#febuwhump you’re safe now

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2023

Day twenty eight: “You’re safe now”

[smilesrobotlover]

Febuwhump day 28: “you’re safe now”

This is two days late I friggin hate myself man. Anyways I ended up rewriting the entire thing cuz the first draft was kinda friggin awful. I like this version soooo much better so yaaay. It’s not super good but whatever. Sorry to make y’all wait.

Also, WARNING: there’s a dead hand. I know that’s triggering for some people so beware.

The Creature at the Bottom of the Cave

The island that all the Links were sent to was an interesting place to say the least. It looked like any other island, with normal forests, lakes, and a nice beach, but there was something uncanny about the place that made everything feel wrong. Time noticed it as soon as he was pulled into the portal, thrusted into the world that, on the surface, looked perfectly normal. But when he noticed the lack of animals, that’s when he realized that the island was a twisted reality created by the one who brought them all here. It was not a world that they could live and survive in. The others had noticed the strange emptiness as well, and Time would find one of them looking in strange places, areas that weren’t yet “complete” or were unnatural. It gave him the creeps of course, and some of the weird things he himself would find would cause him to dissociate. He hated this place and just wanted to return to Lon Lon Ranch with his wife where it felt real. But he would always wake up every morning to find that he was still in this strange world with the others.

One of these strange occurrences happened in a cave. Time noticed his brother, Warriors, staring at the cave near where they set up camp. Time walked up to him and glanced at it, but it just looked like a normal cave to him.

“What is it?” Time asked Warriors, who was glaring ahead.

“I’m not sure. There’s something weird about that cave over there,” he mumbled, Time having to lean in to hear him.

Time frowned and looked at the cave again, Warrior’s ominous attitude starting to make him uncomfortable. There wouldn’t be any bears or animals in there, so it wasn’t a threat in that sense, but a monster could be camping out in there. Time walked over to the mouth of the cave and turned on his lantern, feeling Warriors close behind him. As soon as Time entered it, he noticed a hole right in the center. It was perfectly circular, big enough for Time to crawl through.

“Now what could’ve made this?” Time muttered to himself, and Warriors dropped to his knees, looking into the dark hole.

“You think it homes a monster?” Warriors asked him, but Time shrugged. It could just be a weird glitch in this world, a hole with no reason. But if it was a monster…

“We should check it out,” Time offered, “If it is a monster, then we can’t let it stay here. I don’t think the boys have the strength to keep traveling where it is safe.”

Warriors nodded and grabbed a small rock, dropping it into the hole. They both listened and after 30 seconds, they heard it land. Warriors pursed his lips and looked up at Time nervously.

“So, I suppose we should head down there?”

Time gave him a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to come Warriors, I know how much you hate tight spaces.”

“No. I’m not letting you go alone, little leaf.”

“You can get someone else to come with me, like Twi.”

“As if Twi could fit in there. Just go, I’ll be right behind you.”

Time smiled slightly and began to crawl into the mysterious hole in the ground. The climb down wasn’t too terrible, it was just a tight fit, but the more he climbed down, the more nervous he got. This whole thing was reminding him too much of the well in Kakariko village. He never knew what to expect in places tucked away like this. When his feet finally touched the ground, he brought up his lantern again and noticed that they were in a small, but big enough space. Warriors let out a sigh of relief when he reached the bottom, stretching out his arms.

“Hm, well there’s nothing here,” he noted, observing the walls around him.

“Darn, I was hoping we’d find some treasure,” Time said to lighten the mood, and Warriors shot him a smirk.

“I don’t think this world is kind enough to give us treasure.”

“You never know.”

Time watched Warriors look around and he sighed, relieved. This hole was probably just a random mistake in the island, perhaps incomplete or unknown by the creator. So they were safe to camp here without the fear of being ambushed by a moblin or something.

“Hey, Time, look at this.”

Time squinted at where Warriors was kneeling. He couldn’t see anything from where he was standing so he walked over and saw that there was a crawlspace in the wall. It was large, large enough for a bokoblin to squeeze through. He sighed, this time annoyed. Guess they weren’t safe just yet.

“I’ll crawl through and tell you what I find,” Time said, getting on his knees and beginning to move through the hole.

“Hey, wait–” Warriors stopped him, “I’m not letting you crawl in there by yourself.”

“If there’s treasure in there, I wanna keep it for myself,” Time teased, smiling at him, but Warriors didn’t smile back. “Ok fine, I’ll share some of it with you, now will you let me go?”

Warriors rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re older than me now, but it feels like you haven’t grown up at all.”

Time grinned and began to crawl through the hole, the only guide being his lantern. It didn’t take long for him to reach the end, and he found himself in another room. It was pitch black, not even his lantern showed much of what the cave had to offer. He felt his heart beating harshly against his chest, and the only sound he heard was his own breathing. He didn’t move, afraid that if he did, something would pop out and attack him. He tied his lantern to his belt and brought out his ocarina. He didn’t know if there were redeads in here, but he wasn’t gonna explore this place with his dim light. He brought the ocarina to his lips and softly played the sun song, staring out into the darkness. When the cave brightened, Time felt his heart drop when he saw a thin, bony hand sitting still above the ground.

“Time?”

He barely heard Warriors call after him over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. Fear had such a strong grip on him that he couldn’t find himself to move, afraid that if he did, something would grab him.

“Time, what's over there?”

Time swallowed hard and shifted closer to the wall.

“D-dea–dead han–,” was all he could muster out before he heard the ground rip from beneath him, and a hand reached for his throat. Time let out a strangled cry as he was held in place, the sickening sound of bones popping as the dead hand crawled above the ground being the only thing he could hear. From the corner of his eye, he saw the thing that has plagued his nightmares ever since he was a kid. The dead hand, its long neck stretched towards the ceiling as it squirmed through the ground, moving closer and closer to him. Time tried to throw himself out of the monster’s grip, but he couldn’t escape from it. The panic overwhelmed him as it got close enough for it to take a fatal bite out of him. He felt his knees weaken as he came face to face with it. Its sunken eyes, its long face, its human teeth was all that Time could see as it unhinged its jaw open, but before it could close down on him, something hit it harshly, causing it to retreat into the ground, letting go of Time.

He fell to the ground, gasping for breath as he felt Warriors grab onto him.

“Time! Come on get up!”

Time rubbed his bruised neck and watched as the dead hand buried itself into the ground while several hands started to claw their way out of it. He glared ahead and buried his fear within him. He’s fought this thing twice, he wasn’t going to let it get the best of him now. He stood up and grabbed Warrior’s shoulder.

“Don’t let the hands grab you, and aim for its head,” was all he said before running to the center of the room. He dodged a hand that swiped at him and he cut it down, aiming for the other. He was almost done cutting down all the hands in the room, until he heard one shoot out of the ground. He yelped as it grabbed onto his ankle, and with him held in one place, several more of the hands popped out of the ground, pinning him against the wall. They grabbed his legs, his arms, his torso, his neck, his hair, his face. He gritted his teeth as he heard the dead hand emerge from the ground again, and he squeezed his eye shut, trying to break free from the hands, but to no avail. He heard Warriors give a shout and he opened his eye to see Warriors in the same predicament. Hands were all over him, pinning his arms to his sides, wrapped around his neck, and pulling his hair so he was facing the ceiling. He was trying to break free as the dead hand moved its way over to him, and Time’s heart sank when he saw the raw fear in his brother’s eyes.

He couldn’t watch his brother die, not like this. Not when he couldn’t do anything to save him. Time gritted his teeth, and the desire to protect Warriors overwhelmed him. Though Warriors was younger than him now, he was still his big brother. He always was.

Time screamed as he pushed himself against the wall, doing a spin attack to slice the hands on him. He landed on the ground and sprinted towards the dead hand and Warriors, ripping some hands out of the ground as he ran. Just before the dead hand could take a bite out of Warriors, Time jumped in front and sliced its jaw. It let out a cry and went to retreat into the ground but Time wouldn’t let it run away again. He lunged towards the monster and stabbed it straight through its skull. The dead hand sputtered out blood and dropped to the ground, and Time stabbed it again, just to make sure it was dead. He pulled his sword out of it and stabbed it again, and again, and again. He was on his knees, stabbing the thing over and over again until its face no longer looked like a face. He didn’t stop until he felt something touch his shoulder, causing him to flinch and swinging his sword behind him. He assumed it was the hands grabbing at him, but he heard the sound of metal colliding with itself. He came back to reality when he saw Warriors holding up his sword against his own. Warriors had a horrified expression on his face, his hair was a mess, and some of his clothes looked to be ripped up. Time pulled back and stared up at Warriors, wanting to immediately apologize, wanting to ask if he was ok, but no sound came out of his mouth. Warriors gently kneeled at his side and reached for his shoulder again.

“Time… it’s ok… we’re safe now,” he whispered. Time blinked his eye hard and felt some tears spill out. Has he been crying this whole time?

Warriors rubbed his back gently and Time let out a shaky sigh.

“We’re safe now,” Warriors repeated, his voice quivering, “we should head back. Don’t want to worry the others, yeah?”

Time nodded and Warriors stood up, offering him his hand. He stared at Warrior’s outstretched hand for a long moment, not comprehending that he should grab it. Warriors reached down and grabbed his arm instead, tugging him slightly, which caused Time to finally stand up. He gave one last look at the barely recognizable dead hand, before letting Warriors nudge him back to the crawlspace.

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump day 28 - you’re safe now

So the words “you’re safe now” aren’t exactly said but the vibes are there okay

Anyways LAST DAY (...a day late shh) for a decision on a whim, the second half of this month has been pretty fun! Thanks to everyone who’s come along for the (short) ride, it means a lot to me that anyone has liked these fics for my little au at all 😊

This is a part two to day 18! I highly suggest reading that one first.

Day 18

Courage of ages explanation

————————————————————

When Gloam came sprinting back into the cave where they’d all sheltered from the blizzard only fifteen minutes after he’d left, Windy had been surprised, and relieved he must have found Spirit so fast.

But the moment was short-lived, and gone the moment he caught sight of the engineer lying frozen in his arms.

The (truly too small for thirteen people) cave burst into movement once they all realized what was going on, Gloam kneeling down and shouting for assistance. Windy rushed forward as the others began gathering supplies, Slate saying something about an elixir that could help, Hue offering his fire gloves and Light was muttering something about a fire rod as he rummaged quickly through his pouch.

Hibiscus was already kneeling next to Spirit as Windy reached his side, peeling off his gloves and wincing at the waxy-colored fingers underneath.

“His clothes are wet and only making him colder, we need to get them off,” he quickly instructed, and Windy began helping Gloam peel off the equally freezing clothes. Once they’d finished, Windy grabbed a spare tunic he owned and they pulled him into that, then wrapped Spirit tight in a blanket, the boy still unmoving.

“It’s a good thing he was wearing gloves, his frostbite would be much worse otherwise,” Hibiscus murmured as he gently held his hands, checking his toes as well. “Our biggest concern is warming him up overall though, he’s freezing...”

Windy didn’t wait for another word, plopping himself down next to Spirit and leaning against him, wincing a little at the temperature of his skin.

He didn’t have all that much experience with the cold, only ever visiting an island or two where the temperature was uncomfortably chilly. He hadn’t even known what snow was for a long time, and while he could see its potential, wasn’t particularly fond of it.

Especially now that it had frozen his successor nearly solid.

“Windy, hug him more, you’ll give him more heat,” Hue said, coming up and pressing himself onto Spirit’s other side. “He’ll warm up faster.”

“How do you know that?” Hibiscus said interestedly as Windy did what he said. Hue smiled grimly.

”Hypothermia is an old friend.”

Windy pulled the blanket he was in around Spirit, tucking him closer against his side. Little trembles began to shake through the engineer as Light and Kaleidoscope settled themselves up to him as well, and soon full-on shivers were wracking through him, making Windy’s worry only grow.

“That’s good, believe it or not,” Hibiscus said, wrapping an offered fire rod in a blanket before tucking it into their midst. “Means he’s warmed up enough to shiver.”

“Can’t we just set him right next to the fire and get him warm?” Windy asked, brushing a hand across the engineer’s brow. His hair had ice crystals frozen in it. “Or hand him a fire rod, that would be faster right?”

“Yeah, but we can’t warm him up that fast,” Hue said with a shake of his head. “We have to do it slowly, it’s bad if you don’t.”

“He’s right, unfortunately that’s how it goes,” Hibiscus sighed. He leaned back after several minutes of tending to Spirit’s frostbite, looking annoyed at himself. “I’ve done all I can. We have to keep him warm, and we’ll wait until he wakes up to figure out what to do next.”

If he wakes up, Windy couldn’t help but worry, looking down at Spirit.

His lips still looked blue, ice melting in his hair and sending small trickles of water down his face. He was shivering almost uncontrollably, and Windy pulled him closer, wiping the water off his head. He was rather cold himself; the cave’s entrance may have been out of the wind, but an occasional gust blew in, and Slate’s well, slate, had registered the temperature as well below zero, but Spirit was much worse. He wasn’t sure how the younger boy was even alive.

He’d been all alone out there, how had he made it?

Windy sighed and shook off his thoughts, running a hand through Spirit’s hair.

More heroes joined their huddle as time went on, almost everyone settled around Spirit in some way. Windy was closest obviously, but Hue and Light were right next to him, Kaleidoscope not far off. Mini and Sprite were settled close by as well, adding to the warmth, and Cloud was slowly coaxing Brownie into sitting with the rest of them.

A few of them weren’t in the pile; Slate was cooking and tending the fire still, Hibiscus talking quietly to him, and Gloam was keeping watch in his wolf form by the entrance. But everyone else was piled around Spirit, even Era was near the edge with a blanket.

Despite the crummy circumstances, Windy couldn’t help but smile a bit, tucking Spirit up close and letting the both of them be warmed by the heat.

(...)

Windy woke up some time later to a quiet murmuring next to him.

He immediately looked over, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of Spirit’s eyes open. The engineer was still shivering a little, but the violent shaking had slowed a considerable amount, and his lips didn’t look nearly as blue.

He was currently staring at what seemed to just be an empty part of the wall, and whispering something that Windy could barely make out. The sailor leaned closer, but he still couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying, catching only a few words.

Then the engineer stopped, and smiled just a little.

“N-not your f-fault...” Spirit whispered, and a small breeze ruffled the engineer’s hair. Windy almost thought he saw him lean into an invisible touch, and started to wonder if he was delirious. Did hypothermia make people delirious?

“Spirit?” he ventured quietly, and the smaller boy startled and looked over at him.

Windy smiled, and Spirit returned it, though it wasn’t very big.

“Glad to see you awake,” Windy said happily, ignoring the bit of worry that remained. “How‘re you feeling mate? You’ve had a rough time the past couple hours.”

Spirit closed his eyes at the question, looking very small in his pile of blankets.

“Kinda l-like I got punched by a s-sir frosty,” he mumbled, and Windy couldn’t help his bark of laughter.

“I don’t have those, are they really so bad?” he teased, and Spirit weakly rolled his eyes.

“They’re t-terrible. They th-throw their heads at my train,” he grumbled quietly. “At l-least I don’t u-usually see them when I’m j-just walking around. It’s m-mostly wolfos...”

He trailed off, then shivered a little more violently.

“I s-saw some out there at one p-point,” he whispered. “They w-were different than m-mine, all wispy and creepy, and g-glowing eyes... Fir... um, they got scared off, but th-they could follow my scent...”

He looked suddenly dismayed, and tried to sit up.

“I might have led them r-right here! I—”

“Whoa, calm down there Dove, that’s the last thing you should be worrying about right now,” Windy stopped him, giving him a gentle flick on the nose. “You were nearly frozen solid, you wouldn’t be fighting even if any did follow you. take it easy.”

“But sir—“

“Look, even if they do, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” Windy said confidently. “We’ve got a pretty good defensive situation here. And thirteen heroes. A couple of dumb wolves are nothing against all of us!”

Gloam shot him a look from the cave entrance, and Windy coughed into his arm.

“...dumb wolfos that is. Not regular wolves. They’re not dumb.”

Spirit smiled a little at the exchange, and shivered again.

Windy pulled him up next to him, fixing the blankets that had been knocked askew at some point. Spirit sighed and relaxed against him, still shivering on and off, but looking much better.

“You don’t need to worry about it Dove. All you need to be focusing on is getting warmed up, alright? We’ll take care of any problems for now. You’re safe.”

“Alright,” Spirit mumbled, looking a little embarrassed.

Windy smiled at him, giving his hair a fond ruffle, then settled back down into the warm pile of heroes, not even caring that Light’s knee was poking him in the back or that Hue’s head was where he wanted his to be. Spirit nestled up to him, and he sighed contentedly.

He felt pretty safe himself.

[whumpacabra]

Day 28 - “You’re safe now”

Implied past whump of a minor, angst, Ghost has no parenting skills

[Follows Haircut]

“What am I supposed to say? ‘You’re safe now, no one will hurt you ever again’?” Ghost glanced around the kitchen. He knew they wouldn’t be there, they were fast asleep on a cot in the basement. He had locked the door from the outside, just in case.

“Oh God no, you’re a terrible liar.” The woman’s smile crackled through the landline. “I’d love to help, but I’ve got a nice, stable, long con that I’m not going to jeopardize to take a half feral kid off your hands.”

“You’re the one who always - “

“Just a moment love, room service is here.”

Ghost paced the linoleum tile, listening to the distant muttered French that came through the static. The only person he would trust with this - to keep secret his involvement and protect the kid - was Liza.

“You need to take responsibility; I told you to stick with arms dealers and other black market sellers but nooo you had to go and accept a contract from a trafficker.” She scoffed, the sound of a wine cork popping followed. “I know goings been tough lately but Christ have some standards Ghost.“

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of being picky with our clients.”

“Well, you have to reap what you sow. I have a glass of wine worth more than the Mona Lisa and a five star penthouse, you have the product of an irresponsible personal choice.“

“If you’re going to gloat I’m going to hang up.”

“Listen - they’re what, ten? Twelve?“

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t asked?”

“They were chained to a bed in an attic, Liza. They haven’t been particularly chatty.”

“Fine, fine…listen, I’ll send you some of my old stuff in the mail from when I - you’ll have them in a few weeks. Great first time parent reading material.” He pretended not to notice how she cut herself off. Her kid was a touchy subject.

“Until then?”

“Treat them the way you’d treat an apprentice, at least that’s what I would do.” He could hear her cringe. “Or don’t - you don’t have a good track record with those.”

“Hey.” The growl in his voice was threatening and genuine. Liza knew exactly what buttons not to press, and she did it anyway - petty revenge for reminding her of her own mistakes by bringing up the topic of a kid.

“Just keep them alive until you get those parenting guides. Food. Water. Enrichment. They’re a smart pet rat. If you haven’t…taken care of the kid when I’m done milking this oligarch dry, I’ll pop by and see how badly you’ve fucked them up.”

“I wait with bated breath.” Ghost deadpanned, hearing Liza chuckle.

“Be gentle - you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” He rolled his eyes, aware she couldn’t see him or the bodies he had buried. “At the very least, you’re probably the nicest person they’ve ever met. Not a high bar to clear, but it’s something.”

Tension bled from his shoulders as he leaned against the counter, turning the coiled cord of the phone between his fingers. Liza always knew what to say to disarm him, to stop his spiraling paranoia and hyper vigilance. That’s what made her dangerous. And a good friend.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Paying the bill of this long distance phone call?” A smile twitched at his face.

“Have a good night Liza. Enjoy that wine.”

“Oh I will dear, I certainly will.”

[Directly before Lesson #1]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

[exquisiteagony]

here’s one! we learn a bit about johnny too 👀👀

[eat-limes-bitches]

Coming Home

PAIRING: Female Avenger! Reader x  Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY:  “Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, “It was coming home.”

WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST! but it has a happy ending, mentions of death, dying, blood, stab wounds, violence, Sad! Bucky, nausea

Word Count: 1913

A/N: Hi! Here is another installment of my febuwhump series! Like I said, completely out of order but I couldn't wait it share this one with you guys!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Y/n knew when they left for this mission that something wasn’t right. It was too clean, the information was too good. Despite the many reassurances from Bucky when they landed, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Now, as she ran, she made a mental note to shout, ‘I told you so’ at her partner as soon as they reached the safe house, that was, if she could get out of the collapsing building. Skidding around a turn she pushed herself harder, desperate to reach the exit. She was almost there when there was an excruciating pain thrumming up her left leg. Whipping her head around, she saw a knife embedded in her calf and a trapped HYDRA soldier holding onto the handle. 

“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me, sweetheart.” the soldier grimaced as he twisted the knife. Y/n glanced at the fast-approaching collapse of the ceiling before looking at the trapped man.

“You fucking wish,” she growled before shooting the man. His hand, now lifeless, released the handle so she continued her rapid sprint to the exit, somehow stumbling out the doorway and collapsing in the grass just as the rest of the building fell into a pile of rubble. 

“Y/N! Are you alright?!” Bucky's worried voice shouted in her ear, causing her to wince.

“Just fucking peachy.” She grumbled, closing her eyes as a headache started to form in the back of her head. She re-opened them, however, as she heard rapid footsteps approaching, looking over just in time to see Bucky’s approaching form. He slid to a stop and took in her battered form on the ground.

“Are you hurt darlin’?” Has questioned, as he leaned down to help Y/n back to her feet. S he winced as her left leg started supporting weight again. 

“Yeah some bugger got me in the calf on the way out, but it's not bleeding too badly, we can take care of it at the safe house I think.” She groaned, putting more weight on Bucky's shoulder. He glanced over her shoulder to observe the wound in question and nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, I think so too but let's get you to that safe house faster.” Bucky led her to the bike that was hidden in the tree line and gracefully set her down on the back seat before hopping on the bike himself and speeding off down the dirt road. 

The longer the pair drove, the worse Y/n felt. Her head started spinning and her stomach churned. By the time they reached the safe house, she all but flung herself off the bike and hurled what was left of her breakfast that morning into the bushes. 

“Shit, you ok doll?” Bucky asked, crouching down next to her, running a hand up and down her back. Y/n let out a groan.

“Been better I’m not gonna lie.” As Bucky wrapped an arm around her frame and pulled her up to move her into the house, she couldn’t decide if the butterflies in her stomach were from being this close to him or the nausea. Once inside the small safe house, Bucky placed Y/n on the kitchen table and dashed off to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. 

She tried to get an idea of what was around her in the room but the more she tried to focus on one thing, the more it spun around in her vision. Unable to prop herself up any longer, she lay flat on the table trying to stop the world from moving around her. Bucky returned moments later and placed a wet rag on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter open. 

“I’m gonna get this knife out now, ok doll?” Bucky said as he rounded the table. All Y/n could do was make a soft ‘mhm’ and groan as he pulled the knife out. 

The first sign that something was wrong was the orange tinge to the blood that came pouring out of the wound. The next hint was the remnants of a yellow powder on the blade. The more strange orange liquid oozed out of the wound, the faster Bucky’s heart sped up.

“Y/n? You feeling ok darlin’?” He called out, looking up from the wound when he heard no response. Y/n’s head was limply lying to one side. He cursed under his breath as he tightened the tunicate and dashed around the table to place a hand on her face.

“Y/n? Open your eyes for me darlin’.” Bucky called out desperately, his thumb brushing over her cheek, taking notice of how cold it was to the touch. Her eyes fluttered open and her blown-out pupils focused on Bucky’s face. A wistful smile decorated her features.

‘Hey Buck, when did you get here?” Bucky’s heart sank, he knew the signs all too well from his time in the war. The faraway look, the disorientation, she was dying, but she couldn’t be, not yet.

“I’ve been here the whole time doll. Can you keep your eyes open for me?” He pleaded as he started to back away to try and return to her wound to keep patching it up. He was stopped by her hand coming up holding his hand to her face, keeping him in place. 

“You know I always knew that this was going to happen.” She mumbled, locking her gaze on his face. Bucky riffled through his pocket looking for his emergency transponder.

“W-what are you talking about, baby? You’re gonna be fine!” He stated, fumbling over his words as he pulled out the little remote and pressed the button. Y/n shook her head.

“No, I’m not and you know that just as much as I do.” Her voice was becoming airy the more she tried to talk. Bucky felt the hard knot in his throat starting to form as he shook his head, willing the tears to go back into his eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about doll. I’m gonna get you patched up a-and we are going to go home and you are gonna take me to that noodle shop you promised me right?” Y/n shook her head softly, not having a lot of energy to move at this point.

“You know I won’t. But please know, none of this is your fault”. Her voice was light and airy as she spoke. Bucky shook his head wildly.

“No, not like this, Y/n, please not like this!” He cried, bringing his other hand up to cup her face, trying to keep her gaze locked on him. She soothed him, bringing her other hand up to place it on top of his head, burying her finger into the dirty chestnut locks. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Buck.” She whispered, a smile still decorating her face. Bucky decided that even as she lay there dying on the table, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

“Don’t be sad, the stars are going to shine tonight.” Bucky took a shaky breath, letting his eyes slip close to savor the feeling of her fingers in his hair one last time.

“A-and when you see them, know I am watching over you.” Y/n gasped as her body began shutting down causing Bucky’s eyes to flash open in alarm. Y/n shook her head a bit, a breathy laugh dancing off her lips.

“There is so much to say, so many wonderful things I have to tell you, but with so little time left.” Her voice was only a whisper now, but even as quiet as her words were, she couldn’t hear the jet engine roaring in the background. 

“Like what darlin’?” Bucky whimpered as he watched her eyes grow dull the closer the footsteps got to the door.

“Falling for you was like nothing I imagined.” Her voice started to give out as the door to the safe house burst open, revealing a disheveled Steve and Bruce barreling in, with the rest not far behind. With a final breath, she looked Bucky right in the eye.

“It was coming home.”

       ~~~~~~happy ending after the cut but if you want to be sad stop here~~~~~~~~

The cry that left Bucky as her hands went limp and her eyes slid closed was going to haunt the team for the rest of their lives. Bruce, who had been tending to the wound the first chance he got, looked to the rest of the team.

“She still has a pulse, all be it faint. I know what's wrong with her, we can save her.” 

To Bucky, everything after that was a blur. Steve pulled Bucky away from Y/n and Tony scooped her up, rushing her back to the jet as the rest rushed after him. Back at the compound, Y/n was placed in the med wing as Bruce began treatment. Bucky didn’t understand much other than “Radiation sickness. Uranium on the knife. Nothing he could have done.”

Nothing he could have done? He watched the love of his life basically die in his arms, in his care and there was nothing he could have done? After being forcibly made to shower and change clothes to rid himself of the Uranium on his clothes was he then allowed into her room. He resumed the position he held at the safe house, clutching her hand and waiting for any signs of life, other than the beeping from the monitor. 

Bucky moved his gaze from her face to the window. The light danced off the windows of the other building unfiltered by the cloudless sky. It was beautiful, but he couldn’t appreciate it, it looked dull in comparison to the woman on the bed.

“I thought I told you to not be sad.” Her voice was so soft that Bucky thought he imagined it but when he snapped his gaze to her face, he saw her bright eyes staring right back at him. Bucky choked on a sob and rested his head on the bed. The relief flooding through his system was too much for him to handle. Her nimble fingers took their rightful place on top of his head, brushing through the now silky hair strands.

After a moment, Bucky lifted his head and captured Y/n’s hand as it fell from his head, pressing a kiss into her palm before holding it in his hands. 

“It’s hard not to be sad when the one person who brought life into the darkest parts of my life was dying in my arms.” He returned his gaze to lock onto Y/ns. For a moment the pair sat in silence before Bucky spoke again.

“I thought I lost you.” Y/n just smiled softly, not saying a word. Bucky just stared at her, trying to bask in the warmth of her gaze as long as he could. The more he basked, the more the nightmarish pain of losing her was becoming just that, a nightmare. 

“But I’m still here.” Bucky’s grip increased slightly, fearful that he may hurt her, but needing to feel her to keep himself grounded, keep himself from falling off the edge of reality in the abyss of ‘what ifs’. Bucky had so many things he wanted to tell her, so many different things he could and should say but the only thing that managed to slip out was, “Yeah. Yeah you are.”

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2023 IS HERE!

the prompts this year were chosen through a suggestion poll and subsequent vote, where over 350 people voted for their favourites. the top 28 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular and this blog’s personal favourites have become the alternatives!

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, make sure to check out the blog’s FAQ, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog before sending one of your own!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2023 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: touchstarved

DAY 2: flinching

DAY 3: muzzled

DAY 4: knife to the throat

DAY 5: "that's gonna scar"

DAY 6: secrets revealed

DAY 7: made to watch

DAY 8: panic

DAY 9: voice loss

DAY 10: difficulty breathing

DAY 11: fever

DAY 12: "can you hear me?"

DAY 13: forced to hurt a loved one

DAY 14: captivity

DAY 15: self-sacrifice

DAY 16: semi-conscious

DAY 17: silent tears

DAY 18: can't stay awake

DAY 19: "you deserve this"

DAY 20: knife wound

DAY 21: shackled

DAY 22: can't scream

DAY 23: "you'll have to go through me"

DAY 24: bloody clothes

DAY 25: assumed dead

DAY 26: forced to choose

DAY 27: survivor's guilt

DAY 28: "you're safe now"

SWITCH-OUT PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: rope burns

ALT 2: caged

ALT 3: soft words

ALT 4: experimentation

ALT 5: time loop

ALT 6: limp

ALT 7: immortality

ALT 8: found footage

ALT 9: natural disaster

ALT 10: inferno

RULES:

SOFT RULES:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce whatever kind of media they want

you don’t have to complete all the prompts! you can create however much you want to

you can use the prompts after the event ends

you can post on any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing those posted on tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame then you have until the 3rd of March to inform this blog that you completed all the days

HARD RULES: (specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (i’ll also be checking febuwhump2023)

the relevant day’s tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2…

nsfw (if relevant)

and any trigger warnings that may be important!

you can also tag the blog, @febuwhump

i cannot guarantee your work will be archived on the blog because I have no idea how many participants there will be. a random selection of works tagged in accordance to the rules above will be reblogged every day of february.

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me." ♡

@febuwhump

Content: betrayal, suggestion of attempted recapture

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“You lied to me!”

Whumpee’s voice was hoarse and broken. They weren’t supposed to be using it this much yet. It wasn’t finished healing.

Caretaker held out their hands, moving slowly towards where Whumpee was curled into the corner of the storage closet, their knees tucked to their chest.

“Whumpee, please. Calm down.”

“No! You lied to me! You told me I would never have to see them again!” They were sobbing now, chest heaving.

“You don’t, Whumpee, I promise. You’re safe from Whumper.”

“Shut up!” Whumpee’s voice cracked, forcing them to resort to a frenzied whisper. “You’re lying. I saw them. I saw them. You’re letting them live here!”

“You- oh. Oh shit. The person in the lobby? Gray sweatshirt?”

Whumpee nodded miserably.

Caretaker’s heart dropped. The new member of their little team had seemed so nice during the interview. Their eyes had lingered on Whumpee as they walked by, but Caretaker had taken it to be innocent curiosity at their many scars.

“Shit. I am so sorry. I’m going to get rid of them, I promise. Just stay here. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me.”

Whumpee didn’t respond, sobbing into their knees.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Part 2

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no quiet on this earth

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 10 - killing in self defense | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.8k

summary: You and Joel run into hunters on patrol.

-- I'm a fucking menace, and this is Joel & reader from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone. I just can't seem to help myself/let them go.

warnings: established relationship, jackson, patrol partners, hunters, Joel and reader both kill hunters, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected, creampie, feelings, guilt/trauma, trauma response, a little hurt and a LOT of comfort, Joel takes care of you, one (1) ass slap, pussy/clit spanking

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They had been waiting for you. Not the biggest group of hunters that’s come ‘round, but there hadn’t been any signs. It was supposed to be an easy half-day route. 

It was also your first patrol with Joel. 

You’re already off to a rough morning. He’s settled back into Out There Joel, gruff and tense, and you’re already feeling useless again even though you know you can handle it now. 

You’re on horseback, you with a gentle brown mare that you’re a little irritated about. Penny is notoriously slow and usually used to teach people to ride. Tommy taught you to ride ages ago, but Joel fucking insisted. 

“Ain’t havin’ you have to deal with a spooked horse our first time out.”

“Our first time. I’ve been out loads of times,” you grumbled. He leveled you with a look so stern that you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t start with your smart mouth,” he said. “Only way this works is—“

“If I do what I’m told. I got it. Same shit, different place.” 

To say you’re pissed would be an understatement. You thought after all the shit you’ve been through that he’d trust you now. And you’ve gotten quite good with your revolver and halfway decent with the rifle. 

Now, out here on the trail to the safe house, neither of you has said a word. Just like the good old days. Y’know. If they had been good. 

You’re nearly there when they make their move. They don’t have guns, thank fuckin’ god, but there are five of them and two of you. 

It becomes quickly clear that they want the horses. Joel makes quick work of the first hunter that lunges for him. 

One comes at him from each side, and you’re too worried to notice the other two do the same to you. 

One grabs the reins and the other tries to yank you from the saddle. Your boots are stuck, and they don’t seem to particularly care if they break your legs during the extraction. 

You free your feet, boots left behind, and let the brick house of a man pull you down. He doesn’t care much about your landing, so when you hit the ground, you grapple for your revolver. 

His partner yells, and he spins back to you, a huge fist aiming for your face. But it doesn’t connect, because your bullet does first. 

He was close enough that it would have been near impossible to miss, which also meant that his stupid body landed on you, turning your clothes into a sponge for his blood. 

Joel’s rampaged through the others by now and turns to take down the one trying to abscond with your horse. 

But he doesn’t make the shot, because he freezes up when he sees you. 

“Get the fucking horse,” you yell. 

He swears and loads the rifle, one neat bullet into the head of the escaping hunter. He hadn’t fully mounted your mare yet, and his corpse crumples into the soft spring soil. 

Joel whistles and Penny takes her fucking time to come back, giving him a very unimpressed look and shaking her mane. 

He heaves the dead man off you. “Where?” he says sharply, eyes darting all over your body. 

“Nowhere, Joel, I’m fine,” you say. 

He’s already dropping to his knees, hands gripping and patting every inch of you before cradling your face. “You’re sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Unless I’m in shock, but I guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he mutters, doing another check, slower this time and more thorough. 

You let him. You feel kind of funny, dizzy almost, but mostly just… muted. Like the world around you is muffled and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how blood is turning tacky and your jeans are stiffening as it dries. 

“Hey,” he snaps. 

You’re pretty sure that means he was already talking to you, and when you look up and meet his eyes, they abandon their irritation for concern beneath furrowed brows. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he says, voice low and slow. It draws out the Texan twang and loops you in. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did what you had to do, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, but the word sticks in your throat, tasting of copper. 

“Say it.”

“I did what I had to do.”

You’ve done as he said, but he looks more worried for it. 

“Alright, c’mon. I’m gettin’ you home.”

“But—“

“Rethink that, baby. I ain’t in the mood to argue.”

“But we were supposed to—“

“Yeah, and plans fuckin’ change. We’re going back. Tommy and I can come out and deal with the bodies later.”

He stands and pulls you up, though you follow willingly. You hover where you stand as he pulls a rope from his bag and tethers it to Penny’s lead. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Want you on Oakley with me.”

“I can ride,” you snap. “I’m not fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Joel says. “But you’re gonna ride with me.”

“Don’t start this shit,” you say, mortified when your voice and hands are trembling. “I can handle myself.”

He spins around, fury written in the curl of his lip. “I fuckin’ know that! I don’t give a shit. You’re riding with me, end of fuckin’ discussion.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back, but he seizes you by the shoulders and shakes you a little. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it? It’s not about you,” he snarls. You’re crushed against him before you realize it’s an embrace. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride up here, so I know you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, leaning into him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, but the fight is already leaving him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets go. “Now get on the damn horse before I put ya there myself.”

You think you deserve credit for only hesitating a little, tempted to see if he really would. But his jaw ticks and you heave yourself up onto Oakley. Joel swings himself behind you, caging you in as he takes the reins. 

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he gripes. 

“I learned it by watching you,” you say, voice pitched in mockery of the vague memory. 

But instead of irritation, something akin to relief flashes across his face. “Yeah, s’that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Now that everything has calmed, you’re exhausted. He can tell because of course he can. He knows you too well. 

“C’mon, lean back. I got ya. Not gonna let you fall.”

You don’t sleep, not really, but you fall into something between the light and dark. It’s blissfully absent of reality. You’re only aware of the soft sunshine, the sway of the horse, and Joel. 

Joel, your Joel, is everything right now. All encompassing. You’re surrounded by his warmth and smoky musk, masking the chill and tang of the stains on your skin. 

His heart seems to beat in time with Oakley’s hooves and the steady pace he encourages keeps you lulled in this safest place. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” Carl asks at the gates, almost loud enough to knock you from your peace. 

“Nothin’ too serious, she ain’t hurt,” Joel’s smooth tone settles you back down. “But do me a favor and get the horses back? Send Tommy my way in a while. I’m gonna take her home.”

Home. It sounds so nice. But you’re already there, you want to tell him. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here. 

You must actually say it, because he chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart, but I can think of somewhere I’d rather be.”

It hurts a little before he leans in and murmurs in your ear. 

“I’d rather be in a warm bath with ya. That sound better than stayin’ put?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, you’re right. Way better idea.”

He makes good on his promise when you get home. While he draws the water, he peels your ruined clothes off and sits you on the bathroom counter to rinse the blood into the sink. 

You sit very still with your eyes clenched shut as he cleans you. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “First one’s the hardest.”

You can’t quite stopper the whimper. 

“This is part of why I don’t like ya goin’ out there. I can’t protect you from this.” The admission costs him, but he seems to decide it’s worth it when you look up at him. 

The tub isn’t really big enough for both of you, but he makes it work, long sprawling limbs propped up to make room for you against his chest. You lie on your side, both to make more room and to press your ear to his chest and listen to his strong, tender heart. 

He holds you there, hand gentle on your head and the other around your shoulder until neither of you can pretend the water is comfortable still.  More importantly, his cock’s been pressing against you for a little while now, and you’re unable to ignore it anymore.

You roll over on your stomach, legs bent a little funny to fit, but it’s the right angle to press a kiss to the fat mushroom head that you love so much. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”

But you just give him a look, because he knows better, he knows you’d never do anything you don’t want to. And he knows how often you crave it, how your throat aches for it.

He raises his hands in surrender. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

With the convoluted seating arrangement, you’re able to swallow down his length, working your throat open in the way you’ve grown to know well. It’s a lot at once, but the way he groans is worth the effort. 

You choke and gag a little, but neither of you are really bothered by it. Quite the opposite. And you’re grateful for the way the thoughts you don’t want to face are knocked from your brain each time he ruts deeper. 

Too soon, though, he’s pulling you off, spit thick with precum stringing between him and your lips as you whine.

“C’mon, let’s get out. I gotta have more of you.”

You don’t dry off quite as much as you’d like, but you’re probably going to need to change the sheets anyway. He can’t be bothered to let you towel off properly, picking you up and setting you on the bed before crawling over your body.

He kisses you, ferocious but hesitant, and you trail your hands up his arms, basking in the way he encompasses you for the second time today. His soft, powerful body leaves no wiggle room, practically pinning you down with his bulk. 

Except he’s holding himself up, tense. And the gentleness of his tongue and distinct lack of nipping teeth in his kiss is grating. 

You turn your head to break apart. “Stop acting like I’m gonna fall apart.” 

“I—”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s like you think I’m going to break if you touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make it feel like…”

“I know,” you say, softer. “But I want to feel you, Joel. I don’t want to feel the ghost of it… him. Please.” 

“You wanna feel me, sweetheart? Want me to be a little rough with ya?” 

“Unless you’re too tired. S’it past your bedtime, old man?” 

He doesn’t fall for the taunt, but he pretends to, and you’re deeply grateful as he snarls and bites at your breast before licking and sucking at your nipple, taking it between his teeth and shaking a little. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hand tangling into his hair. He wears it a little shaggier these days, and you find you like it long. A lot. 

“Think you can take it just like this?” he says around your other nipple. The hand that isn’t holding him up has reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your clit until you squirm, and then dragging it down your slit. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. I think you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait any longer than the first little nod of your head before he flicks his hips, parting you, forcing your body to make room for him. It takes a second thrust to push all the way in, and you cry out as he stuffs you full. 

It hurts so good. It’s just the edge you need to feel awake again. The world is no less fuzzy but the haze is pleasurable and electric instead of the numb fog that refused to dissipate. 

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

It floods you with warmth. You think maybe the sappiness is leaking through, that he can see how stupidly in love you feel. 

Or, you know, it’s actually leaking, since you’re apparently fucking crying. You can’t really begrudge yourself for it. It’s been a hell of a day. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, the gentleness of his voice playing second to the harsh slap of his hips and the tight pinch of his fingers on your breasts. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me help you.” 

His pace, somehow, intensifies, the brutal snap of his cock blunt against the softest parts of you. He pushes your legs to your chest so he can shove his way in deeper, and smacks a harsh hand against your ass from his new vantage point. 

He grips your hip with one hand and lets up on your tits, only to show no mercy to your clit. He skips over the gentle circles and soft strokes, instead pinching and tugging. He wrenches two orgasms from you before he eases off. 

“Hold your pussy open for me,” he grunts.

You look at him with wide eyes. How can he still be finding ways to shock you with depravity? The two of you have to have fucked every which way, and yet. You slide a hand down but he shakes his head.

“Both of ‘em, baby. Nice and wide.” 

Your cheeks are burning as he lifts up onto his knees, pushing your legs apart to watch as you spread your lips wide. For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the push and pull of his cock splitting you apart and the way it comes out a little slicker each time. 

“Look at that,” he says, a smug smirk spreading. “Fuckin’ creamin’ all over me, sweetheart. Now hold still.”

Before you really process the order, still dying from how hot his filthy words are, he slaps your clit. You jerk and let go, crying out more in surprise than pain.

“Put your fuckin’ hands back,” he says, and you obey. 

Your whole body is on fire, maybe. He brings his hand down sharply again and again, making you hold yourself spread wide for him to use as he pleases. 

It doesn’t really surprise either of you when you come. He finally knocks your hands away from your cunt and leans back down over you, hips stammering sloppily. 

“Can I—” he chokes out, and you’re nodding so hard it shakes your brain around. He digs his fingers into your hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, one more. Gimmie one more while I fill you up.”

He goes to reach for your clit, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as he starts twitching and pulsing inside you, you come, eyes rolling back and fingernails digging into his biceps. 

When you’ve both settled, there’s something bright in his eyes, something wild and dangerous. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone and doesn’t pull out. His softening cock isn’t much smaller than it is erect, and he stays buried deep in you, eyes trailing over your face. 

“What?” you say softly.

“I thought… thought I fuckin’ lost you today.” His voice is gruff but tight.

“You didn’t, Joel. M’right here.”

He kisses you, and it’s not gentle exactly, not like earlier, but it’s tender and demanding. His hands grip you and roam, not pursuing pleasure but just to have his fill of you, to feel your body warm and alive beneath him. 

When he breaks away from your swollen lips, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did good. I don’t like it, but you did good. I’m not gonna ask you not to go out again, but—”

“I’m gonna ask Tommy if I can have a break,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.” You’re burning again, but this time with shame.

“No one expects you to. It doesn’t mean you’re a coward. You’re tough, sweetheart. But y’ain’t a killer.”

“I am, though,” you whisper. 

“Stop. Yes, you killed that man today. But you had to. It was him or you. You’re a survivor. But I’m going to make damn sure you don’t have to be anymore, alright? We’re safe here, now.”

You let out a ragged sigh and try to relax back into the pillow. “Okay,” you agree. You can tell he needs it. How scared he was. 

At least for now, you’ll let him protect you from this.

*title from "Death For My Birthday" by Say Anything

[ghoulfriendfangs]

Febuwhump 23 - “Restless”

Day One: Touch Starved with Lucifer

{WC: ~578} {Lucifer x reder, anxious thoughts, trouble sleeping, and of course a very touch starved demon, this takes place shortly after they start sleeping together}

@febuwhump

  Lucifer did not think of himself as “touch starved.”

  He preferred terms such as private, reserved, or even aloof and detached. As cold as the latter were, as much as they painted him in an unfeeling light, Lucifer still vastly preferred them to touch starved. That term implied he was like an animal; some poor wretched thing that could not function without being held, or petted like some dog.

  But now, Lucifer was kept up at night. Eyes wide open, body frozen under the bedsheets. Because sleeping with you had become a habit. Not a habit like checking himself in the reflection of a window, or scribbling with his pen when he needs a microbreak from doing paperwork. A habit like his bitter coffee in the morning to wake up and strong demonus in the evening to knock him out. A habit like taking a walk around the bedrooms, making sure all his brothers were safe before he could sleep. The kind of habit he had started doing only once or twice to ease his nerves, but he now could not function without.

  The very thought of it was like driving a dagger into his heart. How would he sleep without being able to wrap his arms around you. Without seeing the way your eyes lit up when he unfurled his wings- the same wings he foolishly hid away because he could only see them as imperfect, eternally missing a set. He doesn’t admit it before he’s had several drinks, but when he sees the way you look at his wings he feels silly for hiding them at all.

  But even more private is what he hasn’t admitted at all. He isn’t sure you’re even aware of it, and he is afraid that if he told you you’d stop. But sometimes when you’re asleep, you roll over and wrap your arms around him, and suddenly he’s the one being held, he’s the one being soothed to sleep and he likes it. He loves it. Some nights, he skips the wine and only pretends to fall asleep because he’s waiting for you to roll over, to give him the kind of hug he doesn’t know how to ask for.

  And while he waits, he’s haunted by his own mind, which torments him by asking what he’d do if you stopped, and he had to sleep alone in his large and empty bed in his room which is colder than death even with a roaring fire. He knows you cannot control all of the ways you could stop. You are a human, and he still sees you as fragile, even if the thought now brings forth feelings of protectiveness rather than superiority.

  But what tortures him most is the thought of you voluntarily stopping. His pride and stubbornness finally trying the last of your patience. Because deep down…

  He knows that his pride is the reason he is touch starved to begin with.

  Lucifer is rescued from his own thoughts when you begin to stir, tossing and turning in the bedsheets. Finally, you’re turning over, your hands sleepily curling around his chest and his stomach, pulling him into your own. You mumble some sleep talk, as he feels his heartbeat slowing. He thinks he catches “it’s ok,” and “go to sleep already,” and suddenly he’s wondering if you’re more awake than you look.

  “…promise not to leave me,” he whispers, allowing himself to ask for what he needs.

  “…I promise.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless (Wild & Twilight)

Read on Ao3

And so it begins...

I'm super excited for another whump-filled month! Thank you in advance to everyone coming along with me on this wild ride! Your support means the world to me <33

CW for a panic attack

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

Wild looks down at his hands. Maybe, that isn’t the best idea at the moment, because they are trembling so violently he thinks that if he picked something up he’d drop it.

And that is not the only thing shaking either. His entire body is. Like the leaves on the trees in Hateno Village, blown wildly about by a hearty wind. 

He breathes in and gains no oxygen from it. This…whatever this is has been coming on all day, squeezing his chest and throat and turning his vision fuzzy at the edges. But now, it has broken free.

He is just glad that he made it to camp before it did. 

Why it even came, he hasn’t a clue. There’s some reason behind it, he’s sure. But it’s not often that he can pinpoint it.

This just happens sometimes, an outpouring of unpleasant emotion he isn’t expecting. A feeling so like the one that had hounded his footsteps throughout his journey to save Hyrule. The terrible, inescapable certainty that the world is going to end. 

But it’s not going to end…at least from what he can see. The sky is a calm, unassuming navy, speckled with stars. The moon glows a golden hue, innocent and merciful. The cheerful voices of his brothers drift to his ears from where they sit, bathed in the warmth of the fire.  

They are safe. He is safe. 

Yet, Wild feels anything but. He feels like a hinox has just sat down on his chest. 

Nearby, someone laughs. Warriors, he thinks. The sound is like a knife driven into his heart. 

Wild curls in on himself. He clasps his hands together, fingernails digging into calloused skin. Desperate tears spring to his eyes and slide hot and fast down his cheeks. Breathing feels useless now, impossible. He’s drowning even as he drags in air. 

His surroundings blur into shades of blue and green.

Get it together, Link, he tells himself, even as a rushing noise floods his ears, followed up by a high-pitched ring. He remembers that sound from before. He heard it so many times – during ceremonies and dances and every other stuffy royal performance that stuck him at the forefront of the people he would fail. When he kneeled before Zelda too. When Ganon attacked and all he could do was run.

You’re fine. It quickly becomes a chant. Everything’s fine. So, just pull yourself…

The sound of footsteps comes crashing through his tumbled thoughts. Whatever wheezing little air he had been able to drag in sticks in his throat. His pounding heart skips several beats.

Wild scrambles to his feet, eyes wide and feet unsteady. He reaches for his sword. But he doesn’t find it.

Oh, yeah. Because it broke the other day. Great. Just great.

The piercing blue eyes that gaze up at him, however, and the slender gray body that curves through the brush with the grace of a serpent are those he knows. A wolf sits down before him.

The panic that has reached a fever pitch dims slightly. Wild chokes out a half-breath.

“Twi.”

Twilight pads toward him, concern in his eyes. 

“Are you alright, cub?” He seems to ask.

“I—” Wild clenches his hands into fists. “I’m…”

Fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about. 

He shakes his head, defeatedly. Tears burn hot behind his eyes. In the next moment, his legs give way beneath him, landing him in a pitiful pile on the ground. 

“I’m not.” It’s a croak torn from a throat too tight for anything else. A truth that Wild wishes he didn’t have to voice and yet, is certain the rancher already knows.

He has never been able to hide anything from him.

Twilight steps forward, as silent as the moon gazing down on them from above. A cool, wet nose presses against Wild’s forehead, hot breath blowing his bangs. Blindly, Wild reaches out. Thick, soft fur meets his clawing fingers. He buries himself in it. 

Twilight smells of the forest and shadow magic — wildflowers and damp leaves and the dew that settles in the early hours of the night. Smoke and something mournful.

Wild breathes it in. His fingertips brush back and forth through the fur, feeling the warmth and fluff beneath them. 

Twilight inhales, and Wild can feel his chest move. His breath hitches. 

The rancher feels real, sounds real, smells real. His presence softens the blows of the terror thrashing about within him, drives aside the sensation that the ground is crumbling beneath his feet. 

He is here. Twilight is here. And they’re okay.

“Okay,” Wild whispers, hoarse and desperate, a plea for his words to be true. Tears streak in steady streams down his cheeks. “We’re o-okay.”

Twilight nuzzles him, gently. “That’s right. We’re okay, cub.”

For now, that traitorous voice whispers, the one that squeezes the air from his lungs and overwhelms him. Until the moment when it all falls apart. When you lose them all. Because you weren’t enough.

“Why?” He can only manage a murmur, strangled and hopeless. “I feel—I feel so helpless, Twi. Why do I — ”

Another sob tears his throat apart. He can’t see past the salty liquid cascading down, can’t feel past the terrible, inescapable pressure in his mind and on his chest. 

It’s too much. Everything is just too much. The noose around him tightens until the breathtaking pain of it is unbearable. 

If he hears one more sound, feels one more sensation, has to fight one more fight, he will explode. He is certain of it.

So trapped in the prison of terror is he that Wild hardly realizes it when fur turns to the soft cloth of a tunic. Arms encircle him and pull him close. A heart beats steadily in his ears.

He clings to that noise and the promise it contains, however temporary it might be. And he clings to the sound of Twilight’s voice washing over him like a wave, assuring him that it will be alright, that he is safe, that he is anything but helpless. 

…That he doesn’t need to be invincible to protect those he loves.

“You’re stronger than you know, cub. And you’ve made me proud. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You can’t and that’s alright.”

And though Wild can’t bring himself to truly believe that — maybe he never will, maybe that horrible tightness will remain a permanent fixture in his chest — he curls into his brother and tries to trust. 

[breezy-cheezy]

Febuwhump Day 28: You’re safe now

A voice hushed him in his ear, and a large warm hand continued to gently rub his back in one of the only places that wasn’t covered in bleeding cuts.

“I promise Vash, I promise.”

He sobbed.

“Just rest for me Vash, okay? Okay? You’re going to be okay I promise.”

ART FOR @insertsomthinawesome‘s WONDERFUL fic that’s been giving me brainrot lately ;;v;; Hug time.

[amethystfairy1]

Writing Patterns (Tag Game)

@honeylashofficial shot this challenge my way and I thought it seemed like fun! So let's see...

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

“You turning in for the day?” Xisuma’s voice reverberated through the speakers of his helmet, and Pix nodded to him with an easy smile. (Blessings in Disguise, TTSBC)

“You should go.” ("And I promise to be patient, and I promise to be kind", Flower Husbands Febuwhump prompt fill)

Big round eyes. (“Don’t let the bastards steal your soul, ‘cause they don’t see you’re gold” TT)

Grian had been sold from his colony at fifteen years old. (“Everything that you thought was real, doesn’t make much sense to me” TT)

The pastoral foothills were vibrant green, and the forests thinned slightly as they carried along. (“You’re on the other side of the storm now, you should be so proud” TT)

Pearl supposed she should be happy. (“It’s like fallin’ backwards into no one’s arms” TT)

It was another slow day traveling between towns in the Swagon. (“Nothing quite prepares you for when they don’t come back” TT)

I’m going to say it. (“Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound” TT)

Ow. (Piercing Gold, TTSBC)

What had been the last words? (“Present all your pretty feelings, may they comfort you tonight” TT)

Is there a pattern? I dunno, you tell me, feels pretty all over the place to me but that could just be because I wrote them 😆

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump suggestion for “hostage situation” if I may

Ravio being held captive by some villain? (Preferably resurrected Yuga for angst?)

As someone who STILL hasn't played ALBW (I tried!) I wasn't able to swing Yuga. i'm not sure how I would do that, but... I may have figured out something else? Don't worry, Ravio still suffers >:)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,066

Summary: Mister Hero never goes unarmed, and Ravio discovers just WHY when an old enemy from his friend's life reappears and mistakes him for Link. Perhaps, when Mister Hero gets back, he's going to ask for fighting lessons. That is, if he survives the gladiator's arena.

(Note: LoZ Manga references. You don't need to know much, just that Legend is, in the manga, a gladiatorial champion.)

-

There’s one rule Mister Hero has always kept: do not stray from the house without a weapon. 

 He’s laughed at the other for it a few times, during the time when they shared the home, and sickness, injury, or exhaustion had stopped the hero from being out and about fulfilling their work. He’d felt guilty, at times, for letting the other lad do everything, so on the days when Mister Hero did decide to allow himself to relax a bit, he’d tried to make them enjoyable. He took on most of the work of cooking and keeping the house anyways, and doing the tiniest bit extra to accommodate the hero was hardly any burden, what with how much work the other was doing for him. Even on rest days though, Mister Hero has never been one to sit idle. Provided he didn’t end up sleeping the day away out of exhaustion, he would typically slip out to tend the garden and orchard to ensure the coming harvest wasn’t lost, and trips to the market also came about to restock the house’s spacious pantry. 

The market in Kakariko is so much nicer than those in Thieves Town, which were always louder, dangerous, and usually somewhat violent. The people of Hyrule, in comparison to Lorule, are a peaceful sort, so seeing Mister Hero arm himself before leaving the house had been odd. 

“You’re not returning to the road already, are you?” He’d asked. 

Honest eyes had turned to him, stare heavy, and trying so hard to find something to focus on, what with Ravio’s own face still having been covered at the time. “No.” 

“Then why are you arming yourself?” He’d asked. He'd already explored the area around the house, including the village, and while the roads between could be a bit rough, it was never anything that couldn’t be avoided. A sword seemed to be overkill. 

“Why aren’t you?” Mister Hero had stared at him. He'd been to Lorule already at that point, so perhaps it made sense that he’d presume Ravio would feel a similar need to prepare against a foe, but the merchant was doing no such thing.  

Sure, he has a knife, but he doesn’t really use it unless he really needs to, and even then, it’s mostly just for a quick stab or slice so he can have time to get away. He's never been much of a fighter, and no one had wanted to teach him either, saying he was too small to handle a weapon, or fight at all. Now that he’s met Mister Hero, he knows that’s all poppycock, since the hylian wields many a weapon with skill superior to the average knight, despite being even smaller than Ravio is- if only by an inch or so. Still, he doesn’t really want to learn to fight, and finding favor at the castle had meant he hasn’t needed to since his early childhood, working for Hilda usually keeps him well away from anyone and anyone who wanted to harm him. There were some more aggressive persons in the castle, but the threat of the queen’s wrath was too great for them to risk anything. 

“Kakraiko is safe,” he’d answered, voice warm to convey a smile the hero couldn’t see. “Why would I need to?” 

“Danger can appear anywhere,” and something had snapped behind violet eyes, “you shouldn’t relax your guard just because it looks safe.” 

The words have stuck with him since then. Granted, he’s not faced much since, staying mainly at the house while Mister hero had tended to their mission, but after it was over, and they’d parted ways, he’d not strayed much from the castle. He’s kept to his own and in spaces shielded by magic, so weapons weren’t something he needed. Granted, when he’d taken the portal that opened to him in the castle, tumbling out into a new era and meeting a new hero, he had been called upon to fight at times, and he had had a weapon then, but he’s really not the aggressive sort. Fighting isn’t in his nature any more than sitting still is in Mister Hero’s. 

Now returned safely to his own era by a very apologetic Lana, he’s taken up his old habits from living in Hyrule. He’s got his knife, of course, because after that one time, Mister Hero had taken to asking him, at random times, if he was armed. The hero is obsessive about it, but then again, he is about many things.  

Once it was all over and Yuga had been defeated, but before they’d gone their separate ways, he’d seen Mister Hero actually fully disarm for the first time. They’d been exhausted by the day; its emotions, the battle, and just everything. There was an intent to close the connection between their worlds, but Hilda had promised them some time. He’s thankful for it too, although that day had been simultaneously one of the worst and best in his life. 

They’d gone back to the house, both awkward with each other and not speaking at all until abruptly Mister Hero had announced that he would be having a bath. His joints ached from the fight and he needed to relax, so he’d drawn a bath into the wooden tub he kept in the house, set before the fire to keep it warm, and while Ravio had had every intention of leaving him to his privacy (goodness knows he had no room to disrespect such a thing after all his fuss about his hood!) he’d sort of gotten distracted when he’d seen the hero disarming. First the sword and belt had come off. They weren’t put away though but set on the floor close enough to reach from in the tub, which really had been a very clear indicator of how wary and distrustful a person his hero is. After those then had been the knives; he thinks there must have been at least a dozen hidden beneath the clothes of the hero, and even after those were all set aside, there came the medallions, the rings, the earrings with protective magic, the magic infused tunics, the boots. He'd left when clothes started coming off, because Mister Hero had asked, rather flustered as he’s fiddled with the buttons of his shift, if Ravio was intending to ogle him the whole time and he’d hurried out as answer.  

Really though, it came as a bit of a shock to realize just how much in the ways of weapons and defensive tools the hero carried. 

He doesn’t see a need for that though. He keeps the knife, but nothing else. He’s not a fighter, he’ll never be a fighter, and he doesn’t have any wish to either. 

Sometimes, looking at the home buried under a decade’s worth of adventures, he wonders if Mister Hero ever wanted it either, but it’s sort of a null point now, considering there’s really no changing things. Even if he wanted too, he doesn’t think Mister Hero is capable of spending any part of his life without at least one weapon in easy reach at all times. 

It’s fine though. As the hero, it makes sense that his housemate is armed, and him being able to defend himself is important in his line of work. Ravio, however, has no such needs. Any enemies he’s made, he’s left them behind in Lorule, and there’s no way for them to slip across to get at him now. The house is well guarded at all times, between the magic twined through the trees and the bees that sting anything and anyone that they deem a threat. Out in town, he’s got the good sense to be aware of his surroundings, but fighting, even with people who want to harm him, isn’t really necessary. He’s fast enough to evade blows and slip out of their clutches in the case of anyone actually wanting to hurt him, and again, that’s very rare, especially once they get the idea that he’s not worth the trouble. 

Since returning to Hyrule, there’s really been no trouble whatsoever, so maybe he is slightly to blame for having let his guard drop. Yes, if he’d only been a bit more aware- but he hadn’t and now Mister Hero is definitely never going to relax about his safety ever again. 

He’s on the road, headed to the market to fill the pantry again. It’s not that it ever really empties, but Mister Hero always likes to keep it full to brimming on the off chance of not being able to restock for one reason or another. Illness, war and sometimes his own safety are some of the reasons he’s cited for not being able to get out, or shop for food. He thinks there’s maybe more to it, maybe something to do with the hero’s stunted growth, but he doesn’t ask. If anything, he’s just as happy to make sure they never run out of food, as Lorule hadn’t exactly been the most prosperous place to live either. 

The roads aren’t any worse than normal, and now that Yuga and Ganon aren’t an issue anymore, teh soldiers are no longer nearly as aggressive. They've tamed some, and between the efforts of the hero and Hyrule’s princess, they’d begun training new knights who’ve never known the touch of dark magic that so altered the minds of their former defenders. Link is still chased down, of course, but Ravio himself is at no risk, and he’s able to simply slip past the patrolling soldiers with a brief wave on his way down the path. The younger of the two men nods in answer, but neither stop in their route back to the castle. Just the same, he doesn’t stop on his way to Kakariko.  

Celeste, the elder’s wife, had let slip that traders from out Holodrum way were traveling through the kingdom and would likely stop at the village before heading on the Castletown, and after hearing Mister Hero rave about the fruits found in the other kingdom, he’s determined to see if he can’t find some to serve when next his doppelganger and companions arrive back in this time. It’ll be a delightful treat! He hasn’t really seen the hero smile in a bit, and he’s sure he can maybe get him to crack even the smallest of smiles if he makes something especially good. 

Then again, he could just make cocoa, but honestly, he needs to expand his arsenal! 

His attention is sort of on trying to estimate the cost of imported fruits and remembering if they have any recopies for them anywhere (he could just ask, but it would ruin the surprise) so he doesn’t exactly notice until it’s too late that he’s been being followed. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed at all if a hand didn’t suddenly catch ahold of him, grip far too strong to be ignored and making him stumble in his steps. 

“Excuse me-” some offended comment is about to drop from his lips, but he doesn’t exactly get a chance to finish it. Something soft, but with a strong smell is suddenly thrust over his nose and mouth and the merchant finds that any and all words drift out of his mind, thoughts fading all together as darkness steals there place. 

Whomever it was that had grabbed him, he sags into their hold as his final action before his consciousness is lost. 

- 

Coming to, he sort of expects... well, he’s not sure. His head is throbbing and fuzzy, but there’s the vague inclination that usually, when the advisor to a queen is captured, they’ll wake up to...well, not this! 

He's seen the torture chambers in Lorule Castle, and through no fault of his own, is aware of the Sheikah equivalent in Hyrule. He knows that when it comes to people in his position, no time is wasted on the off chance that a noble sends out a rescue of some sort, so if it’s information that’s wanted, well, he’d be waking up in a good deal more pain than he actually does. Blinking his eyes open though, he’s not in a dungeon. Sure, there’s stone walls and a (probably) locked door, but the sunlight that bleeds in through a small, glass paned window, indicates that whatever place this is, it’s not exactly a holding cell either. In one brief glance around, he can see at least two viable escape paths, and besides, it’s clear that someone is very much living in this space. 

Yes, someone is living here, and based off of the figure currently sitting before him, a bottle dangling from their fingers, it’s a very, very big someone. Lolia below, the man is at least as tall as twice of him and one leg alone is as wide as the merchant’s whole body! What sort of a monster of a man is this? And furthermore, why is he looking down at him with such hatred and ire? 

“Just as you asked,” a clipped, almost posh sounding voice, sounds from beside him, and swiveling his eyes over, he sees a decent looking fellow, either Hylian or human- he can’t tell past the hood, smiling up at the giant in the room. “One hero.” 

Oh fiddlesticks, are these people looking for Mister Hero? 

“You sure it’s him?” The giant’s voice is booming, echoing slightly off the walls even as it slurs slightly. 

The young man in the hood nods, smile almost attractive if it wasn't so cold. “Certainly. You wanted a Link Lon? Well, I tracked down his residence and watched for days. This one-” a hand catches his shoulder and shakes, and he moves to protest the rough treatment only to find there’s a gag stopping him doing so, “- was the only one to show his face. Lucky for us though, he matches your description: black hair, short and built like a child’s doll.” It would almost be a compliment, back in Lorule, to be told he looked like a doll, and he knows in Hyrule, there are many people who teasingly call Mister Hero that, but here it almost sounds derogatory, like that’s something to his discredit. 

The giant hums lowly, eyes trailing over him, glazed over and not quite all there. Still, he hopes that the man will realize that whomever they’re looking for, it’s not him. Mister Hero’s name might be the one they’re using, but last he knew, the hero has blonde hair, not black. That is the only real distinction between them, other than their eyes, but he desperately doesn’t want to believe that his friend is the target of these clearly ill-intentioned men either. Good grief, what do they even want him for? 

“Alright,” the giant growls, turning and retrieving a small sack from the table beside him, one which he hands to the hooded fellow, who takes it with an eager smile. “There, for your troubles.” 

It's clear Hood has experience, because he doesn’t take the bag and go, but opens it to briefly check its contents, charming smile dropping a moment later for a sharp look. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.” 

“You took too long.” 

Honestly, as a businessman himself, he’s slightly affronted on his capturer’s behalf! The man has no issue expressing the same anger though. “We agreed on two hundred rupees! This is barely a hundred!” At no response, the man presses on. “I hunted down the Hero of Hyrule for you and dragged him all the way out to Lynna City on your behalf. Of course it took time! You think he’s easy to tempt out of his little magical den?” 

The chair that the giant sits on screeches as the man stands, and he’s really very, very huge when standing, head brushing the ceiling overhead as the chair crashes back against the floor. “Are we going to have a problem?”  

Perhaps smarter than the average crook, Hood huffs, biting back whatever it is that he wants to say, and instead gathering up his earnings before leaving the room. That leaves Ravio alone with the giant. Oh, dear darkness, please let this all be a bad dream! He knows it’s not though. His dreams would have Yuga in the place of the giant, or maybe Ganon. He’s also pretty sure Mister Hero had said once that every face you see in your dreams is a person you’ve met, and he’s never met anyone who looks like the monster of a man before him. 

The monster smirks, picking up his fallen chair and settling into it again. It's too small for him, but somehow, it doesn't fall to pieces under his bulk. “You’re a hard kid to find, pipsqueak,” the giant drawls, grabbing again for the bottle that’s dwarfed considerably in his hands and taking a swig. It’s clear he’s had plenty of whatever’s inside of it already, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him at all. “That’s the third one I hired.” This time the words are a growl. 

He wants, very badly, to exclaim that he’s not the hero and that maybe the trouble is that Mister Hero is never at home, but he sort of can’t. Good grief, he really hates gags, and the ropes bound around his arms and wrists aren’t particularly welcome either! From where he’s slumped on the floor, maybe having been dropped, maybe placed, he can’t be sure- he can see that his feet are free, and had it actually been Mister Hero they’d caught, that would be a deadly mistake. Between the fogginess of his head and the length of his robes though, he’s not particularly confident in his ability to stand right now, much less do anything to try and attack his friend’s apparent enemy. 

It’s clear no attack is expected either, as the giant settles back, leaning heavily on a table that creaks and groans at protest to his weight. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak,” comes the rough growl, slurring slightly at the ends of the words. “It’s been a long time coming, but Lynna City’s going to see that Buri Bonebreaker doesn’t accept defeat.” 

He doesn’t know what on earth is going on, but whatever it is, it keeps going. Still, from the blather of the drunken man, he can gather at least some information. First, that this person is called Buri and he has a minor obsession with Ravio’s hero counterpart. Second, they’re not in Hyrule anymore, but in a place called Lynna City, which, if he recalls correctly from Mister Hero’s many, many maps, is somewhere on the coast in Labrynna. Thirdly, Buri has something of a grudge against Mister Hero, and while he doesn't explain fully, the merchant gets the impression that the cause has something to do with a fight the man had somehow lost to the hero some years ago. How Mister Hero ever defeated a man this size so many years ago, he can’t imagine, but considering the other had already fought Ganon twice before they’d ever met, it would follow that he’s probably strong enough to have taken on some other foes too and won, even if the odds would definitely appear to be very much not in his favor. 

Lastly, he manages, after what feels like hours of being sneered and jeered at, to learn one final, and perhaps far more important piece of information; Buri apparently has every intention of having a “rematch” with Mister Hero, tomorrow. And he thinks Ravio is the hero, so Ravio is going to be the one who’s involved in this rematch instead of Link! 

Eventually, the giant passes out against the table, but Ravio, still stuck on the floor and still very much in pain from the pounding headache from whatever herbs were used to knock him out, is left unable to do anything save sit and panic. 

He can’t fight a giant. He couldn’t even fight Yuga who, for all intents and purposes, was just a man, ordinarily sized and without much proficiency in anything besides magic to aid him in fighting. He'd had to get Mister Hero to handle that one, and he’s still never gone up against anything in an actual fight in years! The closest was fighting off some bigger children in Thieves Town when he was a kid, and even then, he’d ended up running away as soon as he’d managed to get free from their grasp, food blessedly still in hand. He’s not improved in skill, hasn’t even tried, but this time there won’t be any avoiding it. 

If the cheering he can hear, rumbling outside like a wave of thunder, is a good enough indicator, he has a rather awful suspicion that this fight won’t exactly be a throwdown in an alleyway or a house. What’s outside sounds like a full-blown arena, and that means his destruction and shame will most likely be on full display to anyone and everyone who’s in there. 

Dark hair hits the wall, and he groans. 

He wishes Mister Hero was here. Him, or Hilda, or even Miss Zelda. Anyone who knew enough to give him a helping hand, or at least enough advice on how to slip out. Selfishly, he thinks at least his counterpart could handle being captured, because he’d escape easily, probably before even being brought to the person who’d put a bounty on his head in the first place! He has no such skill though, and the best he has is a knife he can’t reach and a desperation to not die anytime soon. 

Hopefully, that’l do him some good, but he deson’t exactly have high expectations. 

- 

His expectations drop in the morning. 

He was right, it is a blasted stadium that he’s been hauled to, and now he’s left standing in the middle of it, armed only with a knife that looks like a child’s toy in comparison to the axe in the hand of the man before him. Ravio’s heart is beating too fast to probably be good for him, and his breath keeps catching in his throat as he watches from the sidelines as Buri and another, apparently stupid person, duke it out before the crowd. It’s apparent that this is a tiered event, and so far, the giant hasn't lost, but he has left his opponents lying as bloody messes all over the arena to be scraped up by others and hauled away to be fixed up. 

Arena fighting is a huge part of Lorulian culture, so he can’t say he doesn’t understand how such a thing can exist in a kingdom, but he never did get the appeal. There's so much blood and violence! Dread pools up in his stomach as the match he’s watching comes to another bloody end, the announcer calling out, voice loud and carrying over the whole of the area, telling the crowd that the match is won. The winner is clearly apparent, his smile still crazed in the morning light even without having hit the bottle again, and the merchant’s stomach lurches as its fixed on him.  

The announcer continues, unaware, but telling the crowd about a special treat that’s apparently been prepared. Hearing Link’s name so loudly proclaimed isn’t nearly as exciting as it would be to know his friend was battling at Treacherous Tower, where he knows the other is the champion and quite capable of making it out alive. Here though, it’s the same title, apparently uncontested over the years, and this, the announcer tells the crowd, is the first rematch between competitors from five years ago, when the title was last taken. It makes a lot of sense to learn Link had won that title from the giant, hence the man’s lingering resentment and anger. Still, that’s not helping him at all. 

The hooded man, who apparently had wanted to stick around for the fight and is claiming a portion of the inevitable winnings of the giant in return for keeping an eye on Ravio, turns to him with a smirk. “You’re up, mate. Best of luck.” It feels like a taunt. 

The moment the gag comes off, he’s trying to protest, to tell the man that he grabbed the wrong person, that he’s not even a hylian, that he isn’t the hero! His words go unheard though, ropes quickly cut away before he’s pushed out and into the arena, the door between the waiting space for competitors and the main stage pulling shut loudly behind him. 

Oh, he is so going to die! 

The giant’s smile is a mad thing as he comes flying along, feet rumbling at the earth as the merchant fumbles at his sleeves, looking for the knife he keeps there, searching, seeking- there! He’s got it out and just in time to start running away, to dart as fast as his feet will carry him. 

Yet, his feet that fumble to move, to step at all after sitting tied up all night. He trips. 

Thundering steps slow, and he can see the shadow of a figure with an axe raised, although he’s too busy scrabbling to get back on his feet to even dare look back behind him, and then- 

A loud clang sounds through the arena, and a hush falls over the screaming crowd. 

The noise rings in his ears, painfully loud, and this time he can’t help but cover them, shifting up onto his knees and looking over his shoulder to see what in Lolia’s name has brought about so great a crashing sound. 

A familiar blue cap and glittering sword makes him nearly start sobbing in relief right then and there. The giant’s axe has fallen, but not on him, nor on the stone, but caught on the shield of his very own Mister Hero, who’s shaking just slightly from the impact but facing the gladiator head on and unblinking. 

“You...” the giant’s eyes widen, still crazed, but at least more focused than the drunken state of the night before. 

“Me.” He can’t see, not with the hero’s back turned to him, but he can hear the smirk as the shield is pushed up and the axe is cast off, rising again in another blow only for the call of the announcer to sound. 

He’s not entirely sure what happens after that. He only knows that, somehow, the giant catches ahold of him and starts yelling at Mister Hero, who yells back, sword raised and eyes glinting dangerously as they dart from Ravio’s terror filled face to the frothing rage of the giant. The announcer, who may or may not be acting as scorekeeper, darts over, and then the yelling gets to be so much that he can barely make out any of it over the furious pounding of his heart in his ears and throat. 

“I paid good money for this slip,” he’s shaken by a huge hand, “you have no claim over him!” 

“He’s my housemate, you asshole!” Mister Hero’s eyes are blazing as he hisses up at the face twice as high as his own. “How on earth did you think he was me? Let him go!” 

But the man won’t. There's more yelling, threats, drawing of blades and swinging that’s quickly stopped by the announcer, who jumps between the two with more guts than Ravio would suppose the fellow would have, hands raised to either of them. “I promised the audience a fight, so-” 

“You got the wrong Link Lon!” Mister Hero hisses. “You promised them a championship fight, but you’re not even bringing in the champion?” His voice carries, no doubt intentionally, and there’s murmuring from in the stands that clearly has the announcer, who Ravio supposes might also be the owner of the establishment, on edge. 

“We were informed-” 

“Your informant is brain dead if he can’t tell the difference between the Lynna City champion and some random fellow on the road!” And then the yelling starts again, and there’s fussing and there’s pointing of fingers, but Mister Hero’s eyes aren’t on the announcer anymore. They’re on Ravio. “Let him go.” 

The hand holding him by his neck, which is far tighter than he’d like, tightens even further. “No.” 

“He’s got nothing to do with this.” 

“He’s your housemate,” there’s a smile in that voice he definitely doesn't like. “Your friend, yeah?” And the tone drops, a growl that rumbles through the hand around his throat. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak.” 

“I don’t owe you a thing.” Dark eyes flit between him and the giant warily, and the hand on the Tempered Sword is tightening, adjusting its hold, ready to make a plunge even as the announcer yells something at the two fighters. 

Another squeeze cuts off his breath for a moment, but blessedly releases it just a second after. “You want his freedom? You have to win it!” 

Realization dawns, quickly overtaken with a sharpness and ferocity he remembers seeing directed at Hilda, at Yuga, at Gannon. Mister Hero is ready for the fight, and he’s pissed. “Fine. Let him go, and you’ll have your rematch.” 

“Win,” the giant hisses, leaning down enough that spit flies of his lips as he speaks and spatters over the hero’s cheeks, “and he’s all yours.” 

That seems to quiet the announcer too, who catches ahold of Ravio and surprisingly is met with no resistance as he tries dragging him away. The man’s strong, not as strong as the giant, but the merchant is hard pressed to get his hands free as he’s hauled across the stadium to a small platform where he’s quickly jerked to a stop. The voice of the announcer is even more painful up close and personal, and it rings over the crowd, announcing the change in competition, the foul play of a fake hero, but that the champion is in fact here now to defend his title. It’s all well and good, until he holds up Ravio’s hands and announces that the merchant is the “lovely prize” that the winner gets to take home. That’s too far, but unfortunately, Hood is back close at hand, offering to “mind the merchandise” so the announcer can attend to his actual duties. 

He’s had maybe ten minutes with his hands unbound, and despite the swings and every attempt to slip away, he finds himself once more tied up again as Mister Hero and the giant take their places across from each other in the ring. 

The crowd is well and truly losing their minds. 

Ravio himself is as well, worry building up as he watches. Yes, he knows his hero is capable, but this is a bit much. Ganon was one thing, Yuga too, because they used magic for most of their attacks. The presence of the huge axe, which would only take one swing to leave his friend in pieces, feels like so much more of a threat as he’s forced to just sit and watch. Well, not actually forced. Since no one’s doing more than keeping him from leaving, but he really does have to cover his eyes a few times as the giant’s weapon is raised and swung at the hero. Every time he dares to look though, Mister Hero is still standing. Blood paints the features of both fighters, but even Hood, at his side, whistles lowly a few times in a way he takes to mean his friend is doing surprisingly well. He's hard pressed to watch those moves though. That’s his hero in trouble, all because he’d gotten captured and hauled off to some strange country he’s never been to before.  

He is, perhaps, when they get back to Hyrule, consulting with Mister Hero’s smithy friend on getting a bigger knife. And lessons, he adds as he watches Link go flying over the giant’s head after performing a very impressive backspring, twisting in midair to swing his sword at the giant’s back. 

He’s watched the other train before, and he thinks Mister Hero calls that move a helm-splitter. It would make sense, given that if there was an armored helm to split, the force of that swing would most certainly have left it in pieces. A cry of pain rises from the giant as he spins around, just as the hylian hits the earth, rolling with the impact, quite literally, and all but bouncing back to his feet again the moment his momentum has run out. 

Mister Hero makes fighting look like a dance, and unconsciously, Ravio can pick up a subtle rhythm to his motions, a beat that’s followed like it’s a rule. It’s new, since he rarely sees any actual combat, and what he did was that one battle with their foes, not anything where the stakes were lesser than the fates of two kingdoms and all that lay within them. Here, all that’s on the line is his own safety, which he has no doubt the hero will preserve even if he did somehow lose, and the pride of his friend, which, considering all the other has already done in the name of saving others, probably isn’t nearly as much of a concern in the other’s head. Still, that desperation he’d seen turned on Ganon isn't here, if anything, Mister Hero is cold, closed off, face fixed in a stern look that’s only made lazing by the explosions of stars in his violet eyes. He’s fluid, twisting easily out of the way an not letting anything throw him off alance, off the steps of the unknown dance he’s crafted to use against his foe. 

And he makes the giant look like an incompetent idiot the whole while. 

Mister Hero’s laughter, not the wildly happy thing he’s seen once or twice, or the relieved desperation after everything was over and they were all safe, but a cold, cruel sort of sound that rings over the crowd, will sound after he avoids a blow. There’s damage done, yes; there’s blood flowing from injuries on both, but no full blow has landed on the hero, and he circles his prey as though he is the bigger, taunting and hissing, striking hard and fast and sure, feet gliding in the churned up dirt of the stadium, calling out to his opponent. 

It’s his way to know that Mister Hero is well and truly pissed. 

Buri is too, running, throwing his weight around, striking out in anger and missing, blinded by his rage as the hero glides out of reach and then flies forwards, blows landing hard and fast. 

Thye axe will lift and fall, and here and again, they do land close enough to tear skin and clothes, ort the edge will catch on the hero’s body just a second before he’s out of reach, leaving a stripe of crimson painted over sweat soaked skin. Still though, his hero doesn’t falter. One moment that great weapon is raised, Ravio shielding his eyes, and then there’s another hiss from his friend and he’s looking against to see blood flowing and feet moving, eyes flashing so bright they’re visible even from where he’s being kept like a trophy for the winner to claim. 

The dirt of the stadium is churned up all about, flecked with blood that’s quickly absorbed by already red stained dust. Feet shuffle, blades clang, and the shield of the hero raises, reflecting light into the eyes of onlookers.  

It’s one such flash of light that has him blinking, blinded, and opening his eyes a moment later to find that the hooded figure who’d hauled him here and now slumping across the ground before him. Another man, also hooded, but with red hair drifting over his eyes, flashes a smile at him. “Need an out there, mate?” 

It’s the same accent, but a deeper voice, and a kinder one, although it’s low with a whisper. A knife appears in one hand of the stranger, but it’s only turned to the rope on his hands.  

The announcer is too lost in his own shouting and excitement to even notice as the red-head catches Ravio by the hand- not the wrist or the neck, but the hand- and tugs him towards the door that separates the announcer’s space from the crowd. Quite frankly, he has no clue who this person is, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so far, they’re not threatening him or anything, just holding tight as they weave through the crowd, pulling him along through the screaming onlookers and towards what looks like it might actually be an exit. 

“Where-” 

“Patience.”  

It’s not the thing he wants to hear from a stranger hauling him away, but again, the man isn’t being rough with him. He’s had he continues too, because once the scream of the crowd fades and they’ve darted down a stair to a space below the seats, he sees some actually familiar faces waiting for him. 

“Mister Captain Hero Sir!” 

“Ravio!” The blonde spins about at the sound of his voice, relief washing over lovely features as he darts over, scarf billowing beautifully with the motion. A sturdy hand catches his shoulder, blue eyes flitting up and over him in a familiar once over that leaves both of them a little more at ease. 

“You’re okay!” Tune- Wind (he’s got to get that straight) throws his arms around him, and eagerly, Ravio hugs him back. He doesn’t get to hug long though, as the young sailor bounces back with furrowed brows, staring up the short distance between them with a faint frown. “How did you get away? The fight isn’t over yet!” 

The clearing of a throat has all the heroes glancing behind the merchant, eyes falling on his strange savior. “That would be me.” 

“And you are?” Mister Captain Hero asks, guarded and already looking ready to grab for his sword on the off chance that a fee be demanded for the merchant’s release. There’s no such request though. 

“A friend of your hero’s,” the red-head answers. “He can vouch for me once he’s finished kicking that idiot’s ass. I must say, his distraction worked nicely.” 

The question of ‘what distraction’ lingers in his head, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask it because, even if the sound of the crowds is dimmed from below, the mighty roar that sounds from above stops anyone from hearing anything else. 

The stranger smirks. “And that’s the idiot downed, I daresay.” 

As it turns out, he’s right. It’s only a moment or so more and Mister Hero is suddenly coming up to them, clutching one arm and bloodied to a concerning degree, but that’s all cast aside as the hero all but flies over and throws his arms around the merchant, grip almost painful for how tight it is. “Thank God you’re okay, you idiot.” 

“Oh, so you’re close friends,” the posh sounding voice of teh stranger chuckles. “I ought to have guessed.” 

He can feel the stiffening of the hero’s whole frame, but long ears prick forwards with an eagerness that’s not spoken at the sight of the redhead. “Ralph.” 

“Link.” 

“Thanks for grabbing him for me.” 

“My pleasure.” the man smirks. “You did put on such a lovely show, i don’t think anyone even noticed he was gone, they were so fixated on you.” 

A grin, sharp and bloodied from the busted nose his friend has acquired, is flashed, and that’s what ends the conversation as Mister Captain Hero steps in and demands they start treating Mister Hero’s injuries. The stranger, whom his doppelganger continues to address as ‘Ralph’, also demands that once first aid has been finished- which he takes no qualms in swiping off his gloves to aid with- they come ack with him to a “safer place to catch your breathes”. It’s a welcome thought, especially as Mister Hero agrees without question; a sure sign that it’s alright, for his friend would never agree if it was in any ways a risk. 

There’s questions, as they work to tend the rather copious amounts of cuts. What happened, why was Ravio captured, how does Mister Hero the giant, know the red-head, and of course what is going on in general. They’re all shut down though by the man called Ralph, who says there’s a time and a place for stories, but not while stopping someone from bleeding out. in Ravio’s experienced opinion, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it does a decent job of granted a bit of silence to those doing wound care. 

Once the worst is tended, they’re heading out, moving quickly to avoid the crowds and the announcer who will no doubt have something to say to the veteran hero.  

Mister Hero keeps a hold of his hand the whole time they slip from the stadium, and even once they’re on the street, following the hero’s red-headed friend, he doesn’t let go. 

“No arguments,” the voice of his housemate is strained as it hisses between them, under still straining breathes but not exactly secretive, “when we get time, I’m teaching you to fight.” 

“Please.” he’d argued about it before, but quite frankly? He regrets that. “If something like this happens again, I don’t want to be useless.” 

One shoulder, the one that wasn’t nicked y the axe, checks against his own, dark eyes sparking as they tur on him. “This, will never happen again, okay? Never.” 

“But something similar-” 

“Ravio, I’m not letting anyone do that.” Violet hold green like the skies cradling the earth, only to break away a moment later with a huff. “But for pities sakes, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep knowing you’re as likely to hurt yourself with your weapon as you are someone else.” 

Rude! “You should have seen me in the war! My hammer wrecked quite the decent amount of destruction!” 

“Sure it did.” 

“I’m serious, Mister Hero!” 

But even for their words, the tone of his otherworldly twin is light, warm, and- for the hero at least- fond. 

He’s okay. They’re okay. Everything is going to be fine, and the only ones who aren’t are likely the giant and the announcer, who will have hell to pay from the crowd if Ravio was reading the situation right. Good riddance to bad rubbish though, and Mister Hero agrees with a tired laugh when he says as much. 

[lady-wallace]

A little Buddy Daddies fanart for today’s @febuwhump​ prompt “You’re Safe Now” 

I originally wanted to do a little drabble to go along with this, but didn’t get around to it. I am however really loving this show so far, and I highly suggest checking it out if you haven’t already. So much lovely found family goodness :’)

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Who Heals the Healer? Day 21 – Unresponsive

Continuation of Day 7. Hyrule passes out from his injury. Legend takes care of him with Warrior’s help. He berates himself for not noticing. TW: description of injury, discussion of death

“How did it get this bad?” Legend whispered in horror. Hyrule’s condition had grown no better over the hours since he’d fainted. The hole in his side, tinted green at the edges, had been stitched up and bandaged, but the sight of it still burned itself into Legend’s mind. “How did we let it get this bad, Warrior?”

“He… I don’t know, Legend,” Warrior answered quietly. Crickets chirped in the rustling grass, announcing the coming morning. In the east, light only just brushed the low hanging clouds. Legend hadn’t slept a wink that night, keeping a vigil beside Hyrule as he tossed and turned in his sleep, whimpering when his side caught with a flare of pain that he wasn’t conscious to feel. Warrior had taken it upon himself to stay up with him, no matter how much the vet fussed about being babysat. “It… it was a chaotic situation. He just wanted to make sure that Four was safe. We all did.”

“But someone should have noticed that he wasn’t well! I should have noticed. If he hadn’t spent all of his magic healing Four—we had potions, and once Four’s life wasn’t in danger—or even fairies, Time could’ve—Hyrule wouldn’t have to be this hurt,” Legend finished finally, dropping his head into his hands. He let out a small sniffle. “I can’t believe we let it get this bad.”

“There’s nothing to do but wait it out, now,” Warrior said. “He’ll be okay, I’m sure of it.” “But what if he wasn’t?” Legend shot back tearily. “I saw that he was looking unsteady, but I didn’t even do anything about it until he was already collapsing and—I already knew that he has this stupid self-sacrificing tendency that we all do, but I went and let him heal Four without making sure that he wasn’t—!"

“Shhh, you’re going to wake the others,” Warrior hushed him. Indeed, he was sure that half of the camp was awake by now—Time’s breathing was too even to be natural, Twilight’s ear flicked irritably, and Wind grumbled out some sort of protest and turned over, pulling his pillow up over his head. Across camp, Wild sat up, made eye contact with Warrior, and slipped out of camp silently. Legend noticed none of it, and if he did, he didn’t care to mind his interruption. Warrior reached out and put a hand on Legend’s arm. “I understand that you’re upset. But it’s no one’s fault. And Hyrule doesn’t blame you. None of us do.”

Legend shoved him off irritably. “I do! I blame myself!” he protested. “Christ, he could have died, and I just—!”

Hyrule’s face twisted. He squirmed where he lay with his head in Legend’s lap, turning towards the older boy’s voice even in sleep. 

Legend ran a hand through Hyrule’s curly hair. “Rulie, are you awake?” he whispered, his voice so soft and gentle, so unlike his normal acrid jibes. It made Warrior… sad. “Rulie, can you hear me?”

“Link, can you open your eyes? Warrior found Hyrule’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Can you squeeze my hand? Let us know you're in there, buddy.”

They both waited with bated breath, but there was no more response from Hyrule. He settled with a huff and fell back into an uneasy slumber. Legend sighed and dropped his hand back into Hyrule’s dark curls. Warrior sat back, frowning.

“He’ll be awake soon,” Warrior promised the empty air. “He just—just has to heal a bit.”

“It’s not just the injury, it’s magic exhaustion,” Legend said, his expression clouded. “It… It can be a lot more dangerous than just a simple injury. Both combined…” He trailed off and didn’t start again. 

“I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Warrior repeated, as it felt he had dozens of times before. “He just has to get through this… this magic exhaustion thing.”

Legend gave no answer. By the look on his face, he didn’t believe him, either.

Read the whole story here! Who Heals the Healer

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