#putting them at risk as a result around him

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Honestly though, being serious with all the Kate and William theories and rumors going on, I do hope their kids are doing okay and will come out of this fine, because it cannot be easy for the kids to be stuck in the middle of all this.

[mariasont]

Training Day - A.H

a/n: you all wanted more bimbo!assistant!reader and i'm a woman of the people so here we are

on a real note i love her and she is my queen

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you don't understand why hotch is giving you training lessons, but apparently he thinks you need it

warnings: talking about men following her in public YUCK, hotch trying to train reader, reader not knowing what's going on, cuties being cute

wc: 0.8k

"I still don't really know why we're doing this."

You were grumbling more than was characteristic for you, with every part of your body, your arms, your legs, and even your ass, suffering from a dull ache--sadly, not the result of any enjoyable pastime. After being knocked over more times than you cared to count, Hotch extended his hand toward you. You gladly took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

Your fingers deftly pulled at your pink tracksuit top over the sliver of abdomen that that had been revealed in your less-than-graceful take down. Hotch had pointed out the impracticality of your outfit when you showed up, but you stood firm on the principle that if early training sessions were expected of you, then your attire would be non-negotiable.

"Because I want to be confident in your abilities to defend yourself." His arms folded over his chest as his gaze bore into you, challenging you to contradict him.

"I'm just here to look pretty and answer your phones, crime-fighting isn't in my job description. That's your thing, Mr."

You shuffled back to your original position anyway, hands coming up to shield your face as you mentally sorted through the steps, or at least tried to, struggling to recall the correct foot placement.

"Shoulder width apart."

It's like he could read your mind. You were not entirely convinced that he couldn't.

"Crime-fighting doesn't have to be your thing," Hotch stated, narrowing the gap between you, his hands firmly correcting your stance. You sometimes found an excuse to stand just so, hoping he would step in to manhandle you into place. "But being part of the BAU, even peripherally, means you're not immune to risks. I need to know you can handle yourself... for my piece of mind."

"Sir, is this like, your super-secret way of showing you care?"

Your lips twisted into a half-smile as his hands clasped your waist a little tighter than necessary: a warning that said you were playing with fire. His fingers then moved to direct yours, positioning them closer to your face, his knuckles lightly grazing across your cheek in the process.

"Eyes on me, stay focused."

"My eyes are always on you, sir," you say, your head canting to one side. 

He released a controlled breath, giving you a level look that signaling you were pushing it. Nevertheless, you flashed him a beaming smile and initiated the move he had been drilling into you. The tip of your elbow made contact with the soft of his stomach.

He issued a muted groan as he intercepted your arm, preventing it from digging further, and in a fluid motion he spun you around, pinning your backside to his front.

"That was perfect, right?" you squealed, your fist shooting up in victory.

The sudden jump caused his hands to shift from your arm, finding a new perch on your hips to steady your... enthusiastic bounce.

You whirled in his grasp, the proximity sending a faint hum through his chest. Clearing his throat, he managed. "Yes, uh, that was it."

Clutching his shirt, the fabric crumpled beneath your purple-tipped fingers, you giggled. "Just imagine someone trying to follow me to my car now. They wouldn't know what hit 'em!"

"Is that a common occurrence?" The lines of his face gathered into that customary look of concern, that characteristic frown of his making an appearance.

He gently disentangled your hands from his shirt, not letting go, but rather laying his atop of yours.

"Well, sometimes, but I usually just call Morgan, put him on speaker, and he starts talking about the FBI stuff," you explained, giving a light shrug that nudged the zipper of your jacket down just a smidge. "They take off after that."

He clenched his eyes shut, pausing momentarily before reopening it. One hand let go of yours to adjust the zipper back to its proper position.

"That makes my stomach hurt." And it did. "Don't hesitate to call me when that happens. I'll come get you."

Your smile stretched ear to ear, potent enough to make him feel lightheaded. "You know, with all these trainings, who needs to call for help?"

"How about we compromise, and you still call me, regardless?"

You pout your lips, shiny with clear gloss rather than your usual pink. "That sounds less like a compromise and more like a you thing, ya know?"

Hotch's laughter rumbled from his chest, a warm, breathy sound, as he let go of your hands, which he realized he had been holding far longer than appropriate, and guided you to the door.

"You don't appreciate the added precautions I'm willing to take for your safety?"

Dragging your sneaker on the floor, you plucked your bag from the wall as Hotch closed the door behind you. "Gee, when you say it like that..."

When you walked down the hall you seemed to be perfectly in step.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @sarcasm-and-stiles

join my taglist here

[evie-sturns]

red - 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you and matt have been dating for a month, the most you've ever done is made out, one night things turn, which results in you and matt both losing your virginity.

warnings: smut, virgin!matt, virgin!reader, swearing, fluff.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

i'm 19, and still a virgin. my boyfriend matt doesnt know, i'm too scared to tell him even though i know he would never judge me. nothing sexual has ever happened between us, but its bound to happen at some point, right?

matt and i are laying in his bed together, the house is empty for once as we cuddle close, watching a movie. i take a deep breath through my nose, anxiety rushing through me as my thoughts race

what if it hurts? what if matt won't think of me the same if i tell him? am i even ready?

"y/n, are you okay sweetheart, you're tensing like crazy." matt rubs my back, reasurringly.

"matt." i whisper, my voice hoarse.

"yeah?" he says, sitting up, his back pressing against the headboard as i lay on his chest.

what do i even say? i cant just say- "i want to have sex with you."

shit. the words came out like word vomit.

i throw my hand over my mouth, sitting up off matts chest and leaping off the bed. an awkward silence floods through the room as i reach for the door handle.

"come back." he says calmly, patting the spot next to him.

i nod like a guilty kid as i walk back over to his bed, sitting down next to him. "did you mean what you said sweetheart?" he says, interlocking our fingers. "possibly.." i mumble, my cheeks flushing.

matt laughs

"what!!" i say, slapping him softly.

"you're so red." he giggles,

"god shut up." i mumble, a smile spreading across my face.

another silence grows in the room as we decide what to say next. i clear my throat, "matt i need to say something." i whisper, looking everywhere but at him. he nods, squeezing my hand.

"i'm uh.. a virgin.?" i say, barely audible as i rub my eyes. "but like, i know its weird from my age but its just, i really love you, and everything about you.. i think i want you to take my virginity.."

"me too." he says, his cheeks red.

"you too?" i repeat, my eyebrows furrowing.

the room goes quiet, i'm quite frankly in shock.

its no secret matt's had mutiple girlfriends before me, but im finding it hard to wrap my head around how hes never done anything.

"look who's red now." i smile, staring at matts face.

"shush," he says, pressing a finger to my lips.

i pull off my shirt, revealing my white lacy bra.

matt's eyes widen. "oh." he coughs, his eyes fixated on my chest.

"too soon?" i ask, reaching for my shirt, starting to put it back on. "no no-.." he says grabbing the shirt from my hands and throwing it across the room. "is it really that good that you had to throw it across the room?" i laugh

"well don't want to risk you putting it back on!" he shrugs before pulling off his crewneck. i swallow hard, "i don't know what i'm doing if i'm being honest." i sigh, matt sits up, pressing a kiss to my forehead, "me neither, we'll figure it out." matt smiles.

i lay back on the bed as matt stands up, spreading my legs apart and stepping between them, he places a hand on the side of my face as he leans down, kissing from my neck.. to my chest.. to my belly button.

my breathing intensifies. pure nerves flooding through my body.

"are you nervous..?" he asks, pausing his pecks at my waistband.

"no." i lie through my teeth.

"mm yes you are..." he says teasingly.

"fine, i just don't want it to hurt, my friends all say it is the most uncomfortable thing the first time.." i mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"i know, you're stressing me out now!" he laughs, yanking down his sweatpants leaving him in his boxers. i follow his lead, unclasping my bra, matt stares at me shamelessly "fuck." he mumbles "you're so pretty.." he whispers.

“you okay?” he asks, reaching for the waistband of my shorts. i nod, looking him in the eyes.

“can i take these two off?” he asks, referring to my panties and shorts,

“y-yeah.. yep.” i mumble, he pauses.

“please don’t be nervous, just try to relax and i promise you it won’t hurt okay?” he says leaning down and kissing the tip of my nose.

“i’ll try to relax.” i say to matt, he slowly pulls down my panties, leaving me revealed in-front of him

“oh my god- okay, this might be a weird question but do you ever touch yourself..” matt says, staring at me

i burst into giggles, my face going red. matt slams a hand over his face “stupid question?” he smiles.

“no no.. it’s a good question but yeah i do. why?” i smirk

“oh thank god, i was worried about you.. being too tight and if i’m too big it won’t fit.” he says with a sigh

“mr. big dick over here everyone!” I joke, resulting in him rubbing his eyes “i didnt mean it like that.”

“you’re cute matt.” i say spreading my legs apart.

matt’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares at me, it’s probably the first naked woman that he’s been with in person.

“i have condoms..” he mumbled quietly

“oh.” i say with a disappointed tone

“babe i am not making you pregnant at 19.” he scoffs, opening his bedside table.

“i’m on the pill dumbass.” i smile, reaching for him

“i thought you were a virgin?” he asks his eyebrows furrowing

“matt i am, it’s just for other reaso-.. fuck it i’ll explain later”

matt’s boxers have a noticeable bulge pressing from the inside.

“you can take those off..” i whisper.

“yeah yup uhm of course!” he says shakily.

“why are you nervous now??” i laugh and he groans

“what if i’m bad..” he sighs

“where’s my clit.” i say bluntly, he points to it exactly.

“where the hole.” i say again, again he points to it with accuracy

“there you go, you’ll be fine, and i cant even judge you cause i don’t know better either!” i say assuring him

he slowly pulls off his boxers, his erection sprinting out tapping his bellybutton. “oh my god.” i whisper to myself.

“we need a towel matt..” i say standing up off the bed.

“for what?” he says quietly

“blood?” i say casually, he turns white. “what.”

he looks around nervously “you’re on your period?”

i laugh, “i’m on birth control sweetheart, remember?”

“then why the fuck will you bleed..”

“look at you, that dick will rip my hymen.” i say, he hands me his shirt,

“i don’t know what the fuck that means but here’s a shirt you can put under you.” he says nervously, his hand shaking as he passes me the shirt.

“you’re okay if it gets blood on it?”

“mhm i just wanna start..” he says quietly.

“jesus okay.” i say laying back on the bed, the shirt under me.

he grabs his base as he stands between my legs, he rubs his tip over my folds, sending goosebumps around my body. i let out a desperate moan.

“just tap me if you want me to stop and i will instantly okay..?” matt says, his tone less shaky then before. “i’ll go so slow.”

he lines himself up with my hole, pushing himself toward slightly, nothing happens.

“i cant um.. go further.” he says, pushing at my entrance

“what.?” i ask

“i think you really need to relax your whole body, loosen up a little bit okay?” he says pressing a kiss to my cheek.

he holds out a hand infront of my mouth “spit.” he demands

“gross!” i say with a smirk painted across my face

“i know..” he says, his hand not moving away, i spit into his hand, matt quickly moves it down, using it as a lube.

“relax as much as you can okay?” he says, pressing slowly into me.

“fuck fuck fuck..” i moan, squeezing my eyes shut

i feel his tip slide into me, a loud whimper escapes matt’s mouth “oh my god..” he pushes further into me, a stretching burning sensation grows as i feel a tear fall down my cheek, he pushes the rest of the way in, stopping completely to look at me as he’s still buried inside me.

“hey hey, don’t cry your okay, you took it all!” he says caressing my cheek and rubbing the few tears that fell away. “tell me when to move, remember if you need a break tell me, if you want me to stop tap me.” he says.

i nod, looking him in the eyes “move.. please-“ i say, balling the sheets up with my fists, he nods, pulling almost out then thrusting back in, he’s going slowly.

matt is clearly trying to conceal his noises as he continues to pull out then push in. the burning sensation slowly disappears, and is replaced with pleasure

a strong smile spreads across my face, “feels good now?” he asks, his voice croaky.

“yes..” i manage to squeeze out “faster.. please” he picks up the pace slightly “i’m not gonna last long this time.” he warns

i clench around him, he twitches inside me then instantly fills me up, my jaw goes slack as i look up at him.

“shit i am so sorry..” he says pulling out with a slick sound, he grabs my hips and stands me up, i feel his cum start to leak down my leg as my leg shakes

“oh shit oh shit..” he says frantically looking around, he settles on his shirt, grabbing it and places it on me, collecting everything that is coming out of me. i laugh at the sight of him between my legs, wiping his orgasm off my thighs.

“was that okay for you, did it hurt?” he says picking me up.

“i think you just rearranged my organs.”

his cheeks go red.

------------------... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..------------------

very much requested hope you guys liked it,

don’t be shy to spam my inbox btw i love talking to people

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel and Hobie Fighting for Your Love

Summary: Both men knew they were wildly in love with you. But, as you remain oblivious to their feelings, their conflict strengthens. A war is brewing.

“I won’t let you have her.” Miguel’s eyes gleamed between the velvet sheets of artificial night, the dim glow of the control panel at his back, casting a shroud over his front. Hobie stood before him, gripping his guitar by the neck, resting it over the back of his shoulders. His other hand sat in his pocket, creating the illusion of comfort. Yet, beneath his lax exterior, Miguel could hear his heart pounding. Racing. Hobie drew a breath, looked off to the side.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make, Big Man.” Eyes half-lidded, he returned to Miguel, dragging his stare. Lethargy. Gave a thin smile. “Though, I suppose that if you knew that – really believed it – you’d know that you don’t stand a chance–”

Miguel’s fists clenched, the sound of his suit squealing beneath his grip causing Hobie’s gaze to flicker. He swallowed, shallow. He knew what Miguel was capable of – had seen how many lives he’d gladly put at risk for you. And he’d do it again if it weren’t for the fact that your friendship to both him and Hobie was what kept them locked in a stalemate; a spectral triangle; Bermuda. An anomaly in itself.

Of course, you had no clue that you’d captured the hearts of the two superheroes. The problem was that they did. Their softened attitude towards you, their care for the most banal of features of your life, their seemingly bottomless investment in your close circle of friends and beyond could have been construed as platonic concern. Friendship of the highest degree.

Once they realised that, individually, they were not alone in the pursuit of your heart, a competition was born. Miguel, ever the organised, careful individual he was, orchestrated your time together, manufactured it, monitored it – poured over it with a fine-toothed comb. Many a night had he spent awake wondering what your accidental brushing of hands had meant, whether the warmth that had flushed your cheeks was the result of his presence or the joke he’d just cracked, your laughter Calliopic. Persephonic.

He savoured every hug you shared, no matter how brief, sewing the patchwork memories into the fabric of his heart, the fragrance soaking into his bones. Your phantom warmth wrapped around him tightly, a second suit, whenever he needed it – needed you. He’d find ways of encouraging physical contact whenever he could, his heart throbbing at the feeling of your face pressed into his chest, your arms around his back as he embraced you.

He wondered what your kisses tasted like. Whether you thought of him when you used that chapstick he bought you, ice cream cake – the aroma of celebration. Because, to him, any moment with you was a celebration.

Miguel would offer to take you home after work. Though, not via ordinary means of travel.

He’d permit you to hop onto his back and slide your arms around his neck, taking you on a spin through the city, bringing you to the highest peaks, the pinnacles of human beauty through neon illuminations making the city sparkle like a sea of jewels. He’d feel his heart stutter as you shifted to get a closer look, your chin almost resting on his shoulder, cheeks just touching as you gasped, took in the scenery. In times like these, he was glad of the mask, of his ability to hide the effect you had on him, how you played his emotions like a string instrument.

“I’ve never seen the city like this before,” you told him, voice gentle at his ear, almost carried away by the wind. Miguel heard you. He strained his every spider sense to do so, no matter the conditions.

“Hobie hasn’t done this with you?” He tried not to let the hope in his tone show. You shrugged. 

“He’s more of a stargazing kind of guy. Though, I’ll let you in on a secret,” your voice tailed off. Miguel leaned in. You whispered. “I think he just doesn’t want to go pivoting off buildings after a long day of already having done so.”

Miguel felt an idea spark in his brain. The start of a new ritual, routine, for just you and him. This would be for him what stargazing was to hobie – he’d bring you closer to the stars than Hobie ever could!

Whenever he’d return you home, whisking you through the midnight air, he’d place you at your door, imply what a good time he’d had. And, as always, you thanked him, eyes crinkling before parting with a hug.

Miguel would wait until you’d enter your apartment and locked the door behind you before leaving, and even then, he’d find himself perched atop a nearby building, waiting for something, anything to happen – for any opportunity wherein he could prove to you he was a hero. In times like these, he wished with a selfish heart that you lived in a more decrepit part of the city.

He realised how much he loved you – adored you – when you fell asleep in his arms after work one evening. He’d been carrying you to your room when you just nodded off. In his grasp, you were tiny, fragile. Weak. The responsibility of protection, the fierce need to watch over you, to possess you entirely, overcame him, overwhelmed every sensibility he’d cultivated throughout his life.

And so, he watched you. Eneamoured himself with your sleeping features, the trust you displayed to have fallen asleep on him. In his mind, this becomes a core memory. One which he turns into a joke between the two of you, his own fragment of sanctity – the beginnings of close friendship – one he’d use to build a statue like Hobie’s. A statue of you. 

Hobie’s eyes narrowed. His nose wrinkled as his lips turned up in a half-sneer.

“You think the odd hug and a second of eye contact constitute as…what? A chance?” He scoffed. “A signifier that she feels for you more than she feels for the common man?” Incredulity danced in hobie’s eyes. Seethed from between his lips. The corner of his lips pulled back, revealed a smirk.

“Get over yourself, Mate. If she were interested, you’d know it by now.”

Of course, Hobie had his own collection of memories regarding you, his own wardrobe of moments sewn together with the thread of mirth to wear and fashion whenever and however he so pleased. He would wear it out to parties, on the town, to the Spidey-Station (as he referred to it with you). Show Miguel that his bare-threaded ribbon was nothing compared to his tapestry.

You and Hobie would wander the city when it was late and dark and quiet, talking about anything and everything that crossed your minds, more often than not leading the two of you to howl with laughter, leaning against each other as tears flooded from your eyes. The story, regardless of how funny it had been, held no weight compared to the joy that sparked in Hobie’s chest whenever you touched, whenever you simply existed with him. Fireworks.

You got him in ways nobody else truly could.

Many times had he come to visit you, only to lay his head in your lap and tell you what was bothering him. Sometimes it was trivial, others it was not. And every time, you’d sit and listen, playing with his hair and the badges on his jacket. And, of course, Hobie did the same for you.

One evening, you’d come banging on Hobie’s door, voice distraught as you called for him. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he heard how distressed you were, and, when he saw you, his heart tore. Your face was tear-streaked and your posture gave the impression of anguish, immortal and unrelenting.

“Hobie,” you cried. “Am–” your sniffing diced your words like meat in a kitchen. “Am I pretty?!”

Hobie blinked, unsure if he’d heard the question. And when he didn’t respond, you wailed.

Hobie knew what this was, for you’d spoken about it at length many times before. Insecurity was a powerful tool, especially when fuelled with sleep-deprivation and alcohol, one which Hobie wished he could destroy. But, while he couldn’t do that yet, he reached for you and took you in his arms. And as you cried into his shoulder, he told you how beautiful you were, how surprised he was that he was able to get a look in with you at all with how many men were chasing after you. And when you tried to say that no such thing had ever happened, he pulled back, gave you a smile, the visage of mischief.

“That’s ‘cause I scared ‘em all away!”

Your veneer cracked, and a laugh sprung from the concrete, the beginnings of life in an apocalypse. What Hobie wanted to say, though, what he nearly said, was everything he felt for you – how no word in the human vernacular could ever even begin to comprehend or compare how ethereal you were to him, how widely his love for you encompassed his very being, everything he said, did and wanted dictated entirely by the thought of you.

He opened his mouth, holding you close again. He could say it all now, while you were drunk – pretend it never happened if the exchange turned sour. But he knew he couldn’t live with your rejection, even if you’d have no memory of it.

He closed his mouth, swallowed the confession that teetered on his tongue like a pill. Consumed his contemplation, obscuring his feelings from you for just a little longer. While he couldn’t say it – not yet – he pulled you closer still, chest-to-chest, one hand at the back of your head and the other wrapped around your waist. A lover’s lock. And he held you. Tightly.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in every universe, (Y/N). I should know.” he murmured. He felt you nestle into him. You’d heard him. He sighed. “I just wished you could see it, too.”

Both men viewed the other as possessing some unattainable advantage, the beginnings of a  fabled proverb blatant in their desire to attain what they thought the other had. What they were both striving for.

You.

For Hobie, the very thing he had prided himself on was his self-believed downfall. Friendship. The two of you had been friends for years, basked in a platonic limelight. Initially, Hobie hadn't needed to worry about how you viewed him, but as he fell deeper and deeper in love with you the longer he knew you, the fact that you’d maintained such a close friendship with him without once giving the indication of romanticism frightened him.

Miguel had only waltzed into your life a few months ago. You didn’t have to see him in a platonic light, didn’t have to bear witness to his deepest faults or his subtlest of quirks. Quite simply, you didn’t know enough about him for his mystique to be shattered.

On the contrary, Miguel saw how close you and Hobie were, how, without saying a word, the two of you knew what the other was thinking. He found your incessant asking of “Do you think Hobie would like this?” when visiting a store to be intimidating. He wondered if you asked the same when you went out with Hobie. If he was the subject of your concern as your best friend often was.

Whereas Hobie knew your every thought and desire, Miguel knew he clutched at straws by comparison, drinking in every detail you afforded him, taking nothing for granted. He’d bring you gifts, stories, regalements from his time out in the field, and his chest would swell whenever you watched him with wide eyes. He hoped, with every fibre of his being, that your astonishment was confined to him and him alone. He prayed that your years of friendship to Hobie was enough to dull any excitement you may feel when he told you similar tales.

This war was simply beginning, no two ways about it. And as they surveyed each other, Hobie and Miguel, weighing up the other’s pull on you, their minds conjoined to speak once and for the last time.

“May the best man win.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗩𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗜𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: When Nick and Matt test positive for covid and Chris has to go into lockdown to prevent catching the virus, who will look after them?

WARNING: Covid-19, sickness.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed as she turned off her car, preparing herself for the long days ahead, not that it was a burden for her to take care of her boyfriend and best friends, almost brothers.

Matt and Nick tested positive for Covid-19 two days ago, and the first thing Chris did upon receiving their test results was send a quick text to Y/N saying that they both had the virus and that he and his brothers would have to be in lockdown for at least five days.

He sent many texts asking her to not worry, as his brothers' symptoms weren't much more than the flu, and that he was fine and would stay in his room so he wouldn't run the risk of catching the virus too, but who said she listened?

Y/N knew that Chris wouldn't have the patience to make healthy food at least three times a day for him and his brothers, and she knew how afraid he was of getting sick too. Y/N didn't have that worry, being a medical student and a resident at LA's main private hospital, she knew very well how to deal with all of this and wouldn't spare any energy when taking care of her family.

The girl was grateful that her boss had empathy and gave her a few days off work.

With that, Y/N prepared herself the day before, going to the nearest pharmacy to buy some boxes of covid tests and a new box of disposable masks, since the one she had at home was running low, and then went to Target, buying several healthy snacks, fruits, vegetables and chicken to make several soups and light food dishes, not intending to make anything heavy or fatty with fear of making the boys' situation worse.

Today, before leaving the house, Y/N prepared a backpack with a few extra changes of clothes, without overfilling it due to having more than enough of it at the triplets' house. Furthermore, she took a purse and put everything she would need: masks, tests, food and some medicines that are allowed during covid to alleviate some symptoms.

Before getting out of the driver's seat, Y/N grabbed the mask she had ready next to her, putting it on her face and finally getting out of the car. Y/N closed the door and opened the back seat, grabbing her backpack and purse, quickly locking the car and walking to the front door. The girl searched the pocket of her Fresh Love sweatpants, soon finding the spare key to her boyfriend's house.

After unlocking the door, she opened it carefully, not wanting to make too much noise, already knowing that one of the boys had a headache, if not all of them.

The girl walked to the kitchen and placed her things on the counter, before going back to the door to close and lock it.

Before Y/N started her first task, she walked to Chris's room, seeing the door closed. She knocked twice lightly, opening it slowly and seeing Chris under the covers staring at the ceiling, in the dark, with only the light from his TV illuminating the space, the girl held back a laugh knowing that her boyfriend was probably losing his mind for staying locked in his room alone for days.

Chris quickly raised his head with the sound, taking a few seconds to realize that Y/N was there, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Babe, what are you doing here?" He asked, getting up quickly and walking towards her, asking with his eyes if he could get closer and the girl rolled her eyes, nodding.

"I came to take care of you three idiots." She mumbled against the mask, closing her eyes momentarily as she felt Chris's arms around her, never wanting to let go.

"I told you not to worry, I had everything under control." Chris murmured, pulling away to look her in the eyes.

"Of course, so much so that you were lying there staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world." She let out a laugh when she heard Chris snort. "I'm sure you must be starving, when was the last time you ate some real food?" Y/N questioned, seeing Chris shrug.

"You talk as if I didn't show up at the hospital almost everyday with lunch for you." Chris snapped like a child, crossing his arms.

"Lunch that Nick made." She argued, laughing loudly when Chris huffed, frowning. "I'm kidding, baby, I love it when you show up at the hospital with lunch for me." Y/N said, approaching and planting a kiss on Chris's shoulder behind the mask.

"By the way, weren't you on duty today?" Chris asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he took his phone out of his hoodie pocket and double-clicked the screen, checking the date.

"I did, but I asked my boss for a few days off so I could take care of you and she gave it to me." Y/N said smiling big, and Chris couldn't help but smile back as he saw his girlfriend's eyes shrink from her happy expression, without being able to see her smile directly.

"Well, since you're already here, I think I'm a little hungry." Chris joked, running his hand over his belly and giving her a mischievous smile.

"Alright little kid, I'm going to cook you something and you're going to stay here in your room and look pretty." The girl said, pushing Chris lightly, blowing a kiss and closing the door behind her.

Y/N walked to the kitchen again, not containing her goofy smile.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N lifted the lid of the pan, taking the wooden spoon and quickly tasting the chicken soup (here in Brazil we call it canja, and it works miracles when you're sick, and it's delicious), letting out a sound of pleasure for the flavor. She turned off the heat, taking three plates from the cupboard and the spoon, distributing the soup on each of the plates, sprinkling some leek on top before taking three spoons and placing them inside the plates.

The girl took three glasses and added fresh orange juice, which she made minutes before, and took two pills of the only headache medicine allowed during the virus.

Y/N opened one of the cabinets and took three trays, placing them side by side on the counter and arranging on top of each one the plate of soup, the glass of juice and the medicine pill.

She quickly grabbed the first tray and walked carefully to Matt's bedroom door, bending down and placing the tray on the floor before knocking on the door three times.

"Matt?"

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Y/N heard Matt's voice, feeling in his voice the pain the boy was feeling.

"I came to take care of you three, I made some soup and juice, they're in here." She replied, hearing the boy move around inside the room before walking away and returning to the kitchen, hearing the sound of the door opening and closing a few minutes later.

Y/N took the second tray and walked to Nick's room, hearing his voice behind the door, assuming he was on a call with someone or recording a video. The girl bent down and placed the tray on the floor again, knocking firmly on the door to make sure Nick heard.

"What are you doing outside your room, Chris?" Nick shouted from inside the room, making the girl laugh. "Y/N?!" He asked in surprise before quickly opening the door and Y/N applauded herself for wearing the mask. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?" Nick asked, holding the camera in one of his hands, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I took a few days off to take care of you three. And I made real food!" Y/N repeated the same sentence for the thousandth time, pointing to the tray, smiling when she saw the taller's eyes light up.

The boy bent down, picking up the tray with one of his hands and straightening up, raising the camera again and smiling wide at the lens.

"Guys, Y/N brought food for us, the hungry ones. Everyone say "thank you Y/N"." Nick spoke into the lens, smiling widely at the girl before closing the door after seeing her turn to go back to the kitchen.

Finally, the girl took the last tray and walked to the last room, her boyfriend's, where she would stay for the rest of the days, knowing that the boy was free of the virus.

"Honey? Open here for me, please." Y/N asked from behind the door, entering the room after Chris quickly opened it with a smile on his face, staring at the soup on the tray.

The girl let out a laugh, placing the tray on the boy's computer desk and sitting on his bed, pointing at the food.

"Bon appétit, my love."

"What would I do without you?" Chris asked, approaching the computer desk and sitting in the chair.

"Starve and die." She replied, laughing loudly behind her mask as she saw Chris shove a spoonful of soup into his mouth as he nodded quickly, without actually hearing her.

[voidpumpkin]

A definite theme of dungeon meshi is that of selfishness and selflessness with pretty much every character defined by these two things in some way

most obviously there's the winged lion who's entire existence is defined by selfishness, he just consumes, consumes and consumes, ruining everybody, with labyrinth he is bound to and he himself encouraging and shaping the selfish and selfless desires of others. His greatest desire, to consume everybody is the ultimate act of selfishness in the series yet he frames it as and pretty genuinely views it as an act of great selflessness, which is part of another theme in the show of people imposing their selfless desires on to other people.

As can be seen with Marcille, from the beginning she is shown as the most outwardly selfless, she's the one always wanting to help other adventurers, aside from Laios the loudest advocate for rescuing Falin, resents Namari for abandoning Falin and is shocked to find out Chilchuck is doing this because he is being paid. She's the one who crosses all moral and ethical barriers to save Falin, to defeat the dungeon rabbits. And then we see how she has the greatest most all encompassing desire of them all, to equal everyone's lifespan to one thousand with a selfless motive behind it, that it will erase bigotry between races. The selflessness of it is something she is almost proud, she's insulted and very insistent that she doesn't want more selfish desire like having a child or becoming a full blooded elf. Yet this selfless desire comes from a selfish place of never wanting to experience loss and is a desire (with the winged lions help) becomes one she seeks to impose on others

Similarly to Thistle who is THE example of how selfless desires become twisted and selfish by the dungeon as he original wanted to protect the kingdom and makes sure they live forever, though even then this was a selfish desire imposed upon him by Delgal. Now after a thousand years of running the dungeon he is all selfishness that he views as selflessness.

Then there is the other notable former dungeon master, Mithrun. Once viewed as a pure and selfless man by those around him he harboured countless selfish desires that the demon exploited and consumed, leaving him with what he and others thought was just the desire for revenge. A selfish desire that manifested in a selfless form as he puts his life on the line to rid the world from demons. It's through this we see one of his most interesting traits, his sincere desire to reach out and help other dungeon masters, compared to all other interactions he is never this gentle or talkative with them, the other canaries quite clearly just want to kill them, but Mithrun, one of the very few people who can understand what they're going through talks to them. By the end of the series we also come to know that his selfish desire for revenge was in fact an entirely different selfish desire, to be consumed.

Not on to Izutsumi, she's a character defined by her selfishness, as a result of her upbringing she has to rely on and care for only herself but then she becomes a part of the touden party and is put in a caring environment for the first time, and in response grows to genuinely care for them as well, risking her life in ways she wouldn't have done before. Izutsumi acts as a pretty potent example of the crews selflessness with all of them (except Laios, who they defend her from his monster fixation) acting as parents to her. Marcille gives her the love and affection, both emotional and physical that she'd never received up until that point, and didn't even know she needed. Chilchuckvis the only one with actual experience as a parents and only parental figure who has treated Izutsumi well, he pretty quickly realises she is acting like a teenage girl and quickly adjusts to treating and caring for her as such. Sensei, who is pretty much all paternal instincts cares for her the only way he knows how and is the first person to adjust meals to her needs and desires. Izutsumi can be seen as a demonstration of environments shaping a person, her formative years being treated terribly made her selfish whilst this new caring environment allowed her to become selfless for the first time.

Building off the paternal instincts comment from earlier, that one of the two things that define senshi's selflessness. Sensei is both a deeply mature and deeply selfless character, as a result his selflessness comes in more casual and more adult forms. In respecting the autonomy of others and providing them with food. With these drawing from the two things mentioned earlier, his paternal instincts but also his experiences with starvation. His paternal instincts are best shown in the chapter after Falin is taken as we see inside his head, seeing he views Chilchuck and Marcille as very young and that it is his responsibility to feed them, and considered it a failing on his part if he doesn't. This paternal instinct also is what leads him to secretly resent Laios and Marcille as he believes Chilchuck to be a child and views them as exploiting him and putting him in harms way. His focus on feeding others is of course a result of his experience with starvation, he NEVER wants anyone to go through what he went through and is THE way we see him caring for people outside of the Touden party

Next up Chilchuck, a character who at first seems to be a deeply selfish ones, as he journeys with the group because he is paid to, not because he wants to. But then we do come to respect this, as dungeoneering is a job, a very dangerous one that, and like all jobs it deserves proper compnesation. Which is something he actively tries to facilitate in one of his greatest acts of selflessness, where after having experienced the selfishness of other races and their willingness to use half-foots as bait, he starts a union to ensure proper pay and workers rights for half-foots. Though rather interestingly our first exposure to it is through the deeply selfish Mikbell, who frames what Chilchuck is doing as an act of selfishness. We also soon understand that he deeply cares about his friends, more than even he wants to as he continues to travel with them even when the job is technically done. This does result in a moment of selfless/selfish desire as he seeks to trick the group into leaving falin behind because he genuinely cares about then, he thinks they're in over their head and wants to protect them, again selfless desire that is selfish, though he does come to respect their wishes.

Speaking of Falin. cause of her minimal time to be a character we're left what screen time she gets and that's a character defined by her selflessness, from her communication with ghosts, being framed as a mothrrly figure to Thistle and the acted that began the series, sacrificing her life to save the crew, and would define how they act going forward.

For Namari it caused her to leave and take up the better offers she'd received. A selfish act that Marcille in particular resents her for but is explained by both her backstory, she is trying to buy back the honour her father stole, which would hopefully repair the relationship between the Lord of the island and dwarves, a selfless act, and the establishment of dungeoneering as a dangerous job that deserves compensation, which is why Laios and Chilchuck who do view it as a job don't resent her while Marcille who doesn't view it as a job (a. she's very open about not viewing dungeoneering as a career b. ancient magic research is her goal, thus the particularities of dungeoneering never mattered to her) does resent her. We do see other moments of selflessness from wanting to know Kiki and Kaka's age so she can identify them if they need resurrecting and standing up for Laios. Namari's character is one meant to show selfishness, especially when your life is one the line, is not inherently immoral.

The other crew member who left as a result of Falin's death is Toshiro (Shuro), who immediately goes off to find a strong crew he is hopeful can make it through the dungeon as fast a possible to rescue Falin. In opposition to Namari he is someone who chooses selflessness over this own life, running himself ragged to save her, but it is this focus on her other his needs that causes him to fail, running yourself ragged will leave you unable to succeed, as demonstrated to him by Laios. Laios is a man he resents for various reasons but one of them being that he doesn't see Laios as sincere in his care, that he doesn't express his selflessness in a 'proper' way. That his happy go lucky attitude and focus on keeping himself health are proof that he doesn't care, when in actuality a) that's just who laios is b) Laios looking after himself is a form of selflessness because how can one help others if they can't even stand.

Laios sits in the middle of selfishness and selflessness, defined in equal parts by them. He is completely sincere and dedicated to his selflessness, willing to risk his life and go it alone to save Falin, he seeks non-violent solutions to deal with his human enemies, wanting to talk to Thistle and get him to respect the citizens of the golden kingdom's wishes and doing the same with Marcille alongside working to defeat the winged lion and putting himself on the line to do so, as well as becoming the king of the golden kingdom, which he clearly doesn't want. yet he also has a lot of selfish desires because of this and being an extremely autistic dude with basically no social skills he's viewed as worse than he is, both on his and other's fault. He loves monsters and his entire life is defined by his obsession with them, this obsession spawned from a resentment of humans how they treated his sister (he got over it, he was a teen). He seeks to examine Izutsumi, and while he means no disrespect or anything gross by it, she is a teenager and has some pretty serious trauma surrounding being treated as a circus animal. He disrespects Lycion's treatment to his suicidal body dysmorphia because it's a 'skin deep' appreciation of monsters. He views saving Falin as an opportunity to finally consume monsters, his selfish desires and his willingness to express then when it really isn't an oppurtune time to do so (dude, your sister's life is on the line) mean he is taken at his worst, viewed as literally villain by Kabru and the canaries. Laios as the protagonist of story with pretty clear themes of selflessness and selfishness shows one who is outwardly a very selfish person yet the moment you stop to look is a deeply deeply selfless person, even if he is bad communicating.

This brings us to his foil Kabru. Kabru pretty clearly defines himself by his selflessness, viewing himself as superior for it, believing he should be the one to conquer the dungeon and that Laios is unworthy based on his shallow understanding of him. This selflessness is further deconstructed as something very bad for him as similarly to Toshiro is clearly doesn't value himself like he should, not allowing himself to have selfish desires, with it being pretty clear this worldview is shaped by his childhood trauma, of seeing what the dungeon can do, his survivors guilt and believing he has a duty to prevent it. This brings him into interesting conflict with Mithrun and Laios. The former is someone is a person who literally cannot care for himself and must rely on others to do that for him. His lack of care for himself, unawareness of his own needs astounds Kabru, rather ironically considering Kabru's lack of focus on his own and his focus on Mithrun, who is noted to be looking better than usual thanks to Kabru's treatment by Lycion, indeed his focus on analysing and understanding other people in general can be seen as a form of his selflessness/care for others at his expense. The latter is a person who confounds Kabru, Laios is the first person who Kabru cannot understand, the first person he can't just casually befriend one so utterly antithetical to his own interests as Laios is fixated and loves the very thing Kabru is horrified by, monsters. This also shows arguably the biggest example of Kabru valuing others, his selflessness at his own expense when eats the monster food Laios offered him, looking like he might die as he does so. This horror and confusion causes him become fixated on Laios, he is a puzzle Kabru must solve, but also because of Kabru's views on monsters, selfishness and selflessness he views Laios as an active and terrifying threat that must be stopped. But underlying this is what Kabru refuses to acknowledge until he confronts Laios next time they meet, he wants to befriend Laios, something that horroifies himself, both cause this is Laios, but this is a selfish desire. Admitting to Laios is an admission to himself that he has a selfish desire and that maybe just maybe that isn't so bad and that doesn't make him a lesser person. This acknowledgment that desires are part of who you are is what allows him to reach Mithrun, Kabru developed a new desire, to befriend Laios and thus Mithrun can too. Kabru is very potent foil to Laios, a character defined by selfish desires and seen as dangerous because of them when in fact he is deeply deeply selfless, as he is character who looks down on selfish desire and values selflessness to his own expense, only to learn through Laios that selfish desires are not inherently bad, thus allowing Kabru to help others even more.

And last but not least is elves as a whole and in particular the canaries. Elves are this selflessness and selfishness theme on a societal scale as their racial paternalism means they view it is their duty to look after races whilst also not respecting them or their autonomy and this causing great harm, with the canaries and Milsiril being microcosims of this. The canaries are a force tasked with stopping dungeons a selfless act, though motives selfish as while some clearly do it to save lives, it's established that one of the reasons they do so is to get their hands on the ancient magic inside and their racial paternalism means they don't trust other races to know the secret of dungeons, which almost dooms everybody. We also see how many of the members of it are criminals, who quite frankly are selfish cunts, really racist to non elves and are more than willing to put shorter lived races in harms way to get what they want. Milsiril is this racial paternalism embodied, as she's dedicated her life to looking after children of other races, a selfless desire, but she clearly doesn't see them quite as equals with there also being the implication that this is the result of a selfish desire to deal with her own loneliness.

Desire is a key theme in dungeon meshi with selflessness and selfish being the accompaniment to it that really makes so much it so potent.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny has way to much fun fucking with the bats after a while. Jason is too until Danny bites him after some unwanted human contact. Alfred gets a big wave of nostalgia when Danny does it too.

Danny can say that the Waynes have been ridiculously welcoming, all things considered. He still hasn't come clean about not being Bruce Wayne's alternative double, so to throw them off from finding out the truth and have a safe place to crash- he's missed plumbing- he has been invited to the Wayne Manor and has been lazing about when under their watch.

If there was one thing apparent, it was that Bruce Wayne did not laze about. It was mind-blowing to those who knew him to see Danny- a version of Bruce- act like walking across the room for a remote was too much work.

It drove them mad to see such a difference between them, and thus, none of the Waynes noticed Danny's side project to get home.

The Waynes gave him a giant room and helped set up a fake Identity for him while they worked on getting him home. To the public, he was Danny Kane, a long-lost relative recently coming to Bruce for help.

Thanks to the support of Jacob and Kate, they agree to make it seem that Jack Kane- Danny's made-up father- was the result of Bruce's material grandfather having a fling after his wife's death. Jake was hidden from the public eye but had his father's financial support until he was an adult.

Jack was never bitter and told Danny stories of his wayward father, filled with love to prove it. These stories inspired Danny to seek out the remaining Kanes after Jack's untimely death, which led him to Bruce as Martha Wayne nee Kane's son.

The day Danny would be sent home, the Waynes would fake his death, and no one would be the wiser that Danny Kane never existed.

Fine by Danny

. He only planned to stick around long enough to get his ship ready and pinpoint a location that had the vile between the living and dead thin enough to slice his way back to the Ghost Zone.

Unlike Wulf, who could open portals wherever he wanted, Danny had to find points weak enough to punch a hole through. He knows his parent's portal was way out of his set of skills, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give anyone the idea to build their own here. Two percent of portals were already two too many.

He mostly hung around the house- with someone always close by in a poor attempt to hide the fact they were watching him. Most of the time, Danny was either lazing around the house, eating and sleeping, and it felt like a costly vacation.

He refused to help on the coms when the Bats went out to kick ass, even after Dick offered to sit in front of monitors and relay information to the heroes like he was offering the chance of a lifetime.

This seems to disturb everyone else in the house except for Alfred.

If anything, the fact Danny straight-up refused to put on tights and rush into night to fight crime made Alfred adore him. The butler claimed he was worried everyone in the family would forget what everyday life was supposed to feel like.

A few Waynes couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the concept.

"You're not interested at all?" Tim asks, eyes narrowed. He was among the few who thought Danny was suspicious for not wanting to risk his life to fight the corrupted system.

"Nah, man, I'm good here. I got my nachos, I got a movie room and I got the softest bathrobe ever bathrobe." Danny snuggles more profoundly into the pink plush robe that Steph had lent him. "Why would I want to ruin any of these? Sides, I can't even throw a punch."

".....There has never been a single alternative Bruce Wayne that wasn't involved in this life in some way. If not as a hero then he was a villain. Bruce as a villain is one of the most dangerous things that can ever happen across the multiverse" Tim reveals grimly. "We've won every single encounter but only by the skin of our teeth."

"Damn. Let me guess. You guys beat the evil Bruces by sending his kids after him."

"Yes."

"Problem solve. You already know you can kick my ass, so if I try anything, you can take me out, right?" Danny doesn't wait for a answer. He turns away from the teenager to stare at the movie screen showing his picked movie. "I can do nothing but tremble before your bat might."

Tim steps into his line of sight. "I mean it. You do anything to harm this family and will regret it."

"Does that mean I can't bite Jason again? That sucks. It's the only way I can get him to stop trying to drag me to galas. He wants to scare the other rich people with my poor people's manners."

Tim's lip twitches and Danny knows he's fighting to keep his face under control. "You didn't have to lock your jaw in like that."

"I really did. Jason tested me."

Tim tilts his head. "You don't really feel like Bruce. You look just like him at fifteen. Alfred says you act just like him. But for the last three weeks, you've been trying really hard to make it seem like you're okay with doing nothing."

"I am comfortable doing nothing."

"I think you're lying," Tim says, moving closer to stare down into Danny's eyes with frankly a manic glare. Danny's core flares up with the sense of challenge he finds in that dark blue gaze.

Which is a first for a human, and frankly is terrifying. If Tim had been a ghost he would have easily been an Ancient assistant or a baby Ancient. He has to be able to match Danny's power like this. Holy shit.

"I think your parents didn't give you enough love as a child, and now you seek approval from everyone around you while trying to push everyone away because you are too scared to make yourself valuable. You find yourself in an endless loop of self-doubt and self-hate by doing both simultaneously." Danny blurts. He watches Tim freeze, then winces. "Shit, sorry, the psychoanalyze came out as a reflection. Forget that."

Tim is still frozen in a way Danny recognizes as someone hearing something challenging to come to terms with. This is why he needs to break the habit of using Jazz's psyche training as a weapon.

He forgets not everyone insults each other with their deepest insecurities. That's just how he and Jazz love.

"...Do you want to watch the Grey Ghost Marathon with me?" He asks after a long pause. Tim closes his eyes before plumping down next to him.

"I like that."

Neither mention Jason, who is gasping in the last row of seats and attempting to suppress muffled laughter behind the wrist cast that Danny lovingly gave him at the last gala.

On a side note, Danny Kane is called "Rabid Dog." by the elites of Gotham, who watched the boy make three grown men cry after two minutes of talking to him and also witness four Waynes attempt to pry his mouth open screaming, "No Danny drop it. drop it!" while the boy munched on Jason's wrist.

No one has noticed that half of the tech has disappeared.

[bookishbrewer]

Cyn - The Disabled Neurodivergent Sibling:

⚠️ WARNING: this post will include discussion of bullying, ableism of numerous kinds, abuse, trauma.

First, let's establish 2 important terms for this post:

Zombie Drone - a state in which a worker drone is improperly disposed of. The WD enters a state of self-reboot as a result of: their core not being properly disconnected, the hardware not physically destroyed or a 606 error is interrupted. In a 0.7% chance, there's the risk of said WD rebooting with a "potential hazardous mutation".

The Absolute Solver - an incredibly advanced monstrous code and supernatural artificial intelligence that mutates in damaged forms of lesser AI.

Neurodivergent:

Cyn is first introduced in a flashback in episode 2, when she is scavenged & brought back to the Elliot mansion by Tessa. Right at the beginning, we the shy drone do something that may be interpreted as neurodivergent - imprinting:

Yes, I may be reading too deeply into this, but the fact that Cyn immediately focuses on the drone with the least threatening position & expression makes me think she may interpret him as the safest person to be around.

Just before this scene, we as the audience got to see the relationship between the main 3 drones Cyn will interact with in the mension:

1. N & V - they are the more meek & submissive types. They're both portrayed as sensitive, and have something of a crush on each other.

2. J - she's more of a mean 'older-bully-sibling' type. Not hasitating to command her peers, even using verbal & physical violence to do so.

So, in a sense, Cyn was right.

In ASD, for example, neurodivergent people might rely on siblings for interpreting social cues, deepening their connection. In addition, siblings may become key figures in routines and shared interests, leading to strong bonds (see for example how N reacts to Cyn showing him "those eyes" referring to her putting a picture of a golden retriever on her visor to convince him to go ask Tessa if they can attend the gala together. Or N suggesting the both of them will watch a movie together).

For another example, ADHD, siblings might help manage impulsivity & help with conflict resolution. We see an example of this in this clip:

After Tessa's abusive mother tells her off, Cyn steps in & exclaims that "they are not broken. We can no longer be thrown out", in direct reaction to the mother threatening to throw out all of Tessa's "dumpster pets".

This, clearly, triggers Cyn's trauma we see a glimpse of in episode 5:

She wakes up in what is essentially a pile of dead bodies, deeply woulded, hurt & terrified. This is what she is referring to, this is what 'no longer' means. It means 'not again'. She doesn't wish what she went through on anyone.

Even though N, Tessa's favorite, protects Cyn, it does not shelter her from Tessa's abuse. Now, let me reiterate, I know that Tessa is an abused child. She suffers from emotional, physical & verbal abuse from both her parents (& maybe other caretakers) and is also just a kid. My point in mentioning said abuse is to merely point put that this is an example to the cycle of it continuing, creating more victims.

Tessa inflicts on Cyn the exact same abuse she suffers at the hands of her parents & more:

She displays blatent favoritism towards certain drones (N & J) over others (neglects V & treats Cyn badly).

She threatens Cyn that something might happen to her if N is hurt for defending her from her mother.

She chains & locks Cyn in the basement with the use of one of her favorite drones (J):

Another example of Cyn's implied neurodiversity is her misunderstanding of Tessa's words. When Tessa threatens Cyn that something might happen to her if N is hurt "because of her" she simply replies:

Cyn does not exactly understand that Tessa is worried that N might die. To her, it is meaningless, because she (or rather, the Absolute Solver) has backups of Ns personality (which is displayed in future episodes, when it is revealed that she is the one to send the murder drones to Copper 9). This is very similar to how people with ASD (& others) may take a statement too literally or misunderstand it at first.

Another tidbit that I like about Cyn, is that she doesn't like being condescended to. She talks back to those who belittle her because of her being 'different'. Not only to Tessa & her mother, but also to her fellow drones:

Cyn: it seems that J forgot to let me out of my basement time-out again.

J: yet here you are.

Cyn (turning to N): annoyed expression.

She also does it to N in her eldritch form:

Another thing I'd like to add is Cyn being quite quirky & unique in her peaceful days, before the Solver took over her entirely:

Physically Disabled

We know that Cyn was sent to be destroyed for some reason before the show began. Her almost being destroyed caused numerous disabilities, some of them were cured (for example: her cracked visor was fixed) but some remained as lasting effects:

Linguistic differences/disabilities -

Cyn cannot talk in a more "smooth" way like her fellow drones. Her voice can be interpreted as robotic & distant (a characteristic some neurodivergent & disabled people may have or may be precieved as having).

Instead of just doing, Cyn says her actions out loud, for example: "sheepish nod", "shuffle, shuffle, shuffle", "tantrum", "jumpscare", "light sip". Some neurodivergent individuals, such as people diagnosed with ADHD may express their thoughts or describe their actions out loud as they are doing them to help with focus, brain fog & organization.

Bodily impairments -

Cyn stands a bit crookedly & doesn't get much support from her limbs to hold her body.

Her head cannot be held straight & has to be supported by something (she usually uses her hand to do that. Even in her eldritch form, before committing the massacre in Elliot mansion):

Though there are many voices of people, both disabled & otherwise that speak against disabled characters being portrayed as villains, I believe Cyn is in no way a disrespectful character. Before she is entirely lost to the Solver her trauma is explored, validated & expended on. She is portrayed as sweet, charming, complex & loving. She is also shown as being bullied, discarded, hurt & abused.

Her disabilities are not the cause of her fall to evil & are not her "trademark" when it comes to her definition (similarly to how, let's say, Darth Vader is mocked for his suit & is known & feared partially because of it). They are a part of her, but they are not the only aspect in her life that define her.

I think Cyn is a pretty good example of what a disabled person may go through in different stages of their lives. As a new sibling, as an unfavored child, as a server/worker, as a friend, as a hero & yes, as a victim of circumstances beyond their control.

I love Cyn, she's very special to me & I can't wait to see where her story will go.

Thank you for reading 🙏💜

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l nine

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound. 

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse. 

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend. 

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly.  “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August. 

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time. 

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children. 

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months. 

And you are fucking pregnant. 

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence. 

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing. 

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified. 

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them. 

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim. 

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy. 

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.” 

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him. 

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that? 

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you. 

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.” 

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?” 

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? 

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. 

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

[grandline-fics]

Hii, can I have a scenario with Law please !! I'd like something where reader is jealous.

Law and reader aren't together like they both have feelings but are completely oblivious. They're in a bar with the crew and everything, and reader and Law are talking, a woman starts flirting with him and reader (a bit drunk) gets a bit possessive

DESCRIPTION: You both have feelings for each other but you need jealousy and liquid courage to finally let it show

WARNINGS: depictions of alcohol use

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: Thank you for the request! Hope you like what I came up with for this one

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

It wasn’t often the entire crew of the Polar Tang got the chance to enjoy some proper down time and unwind in a bar. You relished these moments, when there was no fights or pressing matters to deal with and you could all just enjoy the adventure you were all on. You basked in the laughter and conversation with your crew as you all sat at table as the drinks flowed as easily. Eventually most of the crew began to scatter. Whether it was breaking into their own little clusters of conversation, finding the dance floor to enjoy, potential love-interests for the night to pursue, and alcohol infused antics to take part in. Which just left you and Law sitting at the original table in deep conversation and neither of you were complaining on that part. 

Both of you had feelings for the other but had yet to act on any impulses and any moment that could have potentially led to more. For you both, neither of you wanted to risk the rejection in case you were reading the situation wrong, and as a result ruin what you both already had. So you both lived in blissful delusion that everything was fine and that nothing would progress between you beyond the close friendship you could both enjoy. After finishing your drink you got up, offering to get another for your Captain too. You stood by the bar and waited to be served, content to wait your turn in the busy building. 

“Soooo, will tonight be the night you finally confess to our Captain?” You rolled your eyes at Sachi’s playful tone coming from your side. You didn’t even humour your crewmember by giving a verbal response and instead continued to stare ahead while waiting for one of the bartenders to make their way towards you. Your lack of an answer only spurred Sachi on and he grinned while lightly poking your arm. “Oh c’mon you know it’s eating you up. I mean it’s not like he’d reject you. He’s not that stupid.” Heavily you sighed, it wasn’t Law’s intelligence that was the issue here. You had your reasons for not making a move or even entertaining the thought of telling Law. Firmly you kept your mouth shut. “You know if you don’t let him know he’ll end up getting with someone else.”

“Sachi, the Captain and I aren’t an item. I don’t own him and he’s never made a move either. He can ‘get with’ anyone he wants.” You finally spoke, turning to lean against the bar and look at Sachi with a frown. You really didn’t get why he was being so pushy about the subject but after seeing the flush against his cheeks and large drink in his hand you decided to put it down to the alcohol in his system making him like this. You cast a glance around the bar to see the rest of your crew were letting themselves truly enjoy the evening and let the drink make them more relaxed and at ease. A night without having to constantly worry about the readings of the sub and having to do set rotations and watches was a godsend and one that everyone knew to make the most of. 

Finally you let your sight fall back to the table you and Law had been sitting at and your whole body tensed to see your seat was now filled by a woman who had her sights firmly set on your Captain. Worse still it seemed he was enjoying her presence, the fact that he hadn’t told her to get lost and instead seemed to be answering whatever she was saying was proof of that. You tried to bite back the bitter taste climbing your throat and forced your expression to remain as calm as it could even though you wanted nothing more than to glare at the scene. Like you’d said to Sachi, Law could have whoever he wanted. You didn’t own him. And yet your fingers flexed and tightly fisted against the edge of the bar’s countertop. “Hmmm she’s cute. If you want to give the Captain some privacy you can join us?” 

Law didn’t know what he could say to this woman to give her the hint that he wasn’t interested. He couldn’t outright say what he wanted to to this girl, with everyone enjoying their night of freedom the last thing he wanted was to bring trouble to their door. So he just had to give short, basic answers to his unwanted acquaintance while he waited for you. You were the only person Law wanted to spend time with, no one else made him feel the way he did. Thankfully he felt your familiar presence approach behind him and his hand instinctively lifted to take the beer you reached out to him without needing to turn and look. “Thanks, I’ll get the next round.” He told you and then blinked in confusion when you remained standing behind him. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You said, taking a slow sip of your drink and maintaining eye-contact with the woman still in your seat. It brought you swift satisfaction to see the nervousness in her eyes and watch her adjust her position. “Who’s your friend?” You asked while letting your free arm drape over your Captain’s shoulder, your fingers almost grazing against his bicep. Law’s eyes flickered down to your hand and said nothing. You were probably only doing it because of the fact you were still standing and your balance would be slightly skewed from your alcohol intake. The woman opposite you both tried to introduce herself to you but quickly forgot her name as soon as it was out of her mouth. 

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” She snapped, suddenly becoming defensive to your presence that she clearly didn’t want interfering with her hopes at getting to know Law better and you smirked at her. “You’re in my seat.” You answered simply with a smile, shifting your feet and making it so your chest was pressing a little closer against Law’s back. 

Law watched the woman splutter and look around the empty seats around them. “Well sit somewhere else!” She protested in annoyance, unable to really cause a fuss because you weren’t actually doing anything to intimidate or threaten her. Last time you’d checked standing wasn’t a crime and she knew that. At her suggestion you pouted, pretending to think about sitting somewhere else. Truth be told you had a moment of going to a different table when you’d first caught sight of her with Law but your jealousy and sudden spark of possessiveness only got worse and her whining only provoked you even more. “There’s tons of places for you to sit, just pick somewhere else. It’s really off-putting if you keep standing there.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! The last thing I want is to be off-putting!” You gasped in false concern before smirking as you stepped around Law and perched yourself with ease on his lap. “There we go, how’s that?” You asked sweetly while trying to ignore how rapidly your heart was beating. You’d been so focused on getting under this woman’s skin to get her to leave that you didn’t stop to think about what you were doing but it was far too late to go back. That was proven even more when Law’s arm secured it around your waist, effectively keeping you seated and his chest firmly against your back. “So, are you finally going to leave us alone now?” Law asked frowning at the woman who floundered and finally got to her feet storming off to find someone else to annoy. 

You waited a moment to be sure she’d left and prepared to stand only to freeze when Law’s fingers flexed against you in a silent sign for you to stay. Clearing your throat you looked up at him, questioning him and afraid to even speak. Law smirked down at you, deciding that maybe acting on impulse and having liquid courage wouldn’t be such a bad thing especially if it led to more of these kinds of moments with you. “You can’t get up now, I wouldn’t want to risk someone else coming by and taking your seat.”   

[thema-nr-2]

im so sorry if i start spamming you with requests 💔💔 anywaays dom 2010 bill maybe?? with like an f reader you can ddcide like the plot n shit i dont wanna control you 🙏🙏

just you wait til i get you home - b.k

✮ synopsis - you and bill are at dinner with your friends and you take the time to tease him under the table. Pissed off, bill makes you suck him off in the bathroom.

✮ genre - smut

✮ word count - 2.2k

✮ content warning - nsfw, fem!sub!reader, dom!2010!bill, semi public freakiness 👅, slight choking if you squint, praise, oral (m!receiving) cum swallowing idfk, gagging, teasing, bills mad pissed at y/n 😞, use of pet names, let me know if i missed anything

✮ 1 request out of 3 done, thank fuck… 2 more fics coming soon guys trust 😭 (ive already started the 2nd one) bonus points if anyone can recognise the lyrics in the tittle

“Why can’t we just stay inside tonight, Bill? I don’t wanna go out!” You whined as you held up your dress in front of the mirror, debating whether or not to put it on.

“As much as I’d love to, schatz, we were invited to this dinner.” Bill started. “We can’t say no just because we don’t feel like it. That’s not fair on our friends.” Blah blah blah..

“But-“

“No buts, Y/N!”

You slumped down on the edge of the bed and watched as your boyfriend buttoned his shirt up. He didn’t look too keen on going out to dinner either. Reluctantly, you slid out of your comfy pyjamas and put on the dress that you had been so eager to wear. Just not tonight. You admired yourself in the mirror for a minute, checking yourself out. It really was a beautiful dress. And Bill had picked it out just for you. Sleek, black, silk hugged your figure perfectly. It was practically tailored for you. You were under the idea that you could easily distract Bill with just a few touches. And when you looked like that? Surely…

“Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we just… called in sick?“ You began, speaking in a slow tone. You walk up behind Bill, wrapping your arms around his waist and fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. You started to unbutton them one by one, but unfortunately, Bill wasn’t in the mood to put up with your antics as he pushed your hands right off him.

“Easier, maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s right. Now hurry up and finish getting ready. We need to be there by 6.”

—

You knew it was risky. A dangerous game to be playing, yet you were willing to risk it all just for the result. But you knew it was over for you once you met Bill's gaze and saw that look his eyes. A look that either said “I’m gonna kill you when we get home” or “I’m gonna ruin you when we get home”. Nonetheless, the thrill had you soaked already.

Bill’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt your hand caress his thigh underneath the table, getting recklessly close to his crotch. He shot you a subtle glare, which only landed him a proud smile from you. Fortunately for him, nobody noticed. Yet. It was your mission to get him as worked up as possible, to the point where he couldn’t contain it and had to get up and leave. (And obviously take you with him)

You spent the evening making pointless conversation with your work friends, small talk about work and how life was going. Really nothing interesting, and the lack of stimuli was driving you insane. You had let Bill eat and talk in peace for about an hour and a half before you began to feel bored again. Both of you had finished your meals so it’s not like you had anything else to do besides tease him again. As you two let out forced laughs at your friend’s unfunny jokes, you subtly placed your hand on his thigh again, rubbing it gently. Bill didn’t seem to take too much notice of it, which was good. It meant you could get away with more, easier. You smirked to yourself as your hand started to palm him through his tight jeans, this was where Bill finally started to notice what you were up to. He turned to you, not with an angry expression but with a confused one. You felt as he started to get hard in your hands, and you continued to palm him, ever so subtly slipping your hand underneath his jeans and rubbing his now slightly clothed dick. Bill let out a cough to cover up the moan he almost let slip, a bit of an unrealistic one unfortunately.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” A friend asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He said bluntly, never once taking his eyes off you. You simply giggled and continued to rub him over his boxers under the table. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow as it began harder and harder to hide what was going on. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and covered his mouth, removing himself from the conversation as best he could. Before long, it was too difficult to stay quiet, he had let you get away with too much. Out of nowhere, Bill pulled your hand out of his pants, and stood up.

“I’m not feeling too well, I’m gonna head to the bathroom…” He said, somewhat nonchalantly. Your friends gave him a weird look of disbelief, then they turned to you with the same expression. You watched as Bill walked away. He looked behind him and made direct eye contact with you. Though he didn’t say anything, you could tell he wanted to follow him. And that there’d be bigger problems if you didn’t.

“Uh, I’m gonna go check on him..” You said nervously as you excused yourself from your seat. Your heart was racing as you caught up to Bill, who hadn’t yet entered the bathroom. As soon as you got close enough to him, he seized your wrist tightly and dragged you into a stall, locking the door behind him. Thankfully nobody was in the bathroom at the same time as you guys. Once the door was locked, Bill slammed you up against the bathroom stall door, pinning your hands to each side of your head as his lips attached themselves to your neck. You let out a gasp of pleasure as he began to suck harshly on the sensitive part of your neck. After a minute, he pulled away, admiring the hickies he had left.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh?” You asked sarcastically.

“You think you’re fuckin funny? So fuckin clever?” Bill said, his pent up anger clear in his tone

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyelashes innocently at him, hoping to gain some sort of ease.

Bill’s eyes narrowed at you as his hand moved up to wrap gently around your throat. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” He whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat the more he talked. “You think teasing me back there in front of our friends, and total strangers was funny? Is this all because I wouldn’t let us stay home tonight? I nearly fucking blew it thanks to you.”

Bill pressed his body against you as you tried to squirm free of his grasp. “Stop struggling, slut. You wanted this.” He growled under his breath as he held you firmly in place. Once you had stopped moving, you looked at the floor anxiously, the regret from teasing him already setting in. Bill grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. “On your knees. Now.” He ordered. You immediately complied, not wanting to piss him off any more. Bill smirked proudly as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him. You wasted no time to undo his belt and pull his jeans down along with his boxers, where you could see stains of precum. Part of you was rather pleased with how your teasing really did a number on him. Even though you hadn’t done much. You took his cock in your hands, gently kissing the tip while pumping him ever so slightly.

“Think about teasing me for another minute and I swear you’ll regret it.” His words sent shivers down your spine. You trembled beneath him as you finally took him into your mouth, gaining a guttural moan from Bill. He leaned against the stall door, tilting his head back. “Mmm, that’s it, baby. Good girl..” He groaned.

You bobbed your head up and down his dick, slowly building a steady pace. But it seemed like Bill wasn’t having it. He grabbed a fistfull of your hair, turning it into a makeshift ponytail for him to pull your head down. You gagged as you felt his tip reach the back of your throat, and his balls hit your chin slightly. You rested your hands on Bill’s thighs for support, dragging your nails down his pale skin. Even after deepthroating him, Bill didn’t let you go. He kept your hair gripped firmly in his fist, controlling your rhythm completely. You let out a muffled whine as you tried to come up for air, which only gained you a scowl from the man looking down at you.

“Who said you could stop, huh?” He snapped. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your pathetic response.

“I just-” You stuttered as you began to speak, however you were swiftly cut off by Bill forcing your head back down onto his throbbing dick. It caught you by such surprise, you felt tears piercing the corners of your eyes.

“You’re crying now? I thought you could take it. Aren’t you my good girl?” He queried, raising his eyebrow. You nodded rapidly as you moved your head along with the rhythm Bill had forced upon you. He moaned out soft praises as he felt you swirl your tongue around him, every now and then grazing it over his slit. You felt him twitch in your mouth, his orgasm catching up to him. “Scheiße, liebe..” Bill felt his knees begin to weaken as he got closer. He savoured every second of your warm mouth around his cock, savoured every muffled sob from you, every choked moan.

Tears fell down your cheeks, not only from how much you were trying not to gag, (and failing) but from now hard Bill was pulling on your hair. Your knees began to ache from the cold, hard, bathroom floor. They’d surely be bruised the next morning. And you were sure the floor had torn a small hole in one of your knee high socks. Which was a shame, they were quite pretty.

“Fuck, gonna cum, baby…” Bill moaned, barely getting his words out. “And you better fucking swallow…” You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand at his demand. He was so hot when he was like this. Dominant and commanding. You wished he would be like this more often, even if it meant week long aches in your throat, legs, or back. Bill threw his head back with one final, loud moan as he released his hot cum down your throat. You whined, doing your best not to let a single drop waste. You adored his taste. You swallowed as much of him as you could. After you pulled off his dick, you continued to lick his slit, gathering the rest of his cum. Once you were done you looked up to see your boyfriend's expression of approval.

Bill smiled warmly as he gave you a light pat on the head. “Atta girl.” He praised. “You did so well for me, took my dick so fuckin good.”

You panted heavily, taking in as much air as you could. Bill’s taste lingered in the back of your throat and on your tongue, the last thing you were about to do was complain about that.

Bill reached out a hand to help pull you up. He looked down at your knees and frowned. You were confused about what he seemed so sad about, until you looked down yourself to see the very prominent tear in your right sock. Guess you were right.

“And they were the ones you bought me, too…” You grimaced.

“It’s okay, schatzi, I’ll buy you a new pair. Or you can keep wearing them to remind yourself of what a slut you were for me tonight.” He smirked.

You blushed profusely at his comment, somewhat enjoying that idea.

“Do you think our friends are gonna be suspicious when we go back out…” You reluctantly asked.

Bill sighed, remembering what they were doing in a public bathroom in the first place. He scratched the back of his neck in disappointment. “Yeah, most likely. You got an excuse?”

“To make up for your flushed face and my bruised knees? Not a clue.”

He giggled. Bill led you out of the stall, making sure nobody was lurking. You had a glance at yourself in the mirror, and after seeing the state of disarray your hair was in and about $60 worth of makeup smudged across your face from where you had cried, you realised you two were both definitely fucked.

AHHH i’m sorry this was so ass i’m not used to writing for sub reader 🤧 hopefully it wasn’t gut wrenchingly bad though!! i’m so sorry to keep people who have requested waiting but i’m juggling a lot right now so i haven’t had the time or motivation to do anything productive in the last month 😝😝

[tomiyeee]

donnie had. SO. much concept art lol. i really enjoyed the whole design process though. his base design is very difficult to work with because of the battleshell, but it gave me a lot of chances to get creative and i'm happy with the results :)

(also as a disclaimer so i don't get asked about this: i don't have motivation to finish raph or the wish art for donnie, so i'm just posting what i've got)

i didn't annotate these as much since there'd be a lot to write, but i'll write out some of my thought processes and go into some detail about his final design below the cut if you're interested! (it's long. i'm talkative 😔)

1st row - first iteration; much more literal 1:1 translation of his design into a fantasy setting. very steampunk-y. ended up completely scrapping it because, simply put, he looked more like an npc than a playable character. obviously, several features did still carry over throughout the design process :3 also wanted to imagine his attack pattern cuz i thought it'd be fun to incorporate his spider arms.

this was actually the first design of any of them i'd come up with! i've definitely learned a lot about genshin's character design style since then and i think it shows 😂

2nd row - playing around with the idea of a floating battleshell (rather than a backpack-like one in the the show & first version), inspired by nahida's cape. also hard light constructs/attachments. was leaning too into the sci-fi and rectangular motifs with the design, but i liked the idea.

3rd/4rth rows - concepts for his final outfit and shell designs (the colored/more-detailed pics are the more finalized ones). took a lot of inspiration from sumeru this time around. it's a lot sharper, shinier, and less rectangular than his og aesthetic, but i think it's more in-line with genshin's design philosophies.

5th row - not entirely sure why i went through all the trouble of making a 3d model for this. i mostly just thought it'd be fun and good for reference. i was right, but i don't know what to do with it now lol. can't be bothered to be a perfectionist about it though, so don't look too closely at it 😭

6th row - incomplete thumbnails of his burst/wish art. not super sold on that "wing" design in particular, but i do like the idea of his shell splitting and deploying hard light weapons/rocket launchers/etc sort of like in canon.

battleshell/misc notes - i'm thinking his battleshell is controlled using the pink sensor on the back of his coat, possibly in combination with his headset. it floats behind him by default and is sturdy enough to protect his back, but he can also freely fly it around like a drone if he wants. the holes on the side are mainly for the spider arms and the banners(?) and handles(?) with the blue/pink gradient are made of hard light and only appear when the shell is in use.

i imagine like in the series, his tech here isn't necessarily very reliant on his vision/powers; much of it he likely made himself long before he received a vision and he just uses his vision to enhance it.

his burst is a barrage of missiles from his shell that lock onto an enemy and deal a large burst of electro damage in an AOE. not sure if i want his skill to be a deployable or some sort of electro-infusion/boost 🤔 maybe something that involves deploying his shell to boost his damage while leaving him vulnerable, like a glass canon? though i'm not sure he'd be that sort of risk-taker... 😅 dunno! his signature weapon would totally be his tech bo though.

that's about all i can think of. thanks for reading!

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: sacrifice / self sacrifice / slight suicidal themes / death mention / ]

I personally think that Leo took the wrong lessons from the movie. I definitely think he grew to understand the importance of teamwork and making sure he takes others into account so as to not harm them by proxy of whatever scheme he has cooked up, however based on the ending events I’m not quite certain he fully grasped two things.

The first thing is communication. Oh, he can communicate, and he does, when he deems it necessary. When he’s setting up a plan prior to the action. But this is where the second thing comes in.

The second thing I don’t think Leo truly grasped is “it’s not about you.” It’s so unbearably easy to take that the wrong way, especially when taking the rest of the series into account.

What I believe Leo took from this message is not “it’s not just you, everyone matters and can contribute, can help and be helped” but “put the whole of everyone above yourself” which can both be a good lesson…and a fatal one.

And it is fatal, we see as much in the movie.

Even after the big hope speech, when Leo is “fighting” Krang!Raph, he takes a huge risk. Sure, it worked, and Leo managed to get through to Raph through a well deserved apology, but it could have so easily ended in his death and yet he barely even hesitates to go for it.

And then again, to the big scene at the end, where Leo sacrifices himself not only for the sake of his family, but for the whole world.

To him, that’s the message to take from this. That the lives of everyone, of the greater good, matters…more than him. That the risk to himself is worth it if others can be saved.

Leo learned that gambling with his life as the betting chip is always the best move to make in the end.

And to make matters worse…this thinking is what works.

These risks are ultimately what is needed to save the day, so why would Leo look away from it now? Clearly it’s the right move and everything worked out!

Thing is, Leo did grow from the events of the movie. He learned to take things more seriously and be more mature, he learned to value his team’s input and capabilities enough to rely on them more, and he learned to be less self-centered and realize the turmoil others were going through (especially if that turmoil is a result of his actions.)

But still, he’s grown to accept the gamble of his life as a viable answer to their problems.

Personally, with how Leo has been shown to toy around with the idea of “it’s better me than them” I think this goes beyond sacrifice in the name of love or even sacrifice in the name of responsibility, and pushes over into sacrifice in the name of worth.

[westwindy1]

Hiccup projects his insecurities on dragon killing so intensely that it blinds him to everything else- the belief that killing a dragon will fix all his problems makes it so that him not being able to kill a dragon is a problem, and while it is partially true that everything on Berk did rely heavily on dragon-killing, we see especially in the scenes following Hiccup having shot down Toothless that people are actively getting upset with him for participating in the battle- instead of pretending he had no differences, physical or mental, if he calmed down, the Vikings might have been more amicable, and though maybe it wouldn’t have been exactly what he wanted and things would still be bad, it would be easier.

Toothless’ position as a metaphor for Hiccup’s insecurity is solidified the moment Hiccup decides not to kill him. This scene takes on a whole other meaning given that Hiccup is finally forced to look inwards -is forced to look at himself- and can no longer blame any physical-situational barrier for keeping him from his goal of killing a dragon. This is the first time he acknowledges that it really is something that is inherently him that keeps him from being able to kill dragons.

From here, Hiccup has to make a choice, not just about Toothless and not just in consideration of how other people view him, but also about himself- he has to confront what he quite literally can’t do and has to determine what to do next.

After, Hiccup is shown why learning to work with Toothless is good. What Toothless provides for him is not just the ability to fly, an action which, while crazy and exhilarating, he would have no objective need for- learning about Toothless means, for Hiccup, learning how to truly navigate the world around him, teaching him how to deal with the other dragons, acting as a metaphor themselves in that him learning how to deal with those dragons means Hiccup learns how to better understand and communicate with other people using what they don’t yet know about themselves.

Hiccup is in less physical danger as a result of what he learned from Toothless and he is better off socially, too. Toothless affects Hiccup so deeply that he changes the way Hiccup interacts with the world and with Toothless having been the key to Hiccup’s social success during Dragon Training, he’s become so essential to Hiccup’s person that an acceptance of Hiccup cannot come without an acceptance of Toothless.

He has to stop viewing his insecurities -Toothless, his inability to kill dragons- as something to hide, as a weakness and the scene with Astrid on the docks following Stoick sailing off to the Dragon’s Nest is important for that very reason; Hiccup has to make the final decision to actively make changes to his own environment instead of acting as a passive participant who, yes, might be learning better through his own silent exploration of his strengths and weaknesses but is also someone who remains stunted socially by the limits other people placed on him.

It is only after being essentially forced to see Hiccup functioning with Toothless primarily as a result of their own hubris that the other Vikings are forced to acknowledge the dragons as things that aren’t inherently evil.

He forces them to look inwards, and so it’s only after the Vikings get rid of the Red Death, i.e. the years and years of generational trauma and conditioning, that there is the very real possibility of them learning how to live in harmony with the things they fight against.

Hiccup’s missing leg isn’t just a token of war but also a physical manifestation of the fact that Hiccup’s insecurities aren’t just ‘things to work over’ anymore- what once hindered such an important part of him, with Toothless’ missing fin keeping him from being able to fly, putting his life at risk, all things caused by Hiccup’s own ignorance- by the end of the movie, they’re his greatest strengths. They’re things that are so essential to his person that to take them away would be to kill everything he’s lived for.

[saphronethaleph]

Did you pack your robe yourself?

“The events on Onderon were, of course, very much not as we would desire,” Palpatine said, with a slight frown of distaste. “While they ultimately worked out, the consequences could be significant.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” replied the Vice-Chair, Mas Amedda. “Is there anything we will need to do?”

Palpatine barely glanced at the Coruscant Guard clone troopers around the entrance to the executive section of the Senate building. “Perhaps,” he said. “We should especially watch out for the risks posed by large crime syndicates. Such an event could result in serious strain on the Jedi.”

With possible witnesses, there were limits to the sort of thing he would say… but with Mas Amedda, a long-time political ally who knew he was more than he appeared, he could insinuate. And he was quite sure Mas would follow the direction of his thoughts.

“That would be unfortunate,” Mas noted. “Especially if the problems were associated with Mandalore. Obi-Wan Kenobi is closely tied to the planet’s leadership, and it would be inevitable that he’d be sent – and the loss of Master Kenobi would be a major blow to the Jedi.”

Palpatine was about to reply, but as they passed through the doorway something beeped urgently.

“What was that?” he asked.

One of the Coruscant Guard troopers was watching a screen, and he signalled to the rest of the squad. They all pointed their weapons, and the sergeant put a hand to his helmet.

“What is going on?” Palpatine asked. “Explain yourselves! I am the Supreme Chancellor!”

“Routine check, your excellency,” the sergeant said. “After the hostage crisis and intelligence of a possible kidnapping attempt, we set up scanners on the doorways of your chambers. Nobody gets in without a weapon scan.”

“That does not explain why you are holding the Supreme Chancellor and Vice Chair at blasterpoint,” Mas Amedda replied.

That wasn’t actually true. It did explain why Palpatine and Mas were at blasterpoint, because Palpatine carried a lightsaber as a matter of course – a weapon that was well-concealed and difficult to detect, and which wouldn’t show up on any scan keyed to detect blasters.

But apparently the Coruscant Guard was more thorough than that.

“We currently have reason to believe that you may have been replaced by an imposter, your excellency,” the sergeant answered. “And if you haven’t been, we’ll need an explanation for why you’re carrying a lightsaber-”

“Oh, this is tiresome,” Palpatine interrupted. “Execute Order 76.”

The whole clone squad straightened.

“What is your order?” the sergeant asked, his tone flat.

“Have all weapons scanners recalibrated to avoid registering lightsabers,” Palpatine told him. “In addition, forget this conversation and record it as a negative result.”

“It will be done, my lord,” the sergeant replied, still flat, and the troopers stepped aside.

“You had to use the order?” Mas asked.

“Surveillance footage,” Palpatine replied. “If any other clone views any recordings taken of this before I can get them deleted, the effect will be the same.”

“Of course,” Mas realized, as they began walking again. “I bow to your superior skills.”

Some miles away, Keelyvine Reus stared at her screen, which was still displaying the helmet-cam feed from CT-1154-17 ‘Thinner’ as he and his squad quietly returned to their positions – and the clone at the scanner began reprogramming it, deleting certain details from the profiles it used to identify potential weapons in the first place.

When she’d been asked to quietly back up Commander Fox as the Coruscant Guard’s number-one contact for complex situations that might require a Jedi Investigator – as Jedi or investigator – she’d expected a lot… but not this.

“...well,” she said, out loud, thinking. “Order 76 implies other orders. They’re secret enough that I don’t know about them, they override the will of the clones, and the Chancellor knows them…”

It all added up in a very unpleasant way.

She considered, then stood.

This was clearly over her head, and the Council needed to know.