An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Indulgent sick fic, vaguely following Overcurrent. Volt used up too much energy and isn’t giving himself the needed time to recharge. Eddie needs to be firm about him taking time out of work and calls on their Live Wire (f) to help.
Spoiler Warnings for end of game/post realization. Whump fluff with Eddie, Volt & Live Wire dynamic explored. Life really got in the way of editing and posting this one. The intention is to have at least two chapters with the second focusing on Eddie and Live Wire helping Volt get back on his feet.
Indulgent sick fic, vaguely following Overcurrent. Volt used up too much energy and isn’t giving himself the needed time to recharge. Eddie needs to be firm about him taking time out of work and calls on their Live Wire (f) to help.
Spoiler Warnings for end of game/post realization. Whump fluff with Eddie, Volt & Live Wire dynamic explored.
Life really got in the way of editing and posting this one. The intention is to have at least two chapters with the second focusing on Eddie and Live Wire helping Volt get back on his feet.
if objects had a birthday eddie’s would definitely be late december to early january. he has such capricorn energy.
- hardworking to a fault? check.
- loyal? check.
- grounded? check.
- financially stable/literate? check.
- practical? check.
- strong willed/stubborn? check.
i could go on. i’m still thinking what actual date it would be but i’m leaning towards the dec 28-jan 5 days ngl
he wouldn’t care that his birthday is in between holidays, it’s just another day for him, but and livewire spend the week from christmas to new years celebrating eddie
he feels awkward about it at first, and he never truly settles into being praised so much, it just reminds him that he doesn’t feel worthy of his partners, but he appreciates it regardless and it makes him feel loved and cherished
Volt who can flirt, and flatter. Every line is rehearsed, though. Every compliment, or well-timed smile, or the lingering touches? It’s scripted. Maybe it’s part of the mask, or maybe he’s just been doing it so long that it feels like second nature.
When he’s with you, though…he doesn’t feel the need to mask, or add that extra flair. Volt can be his true self with you—he can laugh, and grin unashamedly, and be who he is. With you, he doesn’t have to pretend.
to anyone else, he’s grumpy and standoffish. but with you?
it’s a complete turnaround from how he usually acts. he’ll save a seat for you at the bar and spend hours talking, a rare smile on his face. he’ll come out of his shell, telling you about his day. volt enjoys it when you come around, because he likes seeing eddie happy :]
Volt’s love is a loud thing. It is found in nights spent dancing, laughing unabashedly, kissing like the world will end tomorrow. He shouts his love to the rooftops whenever he has the chance. But you and Eddie make him see that there is love in the quiet, as well.
When Volt wakes up, he can feel a weight on the other side of the bed and hear two sets of steady breathing. ‘Good,’ he thinks. ‘They did eventually settle in for the night.’ You and Eddie had insisted you were almost done on a big maintenance project.
(“We’ll meet you upstairs when we’re finished,” you had said, voice honeyed. When Volt looked at Eddie for confirmation, the man had grunted and avoided eye contact. Typical Eddie; that meant there was actually no timetable for when the repairs would be done. Looking back to you, Volt was met with your irresistible puppy dog eyes. He sighed.)
And thus, he had fallen asleep alone last night. But now, it's morning. And here you both are. His darlings. The loves of his life.
You’re both still asleep. Eddie is laying on his back. You’re on your side, snuggled up into the crook of his left arm, which is wrapped loosely around you. Your cheek rests on his chest. Eddie’s head is tilted ever so slightly toward you, his lips almost touching your forehead but not quite. His breath rustles your hair with every inhale and exhale. Volt smiles to himself. Eddie must have kissed your forehead before drifting off.
Another realization hits Volt in that moment, too. One that has him turning on his side to fully admire his lovers. You two must have been so awfully careful last night to keep from waking him. Contrary to what their personalities would have many believe, Volt is actually the light sleeper between the two. Eddie, once he’s out, sleeps like a rock. But Volt can be shaken from slumber somewhat easily. (“It’s likely because I don’t work myself to exhaustion seven days a week,” is what he says about it when asked.) Somehow, the two of you had managed to get all the way upstairs, stripped and redressed yourselves in your bedclothes, clambered into bed, and made yourselves comfortable, all without waking him up. To be able to pull that off required effort. And realizing that the two of you had gone through that effort…you two truly are the best thing that has ever happened to him. He could picture it in his head now: the way you had probably been trying not to giggle while entering the room, stumbling in the dark and trying to change into pajamas without being able to see much of anything. All the while, Eddie was surely shushing you and holding back a chuckle or two himself.
Volt’s daydreaming is disrupted by the sound of a soft groan. It is one he recognizes very well; the kind Eddie lets out every morning when he wakes up.
“Dare I ask what time the two of you finally went to sleep?” Volt teases, his tone giving away the underlying real question of ‘How late did you two needlessly stay up?’ Eddie groans again, but it dissolves into a light chuckle. His left hand does not move from its position on your hip. Instead, he lifts his right hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes.
“Not as late as you’re thinking,” he mumbles, voice husky with sleep. “We called it quits around one.” Eddie’s voice appears to wake you – you let out a groan of your own.
“G’morning. What time is it?” You ask softly, your voice muffled slightly due to your cheek being mushed against your boyfriend’s chest. Both you and Eddie look to Volt for an answer. His breath is momentarily stolen from him. Oh, he thinks. So this is quiet love.
When he can speak again, Volt lets you both know it’s just after eight o’clock. Eddie decides that that’s enough sleeping in for him. He sits up, not without protests from both you and Volt. Rolling his eyes, he gives each of you a kiss on the forehead.
“Relax. I’m just making us breakfast. I’ll get you both when it’s done.” As soon as Eddie has left the bed, you immediately roll over to Volt’s side. He chuckles as you settle yourself. His hand rests on your hipbone. He traces circles on your skin with his thumb. Yes, he thinks. This is quiet love.
Volt’s love is a loud thing. He dances late into the night, laughs unabashedly, and kisses like the world will end tomorrow. But you and Eddie show him that sometimes, love is the smell of breakfast in the morning. Sometimes, love is the sound of a sleep-addled whisper. Sometimes, love is in the quiet.
✩ Volt, who assumes people only like him for his charming and flirtatious nature, so he’s hesitant to get into serious relationships.
✩ Livewire, who assumes people only like them for their kindness and willingness to help, so doesn’t believe anyone would want a serious relationship with them beyond what they can do for others.
✩ Eddie, who’s safe and real and true, to allow them both to let their walls down and believe there’s more to them than surface level.
I am so excited to have these works in my collection ^w^ A lovely artist to work with, I can highly recommend them. It was a pleasant experience from start to finish and their work is stunning!
Thank you again
Volt wins a bet set by Live Wire(f) during a radio interview. He thinks his prize to be rather 'inspirational'.
Short snippet of an idea. Suggestive nswf without anything explicit. Playful intimacy.
The radio broadcast was a lot more fun than Live wire had feared. Teddy had given them a pep talk early on and given them a tour of the studio so she’d better understand what she was going to be doing. A few questions, a bit of music and enjoyable banter with the radio hosts.
Naturally the topic of her high-flying partners came up.
“The two are opposite sides of the same coin,” she replied to one of the comments put to her.
“How is it being with two opposites? I mean, we don’t get to see much of Eddie, but Volt seems like an absolute angel.”
Live wire laughed. “You’d think that wouldn’t you. Eddie is the Sweetheart, not soft, but an absolute Gem. Volt is a complete menace. Total gremlin.”
“Ohoh? Give us more, what’s the scoop?”
“Well, recent example, we went out and I swore no cocktails. Same evening, we’re not only at a cocktail bar but he’s somehow managed to wrangle it that ‘I’ was the one to suggest it.”
Laughter and banter fill the airways as the hosts ask for details.
“But you can see for yourselves. I believe you have Volt on your show soon too?”
“Yes! We do, we hope everyone will tune in live come Thirstday’s Grapevine show.”
“Well then, how about this; I’m going to give your producers and Volt a list of words. Challenge is that you won’t know what those words are, but Volt needs to have you say them during the show.”
A challenge she didn’t go easy on him with either. But, he’d be well rewarded. If he managed to get all 4 words, he’d get a prize of her choosing. If he managed to get all 4 plus a bonus phrase, he’d get to choose his own prize. Nothing was off limits. Her own rules. And Volt was eager to rise to the challenge.
She had listened to the show, naturally, so wasn’t at all surprised to hear the bathroom door open as she finished her evening shower. She could see the smug look on his face before she’d even turned around. In fact, she turned her back to him, moving her hands along her hidden parts just to tease him.
“Whatever brings you here?”
His voice rumbled with a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m just contemplating my prize live wire. I wanted to watch for a little while, for a spark of inspiration.”
“Is that all? To watch, but not touch? To gaze upon a muse?” she teased, intentionally taking his flirtations literally over suggestion.
She turned her head, and her upper body, just so that he could see the wet shape of her outline more. And watched his face, the look there moving from hunger to… Well. Still hunger, but the light in his eyes suddenly suggested she was no longer in control of this little game.
“A muse you are Live Wire. I think… I rather enjoy this suggestion.” The purr to his words filled her with an excited dread. Loving and hating his ability to move and shift energy seemingly at will. “Serve as my inspiration for a day. Twenty-four hours, beginning now, in which I can command, and watch, any task I like. No touching you.”
“No touching me…” she repeated knowing there was more to this.
“Eddie,” he sang, drawing their dark haired ‘sweetheart’ to joining them.
“Hmm?” he hummed, as though he’d not overheard everything from the start.
“Why don’t you and I entertain ourselves tonight? I’d like to ‘watch’ my muses’ reactions.”
“Watch, but don’t touch right?” Eddie smiled, seeing her eyes widen in dawning realization.
Twenty-Four hours, in which Volt could command her to do, witness, or sense anything he wanted. But she would not be touched.
“Oh, you evil bastard.”
“Ah ah! I believe the term you used was ‘menace’.”
Truly stunning art work and a pleasure to work with. I can highly recommend this artist for a follow and commission interest.
Thank you for bringing this portion of the story to life. Both fierce and tender, Volt's lives to protect.
And au after nimonas sacrifice, ballister points his sword at ambrosius face, as revenge for ambrosius doing the same thing, then ballister walks away angry and grieving, ambrosius is speechless.
I genuinely just hate ambrosius and think ballister should've never forgave him, or at least so easily
I’ve honestly been waiting forever to talk about this. It might get a bit long because I really enjoy writing about it, and I’m super excited!
so let’s dive in!
When I first watched Nimona, I hated him too. But after rewatching it multiple times and analyzing Ambrosius’s character, I’ve come to believe that he deserves love just as much as Nimona and Ballister.
1. The arm incident.
The number one reason people despise him is because he cut off his boyfriend’s arm. But that entire moment was over in less than three seconds. He didn’t even do it intentionally. It wasn’t a choice, it was muscle memory from years of conditioning. He didn’t even look Ballister in the eye when it happened. (And let’s not forget even Ballister himself never held a grudge against him for this.) Ambrosius, meanwhile, carried the guilt and self-blame heavily afterwards.
2. Ordering Ballister’s arrest.
This is the other big moment that gets him hate. But if you think about it carefully what else could he have done? Some people say, “Why didn’t he trust his boyfriend?” But honestly, Ambrosius had almost no time to make a decision and was under incredible pressure. At that moment, he was at the height of his authority the golden descendant of Gloreth, head of the knights. Arresting Ballister could have been his way of keeping him close and safe, buying them time to talk and sort things out together.
Because what if he had openly chosen Ballister’s side right then? That would’ve been two men and one teenage girl against an army of thousands. At best, they’d be captured together at worst, they’d be branded as criminals, stripped of power, credibility, and safety. And realistically Ambrosius had no idea how to live outside the Institution. His whole life was inside it.
3. The nacho date.
Ambrosius said what he said about Nimona at that point because he didn’t know her at all. What he did know was that the man he loved wasn’t a murderer, and all he wanted was to have Ballister back like before. He threatened to kill Nimona, but when the moment actually came, he didn’t order his knights to attack her. He didn’t even try to kill her, despite his training. Instead, he turned his attention to evacuating civilians. He began questioning what it even meant to be a knight, especially when the Director ordered the cannons to fire on the city. That was the turning point: for him, knighthood became about protecting people, not about slaughtering “monsters.”
Ambrosius as a character.
This is what fascinates me the most. He was born at the very top: wealthy, noble family, a destiny written for him. He could’ve easily turned into someone arrogant, like Todd or the other knights in their class. But instead, he was different. He accepted and loved Ballister.
His love language is all over the beginning of the movie encouraging Ballister, whispering sweet words to make him believe in himself, trying to throw hands with Todd for insulting him, cheering the loudest when Ballister was knighted. He was so proud of his boyfriend. And then at the very end, he literally climbed down a wall while injured just to take care of Ballister, because he knew he was hurting.
That’s who Ambrosius really is: kind, warm, a devoted boyfriend and a loyal friend. He deserves love just as much as Ballister does. Unfortunately, the movie’s limited runtime didn’t give us nearly enough of his perspective, so a lot of people miss this side of him.
“Ballister forgave him too fast.”
This is the most common comment I’ve seen in three years of making Goldenheart fanart and TikToks. Honestly, at first, I thought so too. But! If you look closely at the ending, it’s clear that time has passed.
The vehicles leaving the wall, the missing Gloreth statue, the wall being turned into a park and marketplace all of that shows weeks or months went by. (I think a lot of people didn’t notice because Ambrosius and Ballister were still wearing the same clothes, lol. One of my only regrets about this movie is the low budget!)
So in that time, they probably reconciled. Maybe they went to therapy. Maybe they rebuilt their relationship step by step. And by the time we see that forehead-touch at the very end, their love and trust had fully returned. The animator who worked on that scene even said they wanted to show complete love and trust between them.
Honestly, as someone who's always loved Ambrosius, it's so weird to me to hear about the people who genuinely hate him because, like... look at him. He's a sweetie.
Not even kidding. When compared to a roster of other noble cadets like Todd, Ambrosius maintains a good, solid, moral foundation. He's genuinely a kind man at heart who's being put into a terrible situation. (Nimona's rampage aside, the dude literally stopped mid-manhunt becasue civilians were asking for his autograph. And he wasn't doing it in a vain or egotistical way, he's actually pretty hesitant about it. But does it anyway because he's a nice guy.)
Yes, we as the audience know that Ballister didn't commit the crime. But, in canon, there wasn't any evidence pointing at the Director (that wasn't already in the her possession) except the Squire's footage. Literally just ONE clip on one man's phone. Everything else so plainly pointed to Ballister, instead. (Gee, it's like he was deliberately set up and framed so that he'd completely take the fall for that crime. Weird.)
"But Ambrosius should have listened! He was his boyfriend, he should've known better!"
Except that's a ludicrous thing to expect from a normal person, much less someone with Ambrosius' expectations. He's arguably THE living symbol of kingdom. A figure that literally the entire population looks up to. The descendant of their HERO. Someone who's likely been steeped in "you must be the golden child" rhetoric since the day he was born. You can't possibly expect him to magically be okay with dropping that on the off-chance that his boyfriend, who by all accounts looks guilty, actually didn't commit regicide. (Also there are plenty of irl instances where "standing by your man" isn't healthy or even morally correct, but w/e.)
He's also had the Director looming over his shoulder the entire time. Literally being a "miscreant whispering in his ear" while accusing Nimona of being that. We see how she uses language to manipulate people. She's doing the same to Ambrosius.
The Antlered Serpent scene? Only comes about because she brought him evidence that, from his perspective + her manipulation, led him to believe that Ballister was in danger and being used. Was he wrong about Nimona? In the end, yes. But, again, there was no evidence stating otherwise. Ambrosius does not get the privilege of getting to follow his gut, he also has to think about his role as a Goldenloin.
ALSO-!
GUESS WHO REALIZED HE WAS WRONG!
Despite the manipulation, despite his deep conditioning and societal expectations, despite having no one (Nimona) to blatantly tell him "HEY, EVERYTHING YOU AND YOUR FAMILY STANDS FOR IS MESSED UP" he's questioning things on his own. This scene?
Literally happens after we watch Ballister struggle to confront the idea that The Director is the result of a problematic society, and not the other way around. Ballister literally justifies Ambrosius' actions as "What we were trained to do" and doesn't even see the arm chopping as a bad thing. DESPITE having Nimona constantly hitting him over the head with "The kingdom sucks! The Institute's corrupt! We need to disrupt the system!" Over and over.
And yet Ambrosius comes to those conclusions ON HIS OWN with literally no discussion between him and Ballister/Nimona AND while getting fed guilt and lies from the Director. It's very telling that he says the same thing Nimona does ("Arm chopping is not a love language") Despite never once holding a conversation with her.
Also, the fact that, after Bal and Nims go to get a confession from the Director, Ambrosius was about to confront her about what'd happened earlier! No, in the moment he didn't take Ballister's side. But he was literally questioning her word after the dust settled and he finally had time and space to think! Also the fact that, if he'd gotten there before Bal and Nims, HE LITERALLY WOULD'VE BEEN STABBED AND KILLED FOR TRYING TO FIND THE TRUTH ON HIS OWN! And the moment he sees that the Director had Bal's sword? HE'S GATHERING KNIGHTS TO ARREST HER! No, he's not by Bal's side. But the moment he has proof that Ballister didn't do it, he's moving in Ballister's best interests. If the Director didn't have that scroll, she would have been in custody. Ballister's innocence would've been proved. He would've literally saved Bal. Like, what else could he realistically be expected to do?!
I'm gonna stop here, it's late and I feel like I've just swerved into rambling territory (I don't even know if half of this shit makes sense,) but needless to say I agree. Ambrosius is very plainly a good guy. But his character is complicated and so is the situation he's been put in.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
AO3 link for Softened Rumbles.
Eddie finds Livewire hidden away in one of his renovation sites. He offers comfort and emotional support, reminded about his own pains, struggles and journey for healing in the process. Mentions of Eddie's therapy experience and gentle suggestions for Livewire's to start.
Hurt/Comfort, emotional support fic in which Eddie comforts Livewire(f) and reflects upon some of his own struggles and healing journeys. (will upload to AO3 after edits)
Cut for length (2.7K words)
Thunder rolled low over the city, presenting an ominous backdrop to the sound of plastic sheeting, covering various windows, billowing in the wind. The radio fought for voice through the fizzing static in the growing storm, and there, hidden away in a wall nook, balled up tighter than a spool of industrial wire, was the one he sought.
Her hair was sodden, clinging to her face and shoulders which curled around her knees. Her feet where bare and muddy, hued with a stain of red which suggested she probably stood on something along the way.
“Hey,” Eddie greeted, overly conscious of his voice filling the silence. “Are you alright?”
Masking was her immediate reaction, glazed eyes shifting to the present yet unable to join the smile painted upon her lips. She tried to laugh, the sound coming out raw and frayed, reminding him of copper threads faltered and tearing within. She mumbled through some scripted and overused line, his ears hearing the unspoken whimpers behind each chosen syllable.
“I’m fine. Just, not very good company right now.” – ‘I’m not fine. Go. Spare yourself the trouble.’
Shards of memory cut through the charade, giving Eddie a glimpse of a reflection. No one stayed. No one was ever interested in the work, or the maintenance. The power, the energy, the show – everyone was eager to take. But when his knees began to buckle and his own needs were to be met, his fingers reached out into a vast and empty coldness. Alone. He had needed to struggle alone, and the sight of her taking that same path broke something in him.
The fear from earlier softened into something else. The energy from his frantic search across the city lulling into a relatable grief which settled across his face and deep within his eyes.
Thunder rumbled, with the sound of rain skittering across the damaged roof tiles and the wind whistling into a warning howl. She tried to huddle tighter into herself, back pressed as deeply into the nook as she could retreat.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
Her response was a meek shaking of her head, to which Eddie sighed; his breath licking at the air where the sound ended. His wet footsteps thumped softly across the drafty building site, where he collected one of the halogen lamps, inspected it briefly, then set it up facing the nook before turning it on. 400 watts of heat would be their defence against the incoming storms, and with its light he could see the stains along her cheeks, marking down from reddened eyes.
“Alright. We’ll rest here until you’re ready.”
She looked towards him, likely feeling the icy pinch at her toes now that some heat was upon them, and he moved towards her, removing his jacket to drape over her trembling shoulders. Again, he sensed the unspoken questions like echoes of his own soul. Much like her own, in a time that felt so distant now, his brand of support arrived without grand proclamations or flourishes. Rather, he served as a gentle, persistent presence which converted the energy of despair into that of hope.
And hope was terrifying. In their world, to a thing – or a person- forged by hardship and inner conflict, hope and vulnerability felt like dangerous surges often met with flashes of anger, arcs of self-doubt, and the persistent hum of loneliness. Whatever the storm, Eddie had determined to weather it alongside her, seating himself within her chosen hiding space, where the acceptance of his stubborn companionship was met with a loud, and broken sob.
Crumbling into him, her trembling hands gripped at his clothes, arms wrapping around him so that her tears could add to the patterns of raindrops donning his shirt. He returned the gesture, pulling her tightly against himself in hope that his calm would provide an anchor amidst her turmoil. She wept, and he let her. Providing space for the emotions to flow without the interruption of soft hushes, whispered promises or judgement.
Puncturing the air in gasping breaths, her sobs where raw and jagged – torn from the soul in a sound too familiar to forget;
‘Lights flickered and dimmed. An electric buzz humming ominously throughout the Breaker Box and a taut, unending pain coiled within himself. Eddie doubled over, choking out a sob which would go unheard. Energy drew from his body in pulses leaving him tired and empty. If he followed the flow of his energy, he could hear ghosts of those who drew from it. Arguments in the kitchen between the newest appliances. Voices and recorded laughter from Telly in the living room. The dancing glow of Lux’s light in unused rooms.
All the lives tapped into his life blood, the electricity which flowed through his form, converted and filtered to keep them happy. To keep them safe. He wanted to give. His entire purpose for being was to give, but for how many? And for how long? He wheezed, coughing around the tears lodged in his throat and felt the sparking sputter of agony with every fresh pulse of energy torn from his system leaving him empty, barely hanging on.
He felt trapped. Isolated within a faraday cage of circumstance and poor choices. His eyes had to blink rapidly to clear the blur, while his fingers plucked at the control panel. The fix had to be made. If he failed, he’d be worthless. Trembling in exhaustion his hand slipped, slicing across the other with the screwdriver for a fresh, new wound. It was too much. All too much. But he was the responsible one. He was the giver, the problem solver, the worker. He was strong, independent, and completely and utterly unable to ask for help. He would have to help himself.
Eddie was okay. He was always okay. …. Why couldn’t they see that he wasn’t?’
“It’s painful isn’t it,” he mused aloud to the memory, not really having expected to hear his own voice. “To crave something nobody owes you.”
Heat from the lamp filled their little space, battling the draft of an old building and the worsening battering of rain outside. Against him, tucked against his chest and beneath his chin he could feel her sobs ease into occasional sniffles and deep inhales. Without a response, but the sense she was listening, he prompted her again, offering a place to speak to be heard.
“Why did you run off like that?”
While holding no accusation his question could not be aired without some of the earlier pain inflecting his tone. Had she not always trusted him or Volt before? What was different? Had they caused it?
“I.. I didn’t want to be seen.”
And yet she had fled to one of the places they boys were most likely to check. An oversight? Did her feet really know where they were taking her, or was she numb to the thoughts that had directed her steps?
“To be seen? Or to be seen wrong?” he asked, gravely tones as soft as sand.
“I-“ Her voice hitched, eyes widening, then glazing over at some personal epiphany.
Volt had once asked him that. As Eddie recalled, his reaction had been similar. It had caught him off guard just how gentle and delicate the man could be. Loud and dazzling on a stage or at the front of house, softening into a lullaby of comforting presence whenever Eddie had felt at his weakest.
“I want to see you spark. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“It feels stupid now…”
“I’m not asking you to convince me, I already believe you hurt.”
Time stretched between them freely in contemplative silence. He waited out the hush whilst feeling her fingers thread and unthread around the wrinkles of his clothes until he felt the mark of her words being chosen when her inhale filled her, expanding the shoulders he held in his arms.
“It’s lots of things. Little things that feel inconsequential to name. Like forgotten promises or friends flaking at the last minute. And I know people have busy lives, and things come up, and minds work differently – like Barry always forgets things, I shouldn’t be surprised – but when it keeps happening, and from different sources I just start wondering what I’m doing wrong. Why am I so easy to forget or overlook. And that’s from friends, y’know? People who say they care…
So... when a non-friend is hostile or mean it’s just so much harder to be resilient. Because I think my brain has already accepted that I’m not anything more than the terrible things they say I am...”
There was something terribly human about needing to be accepted and seen. A powerful instinct hardwired into the genetic code of every individual which sparked and sputtered and caused pain through perceived failures. And Eddie knew from recent experience that reprogramming one’s perception patterns into expected conclusions was a task of long struggles and continued vigilance. He had also learned, through the one he held, that it was a task unsuited to work through alone.
“You can come to us with these things, you know?”
She nodded once, silent tears rolling down her cheek to be brushed away by the ball of her hand. There was a hesitation to the way she held herself and Eddie awaited the verdict.
“I feel bad always burdening the two of you. You already have a lot going on.”
“I don’t offer things I don’t commit to,” Eddie countered. “Volt’s pretty experienced on how to handle a tangled mess with a short fuse, and he’s really good at it. Don’t… tell him I said that.”
He paused, opening space for the wet and staggered giggle she might have at his willing expense, before moving onto the more delicate topic he wanted to bring up.
“And- if you think you feel up for it – I can talk to my therapist for you, see if he’d let you come along one day? Y’know, just so you can see what it’s all about. What the rooms are like, the signing in process, the words they use... And, maybe, see if it’s the kind of thing that’d be useful to you.”
A solidness set in her shoulders reaching down her arms and spine. Eddie’s bottom lip caught between his teeth with a swell of anxiety filling close to burst within his chest. Forcing himself to relax his grip around her he fought against the will to hold her in case she chose to run off again, and instead allowed her to pull back leaving a cold spot against his body.
Puffy, red eyes searched his own and Eddie could feel his insides squirm and writhe under the scrutiny which, so far, had an unknowable conclusion. He and Volt had talked about this a few times, and this had seemed like a natural opening to bring it up to her. To begin the process of open, ongoing conversation. But had he gotten it wrong? Was it too soon? She searched him for something all while his cheeks burned red and his mouth turned dry and sticky.
“Isn’t that.. a personal space for you?”
“Wh-what? Oh…”
This wasn’t the first therapist Eddie had ended up working with but was certainly one he’d found a connection with. Bartending had always put him in the position of an acting agony aunt and trying to reverse that roll, and with a lot less alcohol, had been a challenge that had taken time along with a lot of trial, error, and exasperated outbursts. It helped that he could now work on something during their sessions. Some broken object or busy work for his hands to pull his mind away from the anxiety of speaking.
There had been emotional breakthroughs, outbursts and conflicts. A veritable storm of experiences Eddie had needed to face and process, finding the strength of his enemy at every turn was equal to his own strength. But those battles were not often fought and won all within the confines of a session. Often, for himself at least, a session was just a space to breathe for a while. To let the pressure and stress left at the door roll off.
“No. I mean, yes, but...” he signed, reconfiguring his words to try and relay something both true and sensible. “The sessions are a lot more casual than I think people realise. I don’t just go there to cry and take an emotional beating,” he added with a chuckle to his words. “That’s, kinda what I hoped to show you. That’s it’s just… normal. A little strange at first, but it becomes normal.”
“Do you like them…? Your doctor? The sessions?”
“Not a doctor this one, just a therapist. Still very good though, and open to friendship sessions, I like him well enough. Therapy as a whole? I don’t hate it. It’s helped to rewire a few things. Create some new circuits that are a bit more efficient than the old ones.”
Her short, tight nod preluded an expanse of private thought. He watched the battle play across her features in the wrinkled furrow of her brow and the movement of her jaw setting and unsetting. Fingertips continued to fuss his shirt and her eyes cast low with the burden of decision. He watched her throat work with visible effort to form words and noted the wisps of pride he felt before any answer was aired – giving this space to think about alone was a milestone achieved.
“I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.” Her admittance carried on raw and trembling notes speaking of a wish she could be.
Eddie offered a soft smile of knowing. Tentatively he reached up on calloused finger to draw a strand of half dried hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She wasn’t running – not yet – and for him that was a display of courage and bravery unlike any other.
“You don’t need to be brave. Just open enough to try. Volt and I are happy to try along with you if you need us. Whenever you need us.”
The silence commenced, not hollow but weighted with decisions. Charged with unspoken arguments and accompanied with the howling, crackling storm which played overhead. Her hands rested loosely in his own, his thumbs brushing at their backs in slow, steady rhythms to ensure his quiet, persistent presence was known. When at last she exhaled in a long and shuddering breathe her voice carried, nearly inaudible around the storm.
“Maybe… If you’re there too. Maybe.”
Relief washed through him as a steady current, unravelling his taut shoulders and shedding some of the burden from them. Eddie nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself so as not to crowd her with promises or early cheers. But he was hopeful. This felt like a tiny, hard-won victory she might live to appreciate if they saw it through.
Intrusive and out of place in their sombre solidarity a jingle of notes sung; breaking the quiet melody of sniffling within the rumbling storm. Their bodies tensed and startled in mirrored reactions – neither having expected any interruption this deep in their feelings. Drawing out his phone at an angle which showed both of them the screen Eddie glanced at her, letting her decide where she felt in the ability to talk to more people.
Their eyes met, before she looked to the screen with unmasked guilt, then moved her finger to slide across the green phone icon. Volt’s voice crackled to life, broken by the reception in the storm.
“E--ie? Di- … find her?”
Ever animated, Volt’s voice carried the desperate worry of a man still searching and Eddie winced at the realisation that the message he’d sent upon entering the building hasn’t gone through.
“Shit, sorry. Yeah, she’s here. We’re fine.”
“Li –wir-! ,,, looked everywhe-. Are ---- alright?”
Distinct unhappiness smothered her in a chilling blanket, and her eyes moved to Eddie filled with remorse. The realisation of what she’d put the two through finally sinking in. Eddie signed offering a shrug while his free hand rose to rub the back of his own head.
Indulgent sick fic, vaguely following Overcurrent. Volt used up too much energy, and isn’t giving himself the needed time to recharge. Eddie needs to be firm about him taking time out of work, and calls on their Live Wire (f) to help.
Spoiler Warnings for end of game/post realization. Whump fluff with Eddie X Volt dynamic explored.
Part 2 of ? I will post this to AO3 once completed. Cut for length.
Part 1 Here
Waking felt like being buried under layers of compacted snow. Volt felt cold, disorientated and heavy. All his joints moved under extreme duress, complaining with dull, aching protest, while his head throbbed as though being repeatedly struck by a blunt force.
He needed to move, he convinced himself, though he had no energy to do so. It was always worse when he woke up – the sickness having had chance to settle in his realized bones. But if he moved, if he worked, he was sure he would do better. Feel better.
Sitting upright left him as breathless as a mountain hike would, only his lungs rattled and itched with a kind of static he had never felt before. Looking to the bedside table, waiting for his vision to settle and focus, he found a glass of water Eddie had earlier placed, and reached for it. He could hear voices at a distance. Likely in the entry hall because soon after they finished talking, the front door opened, then closed.
Volt frowned, sipping again at the water, placing it down, then coughing to try and clear his throat. The routine of running a hand through his hair, putting on a smile and lounging back against the headboard as though it were just another casual day was becoming increasingly taxing. But the thought of putting undue worry or stress onto his partners was worse.
While preparing to offer an energetic greeting Volt watched as, not a face, but an oversized bag, hugged by a pair of arms filled the doorway. The figure beneath the bag huffed with the burden of carrying it and failed their first attempt at passage when a strap caught on the door handle, tangling them in place. He could hear very faint, whispered complaints as the figure tried their best to be quiet in their struggle.
Though his body shivered with cold, and his nerve endings prickled with every step, Volt forced his body to move. Standing, waiting a second to gain his balance, then walking to unhook the bag strap and lifting it into his own arms. When the face beneath was revealed, he cocked an eyebrow and winked, offering her a bemused expression to meet her startled, sheepish one.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Eddie said you were asleep. Did I wake you?”
“I woke some time ago Live wire, don’t worry. Besides, I ought to be the one apologising. This is all rather unsightly.”
“Unsightly?”
Placing the bag down at the foot of the bed, Volt sat, surprised at just how much that took out of him, but keeping his back straight as he turned his upper body to smile, as widely as he could manage, at his visitor. He swallowed around the growing itch in his throat. The tickling sensation was driving him mad. His partner tilted her head, looking him over.
“You’re not unsightly Volt, just.. differently handsome.”
The comment made him laugh, which brought out that coughing fit, racking his shoulders and setting his head ablaze with pain. He raised a hand to his mouth, fighting for control of his airways so that he could speak.
“Ha. You could do to tutor Eddie in your manner of diplomacy Live Wire.”
She looked at him with confusion, and he took the chance to regain his composure and move the direction of conversation. “I was told I have you to thank for keeping things moving with our clients and administrative duties. I’d be interested to see your handy work for myself, and of course, be more than happy to offer my advice on any troublesome matters.”
Despite sitting at the edge of the bed in his pyjamas, Volt somehow managed to look tall and charming by the way he turned and tilled his head to show off an endearing smile. Lips cracked and nose red, it didn’t fully detract from how good looking this man was. But his Live Wire managed to stand firm. Her lips closed and stretched flat, her brows narrowing into an expression of determination.
“Eddie warned me you’d try to convince me to give you access to my phone or laptop. He made me promise I wouldn’t.”
Of course he did. Volt’s expression tightened, then faded into a sigh. “I don’t doubt you Live Wire. And I know that you and Eddie mean well, but this industry moves fast as lightning. I would hate for all of Eddie’s hard work to be wasted on a missed opportunity.”
“You move fast as lightning, Volt. Paperwork and solicitors move agonizingly slowly. And, I’ll remind you, I have a PHD in customer service! You aren’t missing anything, I promise.”
Not the answer he wanted to hear, and he had to turn his head away to hide the sneer of frustration.
“I brought some items for you,“ she continued, changing the topic and lightening her voice and energy to contrast his growing storm. Her knees bent to lower herself so she could rummage through the bag and start taking selected items out. For lack of anything better to do, Volt looked over lazily to see what these ‘gifts’ were.
The largest and heaviest item was a blanket. Weighted, he realised, once he’d run his hand between the folds. Followed by several bottles of various shapes and sizes, a bowl, towel and numerous unnecessary pieces of evidence of an overthinker.
“We have whiskey, Live Wire, and the willingness to share it. You needn’t have brought your own. But if it’s a cocktail you’re after, I could whip something up for you.”
“It’s not for a cocktail; it’s for a Hot Toddy.”
“A what?”
“Whiskey, honey and lemon in hot water. It will help to soothe your throat, while this medicine will help clear your chest and hopefully let you get some real sleep.”
There it was again. ‘Sleep’. With no offence to Betty, if Volt ever saw another bed again it would be too soon. Trying to take in a deep inhale, he instead set himself off with yet another fit of coughs, this time ripping through his throat with grating, rasping sounds. It felt like rusted metal scraping on concrete. He buried his mouth into the crook of his arm, turning from her as he did so, and tried to ignore the look of sympathy and concern.
“I’ll go boil some water,” he could hear her speak through the throbbing in his ears. “Take it easy.”
Before he could react, she was gone, and Volt was left with the view of these same four walls and the prison of sickness which was his own human body. Catching his breath was taking longer and longer, and so he sat for a long moment. Pausing to recharge enough to force his legs to bare his weight again and stand. His head swam, feeling dizzy, so he stood until he trusted himself to walk with convincing leisure.
By the time Volt had made it to the kitchenette she had already set out two mugs and had a pan bubbling on the stove top. A light frown flashed across her features when she saw him, quickly replaced by a bright smile and cheery greeting.
“Just couldn’t wait to try my amazing home remedies hm? Take a seat and I’ll fetch it right over.”
“Ah, ah, but it’s my job to take care of you, Live Wire,” he retorted seeing his own game in action and refusing to be beaten in it. “You’re our guest! Allow me to finish up here and-“
Volt took a step forward, intent on taking over the role of host, but as he did so his energy dipped, and his head swooned. He staggered. Catching himself. His vision blinked in and out and exhaustion hit him so hard it was painful. He took in as deep a breath as he could manage, which amounted to very little, and felt arms press against his shoulders, helping to keep him from falling. His body felt impossibly heavy all of a sudden, and nausea spread through his veins in a cold sweat.
“Volt! Oh, you stubborn thing… Lean against me, and we’ll get you sat down.”
Feeling his arm being moved around her shoulders Volt nodded, and immediately regretted the action, his head whirling and spinning as though he’d just shaken it in a mixer. He tried to hold his own weight, placing one foot down, then the next, with her directing him towards the sofa. Then, he blinked, and the next thing he opened his eyes too was her worried face fretting over him. He blinked rapidly, the audio world faint and dull to his ears at first but growing in intensity until it was loud and painfully sharp. He winced and tried to get up, but her hands pushed him back, and he was glad they did. He hurt. Everywhere he hurt, but mostly his knee.
The two had barely gotten three steps before Volt’s body had pressed further, and further, against her until she was trying to support the dead weight of the much large man. Unable to keep him upright, she instead tried to control his fall, dropping to her knees with him and trying to keep his head and neck secure.
Panic flooded her as she tried to rouse him, eventually laying his head and shoulders upon her lap. He was breathing. That raspy, inhale and exhale of air, but he felt cold as ice and, when they finally fluttered open, his eyes were dull in colour. The electric blue having faded out to a near transparent white. This wasn’t any normal human cold, she could feel it. But then what was happening? Calling Skylar flitted across her mind. Even she had pointed out that Volt was a bit of an anomaly when it came to objects and realization, but nothing had seemed out of the ordinary until recently.
Volt blinked the room into view, looking around to realise they were on the floor. He believed that on some level that he felt horrified. Neither she nor Eddie should ever have seen him faulter. But while that sense of horror and a definite sadness hued his emotions, they were dull. Like most of his senses were. He felt like he was fading and just wanted to close his eyes. Lay there, in this lap with fingers brushing through his hair and touching his cheek.
Her voice persisted, drawing his eyes upwards. Her expression was one of fear. Of pain. He hadn’t seen that expression worn by her since that night at the Breaker Box. With the faulty wire.
Faulty wire..
“I’m going to call Eddie, just.. Just –“
She halted when a hand latched onto her wrist. His movements had been shockingly quick, but there was little strength in his grip which concerned her.
“Don’t,” he uttered tiredly. When she looked down, she could see more awareness in his features. More clarity behind his too pale eyes. “I’m..” the word ‘fine’ rose and died on his tongue before he ever uttered it. He wasn’t fine, and as Eddie had pointed out, it was a term he’d often used back when he’d overworked himself and pushed himself to burnout. “I’m here,” he settled on instead. “Would you help me up onto the couch please, spark?”
The shift was agonising. Slow, and painful. Each time he caught his breath and built-up scraps of energy to move again, he was overwhelmed with nausea and muscle shaking. No complaint was uttered from his dutiful partner, but even her silence spoke volumes, and it shamed him knowing himself to be the cause of her fear. At one point, he might have sought it, if only to keep Eddie safe, but not anymore. That time in their lives had long since passed.
With a breathless huff, she helped him lift into one of the seats on the long couch. His chest felt tight and while he wanted to speak; wanted to use his voice to soothe her worries, all he could do was nod in wheezing silence when she’d asked him to wait for her to come back.
Loneliness hit him rapidly when she’d retreated to the bedroom. The apartment was too quiet, too still with only himself and his own thoughts. Back in The Breaker Box there was always a hum of electrical presence. The constant, gentle buzz from his own hair and wire connections to Eddie and every other electrical object in the house. Now, there was just silence. An emptiness Volt often tried to avoid looking at with noise and work and events.
Weight pressed against his shoulders, and a voice asked for him to lean forward. He complied, just happy to have sounds again. He shivered, noticing the cold now that something warm and heavy was being wrapped around him, and shortly afterwards, something hot into his hands. A mug of something amber in colour. The drink she’d earlier mentioned? It felt nice, and he drew it to his chest, hoping to transfer the heat into himself.
“The blanket is a spare one, so you can keep it for as long as you need. The weight in them can feel like a hug.”
“True,” he agreed, also noting a similarity to his old breaker box coat around his shoulders. “But, I would much prefer true touch.”
No sooner had he spoken than a hand pressed to his cheek, caressing the skin beneath. His eyes closed, and he allowed her to take the weight of his head in her palm.
“Drink,” he heard her direct him. “Before you fall asleep. I have a few more items I want to bring over. I won’t be long.” A kiss placed where her hand retreated, and he watched on with suffering silence to see her go. This time, only to the kitchenette. His head turned, to keep her in his peripheral vision as he sipped at the beverage he’d been provided. The warmth and heat burned a pleasant feeling down his throat. Soothing some of the aches, as promised.
Returning with a hot water bottle to tuck into the blanket, she sat besides him, curling her feet up onto the couch and leaning into him. She felt him lean back.
“What’s really going on with you Volt? Please, talk to me?”
Volt’s lips parted, then closed, then parted again for him to take another sip of the hot beverage.
“Is this all because of that storm? Is it because you-“
“No.” He cut her off with a warning look which didn’t quite hold the menace it should have with his energy so low. “You don’t get to adopt guilt for any of this Live Wire. My actions are my own.”
“But why keep this a secret? What’s so important to you that you’d lie? .. again. Does… Does this affect Eddie!?”
“No. Ah-tch..” A sharp pain pulsed through his head, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He did not have the energy for outbursts.
“No,” he repeated taking another sip of his drink. “It doesn’t affect Eddie. But” he added, relenting to the mounting frustration he could see in her worried gaze. “It does involve Eddie. The both of you. I knew you would both fret, and the last thing I want is for either of you to-“
He hesitated, only for a second but Volt losing his verbal flow at all was unusual. Her hand lifted to rub comforting circles against his chest, and honestly, he was grateful for the connection.
“The last thing I want is for either of you to struggle alone because you want to spare me the burden of my own purpose.”
Quiet descended upon them, and he sipped again, favouring the burn of the whisky over thinking too long on his own admission.
“You are...” Her words formed the sentence slowly, as though threading together her thoughts aloud. “Afraid we’ll get rid of you?”
“Ahah!” He barked a laugh, eyes widening enough to send fresh waves of dizziness through his head, but the statement was so bold he didn’t care. “Live Wire, you will never be rid of me.”
“Then.. displace you?” she offered, trying a different word to see if any ticked the box.
He raised one bolt shaped eyebrow and lifted the mug to his lips again. The mug felt heavy to his exhausted muscles, and his arm and shoulder ached with every move, but frankly, this was the most entertainment he’d had all week. He hadn’t wanted to share his inner most feelings but if Eddie and their Live Wire were going to push relentlessly for them, he might as well enjoy the attention and the game of it all.
“Come on Volt, you’re better at words than I am.”
Volt took another sip, wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled. She shook her head in response, wanting to be angry at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be mad at that face and they both knew it. But she did expect truth from him now. That was his game; the door of opportunity was open; she just had to find it.
The clue was there. His purpose was what he valued in himself, and that purpose was to protect. She hadn’t seen Volt angry very often. The first time she’d heard him raise his voice at all was one night that Scandalabra had pushed too far with Eddie in his hunt for gossip. The only other time had been with the human creep at the networking event.
But he hadn’t gotten sick like this after his temper burst with Scandalabra. He was more powerful then. Literal electricity, with a constant steady supply of energy he had to constantly filter and regulate...
“Do.. Do you ‘like’ being human?” she asked suddenly, and Volt had to lower the mug to keep himself from choking. That didn’t stop the coughing fit though.
The thought played over in her head as Volt tried to recover. She’d never thought to ask before. Just assumed that all the objects wanted to be realized, as Skylar had directed, and equally assumed an object would refuse if they really didn’t want to. But, she’d never asked. And Volt had had the most to lose. Power, stability, centre stage. She watched him, rubbing his chest until he could respond.
“Well, I certainly don’t care for this aspect of it. But I do enjoy others.” He handed her his drink so he could hold his own head until the spinning stopped. A groan escaped him as his body rebelled against him throwing him off balance and threatening to send him into blackness once again.
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there,” she pressed softly, keeping her voice low while he held his head in his palms.
“No. I said you had given us a gift, Live Wire, and I meant that. I don’t have an issue with having a whole new world and body to explore.”
“Buuuuuut-?”
He sighed and indicated himself. “I don’t have as much of myself to give, not like this. Being with such limited power is a vulnerability. One I don’t much care for. What if something else where to happen now? I want for you and Eddie to be able to rely on me, and for me to be capable of honouring that trust. But…” He looks at his own, trembling hands.
He was scared, she realised, the thought taking the wind from her own lungs. This fearless, powerful, perfect man – was sacred.
“I ran to find you because I knew, without doubt, I’d be safe. And you came through for me. But.. Volt.. This works both ways. You used your energy to protect me. I want to be able to support your recovery in return. I think Eddie would feel the same.”
“I appreciate your care, Live Wire, truly.”
Releasing his head, Volt sat back, slowly, trying to find a position in which his neck and joints hurt the least. He was warming up. The simple comforts she’d brought working to restore his tired body, albeit slowly. And he appreciated it, he did. Which made it all the more threatening that at any given point someone, or something could take them away from him. And Volt, cut from his power, was limited in what he could do about it.
She shifted on the couch and, panicked she was leaving, Volt reached out to grasp her hand. She stared at him, eyes wide for a moment, before settling with a soft expression and leaning to rest her warm form against his weakened one. Her head coming to rest just beneath his chin, tucked into his neck. He closed his eyes but was terrified to sleep. Because when he woke, he wasn’t sure if they’d be there.
“I can’t lose you,” he uttered. Another line reflecting a defining moment in all of their lives.
“We’ll figure something out, I promise. For now, please try to sleep. Eddie will be home in a few hours, and we can talk about this together.”
“Please don’t tell him. Not yet at least.”
“Volt...”
“He is happy, Live Wire. This freedom has granted him a fresh outlook on life. A hope his past had once stolen from him. After all he’s been through... I can’t be the reason stress returns to his life.”
It didn’t sit right with her, but she understood he still needed time to process. The first step was getting him to admit to anything at all. The rest, she’d work on. Taking in then releasing a deep inhale and exhale, she nodded against his jaw.
“Do you trust me?”
“What?”
Volt paused. A difficult thing to do was trust. But he had his answer.
“I trust you little spark.”
“Then close your eyes. I’ll stay here with you while you sleep and be here when you wake.”
A sweet little thing, their Live Wire. The spark that began many things for he and Eddie. He listened as she began to speak, telling him some nothing story to abate the silence of the room. At no point could he remember drifting off – his mind and body unable to fight any more – but when he woke this time the sun was in the opposite side of the sky. And Eddie was tucked up against his other side, an empty cocktail class on the coffee table before them.
