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thehereticdiaries · 2 days ago

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Protective Instincts: Enhypen

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, allusions to drugging in Sunghoon's part, if I missed anything lmk

I have the next chapters for my series outlined!! Now I just gotta find the time to write them 🥲

Lee Heeseung

No matter how busy you were, you and Heeseung always made time to see each other at least twice a month. You have been friends for as long as you remembered, having grown up as neighbors. Your moms would gossip over tea while the two of you got into as much mischief your baby brains could think of. Not much has changed, except now you were the ones gossiping instead of your moms.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Heeseung held the door of the cafe open for you. The sidewalk bustled with pedestrians rushing to get their weekend errands done.

“Of course. Make sure you do the same.” You always ended your hang-outs with the same good-byes and a tight hug. You parted ways, walking in opposite directions to get back to your respective apartments. Barely five minutes passed since you left the cafe and yet a FaceTime call from you interrupted Heeseung’s music.

“Wow, did you miss me that much already?” He wasn’t looking at the phone or he would’ve seen the fear clearly written on your face.

“Heeseung.” His eyes snapped down to you, immediately concerned by the tremor in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s a man following me,” you whispered, as if the man would be able to hear you from several feet away. Heeseung stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning him some glares.

“What?!”

“He was outside of the convenience store a couple doors down from the cafe. After I passed him, he looked at me weird and now he’s behind me.”

“Don’t go home. Start looking around one of the stores, I’m coming to you,” Heeseung instructed while turning on his heel and speed-walking in your direction.

“Okay, uh, I’m in that boutique with the grandma curtain dresses.” You passed that store all the time but never went in because of the gaudy patterns on the window displays. You greeted the cashier, moving to the back of the store to hide.

“Can you see him?”

“He’s looking in the front window.” Heeseung ground his teeth, pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk. A lot of people jumped out of his way when they saw his barely-contained anger. The little bell above the boutique’s door jingled in his ear. “Oh fuck, he just walked in.”

“Stay calm and don’t hang up. I’m almost there.” You shrunk behind a rack of clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. But there was only one other customer in the store, so your chances were slim.

“Hi,” an unfamiliar male voice cut into your conversation. “What are you up to all by yourself?”

“O-Oh, um, I’m just looking for a gift for my mom,” you lied, wide eyes flicking between your phone and the stranger.

“Mhm,” he hummed, obviously not listening to what you were saying. “How old are you?”

“19.” Another lie. Maybe if he thought you were too young he’d leave you alone.

“So you’re inexperienced, then. Why don’t you let an older man show you how it’s done.”

“It? N-No, no thanks.” At this point, Heeseung borderline sprinted toward the store.

“No? Why not?” The door slammed open, whipping the poor bell around and startling the cashier. The man ignored it, staring down at you, leaning closer and dropping a hand to your shoulder. “I can promise I’m way better than that little boy you were with before. Where is he, anyway?”

“Behind you,” Heeseung growled.

“Oh, shit,” the man swore after he turned and caught sight of Heeseung’s icy glare. You have never seen your best friend this pissed off. He shoved the man’s chest, making him stumble and give just enough room for Heeseung to pull you into his side. His arm draped over your shoulders, hand hanging loosely in front of you. His relaxed posture was a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes and voice.

“Did you need something or were you just trying to intimidate my girlfriend?” You flushed at that, glancing up at him, but he kept his steady gaze on the man.

“Relax, I was just making small talk.”

“By asking a 19-year-old girl if she wants to have sex with you? Fuck off, you’re lucky if I don’t call the cops,” Heeseung sneered, continuing your lie with ease. This grabbed the attention of the cashier. She discreetly pulled out her phone, whispering into the speaker with a hand over her mouth.

“Seriously, kid? You should really be thanking me.” The man held up his hands with a shrug. “I was offering to show her how to make a guy cum. That works in your favor.” You squeaked, ducking under Heeseung’s arm to hide behind him, gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn’t seem to mind, as he reached back to rest a comforting hand on your hip.

“So you’re a pervert and you have no shame, got it,” Heeseung scoffed with a click of his tongue.

“See, I knew you weren’t a real man. You should–”

“Excuse me, sir,” a woman with sharp eyes and a neat bun interrupted. “I will only say this once: get out of my store.”

“What?!”

“You are harassing my customers. Very young customers, at that, with extremely lewd comments,” the shop owner scolded the man, arching an immaculate eyebrow. “If I need to repeat myself, you will be leaving in handcuffs.” The man bristled, bowing his head and scurrying out of the store.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sighed in relief but kept your shaky hands wrapped around Heeseung’s arm.

“It was no trouble at all. You kids have a good day, now.” As quickly as the owner arrived, she disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. You sat in silence until you realized that Heeseung was still gently brushing his thumb over your hip.

“Hee, you called me your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, kissing your temple then your cheek and tugging you back out onto the sidewalk. “I’m walking you home.” Your mind reeled as you tried to wrap it around this new information and the sudden affection. You grinned and squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”

Jay Park

You were at a party for one of Jake’s friend’s birthdays. Jay dragged you along, claiming that he needed you there for moral support since the only people he’d know were the other Enhypen boys. Yeah, moral support my ass. Not even a minute after you walked through the front door, Jay veered off when another girl waved him over. So now you were forced to awkwardly mingle with a growing pit of jealousy in your gut. Luckily one of the little cliques adopted you into their circle, easing your nerves a bit. An hour into the party, you managed to break out of your shell and were now laughing loudly with everyone.

“Oh, hey Jay,” one of the guys in the group greeted the idol as he approached.

“Hey,” Jay greeted flatly while shoving himself between you and the girl to your right. You furrowed your brows at the odd change in behavior. He was normally very polite, opting to gently maneuver you to the side so he could stand next to you. He didn’t even say ‘excuse me’ to the poor girl. You followed his uncharacteristic glare to a guy leaning on the arm of the couch. You thought he said his name was Dan or something similar.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, looking back up to Jay.

“I’m good.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and you knew he was lying.

“No, you’re mad about something. What’s going on?” He didn’t answer. Jay's fiery gaze didn’t waver, even when someone tried including him in the conversation. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Y/N,” a shorter girl with cute round glasses grabbed your attention. “You have to come with us next time we go out! There’s this amazing cafe and the cutest…” Jay tuned her out while moving a hand to your lower back, which you didn’t question. He usually used your body heat as a way to ground himself. He was visibly angry because didn’t like the way Dan was eyeing you up, and he definitely didn’t like that Dan wasn’t backing down while he was standing right next to you. The last of his patience ran out when Dan fucking smirked at him. Oh, so he knew what he was doing. Knowing that only pissed Jay off more.

“What about you, Jay?” The short girl looked at him expectantly.

“Hm? Yeah, sure.”

“It wasn’t a yes or no question…” She trailed off when you signaled that he was in a bad mood. The conversation carried on like normal for approximately 15 seconds before Dan chimed in.

“Hey, Y/N, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Absolutely the fuck not. Jay’s hand slid from your back to your hip, digging his fingers into you and pulling you flush against his side.

“I tell her every day,” he replied before you even had a chance to process the intent behind the compliment.

“Oh?” Dan cocked his head to the side. “I never asked, but how do you know each other?”

“We’re–”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jay interrupted you. Every ounce of your willpower went into keeping your composure. You didn’t know why Jay would lie about dating you, but you trusted him. There must be a reason, so you let yourself relax into his side.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Everyone watched the exchange nervously. Between Dan’s arrogance and the edge to Jay’s voice, a thick tension hung in the air.

“So why’d you leave her alone to talk to Yunah?” You were curious about that, too, to be perfectly honest.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she was asking for advice. She and the other Illit members want to try rapping in some of their upcoming songs,” he explained. Now you felt a little silly for being so jealous earlier.

“Suuure. You two were just a bit close, in my opinion,” Dan shrugged while looking over at you. Jay’s whole body tensed up.

“I don’t give two shits about your opinion, so stop eye-fucking my girl before I make you,” he snarled, surprising everyone with his threat. Your jaw dropped as you stared at his profile. Under the anger, you could see something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Jay,” you whispered gently, placing your hand over the one squeezing your hip like a lifeline. He finally looked at you, and his resolve shattered at the genuine concern on your face.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the front door. “Sorry, Donghyun.” He apologized as he passed the host of the party. You waited until you left the apartment to pull Jay to the side. He dropped your hands to curl his fists by his sides, refusing to look up from the sidewalk.

“What happened in there, Jay? I’ve never seen you so angry before,” you asked while uncurling his fist, tracing over the lines on his hand with your fingertips. You missed the shiver that went down his spine at your touch.

“I’m sorry, I just,” he interrupted himself with a frustrated growl. “I hated the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me? And why would it piss you off that much?”

“Y/N, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. I hated it cus I could tell that he was thinking about you like you were a prize,” he gestured with his unoccupied hand during his rant.

“I didn’t even notice.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I came over. God, the thought of someone else wanting you like that just–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, holding both of his hands in front of him. Jay still avoided eye contact, so you had to duck your head down to force him to meet your eyes. “What do you mean ‘someone else’?” His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

“Is that why you get moody after I go on dates?” You struggled to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t laugh–”

“I’m not!”

“Y/N, seriously.” You took a deep breath to compose yourself at the desperation in his voice. “Yes. I’m sorry I never told you, I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship since you obviously don’t feel the same.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” you giggled behind your hand.

“What?”

“Jay. I have been flirting with you so much that it grosses Jake and Sunghoon out. How have you not noticed?” He stared at you in disbelief. You had to hide your face in his shirt to smother the cackles that would’ve definitely gotten you some dirty looks from other pedestrians. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you before chuckling at his own obliviousness.

“Oh. Good, so I wasn’t lying. You’re mine.” His chin rested on the top of your head as he gently swayed back and forth.

“I have been for a while, Jay.”

Park Sunghoon

A long-standing and well-loved tradition in the Enhypen dorm was their monthly movie nights. It started with just the boys, but then Sunoo introduced you to the group. You bonded with everyone very quickly and after a few months, you were allowed to join their sacred movie tradition. Not like anyone, especially Sunghoon, minded you being there. Actually, Sunghoon found it to be the perfect opportunity to get closer to you, metaphorically and physically. Everyone knew his excuse of “sharing the blanket” was just that: an excuse. Well, everyone except you knew and it drove Sunghoon crazy.

The issue with tonight’s movie night was the sudden inclusion of two of Heeseung’s friends. Most of the other members haven’t even met these guys. How the hell were they allowed to crash their movie? To make matters worse, one of them stole both Sunghoon’s last bottle of tea and his spot on the couch next to you. He had to sit in the recliner. All alone. Without his favorite blanket- your blanket- but at least you didn’t share with the new guy. He either didn’t notice or blatantly ignored your discomfort, which was unsurprising for a guy named fucking Tyler.

So Sunghoon sat there, seething and barely watching the movie, glaring at Tyler from the corner of his eye. You were, arguably, having a much worse time than Sunghoon. You had to deal with this guy’s annoying flirting and inability to accept “no” as an answer. You’ve already told him three times to take his arm off your shoulders. He listened, sort of. He technically wasn’t touching you, but his arm rested on the back of the couch directly behind you. He gave you the worst feeling in your gut. He was definitely not to be trusted with your drink. Your knees ached from curling yourself as deep into the corner of the couch as possible. You needed a break.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked when you stood. The others turned to you, making you even more nervous than you already were.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled and fled down the hall. Heeseung sighed before addressing his friend.

“Man, you need to chill. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“What?” Tyler scoffed. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Heeseung’s other friend insisted. “Just relax, bro. Now’s not the time.”

“Yeah, whatever. There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s available.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Even the movie was quiet. Six sets of eyes stared at an unbothered Tyler. While the others were visibly pissed, Heeseung and his other friend just looked disappointed. You hesitantly reentered the living room and now Sunghoon was actually happy that he got booted to the recliner, since it was between the hall and the couch. As you passed by, he grabbed your hand and tugged you down to sit sideways on his lap. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Just stay here. Please,” Sunghoon whispered. You certainly weren’t about to argue, shifting to a more comfortable position with your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders and your cheek resting against his temple. The tension slowly melted from Sunghoon’s body as he wrapped his own arms around your waist.

“Okay, seriously?” Sunghoon tightened his hold on you when Tyler spoke up.

“Is there a problem?” The movie went forgotten in the background. Everyone’s attention was on you, Sunghoon, and Tyler. The latter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and relaxing into the couch.

“Nah.” He shook his head with a huff. “She could have just told me she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off.”

“She is sitting right here,” you interrupted. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You should have stopped the first time I asked.”

“Oop, get him!” Jake encouraged from where he was laying on the floor.

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to stop?!”

“Because I told you! I said to stop touching me before the movie even started,” you snapped, back going rigid as you glared at him. One of Sunghoon’s hands slid to your lower back to rub gentle circles on your spine. The other stayed on your thigh, and your hand dropped to his.

“We also told you to stop,” Heeseung’s other friend pointed out.

“Oh, come on–”

“No, Tyler,” Heeseung cut him off. “You’ve changed ever since you joined your bullshit frat house. I’ve been trying to give you a chance to prove me wrong, but this is it, man.”

“What are you saying, dude?”

“I think it would be best for you to leave. Neither of us want to be associated with a guy that harasses women.” Heeseung gestured between himself and his other friend.

“Harass, seriously? Whatever. I didn’t realize you guys were such pussies,” Tyler ranted while making his way out of the dorms. The front door slammed shut, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry about him, Y/N. He wasn’t always like that, but I can’t keep holding on to the past. He’s a lost cause at this point,” Heeseung apologized, rubbing his temples to stave off his growing headache.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I’d really like to get to know you all, so I hope I can get a second chance.”

“You’re cool, man,” Jake reassured him with a pat to his knee. “You tried to step in. That’s proof enough that you’re a good guy.”

“Can we get back to the movie now?” You giggled at Ni-Ki’s impatience. Jungwon had to rewind it a bit, but once it started playing again you moved to get off Sunghoon’s lap.

“Nooo,” he protested, dragging you back down to sit between his legs. “Stay here.” He pulled your back flush against his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“O-Oh, okay.” Your face turned bright red, and you were very happy he couldn’t see it from his position. Or so you thought.

“You know,” he started, leaning closer so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re really pretty when you blush.”

“Sunghoon,” you whined and hid your face in your hands. His chest vibrated as he quietly laughed.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” He kissed your temple before turning his attention back to the movie. “For now.”

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

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#enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #lee heesung x reader #jay park x reader #park jongseong x reader #park sunghoon x reader #protective enha #writing #fanfiction writer

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iwasbored777 · 2 days ago

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This is kinda a ramble but while I understand some people don't like romance or Sonamy in the Sonic movies, I think it's really dumb to say that the movies will be bad because of it.

Because my immediate response is: pal, have you never watched Across the Spider-Verse and the masterfully written couple, Ghostflower? Hell, Sonamy can easily have that level of development because the secret to Miles and Gwen's relationship working so well in the movies is because it's an integral part of the narrative. That's it, that's the secret. And ATSV handled the family theme and several other characters well too. Sonic can too. So yes, saying that Sonamy will ruin the 4th movie is a big fallacy. The fault is never the type of couple but how well written it is.

Warning: Positive Sonamy content!

If this really becomes canon, I can't wait to see Sonic and Amy having a crush on each other. I'm so ready. I bet that Sonic will be HILARIOUS while trying to flirt, like, I already know that I'm gonna laugh a lot. I can't wait to see how his family will react too. Unlike some fans, I'm not worried if the writers will do Amy justice because these are Sonic The Hedgehog movie writers, for Christ's sake. They fleshed out their characters so well, even the original characters that weren't in the games.

I understand that there will be ship wars because many people ship Sonic with Shadow. It's ok to not like Sonamy if that's not your thing but if Sonamy really becomes canon I hope that Amy won't get hate for being with Sonic like Gwen is getting hate in Spiderverse fandom mostly because they ship other characters with Miles (since you've mentioned Spiderverse). And, while I don't like some things about how writers handled their relationship in Across The Spiderverse, Gwen and Miles are very much a proof that you can make a good story with a complicated romantic subplot (I mean, I was shipping them so hard that I was whining for months because they didn't become a couple in ATSV 😂). Spiderverse fandom has already pushed me away lately with how they're treating Gwen and I desperately hope that Sonic fandom won't be like that because this is my favourite fandom so far and I have a good feeling that I'll love Amy a lot. I doubt that Sonic and Amy will have such a complicated Gwiles type of a relationship with angst and all, but I think that they will be cute to watch.

Sonic movies have always been about found family and all kinds of love (romantic, platonic, parental and such). I don't see a problem with them continuing that tradition - actually, that's exactly what makes them so good and they proved that they can handle all these relationships well.

I know people are worried about the sudden change in the story if the main character gets a romantic subplot, but I think that it will be a very fun thing to see and like I said, we can trust the writers. Sonic is growing up and it's natural for him to start developing a crush. We should be thankful that they're not trying to give him a human girlfriend, like some other franchises do with non-human characters who are growing up with humans. That would be bizarre, honestly. Amy will totally be a good match for him.

#here are my thoughts and pls keep negative comments to yourselves bc i have nothing against other ships i just love ships that i ship rn #my second sonic ask thank you #sonic ask #ask and answer #sonic the hedgehog #sonic 4 #sonic 3 #sonic 4 theory #amy rose #sonic #sonamy #sonic movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog 3 #sth

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princess-of-the-corner · 2 days ago

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ML AU - Public Divorce

So, before Origins, sometime over … whatever break/vacation Paris kids have between school years, André finds out about Audrey’s “Other Family” (Zoé & Mr. Lee) in just about the worst way possible. What follows is a very loud, ugly, chaotic mess of a VERY PUBLIC divorce, as Audrey and André use their various platforms to slander the other. It is brutal, and not particularly dignified. They attack each other’s character, their appearances, their hobbies, even diets. Anything they appear in suddenly turns into being stuck at your friends house while their parents argue. At some point, in a “stick it to my ex” kind of move, André starts “dating(??)” other woman, trying to prove �� something? That he doesn’t need Audrey? That she’s replaceable?? Anyway, Audrey decides fair’s fair, and starts publicly toting around her array of “side pieces” that she’s had for years.

Of course, none of this is actually GOOD for either of their popularities - Audrey opinions as the “Style Queen” starts to tarnish, André starts losing in the polls. But then. Then, after several MONTHS of this nonsense, André finally gets reminded, “oh yeah! We have a kid!” and starts using Chloé to slander Audrey. How she SUCKED as a mother, was never there, how he basically was raising Chloé as a single parent. And Audrey starts going on about how she never WANTED kids, how André was so DEMANDING, how trapped she felt in their marriage, How it isn’t HER fault she barely knows anything about Claudine, André never wanted her around!

Anyway, Chloé starts the school year, not as the returning Queen Bitch, but an exhausted girl who would appreciate it if everyone just knocked it off and let her sleep, please and thank you. She’s spent most of the break camping out at either Sabrina’s or Adrien’s, whenever Daddy wasn’t dragging her out to show how much he was still a “family man” or whatever bullshit he’s trying to do now. This Chloé has officially reached her limit. She’s watched her parents devolve into literal toddlers, gone through an emotional death coaster, and landed on a very bitter, resigned acceptance. As far as she’s concerned, nothing she can do will make any difference, so fuck it! Let’s wear hoodies all day! Let’s swim in the Seine! How about I burn all my clothes! Who gives a shit!? She’ll spend almost a week doing nothing but sleeping, then go on a shopping spree for knives. She’s giving into whatever random impulses strike her, and otherwise just not giving a single fuck. Sabrina and Adrien have been taking turns as her impulse control, preventing her from doing anything TRULY nuts, but they fear it’s only a matter of time.

Other assorted notes:

- there’s no prank on the first day, Chloé is too tired for this shit. She’s camping outside to make SURE Adrien doesn’t get derailed, and then she is taking a nap.

- Alya, being an aspiring reporter, has been following the Bourgeois Breakdown on the news. She gets a little too excited on realizing that Chloé is in her class, and asks several blunt, too personal Questions about how Chloé feels about the divorce. Chloé, who has been dealing with this shit for months from “real” reporters she isn’t allowed to “snap” at lest it affect her mom or dad negatively, punches Alya in the face. Alya at least admits later she probably deserved it.

- honestly, Chloé’s just more ready to throw hands in general. She’s swinging between total exhaustion and “Tired of Being, Time to go Apeshit”.

- she is, at all times, two (2) seconds from either kicking the shit out of someone, or taking a nap.

- Everyone, bar Sabrina and Adrien, is a little awkward around Chloé now, cause how do they handle ��girl who was kind of a bitch to all of us since kindergarten, but now all her family’s shit has been airing on live TV for three months?”

- Marinette and Chloé kind of have a shaky truce, since Chloé ran into the Dupain-Cheng Bakery to escape a hoard of reporters, and Marinette hid her behind the counter and got said reporters to leave. They’re not really friends, but they aren’t enemies, nor are they “I leave you alone, you leave me alone”. It’s weirdly tense, but both girls are refusing to break the awkward stalemate.

- Bustier keeps trying to recommend Chloé to see the school guidance Counsellor, Chloé keeps saying no cause, “He didn’t do shit about me picking on Dupain-Cheng for literal years, this is DEFINITELY above his paygrade”.

- Chloé is refusing to take any blame for the divorce. Oh, she’s definitely had the thoughts of “are they splitting because of me?”, but how the pair of them are HANDLING the divorce? All the public mudslinging and arguments, and screaming at each other on the nightly news? That, Chloé is refusing to acknowledge as in any way relating to herself. It’s mostly spite, but also the healthiest part of her mindset regarding the whole thing

- André gets Akumatized about 6 different times as “Homewrecker”, before Chloé grabs a butterfly on purpose to go “Hawk Moth, if you turn my dad into a divorce Akuma one more fucking time, I am going to track you down with the express purpose of ripping out your spine, beating you with it, and then putting it back by feeding you each individual vertebrae”. When Homewrecker 7 turns up, someone posts a video of Chloé just screaming obscenities at the sky.

- André does lose the next mayoral election, at least partially as a result of this nonsense. D'argencourt also loses, so instead we have the dark horse of the mayoral race, Onyx Beauty, who was honestly not expecting to win. She’s kind of in shock the first week.

- Zoé and Mr. Lee find out about all this by accident, on the nightly news. How exactly do you handle finding out you are part of an affair destabilizing Parisian politics?

- the Miracuclass starts getting dragged in, cause André and Audrey start an extremely petty “funding race”, trying to boost their popularities by supporting “up and coming youth talent”. Chloé starts giving out cards that say “Sorry you got stuck in the middle with me”.

- both André and Audrey are rich enough they can drag other celebrities into their nonsense. Jagged Stone is, so far, the only one who managed to escape. Clara Nightengale called him for a week straight with horror stories.

- We find out that, after the Akuma shit started, lots of people took their business out of Paris, so yes, Bob Roth IS, in fact, one of the only people in Paris funding stuff. He keeps egging Audrey and André on, cause all their shit is making him lots of money. A tabloid calls the three of them “Paris’ Most Toxic Throuple!”. Chloé posts a video that is nothing but an adorable parakeet screaming bloody murder for two minutes.

- Lila comes in all prepared with extravagant lies that will make her new class swoon over her, but everyone is so burnt out on any kind of celebrity related drama that it isn’t nearly as effective as she wants it to be. She has more success supplying cool random facts, Italian cultural knowledge, acting trivia, and cute fox videos. Her entire plot gets derailed because she isn’t lying much, if at all, and everyone loves her as herself.

- Gabriel is actually getting kind of uncomfortable Akumatizing André and Audrey over the divorce, so he starts giving them really lame powers. Or at least, powers he THINKS are lame. After the third glitter related disaster, he starts running ideas by Nathalie, and keeps a specific list of “useless” powers he can give to Audrey and André.

Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? How you’d write something like this?

I am loving this tbh!

#submission

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djarins-cyare · 1 day ago

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I thought it would be harder to pick and then I saw "Be-All And Endor pegging bonus scene" and anyway here I am. 😍

Ahaha, I hoped someone would ask about this one from my WIP folder! 🧡💚

This is set several months after the main story ends. My plan was – and still is (eventually) – to write some random scenes from Din and Reader’s future in lieu of a sequel.

Several readers commented they would’ve liked to have read the scene in the final chapter where Reader tells Din to go shower and meet her in their cabin to cross off another item on their “things that’ll happen eventually” list, which suggests some type of ass play for Din, based on an earlier comment in chapter 37 where he indicates he’d be interested in trying it.

As usual, the smut slowed me down when I started drafting it. Honestly, I don’t think I know enough about pegging to adequately describe it, so I put it on the back burner until I could do sufficient research.

That said, when I got your ask, I went back and checked how much I had already written, and I realised I actually have a decent-length scene leading up to the smut… it just fades to black (again) when they’re about to start.

So, Kate, since it’s you and you definitely deserve a reward for all your cheerleading of Be-All (for which I’m forever grateful), I’ve decided to give you not just a snippet but the whole of the 1k+ word scene that I’ve got so far. I’m not posting it on AO3 yet – I’ll do that later once I’ve written the second half of it and converted the AO3 version into a series – so for now, please enjoy this Tumblr exclusive bonus content!

⚠️ Please note the following contains heavy spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read the original story!

Be-All And Endor Bonus Chapter (excerpt): The Solace

Rating: Mature (18+) Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Word count: 1,150 Tags/warnings: References to sex, anal play, pegging (nothing explicit); brief reference to a past attempted SA; the dildo is referred to as a cock; some swearing and explicit language; one (1) Mando’a insult

You find the toy tucked away in the back of your drawer, hidden from prying eyes for weeks. Even though Din knows you acquired it before leaving Glavis, you’d insisted on keeping it a surprise until you could finally try it out.

But things had got in the way.

His painful Darksaber injury, worse than Nantoogen’s concussive blaster bolt on Endor. His discovery of that mythosaur marker in Kolzoc Alley, faded and ominous. His bitter disappointment at reaching the lowest level of the substrata and finding it empty. The thrill of uncovering hastily painted coordinates that revealed his tribe’s new location.

Just like that, your fun and games were on hold.

In the weeks since, everything that’s happened has overwhelmed you both – physically and emotionally – for better and for worse. The covert, the recognition of your union, your shiny new helmet… Din’s exile.

The Armorer’s final words and your defiant retort still ring tragically in your ears almost a day later, as if your helmet has trapped them there:

“You have not yet sworn the Creed; therefore, you are not an apostate. You may stay.”

“But I have sworn riduurok to Din Djarin and the gai bal manda to Grogu; therefore, I am a wife and mother. I am loyal to my clan and could never abandon them for a tribe that exiles one of its own despite his wish to atone. You taught me that loyalty and solidarity are the Way, and I will honour that. So, I thank you for your offer, but nariti lo’shebs’ul.”

You can still feel the sting of tears on your cheeks, still see Din’s dejected body stiffen as you told his alor to shove her offer up her ass. Amid the grief, you sensed a spike of shock – even pride – flicker within him for a fleeting moment.

Now back in hyperspace’s safe and superluminal embrace, you both need the relief of the release you’re about to partake in. But he needs it more.

He still hasn’t really talked. Not properly – not like you know he can. He’s been barely responsive, stiff, twitchy, and every subtle quiver speaks of his deep turmoil. Apostate. It’s an awful label. His inner storm has been yours to share through your connection, but you’ve resisted. You saw his need for solitude on Anantapar, so you’d granted him several hours alone in the cockpit – helmet on.

After several failed check-ins for food and comfort, it was to this suggestion alone that Din had responded. Once you’d assured him that Grogu was asleep in his cubicle, he’d immediately risen from his chair, awaiting instructions. You’d told him to shower and to meet you in the cabin without his helmet, where you’d unveil your purchase from Glavis.

Now, with a determined breath, you face the final hurdle: figuring out how to attach the damn thing.

You’d liked the look of the ‘strapless’ versions, but the vendor had advised that a strap would be best. More stability and a better experience for your husband, she’d insisted. Fewer distractions for you while it’s his turn, she’d winked. Fair point. You’re not sure you could concentrate solely on his pleasure with something nestled inside your pussy, rubbing your G-spot to distraction.

It takes a few minutes of fiddling, but you successfully secure the harness. It’s actually more comfortable than it looks.

You turn back to the drawer and run your fingers along the dildo’s length, marvelling at the silky texture. It cost a kriffing fortune, so it’d better be worth the credits. A snort escapes you at the thought that Nantoogen’s bounty reward paid for this. It’s almost poetic that the man who tried to sexually assault you has now purchased you your very own cock.

Once it’s nestled securely within the harness, you spend several minutes pacing around the cabin, watching it bob along in front of you. Kriff, you’re oscillating between nervous, curious, and aroused. It makes you feel… powerful.

You and Din have an established sexual dynamic, though, and he’s always in control, even when he’s seemingly not. He has also previously rejected the idea of using toys in the bedroom, fully confident that (for you, at least) he can do better with his own dick. But as much as he’s enjoyed taking your fingers in his ass on occasion, he’d eventually agreed that something more substantial would guarantee him a more gratifying time.

Given his general dislike of sex aids, you’d asked the vendor for a realistic dildo to match your skin tone, especially since you know he’s been attracted to men in the past. Hopefully, this will help him feel less like he’s having something plastic shoved up him and more like he’s enjoying someone’s body.

With the trusty Tatooine lube at the ready on the nightstand, you strip off everything but your bra and your new appendage, then perch on the edge of the bed and wait.

You’re so accustomed to every rattle on the Crest by now that even his bare feet can’t hide his ascent up the ladder, and your pulse quickens in readiness. You stand, wanting to present him with the full spectacle upon entry to the cabin.

Din steps through the door as it slides open, but he stops dead the second he catches sight of you. His uncovered gaze plummets straight down to your cock, eyes widening in surprise, brows rising in tandem with a sharp inhale.

He swallows, staring… staring…

You gulp, hoping… hoping…

And then you see it – the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s nothing compared to the wide grin you’re used to seeing on your husband’s face, but you reach out with your mind, trying to decipher that almost-smile. There’s still a heavy soup of grief, but there’s more now, too. Intrigue, anticipation… a hint of excitement. Sexual excitement.

“Do you like it?” you venture, gently steering him toward those positive feelings.

He swallows again and nods, still staring. “It looks… real.” Taking a careful step forward, he comes within touching distance yet still only uses his eyes. “I like how real it looks.”

A rush of relief pulses through you. Those credits were well spent.

With a grin, you comment, “Well, it doesn’t have balls, but I don’t need those to fuck you. My metaphorical ones are big enough.”

Din’s eyes finally rise to meet yours as he steps even closer, the smirk on his lips now more obvious, and you catch another spike of his pride over how you handled your exit from the covert. “I fucking love you,” he declares, pressing a hard, grateful kiss to your lips before pulling back abruptly. “Where do you want me?”

“On your knees, on the bed,” you command, knowing full well that this is an illusion of power he’s giving you. “I wanna see that tight little ass in the air.”

His smirk grows. “Yes, Sir.”

Mando’a translations, in case they aren’t obvious:

riduurok [REE-doo-rok] – marriage agreement

gai bal manda [guy bal MAN-dah] – adoption ceremony (lit. “name and soul”)

nariti lo’shebs’ul [nah-REE-tee loh-SHEBS-ool] – shove it up your ass

Notes:

“Trusty Tatooine lube” is a reference to the scene in the final chapter that I mentioned above – Reader picked some up before they left, which is why she suggested that particular activity as soon as they’d left the planet.

In case anyone’s forgotten, Din tells Reader in chapter 30 (after their shower sex) that whatever sex aids she used before he came along have no place in their relationship, indicating his general dislike of sex toys. I don’t think he’s a prude, but this version of Din has a preconceived notion that he needs to be the best lover he can be without any ‘cheating’. Reader could easily talk him into using toys on her, of course, simply by educating him a little better – just as she’s done regarding other things he’s been somewhat naive about. But here, she decides to respect his prior avoidance and give him an experience that feels as ‘real’ as possible. Perhaps this will help him realise that toys might be fun for her, too!

Reader also refers to having “seen his need for solitude on Anantapar”, which, as a reminder, refers to when he had a teensy bit of an emotional breakdown at the tail end of their honeymoon in chapter 38.

I adapted the lovely insulting Mando’a phrase from a previously existing phrase in Karen Travis’s novel ‘Order 66’ – Kovid lo’shebs’ul narit – which is supposed to mean ‘shove your head up your ass’, but the grammar is a little off. So I put the verb in the correct place and properly conjugated it, then removed the word for ‘head’ (it doesn’t need an object as she’s just said the word “offer”, so it’s clear what she’s talking about).

Holy crap, I’m scared now I’ve put this up. This is the first new Be-All content since July 2023! 😭 Fun timing, though, because I have another two Be-All bonus posts coming out in the next few days as the fic is about to hit a milestone, so stay tuned!

Permanent tag list lovelies:

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@howhighwepose @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @lilac-boo @lucienofthelakes

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wrenseyeview · 20 hours ago

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Absolutely this. For some perspective, it usually takes big institutions like universities about four months or so after the end of a fiscal year to complete their financial audits, and that's more like seven months or longer for public universities and big systems. That's the timeline for every year, standard, relatively uncomplicated checks through their revenues, expenses, investments, debt, stuff like that.

Now, someone may have been able to plan ahead with public information to get ahead of that timeline when determining what changes they want to make to federal departments, considering I was able to find current fiscal year audits within five seconds of googling. The Department of Education's 2024 audit even includes weakness/deficiencies and recommendations to strengthen their financial oversight and security on pages 95-102. On pages 98-99, under "Information Technology Controls Need Improvement", the independent 3rd party auditors specify that the department should, for example, "Enforce established access authorization and provisioning controls and ensure all requirements are met and documented prior to granting system access." Which sure sounds like not giving access to random 20 year olds with no government job title or security clearance.

Still focused on the DoE since that's a favorite target, the financial statements also explain how much they received in appropriations and what programs that money went toward, as well as tons of other notes and summary pages and explanations of how the money they spent fits with the goals of the department and the overall administration.

Oh hey here's a page full of audits and reports from the Office of the Inspector General. Two tabs down there's semiannual reports they give to Congress.

Oh this page has nicer filters. Here's all the audits they have for USAID.

Here's the 2024 IG oversight report for the Department of Education. It says they found $2.9 million in "unsupported, questioned costs, and better use of funds", with 142 recommendations made to address these weaknesses. They also closed (completed) 64 investigations into fraud or corruption and secured more than $95.2 million in restitution, settlements, fines, etc. against people (i.e. school officials) that "chose to cheat their students and America's taxpayers." Sounds like there actually is oversight specifically to prevent people from stealing your money. Or there was until Trump fired this and several other inspectors general on January 24th.

It's almost like there's a shit ton of publicly accessible information on how the government spends money and existing oversight processes, none of which involve random IT guys plugging in hard drives in places they have no business accessing. Does Mr. "Big Balls" know what an audit is? I fucking doubt it. Jesus christ.

What do you mean we had to listen to “crooked Hillary” and “her emails” for YEARS and now they are somehow okay with some businessman and his 20 yr old interns accessing our money, shutting down departments, and threatening our federal employees?!?

Republicans, you’re being played. They’re stealing our money and destroying our government under the guise of “waste.” This is a heist and you voted for it.

#us politics #extremely rambly but whatever #i'm so fucking tired of people that are so uninformed they might as well have thrown a dart at the voting machine while blindfolded #obviously there waste in government there's nuance etc #there's waste in every single thing humans do and more complex systems mean more waste #i mean we give government contracts to musk so that might be a place to look for guys stealing your money idk #i meant this to be more of an explanation of how complex the audit process is and how long it should take #but got distracted by how much was already available if people took 10 minutes to read

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bee-a-garbage-shipper · 3 days ago

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DC x DP Fic Rec List

Gen

A Little Overshadowing Never Hurt Anyone By Playedcrowd5610 [WIP]

This day was just getting worse and worse for Danny. First, he gets dragged to Gotham City with his parents for some 'ghost hunting' convention, and then on his first flight out, he gets captured! Now he's stuck in a Fenton Tech Containment device in some strange cave filled with cars, computers, and for some reason... A dinosaur? He has no idea what to do or how he will escape... Jazz is gonna kill him. The Bats have been having a hard time recently. For the last few weeks, glowing green creatures from all over had been flocking toward Gotham City. Now Tim was staring at the first ghost they had been able to capture and interrogate. He had glowing green eyes and bright white hair. And he… He just possessed Tim, didn't he? Or... Danny gets kidnapped by the Batfam and seeks a way out, a little overshadowing never hurt anyone, right?

Bus To Nowhere By foldingfacets [WIP]

Is it running from your problems if your problems consider you to be a dead imprint of consciousness that killed their son? Yes, but Danny tries not to think about how his nightmares of his parents trying to kill him came true when they found out he was Phantom. After being on the run from his parents and the government for a couple of months, moving from town to town, Danny ends up in Gotham City and decides to risk staying in Batman's territory. He'd take the wrath of Batman over live vivisection via beloved parents or being studied and torn apart by the government. Besides, he's not a meta. Being dead is a medical condition.

If You Give a Bat a Burger By Cielle_Noire [WIP]

Strange things are going on in Gotham: A series of crimes linked only by a sentence uttered. A drug that no one seems to be selling, but lots of people are taking. An old enemy reborn, or someone pretending to be him. Graffiti that can't be photographed by normal means. Bartenders disappearing without a trace. John Constantine is also there. Danny wants nothing to do with any of it. He just wants to sell burgers and survive. Actually, he'd like to go home again, but since that isn't possible, he'll stick with burgers. Gotham's vigilante's have other plans. This is why Danny doesn't do favors.

To Whom It May Concern By Sagoberattare [WIP]

When Danny and Jazz finds out they are clones, they did not process that like a normal person. No, they decided that since they could magically write to them that they'd use their "bio-parents" to vent their frustrations and maybe mess with them a little bit (hey, you try and find a healthier method to finding out one day you were cloned by a pair of mad scientist who decided to raise you). Danny figured he could rant and rave without freaking anyone out. Jazz thought it be a good way air out grievances and bitterness at a audience that wouldn't care. Two birds with one stone if you will. Unfortunately most of the "adventures" they write about are horrifying. Cue several very concerned people desperately scrambling to find their dumb (possibly meta and or undead) children and rescue them. Inspired by this prompt

My Superpower Is Being A Single Dad By QueenOfTheQuill [WIP]

What is Jason supposed to do when presented with multiple superpowered toddlers locked in an unethical government experimentation facility: not adopt them??? AKA not only is Danny de-aged to toddlerdom, so are his sister, his clone, his evil future self and half his class. Who are all liminal enough to have access to ghostly abilities. Time to make this Gotham's problem. AKA Jason doesn't so much fall into single fatherhood as he is violently catapulted.

Death Defying [Dick x Danny]

Holding Me Now in Hand By DisillusionedDanny [Complete]

After Tim Drake tells his family about his new insane chemistry teacher, Dick Grayson decides to do some investigation himself. What he wasn't expecting was to instantly fall in love with the chaotic science teacher. Danny had managed to make a new life for himself in this new dimension as a science teacher at Gotham Academy. He had a fulfilling life, teaching the kids of Gotham how to survive on the streets and then at night protecting the bats who roamed the streets. Now, to make things even better, he had somehow caught the attention of Dick Grayson. If Danny had to be honest, his life was going pretty great for him. Now he just needed the other shoe to drop.

Falling For You, Again And Again (Adventures In Getting Kidnapped And Meeting Your Soulmate) By ziazippy5379 [WIP]

Danny gets dragged to some event in Gotham and meets his soulmate. The first meeting goes great. The rest of the night not so much.

I’m Falling For You (Now We’re Both Falling) By ziazippy5379 and Milaley [WIP]

Danny Fenton is just your average big city paramedic living in one of the most dangerous cities there is: Gotham. Or is he? What most people don't know is he is a retired superhero from the small town of Amity Park known as Phantom. After the burn out that comes from being a lone teenage hero and a difficult reveal to his parents he decides he needs to get away. And what better city than Gotham for a man who loves to help in medical crises. Dick Grayson: detective by day, superhero by night. Well that's what he was until the reality of working for the Bludhaven police department set in and his depression took over. Now he's quit his day job and works for his adoptive father's charitable organization. But that doesn't stop him from continuing his superhero work as the one and only Nightwing. But when these two soulmates meet on a rooftop at night and their timers run out, happily ever after isn’t as easily achieved as one might think.

Dead On Main [Jason x Danny]

Like Betta Fish Do By PaperPuffin [Complete]

Danny had ended up trespassing in Jason's haunt. He didn't mean to. Total accident, he swears. (He blames Johnny.) So he bought the other halfa a basket of bathbombs and chocolate as a 'sorry, please don't disembowel me' gift. It was the proper thing to do, alright? Everything was going to be just fine. Then things got a little out of hand.

Half-Lives By Turnipberry [WIP]

Something is wrong with Jason Todd. That's not new. Someone having answers about why... that might be. Someone maybe being able to help... that definitely was. Danny just hopes its not to late.

Danny Fenton: Dead and Loving It By HyperKid [WIP]

Danny and Jason meet by chance in a graveyard on Christmas Eve over a certain someone’s grave. Neither expect to ever see the other again, until they run into each other at a coffee shop less than a week later. And once they’re both thinking clearly, there’s obviously something wrong. Between working out what to tell their families, what’s actually going on, and just… well, being happy pains in the ass and proud of it, it turns out Team Batfam and Team Phantom all over are a match made in Heaven. Now all they have to do is persuade Bruce that Jason having new friends hasn’t hailed the apocalypse.

Rooftop Express By EmeraldsAndAmethyst [WIP]

Danny Fenton just wants to help his big sister be comfortable in Gotham. But he is getting so done with not being able to fly around freely. Danny tries to do things on the up and up but just progressively accidentally starts looking more and more like a new rogue trying to get set up. His parents must be retired super villains, which might not mean anything. But the rest of the evidence isn't very promising. And then he finds a half-ghost no one knew anything about. Befriending him in the suit instead of out isn't helping his 'definitely not a super villain' case in the slightest.

Dead Tired [Danny x Tim]

Wanted: Dead and Alive By Astereae [Complete]

"Hey, I do I... Do I know you?" Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. "No," Tim says. "We haven’t met." "Oh, no, I do." Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. "You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!" Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- "WHAT!?" Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked. OR Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months. Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May. Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however. And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all.

Better Halves (And Other Such Falsehoods) By Astereae [WIP]

Danny’s looking at him like he’s crazy. His hair’s dried up into a mess of waves, and there’s some tomato seeds on the corner of his mouth. “You just bailed me out of jail. And you think this is a good idea?” “I don’t have bad ideas, Fenton. And like you’ve just said, I have collateral on you.” “So you’re blackmailing me into pretending to date you?” Tim shrugs. “Or you could just sign the NDA.” OR Danny's trying to recover all the shards to an entity's chalice so that it'll stop destroying the zone while tensions rise amongst his subjects- and trying to finish high school. Tim's juggling his case load, his work as CEO, and does not have time to be embroiled in a sex scandal right now. If that means he has to pretend to date a very suspicious heir to a rival company, then so be it. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. So what if Tim's becoming a little too intrigued by the illusive, powerful Phantom? So what if Danny can't stand the Justice League for leaving him to deal with all of Amity's problems when he was just 14? That's a superhero thing. And their fake boyfriend has no clue that they're a superhero.

The Price Of Peace By JoyLess_NightSky [WIP]

The Juistria League - the alliance of the major countries of the continent Juisitria - has long since stood for peace. Unfortunately there is one country that is a thorn in their side whenever they try to solidify that peace: The Infinite Lands, a country of barbarians to the north where the only reason they survive is the magic in the air. Where the magic is so strong that even children develop a talent, which they themselves call "the blessings of the dragons". The country that, last time the Juistria League had tried to negotiate, had waged a war more brutal then anything seen before on them, for over a decade - right until the moment a rebellion caged him. Not long ago, his murderer took the title. And now, that very same newly crowned High Chief demands negotiations of them. Bruce would rather die, would rather see Gotham and all of Juistria in flames than to allow that man to take one of his children. Tim, however, makes another decision before he could say that. Now, everyone has to hope Phantom will be happy with the boy. Meanwhile Danny is just too stunned that they actually agreed to that to do anything about the sudden engagement.

Who You Gonna Call? By jaemyun [WIP]

In freshman year of high school, Danny pulled away from his friends without explanation. At sixteen, he disappeared. Sam and Tucker presumed him dead. His parents insisted he was taken by ghosts. As young adults, they run into him in Gotham, of all places. It's a stroke of luck that brings their best friend back to them. If only it was that easy for the Bats to find the god damn engineer that's been running circles around them while they try to track him down. Tim's not sure what he'll do first when he finally finds the brilliant bastard - kiss him or punch his teeth in.

Better Off Dead By DisillusionedDanny [WIP]

Tim wakes up to find himself as a ghost in the Infinite Realms after a battle that went wrong, or maybe right. Now with the help of a ghost named Danny, Tim learns that death is not always the end and that maybe he was made to be a ghost.

Tim Drake's I.E.F. (Invisible Eldritch Friend) By Half_Dead_Ham [WIP]

The last thing Danny expected while haunting his new favorite pastime while bored (read: homeless) was to find out his secret identity. It was cool though, and he helped the dude get through the days easier now. He expected even less, though, to be caught rooting around in his fridge by their butler. The last thing Tim expected while getting stalked was to get used to the unseen creature and how they started taking care of him. He expected even less for them to be the same age

Jason x Danny x Tim

I'd Die (Again) For Y'All By GroundedGryphon [WIP]

Six years after he died, Danny Phantom is captured by the Justice League and expects to be handed over to the GIW. Five years after Phantom appeared, the Justice League still doesn't know if he's a villain or a hero and just want to talk with him. Two years after Jason Todd's return, Red Hood and Red Robin finally find a reason to work together. One year after she last heard from her brother, Jazz learns he's being held by the Justice League. Right now, Martian Manhunter has a splitting headache and all hell is about to break loose.

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linawritesficsies · 14 hours ago

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s.h. | we need to warm up (one shot)

a/n: it's been a while since i posted a steve fic, so here it issssss. this is a combination of a friends episode and a scene from an old tv show i used to watch when i was a teenager.

warnings: being locked up in closed spaces, language, mentions of sex and injuries (freezing), english is not my first language. some stuff may not be accurate. MINORS DNI. credits to the gif owner!

summary: steve and you worked at scoops ahoy together and one day while you two were bickering about something silly, you got stuck in a walk-in refrigerator.

steve harrington x afab!oc!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Robin, your best friend, helped you get this job at Scoops Ahoy a couple of months ago. The work itself wasn’t ideal because you had to put up with a lot of annoying people (and cleaning toilets wasn’t very appealing either), but the pay was pretty good and it allowed you to combine it with your study schedule. The best parts were obviously the free ice cream and sharing shifts with your bestie.

You also had to share several shifts with Steve Harrington. You didn’t like him at first if you were being completely honest. You knew him from before because you had shared a few classes at Hawkins High, but you never actively talked to him. He was very handsome and charming, but his reputation of being a womanizer and a douchebag preceded him so for you that was enough to keep your distance.

However, everything changed when you took on this job. On the bright side, has had some personal growth over the last few months so this made spending time with him a lot easier. Of course, the King Steve persona sometimes came into the light and he could get insufferable, but you still enjoyed his company. You could say you had more of a ‘frenemies’ relationship. Definitely, one of the things that amused you the most was bickering with Steve, so when the work day was quiet, you’d pick a silly argument just for the sake of it.

Thus, that’s what led the two of you to discuss the topic of sex in the middle of one casual Saturday afternoon in mid-September at Scoops Ahoy. The weather was chiller than the one from previous weeks, but there were some people that weren’t going to let the climate get in the way of getting ice cream. You couldn’t blame them though. Robin was at the register machine, getting the customers’ orders and Steve and you were organizing the stock at the back of the shop.

“Harrington, are you really saying that kissing and foreplay are not as important as the sex part!?”, you exclaimed a bit too loudly while you glared at your coworker with a questioning look. He just quirked his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders meaning ‘Yes, I said what I said. Deal with it.’

You didn’t feel any shame talking about these topics. In fact, you were pretty bold. Especially with Steve. He had that vibe that made everyone around him feel comfortable with discussing or doing anything. Of course. King Steve, ladies and gentlemen.

“Why would I prefer the opening act when I know I’ll be seeing, I dunno, The Police soon?”

You let out a chuckle.

“You have been spending more time with Eddie, haven’t you?”, he gave you a mocking look. It was no secret that Steve wasn’t a fan of Eddie, especially because recently he had been stealing Dustin’s attention and that made Steve more jealous than he cared to admit. You couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness of Steve and Dustin’s relationship and his jealousy.

You grabbed one of the boxes with new ice cream flavours that were recently delivered to the shop because you had to carry them to the walk-in refrigerator, but since the two boxes were really heavy you asked Steve for help. At first he pretended to ignore you, but then he smiled teasingly and grabbed the other one to give you a hand. You had trouble deciding whether you hated that smile or you loved it… It was probably the latter.

As soon as you entered the refrigerator, the chilly air hit your skin. You carefully placed the box you were carrying on the floor and put the door wedge so it wouldn’t close while you were in there. The door was pretty heavy because it needed to stay shut in order to keep the temperature low, but also, the door handle wasn’t working pretty well.

“Anyways, for us girls they’re really equally important”, you resumed your little argument while you two arranged the ice creams on the various shelves, categorizing them by their flavor. “We can get all the information we need about the other person from the first kiss. I can’t believe you don’t like it.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye and noticed that he rolled his.

“No, honey”, he paused and sighed. You screamed internally at the pet name. He usually called you by your name or ‘Smarty Pants’ whenever you gave him witty comebacks. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I do, but I’d rather get down to the real business quicker.”

“Well, hun, friendly advice, if you keep thinking like that, you’ll have to settle with solo concerts.”

Steve wanted to give you the middle finger so badly but couldn’t do it because he had his hands full so he had to contempt himself by sticking out his tongue in a mocking tone. You gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder and then he gave you another one back but Steve was stronger than you so you tripped backwards and accidentally kicked the door wedge and the refrigerator door closed.

“Fuck”, the two of you blurted out in unison; your heartbeats picking up rapidly. You exchanged looks and frowned your eyebrows at the same time. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the synchronicity.

“This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault, Harrington? You pushed me!”, you replied back while you got up from the floor and adjusted your uniform.

“You made me come in here!”

“I simply asked for your help!”

You decided it was useless to continue with this bickering so you kneeled down before the door handle to try to make it work. However, it was useless. The door refused to budge. You had repeatedly asked Keith, your boss, to call the repair guy to fix said handle but of course he never did. You cursed him under your breath while you got back up and started screaming and banging on the door.

“ROBIN! HELP! SOMEBODY”, Steve joined you but nobody seemed to hear. “HELLO, WE’RE INSIDE THE REFRIGERATOR!”, you both screamed over and over again.

“I hope Robin notices quickly we’re nowhere to be seen. If not, we’re going to freeze to death”, you lifted your hands to massage your scalp, trying to prevent yourself from spiraling. Extremely difficult task given the not so encouraging situation. You didn’t consider yourself a claustrophobic person but you weren’t a fan.

“Don’t exaggerate, Y/N. It’s just a little bit of cold”, he shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off your very real concern.

If looks could kill, he would be reduced to ashes right now.

“Unlike you, I don’t have teenage-like hormones, Steve. I get cold easily.”

He was about to reply with another witty comment, but he noticed how anxious you were getting. He saw your right leg start bouncing rapidly and how you bit your fingernails—subtle things you did when you were nervous or distressed. He had noticed them before. He let out a defeated sigh.

“OK, I’m being serious right now: we’re going to get out of here in a heartbeat, don’t worry.”

You went back to the screaming and banging, hoping that someone outside would hear you at that very moment and get you out of there. Unfortunately, you were alone with the echoes of your voice and movements. Meanwhile, Steve was pacing the small place, thinking of any other possible escape.

After some minutes that felt like hours, the cold and the confinement were starting to take a toll on you. You sat on the floor with your back against the door to keep hitting it, more occasionally now. The Scoops Ahoy uniform was not enough to keep you warm; your body started trembling so you hugged yourself, keeping your knees close to your chest. Steve heard your shivering breaths. He scanned the ‘room’ one more time and saw the empty cardboard boxes stacked where you had been organizing the ice cream.

“We can use the empty ice cream boxes to keep us warm”, you gave him a questioning look. encouraging him to clarify. “We can break them down to sit on them and then put the other parts over our bodies”.

“God bless that big head of yours, Harrington.”, you smiled and tried to stand up but it wasn’t as easy as before. Your body was getting stiffer. Steve gave you a hand.

The two of you started tearing up the boxes and placing the flattened pieces on the floor next to the door and then cutting up bigger sections to use as makeshift blankets.

“Well, it’s better than nothing”, Steve commented once you were all set and you agreed, keeping the cardboard boxes as close to your body as possible.

It was far from being the perfect solution, but it worked… for a couple of minutes. Then, you started shivering again. You got up to the point where you could no longer feel your legs. You wanted to keep screaming and banging on the door but the little energy you had was starting to wear off. You decided to save it for later.

“Fuck, it’s so cold in here. I can’t stand it anymore”, you blurted out, more to yourself than anything and tried to rub your hands violently against your legs to get some warmth.

“Come here”, Steve whispered while opening his arms, motioning you to huddle closer to him so you could share whatever body heat you had left. It was true, Steve had a higher body temperature than any other person either of you knew but he wasn’t sure of how much that was going to last. He was feeling colder too.

You were hesitant to accept his embrace at first because you weren’t used to sharing physical contact with him but you quickly decided that it was worth trying it. Once you were beside him, he put his arms around your shaking frame and put two cardboard boxes over both your bodies. He rested his head on top of yours and you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite everything, this felt strangely nice and comfortable.

“We’re gonna get out of here, I promise”, he said after some silence and you could see the wisps of vapor that looked like smoke coming out of his mouth.

You were too tired and weak to say or do anything. It seemed the temperature kept dropping every second. There was some frost on your hair and your eyelashes. Steve had it on his perfect hair too. At this moment, you actually believed you were going to die there. You snuggled closer into Steve’s embrace; not that it was really possible because you were practically glued to him.

You slowly started to drift off; your eyelids felt like two bricks of concrete. Steve went into alert mode when he felt you relax under his touch. “Hey, Y/N. Can you hear me?”

You let out a barely audible “Mh” and he started rubbing circles on your arm, close to your elbow.

“Stay awake, OK?”

He knew you couldn’t fall asleep if you had hypothermia. He didn’t know why but he remembered one of his biology teachers who explained that your body functions would slow down even more, which could be deadly. He didn’t even want to imagine that happening.

At first, he didn’t want to admit he liked you because you were a pain in the neck, but then, as he spent more and more time with you, he learned you were funny, smart, and although you annoyed him to boredom sometimes, you were kind-hearted. Also, you had one of the most contagious laughs he has ever heard. And on top of that, you were insanely pretty.

This drastic situation helped him realize he didn’t want to lose you, in any way. He couldn’t.

“I can’t.”, you whispered once again.

“Yes, you can”, his hands moved upwards to cup both your cheeks now; his desperate eyes fixed on your face. “Open your eyes, please, darling”. You wanted to laugh at the nickname but you didn’t even have the strength to do so. His voice was trembling now too. He didn’t know if out of the cold he was feeling or of the fear of something happening to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Come on, I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

“I’m cold, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

You only used that nickname to tease him because he hated it. Now, it scratched his brain just right. He didn’t fail to notice you looked so small, so fragile. He didn’t know how, but he could feel you slip away from him.

“No, no, no, no”, he blurted out quickly. “Y/N, listen to me. Focus on my voice and my hands”, he rubbed circles on both of your cheeks. “Don’t fall asleep. Talk to me.”

His serious but also desperate tone made you realize the gravity of your state.

“About what?”, you whispered as you tried to get your whole attention to his gentle touches and his breathing.

“About anything. Tell me a secret, a memory, an embarrassing story. Whatever comes to your mind, just talk to me.”

You gathered strength out of nowhere and opened your eyes. You saw Steve sigh with a little bit of relief. He also looked exhausted and cold, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was not giving up easily. You couldn’t say so for yourself, sadly.

“Your pretty eyes are the last pair I’m going to see”, you spoke slowly. Steve’s heart broke a little at your statement.

“No, don’t say things like that.. I need you to stay here with me. Please. I need you to stay alive so I can take you on a date when we’re out of here”, his voice and the movements on your skin were starting to slow down too. “I don’t want to leave this planet before kissing your beautiful lips.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Do it now, Stevie.”

He lifted his eyebrows, thinking he heard you incorrectly. But then, you directed your eyes to his own lips, so he took it as an invitation and wasted no time. The kiss was slow and short but sweet nonetheless. None of you had much energy to keep going for longer, much to your dismay.

“That’s the way to warm up, right?”, he joked and you let out a choked laugh.

You went back to your tight embrace. You weren’t sure how much time you had left. You stopped trembling a couple of minutes ago and you knew that wasn’t a good sign. You thought about your family and your friends. One single tear fell from your left eye.

Just about when Steve was going to wipe it, you heard some noises on the other side of the door. You two looked at each other and Steve used the adrenaline rush to get back on his feet and helped you do the same.

“HELP, WE’RE STUCK IN THE REFRIGERATOR. PLEASE HELP”, Steve was the one yelling and you attempted to bang the door as loud as you could.

And then, the door finally opened. You squinted your eyes due to the sudden change of lightning and tried to make out the silhouette that was standing in front of you, but before you could see who it was or do anything else, your legs gave in and your vision went black, which resulted in you passing out on the ground.

Your eyelids fluttered open as the characteristic antiseptic hospital smell hit your nose. The sterile white walls were the first thing you saw. Your body still felt cold, even though you had several blankets wrapped around your frame. You turned your head to the side and saw Steve sitting on a chair, wrapped on a blanket as well. His eyes were closed and his head was slightly tilted to the side. He looked worn off but really adorable.

“Steve?”, you called his name but you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was really sore. The boy opened his eyes and gave you a sweet smile. There was a mixture of relief and concern in his look.

“Hey… You gave us quite the scare.” You apologized and he shrugged it off. “Your parents are already here. They’re filling out the paperwork.” He grabbed the chair and moved it forward to be closer to your bed. Then he grabbed your hand that was hidden under the blankets. “I should call the doctor to let her know you had woken up.”

You nodded but refused to let his hand go so he could stand up. His heart melted.

“We need to talk about our date”, you casually mentioned between giggles.

“You don’t waste a minute, don’t you?”, he chuckled, shaking his head. “I assure you, it’s going to be a date to die for.” Now it was your turn to laugh.

aaaand the end... i hope you enjoyed it! and as always, i'd love to read some comments with your opinions :) and i'm also taking request, so there's your chance to leave a nice ask 💗

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #x oc!reader #oc character #fanfics #fanfic writing #joe keery #x reader #fluff #angst #friends #frenemies #hurt/comfort #reader insert

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orangez3st · 1 day ago

Text

All-Nighter Work High

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.11.25: Quality Time | Event Masterlist

↤ Prev | Part 2 of 5 | Next ↦

Summary: One step closer to uncovering the truth. In the domestic comfort of her apartment, Lesiil unravels the web of reasons behind the murders while Marshal Commander Fox is finishing his mundane flimsiwork. Tags & Warnings: inaccurate criminal investigation & its related process, domestic fluff, "he fell first x she fell harder" kinda dynamic, wholesome convo, a smidge of grief and angst, lots of light friendly banter, serial killer case, author wrote an intense analytic background of the case, typical murder investigation, author watches true crime for reference Pairing: Fox × Det. Lesiil Thrace (OFC Crime Investigator) Word Count: 7.4k A/N: Second day of the event! This is one of my faves to write 😄 So giddy to find out you lot are enjoying the previous part so much! Here's fluff as a treat, hopefully you find them cute and amusing 🫶🏼 and a really comprehensive detail of the case for which I turned my braincells on.

𝑰'𝒎 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐

— Routines In The Night - Twenty One Pilots [X]

The initial drama that surrounds the case, Lesiil thinks, is utterly ridiculous.

The first time these murders - or more like the first ten or so victims - occured, the Grand Army of the Republic quite blatantly ignored the bleak reports. Because ten clones mysteriously killed during patrol usually meant nothing as they are always replaceable. At that time, the interval between the murders were quite far apart.

Until the number increased. Concerningly.

Twenty-eight more murders in one week, as if the Corrie Butcher himself took a day off work, took a walk, and went on a spree in that span of five days – five to six victims a day on average.

Naturally, it sparked attention from the inner circle of the Galactic Senate, the politicians feared whoever this serial killer was. If the Corrie Butcher targeted the shock troopers, who stood guard by these important figures, then there was a chance where they would be targeted as well. With that, the conflict won the ultimate scrutiny by the Supreme Chancellor himself that he issued a direct order for the Coruscant Guard to finally investigate the accumulated murders – a total of fifty-five cases by that time, after a whole month of being ignored.

And now, after three whole months, the number increases to a shocking total of 164 cases. Since Lesiil got assigned to the Coruscant Guard, three more of these troopers had fallen to the brutal stabbing of the Corrie Butcher, bringing the total to 167.

Not to mock Coruscant Guard’s previous investigation team, but what have they been doing all this time?

Lesiil had broken this down to the Marshal Commander in one of her daily reports.

One; with 160 or so cases within three months, meaning 54 cases each month on average. The Corrie Butcher makes quick work with his killings, probably went on an uncontrollable and opportunistic spree in one of those nights, as he never sets a target of how many he wishes to kill in one night. There’s always another body near the first one, so the forensics and coroner are able to pinpoint the time of death, additionally with HUD timestamp. Following the victims’ patrol route, Lesiil concludes that the brutal Corrie Butcher is an opportunistic man. He’s aware of the intensity of Corrie patrol routine, blends with the dark, and strikes. Once he strikes, he sees another approaching, and repeats. Every other night – not only a serial killer – the Corrie Butcher is also a spree killer.

It’s as if these clones walk into their deaths, without even seeing it coming. All they saw was a hooded figure before choking on their own blood, the first strike being to the neck.

Two; why shock troopers? This has been the question since the beginning. Although Lesiil has thought of several theories, nothing is certain, even when the variables aren’t deemed too abstract. She favors one that is most probable, though.

Coruscant Guard shock troopers would only have direct altercation with civilians during, most notably, riot control. Escalation of violence incites more pushed force from the Corries, and that incites more violence, but directed towards the troopers this time. Talking about the motive of personal vendetta; there should be something that might be related to the entire case about riot control in particular. Lesiil holds onto that belief, careful not to announce it aloud with utter confidence, yet.

Three; the obstacle that is the Corrie Butcher himself. His criminal record is squeaky clean, his DNA profile that some of the victims’ armor plate or gloves had acquired in shape of spit or sweat doesn't match anywhere in any police database. All that means he was once an innocent civilian, but then something happened, then his sanity was provoked. Right after that, he leaves 160 cases of serial murders across only three months for the Coruscant Guard to desperately chase after. A daring, heinous act like this…

If one wonders how Lesiil's mind works, that's it. For now.

So in conclusion; the Corrie Butcher, once was an unprovoked man, is now a merciless, opportunistic, trauma-driven serial killer who seeks vengeance to the Coruscant Guard. The deepest, darkest shadows of Coruscant had become his best friend, aiding him delivering that vengeful thirst while slipping through coverings beneath the dark and striking men who merely had only been doing their duty.

The Marshal Commander has been understanding and had taken her considerations to his own. Though, Lesiil knows better, so she refrains from being vocal until the situation needs her to – avoiding throwing caution to the wind. She works with her own mind, and her mind is hers only, not for others to judge. Lesiil knows her assumptions aren't for most people, since most people look at her assumptions like the dirtiest filth on their clothes. For these people, her spoken assumptions are nothing but krayt spit.

That's okay. Her mind is her own.

The next week, with the grim note that the victim count has escalated to 173, Lesiil is one step closer.

She had chosen to dive into her Corrie riot control theory. She can always assemble another probability if one fails, anyway.

Thorn kindly provided her with the necessary reports; a total of 11 times since exactly last standard year. From there, she filtered through. She looked for the ones where peace wasn't an option for these civilians – where violence had escalated to the point that non-lethal force had to be used.

She found 7.

Another filtering through. This time, she looked for the ones where people died unfortunately due to escalated violence.

She found 3.

The Marshal Commander glances back and forth between her and the datapad where she stores her findings of the day.

“These are all, Detective?”

Lesiil nods, keeping her expression neutral as always every time she sits for her daily end-of-the-day reports. A glance here and there to his demeanor and a little listening to his skeptical tone, she knows the Marshal remains cautious to her confidence. She's surprised he's got that amount of patience to face, as people dub it, her ‘krayt spit’.

“And where will you take this to?” the Marshal asks again.

“If it isn't troubling, sir,” she starts, “I would like to gain access to the citizen database so I'll be able to filter through again. I need to look at the profile of all these victims, aiming to see their names, physical features, associations, and familial connections.”

That's right. After jotting down the mentioned 3 riots, her search had to stop. To access the profile of these victims, she needs additional access to the central database of Coruscanti citizens. The party who may grant her that access is her own CO, no less.

Sighing, the Marshal leans back into his padded seat. “I can do that tomorrow,” he says finally.

“With all due respect, I need it tonight, sir,” Lesiil affirms, meeting his baffled expression. “Because if I’m right and we need to detain this individual as fast as possible, the whole process of obtaining a search and arrest warrant and assembling a house raid squad afterward takes time.”

The Marshal Commander waves her off. “No offense, Detective, but…” He trails off, glancing away momentarily, and lets out a long sigh. His hand goes to his face, dazedly rubbing his stubble in consideration. She waits. “How confident are you?” he then asks carefully.

“9 out of 10,” she says calmly, “And I am always right.”

A scoff escapes him as he shakes his head.

Lesiil's gaze remains stubbornly fixated onto the man.

Another sigh. “Very well,” he concedes, “But I have other matters to attend to.”

“Flimsiwork, I hope? Not patrol?”

He lets out a low chuckle, “Yeah. One of your luckiest nights.”

Lesiil feels her cheeks slightly heat up in embarrassment. Did she sound too desperate? Was there something the Marshal deemed amusing? Or is it about his crow's feet that emerge whenever he smiles? She won't lie, such a kind of smile that reaches one's eyes is attractive.

“How soon do you need it?” his voice breaks her trance.

“As soon as possible,” she replies calmly, “I'm already willing to work through the night till morning.”

The Marshal looks at her concerningly. “I won't, and can't, allow you to stay overnight here in HQ.”

Lesiil shrugs. She's grown a bit too casual with the Marshal this past week. “I've planned to continue working elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“Why, my apartment, of course,” she answers lightheartedly, “24-hour public co-working space is costly, and while my own dwelling is free, I'd hate spending credits for something I do have myself; private space.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens in thought. She notices a brewing conflict in his amber eyes, sparking and reflecting the lighting of his office. His luscious dark curls have long forgotten to be combed back and fallen to his brows, the silvery strands kissing his eyelids, making her wonder why he isn't choosing the regulatory haircut. But if it's personal preference and is a quirk, among millions of clones, she's glad her CO is a little rebel himself when it comes to his hair underneath that helmet.

“So,” she interrupts softly to not startle him, “Is it a yes, sir?”

His amber eyes pierce her with an intensity she can't quite define. “That data is sensitive and prone enough to security breach. I can't risk it, so as your CO, I’ll have to supervise you while you work and make sure you utilize it accordingly.”

Lesiil hums, nodding. “I’ll brew you some caf, then.”

“It's not–” the Marshal lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. He places his jaw in his hand propped on the arm of his padded chair. “It won't look appropriate,” he mutters.

That's what he's worried about?

“I don't see any issue? I work, you watch me work, and we will be doing that till sunrise or till I can't help my fatigue, or you with yours,” she demands, “I solemnly promise I won't continue my work if you somehow fall asleep.”

The Marshal remains unamused. “You could just wake me up, Detective.”

“Could I?”

“I'm serious, Thrace.”

“I am as well, sir,” she counters as respectfully as she can, “Maker knows how many hundred hours of sleep you've lost. If you fall asleep, I will take a break as well and retreat to my room.”

Another pause as he takes it into deep consideration. Lesiil steals the moment to appreciate his pronounced jawline, how the lighting graciously gives his bronze skin a mysterious silhouette despite his caf-less and fatigued countenance, and the white scar across his nose.

It's an old wound for sure, but she silently wonders if it's still sensitive to the touch.

Before she knows it, those amber eyes are already staring at her, one scarred eyebrow slightly raised in question.

The Marshal catches her staring.

“You're gonna have to brew me that caf,” his gruff voice says with a certain inflection that indicates total smugness in her book.

Refusing to give away any cadence that signals shame and embarrassment, Lesiil lets a smile slide seamlessly into her face. “A deal's a deal, Marshal.”

Fox regrets taking that deal.

Lesiil Thrace’s apartment radiates nothing but comfort, haze, and warmth that once he took off his helmet and stepped foot inside, the serene ambience itself lulls him, persuading him to plop down onto one of the plush seatings and then catch some z’s. Upon the invitation she had said to make himself at home, he was actually tempted to lay down and pass out.

Their respective piles of datapads sit on the cleared dining table, flimsiwork ready to be tended to. What's funny for him is that the table is so huge he could dine there with the usual command vode, despite the fact that the detective lives alone.

BD-6 hops onto the table.

Well. Alone, with the droid.

While the host and current occupant of the refresher down the hall is not around, Fox takes the unspoken invitation to observe and prod about the space. One section of the apartment that intrigues him is the spot where he now sets his feet on, the eyes within hung holostills on the wall staring back at him.

They're all, as expected, images of family and coworkers. There are several holostills of the detective and two people which he easily identifies as her buire and there are another of her with a man about her age, all ranged from the age of childhood to maturity, one of those images is them posing in their university graduation toga, wide grins adoring both faces.

Vod.

Just one, instead of millions.

Soft pitter-patter echoing down the hall catches his attention. Detective Thrace adorns some casual set of sleeved shirt and long pajama trousers, void of any patterns, stripped from the usual sight of a punctual set of shirt and jacket and trousers usually seen in HQ. Dark curly tresses, thick and unbound and looks like just has been blow-dried, fans about her shoulders voluminously.

Thrace is heading down the kitchen, not paying a second glance at him standing by that part of the apartment, and straight up switches on the caf machine.

“Is that your brother?” Fox asks to break the silence.

Thrace grabs two mugs from the top cabinet. “Yes. My twin, actually. Railuu Thrace,” she answers, her back to him as she busies herself. “Friendly to everyone he met. Sociable. Silly man, he was.”

Fox tilts his head down upon instinct.

“Was he a detective too?”

“No, sir.” Thrace finally turns around, leaning back against the counter, hands joined in front of her. “But he served aboard the Triumphant as the one and only natborn deck officer. I believe you’re familiar with Jedi General Plo Koon’s flagship incident?”

He stills. “Abregado... yeah.”

Thrace nods absentmindedly, her storm grey eyes fixing elsewhere. “The General personally delivered the news to our family. He was fond of Railuu, and said his sincerest apologies for being unable to retrieve the body due to the… tragic incident.” She looks up at him with a faint smile. “Railuu was as close as family to the entire 104th. He never stopped talking about the unit whenever we got on holocall.”

He wonders if she had befriended a certain commander of his corps because the man reminds her of her late twin brother.

“My condolences,” he offers quietly, “Must be a good man to earn the favor of a Jedi General and his entire battalion.”

“Thank you,” Thrace nods solemnly, “He was. Really was.”

At the given silence once she turns her back on him again, he can't help but think.

Is that why she regards the clones with so much respect, unlike most people?

Thrace calls out from the kitchen, “I hope you're hungry, Marshal, because I'm starving.” She gets back to her feet after retrieving ingredients from the food preservator, smiling his way welcomingly. “I suppose a little break from mess rations wouldn't hurt, would you agree, sir?”

Fox allows himself a small chuckle. Who, even among clones, would deny a good home-cooked dish?

“Drop the ‘sir’,” he says curtly as he makes his way to sit at the dining table, “We're not in HQ. Fox is fine.”

Thrace turns around. “But we're working.”

He gives a pointed gaze at the half-chopped vegetables.

“Later,” Thrace insists, turning back around to resume her food cutting endeavor. “I may be the host tonight, but you remain my commanding officer.”

BD-6 beeps from his current spot on one of the chairs, something about him making Thrace glaring subtly at him.

“What did he say?” Fox prompts.

Thrace openly lets out a long sigh. “Beedee said he took your side, that I should loosen up now that I'm in my own home.”

“Even the droid gets it,” Fox says, nodding towards the droid, “Why wouldn't you? Should I make it an order?”

She lets out a dry laugh. “I do not think it's necessary, sir.”

From this angle, he can't quite see her from his seat, but he'd be willing to bet she's slightly blushing, if not. Merciful as he is towards his coworkers (that's a lie), he decides to drop it altogether and reaches for the top datapads of his pile to start working on awaiting spreadsheets, settling comfortably on the padded chair, the absence of his top armor has never been so relieving.

Within the hour, they have a quiet hearty dinner, clear the table once again, and start working.

Fox tosses her a data stick. “That’s the key to gain access to the database. I'll have to have my eyes on you while you work,” he reminds her.

Thrace, on her way now to her working space to grab her holocomputer, nods in acknowledgment.

He goes back to his mundane spreadsheet. Letters and numbers and statistics hold a menacing glare at him, promptly smacking him right in the nose for even sighing.

They had collectively decided that working on the dining table isn't helping for the back and shoulder pain that pop up after two hours of sitting. And so they’d moved to the living area and settled down on the rug, legs tucked underneath the caf table while leaning back against the couch.

The Marshal had thrown most courtesy and air of professionalism out of the airlock, seeing him now casually lounging across the plush couch by absolute not pulling ranks earlier.

“Getting comfortable are we, sir?” Lesiil teases without looking away from her datapads.

“Can't resist a good couch, DT,” the Marshal then yawns. Taking it as a cue, Lesiil pushes his caf mug an inch further towards him.

The Marshal sits up and reaches for the mug, observing it for a few seconds before sipping. “Do all your caf mugs have poor police puns like this?”

You have the right to remain silent sleeping

Lesiil chuckles softly. “If that’s your way of saying that I have an excellent sense of humor, Marshal, then I appreciate the recognition.”

He looks at her in disbelief. “No way you made these lines.”

“Of course not. Don't be silly, Marshal. I don't make jokes.”

“Understood. No humor coming from you then, DT,” the Marshal sulks.

“Huh. So you believe that, sir?”

“...I appreciate your humor now.”

“Why, thank you,” she grins widely, but then suddenly she grows concerned. “Are you certain you aren't as jittery as supposed from someone being so high on caf, sir? Because this is very highly out of character for you.”

The Marshal pointedly takes another sip. “Not strong enough to break my character. And did you just say I was never funny?”

“Thorn once said you're ruthless and very exhausted that you never have time to make jokes.”

Her guest and commanding officer merely scoffs, replacing his mug, and reclines back on the couch to return to his mundane flimsiwork.

“Thorn told me you're from Alderaan,” he says a minute later, “You a member of the noble houses?”

Lesiil, not even turning slightly to face him as she's still busy on her works, explains, “I was, but I renounced all my royal titles and the duty that followed. I’ve chosen to serve the people by doing the field work. Not too keen on forever being prim and proper.”

The Marshal goes quiet behind her, probably surprised and all learning the new information. “Is that why you sound too formal to everyone's liking when you speak?” he asks again.

She nods. “I was taught such etiquettes, yes.”

Silence for a beat or two, and then…

“Do you swear?” the Marshal prods again.

Lesiil rolls her eyes. “Internally.”

“Really?” he lets out bemused chuckles, “Like what?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Marshal, I do not owe you anything to the point I have to disclose what swear words I use whenever I like.”

“What, afraid to break character?”

“I’ve always been like this.”

The Marshall snorts. “Krayt spit.”

Lesiil shrugs. “Colloquial speech has just never been in my favor, sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir’,” he insists, his tone serious coming from behind her, “Just Fox.”

A loud sigh flies off her lips. “If I call you by your name, will you stop pestering me about my use of swear words?”

“I solemnly swear,” he mimics her saying earlier.

Another sigh.

“Okay, Fox.”

The Marshal bursts out into a fit of cackles. “Yeah, it doesn't suit you.” He coughs, clutching his stomach. “Sounds kriffing weird comin’ from you. And it's just a single word. It's like your accent just changed, too.”

Despite the sheer embarrassment for being so bold, Lesiil merely shakes it away and sends him a smirk instead. “I believe you see why now, Marshal.”

Good food. Good caf. Good couch. Good company.

Fox is spoiled as kriff.

If he'd rejected this idea earlier, he'd be stuck in his office till late without selfishly getting familiar with such domestic comfort. He's sure if he'd rejected this idea earlier he'd be dead by now by the rawest form of sole regret alone.

The chronometer now shows 0140.

Fox stretches. “You don't wanna take a break?” he asks the detective.

Thrace huffs quietly. “I’m still trudging through these 52 victims one by one and copying the essentials manually to my datapads because the access key is not even giving me full access.”

“Protocols, Detective,” he reminds her, “Can't give you full access.”

She nods. “Perfectly understood, Marshal.”

“Call me Fox,” he says curtly after rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Fox.”

Then before he can stop it, “Can I call you Lesiil?”

Her tone earlier had been meaning to be deadpanning. He knows it. She only wishes to focus on her work.

But the detective now slowly turns to face him, grey eyes greeting his amber ones. The edge of her lips lift momentarily, driving him to glance at them hoping she doesn't notice. But of course, with the Lorrdian blood, maybe she does? Remembering just that, and how accurate the read can be, he suddenly feels his cheek burn the life out of him. But he never backs down from a challenge. He stands his ground.

Accompanied by a certain twinkle in her stormy orbs underneath the warm lighting of her dwelling, he lets himself think he's certain that he's lost it when her voice, absent of any apathetic deadpan and formality, comes out as soft and sincere.

“Yes you can, Fox.”

He holds her gaze steadfastly, relishing how his given Basic name had rolled off her courteous tongue.

“Well,” he starts, leaning away, “I'm taking a break for an hour, Lesiil. If I suddenly stop talking, don't wake me.”

Lesiil smirks cheekily before turning away. “Never planned to, Fox.”

Seemingly grateful for the eventual silence, Fox notices Lesiil is working almost twice as fast, leaving him almost feeling guilty for distracting her, although the purpose was to build a friendlier rapport. Now watching her tapping and running her dainty fingers across datapads, he considers it somehow as a therapy and, really, a break.

After what must've been half an hour of being awake thanks to Lesiil's good caf still running through his system, suddenly she turns to face him again.

He almost scowls. “What?”

Lesiil rolls her eyes. “First off, that tone is unnecessarily rude,” she says calmly, “Second off, I was just checking if you had fallen asleep. As promised, if you do, I will stop as well and take a break.”

“Why break?” Fox mumbles into the throw pillow under his cheek, “Why not a nap?”

“Caf is running within my veins as we speak. I am now quite awake,” she explains gently, the grey storm in her orbs sparkling at the right angle, “And I do not have the mighty tolerance as you do.”

He smirks. “Just watching you work as I'm supposed to do, Detective. It's not as boring as my reports.”

“It is mentally stimulating,” Lesiil admits with a nod of agreement, “It’s always either something new or something familiar, whilst yours is always the latter.”

“That supposed to mean as an insult?”

“What an outrageous accusation, Marshal.” She turns away, unable to hide her smirk. “I would never insult the very system I am working in.” For yet another minute or two, she finally sighs loudly. “And we're now finished. Finally. Beedee!”

The droid, faraway, trills in attention and immediately makes his way over.

Currently, the chronometer shows 0238.

“What will you do now?” Fox asks when BD-6 starts to tinker about datapads.

Lesiil is still acknowledging the droid's questioning boops before answering him, “Beedee will be helping me with the compartmentalizing as usual. This time we're cataloguing the cause of death of these 52 profiles.” She disengages the data stick from the holocomputer. “It’s a quick process, then we narrow it all down.”

He watches her sipping her caf and sighing afterward. “Isn’t 52 too much?” he asks, concern tinged in his voice.

“I admit, yes,” she says, “I would gladly take your generous helping hand if you are offering.”

Wordlessly, he plops down next to her and takes the datapad she hands him. “Catch me up to your thinking, DT. What should I be looking for?”

“Something that catches your eye,” she answers vaguely, “We’ll wait for Beedee first.” Then, as if cued, their datapads ping. BD-6 beeps in confirmation. Lesiil pats his head. “Thanks, Beedee. Now, let’s sort.”

Fox gobbles down the list, swallowing every now and then as he skims through the written manner of death – which all of them were deemed as accidental – and the cause of death – which varies through traumatic asphyxia to blunt force trauma to cardiac arrest.

“What about parents?” he blurts out as he stares at a still of a senior citizen. “What if parents?”

“Statistics show a person is likely to be reacting more emotionally to the death of spouse or spawn. But there have been more cases involving a murderous parent of a dead child,” Lesiil asserts, “So we're using this as the base of our assumptions that we may be looking for someone younger.”

Acknowledging, Fox manages to cross off a third of the list which consists of senior citizens.

“Some of these are parentless,” he says again, “We're looking for someone that comes out of legal marriages?”

Lesiil looks at him with thought. “If we are dedicated enough to go along with this theory, then yes. Good observation, sir. Fox.”

He scoffs, both at her statement and her slipup. “Still a theory, huh?”

“We’re utilizing whatever data is available and making sensible assumptions. Seeing that we have nothing on the Corrie Butcher, not even a clear screencap of an entire face let alone a name, we take another route to find who his name is and what he looks like.” She gives him a look. “No thanks to your hasty investigation team to overlook everything else there is.”

Fox resists rolling his eyes. “In our defense, we were processing this strictly by the book.”

“The book sometimes hinders you,” declares Lesiil, looking deep into his eyes, “If there's another angle, however improbable or implausible that is, rather than wasting time mulling over nonexistent data and waiting for it to pop up, one must dedicate themselves to approach that angle.”

A smirk slides into his face. “Wise words, Lesii.”

“Those wise words circulate around the Criminal Investigations Department quite regularly since it takes shape as our very job description,” she deadpans, then does a double take. “And did you just call me Lesii?”

“What? Don't like it? Own it.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Sir, yes sir.”

His gaze on her lingers on her and her luscious coiled hair for a little longer before he reels himself away from the trance, and begins working on his share.

Emptying his already full cup; that's what he's doing right now. Dipping his hands into investigative police work, a far cry from his usuals; planning senate security detail, mapping out patrol routes, sniffing criminal activity, studying the cruel and hazardous structures of the underworld, securing every sort of security breaches in a moment's notice, bringing in enemies of the state. As quick and intelligent as he is trained, he can never match Lesiil Thrace's level of intellect.

Working with the woman has been pleasant, albeit the presumptive rambling and mind maps at the end of any day. Lesiil knows what to anticipate, what's sensible, and what's critical to prioritize firsthand. The trait puts her several steps ahead.

It's only been a week, not even a month, since her arrival, and now Fox is presented with a good chance of identifying his brothers’ killer at any moment.

Had she been brought in much earlier… many wouldn't have to die in the hands of this ruthless individual.

“Intriguing,” Lesiil hums next to him.

Fox perks up, leaning closer. “What?”

She tilts her datapad in his direction. “This one. Female, Kayl Brando.” A still of a blonde woman. “Her name had been mentioned in the media. Her family sued the Coruscant Guard for her death, caused by asphyxia, because she attended one of the riots where your division had to use tear gas. The media, backed up by the family's given statement and medical records, mentioned she had a generational severe lung injury so the use of your tear gas had been fatal.”

Fox rubs a hand over his stubble as he recalls. “I remember that, yeah. That was seven months ago.”

Lesiil scrolls more. “Seven months ago, correct,” she confirms, shifting slightly to face him. “Could you please provide more context?”

Fox lets out a long sigh as he runs a hand through his curls. “Charges were dropped. Using tear gas when violence escalates is simply within regulations. Technically not our fault she had that injury in the first place.” He shakes his head. “But if I'm not mistaken, that family had been vocal. Raising awareness from the empathic community and pushing more hostility towards the Corries.”

Lesiil takes another glimpse at the shown data. “And right after that, the trend dies, the talks dwindled to nonexistence,” she nods in confirmation, “It seems everything went into a downward spiral for this family.”

Fox shrugs. “Well, they already lost the lawsuit before it even began. Charges were dropped ‘cause the Coruscant Guard, or GAR, did nothing wrong.”

They continue searching. Fox goes to refill his mug with that beautiful caf blend and snatches a packet of Saleucami cheese biscuits from the little basket on the kitchen counter. Lesiil notices but says nothing, yet the look in her eyes is quite encouraging.

Welcome to my humble abode, Marshal. Make yourself comfortable. And I'd very much like your boots off, please. Refresher’s just down the hall.

He meets her gaze daringly, walks backwards to her food conservator, and opens it.

He gasps.

“Never thought of you as a beer drinker, DT,” Fox eyes the three glass bottles inside. “Stressful times call for desperate measures, huh?”

“You may take one if you'd like, Fox.”

“Tempting. Sticking with caf tonight. Maybe another time.”

Lesiil smiles, but says nothing.

About ten minutes later, she asks again, “Did you find anything yourself, sir?”

Gulping down the last of the cheese biscuits, Fox hums in confirmation next to her. “5 more people followed the notion of that lawsuit.”

Looking down at her own datapad, Lesiil skims through the marked profiles, taking the typed footnotes into careful consideration. Maybe there are actual gears inside her head that whir whenever she thinks, Fox thinks.

“Then we are rounding this up,” she says suddenly.

He does a double take. “We're done?”

“Hm, not quite.”

It's 0317 now. Lesiil grabs her work commlink.

“I have to make a few calls to the forensics at CSF and my supervisor beforehand, for the permit and the go. We still have to match DNA samples between these victims and the Corrie Butcher with hopes we’re about to get somewhere.” She looks up at him and Fox catches her knowing smirk. “That must interest you.”

“Yeah, finally, something by the book,” Fox deadpans. “Will that take more time?”

Lesiil shrugs, leaning back against the couch. “I have friends in the division whose sleep I am allowed to interrupt for all I care. This is for a high-profile case, after all.”

“So now they're doing the work? Thank Prime. I'd really like to catch that break right now.”

“Was all that not ‘break’ enough for you, Fox?”

“Oh, it was refreshing, but if I spend another minute looking at a screen, I think I'm gonna develop aneurysm on the spot.”

Another new thing about the Marshal Lesiil has just learned tonight; several cups of caf does absolutely nothing to one extremely fatigued commander to the point she's actually concerned for the prospect of acid reflux.

That, and he is now asleep. Still in a seated position by her side on the rug, arms folded loosely across his chest, legs stretched out under the caf table, head back and flushed on the padded cushion of the couch.

And nothing seems to wake him, even as of now she's contacting her fellow detective partner.

“You’re lucky some of the guys in the lab are still up by this hour, Les,” Eisen the Nautolan speaks through her commlink, “They’re going through it as we speak. Inspector commed me earlier to supervise the whole thing for you as well. It's top priority now.”

“Thank you, Eisen,” Lesiil says in a low voice, being considerate to Fox's state either way, “And about the 6 profiles I've sent you? Is there anything you've found in your search?”

“Yeah. One of them, just recently. Last night, actually. Related to a, uh, Kayl Brando.”

Lesiil draws a sharp inhale. “Before you dive into the explanation, will you please kindly hold for a moment?”

“Yeah yeah, sure. I've got all day, Les. Or morning, whatever. It's 0400 anyway.”

She presses the mute button and turns to the sleeping commander.

“Marshal.” She grabs his forearm and shakes him. “Marshal, wake up.”

Still asleep like dead. She wonders if this is what it feels like to be in Thorn's position, though she's doing the exact opposite of what he'd do.

Lesiil reaches out, muttering an apology under her breath, before carefully pats his cheek. “Fox? Wake up, come on. Fox?”

The Marshal stirs just as she retracts her hand swiftly. But just for good measure, she keeps shaking him awake by the forearm. His lids crack open, drowsy amber eyes peeking through thick dark eyelashes.

“Wha’?”

“We’ve made progress,” Lesiil announces, “I’m currently in contact with my partner, he's gotten something.”

Fox merely nods, yawning and scrubbing his hands all over his face before sitting up properly and cracking his back.

Seeing him refreshed enough to listen to a whole critical conversation, Lesiil disables the mute button and raises her commlink near her mouth. “You may talk to me now, Eisen.”

“Okay, about this Kayl Brando,” the Nautolan instantly replies, “I'd like to confirm again that she really tragically passed away in that riot due to respiratory failure. Underlying cause, as written in her death certificate, is chemical irritant exposure. Tear gas. Right?”

Recognition sparks in Fox's amber brown eyes.

Lesiil locks her gaze with his. “That is correct.”

“That's what I found. Additionally; Kayl Brando was the only daughter to a now divorced couple, Jai Brando and Helne Firrda, both still living on Coruscant. And last night, Ms Firrda called our line to suggest a welfare check on her ex-husband’s house.”

Lesiil recognizes both names as the ones she saw in multiple holonews articles about their lawsuit. Fox wordlessly shares her expression.

“What for? Something happened?” she inquires hastily.

“Hadn't heard of him in three days. Usually they keep in touch, with her being some kind of a support system. According to her and a brief examination of Jai Brando's medical files…” Eisen lets out a long, heavy sigh, “He’s suffering from PTSD and dissociation. And hell of a track record of substance abuse to cope with his grief, too. As personal commentary, Les, I'd say this is chronically messed up.”

She takes a deep breath. “I have to agree.” Fox nods at her in agreement. “And the welfare check?”

“We had someone there just last night at, uh, they knocked on his residence at 2056. I can send you the bodycam feed and transcript real quick, if you're interested. It was just a brief interaction. The ex-wife calmed down.”

Sounds like another hour of observing, but this time with more certainty. “I'd very much appreciate that,” Lesiil says.

“Okay. Sending,” the Nautolan responds. Not long after, her holocomputer beeps in receival. “I'll keep in touch with you when the test results are in.”

“Thank you for your tremendous aid, Eisen.”

“And you doing great as always, partner.”

“What test results?” Fox asks her once the comm call ends.

“DNA, sir. I sent samples of the 5 victims, Kayl Brando included, and the unknown one found on the victims' bodies to the CSF forensics lab,” Lesiil kindly reminds him, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Right,” he nods slowly, “So we're onto this guy?”

“For now, the anticipation is overbearing and I hope I am not wrong, or all this will be for nothing.”

“It won't be for nothing,” Fox disagrees, his unapproving gaze bearing down onto her, but there's a softness to it that she can only register as fondness. “It's still progress, Lesii. Don't be so hard on yourself.”

With her mug of caf running out two hours ago and the slower flow of adrenaline pumping through her veins, Lesiil allows her tense body to relax and let herself take a breath.

“Thank you, Fox.”

She meets his gaze lazily as the littlest bit of fatigue begins to catch up on her burnout body, with gratefulness blossoming inside her chest for his tremendous trust and support.

Marshal Commander Fox has been nothing but a man appreciative of everybody's work, even though in possession of a blunt mouth and patience as thin as flimsi. Weird, because Thorn said he's especially impatient with everyone, always urging them along and biting back with a bitter and snarky remark. But not with her.

He respects her in return, it makes her feel… recognized. Not recognized as in fame and notoriety, but for her genuineness, her tireless efforts to restore justice, and her sacrifices; time, mental, body, and shame, when bizarre looks are thrown her way whenever she opens her mouth.

But why treat her like she's anybody different?

Among clones, it's understandable.

But when it's only the two of them like this?

Lesiil is no idiot. She notices his signs. The Marshal has been holding himself back. Sitting an inch closer, peering in when interested, acting so freely and relaxed, holding her gaze a bit longer than supposed to, his beautiful amber eyes softening, catching her lips for a split second just a little while ago. The ridiculous amount of trust and bluntness, as if exhibiting his true self behind all the hard shell of a stoic commander of his corps.

Maybe there will be a time, when it's right, when it's fitting, to give in.

But not now.

As much as she perhaps wishes to curl her fingers into his luscious curls, mindlessly counting each of his silvery strands with the pad of her thumb, caressing his shapely jawlines, tracing his scars and kissing every inch of his skin…

It's not now.

Now, there's murder to solve. A serial murder of Fox's own brothers. Thinking about them makes her think about her own brother, who died along with the crew aboard the Triumphant. Railuu loved the 104th like they were his own brothers. To honor his beautiful memory, maybe she would be willing to completely open up so she can share that fondness with the Coruscant Guard and its Marshal Commander as well.

Fox gets up, his mug and hers in his hands. “I’ll get you more caf, DT.”

A small laugh escapes her. “Ah please, no more. Or I’ll be jittery for the whole day. I prefer not to.”

Not saying anything, he continues his pace towards the caf machine for his refill. As the rich liquid pours in, Fox puts her caf mug in the sink and retrieves a new one from the top cabinet before filling it with cool water.

“We still have work to do, Detective,” he says when he returns to his seat next to her. Her glass of water sits nearby. “Don't fall asleep on me.”

Lesiil had been putting her head on her folded arms atop the table. “I am falling asleep on the table as we speak,” she mutters, letting the caf-induced uneasiness in her body calm down.

“The point stands,” Fox says firmly, almost commanding, “I don't want you sleeping when we're one step closer to the truth.”

Her dark curls form a curtain before her eyes as she shifts. “Possible truth.”

“You're the one 100% confident about this, Lesiil.” His tone gradually grows sharper. “Since when we trade places? I'm the one convincing you now?”

She blinks away her fatigue and sits up straight. “Yes, sir. Apologies,” she mumbles, scooting closer to the holocomputer.

His glare on her dissipates. “Don't sulk. Don't be insecure,” he encourages, “Won't do good for morale. You're doing well.”

Because of all that he is, the smile she directs at him is wider and glowing with genuineness.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly her commlink beeps, startling the serene atmosphere.

“Thrace,” she answers.

“Les, have you watched the footage?” Eisen’s voice rings through.

“Just about to.” She catches urgency in his tone. “Has something come up with the tests?”

“That's the thing. You haven't watched it right? I have, so here I'll save you some time.” Eisen takes a big breath. “The guys checked on Brando. He was cooperative at first, but when they asked about how he's been coping with the loss because the ex-wife mentioned it during the call, he straight up went defensive. There was a bit of verbal altercation, but the worse is when he spat on them. Like, literally. Literal ball of spit.”

Lesiil scrambles up and begins to pace. “Please tell me you took it down as a sample.”

“Oh yeah, they did,” the Nautolan tells her smugly, “Wiped it down and sent it to the lab, initially to put it in the system in case they wanted to press charges against him for assault. I love these guys, alright? Karking smart. They didn't even know this gotta be related to the Corrie Butcher case, and the coincidence is amazing. Ocean spirits are loving me right now.”

“Eisen, I am aware your jittery is most likely caf-induced now, but please can we swerve back on track?”

“Sorry sorry, I'm just excited.” He clears his throat. “So yeah, all that. And I didn't even know about it until like, forty seconds ago. Labs done, by the way.”

Fox's eyes are trained on her, his body rigid in anticipation for what's to come.

“And the results?” she asks.

There's a sniffle. “Oh they're positive, Les!” Eisen exclaims into the commlink, “Everything! Everything came back positive. Everything matched. The DNA found on the dead troopers, Kayl Brando's DNA, her dad's DNA. Everything matched, Les!”

Lesiil is already running to change.

“Jai Brando is the Corrie Butcher!”

“Search and arrest warrant has been obtained,” Fox says to his commlink, the machinery hum of Lesiil's speeder filling the space around him, “The Detective and I are heading down to the suspect's dwelling to arrest him as we speak.”

Thorn acknowledges from the other side. “We'll take over everything here in your place, vod. Stay safe.”

The sun is barely on the horizon as Lesiil expertly swerves her speeder through the early morning traffic with lights and sirens, the air of urgency blaring louder and louder every second.

“I must ask you to relax, sir,” she says from beside him, eyes focused on the front.

Fox doesn't even realize he's anxious until he stops his fingers from tapping against his thigh plate, bucket already donned upon his shoulders.

“Brando isn't going anywhere,” she assures him. “We’ll be having an entry team and the command post ready in no time.”

“You're handling this right,” he dryly comments, not knowing what to say.

“It's standard, sir. And, not meaning to set a joyous atmosphere in the middle of a grim setting, but,” Lesiil offers him a reassuring smile, “I hope you’re ready for your first ever civilian house raid experience, Marshal.”

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