#i only came up with like three or four of these

[theonottsbxtch]

BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Count for me 』

☼ synopsis: Sanemi's training session went horrible and the way you crumbled cookies all over his fresh bedsheets made him lose it, taking his bad mood out of you and spanking you.

☼ character: Sanemi Shinazugawa

☼ wc: 1.1k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, a little fear play, spanking, one light slap to the face, oral (reader giving), face fucking, squirting, clit slapping, mean / feral Sanemi taking out his frustrations

Sanemi hated how you have to eat in bed, especially when it crumbled and he just put fresh sheets on. You completely disregarded any concerns when you got out of the shower and cuddled under the sheets with some cookies and a good movie - that was until you heard the keys turn in the door, the package of cookies flying up from the small shock and spreading the baked goods along with their crumbs all over the clean sheets.

Knowing your lover will be anything but happy, you tried to collect most of it until his steps reached the bedroom door, the gentle smile he wore on his face slowly fading as if he witnessed a crime scene. In a last effort you wiped the crumbs onto the floor but they landed on the carpet in front of his side and you swore you saw a vein pop at his temple as he simply watched you.

“You have exactly 5 seconds to run,” he grumbled, which made you realize that his training session didn't go well, so he was already loaded with anger.

Frozen in your fight or flight reaction the image of Sanemi taking his anger out on you flashed before your eyes, the way you only dirtied the sheets more with your juices, the way his rough hands spanked you until sitting hurt for the next few days but you whimpered for one more, one more slap to get you over the edge.

Pupils dilated from lust, you crumbled a cookie in your hand, seeing him getting angrier.

“You fucking- that's it!” he snapped, taking long strides towards you before forcing you to lay over his lap, you pajama shorts easily pulled down your legs which made you kick and whimper in his harsh grip.

His exterior cracked for a moment, concerned eyes meeting yours but the smallest nod from you was all the consent he needed, large hand rubbing the globes of your ass.

“You will count. Ten on each side,” He ordered sternly and his hand connected with one of your butt cheeks in a harsh slap.

“One,” you squealed out, the sting slowly traveling through your behind and into your body. Slap.

“Two,” Slap…

“If you miss one, I will start over,” he warned and you nodded as his hand rose anew, ready to connect with your supple flesh once more.

“THREE,” you yelped before his hand came down again, whining at the impact.

He just loved being able to take his anger out on you like this, being rough hand manhandling you all while pleasing you. Although it did make him wonder how this could possibly turn you on - but he preferred not to question it, his hand coming down to the globes of your ass repeatedly.

Your face was stained with tears at the end of the promised 20 hits and Sanemi gently wiped them away with his thumb

“You know i had to, princess…” he said sympathetic and gently spread your cheeks, getting a good look at your folds that were glistening with arousal.

“Such a naughty girl… getting wet from being punished,” he mused, his thumb plunging into your entrance, making your walls flutter around the thick digit, head nodding eager. This was what you needed, your neglected cunt screaming for your lover to be taken care of.

Without further hesitation Sanemi lifted you off of him to manhandle you onto all fours, facing him as he stood in front of the bed, slowly pulling the hem of his sweats down.

Your lover's cock slapped against his defined abs once it was freed, his menacing glare fixed on your pathetic face, begging to be fucked until you're nothing but a crying mess - his crying mess.

His hand connected to your face in yet another slap, much more gentle than the blows delivered to your rear.

“Don't just stare. Suck!” He ordered, every word laced with venom. You weren't fast enough for his liking so he took matters into his own hands, grabbing a fist full of your hair and forcing you to take him whole despite the resistance your throat put up.

Mercifully he waited until the gagging ceased, wishing his cock would choke you longer so he could hear your pathetic lungs begging for air, but your throat chose cock over oxygen since you remained still even when his hand removed itself.

Big doe eyes looked up at him until fat streaks of tears rolled over your cheeks - only then he took ahold of your head again so he can properly fuck your face. Heavy balls slapped against your chin, saliva coating the lower half of your face, slowly dripping onto the sheets beneath but he didn't care anymore, pulling out when he had his fill of your warm mouth.

“Turn around,” he growled an order and you immediately obeyed, your pathetic face pushed into the mattress when he thrusted into your sopping cunt with just one thrust, the oxygen leaving your lungs once more with each jolt of your body when he thrusted against your hips.

The sounds echoing off the walls were obscene, moans mixed with grunts, accompanied by the wet slaps of skin as he ruined you. Another slap on your ass left you clenching around his thick cock, a predatory grin spreading on his face when he reached around to rub your sensitive clit.

Your entire body was shaking at the intensity of your orgasm, clear liquid spraying onto the sheets, messing them up even more as the Hashira tapped your clit with small slaps, dragging out your orgasm until you collapsed.

Seeing you this helpless beneath him was what he needed, pulling out of your tight heat with a grunt, his hot seed spurting all over your back as he palmed himself above your miserable frame, legs still shaking. He held his weight up above you, still standing in front of the bed but his upper body was slumped over you. “Go clean yourself. You're so fucking dirty,” he mumbled and kissed the back of your neck, making you giggle slightly

“And I'll take care of the mess you made,” he added, the sheets ruined with your juices and the crumbs.

All he got in response was a low groan from you

“Can we take a bath together? Getting clean together and all,” you asked softly, unsure if you're even able to walk yourself to the bathroom since your legs felt like jelly. Sanemi only sighed before scooping you up into his arms

“You can be lucky that I love you,” he grumbled before kissing your forehead. Making a mess could be so relieving, especially if it's his loving girlfriend he can ruin.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[magicalrocketships]

pretty much every day i just think abt small!max saying "daniel, my daniel" when he sees dan. it's with me forever!! ok that's all

Okay, this awakened something in me, and I've missed Go Small! Max. Thank you, anon!

All earlier parts can be found in this masterpost and on AO3 here.

Five times Max calls Daniel ‘my Daniel’ (and one other time)

One. 

"No," Max says politely but with zero room for negotiation. "I don't want that."

That is a plate of sandwiches that look decidedly soggy, oil softened vegetables leaking out of a thickly sliced sourdough. 

Daniel looks up at the waiter. "Could you do some sliced bread and butter instead?" he asks, moving Max's plate out from in front of him. He finds room for it on the table next to him and opens up the sandwiches, starting to scrape the vegetables out onto the plate. In hindsight, it was a bad order. He'd seen the tomatoes and thought that Max might like them. 

The waiter comes back over with two slices of bread and a pat of butter; Daniel makes yet more room on the table to butter the bread and cut it into halves, then deposits it in front of Max. He goes back to scraping the mediterranean vegetables out of the sandwich, dumps the bread on his plate, then starts to pull out the tomatoes so that they're separate from the rest of the vegetables. He offers the plate to Max, who stares at it dubiously. 

"You like tomatoes," Daniel says. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

Daniel doesn't force him. He sets the plate down and shows Max his fork in case he wants to try anything, then eats his own pesto chicken on toasted sourdough. 

Max picks at his bread and butter, then after eating a piece, he uses his fork to carefully eat two little roasted tomatoes. He clearly considers this enough vitamins and nutrients for this meal, and goes back to his bread and butter. He does, however, drink his apple juice. 

"Is the bread nice?" Daniel asks. His sandwich is decidedly mediocre. 

Max considers. "Yes," he says finally. "Thank you, my Daniel."

Something inside of Daniel's chest shifts. He's changed forever. 

"Good," he says, his voice catching. "I'm glad."

&&&

Two. 

Max hasn't wet the bed in weeks. The nightlights had finally managed to turn frequent into infrequent into barely ever. 

Barely ever isn't not ever, though. Daniel's woken up by an insistent little hand on his shoulder. "My Daniel," Max says, sniffling. 

Daniel blinks away sleep. "What's up?"

"The bed's wet," Max says. 

Daniel sits up. "That's okay, Maxy-Max," he says. "That's okay. Nobody's mad."

Max sucks in a ragged, tearful breath. 

Daniel kisses Max's flushed forehead. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

Max tucks his hand into Daniel's, sleepy and tearful, and holds on. 

&&&

Three. 

"I didn't know where you were," Max says reprovingly, once he's discovered Daniel face down on the sofa, snoring into a Pokemon cushion with the TV on low, and poked him awake. "There's no breakfast bowl."

That is a reprimand. The rule is, no TV before breakfast. TV is allowed with breakfast, but the new rule came into force last week when Max refused to eat anything because he wanted to watch Detective Pikachu through to the end even though his tummy was rumbling. So: no TV before breakfast. 

Daniel didn't go to sleep until after four, though, and he's only out here in the living room because he'd finally got bored of watching the time tick by on his sunrise alarm clock and had resigned himself to pulling an all-nighter. He'd come out here to drink coffee and watch whatever he could find on TV in the middle of the night, then had promptly passed out eight minutes into an old episode of Friends. 

"You have to turn the TV off," Max repeats. 

Daniel obliges. He still feels mostly asleep. He rubs his fists into his eyes. 

"Hmm," Max says. 

"I didn't sleep very well," Daniel says. He doesn't look at his watch but Max likes to be awake pretty early. As an adult Max likes to sleep late, but kid Max doesn't feel the same way. Consequently, Daniel's life has flipped to an early bird timetable. His body hasn't quite caught up, though, and there have always been nights where he's stared at the ceiling for far too many hours. "Might have to be careful with me today, champ." He does finger guns to try and make it cool, but he's just tired. 

Max blinks at him. "Okay, my Daniel." He turns on his heel and disappears out of the living room, before coming back in clutching Pikachu. "You can hug Pikachu," he says. There's a pause. "Can we have breakfast now?"

Daniel laughs. "Sure can," he says, wrapping an arm around Pikachu's round middle. "What are we having today? Would monsieur like a fish? An omelette?" He does his silliest French accent. It's very bad. Max laughs. He always has the exact same breakfast. Max likes cereal. Cereal, and his milk in his own special jug. He won't entertain anything else. "A croissant, Max? A fried egg? Un oeuf?"

"No, no, no," Max says. "Cereal, please."

"Coming right up, monsieur," Daniel says, and as Max pads into the kitchen in his pyjamas, Daniel's heart skips a little soft beat. 

&&&

Four. 

"Daniel, my Daniel," Max calls, barely even waiting for Daniel to get out of the car. Daniel's been into the village to get fresh bread for lunch, and he's come back with wine for him and his parents, a few bits and pieces his dad had wanted for their dinner that evening, and a new bat and ball game for if Max can be tempted out of the pool for any significant period of time. 

Daniel grabs the bags. "Maxy-Max," he calls back, finishing off with his best camel impression just to make him laugh. He wanders around to the back of the house to the pool, where his mum and dad are — predictably — in the water with Max. "Mum, Dad. Everyone present and correct, I see."

"Watch me," Max tells him, clambering out of the pool and getting water everywhere. "Look what I can do now!" 

"I'm watching," Daniel says. 

He watches Max sit down on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. He puts his hands above his head, shaped like he's going to dive, and Daniel knows what he's going to see. This is how he got taught to go into the water face first. His parents taught him and now they're teaching Max. 

Max tilts forward and forward until he's going into the water in a little seated dive. He emerges from the water, beaming, to Daniel's mum and dad clapping him, and Daniel cheering. Max swims over to the steps, and Daniel's waiting for him at the top of them. He gets a very wet and very excited hug. 

"Did you see?" Max asks. 

"I saw," Daniel says. He blinks away tears. He doesn't know why he's crying. "I saw, and you were brilliant."

"Good," Max says solidly, and follows Daniel inside, little wet footprints all the way after him. 

&&&

Five. 

Max is three. He's sleepy and full, a solid little lump in Daniel's lap. He's demanded three stories already before bed tonight, and Daniel's accommodating because in the morning this little version of Max might be gone. Daniel might get his seven year old Max back, or he might wake up to an empty bed and two missing cats, and Max having left to pick his life back up. 

Daniel kisses the top of Max's head. "This is the last story," he says, but he'll probably stretch it out until Max falls asleep right where he's sitting. There's no rush, anyway. There's nothing for either of them to do with their days. He turns the pages in their little book about kittens.

"My Daniel," Max says sleepily, a little garbled around his thumb. He sucks his thumb when he's three, and Daniel hasn't any interest in stopping him. He'll let Max have anything he finds comforting. He deserves the little kindnesses. 

"My Max," Daniel says softly. Max is falling asleep in his arms, his eyes drooping. It's time to put him to bed. "Time for sleep, my little Max. Time for bed."

Max is asleep by the time Daniel's carried him through into the bedroom. He doesn't stir as Daniel tucks him in, as he makes sure the nightlights are all turned on and that Pikachu's in easy reach. 

He stands in the doorway for a long time before he turns away. 

&&&

(And Another Time)

Daniel is so, so tired. His body feels heavy. His mum had gone with him to the doctor's yesterday, and they'd stopped at a pharmacy on the way home to pick up his new pills. She'd brought him a glass of water and a plate of crackers to have with the first dose. He'd downed them all obediently. 

They're not magic. He's not woken up this morning feeling happy again, or like his chest is more than the black, sucking hole where his heart used to be. 

He doesn't open his eyes. A tear escapes without his permission. He hates this. He hates feeling like he does right now, hates the nothingness, the weight of his body against the earth. 

"Hey, Daniel, my Daniel." It's Max, sleeping next to him for the fourth night in a row. He's big but he hasn't left. He always leaves but this time he hasn't. He's still here. He strokes Daniel's hair. "It is okay. I am here and your mum's here. We will make it all all right again. I promise, Daniel. You don't need to cry." He strokes his thumb under Daniel's eye, catching Daniel's stray tears. He wipes his thumb on the sheets then curls his hand into Daniel's. He laces their fingers together. "We've got you."

And Daniel, desperate, holds on. 

&&&

(thank you to Lin @andwegogreen for reading these as I wrote them tonight 🧡🧡🧡)

[unknownogre]

“What?!”

The hero looked to Nuvian with a very puzzled expression, the half-elf bard just smirked a bit and gave him a wink. Up until now he was the model of virtue, always helping the hero make the right choice so the people would love him. Telling the best stories so his path stayed true…so the works coming out of his mouth right now were jarring at best.

“Yes, let me toy with him for a while. I think I can get three or four weeks. Two months if I use this new healing spell I’ve been trying to learn on the side. Oh I think his screams will be wonderful…a symphony for the soul if you will.”

Nuvian smile as he moved the villain over to make sure his heart was still bleeding and offering some stabilization without waking him up. The hero was just dumbfounded at the moment.

“I…I was just going to kill him.”

Nuvian didn’t even look back as he made sure to search the Villain’s pockets and remove everything but enough clothes to leave his modesty intact. He moved like he was an expert at this, like it had been done a hundred times and this was simply business as usual. Even his tone was as light and warm as it ever has been.

“Oh, I know, but that was never the plan my dear friend. This was the plan. This has always been the plan.”

The rest of the party was recovering. They had all been just hurt enough to have to stay behind for the final battle leaving only the hero and his trusty bard to face the boss alone. None of them grievously injured…but just enough so they wouldn’t be at full so they weren’t strong enough to walk through the barrier.

“The Plan? You need to talk to me Nuvian. I want you to explain everything right now!”

The Hero panicked, had he just been manipulated this entire time? Were his motivation his own? Panic…worry…dread. He said he’d never be a puppet again. Not since escaping slavery.

“Oh it was simple. Keep you good, get you strong and get to the villain. Kill him, won’t help you feel better. You know it needs to be done though. If you did this, you’d lose part of yourself. Which is fine. You’ve only killed monsters up to this point, mindless hunks of meat that deal out constant aggression. They have no emotions, no anything. They are easy to kill. Sentient beings on the other hand, well that isn’t you cup of tea. Don’t worry, your quest was yours alone, I didn’t need to make you do anything. I was just along to get to this point.”

At this point the Hero didn’t even notice Nuvian hoist the Villain up on their horse and secure them to the saddle. The bard then turned to his friend and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. The Hero’s eyes locked with his friend and oddly enough he found comfort in them. This was the man who had saved his life, who sang by the fire at night to quell the restless spirits that banded together to remove the Villain from power. He was there, it couldn’t have all been a lie could it?

“Listen, you aren’t the only one this bastard has hurt. On top of that he knows things, things no one but me knows he knows. So I want some answers. I get to have fun while I rip them from his flesh. I’m a nice person my dear Hero but I’m not a good one. Do you remember the corrupt mayor that we punished last year?”

The Hero nodded and then froze.

“What did you do to him? We left him in a jail cell and moved on. The city was supposed to do what they needed…but then you had business. I…I watched you get on a boat and leave. We met up a month later.”

Nuvian just smile and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He then motioned for him to sit down in the batter throne they found the villain on while Nuvian sat in the stewards spot.

“Well, I did have business, but I just had the ship drop me down the river and I looped around back. I then hunted down every noble that supported the Mayor, I tortured them to make sure there were no hidden secrets, and then I tortured the mayor till his body gave out. I did some of my best work. A demon actually came up from hell to have me autograph a square of his flesh after his body gave out and his soul hit its final destination. It was really an honor. Shows I’m on the right path. Most polite pit fiend I’ve ever met. Didn’t use my real name of course, not that stupid. We had a laugh over it, all in all a great time.”

The Hero was still stunned but honestly he didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t give the go ahead for this, but he knew if anyone deserved those fates it was that pedophile mayor and his lackies. Reason was starting to return, and the more Nuvian talked the more the Hero realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t know his friend, he just didn’t know ALL of his friend and that was okay because he was finding out now.

“Alright, if that is what you want to do I’m not going to argue or stop you. Come find me when you are done though okay, I want to take you out to the tavern for a drink.”

Nuvian just chuckled and brought his friend in for a hug. He knew the Hero wasn’t naive and thus why he was chosen as a traveling partner and one to help him get to his goal. Find, capture, break and then murder the Villain. The process took three years, but three years of well spent effort.

“Deal.”

The bard said as they parted ways and he turned to head out of the place before the rest of the party could try and press their morals upon them. Nuvian could only chuckle as he head the Villain groan in pain. Oh it was going to be SO much worse in just a day’s time…he couldn’t wait.

'You can't kill him!' 'Ugh I am so sick of this idea that killing this monster would make me just as bad as he is!' 'What? No I'm saying I can keep him alive for DAYS while I torture him' '…'

[imtryingbuck]

Not a dream

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader.

Summary: she knew the Winter Soldier, only meeting again when she hears about Bucky’s pardon.

Word count: 7,479

Warnings: angst(?) murdering rapists. swearing. assaults. fluff. crying Bucky. past torture. suicidal thoughts. mentions of suicide. mentions of a sex ring (mentioned once.) mentions of rape (not Bucky or reader) 

Masterlist

“I’m innocent your honour.”

“You was caught with the murder weapon in your hands as well as being at the scene of the crime.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I found them like that?”

Y/n was sentenced to prison for twenty five years for murdering two men, she tried to justify her actions by telling the courts that she only killed them because they were rapists but apparently it was wrong of her to take the law into her own hands, who knew?

Little did they know that she had taken the life of just over sixty rapists.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

“So Y/n, when are you out of the shit hole?” Rogan asked as she sat at the table where Y/n was shuffling cards.

“Soon. Got twenty more years to go.”

“How long have you already done?”

“Five.” Looking around making sure no one heard her, she leaned further across the table to the woman. “Look RoRo first rule of prison is that you don’t ask people what they are in for or how long they are doing.”

“What really? I keep asking people.”

“It’s like pointing in cemetery, it’s disrespectful.”

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

“She’s fucking with you with.” Kandi laughed as she came over to the duo, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

“Not about the cemetery thing.” Pointing a card to Rogan. “Dis-respect-ful!”

Rogan had been in prison for six months, Y/n took the woman under her wing after seeing the poor girl getting harassed, everyone was quick to leave her alone. “Noted.”

“What about you? I’ve got three years left.” Kandi asked as she was pulling a card away from Y/n, just to wind her up.

“Hopefully next year.”

“NO!” Kandi laughed as Rogan jumped in her seat as Y/n screamed. “You two can’t leave me, I’ll be all alone in this big scary place!” She then throws herself onto the ground.

“L/n get off the ground!” A guard shouted, she does as she’s told and salutes the guy.

“Prick. Anyway I’m only joking, I can’t wait to see the back of you both.” Going back to shuffling her cards she looked up at Rogan. “You need to keep your head down and you might get an early release.”

They have a game of cards whilst Rogan and Kandi talked about their plans for when they get out. Kandi kicked Y/n’s leg and nodded in a direction, Rogan was confused but didn’t want to ask.

“RoRo.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember, always keep your head down.” Before the woman can answer Y/n stands up, fix her clothes and walks in the direction Kandi had nodded in.

Kandi quickly packs up the cards and shoves them into her pocket, swinging her legs over the bench. “When I tell you to get down, you do it.”

“Why? What’s happening.”

“Just watch our crazy little friend.”

Rogans eyes stay focused on Y/n as she makes her way across the yard and walks up to a woman that she knew had only arrived a few days before, with the distance between them she couldn’t hear what the two women were saying.

“Get… down.”

As the words come out of Kandi’s mouth Rogan watches as Y/n punches the woman in front of her, the two start fighting. Everyone begins to drop to the ground as the alarms started blearing, Rogan flinches when the guards start to shoot, not like Y/n stops her assaults on the woman - only stopping and throwing her hands up in the air when the other woman stops moving.

“We’ll she her in a month or two.” Kandi says quietly as the guards start rounding them all up.

Four months.

She was in solitary confinement for four months, Y/n was no stranger to the six by eight box, the warden had gotten fed up of her behaviour so he cut her yard time in half - only allowing her to have half an hour of fresh air a day.

Not like she cared.

The woman she had attacked played a role in the pain and suffering Y/n and many more had endured, she was a well respected agent who took great pleasure in hurting others especially Y/n. It was as if it was fate that the agent was being sent to the same prison as Y/n was in - not like she believed in things like that, but fate nonetheless.

“Y/n!” She only had that as a warning before Kandi jumped over the railing and landed on her. “Fuck I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too.” Y/n wheezed out. “But get your fat arse off me.”

“‘M not fat.”

“No but that arse of yours is.”

“Stop flirting with me, I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

“We’re married…”

“Not anymore, I divorced you when you was in the hole. Sorry.”

“And there I thought you’d wait for me.” Finally standing up Y/n looked around, frowning when she couldn’t see Rogan. Asking Kandi where their friend was, she went from being happy to be back in the wing to angry.

“S-she was attacked two weeks ago, she’s in medical.”

“Who?”

“Y/n…”

“Who Kandi.”

“You’ve just gotten back.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

Sighing and shaking her head Kandi said the name of the woman who had attacked their friend Y/n spun around in the direction of the woman’s cell. The alarms were quick to go off and the guards making their way in to the wing, an angry Y/n being dragged out.

“I’ll see you soon.” She shouted to Kandi, the latter just nods and makes her way back to her cell muttering idiot under her breath.

It’d be another four months since she’d see anyone again.

Y/n tiptoed her way over to where Kandi and Rogan was sitting at their bench, the other inmates raising their eyebrows as she puts her finger to her lips. They had all grown accustomed to her weird behaviour and how quickly she can go from laughing to beating someone up.

“Give me all your money!” She screamed behind the two friends, Rogan jumped whilst Kandi didn’t flinch.

Making her way to her seat she smiled at Rogan who happily returned the expression, she looked at Kandi and noticed she wasn’t looking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Kandi whispered into Rogans ear, Rogan then looked between her two friends nervously. “She said she’s not talking to you.”

“Why? Buttercup don’t be like this.”

“She said that you’ve been gone for a long time and things have changed.”

“Changed how? Nothings changed Kands, I promise I won’t go back in the hole.”

“You said that last time! And the time before that and the time before, oh and guess-“ Kandi snapped.

“I get it. I get it okay? I’m sorry alright. I just couldn’t let Anderson get away with hurting our RoRo.”

“I know but you promise all the time Y/n, you’ve been in the hole more times than anyone here and that’s saying something.”

“I like it, kinda feels like I’m home.”

“Don’t be such a dick Y/n, I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” It was her turn to snap, smoothing out her hair she apologised. “Look I’m really sorry Kandice, I swear to you I won’t do anything to get me into trouble- no I mean it honestly!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And just like that everything was fine between the pair. Kandi and Rogan told her everything that had happened in the eight months she was in solitary, which surprisingly wasn’t a lot other than a couple of fights happening.

Y/n’s left eye twitched as she stood in front of her cell. Someone had come into her place and trashed it. The whole wing went quiet as they all saw her standing there still as if she was a statue.

“Who?”

“Y/n, remember what you promised me.” Kandi said from the side of her.

“Who Kandi?”

“Y/n-“

“WHO FUCKING TRASHED MY CELL!” Everyone flinched as she shouted. She was getting angrier the longer everyone remained quiet.

“That would have been me, sweet cheeks.” The voice made her skin crawl. As she turned around she saw the guard who made it his sole mission to torment her after she turned him down.

“You-“

“Y/n, you’ve just gotten out.” Kandi hissed under her breath.

“Fucking-“

“Y/n!”

“PRICK!” His smile made her want to kill him right there and then. “But… it’s okay, I get it. No I really do.” Leaning over the railing she smiled at him. “Since catching your wife getting her brains fucked out of her by the fucking mailman - the same man she left you for, you’ve been real lonely, I hope you enjoyed my underwear around that small piece of useless skin that you call a dick.” The whole wing erupts in loud cheering - even some of the guards laughing - Y/n walked into her cell and started cleaning up.

The next morning the trio made their way to the rec room after having their breakfasts, sat at a table playing a card game Y/n caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the tv screen from the corner of her eye.

Her breathing picked up and her palms started to sweat, all she could see was so many different memories flash in front of her. It was like she was right there in the base alongside him. Memories she tried so hard to keep locked up right at the back of her mind under lock and key came flooding back. She could hear someone call her name but she couldn’t pin point where the voice was coming from or who by. Only snapping out of her memories when she felt a hand smack her across the face.

“Shit… Y/n I-I didn’t mean to do that.” Kandi stuttered, looking between Y/n and Rogan fear evident in her eyes.

“It’s-I’m okay. You smack like a girl by the way.” Chuckling nervously Kandi apologised but Y/n waved her off. “I need to get out of here.” She whispered to her two friends.

“We can go outside.” Rogan offered.

“No I mean I need to get out of prison, preferably like now.”

“What are you going to do, walk up to the warden and ask if he can let you out earlier?” Kandi laughed.

“Do you think he would?”

“No you idiot!”

“Why? I’m well behaved.” The girls in front of her raise their eyebrows in unison. “Okay maybe I’ve not been the best inmate but I can be good.”

They all knew that was a lie.

“Y/n be rational, you escape you’ll be wanted, you’ll get caught and have more years added to your sentence.”

“No because I’ll leave and then I’ll come back once I’m finished doing what I need to do.”

“You-I-Rogan deal with her.”

“I erm… Y/n you’ll be in so much trouble.”

“I’m doing twenty five years Ro, can’t get in more fucking trouble than that. Look I’ll be gone for a few days and I’ll hand myself in, they’ll probably give me an extra year or two which is nothing really. But I need your twos help.”

Kandi knew her well enough to know that she was going to escape with or without their help, despite not liking it she knew Y/n wouldn’t do anything without a reason. “Why?”

“I need to see someone. Kands I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. So please help me.”

“Fuck. Fine, okay I’ll help you.”

“I’ll help too.” Rogan smiled.

“No, you can’t ruin your chance at an early release.”

“I’m helping.”

As Y/n watched the two girls argue about whether or not Rogan was allowed to help she came up with a plan. Gaining their attention she told them the plan, and off they went.

“This is such a bad idea.” Kandi whispered watching Y/n climb through the tiny window of the guards locker room.

“It’s a brilliant idea.”

“Just hurry up!”

“Stop distracting me!”

Finding the locker she needed, she opened it up and searched for car keys, hanging them out of the small window to Kandi she climbed out. Kandi was about to unlock the car when Y/n wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll come back I promise.”

“Why? You could be free and have a life.”

“Like you said, I’ll be wanted and I’ll end up getting caught. Plus all I’ve ever known is a life in prisons so I won’t do good out there in the real world.” She shrugged. “I’ll see you in a few days. Oh, Kandice?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful.”

Keeping an eye out she helped Y/n get into the boot of the car and locking it again she ran over to the window and climbed in to put the keys back, Rogan was waiting for her when she came back out and made a phone call - using the phone that Y/n asked forced someone to borrow them.

“Hi, is this Mr Boyd? I’m sorry to say this sir but your apartment has been broken into. Your neighbour rang the police. Yes. That’s fine sir.” Not even five minutes ago by when they see the guard running past their hiding spot and driving away.

“The crazy bitch has done it.” Kandi laughed, wrapping her arm around Rogans shoulder she kisses her friends head.

Y/n had to bite her lip to force herself not to scream as Boyd drove like a maniac, she kept banging her head and it was starting to hurt. As the car finally pulled to a stop she slowly opened the boot door before he got out and locked her inside. Only climbing out when she figured the coast was clear, she falters when she makes eye contact with a child playing across the street - the kid waves and giggles at her. Putting her finger to her lip she smiles when the kid nods.

Hiding behind the wall she waits for Boyd to leave which wasn’t long, she breaks into his apartment. First thing she does is make herself a sandwich before sitting on the sofa, putting her feet on the coffee table and watch tv - it was nice to watch something without people talking loudly in the background. After showering she walked into his bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe in hopes there was still clothes from his wife. Luck seemed to be on her side because there was a few clothes left.

Looking at the photo of Boyd with who Y/n assumed was his parents she smiles. “You trash my place, I’ll trash yours.”

Within minutes the whole apartment was trashed. Not a single room was left unharmed by the bat she was using.

Stealing some money she found she left the apartment and made her way to the bus stop. Standing outside of the library with people walking around her not knowing who she was or the fact that she had broken out of prison, she went inside.

“Hi.” Leaning over the counter to see the name tag more clearly. “Paige, I would like to use a computer.”

“Do you have a library card?”

“I don’t I’m afraid.”

“You need a library card.”

“To use a computer?”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t have one and I really need to use it.”

“I can give you one now.”

“I don’t want a card, okay. I’m never going to come back here so it’s pointless, I just need the computer for less than ten minutes.” Y/n had to bite her cheek in order to not shout at the poor girl who was just doing her job.

“But I’m not allowed.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Paige nods and takes her over to where the computers were and used her login details, reminding Y/n that she only had ten minutes she rushed back to the desk.

She’s done within minutes.

Going back up to Paige she asks for directions which the girl offers, she thanks her and hands over twenty dollars that she stole from Boyd’s apartment. “For the computer.” She informs when the girl frowns.

The walk to her destination took longer than expected due to having to keep ducking down alleyways and into shops when the police went by, she knew the guards would have realised that she was gone by now and that there would be officers looking for her.

She had to admit the building was rather impressive.

“Excuse me miss, you need to sign in.” The man said from behind the desk.

“Oh silly me, my boyfriend told me that I could just go straight up.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Tony Stark.”

“He’s married…”

“Yeah, I’m his mistress. Don’t tell the wife though.” She winks and signs her name. “Can I go up now?”

“Y-yes miss.”

“Thank you. Oh, which button do I press? Normally he does it.” Thanking him once again she makes her way to the elevator and up she goes.

Following the voices she stood outside a room where the Avengers were sitting around laughing and talking. She sees him. She doesn’t realise that everyone sees her and stops talking.

“Who are you?” A red head said.

Taking that as her signal she walks inside, her eyes still on the man she broke out of prison just to see.

"I had to see this for myself. To know it's true.” All their heads snap to the person she was looking at.

Bucky.

“Buck… do you know who this is?” A blond man said as he sat further up in his seat.

“I-yeah, her names Y/n we were at the same base together. W-what are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I wanted to see this for myself.” A small smile on her lips, she started to pick at the skin around her nails starting to feel stupid for what she’s done because he didn’t seem too pleased to see her.

“You left me.” Bucky whispered.

“I-I know but I tried to get you out, I swear.”

“You left me there Y/n!” Before anyone could react Bucky had Y/n pinned to the wall by her throat and began squeezing. “We promised each other that we’d get out together! We promised.” His eyes filling up with tears.

“I tried James! You wouldn’t come with me.” Hearing that Bucky loosens his hold around her neck. “I got into your cell but you wouldn’t listen, I tried to get you to stand but you wouldn’t move, y-you broke my arm James. My opening was closing an-and I had to take it and I’ve regretted it every day but I did try I swear.”

His hold on her neck loosens until he’s just holding her, tears starting to fall from his pretty eyes, regret consuming him when he looks at the mark already forming on her neck, regret from hating her from the moment he found out she had left him there to rot, regret and anger at hearing he had broken her arm - hurting the one person even the Winter Soldier couldn’t hurt. “I-I-“

Y/n silences him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulls him into her. Memories of her holding him in this way flashing through their minds as Bucky clung to her.

The only sound coming from the once lively room was Bucky’s muffled cries and Y/n apologising.

“Oh by the way Tony I’m your mistress.” Y/n informed him as she pointed her fork in his direction.

“What?”

“I told the guy downstairs that I was your girlfriend and he told me you’re married. Which honestly I don’t think I can be in this relationship anymore so it’s over.” Everyone chuckles aside from Tony who’s still trying to figure out what’s going on.

“So Y/n, what have you been doing since getting away from Hydra?” Natasha asked. Bless their little hearts they tried to introduce themselves to her but she knew exactly who was who beforehand.

“I-fuck this is the best meal I’ve had in five years, thanks Sam. But anyway I was moving around a lot, may or may not have killed some agents that I knew were Hydra. So yeah not much really.”

Ever since Y/n showed up he couldn’t take his eyes off her, she looked so different yet the same, she was still the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. When he was told she had escaped he felt different emotions, he was proud that she had gotten away from the horrors they were subjected too and forced to commit, he was angry that she left him behind since they had promised each other that they’d get away together and try to live a normal life - whatever that meant for the two of them. He was devastated at the fact she had left him behind, he thought that everything they had gone through together and the feelings they had for each other was all lies.

He got beaten for days after she escaped because he attacked the guards when they tried to stop him from going to her cell, he stood there at the doorway expecting to see her sitting on the wrecked mattress with a pretty smile on her face or at least her laying there with bruises after a beating but it was empty other than the mattress and disgusting toilet.

Bucky started to believe that she was dead just because he couldn’t believe that she left him on his own. For the two years he was there without his partner, his only friend, the woman who he had fallen in love with despite their surroundings he never put up a fight, he did everything they asked of him and more, he didn’t care if he died on missions - hell he wanted to die just so he could finally see Y/n again.

But here she was, sitting right next to him laughing along with his friends, looking just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and never let go again, he wanted to kiss her just the way they use to whenever they were alone and knew that no one was watching.

“Right, well I best be off.” Y/n spoke bringing Bucky back to the present.

“W-what?”

“Yeah sorry, I’ve gotta go somewhere before I head home.”

“I’ll take you.” Everyone could hear the desperation in his voice but he didn’t care, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet.

“I-okay. It was nice meeting everyone.”

“You can come back whenever you want.” Steve smiled, Y/n nodded her head knowing that she couldn’t but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Saying her goodbyes, Bucky took her down to the garage and ever the gentleman he opened the car door for her. Telling him the address of where she wanted to go, he didn’t question it just driving to the destination. He noticed that every time a police car went by that she put her head down when he asked she just shook her head and smiled at him.

He followed behind her as she searched the rows of headstones, he sees her face light up when she spots the correct one she was looking for.

Kneeling down on the damp grass she placed her hand on the thick stone. “Hey beautiful, yeah I know I’ve not seen you in five years but I couldn’t get here. I’m sorry. Oh I want you to meet someone.” Waving Bucky over, he stands by her side with his hands in his pockets looking at the name, date of birth and death. “This is James, the man I told you about. Bucky this is Evie.”

“Who is she?”

“I found her two weeks after I escaped Hydra, she was along seven other women they… they were in a sex ring. I managed to get them all out and got them to safety, I know the other girls are in protection and are now safe.”

“W-what happened to Evie?”

“The dark thoughts got too much for her, I didn’t get there in time to save her. She had taken her own life. I let her down after I promised that I would always be there.” A dry laugh falls from her mouth as she wipes a tear away. “But then again I’ve never been able to keep my promises, have I?”

“Y/n-“

“It’s true though isn’t it? I’ve got two girls back at home expecting me to keep a promise I made and I don’t want to break it but I really don’t want to go back, you know?”

“You have kids?”

“Fuck no! Jesus Bucky, me as a mum? Can you imagine? Terrible.” She laughs though her heart aches at the image of her being a mother, she wanted kids but that was before Hydra, before being sent to prison for killing the two so called men who had took it in turns to rape Evie. Don’t get it wrong, she didn’t regret doing it and would do it again in a heartbeat but she knew she could never be a mum now.

“You’ve always been caring Y/n.”

“And? That doesn’t mean-you know what? It doesn’t matter, I need to go otherwise I’m going to be in even more trouble than I already am. But it was good to see you again James, it really was. I hope you all the best.”

Bucky grabbed her free hand as her other was on the headstone. “You don’t have to go! You can stay with me at the tower an-and you could be a part of the team.”

“I’m not a hero James. Never have been, never will be. I’m the person you and your friends go after, I destroy everything.”

“No, no you’re a good person Y/n, I know you!”

Putting her hand on his cheek she shakes her head. “No you don’t.” Her face lights up very quickly when blue and red lights go by. “I’ve gotta go now James. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay there with you. I hope you all the goodness in the world.” Standing on her tiptoes she presses her lips to his in a quick kiss. “One for the road.”

Bucky stands there motionless as Y/n presses a kiss to the headstone, giving him one last smile before walking off.

The warden went bright red in the face as he shouted at Y/n. She couldn’t see what the problem was as she came back. She went back to court and her defence lawyer told the judge that she had only escaped so she could say goodbye to a dear friend, and that she had come back willingly and she didn’t run like most would.

The judge handed her an extra eighteen months to her twenty year sentence.

Kandi and Rogan saw her two months later after she came out of solitary confinement, both of them instantly wrapping their arms around her and refusing to let go.

When Bucky got back to the tower that night he went straight into his room and refused to speak to anyone, he opened up the wardrobe and grabbed his backpack from the back, moving to sit on his bed. He found the dark red notepad and held it close to him, he remembered the day he got it - he was on a solo mission, as he was about to leave the office following the man that was trying to run away when a dark red notepad caught his eye, picking it up he flicked through the empty pages before putting it in one of his many pockets. Getting back to the base in the early hours of the next morning he kept it hidden along with a pencil he had stolen, once in the safety of his cell he began writing Y/n’s name over and over again, he then wrote all the little facts that he could remember from what she told him about herself. He kept the notepad with him at all times when he wasn’t on missions and when he was on ice he kept it hidden in his mattress.

Since Steve found him in that rundown apartment building and everything that followed Bucky didn’t read what was in the notepad, it was too painful for him but now that he knew she was alive he found himself reading what he wrote all those years ago.

He soon fell asleep with the notepad clutched closely to his chest.

A couple of weeks later the team were once again sitting around in the living room, when FRIDAY put the tv on and told the team they needed to watch the news.

“The prison behind me holds some of the most dangerous women in the country, one of the inmates who was sentenced to twenty five years for murdering two men escaped last month.” The reporter spoke, none of them understood why FRIDAY thought they needed to watch that was until a photo appeared on the right side of the screen. “Y/n L/n escaped and was on the run for two days, remarkably she walked back into prison and handed herself in. L/n has already served five years of her sentence when the esca-“

Steve paused the screen, all their eyes trained on the mugshot of the woman who showed up to the tower. A large smile on her face with no look of remorse behind her eyes as they took her photo. Bucky sits there and shakes his head as he remembers wondering why the meal Sam cooked was the best she had in five years, or when she mentioned that she hadn’t been to see Evie.

“Did you know?” Wanda asked him.

“No but it makes sense now though.”

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, so Bucky explains. “I wonder who she killed.”

“I don’t know but I’m going to visit her.”

Steve went with him to see Y/n but was turned away due to her being in solitary, the warden smirked as he told the pair that they could come back in two months to see her.

The trio was sitting in Kandi’s cell when a guard called for Y/n, with a huff she went to see what they wanted, her eyes squinting when they said she had a visitor.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have someone here to visit you.” He said sarcastically, unlocking the door so she could come out. Putting the cuffs on her wrist he gave her no time to try and walk freely as he started to pull on the cuffs. Leading her down to a visit room he pushed her inside once the door was unlocked.

“There’s no need to keep pushing me you-“

“You, what?”

“If you hadn’t interrupted me you’d know I was going to call you a cunt.”

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, don’t you.”

“Me? Never.” He goes to open his mouth but closes it, he just smiles at her instead and leaves the room. Turning around she raises her eyebrow at seeing Bucky and his friends on the other side of the table. “Fancy seeing you guys here, did you get lost?”

“No, we didn’t get lost.” Bucky says fiddling with him metal fingers.

“Oh, it’s just because I don’t get visitors so.” She trails off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in prison?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” She shrugged.

“Not important? You murdered two men!” Y/n frowned at the way Bucky raised his voice at her, hating the way he looked at her as if she was a monster.

“Two men who deserved it! They raped Evie.” She snapped, smacking her hand on the table. “I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it and you know it.”

Bucky frowns and instantly feels guilty for raising his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Are we done here?“

“Did you really escape just to see me?”

“Yep, stupid I know.” Before Bucky could respond Tony spoke up and asked how long had been added to her sentence. “Eighteen months, why?”

“Cap, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah but will it work?” Y/n frowns as Steve and Tony continued to have a conversation between themselves, giving Bucky a questioning look he shrugs - not once taking his eyes off her.

“What are you two talking about?” Bucky asked them.

“Getting mouthy here out of this place.” Tony points over to Y/n, raising his eyebrow. “In the correct way.”

The door opens and before anyone could speak the guard comes in and drags Y/n out of the room saying “times up.” Bucky clenched his fists at seeing her being manhandled, Steve put his hand on his arm in hopes to calm him down - giving him a look that asked him not to do anything stupid.

A week later Y/n was told she had a visitor, with an annoyed huff she followed the guards, not even making a single comment as they tugged on the cuffs wrapped tightly around her wrist. In the week that had passed since her first visit, she couldn’t understand what Tony said - why would they want to get her out? What would they want with her? What would be the point in letting someone like her out in public when all she’s done is kill people?

Once again she’s pushed into the same room as before when she looks up she sees Bucky clenching his jaw and another man sitting next to him. “Back again?”

“This is-“

“Nick Fury, yeah I know who he is.” She cuts Bucky off. “I was currently in the middle of finding out what kind of flower I am based on my personality, so can we speed this up?”

Fury chuckles whilst nodding, pushing a folder across the table he gestures for her to sit. “You need to sign these papers.”

“What are they?”

“You sign these, you’ll be agreeing to you coming into SHIELDS custody.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Y/n you’ll be free-“ Bucky says.

“But I wouldn’t be would I?”

“Alright you won’t be in prison-“

“Yet I’ll be in a cell-“

“You won’t be.” Fury cuts in. “You’ll do the rest of your sentence under SHIELD, meaning you’ll work for us, help us stop Hydra and other organisations that are threatening to our world. Sign this and we’ll get you out of here within a few days.”

Bucky gave her a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod but she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to sign, she’ll just be moving from one prison to another regardless of how they dress it up of what she’ll be doing for them. “Y/n?”

“I have two conditions.”

Fury sighs and rubs his eyes. “What are they?”

“Kandi and Rogan.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends, I want them out too.”

“I can’t do that Y/n.”

“Then I’m not signing.”

“Y/n they’re in prison for a reason.” Bucky tried.

“Petty crimes, the both of them. Kandi’s got three more years and Rogan can get out in a few months, it’s not hard to pull some strings.”

“They’re criminals.”

“So am I.”

Fury looks at Bucky then at Y/n. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“If they aren’t following me out of this shit hole then I’m not coming Fury.”

“You’re already the biggest pain in my backside.” He mumbled, Bucky chuckled as Y/n smiled proudly. “I’m gonna make a phone call, what’s their last names.”

Telling him their names she watched as Fury left the room leaving her alone with Bucky who had yet to take his eyes off her. She looked everywhere other than at him. He squinted his eyes at her as she tried to suppress the smile that wanted to make an appearance. She wasn’t going to back down - she knew that, Bucky knew that - but she was cracking and he knew it.

“Just give in.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, you know you want too.” She didn’t need to look at him already knowing he had a smug smile on his lips.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned over the table, his hand reaching out to hold hers, her eyes snapped from the stain on the wall to him. “That’s cheating.”

“You’ve never been good at that game.” He smiled softly. “If Fury can’t get your friends out of here, you’ll be an idiot not to sign these papers Y/n.”

“I can’t just leave them here, not after all we’ve been through.”

“I get it, I do but you’ll be wasting your life away.”

“Never had much of a life before anyway.” She shrugged, flipping her hands over so their fingers would link together. “I’m really sorry James.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you there, for not going back to the base earlier, for not telling you the truth about.“ she gestures to the room they were in. “Just everything. I’m sorry for everything.”

Bucky feels his heart tug at her words, he forgave her the second he laid eyes on her again after seven years without seeing her. He forgave her when she explained, so he didn’t understand why she was apologising again. “W-what do you mean when you said for not going back to the base earlier?”

“I-I found us a safe place to call home it was off grid and in the middle of nowhere, it was perfect for us. I went back to get you, I hoped that you would listen this time.” She chuckled. “I got inside and it was chaos, the agents were dropping like flies and I wasn’t even the one doing anything, but anyway I get to your cell and it was empty, an agent shot me in the chest and told me that you had gone rogue, that it was a stupid idea to send the Soldat to kill his best friend but I thought she was lying and you were killed.” The agent she was talking about was the very same one she attacked in the yard, her face dropped as she came face to face with the person she shot in the chest and left for dead.

“You-you got shot in the chest? Y/n!”

“What? I’m still alive aren’t I?”

“But how?”

“Because the thought of you still alive kept me alive.”

“Funny.”

“Hilarious.” She winked at him, once again he rolls his eyes at her. “I’m joking, I don’t know why or how I survived but I did. But anyway a week later I find the two men who hurt Evie and killed them, then got caught, got arrested and then sent here.”

Fury comes back into the room just as Bucky was about to say something. “All three of you will be released tomorrow morning as long as you sign these papers.”

“Tomorrow? But it’s sponge cake for dessert tomorrow.” She frowns, both men give her a deadpan look. “Sponge cake!”

“Well don’t sign and stay here then.”

“You was meant to say ‘don’t worry Y/n I’ll get you a sponge cake’ and I’ll then go ‘oh no it’s fine Fury’ and then you was going to say ‘no, no it’s fine, you deserve it for being the absolute best’ but no you had to ruin it.” Fury’s lips twitched and she could see that he was trying not to smile, Bucky on the other hand was having to bite his fist in order to stop himself from laughing.

“You going to sign or not?”

“The girls walk free?”

“Yes.”

“Where do I sign?”

Kandi and Rogan looked confused when their cell doors were opened and the guards told them they have five minutes to get their things, thinking they had done something wrong and were getting moved they frowned when Y/n stood in front of their cells with her own backpack slung over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Kandi whispered as they stood behind Y/n, her and Rogan were holding hands, both nervous about what was happening.

“Do you trust me?” Y/n asked turning around to the pair.

“Of course we do.”

“Then don’t worry.” The doors came open and they were walked towards the large gates, the warden made a comment under his breath which Y/n raised her eyebrow to him daring him to say it louder but he put his head down. Y/n stepped outside first smiling when she saw Bucky standing there with the rest of the Avengers and Fury. Frowning when she realised that the girls weren’t right behind her. “Come on.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’re free.” Both her friends frowning in confusion. “I got you out. Fly my pretty butterflies”

“Is this a joke?”

“Nope. You can stay if-“

“No! We’re coming.” They both rush out and run up to her.

“So… now what?” Y/n asked Bucky who looks at Fury.

“We go to the tower and these two need to sign some papers and then they can go and live their lives.”

“Right. Well let’s go then.”

Sam and Wanda lead the two girls towards the jet with Y/n following when Fury calls her name and holds out his hand.

“Sponge cake! Knew you loved me Nicky.”

After a long hug and saying goodbye eight times Kandi and Rogan were taken to their families, leaving with a promise that they’ll see each other again.

Bucky couldn’t sit still as Y/n was in a room talking to Fury, his knee kept bouncing the longer he waited, he ran his fingers through the short strands of his hair tugging lightly in annoyance. Nearly four hours later Steve came and sat next to him, both sitting in silence - that was until Steve broke it.

“Did you love her?”

“I did. Still do I guess.” Leaning forward on his knees he looked to the side at his best friend. “Is that stupid?”

“No.” Chuckling softly, Steve leaned back in his seat. “I still love Peggy and she married someone else and had a family. It’s not stupid Buck.”

“They could never break her, you know? Even with the chair and I think that’s what drew me to her. She helped me remember things, always reminding me who I was after it was my turn in that fucking chair.” Bucky paused and wiped his hands down his face. “She told me she came back for me and this whole time I thought she was dead.”

“Buck…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I-I just wish things were different.”

Steve didn’t know what to say so he put a reassuring hand on his best friend back and let the silence take over once again. An hour later Y/n and Fury emerged from the room, Fury greeted the two super soldiers before leaving the three alone.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked worriedly.

“I’m good, just had to tell Nicky Boo all my deepest darkest secrets.” She smiled although it wasn’t easy bringing up things that she had tried to keep hidden, Fury put his hand on hers when it started to shake as she told him the things she had done.

“Nicky Boo?” Steve questioned, amusement lacing his voice and face.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he likes his new nickname.” She shrugs, laughing along with the two men.

“Right well I’ll let you two catch up. Welcome to the team Y/n.”

“Thanks Steve.” As the blond walks away Bucky once again couldn’t take his eyes off her, and like last time Y/n looked everywhere other than him.

“You really have a staring problem.” She mumbled.

“I’m scared.” Bucky whispered, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

“Why?”

“Because if I look away I’m scared you’ll disappear and this is all a dream.”

Squeezing his hand Y/n steps closer and puts her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily. “It’s not a dream Bucky. I’m right here, I promise I’m not going to disappear.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief at her words, putting his forehead against hers he closed his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, and I’m still so sor-“ She goes to apologise again but Bucky didn’t want to hear it, so he kissed her. Both of them sighing softly as their lips finally touched after so long.

Slowly opening his eyes Bucky smiled. “It’s not a dream.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because normally I wake up just before we kiss.”

“Aw you’ve been dreaming of me?”

“Shut up.”

Y/n burst out laughing as his cheeks turned red, he rolled his eyes before pulling her closer to him and kissing her more passionately than before. Neither one of them knew really what was in store for them but they didn’t care about that, not now that they were back in each other’s arms.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[boxturret]

2003, The Era of Sport, The Era of the Hockey Men

I'll be honest, I wanted to do a big multi part write up in a similar vein to the one I did on the Bohrok Pens, but after getting all the sets in hand I just...didn't have much to say about them. I took a ton of photos but when it came to actually putting a post together I just wasn't having any fun, felt like I'd end up reciting set numbers and other things that anyone can look up on other sites, so screw it. In no particular order, here's my rambling thoughts about the 2003 Bionicle Hockey sets:

They're okay.

Function

The spring part at their core is neat, it's bidirectional, so both ends of the spring are set up in such a way that when its rotated it will return to centre.

There are two configurations of hockey men, they all use the same basic functional parts:

The first kind mounts the spring vertically and by pushing on the head the stick rotates slightly

The second one mounts the spring horizontally and pressing the head swings the stick in a wide arc.

There's four different kinds of sticks, two for each configuration.

Each has a different shape to it to affect how the hockey puck is hit, but in practice the horizontal mount is by far the more powerful of the two.

This one fires pretty straight.

This one is curved so it kinda flicks the puck in the air.

This one destroys everything in its path.

And this one is pretty much the same, but with a slight bend in it.

And that's it really. Despite there being 8 different hockey men across all the sets, there's only those four configurations.

When looking at some of the parts, like the spring and the base, I saw how they were mirrored, and was hoping that maybe you could reverse the mechanisms at the very least, but nope.

Sadly the main wedge parts are chiral, so they can't be flipped around. Which seems rather a shame, having left and right handed hockey men would have added some variety.

Masks

On the topic of variety, one of the more interesting aspects of the hockey men is the masks. This was really the reason I got them. I'm really in to the pre-Bionicle idea of Voodoo Heads, and some of these masks seem like they would have fit in well with that theme.

The hockey men actually use a Tohunga head, the same as in the 01 Bionicle sets, but in light grey. So their masks are completely compatible with Bionicle.

The way they were released though was very odd.

There's 7 different masks, which works out perfectly for the number of sets, 4 canister sets, a two pack, a mess, and the omni man who can be anything you wish:

The masks were on sprues, three to a wheel. The first row of three was on one, the second on another. The seventh mask was released on its own.

What's so odd about the sprues is how...different they are.

The first one has a much thinner wall to the ring, there's no support spokes, and the masks are supposed to be held together with a little 3 pronged bit of plastic in the middle, though none of the ones I got had that part in place. In fact, one sealed set I got that was supposed to come with this ring just had the masks loose, with the bit of plastic along with them. Note how the masks all have horizontal parts jutting out from the mouth peg, that slots in to the mouth of the Tohunga skull, just like a Bionicle mask would.

The second wheel is much thicker, with additional supports along the edges, and three spokes holding everything in place. Now you'd think this would be a later revision, but look at the mouth pegs, they're lacking the parts that lock in to the mouth, meaning they're harder to align properly.

The seventh mask is lacking any sprue marks so I think it was done as a single part and has the side parts on the peg. Its also quite similar to one of the ones on the first sprue, so for a while I didn't know it was its own thing.

They're quite odd. Neat looking though.

Mess

Speaking of the seventh mask, here's the set it came with.

Its best described as a hot mess.

In theory its supposed to be a puck feeder, shooting pucks out for you to attempt to hit, but the motor is so weak, and the construction of the feeding mechanism is really prone to jamming.

It barely has enough power to get through the included pucks, which it just limply drops out of its ramp.

If that isn't good enough for you there's alternate instructions for a...thing instead.

Its super awkward to wind up, and you get seconds of a hockey stick shaped thing flailing around a bit, the bulk of the mechanism itself filling most of the goal on its own.

Its also even more susceptible to jamming than the first build!

Goals

Okay, back in to more positive things, the goal in that last set was a stripped down version of the goals that came in the two pack set, which I think are some of the better things to come from the theme.

Featuring lovely long red axles and a special net, they really look the part! shame about the blue friction split pins, this was right on the edge of when everything fell apart colour wise.

What's better is that if you got the big multi pack which came with the two pack and two of the omni-men, you also got the huge hockey rink base which had special tabs just for locking the goal in place.

The rink is a really cool thing, its made from this milky plastic and they printed everything on the back side, so the prints are viewed through the semi transparent plastic. This makes it look very authentic to how ice rinks really look (I'm Canadian I know these things).

Its huge though, it needs a lot of table or floor space. Its larger than toy hockey rinks, and is getting close to some smaller air hockey tables I've seen.

Couldn't even take a full photo of it easily.

You can fit all the major sets on it, but its pretty tight, but that doesn't really matter that much, as I don't think you'd be able to play the game like this at all.

Really I don't know how playable this game is, even with the rink, there's some sets that are purposefully designed to flip the puck in the air.

Combination Models

Speaking of flipping pucks in the air: the hockey Kaita. Okay I don't have a good link to this part.

I think these guys really highlight the weakness of this system. even when using parts from multiple sets the functions stay identical, the extra parts are just tossed on haphazardly.

Also, even though this one says its a combiner of those two sets, you can make it without touching any part of the second one.

It doesn't come though on this scan, but the face plates in these photos are clearly 3d printed.

Mini Guys

As is traditional, the theme also features several small sets. Its quite confusing as there's a lot of different versions, some come together, some separate, some in bags, some not, but at their core there's 6 figures, two pairs of each size class; large, medium, and small. The larger ones sometimes had goals, depending on the version.

The mini guys all have the same function, which honestly is pretty ingenious, using a Slizer foot to wedge the two feet beams apart on one side and snap them together on the other side to shoot the puck. Honestly its a bit more fun than some of the full sized sets.

The one issue is that hitting them too hard on the softer plastic of the armour piece does feel liable to bend it. Something to look out for, especially with the set exclusive yellow one.

That part came in a very wide array of colours in this one theme.

Female Bionicle M.O.C.s for decades after owe a lot to the hockey-men.

Bottle

And I guess to end things I'll briefly touch on the bottle. Much like the Roboriders and Bionicle sets, they came in canisters, in fact the threading is cross compatible between many of these various canisters.

The canisters always had a purpose, the Roborider's lids could be used in the combiners, the Toa's canisters were an important thing in the story, and the lids represented the suva and could store 7 masks, and the Bohrok canisters represented their hive and doubled as a way of displaying them.

The hockey canisters are functional water bottles.

The nub on top can be pulled out and drunk from. Its a fairly standard water bottle design, though I think more recently its fallen out of favour. the lid is lacking a gasket of any kind however, so the water tightness of this bottle is questionable.

Conclusion

And that's all I have to say about the hockey men of 2003. Turns out it was quite a lot, but it wasn't quite as comprehensive as I was intending. I took a lot of photos that I didn't end up using, so I'll put them all up on my drive HERE. In my attempts to get all the sets I just incidentally ended up with practically all the boxes and cans, which is pretty funny considering all the effort I went through to achieve the same for other themes.

Overall, they're kinda neat, interesting to mess around with a bit, but the system was really needlessly limited and some functions were quite lacklustre. If I had to give them a number ranking it would be an eight point three.

****

I'll leave this post on a bit of a mystery I'm not invested enough to get to the bottom of:

There's an odd amount of inconsistency between how the sets are depicted, whether its a straight image or doing this effect where its a single image projected across multiple screens. I got all the canister sets at once, and they all came with their instructions, so unless the person selling them was mix and matching them, which is possible but seems unlikely with the condition they were in, I have no clue what's going on here. Some match, some are one way, some are the other, its all very odd.

Well, have a nice day.

Ah yes! One last thing:

Like the Slizer boxes, the Hockey Men all come with a nice blank tile to write your name on.

Which is, I believe, a crime in oleg fan circles severe enough to warrant execution.

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

The other day, I was scrolling through Tik Tok when I came across a video talking about a 6 week old kitten who was found trying to take care of a few other kittens who were 2 weeks. They were screenshots, and one of them had a quote saying, "Imagine you're small and cold and scared, but there's smaller ones that are smaller colder and more scared."

I haven't been okay since because it sounds like Yue Qi and Shen Jiu. Their only three years apart, so all I can imagine is a toddler taking care of an infant.

All I can imagine is Qi-ge, who is nothing more than three or four. His an orphan slave and his hungry and cold and scared. When he suddenly finds a baby. His smaller and crying and just like him. Hungry and cold and scared while not knowing why. Then, next thing he knows, his picking him up and trying to comfort the little infant. As Qi-ge holds this little boy who is younger and even more helpless than himself, he decides to care for him.

He is just three-year-old Qi-Ge who decides to take responsibility for an infant Xiao Jiu.

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: Reader x Donnie's V-Card 💜

Hey, guess what?! I do these anonymously too!

This one goes out to a lovely anon! Thank you for your support!

From now until the poll closes if you can prove to me that you voted hassan/mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your chosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Under the cut for spice, but it's not explicit!

Donnie had meant to do this so sweetly. He had a plan. He was going to do exactly what you were supposed to. Despite his proclivity otherwise, he was going to lay out rose petals. He was going to set the mood with lighting that made up for that garish red and avoided the danger and smell of scented candles. He had four different playlists prepared and an algorithm ready to switch based on what tempo best suited the night. He had a multitude of condoms in their different texture and make-ups because there should be a choice and he definitely didn't get overwhelmed looking at the yokai selection. he had lubes of the same, but that had thankfully been an easier choice.

So why were you sinking down his length in the bathroom while he sat on the toilet of all things?

Family.

He wasn't thinking of them.

Friends.

They were the furthest things on his mind.

What wasn't was the start of this intimacy. The romantic plan had gone as discussed. You were both ready to take the next step. You inaugurated the evening with a date. There was light dinner that was walked off in cozy arm and arm. There were the lights of the city and a few breath taking jumps to get your heart rate elevated. Though he had taken you to see the city from above, there was a new connotation as New York sparkled in your eyes.

The moment you turned to share the sight with him, you saw his vision and that was it.

You kissed.

It grew a little hotter.

You whispered against him to take you home.

it was another shot of adrenaline as he carried you straight down the closest underground entrance that led to the lair. You whimpered in his arms as he shot you amorous looks throughout. You mewling thing were all the more ready and he equally so even if there was a certain clamminess to his hands.

You got to his room.

He locked up the door tight.

The roses.

The light.

The playlist.

The assortment of choice.

You were thankful in your saunter and plied him with kisses. It made all the agonizing and embarrassing preparation worth it. Those cheek pecks once again drew heat from his core. His heart swelled. It was his turn for the flood of endorphins and you steering the pair of you to bed was your confirmation that you were game. You wanted him. You chose him.

What sweet validation.

As you teetered on the bed, it began. First Leo, who portalled straight in because only the lab had that kind of anti-mystic protection. You squeaked knowing your misdeed, but to the outsider, you looked like you were doing nothing more than making out. Donnie raged at the interruption, but Leo brushed him off saying he needed back-up in dinner choice. Donnie oh, so kindly reminded him that he had already ate and the date was long logged in the family calendar. Leo not so hopelessly stared at him and second guessed the decision before he was run out. Donnie was left fuming at the door as he added a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign.

"It's alright."

Your voice was sweet nectar.

It beckoned and soothed.

He floated back to you and never reached your lips when the pounding came.

Michelangelo in a tizzy because he'd dropped his ant farm. His latest hobby and the colony has somehow unionized. He spoke of how they were taking over the room with domain expansion ready for the kitchen provision and Donnie screamed over his shoulder for Mikey's to just ready for once in his life. There was a popped syllable and bashful apology before the air hung heavy. The littlest made his review of the three words as loud as possible before he cited comparatively non-nonchalant apologies and annouced to Raph that they were going to war as peace talks fell through.

The oldest brother groaned somewhere not too far away.

A little close for comfort as you shudder where you were beneath your boyfriend.

"I'm starting to realize the others are... right there..."

The first signs of uncertainty flared in his mind, but he could fix this. He enacted sound proofing. He set his entire room to do not disturb. This measure was typically saved for crashing on particularly hard nights, but it was worth it. This was his fault for not remembering how tenacious his family was. He was the one making the best nest for you and his folly had been in placement. Once again secure, you reviewed his preparations with some meter of affection.

There was still a chance.

A kiss.

Shy and sweet that simmered as the burner was on. The heat percolated in bubbling pops of lips leaving for air and little soft moans. They lead further down with your hands shaping his plastron and his at your sensitive sides. Down until your back hit the bed and you pulled him with. His knee slotted between your legs and your heads dipped to share a little more than oxygen.

"PURPLE!"

Splinter's voice was a bucket of ice water in some old time challenge and Donnie could only turn his head before all his carefully constructed provisions were broken through in a second. Mystic prison hadn't been able to hold his father; the man was too powerful for his own lazy right. Especially when he demanded his remote be fixed after the ant army had taken its batteries to power their remote controlled tanks.

Donnie was starting to think he may have to help that endeavor as he marched over to get his dad two triple A's.

You.

You with your kindness.

You with your patience for him.

You talked to his father in the meantime.

Yes, the date was wonderful.

Me and Donnie were planning to spend more time together tonight.

No, we won't be eating dinner with you.

I hope you get the clam chowder you're craving.

When Donnie returned, you looked a little to comfortable on his bed. No longer were you ready to be splayed, but you were sat ready on the edge. A sight of someone in the midst of changed plans, Donnie relegated the union of your love to another night. You would go now and have at it on the battlefield before your war torn bodies enjoyed whatever dinner option Leo presumably wanted instead.

That would be nice.

Be it laying beside you with a sheen of sweat from coupling or conflict, you would look just as radiant.

You finally stood, your face determined, and took his hand to go.

He was putty in your fingertips and only sort of noticed your detour to his table of choice.

Then you were in the hallway where the distant sounds of the fray leaked out.

You didn't go that way.

You turned, presumably ready to get suited up in his lab.

You led him right into the bathroom.

He had been stunned, but you continued to move him.

The door locked.

You worked his fly.

He took a cold seat with a bare thighs on porcelain.

You stripped only the necessary bottom layers.

You prepared yourself.

You prepared him.

Back at where his mind had left him, you had descended upon him with little force. Only the angle was a tricky one, but you were certainly managing. A slow up and down that spread your love out from its fluttering wing beats in his heart to between his legs. The steadily increasing moisture of the right whipping filled the air before you caught him. You shared his distraction with a hopeless smile. You accepted him in all parts, family included and you were his beating heart. It was his pleasure to watch your reassurance slip into little breathy moans and he left behind his place as bystander. In one twitch of his thighs and his hands to your hips, his angle improved and you draped over him to share in the sweetness.

The story for old would include the bed.

it would include the petals.

The gorgeous lit neon.

Playlist number three.

You had full say in the memory he'd print, but this, you framed with the shower curtain in the background, working yourself as hard as you could for him, whispering his name like a plea and your salvation, that part he would leave in for your future generations and he leaned in to make sure you'd agree to it the same way.

[mymegrokosmos]

B specifically asked not to be hurt but it's her bday weekend so instead of listening we are writing Yunho smut on this fine Friday evening. Anyway, uh yeah... best friend Yunho. 🔞

content : mentions of drinking, thigh riding, unprotected sex, slightly dubious consent, best friends Yunho and reader fooling around.

The evening started the way Thursdays typically did. You showed up at Yunho's cramped little excuse for an office, shared with the always courteous San and Seonghwa, to find him the only one working late. San was just packing up when you walked in, Wooyoung perched halfway on his desk chattering away as you offered them both a wave. You weaved your way past them, carefully avoiding Seonghwa's little shelf of lego creations, to drop down onto the corner of the desk Yunho typically had half covered in papers and miscellaneous stationary.

"Fancy meeting you here."

He glanced up from his grading, pen tapping against his bottom lip as he sat back with a sigh when he finished the page. "Hello stranger."

You smiled as he ran a hand through his already messy dark hair. It was always in disarray after these classes. His TA position stressing him out more this semester than it usually did. He was better at managing most of the time but his course load was heavy lately and he'd been staying later and later to finish marking and assignments. The balance wasn't exactly work life balancing and you had yet to see him actually sleep once this week.

He ran a hand over his face when you quirked a brow at him, glancing between him and the pile of papers on his desk. "When are these marks due in?"

"Tuesday."

"How many do you have left to get through?"

"Maybe twenty more? I should be able to finish a few more tonight and then run through the rest tomorrow. Then I can sit down and study for that Stats exam Sunday and help you with our presentation Monday."

"And are you planning on sleeping any time between now and then?"

He sighed. "y/n you know I'm doing my best here. I just don't have time."

You shook your head. "Finish that one and I'll borrow Hwa's or Sannie's desk space to sit down and get through more of our presentation. Then we can go back to mine, since Mingi is definitely not going to let you get any sleep tonight, and I'll help you with the rest of these tomorrow."

He blinked up at you. "You've already done like three quarters of the work on this presentation."

"So it won't be much more when I make up 85% and you have a fresh, functioning, brain to look over everything before the final draft Monday. Plus, you're my best bet at actually passing stats and if we're going to be studying all weekend we can at least get some rest in between. And I have plenty of caffeine."

He groaned. "Please do not even talk to me about caffeine right now."

His leg jiggled and you laughed. "On your fifth americano of the day or something are we?"

He shrugged and held up four fingers, biting his lip. You shook your head.

"I'm not even going to ask. Speedrun your marking, I'll be over there and then I'm buying you a drink on the way back to my apartment. If anyone deserves it, it's you. And maybe it'll counteract some of the blood in your caffeine system."

A laugh and then you both turned to set back about your own tasks.

You hummed softly as you worked, only glancing at the time once you'd finished the last section of the powerpoint. Yunho's fresh eyes would catch a ton of small details you'd missed but that was fine. It was why he was always the final run-through on these things. You cracked your back and stretched, pressing save and closing your laptop. You found Yunho pretty much exactly where you had left him.

He sat hunched over his desk, chin resting in one hand as a red pen tapped against one cheek while he poked his tongue into the other. He was so focused or lost in whatever train of thought he was currently jotting down in the margins of the paper he was nearly done that he didn't even start when you came over. You leaned back against the corner of Hwa's desk and watched. He adjusted the glasses on his face as he finished and you bit your lip as he cracked his neck.

"If you keep doing that one of these days you're going to break something important."

It always made you just a little nervous. He grinned, dropping the pen as both arms came up over his head in a stretch you could almost feel. He flopped back into his chair, legs spread, and adjusted the glasses that had begun slipping down over the bridge of his nose. You just sighed and dropped into his lap.

"Done for the night?"

His forehead dropped forward to rest against the back of your shoulder as you cleaned up his desk, hands resting on your thighs as his fingers drew abstract shapes on your jeans.

"Mhm, if I start another one right now I think my head might just explode."

You smiled and started shuffling his things into a pile. "Help me clean up and then we can leave. I have a bottle of soju or seven with your name on them in the fridge."

His little cheer was muffled against the back of your shirt as you both got up.

It didn't take long to walk to your building, your apartment wasn't far from the building all his classes were in this semester and Yunho's long legs forced you to walk a little faster than you would have alone. His presence did make the dark campus feel a little less foreboding so you stuck close as you headed inside and up to your unit.

He followed you in like he always did, at home here since he'd lived part time in your apartment before he and Mingi moved in together last fall. He was more than familiar. You dropped your things in the living room and headed to the kitchen to see what flavours of soju you had available. There was a selection.

It had maybe been a bad idea to suggest alcohol on an empty stomach.

You found yourself half naked, having lost a round of strip poker or two before the takeout arrived, leaning against Yunho's shoulder as you both burst into laughter for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour. The food was great and you shoved another bite into Yunho's mouth before he could launch into another story.

"Please shut up and eat your noodles before I suffocate. I think I broke a rib just now."

He chuckled, taking the chopsticks from you and scarfing down the rest of the container while you wiggled around trying to get your bones to sit right again. Your ribs and face hurt from laughing and you were pretty sure you'd cried off most of your mascara already. You took a deep breath.

"Why do I ever listen to you? You're so ridiculous, you know that?"

He grinned and you couldn't help the way your eyes drifted to his lips, lingering a little as you reached up to brush a bit of sauce from the corner. His breath hitched and you blinked up at your best friend.

"Okay?"

He nodded.

"Sorry, I should have asked first."

He shook his head, hand coming up to capture your wrist. You knew, in theory, that they were large but the ease with which his long fingers circled your wrist had you staring. This was new. Or was it?

You didn't think you were that tipsy.

"Hey Yun?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you pinch me please?"

He smirked. "I can think of something better."

You blinked. His face hovered closer, moving slowly. You didn't stop him. Then his lips were on yours and oh, you were so not dreaming. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, making you squeak into his mouth and he laughed as he pulled away.

"I can't believe we've never done that before."

You reached up to touch your lips, and then to pinch him.

He jumped. "Yah! Hey! You can just tell me if you didn't like it."

You smiled. "I did like it. I was just making sure I didn't black out and accidentally dream this."

He sighed. "No, we're both still awake. Was that really necessary?"

You shrugged and then you were leaning up to kiss him again. He tasted like soju, what was new there, and the strawberry chapstick Hwa had bought him for his birthday last month. His lips were soft and everything but gentle as they worked against yours. You lit up when his tongue parted your lips and plunged into your mouth, sighing against his lips.

He was a good kisser, you'd give him that. Your hands found his wide shoulders and you braced yourself as you climbed into his lap to get closer. Something about Yunho was just addictive and as long as he was good with where this was going, you didn't want to stop.

He was right, why had you never made out before? You'd definitely gotten drunk and tried other things together over the years. It should have been only natural that this was on the list of experimentation, you'd known him since high school after all, but kissing was just one of those things you'd never dared to initiate with Yunho before now.

His hands were everywhere and you found yourself whining into his mouth when they slid down to cup your ass. He squeezed and you rocked forward, gasping as he adjusted you like you weighed nothing. You let Yunho manhandle you, moving you from his lap to straddling one large thigh. You nipped at his jaw when he pressed your hips down, guiding them over his still jeans-clad leg.

"Yunho." You whined.

It was unfair that he was still so clothed while you sat there in just your underwear. It was a matching set at least but neither of you was really paying attention to that particular detail. You tugged on his shirt and he leaned back to watch you unbutton it, hand coming up to fold behind his head. His eyes were dark as they trailed over you and you could feel the heat pooling in your gut.

"Tell me to stop and we can."

You shook your head. "If you stop now I'm disowning you. Hongjoong is going to be my new best friend."

He laughed and leaned in to press kisses down your neck, humming softly against your skin as you finally managed to get him out of his shirt, shoving it off over his shoulders.

He pulled you back in, one hand on your waist guiding you to rock against his flexed thigh as the other came up to cup your breast. "Do you have any idea how pretty you are like this?"

You hummed. "A mess?"

He shrugged, the hand on your breast moving to unclip your bra in one smooth motion. "For me, yeah, that's hot."

"Mm, because you're the one making me desperate?"

He nodded, head dipping down to catch a nipple in his mouth. You gasped, hand tangling in his hair and he groaned as you tugged when his tongue flicked over your skin.

"You have no idea how desperate you make me. It's nice being the one with the upper hand for once."

Before you could ask what, exactly, he meant by that his hands and mouth busied themselves making it impossible to think. You gave in, only getting a minute to breathe when he flipped you around and pulled you back against his chest.

You leaned your head back, tilting your neck to give his lips better access while his fingers moved to trace your wetness over your panties. He bit down on your shoulder when you gasped, fingers trailing under the fabric to ghost over where you needed him the most. He groaned against your skin and you gasped when one finger slid inside you, slowly sinking up to the knuckle.

"Fuck."

"Mm, too much?"

You shook your head, hand grasping his wrist. "No. No, don't stop."

The chuckle against your neck had you shivering. "Oh, greedy tonight are we? My good girl wants another?"

You struggled to force your eyes open. "Please Yun, feels so good. Fill me up. Please."

He didn't ask again, sinking two more fingers knuckle deep as they continued to pump in and out at his pace. He worked you fast and didn't let up until you were shaking, clawing at his thighs and begging. You were pretty sure you'd started crying and you didn't care, the orgasm that swept over you was worth it.

When you caught your breath enough to whimper his name again he was already pulling out his cock, groaning as he adjusted you on his lap again, legs hooking underneath yours to keep you spread open for him.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you cum."

He was stroking himself with the hand that, moments ago, had been mostly inside you. You forced your thighs to cooperate a little longer as you turned to straddle him properly again, hips rocking as his tip slid along your slit, now slick with your own release. He moaned and you found yourself smirking.

Oh, so this was what he had been on about. It did feel good, seeing him such a mess for you, especially when you had barely done anything.

"Let me, please, don't need to be inside but can I...?"

His pathetic whines had you biting your lip and nodding. "Yes, yes Yun. Use me however you need."

You swear he almost came at those words, stopping to stare you dead in the eye and then he was guiding his length along your slit like a man possessed. He felt so good you let your eyes slide shut, hands anchored on his shoulders as you felt him slip inside.

"Mm... just the tip. Please y/n."

His begging nearly undid you. You nodded, hips rolling with his and then suddenly he was grasping you by both hips and slamming up into you. The size of him knocked the breath from your lungs and he groaned.

"Fuck, shit, sorry. Just felt so good. Couldn't help it."

You rocked your hips a little, testing the stretch, and his hips stuttered. You'd never seen him like this and fuck if it wasn't more than a little intoxicating. The breathy moans, the whines as he held himself still just long enough for you to adjust to the sheer length of him pressed fully inside you.

You both paused as he pressed a hand to your pelvis and you caught a glimpse of him bulging in your abdomen. You gasped, he groaned, and then you were being pressed down into the couch while he hovered over you.

"Please please let me do that again."

You guided his hand, back arching as he slammed into you. You watched as he traced his fingers over the outline, cursing under his breath, and whimpered when his pace suddenly went from manic to man on a mission. He was rutting into you so hard he had to hold your waist to keep you from sliding all the way up the length of the couch but neither of you noticed the way the sofa creaked beneath you with every snap of his hips.

By the time he pulled out, hand fisting his cock as he painted your stomach, you were already seeing stars again. You arched up against him, whining and moaning his name as your hand slid down to your clit, fingers working you through your climax while he caught his breath.

"Who knew all needed was to get railed?" You teased, when you glanced up and met his eyes.

He laughed, sweat dripping down his forehead as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. That set you off and then you were both shaking with laughter.

"At least let me clean you up before we make another mess."

[gyubakeries]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww

a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)

word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.

the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.

hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.

the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.

you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.

yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.

"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."

"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"

you wish you could answer that question.

there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.

and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.

at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?

you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.

you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.

it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.

which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.

you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.

one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.

the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."

hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.

—

"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"

"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."

"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.

"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."

hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.

your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.

"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.

"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"

"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.

the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.

the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.

hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"

"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.

"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.

"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."

"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."

hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"

hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.

hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.

"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.

"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.

as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.

you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.

because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.

jeon wonwoo.

—

[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]

"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.

you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.

he's a doctor.

"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"

but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.

"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"

"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"

a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."

your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."

"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?

"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.

"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."

you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.

dr. jeon wonwoo.

the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.

you know that's far from the truth.

"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.

"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."

you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.

you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.

—

[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]

"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.

thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.

you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.

soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.

the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.

—

"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.

"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"

"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.

"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."

you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."

a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.

"i'm sorry, i should've known-"

"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.

"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."

"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."

"i like blue," wonwoo says.

"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.

the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.

you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"

wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.

"stop."

"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.

"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"

"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.

"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.

"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."

"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"

"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."

—

[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]

soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.

it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.

you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.

it didn't work.

it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.

it was wonwoo who took care of you then.

"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"

you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.

"i've fallen in love with you."

the truth it is then.

wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"

he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024]

"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."

"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."

"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"

"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"

"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.

"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]

"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."

"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"

"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."

"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."

"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."

you let yourself believe him.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."

"y/n-"

"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.

"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]

"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.

"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"

"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."

"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.

"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"

"promotion?"

"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."

the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.

"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.

"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."

"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.

“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."

"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.

"please, y/n, give me another chance."

"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."

"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"

"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"

you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.

you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.

you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.

no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.

the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.

"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.

"you were scared too, weren't you?"

wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.

you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.

"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"

"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."

"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.

"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."

"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."

"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."

"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.

wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.

"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.

"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.

wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.

the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.

you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.

"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.

the last thing you see is his name-tag.

you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.

"i love you."

you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.

you're alone.

you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.

your time is nearly up.

you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.

it's almost over.

and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.

your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.

and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.

otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.

you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.

you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.

you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.

you'd taste the kiss of death.

the timer rings; three minutes are up.

dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.

- fin.

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[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think Gabriel's writing flaws were meant to be intentional character flaws?

It really depends on which flaw you're referring to. Some seem accidental, some seem intentional, and some are the result of the show's formulaic nature (and arguably the writers' skills) holding him back.

Let's start with an example of that last point: Gabriel squanders opportunities left and right while creating the most asinine plans you can think of and only wins in the season four and five finals because of sheer dumb luck. In spite of this, I think that he is genuinely supposed to be seen as clever and creative. That's why you get Nathalie spouting lines like this one from Catalyst:

Nathalie: As predicted, [Lila's] anger will reach devastating heights. Your plan is perfect, sir.

And this one from Risk:

Gabriel: Ladybug never makes a mistake! Nathalie: Neither do you.

And a whole host of other moments from seasons three and four where Nathalie just straight up fawns over Gabriel's brilliance. Even in season five, she still seems to think that he's a genius, she just wants him to give up on winning to spend his final days with Adrien.

You don't write that kind of dialogue unless Gabriel is supposed to be smart or Nathalie is supposed to be a bit of a fool (or, at the very least, someone blinded by love). I think it's pretty clear that Nathalie is not supposed to come across as lacking in the intelligence department and her admiration continues after her "redemption", so the most logical conclusion here is that Gabriel is supposed to be a smart villain. We're supposed to think that he makes really cool and intelligent plans.

The problem is that, if Gabriel was smart, then he'd have won ages ago. The butterfly is simply too powerful for him to lose. If you want to play him as a genuine threat, but also keep his losses believable, then - at the very least - you have to majorly nerf the butterfly. You also need to let him actually plan and scheme, setting up future akuma victims over multiple episodes before they come to fruition. Due to the show's format, we rarely get this. I think that Scarlet Moth and Miracle Queen are the only real exceptions. While they're the rare exceptions, I will note that their existence also backs this "Gabriel is supposed to be smart" read, the formula just doesn't allow him to come across that way.

This issue is why formula shows favor serious one-off villains that get defeated by the episode's end or non-threatening over-the-top comedic villains that return time and time again. For an example of the first, think the antagonists in crime serials like NICS or Sherlock Holmes stories and for the later think of pretty much every villain in Kim Possible or Dr. Doofenshmirtz from Phineas and Ferb.

The reason why formula shows take these paths is that it's genuinely difficult to have a villain that shows up every week and never wins, but who also feels like a true threat. At some point, the villain starts feeling incompetent because they're the ones making the plans. The puzzle masters. That puts them at a strong advantage. For a smart Gabriel to work, the show would need to be way less formulaic and/or his story would need to be much shorter. The butterfly nerf is also a must in my book.

In my intro, I also mentioned unintentional flaws. When I said that, I was primarily referring to the child abuse and Gabriel's general attitude toward his son. The writers seem to be genuinely oblivious to how badly Gabriel came across as the show went on. In the first season or two, I could have given the writers some grace on this topic as Gabriel's behavior could be argued as the cartoonish exaggeration of an overprotective-but-not-abusive parent just like Marinette's parents get to be cartoonishly loving at times and Marinette's crush is cartoonishly over-the-top.

We also had moments like the end of Gorizilla and Style Queen which gave Gabriel a chance to show off his love for Adrien and give it some real narrative weight. After Chat Blanc, that grace was gone and the show would continue to paint Gabriel as worse and worse right up until the season five final where all that terrible behavior culminated in Gabriel... getting a happy ending?

While it's always possible that later seasons will actually address Gabriel's abuse, it's pretty hard to come back from an ending that let him ascend into the light with his wife while smiling and perfectly at peace. That's not the ending that you give to a black-hearted villain who views his son as nothing more than a tool. The only logical read here is that Gabriel was supposed to be sympathetic and he was supposed to love Adrien, just not enough to pick Adrien over Emilie. Why heal yourself and be with your son when you can just die so that you don't have to live without your wife? What a positive and uplifting message for children!

To finish this up, let's quickly touch on the intentional flaws. There are mostly the things that even a five-year-old could pick up on because that is the show's target audience. Gabriel's arrogance, his unwillingness to give up, and his inability to see other points of view are very clearly meant to be his true flaws. He's also apparently supposed to be a creative contrast to Marinette with him being cold mass-production and her being individualism, but the writers kind of forgot to put that into the show. I think Marinette gets five designs and Gabriel gets two, making it somewhat difficult to see one as a font of individuality and one as an evil, mass-market fast-fashion producer. I'm not even sure what kind of fashion Gabriel creates!

In conclusion, Gabriel is as much of an inconsistent mess as Marinette is, which is unsurprising since they're arguably the two main characters. The ones with key roles in basically every episode. That meant that they had to warp and twist Gabriel to make the akuma of the day work even if that akuma made Gabriel look like a monster by doing things like attacking Adrien. It's just a variant of the way they had to warp Marinette into being wrong even if she really wasn't or if it went against her established character. This makes it hard to pick up on the "true" Gabriel, but I've always been of the opinion that he's supposed to read as a smart, sympathetic villain who loves his family, but is driven to evil by grief and an unwillingness to move on. The ending just sealed that read for me even though I 100% agree that this is not the character that they actually wrote. It's just who they clearly wanted to write.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 30 - Recovery

CONTINUATION TO DAYS 13 AND 28 read those or you’ll probably be confused 👍

Hola I have not given up yet 👋 I’ve only got one fic left now and it’s already half-written, and I’m going to do everything in my power to finish it before thanksgiving SO HELP ME. Please enjoy the finale of the animal transformation plot line :)

and forgive me for slipping in one of my Link OCs these are technically his bad guys I borrowed for the fic lol

Warnings: same as 13 and 28, body horror, injury, creepy people.

Ao3 link

Day 13

Day 28

————————————————————

Twilight bolted through the caverns, the others’ voices long gone behind him. The pain in his side only got worse the further he went, but he didn’t stop, tongue lolling, paws pounding.

He had to reach Four. Before it was too late.

The smithy’s cries grew louder as he ran, and Twilight abruptly realized they weren’t Hylian sounds— he couldn’t quite make out what they were over the sound of the water beside him, though. The current of the stream had gotten much faster, water rushing past rocks and frothing at the edges. But Twilight didn’t focus on it much, intent only on reaching Four.

Some measure of sense came back to Twilight as he made out more voices over the water, and he slowed his frantic pace, making an effort to quiet his steps. A different kind of light reflected off the water as he followed a bend in the stream, and Twilight crouched down, creeping hurriedly towards a clump of large rocks. He ducked behind them as he heard voices, then cautiously poked his head around.

Standing on the other side of the now-roaring water was a stone pedestal, partially carved from some of the glowing green rocks around. It was surrounded by a handful of figures in dark green cloaks, carrying lanterns that made strange shadows dance across the walls.

One of them shifted around, and Twilight’s gaze locked on the tiny, struggling figure tied to the stone, frantically trying to free itself. Twilight squinted, moving just a little closer, and sucked in a breath.

A small, rainbow-colored bird was trapped on the stone, fluttering its wings and attempting to peck at the rope with its beak. It was maybe a bit bigger than Twilight’s hand, and Twilight scanned the colors its feathers held, recognizing them with a sinking stomach.

“Let me go! I have no clue what you’re talking about with all this courage stuff!” Four’s voice squawked from the bird, fear creeping in on the edges of his words. “Quit plucking feathers! Will you at least tell me what’s going on? Seriously! What do you want?!”

None of the cloaked figures replied, obviously unable to understand him, and one of them drew forward, raising a hand up.

“Oh goddess Farore... greatest of the Three... grant us your courage as we initiate one of your chosen,” she said, and Twilight startled as he recognized the croaking voice from earlier. “His power will serve us well...”

Her other hand went up, and Four’s chirps grew to a frantic pitch as the long knife she’d drawn gleamed in the lantern light.

Twilight forgot any semblance of stealth and raced forward, leaping across the stream in one huge jump and landing on the other side with a snarl. The cloaked figures whirled around, and Twilight bared his teeth, prepared to fight every single one of them.

The old woman holding the knife seemed unconcerned at his appearance though. In fact, she seemed downright pleased, a gnarled smile stretching across her ancient face.

“Ah, another of Farore’s beloved. She must have taken a special liking to you, clothing you in one of her sacred beasts.”

She swept her hand forward and ropes surged from nearby of their own volition, snagging Twilight’s legs and sending him to the ground before he could do anything. He snarled, fighting against them, but they only grew tighter, and Twilight fell to his side with a grunt.

“Twilight!” Four chirped frantically.

“Oh he’s magnificent!” another voice squealed, and Twilight recognized it as the other voice they’d been hearing. “Mistress may I have him first? Please?”

“You know the rules, sister,” the old woman reprimanded. “Farore has chosen me to partake first.”

The other figure that had spoken drooped, but bowed her head in a nod, and the old woman approached Twilight, her knife still held high.

Twilight snapped at her, struggling fiercely, and the old woman wagged a finger at him.

“Now now, relax. We’re not going to kill you.”

“Right. We’ll only take some pieces of your courageous bodies, and leave you alive after,” the cheerful woman added. “And afterwards you get to stay with us forever!”

Twilight fought much harder against the ropes, but they refused to budge a bit, and Four let out a frantic cheep.

“Twilight, hold on!” he said hurriedly, his beak pulling at the ropes.

“Doing my best,” Twilight growled back. He kept fighting, but made no progress in escaping his bonds.

The old woman with the knife knelt beside him, unconcerned at his snapping teeth, and thumbed a bit of the drying blood off of his muzzle, studying it.

“Yes, you’ll be perfect. A proud, fierce beast. One of the blue-eyes of legend,” she said with a smile. “Never have we had so many true Chosen in our grasp... Farore’s providence is good indeed.”

Twilight snarled, struggling wildly, and the woman raised her knife again.

“Hold still.”

Twilight’s heart wrenched up into his throat, but then Four managed to bite through the ropes holding him, launching himself off of the platform with a cry.

His flight was miserable at best, but he still managed to land on the woman’s head, pecking and clawing at her furiously. She reeled back from Twilight with a shout, smacking at Four, and Twilight strained as hard as he could. The woman’s hand smacked down, hitting Four hard enough that he was stunned, and she snatched him into her gnarled hand with a glare.

“Do not interrupt,” she hissed, squeezing until Four cried out.

Twilight barked in anger, worry for Four strengthening him, and he snapped a few of the ropes around himself. He lunged for the woman’s legs and she shouted again, several of the other cloaked figures sweeping forward. One of them took Four from her grasp so she could wave her hand and fix the ropes over Twilight again, and he grunted as he was rebound and Four was carried away.

“Smithy!” Twilight barked, heart pounding at the sight of the limp bird on the stone. “Let him go!”

“Stop that this instant,” the old woman snapped as Twilight thrashed around, growling and fighting against the ropes. They abruptly tightened, and Twilight’s snarling was choked off, pressure squeezing his already-sore ribs.

“I know the adjustment is hard, but this really will be the best for you,” the giggly woman cooed. “We’ll only take some of your courage now and then, and you’ll live a wonderfully comfortable life with us! Farore will bless us all for our devotion!”

Twilight wheezed, unable to take in a deep breath, his ribs aching and squeezing. He could barely focus on the words being spoken, his head growing fuzzy from lack of air, and he couldn’t stop the pained whine that escaped him.

He had to get to Four, but Four wasn’t moving, and he couldn’t breathe, and these people were too powerful for him to take by himself—

The old woman approached him again, her knife glinting in the lantern light. It was made of some kind of pearlescent material, small rainbows rippling across the tip, and Twilight stared at it as he wheezed for breath, unable to move away.

What he didn’t expect was for the woman to press the flat of the blade to his forehead, the metal cold against his fur.

A familiar biting cold wrenched through him, and Twilight gasped, the cold shooting through his limbs like an icy flood, hungrily spreading and devouring him. The ropes stopped him from thrashing, but he jerked beneath them, a strangled howl escaping his throat.

Oh please not again—!

His limbs began to contort, his stinging muzzle shrinking in, already abused ribs pushed and stretched. It was worse than the first time, his limbs still sore from the initial transformation and the fight earlier, and stars flew and shattered in Twilight’s vision as pain ripped through him.

His howl turned into a scream that rang through the cave, his body contorting and twisting around back into its rightful shape. Legs stretched and fur receded, teeth and ears and eyes that rolled back in his head.

It felt like hours before it finally eased, the cold‘s intensity ebbing, and Twilight abruptly fell still, his breath rattling as tears slipped down his Hylian cheeks.

He might have passed out for a moment, he wasn’t sure. But he was so wrung dry from it all that he barely registered he was back in his rightful body, a shiver wracking through him.

A frightened chirp reached his ears, and Twilight pried his eyes open, a blurry spot of color moving in his vision. A flicker of relief hit him as he saw Four moving around, but then a hand grabbed his chin, tilting his head up.

“Hm, maybe not so courageous after all,” the old woman frowned, flicking some of his tears away. “But Farore has chosen you, so we will submit to her will.”

She dropped his chin, then lifted up his hand, Twilight shuddering as she traced the triangles on his skin.

“Courage touched. We’ll take this first,” she said almost hungrily.

Twilight’s hand was stretched out, ropes tightening on his wrist and pinning his arm to the ground. The woman raised up her knife again, and Twilight pulled weakly against the ropes, his strength sapped. All he could do was watch.

Twilight looked up as Four let out a cry of dismay, and the knife plunged down towards his wrist.

Then was knocked from the woman’s grasp by a boomerang.

The woman shouted as the blade fell with a clatter, a furious expression on her face. Twilight panted weakly as someone shouted, and loud steps thundered by, blurs moving around. Two smaller ones split off, and were suddenly in front of Twilight, looking at him in fear and worry.

“L... Legend?” Twilight wheezed at the blur of pink in his vision, and the rabbit nodded, the otter beside him quickly patting Twilight’s forehead.

“Yep, and me too. Hold still, we’ll have you out in a second,” Wind reassured, and he and Legend got to pulling and gnawing on the ropes, snapping them with their teeth.

Twilight followed their wishes and kept still while they worked, not really able to move anyway. It didn’t take Legend and Wind long to snap enough ropes for him to get loose, and Twilight tried to get his eyes to focus as he surveyed the scene.

Time and Warriors were attempting to keep the cloaked figures back, Wild helping them where he could. Sky clung to Time’s back, occasionally shooting out a paw, and Hyrule hovered closer to Twilight, still looking wobbly, but keeping his footing. All of them still looked battered and shaken, but they were putting up a fair fight.

Especially thanks to the teenager Twilight didn’t recognize in the middle of the fighting, damp hair falling in his face, his expression a mixture of determination and annoyance.

“You,” the old woman seethed, glaring at the teenager. “You’ve caused us nothing but trouble, boy.”

“Yeah a lot of people tell me that,” he shrugged, then threw himself out of the way of a sudden thrust from a knife.

“Who..?” Twilight started to ask, and Legend snorted.

“We picked him up on our way here, he fell in through the ceiling and nearly squashed Wild. Said he’d figured out there was trouble and came to help. Pretty sure he’s the hero of this world, even though he said he wasn’t much of one. He’s almost as crazy as the champion.”

Wind snickered. “Yeah, but I like him.”

Twilight struggled to sit up, body shrieking in protest at the movement. Legend and Wind gave him worried looks, but Twilight refused to be held down, and struggled upwards, breathing hard as he managed to get to his knees.

“Four,” he realized suddenly, jerking his head around. “Where’s—”

“There,” Wind said, quickly climbing up to sit on Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight looked where he was pointing, and he began to stumble towards the stone pedestal where Four was struggling to stand. The smithy chirped as they approached, something like confusion on his face, and Twilight realized with a flicker of annoyance he couldn’t understand him anymore.

“Yeah it’s me and Wind and everyone and also another guy, please don’t ask right now,” Legend replied with a sigh, obviously able to understand. “We need to go.”

“Here,” Twilight urged, holding out a hand, and when Four struggled his way over to it, Twilight picked him up and cradled him gently to his chest. He could see blood on Four’s feathers, and felt a sharp prick of guilt.

“Mistress, they’re escaping!” the giggly woman shouted, and Twilight just barely managed to duck away from a sudden thrust of a knife, the old woman looking extremely displeased.

“You’re ruining the ceremony,” she said with a cold anger, and lunged forward again.

Twilight dodged, but Wind cried out, the pearlescent blade nicking his side. A short ripple of magic shot outwards, and Wind dropped from Twilight’s shoulder like a stone, another pained shout coming from him.

Panic shot through Twilight and he quickly moved to stand in front of Wind, sucking in a breath as he saw Wind’s form ripple unnaturally, then convulse, a strangled cry ripping from his throat.

He began to elongate, his limbs stretching out, tail shrinking away. Twilight dodged another slash from the woman, and shouted for assistance as Wind slowly shifted back into his proper form, the curse peeled away from him agonizingly slow.

Someone shouted as Legend growled, and despite his injured paw, he launched himself up at the woman, sinking his teeth into her arm. Her green eyes flashed and she threw him aside with a squeak, horrible cracking and shifting noises coming from where Wind lay.

She turned her sights on Twilight again as Wind’s cries turned to a scream, his body almost finished shifting back, and Twilight leveled shaky fists at her as Four puffed himself up and tried to look menacing.

The woman stepped forward. “You will not—”

The unfamiliar teenager lunged in front of Twilight, blocking her attack with a swipe of his own dagger. He shot a glance back at Twilight, worry on his face as he looked at Wind, then dodged another swipe.

“Wretched child!” the woman shrieked, and the teenager in green leapt over a burst of magic, his hair flying in his face.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouted, and Twilight stumbled back, dropping to his knees beside Wind’s trembling form.

He was gasping for breath, eyes shining with tears, and Warriors suddenly ran over, urgency in the neigh he let out.

“Can’t understand you,” Twilight frowned, and Warriors jerked his head in Wind’s direction, then twisted around and motioned at his back. “You... want to carry him? Can you handle that?”

Warriors snorted, and that was enough of a confirmation for Twilight.

He ran a quick hand over Wind’s head, a bright swirl of blue on his forehead, and the sailor winced.

“O-ow,” he moaned, still trembling, and Twilight did his best to sit him up, his own arms shaking as he moved him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lift him up onto Warriors’ back, and Warriors seemed to realize it, quickly crouching down on mostly-steady legs.

“Wind, can you hold onto Wars?” Twilight asked, and the sailor gave a bleary nod, still shaking.

Twilight did his best to shove him up, and Wind slumped on Warriors’ back, tangling a few shaky fingers in his mane. Warriors winced but didn’t otherwise react, and carefully stood, Four chirping worriedly. Warriors neighed something in response, and Four made an irritated sound, squawking as he flapped a wing.

Another cloaked woman ran up, but the new teenager kept her back, his blade glinting in the light of the rocks, and he shot a glance back at them all.

“Get going! Didn’t you hear me?” he shouted, then reeled as he was struck on the shoulder.

He recovered quickly, but Twilight had seen blood, and he knew the kid was right. This wasn’t a fight they were going to win.

As if to emphasize the point, Time suddenly ran over and shoved Twilight towards the entrance to a tunnel he hadn’t seen before, barking something at him he couldn’t understand. Twilight stumbled, but regained his footing, holding Four to his chest.

Wind swayed where he clung to Warriors, but he hung on tight, Warriors keeping as steady as he could. Time ended up staying beside Twilight as a furry crutch, Sky giving him and Wind concerned looks, and they all rushed for the tunnel, furious shouts coming from behind them.

Twilight noticed a bloody scratch on Warriors as they reached the tunnel, blood marring his pale side. He whinnied something behind him, and Hyrule stumbled forward, his flanks heaving as he tried to keep up. Relief flickered through Twilight as he saw Legend limping beside him, and Four cawed happily.

“Coming through!” Wild’s voice yelled, and the unfamiliar teenager ran forward with the squirrel clinging to his shoulder, a bomb in his hands.

They all charged forward as the teenager chucked the bomb behind them, and an explosion shook the floor, rocks falling where they’d been standing moments ago.

Time dropped back and snatched Legend up by the scruff, and Warriors began shoving Hyrule, the teenager Twilight didn’t recognize helping with pulling the deer forward across the rocky ground.

The tunnel curved and Twilight saw light ahead that steadily grew brighter. A furious shout came from behind them as they ran, something echoing through the tunnel that was lost in the sound of it collapsing.

The ground shook and he held tight to Time’s fur as the wolf practically dragged him forward, rocks crashing down, his head spinning, the light growing bigger and brighter by the second.

The teenager shouted, Time lunged forward, and they all spilled out from the tunnel into a grassy clearing, the whole thing collapsing in behind them.

Twilight landed on his back with a wheeze, Time and Legend panting beside him. Four was still resting on his chest, feathers puffed in alarm, and Twilight gasped for breath, every bit of him aching and sore.

They’d made it out.

Twilight wheezed and closed his eyes, exhaustion he’d been ignoring hitting him like a moblin.

Oh thank Ordona.

“That’ll hold them for a while,” the new guy panted, swiping some of his hair from his face. He gave Twilight a weary grin when he looked at him. “This isn’t the only exit, but it’ll take them a loooong time to get to the other one.”

He let out a loud whew, then flopped on the ground beside the others, Wild hopping out of his arms. The champion sniffed at his shoulder, his head tilted in concern, and Twilight saw a line of blood on the teenager’s neck, dripping into his hair.

“Hey you okay? That looks painful,” Wild asked, and the teenager (or Link, probably) waved him off.

“Ah, this? I’ll be fine, no worries,” he said with a grin, though Twilight saw the edges were strained. “Just a scratch.”

The dust from the collapse began to settle, and Twilight wearily raised his head and looked around, making sure everyone else had made it. Warriors was sitting close by, saying something to Hyrule flopped beside him, the two still panting for breath and looking a bit worse for wear. Wind had been slid off his back, and Sky was curled up beside him, the sailor pale and looking like he was going to be sick. Wild was still sitting by the unfamiliar teenager, and was saying something to him, scratching at one of his ears.

The teenager caught Twilight’s eye again as he looked at him, and gave him a half-grin.

“Not too bad of a day’s work,” he said cheerfully, as if they hadn’t all just escaped by the skin of their teeth. “You alright there? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Wild wasn’t the only one who immediately looked over at Twilight, and Four let out a worried chirp, getting to his feet and cocking his head as he looked at him.

“I’m alright,” Twilight reassured weakly, and Legend let out an exhausted scoff.

“Yeah, sure. We all heard you screaming back there, don’t start that.”

“You all aren’t exactly in... pristine condition, either,” Twilight huffed, and let his head fall back to the ground.

Time whined from nearby, and Twilight let him sniff over his sore and aching body, even putting up with the cold nose Time accidentally poked his neck with. Finally he seemed content enough with his examination, and Time sat back down beside Twilight with a huff, Twilight trying to ignore the darkness wavering on the edge of his vision.

He blinked dizzily, conversation floating over his head and past his ears without turning into anything recognizable. A groan from Wind was perfectly legible though, and guilt gnawed at Twilight as he tried to look at the sailor.

Wind was still deathly pale and shaking, and Warriors was saying something to him, Sky translating. Wind shook his head to whatever it was, then pressed his face against Warriors’ neck with a whimper.

If you hadn’t run ahead, this probably wouldn’t have happened, his mind whispered, and Twilight closed his eyes, headache growing suddenly worse.

“Rancher? You all right?” Legend’s voice asked from somewhere close by. Twilight mumbled a response, his head spinning and darkness tugging at him.

Four chirped quietly, nuzzling his head against Twilight’s cheek, and something soft settled itself on Twilight’s other side, patting his shoulder.

“Go ahead and rest, Twi,” Legend said from his side, his voice surprisingly soft. “We can handle things.”

That and Time pressing himself against his side were the last things Twilight was aware of before darkness overtook him.

(...)

It felt like both an eternity and barely a moment when Twilight awoke with a start, eyes shooting open as he lurched upright... and nearly clocking his forehead against Time’s.

“Whoa, easy there pup,” Time said, catching his shoulders when he pitched forward.

Twilight blinked a couple times, willing his fuzzy vision to clear, and realized he was in a bed, soft sheets over him, early dawn light rippling over the blankets. He raised his head, but barely took in the room as he focused on Time’s face, squinting as he noticed something off about it.

Then he startled as he realized Time wasn’t a wolf anymore.

“Huh?” he asked blearily, and Time cracked a smile, gently pushing him back down again.

“Good morning to you too. Our new Link and a few of the others found our belongings, including the Master Sword,” Time explained, brushing some hair out of his face. It looked more brightly golden than normal, and Twilight saw a few strands of white streaked through it. “Sky said we could use it to shift back, and he was correct. It still wasn’t pleasant, but I believe it went much more smoothly than you or the sailor’s experiences.”

“Huh,” Twilight repeated, and Time smiled again.

“Are you hungry? The inn here has excellent food. If you’re not up for that you should have some water at least, you’ve been out for more than a day,” he replied quietly, a flicker of worry in his eye.

Twilight’s stomach growled before he could answer, and he and Time both smiled.

“I’ll fetch you some of both,” he said with a pat to Twilight’s shoulder. Time then stood up a bit stiffly, stretching his arms behind his back with a grimace. Twilight heard a crack, and Time straightened, then walked quietly out of the room.

Twilight properly studied the room then, tired eyes glazing past curtains and a picture of flowering tree on the wall, then zeroed in on another bed in the room.

Wind was curled up under the sheets, still looking pale where he lay. Four was flopped beside him, the tips of his hair and cheeks shimmering with color that matched the feathers he’d been sporting. Warriors was snoring quietly in a chair beside them, his hair paler than normal, with a light-colored spot right in the middle of his forehead.

Twilight slowly sat up, grunting as his sore body protested, but he managed to get upright enough to see the other bed in the room as well. Sky was the one the most under the blankets, his hair color paler with some darker bits scattered throughout, but Wild and Legend were both under them somewhat as well, Wild’s hair streaked with silvery-blue, Legend’s back to fully pink. Hyrule was at the foot of the bed, just as deeply asleep as the rest of them, green flecks scattered across his face, two larger spots on his forehead.

The only one unaccounted for was the new kid, but when Time came back a few moments later, he was following behind him, grey-green eyes fixed on Twilight.

“Hey, you’re alive!” he said with a grin, grabbing a chair and sitting on it backwards. “That’s great, we were starting to worry.”

“I’m alright,” Twilight reassured, taking a bite of the warm bread Time had brought him. Oh that tasted good. “Just... tired.”

“You and everyone else, it’s been nothing but sleeping around here,” the teenager said with a glance at the others, his grin fading. “You guys had it really rough down there, I’m sorry.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” Time said, eating his own piece of bread. “I doubt we would have made it out of there without you.”

“Yeah... maybe. I just usually keep a better eye on the Farore weirdos, and right when I think they’re pretty much just down to stragglers, they somehow get twice as active and kidnap a bunch of people and torture them,” he said miserably. “I thought I’d taken care of them. I thought their leader was gone, and yet she was down there carrying on like always.”

“I’m certain that’s not your fault,” Time said grimly. “The reason we’re all traveling together is likely to blame.”

“You think it was the Shadow?” Twilight asked quietly. Time shrugged.

“I’m not discounting it. But,” he said, taking another bite of bread, “theories can come later. At the moment, all anyone needs to be doing is to rest. We deserve a break after all of that.”

Twilight smiled. “I agree.”

The other Link looked like he was bursting with questions, but he nodded, and bounced his leg as he drank some kind of juice from a cup. Twilight studied him a bit, looking at his unkempt hair and mossy green tunic. He looked about like all the rest of them, and Twilight couldn’t help his sigh, finishing off his bread. Yet another kid dragged into this mess.

A yelp from across the room interrupted his thoughts, and all three of them startled and looked over at Wind, who had shot upright with his eyes wide.

Time stood to go over to him, but Warriors was faster, waking up and going to Wind’s bedside with a worried look. He said something quietly as Four also sat up, and the three of them looked over at Twilight at the same time.

Relieved smiles lit all their faces, and Twilight gave them an exhausted one in return.

“Help me up,” Wind urged, and Warriors complied, helping Wind stand and supporting him as he wobbled over. The sailor shimmied up onto Twilight’s bed, then settled himself beside him with a smile.

“Hey sailor. Feeling better?” Twilight asked, and Wind hummed.

“Better than I did. I have no clue how you go back and forth between Wolfie like that,” he said tiredly, and Twilight sighed.

“My transformation isn’t nearly that painful, and only takes a few seconds,” Twilight replied, slinging an arm around Wind. “This... was not the norm.”

“That’s good to know,” Four said as he slowly walked up, parts of both his arms wrapped in bandages. “...I’m fine, Twi, I see you looking guilty.”

Twilight lowered his gaze, and Wind squeezed himself a bit tighter against his side.

“I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have run ahead,” he murmured, looking at his hands. “If I’d waited for you all, we might’ve been able to make an actual plan that didn’t involve... everything this one did.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything if you’d waited, Rancher,” Four chided, sitting on the bed. “They we’re already hurting me before you showed up, and I would’ve been changed back with that knife. Plus, who knows? They might’ve taken off my hand if you’d taken too long.”

“While I don’t appreciate you tearing ahead, it did end up being the best for Four,” Warriors added, crossing his arms.

“There’s no use dwelling on it, it’s in the past,” Time finished, and faintly smiled. “Besides, if we’d all rushed ahead, or even all held back, we might not have met our other hero here.”

The new Link blushed a little, but also smiled, a grin pulling at uneven teeth.

“True. Though... I still don’t totally get the whole time-traveling-multiple-guys-named-Link thing,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “The guy who was a rabbit explained, but we were kind of in a rush...”

“Well there’s not much more to it than that, but once everyone is awake I’ll give you a more detailed explanation,” Warriors assured, and Wind grinned.

“And then we can give you a nickname!”

Wind started listing off ideas, each more terrible than the next, and Four squeezed Twilight’s arm as he looked over at him.

“Seriously Rancher, thank you,” he said softly, and Twilight nodded at him, feeling a little better. “I know you’re feeling torn, but it was in the heat of the moment. I doubt you could’ve made a perfect decision.”

“I still left the others behind,” he murmured, and Four sighed.

“Yeah. But they handled it. And so did we. And so did Wind. Try not to worry about it, we’re all safe now.”

Twilight breathed out, and tried to heed Four’s words. He didn’t exactly regret running ahead, but he’d gotten himself and Four hurt in the process, and Wind as well, thought somewhat tangentially, and he knew he’d be thinking about the whole situation for a while yet, wondering what he could’ve done better.

But... Time was right. It was in the past.

And they’d all made it out alive.

Twilight finished off his bread as he listened to the others chat, a hesitant sort of peace settling over him. The new guy was saying something about a swamp monster and how he’d ended up meeting Zelda, and Twilight settled back to listen, a smile pulling at his cheeks. Wind nestled a bit more tightly against his side, setting his head on his arm, and Four also leaned against him, listening contentedly.

Twilight looked around at them all while they talked, Sky and the others on his bed beginning to stir, everyone injured and marked by magic in some way.

But they were all back to normal. All recovering.

Twilight smiled, and closed his eyes, resting his head over Wind’s.

All safe.

[felassan]

"During early development of The Veilguard, BioWare experimented with multiplayer once again, however, Epler insists that there was never a mandate from parent company Electronic Arts to implement any specific online or live-service modes; the devs were just exploring different ways to tell the story. Eventually, BioWare ditched the multiplayer aspects to focus solely on creating a single-player experience, aiming to meet the lofty expectations of the fandom. “We’re a studio built to make single-player RPGs,” Epler says. “And more importantly, I think a lot of people have come here to build single-player, story based RPGs. So, it just kind of ended up making more sense to make this game the way it is versus a multiplayer game.” With the transition back to a core single-player emphasis, many of The Veilguard’s systems had to be reworked, including one that Bioware is most famous for: the companion system. Unlike previous Dragon Age games, The Veilguard only lets players take on two companions instead of three — more in line with how the party system works in Bioware’s other big game, Mass Effect. However, when developers were testing out multiplayer for the game, it had the classic four-player party setup where the player and three other friends could join. But now that The Veilguard was strictly a solo affair, BioWare wanted to focus on the main protagonist, Rook, and their companions. Banter between the party was essential to get them to feel like fully-realized characters. In previous Dragon Age games, whenever the player traversed the world, non-playable party members would talk to each other about current events or their interests, fleshing out their perspectives and constantly evolving the dynamic between the team. This was usually reserved for just two characters at a time, however, with the third generally meandering off to the side. “One of the biggest things we got slammed on at Dragon Age: Inquisition’s launch was people felt there wasn’t enough companion banter because it wasn’t firing as often,” Epler says. “So much of our companion banter is built around two characters interacting. When it came down to it, it felt like [three] was the right number when we were building the game.” And while it took some time to come to a final number of active party members, Epler insists that initial experimentation with multiplayer didn’t impact the decision in the end. “It was not a relic of the multiplayer at all,” he says. “In fact, one of the few things that survived was the four-person party until we tried it out a lot and realized that three made the most sense for the game.”"

"Lessons to be learned While Anthem’s poor reception wasn’t the sole reason for BioWare’s decision to focus on creating single-player, narrative-driven games again, it was clearly a catalyst. One of the biggest complaints about the game from fans was the lack of traditional storytelling and characters that made the studio revered in the first place, especially coming off the back of one of the developers’ weakest links, Andromeda. “We were alienating parts of our fan base that had been with us for a long time, and not successfully bringing in anyone else through the multiplayer side of things,” Epler says. “The reception to Anthem was very clear in that we needed to get back to those aspects that we did well, and multiplayer became an obstacle in the way of doing just that.” [...] The biggest lesson that BioWare learned from Mass Effect: Andromeda’s botched launch was the importance of polish. The game became the butt of jokes and a slew of memes for its hilarious visual glitches, a legacy that leaves Epler feeling torn. “I do think Andromeda was a better game than its reception suggested, but on the flip side, I don’t think the reception was unfair,” he recalls. “At the time of launch, there were technical issues and things that didn’t work.” Avoiding these issues again was of critical importance to Epler and the rest of the team, especially as they sought to get back on players’ good graces. Another lesson that BioWare took from critics of Andromeda, and Inquisition too, was that sometimes building a massive open world doesn’t mean much when it isn’t filled with meaningful content. At the time both games were being developed, open worlds and big explorable spaces had become an industry trend, even in games where they failed to serve the overall vision. BioWare still wanted players to have a sense of discovery in The Veilguard, but also didn’t want to settle for an open-world that the developers couldn’t realistically fill. “We had been doing Dragon Age pre-production on versions of Dragon Age 4, and we did have a version that was a lot more open-world,” Epler says. “But again, we ran into the same problem of how do you make it compelling or narratively interesting? The reception to Andromeda definitely solidified that.”"

"Staying focused on what’s next With Dragon Age: The Veilguard now complete, BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions. The developers’ full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project. While Epler won’t divulge anything about it, he does weigh in on whether BioWare would take another crack at multiplayer. “It’s possible to tell a strong story in a multiplayer game. Final Fantasy XIV does an excellent job,” he says. “Multiplayer also introduces some complications around world states. I make a giant choice in my world, and the world changes.” For games like Dragon Age, the consequences of a player’s choice are intended to impact the narrative moving forward, but for a multiplayer game, it isn’t quite as simple. For example, one player could choose to save a certain person from their fate while another could do the opposite. “It’s funny, because the games I play the most on my personal time are actually multiplayer games,” he says. “But when it comes to crafting these worlds and crafting the experiences, I love the focus that single-player can give you.” Epler also comments on the possibility of some sort of Dragon Age collection, similar to the Mass Effect Legendary Collection that updated the original games for modern consoles in 2021. Having been at Bioware since the first Dragon Age game back in 2009, he would love to see a collection come together, but remastering the first three games in the series would be challenging as they were originally designed using EA’s proprietary game engines. The first two used their own custom Eclipse Engine while Inquisition used Frostbite, a platform famously used to build the Battlefield games. The Mass Effect trilogy, on the other hand, used Unreal Engine, a more flexible and widely popular engine used in game development, which made the remastering process much easier for the Legendary Collection. “I think I’m one of about maybe 20 people left at BioWare who’s actually used Eclipse,” Epler says. “It’s something that’s not going to be as easy Mass Effect, but we do love the original games. Never say never, I guess that’s what it comes down to.” Shifting focus from multiplayer integration to fleshing out the solo narrative ultimately allowed BioWare to finally get The Veilguard to the finish line. “Once [the companions] become the core, all the other pieces start falling into place,” he says. “Statistically, a lot of people just take the first two companions they meet, and that’s their party for the rest of the game. I would say for The Veilguard, try different characters, try different combinations, and get outside your comfort zone.”"

[source]

Rolling Stone interview with John Epler: '‘Dragon Age: The Veilguard�� Is Bioware’s Best Game in Ages. Here’s How They Got There'

Veteran Bioware creative director John Epler looks back on the lessons learned from the studio's failed multiplayer game

Some key excerpts:

"BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions" for DA:TV

The devs' "full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project"

[source]

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Twelve

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Injury/blood mentions. There is also some smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.5k

A/N : aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh what am i doing??

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN

Master List

Chapter Twelve

Again, you found yourself waking up in his arms.

You felt more exhausted than you had before falling asleep, like you were suffering from an emotional hangover from everything you’d been through, everything you’d told Billy. Your eyes opened for a few seconds and then closed again, pressing your face against his bare chest and listening to the steady drumming of his heart beat.

Billy shifted and let out a gentle sigh, his hand softly stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “go back to sleep.”

And you did.

Even though you wanted to ask him why he wasn’t asleep, even though your head was still full of unanswered questions about what he future might hold, you fell asleep.

And Billy kept hold of you, making you feel safe despite everything you’d learned about him and everything you’d revealed about yourself. 

It should have scared you or in the least made you pause, but it didn’t. He’d done terrible things, just like you had, but you were certain he’d never hurt you.

You woke again a few hours later. The awful pressure in your head had subsided a little, but you’d spent the night flashing from one restless dream to the next, half-remembering then before slipping into the next. 

Slowly, you lifted your head so you could look at Billy, and you shifted up the bed so you didn’t have to crane your neck.

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling at you.

“Hey,” you replied, managing your own small smile. Then came the lingering silence as you looked at him, wishing you could read his mind and know what he was thinking about everything you’d confessed to him. But, since you couldn’t read minds, you decided to ask. “About last night, what I told you -”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, placing a hand on your cheek. “Not to me. I’ll never judge you for it and I’ll never tell a soul. Your secret’s safe with me. You’re safe with me.”

He sounded so certain, like he’d been up all night thinking it through, reaching the conclusion that he didn’t care that you’d killed people. Reaching the conclusion that he’d keep you safe, no matter what.

“What about you? The Homeland Agent -”

Billy cut you off with a kiss, a soft and tender meeting of lips that left you feeling breathless.

“Do you want this?” He asked quietly, against your lips, his eyes shut tight. “Do you want me?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest and your breath caught. The familiar war of fight versus flight began to war inside you but, quickly, you realised you didn’t want to do either.

“Yes,” you finally dared to confess, giving in to weeks of agonising and trying to force away your feelings. “But -”

He stopped you with another kiss, his body pressing closer to yours, urging you onto your back.

Everything quickly faded away, becoming nothing more than static in the back of your mind. You couldn’t deny it anymore, you didn’t want to deny it anymore; with Billy you felt safe, seen. With Billy you almost felt... loved.

Your lips parted, eagerly allowing him to deepen the kiss as you welcomed the press of his body on top of yours. Wrapping him up in your arms, you let your hands run down his back, fingertips mapping out the faintly raised lines of scars that littered his skin.

One of his hands gripped your hip while the other still remained on your cheek, adding a strange sort of tenderness to the moment, even as you parted your legs and allowed him to settle between them. The increasingly familiar press of his erection against you drew a sigh from you. There was nothing you wanted more than him in that moment, chequered pasts be damned. Billy was quickly becoming an oasis, a place of refuge, something you didn’t want to survive without.

A moan slipped from your lips and into his as you felt the slow, steady grind of his cock between your legs. The motion caused your slip to ride up your thighs and the friction from his boxers, the only thing separating him from you, had you instantly feeling desperate and needy.

But Billy didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, in fact he seemed heavily invested in a hot and heavy make out session, enjoying the fact that you were both finally on the same page.

“Fuck, kitten,” he groaned as you nipped his lip with your teeth.

“Billy,” you muttered in breathless response, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips captured yours again and you both started to lose yourselves to each other. Seconds, minutes, time slipped by unnoticed. Everything was him and the way he was touching you, the way he was kissing you.

“Kitten,” he groaned against your lips, an invitation and a plea, a hint of what was to come if you let him continue.

You barely realised that your hand was gripping his ass through the fabric of his boxers, fingers digging into supple flesh, as your hips moved against his.

His hand slid up your body from your hip, over your slip to your chest, his thumb teasing the hardened peak of a nipple through the soft fabric. Another moan escaped you, betraying just how turned on you were, how close you were to coming before he’d even really touched you. And that little sound was enough to have Billy doubling down, his hips rocking faster, his kiss turning more insistent.

“Billy,” you gasped, “fuck, Billy -”

He silenced you with his tongue, slowly but surely becoming the same dominant man he’d been the first time you’d allowed him into your bed.

“Mine,” he groaned against your lips. “You’re mine.”

Fuck. You were. In that moment and perhaps in every moment that would follow after. You were his, even if you still didn’t want to admit it. Your grip on him tightened and he let out a grunt, obviously enjoying the fact that you were finally being hands on with him.

As his lips moved to your neck, you angled your head, letting him kiss and suck your skin.

Finally, you got it. Finally you understood that first time together because, now, you were the one that wanted to hold him tight, wanted to leave him bruised and covered with the marks of your affection. Now you were the one that wanted to hold him tight and fuck him hard, and make him forget about anyone who ever came before you. Finally, you understood how difficult it was to keep those urges in check.

And, all the while, his hips kept moving, his clothed cock grinding against you, the fabric of his boxers soaked with your arousal. The sounds spilling from your lips more than giving away what he was doing to you and, suddenly -

“Oh - fuck!” You gasped as you came like some horny teenager.

Billy pulled back from your lips so he could look at you, biting his lip as he watched your mouth go slack and let out the sweetest moan he’d ever heard. The movement of his hips became slower and more pronounced dragging out your orgasm until you felt like you were nothing more than a needy puddle beneath him.

His thumb traced your lower lip and he grinned down at you, looking very impressed with himself.

“I love making you come,” he groaned.

“Then do it again,” you answered back, breathlessly.

Before Billy could even respond, your fingers were at the waistband of his boxers, eagerly tugging them down. There were no thoughts in your head beside what you wanted; him. All the doubts and fears were gone, your mind quiet except for the longing inside you that you now knew only Billy could sate.. You didn’t want to think, didn’t want to stop and consider just how messy and dangerous your life was about to become because, if you did, you knew you’d tell him to stop.

But, unfortunately, that choice was taken away from you.

A heavy knock on the door started you and had your whole body going tense beneath him, your heart threatening to stop as your mind raced over all of the terrible possibilities. 

You expected the door to be kicked in, for armed men to enter your apartment and either dragBilly away from his crimes or you for yours. It was the police, the FBI, the Homeland Agent. Someone was coming to get you, to tear you away from each other, and if one was caught, the other would suffer just as much.

Then you heard your name, accompanied by another angry knock.

Jenna.

Even Billy breathed a sigh of relief - though from where you were laying, that seemed awfully premature.

“Wake up!” She called through the door, knowing you well enough to know that you tended to sleep until noon before and after working late nights.

“Think she’ll go away?” Billy whispered, barely managing to bite back a grin as he spoke.

It was funny, you supposed, though you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh; your body was still coming down from the orgasm he’d given you, you had his boxers pulled halfway off his ass, and his cock was still painfully hard between your thighs.

“No,” you finally sighed.

Grudgingly, you let go of him. Billy didn’t seem to want to move until you gently pushed him off you. He let out a disappointed huff and dropped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Climbing out of bed, you pulled your slip back down and took a deep breath, not wanting to appear like you’d just been about to be fucked within an inch of your life by the wanted man in your bed.

You opened the door slowly, but that didn’t stop Jenna from barging straight in.

“I brought breakfast,” she said, making her way to your kitchen, and placing a bag down on the side while she rummaged for plates and started filling the coffee maker.

“Jenna, what -” 

“I thought we could have breakfast and talk,” she answered, moving around your kitchen like it was her own.

“Talk about what?”

“You know what.”

And you did. She wanted to talk about Billy, about the things he’d done. She wanted to talk about the man he’d been, without knowing the girl that you’d once been. Jenna didn’t know, didn’t understand. And you were glad - of course you were glad - you were glad she’d never been through the things that you and Billy had been through.

“Jenna,” you sighed.

When she turned to finally look at you, you saw her expression flicker between surprise and annoyance.

“What the fuck is that?” she asked, pointing at you. When you shrugged, not sure what she was talking about, she clarified; “on your neck. Why do you look like someone has -”

“That someone would be me,” Billy interrupted, stepping out of the bedroom.

While you were glad he’d at least had the decency to pull on a tee-shirt, you still found yourself wishing for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

You took a step back, putting space between yourself and both of them.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Jenna said, not bothing to hide her annoyance. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in if they find him here?”

“They won’t find me here,” Billy answered for you.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because the only person who knows I’m here is you, and I’d hope you wouldn’t fuck your best friend over like that.” Billy said, sparing a glance towards you. “Look, I get that this situation is fucked up -”

“Fucked up? You’re wanted for multiple murders.”

You stood there, barely breathing, barely listening as they went back and forth, venting their frustrations at each other. You weren’t sure if minutes had passed or hours before you finally forced yourself back into the moment.

“D’you think the cops care if you can remember?” Jenna snapped.

“Stop,” you said weakly, finally managing to find your voice again. “Both of you, just... just stop. Please?”

“I’m trying to protect you, how do you not get that?” Jenna snapped.

You visibly winced at the sharpness in her tone.

“She doesn’t need protecting from me,” Billy answered, tone matching hers.

“Both of you need to go,” you said, your fight or flight reflex quickly settling on flight.

“Kitten -” Billy started to object.

“Please, just - both of you, go. I can’t do this.”

And you couldn’t. You felt like a child again, standing and listening to your mom and whatever guy she was with at the time, screaming and arguing, acting like you weren’t there, like you didn’t matter. 

“You can’t be serious. You can’t expect me to just leave you here with him,” Jenna said.

“Jenna... I love you like a sister but, please, can you just trust I know what I’m doing?” You pleaded. “I’ve been looking after myself for years. You know I wouldn’t willingly put myself in danger.”

Billy was the first to move, turning and heading back into the bedroom to get dressed.

“He’s dangerous,” Jenna said again, not moving an inch.

“Not to me,” you told her. “I know you don’t understand, and I wish I knew how to explain it to you, but I’m safe with him and I can’t turn him away.”

It was everything you’d already told her the night before. You just hope that this time it would actually sink in.

“You can’t tell anyone that he’s been here, Jenna -”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she said admantly.

“You were right; if he gets arrested, I will too... and not because I lied about knowing him.”

She looked at you, confused, like she was finally starting to really understand how little she knew about you.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, though it didn’t seem like she really wanted an answer.

“A long time ago, someone hurt me...” you said, voice threatening to break. “And I... I hurt them back...”

It hung in the air and you watched the words register with her as the pieces started to fall into place. The day after you’d been spiked, you’d let out a similar confession, and Jenna quickly figured out that the two pieces of information fit together. She didn’t say anything, but she gave a nod.

“One of the people Billy hurt... they hurt him,” your voice turned quiet, not wanting Billy to overhear you spilling his secrets. “When he was a little kid, they...”

You didn’t have to finish it. Given the context of the conversation, Jenna immediately understood what you were trying to tell her. Her expression softened and, just like that, you’d managed to pull her into the weird world of confusion that you now inhabited.

“If he hurts you -” she started.

“He won’t.”

“If he does, I’ll kill him myself.”

“You won’t need to, I’d never hurt her,” Billy said as he emerged from the bedroom. Without pause he cleared the space between you and pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I’ll see you later, kitten,” he muttered into your hair, letting his hand linger on your waist for a moment before pulling away.

Both you and Jenna watched as he made his way towards the door, and after he’d gone you both remained silent for almost a full minute.

“You have the worst taste in men,” Jenna finally grumbled.

“You were the one who told me to stop going for the safe guys.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “You still want me to go?”

“I guess you can stay for breakfast,” you conceded. “As long as you don’t -”

“We don’t have to talk about him anymore,” Jenna said. “As long as you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I am.”

The words left your lips before you could even really think about it. Were you sure? Could you ever really be sure of anything when it came to Billy?

No.

Yes.

You were sure he’d never hurt you, that he’d do everything he could to keep you safe. But would that be enough?

You went to change while Jenna finished setting up breakfast for you both and what followed was nothing short of awkward. Neither of you seemed to really know what to say to the other anymore, and you could tell Jenna was still worrying about everything but what you’d told her seemed to have unsettled her enough to make her want to keep her thoughts to herself.

But she wasn’t angry any more, and that was something.

The rest of your day went by normally; Jenna left not long after breakfast and you lazed around until it was time to get ready for work. Even work was pretty normal, if not a little quiet. Billy stayed away from the bar and so did his friends, though you had no idea if it was because of the Homeland Agent or just because they were somewhere else doing things you didn’t even want to think about.

That night, you got home, threw yourself into a hot shower and, then, waited.

And waited.

An hour passed and there was no sign of Billy, so you reluctantly took yourself to bed.

The next day passed pretty much the same. You got up, had breakfast, wandered to the coffeeshop a couple of blocks over, then you returned to your apartment to get ready for work. And, that night, there was still no sign of him.

He’d disappeared on you before, but not like this. He’d laid low when he knew you were angry with him, when he knew that you didn’t want to see him, but you were neither of those things now.

Panic settled beneath your ribs and you found yourself wondering any number of things; was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had he heard you tell Jenna his secret? Fuck, why had you even tried to tell her?

Or was it something else, something worse? Had he been arrested, or was he lying in a ditch dead somewhere? It wasn’t like you could call hospitals or -

Fuck. What were you doing? What were you thinking? It had only been two days and, already, your mind was rushing to every worse case scenario it could possibly conceive. And, the worst part was that you didn’t even really understand why. 

Until a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even thought twice about him vanishing. That was just Billy, that was just what he did, but he’d said he’d see you later and you’d assumed that meant that night.

On the third day, you cracked.

At almost four in the morning you called him. Part of you expected him to answer straight away, to hear some smug comment about how much you missed him. Instead it rang right through to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And again. Then you decided to leave a message.

“I don’t know if this is some game you’re playing, but I don’t like it, Billy,” despite the annoyed undertone of your words, there was no hiding the worry in your voice. “Can you just... I don’t know, let me know that you're okay?”

There was an instant feeling of regret the moment you hung up. What if he’d been arrested and that message led the cops to your door? What if it was just some stupid game and you’d exposed how much you cared?

Whatever it was, you unblocked his number and spent the rest of your night staring at your phone, hoping that it would ring.

But there was nothing. No word from Billy, no sign that he’d even gotten your message.

And you hated it. You hated that he’d forced himself into your life and then vanished. He’d made you care and then he’d abandoned you.

You hated it so much that when he finally turned up again, you seriously considered not letting him into your apartment.

“Kitten, please,” you heard through the door on the fourth night, a strange hitch in his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand.

When you opened the door, Billy practically fell into your apartment.

You first thought was that he was soaked through and that he must have been out in the rain for quite some time, but you quickly stopped caring about that the moment you saw the state of his face. His cheek was swollen and there was blood - fuck, you couldn’t even tell if it was his, there was so much of it.

He looked around your apartment wildly, seeming terrified until his eyes finally settled on you.

“Billy -” you moved to reach for him, not expecting him to recoil, - “- hey, Billy, it’s okay. You’re alright.”

Already your stomach was tying itself in knots, not sure what you were supposed to do. The way he looked at you put you in mind of that cold, dark street weeks ago, the way he’d told you about his ‘friend’ and about his nightmares. And you felt just as out of your depth now as you did then.

He took another step back looking at you as if he was afraid, but not of you.

“Billy, what happened?” You tried again, this time standing your ground, not trying to move any closer to him.

“I don’t -” he started and stopped, obviously struggling to find the words, “- I don’t remember. I don’t remember what I did, but I - I...”

You watched as he pressed a bloody hand to the side of his head, trying to ease the pressure of a bad headache.

“Frank, he - I didn’t - I -” 

Frank. The same person who’d sent Billy into a tailspin the last time.

“They say I did these terrible things but I - I don’t remember it. I don’t feel like it was me. I don’t feel like I could do that,” Billy tried to explain with a desperation that made your heart ache for him. “How could I - how could I do that?”

“Billy, please, just... let me see if you’re hurt,” you said softly, not sure what else you could do to help him.

He looked at you again with those wide and wild eyes, like he was scared of what might happen if he let you get near him. You quickly noticed that he was shaking. No. His body was practically vibrating, like he couldn't stop, couldn't stand still.

“You came to me so I could help you, right?” You continued. “I can’t help if you don’t let me see Billy.”

“No... no… it doesn’t - it’s not important, it’s not -” he let out an awful, pained sound as he struggled with himself roughly knocking the side of his head with a curled fist, trying to force his brain to work the way he needed it to. “If I can’t trust myself with that, how can I trust myself with you?”

“You don’t have to trust yourself, because I trust you.”

That seemed to settle something in him and Billy stilled, though he kept his fist pressed tight to the side of his head.

“You… trust me?” He asked, a telltale tremor in his voice.

You nodded and dared to take a step forward, your heart aching all the more when you noticed the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, desperate not to be shed.

Billy almost flinched as you reached for his wristed and slowly lowered his hand. Again, he looked at you as if he was a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck, trying to decide if he should bolt or not.

Slowly, delicately, you urged him towards a chair and managed to get him sitting down and, little by little, Billy seemed to settle. Not completely, but enough that he let you help him out of his jacket so you could get a better look.

“Stay here,” you told him, “I need to get something to clean you up with.”  

But the second you turned to leave, Billy's hand was around your wrist.

“Don't leave me,” he said in a broken, fractured tone. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

That was the moment that broke you, the moment that had tears threatening to fill your eyes because you knew Billy wasn't just talking about that moment. You had no idea how much of his life he'd spent alone - probably even more than you had - but it pained you to hear him begging you not to leave him.

Stepping closer, you ran your fingers through his hair before pulling him towards you, letting him slip his arms around your waist and press his face to your stomach. It didn't even cross your mind that he was getting blood all over your satin slip, but even if it had, you wouldn't have cared.

Billy shuddered, taking awkward breath after awkward breath, and you held on to him, giving him time to let the panic settle. You didn't think anything of the wet patch growing on the front of your slip, you just focused all of your attention on trying to soothe him.

“I don't know who I am anymore,” he sobbed. “Why - why would I hurt him? Why would he hurt me?”

“Shhh, it's okay. It'll be okay,” you said even though you weren't sure that it was true. You had no idea what was going on or how to get him calm enough to explain it.

“He was my family. My brother. I don't know why I'd let them hurt him.”

You ran your fingers through his hair as he held you tighter, clinging to you like he was afraid you'd let him go.

“It's not you anymore,” you offered softly. “You said it yourself, you're different now. You've got me now. You don’t have to be the person that you were anymore.”

On some level you understood how utterly insane that you were being, but you couldn’t bear to see him hurting so much. It didn’t matter to you what he’d done in the past or how many people he’d hurt, because he wouldn’t hurt you. Finally, after years on your own, you felt like you’d found someone you were safe with and, selfishly, you didn’t want to give that up.

“I’ve got you now?” He asked softly, slowly lifting his head, letting you see his bloodshot eyes.

“Yeah, Billy. You’ve got me,” you answered, managing an uncertain smile, not sure what the revelation meant for either of you. “Now, will you let me clean you up?”

Billy hesitated, reluctant to let you go but, after a few seconds, he nodded.

It took you little more than thirty seconds to dart into the bathroom to grab your first aid supplies and a washcloth. 

When you returned, his head was between his hands and he just looked so... damaged. 

You ran the cloth under some warm water before kneeling in front of him, gently placing your hand beneath his chin and urging him to look up. Wiping the blood and muck from his face revealed a black-eye and split lip, and a gentle prodding of his nose left you sure that it wasn’t broken. 

Next you cleaned his hands, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes when you realised he’d reopened the wounds you patched up at the bar only a few days before. Again, there was nothing too serious beneath the blood, and you almost allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Then you saw it, that almost-missable dark patch on his shirt just above his waist. You pressed a hand to it and Billy gave a hiss of pain. Gingerly, you lifted his shirt and let out a hiss of your own.

“Did you get stabbed?” There was no hiding the panic in your voice, no matter how much you wanted to stay calm for him.

“I don’t - maybe? I don’t know...”

“I need to take your shirt off, okay?” You asked, already gripping the hem of his blood soaked shirt. Billy gave a nod and awkwardly lifted his arms. You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to hurt him, but wanting to get a better look at the wound. “Fuck, Billy, why didn’t you tell me?”

The wound didn’t look too serious, a glancing slash across his side, but it was bleeding a lot.

Remembering what he’d told you about how he felt pain, or sometimes didn’t, you wondered if he wouldn’t have just left it bleeding if you hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t know if it needs stitches,” you said, more to yourself than anything. “I - I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” he told you.

Slowly but surely, he was starting to sound like himself again, like his own panic had started to pass.

Pressing the cloth to the wound you looked up at him, watching the way his face twisted in pain, but that pain seemed to bring him back to the moment and pull him out of his head.

He looked down and slowly pulled your hand away from his side so he could see the wound.

“Yeah, kitten, it’s going to need stitches.”

And, then it was your turn to descend into panic.

“Fuck... okay...” you took an awkward breath, “I’ll get change and take you to the hospital and -”

“I can’t go to the hospital.”

Of course he couldn’t. He was wanted for murder.

“Then how -” you started to ask and immediately felt sick when you saw the way he was looking at you. “No. No, Billy. I - I can’t.”

“You can, kitten. I’ll talk you through it,” he said, somehow becoming the picture of calm. “We just need a needle and some thread... and that bottle of vodka, if you’ve still got it.”

Despite every single alarm bell in your head starting to sound, you got up and got everything that he’d asked for. You settled beside him, letting him do the honours of pouring vodka over the wound to clean it out.

“Now, you just need to pinch the edges together and sew it up, just like fixing a hole in a t-shirt,” he told you softly.

Your hands trembled and you almost threw up in your mouth but, somehow, you managed to clumsily sew him up. 

By the time you had the wound closed and a bandage wrapped around him, you were so tired and emotionally fraught that you found yourself bursting into tears.

“Kitten,” Billy said softly, wrapping his arms around you pulling you against his chest, “it’s okay, it’s done now.”

It took a couple of minutes for you to get it all out, kneeling on the floor between his legs, holding him as tight as he’d held you only half an hour before.

“Don’t you ever do this to me again,” you told him between awkward, sobbed breaths. “You can’t come into my life and then make me lose you.”

“I won’t,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise you won’t lose me. I’ll never leave you. You’re all I want.”

All you could think about was how you might lose him and how much it would hurt. This was why you never wanted to get close to him. This was why you never wanted to care. But it was too late to think like that. There was nothing that either of you could say or do to stop the feelings that had started to flourish inside of you, and you both knew it.

Somehow, Billy managed to coax you off the floor and the pair of you headed for the bathroom, where he cleaned his blood off your hands and helped you change into a clean slip. Then the pair of you got into bed.

You rest your head on his shoulder, awkwardly draping your arm over him, trying to avoid his bandages.

For the longest time, the both of you remained quiet, but you could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. You weren’t sure if he planned on sleeping and, despite your exhaustion, you weren’t sure that you could sleep. At least, not yet.

“I meant it,” you said softly. “I can’t do this if you’re going to turn up covered in blood like this. I can’t do this if I have to spend every day wondering if you’re going to turn up dead somewhere.”

“I know,” he answered just as softly. “And you won’t have to. I promise I’m going to take care of it, then it’ll just be me and you, okay?”

“Okay.”

You weren’t sure what you were really agreeing to and, honestly, you didn’t care. As long as Billy was safe and with you, you didn’t care.

End Note : Aaaaaaaah it's getting so close to the end now. I don't know if next weeks chapter will be the last proper chapter before the epilogue or if I'll need to break it into two parts but, yea, I hope you're all ready for a wild ride to see how this Punisher season 2 adjacent fic pans out. Also sorry if there are any dumb typos, i got stuck working late and didn't get as much time to proof-read as I normally do.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Two - To the Stars

Part One is Linked Below

—

When people speak about cultural differences, they expect some language barriers and mishaps because of how you were raised. Sticking four people of not only different cultures but different age groups on a rocket not destined to return to Earth might not have been the brightest of ideas, but they were some of the best pilots that Earth had to offer and the ones with the least attachments. Both those combined made it seem like the perfect idea, differences be damned.

Hound was originally from California but was a military brat, so he spent the better part of his life in the culture of the US military, enlisting himself at eighteen and not looking back. When the pilot program came around, he set himself on the long list of volunteers to see if he’d be compatible with Mecha or not. When he eventually was found compatible, he was shipped off to the research center to work on a special Mecha, one that was made more to confuse the alien than to destroy it, perfect illusions and the perfect decoy. That was back when everyone still thought we had a fighting chance. He’d had his suit for years and its overhaul for space fairing was just par for the course of how his career had gone. Pilot 1124; divorced, no children, mother deceased, and father career military. Near perfect candidate for Arcturus mission.

Breakdown was from what is once again Ukraine, growing up behind the iron curtain left him at a slight disadvantage when it came to understanding the Mecha Suits. He was initially pulled into the Soviet program while under mandatory conscription, it was just a few months before his two years were up, but when he was found to be compatible with a recently vacated suit there was no questions on who would fill it. The solitude of working in a suit appealed to him, cause when you’re in the suit and turn down radio communications, it’s like it’s just you and the enemy you’re tearing apart. Very fitting for him. His suit has gone through many renditions both before and after the fall of the curtain, even its adjustments by Mecha, on semi-permanent loan; were normal. He just tried to make sure his cockpit remained the same, it was the environment he became the most familiar with, even more than his apartment in Kiev. Pilot 1457; no wife, no children, mother and father reside in Kiev, Ukraine; siblings vary. Non-perfect candidate, cooperation with former Soviet Union mandatory. Candidate for Arcturus mission.

Sunsteaker and Sideswipe were civilians from Florida, no previous family enlistments of record, no prior record of draft selection. These two came about later in the program, hand selected by Mecha for military training and transfer to the primary facility. When the boss saw their shining personalities at a not-so-legal street race, it was practically love at first sight. Being younger when the aliens first attacked had left both with scars in both literal and figurative senses, being compatible with vacated suits that often worked in tandem made them the right choices for the selection. Neither suit was particularly powerful, but both were considered abnormally fast. With limited options in their previous region of residence and mutual desire to make a difference, candidacy was the only feasible option. They more often than not work together and are currently heading towards the record of most take downs by tandem units. Overhaul was limited, newer suits without much need for adjustment. Pilot 2450 and 2451; no wives, no children, mother deceased, father deceased, siblings enlisted together, perfect candidates for Arcturus mission.

For a mission that wasn’t meant to go well, picking the right candidates was key. For each of the missions, three of them were already planned out of course. The work on the Mecha needed to be started as soon as the first batch were done, they didn’t to be able to sustain a human life for at least a year in space plus more intense gravity that what existed on earth, as a precaution. You didn’t know where these things could or would crash once a pilot was dead inside, if recovery efforts could be made in a hand full of decades for the suits that saved the earth, that could turn a major profit in a hand full of years. Limited or no connections for these pilots was important. It was bad enough that Jazz had some family that needed paying off and he was meant to come back with data for the Arcturus missions, he was meant to go back up on Arcturus One. Well, there wasn’t much use in looking at the past, not when there was an enemy to annihilate.

The day of the launch was the first time in several years that when suiting up for a mission, none of the pilots put on the assistant suits, but flight suits for the shuttle. Each was still colored in the tones of their corresponding Mecha, helmets on to hide a majority of their features and numbers sat right below their name badges. It was the wait that was practically killing them, sat inside a giant warehouse with nothing to keep their mind off the endless expanses of space. No one could be bothered with trying to face them, for those who didn’t pilot a suit they could never understand the sacrifice and those that did were being kept away. Life and death, the state of the world as they knew it could lay on their shoulders and the data that their suits would collected and send back to earth while they hurdled towards their potential doom.

“Do you think Jazz felt like this? His last night before bugging out?” Sideswipes voice was both muffled and painfully loud, coming through their helmets while being muffled in the echoing space.

“It’s possible, but he didn’t have to deal with the fan fair of the last few weeks, so maybe not. He might have gotten a decent night sleep and woke up, ready to face the stars.” Hound leans his head back to stare at the glass ceiling, the sky was almost too blue out there. The type of day when those things would attack without mercy, he shudders slightly.

“You think the others will be able to handle the fight while we’re gone?” Now Sunstreaker was asking the dumb questions, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his needs, helmet in hands, “Losing four of us is a lot.”

“They will be fine Kid, losing four for a specific region is easier to cover than four deaths spastically.” Breakdown’s voice was the very stereotypical, learning English from movies, that tone that actors of the seventies and eighties had when over exaggerating their words. His ankles were crossed and he was leaned back comfortably in the chair, eyes closed though hidden by the helmet.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Hound cleared his throat, “Besides, if any of us kicked the bucket in our mechs, half of ours are outdated and would be out of commission for a while and the other half are far to specialized to get compatible pilots for straight off the list.” Rubbing his shoulder, he shrugs a bit. Sideswipe looks over, “Everyone said the same thing about First Aid’s mech, that freak of nature seems to not want to let go of that guy.” In some manner, they all hum, nodding or grunting, “Sometimes the suit just knows when it has the right pilot.” Breakdown’s tone was final, meaning that the conversation should end there.

“You think we’ll find him though, right? We’re heading on the same flight path.” Sunstreaker looks to Hound, fingertips lightly grasping the bottom edge of his helmet, “I don’t know. We can only hope.” Then they fell to silence again, they’d have enough time to talk each others ear off for the rest of their lives, no matter how long that would take, they’d have the rest of them together now whether they liked it or not. Sideswipe lightly grasps Sunstreaker’s shoulder, Hound goes back to staring and frowning at the sky, while Breakdown stares at his boots.

—

It took a while for them to get called to their action places, as if this was a film set and not a launch pad. There was nothing for miles out here, but the sheer number of camera’s recording their last steps on earth was part of the plan. Plan for funding, plan for advancement, and plan for god knows what else. The boss with his dazzling smile stayed away, watching from afar, leaned against a car far nicer than any pilot would be able to afford even with their insane salaries. The warehouse with its glass roof wasn’t far from the specially crafted launch pad, that was supposedly brand new but already covered in scorch marks from Jazz’s under the rug mission. None of the pilots said anything though, the money that was just minutes away from hitting the bank accounts of those they cared about most was to important. And those without loved ones, well they didn’t want to take it away from the other pilots and their families.

Walking in a line, they didn’t say anything, staring at the shuttle with the slightly folded Mecha attached to it, the cone on the front to cover them all making it appear like a giant umbrella was covering them from a non-existent rain storm. The launch pad was recessed into the ground, to prevent some of the damaging fuels from leaching or spreading onto the nearby land. If there was one thing Mecha was trying to seem, it was conscious of the planet they protected. The lift was just big enough for the four of them and an operator to fit on it, that and a camera trying to get their closeups perfect. Hound lightly shoved the hovering camera robot, trying to stay focused. Sideswipe chuckled lightly, adjusting his flight suit a bit, Sunstreaker shoves him slightly and shakes his head. It was starting to feel normal, the prep for this mission, at least this part was not dissimilar to going out in a suit for a fight. The lift jars to a stop, sending them stumbling lightly as the gate opens to the gantry, the ship’s primary door standing open and waiting. Looking at each other, they step put and to the ship.

Each seat was marked with their call sign, designating their set position, the in cabin cameras rolling for the launch. A airlock to the cargo bay was blocking the view of the specially made gangways into the suits, designed to attach to the alerted entranced into their piloting stations. No longer would the suits slip open to take in a pilot, now only had one entrance and exit; when shut it was hard to tell there was an entrance to the suits at all. The last thing Mecha wanted was whatever this enemy was plucking their pilots out of the cockpits in space, it was bad enough they were figuring that out planet side. Strapping into their seats, the airlock was closed by the lift operator with a whispered ‘good luck’. Pilots stuck together even through the stupidest moments. Like taking the fight into unfamiliar territory that had already claimed on of their own.

Before the microphones were turned on, there were quiet murmured prayers and declarations of revenge, Jazz’s name on all their lips for a moment before Hound turned the switch to activate the microphones. Calling out flight preparations and getting the shuttle ready to launch itself, four mech suits, and pilots into the vastness of space; was almost intimidating.

It was like any other mission to space, whenever astronauts were heading to the ISS, it was almost like that. Only they weren’t stopping in orbit and were going farther than almost any human had before, it would be easy, or so said the boss. God he was awful. The engined ignited with a roar and a harsh tug as gravity attempts to keep the rocked tethered to the planet. Each pilot was watching their given system, no longer worried about the cameras or those listening, focused on each other and the mission. With the pull and the radio traffic, the assent into space would become a blur for all of them, not bothering staring out the windows and focused entirely on their equipment. Space and the fight of a life time laid in front of them.

—

A loss of contact was expected, planned even, it was usual on the other side of the moon. They could speak freely, though their instruments were still the priority, “Did any of you think about the fact we’re going to be stuck together for, who knows how long? Cause that just occurred to me.” Sideswipe was now staring out the window as the lunar surface that none of them would get to touch, frowning slightly as the tinted shield of his helmet was clearing away from the harsh sunlight of the southern sky they’d been in, now hours ago. His brother turned to look at him, “I reminded you what this mission was, several times, over the last year and it’s just now occurring to you?” The tone was one of almost hate, the kind of hate you could only have when your sibling was being an absolute moron, “Well, yeah. I didn’t really listen to your rants.” The first thing thrown in zero-g was an iPod, still hitting Sideswipes helmet but not as harshly as Sunstreaker would have preferred.

Breakdown felt like putting his helmeted head through the console in front of his, “This is going to be the longest mission ever.” Removing his helmet, he rubs his face, looking to Hound who’d already taken his off, “You can say that twice.” As a helmet was thrown across the cockpit of the shuttle, “A very, very long mission.” Both the older men glanced back at the bickering twins, who had now unstrapped from their seats and tumbled back towards the main hold and their suits where artificial gravity would help them fight each other better. The loss of contact was normal, primarily because they knew that this first stretch of the mission would either succeed or fail. Data was still getting sent back to earth, slowing in its response the further away they got from the planet. It was normal, it was totally fine, things would be fine. At least, they kept telling themselves that.

The view out the front glass was of infinite space, Jazz’s last coordinates logged into their system for a potential recovery of his mech and a hopeful anticipation of finding wherever those aliens called home. Or even just their own launch point, since no one knew where or how they kept coming to earth, to many questions with even fewer answers.

A loss of contact was normal. They lost contact with Jazz and his mech after two weeks of him in space. It would be way harder to lose contact with a shuttle and four mech’s, right?

———

A/N:

Wow, thank you so much for enjoying the first part! I promise that part 3 is going to follow. I don’t know how many of these I am going to write, or where it’s exactly going, but the four people aboard the shuttle are out for revenge. On who? They aren’t entirely sure, but whoever is holding Jazz is likely it, right?

Anyways, next part will probably dive more into their mission, and likely the loss of contact with Earth. Who knows how they get to Cybertron, hehehe. All the boss knows is that Arcturus One merch is selling like hot cakes, they can fake contact for a little while with the tech they possess, plus Arcturus Two takes off in less than a year! So they got to get ready for that.

Hope you all enjoyed.

Specifically want to tag @lunarlei68 & @whirlywhirlygig for re-blogging the first post. If you haven’t read it, it’s linked.

Thank you @keferon for inspiring us all with this.

[mishtershpock]

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