#which is ultimately to keep him secured and not let him leave her

[tinylilvalery]

Shiv weaponises her vulnerability to victimise herself to force Tom into forgiving her [1][2] + doesn't respect his boundaries [3][4] when he needs space from her.

1. In 1.10 Shiv comes clean to Tom on their wedding night about her cheating on him, AFTER their marriage (despite Tom asking her beforehand and giving her a chance then). Shiv weaponises her vulnerability into forcing Tom to forgive her, bringing up how when they met she was a "mess" and in a "very bad place" and how she needs him and also tries to gaslight Tom about their relationship never being monogamous. He forgives her because he's in a difficult position (divorce on the same night as marriage?? She didn't give him an out to call off the wedding beforehand and waited until after he was secured), he loves her, and he's forced to sympathise and accept things.

2. Shiv only apologises to Tom when she sees how cold he's being with her in 4.8. There's real danger he's actually done with the relationship. The kicked dog isn't returning to heel. She apologises. He doesn't accept it (you don't have to accept an apology, especially if you're still upset and someone is tryna force an apology on you because THEY feel bad and want to alleviate their guilt and return things to something that THEY'RE comfortable with). She uses the fact that her dad just died, which doesn't change the fact that everything he said in the prior fight was true. Their relationship had been shit for ages prior to Logan's death, therefore Logan's death doesn't excuse the rest of the relationship, and he's still immovable. Damn, he's always comforted and folded to her before, he's not doing that right now. Shit. Bring out the heavy. I'm pregnant and it's yours! The ultimate card to reel him back. He wanted a baby right? But he doesn't even believe her now... Why should he care anyway? How much has she ever cared about him?

3. In 4.7 Tom walks away from Shiv and goes to the balcony, needing space, telling Shiv he's tired. She doesn't respect this need for space and corners him on the balcony, literally not allowing him any reprieve, and actively mocks him for being exhausted, pressing and pressing him until he snaps, despite the fact he didn't even want to fight in the first place. He needed space and wasn't allowed to have it.

4. Tom is exhausted and stressed out of his mind in 4.8 with his job (something that means the world to him and yet also something Shiv has never taken seriously - and how could she understand the importance it holds for him when she's a nepo baby). He asks Shiv to talk about this another time and that he can't do this right now. She doesn't respect his request and presses her needs above his and takes him aside again and isolates him, and then acts surprised and offended when he doesn't respond how she wants him to. Ironically if she had actually respected him asking to talk another time when he wasn't so stressed, she might have gotten the results she wanted: Tom back in her pocket.

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE (PART TWO)

summary: after you've been attacked, the group becomes cautious and confused, now being targeted as well. but you still can't get over the fact that ghostface had helped you and why you think you know who it may be. and maybe you wouldn't mind keeping a secret.

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. it follows the plot loosely.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: hiiii i really hope u enjoy :-) also i have no idea if mindy shared the apartment with tara, sam and quinn but if she didn’t, we're just going to pretend she does and i also altered ethan's motive a bit too for this (lowkey was inspired by don't blame me by taylor swift so if you like listening to music when reading, i recommend that song for this part)

❗️: you can find part one here and part three here if you need it :3

———————————————————————————

The hospital visit wasn't as long as you anticipated. Two of the stabs you endured hadn't cut deep so they were able to stitch it upon your first visit and they closed up that same night—it still hurt like a bitch. Your previous stab wound was the worst one overall as the stitching process was a lot more painful because your skin was sensitive as it had been punctured once before.

When you were released, Sam took you under her care. She didn't feel safe having you and Anika alone in your apartment since the attack so she offered her, Tara, Mindy and Quinn's home to you two. It didn't really matter for Anika as she was always there in the first place but it bothered you.

You didn't mean to feel unappreciative but you hated being controlled by useless fear. Whether or not Ghostface attacked you in your home, he would find them someway or another; it didn't matter where you were. But, you agreed in order to clear her conscious.

They didn't ask much questions when you were in the hospital. After the second Ghostface left the apartment, you remembered blacking out and waking up in the hospital bed with Anika by your side. The doctor wouldn't let anyone come in since you were preparing for surgery but decided to let Anika stay since she was your roommate.

Her story was that your security system she had built when you two first moved in had went off when the second Ghostface broke in. Her and Mindy didn't tell everyone before leaving because they didn't want to risk not making it in time. The frat house was only a block down so they just ran their way to your building, ultimately finding your unconscious body on the kitchen floor.

Anika told you that they had met Ethan at the entrance of the building when the ambulance was called and said you called him, which was true but you wondered what took him so long. You were highly suspicious of him but you didn't want to be because he was your best-friend, you couldn't imagine him having anything to do with this.

Ever since that night, he was around, a lot. He even skipped his Econ classes to keep you company because Sam didn't want you to be alone and everyone else was busy.

You didn't ask him about what happened. You were afraid of what the outcome would be. But you knew you had to do something in order to understand. At least interrogating the truth out of him (because he couldn't lie to you) would give you peace of mind—well, depending on the answer.

"You don't have to be here, you know." You broke the silence, watching him write notes from the lecture he was missing.

"But I want to be," he told you honestly.

"E, you're missing Econ. You have an exam this week."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He looked up from his notebook, putting the lecture video on pause to give you his full attention. "I don't want anything to happen to you again."

"Ghostface rarely attacks in the daytime," you joked.

"Still, Y/N/N." He was being serious. "Your stitches haven't even fully healed yet."

"This isn't the first time." You sighed. "Plus, Ghostface never attacks the same person twice."

"Says who?"

"Says Mindy."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I don't want to take any chances."

It went back to comfortable silence. You went back to reading your book for your English class while he continued to write his notes. After a couple more minutes, you decided to ask the question that had been eating you alive.

"What took you so long?" you asked randomly.

He furrowed his brows, turning to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"When I was attacked," you clarified. "I called you and you said you and Chad were on the way. Anika and Mindy beat you to it and Chad wasn't even with you when you arrived."

Ethan looked away, his face becoming pale. "Well, I went to go find Chad when you were on the call but I couldn't find him so I decided to leave. I didn't realize how much time I wasted until I saw police lights outside your building."

That was the first and final conversation you two had about it. You gathered what you knew from it but, again, you didn't want to believe he was Ghostface. Unless he wasn't and used the costume to throw the other one off. But where could he buy a replica of it that quickly and still be able to make it in time to save you? It didn't make sense.

You kept this realization to yourself. You felt guilty for it, especially because if he was apart of the plan in harming your friends, this smudge of proof could be enough to hold him accountable before it was taken too far. Of course, you didn't listen to yourself and decided to keep his secret that he wasn't even sure you knew because of how much you liked him.

On the third day of your recovery, your stitching was finally beginning to heal. It hurt to bend down and sometimes walk because it worked the muscles underneath the wound but you couldn't stand doing nothing anymore.

You made the excuse that you were planning to meet Ethan at his dorm for the night because you promised to help him with Econ. Sam wasn't exactly keen on the idea, wondering why he couldn't come to meet you here but you told her you were beginning to feel claustrophobic and wanted to get out. She didn't say much in defense and reluctantly agreed.

They all offered to walk you there just in case something were to happen but you brushed them off. If your assumption about Ethan was correct, he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The subway was packed because it was nearing Halloween and it took you awhile to finally make it inside one. And the thirty minute ride to campus added onto the time. It was around twelve at night when you arrived at his dorm.

First, you decided to knock. Nobody answered. Then you remembered he had an Econ lecture to attend for the night and took out the extra key he had given you awhile ago and unlocked it yourself.

Honestly, you were glad he wasn't there because it would make your digging a lot more easier.

You searched through everything he owned. Through his drawers (which you highly regretted), under his bed, inside some of his unpacked bags—everywhere but you couldn't find anything that incriminated him.

It had been what felt like hours, but was really only thirty minutes, when you gave up. Your phone was going off but you didn't pay any mind to it because the group had consistently texted you ever since your attack; you just assumed it was them checking up on you and then getting paranoid because you weren't answering. Even if you knew you should've checked, you didn't bother as you were going to head back to the apartment anyway.

You quietly snuck out of the room, making sure the coast was clear until you turned your head to the left and saw Ghostface, waiting there for you. When you tried to scream, they grabbed your face with their hand, restricting your voice from releasing.

They were strong, being able to grab your entire body with their one arm and toss you carelessly back into the room.

You hit the floor, wincing at the impact because of your stitches. Ghostface shut the door behind them, looking down at you. They stalked toward you very slowly as you made sure to keep your distance from them.

Using the dresser that stood behind you, you lifted yourself up with your available arm as the other clutched your stitching instinctively to keep you balanced. It was a silent stare-down until they reached for their mask, untucking it from the behind. Then, they pulled it off.

You stared in shock. "…Ethan?"

"Y/N." He didn't have much expression on his face. He looked out of breath as you could see sweat shimmering on his face from the lighting.

"Oh, my god," You breathed out. Although you suspected him this whole time, finally being able to know it was the truth hurt you more than being stabbed. "You're Ghostface."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ethan ignored your statement as he furrowed his brows.

"I knew it. I knew you were the one who saved me," you confessed. "That's why I'm here."

"You shouldn't be here," he told you, shaking his head.

"You're trying to kill me and our friends and you're telling me what I shouldn't be doing?!"

"Y/N, there's more to this than you know."

"That much is obvious," you snapped. He tried to step toward you but you backed up. "Stay away from me."

"Please, just listen to me," Ethan began to plead.

"You let them attack me!"

"No, I didn't!" he declared, lowering his voice when he saw it made you flinch. "They promised to leave you out of it. That was the only thing I told them to do."

"They?" you repeated in confusion.

He thought over his response for a second. "Look, what I'm doing—what I've done—is for a good reason. You have to understand."

You furrowed your brows. "What have you done, E?" You couldn't help but use his nickname; you couldn't help but try to hear him out.

"Y/N." He walked toward you slowly and this time, you didn't back away from him. "You're the only thing I care about. If it means I have to kill a thousand people to keep you safe, then I'd do it."

"I don't understand." Your voice was almost a mumble.

"I agreed to do this before I met you but when I did, it all changed. I-I tried to convince them to stop. I wanted to try and be good—for you but she found out and threatened to kill you if I didn't continue with the plan so I did with the exception that they would leave you out of it," he explained softly. "I did this…for you."

You looked at him like he was insane (he kind of was). "You'd kill our friends?"

"If it meant that you'd be safe."

His words didn't completely register but when they did, you couldn't help but feel guilty. You had a crush on him for so long and here he was, basically confessing his love for you in such a fucked up way. You hated yourself for finding him even more attractive after hearing him say those words.

"Ethan…" you whispered his name.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Can I please kiss you?"

You didn't give him an answer as you closed the space between the two of you.

It seemed wrong—no, it was wrong. Kissing him while he still wore the Ghostface robe, one that he wore while taking someone's life.

You knew he wasn't wearing this costume for fun. They only ever wore it for a purpose. Even though your mind was totally blanked because of how dumb his lips made you, when you pulled apart, you began to think about where he had come from and who he had just killed and why you weren't more concerned about the matter.

He chased after your lips, kissing you again with more force this time, even pulling you closer by the waist. You only pulled away because you were receiving a call.

You pulled your phone out from your pocket, the reality setting in when you saw Sam's contact. He looked down with you, not doing much in keeping you from answering. It took you a couple more seconds of contemplating until you decided to click the green button, putting the phone to your ear.

You took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Y/N, what the hell?!" Sam hollered into the speaker, her voice mixed with relief and annoyance. "Why weren't you answering? Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied rather nonchalantly. "I had my phone off. What's wrong, Sam?"

There was a short beat. "Ghostface attacked us."

You furrowed your brows, glancing at Ethan. "What?"

"Yeah, he killed Quinn and…"

"And?" you repeated instantly. "Who else, Sam?"

"Anika…" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I-I tried to help her."

You shut your eyes, feeling tears starting to build. There was silence on the line and you were sure it was because Sam didn't want to say anything knowing you would be taking her death as personal as Mindy did.

Suddenly, your stab wounds began to throb which made you let out a grunt. You knew better than to cry over Anika only because it would achieve nothing. Yes, it was messed up that you were now standing in the room with her murderer, watching him undress himself of his black robe that he wore while killing her but you realized nothing you could've said or done—whether you got to him before she died—could've changed her outcome.

You watched him pull out a hunting knife from his back pocket, the silver glistening with dried blood. That blood probably belonged to Anika and Quinn. It made your throat go dry.

"Sam," you blurted quietly.

"What, Y/N?"

You were going to say it; tell her the truth. It was the right thing to do. Ethan, even if you liked him a lot, had just murdered your best friend and one of Sam's. They deserved the justice of their murderer being caught.

But when he walked back over to you, his eyes scanning your expression, you had already picked your choice.

"Y/N, what? Are you okay?" Sam's voice echoed in your mind.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just…" You tried to find the words. "Is everyone else okay? Did you get hurt?"

"We're fine. Mindy got cut but she's fine," Sam answered softly. "Can you come down here? I'd feel a lot better if you were here with us. Plus, I'm sure you can comfort Mindy than the rest of us. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Tara or Chad."

You let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Ethan and I are on our way."

"Ethan?" she questioned.

"Yeah. Remember I told you I was going to meet him at his dorm? I was with him the whole night," you lied.

"Oh, okay." Sam sighed into the speaker. "That's good to hear, actually. Mindy thinks Ethan was the one behind all of this but if you were with him then it checks him out."

"Don't worry, Sam," you said. "We'll be there shortly."

"Okay, see you soon. Be safe."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you and then hung up.

"You kept my secret?" Ethan asked.

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have. You killed Anika and Quinn."

He bit his lip, nodding calmly. "I know, I know. It wasn't exactly my first choice. But I had to for saving you the other night."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled. "But did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He furrowed his brows.

"What you said about wanting to be good?" You repeated his words. "Because that's the only reason I saved your ass. I should hate you. You killed Anika."

"Y/N/N," he said softly, walking over to grab your hands. "I only did this to protect you. They made me think my original motive was right but it's actually fucked up. I realized that the moment I met you. So, yes, I do mean it. And I'm sorry about Anika. I didn't really want to do it either."

You mulled over his words, looking down at your connected hands until you finally spoke. "Okay. Then, I'll help you," you informed him. "But, in order for me to do that, I need to know everything."

Let's just say it was an interesting conversation.

[morganxwritess]

‧₊˚❀༉‧ 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: your father has promised you to a much older man, but benedict refuses to let you go without a fight. He is determined to win your heart, even if it means making a fool of himself by boldly throwing rocks at your window warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, slight degradation (like barely any it could be so much worse), praise, dirty talk, fingering, p in v sex, fluffy smut note: this is my first post!!! i’m so very excited to share this with all of you. season 3 benedict had me weak in the knees, and when this idea came to me after he told john to go throw rocks at francesca's window, I knew I had to write it. lots of love!! let me know what you think!!! word count: 7.4k (not sure how that happened lmao)

As the second eldest Bridgerton child and next in line for the title of Viscount, any eligible woman with intelligence sought to secure Benedict Bridgerton as their match. Unfortunately for them, Mr. Bridgerton was not looking for a wife this season, nor the last, nor any season before that. It appeared that Benedict had no desire to marry, and it was doubtful that would ever change.

Yet, that did not stop the mamas of the ton from setting their daughters upon him as if they were nothing more than dogs and he was their meal. The thought was unsettling, making you nauseous, but you tried to ignore their classless attempts to negotiate a marriage with the Bridgerton boy. At this point, however, what the fathers were offering Benedict to take their daughters' hands in marriage was no longer negotiation. It was simply bribery. Lord Ellington had offered Benedict land in the country. Lord Wentworth did the same, but he included the staff to his land as if they were slaves he could barter and sell. Lord Haverford extended a tempting proposal that Benedict almost entertained, offering a one-of-a-kind masterpiece painted by Thomas Gainsborough. While Benedict considered it for a mere moment, he ultimately declined, asserting that no work of art, however exquisite, is worth the cost of compromising one's spirit for a union with which one cannot bear.

Everyone desired to be Benedict Bridgerton’s wife. Everyone thought they knew him and could force their way into his heart and capture his attention. But you knew him intimately, which is how you knew this would never occur. You knew precisely how he took his tea. You knew his favorite artist, and while he admired Thomas Gainsborough’s work, it was not he who held the place of honor. You knew his favorite sibling, even when he insisted he had none. You knew what ignited his passions and recognized the look on his face when he felt his creativity had been compromised. You knew everything about Benedict Bridgerton, which is why you knew he would never marry without love. And Benedict has never been one to fall in love with anything other than art.

While you admired the determination and resilience of the young debutantes vying for his attention, you also resented it, for their pursuit often kept him occupied during balls, leaving you at the mercy of your mother's desire to showcase you to any willing suitor. The social scene was unbearable to you. Men gawked and whispered about young women as though they were mere commodities. It was infuriating, but thankfully, you found solace in knowing you were not alone in this sentiment. Your closest friend Eloise shared and understood your frustrations more deeply than anyone else, and when Benedict was occupied, she did a decent enough job of sheltering you from your mama.

“Has your mother lost her head?” Eloise nearly shouted, earning glares from nearby onlookers as you stared at the floor, trying to keep the blush creeping up your cheeks at bay.

“I suppose it’s not too bad,” you mumbled, not believing your statement whatsoever.

“Not too bad?” Eloise asked as if speaking to a stranger and not you, her best friend whom she’d known since childhood. “You cannot marry him.”

“He hasn’t proposed yet. I believe it is just an option.”

“An option you're entertaining, tell me not.”

“Lord Kensington is not a cruel man, Eloise. He is very wealthy and will allow me to spend my days reading alone while he tends to his business. It seems like an appropriate match.”

Eloise scoffed and crossed her gloved hands over her chest. “Lord Kensington is nearly three and seventy. You are a child in comparison. This is the furthest thing from an appropriate match.”

“This is my third year on the marriage-mart. I’d rather be a widow than a spinster who’s a burden to her family.”

“Is that what you think of me? A burden?”

Your eyes widened. “Eloise, no I—”

“I’m going to seek some refreshments. Perhaps when I return you’ll no longer be behaving in such an unbearable manner.”

With that, Eloise stormed away, her dress flashing through the crowd like a river of blue. You took a deep breath, attempting to ground yourself and regain composure. It was not as if you were excited to potentially marry Lord Kensington. He was simply an option. One that disgusted you and made your skin crawl, but an option nonetheless. You were only confiding in a friend, but leave it to Eloise to blow things out of proportion and not give you the opportunity to explain.

“Is that a frown I see?” The blue-eyed devil whose company you were praying for teased as he stood to your right.

“Eloise is upset with me.”

Benedict smirked as if what you said was an insufficient reason to be emotional. “Eloise will be Eloise. What have you done that has destroyed her life, ruined her future, and perhaps changed the course of history itself?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. “Your sister is not that dramatic.”

“We are speaking of the same sister, correct?”

You rolled your eyes, and he moved to stand in front of you, capturing your complete attention. He looked exceptionally handsome tonight, his deep navy tailcoat contrasting elegantly with the crisp white linen shirt beneath. The maroon cravat, tied with exquisite precision, drew the gaze of any unfortunate soul who dared to look his way. His hair, styled almost artistically, gave him the appearance of a portrait subject moments before the painter's brush touched the canvas.

Other than the mass of invalids gathered at these balls, what you despised most was how impossibly handsome the man standing before you appeared when you finally got the chance to speak with him. He was, of course, handsome every day, but there was something incomparable about his appearance when meticulously dressed for the social event of the season.

“You truly are upset,” Benedict stated as he stared into your eyes, realizing the extent of your worry. “Tell me, what is it that you and my sister were arguing about?”

“I am to be engaged.”

Benedict’s eyes widened, and his large, goofy smile was replaced by a stern, thin-lined frown. You paused, staring at his hardening features. Why was he upset? He had not even heard the worst part yet.

Clearing his throat, Benedict tried to force a smile. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky husband-to-be?”

“Lord Kensington.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You must be mistaken. Are you speaking of Lord Kilmartin? I believe he fancies my sister Francesca, but I could be mistaken.”

You shook your head. “No, I am not mistaken. I am to be engaged to Lord Kensington. He and my father are speaking tonight, but he has already declared his intentions.”

Benedict's face contorted with many emotions, but only one seemed clear to you as you studied his burning blue eyes. Anger. Was he angry with you for finding a husband? While yes, Lord Kensington was many years older than you, this sort of thing happened all the time. Just last week, Miss Radcliffe, who is your age, married Lord Pennington, who is nearly eight and sixty.

"Lord Kensington is older than the combined ages of your parents," he argued. "By the time you marry him and bear him an heir, he will likely be dead. In fact, he may not even live to see the child born."

“Benedict—”

“This is unacceptable,” he exclaimed, looking around the room like a madman. “Where is your father? I will speak with him.”

“And do what, Benedict? This is my third year on the marriage-mart. The longer I wait to marry, the more undesirable I become.”

“You can wait one more season. There must be someone else—”

"There is no one else, Benedict!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing through the room and drawing the attention of onlookers. In this moment, it felt as though you were the only souls in existence. Nothing else mattered—not the curious gazes nor the threat to your reputation. With unwavering resolve, you met his gaze, channeling every ounce of strength within you. “And frankly, I am tired of waiting. This is a suitable match, and the union will be short enough.”

“I will find you someone else to marry,” he whispered under his breath to avoid the attention of the rest of the ton.

Firmly, you shook your head, not wanting to argue with him. “Mr. Bridgerton, I apologize for my outburst. I must be feeling unwell. I believe I will turn in early.”

You began to walk away to find your mother and father and convince them to take you home when he grabbed your gloved arm, forcing you to face him once more.

“Y/N, please—”

“There is nothing left to be done, Mr. Bridgerton. Now please remove your hands from me.”

Reluctantly, Benedict released you. “Then I suppose the next time I see you will be at your engagement celebration.”

Holding back tears, you nodded. “As always, I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Bridgerton.”

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That evening, upon returning to your residence in Mayfair, your lady's maid assisted you in preparing for bed before retiring for the night herself. Your father was absent, likely in discussion with Lord Kensington, finalizing the arrangements for your impending engagement, while your mother, deep in slumber, dreamt of the wedding preparations ahead. Meanwhile, you lay wide awake beneath the canopy of your chamber, clad in your nightgown, yearning to be anyone but yourself.

In that moment, the faintest tap at your window caught your attention. Initially, you dismissed it as a figment of your imagination—surely, no one would seek to contact you at such a late hour, especially considering your residence on the second floor. Yet, the sound persisted, growing more insistent with each repetition.

With cautious steps, you rose and approached the window, uncertainty weighing heavily upon you. Slowly, you drew aside the voluminous pink curtains that had obscured both moonlight and the view of the street below. There, you observed a small pebble making contact with the glass, producing a gentle, persistent knocking sound.

Who on earth was throwing rocks at your window? Especially at this hour?

Delicately, you released the latch securing the window and eased it open, peering down to the street below to discern the identity of the visitor. From your vantage point, you observed a figure below, stooping to retrieve more stones, his movements deliberate yet furtive. As he straightened, your gaze locked onto his face, and in that instant, you recognized the familiar features of the culprit.

“Benedict?” you whispered down at the man.

Upon hearing your voice, Benedict dropped the rocks in his hand, and a relieved sigh escaped him.

“Y/N, I must speak with you. I attempted to enter the house, but the door is locked.”

“Because it is exceptionally late. Benedict, you cannot be here. This is rather improper.”

“I will not leave until I get a word with you, and I will only get louder as you make me wait.”

You could not let him in. You were dressed in your nightgown. Your hair was not done nor your makeup. Not to mention, if anyone were to see him come inside, your family would be cast out of society. While you all were wealthy, respected, and had titles, you were no Bridgerton. You could not get away with such a feat.

“Why are you here, Ben?” you asked, your voice full of defeat.

You observed a softening of his features from hearing the nickname you had given him all those years ago. Despite wearing the same attire from the ball, his hair was now disheveled, evidence of repeated runs of his hand through it—a nervous habit of his. He gestured with open arms, as if inviting you to leap into them—an implausible notion, surely.

“I am here to be bold and declare myself,” he declared, ever so confidently.

“You are not being bold,” you whispered, looking up and down the street for any passersby. “You are making a fool out of yourself and my family.”

“I am calling upon you—” he began to shout before you quickly shushed him and caved to his demands.

“Fine! Fine! I will be down in a moment,” you hissed, shutting the window in your wake.

You hastily raked your fingers through your tousled hair, attempting in vain to tame the unruly strands that betrayed a night of restless tossing and turning in bed. Eventually conceding defeat, you reached for your baby blue robe hanging on the door and descended the stairs with purposeful strides. Benedict Bridgerton's unexpected appearance bewildered you—had he lost his senses? His unannounced visit threatened to disrupt everything.

You grasped the gilded handle of your front door, turning it with utmost care to avoid arousing anyone's attention to Benedict's presence. The door swung open slowly, revealing Benedict poised outside, patiently awaiting your invitation inside that would not be coming.

“What are you doing here, Benedict? If anyone were to see you—”

“I have found you another option,” he stated breathlessly.

You frowned, confused by his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you must marry Lord Kensington because there is no other option. I have found you another one.”

You could not help but roll your eyes at his audacious statement. “And who might that be? My father has looked for other men for me to marry, and his search has been fruitless. I doubt yours would be much different.”

“You will marry me.”

A ringing sensation echoed in your ears, accompanied by a wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. Surely, he could not mean what he was saying. Perhaps confusion had clouded his judgment. As you gathered your thoughts, uncertainty gripped you tightly.

“Are you drunk?” you asked hoarsely. Your eyes widened momentarily, realizing the potential rudeness of your question. “I apologize. I meant—No, I meant what I said. Are you drunk?”

The same goofy smile you had come to love appeared on Benedict’s face. “Believe it or not, I have never been more sober.”

You shook your head, alarmed by this whole situation. “Well then, are you mad? That’s the only excuse for you to come here at this hour asking for my hand in marriage.”

“You are one of my dearest friends. I will not let you marry a man on his deathbed,” he stated firmly, reaching for your hands and holding them in his.

Still unconvinced, you scoffed, “What about Eloise? Surely your sister would not be fond of you marrying one of her closest friends.”

“It was actually her idea,” he stated, creating only more confusion for you. “We were on the swings discussing how unfond we were of your fiancé when she said that she wished I were marrying you instead.”

Realizing the gravity of this conversation, you ripped your hands from his. “You do not even wish to be married, and I will not let you marry me out of pity.”

As you reached for the door to slam it in his face, he asserted himself, pushing it open and pressing you gently until your back met the doorframe. Your chest rose and fell with heightened emotion as you gazed up at him, but before you could react, he captured your lips with his own. A rush of warmth enveloped your entire being, causing you to pause, unsure of your next move. The sensation was entirely new to you; while you had read about such moments in the pages of Jane Austen’s novels, experiencing them firsthand was another matter altogether. Benedict's kiss felt unlike anything you had ever known—a gesture filled with a fervor that seemed to imply he needed your very breath to survive.

As you drew back from him, a swell of emotion threatened to bring tears to your eyes. Leaving his embrace was painful; you longed to linger, yet the reality of the situation weighed heavily upon you. With the door ajar, vulnerable to prying eyes, the impropriety of the moment loomed large in your mind. It felt unjust and heart-wrenching—to share such a tender kiss with the man you loved, only to face an impending marriage to another that you could not stand.

“This is cruel, Benedict,” you whispered, your voice trembling and your lips quivering. “I did not take you to be a cruel man.”

“I am not marrying you out of pity,” he declared firmly, his gaze intense as he wiped away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Or obligation,” he added, his touch gentle yet resolute. “Or convenience.”

“Then why would you do this?” you asked, fighting to maintain composure before him. “Why come here, demanding to marry me when you know I have loved you for years?”

He hesitated briefly, taken aback by your words, before gently cupping your cheeks with both hands. “Because I will not let the woman I love marry a man who is not me.”

You gasped involuntarily as his words replayed in your mind. Benedict's face broke into a triumphant smile, akin to winning a hard-fought duel. The revelation felt almost surreal. Benedict Bridgerton loves you? It seemed impossible to comprehend. You'd known him since childhood, and despite the few years' difference in age, you would have expected him to declare his feelings long before the eve of your arranged engagement.

“Do not lie to me, Benedict, or so help me God—”

“I have never lied to you, my love,” he interjected, pressing a tender kiss to your right temple as he continued to cradle your face. “And I never will.”

Overwhelmed by your emotions, you pulled away, your voice rising in frustration. “Why did you not say something sooner?” you demanded, no longer caring about your mother asleep upstairs or the servants resting elsewhere in the house. “Why tell me now?”

“Because, I—” he began, his frustration evident as he ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I had more time. I convinced myself that if you chose to marry another man, someone of substance, I would step aside. But this…I cannot let you marry Lord Kensington. It would be a fate worse than I could endure.”

“You wanted more time?” you asked, exasperated. “More time for what? To visit brothels? To sleep with whores? To continue being a rake? You wanted more time to be selfish before you had to force yourself to settle down?”

He scoffed. “Do you even know the meaning of the words you say? Or are they just judgmental statements you’ve heard your father make about me to your mother?”

“I love you, Benedict. I always have, but I will not be second to the life you want for yourself. I will not become a regret of yours when you are my entire world. It would break me, so I would rather become the wife of a man who disgusts me than marry you and have you disdain me.”

Forcefully, he seized your bicep, pulling you close until your chest pressed firmly against his with every breath. Benedict had always been so kind, so gentle, so transparent, but as you gazed into his eyes now, you saw a different man entirely—a beast poised to devour its prey.

“Do not presume to know my desires or what I will regret,” he declared, his voice a low growl as he towered over you. “You may love me, but you do not know me better than I know myself. What I know is that I want you, in every sense of the word. I want you to be my wife, my partner, the woman with whom I share my life. I want to wake up each morning with you in my arms. I want to possess you, and I want the world to know that you belong to me.”

Your eyes blinked heavily as you stared up at him, tears beginning to fill them. "I want nothing more, Benedict, but my father has most certainly already promised me to Lord Kensington. You’re too late."

Benedict shook his head, refusing to accept your words. "You will come with me now to Bridgerton House—"

"I cannot leave the house at this hour in this attire with you!" you gasped, horrified by the idea. "I’ll become the biggest scandal in Lady Whistledown’s next issue."

"You will not interrupt me," he stated firmly. "Do you not trust me?"

You sighed, "I trust you. I’m just questioning your judgment. Have you truly thought this through?"

"Listen to me, Y/N. You are coming with me to Bridgerton House now. We will not keep this quiet. The more people who see us, the better. Tomorrow morning, I will go to your father and declare my intent to marry you. Perhaps we may even obtain a special license to wed quickly, avoiding further scrutiny."

"That will not change the fact that my father has promised me to Lord Kensington."

"What changes is that if Lord Kensington discovers you stayed the night unchaperoned with me, he will not want to marry you."

Pausing, you realized the sense in his logic, though you were still confused. "But why not?"

“Because he will think I have bedded you, and he will not marry a woman whose purity he believes is not intact,” Benedict explained.

“Oh... So, you’re not planning to bed me? We're tricking him?” you asked, sounding more disappointed than you intended.

A broad smile spread across Benedict's face, lighting up the foyer where you stood. “Do you want me to bed you, my love?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you tried to look down, but he gently lifted your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I just assumed that you would eventually. It is my marital duty, after all,” you mumbled.

Benedict shook his head. “In our marriage, the only duty will be to love each other with every ounce of our being until our dying breath. I will not make love to you unless you ask me to.”

“But when my mother explained the marital duty, she said—”

“Your mother is wrong,” he interrupted firmly, his grip on your chin steady. “You will be my wife, and as your husband, I promise that I will never force you into intimacy. You will come to me willingly, as I will to you, or not at all. I will not coerce you.”

With a gentle embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rose onto your tiptoes to meet his gaze. “I’m not wearing shoes, my handsome fiancé. How will you manage to get me to your bed?”

He tapped his chin playfully, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed teasingly, eliciting a laugh from you. Without warning, he swept you into his arms bridal-style, prompting a squeal of delight as he started towards his home.

“Benedict, we must close the door,” you laughed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his stride toward his house unwavering. “Your father can handle it when he returns from his meeting with your now ex-fiancé.”

“He was never my fiancé. He was almost my fiancé.”

“And who do we have to thank for that?”

“How would you like me to thank you, Ben?”

"I have many ideas in mind, my love, but I'm curious to see what you're thinking," he smirked devilishly.

Now it was your turn to foolishly tap your finger against your chin as he had done before. "I've got it!" you exclaimed, teasing him, which prompted him to tickle your underarm with the hand that rested on your back. Your laughter filled the air, and Benedict couldn't help but note that he had never heard a more liberating sound.

"You're not getting your reward anymore!" You gasped, squirming playfully in his arms.

“Oh no!” He pouted, placing his head in the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help but feel the movement of his soft smirking lips, “How may I get it back? Tell me, my love. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I believe I rather prefer you on your worst behavior, Mr. Bridgerton.” You teased.

Benedict’s head snapped up to meet your gaze, his pupils dilated with lust and desire, “Is that so?”

“You are ever so enticing when you wear that dopey mischievous smirk that you are sporting this instant.”

“And you are ever so desirable when you look at me like you wish for me to fuck you, my dear.”

A surprised gasp escaped you, but before you could finish it, Benedict captured your mouth in another kiss. The kiss started out soft and lazy as his steps began to falter, it is then when he maneuvered you so your front is facing him and he is carrying you by your thighs. Unintentionally, you began to grind your body against his length with each step he took as you sat beautifully atop of his clothed member. His grip tightened over your nightgown, and your hands pulled at his hair as he continued to devour you.

“Ben.” You moaned, pulling him closer if there were even such a possibility.

“What is it, beautiful?”

“I need more. I need you.”

Benedict smirked, his lips never leaving your neck, “I see. I never dreamed of you being this desperate for me especially in such a public place. If I were not as desperate as you, I would see it as pathetic.”

“Be nice.” You pouted, throwing your head back as he ravished you.

“Of course, my dearest. I know you want nothing more than to behave as an absolute angel, and I must act in a manner that is befitting to accompany you. God forbid, I scare my good girl off before I have the opportunity to ruin her.”

“Yes!” You moaned, almost bouncing in his arms having no earthly idea why the feeling of him against you was as ethereal as it is. “Ruin me, Ben. I’m all yours.”

If it were up to Benedict, he’d lie you against the dirty ground beneath him and fuck you until you were both unmoving and drenched in sweat. And while he supposed he could make that decision for the two of you and lie you down right now, he did not want your first time to be where anyone could see. When he took you intimately for the first time, he wanted to cherish you, and he wanted to be the only one who knew the look that appeared on your face when you discovered just how beautiful making love could be. When you realized that the action should never be a duty, but a gift.

“My love, if you do not behave, I will not be able to compose myself.” He stated, as he grinded his teeth together, attempting to hide just how far gone he was.

Before you even had the opportunity to whine or protest, Benedict threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You were instantly met with disappointment at the loss of contact, and you were about to argue with him when his hand playfully smacked your bottom.

“Benedict!” You shouted as his walking began to speed up, and you could sense from your surroundings that you were almost to Bridgerton House.

“I apologize, dearest, but I cannot wait a second longer to claim you, and this is the fastest way to get us to our destination.”

“By treating me as a child?” You argued. He slapped your bottom again, and once again, you shouted after him, “Benedict Bridgerton.”

“If you are going to behave like an ill-disciplined child, I will treat you as such. Now, keep your voice down. This isn’t a secret, but we do not need the entire ton to know I have stolen you away.”

Your ribs bounced against his shoulder as he took you up the steps into Bridgerton House, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you whispered, “You only want me to be quiet, so I do not wake your mother. You could not care less about the rest of the ton.”

Not answering you like the stubborn mule he was, he slapped your ass once more, and not willing to admit that you enjoyed the sting of his affection, you slapped his back in return.

You felt his stifled laugh before you heard it as he swiftly maneuvered you into one of the few rooms of Bridgerton House that you have never seen: his bedroom. You weren’t given the chance to look at your surroundings and see the room where the man you would be marrying laid his head each night. As soon as you saw the door swing closed behind him, your vision shifted to his ceiling. With a swift motion, he threw you onto his mattress, your back bouncing against the soft surface.

Before you could tease him for his impatience, he was already on top of you, his lips on your neck with a hunger akin to Dracula's. How had you resisted his charms for so long? Why had you denied yourself the fulfillment of tasting his lips? What had you done to deserve the intense pleasure he now bestowed upon you? Amidst all these unanswered questions, one thing became clear: there was no going back to a life where Benedict didn't kiss you so sweetly and speak to you with such desire.

He nibbled at the smallest bit of skin below your ear, eliciting a moan from you that he now has deemed the sound of the Lord calling him home. Surely, there was nothing more heavenly than the sound your body made when it called for him.

“Ben, please—” You begged.

He moved from your neck to your swollen lips, pecking them ever so gently, “You are alright, my love.” He said in between kisses, “Do you wish for me to continue?” 

Nodding your head rapidly, Benedict couldn’t help but smile down at the sight, “Are you certain, dearest? There will be no turning back.”

You placed one hand on his shoulder and the other behind his head as you pulled him down to meet you, “Don’t ever stop.”

With your consent, Benedict removed your baby blue robe and began to bring the bottom of the skirt of your simple white nightgown up to rest at your hips, leaving your bottom half exposed. You moved to close your legs, feeling slightly insecure from the display, but Benedict stopped you placing his hands on your thighs.

“Do not hide from me, my love.” He stated, tenderly as he gently squeezed your thigh.

Your eyes widened and with them your legs, accepting his strong manly presence. 

“Have you touched yourself here?” He asked, ghosting his hand between your legs, almost making contact, but immediately pulling back before you could feel him.

You shook your head no, “Why would I?”

Mumbling against your hip bone, he replied,“Because it brings you pleasure.” 

“Just as you are doing now?” You gasped as his fingers finally made contact.

He chuckled almost sinisterly as he planted delicate kisses across your hips and lower stomach while rocking his fingers back and forth across the button between your legs, “Exactly as I’m doing now.” He murmured, “In fact, when you try it, I want you to think of this moment. Do you understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and he lowered himself further into the valley that was your thighs, “Are you certain you understand?” He asked, dastardly kissing your cunt for the first time while his fingers continued their calculated movements. 

Throwing your head back in desperation, you shouted, “Yes! Yes! I will think of you Benedict!”

“And only me?” He asked with the fakest pout, jutting his lip out like a fool. You were too busy enjoying his fingers and tongue to entertain his teasing.

“Of course you! Only you! God, Benedict. Do not stop!”

“Does it feel good, my darling?” He asked rhetorically, inserting one finger, to carefully begin stretching you out for his cock

A peculiar warmth enveloped your abdomen, radiating to that intimate place between your legs. This sensation first stirred upon seeing him for the first time tonight and has only grown the longer you lie here in his bed. Your thighs felt sticky and moist, your breasts tingled and rose with each heavy breath, and your mind became blissfully empty. It was an unusual feeling, yet undeniably welcome.

The stretch of the single digit inside you stung at first, but that pain quickly morphed into pleasure as he moved it in and out, sliding it against your walls, eliciting a feeling you had never felt before.

Benedict groaned merely at the sight of you beginning to come undone around his finger. He inserted a second and you reached for his hand, gasping, not necessarily in protest just in desperate need for a pause.

With one hand still inside you, he planted the other beside your head and slowly climbed up your body, kissing every inch until he reached your jaw. He gently sucked on the edge of your neck while you reached for his hair, causing him to smile against your skin. A slight tug unintentionally escaped you from the overwhelming sensation of him between your legs, eliciting a growl from him into your throat, pushing you further over the edge.

He suddenly pulled away from you and tugged at the cravat around his neck, tossing it to the floor. You moaned at the loss of his fingers, but it was then when you realized he was still fully clothed and you were almost completely naked. He continued pulling at his clothing, throwing his shirt and tailcoat to the floor before reaching for his belt. Realizing where this was heading, you pulled the remainder of your nightgown over your head, leaving your entire body on display for him before you placed it gently in your lap unsure of what to do next.

Sensing your uncertainty, he took your nightgown from you and tossed it to the floor, taking charge. He climbed on top of your body while he pushed his pants down his legs and planted himself on your chest. His lips enveloped your right nipple while his large hand twisted and grabbed at your left breast. Benedict had seen the tops of them over the years in the countless corsets you had worn, but seeing them bare as they are now, he felt like the luckiest man in London.

As he kissed your chest, it only created a desperate need to be inside you. He was dying to watch your breasts bounce as he pumped in and out of you, fucking you like he had always dreamed of. Your body was a dream in its entirety. How Benedict got so lucky to claim it was beyond him, but he knew better than to question God’s gifts.

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He moaned, rutting against you as he switched directions and kissed up your neck, “You are a goddess, and I am only a lucky mortal who gets to bear witness to your beauty.”

“Benedict—” You begged, cutting yourself off as you reached for him, “I miss your fingers. Put them back inside me.”

You were addicting and those words only ensured your future husband that he would never let you leave him. He would never be able to survive another day without seeing the glow that your face currently held. He buried his head into the side of your neck and reached for his cock knowing you were ready from the wetness that soaked in between your legs.

“I am going to give you something better than my fingers.” He stated, hungrily. Your brain is too foggy to comprehend what he means by this statement. What could be better than his fingers? “I am going to give you my cock, and it is going to hurt for a moment at first, but I promise you it will feel better after a while.”

“It will hurt?” You asked, sounding frightened. 

“It is nothing you can not handle, my dear.” He smiled, kissing your temple not wanting your nervousness to interfere with your pleasure, “I love you, and I guarantee this will bring you pleasure. It just takes a moment to get used to the size, but you are wet enough that it should not hurt exceptionally bad.”

You grabbed at his biceps anxiously, stopping him for a moment, “My mother said that the marital duty—“ You interrupted yourself as his eyebrows narrowed at you, and you knew the reason for his confusion was that with him, there would be no marital duty. You had a feeling that your marriage would be entirely different from your parents because unlike your parents you and Benedict were a match made of love, “She said that making love was painful and unpleasant for the first time. One of the worst pains imaginable.” A tear pricked at the corner of your eyes, “I am frightened.”

“Oh, my love,” He cooed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You may not need to be frightened with me. Yes, sex can hurt if you are not properly prepared, but I have ensured that you are ready for this experience. The more you think about it, the worse you will build it up in your head. Just relax, dearest. The more you relax the better it will be.”

You nodded your head, but you did not remove your hands from Benedict’s large biceps, you closed your eyes almost as if you were bracing yourself for him. Wanting to bring you as much ease as possible, Benedict leaned down to kiss your temple before moving to your lips. Your hands moved from his arms to his face, and while you were occupied with the feeling of your lips on his, he grabbed his cock in his hand, stroking it twice before pushing only the head inside,allowing you time to adjust.

A quick gasp escaped you and in an instant your hands were back on his biceps. It took every ounce of strength that possessed Benedict to not push into you further, but he wanted this to be a good experience for you, and he refused to put you in more pain than he had to.

“You just tell me when you are ready for me to move, and I will, dearest. This is all up to you.”

“Ok,” You murmured breathlessly, nodding your head. The sting inside you had dulled to an aching need for him to move, “You may move.”

At that, Benedict pushed further in, slowly seating himself completely in your heat. The pain worsened slightly, but with the way he whispered sweet nothings to you and kissed you so softly, you were too overcome with emotions to comprehend the pain. He sat inside you for a moment, not wanting to rush this time with you and not wanting it to be over so soon. You were so tight and squeezing him like a vice that he needed a minute or else it would all be over before it began. 

Once you both had adjusted to the feeling of eachother’s warmth, Benedict began moving. He slowly started pulling his length out until he pushed back in before he could slip out of you, continuing pumping in and out as you got used to the feeling. It was almost enough, but you knew you needed more. 

“More, Ben,” You moaned, breathily, “Faster.”

A lazy smirk fell on Benedict's lips as he placed his forehead against yours, “Look at my needy girl. She’s begging for it like some common street whore. It's ok, my love. I will take care of you.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, and you wished you could say that his words had no effect on your body, but with the way your head unintentionally fell back and your lips gasped for more of him, you knew it would be nothing but a lie.

Benedict ravaged your body like you were his for the taking, which you were, and it made you realize that you could not have lived another second without having Benedict this intimately. You were not meant to be any man’s wife but his. You were not meant to bear any child that lacked the last name Bridgerton. As your childhood best friend gave you everything you had always wanted, you knew that he was your destiny in every life, and you couldn’t fathom how you almost let him go.

As Benedict kissed your lips, your neck, your cheeks, and every inch of your face while he pounded in you, he placed one hand on the bottom of left thigh and lifted your leg over his shoulder, resting it there as he picked up his pace. The feeling instantly left butterflies in your stomach, and a loud moan escaped you as you relished the feeling of this new angle.

“Oh, Benedict! You must not stop. I have a feeling I cannot name—” You shouted and he placed his large hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

With sweat dripping off both of your bodies, Benedict leaned down placing his mouth by your ear without slowing his pace in the slightest.

“That is called an orgasm, my love, and I want it to rip through you like a flood. Just tell me when you are there, and I will finish with you.”

You nodded your hands gripping his biceps as he pummeled into you until you simply could not hold it any longer. Sensing your closeness to the edge, Benedict somehow managed to speed up as he stared at your breasts, watching as they bounced every time he thrusted into you. His hips became sloppy as he felt how close he was as well.

“Ben—” You gasped, unable to even finish a sentence.

“I know. I know. I’m right there with you.”

In that moment, it felt as though fireworks exploded between you, your body convulsing in bliss and your mouth parting with cries of ecstasy. Benedict, equally overwhelmed, carefully lowered your leg before collapsing onto you, mindful not to crush you. The sensation was indescribable. Although Benedict had been with other women before, he knew he could never return to those empty encounters, for nothing compared to being with the one he truly loved.

As the euphoria gradually subsided, you both lay there, tangled in each other’s embrace, feeling the warmth of your shared connection. Benedict gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate. His eyes, filled with a mix of satisfaction and devotion, met yours.

"You are heavenly," he whispered, his voice husky and sincere.

You smiled, feeling a surge of happiness and contentment. "So are you," you replied softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his back.

For a while, neither of you spoke, savoring the intimate silence and the steady rhythm of your breathing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the depth of your bond, stronger and more profound than ever before.

Eventually, Benedict propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving your face. "I love you," he said, the words carrying the weight of his heart, “I will never leave you, and if I have to duel Lord Kensington or your father to have you as my wife, I will do so happily.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

You both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey of love and passion that you would navigate together, no matter what challenges lay ahead. No matter what the morning brought, no matter what your father said, whether he cast you out or forbade you from marrying Benedict, it didn't matter. You knew in your heart that you were meant to be Benedict Bridgerton's wife. It was always you. This new and sacred union would withstand the scrutiny of the ton and any obstacles thrown your way. Your love was destined, and nothing could change that. As long as you had each other, you could face anything the world decided to challenge you with.

[ireadwithmyears]

even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do. 

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough. 

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

*

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls. 

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room. 

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved. 

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew. 

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night. 

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

*

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.” 

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.” 

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away. 

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his. 

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?” 

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall. 

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth. 

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood. 

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him. 

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth. 

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision.  The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated. 

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that. 

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests. 

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear. 

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight. 

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh. 

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers. 

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted. 

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets  out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat. 

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper. 

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize. 

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place. 

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh. 

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward. 

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed. 

[coupleoffanfics]

Hey, it’s almost 1am and I’m riding the angst train I wanted to ask ur opinion on something.

How would the fam react to Y/n getting grievously I hired or dying by the hands of a villain or by Jeremiah and getting caught in the crossfire???

❤️❤️❤️

I'm so glad that people like reading my stuff. It's more self-indulgent, but what fanfic isn't self-indulgent?

Anyway, I'm so excited by seeing this ask because it sounds fun to write about. Let's start with the "less" angsty one. y/n getting gravely injured (I'm assuming that's a typo) by a villain.

TW: Mention of suicidal ideation once and gore.

Getting Gravely Injured by a Villain

It'd depend on the Villain. The family is going to act accordingly in their personas. Their punches are probably hitting harder than usual.

Jason might shoot the villain in the head, but ultimately can't. He's in Gotham following the Bat's rules slightly. So he'll just shoot their knee.

y/n isn't Batgirl anymore. So that means the villain must know the publicity they'll get by attacking, kidnapping, or holding a minor celebrity would give them. The fact that it's Bruce Wayne's daughter who's painted out to be a saint by the media would spread like wildfire. They'd have to be doing it to get attention or money.

How severely y/n was harmed doesn't matter too much. Bruised, broken bones, stabbed, etc are going to make the family more protective. Trying to persuade y/n into coming back to the manor, so that they can keep her close and prevent this from happening again.

Now the Valeska twins will differ in how y/n gets hurt and their reaction.

Jerome is like a child on a sugar high when with y/n. Wouldn't deliberately harm her in any way. Kidnaps y/n and go on a joy ride around the city even though she has no choice and isn't finding any joy from this. She'll probably get a scrape on her legs or arms from falling because Jerome is running too fast while he is holding her arm. Maybe have a bruised arm or wrist because of how tightly he holds her.

He doesn't think too much about things and will get into dangerous situations. Pick a fight or mock the wrong person leading to a shootout. He's having too much fun to care about anyone until y/n is hit.

One of the family members finally caught up to Jerome and was ready to— oh, my God y/n is bleeding from her side! Oh, fuck! AHHH! Jerome knows he can leave y/n in the hands of whatever bat family member showed up. She'll be in good hands while he hunts down the one who shot her.

"I know you're one of the 'good guys', but take care of her. If I hear that you did something that upsets her I'll— actually, I'll keep that a surprise." He looks at y/n who is just bleeding on the floor and in pain with a big ol’ smile. "I'll make sure to give you the head of that fucker who got you. Until then see ya later, toots!"

After that y/n is forced to stay in the manor. They made a deal that it would just be a few weeks, but her stay is indefinite.

Bruce

Opens the door one day to find a large box. It wasn't a delivery because it has no shipping information on it. Just an envelope with y/n's name on top of it. Bruce opens the envelope first and reads the letter which has poor handwriting.

Hey, doll!

Hope you're resting up and not in too much pain. I didn't think picking on a mob boss would get so messy. They just couldn't take a joke. I'll pick a more private place for our next date cuz I know how shy you are. Hope seeing them brightens your day. Made sure to get rid of the eyes since I know how you don't like too many eyes on you. Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone who was there.

Love Jerome.

Bruce doesn't need a minute to take things in. He already knows what's in the box and sends it to the authorities. Does not mention a word of this to y/n. She is already going through a lot and best to not tell her.

He does increase the security around the manor. He ends up putting a tracker on y/n because knowing where she is the only way to keep him from worrying.

This further solidifies that she needs to be in their protection to keep this mentally disturbed boy away. The whole thing is twisted but the line "a more private place" bothers him the most. He's not letting his daughter be alone with Jerome longer than she already has.

Dick

It's early in the morning and Dick wanted to check up on how y/n doing. As he walks up to the manor there's a large box sitting in front of the door. A letter sits on top of it with y/n's name on it. Rips up the envelope and begins reading the letter.

Once Dick was done reading, he looked down at the box. Noticing dried blood around the box. This makes him nauseous and immediately goes to Bruce to inform him. They sent it to authorities so they could identify the heads in the box.

He doesn’t tell y/n or the others about this. Everyone is already in a frenzy from the events prior, so it seemed best to keep this between him, Bruce, and Alfred.

"Made sure to get rid of their eyes," Dick isn't sure why that sticks with him. Maybe it's because he wonders if Jerome beheaded them or took out their eyes first. It doesn't matter though because he needs to keep his little sister safe.

Barbara

Doesn't even want to go near it, checks that there isn't a bomb in there waiting to explode. She takes one peek in the box and immediately looks away. Does not read the letter because what was in the box said what needed to be said. Informs the whole family and that sets the mood for the day.

She checks up on y/n after telling everyone. The poor girl is so overwhelmed by everything that she doesn't want to be around anyone. Spends most of the day with y/n, trying to cheer her up. Get sweets since that's y/n weakness and sugar releases dopamine. She has Alfred cook y/n's comfort food.

The day is meant to help release all of the stress. Barb wasn't sure if it was working until y/n said thank you before going to bed. Barb makes a promise to herself that she'll become better at shielding y/n from this type of depravity.

Jason

Can tell who this is from just by the envelope. y/n's name with little hearts around it. Shoves it into his pocket, he'll give it to y/n when he sees her. Opens the box to be hit with a familiar disgusting odor. Looking inside there are 3 heads. Recognizes one of them being a mod boss he has on his list for a while now.

Jason wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. He pulls out the envelope and tears it open to get some sort of context. Reading the letter left him unsettled and a little…satisfied? Grateful maybe? For taking care of those who harmed y/n even though it was entirely Jerome's fault that this happened in the first place.

Closes the box and informs the whole family of what he found. Everyone is put more on edge. y/n isn't allowed out of the manor for a few days. y/n is upset by the news and she’s more quiet the following days.

Jason almost wants to laugh at, "They just couldn't take a joke." Bets that these" jokes" were just thinly veiled threats and pointing a gun at them. He probably would have snickered if this didn't involve y/n.

Tim

All he wanted to do was check the mail. Now he's reading a sort of love letter written by a psycho and looking down at the heads that could not look back at him. Their empty eye sockets had- ugh, God there was so much blood.

Debates on whether he should tell y/n about this, but ends up telling her. There was no point in hiding it because she'll probably find out one way or another. Sees the guilt and horror flash across her face. Wants to comfort her as much as he can, but all she does is detract from him. Of course, when Barb opens her arms y/n jumps into them. What happened to them always being there for each?

Doesn't like, "our next date", one bit. He doesn't like the insinuation or the thought of it. He starts keeping his eyes peeled for Jerome and ears open if anyone has information on where he is or going. The sooner he's in Arkham the safer y/n is from him and going on that next date.

Damian

Not impressed. The delivery was lazy and the writing was so sloppy that he almost couldn't read it. The heads must have been cut with a butter knife with how unclean and jagged the cut is. Every unprofessional. Nonchalantly brings this up at the table during breakfast. Not even when everyone is finished, just right in the middle of it.

Never really had respect for a villain or any, but the whole "Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone" was almost respectable. Damian having a speck of respect doesn't mean he likes Jerome. Still thinks he's stupid and annoying.

He'd give him a 3/10 for the delivery and would not order again.

Per-Spray Jeremiah isn't going to do anything, but Post-Spray Jeremiah is a different story. Will break one of y/n's arms or legs just so that she can't get away from him too easily. Though that's going to the extreme, he's more likely to guilt trip her. Getting into her head isn't hard and more effective.

"I thought you loved me. You were the one who always said you loved me. y/n, who has been here for you the most and always will? Not your best friend, Norah, she's leaving you behind and you know it. Not your family because they never cared about you in the first place. No one will love you like I do. You need me, y/n."

By the time the family saves y/n and brings her back to the cave for medical attention. She's consumed by guilt and almost believes she deserved any harm done to her. Will cry to Barb about this and only Barb.

Concerned by this revelation Barb will tell the whole family. Bruce is worried as it's clear that y/n's mental state is worsening. He knew that it would be after bad being kidnapped by Jeremiah, he just didn't think it would be this bad. Bruce and Tim have the same idea to get y/n another therapist if she's still not seeing one.

Jason and Damian are mad that y/n would think that she deserves any pain. Jason is kinda, sort of, not really more understanding about the whole thing than Damian. He gets how she could feel that she failed Jeremiah. If she has revealed that they had been dating and she can't or won’t give up on him, everyone is conflicted and concerned.

Dick has had the most romantic relationships and will try to convince y/n that Jeremiah is a lost cause now. Leading her to a spiral into a depressive episode. Oops!

If y/n is on the verge of death the family freaking the fuck out. Slowly recovers at the manor and convinces her that staying with them is the best thing for her. Depending on if her injury is life-threatening or not will determine how cooperative she is.

Getting Killed by a Villain

Doesn't matter who it is Jason is shooting them on the spot. Though with how emotional and choked up he's getting, he'll probably miss. Damian would react the same way if his whole body didn't stop upon seeing y/n's lifeless eyes. He doesn't want to step near her to see if it was true that he lost his sister.

Bruce, Dick, and Tim will force themselves to act professionally. They're still in their hero personas and killing was a strict no. If the whole family is there then whoever killed y/n is getting a beating of their life.

It could also depend on who's at the scene. Bruce and Dick hold on to the moral code that killing is wrong. This will prevent any further killings from happening.

Damian and Jason would probably end up killing the villain after seeing y/n's corpse. They know it's not going to bring back y/n, but what else can they do except making the villain to pay their debt?

Tim teeters between the lines. If Bruce or Dick is there then he's on their side of not killing. If it's just Damian and/or Jason then he won't stop them. He won't participate just stands back to let them do their thing.

Depending how and when she died will weigh heavily on their mind. Quick and painless before they got there? At least she didn't have to suffer too much, but still keeps them up at night.

Tortured for hours before succumbing to her injuries? They already feel guilty that they couldn't save her on time, but her last hours of living was being in pain will only intensify it. Out of the whole family, Jason would probably be the most distraught by this. He reopens old wounds and memories. y/n meeting a similar end is horrifying to him.

Get there on time, but it’s too late to save her from her injuries. Then slowly dies in their arms. If they're all there then y/n is dying in Bruce's arms.

"Please tell Jeremiah, I'm sorry and- and that I love him. Tell Norah that I hope s-she achieves her dreams of becoming a doctor. Are- are you still there? I can't see or feel you." She can slightly hear Bruce's deep voice while what seems to be the others are screaming. It's getting harder to hear and her body is starting to feel heavier.

This is the end and everyone knows it. Jason, Tim, and Dick don't want to accept it and are trying to patch her wound(s). Trying to get help there as soon as possible. Bruce and Damian are quiet trying to listen to her soft voice get quieter.

y/n starts slightly laughing, it's a nervous tick. "I always fantasize about having enough courage to end it all. Bu-but I- fuck. I'm such a fuck up." She starts crying and any words of comfort are either not heard or ignored. Starts coughing blood, but that doesn't deter Bruce in the slightest. Damian squeezes her hand though he doubts she can feel it.

"I don't even feel the pain anymore…At least I…At least I'm not dying alone." It isn't long before she stops breathing.

Alternatively, I thought of y/n saying, "I wished I was surrounded by loved ones." But she wouldn't stay that no matter how angry she is at the family. Might think it though.

In both cases of the Valeska twins, y/n would be caught in the crossfire. Jerome isn't going to kill y/n because she's his one and only. Jeremiah isn't going to kill y/n because why would he kill his wife? He's already planned out most of their whole lives and she already signed the mentally fabricated marriage certificate.

Jerome gets into a frenzy seeing y/n drop dead. No one is spared from his wrath. He can't bring himself to look at her body and will just leave. Inactive for a short time before getting back into the swing of things.

She is buried next to Jason. The family will catch Jerome hanging around her grave "talking to her" or something. Who knows what the hell he's doing. They'll have to chase him off or turn on the sprinklers if they want him to leave.

He didn't kill her himself, but he's still responsible for the events leading up to it. Meaning the family isn't going to pull back any punches.

Post-Spray Jeremiah has a similar reaction to y/n's death. Honestly, y/n could have died by just jumping in front of him to take a bullet. Doesn't matter how much y/n should hate him, she can't bring herself to. Ultimately it doesn't matter how she died, Jeremiah will blame Batman or the others for their inability to save y/n. Deflecting any responsibility.

This reinforces that he has to destroy Gotham and make it into his perfect image. y/n always talked about wanting to make the world a better place and that's exactly what he's doing.

If she dies in his arms he'll make a quick escape with her body. Having Echo hold back everyone to buy him time. Buries y/n in an undisclosed location and the tombstone will stay y/n Valeska instead of l/n or Wayne.

If he knew of the family's identity, he'd make subtle jabs at them. Mocking them for their mishandling of y/n. When or if he takes over Gotham he'll make sure that they all have front-row seats of the destruction before killing them off.

If he's feeling ruthless he might just have one of his followers get plastic surgery to look like y/n. Even change the pitch of their voice to get close enough to y/n's. Then send the follower after them and make various claims about how they lied about caring about her. How they let her die on purpose. That she'll never forgive them.

Traumatizing the whole family. Will make his follower's death gruesome just fuck with them and have them relive that day.

Bruce regrets not having kept y/n closer. He has a lot of 'should haves’ and 'if only’ in his head. He knows that's not going to do anything, but it'll take a while to accept her death. Always visits her grave every week.

Dick wishes that he'd been a better brother to y/n. He'll often wonder if she's looking down at them from above. Any mention of her will upset him for a while. Tim feels the same as Dick but often finds himself reminiscing about those happy moments. When they're smiling and laughing, once the memory is over he's left feeling melancholy.

Barbara is heartbroken by this. y/n always talked about how she wanted a normal domestic lifestyle. How much she loves Jeremiah and believes that he's the one. Now she's in the dirt and never experienced that simple quiet life she wanted. Carries a photo of y/n and her smiling on her all the time. Believes that y/n is in a better place where she can live out her dreams. One day Barb will see her again and give her a bone-crushing hug.

Jason and Damian think of throwing her body into Lazarus Pit if they have access to her body. Jason seriously thinks of it for only a minute before throwing it out. The pit messed him up and he can't handle bringing y/n back only for her mental turmoil to worsen. Damian doesn't think about that. He wants to apologize for all he's said and done. He wants his sister back, but the family is quick to turn down the idea. Explaining how it could only lead to more pain.

Damian would most likely listen to the family since they're technically right. Although there is a small chance that he wouldn't listen and do it anyway. Right out of the pit, y/n's thinking of her only love. Tries to run back to Jeremiah, but Damian is not having any of that. 

When he returns to the manor with y/n tied up the whole family will have a verbal MMA fight. After that, they lock y/n in a nicely furnished room with hidden security cameras. y/n is like a zombie. Only has one thing, rather one person on her mind. She's a shell of who she once was.

At least they have a second chance, right?

y/n can not go ten minutes without talking or asking about Jeremiah. Will speak with herself if there isn't anyone else with her.

I think this turned out horrible, but hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to ask anything else as my inbox in always open. Also sorry for misspells or grammar mistakes, kinda rushed this.

[valenciags]

Remnants of Hope AU

'The 'Remnants of Hope' are considered the last remaining of the sane Hopes Peak Academy students that are not in our care. It is this foundations mission to find and extract this miniature squadron from danger. We assume one of the lower level windows panelling was more rusted than initially thought before it had been fixed for the 'Killing Game'. These teenagers could be one of our last chances. Do not let their blood ridden figures lead to a violent encounter. They are simply surviving the best they can in that war zone.

Owari Akane:

Ultimate: Gymnast

Height: 5"9

Weight: 59kg/123lbs

Age: 17

Based on current cameras we have managed to reprogram for our purpose, Akane is plenty violent and makes up for a lack of proper critical thinking skills with her inane durability. She has no visible loss of body parts unlike her current compatriots, yet is littered with scars. Mainly more akin to a bear claw. Her strength is not to be questioned, in her files, the only people who have beaten her on hand to hand are Oogami Sakura and Nidai Nekomaru.

Sonia Nevermind

Ultimate: Princess

Height: 5"8

Weight: 50kg/110lbs

Age: 16

Additional Information - Home Country - Novoselic

Based on our surveillance, Sonia seems to be the least physically violent. She will adorn a weapon every once in a while and bear no fear in stepping in for her compatriots. This loyalty has resulted in the loss of her right arm from just below her elbow. She has sustained a temporary knee injury, slightly altering her ability to break into full sprint, this does not seem to bring her down. Her high spirits had made her a defacto leader and planner.

Souda Kazuichi

Ultimate: Mechanic

Height: 5"6

Weight: 64kg/141lbs

Age: 17

By far, this one is the least violent. From our surveillance, verbally, he's a menace. Otherwise he's secluded. His few attempts at heroism have had him majorly injured, losing his left leg from mid thigh down and almost complete loss of feeling in his right ankle. Don't underestimate the smarts. While brash verbally, he can build up a gun along with ammo and use it as quick as need be. He does not move now unless it's unquestionably needed.

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko

Ultimate: Yakuza

Height: 5"1

Weight: 43kg/94lbs

Age: 16

Don't be fooled by his height or baby face. If his name rings a bell that's because it should. While one of the two destined to be a leader one day, he leaves it to the princess in exchange for more of a ranged amount of violence. Keeping range with mainly guns and ammo made by the mechanic has resulted in him being hurt the least, but he has lost an eye due to a rogue 'Remnant of Despair'. Which one is the culprit is unknown as of now.

We have trust you can extract these four safely and put them in the secure hands of the 'Killing Game' survivors. Or more, our hands.

Good luck.

- Kirigiri Kyoko'

[gumnut-logic]

@idontknowreallywhy you reminded me of this. :D

-o-o-o-

Scott was ever so tired, but when John requested he not return Thunderbird One to her hangar, but instead nest her up with Two, he had to do as his brother asked.

John’s reasoning didn’t involve words, just a photo that had Scott hitting the brakes over Tonga and gliding in as quietly as he could.

The fact Virgil was behind him only had him waiting longer as the cargo ship needed to touch down before One could park securely. After all, the whole reason they hid the Thunderbirds like they did on their deserted Island was to protect them from accidentally being seen. There were holographic shields and security networks galore protecting the Island, but ultimately, if a fishing boat either wandered in or needed safety, it was a good idea to keep the Thunderbirds much less than obvious.

In summary, they didn’t tend to leave the sports car on the lawn for the neighbourhood to gawk at.

So instead, Scott set One to hover a respectful distance away while he waited for Two to catch up.

And try not to fall asleep in his pilot’s chair.

Fortunately, Virgil wasn’t as far behind as he could have been and the green behemoth soon appeared on One’s sensors. Scott stared as his younger brother glided in under minimal power and set down with a short spurt of VTOL in a rather impressive manoeuvre. It was the closest to landing silently that Two could probably get.

Scott let One follow almost immediately. She wasn’t as quiet as Two, the fact she had had to hover removing any chance at a glide out of the equation.

In any case, he slipped One in behind her sister and stashed her in the massive hangar so Two could still deploy if necessary and One could as well, albeit a touch slower than usual.

But considering her pilot was a zombie, it wouldn’t matter for another eight hours at least.

Climbing out, he met an equally tired Virgil and they plodded to the elevator together, drowning their exhaustion in the showers, and throwing on pyjamas that Grandma had obviously left out for them.

Scott’s t-shirt had the slogan on the front ‘Born to fly’, which he found appropriate, but the shirt having come from Gordon, the back followed up with ‘Farts in the sky’.

But he was too tired to care right now. Shoving it on and pulling the pants up over aching hips - he really shouldn’t have jumped from that cliff – he stretched to finally get any of the remaining kinks out of his system.

Only to find Virgil wearing a slightly too small t-shirt also obviously of the Gordon purchase pile that pectorally declared, ‘Warning: Do not decaffeinate, may decapitate’.

Well, perhaps, Gordon did have a point there.

Scott sighed. “Want to check on them?”

Virgil’s answer was only an eyebrow, but it clearly declared Scott an idiot for asking such a stupid question.

That ended all energy for future verbalisation and, finishing up, Virgil fell into step beside Scott as he headed off towards the lounge.

Because Allie was in the lounge.

And Allie was injured.

That fact, that entire concept, cut into Scott’s gut like a blunted knife.

John’s frantic yell the week before had aged the commander several years in a matter of seconds. Allie had been up helping a space freighter that had lost power and was in the process of losing orbit along with it. It should have been simple, but some high-speed space trash had collided with the vessel while Alan was out repairing broken electronics.

His suit had been compromised by what was basically a small meteor of human origin and for a bit there it had been damned scary.

But Brains made above average spacesuits and a certain self-healing polymer invented by a smart brother automatically resealed the suit.

Not before the damage to Alan’s leg had been done, however. A gash the length of his calf with both hot and cold burns leaving his leg a mess and their little brother grounded for weeks.

Scott was just happy to have him safe, and those weeks gave Scott the time to process the fact that, ultimately, he would have to let Alan out into space again.

But for now, he was safe at home.

Virgil was on his right when they entered the comms room. There was only one lamp providing illumination beside the moon shining through the rafters, but there was enough light to see Alan and Gordon curled up in what appeared to be the remains of a blanket fort.

Scott stepped quietly, Virgil on his heels.

Both little brothers were asleep, Gordon curled protectively around Allie, snuggled in a pile of pillows and bedclothes. Alan’s bandaged leg stuck out at an angle, but rested on a cushion, his foot sporting a pink fluffy slipper.

But it wasn’t the rather heart-warming sight of his two sleeping brothers that raised his eyebrows.

It was the swarm, a literal school of plushies that surrounded them that had Scott’s eyes bugging out...at least a little.

His brothers were curled up on the floor, but sitting on the couches where International Rescues were decided on and deployed was a literal cornucopia of sea life cuddly toys.

There was a giant prawn as big as Alan perched as if waiting for the holoprojector to activate. Eight octopuses of varying size, lined up in a row, sat beside it, three squid keeping them company.

A whale took up the entirety of one couch all by itself, a plethora of rays and fluffy sharks were piled up in mounds.

A furry red crab was sitting on the steps alongside something else that was white and vaguely bug like. The rest of the floor was covered by starfish, multiple clownfish and a whole variety of other plushie marine organisms including a six-metre-long oarfish that Scott only knew the name of because Gordon had pounded it into his head the day he bought it.

Literally, Gordon had whacked him across the head with it.

Virgil tiptoed into the mess silently on bare feet and there was a flicker of yellow light as he scanned his little brother.

The engineer retreated back to Scott’s side just as quietly, so there was obviously nothing to be concerned about.

John flickered in above the table, obviously on dim projection. He didn’t say anything, just smiling a little down at his brothers before looking up at Scott and Virgil.

Scott absently saluted him and that smile widened just a little before he blinked out again.

There was definitely a good reason why Thunderbird One needed to be parked out back.

Virgil tugged on his arm.

A glance at his brother and Virgil nodded him in the direction of the elevator.

Scott looked back at his two sleeping little brothers once more, a breath releasing through his teeth. Gordon obviously had a sea creature plushie addiction that might require a few questions at a later time, but there was something about the scene that swelled Scott’s heart and part of him wanted to curl up in the pile with them.

Virgil tugged on his arm again and Scott relented, following the engineer from the room.

Nothing much was said between them in the elevator, both caught up in their thoughts. Now they were out of sight of their little brothers, exhaustion once again crept in.

Virgil squeezed Scott’s shoulder as they exited onto the residential level and both of them disappeared into their rooms.

Five minutes later there was a knock at Scott’s door.

Bleary eyed and heart sinking he opened it, only to find Virgil standing there with his arms full of a giant black teddy bear. His brother shoved it at Scott, forcing him to either grab a hold or drop it.

Nothing was said, but Virgil did squeeze his hand before disappearing as abruptly as he had appeared.

Scott was left holding a giant black teddy bear.

It took him a moment, but he shut the door and retreated back into his bedroom.

The bear stared at him.

This was foolish.

But exhaustion continued to gnaw at him and it was with a certain lack of care that found Scott grabbing the bear and curling up in bed around it as the lights finally shut off.

Its fur was ever so soft.

And warm.

As he relaxed into sleep.

-o-o-o-

[sailorfutaba]

Essay on Char + Garma's friendship

Garma and Char get shipped. A lot. Pretty much for a couple where one party dies halfway through the series. While I also ship it, I think there’s a pretty good canonical basis for there to be some genuine feelings of friendship from Char’s side, given how Sayla shows us that he's capable of human warmth.

Essay below the break.

Part 1: Sayla's relationship with Char.

Let’s start by taking a look at Sayla, the person that Char is shown as caring for the most over the course of the series.

Compared to Char, Sayla is well-adjusted. When they meet during the war in 0079, Char seems to have an image of her as ‘gentle’, which has likely not changed since she was a little girl. Origin does indeed show Sayla working as a nurse and enjoying her cat. A ‘gentle’ child who shows empathy for other living beings is most often one who has been cared for and carefully nurtured. In contrast, Char is ruthless, to the point of sacrificing a neighbour’s son to get where he wants to be, ie taking revenge on the Zabis. 

Both of them have lost their parents early on. Being uprooted from a safe state and having one’s safety removed so permanently at an early age is extremely traumatising, especially if the new caretakers are strangers. They don’t know what afterschool activities the children enjoy, they don’t know how the child likes being comforted. It basically robs the child of it’s identity. 

Further, when siblings lose their parents, it’s common for the older sibling to undergo ‘parentification’, taking over the parents’ role of looking after the younger one(s). This is very stressful for the older siblings, and can contribute to a state of arrested development. Essentially, it’s a sacrifice. Older sibling’s wellbeing is sacrificed, in order to keep the younger one safe and secure.

Since Char is the older brother, it’s plausible to believe that he’s been taking care of Sayla, acting as a stable rock while the two were moved around. Even if she’s shown as having a good relationship with Teabolo, we don’t know what she was like when they were first introduced. 

Once Char sees a way out, he leaves Sayla in a place of safety. He protected his sister for as long as he needed to, and now he can finally rest from this responsibility. It’s not that he doesn’t love his sister - He does. He’s just likely tired out from looking after her, and wants to focus on his own goal for now, now that he knows that she’ll be safe for the foreseeable future.

Since most of his childhood has been spent protecting Sayla, it’s natural to assume that this is the one sort of human bond that he’s most accustomed to having. He knows how to look after, and perhaps comfort someone whom he perceives as weaker than himself.

Fig 2. 'Friendship' with Garma

Enter Garma Zabi. Regardless of whether we take origin’s characterization into account or no, he’s still kind, though sheltered, both qualities that could have endeared him to Char, who just left his one font of human warmth behind. It's not hard to see him looking after Garma in the ways he knows how, after having cared for Sayla.

Hanging out with Garma is advantageous to his cause, he can climb the ranks using Zabi influence. He can also more easily start on his plan of killing the Zabis. If he started by killing their beloved, youngest son, huge grief would likely befall the family. There’s also the option of using this proximity to murder another family member, if Char plays his cards right.

But he doesn’t.

Char now has someone to protect, and he seems to like it that way, judging by the fact that he hasn’t killed Garma or any of the Zabis during his years in the academy. He might have tried several times, ultimately coming up with the excuses, like, ‘it’s not time yet’ ‘I have nothing to win from this yet’ or ‘I still need him alive’, but that’s only speculation on my side. It’s also possible that he decided that a war would be the perfect opportunity, or that he could still use the Zabis in some shape or form.

But even with that said, the fact still stands that Garma’s friendship is a great opportunity, and he never ‘cashed in’ on that. Ultimately, killing one of the Zabis would have caused Garma grief, and potentially set him on the same road as Char. And as much as Char hates the Zabis, he might not have wanted that for Garma.

Once Char is farther away from the academy and no longer seeing Garma regularly, focusing on revenge gets easier. Char now has more chances to identify his weaknesses, one of which is Garma. Just like Sayla was, before he ditched her.

So Garma has to go, because Char is trying to get rid of everything standing in the way of revenge. Including the things that make him feel like a human being. This is supported by the following lines from Zeta Gundam episode 5:

“He felt that expressing his own individual emotions… Was the most important thing to overcome in the situation.” Part 3: The Headshot

Despite having been discounted as a weakness and removed, Garma is still on his mind, 25+ episodes later. After stating outright that he was not interested in revenge on the Zabis, Char kills Kycillia with a headshot and the words ‘One final present to you, Garma. I know you always got along with your sister’, thus showing that his mind is still with Garma, first and foremost. This wouldn't have happened, unless Garma really was important to him in some way.

In the original draft of Gundam, Char was meant to commit suicide after this. If we assume that this was at the front of his mind at this point, that means that this was meant to be his final words. Perhaps he was planning to see Garma gain, who knows.

Conclusion:

Char’s one main bond in life was acting as protector to his sister. There is ample evidence to assume that this carried over to his bond with Garma, influencing him to halt his plans of revenge. This would eventually lead him to kill Garma, in part to attempt to remove everything standing in the way of his grand revenge on the Zabis.

[sergeantgoggles]

Maycrowzer Headcanons (SFW)

I'll get back to writing prompts eventually. Been a little under the weather lately with an injury that isn't healing, so I made a self-indulgent list of headcanons for my favorite Bad Batch OT3.

TW: Mentions of PTSD, alcohol abuse, anger issues, body dysmorphia, and eating disorders.

Howzer is jealous of Mayday when they first find and rescue him from Tantiss. He’ll never forget the way Crosshair forgot himself and ran into Mayday’s arms amongst the bodies littering the floor of the base. The only greeting he got was an anxious sneer when Crosshair showed up on Teth.

The threesome was Mayday’s idea. He pitches it to Howzer so casually that Howzer thinks he’s joking at first, but when he sees that Mayday is serious, he figures he has nothing left to lose.

None of them expected the outcome, especially Crosshair. No way was his luck so high that he had reconciled and found love with Howzer AND was able to rescue Mayday and be with him, too.

Moving to Pabu just seemed right. Mayday wasn’t willing t fight anymore, and he was determined to keep Crosshair safe. Howzer took some convincing, but ultimately, being where they were was what he wanted.

They build their house close to the beach. It didn’t matter much to Crosshair where they ended up as long as they were together and his brothers and sister were nearby.

Howzer, having initially been trained to be a marine soldier, loves being near the open water.

Mayday, having spent much of the last couple of years in a cold, frozen planet, like having the warmth of the sun and colors of the sunset filtering through their bedroom window.

He also has a garden in the backyard that he tends to daily. His garden becomes the island’s best source of medicinal herbs and vegetables for harvesting and Mayday is very proud of it.

Also, this man is so into Dad Rock. Sometimes he can get Crosshair to loosen up and rock out with him in the living room, but other times Crosshair comes in from shopping to see Mayday and Omega with Hunter’s old bandana wrapped around her head playing a mean air guitar.

Howzer picks up a job as security detail for the island. It makes him feel like he’s still contributing to the rebellion by keeping his loved ones and Pabu safe from the Empire. He’d heard about Tech’s brainwashing and what he did to Pabu while he was under the Empire’s control, and he vows to never let anything like that happen again.

Crosshair spreads out his time doing odd jobs for the people on the island and picks up a whittling hobby. He’ll sit on the beach with his toes in the water and a knife watching the sun move across the sky and make little trinkets out of wood. He’s rather good at it, and most residents of the island have one of his masterpieces in their houses.

But not everything is perfect in paradise.

They all have nightmares. Some of them are easier to get through than others. Sometimes, they’re bad enough that someone needs to be restrained.

The first time it happens, Crosshair clocks Howzer in the face because he thinks Howzer is a Shadow Clone that’s come for him and his family. Howzer understands, but Crosshair apologizes for weeks after the incident.

Mayday develops a drinking problem, which is to say, he gets violent and angry when he’s had too much to drink and has a habit of taking it out on Crosshair and Howzer. Howzer can handle it, but if Mayday starts in on Crosshair, Howzer makes Crosshair leave to stay with one of his brothers until Mayday calms down and sobers up.

It doesn’t happen often. Many times Mayday can have several drinks and be fine and happy or maybe even horny, but when it does happen, Howzer knows they’re in for a long night.

After two years of living the island life together, they make their relationship a marriage. They don’t wear rings. Rings can get lost or ruined or given back. Instead, they get matching tattoos of three planets, one for how they each met one another: Ryloth, Barton IV, and Coruscant. (Technically, Howzer met Mayday on Tantiss, but they collectively agreed that planet has no place in their lives or on their bodies anymore). The three planets all surround one in the center, Pabu.

Mayday has his on his chest, right over his heart, because he’s a romantic sap.

Crosshair has it on his left hip.

Howzer has his on his right calf.

When they’re a little older and the lush, island lifestyle begins to catch up with them, Howzer develops an eating disorder. His physical appearance is important to him, and he’s worked incredibly hard to maintain his physique and proportions, but age can’t help but make him softer around the edges, and he hates it.

He wakes up one morning after a few months of eating only what he needs to and working out endlessly to see himself in the mirror. He’s pleased with what he sees, unable to tell that he isn’t healthy. He’s too thin and looks frail, but he’s finally happy with what he sees in the mirror.

Mayday looks at him that morning, REALLY looks, and he sees what Howzer can’t, but Howzer is smiling in a way that he hasn’t in a short while, and he’s so proud of himself. It breaks Mayday’s heart.

(An intervention occurs, and Mayday and Crosshair do their best to keep reassuring Howzer that he’s not less for enjoying the life that he worked for).

They have family dinners once a week, usually at Hunter and Tech’s place, but sometimes at Wrecker and Shep’s house. Omega and Lyana love to cook for them (with help from Shep and Wrecker, who takes interest in it when he learns just how much you can do with food).

One of Crosshair’s favorite photos is one that Tech sneakily took during one of the festivals on the island of Howzer dancing with Omega and spinning her around. He gives a copy of the photo to her when she confides in them that she’s joining Hera’s fleet in the resistance.

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Sunmary: Just Simon and Marcy being a wholesome father-daugther duo

Warnings: Blood

Simon and Marceline began to pack for their upcoming expedition or adventure , gathering supplies, and filling their backpacks. Simon was meticulous about it, making sure they had enough food, water, and other necessities to last them. He even added some items to Marceline's little pink backpack, which she hated for its color, but in an apocalypse, it was the best he could find.

As Simon wanted to tie up Marceline's hair into a cute hairstyle, he noticed the wooden soldier toy she had, left on the floor. Marceline's hair was getting longer, and it had started to get in the way, especially when they were on the move. As she sat down, Simon carefully gathered her hair and tried to tie it up, a task he had become surprisingly adept at. Or he thought that. He wasn’t that good actually.

He worked diligently but not without a few mishaps along the way. "Ow!" Marceline winced as Simon accidentally pulled a bit too hard on a strand of her hair. "Simonnn"

Simon chuckled softly, his hands working more gently now. "Sorry, Marcy. It's just getting a bit unruly, and we should find some scissors soon to make it easier for you." Marceline winced again as he finished tying her hair into a makeshift ponytail. "I know, but it hurts when you do it like that."

Simon patted her on the head and leaned back to admire his handiwork. Marceline's hair was now out of her face, and she looked at least a little more presentable. "There we go. You look great, Marcy.”

“Thank you.” She beamed up at him then she looked at her wooden soldier and Marcy hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to bring it along, but ultimately decided against it.

“You aren't taking this toy with you?" Simon asked, pointing to the wooden soldier with a gentle smile.

Marceline huffed, crossing her arms. "No. You said we're coming back."

Simon nodded, recalling his promise. "Right, we are."

But when she wasn’t looking, he quietly slipped the wooden soldier into his own backpack.

With their backpacks securely on their backs, Simon and Marceline stood at the doorway, ready to venture out into the unknown. But as they were about to take that first step, Marceline hesitated, her small frame blocking the way. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she glanced back at the familiar surroundings of their makeshift home.

Simon noticed her reluctance and gently reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand. He looked into her eyes with warmth and reassurance. "Hey, Marcy, it will be okay," he murmured softly. But Marceline's emotions were overwhelming, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t want to leave our home.” She leaned into Simon's touch and his heart clenched as he watched her tears fall. “Oh sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around her small form, holding her tightly and providing a warm and comforting embrace to ease her worries. "We'll just go to a little town to find some supplies," Simon reassured her, his voice soft and soothing. "If we keep a steady pace, we'll be back here in no time." Marceline clung to him, her worries slowly dissipating under the reassurance of his words and the safety of his arms. She trusted Simon implicitly, knowing that he would always do his best to protect her.

Marceline gradually let go of Simon, her tear-stained cheeks no longer burdened by worry. He gently wiped her cheeks once more, ensuring that no traces of her earlier distress remained. He looked into her eyes with a reassuring smile. "Where's my brave girl?" he inquired, a hint of pride in his voice.

Marcy chuckled, still feeling the remnants of her anxiety. "I'm not that brave."

Simon hummed thoughtfully and continued, "You didn't say that last week. 'You were the bravest of them all,'" he mimicked her words from their past conversation and that made Marceline's giggle burst forth.

She was too good for this world. She deserved a real childhood.

Simon and Marceline ventured out of the building and made their way through the dense forest, the antiquarian holding her little hand. The silence was only interrupted by the rustling of leaves and the occasional sound of wildlife. Simon's senses remained vigilant, but he hadn't detected any signs of zombies nearby. Perhaps they had chosen a good time to set out.

“Simon, do you think we can find some clothes for Humbo?" Marcy asked, her eyes gleaming with hope as she tugged on Simon’s black cloak.

Simon smiled at her suggestion. "We could certainly try. Did you ever watch Toy Story?"

Marceline blinked in confusion. "Toy Story? What's that?"

Simon chuckled softly, realizing that the reference might not make sense in this post-apocalyptic world. "Never mind. It's just a movie about toys that come to life when humans aren't around.”

Marceline's eyes widened with wonder. "No way! Do you think Humbo does that?"

Simon grinned at her infectious enthusiasm. "Maybe. Who knows? Humbo might have his own little adventures when we're not looking."

Marceline let go of Simon's hand and brought Humbo to her eye level. She peered at the stuffed toy with an expression of earnest curiosity and playfulness. "Are you coming to life when we're not looking?" she asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Of course, Humbo remained silent, as inanimate toys usually do. But Marceline wasn't deterred by his lack of response. She scrunched up her face in an adorable way, her imagination turning a simple toy into a potential participant in secret adventures, just as she had imagined.

Simon couldn't help but smile at her innocence and creativity, feeling just a bit better that he could still give her some kind of childhood "I'm not taking my eyes off you now," she declared to Humbo, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

After walking for a couple of hours, Marceline grew exhausted. Her little feet ached from the journey, and she found a comfortable spot near a tree to take a break, still holding Humbo in her hands.

She looked up at Simon with a pout and said, "My foots hurts, Simon."

Simon tsked playfully. "Feet, Marcy," he corrected her.

Marceline's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. "Sorry," she said, her voice filled with a hint of embarrassment.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "No need to apologize, dear. You're doing great. Now, let's see if you remember this one. Give me the plural for tooth."

Marceline grinned, ready to show off her knowledge. "I know this one. It’s teeth!"

Simon nodded with a proud smile. "Yep. You're a quick learner, Marcy." And then they settled under the tree for a bit, enjoying a moment of rest.

Marcy placed Humbo near the tree, her gaze occasionally darting over to the stuffed toy as if she hoped to catch it moving on its own. Simon, however, was grappling with his own internal struggle. Hunger gnawed at his insides, and his stomach ached. His vampire instincts had been triggered, and he knew he needed blood. He couldn't help but catch the scent of nearby bunnies, their warm, living blood calling to him.

His black eyes flickered toward Marceline, his sensitive vampire senses detecting again a different scent of blood coming from her. She was only half-human, and Simon had always wondered how her blood tasted. He was so sure it had an interesting aroma and it was both haunting and strangely captivating. He hadn’t had human blood in so long.

A beautiful face appeared in his mind eye, her face twisted in agony, falling to the ground.

He stood up abruptly and Simon quickly pushed those thoughts away, feeling a surge of guilt for even considering such a thing. He would never hurt Marceline.

Simon took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on something else. He stood up and patted Marceline's head gently. "I'll be right back, Marcy. Just going to look for some food."

Marceline looked up at him, her concern evident. "You okay, Simon?" Simon managed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Marcy. Just need a little snack. I won't be long.”

Notes: Wrote this instead of studying. Hope you guys liked it.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[bag-chips]

The FNAF 2 girlies are here! :) Headcanon stuff under Keep Reading!

- The FNAF2 animatronics are the smallest and lightest of all the generations. Due to their secondary purpose of security, plastic was used for the moulds and their endoskeletons were made to be much lighter. Thus, they are extremely agile.

- In the company’s attempts to rebrand, the Toys were designed to be brightly coloured and much more contemporary, with their outfits based on the trends of the time.

- This is most apparent with Chica. The teddy bear theme was carried from the 1st Generation.

- Originally, Toy Bonnie was designed to be a magician, but this was ultimately scrapped when they couldn’t figure out a way to get the mechanism controlling the hat in sync with the mechanical doves flying out from behind the stage. Needless to say, the first few tests failed spectacularly and led to significant property damage. Instead, they reused Bonnie’s guitar programming to make Toy Bonnie a rockstar.

- Toy Chica was universally loved by the public… almost too much. She was loved by kids for her friendly yet sassy demeanour, but there were also many instances of adult customers being inappropriate with the animatronic. Originally implemented as a harmless prank by Henry, he made the beak removable so that Toy Chica could scare off her admirers. However, as a downside this did make the beak prone to falling off in the middle of performances.

- The public had a love hate relationship with Toy Freddy. Some loved him whilst others hated the new design. He has limited jaw movement to avoid any more biting incidents. However, as the heaviest of the Toys, he is able to ram into and crush intruders with ease.

- Toy Foxy was specifically designed to fill the role that Foxy had ended up doing for years. They would perform on stage with their parrot puppet, doing interactive shows with the kids and comedy shows for an older audience. They would also leave the stage to play with kids. However, due to rushed production and technical oversight, Toy Foxy was prone to damages. After an instance in which they fell off the stage and suffered significant mechanical and cosmetic damage, their role changed. Instead, children could take them apart and put them back together, and were free to let their creative spirits run wild, covering the animatronic in scribbles and stickers. The Mangle does not receive maintenance. Its jaw is the only section that has not received significant damage.

- The Marionette is one of the oldest animatronics, designed around the same time as the FNAF1 animatronics. It was designed by Henry as a gift to his daughter, who had a love of clowns and puppets. Its primary purpose was to hand out gifts to children at the Prize Counter. Its secondary purpose was to keep an eye on the children. Originally, a mix of internal mechanisms and a string pulley system would give the illusion of the Puppet floating around the restaurant. However, following the death of Henry’s daughter, strangely the Marionette was able to move on its own. Workers presumed there had been updates to its programming and moved on.

[mattzerella-sticks]

My Idea for a Live-Action X-Men Movie...

Thinking... how can we introduce the X-Men into live action, whether through movie, tv show, limited series, etc. ... and I have an idea.

Let's start in media res.

Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted has been active for the past few years, however with a small class size of seven. Scott. Jean. Bobby. Hank. Warren. Alex. Lorna. Despite only consisting of seven students, due to Xavier's wealth he has been able to keep his school open and thriving since the beginning.

However that has changed as the size of his class has dropped from seven to one after a botched mission led to the capture of his students save one, Scott Summers.

And the opening scene is Xavier sitting in his mansion, worried, waiting, until Scott kicks his door down, tells them his team is gone, and passes out due to exhaustion.

We then pick up on our narrator for the movie, the character whose eyes we will be seeing the entire movie take place through, stepping off a plane and into JFK airport...

Ororo Munroe. Storm.

She had travelled from her home in Africa seemingly on a whim, as if drawn there by fate, and - unsure where to go or what to do next - she goes to a nearby bar to make her next plan.

Who should happen to sit next to her but a short, hairy man in a cowboy hat and a thick, Canadian accent?

Ororo, meet Logan. They do not hit it off.

She does happen to hit it off with the soft spoken Russian man who is reading poetry at the other end of the bar - Piotr Rasputin - and the bartender, a Native American man - James Proudstar - who wasn't supposed to be working that day but traded shifts with his roommate.

While they are all gathered there they hear a voice in their heads and turn around to see Charles Xavier, a man they all recognize and all soon realize is the reason they are now gathered together in this bar. At first they all want to leave but Xavier implores them to at least first hear him out, which they agree to do, but he tells them he won't start until the final member of their group is here.

Cue shouts and gunfire as Kurt - Nightcrawler - runs, leaps, and teleports across the airport in all his blueness.

Xavier manages to calm the crowd however not before one of the security guards manages to call in that the threat is a mutant and it's a race to grab Kurt before reinformcements arrive. But wouldn't you know it the group is not the best team yet and the reinforcements do arrive in the form of Sentinels.

It seems like all hope is lost when, out of nowhere, a stray quartz-colored beam blows one of the Sentinels apart and allows the group a moment to escape. They regroup in Xavier's car, which had been where Scott was waiting while Xavier gathered the others.

They return to the mansion where Xavier explains what happens to his team, that they were responding to a mutant in distress on an island that had ultimately been a trap - with only Scott escaping. The group has been gathered together to help Xavier and Scott rescue their teammates.

It's mostly a resounding no. Piotr would rather be at home on the farm. James has to go searching for a new job since he undoubtedly got fired from the bar for leaving during shift hours. Logan is "not a team player" and believes that the team is most likely dead anyway. Kurt is game but he is also "not the best fighter".

Ororo also agrees to help.

That surprises everyone. She says that while the circumstances that brought them together were underhanded, she cannot sit idly by while innocent people, people like her with a mutant gene, are in danger. Not just those on the island, who they are tasked with rescuing, but around the world especially since Sentinels have become standard issue around the world. While she does not see herself being a full-time member, she knows that the team Xavier had protected mutants like them from these threats and, with them gone, who will protect their community now?

Xavier tells them that, after they help rescue his original team, they would be free to leave and do what they want with their lives as they please.

Piotr is in. So is James. Logan sighs and agrees, "Since I don't want to be the odd one out." They agree to go save the others. Scott says, however, that before they can mount the rescue mission, they need to become a team first - referencing their battle at the airport and how they need to improve.

They agree to train.

Meanwhile, on the island, we see that there is a Master Mold along with Trask and scientists working on creating the next model of Sentinels in their ongoing war against mutants using the captured mutants from Xavier's Academy as test subjects. The scientists are just as much as prisoners as the X-Men, however, as they were led to the island on false pretenses and forced to work for Master Mold who had, unbenknownst to everyone until the final act, had taken over Trask and controls him as a puppet.

A few of these scientists came with their families. One of these families were the Prydes. Katherine Anne Pryde is seen as a non-threat by both Master Mold and Trask, and is able to freely wander the island as well as speak with the prisoners because, since everything is monitored and she is twelve, she cannot do anything to disrupt the mission. We learn from this scene that Master Mold is on the cusp of unveiling a new breed of Sentinel that, using the schematics pulled from Jean's mind, would be able to track mutants anywhere without needing to be called in. It was luck that the X-Men arrived on their island, fell into their trap.

Meanwhile back in Westchester, NY, this new team of X-Men are having a hard time at coming together to work as a team, which is making Scott mad. He and Logan almost come to blows if not for Piotr stepping between them to break things up. They both step away to cool off.

Ororo decides to speak with both of them. First, she goes to Scott, and tells him that he is not being a good leader. They have a heart to heart where he confesses that his friends are his family, and Jean... he has a lot riding on this being a success, and this is as new to him as it is new to them. He is not used to working with people he hasn't grown up with. Ororo tells him that he needs to lead from a place of love and courage, and not fear. Then, she goes to find Logan to see that he is brushing off Kurt rather coldly and Ororo does not wait to take him to task on his loner attitude. They clash a bit before Ororo tells him to get his act together or just leave, as it shouldn't matter to him what they think if he really doesn't care.

They all agree to do another training session, only they never get the chance as Xavier tells them it is now or never as there was a spike of pain from the same island his first team was lost, and that cannot mean anything good. The heroes go to get suited up and fly to the island base.

Master Mold is ready to create his new breed of Sentinels and it looks like they are a success, as they have been fitted with new upgrades. He activates a few and they immediately power online with the alert that there is a mutant among them.

All eyes turn to Katherine Anne Pryde. Kitty.

Her father and mother object but are restrained as the Sentinels begin to pursue her, only able to tell her to run before they are knocked out. Kitty runs and manages to escape the Sentinels after discovering her ability to phase through solid matter. The escape is not fullproof as they burst out the bunker in full pursuit. When she reaches the beaches with what looks like no place left to go, the clouds part and reveal the Blackbird jet which Ororo had just exited from and is now flying down to confront the Sentinels she spotted chasing the little girl. The Sentinels sense her power and lock onto her, only to get blasted by lightning and turret fire.

The X-Men land and confront the Sentinels but, unlike at JFK, they are able to work together and take them down. Even Logan finds himself being a team player. They rescue Kitty and she tells them where the prisoners are and also what Master Mold is planning.

The team decides to split up - Scott, Piotr, and James will confront Master Mold while Ororo, Logan, and Kurt follow Kitty to the prison area.

Of course we stay with Ororo because, again, she is who we are relying to guide us through this story.

We get to the prison area and it's Ororo, Logan, and Kurt going HAM on these guards taking them down while Kitty uses her powers to free the X-Men. She manages to get to the main control room and hits the button that releases all the prisoners who do their best to help, despite being weakened from experiments and torture.

We learn from Kitty that there's a prisoner missing, and they admit that it's Jean. She was taken by Trask.

So the group races to the main room where Scott, Piotr, and James are and see a BUNCH of Sentinels on the loose and pure pandemonium. Piotr and James are on the ropes and Scott is putting up his best fight, however just as the group arrives the Sentinels converge and blast him, with a woman across the room watching calling out his name as he 'perishes' (we'll circle back on this later).

Without their leader and shocked, Ororo steps up and takes command, leading the group into battle like she's been doing it all her life against the Sentinels while Kitty and Kurt evacuate the scientists. She cuts across the room almost instantly to get to Trask and Jean where we finally learn that the former has been completely taken over by Master Mold and is now a Sentinel cyborg. They battle it out but it's a tough battle given the numbers they're against until there's a moment where Ororo and Jean are tucked away, shielded from incoming blaster fire from Trask and the Sentinels, when Jean places her hands to the ground and closes her eyes. Ororo asks what she's doing and Jean tells her she's asking for help.

"From who? Xavier only sent us?"

"From the mutant we came here to help in the first place. From the island."

BOOM! We get the reveal that the island. Krakoa, is a mutant and has been weakened by the experiments run on it by Master Mold and the Sentinel. Jean tells the group that they need to let Krakoa 'feed' on a piece of their energy to recupe its strength for it to help them and they all look to Ororo as it's her call, and she says they should do it. They do and the ground rumbles and shakes and we can see the island begin to terraform as it fights back against Master Mold and the Sentinels. It takes out MANY of them while the X-Men pick up the slack on the rest.

Ororo takes on Master Mold/Trask hybrid as the island begins to sink back into the ocean, with Trask, damaged, spouting nonsense. That he is there to save the world, that he is the FUTURE, the INEVITABLE, that the X-Men cannot prevent the world falling apart in the future, that they will be responsible for the apocalypse. However, with a lightning zap and some timely telekinesis, the group escapes back to the Blackbird as the rest of the island has already been evacuated.

The X-Men return to Westchester without Scott and inform Xavier of what happened.

Time moves on. They recover. They mourn. A memorial service is held for Scott. Xavier's original students, Warren, Bobby, Alex, Hank, and Lorna, decide to leave the school afterwards as they believe they need to come at the Sentinel problem another way. They form X-Force.

Xavier comes up to Ororo after the service and asks her to stay on, despite her having no obligation to do so. She watches Logan and Kurt keeping Kitty entertained while Piotr and James speak with her parents, about Kitty staying on at the school and learning from Professor Xavier, and decides that she would like to stay and lead the X-Men. Jean joins them and says that she'd be happy to be on any team Storm is leading, revealing that -of the original students - she is the only one who is staying with the X-Men. The three look out onto the horizon as there are endless possibilities for the X-Men now *play the theme song*

END CREDIT SCENE NUMBER ONE - Magneto watches Xavier's new team of X-Men in action and converses with Mystique, saying that, "If Charles has put together a new team of recruits, we should, too."

END CREDIT SCENE NUMBER TWO - A blonde woman in all white speaks with a raven-haird men with red eyes and a crimson diamond embedded in his head. "You pulled a lot of favors to get him, are you sure he's worth it?" "Believe me. He is." The duo, Emma Frost and Dr. Sinister are looking over the body of Scott Summers, very much NOT DEAD, held in stasis as the camera pans out and reveals the Hellfire Club.

And that would be how we introduce the X-Men, and mutants, into live action movies.

[giddlygoat]

Launchdad? 🤨 🎤

LAUNCHDAD 💪

thanks for the ask! i had this sketch lying around so the timing is perfect.

launchpad and gos’ dynamic is so incredibly important to me. her rambunctious, rebellious spirit and endless energy paired with launchpad’s bottomless positivity and chill aura is so perfect. he’s the most supportive, sweetest father figure she could possibly have. i love how in the show she has no apprehensions about coming to him with anything, and always feels safe with him. it’s how things should be, and a nice change of pace next to drake’s short temper.

one of my favorite scenes in the whole show is in the alien queen one near the beginning when they’re all three on a road trip, and gosalyn turns her home camera to launchpad and says “show us your true self!” iirc and he takes his hands off the steering wheel to make a silly face at her LAWLLLL the dad humor with launchpad is strong. not to mention drake’s immediate chastising him to keep his eyes on the road. they are so married <3

i just love how playful launchpad is with her, yet he always takes her seriously and talks to her on her level. he not only cares for her more than anything but respects her and is always honest with her, which is earning some serious parenting points in my book.

he’s already cultivated such a healthy relationship with her and provided so much security for her before she even calls him “dad”, which i’m almost certain she’s never done in canon. but, i can easily see her doing so by mistake and quickly correcting herself, only to leave launchpad a sobbing heap of overwhelming pride and joy at the title <3

launchpad playing mediator between drake and gos is also so important to me. drake loves her to death, there’s not a doubt. and i know he wants to be the best parent he possibly can for her, but what he lacks in emotional presence he makes up for in over-protectiveness. and i LOVE that we see growth and change in the show, and he is learning more every day! but let’s face it, launchpad is infinitely more approachable.

i think drake sees so much of himself in gos that it’s sometimes hard for him to take a step back and analyze things cooly. like, he was bullied for being a geeky wimp. gos snarls at anyone who implies she isn’t at least as tough as nails. drake had to learn to make it on his own and defend himself when he had no support. gosalyn has had to say goodbye to everyone closest in her life. drake overcompensates for his fragile ego and seeks attention wherever he can find it because he NEEDS to prove he’s the best at everything all the time in order to be worthy. everything gosalyn does when she’s ‘acting out’ is either to earn some kind of respect from drake or to rebel in a search for some relief. drake had no support so he builds four walls and a roof around gosalyn so she never has to be alone, ever.

launchpad stands in the doorway of that box with a smile and a warm hug locked and loaded, because he also knows what it’s like to be alone. can we just. talk about how isolating it is to be so kind? just for a minute. can we talk about how launchpad isn’t capable of giving any less than his all. he pours everything he has into everyone he meets because he also knows how much it hurts to be left, and he doesn’t ever want to be the reason anyone feels that sting. he greets everyone with his signature 100 watt smile that only flickers at the threat of harm done to those he cares for, and provides an immovable rock of support at all times. do you ever wonder why he has exes all over the world yet lived alone in a hangar before meeting drake? do you ever wonder if it was his incessant positivity that pushed people away or his determination to not be a burden ultimately leading to an emotional divide unsurpassable by a well hidden vulnerable side, ironically buried beneath all of this sincerity? do you ever wonder how heavy that heart on his sleeve is?

hey. hey anon whyd you have to give me this prompt /silly

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt 27

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: a splash of jealousy from tanya but don’t worry, irina wants to rip the head off of any and all wolves

Words: 2155

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39

You thought your mother would never relinquish you from her bear-like hug. This was the first time you were leaving your parents to go somewhere with people who were complete strangers to them.

They were putting a lot of trust in Sam’s words reassuring them that you would be able to handle anything.

Being the people that they were, they agreed knowing it would ultimately be for the best. Sam revealed everything to them except for you imprinting on Edward.

That would be for you to tell on a day of your choosing.

Hastily you pack essentials into a backpack. You were initially surprised when Edward told you the drive wouldn’t take too long.

Now you understood.

His car must have been a blip on the road from how fast he was driving. Carmen and Eleazar didn’t reciprocate your shock, in fact they seemed to be used to it and were chatting casually with you.

Eleazar sat up front with Edward while you were in the back with Carmen, your arms wound securely around your backpack to keep yourself anchored against the velocity. Eleazar mentioned something as out being uncomfortable out in the daytime but that timing was imperative

They hardly encountered anyone on the road by some miracle which also helped to reduce travel time.

“You can really do that?” Astonishment lilting in your voice.

Eleazar chuckles and nods. “Yes, much like Alice and Edward, Kate and I have special abilities.”

“Which leads me to some important tips.” Carmen nods, her gold eyes flicking toward you. “Do not let Kate touch you. Her power can only harm you if she is able to get into contact. I don’t think she’ll try to hurt you, she’s the more level-headed sister. But on the off chance she does, just keep out of reach of her hands.”

“Don’t scare her before we even reach home.” Her mate teases.

She laughs and bumps her arm against your’s. “(Y/n)’s tough. This isn’t going to scare her off.”

“I have seen her decapitate many newborns during our fight with Victoria’s army.” Edward knowingly chimes in.

“Impressive.” Eleazar cocks an eyebrow and looks to the rear view mirror at you. He truly meant it for going up against newborns was no easy task to take on. Working in the Volturi, Eleazar had to tel with many unruly newborns. How he survived for so long in a hostile environment, you had no idea. The Eleazar you had met was kind and docile, speaking in a tender tone constantly. You couldn’t imagine him living in a dangerous coven like the Volturi. He found his way out though and decided to lead his life peacefully with no more violence. 

“Of course avoiding conflict never works.” He finishes off. “There will always be others who want to destroy tranquility.”

Carmen reaches her hand out to rub her husband’s shoulder. “We will fight when the time comes. Be assure of that. We love Edward and the Cullens. They are our extended family and we’ll protect that extended family even if Kate and Tanya side with Irina.”

You didn’t want there to be inner conflict in their coven. Didn’t want them to divide because of this. Allies were needed though and you’d have to take whoever was willing.

*

By the time you reach the border to Alaska, the sky was already pitch black with a multitude of stars. Having dozed off at some point, you check the time on your phone. It was a little past midnight. 

The dirt road that wound up the mountain was beautiful even in the dark. Large expanse of the land easily viewed from the window of the car.

“You and your pack would have a marvelous time running around here.” Carmen hums delightfully, happy to finally be home. 

The wolf in you shivers in agreement, your limbs suddenly getting an itch to run. To toss aside your human skin and jump into your furs. Only then would you truly be able to immerse yourself with the nature around you. Inhaling large gulps of burning cold air that would be even fresher than back home. Even less humans populated this part of the state as it was basically wilderness. In your fur you’d even be able to somewhat understand the songs that came twittering from birds. 

Sam’s pack would most likely never venture this far away from Forks. Their purpose was there, to protect and watch over everyone, not to frolic around. It was nice to think about though. The younger wolves would especially have a fun time in Alaska.

When the car reached the Denali house, there were already three figures waiting. Three blonde haired women, each more beautiful than the next. 

Piercing eyes follow your movement as you get out of the car; Edward heaves your bag onto his shoulder and carries it for you.

Carmen goes to hug each sister and give them kisses on the cheek. Their smiles are strained as they return her affection. Bodies rigid at your unwanted presence.

“Be nice girls, this is (y/n). She’s part of the Uley pack and has come here to personally get to know you and show her pack means no harm.” Carmen brings you closer by gently leading you by your shoulders. “(y/n), this is Tanya, Kate and Irina.”

You muster your best friendly smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much from Carmen and Edward. I hope. . . I hope I can help mend things between your coven and our pack.”

“Only because you need us.” The vampire Carmen had introduced as Irina points out haughtily. 

Not wanting to argue, you nod because you did in fact need them. “Yes. Yes we do. My pack my be large and strong but we still lack numbers necessary to fight off the Volturi.”

You notice Tanya flicking her eyes behind Carmen to Edward who stood silently watching the exchange. Whatever thoughts going through her head made Edward scowl slightly, his grip tightening around the strap of your backpack. 

Kate coaxes Irina back and offers you an apologetic gaze. “Welcome (y/n). We’re excited to get to know you. You must be tired. Our guestroom has been prepped and is ready for you. We’ve also prepared some food too if you’re hungry.”

You quizzically raise a brow. From your expression, Kate laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s human food. We may not need it for nourishment but that didn’t stop us from learning how to cook for human guests.”

Part of you wonders what happened to those human guests. From the looks of their eyes, the Denali coven appeared to be vegetarians like the Cullens. Varying shades of gold dusted the trio of blondes’ irises.

“I can show her to the guest room.” Edward makes his way forward, taking a protective stance next to you. His face challenges Tanya who almost opened her mouth to say something but it was Carmen who saved the day. 

“Of course. Go show your mate where she’ll be staying.”

A furious blush claims you at Carmen calling you Edward’s mate in front of everyone. You were pretty sure even Edward would have blushed if his cheeks were capable of it from the way he ducked his head with bashfulness.

“I wouldn’t say we’re mates.” You hastily go to correct her.

“But you have. . . What was the word you used Carmen? Imprinted? Yes, but you’ve imprinted on him which means you’ll ultimately become mates.” Tanya icily says.

Any previous excitement you might have felt was deflated. You still held onto a compliant smile. “Yes. . . That’s true. But we’ve barely started getting to really know each other.”

“How cute. They’re in the puppy love stage.” Says Irina dryly. It makes your spine tingle and you have a quick vision of your wolf snapping Irina in two.

You had great control over anger that triggers your transformations but by no means had you mastered them. You were still a young wolf yourself after all. And you felt that anger bleed into your veins, making your left hand tremble.

“Okay!” Edward cuffs your elbow and steers you to the front door. “I think I should show you to the guest room now.” He sears Tanya and Irina with a glare before turning his face forward. When it’s just you two trudging up the stairs Edward apologizes offer them. “Pay no mind to what they say. They’ve always had sharp tongues toward newcomers.”

You were grateful Edward got you out when you did. Taking a deep breath, you collapse on the bed and put your head between your knees. Ears burned and you were all too aware of the hairs on your arms prickling.

He’s quiet as you calm down. Listening in on your breathing as an indicator.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say.

“Don’t apologize. You showed excellent self control. What they said was out of line.” Edward sits next to you on the bed. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?”

Your muscles were finally starting to relax and untighten. “No, thank you. I’ll be okay. This just happens sometimes. One of the cons is that wolves are highly emotional.”

“It’s better than feeling nothing at all.” He murmurs. “Many vampires forget their human lives over time. Not just that but they also forget human emotions too.”

That would be scary indeed to not even retain an ounce of your humanity. In your wolf you felt feral so you could understand on a basic level. While you saw it as an inconvenience, you’d make sure to appreciate your humanity more.

Setting your belongings down on the bed, Edward shyly glances at you. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

You offer him a smile. “Thank you. I’ll holler if I need you.”

He chuckles before leaving.

**

Closing the door to the guest room, Edward feels any gentleness on his face he saved for (y/n) turn to stone as he walked back down the stairs to find everyone else in the bar/lounge area fitted with sleek, black leather couches.

Tanya and Kate occupied the couch that faced the bar while Irina, Carmen and Eleazar were speaking in hushed voices at the counter.

Seeing him, Tanya pounced to her feet and stalked over to him. “Are you insane? It was bad enough when you wanted the human girl as your mate but now you’ve switched to a dog?”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Edward snapped, his body bristling. 

She didn’t back down. Instead Edward’s own rage fueled her’s. “Are you just going out of your way to hurt me?”

“Tanya-” Carmen starts.

Darkening eyes pierce into Carmen who relented with a weary sigh. Tanya goes back to Edward .

“This isn’t about you.” Edward hissed. “You think I asked for any of this? Since Bella arrived in Forks I find myself being constantly blindsided. For someone who can read minds, I’m utterly clueless to the inner workings of fate and matters that are completely out of my control.”

Tanya advanced to Edward’s spot so they were now face to face. “You wouldn’t have had to go through any of this if you. . . If you had just accepted me.” Her anger was fizzling out to the true despair she was experiencing. Pain surfaced in her voice that made Edward calm down. 

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Tanya. But he had told her so many times that he did not return her feelings. It would have been easier had he accepted her and taken Tanya as his mate. He wouldn’t be going through any of this mess. Early on, Carlisle attempted to push them together much like he tried to push him with Rosalie. 

Decades had been spent trying to win over Edward. Tanya hadn’t even managed to scrape the surface of his walls though. 

Her jealous thoughts bulldoze him in a vicious flood. Jealousy, resentment, regret. . . They all banged against his mind. 

“I’m sorry.” Edward simply told her. “Sometimes, even for creatures like us, life isn’t rational. I didn’t bring (y/n) here to cause you pain, Tanya. She isn’t here for any other reason except to mend the bridge between the wolves and the Denali coven. That is all.”

Pursed lips made Tanya’s face tighten. Kate comes up from behind her and gently coaxed her adoptive sister back to sitting down. Edward met Irina’s burning glare, reading her mind like an open book. Hate and fury were on the forefront of her thoughts. He saw her desire to rip off (y/n)’s head in the same fashion the wolves had done to Laurent.

He’d make sure to keep an eye on her. If Irina decided to go through with her desires, he knew (y/n) wouldn’t just let her harm here so easily. It would become a bloodbath and risk their mission of peace. 

——

TAGLIST: @saltedcoffeescotch , @dangerouslittlefairy , @burn-crash-rqmance , @casedoina , @avadakadabra93 , @daryldixonstorm , @blue-aconite , @xanniestired666 , @esposadomd, @godinho11 , @arin-swear-rose , @alexizodd , @melaninsugarbaby , @lyeatoalinatoheaven  , @ronwownsme , @itsmytimetoodream , @afro-hispwriter , @mutandis-extremis993 , @hxgemxscles , @nightly-polaris , @corrodedcoffins-slut , @ellesalazar , @itgetzweird08 , @crybabyatthediscooffandoms , @sassyandclassyx , @scarlet2007 , @theroyalbrownbarbie , @jennyamanda8 , @stevenandmarcslove , @biancaindaeyo , @loversjoy , @turningtoclown , @vixorell , @xxthackerybinxxx , @daredevilonmyheels , @dumbbitch-juice , @southern-bell-give-hell , @nat-the-gemini , @imdoingathingmom​ , @emmettcullenswife​

[braveclementine]

Chapter 5

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

"Pull up the cams FRIDAY." Tony said, sighing as they regrouped back at the headquarters. "Track Y/N's movements."

Thor was the only one missing, still on Asgard, but would be on his way the minute Heimdall let him know that Y/N was gone.

Several cameras were pulled up over the holographic display, thanks to FRIDAY's abilities. They watched in silence, scrutinizing each frame as they watched her leave the coffee shop. Then when it had pulled up by the apartment.

Sam still couldn't help but feel proud about how easily she'd taken them down with nothing but an umbrella. All of the others also felt a sense of pride, though it was masked more by the uncomfortable, horrid feeling of knowing that she was in danger. The thought of all of them finally having their final soulmate or only soulmate, only to have her taken, perhaps killed, was nerve-wracking.

"That's was good work Parker." Tony said quietly, commemorating the Spider boy on his quick moves.

"Thank you Mr. Stark." Peter said quickly.

The next frame made all of them wince as they watched her get rammed with the car. Once again, proud that she kept trying to stand, but it was ultimately useless as she was drugged and dragged into the black vehicle.

"FRIDAY can you track that van to its location?" Tony asked.

"Yes sir." FRIDAY said, pulling up the tracking system which showed that the black van had gone to the airport.

"Which plane did the perpetrators take?" Fury asked.

"None from the looks of it. Neither public nor private sir." FRIDAY answered. "Nor can I track them anywhere in the airport. It seems they never entered."

"Fuck." Bucky muttered, drawing a hand down his face.

"FRIDAY what is the vent system in the airport both above and below?" Clint asked. Scott nodded.

FRIDAY computed and said, "The airport has security restrictions on those files. It will take me at least two hours to hack them. Do you still wish to continue?"

"Yes." Fury said. "Alert us the minute you've got them. Good thinking Barton."

"Thank you sir." Clint said quickly.

Fury stalked from the room.

Rhodey sighed, "I'm going to pick the sister up from school in an hour. Should I just bring her back here or-?"

"Probably would be for the best." Sam said with a shrug. "If she trusts you, of course. She has met you, hasn't she?"

"Yes." Rhodey said with a slight forward nod.

"Both of their rooms have been ready so you can just show her to it and then tell her she's free to roam about half the building." Tony muttered, still staring at the now blank hologram.

"Everyone should get some rest." Steve commanded. "You're going to need it when we figure out where they're keeping her."

Bucky put an arm around Steve, leading him from the room as Sam led the two out. Rhodey made a small nod, mostly to himself, before leaving to get ready to get Y/S/N from school. Peter went off to find MJ and Ned. Slowly, everyone dispersed until it was just Tony and Stephen.

"You can't torture yourself Tony." Stephen said softly.

Tony snapped his head to Stephen. "Should've made a tracker for her. Should've walked her home. Shit I screwed up so badly."

"We." Stephen said firmly. "We all knew the rules, we literally made them last night. She always has someone with her. I was the one already awake. I should've done it. It lands on me. Okay? Besides, I didn't get the portal there in time. Undershot it by a few blocks."

"Had to be indiscreet, that's not your fault." Tony muttered.

"We could play the blame game all day, or you can come over here and get some rest." Stephen commanded, sinking down on the soda that was in the room.

Tony stared at the blank hologram for a moment longer before moving over, laying down to rest his head in Stephen's lap. Stephen lowered his lips to kiss Tony's forehead. "We'll be okay Tones. We're gonna get her back."

"Yeah." Tony said with a bit of difficulty. "I just can't help thinking: In what condition?"

*Under the Airport*

You woke to muffled chaos. You could hear the sounds of hundreds of people talking, wheels clicking over tile, elevators working, food courts, dings, intercom noises, and everything else that came with a crowded place.

You blinked your eyes open, taking in your state. It was like you had been put into the 1966 Batman TV show. You sat on a normal wooden chair, arms tied around the back of it with rope. Your ankles were also tied to the chair along with your thighs and upper chest.

At least you were clothed.

Although, you were gagged.

Well. . . not gagged. There was something metal in your mouth, holding your mouth open. It felt weird and uncomfortable, tied behind your head. It trapped your tongue a little, making it impossible to talk, just make weird noises.

You scanned the dark area. There was a simple bodyguard whose eyes were trained on you, though he made no motion to let anyone know you were awake, nor did he move a muscle. You noticed that he didn't have any colouring marks around his wrists.

There were footsteps sounding on the opposite side and you turned your head to see a better dressed man, accompanied by two bodyguards.

He pulled up a chair, sitting across from you. One bodyguard moved behind you, unclasping the thing, pulling it from your mouth with a harsh jerk. It scraped the inside of your cheeks, drawing blood. You winced a little, letting your jaw fall slack at the sudden relief.

"Hello darling. Let's start easy. What's your name?"

"Y/N." You said quietly. There couldn't be any harm in telling him your name, right?

"Good girl."

"You're HYDRA?" You questioned.

He scoffed, "If we were HYDRA, we wouldn't be hiding under an airport. We'd have taken you to Germany or Russia by now. No, HYDRA is full of idiots who just want to take over the world using soldiers. Psh. They should just give up, seriously. They lost the Winter Soldier, they have nothing now."

"Then who are you?"

"Typhon."

"Father of all monsters." You recited.

"Someone knows her mythology, good." He smirked. "I'm Vasagi Snyder. Not necessarily the leader of Typhon, but I'm in the top. My goal is to see whether or not you're worthy. Think it's an easy job though- you're basically the Avengers slut. Only a really good girl could possibly end up with the superheroes the world adores. . . right?"

You swallowed. "I don't get to choose my soulmates. No one does!"

He made a humming noise in his throat. "Very true."

Your bottom lip trembled and you quickly pressed them together. "What do you possibly want with me anyways?"

He smirked, "To create a super villain."

It took you a moment to realize that he meant make a baby with you.

You wrinkled your nose in disgust, "No thank you."

"You see, we've always wondered why children who are born from those who aren't bonded turn out bad. Sure, not all of them do, some get sick instead. And of course, just because you're born of two legitimate soulmates doesn't mean you're good. If that was the case, there wouldn't be any villains at all because no one would break the rules. But the thing is, if a child of unbonded parents has sex with a soulmate, it creates a powerful villain. The most notorious of them all was Thanos."

"You want to create another Thanos? You're insane." You sputtered. "The last Thanos cut half of every world's population in half!"

"And it was beautiful. But this time we'll get rid of every Avenger so it's impossible to go back and return the world to the former destruction. In fact, maybe we'll find a way to get rid of soulmate bonds for good."

You felt fear ping against you. Destroy the soulmate bonds? You couldn't destroy soulmate bonds! And what if they did? If they did. . . what would you be left with? Would any of them stay with you? Or would they start looking for others that were more worthy than you? T'Chall, Thor, Loki, would they go looking for those of royal blood? Other Goddesses? Stephen and Tony would certainly pull away. So would Bucky, Sam, and Steve.

Clint might stay. Rhodey too.

Vasagi chuckled, "Judging by the look in your eyes, you like the soulmate bond, don't you? You like knowing that there's unconditional love between you and someone that might not love you if there was no soulmate bond. But soulmate bonds are unnatural. They shouldn't exist. We should be able to fall in love as many times as we want, be able to sleep around without having to fear that we'll create a villain child. Without soulmate bonds, there is nothing to force a child to be one way or another. Think about the possibilities!"

They sounded horrendous.

Vasagi stood, coming over to lean over you. "But for now, while soulmate bonds still exist. . ." He ran a finger across your lines on the left arm, ". . . let's have some fun."

He dropped your wrist, turning to grab something, which- upon turning back- was revealed to be a knife.

He picked your wrist up again, dragging the tip lightly, back and forth across Sam's line.

You licked your lips in anticipation as you felt him move to Clint's line, pressing down slightly, but still not drawing blood.

Then Rhodey's line, which he sliced across in a quick succession of pain.

T'Challa's was like Clint's.

Tony's was cut deep. So deep you screamed. You could almost swear it touched bone.

Stephen's was scraped against, like the way you scraped cheese to make shavings.

Bucky's was cut and then the knife dug into my wrist, drawing more screams from you. You felt like passing out.

Steve's was cut down just as deep as Tony's.

He made simple slices on Fury's, Loki's, and Thor's, probably because if he cut as deeply as he had on some of the others, he'd cut your arteries and you'd bleed out.

"Bandage her, give her some water, take her to her cell." Vasagi commanded, "We'll try again to get her to comply tomorrow."

*Avengers Compound*

No one could actually wait all two hours. Around the hour and a half mark, Steve, Bucky, and Sam had filed back into the room, sitting down on the floor by the sofa. Stephen had drifted off slowly, though Tony was unable to sleep.

Everyone finally gathered back in the room by the time FRIDAY was done with the analysis.

"Here are the blueprints of the lower tunnels under the airport and the air ducts of the upper airport." FRIDAY's voice said.

"Thank you darling." Tony mumbled. "Clint?"

"Let's start with the basement vents." Clint said. "Makes more sense after all."

"FRIDAY."

FRIDAY enlarged the basement plans. There were a few heat signatures, but they were faint. "It is impossible to get complete heat signatures. Though by estimate, there are about forty people down there. Could be more though."

"Where do you think they'd be able to hold Y/N?" T'Challa asked.

"The airport is built over an old army prisoner base." Fury explained, "Though a lot of it crumbled, if they were able to, they might've been able to open up a few of the cells."

Sam let out a sudden hiss, which made every look at him.

"Sorry, I just felt this. . . like a paper cut on my wrist. But there's nothing." He said with a shrug.

"Ow!" Clint yelped for a second, grabbing his wrist.

"What's happening?" Rhodey asked quickly, grabbing his wrist as though there had been a slice.

"He's using the pain part of the bonds." Stephen said quickly.

T'Challa grabbed his wrist as well. "It feels like he's pushing down with the blunt edge of a knife."

Tony let out a yell at that moment, nearly falling to his knees as he grasped his wrist. Everyone saw how it opened up to the bone before closing up again.

Then Stephen's wrist scraped together so that skin started to flake off.

Bucky let out a yell, pained tears coming to his eyes as the flesh of his wrist was cut open, and then the knife was dug into it, wiggling like an animal trying to burrow into the Earth. He fell heavily on his ass on the couch, holding his wrist, trying to breathe.

Sam went to comfort him as Steve gritted his teeth, his wrist cut open to the bone before healing like the others. Unlike with Y/N, the pain for them wouldn't last. It was simply symbolic.

Fury braced himself, but felt nothing more than a scratch. The same went for Loki and Thor.

"They're torturing her." Bucky growled ferally, still rubbing his wrist, though the pain had long faded. Tony was still bent over, Stephen's hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him.

"Barton, figure it out." Fury said.

Nat took the lead though while Clint helped her.

"There we go." Clint said after thirty minutes. They had pulled up a section of cells that had been unblocked.

"FRIDAY, run heat signature test again." Stephen commanded.

FRIDAY did as asked, a slight heat signature in the shape of a ball curled up on one of the cell beds.

"Found." Clint said firmly, looking over at Fury.

"Get the team together Cap." Fury commanded, "And bring her home."

"Yes sir." Steve said, falling into Captain Rogers mode, "Avengers Assemble."

The others quickly moved to the Quinjet, although Steve sat Bucky down, "If you need to stay back-"

"No." Bucky growled, grabbing his gun and strapping it to his back, "I'm bringing our girl home."

Sam clapped him on the back, "That's my man."

Steve kissed both Sam and Bucky, "Just stay safe. I don't want to lose either of you."

"Sure thing Cap." Sam said while Bucky just nodded, his jaw clenched to tightly to speak.

Stephen was similarly trying to get Tony to stay home down in the lab.

"Tony, we got this covered. Besides, you're more for air combat, you don't need to go down into those tunnels." Stephen argued as Tony started to pick out which suit he was going to use.

"She's my soulmate too." Tony said. "I can't just- I have to go."

Stephen watched him with worry. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes, I can handle it. The pain just. . . surprised me. But you know it doesn't hurt anymore." Tony sighed, deciding on a black and silver suit as it was night out. "Bruce needs to have the lab prepped for when we get her home because-"

"He already does." Rhodey interrupted, coming into the room. "Also, her sister is here. We told her to just stay in the room. Vision and Wanda are staying behind so they can protect her if the Tower was infiltrated. I don't think anyone will go after the sister though."

Tony nodded, "Alright, let's get out there and bring her home."

⬅️➡️

[gumnut-logic]

Scott was ever so tired, but when John requested he not return Thunderbird One to her hangar, but instead nest her up with Two, he had to do as his brother asked.

John’s reasoning didn’t involve words, just a photo that had Scott hitting the brakes over Tonga and gliding in as quietly as he could.

The fact Virgil was behind him only had him waiting longer as the cargo ship needed to touch down before One could park securely. After all, the whole reason they hid the Thunderbirds like they did on their deserted Island was to protect them from accidentally being seen. There were holographic shields and security networks galore protecting the Island, but ultimately, if a fishing boat either wandered in or needed safety, it was a good idea to keep the Thunderbirds much less than obvious.

In summary, they didn’t tend to leave the sports car on the lawn for the neighbourhood to gawk at.

So instead, Scott set One to hover a respectful distance away while he waited for Two to catch up.

And try not to fall asleep in his pilot’s chair.

Fortunately, Virgil wasn’t as far behind as he could have been and the green behemoth soon appeared on One’s sensors. Scott stared as his younger brother glided in under minimal power and set down with a short spurt of VTOL in a rather impressive manoeuvre. It was the closest to landing silently that Two could probably get.

Scott let One follow almost immediately. She wasn’t as quiet as Two, the fact she had had to hover removing any chance at a glide out of the equation.

In any case, he slipped One in behind her sister and stashed her in the massive hangar so Two could still deploy if necessary and One could as well, albeit a touch slower than usual.

But considering her pilot was a zombie, it wouldn’t matter for another eight hours at least.

Climbing out, he met an equally tired Virgil and they plodded to the elevator together, drowning their exhaustion in the showers, and throwing on pyjamas that Grandma had obviously left out for them.

Scott’s t-shirt had the slogan on the front ‘Born to fly’, which he found appropriate, but the shirt having come from Gordon, the back followed up with ‘Farts in the sky’.

But he was too tired to care right now. Shoving it on and pulling the pants up over aching hips - he really shouldn’t have jumped from that cliff – he stretched to finally get any of the remaining kinks out of his system.

Only to find Virgil wearing a slightly too small t-shirt also obviously of the Gordon purchase pile that pectorally declared, ‘Warning: Do not decaffeinate, may decapitate’.

Well, perhaps, Gordon did have a point there.

Scott sighed. “Want to check on them?”

Virgil’s answer was only an eyebrow, but it clearly declared Scott an idiot for asking such a stupid question.

That ended all energy for future verbalisation and, finishing up, Virgil fell into step beside Scott as he headed off towards the lounge.

Because Allie was in the lounge.

And Allie was injured.

That fact, that entire concept, cut into Scott’s gut like a blunted knife.

John’s frantic yell the week before had aged the commander several years in a matter of seconds. Allie had been up helping a space freighter that had lost power and was in the process of losing orbit along with it. It should have been simple, but some high-speed space trash had collided with the vessel while Alan was out repairing broken electronics.

His suit had been compromised by what was basically a small meteor of human origin and for a bit there it had been damned scary.

But Brains made above average spacesuits and a certain self-healing polymer invented by a smart brother automatically resealed the suit.

Not before the damage to Alan’s leg had been done, however. A gash the length of his calf with both hot and cold burns leaving his leg a mess and their little brother grounded for weeks.

Scott was just happy to have him safe, and those weeks gave Scott the time to process the fact that, ultimately, he would have to let Alan out into space again.

But for now, he was safe at home.

Virgil was on his right when they entered the comms room. There was only one lamp providing illumination beside the moon shining through the rafters, but there was enough light to see Alan and Gordon curled up in what appeared to be the remains of a blanket fort.

Scott stepped quietly, Virgil on his heels.

Both little brothers were asleep, Gordon curled protectively around Allie, snuggled in a pile of pillows and bedclothes. Alan’s bandaged leg stuck out at an angle, but rested on a cushion, his foot sporting a pink fluffy slipper.

But it wasn’t the rather heart-warming sight of his two sleeping brothers that raised his eyebrows.

It was the swarm, a literal school of plushies that surrounded them that had Scott’s eyes bugging out...at least a little.

His brothers were curled up on the floor, but sitting on the couches where International Rescues were decided on and deployed was a literal cornucopia of sea life cuddly toys.

There was a giant prawn as big as Alan perched as if waiting for the holoprojector to activate. Eight octopuses of varying size, lined up in a row, sat beside it, three squid keeping them company.

A whale took up the entirety of one couch all by itself, a plethora of rays and fluffy sharks were piled up in mounds.

A furry red crab was sitting on the steps alongside something else that was white and vaguely bug like. The rest of the floor was covered by starfish, multiple clownfish and a whole variety of other plushie marine organisms including a six-metre-long oarfish that Scott only knew the name of because Gordon had pounded it into his head the day he bought it.

Literally, Gordon had whacked him across the head with it.

Virgil tiptoed into the mess silently on bare feet and there was a flicker of yellow light as he scanned his little brother.

The engineer retreated back to Scott’s side just as quietly, so there was obviously nothing to be concerned about.

John flickered in above the table, obviously on dim projection. He didn’t say anything, just smiling a little down at his brothers before looking up at Scott and Virgil.

Scott absently saluted him and that smile widened just a little before he blinked out again.

There was definitely a good reason why Thunderbird One needed to be parked out back.

Virgil tugged on his arm.

A glance at his brother and Virgil nodded him in the direction of the elevator.

Scott looked back at his two sleeping little brothers once more, a breath releasing through his teeth. Gordon obviously had a sea creature plushie addiction that might require a few questions at a later time, but there was something about the scene that swelled Scott’s heart and part of him wanted to curl up in the pile with them.

Virgil tugged on his arm again and Scott relented, following the engineer from the room.

Nothing much was said between them in the elevator, both caught up in their thoughts. Now they were out of sight of their little brothers, exhaustion once again crept in.

Virgil squeezed Scott’s shoulder as they exited onto the residential level and both of them disappeared into their rooms.

Five minutes later there was a knock at Scott’s door.

Bleary eyed and heart sinking he opened it, only to find Virgil standing there with his arms full of a giant black teddy bear. His brother shoved it at Scott, forcing him to either grab a hold or drop it.

Nothing was said, but Virgil did squeeze his hand before disappearing as abruptly as he had appeared.

Scott was left holding a giant black teddy bear.

It took him a moment, but he shut the door and retreated back into his bedroom.

The bear stared at him.

This was foolish.

But exhaustion continued to gnaw at him and it was with a certain lack of care that found Scott grabbing the bear and curling up in bed around it as the lights finally shut off.

Its fur was ever so soft.

And warm.

As he relaxed into sleep.

-o-o-o-