s restlessness, seeing the enemy holding his weapon.
“I’ll need you to translate some instructions to our dog over there,” Hero tells the soldier. The younger man looks a bit afraid, avoiding Vicci’s eye contact at all costs, but nods. Vicci doesn’t stop staring at his own rifle in someone else’s hands, practically turned toward him menacingly, but he looks up when the young man starts speaking in his foreign language.
“Okay, just translate exactly what I say,” Hero says to the soldier, then looks straight at Vicci, who has started to fidget with his own hair. “This is going to be a test to see if you’re useful or not.”
The soldier translates in his poor pronunciation, making Vicci frown a bit.
“If you’re not useful, you’re better off dead,” Hero continues.
“Çi non util, ei te matare,” the soldier translates, and Vicci looks up at Hero with a smug smile, as if daring Hero to try.
“I will,” the Captain says seriously. Vicci shrugs and looks away, uninterested. The Weapon gazes through the truck’s small window, where the gray sky peeks through, above an immense field full of dead trees and dry, brown soil.
“We’re headed towards a small village where we believe there are still some civilians. We get there, we give them some packages, and we leave. Got it?” The young soldier hurries to translate everything into his broken Polareçe as best he can. Vicci is still looking away, but when the soldier finishes, he turns toward Hero, seemingly having understood everything.
“Got it?” Hero asks again. He stops the other soldier from translating that. “I want you to tell me you got it.”
Vicci looks at his rifle in Hero’s hands. He then looks up at Hero and mumbles a raspy “si.”
Hero finally hands him the rifle, and Vicci smiles a bit. However, Hero does not let go of the weapon. He’s still looking Vicci dead in the eye as his prisoner tries to pull the rifle away from him.
“Yes?” Hero asks, and Vicci rolls his eyes.
“Y…Yee…eh?” responds the Weapon. His broken voice sounds even scarier when trying to pronounce English. Hero finally lets go of the rifle, and Vicci grabs it with intent, caressing it as if it were a cat on his lap. Hero crosses his arms.
“You are not allowed to leave this vehicle,” the Captain continues, and the young soldier by his side starts translating rapidly to Vicci. “You’re going to stay here and cover us if something happens.”
“Ye,” mumbles Vicci when the soldier finishes translating.
“You are not allowed to shoot until I give the order, okay? Only when I actually say ‘shoot,’ you shoot. Got it?”
“Ye.”
“Only when I say ‘Vicci, shoot,’ do you fire. Got it?” Hero insists, emphasizing those exact words.
“Yeye.”
Hero steps back a bit, observing his little project seated there. He then steps forward again, and the two lock eyes.
“If you exit this vehicle, I’ll kill you on the spot. And we both know I’ve got an excellent aim.” says Hero, pointing at Vicci’s left ear, or what remains of it.
At the end of the world, only Hero and Villain stood against the Great Evil. After defeating it, Villain finds a game console still attached to a working TV in the ruble.
"Fancy some playing, Hero?"
"I'm sure I can still win you in a battle", laughs Hero.
Your usual coffeshop AU but Villain is starting as an apprentice as a casual day job, and only Hero has recognized the other as their nemesis. Chaos ensues -- Villain is really, REALLY bad at it. And they stil won't realize their boss (to which they're falling in love) is actually Hero? Nuts.
Villain decides to start fresh after being let go from the prison. Hero isn't really convinced, so they follow the criminal around without letting get seen. Hero starts to realize they don't actually know Villain that well. Why is every homeless cat in the neighbour friends with the criminal? Since when have Villain been feeding them?
