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idyllicwillowtree · 2 months

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God Eddie, You're So In Love With Me.

Genre: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader, fem!reader, angst/fluff, hurt/eventual comfort, friends to lovers

Summary: Being in Hellfire, you’ve been exposed to your fair share of bullying. One day, Jason takes it a step too far.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: bullying, anaphylaxis, poisoning, no physical descriptions of Y/N so you don’t have to look like Dustin, reader wears makeup, reader uses she/her, reader has a peanut allergy, reader is called princess, swearing

Author’s note: I got this idea from an episode of Freaks and Geeks (which is an awesome show I totally recommend). Peanut allergies weren’t so common in the 80s so that’s why Jason is so ignorant and dismissive about it.

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I was hibernating.

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Part 1:

Eddie proudly sauntered into first period with his head held high and a smirk on his lips. His mouth was watering in anticipation. He plopped himself down in the seat next to yours, wide eyes and a wicked grin plastered on his face, an eager hand open towards you.

“Wow Eddie. It’s 7:29, you got here with a minute to spare,” you said as you leaned over to grab the bite size Laffy Taffy from your backpack to place in Eddie’s hand. “I think this candy reward system is really working.”

“Of course it worked, it was your idea after all. But today’s a special day, I was definitely not going to not be here,” Eddie said with too much energy for this early in the morning. He stuffed the yellow taffy into his mouth and chewed it like a happy 5 year old, wiggling in his seat with excitement.

“Are you talking about the photo?”

“Yeah! Hellfire finally gets a spot in the yearbook. We shall finally leave our mark on this cesspool we call a school,” Eddie said through the glob of candy in his mouth. He swallowed the treat harshly as he got a good look at you, “you look great by the way.”

“Yeah?” you said shyly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You started fiddling with the hem of your Hellfire shirt, “I thought I’d go with a bit more eyeliner today.”

“Yeah, you did a great job princess.” With the excuse of admiring your eyeliner, Eddie was able to take a moment to study your features. Your gaze stayed on your hands, picking at a loose thread.

“God, Eddie. You’re so in love with me,” you said with a teasing smile.

Eddie barked out a laugh, dimples on full display as he tried not to let your words affect him too seriously.

“Great, the flirting freaks are back at it again.” Jason remarked from a few rows behind you. Both of you turned around in time to see Andy dramatically fake gagging.

Before you could hurl an insult back at them, Eddie took notice of what Jason was snacking on.

“Hey asshole, you can’t eat peanuts in class.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna stop me, Munson? You?” Jason said through a full mouth, spitting out chunks as he laughed obnoxiously with Andy.

You simply rolled your eyes at Jason, annoyed with the jocks and their willingness to tease and fight so early in the morning.

Eddie’s grip tightened on the back of his chair. His white knuckles caught your eye and you reached out to sooth him, hoping he wouldn’t start a fight he couldn’t finish. The second your hand landed on his, the tension in his shoulders deflated and the fire in his eyes was snuffed out as he sent you a reassuring smile.

Jason waved around his ziplock tauntingly, “Seriously freak, let’s see if you can actually take these from-”

“I’ll take those,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she walked in behind Jason and snatched the bag. “Mr. Carver, you know you’re not allowed food in my class, let alone peanuts.”

“But coach said we have to protein-load before the game tonight,” Jason wined.

“Too bad. Some allergies can be very serious,” You shrunk in your seat as the other students turned to stare at you, knowing you were the one she was referring to. “You can get these back after class,” Mrs. O’Donnell said as she rounded the corner of her desk to address her students. “Now, everyone, please open your textbooks to chapter six.”

You, being the diligent student you were, immediately followed orders. Eddie on the other hand didn’t even remember to bring his book bag to school, but at least he got his candy.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m serious guys, I might have a crush on Mrs. O’Donnell now,” Eddie said to his bandmates as they sat in their unofficial assigned seats in the cafeteria.

“Just because an older female authority figure agreed with you and shut down Carver, doesn’t mean you should crush on your teacher dude,” Gareth said, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Besides, you already have a crush,” Jeff added with a teasing smile, the metal on his teeth catching the fluorescent lights.

“Are you guys talking about my sister?” Dustin said while throwing his lunch tray on the table, taking a seat next to Eddie. The rest of his sheep following close behind.

“No-”

“Yes,” all three of the older Hellfire members said in unison.

Eddie shot them a look that would’ve shut them up if the metalhead’s pale cheeks weren’t tinted pink.

“Gross,” Dustin added.

Mike’s brows did their signature furrow under his dark bangs, “I don’t get it, why doesn’t he just ask her out?” he said, purposefully ignoring Eddie’s presence at the table.

“GROSS,” Dustin repeated, hoping the subject would change.

Eddie was right there with him, picking up a pretzel and hurling it at Mike’s head, “I’d rather not share the complexities of the friendship-to-relationship pipeline with a baby freshman. And I. Don’t. Like. Her.” He growled, punctuating each word with a pretzel.

The metalhead’s angry scowl melted off his face at the sound of your laugh echoing through the high ceilings of the cafeteria. You were standing near the entrance with your Wonder Woman lunchbox in tow, tilting your head back as you chuckled at something Robin Buckley told you.

That was until Jason and his entourage of goons followed him in.

He had that damn bag of peanuts in his hand, swinging it around mockingly. Eddie watched as you became tense, eyes wide and glossy. You are practically hiding behind a fuming Robin.

Before the blonde could hurl her trumpet case at the jocks, Eddie stepped up behind you both, placing a ring clad hand gently on the small of your back to let you know he was there.

With his hand grounding you, you finally found your voice, “seriously Jason, if I come into contact with a peanut I could die.”

“Oh come on,” Jason said through a chuckle, “you’re that much of a freak that a little peanut is enough to kill you? I think you might be overreacting just a little.”

“Actually,” Dustin said as he came over to stand next to Eddie, “Anaphylaxis is incredibly dangerous. Allergic reactions to the proteins found in peanuts are cause by immunoglobulin E antibodies and can trigger severe inflammation and-”

“Dude, even her brother is a fucking dork,” Andy spat.

“Hey, don't talk to him like that,” Eddie said, stepping forward. You have always admired his fierce determination when defending your brother and the other freshmen. It’s part of what drew you to him in the first place. But this time there was no snarky comeback to Jason’s bullying. The severity of the situation on top of the jocks’ disregard for your safety was just pissing him off, making him uncharacteristically no-nonsense.

The group of letterman jackets erupted in a chorus of ‘oooohs’. The leader just licked his lips, eyeing Eddie before smirking at you.

"You know, you might be pretty if you actually tried."

It doesn’t have the effect on you that Jason had hoped, you could care less if he thought you were pretty. But before your athletically inexperienced friends could take on the basketball team, you plastered on your best fake smile.

“Thanks Jason, see you guys later,” you said as you pulled your friends away leaving him confused and unsatisfied by your reaction.

“What the hell, you’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” your brother protested.

“He’s never going to change, Dustin. I might as well play into it since he’s just trying to get a rise out of us.”

You wave bye to Robin as she went to sit with her band friends, all of them decked out in their extravagant green and yellow uniforms. Eddie slid Dustin’s tray away from the spot next to him so you could set your lunchbox there and sit at his left hand side. Dustin was muttering something about losing his seat but still scooched down, knowing there was no use in fighting it. Eddie always had you right next to him.

The next few minutes of lunch went by rather smoothly. Groups of students were taken out sporadically to go to the photo room and get their yearbook club photo taken with Nancy. Occasionally, you’d catch Jason sending you angry glares but you just ignored him in favor of listening to your fellow Hellfire members. They were rambunctiously throwing out theories about tonight's campaign while Eddie just sat there with his version of a poker face, not willing to spoil anything with a teasing grin plastered to his mouth.

His eyes connected with yours, feeling you staring at him. The moment he looked at you you bashfully lowered your eyes to the cup of applesauce you were stirring around. Eddie kept his gaze on you until Nancy walked up behind him.

“Alright Hellfire, you’re up,” Nancy said with a smile.

This was the first year Hellfire club was getting any sort of recognition in the yearbook. Previously, the teachers and students didn’t want to draw any more eyes to the alleged cult and their leader. Now that Nancy worked for the school, she played a big part in securing a photo for her brother’s club in the yearbook. Even though Eddie never liked conforming to frivolous High School expectations, he still felt honored. It was his last year after all (hopefully) and he wanted to make his mark.

You and the rest of the Hellfire members left your things at the lunch table and walked out of the cafeteria for the yearbook room down the hall. Your open applesauce was forgotten about as you followed Eddie out.

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Your shoulders were still buzzing after taking the photo. Eddie had thrown his leather clad arm around you, pulling you closer to him, while his other hand did the sign of the horns. The smell of his cologne and the texture of his battle vest overwhelmed you so much you hoped it didn’t show in the photo. Although, the smirk Nancy sent you tells you it might have.

You and the rest of Hellfire sat back down in your original seats, besides your leader. As expected, Eddie had a lot of things to say in honor of your club getting recognized so he opted to stay standing.

“Hear ye, hear ye! Rejoice, for this day shall be etched in the annals of history as a testament to our unwavering spirit and valor!”

Going back to your lunch, you scoop up the velvety applesauce to resume eating. Expecting the familiar taste of sweet and tart, you flinched at the salty crunch and swallowed it on instinct.

“Let it be known that we have weathered the raging storm of schoolyard bullies, and emerged victorious! Our banners flying high, unfurled in the winds of destiny,” Eddie continued, not noticing your trepidation.

You frowned at the tickle in your throat that only continued to build as you tried coughing discreetly. The rest of the boys grinned, believing this was your way of hinting at Eddie to wrap up his speech.

“Let us raise our voices in jubilation, for today, we have proven that nothing is insurmountable to those who believe in their cause!” Eddie looked to you, hoping to see you looking up at him and smiling that way you do whenever he uses his renaissance voice. Instead he met your panicked eyes.

“Hey Henderson,” Jason called from across the cafeteria. “What happens now? Should we call an ambulance?” Andy shoved at his shoulder playfully and chortled alongside Jason.

Panic gripped you as you connected the dots.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, “call an ambulance.”

Part 2

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straight-to-the-pain · 5 months

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I’ve been thinking about how often we see stories about people getting out of an awful situation and being surrounded with support and care and getting to move on and recover.

But what if they don’t. They’ve spent god knows how long in their own personal hell, captivity, torture, isolation. For what felt like an eternity, they held onto the idea of finally being freed, rescued, released. And one day it just happens. Political pressure, a hostage exchange, a rescue. Whatever happens, one day they’re just free.

But they come home and everything’s different. They never had a huge network to begin with, and now the people who still care just don’t know how to deal with them and their trauma. It’s all too much. They’re not the person they used to be, the person their friends used to love.

Sure, they’ve been given medical treatment for their obvious wounds but the doctors just don’t seem to understand them when they say that there’s a pain that never quite goes away. They’ve had the mandatory counselling, but the therapist’s empty platitudes made them feel all the more disconnected from their reality.

For so long, they waited for this. But now it feels like their past is an impossible weight on their chest, never letting them move forward. People tell them that they have their future ahead of them, but they can’t help but wonder if they should have just died there.

#whump #tropes and prompts #past trauma #implied/referenced torture #emotional whump #my stuff #I’m sorry this is such a bleak one but I just felt like it wasn’t represented much in writing #but like sometimes there isn’t a happy ending for a long time #i do hope that it’ll get better for this hypothetical character but who can say for sure

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sleepyiswhumping · 17 days

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hero and villain

hero and villain, pressed up against each other, feeling each others smiles as their lips brush together. villain brushing hero's hair out of their face so they can stare into hero's pretty, blue eyes. hero wrapping their arms around villain, the two of them snuggling into the other's embrace, nothing mattering but this moment.

villain, slumped against hero, barely conscious. hero pressing their hand against villain's chest, trying futilely to staunch the heavy bleeding. villain's trembling hand trying to brush hero's hair out of their face, getting one last look at hero's sad, blue eyes. hero wrapping villain in an embrace, sobbing into their shoulder, refusing to let go, refusing to let villain go.

villain waking up in a hospital bed, hooked to countless machines. their limp hand is being held by a sleeping hero, whos clasped both of their hands around villain's. villain, carefully reaching up to caress hero's cheek, staring lovingly at their peaceful, resting face. hero flinching awake, villain catching a brief glance of their shocked, blue eyes, before hero flies forward, wrapping villain in a desperate, trembling embrace. the two of them sobbing happily into the other's shoulders, grasping each other tightly, not wanting to let go, not wanting to let the other go.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #emotional whump #happy ending #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero and villain

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creative-caramel-coffee · 13 days

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Left Behind and Bleeding

Summary: you’ve been feeling forgotten all week when your period shows up you just want to curl up and hide. Will your girlfriends look after you this time?

TW: Angst, periods, being forgotten, anxiety, feeling left out, abandonment issues, self-doubt, mentions of drug use, teasing

Words: 1.2K

A/n: it’s that time of the month when I hit you with another period fic lol. Sorry it’s a bit short. Also … I may be projecting again … maybe hehe.

It had been a bad few days to say the least. To start off you had plans to hang out with Natasha, but she got given a last-minute mission, so you had to postpone. Which would have been fine on its own, but it seemed yo have sparked a pattern.

All week people had been cancelling on you, having some reason or another that seemed valid at the time but looking back made you overthink.

Wanda had some people she needed to visit, and you understood. But everyone seemed to be prioritising other things. Even your mother wasn’t answering your calls. Leading you to believe she was either dead or ignoring you.

On the fourth day of having nobody to hang out with in the usually very busy tower, you were getting fed up.

Your mind had been trying to spin a story that everyone simply didn’t like you. That they would rather hang out with other people and that you really didn’t have anyone in your corner.

Of course, you had been fighting the notion for days now, but it was getting harder to ignore as people continued to have bigger, better things to do without you.

Nat had gotten back from her mission and had immediately gone to do some training and after you caught her watching a movie with Clint. You had moped around your room all afternoon, feeling like you were a B-list avenger at best.

Your mind had convinced you that nobody cared and so you had spent the afternoon crying alone in your room.

When dinner came, it seemed everyone had returned. Something you had not been counting on, so your eyes were still red and puffy when Jarvis announced dinner.

In a panic you threw on some sunglasses in an attempt to keep the others from finding out.

Yet it had simply orchestrated a point of teasing for the whole meal. Everyone wanted to know why you were wearing them, but you kept your head down and tried to seem cheerful.

Sam was trying to convince people that you must have been high, while wanda could practically hear your loud thoughts from the other end of the table. Her and Nat exchanged expressions when you got up from the meal not even halfway through.

Feeling awful you almost cried when you got back to your room to discover your period had started.

Life seemed to be throwing more than a few curveballs at you, it was throwing the full field.

You stuck in a pad and threw on some warm pjs before crawling under the covers and letting a few tears fall while your breathing evened out.

Wanda had finished her dinner around the same time as Natasha had so, they had met up in the kitchen while washing their dishes.

“Wanda?” Nat asked from where she was drying her plate off.

“Yeah?” Wanda asked, her hands covered in suds.

Nat chewed her lip for a second before carefully selecting her words. “Was there … anyone off with Y/n these last few days?” Nat asked.

“I don’t know why?” Wanda said and Nat frowned.

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know’ werent you here?” Nat said.

“No? I told you I was visiting friends for a few days.” Wanda said.

“Oh my god.” Nat said feeling bad. “Did we both ditch her for a week?”

“No? I mean surely, she had the others to hang out with. Right?” Wanda said.

“Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling.

“Yes, Ms Romanoff what can I do for you?” The AI responded.

“Who in the past week has cancelled plans with Y/n?” Nat asked.

“In the past week I believe each of the avengers have been either ‘too busy’ or had ‘other plans’ to spend time with Ms L/n.” Jarvis said.

“Oh god.” Wanda said. “Jarvis? What has Y/n been doing this past week?”

“Ms L/n has spent most of her time in her room. Either sleeping or crying. She also has been avoiding everyone for the last half of the week.” Jarvis said and Wanda and Natasha’s hearts broke.

“We are the worst girlfriends ever.” Wanda said feeling awful.

“We should go check on her.” Nat agreed and the two of them headed for the lift.

When they stood outside your bedroom door Natasha hesitated for a second.

“What if she doesn’t want to see us?” Nat asked.

“Im sure she will, it’s Y/n. She may be sad but her hearts still twenty-four carat.” Wanda said and Nat nodded and knocked.

When no response came, she gently opened the door. Making out a Y/n shaped lump in the bed she entered and quietly walked over to your side.

Wanda took note of the chocolate wrappers on your bedside table and the hot water bottle you had cuddled up to.

You had seemingly used your powers to heat up the water-bottle and your brow was creased in pain.

“Nat?” Wanda said and Natasha nodded.

“I see.” She said.

Wanda sighed and slipped into bed behind you. Gently playing with your hair as Nat went to search for some pain medicine for you, knowing that you wouldn’t have taken any yet.

Wanda rubbed slow circles on your back and brushed a hand onto your cheek.

“Y/n baby, can you open your eyes for me my love?” Wanda asked softy. You let out a small whimper and Wanda’s heart melted.

“Wands?” You asked in a small voice.

“Yes, baby its me.” She said pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheekbone.

“Hurts.” You said softly and she nodded.

“Natty’s gone to get you some medicine.” Wanda said just as Natasha walked back in with some pills and a glass of water.

“Here you go my sweet girl.” Nat said as wanda helped sit you up, leaning into her side.

Nat passed you the medicine and you took it without protest, telling both girls just how bad you were really feeling.

“I’m sorry we weren’t here my love.” Nat said brushing a curl from your cheek.

“That’s ok. You had important things to do.” You mumbled into Wanda’s chest where you had buried your face.

“Baby girl, nothings more important than you.” Wanda said stroking your hair.

“Why don’t we put on a movie, and you can try and get some sleep ok?” Nat said gently and you nodded, shuffling over to make room for her on the bed.

Wanda used her magic to open the small mini fridge in the room and floated a pint of your favourite icecream and three spoons over.

“I got this for you before I left my love.” Wanda said with a smile passing you a spoon.

Natasha slipped in beside you and Wanda, passing you the remote you put on an episode of Parks and Recreation as you began to eat some icecream and cuddle.

After a few spoonfuls Nat stole the container, Afterall you have been making a mess. There was even icecream on your nose which wanda softly kissed away, making you giggle as you begun doze in the presence of your two amazing girlfriends.

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the-broken-pen · 4 months

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“We absolutely should not be doing this,” the hero whispered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. The other end of the line rustled as the villain laughed.

“There are a lot of things we shouldn’t be doing. Namely, I shouldn’t commit felonies, you shouldn’t talk to a felon…” their friend trailed off.

This time, the hero was the one who laughed. Outside, a bird began to chirp with the sunrise, and the villain sighed.

“Time distance.”

“Time distance,” the hero agreed, and by god if the miles weren’t a wound in itself.

“You should sleep,” the villain murmured. The hero hummed.

“Probably, yeah.”

Neither of them hung up.

“If I promise to call tomorrow, will you go to bed, please? For me?”

The hero sniffed, eyes heavy as the sun peeked through their blinds.

“Promise?”

“Pinkie.”

The hero slumped backwards. “I won’t hang up though.”

The villain laughed, softly, with an affection the hero didn’t want to think about.

“I’ll do the heavy lifting, once again,” but the hero knew they smiled as they said. The line clicked off.

—————————

“Hey, Sunshine. Committing nefarious acts of kindness and good deeds, I take it?”

“Hey,” the hero was breathless, hand pressed against their side. It came back bloody.

Any humor dropped from the villain’s voice in an instant.

“You’re hurt.”

The hero managed a pathetic laugh, flinching.

“Just a little.”

“It doesn’t sound like a little.”

The hero eyed their wound, swallowing.

“Absolutely just a little.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the kid of a hero, because love, you absolutely suck at lying.”

The hero tried to pretend something didn’t warm in their stomach at the endearment.

“I have…bandages. And antiseptic. And some good old natural dirt to rub into it if all else fails.”

The villain sighed on the other end of the line, and the hero knew they were rubbing their brow. For some reason, despite the pain, it made the hero grin.

“I’m fine,” they promised, and when the villain stayed silent, they said it again. “I’m fine.”

“If you die I’ll be mad at you.”

“Fairly certain that is the wrong sentiment for a villain to have towards a hero—“

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

The hero slapped some tape around the edge of the gauze, blood still dried around the edges.

“Yes.”

The relief was palpable.

“Good. Go to bed.”

“You’ll call again?”

“Promise.”

The hero smiled.

“Pinkie.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

“You wouldn’t happen to have a flamethrower I could borrow, do you?”

The hero blinked, holding the phone away from their face for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t be, I just need one,” the villain snorted, and a loud crash sounded in the background.

“What on earth are you doing?” Concern rolled in the hero’s gut. The villain laughed.

“You’re going to want plausible deniability sunshine.”

“Right,” they paused. “But why a flamethrower?”

“It has flames, it throws them, what else could I ask for in an object?”

“I can throw flames.” Even though the villain couldn’t see it, the hero let a spark flicker on their finger tips.

“And again,” the villain’s voice lowered. “What more could I ask for?”

The hero didn’t have a response to that, but the villain somehow, like they always did, knew that.

“Any bruises I should know about?”

“And what would you do about them? You live on the other side of the country,” the hero teased.

“I can steal a fighter jet in less than half an hour.”

The hero blinked at the seriousness in the villain’s tone. They laughed, nervously.

“Please don’t do that.”

The villain sighed. “You ruin my fun.”

“I haven’t arrested you, so I think that should get me brownie points.”

“You live on the other side of the country,” the villain parroted.

“I could get there faster than a fighter jet,” the hero said. The villain snorted again.

“Will you—“

“Call again? Pinkie.”

The hero smiled. “Promise.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

The hero picked up the phone on the third ring, smiling.

“Hey trouble maker, what’s—”

All they got in response was a pained wheeze.

“Villain,” the hero said, gut plummeting. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the villain bit out, breath short. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

The villain gave something that was either a laugh or a sob.

“Mhm.”

“What’s going on,” their voice broke, and the villain fell silent.

“It’s going to be okay,” they murmured. And the hero knew.

Innately, in a painful, wretched way, they knew.

“My dad is there.”

Their dad, the superhero. Their dad, who had forbidden them from ever speaking.

Their dad, who wanted the villain, their villain, dead.

The villain made a quiet noise of ascent.

“I’m coming—”

“You won’t make it.”

The hero stilled.

“How bad is it?” Their hands were shaking. They couldn’t find their suit, why couldn’t they find their suit—

“Too fast for a fighter jet,” the villain tried, voice too light and wet with tears.

The hero slammed a drawer closer, throwing open the door to the basement, searching for something, anything.

“I can be faster,” they grit out, breathless. Their chest hurt.

“Not that fast.”

“Please,” the hero sobbed, and on the other end of the line, the villain did too.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t want to,” the villain swore. They coughed, and it was a deathly thing.

Something slammed in the background on the end of the line, and the hero’s fingers clenched around the phone.

“What was that?”

The villain let out a pained whine, phone crackling as they shifted away, before their voice came over the speaker again.

“I’ll call again tomorrow.”

The hero’s face was wet.

“Promise?”

The villain let out a small sob, but they still sounded like they were smiling, soft with affection.

“Pinkie.”

The hero didn’t mean to say what came next.

“I love you.”

The villain didn’t even pause, breath hitching. “I love you too.”

The line crackled.

“Sunshine, I need you to do something for me now,” the villain rasped, voice choked with pain and tears and love and fear. “I need you to hang up.”

The hero forgot how to breathe.

“No—”

“Please,” the villain took a sharp breath through their nose, and it sounded painful. “Just this once. I can’t do it this time.”

“Villain,” the hero began, but the villain cut them off as something crashed in the background once more.

It sounded like a building falling.

It sounded like the hero breaking, too.

“Sunshine,” the villain pleaded. “Just once. I’ll-I’ll call you back. I swear.”

They could both taste the lie.

The hero sniffed.

The villain sobbed.

And for the first time, the hero hung up.

The villain never called them back.

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 6 months

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Catch the Sunrise

As Crosshair struggles to integrate into life on Pabu after being rescued from Mount Tantiss, you try to reconnect with him and draw him out of his shell.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic).

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: angst and whump, care and comfort, Cross is not okay, things do get better, ends hopeful.

A/N: this one is a little different than my other stuff, but its been rattling around in my head ever since I saw the teaser trailer at Celebration for S3. Cross looked so depressed, and goodness I just wanted to scoop up the sad toothpick and give him a cuddle. So, this is what this is – we’re giving him a great big cuddle.

In the stillness of the early morning, as the island slumbered in hushed tones, you stirred in your bed, your eyelids fluttering open to the fading darkness that enveloped your room. The dimming moonlight cast a glow, offering mere glimpses of the familiar shapes around you.

A sudden creak echoed through the silence, and your drowsy mind snapped to attention. Heart skipping a beat as you strained to discern the source of the sound, your breath hitched when a second noise reached your ears: the soft, unmistakable click of the door opposite yours closing.

Sitting up, the covers slipped off you. With cautious movements, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. Every step towards the door seemed to amplify the rhythm of your pounding heart, and you reached for the robe hanging on the back of it, tying it hastily around your body.

You didn’t hesitate to open your door, though you took it slow to avoid the squeak you still hadn’t greased.

The hallway was dimly lit by the faint glow of the night light used to help Omega navigate to the bathroom in the dark, and it threw elongated shadows along the walls. You tiptoed forward, steps deliberate and silent, and peered around the corner.

There, about to head down the stairs, was Crosshair.

It had been six weeks since you’d stormed Mount Tantiss to get him and Omega back, finding Tech in a bacta tank, too.

They’d integrated back into life on Pabu with ease – Omega had started attending the island’s school, while Tech had made it his mission to fix anything he could get his hands on.

But Crosshair… he’d withdrawn. Barely leaving his room, he seemed like a ghost of his former self, lost in his thoughts. The scars from his time with the Empire weren’t just physical but mental, too, and they weighed heavily on him. You’d tried to help him as much as you could, but that stubborn streak of his was hard to break. It was clear that the road to recovery was going to be a long and difficult one, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

You watched him from the shadows, torn between wanting to respect his space and the need to reach out to him. He seemed so distant, so different from the man you’d known during the war – the man who’d at first been frustrated by the presence of a mere civilian in the squad but had then grown protective of you, who’d inked an Aurebesh ‘99’ onto your wrist so you’d finally match him and his brothers, and who’d taught you how to use his rifle when no one else was allowed to touch it.

As Crosshair descended the stairs, you knew this might be your chance to talk to him, to draw him out of his shell. You stepped out from the shadows and called his name softly. He froze, his hand halfway down the handrail, and slowly turned to face you.

It was hard to miss the tiredness that painted his face; those hawkish eyes you’d gazed into thousands of times were now red-rimmed and glassy. Neither of you uttered a word, the silence lingering for a second before he sighed, turning and heading down the rest of the stairs.

You took off after him, tiptoeing to not wake his siblings. Bare feet met the tiled floor of the living room, and you found him at the window, gazing out into the distance. He’d never been a conversationalist, that much was a fact, but he’d barely uttered a word in six weeks, instead opting to respond with small sounds and grunts to convey varying levels of annoyance.

For a moment, you take him in. He was still too slender for your liking – he’d lost the few pounds he’d once had while he’d been in captivity on Tantiss – and he was in desperate need of a shave, grey stubble covering his jawline. His hair was starting to grow back, silver flecks covering his scalp, though you knew it would never hide his scar from Bracca.

Moving forward, you stopped at his side, eyes shifting to look out the window, too. The palm trees swayed a little in the light breeze, the fading moonlight casting an eerie glow. “It’s pretty here, don’t you think?” You ask lowly, not expecting an answer but wanting to at least engage in some sort of conversation with him, to not ignore him.

You knew his siblings were struggling, unsure how best to help him. Tech had naturally gravitated to his twin – the two of them sharing a bond you’d never understand – but he couldn’t get more than one word out of him. Omega still talked Crosshair’s ear off as he sat and silently listened, but he never replied. Wrecker shoved Lula into his face and knocked his shoulder playfully, but there was no grunt of frustration, or angry toothpick flicked in his direction anymore. Echo had left Pabu to help Rex with the fledging rebellion so that left Hunter…

The relationship between the oldest and youngest of the Batch was strained at best. Hunter was trying to build bridges, extending olive branches wherever he could, trying to make up for everything that had happened in the last year, but Crosshair was so lost in his thoughts and troubles that he missed most of them. You’d spent an equal number of nights sitting silently by Crosshair’s side to offer comfort and reassuring Hunter that every attempt he made was good and that his brother would eventually reach out in return when he was ready.

The silence stretches, but from your peripheral, you catch his eyes shifting to you for a moment before he looks back out of the window. “I was thinking of going to the pier to catch the sunrise.” You state. “It should start in an hour. If you’d be up for it, you can join me.” You extend the offer. If you could get him outside, that would be a positive step, but you wouldn’t pressure him. Right now, he reminded you of a feral lothcat needing reassurance, stability, and comfort.

There’s a moment of pause before he gives a slight nod, and it takes everything in you not to smile and jump for joy. His eyes rake back over to you, looking you up and down, taking in the robe you’d hastily pulled on to follow him. “I should change first.” You chuckle quietly. “Give me two minutes.”

It’s instinctual for you to reach out and give his forearm a gentle squeeze, something you’d done often during the war.

As you take the stairs two at a time back to your room to change, you miss how his eyes follow you and then drop to his arm, glued to the spot you’d touched.

When you return downstairs, he’s pulled on a light jacket and some shoes. You do the same, dragging on your shoes from the cluttered rack near the front door.

Together, you step out of the house that had been a gift from the residents of Pabu – a thank you for saving them from the tsunami and helping them rebuild the island. Instinct kicks in again as you reach for his wrist, fingers wrapping around to help draw him out past the front gate and toward the pier. You’d always reached for him and his brothers, grabbing wrists and hands, touching shoulders or waists as you passed. It had been subconscious, a way to remind yourself that they were safe and you were doing your job as their handler right.

Crosshair doesn’t pull away from your touch. Instead, he focuses on how you hold on to him, how you lead him so effortlessly through the winding streets. It felt odd, a little uncomfortable even, to experience such a soft touch after countless weeks in Hemlock’s clutches and the months before that alone in the Empire’s ranks.

The two of you walk slowly, the gentle noise of your footsteps breaking the quiet of the predawn hours. The island was serene, bathed in the faint glow of the stars and the imminent promise of the rising sun.

Arriving at the wooden pier extending into the calm waters, you both found a spot to settle. Positioning yourself on the edge, legs dangling over the side, Crosshair stood slightly back, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The first hints of daylight began to break the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, the waters below mirroring the beautiful canvas above.

You stole glances at Crosshair, observing his subtle reactions to the scenery. His usually steely demeanour seemed to soften as he stared at the horizon. The faintest hint of a wistful expression flickered across his face, something you hadn’t seen in a while.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a sunrise.” He spoke, the words breaking the silence between you. His voice was raw, hoarse from not being used for an extended period.

“Sunrises have a way of grounding us.” You respond softly, your gaze fixed on the emerging dawn. “It’s a reminder that every day brings a new beginning.”

He remained silent, but a small nod indicated his acknowledgement of your words. The minutes slipped by as the sky transformed into hues of pastel.

Eventually, you turned to him, searching for something to bridge the gap between you. “Cross, they all missed you - Omega, Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter. I missed you, too.”

A fleeting shadow crosses his features, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’m not the same.” He murmurs, barely audible, over the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier.

“No one expects you to be.” You assure him, reaching out tentatively, your hand resting on his forearm again. His muscles tense slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay not to be okay.”

His eyes met yours, the turmoil inside of him evident. “I’m not used to this...feeling.” He admits in a whisper.

“And that’s okay.” You repeat, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone, and you can face this feeling. We’re all here for you in whatever way you need us.”

The sunrise marked a new chapter—a silent understanding between you. You stay by his side, allowing the morning light to wash away the remnants of the night’s darkness, your hand still resting on his arm, anchoring him in the moment. You talk about inconsequential things, about the sea, the island, anything that didn’t carry the weight of the past. Occasionally, he would respond.

As the sun finally emerges in all its glory, painting the world in golden light, a glimmer of something different appears in Crosshair’s eyes. For a moment, it’s like a sliver of the old Crosshair has peeked through the layers of trauma and pain.

You don’t expect everything to change in this one moment. Healing was a process, a gradual journey through the shadows towards the light. But this, this felt like a step forward. A spark of hope.

The day was beginning, and as the island woke, you hoped that this small, shared moment would be the start of something more. A reminder that there was still beauty to be found, bonds to be rebuilt, and healing to be embraced. And that better days lay on the horizon.

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair bad batch #bad batch crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #star wars clone wars #tbb crosshair #crosshair the bad batch #star wars #clone force 99 #sw tbb #ct 9904 #whump #angst with a happy ending #comfort

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theres-a-body-here · 3 months

Note

his! if possible, i’ll request cole cassidy x reader who’s apart of Talon? thank you so muchhh! and no pressure, if you can’t complete it that’s alright!

You never specified the tone of the fic 😈 😈 😈

Cole Cassidy x Male!reader

Cole took a deep breath as he clutched his broken robotic arm, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain coursing through the attachment nerves.

His breathing became labored as sweat dripped down his forehead, mixing with the dust kicked up from the explosion that went off in the building. His communication device was broken as well. He couldn't call for the others.

Cole grunts as he attempts to stand, but is stopped as pain shoots through his leg. The pain felt like a thousand needles piercing his flesh, making it hard for him to think straight. He tried to get up again, but his wounded leg gave way underneath him. He looks around and finds Peacemaker, grabbing it.

After a few moments of silence, trying to come up with some sort of plan, he hears a groan a few yards away. Cole quickly turned his head in its direction, his breath catching in his throat.

In an awful way, Cole wished you had died in the explosion instead of having to face you himself. Killing his childhood best friend wasn't something he ever wanted to do.

You were still kicking. Talon's agents always had a nasty habit of not staying dead. Your face was contorted into a grimace as you pulled yourself out of the rubble, Talon armor cracked and tearing into your skin. After a few feet of crawling, Cassidy noticed the loss of your right leg. Despite that, you seemed hell bound on completing your mission.

Stubborn, just as you were in Deadlock.

You halted your movement towards him and met his gaze. Both of you stared at one another in silence. Eyes locked onto each other like two predators who knew each other's moves all too well. A soft wind blew through the broken concrete of the former building, rustling dust around them. No one spoke a word, but the tension was palpable.

Memories flooded back to Cole - warm summer nights spent under Texas skies, holding you close and feeling your laughter vibrate through him whenever he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. As he looked at his gun, he remembered those moments fondly before tightening his grip on it.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue over the landscape as the sky turned dark blue above.

Your eyes darted around, spotting your revolver lying nearby, its cold metal reflecting the dying sunlight. He also spotted the familiar gun, not believing that you kept it after all this time. Cole watched you look at it and then back at him, his heart racing wildly as he realized what might happen next. The weapon lay there like a temptress calling for attention.

"You...had it engraved for me?"

"Consider it a parting gift, darlin'"

You slowly started reaching for the weapon, fingers curling slightly as if to caress it.

Cole swung his arm, pointing his gun directly at you without even thinking about it. This action froze you mid-reach, leaving you staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"Don't shoot me out of panic," you said in a unnervingly calm voice, though whether it was meant as a taunt or genuine plea, Cole couldn't discern.

Cole ground his teeth together, searching for the right words to say without lowering his guard. He kept his sights trained on you, never breaking eye contact even for a moment.

Before Cole could find his voice, you began speaking calmly once more, "Humans need conflict; it's out of love that I want society to grow stronger." Your cold eyes pierce through his very being.

"Talon will strengthen humanity."

He watched as you started reaching for the pistol again, his grip on Peacemaker tightening further.

The world seemed distant to Cole as the sounds of your voice filled his mind, echoing with justifications and explanations for why you ended up here. His ears rang with the weight of your words, making everything else feel far away as you continued your 'speech'.

You truly believed Talon was helping the world.

"Please… darlin', don't make me do this," Cole whispered desperately under his breath, his voice cracking as he fought tears.

Silence reigned once more as the cool evening breeze danced around them, lifting dust devils into the air. The moon crested the horizon, bathing them in pale light.

"My heart and actions are utterly unclouded," you said softly, almost sadly. Then suddenly, you lunged for the pistol, grasping it firmly before leveling it at Cole.

The click of an empty chamber echoed in the quiet desert air, followed almost instantaneously by the sharp retort of a single gunshot.

#jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #cole cassidy x you #male!reader #male reader #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch x you #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 #angst #angst no comfort #angst no happy ending #open ending #whump #whump writing #i love being evil

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where-is-my-whump · 29 days

Text

Hudson and Rex 6x11

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itsyouch · 30 days

Note

Hi! Your art is so good! I really loved it.

I want to eat your art.

Aaaaand if ur receiving art requests... can I have angst? I LOVE IT (specially if it is with Red, Second or Chosen)

wait.... is this angst or whump?

#alan becker #ava #stick figures #animation vs animator #ava fanart #ava the chosen one #ava tco #Tco #the chosen one #angst with a happy ending #Whump #(?)#request art #If ya want to eat my art..... then dig in #:]#his clothes are so boring its killing me

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ashtronomyys · 22 days

Text

Our Future Days

Cover Art by @tamdrry

A John "Soap" MacTavish / Simon "Ghost Riley TheLastofUsAu

// General Warnings for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Zombies, Apocalypse Setting, Nightmares, Side Character Death, Family Member Death, Grief, and Body Horror(There's a Happy Ending I swear lol)

With so little knowledge to go on, he could really be riding into anything, a pack of runners, clickers, refugees seeking shelter, or a band of marauders ready to kill all that stand in their way. A bit of wishful thinking tells him that it really could just be nothing, and that this surveying of the area is all for naught. The practical side of his brain screams at him that this is a bad idea, screams that the scars lining his body ought to serve as a reminder for him of the dangers lingering out there, waiting for him… Simon shudders. Whatever it is that he'll be rushing into, he'll need to remain vigilant, keep an eye on his surroundings and stay light on his feet. There’s no telling what sort of monsters he could be coming up against. ************ “Hmm... Got any fours?" Alex clicks his tongue, giving him a look of pity. "Afraid not my friend. Go fish.” “Ahh, come ON! Yer kidding me!? Agaain?!”

-Explicit

-Longfic, Slowburn, Angst w/ a happy ending, It gets real dark before it gets real better

(Very) Sporadic Updates coming to Tumblr, Twitter, and eventually Ao3!

OFD Masterlist:

Ao3 link here (To be added later)

Chapters - Section by Section

Chapter 1 - When Hurricanes and Cyclones Raged

Chapter 2 - TBA

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zensations35 · 1 month

Text

Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?”

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer.

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor.

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails.

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.”

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.”

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle.

“Are you displeased, sir?”

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!”

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces.

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!”

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick.

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her.

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head.

“Ow!”

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.”

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks.

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!”

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King.

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment.

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she.

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance.

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep.

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner.

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠”

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey.

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying.

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls.

‘So and so! Good to see you!’

‘It’s been too long!’

‘How are things on your side of the pit?;

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck.

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe.

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface.

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!”

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker.

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping.

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??”

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist.

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group.

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence.

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop.

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint.

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms.

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!”

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles.

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…”

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths.

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.”

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes.

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel.

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.”

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate.

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.”

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!”

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.”

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.”

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies.

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound.

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat.

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air.

“Don’t do that now.”

“It’s not my hhhih choice!”

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold.

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!”

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils.

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek.

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉ Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.”

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath.

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

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tashacee · 3 months

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hero's aspect wild still has mipha's grace, right?

i'm rereading the whole fic and i got to the bit where hyrule is sure he would've killed wild if he'd been there when they first saw him. and i thought-

well ok. what if he did. like they kill wild before sky can tell them what's really happening and everyone is horrified and then he. comes back to life. all's well that ends well! except the trauma i guess

OH MAN

Oh no!

(Oh Yes)

Aspects of a Terrible Mistake

They had messed up. They had messed up beyond messing up. ‘Messed up’ wasn’t even an appropriate word for how badly things had gone wrong.

Legend stared silently as Hyrule, sobbing, tried to pour his Life spell into a corpse. Beside him, Sky was paler than ash, his eyes wide and his lower lip trembling. Only a moment ago he had burst through the brush, panting, and shouted for them to stop, that this wasn’t a monster, it was a hero like them.

It was too late. Hyrule had shot true, his arrow going into one of the hero’s eyes and killing him instantly.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. It was a dream, a terrible nightmare, it-

Legend felt like the world was spinning without him. He couldn’t focus. He heard himself saying that he was going to get Time, knew distantly that he was moving through the forest towards their camp, but he was in a daze.

They’d killed a hero.

He didn’t know what he said to Time. He didn’t know what the old man said, just that his eye flew wide and he looked sick. The rest of the heroes - the heroes that hadn’t been part of the group that killed an innocent man - followed him to the river where the corpse was still lying prone and Hyrule was sobbing into his chest.

They eventually decided to give him a decent burial. It was the very least they could do. The new hero, whoever he was, was a big guy but Time could just about carry him back to camp.

They laid him out on a bedroll, as if he was only sleeping. It would take a while to dig a grave and they were determined to do this right, to clean the blood from his face and comb his hair before they buried him. They would take some of his jewellery, maybe his sword and that strange device on his hip so that they could give it to his own people if they ever went to his era.

Hyrule was still trembling as he removed the arrow from his eye and washed his face. Legend had no idea how the traveller, the sweet kind traveller, would ever forgive himself for shooting the killing shot. Legend had just been a part of the group that killed him and he felt wretched.

There was nothing he could think of to say.

Legend turned to see how the grave was getting on, and -

A gasp. The sound of someone stumbling backwards, and a whine.

Legend span around and screamed.

The dead man was no longer dead, and now was looking up at him with two wide, very frightened eyes.

What the f-

Link awoke with a gasp, his body aching and his head pounding. He had been dead a moment ago. He had been dead, he had been murdered and -

Oh Hylia, the boy who shot him was right beside him. Wild whined and tried to struggle away, but his limbs were heavy and numb after their temporary death. A few feet away someone screamed, a guy with pink hair who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Which, yeah kinda.

But what the hell was going on?! He’d died in the river, but now he was in a glade, under a blanket. Were-

Were they planning to bury him? The killing boy looked like he’d been crying, what the hell was going on?!

Voices began to ring out as a group of more boys and men began to crowd around him, all looking shellshocked and disbelieving. Some, he recognised from the hunting party, others he did not. The largest of the group, a tattooed man with one eye, pushed his way through the crowd and knelt at link’s side.

“Everyone, give us some space. Sky, stay with me, help me explain.”

Link whined again, looking up at the tattooed man. Despite his intimidating figure he was looking down at him kindly. Link knew that he probably shouldn’t trust him, but he did.

Okay so this was all batshit crazy. According to one-eye - Time, his name was Time - they were all heroes from across time, all called link, and all drawn here by mysterious portals. Sounded like a lot of woo-woo bullshit to Link, but then Time’s friend, Sky, had let him hold his sword. The Master Sword.

Hylia, it was all true.

Call him crazy, but Link - Wild, he was now - didn’t hold a grudge. He’d died before, including by accident or at the hands of people who hadn’t realised it was him and not a monster. It was fine.

Well, it wasn’t fine, but Wild was forgiving and wanted to move on. Wanted to get to know his brothers.

It took a while. Weeks, really. He couldn’t communicate properly, couldn’t explain himself to them. Little by little, though, he broke down barriers between himself and the chain. The ones who hadn’t been in the hunt first, then one by one, the others.

Four. Warriors. Legend. Sky.

And then Hyrule. Much as Wild wanted to move on, it was hard to build a bridge with Hyrule.

He knew why the traveller had done what he did, probably would have done the same in his situation. Honestly, he was even pretty impressed by his shot!

But his subconscious was another matter. He got nervous around the traveller without any real reason, and Hyrule’s guilt was clearly affecting him too.

Then, one day on a hike the traveller had pulled out a bow as he turned to listen for monsters and Wild had jerked away on instinct. The look of shock and guilt and grief he then got from the traveller after that was horrible, and that night he found Hyrule’s bow snapped in half in a ditch.

In the end it was food that united them. Wild had seen Hyrule by the campfire and steeled himself, walking over and plopping down beside him.

Hyrule immediately made to move, to give wild space, but wild stopped him, putting a hand on his wrist. He rumbled softly, and offered his slate.

It took a while to get his meaning across, but eventually Hyrule understood that he was asking for food suggestions. The traveller would never be a great chef, but he could follow instructions and was genuinely excited to help.

It was the first time they had ever actually done something together and… it felt nice. Right. When they were done they had a damn good meal for the chain, and Wild ruffled Hyrule’s hair fondly. The traveller smiled shyly back up at him.

By the time they first made it to Wild’s world, the time Wild had be killed by Hyrule felt like a bad dream.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #whump #with a happy ending #my writing

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