#✦ ⫽ visuals ... wears a smile like a loaded gun.

[ambitiouslyher]

BREAKING NEWS !! ... nationwide manhunt ordered for fashion ceo, nina liu. she's wanted on various smuggling and murder charges. it's speculated that she is the head of one of gotham's crime syndicates ravaging our suffering city. if you have information on nina liu and her whereabouts, please contact the GCPD. consider this criminal armed and dangerous.

( feel free to like , rp partners may reblog , personal / non rp blogs, please don't reblog ).

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song v (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, fluff, smut; a shit ton of kissing, oral (f), seokjin likes eye contact, slight overstimulation, he also seems to have a slight potty mouth when turned on, romantic sex, protected sex, shower scene, oral (m), this chapter is basically just sex, enjoy! (yes, the dilf dick is b i g) lingerie described found here for the visuals ~  words; 9,572

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. You were like a little kid at the lead up to Christmas. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited for something. Actually, on second thoughts, you couldn’t think of a time you were this excited for anything, period. And all over the prospect of sleeping with Seokjin, and definitely not in the innocent way… He had in no way explicitly stated that you’d be having sex this week, but the insinuation was heavy in the air. Everything leading up to this moment was suggesting come Saturday night you would not be sat in front of Seokjin’s 75” television watching boxsets… 

On the morning of you decided to pack a few things in a small case. You definitely planned on returning home in the day if needed or bored while Seokjin was at work, but the essentials were required: underwear, pyjamas, a few outfits, toiletries and skincare, your iPad, miscellaneous chargers. Soojung on the other hand was acting like you were never coming back… 

“I’m going to miss you.” She whined, having been hovering around you as you packed. “Leaving me alone with smelly Tae.” 

In a bid not to be alone in the evenings she’d invited her smelly boyfriend over for the week, but although she sounded irked it was all just an act. God knows what they’d get up to while you were gone, you dreaded to think. On second thoughts, maybe it would be best to stay at Seokjin’s place all week… You had no clue what you’d walk in on in your own home.  

“I won’t be gone the whole week. Besides, we can meet up for lunch and stuff.” You often visited her at the department store, perusing the food court until it was time for her lunch break. You weren’t secluded from the whole world while away. What did she think was happening? 

She helped you fold your clothes in momentary silence, deep in thought it seemed. “What if you love it there and want to stay permanently Dilf mansion?” 

You scoffed immediately, taking the small pile of t-shirts from her to pack away. “Soo, way to jump the gun.” You’d been dating barely six weeks, hadn’t even had sex yet, moving in together was number 1 on the highly unlikely list. Although, sliding in a couple of pairs of flats into the top pocket of your case and zipping it up, you hummed in consideration. “Dilf mansion does have a ring to it though…” 

Soojung’s attention was on another pile of clothing now – one you would be wearing this evening to leave for Seokjin’s house. Her fingertips brushed along the delicate baby blue lace of your lingerie, sitting on top of the pile and she looked up at you and grinned wickedly. “You’re going to knock his socks off with this.” 

You and her had spent yesterday browsing the mall with a very important task. To decide on the most perfect lingerie set. Knowing Seokjin for a while know, you’d noticed he had an inclination for the colour blue, so your chosen piece had to be a winner – practically see-through, littered in beautiful lace flowers. You were well and truly prepared for tonight, you were a woman on a mission. 

“His Dilf socks,” you corrected your best friend, both of you instantly exploding into a fit of giggles. 

Arin had left with her grandparents this morning, and as much as Seokjin was eager to get this weekend started and see you immediately, he actually had a few things he needed to take care of at work. It wasn’t until around 5pm that you got into your car to make the short journey, Soo waving you off proudly like you were about to attend your graduation. You were honestly quite calm given the circumstances, although one look at Seokjin as he stepped out the front door to take your case and all inner composure was lost. You were one big ball of excitement, most of it flurrying around in the pit of your stomach. Yet you kept cool on the outside, grinning at the handsome man in front of you despite your lingerie burning marks into your skin. 

And handsome he was today, (as if he wasn’t every day), his dark hair parted in the centre of his forehead naturally, his eyes crinkling as he smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You tasted a hint of mango on his mouth, an obvious sheen to his plump lips, and you presumed he’d applied some chapstick before you’d arrived – the chapstick you’d bought him not too long ago after he’d complained of cracked lips to you on the phone one night. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, his arms around your waist, body pressed snuggly into yours. 

“Hey yourself,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, gazing into one another’s eyes before you lightly teased him. “Are we going to stay out here all night?” 

Chuckling heartily, he reached behind you, lifting your case with ease. “Let’s go put this in my room.” 

You’d never once stepped foot onto the upper level of his house before, so you were very observant on your way to his bedroom, eyes catching art pieces (you noticed numerous of Arin’s) and photos along the walls, light fixtures, as well as the odd plant here and there. You had to walk two flights of stairs to get to your destination, one average in length, the other shorter, veering off to the left of the corridor to reach a landing leading into his bedroom. You remembered what he’d said about changing and designing his bedroom himself, so you were very curious as to what it looked like inside. Yet still, the sight of it stunned you to brief silence. 

His was the largest bedroom in the house, the master bedroom if you were being fancy, but in your opinion it was more like a mini home in itself. All it needed was a kitchen and you would be good to go. It smelt just like him – of his cologne and the recognisable vanilla scent his house seemed to waft of every time you visited. The walls were warm grey, décor similar with dashes of cream and gold. The bed matched the whole vibe of the room – insanely large, and you could already tell it was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever slept on. Directly opposite, but a long way away, were a sofa and love seat sat around a TV hooked to the wall above a stunning fireplace. There were two sets of double windows, from the ceiling to the wooden floor, dark grey drapes open – not that it mattered. Seokjin’s house was out-of-the-way, no chance of being seen. All you were met with as you looked down, was a small patch of garden you hadn’t seen before, plain and simple, but very beautiful. Tranquil. 

To the left of the room a door opened into another, perhaps a quarter of the size – his closet, and you followed him inside, still pretty much lost for words. He said there was no point putting your belongings away tonight, you could do it tomorrow, but he’d saved a drawer for you and there was an empty section of hanging space you could use too. There was also a dressing table you could put to good use, because he sure didn’t, and then he whisked you away into the bathroom, which was probably the most beautiful room in the house. Everything was warm marble in colour. A separate bath and shower (both gigantic) and double sinks. 

“I got you a robe,” Seokjin pointed out, and you followed his gaze to behind the door, two fluffy white robes hooked to the wall. 

Oh, boy. You could get used to this. 

.

.

Seokjin ordered takeout for dinner – from an Indian restaurant Namjoon kept raving about apparently. With the amount he ordered you could have sworn he was feeding a whole party, not just the two of you. You were stuffed in no time, curling up on the sofa with a glass of red wine as Seokjin loaded the dishwasher. He still hadn’t cooked an actual meal for you, and when he joined you, of course you reminded him. This week he was preparing dinner for you one night, and that was final. You needed to see what Chef Kim had in him – even if he insisted his skills were long forgotten.  

You cuddled as you watched a movie, which more often than not meant you’d start to become sleepy – just ask Soojung – but tonight was different. You were wide awake and practically thrumming with excitement. You were begging for the movie credits an hour before they were due, and when they finally popped up your heart started to beat harder in anticipation. It was nearing 11pm. Your lingerie was still burning welts into your skin… 

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, your back pressed into his chest where you’d been snuggled into him, legs across the sofa, for the duration of the night. One of his arms was crossed around your front, the other free to drink his wine as he propped his feet up on the glass topped coffee table. You could really get used to this. 

“What did you think?” He hummed, reaching forward to place his glass on a coaster. You grabbed his hand, not wanting him to leave you and he chuckled, quickly resuming position to now loop both arms around your shoulders, pressing you further into the warmth of his body. 

“I enjoyed,” you replied with a small shrug. In all honesty it would’ve been a great movie if you hadn’t been so distracted. 

You felt him lower his head, breath hot against your ear as he spoke. “I’m glad you didn’t fall asleep on me.” You giggled as he started to kiss the column of your neck, his barely there presses of his lips tickling you. Yet still you pushed into his hold, letting your head fall back. He took the opportunity to suck your earlobe between his lips, eliciting a sweet sigh from you. “I really can’t wait to spend this entire week with you.”  He whispered. 

You tried to keep your voice as uninvolved as possible – which was a lot harder when he now had your earlobe between his teeth. “Eh. I’m so-so over it.” 

“Y/N!” He scolded playfully, groaning a laugh as he lifted his head away. “Stop. Now’s not the time for joking around.” 

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, latching onto his hands. 

“Face me,” he murmured almost suddenly. “Let me kiss you properly.” 

His kisses were gentle and loving, his hands cupping your face as you leaned into him, hands placed across his hard chest. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt tucked into some black pants, he’d looked irresistible all night. He pulled away slowly, lips upturned almost drunkenly. “What’s that grin for?” 

Seokjin’s gaze flicked from your lips to your eyes repeatedly as he replied, thumbs massaging circles into your cheeks. “I’m just very happy. Is that allowed?” 

Giggling, you pressed your mouth to his, wrapping your palms around his neck to pull him in closer. He hummed loudly – indulgently, and let you lick into his mouth, his own hands slipping down to your neck and down your torso, gripping your middle. Your chest was flush to his and you welcomed the heat of his body. You were happy too. It had been a long time since you’d last felt this content, and tonight you’d realised just how lovely it was to be able to lounge with Seokjin and be in his company so casually, so naturally like this. You would become spoiled this week, but you couldn’t feel too worried right now. 

Breaking away again, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but your mouth was a greedy thing, finding its way down his neck and across his throat as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, his breathing shallow as he let you wonder. His fingers brushed up and down your back distractedly, until he seemed to remember what he wanted to tell you. “Hey,” he whispered, breath catching in his throat when you pinched your teeth into his Adam’s apple softly. “Hey, stop for a moment. There was something I wanted to say before…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the very obvious direction of his sentence, and as much as you wanted to nosedive straight into that pool, you pulled back to look into his eyes, waiting patiently. 

He straightened his back and you eased off him a little, finding his fond smile contagious. “I’ve enjoyed these past few weeks so much.” He began, sincerity in his tone . “I know I’m not old old by any means but dating you has made me feel like I’m young again. I mean, grinding in the middle of a bar is something I didn’t even do back in my college days.” 

“I fail to believe that,” you laughed. 

“Really,” he insisted, looking amused. “I was a nerd. A handsome one, but a nerd nonetheless.” Before you could roll your eyes he was continuing. “What I’m trying to say is that, I really like you, Y/N.” His fingers played with the ends of your hair lovingly.  “You know that already. Shit, I’m crazy about you. Just hearing your voice makes my day better. No matter how short a time we spend together, even if it’s just on the phone to say goodnight, I feel happy – I feel relaxed.” He paused to take a breath before moving to cup your face with one hand. “No matter how stressed I am you make it better by just existing.” 

“…Seokjin,” you murmured, a little lost for words at his declaration. 

He chuckled warmly, tops of his cheeks tinged somewhat rosy. “Too cheesy?”

You shook your head adamantly, reaching for his face as well. “Not at all. I’m crazy about you too.” His face lit up instantly and you couldn’t help but kiss him. “I’m so happy we met,” you confessed against his mouth. “I don’t want this summer to be over.” 

“It’s not over yet,” he laughed. “We still have time to make it even better.” You wanted that more than anything. Finding it difficult to keep away from your lips, he practically had to tear himself away. He was out of breath. “I know saying this out loud is silly given everything, but… Let’s make this official.” 

Your heart started somersaulting. You felt like you were in high school again, over the moon because Kim Rowoon had asked you to prom. Only this was better than that – much, much better. Linking your arms around Seokjin’s neck you tilted your head to the side, a grin unable to keep off your face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Kim?” 

“What do you say?” He sounded hopeful and soft. 

You hummed out loud, thinking hard. “Can I get back to you? 3 to five business days seems about right.” You immediately squealed as you finished your sentence, Seokjin’s hands finding their way around your butt to tug you forward. You gripped onto his shoulders with the surprise. 

“Too bad because I’ve already been calling you my girlfriend at the office.” 

You didn’t have a chance to reply, the hard press of his lips against yours knocking you senseless. You found yourself in his lap not long after, fingers dragging through his hair as you clung to him, mouths moving in gradual urgency until you began to feel out of breath. Your tongues seemed to grow more daring, intent, as your soft moans mingled with his quiet groans. You hadn’t quite found yourself in this position before, usually moulded to the soft leather but this time you had Seokjin pinned tight, a heat that was quickly becoming unbearable burning between your bodies, and his hands running up and down your back didn’t help. 

Each brush of his fingertips had your skin prickling with warmth, dizzying your mind, and when you felt him brush against the curve of your left breast you leaned forward into his touch, desperate for more. Seokjin grunted, encouraged by your action as he cupped the soft flesh, his thumb grazing your nipple which hardened from the touch. Your kiss turned a lot more frenzied after that, Seokjin roaming your body with confidence, his unoccupied hand cupping your butt to rock you against his crotch. 

He was hard. You’d felt it stiffening ever since you’d climbed into his lap, but now he was solid, flesh pressing (probably painfully) against his pants, and feeling emboldened you lifted your hips, hovering over him for your hand to slot in between your bodies, cupping his erection firmly. He stiffened under your grasp, his breath hitching and you took that moment to drag your tongue along his, teasing him as you slowly started to stroke him above his slacks. He felt thick and rigid between your fingers, pulsing erratically against your hold, and he broke away from your mouth, head falling back as a loud, drawn-out groan slipped from his throat. You gazed at him – eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, mouth parted as he breathed shallowly – and took a mental picture. You wanted to remember this moment forever. He looked gorgeous, basking in pleasure and you wanted to pleasure him more. It was an urge so strong you practically dived on him, mouth slamming into his. He soon gained his bearings, kissing you just as wildly as his hands groped your body. 

“Do you – mm, do you want – mm – to take this upstairs?” He asked against your lips, fingers currently digging into the soft flesh of your ass. The veins in his neck were visible, his desperation for you obvious, and you pulled away from the kiss to nod rapidly. If he didn’t get you upstairs soon you’d surely explode. 

You let out a little squeak as you suddenly found yourself in the air, safely held up by Seokjin. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he began to make the brisk walk to the hallway and towards the staircase. “Oh, my god,” you muttered, laughing as you realised he was about to carry you bridal style all the way up the stairs. 

“What?” He laughed back, his eyes twinkling warmly. Your heart melted at the sight and you leaned in to kiss him, uncaring that you both may fall backwards and break your necks. 

“I may have forgotten about the amount of stairs in this goddamn house,” he panted lightly once you’d made it past the first set. 

“Put me down then,” you giggled. 

“Never,” he sang out, pecking you on the mouth sweetly. 

Once in his bedroom, he placed you down, closing the door behind you before caging you against it, kissing you like he hadn’t seen you for months. You keened into his touch, whole body hot and ready for him, but in the end you couldn’t keep up with his mouth. He’d never kissed you like this, he was a man possessed, you physically felt weak at the knees and you clung to him, moaning softly when his mouth fell to your neck. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he confessed against the wet skin, fresh waves of arousal washing through your body. His voice was an octave lower, gruff and nothing like you’d heard before. “I can’t contain myself knowing we’re going to be alone for a whole week.” 

“What do you plan on doing to me?” You laughed weakly, but to be honest, the time for wisecracks were gone. You were hanging on by a thread, this close to begging him to tear your clothes off. 

Cupping your neck he pulled away to look you in the face. His pupils were blown out, more black than the warm brown you were used to. The tops of his cheeks were tinged red, his own arousal very evident, and when he replied he sounded as sincere as ever. “Anything you want me to.” 

Okay, if he carried on like this, he’d mess up your plan good and proper. He was rude. Very rude. And hot, and sexy, and yours. God, you really wanted him. Your body was screaming for him. You pressed a kiss to his mouth, and then another, and another, determined not to get yourself glued there no matter how much he tried to drag his tongue along the seam of your lips. “L-let me freshen up,” you managed to get out, voice shaky as you (with great difficultly) held him away at arm’s length.  

At your words, he slowly made sense of them, his eyes refocussing before he gave you a short nod and politely stepped back. “Ok.” 

Before you could be tempted by that mouth of his once more, you made a dash for his bathroom, closing the door behind you. Immediately you began to rush out of your clothes, not even bothering to fold them properly because you were in such a hurry. You’d had this planned all night, wanting him to be rendered speechless, and staring at your lingerie cladded self in the giant mirror he had hooked to the wall, you reminded yourself to take a breather. You were going to walk out there calmly, the epitome of composed as you sought out his reaction. With one last look at your reflection, you walked towards the door and opened it. 

Seokjin was sat on the edge of the bed, legs sinfully spread (but oh so casually, which just made it hotter), but he wasn’t looking your way, his eyes darting around the room a little as if he was desperately trying to find some patience. Knowing he was riled and aroused made your head even more dizzy, and stopping by the doorframe, you called out to him. 

He looked your way instantly, eyes bulging even quicker. Actually they practically popped out on storks as he took in the sight of you in the baby blue underwear. He seemed paralysed. 

“Hey,” you smiled, all of a sudden feeling a little shy as you waited for him to say something. 

It took another moment, but then he was swallowing hard, wetting his mouth as his lips parted. “Oh, shit.” 

You smiled victoriously, those simple two words satisfying you fully. 

He outstretched his hand, voice thick and raspy as he beckoned you forward. “Come here.”

You obeyed, closing the distance between you quickly and Seokjin wasted no time clasping his hands around your hips as you stood in front of him, between his legs. If felt so good to finally have his hands on your bare skin. His touch was warm, soothing, but most of all, electrifying. Goosebumps spread as he dragged his fingers up and down your sides, his eyes drowning at the sight of you. 

“Do you like it? It’s not too much?” You asked, looking down at him. You glowed under his gaze. 

He lifted his head up, arching an eyebrow. “Do I like it? Is that supposed to be a genuine question?” He sounded just as baffled as he looked and it made you giggle. His fingers started to play with the thin waistband of your panties before delicately outlining the lace flower petals on your ass. The sensation made you shiver, and a small smile grew on his face as he watched you. “You look gorgeous.” He leaned forward, beginning to place small, gentle kisses on your abdomen and your skin rippled, butterflies appearing. “You’re beautiful.” He murmured, hot puffs of air hitting you, heating you up even more. 

You curled your hand in his hair, needing something to latch on to as you watched him mouth even more kisses along your flesh. The point of his tongue dipped into your navel scandalously, and as you gasped he looked up with his eyes and smirked, tongue now swirling invisible patterns along your stomach. The sight sent you a little gooey, legs feeling weak again as your heart thrummed inside your chest. 

“However… I was looking forward to undressing you…” He teased.

You teased right back. “You still have the lingerie.” 

He couldn’t handle that, growling quietly against your stomach, his hands rounding your ass to mould the flesh in his palms firmly. He’d soon tear the panties if he kept that up. Obviously the idea of stripping you naked sent him feral – something you’d remember well for this week. You yelped when you felt him sink his teeth into your hip bone, pulling him closer to your body by his hair, desperate for more. It was when you looked behind him, did you notice the pillar candles aflame on the two nightstands that sat either side of his bed. They weren’t burning before you’d entered the bathroom. You were sure of it. 

“Seokjin, did you light candles?” You asked without realising, changing the atmosphere slightly, but you didn’t mind too much, not when the image of Seokjin rushing to burn candles for the ~ambience~ was too damn adorable. 

He lifted from your skin, looking up at you. “Um, yeah.” He sounded a little awkward before he chuckled softly. “I thought against the slow R&B music.” 

“Good choice,” you laughed, fingers rubbing small circles into the nape of his neck. That would’ve been hilarious. 

“I’m totally out of my depth here…” He admitted, nudging you backwards a little to stand in front of you. He kept his hands on your waist, ducking down to be eye level with you. “I haven’t done this in a while.” 

“Snap,” you grinned, rubbing your nose against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close. You kissed him deeply, feeling happy and relaxed. There wasn’t a nerve in sight and despite his honest words you knew he was at ease too.  

Your hands slipped over his shoulders and down his toned chest, stopping just before the waistband of his pants to tug at his t-shirt, untucking him. “You have to get naked too.” You whined, detaching your mouths. “I’m feeling sorely underdressed.” 

He let out an airy chuckle, immediately reaching for the neck of his shirt to tug it over his head. Your hands greedily started to explore his torso, running your fingers along his faintly lined abs before trailing up his hard chest. He shivered as you brushed against his nipples, a tiny laugh slipping from his throat. 

“What?” You laughed. 

“’Tickles.” He mumbled, leaning in for another kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, loving the feeling of his bare chest against yours, but soon enough you got impatient again, hands reaching for the button of his pants. You popped it open and proceeded to unzip him, at least giving his poor erection some reprieve. It had been pressed up against your lower stomach for quite some time, still rigid but as patient as ever. 

He took over, stepping back to push them past his hips, his lips still attached to yours. “Mm–Bed.” He hummed, taking you by the hips to switch places. You pulled away and sat down, watching him kick his pants off his feet and your eyes zoned in on the curve of his erection, hidden by his Armani underwear – black with a red waistband. His thighs were perfectly toned, his skim glowing in the soft lighting. He looked good enough to eat and your heart skipped a couple of beats as he walked forward. 

You laid back against the mattress, instantly groaning at how soft it was. You practically sunk inside. “Oh, damn this is comfy.” Rolling onto your side as Seokjin climbed on the bed, you hid your smirk. “I could just go to sleep…” 

“I don’t think so,” he told you, hovering over you. His hand smacked you ass causing you to squeal, and you flipped onto your back as he took the moment to cage you under his large body. 

This time his mouth completely bypassed your lips to kiss your chest, pressing into the indents of your collarbones before slipping to the tops of your breasts. He kissed the fabric, wetting it as his tongue traced the delicate flower petals and you gripped onto his shoulders with a moan as he encased one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, soaking the lace a darker shade of blue. “You drive me crazy,” he quietly panted, his hands reaching behind your back, arched into the pleasure he was giving you. “May I?” He asked, fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You nodded hastily, moaning louder when he lifted his head to kiss your lips. His motions were firm, tight pleasure filled grunts leaving him as he freed you of your lingerie. 

Immediately he pulled away, dark eyes soaking in your bare chest like it was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen. Your back arched further when his warm palms cupped your breasts, spreading a heat down your spine that settled between your legs. “You’re beautiful,” he awed, looking into your eyes, causing a sweet moan to fall from your lips. 

He moulded the soft flesh gently, before brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. That had you moaning again, pleasure you hadn’t felt in a long time rocketing up your body. It felt amazing to be touched by him, and you were greedy for more. He was on the same page, his lips replacing his thumbs, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud that had you sighing out his name, your fingers threaded in his hair. He hummed against you, squeezing your breasts and pressing his body into yours – once – his erection pressing into your thighs, before he pulled away, kissing down your sternum before licking into your navel, his hands rubbing up and down the outside of your thighs. 

His lips avoided your clothed heat, which was frustrating to say the least. You were so eager by now, unsure if you could take much more kissing before you exploded, but Seokjin was a man determined – determined on kissing every inch of your body it seemed. He made it down one thigh before moving onto the next and as he got towards your knee you couldn’t help but giggle – it was beginning to tickle, but he didn’t stop, lips pressing down your calf.  

“Seokjinn,” you whined. 

He chuckled as he made his way back up the other leg, bending you at the knee before gently getting you to spread out for him. “What?” He murmured. Although you were distracted now, realising how aroused you had become, your underwear clinging to you desperately. He was kissing the inside of your thigh now, fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and he was so close to where you wanted him you were trembling. He nosed his way to the apex of your thigh, groaning as he smelt you and then he was hastily tugging the lace down your legs, the last of your covering. Now you were totally naked in front of him, and he looked like he wanted to eat you up. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, voice gruff. He sounded so sexy. His eyes were glued to your centre yet he didn’t touch. When you didn’t reply, they flickered to your face. “Y/N. Hm?” 

You mind was a blur, you couldn’t think what to say, mainly because you wanted him to do anything and everything to you. You startled when he nosed the inside of your thigh, his hands sliding down your hips to grip the flesh underneath. “Taste you? Is that what you want?” He whispered, sending your insides somersaulting. He looked up as you nodded, and grinned. “You have to say it out loud, honey.” 

The bastard. He was teasing you. Trying to get under your skin. Your forced yourself to speak. “Taste me.” He hummed in response, pressing his mouth to your hip bone. You raised your tone, more determined. “Seokjin. Taste me.” 

He dived in. Placing gentle kisses up your slit, his lips ever so slightly brushing your clitoris. You moaned quietly, letting your eyes close as you laid back against the softest pillows you had ever felt. Your fists clutched the sheets, hips raising up when you felt the first wash of his tongue. Your breath caught, warmth turning you gooey. “Taste so good,” he mumbled into you – so quietly you wondered if you’d imagined it. 

You enjoyed the sensation for a few moments, quietly moaning intermittently before you felt the urge to take a peek. Opening your eyes and looking down your body, you saw Seokjin watching you, his eyes hungry. You quickly looked away, the back of your hand coming up to cover your mouth as a groan left you, your legs falling wider apart. The scene had been erotic but in all honesty you were feeling a little shy. It had been a long time since you’d had sex, so the idea of someone watching you so intimately made you feel funny. 

Seokjin was there to reassure you though. “Don’t look away, Y/N,” he murmured, pulling back to get your attention. “I want to see your face.” You looked again, watching him kneel low as he ran a hand up your thigh. His lips shone with your arousal. He looked beautiful. 

You moaned lowly when you felt him rub a finger at your entrance, and he watched you intently as he pushed inside, feeling you squeeze around the intrusion. He slowly began to curve the digit, pressing against your inner walls. Committed to pleasuring you, he watched your every reaction and this time you didn’t look away. 

“Does it feel good?” He asked, in awe as you writhed around on the bed, chasing the feeling. 

You moaned as you replied yes, only to jerk upwards when his thumb began to rub tiny circles against your clit. “Seokjin!” 

He liked that. Hearing you cry his name. He wanted to hear it more, dropping low to replace his thumb with his lips. He sucked the sensitive bud of nerves between them, flicking the tip of his tongue against it rapidly, earning him another cry, and he moaned gruffly against you, the vibrations shooting up your body. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, palm hot against your skin as he applied gentle pressure, holding you down. 

Oh god, you were a mass of pleasure, mind addled, unable to think straight. Not when he was making you feel so good. He slipped a second finger inside of you, his eyes flicking up to yours and you made it your life’s mission not to look away, chest heaving up and down as you squeezed around his digits. Your orgasm was building, pressure below getting harder to control – harder to ignore. Seokjin guessed it, breaking eye contact to bury his face further into your heat. The image was almost crude, so were the noises, but the most beautiful kind of crude. A crude that had you desperate for more. You jerked into him, rolling into each snap of his wrist, the pads of his fingers grazing your g-spot. 

“Want to make you cum,” he rasped, before sucking your clit back into his mouth and sucking determinedly. You groaned, head flinging back into the pillow, eyes clenched closed, a hand coming out to grip the roots of your hair as you rolled your hips into his face, giving into the pleasure well and truly. This orgasm was going to blow your brains out – and it did. 

In the end you had you to clamp your legs around Seokjin’s head in a bid to get him to stop, pleasure still rolling through your body as you panted like crazy. He eased from your clit, tongue dragging down your folds instead, meeting his fingers that were almost locked inside of your pulsing walls. With a grunt, he removed himself, kissing your mound one last time before he stopped. With his hands on your thighs as he kneeled between them, he watched you adoringly. 

“Oh, my god,” you panted weakly. Unsure what else you could say to describe what you’d just experienced. Why had he not been doing that from the get-go? From as soon as he’d reversed into your car?! 

That was all he needed anyway, your simple vocalisation, because no sooner had the words exited your mouth, he dived on you, kissing your mouth, your cheeks, your eyes, your forehead – whatever he could reach. “You’re amazing,” he gushed, his lips and chin still glistening with your wetness. You could taste yourself on him. It was glorious. His hands roamed your body like it was all new to him. As if he hadn’t been it for the last forty minutes or so. “Fuck. I can’t stop touching you.”

Your stomach flipped around, the sound of him cursing sending you dizzy. You licked into his mouth, kissing him messily, your hands raking up and down his back, before they settled on his ass. You gave the meat a squeeze and he grunted, pushing his crotch into yours. He was painfully hard – and desperate. (You hadn’t missed the way he’d been rutting into the mattress while going down on you…)

“Seokjin,” you breathed, moving your head to the side to get your words out. His tongue carried on going, swirling across your cheek. You liked getting messy with him. You tugged at his underwear. “Get naked. Need you.” 

“You don’t need a minute?” He asked, tongue now in your ear. He gyrated his hips into yours, grunting as he did so. 

You shook your head. “Like hell I do.” 

He laughed at that – breathlessly, but it was something. He moved, rushing out of the last bit of clothing he had on, and your eyes drunk up the sight. The missing piece. His dick was long and thick – smooth and warm once you got your hands on him. Hovering over you, you ran your fist up and down him steadily, just enjoying getting to touch him. He dropped to your side, pecking your lips before he pulled back.  “I need to be inside you.” 

You continued to touch him, running your fingers along the rigid flesh as he stretched behind him to pull a box from the nightstand drawer. 

It caught your attention right away. You raised both eyebrows as you let go of his length. “A hundred condoms?” 

He chuckled, sounding a little sheepish. “Too enthusiastic?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Death by (Dilf) dick wasn’t how you’d expected to go, if you were being honest. 

“Not particularly,” he shrugged, pulling one of the packet. (Discarding the box to the floor.) He turned back to you with an impish grin. “That’s why I bought the bumper pack of condoms.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest, but he grabbed your hand and kissed you, distracting you successfully. “No, if I’m being truthful,” he continued, letting you steal another kiss. “They were better value for money. I’m partial to a bargain.” 

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed. 

“You should’ve seen me purchasing them, I have never been more embarrassed in my life.” 

“Seokjin, you’re a near 40 year old man,” you judged openly, however on second thoughts – “But yeah, I’d be embarrassed buying a 100 condoms too.” 

Seokjin shuddered, looking mortified. “Just the thought of the cashier knowing I was going to get lucky…” 

You arched an eyebrow. “Get lucky?”

He looked comically caught out, eyes wide for a second before he shook his head. “Less talking now…” And then he was kissing you again…

Between rushed mouths and eager hands, he managed to tear the condom packet, pulling out the latex to slip it over his erection. Kneeling over you, you could see perfectly when he attempted to roll it the wrong way up.  “Oh, shit. Ignore that,” he muttered, fixing it immediately. 

You stifled a laugh. “Ignored.” 

He gave himself a tug, making sure everything was secure and your mouth practically watered. “Just warning you now, this may be a three pumps and Bam! kinda thing,” he informed you as he laid over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I am so turned on.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I don’t mind. Just want you.” 

“I want you more.” He rubbed his nose against yours. 

Hitting his ass, you shot him a look. “It’s not a competition.” 

“Isn’t it?” He asked, pretending to be confused. 

“Quit stalling,” you whined. “Let’s have sex.” 

“Let’s,” he agreed with a warm smile. You turned gooey instantly. 

Pressing his knees to the mattress, he hovered over you, wrapping his hand around his dick to direct it between your legs. He rubbed the length up and down your slit, flesh heavy and hot, coating himself in your arousal. The sensation was good for you, but for him it seemed to blow his mind, eyes practically rolling back into his skull as he grunted. He stopped at your entrance, looking up at you as he slowly pushed the head inside. 

You shifted under him, trying to stay patient. You wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of him, but realistically you needed to take things slow. You held onto his shoulders, silently telling him to continue. He let out a strained groan as he slipped in deeper, your walls snug and hot around him, begging him for more. Inch by glorious inch, you kept on taking him, until you were filled up just right. 

“Shit,” you uttered, looking up at the ceiling as you adjusted to the sensation. 

“Was that a curse?” He asked, voice tight but greatly amused as he nosed your throat. 

“Hardly.” Your voice was barely there, desperate for him to move. 

“I’d still class it as swearing.” He was holding his breath, yet still felt the need to be a smarty-pants. You moved your hips practically a centimetre and he grunted. He didn’t want you to win though. “I want more. Maybe not tonight, but I will turn your mouth filthy by the end of the week…”

A moan tore from your throat uncontrollably, and you couldn’t look at his face because you knew you’d be met with a gloating smirk. You steeled yourself, nose in the air. “Game on.” 

Seokjin laughed obnoxiously, but couldn’t wait any longer, slowly dragging out of you and then pushing back in. His breath hitched – so did yours, and he carried on, propping himself up with one hand as he gained a steady rhythm. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned, watching your face. 

“You too.” You clung to him, feeling your face heat up and ended up dropping your gaze. 

“Honey, don’t be shy,” he whined, reaching to cup your face, in the process pressing more of his body weight into you. You clutched him tighter, wanting him as close as ever. “I like watching you. Knowing I’m making you feel good.” His mouth on yours now, you sunk into the kiss, moaning softly as his thrusts got quicker. You met each one, rolling into him. 

It wasn’t long before he was on your throat, kissing and nipping the skin, his hands exploring the rest of your body. Your ran your fingers through his hair, sighing sweety when his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, slipping the hard flesh into his mouth to suck. 

Face pressed against your chest, his movements became a little erratic, breathing heavy until he was panting. You moaned along, loving how he was making you feel. “You are honestly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He awed, voice raspy. 

You let out a weak chuckle, running your fingers through the ends of his hair. “Of course you would say that with a face full of my boobs.” 

He laughed too, kissing his way back up your chest, his hands pressing into the pillow as he leaned in for your mouth. You stared at one another for a little while, your moans mingling together, and it was the most intimate moment you’d ever shared with anyone. 

“Good?” He asked. You were unsure if he was asking how you were or if you were enjoying yourself, but regardless, the answer was the same. 

“Really good,” you smiled, running your hand down his chest. 

His thrust were getting messier, less controlled, less strategic, so it was no surprise when he had a confession to tell you, kissing you once again. “I’m-I’m… close.” 

He’d exceeded the predicted three pumps at least… “Hey, you can go a little harder,” you whispered against his mouth. 

He grunted, slacking at your words but quickly got a hold of himself. Each snap of his hips got firmer and harsher, fucking – because there was no other way to describe it – you into the expensive bed. Your cries of pleasure came out stunted and unsteady, his own grunts louder now, gruffer as he chased his end. 

“Seokjin –!” Your hands fell to his ass, holding him tight as he pounded into you. “Don’t stop,” you encouraged, which seemed to tip him over the edge – quickly. 

“Fuck. Coming…”” His face fell into the crook of your neck, panting as he tried to keep moving, and then he froze, his body hot, partly sweaty, a long drawn-out groan sounding against your ear as he came. 

You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him to you because in all honesty, you didn’t want to let him go. You could feel his heart beating against your chest rapidly, even after he’d partially caught his breath, and you knew yours was beating just as fast. You kissed his shoulder when he kissed yours, and slowly he lifted his head, turning to give you a drunken smile. He sighed contently. “That honestly beats any orgasm I’ve ever given myself lately.” 

“I should hope so!” You burst out laughing, not quite expecting those to be his first words and he immediately joined you before hugging you tight. 

.

.

You awoke naturally, light from outside peeking through the loosely closed drapes. Seokjin had his arm around you, his body curved into yours, and you could tell by his breathing he was still very much sound asleep. Proving your point, he grunted softly, rolling onto his back, his grip on you loosening. Carefully, you turned around to face him, taking in the sight of his sleeping form. His lips seemed to be pouted, eyebrows furrowed slightly – of course he had an adorable sleeping face. Of fricking course. 

The bed sheets were pushed down, draped across his pelvis, one hip sticking out, while his broad chest and toned stomach laid bare. You found yourself smiling, insanely happy, wondering if you’d been a saint in a past lifetime – you had to have been. How else had you hit the jackpot? A kind-hearted, beautiful man with a banging body? You’d struck big. 

Wanting to leave him sleep longer, you got up quietly, needing to pee, not worrying that you were butt naked, and as you left the bathroom, you moved to the closet (room) to fish for your phone in your purse. You’d left it there all evening yesterday, not wanting to be interrupted, and low and behold you had a bunch of notifications waiting for you on the screen. You got back into bed, getting comfy before you scrolled through them. Most were unimportant, news updates and social media notifications. You had a text from your mom reminding you to call your grandmother soon, one reminder regarding your phone bill going out tomorrow and then, from half an hour ago, a text message from your best friend. Why the hell was she up so early on a Sunday?! 

Soojung (8:32am) Spill the details girl! How was Mr. Dilf 🥵👨🏻🍆💦 

You snorted, pretty loudly, couldn’t help it, and when you realised you shoved a hand over your mouth, hoping you hadn’t woken your boyfriend (yes, it felt so good to finally use that word) up. You glanced over, but his eyes were still shut, a peaceful look on his face, so with a relieved inner sigh, you went back to your phone, wondering how you should reply. You had quite a lot to say, messaging her “the details” wouldn’t work. Maybe you could give her a summary? Until tomorrow when you could call her while Seokjin was at work. Maybe you could meet her for lunch. And who knew, you’d probably have more to tell her come then –

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

You jumped when you heard Seokjin’s voice, his arm wrapping around you once more as he snuggled closer, encasing you in his body warmth. 

“Seokjin,” you greeted, instantly shoving your phone onto the nightstand, face down. “Good morning.” 

“Mmm.” He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, burrowing his arm under the covers to touch your skin, hand cupping your waist. He was still sleepy, voice groggy. You settled into his hold, closing your eyes. With a kiss to the top of your shoulder, he spoke again.  “What were you snorting at?”

Your eyes immediately flew open. He’d heard that? “Nothing,” you tried to reply casually. 

He laughed, the throaty sound shooting up your body, leaving warmth in its wake. “Come on, something made you laugh.” He lifted his head, looking at you pointedly, plump lips pressed together, mouth curving up slightly. “You have to share, it’ll be rude not to.” 

It took you a second to give in. “Fine.” It was probably time to let him know anyway. Soojung might try to kill you, but she couldn’t get you if you were gated in at Seokjin’s home…  You reached for your phone and flashed the screen on, holding it out to him. “Soojung’s an idiot,” you sighed. 

He delicately held the back of your hand, steadying the device so he could read the messages. A second later he was deeply amused, lips quirking before he let out a little laugh. “Has that been my nickname the entire time?” 

“Maybe…” Amongst other things… They could wait till later though. 

He hummed, trying to keep his expression casual, but you could tell by his eyes how amused (and smug) he was. “The emojis add a nice touch.” 

You rolled your eyes, about to tell him to shut up, but immediately his lips were pressed against yours. He kissed you sweetly – which was all just an act. When he pulled away, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, tone arrogant. “So… how was Mr. Dilf?”

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed. This couldn’t be happening. He was just as bad as Soo and Taehyung. 

Laughing loudly, he kissed you again, caging you under him smoothly. Your hands reached for his biceps, feeling them flex underneath you. “Was it good enough for a round two? Don’t expect me to keep my hands off you,” he told you, his fingers tickling your stomach as his face fell to your neck, kissing and biting the skin. 

You began to laugh, squirming under him, but no matter how much you tried to free yourself it was impossible. “Stop,” you whined. “Seokjin, you’re tickling me!” He eased off with the tickling but his mouth only seemed to ramp up, his tongue licking up your throat. “You’re so sexy,” he groaned, meeting your gaze, and instantly laughed. “I love embarrassing you.” 

You grumbled, realising you’d started to blush. “I’m not embarrassed,” you insisted. “I’m turned on.” Two could play at that game. Seokjin’s eyes widened comically, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

“Yeah?” He murmured, getting a hold of himself, mouth ghosting over yours. You nodded, dragging your hands down his back to settle on his ass. You could feel his dick rousing between your thighs. It was so easy to get him. He was like putty in your hands. 

“You’re okay though, mm?” He asked, tone softening as he stared into your eyes. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“I thought that was obvious,” you informed him, but his tenderness didn’t go ignored. God, you were really lucky. “I feel so happy,” you grinned, moving to clasp your arms around his neck. He grinned too, teeth on show, and then you couldn’t hold off any longer, kissing him eagerly.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, after you’d just licked a strip up his jaw line. His hands clung to hips. “I want you in so many ways.” 

You gave him a dangerous smirk. “We have all week, I’m sure you’ll be successful.” 

Groaning, he seemed beside himself, skin hot and sweaty, his hair dishevelled, falling into his eyes, cheeks patched red. Finally, he settled on a decision. “Would you like to shower with me?”

“Okay,” you replied instantly, your excitement already tenfold, and suddenly you were in his arms, rising off the bed to be carried (naked) bridle style to the bathroom. “Seokjin!” You squealed, clinging onto him tightly, but all he did was laugh. You could get used to this. 

His walk-in shower was grand, practically a separate wet room – two glass doors leading inside and a marbled tiled bench to the left with two panelled windows behind it. There were two showerheads – one large one attached to the ceiling and the other jutting out from the wall. Seokjin chose the centre one, knocking it on and enclosing you both in hot water. Warmth radiated from beneath your feet too – heated flooring, of course. 

You spent the next ten minutes wrapped together kissing, hands exploring one another’s soapy bodies. It wasn’t long before there was a very obvious erection bobbing against your stomach. “Someone says hello again,” Seokjin hummed against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before he broke away and chuckled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been the cause of many an awkward boner.” 

You laughed, hooking one arm around his neck. “I noticed.” Your other hand wrapped around his dick, the wetness of his skin making it easy to glide your fist along the veiny shaft. You gazed up at him, admiring the way he’d pushed his wet hair above his forehead. He looked incredibly handsome – so handsome, you were finding it hard to control yourself. “Was this one of your ways?” You murmured. 

“Maybe,” he said with a smile, huffing out a little when your thumb grazed the sensitive slit across the head of his member. 

“I have a better idea…” You whispered, pushing a little at his chest. “Sit.” 

He obeyed, sitting on the bench while watching you wordlessly (but curiously), his eyes flashing when you moved to kneel in front of him. “Fuck,” he muttered, dick twitching in anticipation. You took him in your fist again, feeling oddly confident as you flicked out your tongue. It had been a long time since you’d sucked dick but you were more than ready. 

You washed your tongue across the head, hearing him grunt above you, and encouraged, you took him in your mouth, sucking firmly around the tip. His hands instantly reached for your head, fingers carding through your hair. He groaned lowly, thighs tense, but when you started to jerk your fist along his shaft, he relaxed into the pleasure, murmuring your name. 

“Okay, this idea seems better than mine,” he admitted, voice tight. 

You hummed in agreement, vibrations travelling up his length which made him groan, fingers in your hair tightening. Taking him deeper, you washed and swirled your tongue as best you could around the thick flesh. Seokjin’s length was impressive, but you had all week to grow accustomed to it, for now, you had your hand, continuing to stimulate him with both that and your mouth. The water from the shower hit your back and calves, the heat beneath you making sure you didn’t grow cold. 

“Should we go back to the bedroom?” Seokjin asked, sounding concerned, despite how good you were making him feel. A hand ran down your back soothingly. “Your knees will start aching.” 

Pulling off him, a string of saliva that attached you breaking apart, you shook your head and ran your palm all the way up his length, twisting against the tip. He bucked into your hold. “It’ll be worth it.” 

Seokjin let out a low growl, eyes dark. “Don’t say things like that.” 

You smirked, spreading your saliva up and down him slowly before speeding up, concentrating on the head. Seokjin’s mouth was open, his breathing shallow, chest littered with red blotches, making it painfully obvious how aroused he was. You wanted to run your hands all over the muscular torso, mouth too – but that could wait. First of all, you wanted to make him cum. 

“You have a pretty big dick. Has anyone ever told you that?” You purred, eyes flicking down to his crotch. 

Seokjin grinned confidently, the hand in his hair reaching to cup your cheek. “You seemed to handle it very well last night.” 

Oh. Heat exploded through your body, settling between your legs, and you took him back in your mouth, a hiss leaving his throat. He tapped your chin, gaining your attention. “Y/N, look at me,” he commanded softly. 

And you did. You watched every bit of pleasure that flitted across his face as you continued to suck his dick, never breaking eye contact, even when he did; eyelids closed, face scrunched up as he came down your throat a few minutes later…

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[waitimcomingtoo]

Lovestruck and Lipstick Stained

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

synopsis: you and Tom don’t feel entirely out of characters after playing lovers in the MCU

thank you to @snowrosestonight​ for the idea!

Masterlist

“Well hey there Spiderman.”

You walked up to Tom at one of the many photoshoots of the press tour with a cheeky smile. He was dressed in his suit, a sight you had grown to love very dearly. Your time as Gwen Stacy in the MCU had been incredibly memorable, all thanks to Tom.

“Hey yourself.” Tom folded his arms and clocked your outfit, a white t shirt with Spider-Man’s mask in the shape of a heart and skin tight jeans. “Nice jeans. I think I can see the spare change in your pocket.”

You looked down at your jeans and pointed your foot, flexing the cherry red heels they’d put you in and laughed.

“I’m sure they’re no tighter than the suit. And at least I can go to the bathroom without a team to help me.” You teased him as you poked out your tongue.

“Don’t disrespect the suit.” Tom pretended to be insulted. “I recall saving your life a few times in it.”

“I mean no disrespect. Honestly, I never get tired of seeing you in that suit. It’s like a rush of endorphins every time.” You chuckled as you ran your fingertips down his arm. Tom couldn’t feel it through his many layers of material, but the act alone sent shivers down his spine.

“That’s how I felt when I saw that T-Shirt. Seriously, did they mold that to your body?” He teased as he eyed your ridiculously tight shirt. It was a classic look MJ had worn in the comics, and the wardrobe department wanted to pay homage to it. You had felt a little self conscious with the form fitting the ensemble was, but Toms comments had taken the edge off.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” You shrugged playfully.

“Well you look amazing, darling. You should wear this more often.” Tom complimented as his eyes took their time going down your body. You stepped closer to him and fixed some stray hairs of his that had fallen out of place.

“You know, I just might.” You smiled as you touched up his hair. A content smile rested on Toms lips as comfortable silence settled between you.

“Are you two ready to go?” A set assistant came up to you, taking your attention away from each other.

“I think we are.” You answered for Tom and yourself.

“Let’s get started.”

You were lead onto set and given a mark to stand on. The flash of the camera wasn’t something you were used to yet, but having Tom directly at your side calmed your nerves.

You popped one of your legs up and gave the camera a sultry smile as you clung to Tom. There was a wind machine blowing your hair back as you posed, only adding to the magic. You switched up your face and position but never took your hands off Tom, and he did the same.

“Tom, can you put your hand in Y/n’s back pocket?” One of the photographers asked between shots.

“Is that okay with you?” Tom asked quietly, so only you could hear as he looked at you for permission.

“I prefer it.” You told him as you gave his face a once over. Tom smirked and held your gaze as he slid his hand into your back pocket, letting the cameras capture it. You winked at him before turning your attention back to the photographer, posing for a few more minutes before you took a break.

“Everyone take five. Great work guys.” The photographer smiled at the two of you before walking off set. You slowly untangled yourself from Tom, chuckling shyly as he slid his hand out of your pocket.

“That wasn’t too hard.” You joked as you walked towards your chairs on the set. Four women immediately came over to touch up your hair and makeup as you and Tom spoke.

“Hard? Looking pretty is my day job.” Tom scoffed and pretended to flip hair over his shoulder.

“And looking like I’m in love with you is mine.” You tweaked an eyebrows as someone fixed your hair.

“You do it so well.” Tom boasted. “Best I’ve ever seen, really.”

“Well, you know. I get lots of practice.” You shrugged casually. “And when looking at such a pretty face, it’s not that hard to look in love.” You teased him as you squished his cheeks. Tom laughed and pushed you off, smiling in gratitude at the hair and makeup people as they left.

“I, uh, I got pretty familiar with your back pocket today.” Tom said, keeping his yes down as he took a step towards you.

“Yeah.” You looked away as you felt your cheeks flush. “Not many get to say they’ve had that experience.”

“I better thank my lucky stars then, huh?” Tom folded his arms, giving you a cocky smile. You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes at him, not wanting him to get the upper hand.

“Yeah.” You spike softly, your breath fanning his face. “You better.”

With his chest touching yours now, Tom opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the set assistant.

“Are you guys ready to continue?” He asked, not realizing what he was interrupting. You and Tom shared own last look, heavy with disappointment, as you stepped away from each other and nodded.

“You got the lipstick, right?” He asked you. You looked at Tom in confusion, only to find him a blushing mess.

“Lipstick?” You asked.

“You’re gonna cover Tom’s face in lipstick stains for the second half of the photo shoot.” The assistant informed you, and you immediately understood the blush. Your cheeks flames up in a crimson of their own as you realized you’d have to kiss your best friend again after so many months without it.

“I got it.” Tom bashfully held up tube of red lipstick, avoiding eye contact with you. You stared at the tube, your mind drifting back to the long days on set where you and Tom, or Peter and Gwen, would kiss for hours until you got the perfect take.

“Awesome. Do you need any help Y/n?” The assistant asked you, snapping you out of your daze. You blinked a few times as you came back to reality and shook your head.

“I think I can manage.” You squeaked.

“Great. See you guys in a few.”

The assistant left you alone to get ready, a nervous flutter going through you as he left.

“Did you know about this?” You eyed Tom skeptically as you took the tube of lipstick from him.

“Oh, darling.” Tom snorted. “It was my idea.”

Your jaw dropped as he shrugged smugly and gave him a playful shove.

“You don’t quit, do you?” You clicked your tongue as you opened the lipstick, begging to apply it in the mirror as you held eye contact with him.

“No I do not.” He said proudly as he took a seat in his chair. “You said my face was pretty, right? Come make it even prettier.”

Tom beckoned you over with his fingers, making you gulp as you finished putting on your lipstick.

“Okay.” You waltzed over you him, dragging your finger along the side of your mouth to clean up the line. You put a knee between Toms legs and propped yourself up, leaning over him as you leaned your hands on each of his armrests.

“I think I’ll put one here.” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Here.” Corner of the mouth.

“Both cheeks.” You narrated in a hushed tone as you pressed a kiss to either sides of his face. You could feel how hot his skin was under your lips, and it made you smile.

“This is already my favorite photo shoot.” Tom chuckled as you reapplied your lipstick and placed kisses along his hairline.

“Me too.” You mumbled before covering his neck and jawline in the red lipstick stains. After his neck was decently covered, you leaned back to admire your work. Tom looked at you with heavy eyelids, swimming in bliss as he drummed his fingers on your hips.

“One more.” You decided. “To top it off.”

You leaned in and placed a searing kiss to his lips, leaving a bright red mark in your wake.

“Good call.” Tom gave you a dopey smile one you pulled away.

“Come on.” You got up and took his hand. “Let’s go get our picture taken.”

~

“Wait, look.” You stopped walking to your hotel on your way back from the photoshoot when a certain building caught your eye. Tom stopped with you, as your arm had been linked through his.

“What are we looking at? A tattoo shop?” He looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I was thinking of getting one to commemorate my time as Gwen Stacy.” You admitted as you shyly scratched behind your ear.

“What did you want to get?”

“Nothing crazy or anything.” You shrugged. “I just want something small to represent my role.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Tom asked as you walked inside the shop.

“About a million.” You chuckled. “That’s my problem. I can’t decide.”

“Well what’s your favorite scene?” He asked you as he browsed the artwork on the walls of the shop.

“I like when Peter sets up a picnic on the giant web. It’s my favorite scene visually and I, uh, I liked shooting it.” You looked at him timidly through your lashes. It was a great day on set, getting to cuddle into Toms side for eight hours straight. It held fond memories for the both of you.

“So there you go.” Tom half smiled. “Get a web.”

“You think I should?” You wanted his approval before you went through with anything.

“Yeah. You know how I know it’s the right move?” He raises his eyebrows.

“How?”

“That’s my favorite scene too.” He winked at you and pulled you towards the reception desk.

“Then I’ll do it.” You decided. “Under one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to do it.” You told him.

“Darling, I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.” He warned you.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “You were my partner in this and if it’s gonna be on my body forever, I want you to do it. It has to be you.”

“I would be honored, love.” Tom smiled softly. “Just remember how much you love me as your partner when it turns out horrible.”

“That will just add to the charm.” You shrugged it off, feeling confident in your decision.

“Are you sure they’ll let me do it on you?” He wondered as the receptionist came to the desk.

“We’re celebrities. They’ll let us do anything.” You laughed before explaining what you wanted done. Within thirty minutes, you were in a chair with Tom at your side. He was armed with a tattoo gun, bouncing his leg nervously as someone else loaded it with ink.

“I need both hands to do this, so you’ll have to squeeze my knee instead if it hurts.” Tom said sympathetically, wishing he could hold your hand to ease your pain.

“Okay. Try to be gentle.” You braced yourself, already squeezing his knee out of fear.

“Right. I’ll just use the gentle setting on the gun.” Tom replied sarcastically, your laughter replacing your fear.

“Just shut up and do me.” You covered your eyes with your hands and turned away.

“Oh? Someones feeling romantic.” Tom poked fun at your accidental innuendo.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whined.

“Sure you didn’t, darling. Are you okay to start?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just do it.” You gulped and squeezes your eyes shut as Tom began to freehand a web. There was an actual tattoo artist beside him, instructing him on what to do as he worked. The pain wasn’t as bad as you thought it was, but it didn’t feel great either. You squeezed his knee for an hour straight until you heard the relieving words.

“All done.” Tom said proudly as the buzzing from the gun stopped.

“Is my arm still there?” You asked, still facing away.

“It’s still there, love.” Tom chuckled as he wiped it down. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Yeah.” You beamed as Tom helped you sit up. You excitedly held out your arm. You looked at your tattoo and felt the air get knocked out of your lungs.

“Tom.” You mumbled as you stared at the tattoo.

“Do you like it?” He asked hopefully, staring at your face to read your reaction.

“It’s horrible.” You stared as you gaped at the misshapen web Tom had permanently put on your body. Toms heart stopped when he discovered that you didn’t like it.

“Darling, I’m sorry.” He apologized sincerely. “I told you I wasn’t-“

“I love you.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “And I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Really?” He gasped.

“Thank you so much. It’s perfect.” You threw your other arm around him and hugged him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face.

“I’m glad I could help.” He smiled as he rubbed your back. “I’m definitely going to need a picture of my work.”

“Go ahead. The world deserves to see this masterpiece.” You beamed as Tom took out his phone. He went live on Instagram and held his phone up to his face.

“Guys, Y/n made a really bad decision and let me tattoo her. Wait, how do I flip the camera?” He looked at you for help as you laughed.

“Like this, sweetness.” You tapped his screen twice and held out your arm.

“Okay. Look at this. This is pretty good for my first time.” Tom praised himself as he took your arm and gently twisted it to show off the whole thing.

“I’m in love with it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You smiled gratefully as Tom panned the camera up to your face.

“The smile on your face right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at this girl. How cute is she?” Tom gushed as he squished your cheeks with his free hand.

“I’m just so happy. Look at my tattoo!” You happily held your arm out, absolutely in love with what he had done.

“It’s pretty shit.” Tom laughed at his crooked lines.

“Stop it!” You scolded him. “This is my favorite thing in the entire world right now. And forever.”

“I’m glad you like it. Just like how you guys are gonna like our movie.” He managed to turn the camera around to wink.

“You’re gonna love it. I love it and I’ve never seen it.” You came into view as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You heard the girl. Go see our movie.” Tom commanded as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you close.

“Out next week!” You chirped before he shut the camera off. You let a professional wrap the tattoo before you paid and left the shop. Tom held your hand as you walked down the street, his way of making up for not being able to hold it while you got the tattoo.

“Hey, speaking of the movie, we have the premier in a week and I haven’t picked an outfit.” Tom realized as you neared your hotel.

“Really? I picked my dress the day I was cast.” You joked, tugging Tom into the lobby.

“I fully believe you.” He laughed. “What are you wearing?”

“I have a picture. Here.” You handed him your phone as you got into an elevator. Tom looked at the picture of you in a floor length, off the shoulder, royal blue ball gown that you had taken in a fitting room. His jaw immediately dropped at the sight of you as his heart picked up speed.

“You look incredible. Can you send this to me?” He asked sweetly as he looked up from the phone.

“Sure, but it’s not even the whole look.” You laughed shyly as he gawked at you. “I’m gonna have hair, makeup, and heels on the day of the premier. Plus jewelry.”

“You’re forgetting the most important part.” He clicked his tongue.

“What’s that?”

“Me as your arm candy.” Tom winked at you and handed your phone back.

“How could I forget you? My partner.” You took his hand and squeezed it ostentatiously.

“You keep calling me that, and I kind of love it. I think of you as my partner too.” He said shyly as he played with your fingers.

“Then we should match at the premier. We can show everyone our partnership.” You said as the idea came to you.

“You’re wearing blue…”

“So you wear red.” You finished his sentence. “You’ve always looked good in red.”

“Done.” Tom decoded. “I’ll tell my stylist tomorrow.”

“Awesome.” You smiled as you got to your floor.

“Hey, darling?” Tom asked as you stepped off the elevator.

“Yes?” You stopped in the hallway so you could give him your full attention.

“Would you be my date to the premier?” He asked as his lips curved into a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded before you could form words.

“I would love too.” You told him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he rushed at you, picking you up and spinning you around as he hugged you tightly.

“Yes!” He cheered. “Everyones gonna be jealous of me.”

“Alright, alright.” You laughed as he set you down. “Save that energy for the premier.”

“Trust me darling, I will.” Tom grinned as he stood outside his hotel room, directly across from yours.

“Goodnight, idiot.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stood in your doorway.

“Goodnight Princess.” He blew you a kiss, making you groan. You went inside and shut your door, but Tom stayed out for a moment, looking at your door wistfully before going on himself.

~

“Are you all done?” You asked as you walked into Toms room while putting in your earring. It was the day of the premier and you had gotten ready in separate rooms like a bride and groom.

“Yeah I’m all…oh my God.” His sentence quickly changed course when he saw you. His jaw was slack as he gawkers at you, taking his time in taking you in.

“Do you like it?” A pink tint covered your face when you saw how star struck he was, making you look down shyly.

“What! What?!” Tom was still in awe as he looked you over, unable to believe how good you looked.

“Stop it. You look incredible.” You complimented him, and he did.

“You look so good!” He exclaimed. “Darling, you take my breath away.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Red is definitely your color.” You praised as he twirled you under his arm. His deep red suit perfectly complimented his skin tone and made him look extravagant, especially with the glasses he had opted for. Tom rested his hands on your shoulders and looked at you dress with a proud smile.

“I can’t get over you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The color blue was made just for you. You look ravishing, love. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as you pulled him into a hug. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but you both knew this was the last time you’d be together in this way. After tonight, the movie would be out and you’d no longer be on the press tour together. Because of this unspoken feat, the hug lingered a little longer than usually.

“You ready?” Tom asked as he rested his chin on your head.

“Ready.”

~

You walked out onto the red carpet together, hand in hand as the crowd roared. Tom kept one hand on your back as you stopped to pose for the cameras.

“We look like a couple.” He leaned down to say into your ear.

“A couple of besties.” You said without looking at him as you parted his chest. He tightened his grip on your waist as he continued smiling at the cameras.

“I hate you so much for saying that.” He laughed as he held you closer.

“Aw. But I love you.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The press cheered for you as you made your way down the carpet.

“Let’s do something different poses.” Tom suggested as you fixed your dress.

“Okay. Prom pose has to be first.” You said eagerly as you turned around. Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind and posed like you were going to prom.

“That was so stupid.” He shook his head with laughter as he let go of you.

“Here. Gaze lovingly into my eyes.” You instructed as you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Why?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he complied.

“So the fans can say “look at the way they look at each other” and swoon.” You laughed as you tugged on the lapel of his jacket. Tom rolled his eyes before placing his other hand on the small of your back and gazing, as you put it, lovingly into your eyes. You put your hand on his cheek to keep his face in place and let the paparazzi have a field day.

You walked a few places down the red carpet before getting into a new pose, this time wrapping your arms around his neck as he kept his arms around your waist.

“We look like the Twilight poster.” You whispered in his ear before smoldering at the press.

“Which one?” Tom chuckled as he looked at you with all the adoration in the world

“All of them.” You told him as you kept your perfectly manicured hand over her heart.

“I want to do the Will Smith pose.” Tom decided, taking a step away from you and opening his arms like he was presenting you. You covered you mouth as you laughed loudly, feeling a warm sense of joy as Tom held his arms out to behold you. You looked at him fondly and blew him a kiss.

“I feel like artwork.” You shouted over the roar of the press.

“You look like it too.” Tom shouted back, holding his hand out for you to take. You happily accepted his hand, letting him twirl you before you spun into his chest. Both laughing happily and only seeing each other, the roar of the crowd disappeared. All you could hear was Tom’s laughter, coming deep from his tummy.

“Stop it.” You shyly hid your face in his neck as he held you tightly. Tom took your chin between his fingers and beamed at you, grinning like a child before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He said between his laughter, keeping his eyes shut to block out the rest of the world.

“And you’re mine.” You reached up and gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, looking longingly at him even with his eyes shut.

“Let’s go.” He slipped his hand into yours and pulled you along. “We have more red carpet to dazzle.”

~

“It’s over.” Tom let out a breath as he plopped on his bed after the premier. “I can’t believe it over.”

You plopped down next to him and both of you stared at the ceiling in silence. You were exhausted from all the screaming fans, interviews and hours on your feet, but you had never been happier. You reached out and took Toms hand which was lying beside yours and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Honestly Tom, this has been a dream with you. You made my experience better than I ever could’ve imagined. I can’t thank you enough.” You told him as you looked to your side to see him. He turned his head to look at you and gave your hand a squeeze.

“You can thank me by keeping me around.” He mumbled. “Getting to know you has been my favorite part of this whole thing, honest to God. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

“I’m sad it’s all coming to an end. I’m gonna miss being with you every day. Eating all our meals together and all that. I loved that.” You spoke softly as you looked down at your hands, trying to hold in tears that came out of nowhere.

“It doesn’t have to end. We can still see each other.” Tom assured you as he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. You’ll go off and film your next movie and hang out with your newest costar and forget all about me.” You looked up at him sadly. “And yeah, we’ll see each other but it will only be every once in a while. We literally lived together during filming and now I’ll see you every few months. If I’m lucky.”

“Then let’s keep living together.” Tom said as if the idea had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.

“What?” You lifted your neck a little to get a better look at him.

“I’m serious. Let’s move in together. Who says this ever has to end?” His eyes were hopeful skies with anxious clouds as he waited for your answer. You stared at him a moment as you pondered it, but deep down you knew the answer straight away.

“I don’t want it to.” You mumbled. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will.” Tom smiled softly as he brushed a stray hair off of your nose.

“Good.” You stated firmly. “Then let’s move in together to make sure of it.”

“Alright.” He left out a happy sigh and fell on his back. “We can start looking for a flat tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You covered your grin and turned away, not wanting him to see how happy it made you that he felt the same connection you did.

“All the fans are saying we look like a couple.” Tom said suddenly, handing you his phone that was open to twitter. The ship name your fans had coined for you and Tom was number one on trending, Tom was number two, and you were number three. Taking his phone in your hands, you scrolled through a few of the many rows of tweets saying you and Tom made, would make, or were a perfect couple. You couldn’t help but smiling seeing that millions of people wanted you to date your best friend.

“Oh my goodness.” You chuckled as you handed his phone back. “That’s another weird thing. I’m so used to kissing you and acting like I’m your girlfriend from filming. I have to stop myself from being all over you when I see you. I guess I’m still not fully out of character.”

“I have a pretty simple solution for that.” Tom quipped, clicking his phone off and turned on his side to look at you.

“Tell me.” You smirked as you rolled on your side as well.

“You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from being all over me if you…” Tom trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut like he lost his nerve.

“If I what?” You wondered, putting your hand over his to reassure him.

“If you were my girlfriend.” He spoke timidly. “Who says our love has to be limited to the screen?”

“Are you asking me out, Holland?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry if I misread the moment.” His face fell when he thought you didn’t feel the same. “ I thought we-“

You didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and kissing him instead. A hesitant hand molded against your hip as he kissed you back, smiling against your lips until you pulled away.

“You thought right.” You laughed breathlessly. “Whether we’re in front of a camera or not, I want to be your girlfriend.”

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[beskarberry]

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

 Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

 You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

 Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

 “We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

 He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

 You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.” 

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

 “Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center. 

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes. 

 The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos. 

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes. 

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?”  He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice. 

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.” 

That got his attention fast. 

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you. 

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose. 

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar. 

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table. 

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man. 

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself. 

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures. 

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile. 

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.” 

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths. 

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!” 

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would. 

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...” 

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp- 

“OUCH!” 

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super. 

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

 “Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!” 

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage. 

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk. 

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again. 

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed. 

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. 

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn. 

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.”  You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare. 

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?” 

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?”  His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful. 

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself.  “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him. 

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?” 

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it. 

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs. 

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly. 

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water. 

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?” 

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand. 

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either. 

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly. 

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age. 

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled. 

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! POTC AU update time at last! Very sorry for the delay, but s*** is really going down now in this story...

One of my biggest criticisms for the climax of At World’s End is how, ultimately, both the Navy’s armada and all of the diverse pirates gathered together as part of the Brethren Court are ultimately pointless. We get our huge confrontation between the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl, which ends with both ships blowing up Beckett’s flagship...and then the Navy just hightails it away with their tails between their legs, even if they still outmatch the pirates and there would surely be a chain of command under Beckett that could take over. There isn’t even anything to show that the Navy lost their nerve after losing their “great leader” or anything or were reluctant to fight to begin with. And again, that ends up making the non-main-character pirates that we only just met in At World’s End, like the Pirate Lords, completely unnecessary to the narrative aside from giving up their Pieces of Eight, which easily could’ve been rewritten to not include the Pirate Lords. This is why I’m restructuring this climax so that all of the Lords (and the Keeper of the Code) have a role in the coming battle, rather than just having them stand on the sidelines.

Black powder is a much messier, more combustible precursor to modern gunpowder, which has a very strong odor and produces a lot of smoke when it explodes. It’s better used for things like fireworks and rockets than firearms, particularly since it’s even more vulnerable to moisture than regular gunpowder is. Black powder was first developed in China circa the 9th century, before its use in firearms was phased out in favor of the cleaner, safer gunpowder we know today.

Although the traditional “Redcoat” was developed as a uniform for British soldiers in the mid-1600s, the British Navy actually didn’t have official uniforms for its sailors until 1748. Before that point, only naval officers generally wore uniforms. My guess about why the Pirates films don’t follow this model and have even the lower-rank British Naval soldiers wear uniforms in AWE is for the sake of visual short-hand for the audience and to further accent the divide between the uniformity of the law-keepers (the army and Navy) VS the diversity of the law-breakers (the pirates).

Previous part is here, and whole tag is here! Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier, Samantha O’Connell belongs to @samshogwarts​, Ellie Hopper belongs to @that-ravenpuff-witch, Arjun Singh and Aishwarya Mehra belong to @hogwarts9, and Finn McGarry/Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws! Also briefly referenced is Gwendolyn “Wendy” Gordon, who belongs to @drinkyoursoupbitch. xoxo

x~x~x~x

When Jules, Jacob, and Orion returned, they immediately convened a war council with the other Pirate Lords and their crews in the Hall of the Codex. There was a lot of strategizing that needed to be done before the battle the following day -- and as to be expected, Murphy McNully was instrumental in pinpointing what they needed.

“According to the Admiral’s intelligence, there are 34 Man O’ Wars out there waiting for us. We ourselves have a fleet of 73 galleons, brigs, schooners, sloops, and ketches. Now, naturally, that sounds like a lot, but keep in mind that each of the Navy’s Man O’ Wars has anywhere between 50 to 100 guns on each ship...meaning they have between 1700 and 3400 guns altogether. Even if we technically could have more guns numerically, there’s a 97.9% chance that our ships wouldn’t be able to withstand a full-frontal assault by those things. If we tried, we’d basically have to sacrifice our lives in the hundreds just to deal any damage, and even then, there’s less than a one percent chance that we could actually defeat the Navy, doing that.”

“It’d be a pyrrhic victory, at best,” said Ellie sadly.

Jae nodded. “I doubt any of us are much in the mood for a suicide mission, so we’ll need to come up with something better.”

“Especially since Carey’s on board one of those ships,” said Bill solemnly. “We can’t let him get hurt.”

Charlie, Jules, Jacob, and Orion’s eyes all narrowed at this. While Charlie and Jules nodded in agreement, Jacob’s jaw clenched and Orion clasped his hands in his lap and closed his eyes.

Ashe brought a hand up to squeeze Jacob’s shoulder, resting his head absently on top of his.

“Speaking from my own experience,” he said very dryly, “brute strength is hardly a be-all-end-all. Obviously one should think twice before attacking a larger enemy...but sometimes the element of surprise can turn the tide. Larger enemies often assume they have less to fear.”

“Aye...” said Jacob softly.

He considered the makeshift map and model ships they’d set up on the stained round table. Then he reached out to pick one of the miniature ketches and consider it carefully.

"We don’t have the firepower to defeat the Navy,” he said to the others, “but we do have stealth on our side.”

He immediately set about maneuvering the pieces around on the map, grouping all of the smaller ones together.

“The first thing we need is for a fleet made of the smaller ships -- the schooners, sloops, and ketches -- to carefully infiltrate the Man O’ Wars. Send a few of our men onto each ship in disguise, so they can load their lower decks with unlit explosives.”

“They could also easily sabotage their cannons and rudder chains, while they’re there,” said Orion softly.

Jacob shot a halfhearted glare at Orion out the side of his eye. Clearly even if they were allies and Orion brought up a great point, the Pirate Lord of the Atlantic Ocean was still a bit resentful about the Lord of the Caribbean Sea’s relationship with his sister.

“...Right. Then I say we -- meaning you, Captain Farrier-Weasley, as the Pirate King -- warn Beckett and the Navy that we’ll release Calypso, if they don’t turn back and let us leave Shipwreck Cove in peace. With Jones being with them, Beckett and the Navy either should already know or will immediately find out just how dangerous that is. Make sure to bluff Beckett that Calypso has so much power that she could destroy a Man O’ War with her little pinky, if she wanted.”

Samantha’s face lit up as she caught on to Jacob’s idea. “Oh! Then once Calypso is free and the weather starts getting bad...we can have the galleons and brigs attack the Man O’ Wars -- ”

“ -- and we can blow up the explosives on board with our cannons!” finished Charlie, exchanging an excited grin with Samantha.

Merula’s face burst into an huge smile too. “And it’ll make it look to the Navy like Calypso has given us this supernatural power boost!”

“Brilliant!” said Bill.

“There’d still be a 34% chance we’ll lose a few ships doing that,” said McNully thoughtfully, “but even if we’ll be outgunned and out-manned, the Man O’ Wars should be sabotaged enough that they won’t be able to attack right away. And the explosions we’d get would no doubt give those Navy officers a good scare, which might discourage them from fighting.”

Jacob nodded. “That fleet of larger ships can then keep the Man O’ Wars busy while Captain Farrier-Weasley and I sail the Revolution out to confront the Flying Dutchman. The Revolution’s probably the only ship we have that’s fast enough to compete with the Dutchman in a sea battle.”

“And we’ll need to overpower Jones, if we want to get close enough to Beckett,” said Jules, her dark eyes hard with determination.

“Jones is the Queen in this chess match,” agreed McNully. “He’s the most powerful piece on the board, so if we can topple him, we’ll have a much better chance. If we can then corner the King -- namely, Beckett -- we could use that leverage to win the whole thing.”

Bill and Charlie exchanged a look. Then the elder Weasley spoke up.

“...The plan’s great, Jacob -- but there’s a problem. Captain Hopper said that most of you lot were never soldiers. There’s a lot of training that you have to go through before going out to sea with the British Navy, and there’s just as much protocol you have to follow while you’re there. If one of our men makes a wrong move and gets caught, it could blow the whole ruse.”

“Then maybe we should go, Bill,” said Charlie. “We know the way things work -- we’d be able to blend in -- ”

“Not with that hair, you won’t,” said Merula dully.

“Face Paint is here at the Cove,” pointed out Skye. “They could fix that -- ”

Orion shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s still too risky. The Admiral indicated that Percy Weasley is also on board one of those ships. As much as I don’t think he’d ever wish to harm you, I don’t believe one could fool one’s family that long. And judging by how your last meeting ended,” he glanced at Charlie and Bill solemnly, “one cannot be certain he would choose family loyalty over what he believes is morally right.”

“Yeah, I wager there’s only a 35% chance he wouldn’t try to stop you two, if he saw you,” said McNully with an apologetic look at the Weasley brothers. “Though there is a 25% chance you might collide with Carey Weasley instead, and he could give you a hand...but I don’t think that’s a gamble we should take.”

Ellie’s lips twisted into a frown. “Still...First Mate Weasley’s got a point. It’d be probably best to send someone with the Artemis and the other small ships who already knows how to fit in with the British Navy.”

“If only Captain Moody were still here,” mumbled Barnaby sadly. “He was in the Navy for a long time, before becoming our captain...”

Charlie offered Barnaby a sympathetic look. Jae, however, looked rather thoughtful.

“...I do have...one contact that could be helpful.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“He’s a bit of a loose cannon,” said Jae, “too impulsive for his own good and bull-headed as all Hell...kind of stupid, really. But he was in the Navy once, and he’s pretty good at working in secrecy. I work with him most often whenever there’s news of the East India Trading Company, since he’s got a contact who’s related to one of their most prominent merchants...”

Merula’s eyebrows furrowed. “...Wait a minute. You’re not suggesting Copper?”

Charlie and Jules both blinked.

“Behemoth Ben Copper?” said Jules in surprise. “The pirate who took out all three masts on an Italian frigate with one cannonball?”

“That’d be him,” said Arjun, and like Merula, he looked a bit skeptical. “Jae, I’m not sure. I don’t mean anything against Ben and all, but...well...it’s like you said, he’s a bit of a loose cannon. Ever since he mutinied against his captain, he’s just gotten more and more reckless -- leaving his crew abruptly with no explanation, rearranging his ship’s route on the fly...”

“He’s been acting weird,” agreed Aishwarya.

“Sounds like he’s the perfect choice, then!”

Everyone turned to look at Skye in bewilderment. Contrary to everyone else’s reactions, however, she looked perfectly undaunted, her lips curled up in a perfectly fearless, white smirk.

“From the sound of things, I’d wager Copper’s caught the same type of ‘weird’ that Orion’s had these last few months,” said Skye, shooting a significant look in her captain’s direction.

“And I reckon that kind of ‘weird’ would boost Copper’s motivation to help us by a good 63%,” said McNully very coolly from Orion’s other side.

Orion tried to feign a mild, patient expression as he bowed his head and avoided his crewmates’ amused looks, but he could not obscure the rosy color that was rising up into his cheeks.

“That settles it, then,” said Bill. “Let’s talk to him.”

Benjamin “Behemoth Ben” Copper did indeed boast an impressive height, being as tall as Bill with a scruffy blond beard almost as long as Jacob’s, a piece cut out of his left ear, and plenty of scars up and down his arms and along the base of his neck. He also came across as rather unpleasant, on first meeting. Although Jules had decided Orion and the Artemis would lead this smaller fleet in their mission, Ben seemed very skeptical of Orion from the off-set and was a bit forceful in trying to assert himself.

“For this mission, may us look to our friends, the cuttlefish, for guidance,” Orion said calmly as he addressed the small team of Navy veteran pirates they’d managed to assemble. “They change their appearance and attitude to blend into their environment, so as to evade the dangerous predators that might hunt them...and so too shall we.”

“The Navy isn’t that dangerous,” said Ben rather coldly.

Everyone turned to look at the much taller man, who was leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed.

Orion regarded him with patience, his hands clasping in front of him. “Not as dangerous as they’d like us to believe, true...but they do still out-gun us quite a bit.”

“That’d be more of a threat if half their new recruits weren’t so scared of the sound of gunfire that they all shut their eyes and can’t aim properly,” said Ben. “It’s not like most of those men have even seen combat like this, since England’s no longer at War.”

Orion didn’t respond, so Ben got up off the wall and strode over to look at him properly.

“Explain to me why we don’t just take down all of the ships ourselves, once we’re on board? We can more than take those lily-livered cowards...”

“We’re not doing that because it’s not the plan we agreed on, Copper,” Skye snapped. 

“Skye,” Orion said in a quelling voice without removing his gaze from Ben.

“They’d never expect anyone to actually try attacking them head-on, so the element of surprise will still be there,” Ben plowed on, his brown eyes flashing with righteousness. “I say we just take all of their sailors out, one by one, while that pig Cutler Beckett is too busy gloating to take notice.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “‘Take them out?’ Oh, no. No, I’m afraid that won’t do.”

“You’re afraid of the ships and their firepower -- but the men on those ships are vulnerable,” Ben said sharply.

“All the more reason to not hurt them more than we have to,” said Orion. “If the Navy’s ships are damaged, most of the sailors on board will still have the time to abandon ship and leave the battle with their lives.”

“Those sailors mean to kill us -- to arrest and hang the ones we love and anyone who’s ever helped us -- ”

“Not all of them,” said Orion, and his patient voice for the first time dipped low into his throat and echoed with some edge. “And because not all of them seek to destroy us and the ones we love, we have more than enough reason to not destroy them ourselves. The ships are what we fear, as you said -- they are our enemy, not the men on board -- and without that weapon of theirs, those sailors will be unable to inflict the damage we fear.”

Ben’s brown eyes bore into Orion’s very critically. Then, exhaling through his nose in a short huff, he reluctantly nodded and stepped back.

Orion turned to Face Paint. “We’ll need to make sure all of our men look like they belong among the Navy’s ranks.”

Face Paint grinned. “Don’t worry! I’ve got this.”

With some guidance from the ex-veterans on the Navy’s usual dress code, Face Paint got to work covering up scars with make-up and dressing the team accordingly. Fortunately, unlike the British army, Navy soldiers generally had more freedom in how they dressed, so long as their clothes were neat and conservative. Once Face Paint was finished, Orion had a team of about eleven men who looked as out of place on Shipwreck Cove as he himself had looked on the streets of Port Royal.

Before Orion left with the Artemis and the rest of the fleet of small ships, however, Jacob rather sharply stepped in front of him and insisted on speaking to him in private. Skye and McNully looked notably concerned, but Orion agreed, and the two stepped aside so no one else could hear them.

“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Jacob murmured.

Orion raised his eyebrows, even though his expression remained grimly unreadable. “It was your plan, to send the smaller ships to infiltrate the Navy’s Man O’ Wars.”

“I was not including you when I said that!” snapped Jacob.

He took an aggressive step forward, right into Orion’s personal bubble.

“I know why you’re doing it, Amari, and it’s not just because Captain Farrier-Weasley asked you to be in charge of that mission,” he said in a very low snarl, rather like that of a territorial dog.

Orion’s eyes grew a little smaller, but remained too murky to read properly. “I daresay my reasoning is the same as why you arranged it so that you would be on the ship facing off against the Flying Dutchman.”

“Do not compare my motives with yours!” said Jacob fiercely, as his skull-like eyes flared like flames. “I don’t care what you feel for my Wyn -- you could never understand what she means to me! I would and will do anything I have to in order to protect her -- ”

“I know,” Orion cut Jacob off as calmly as he could. “I could never understand the bond you two share.”

His dark eyes flickered with a strange emotion.

“...But...I do understand what a beacon she is -- how, like a candle, she can light up a room enough to comfort you, when you’re most frightened. How the soft, warm light she gives off is for you alone...how the embers she leaves behind burn long after her light has left you. How she’ll...drain herself of whatever strength she has...just to make sure you don’t despair.”

Something cracked in Jacob’s eyes, betraying genuine vulnerability. A vein pulsed in his jaw and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Orion clasped his hands in front of him, regarding Jacob with a grim, sad expression.

“Care --...your sister...is a truly remarkable woman. She always has been, from the day I ended up on your doorstep back in Port Royal all those years ago. I can’t say for sure that I’ve loved her since then, but...when we found each other again, I realized that the freedom I have on the high seas is superficial at best...for I wasn’t free to stay with her...no more than she’s free to follow me. If she stays with Cutler Beckett...if she ends up impressed into service on the Flying Dutchman...”

Jacob’s fists clenched tighter and started to shake. Orion’s eyes rippled with pain and anxiety as he closed them.

“I can’t do nothing while Carewyn loses what little freedom she has left,” the taller captain burst out before he could stop himself. “However cruel Jones is in the legends I’ve heard, I know first-hand Cutler Beckett is a crueler master than he could ever be.”

He ran his pointer and middle finger alongside the inside of his wrist, where the “P” brand shone a tense white on his tanned skin. He breathed in and out through his nose slowly to try to calm his heart rate, before he opened his eyes to look back at Jacob.

“...I know our methods are different, but our goal is the same. Although I hope you succeed in overcoming Jones and force him to release her...I’m sure you understand why I have to take measures in case you don’t.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed upon Orion’s face, but for the first time, there was confusion muddled with the distrust.

“I already told you that Jones won’t care if my Wyn gets married and takes on another name,” he said quietly. “He said she’d still be considered a Cromwell.”

Orion’s dark eyes softened sadly. “I know.”

Jacob’s eyes scrunched up further. Then they widened as he thought of something he hadn’t before. The thought made his face go very white.

“You...”

Orion did not respond, but Jacob knew he’d figured out what Orion was thinking. It made his fists shake at his sides and his pupils narrow to slits.

‘He’s...truly that selfless?’

Jacob didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe that this man loved his sister that much.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but lash out.

“...I do not give my blessing to this! I don’t care what sincere affect you dance around with, I will never trust you with my Wyn’s heart, Amari! You could never deserve my sister!”

But Orion’s features merely prickled with the hints of a smile. "I know.”

Jacob gave an aggravated sigh, throwing his hand up in a violent smack at the air, as he threw his head back and rolled his eyes up in the direction of the ceiling.

He wanted to hate this man so much, but it was proving difficult when he wouldn’t rise to anything he said. He wanted him to fight back, to get mad -- then he could feel justified in protecting Carewyn from him...

But in truth, Jacob knew -- this man wasn’t someone to protect Carewyn from. Truthfully...he knew this man would likely do just as much to protect Carewyn as he would...

Jacob’s hollowed-out eyes ran over Orion’s face, narrowing critically. Then, at last, he said,

“...You were the boy, weren’t you? The one Wyn hid under her floorboards.”

Orion’s eyes flickered with fondness and he inclined his head in a small nod. Jacob inhaled slowly through his nose and then exhaled very heavily.

“I will stop Jones,” he said very lowly. “So your 'measures’ won’t be necessary.”

With this, Carewyn’s brother turned on his heel and strode away, his black boots clapping against the cobblestones as he went.

As the pirates set their plan into motion, Carewyn herself was finishing up business on the Flying Dutchman. She was meant to remain on the HMS Lion with Beckett for the battle, but she insisted on speaking to all of her men on the ship and leaving proper instruction before departing. After all, the Admiral argued, even if Rakepick was staying on board, she was not a Naval officer, nor was she their commanding officer. It also was the excuse Carewyn needed to speak to Davy Jones privately.

Jones looked to be in a fairer mood than she’d seen him last. Carewyn wasn’t sure for the reason for it, but she hoped it wasn’t in response to the impending battle. Regardless of how Jones felt about the pirates and Shipwreck Cove, she dreaded the thought of anyone actually anticipating the battle. Instead, however, she reassured Jones that she would pass along whatever intelligence she gathered about where Rakepick had hidden his heart.

“I know Rakepick said she was out for herself, but there are only so many places she could’ve hidden it,” she said. “Port Royal is out of the question: it couldn’t be used as any sort of leverage there. So she either one, was lying and has it close by somewhere on the Dutchman...or two, Beckett does know where it is, but Rakepick plans to backstab him.”

“I suspect the former,” said Jones lowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he shot a glance out the stained-glass window of the cabin. “I can feel my heart’s presence, so it must be close.”

Carewyn inclined her head slightly. “I see. In that case, you might be able to retrieve it yourself. I’m sorry I can’t be of further help.”

She paused. Then, taking a deep breath, she spoke again.

“Captain Jones, time is not on our side...but something’s been bothering me. When I first agreed to help you, you knew my real name, without me having told you. You said that was because you know everyone’s true name, but...”

She considered him warily.

“...It’s also because...you know my older brother...don’t you?”

Jones’s eyes narrowed. He considered her for a long moment, before he gave a clipped nod.

“...Aye. I know him.”

Carewyn’s heart sank. ‘Then Rakepick was right -- Jacob did make a deal with Jones. That must be why Orion said Jacob ‘would be disappointed’ -- ’

“...What does he owe you?”

Jones, for the first time, looked almost evasive. He turned away, casting his eyes to the opposite wall as he took a few plodding steps away.

Carewyn watched him move, her arms which had been folded behind her back slackening at her sides.

“Captain Jones, please,” she said, and some desperation echoed in her voice despite her best efforts, “I already might not have enough power to protect him from Beckett, I have to know what debt he might have with you.”

Jones was quiet for a moment longer. When he finally spoke again, his voice was very low, reluctant...even regretful.

“...The price...was a lifetime of service, from a member of his family.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

‘A lifetime of service...?’

Jacob’s intense, anxious reaction to the death of Charles and Blaise suddenly made sense.

‘He must’ve meant to give one of them to Jones,’ Carewyn’s mind raced. ‘Could he really have agreed to something like that -- enslave Grandfather or Blaise to Jones?’

Unfortunately it didn’t sound completely out-of-character for Jacob -- for as much as she’d hated Charles Cromwell and resented Blaise, Carewyn knew her feelings paled in the face of Jacob’s. Not only had he been older and thus forced to do more of their dirty work, but he’d also always loathed how much they hurt Carewyn when they were young, both to keep him in line and in a cruel attempt to “toughen her up.”

But now...now Blaise and Charles were dead. All of the Cromwells -- Jacob’s family -- were dead...except for...

Carewyn’s face was very white. Her lips came together and she bowed her head, casting her eyes into shadow.

“...I see,” she whispered, her voice shakier than she’d intended.

‘This is why Orion and Jacob want me off the Dutchman. Because I’m the only one who can fill Jacob’s debt.’

Jones glanced over his shoulder, his dark eye oddly ashamed.

“He did it out of love for you,” he said very quietly. “I confess, before we met, I’d seen irony in the situation. Now...I wish I could excuse the debt, but...”

Jones swallowed, and the tentacles of his beard gave a series of low pops.

“...Magical contracts...are not so easily broken. Once someone is marked with the Black Spot, the terms will be met, whether I want them to be or not. Fate will maneuver itself in such a way that you end up as part of my crew, even if I actively decide not to take you. As long as your brother and I both live...the terms are etched in stone.”

Jones then strode back over, fixing Carewyn with a solemn eye.

“Unless...you wanted to make a deal yourself? One soul could be comparable to another.”

Carewyn closed her eyes and considered this. After a long moment, she swallowed, and shook her head.

“That’s not something I can give you,” she whispered.

Jones’s eyes grew a little smaller as he faced the door. “I thought you might say that.”

He paused. His claw clicked together at his side.

“I...lament that a noble soul like yours is doomed to remain with me,” he murmured. “I will do my best to take care of you, as part of my crew.”

With another set of plodding steps, Jones walked over to the door of the cabin, opened it, and left.

Carewyn’s knees buckled out from under her. She collapsed onto the bench in front of the massive organ, staring down at her own booted feet without even seeing them.

She couldn’t thrust this burden on anyone else. How could she? No matter who they were...no one deserved to live their life in servitude. Carewyn knew she would never be able to live with herself, doing something so cruel...but...

It...it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! She’d already had to resign herself to the knowledge that she couldn’t shield the others from Beckett -- she’d already had to resign herself to staying under Beckett’s foot. Not only was she helpless in helping the ones she loved escape Beckett...but now...once she was a member of Jones’s crew...she would likely never see any of them again. She’d never be able to make that world that they deserved -- a world where they could live free of the fear of being captured and hanged...a world where they could live and chase their dreams in peace.

She’d never see Orion again. She’d never see Jacob again. She’d never see Bill again. She’d never see Charlie again. She’d never see Jules or Percy again.

Carewyn took a sharp intake of breath, trying to contain her emotions, but it was no use. Her hands flew to her face, clutching desperately, as she tried in vain to suffocate the tears spilling out of her eyes and the sobs erupting out of her throat.

Little did Carewyn know that a red-haired woman much taller than her had been beside the window of the captain’s cabin and had heard the entire conversation.

Under the cover of the fog that  swept in that night, Orion’s team of Navy veteran pirates split up and stowed away aboard the Navy’s ships, each carrying one of the hundred black barrels of highly explosive black powder Jae had prepared for them. They would then be able to fetch more from one of the many sloops, ketches, and schooners floating among the armada the rest of the night.

As luck would have it, Ben boarded a ship that turned out to be the HMS Lion itself. He was glad of it, as he was determined to make sure that Beckett could never target anyone else again. Unfortunately, as soon as Ben arrived on board the ship, he was immediately uneasy. No one had spotted him arrive, but this ship wasn’t like any of the ships he’d seen during his time with the Navy. Everything was so unusually clean and precise and brand new, as if none of it had been touched -- and stranger still, all of the sailors, from their perfectly polished gold-buckled shoes to their blue and white uniforms to their gold-trimmed black tricorn hats, looked as identical as a set of dolls.

Little did Ben know that Cutler Beckett had higher standards of uniformity for the ship he was on than he did any of the other ships in his armada -- and so, even perfectly disguised as an ordinary sailor, Ben stood out like a sore thumb.

“You there!” said one of the lieutenants, upon spotting Ben on the staircase down to the lower decks. “Where’s your uniform, sailor?”

Ben faltered. ‘Uniform? Regular sailors don’t wear -- ’

He immediately put down the barrel he’d been carrying and turned around, putting on his strongest face as he stood up perfectly straight and saluted.

“...I’m only a new recruit, sir. I have no rank.”

“All sailors on the HMS Lion were given a custom uniform, when first they were selected by Lord Beckett,” snapped the lieutenant, his black eyes narrowing suspiciously upon the much taller man. “I ask you again -- where is yours?”

Ben immediately guessed that he’d made a huge mistake. Knowing that if he didn’t do something drastic, he’d blow the whole operation, his hand slid down to the pistol in his belt. Did he dare silence the man by force? Would that not alert the rest of the ship?

“What’s going on here?”

Another officer -- this one with a ginger red ponytail and almond-shaped blue eyes -- came down from the helm and over to the two men.

“A-Admiral Weasley!” said the lieutenant, straightening up immediately.

‘Admiral?’ thought Ben. ‘Then this is Carey Weasley?’

His brown eyes narrowed upon the frame of the Navy’s greatest hero.

'...He’s so...tiny.’

Carewyn looked from the lieutenant to Ben, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Ah, I suppose Captain Weasley’s sent over another new recruit,” she said smoothly. “Where is this man’s uniform, Lieutenant?”

“That -- I just asked that, sir,” the lieutenant stumbled over his words.

“Respectfully, I hope,” said Carewyn rather pointedly.

“That -- well -- I merely thought it was suspicious. We normally are all given uniforms, prior to boarding -- I hadn’t known that Captain Weasley was sending over any...”

The lieutenant looked a bit sheepish. It was remarkable how he looked and sounded so much more boyish around the Admiral, compared to how harsh and suspicious he’d sounded when he addressed Ben.

“No matter, Lieutenant,” said Carewyn, giving the young man a soft smile. “You thought of the safety of our ship and crew. That’s the right instinct to have, despite the circumstances.”

She turned to Ben, her eyes becoming a bit more solemn.

“What’s your name, sailor?”

“Cooper, sir,” Ben said at once, giving a salute. “Gordon Cooper.”

“Well, Mr. Cooper, you’d best come with me, before Lord Beckett sees you out of uniform. He likes his flag ship run just so.”

And so Ben reluctantly followed the Admiral down to the ship’s lower level and into the cargo hold. She fetched him a blue and white Navy uniform, but rather than just leaving Ben to put it on himself, she insisted on helping him put it on properly.

“I told you, Lord Beckett likes things just so,” she said. “I will not have any sailor under my command end up on the wrong side of him.”

“I can put on a bloody shirt,” Ben said before he could stop himself.

“See that you do, then,” said Carewyn very coolly.

Ben watched, perfectly bewildered, as the Admiral hung the blue coat she’d set aside for him off of a nail sticking out of one of the beams of the ship and smoothed the wrinkles out of it.

With a dull snort, he pulled the faded red shirt and brown trousers Face Paint had dressed him in up over his head and switched it out for the white Navy breeches, stockings, and shirt he’d been given. He tried to keep his back to Carewyn, so as to obscure the scars on his upper chest and arms.

As he changed, Ben suddenly realized he heard a soft, husky voice humming a tune in the back of their throat.

“Now some have died, and some are alive...and others...sail on the sea...”

Ben straightened up sharply.

“...With the keys to the cage and the Devil to pay,” he echoed, “we lay to Fiddler’s Green.”

He turned around to look at Carewyn, who still had her back to him.

“So you are allied with us,” he said under his breath.

Carewyn glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “‘So?’ You sound like someone already told you that, previously.”

“Two people, actually,” Ben corrected her, crossing his arms. “Orion Amari, for one. The other...”

He glanced off to the side absently, his brown eyes growing a bit mistier at the thought.

“...She...has family who works for the East India Trading Company. While one of their ships was docked in Port Royal, she’d spoken to some of the prisoners awaiting execution...and though most of them were no state to talk, the ones who were expressed their admiration for Carey Weasley -- how he was the only person on the Dutchman who showed them any kindness.”

The thought of Wendy’s face as she described what the prisoners had told her made Ben’s heart clench. 

“...That kind of decency...was something I thought the Navy lost long ago.”

Carewyn’s eyes grew a little smaller and grimmer as they fell down onto Ben’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid it has, for the most part,” she said softly, “but only because of those currently in command. Our men are still good men...just misguided.”

Ben couldn’t keep the disbelieving, resentful glare from his face. He strode past Carewyn to fetch the blue coat, but the Admiral bustled in front of him, fetched a gold-buttoned white vest, and set about slipping it over Ben’s shirt.

“Here -- you’ll need this, first.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment and irritation.

“Wha -- oh, come on, I’m not some little lost lamb!”

“Definitely not,” said Carewyn dryly. “You’re anything but ‘little.’“

She started buttoning up Ben’s vest. The pirate gave an aggravated groan.

“Seriously? Ugh...will you knock it off? You’re acting like my mother -- ”

“Well, you’re acting like a child, so I reckon that’s appropriate,” Carewyn shot back. She then added a bit more solemnly, “Look, I can’t help Orion, Bill, and the others while I’m stuck here...but I can help you help them. So that’s what I intend to do, whether you like it or not.”

Ben’s face darkened with an embarrassed flush as he looked away, shooting daggers into the far corner with his eyes, while Carewyn finished buttoning up his vest.

“I should probably help you trim your beard too,” said Carewyn absently. “Navy men don’t wear beards much these days, even when they’re not officers...”

“I don’t need you to trim my beard,” Ben said grumpily. “I can shave myself.”

“Oh, you don’t believe in the old superstition, then. Good...I’ve had to shave some of my men’s faces for them, so that Beckett wouldn’t give them a hard time for looking scruffy...”

Ah, then it was about reassuring the men who were too superstitious to shave on board so they could still follow Beckett’s dress code, more than simple smothering. That made Ben feel a bit better.

“...Hm, well...I suppose I have been meaning to cut it a bit anyway...”

Once Carewyn had finished buttoning up Ben’s vest, she adjusted his collar.

“When did you leave the Navy?” she asked without looking at his face.

Ben considered her for a moment before answering.

“...Four years ago. I’d gone to sea to try to rise above my station...to earn enough money that I could...well...improve my prospects. But I ended up on board a ship with a captain who sacrificed the lives of his own men, not to protect the innocent, but to protect a ship he held financial stock in. A ship owned by Cutler Beckett, transporting gold, spices, ivory, and slaves to the colonies.”

Carewyn was immediately reminded of Orion. “So you rebelled.”

“Not right away,” Ben corrected. “I tried to have the captain court-marshalled first. But the Navy only gave him a light talking-to and left it at that. They didn’t remove him from service or strip him of his rank, or even publicly reprimand him -- he was allowed to just go about his business like before. And worse, he knew I was the one who’d reported him -- so he ended up retaliating against me, since he was still my commanding officer. I, well...eventually I just got fed up -- so I stopped cowering and fought back.”

Carewyn’s light blue eyes narrowed. “I see. ...You did the right thing.”

Ben’s face seemed to soften slightly. “...Thanks. It hasn’t always felt like the right thing.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t.”

Carewyn fetched the blue coat and helped Ben put it on. This time, he didn’t put up as much of a fuss, even though he considered Carewyn with a more critical, solemn expression.

“Why haven’t you fought back against Beckett?” he asked lowly. “You know what he’s doing is wrong.”

“If I were to fight now, I’d lose,” said Carewyn, “and if I lose, then the ones I love will be in more danger than ever.”

‘My future is already out of my reach. My freedom is already out of reach. If anything happened to them...I’d lose the best part of myself.’

“... I need to wait for the right moments where I can actually make a difference...like this one, for instance,” she added with a slight smile.

Ben’s eyes grew a little smaller as he studied her face.

“...It’s hard for you to stay silent, isn’t it?”

Carewyn didn’t respond, but her eyes squinted a bit too, rippling with a dark emotion as she yanked a loose thread free of Ben’s coat and adjusted the buttons.

“There,” she said at last. “Don’t forget your hat, when you’re out on deck.”

She handed a gold-trimmed black tricorn hat to him, but Ben didn’t put it on, instead holding it loose at his side.

“I won’t be on deck long,” he said. “I’ll be here below deck most of the time...I’ll be gone by dawn.”

Carewyn blinked. Then her whole face seemed to light up in realization.

“...Sabotage,” she whispered. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were almost over-bright. “Black Jack Roberts planned this, didn’t he?”

Ben was startled. “Uh...yeah, he did.”

‘Oh, that’s just like Jacob! He’s always been brilliant...’

Carewyn’s eyes gleamed with warm, intense pride and fondness as she cast her gaze aside.

Ben looked at Carewyn curiously. “...You know Black Jack?”

Carewyn beamed. “Oh, aye -- we go way back.”

“How far back?”

“We grew up together.”

‘I don’t need to explain how we’re related,’ thought Carewyn. ‘If Orion didn’t feel the need to tell him my real name, I don’t have to...it’s not exactly necessary information.’

Carewyn’s response, however, sparked an interesting reaction from Ben. Almost instantly, his hard, overly serious expression had become much softer and warmer, betraying a genuine smile.

“Really...”

The faintest ghost of a laugh seemed to fall from his lips as he bowed his head, his eyes drifting down to the ground. Carewyn smiled slightly in return.

“Now then, Mr. Cooper...I’ll leave you to your work. The barracks are on the lower deck on the starboard side of the ship,” she nodded to the the hallway behind them, “and the officers’ quarters are just up the stairs from there. The walls are thin and most of the officers will be up and about doing nightly rounds, so be careful not to make too much noise. If they catch you ‘out of bed,’ do as they say and pretend to go to your bunk -- you can always use the shortcut that goes through the spirit room on the far right wall to get back out into the hallway without going out the way you came. When you’re up on deck, avoid the windows by the captain’s cabin at all cost -- Beckett can be up when you least expect it, and if he sees any movement outside his windows, he might see fit to investigate. I’ll try to keep the other officers occupied at the helm as much as I can, so they don’t notice you.”

Ben picked up his barrel again with a nod. “Thank you.”

Carewyn saluted him, and he returned the gesture with his arm not holding the barrel.

“By the way,” he added, “the name’s Copper, not Cooper. Ben Copper.”

Carewyn’s lips spread into a full smile. “Nice to meet you.”

She reached out and took hold of the taller man’s shoulder, giving it an abridged squeeze.

“Godspeed...and best of luck.”

By dawn, Ben had finished his preparations and left the HMS Lion, slipping onto the Artemis so that it could sail away before the fog dissipated. Ben had been the last one to finish and return to the fleet, so Skye had expressed the (rather irritable) concern the crew felt that Ben might have gotten himself caught. Ben confessed that he would’ve if it hadn’t been for the Admiral, and told them what had happened. Orion hadn’t said a word or drawn any attention to himself during the entire recounting, so Ben couldn’t have taken into account how the captain turned his focus up to the large, gold-trimmed Navy ship as they sailed away from it. Neither he nor McNully also never heard Orion pull one of his crew members aside and give him one of his gold earrings, explicitly instructing him to deliver it to Jules.

“She’ll need it, for the unbinding ceremony,” he said.

At dawn, the two Navies -- Royal and Pirate -- assembled for war. All of the Britiwhs Navy’s ships got into position, completely unaware of the trap that lay under their decks. The fleet of the pirates’ galleons and brigs -- including the Phoenix, Blackbird, Naga, and Treasure -- came up around the mouth of Shipwreck Cove like a wall, while the Revolution -- captained by Jules and assisted by her First Mate Bill, Jacob, and Ashe -- sailed out in front as the pirates’ flagship.

In the midst of all of this, the fleet of smaller ships were meant to retreat into the ranks of the larger ships, so as to offer support if any of the large ships were to fall and their crews needed to be rescued. But all of a sudden, the crew of the Artemis realized that Orion was nowhere to be found. Panic set in on deck as they searched for him, with crew members all frantically trying to figure out when they saw him last. It didn’t take long for McNully to put together where Orion had gone.

McNully wheeled his chair across the deck, looking with anxiety up at the HMS Lion, sailing just to the right of the Flying Dutchman.

Bounding up through the ocean waves still trimmed with fog, he caught sight of Orion steering the Artemis’s jollyboat into the Navy ship’s shadow.

Skye came up to the railing too. When she caught sight of the jollyboat too, she violently grabbed hold of the railing, her eyes very wide with horror.

“What’s he DOING?!”

“He’s going after the Admiral,” said McNully.

“The Admiral?” said Ben, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Skye looked beside herself with anger and concern. “No, no, no, no, NO! Orion, you bloody dunce! Just because I said that your and Copper’s kind of ‘weird’ was helpful at the meeting doesn’t mean I wanted you to act on it in the middle of the goddamned battle!”

She whirled on McNully.

“We have to stop him! He’s going to get himself caught again -- ”

“There’s only a 21.3% chance of that,” McNully cut her off. “It’s a bit hard to be caught and stay caught when a sea battle is about to kick off. There’s a higher probability of him getting himself killed...”

The First Mate felt the urge to swear both out of frustration and out of anxiety, but he kept his head. He rolled his chair around to face the rest of the crew.

“Signal to the Kumiho and the rest of the fleet to continue with the retreat,” he told them. “We’re going after him.”

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Five

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, male-on-female violence, description of injuries, PTSD, mentions of blood, violence, and death. Sloooooow burn ahead.

A/N: I continue to be blown away by you guys, thanks so much for all of the love! The tag list is open! so please let me know if youd like to be added! This one is a lil intense, but a beautiful set up in the works ;)

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

Now this is a tac suit.

Cap had left it outside your door for you to wear this morning. The suit fit you perfectly, and allowed for optimal stealth and flexibility. Combat boots, thigh holster, and duel daggers sheaths. Just some of the accessories you’d been gifted with.

Butterflies invaded your stomach as you made your way to the Quinjet. Doing the best you could today was essential for your career, but that wasn’t the only thing causing your nerves.

Sergeant Barnes would be there, and worse than that, so would his attitude. For the life of you, you didn’t understand why his temperament towards you kept changing.

In private, he’s so kind. He cares for you, and he shows it. But yesterday, like so many times before, he truly seemed to hate you. To have no desire for you to be around, and deem you completely useless.

You arrived on the jet last, seeing Bucky sitting alone. He was inspecting his rifle, assuring it was set to go. He glanced at you for a moment, eyes roaming the suit clung to your body before shaking his head and returning his focus to his gun.

Along the wall of the jet was the weapons rack. You load both your waist holster and thigh holster with pistols, and choose daggers lightweight enough to throw if necessary.

Steve walked from the front of the ship and smiled when he saw you. “Ready?” He asked as took a seat, and strapped himself in.

You nod, doing the same. “Ready.”

You sat next to Steve on the jet, Bucky across from you. Not the ideal seating arrangement but hey, you work with what you got. The visual however was certainly enticing. Sergeant Barnes looked so damn good dressed in his tac gear.

“You okay?” Steve asks sincerely, removing you from your thoughts, and earning a muffled scoff from Bucky.

You nod. Looking at Bucky quickly, “Just trying to keep my focus. I don’t wanna mess up.”

Bucky’s face was stoic. You knew he was a master at hiding his emotions, so that didn’t surprise you.

Steve rested his hand on yours, and Bucky shifted forward. “You won’t. You’re ready, besides you’re gonna be our eyes and ears on the ship. Isn’t that right, Buck?” He asked, calling to his friend.

Bucky, in the midst of checking out his rifle, caught Steve’s gaze. “She’s shouldn’t be here at all Steve.”

You sighed. Bucky truly didn’t want you around anymore. Just the thought of him hating you made you heart feel like it was breaking.

“You trained her. That already makes Ella more qualified than any of the recruits we’ve had.” Steve defended you.

You’re always reminded of how grateful you are for Cap. Without him, you’re sure you’d be dead, or worse.

“I only trained her for a small about of time. Who knows what kind of sloppy habits she’s picked up since then.” He quipped.

“Watch it, Tin-man. Watch it.” Sam spoke from the pilot seat.

Sergeant Barnes ignored Sam and turned his attention back to Steve, “The only reason she’s here is because she likes to defy orders,” he cocked his rifle, “and because you’ve taken pity on her.”

“She has a name, Sergeant Barnes,” You retort quickly, “and last time I checked, I don’t have to take orders from you anymore.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment, “Like it or not Doll, I’m still a CO.“ He secured the strap on his rifle, “and your name to me is Recruit.” He quipped.

You scoff, “Really? Because that wasn’t the case thr—“

“Arrival in 2 minutes 10 seconds, folks.” Sam shouted, cutting you off. Steve stood and walked to join him while Bucky’s eyes continued to remain on you.

You cleared your throat, moving to stand in front of him. “I understand you don’t like me—that you don’t wanna be around me...”

Yikes. Just saying that aloud hurt your heart.

You continued, “But you gave up on me. So why don’t we just go back to ignoring each other’s existence? That way neither of us gets hurt.”

Bucky doesn’t look at you, but you hear him whisper. “I didn’t give up on you.”

You cross your arms in front of you, “It doesn’t matter now does it? Because no matter what I do, nothing is ever good enough for you; I’ll never be good enough,”

“One minute.” Sam announces again.

Your eyes return to Bucky, whose gaze is now fixated on you. “I’m sorry I’m not enough. But I’m gonna prove you wrong, ya know.”

He licks his lips, about to speak when Steve returns, securing his shield to his back. “Ella stay here, keep the comms open. When you hear from Bucky, he’ll give you the all clear to drop the bay doors for extraction.”

You nod, “If you need me out there, just say the word.”

“No.” Bucky says quickly. “You’re to stay in the jet, don’t compromise this mission because you wanna play hero. Understood?”

Sam and Steve exchange glances, but they can’t interject. Regardless of who’s actually training you, Sergeant Barnes is still your commanding officer.

“Yes.” You grumble.

“Yes, what?” He asks sternly.

You let out a sigh of frustration. “Yes, Sir.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he turns and exits jet, Cap and Sam following swiftly behind him.

He’s been more hostile and short tempered with you than ever. After the...incident...a few weeks ago, you thought maybe things would be different. After all, he’d shown you a side of him you had never seen.

Under all of that coldness and silence, he was kind and gentle. He felt more than he would ever let people know, and the regret and shame he was holding onto after what happened...it made you see him in a different light.

But now, since cutting ties with you, he’s colder than ever. Did he realize that maybe it was your fault? You had undone the months of progress he’d made, simply by being yourself. How could he not resent you for that?

Your mind wandered back to the day he came to your room. When he was stood in your most personal space, being the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him be. His touch echoed on your skin. Your mind recalling how your body reacted when he stroked your jaw. It felt electric—it felt right.

A shudder ran through your body, shaking the memories from your skin. Returning your attention to the controls, you had to admit you were a bit bored. You pop your feet up on the edge of the control panel, unsheathing a knife from your belt.

You toss it in the air a few times, catching it without even focusing. Your mind wouldn’t shut up! If it was just recon, why couldn’t you be out there in the field? At least you could have learned how a proper recon mission was carried out.

Despite your boredom and feeble attempts at distraction, Bucky never left your mind.

Sometimes the way he looks at you makes your stomach do backflips. His eyes have a way of piercing your soul, whether he means to or not. You just want him to like you—why do you want him to like you so badly?

A muffled static pulled you from your thoughts. Putting your knife away, you noticed the comm lines were going crazy, and Steve’s line was glowing. “Cap? What is it?”

You heard a burst of rapid fire. “Ella! Get that door open now!” His voice is panicked and it sounds like he’s running.

Your hands begin to tremble as you push your communicator, “What’s your location?” You respond, hoping your voice isn’t sounding as shaky to them as it does to you.

You wait the required 10 seconds for a response. Nothing.

“Cap? Steve? What’s your location?!” You shout. What were they firing at? This was supposed to be reconnaissance only!

Another 10 seconds pass, still no response. Are they hurt? Is someone down? Is Bucky okay? Steve said Bucky would be the one to give you the all clear...

You jump from your seat, and run to the back of the jet. Grabbing the pistol from your hip, you flick the safety off and hit the red button on the control panel.

The ramp had barely hit the ground before your feet do. The forest is thick, and dark but you’d been here before. The terrain becomes less and less foreign as you run your way through it, jumping over roots and dodging branches in your path.

You pause, turning on your heel as you hear the unmistakable sound of gun fire. It’s was Sergeant Barnes’ rifle, no doubt about it.

Thank God. He’s okay. You think to yourself.

The shots are getting closer now. “Cover, cover! Bogies on my 11 and 3!” You heard Sam’s voice in echo in the distance as it repeated in your ear piece.

They’re close. You think.

“Barnes! Cap! Does anyone copy?!” He screams.

No one is answering, but you still hear Bucky’s gun rapid firing in the distance. You had to do something or Sam wasn’t surviving this mission.

Taking a deep breath you push your communicator, “This is Cadet Monroe...I copy.”

Your boots are echoing off of the sodded ground. “Falcon, what’s your location?” You shout breathily.

“Courtyard in the north-most building!” He responded.

Your eyes scan the field looking for the familiar pillars, knowing the courtyard was in the building opposite. You spot the large cement structure looking like the remains of a building long blown to hell, and run for it.

“Cadet Monroe you get back to the jet NOW!” Bucky’s voice rang over the earpiece. Relief floods your veins when you hear it. He was okay and still fighting. You wanted to, but you couldn’t respond, not when Sam was in trouble.

Pressing your back against the cement wall, you peek around it. You spot Sam hidden between two large cement pillars. “Falcon, on your 6.” You whisper.

You see Sam use his peripherals and he nods subtlety. As Sam’s crouched down behind a chunk of cement, he gestured to his left and your eyes meet where he’s looking. There they were, HYDRA. Two soldiers approaching Sam from either side.

Knowing you only have one chance at this, you line up your shot, remembering what Bucky had told you about leading with you foot, and pull the trigger twice hitting the first soldier square in the chest.

He falls instantly, allowing Sam to run closer to where you are. “Now Sam! I’ll cover you.” You call.

Sam rolls across the opening of the pillars as the second HYDRA soldier pops out from behind the wall. You shoot again, but he dodges them. Without hesitation, you pull the dagger from your side and throw it full force. It slides through his chest like butter, nailing him straight through the heart.

“Ella, get your ass back on that jet! That’s an order!” Bucky shouts. He’s angry, you know that much.

Your instinct is to listen, if you don’t you’ll be defying a direct order from a superior officer. Unsure if it’s Sam’s life being on the line or your pride, you don’t respond to Bucky.

You were determined to prove him wrong.

Your lungs are burning and your adrenaline is working on overdrive, but Sam finally reaches you. “Are you hurt?” You ask breathless.

He shook his head, “No, but remind me again why the hell Barnes wanted you locked in there all this time?” He jested, catching his breath. “Thank you, Ella.”

You nod, clipping your pistol back in its holster. “What happened to simple recon? Hmm?” You tease.

He lets out a small chuckle, “Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam pauses to rip off one of his gloves, “Turns out we—GET DOWN!”

His warning doesn’t come quick enough as a bang surges through your shoulder. An indescribable pain covers the right side of your body as you collapsing to your knees.

Reaching up with your left hand, you grip your shoulder tightly, pulling back to see your hand covered in blood.

Is that my blood? You think as your legs give out beneath you, sending your body into the dirt.

Your hearing is muffled. All you can make out is your heart pounding and bullets being fired. You see Sam, he’s yelling for...Steve? That’s what it looks like he saying anyways. He’s waving someone down before you see him jump over you. Your vision is fading and it’s fading fast.

You’re fighting it as much as you can, blinking to keep the darkness from spreading. Coming to the conclusion you were in shock, you try to take several deep breaths, praying the bullet didn’t hit your lung.

Your hearing is returning slowly, and you catch the ending of your name. Was someone calling your name?

His scent hits you first, immediately bringing some sort of comfort to you. You look over and see Bucky secure his rifle to his side. He scoops you up into his arms, careful to not grip your wound. You feel him running inhumanly fast as he holds you to his chest.

Before you know it, your back hits the cool metal of the Quinjet’s deck as Bucky’s body hovers your right side. You know you’re losing blood and you’re losing it fast. The patches of black dotting your vision return as you catch a glimpse of him, panic is framing his eyes.

“S-Sergeant Barnes?” You ask through a clenched jaw.

“It’s me, Ella. I’ve got you.” He replies. You wanted to smile, but the pain forbid it. He said my name again. You think. His tone was soft, kind and...worried? He’s worried about you?

You see him rip a piece of fabric with his teeth. “B-Bucky I’m s—I’m sorry...Sam he was—c-comprom....couldn’t.” You slur. The blackness takes over. You’re sure you’ve passed out from blood loss.

You feel him jostle you, “Ella, stay with me. Come on Els, come on.” Are you dreaming? You have to be dreaming.

If you are, then this dream is vivid, eerily so. You feel a hand stroking your forehead, “I’ve got you, Doll. I’ve got you.”

God don’t wake me up yet. You think to yourself.

You hear more footsteps, suddenly the gentle hand is gone from your forehead and you feel pressure being applied to your wounded shoulder. You smell him still though, his campfire musk filling your nose and calming your nerves. You’re so relieved he’s alright.

“She’ll be okay Buck.” Steve reassures him. You’re sure dreaming now. Your eyes attempt to open once more, the light now is too bright, filling your vision with white, hot blindness. In the struggle to see, you see Sergeant Barnes stand from your side.

He lets out a shaky breath. Turning to away from you facing the side of the ship. The metal is suddenly rattled with a boom as Bucky’s metal fist collides with the side of the jet.

He looks furious. Yelling something at Sam and Steve. You couldn’t make out what it was, but it was a site you definitely didn’t need to see. “S-sorry. ‘M s-sor...” You mumble before the blackness takes over for good this time.

Chapter Six: Right

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 4: Proxy War

Chapter summary: Alexis and Alex head to the second part of the mission: destroy General Barkov’s airbase. (2953 words)

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, anxiety and bruises.

26 OCTOBER 2019, 1900 "Alexis" and "Alex", Codename Aces CIA with Urzik Militia Al-Raab, Urzikstan.

First day into the assignment and Alexis had already received two generous gifts.

A fresh pink and red bruise rested just above her elbow, courtesy from the soldier earlier. Travelling further up her left tricep was another strip of exposed flesh, from a bullet that grazed her while they were running for their lives. She scoffed at the addition of new injuries, hastily ripping off a gauze to bandage the wound and hoped they wouldn't scar.

Struggling single-handedly, she managed to roughly rip a jagged piece of gauze. Almost thoughtlessly plastering it against her bare flesh, when without warning, her pathetic excuse of a bandage was snatched from her.

Alex loomed over her seat, crossing his arm. She scooted over the table she sat on. He chastised, "Don't underestimate these flesh wounds. They are small but nasty, especially in dusty environments like Urkzistan. Takes little to get infected."

"This is why I rarely get assigned to places like these." She mumbled dejectedly, watching him patch her up perfectly.

Alex had feather light touches for such a muscular man. She teased, to which he placed a finger on her forehead and pushed. He was more tender only when it came to her, a fact that everyone knew. Moments later, he proudly patted his handiwork. Alex lowered to eye level with the bandage, pouting smugly.

Alexis frowned at his suspicious behaviour.

"A kiss for your booboo?"

'Dumb ass.' Alexis sent an unforgiving hard flick! to his forehead. He snickered, rubbing the red spot.

Hadir entered the room with a few fighters, a brief pause in his steps upon witnessing their close proximity, "Alena... How are your wounds?"

From her peripheral vision, Alex subtly bit his lip and roughly tossed the bunch of bandage into the medkit. "Not Alena– " She placed an easing hand over his to silence him.

"I'm still alive. Are we ready?"

"Always about work, Alexis. You hardly changed." Hadir's gaze followed their intertwined hands and chuckled, somehow amused by their reactions. "I set up shop on the edge of Barkov's base. Keep those fucking dogs in check. Friends close, enemies closer. No grenades, so we improvise."

He handed them bottles of molotov cocktail. Impressive, for what scraps it was made out of. Alex echoed the same sentiment.

"What, you think we fight this war with sticks and stones?"

Sensing the pricks in Hadir's words, she quickly hopped off the table and patted Hadir's back. "With sharpened sticks and a big enough stone, why not?"

They followed Hadir to the roof. "You are too optimistic, Alexis." She laughed at that statement. "Those bastards only understand violence... So I show them violence."

"Violence is not a catalyst, it is a diversion. Too much of it, the evil it does is permanent, Hadir."

"You'd have to send me more English dictionaries, Alexis." Hadir cheekily replied in his mother tongue. "Barkov has an air force, so we have one too. RC planes loaded with C4."

Witnessing the unfamiliar grittier edge in Hadir, Alexis thought back to her first encounter with the siblings. It wasn't hard to read Hadir, the man was practically wearing his heart on his sleeves. One could say that pointed to a certain amount of naivety, but she liked it, a kind of genuine rare in their line of work.

Headstrong, direct, loyal, three words used to describe Hadir and it would be the truest thing one could hear. Like his sister, Hadir didn't quite fit in the mold. Five years ago, the lieutenant possessed a vivid sparkle in his eyes that was lacking in his sister. Always eager for a fight, a true never-backing-down-spirit. Today, the light dulled.

But what would she know? Perhaps that was the unfortunate cost of living in a civil war.

When they reached the roof, the sun had long set, leaving behind a cast of darkness that enveloped the sky. Even in nightfall, Urkzistan still felt like a hundred degrees, but the staggered waves of wind did some to alleviate the heat.

Alex and Alexis each grabbed a remote controller for the RC planes, crashing it into the army's helicopters. There was some excitement in using amateur, yet creative equipment like these, evident in her uncharacteristically large grin. "Good hunting."

"Stay low. The airbase is ahead."

The drones flew over the hill to the airbase's tarmac. Using the bird's eye view, she expertly memorized the tarmac's landscapes before crashing her drone into a target. The remaining helicopters exploded upon impact, illuminating the night sky in a series of twisted fireworks.

"Good flying, brothers and sisters... Let's get down there." Farah praised, a smile at bay. Weapons in hand, they hopped down to the airbase's perimeter.

"Airbase perimeter is dead ahead! Second team will cover us with the cannon." Hadir yelled over the sounds of the explosions.

Alexis subconsciously reloaded her M4A1 while Alex requested for air support. His words barely registered in her brain as a bout of anxiety hit her, feeling choked. Her grip tightened on her rifle, forcing big intakes of oxygen into her burning lungs. She quickly released her fingers in an attempt to fulfil the urge to feel the Earth under her, big handfuls of sand, dirt and grass.

Her heart thudded painfully in her throat, telling herself, 'You're okay. You're okay, you're here. Breathe.'

"Copy, 3-1. I'm tasking an unmarked gunship to your position, stand by." A muffled reply from her comms grounded her back into reality, she was here, this was happening.

Alexis hurriedly looked around, everyone else was too focused on the plan to notice her. Like it never happened, she forced herself to swallow the thickness in her throat, and along with that, her fear. She packed her emotions into a box and pushed it far into the back corner of her mind.

Alexis placed her all her focus, hyper-fixated on one thing: survive.

"Roger that," Alex replied, crouching beside Alexis. They were surrounded by the full force of the militia. Their spirits were contagious, feeding her a much needed level of adrenaline and confidence.

"Get ready! We attack their armories, take their weapons, and take their airfield! Cousins– we fight to free Urzikstan and take back our country. For Urzikstan!" A mortar cannon fired to breach the airfield's perimeter walls. That was it, upon Farah's orders, everyone sprinted, guns blazing into the south wall of the airbase.

It was like clockwork, shooting, running and hiding behind covers. She slipped back into familiarity, the anxiety in her dissolved and overtook by a rush need for survival and adrenaline.

The two CIA agents worked seamlessly, benefits from the countless missions that shaped their chemistry. She glared at Alex, annoyed when he stole her shot. He shrugged, firing his rifle while branding an excuse. Truthfully, he just liked to piss her off.

"You were distracted."

"I'll give you something to be distracted about." Her words mixed with more tautness than normal, but in the midst of all that blood and fighting, Alex didn't pick up on it.

"Hm. Wouldn't be the first time."

Alexis specially took a break from firing to throw her middle finger up. She aimed her carbine at the snipers on the watchtower opposite her. Two sharp bursts later, they lifelessly fell over the tower.

"Good job, Alexis! Watchtower is clear! Move in, move in!" Farah yelled and they pushed further into the base. Following behind Farah's team, Alexis and Alex flanked left, two sharpshooters ridding of enemy hostiles within seconds.

The enemy backup came instantly —two helicopters hovering over the airbase. The heavy fire forced them behind a tiny wooden crate. Lucky for them, Hadir's plan was foolproof. He loaded just enough RC planes, and more. Alex took remote control of the RC planes.

Seeing their cover was so small, Alex immediately shielded her with himself, hugging her as tightly as he could to minimize their exposure. Alexis quickly reached for a Molotov but paused. A crafty smirk as she kicked around for the biggest piece of concrete she could throw. She looped a tactical rope over the rock.

"Take the southeast one, this one's mine!" She ordered, blindly nudging Alex's knees and pointed at the helicopter just 300 yards shy from their position.

"With a rock?" Alex bewilderedly asked, multitasking while controlling the RC planes.

"Mind your business, I'm a good shot. Remember Cairo...?" Alexis trailed off to close her right eye in concentration.

"Unfortunately."

She filtered through the comms, "Hadir! Watch this!"

Eyeing for the tail rotor (the weakest link in a helicopter), she used the length of the rope as torque, then released. The heavy weight of the rock propelled it forward, the rope entangled among the spinning blades before the block of concrete broke its spin. Small sparks ignited as the blades came in contact with the object. Within seconds, the tail rotor failed, causing the helicopter to spin uncontrollably.

It crashed into a flower of sparks and fire. Alex whistled lowly in admiration at the sight, a mumbled 'damn' escaping from his lips.

"What did I say about finding a big enough stone?"

"Well played, I guess you don't have to send me more books, Alexis!"

"Visual learner, then." Lady Luck certainly was shining down bright on her, blessing her with good timing and that majority was the work of the pilot's own anxiety. Not that she would ever tell. She winked at Alex, jerking her head at the other destroyed chopper.

A number of militia members also witnessed the fiasco, all shouting Arabic words of praises. Her stunt did wonders to renew their fighting spirits. They pushed right towards the first armory.

Alexis waited for the most apposite timing before sprinting to her next cover, flawlessly lodging bullets in the new waves of snipers on a hangar's roof. She spotted a distinct red building. "3-1, got eyes on the armory."

"Copy that, I see it too. Two tangos, let's drop 'em." They cleared the armory for reloading.

"Good work, both of you! Regroup outside! Tarmac is through the gate. Everyone to the gate!"

Alexis was a phoenix on the battlefield. Her presence mighty, fearless and deadly within a single shot. Years of experience flowing in her blood, every move was calculated and precise. One shot, one kill, she dropped targets effortlessly. She knew exactly where and when to shoot, throw a grenade or to advance. It was compelling to see her move.

It had been longer than five minutes and yet, their air support still was nowhere near them. She was growing impatient, this tarmac was the turning point vital for their success. As another round of hellfire rained down, more of their own got caught in the crossfire. They helplessly watched as grunts of pains called out, watching comrades pierced with rounds of ammunition dropped dead beside them.

"Saint to Watcher, we are taking heavy fire from enemy helis! Get us that air support, now!" The chopper was late, and the agent was furious watching others pay the price. She'd be damned if she cared if her tone was 'appropriate'.

Switching to a crawling position, a sudden pain shot from her arm. She groaned mid-shot, knowing the bandage came loose and her dive roll into the sand and dust did not help. She stayed to clear stragglers while the rest pushed through the barracks to advance further into the tarmac.

"Sister! The tarmac is ahead of us!"

"I see it! Brother, get us more planes in the air!" Hadir tried, but in a turn of events, the militia's safehouse was under attack.

Fuck. She didn't like how the tables were turning. They really needed that damn helo.

"My planes are down. We need air support. If you guys really want to help us, now is the time!" Hadir pleaded.

Alex nodded reassuringly, "We have a helo on the way! We're on our own until then! Where's the last armory?"

"In that hangar across the tarmac! We take it and the base is ours!"

"Roger that! Saint," Alex called for her. "Race you there."

"Rog." She replied lazily, pushing herself off the ground and charged to the next armory. "Let's end this."

Alexis ran past the second hangar, where Farah and her soldiers were successfully sweeping up the enemies. Catching her breath, she met an awaiting Alex outside the armory, a displayed triumphant smirk since he reached first.

Hushed whispers came from inside, revealing their headcount. In the same formation, they boosted each other on top of the armory to reach a latch. On the count of three, Alexis used all her strength to open the heavy latch door for Alex to snipe the three soldiers.

"Last armory is secure. Resupply on us." Alex commented. Both of them busied refilling their ammunition. She caught with ease as Alex tossed an unloaded sniper rifle. Her lips curved upwards approvingly. "A Windrunner...? You are too good to a lady, Echo 3-1..."

Alex watched her hands appreciatively glided along the .50 BMG's body with a grin, knowing it was her perfect weapon. Her happiness was short lived when the airbase power was cut off, leaving them in the dark. He shrugged as she returned it and left. Without a thermal scope, it was useless to them.

"I hear incoming!" Farah alerted as more tanks rolled up to the hangar. Alexis cursed, this was never ending without their helos.

"Shit! Alexis, we could really use some help here!"

Her comms sounded, "Echo 3-1, Viper 1-1 on approach. Ready for tasking. What's your position?"

'Oh hell yes', she thought, immediately ceasing fire and slumped on the ground to regain her energy.

"Viper, this is 3-1. God damn good to hear your voice!" Alex conveyed in relief. "Friendlies in the hangar, taking fire from troops on the tarmac. You are cleared hot!"

"Farah, Hadir! Get your people to stay inside the hangar!" Alexis shouted, pointing at the helo. The siblings nodded in gratitude.

"Saint to Viper, did you take a nap or something?" Alexis thought she recognized Viper's voice and callsign. Beside her, Alex almost had a cardiac arrest from her unexpected accusatory tone.

Instead, a chuckle came from the receiving end. "Saint! We ran into a little fuel situation at baseplate. How many times must I save your pretty ass?"

Alex glanced questionably. 'He had a crush' she mouthed, waving dismissively. Alex rolled his eyes in response, of course he did.

All of them remained in the hanger while Viper cleaned up. As they looked around, their headcount was drastically reduced. This sucked —she hated this part. The part where they paid the price, a hefty one, even for the victorious.

A sudden burst of gunfire shot into the hangar, barely missing the lot. "Jesus!" Alex commented, equally taken aback.

Alexis yelled into the comms, "Viper, do you mind doing a little landscaping – a tank right outside the hangar! Pretty sure we almost fucking died!"

"Copy. Anything for you, Saint." Alexis was about to call Viper out for his inappropriate comments, but since Viper was the one saving their asses, she stopped and settled for an unsatisfying eye-roll. From the annoyed expression, it was clear Alex felt the same.

After a few rockets and hellfire from Viper, they successfully claimed the airbase. "All targets destroyed. Tarmac is cleared of enemy movement, over." She looked to Farah, a warm smile slipping on the commander's face.

They won. They took the airbase and shoved it where it would hurt Barkov. Without air support, his army would face tremendous setbacks.

"Solid copy, Viper 1-1. Appreciate the high heat, don't be a stranger." Alex thanked.

"Never by choice, 3-1. Nice to hear from you again, Saint, hope to see you at the next one! Viper, out."

"Don't I know it! Echo and Saint, out." Alex interjected before she could even touch her comms.

Walking through the empty airbase, her adrenaline pumped at the sweet taste of victory. For Alex and her, victory was probably their only constant. The taste no longer revelled on their tongues the same way it used to —watered down after hundreds of missions. To them, today would have been just another victory tucked under their belts.

But for the Liberation Force, they were a step closer to freeing themselves from the cage Barkov ruthlessly shoved them in.

As Alexis, Alex, Hadir and Farah surveyed the scene of their victory, a once foreign feeling of contentment coursed through her veins. From the look on Alex's face and the way he ethnically perched his arm over her, he definitely felt that way too.

"So you do kill Russians." Hadir said jovially.

"Only the bad ones."

Hadir looked to them sincerely. "Today was a great victory for Urzikstan. Thank you, brother and sister."

"We make a good team." Alex passed a genuine smile, proud.

Alexis huffed, looping her arms around the siblings endearingly as if to stake her claim. Her uncharacteristic affection shocked him, even though he was aware of their history. "Welcome to the team, Alex."

Farah smiled. "Yes, we've bought time, but Barkov will retaliate."

"So will we." Hadir finished. They'd be more than ready.

They had no idea where this war was going to take them. However, one thing was for sure. When they were done with this assignment, Roman Barkov would be dead. It was a promise they swore upon.

Farah glanced at her team. After today, they were comrades.

a/n: sorry this was a very technical chapter. peep alex's silent jealous streak tho... masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

[flutteringphalanges]

                                        Mirabile Visu

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter: 10 (Part One)/?

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Thank you so much everyone who read and left a review for this chapter! It means the world!  Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Stay safe and healthy!

                                       Chapter Ten (Part One)

                                               Dracula Residence

                                                  Present Time

“Sunny, you can’t just waltz into the Harker Foundation and demand that they let your parents go without there being repercussions,” Jack tried to explain as Sorina angrily paced back and forth. “You’ll get killed!”

“I’m immortal,” she shot back. “I can’t die!”

“That’s far from the truth,” Zoe frowned, her niece not even meeting her stare. “Sorina, just because someone is immortal doesn’t mean they can’t be killed. And the fact that the Foundation was able to bring both of your parents in with,” she glanced around. “What seems to be little of a struggle is a great concern.”

“Then how exactly do you propose we get in?!” Sorina exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Your key card has been cancelled and I’m sure soon enough Jack’s will be too. The longer we wait, who knows what they’ll do to them! And it’s not like I’m equipped with any skills in martial arts.” She caught a quick glimpse of a look of surprise on the young man’s face. “I was locked up for decades, Jack, the only thing anyone ever taught me was how to hide and be unnoticed. Stealth. Basically, a useless trait!” She paused. “My agility is enhanced, but like I said, I’ve never been in hand to hand combat.”

“We’d need to think creatively on this one to get in,” Zoe replied, cutting through Sorina’s tirade. “And how to defend ourselves. You both know well enough that the Foundation is known for being armed and heavily guarded. Jack, I don’t suppose you have any hidden talents that may help?”

The young man paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’m good with a bat.” Both women blinked, and Jack found himself awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. “I played baseball as a kid. Was pretty good at it too.”

“Great,” Sorina’s exhaled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “So we’re bringing ourselves and a bat to a gunfight. Brilliant. Let me go grab my butter knife and we’ll be good to go!”

She collapsed on the couch, her head resting in her hands. This was her own doing. Maybe if she hadn’t fought with her dad. Maybe if she had spent the night here. Maybe then they’d both be safe. Sorina sucked in a breath, trying to hold back tears of anger and remorse. Jack sat down beside her, putting an arm around her. Zoe watched quietly, contemplating her next move.

“I have a handgun.”

Sorina looked up from the floor and at the doctor curiously. “What?”

“I have a handgun,” she repeated. “In my dresser drawer for safety measures. Anyway, that’s beside the point.” Zoe ran a hand through her hair. “If we’re going to do this now, we best prepare how we can. This won’t be an easy feat.”

                              The Jonathan Harker Foundation

The last time Agatha stepped foot in a hospital was in 1870 during the fourth Cholera outbreak pandemic. She was but a child, eleven, when her mother fell victim to the illness. To this day, she could still visualize the crowded room of the sick and dying. The moans. Pleading. Putrid smells. But where she was now made that a distant memory. Clean. Pristine. A dirty, yellowed mattress replaced by a gleaming metal table. Her wrists and ankles bound by restraints that, no matter how hard she tugged, wouldn’t come undone.

“There’s absolutely no reason to struggle, Agatha. I promise you it’ll get you nowhere.”

Dr. Bloxham entered the room, followed by two other individuals wearing matching lab coats. One pulled a strange device by their side that the vampire didn’t recognize. She stiffened, eyes locked on the doctor’s as the woman leaned over her.

“You’ve missed over a century’s worth of technology,” the scientist explained, turning around to fiddle with the object. “Medical science has come so far from 1900. It’s incredible how humans can advance,” she paused, smirking. “We are, after all, the superior species-unlike your husband, I’m sure, would beg to differ.”

“Yet, one might wager that both can be equally as cruel,” Agatha interjected, watching as Bloxham removed a probe-like device. “This Foundation, I knew Mina personally, I doubt she ever intended it to be like this.”

“What she desired and the outcome no longer matter,” the woman said simply, pulling up the fabric of Agatha’s clothes to reveal her bare abdomen. “Anyway, the vile nature of your kind was proven when Dracula took the liberty of removing my thumb.” Bloxham, not diverting her attention away from the former nun, addressed one of the scientists. “Lubrication gel.”

The substance was cold the moment it touched the vampire’s skin. Agatha’s fingers dug into her palms as the transducer was pressed hard against her stomach. If her heart could, it’d be pumping right now. She stared darkly at Bloxham as the woman moved the object across her flesh. Suddenly, an odd swishing sound filled the room and Bloxham paused immediately.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she exhaled, mouth curving into an unsettling grin. “It has a heartbeat.” Her eyes flickered over to Agatha’s. “Like sister, like sibling. Things just became a lot more interesting…”

                                       Jack Seward’s Residence

Sorina sat curled up in the passenger seat, glancing out the window as Jack came hurrying out of his flat. It had been hours since the realization that her parents had been abducted and though she would’ve loved nothing more to immediately go in full force, Zoe had insisted they wait several hours until the next nightfall.

“Are we ready?” Jack inquired as he slipped into the back seat, his bat resting on the floor.

It was a load questioned. They were far from ready. Far from being well equipped. Hell, dawn would be making its appearance in a few hours. Time was indeed slipping away from them and Sorina could feel it like sand in an hourglass.

“We’re going to have to find a way in,” Zoe said quietly, restarting her car as they drove down the mostly empty road. “I’m sure both Jack’s and my key cards have been cancelled out.”

Sorina paused. “There’s an opening towards the top of the left wing side of the building. It feeds into the air ducts.”

“But there isn’t a ladder we can use to reach it,” the young man countered. “And even if we did, who knows if it could hold our weight.”

“I can do it.”

Both Zoe and Jack looked to Sorina, who eyed them both solemnly. Maybe she couldn’t turn into a bat or could run at an inhuman speed, but she was agile. Far more than any person she knew. If anyone could get up there, it was her.

“But what if…”

“It won’t,” she interrupted, cutting him off. “I’ll climb in and once I’m inside, I’ll figure out how to open the entrance.” Sorina offered a wry smile. “Like I’ve said before, I know the place like it’s the back of my hand.”

                            The Jonathan Harker Foundation

It felt odd. Viewing the stone building in a different light. Sorina essentially grew up within the walls of the Foundation. It had been a second home in a sense. But now that she stood outside of it, staring up at the pipe opening along with Zoe and Jack, another feeling deep within her rose. Resentment.

“I’ll send you a text when I’m in,” Sorina exhaled, looking over her shoulder. “Be ready to go. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep it open.”

As she stepped forward, fingers pressed against the icy rock, she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, Sorina met Zoe’s eyes, a small glint of concern flickering within them.

“Be careful,” her aunt warned. “Promise me.”

The halfling nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to reply. Swallowing hard, she gazed upwards. With all of the confidence she could muster, she hugged the wall and began to shimmy upwards. She dared not look down, the idea of seeing how far from the ground she was made her dizzy. But in no time, she made it to the large, metal opening. Taking in a deep gulp of air, she made her way inside, darkness cloaking the atmosphere around her.

Sorina wasn’t afraid of the dark. She’d grown up in its silent embrace. She knew not of the sun, nor the light it carried. Just pictures of it. Images on television and movies. So as she made her way through the maze of pipes, she didn’t fear it. Even if she had, the determination to save her parents was far greater than a worry such as that. And it was with that ease, she found the entrance way, slipping through the grate in the ceiling and gracefully landing on the floor.

“Code,” she mumbled to herself. “Code, code, code…”

Her fingers danced on the keypad, trying not to focus on the surprise that there weren’t any guards nearby. With a satisfying click, the main entrance creaked open and she was immediately greeted to the sight of Zoe and Jack.

“You’re brilliant, Sunny,” Jack beamed.

“We’ll have time to congratulate later,” Zoe whispered. “Come on, the clock is ticking.” Sorina eyed the gun in her aunt’s hand, but said nothing. “The prison is way down the hall. Christ knows how many people are guarding it. We need to stay focused.”

As they began to make their way deeper into the bowels of the Foundation, Sorina heard the muffled sound of a discussion coming from a room nearby. Something about it made her stop, much to the alarm of Zoe. The halfling turned as her aunt hissed and crept towards the open door. Her eyes went wide at the sight. There, strapped down, guarded by two men, was her mother.

“Mum-”

A hand clamped over her mouth and Zoe yanked the girl out of plain sight as the men began to turn. Sorina struggled, finally breaking free. Her eyes were wild as she pointed towards the room.

“They have my Mum in there,” she whispered. “We have to go…”

“You can’t just run in there like that,” the doctor hissed. “You can’t be stupid about this, Sorina!”

“Then what do you suppose we do then?!” The halfling exclaimed, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “We can’t just leave her. We can’t-”

“I’ll cause a distraction,” Jack said quietly, causing both women to look at him. “I’ll distract them somehow and you go and get Agatha out.”

“Jack,” Sorina breathed. “You…”

“I’ll be fine, Sunny,” he said, offering her a small smile. “Trust me.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Jack said he had a plan for distracting the two guards who had her mother. But when he slipped away and the distant sound of a bat being struck across a wall, if she wasn’t so hellbent on saving her parents, perhaps it’d be almost comedical. Watching the enterance hopeful and relieved to see the two men actually exit, she and Zoe made a dash for the examination room.

“Mum!” Sorina cried out, hurrying to the bond woman’s side.

“Sorina?” Agatha gasped, a mixture of shock and worry on her face. “How did you…why are you here?!”

“We’re going to get you out,” her daughter promised, yanking at the restraints. “Are you hurt?! Where’s Dad?!”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Agatha scolded, sitting up as Zoe managed to figure out how to undo the locks. “It’s too dangerous.” She paused, glancing towards the door. “I’m fine. Your father was still in the cell last time I checked. Sorina, you need to leave right now.”

“No!” The halfing exclaimed, fury manifesting in her tone. “Not without you and Dad!” Sorina’s breathing was ragged and try as she might, her emotions were getting the better of her. “I’m not losing you two again!”

The sound of footsteps pounding on the marble floor caused all three women to grow silent. Suddenly, and much to everyone’s relief, it was only Jack who appeared. His hair was windswept, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“We need to get out of here,” he panted. “They’re coming.”

“I’m not leaving without my Dad,” Sorina insisted, gaze turning to her mother. “Mum…”

Agatha was silent for a moment. “I can hold them off,” she stated. “But I don’t know for how long. If things go awry,” her stare locked on Sorina. “You leave. All three of you. Do you understand?”

“But Mum, I…”

“Sorina,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I need you to listen to me. If I tell you to run, you run.”

The girl reluctantly nodded. “Okay.” As much as she hated the idea, she knew if it came down to it, she’d be forced to. “Okay.”

Sorina, Jack, Zoe, and Agatha stood side by side, the sound of shouting and hurried footsteps growing closer and closer. The halfling felt something light brush against her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Jack was watching her. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. It was now or never. Her eyes narrowed, knees bent, and for the first time in her life, Sorina felt the blood of a vampire rush through her veins. The call of Dracula’s daughter.

[ebaeschnbliah]

PAIRS … TWINS … DOUBLE OHs

________________________________________________________________

Twins? … It’s never twins! … But there's always two of us! Two of us against the rest of the world!

There is something about the number 2 in Sherlock BBC, which is impossible not to see after the course of thirteen episodes. And a lot has already been written about it by various people. ‘Two’ and several names which are also meant to express a number of ‘two’ - like double, couple, pair, twins - turn up time and again throughout the whole story.

A summary and some musings on the topic below the cut ...

The two beginnings

First of all, Sherlock BBC is a story with two starting episodes, which in itself isn’t unusual. And yet, if one takes a closer look, there are some things - just minor details - that seem to be a little bit strange after all. The two points of beginning are:

THE UNAIRED PILOT - a 60 min episode called ‘A study in pink’  

A STUDY IN PINK - the 90 min official first episode of S1

An extension of 30 min naturally leads to differences, as does a change in directing. The unaired PILOT was directed by Mary Rose Helen Giedroyc, Lady Bowyer-Smyth, known as Coky Giedroyc. The BBC decided not to broadcast the episode because they wished to change the length to 90 minutes. The PILOT was released on the DVD of the first series, and it proved to be slightly different from the final 90 min version, directed by Paul McGuigan.

However … there are certain changes between PILOT and ASIP which seem … odd. Most of all though, some seem quite unnecessary. 

Angelo went to prison for car-jacking in PILOT ... for house-breaking in ASIP.

Sherlock can identify (by looking at the hands) a retired plumber in PILOT … an airline pilot in ASIP.  (plumber/water, pilot/air … an interesting change)

Northumberland Terrace in PILOT changes into Northumberland Street in ASIP.

The barking dog can be first heard at the end of PILOT and at the beginning of ASIP.

Sherlock and John meet at 221b for the first time on January 14th in PILOT … on January 29th in ASIP (according to John’s blog). The victim prior to the lady in pink dies on January 27th (stated on screen).

The visual appearance changes from natural, vivid colours in PILOT ... to pale and cold colours in ASIP. Especially Sherlock looks like a marble statue in some scenes.

The attraction between Sherlock and John is a much stronger one in PILOT than in ASIP. The PILOT episode isn’t called ‘gay pilot’ for nothing. 

Virtually all the scenes from PILOT which have been taken over to ASIP are shot mirrored. The brilliant video Mirror Mirror Mirror by @kateis-cakeis shows this in detail. 

If anyone is interested, @callie-ariane  did a wonderful script comparison of PILOT and ASIP, side by side, on a download PDF here. This comparison reveals that the biggest parts that have been changed for ASIP are: 

the addition of a fifth victim

a short description of the victims

the visual introduction of Mycroft

the (very early) intoduction of Jim Moriarty compared to canon

the transfer of the showdown between Sherlock and Jeff Hope, from the Baker Street 221b living room to the Roland-Kerr Further Education College 

All of these are understandable decisions. Even the different visual appearance can be easily explained by the work of another director …. though regarding Sherlock BBC, an amendment like this would largely depend on the creators themselves, I guess.

What’s really odd though are all those little, seemingly unnecessary changes listed above. What makes the difference between car-jacking and house-breaking … between terrace and street … between plumber and pilot … between January 14th and 29th? And the mirrored shooting of almost all the reused scenes. Doesn’t this need a rewriting of all the shooting scripts in question? This seems to be a load of unnecessary extra work for an extension of 30 min ..  Anyway, be it coincidence or purpose, there are a lot more ‘2s’ interwoven in this story.

Playing with contrasts happens regularly … red&blue, fire&water, burning&drowning, high above&deep down, no-one&anyone, big&small, consulting criminal&consulting detective ...

Playing with the meaning and double meaning of names and words is also quite common in Sherlock BBC … John/Hamish, sister/nun, brother/monk, beech/beach, rooster/cock, cock/penis, game/game, Underground/underground  ...

A choice between two possibilities happens several times …. good bottle or bad bottle, saint or sinner, James or John, forwards or backwards ...

Two twin-houses

Roland-Kerr Further Education College is the place where Jeff Hope takes Sherlock for his ‘good bottle-bad bottle’ game near the end of ASIP. The Cardiff Univerity main-building had been used as film-set and for this scene the building was altered and mirrored to give the appearance of two identical buildings.  (Cardiff University (x) (x) (x)

Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens ... the empty houses ... appear in HLV. They are Sherlock’s property and Mary’s face is projected on them when Sherlock compaires her to a facade. Originally, there was only one ‘empty house’ in canon, situated opposite 221b Baker Street. Strangely, the place from which John shoots Hope in PILOT would conform to the empty house from canon.   (Empty houses  The impossible house) 

Two high security facilities … with several levels below ground, are visited by Sherlock

Baskerville, the military compound where the fear inducing HOUND aerosol is created. Skulls and crossed bones are displayed on the danger signs. 

Sherrinford, the special prison where Eurus, the sister turned into a ghost story, is locked up behind elephant glass. Two ‘pirates’ enter the island. 

Two landladies rent a flat to a male couple

Mrs Hudson rents a flat to Sherlock and John and asks them if they will be needing two bedrooms.

Mrs Turner, next door, rents a flat to a married couple. Mrs Turner appears in ACDs story ‘Scandal in Bohemia’ as landlady of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.

Two skulls reside in the 221b livingroom. The inflexible bone skull on the mantlepiece next to the statue of the ancient Chinese bowman and the changeable blue skull painting on the wall behind the sofa next to the equally changeable yellow smiley. 

Two palaces with partly similar looking interior …. Buckingham Palace and Sherlock’s mind palace  (x)

The secret code in TBB is written in ancient cyphers which always come in pairs. The numbers are references to specific pages of a book and to specific words on those pages. 

Two neat plans and two rehearsals

The flight of the dead - code 007 Bond Air from ASIB & the similar project of the plane crash in Dusseldorf prior.

The attempted murder of Major Sholto - room number 207 from TSOT & the rehearsal of it involving Private Bainbridge prior.

Two '00′ (double oh) can be heard related to the ‘neat’ plans  (x)

In ASIB the number ‘double oh seven’ uttered by Mycroft, refers to the plane he intends to use for the ‘flight of the dead’. 

In TSOT the number on Sholto’s door reads 207 - ‘two oh seven' - Mary calls it.  

Doppelganger bodies appear conveniently and seemingly out of nowhere to cover up the fake deaths of Sherlock, Irene and Emelia.

Janus Cars … is the car hire company; assiciated with Jim Moriarty, who helpes clients to fake their death. In ancient Rome Janus was the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages, and endings. He usually is depicted with two faces, since he looks to the future and to the past. 

And there is also the not very subtle sexual double meaning hiding in plain sight behind the name of this car hire company ... J-anus C-ars … which basically are two different names for roughly the same area. :)

Two explosions hit 221 Baker Street. The first one, in TGG, comes from the outside. The second one, in TFP, comes from the inside.

Two countdowns from 10 to 1 happen ere someone is in danger to die. 

The first one happens in TGG related to the fake Vermeer painting and the kidnapped child who wears a vest full of explosives. It’s he fourth cold case Sherlock has to solve. 

The second one happens in TFP when Sherlock aims a gun at himself. It’s the fourth task Eurus has set up for him in Sherrinford in which he should choose between Mycroft and John.

Two ‘falls’ from great heigth come to pass in two episodes:

In TRF Sherlock throws himself down from Bart’s roof - to save his friends - after Jim Moriarty shot himself in the head.

In TAB Sherlock throws himself down a waterfall - without being forced - and follows Jim Moriarty into the abyss, flying and smiling.

Two reddish balloons represent ‘quite the guy’ John Watson in two episodes - TEH and TST.

Two roosters/cocks appear in two episodes which also contain two serial killers with certain similarities. In ASIP the cock is linked to John Watson. In TLD the cock is linked to Culverton Smith. (x)

Felines and canines appear in two different versions. One is harmless, like cats and dogs. One is dangerous, like lion and monster hound. (x)

Two pet animals of two children are taken away by a family member. Sherlock misses his dog Redbeard. Kirsty misses her rabbit Bluebell. (x)

Redbeard and Yellowbeard are the names little Victor and little Sherlock invented for themselves when they played pirates. 

Two occurrences define Sherlock’s personality - Carl Powers and Victor Trevor: 

‘It’s where I began’ … that’s how Sherlock describes the Carl Powers case about a drowned boy and his missing shoes.

‘Every choice you ever made; every path you’ve ever taken – the man you are today ... is your memory of Eurus’ … that’s how Mycroft descirbes the Eurus case about a drowned boy and a missing dog.

Two serial killers appear, who deem themselves nice. They like to talk to their victims and have quite noticeable teeth. Jefferson Hope in ASIP & Culverton Smith in TLD.

Two stillborn children play a role …. Rachel Wilson, her first name turns out to be the password of the pink ladies pink phone and Mary Morstan, whose identity was stolen by the woman who later becomes John’ s wife.

AMO & AMMO ... two almost identical words for love and explosives

Codename ‘AMO’ … is used by two different characters. Legally by Lady Smallwood & illegally by Vivian Norbury. 

Two times Rosamund Mary …. the same name for mother and daughter

Two times Charles

Carl Powers, from TGG, is the boy who had a fit in the water and drowned. 

Charlie Welsborough, from TST, is the boy who had a fit in a car and burned.

Two times Faith … Culverton Smith’s daughter, mirror for John, is envisiond by Sherlock as two different persons. (x)

Two variations of the name James … Jim (short for James) Moriarty & John Hamish (Scotish for James) Watson.

Musgrave and Trevor …  Reginald Musgrave and Victor Trevor are original characters who appear in two canon stories (Musgrave Ritual & Gloria Scott) which are the only ones linked to Sherlock’s time at university. TFP combines those stories and connects them to a trauma Sherlock might have experienced in his childhood.. 

Two problematic sisters

John and Sherlock, each ot the two men has a ‘problematic’ sister. John’s sister Harry is an alcoholic and Sherlock’s sister Eurus is locked up since childhood in a high security facility because she is a dangerous genius. 

Eurus is revealed on screen only by the end of the (for now) penultimate episode. Harry has still no visual appearance at all.

There is hardly any contact between the siblings during the majority of the story. They ‘don’t get on’ with each other or are completely forgotten at all. 

Harry is listed as potential pressure point for John by Magnussen, while Eurus is a potential pressure point for Sherlock, used by Mycroft. 

Both sisters are called by male names

Both sisters are mistaken for brothers by Sherlock as well as John, when they are first mentioned in their presence.

These are enough similarities between those mysterious sisters to  call it quite strange, I think. Mycroft’s advice for Sherlock comes to mind: 

SHERLOCK: For one person to be in both groups ... could be a coincidence. MYCROFT: Oh, Sherlock. What do we say about coincidence? SHERLOCK: The universe is rarely so lazy.

As much as Harry and Eurus seem to have in common, there’s one big difference. While Eurus lives her lonely life mostly behind elephant glass, Harry had been married with Clara for some time. But three months before John and Sherlock meet, the women split up and got a divorce. 

A Catherine hiding in plain sight

As @shylockgnomes​ pointed out in her post about the 'High incidence of Katherines’ in Sherlock BBC, the name Clara basically has the same meaning as Catherine … bright, clear, clean, pure. Clara seems to be a Catherine hiding in plain sight, one might say. 

Catherine is of Greek origin and became later, in the early Christian era, associated with the Greek ‘katharos’ … meaning ‘pure’. Earlier derivations list as possible roots for Catherine the name of the goddess Hekate and the Greek name Hekaterine ... meaning ‘each of the two’. 

And this is the point where especially one possible meaning behind the name Catherine ... ‘each of the two’ … becomes highly interesting for a story packed full of pairs, couples, double ohs and twins. 

Each of the two - what might this mean?

Does it refer to two autonomous characters like Sherlock and John or does it refer to two different versions of one and the same character. What if we are dealing with two John’s in this story (alongside with two Sherlock’s)? Two of a kind for each of the two ... but not twins. 

John Watson seems to be the character everything else circles around inside Sherlock’s mind palace. But there is a great difference between the John Watson of the PILOT and the one in ASIP. While PILOT-John seems to have not much problems to show his romantic interrest in Sherlock, the same character is much more restrained in ASIP. This attitude grows constantly over the course of the story, until it reaches an absolute low point in TLD. John claims again and again, in almost each episode, that he’s not gay. He downgrades Sherlock’s introduction of him from ‘friend’ to ‘colleague’. He tries to teach Sherlock the appropriate interaction with other people and the correct social behaviour … even when it is quite clear that Sherlock doesn’t like it. He jokes about some of Sherlock’s special characteristics with mutual friends and even tells him to ‘be not himself’ and demands that Sherlock should ‘hold himself to a higher standard’ because of the people who read the stories. And alongside those repeated verbal rebukes there’s also a constant increase of physical violence. 

For more than a century the friendship and love between Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson is known to be among the most famous in literature. It hardly ever happens that the one appears without the other. Not one of the many adaptations I ever watched, depicts the ‘good doctor’ as someone who behaves like John Watson in Sherlock BBC. This John Watson becomes more and more out of character as the story runs along. Sometimes it’s almost as if this man isn’t THE John Watson at all. 

‘When you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains must be the truth’ … that’s a main principle of Sherlock Holmes. If this John Watson is so very much OOC, perhaps this is so, because he isn’t THE John Watson? 

Viewing all the characters on Sherlock’s mind stage as aspects, as certain opinions he has on various matters, and not as autonomous real-life people, it could be entirely possible that Sherlock tries to analyze his attitude towards a romantic/sexual relationship by creating different ‘editions’ of John Watson. The special attempt of a genius brain to fathom out his own feelings, desires and fears. If so, are there any indications in this story that more than one John Watson is present? 

Two times John?

As mentioned in this post, there exists a scene in PILOT in which John appears twice in one single shot. It happens during the taxi ride to the crime scene of the pink lady, when Sherlock explains his first deductions about John to John. In one of the flashbacks John can be seen entering the lab while he is already inside, offering Sherlock his phone. 

Recently I discovered that a similar shot exists in ASIP as well. It’s also in one of the flashbacks during the taxi ride to the crime scene of the pink lady, when Sherlock explains his first deductions about John to John. ‘Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq’ … that’s the exact point when it happens. This time though the appearance of the ‘second John’ is rather colourful. One might even say … rainbowy. :)

Hope and Faith

The Lying Detecive is the (for now) penultimate episode of the story and very closely connected to A Study in Pink. Each of the two episodes is about a serial killer who deems himself 'verging on nice’, loves to talk to his victims and displays quite noticeable teeth. 

Jeff Hope from ASIP has two bottles to offer, good pills and bad pills full of ‘chemistry’, from which Sherlock is expected to choose one.  

Culverton Smith from TLD has a daughter called Faith. With her bad leg and the cane, she’s very obviously a mirror for John. The included flashback to John limping away from the pink lady’s crime scene and also the scene in which Faith’s gun gets thrown into the Thames (like John’s in PILOT), underpins the mirroring even more. Faith is displayed as two similar looking but entirely different persons. 

As it turns out later, one of the two Faith’s is actually Eurus, Sherlock’s 'other one’, his sister who gets mistaken for a brother (like John’s sister Harry). Eurus represents Sherlock’s emotional side … especially with regards to his feelings for John … hence Faith’s display as John’s mirror with cane and limp.

TBB and the theory of two John’s

The Blind Banker has proven again and again that this episode is the user manual for Sherlock BBC. If there are indeed two different John’s - respectively Sherlock’s - put into this story, TBB should confirm this theory. Are there two John’s/Sherlock’s included in TBB? Yes, surprisinly, there are. 

In this episode John as well as Sherlock are presented as double mirrors. Due to several random and minor incidents, General Shan mistakes John for Sherlock. 

Debit card, name of S. Holmes.

A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes.

We heard it from your own mouth. “I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone …”

And so, in General Shan’s view, John becomes Sherlock and Sarah - the ‘pretty doctor companion’ - turns into John. Basically, in every scene in which those three characters interact with each other, there are indeed two John’s and two Sherlock’s present ‘on stage’. It seems the theory that both main characters are represented in two slightly different versions is not that farfetched after all.

That’s not the John Watson I know 

There’s this short dialogue from ASIP, the first official episode of Sherlock BBC, (it doesn’t show up in PILOT) ... could it be another piece of evidence that there’s more than one John Watson in this story. Is this a classical case of ‘we told you, but did you listen’?

Two Johns? Two differnt aspects represented by the same character? One positive, one negative? Like Jeff Hope’s good and bad bottles? And also two Sherlock’s?

The concept of an inflexible, unchangeable relationship between ‘eternal’ just-friends, the same as it has been for over a century. A version that will slowly kill Sherlock internally until he ends in the solitude of the Sussex Downs all alone with his bees? Again ...

And the other concept …  a finally changed 'new’ friend, a different John, who falls in love with Sherlock Holmes at first sight and never leaves him again? And a Sherlock Holmes who gives in to the softer emotions and his neglected ‘transport’. A man who finally drops his facade to accept love, romance and sex in his life?

The detective and his doctor who, at long last, leave their crime scene and have dinner with each other (fulfill their desire) at a lovely Chinese (emotional) restaurant. :)))

More about pairs:  Things coming in pairs   Couples & Pairs   Double oh 7 - Bond Air is go

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane​ for the scripts. 

December, 2019

[ambitiouslyher]

HAPPY ONE YEAR, NINA LIU ! YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS TO ME !! // anniversary edit.

( rp partners can reblog, personals dni. )

[erintoknow]

i said peel the skin raw

fallen hero fanfic time again ~5.2k words [ao3] (9.8k/50k for nanowrimo)

title from [Ripe by Screaming Females]

–––

Dr. Mortum lets go of Jane’s arm as the two of them step into the laboratory proper. No experiments running in the background today. That’s different. Mortum glances back to her friend, a nervous smile to try and ease the tension. It doesn’t work. “Do you want a drink?”

“A drink?” Jane crosses her arms, scans the room. It’s been months since you felt the need to have Jane make a note of the exits in Mortum’s lab. Worktables, computer bank, a makeshift office space offset with fake-walls, everything is way too clean. “What’s with you today? We’re at your place now, can we finally talk about whatever’s going on?”

“I’ve got wine? Champagne, a nice Pinot Noir…”

“Mortum.”

“No? Alas.” Dr. Mortum exaggerates her shrug, brings a hand up to fiddle with her glasses. “How are you doing, mon amie? It’s been a while since we last talked. And a lot has… happened.”

Jane snorts, “Yeah, no shit.” Her expression softens, maybe that was a little too harsh. “I’m sorry. Things have been busy on my end too.”

“Mm-hm.” Mortum nods, not taking her eyes off the wine-rack she’s examining. “Adrestia keeping you busy?”

Jane falters, running her hands up her arms. Some scars, but nothing like yours, smoother. Jane can wear pull off a short sleeve dress like this without any fear. “Y–yeah. She didn’t cause any problems for you at the auction, did she?”

“You know how you advised me to just buy the teleportation gun?” Mortum taps a finger on one bottle, then pulls out the one next too it and moves to pour herself a drink. “She stole it.”

“Ah.” Jane grimaces. “I– actually, that’s part of why I needed to talk to you?”

“Oh? – Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Mortum holds up the bottle. “Native Californian, 1979, summer before the big one hit.”

“Oh hell, fine.” Jane sighs and lets her arms drop to her sides. “My… my boss wants me to arrange a meeting. To, uh… return your gun.”

Mortum hands Jane a full glass and the two of them take seats around the workshop table. “She wants to meet? With me directly?” Mortum frowns. “In person?”

“Yeah. Tonight, actually. There’s this dinky bar on Melrose called La Catina, she’ll be there at six o’clock.”

“Do you think she suspects anything?”

“I couldn’t say.” Jane takes a sip from her glass. Need to steady her nerves. Need to calm down. Jane doesn’t get jumpy. “I watch my thoughts around her but… you know. How would I know?”

Dr. Mortum swirls the wine around her glass, thinking. “Will you be there as well?”

“I… have my own chores, I’m sorry.” This is a delicate rope you’re threading, but you need to sew these pieces back together before everything falls apart. “For what it’s worth, she’d be meeting you out of armor.”

That gets her attention, “Out of armor?”

“If she knew we were…” Jane makes a face, “planning on, uh, ditching her, I don’t think she’d be offering to trust you with who she was.” There’s a twinge of guilt for lying that blatantly. It’s for the greater good though. Right?

“Truthfully, Adrestia hasn’t been a terrible employer. Always paid on time, resourceful in finding rare materials.” Is Jane holding her breath, or is that you? “But she is dangerous. Liable to end poorly if my experience is any indicator. And then there’s the matter of your mandatory employment by her.”

“Th–that’s true.”

“Mon amie, how did you come to work for Adrestia, anyway?”

“W–what?” Jane gives an uncomfortable laugh and fiddles with the glass in her hands. “I mean, you know… girl on her own, looking to get a leg up in the world…”

Dr. Mortum downs the rest of her own glass in one go. “Do you remember when you asked me to look into that ‘Shroud’ character? Back right before the Auction?”

Something tightens in Jane’s gut. “Uh, yeah? Did you find something out? About her?”

“She’s Lord Ember’s number one enforcer in San Francisco. A tactile telepath with some kind of…” Mortum frowns to herself, “life… energy drain ability.”

“…life drain?”

“Not very scientific I know.” The woman’s frown only deepens. “Merde, what I’d give for the chance to study her.”

“Uh– Doctor?”

“Right, anyway, the people whose minds she… consumes, she can sift through their memories at will. I couldn’t say how long she retains the information but it makes for one very handy interrogation-execution package.”

Can feel the goose-bumps running up the back of Jane’s neck. That just talking about Shroud like this is producing a reaction in Jane is not helping your nerves in the slightest. “She… eats peoples minds…?”

“So it appears. What’s left is a body, weakened and comatose. Not something that would last more than a few hours without life support. That’s the basis for the rumors behind her having a ‘death touch’.”

“That’s… awful, when you put it like that. But it’s not exactly new information.”

“Have you crossed paths with her before, mon amie?”

“No. I mean – I don’t think I have?” Jane hunches over, “Seriously, doc, what’s wrong? There’s been something off with you ever since we talked on the phone last night.” It can’t be what it’s starting to sound like. It can’t be. There’s no way. There’s a mistake, somehow. A mix-up.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not sure how to approach this. Or… what to make of what I found.” Dr. Mortum eyes the wine bottle, plainly weighing the benefits of pouring herself another glass. “Maybe it would be best just to show you directly.”

“Show me? Show me what?”

Dr. Mortum puts the wine glass down, reaches a hand across the table to grasp Jane’s. “You really don’t know?”

Jane stiffens under the doctor’s touch but doesn’t pull her hand away. “I wouldn’t be asking like this if I did.”

She doesn’t let go of Jane’s hand, instead shifting her chair so they’re both on the same side of the table. With her free hand she gestures towards the monitor screen installed on the near wall. “While I was digging around, I got my hands on some footage through a contact of mine.”

“Footage?”

Jane watches as Dr. Mortum brings a holographic keyboard to life in front of her. The monitor flickers on as Mortum navigates through a series of files. “Here we are. This… might be difficult to watch.”

“Doctor,” Jane’s voice is dry, “just what on earth are you trying to… show… me…?” Voice fades to nothing as the video file expands to fill the whole screen.  The video is grainy and low quality, shades of grey like a cheap security camera. But the picture jostles and moves in strange motions, hand-held? No – almost first-person esque. Mods? An eye-camera?

The center of the screen is taken up by woman on a chair. Ziplock ties bind her by the wrists and ankles to the metal frame, and the chair doesn’t shift at all as the woman struggles. Welded to the floor? The woman on the chair has a black eye, bruises on her arms, chin. Curly hair framing a too-familiar face. 

There’s no way.

There’s no possible way.

You look down to your – Jane looks down to her hands, rubs her wrist with her fingers. No bruises, no marks. Not – not anymore. This is Jane. this is Jane’s body. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to Jane. She’s safe. She’s nobody. 

But there’s no tattoos on the woman on the screen.

The camera turns away and Shroud is stepping into the room. Too-fancy dress, veiled face, and long gloves. The camera steps back getting a wider view of the whole scene as Shroud steps around the woman in the chair. “Be reasonable Ace, all we want to know is how you did it.” The voice, tinny through the speakers, is still enough to set Jane on edge. Grinding her teeth, nails digging into her arms.

“Did what?” Jane’s voice. Fuck. Shit. Piss. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”

Shroud’s voice is slow, faux patience. “Two million and thirty three thousand. That’s how much you’ve lost Lord Ember.” The skeletal woman stops in front of – Jane? Ace? The woman tied to the chair. One hand tugging back against the fabric of her gloves.

“I’ve been playing fair. I’m just lucky.” Picture of hurt innocence. Literal.

“Hmm… Luck.” Shroud reaches out a hand, and someone off screen passes off a gun. A revolver. Even with the poor visual fidelity it looks like an antique. “Let’s see just how lucky you are.”

Without thinking about it, Jane finds herself reach out for Dr. Mortum’s arm, pulling the woman closer. Mortum shifts position to get closer, puts her arm around Jane instead, holding her tight.

There’s no one for the woman in the chair. Shroud, calm and silent as death itself loads a bullet into the revolver. As she points the gun at the woman’s leg, Jane flinches, buries her face in Mortum’s side. But there’s no ‘bang,’ no screams.

Another bullet loaded. Shroud humming to herself. Points at the woman’s shoulder. Jane cries out, hides her face against Dr. Mortum again. The woman on the screen remains stoic the whole time. No ‘bang’ this time either.

Third bullet. Pointed at the forehead. The chamber spins and now on the woman on the screen – Ace – flinches the color draining out of her face. Did Ace on the screen cry out that time or was that Jane again?

Shroud chuckles as she waves the gun in Ace’s face. “Don’t be a baby. It’s just rubber bullets, to see how long your luck lasts. It won’t kill you.”

Ace shrinks back against the chair. Jane’s own breathing is becoming increasingly harder, the body slipping out of your control again – like before. “You will, though.” Ace says.

“Hm?” Shroud leans back, a hand on her hip. She holds the gun out and again, someone off screen takes it from her. Both hands free now, she starts tugging at one of her gloves. “Not if you cooperate with me.”

“Liar.” Ace strains against her bonds again. It’s hard to breath, hard to watch. But something won’t let you look away either. “You’ll kill me, and that will be the end of you.”

“Threats? Really now? In your position?” Shroud’s glove is off now, and the camera person takes another step back. “I’ve looked into you, Ace. Bitter, lonely soul. No close family, no close friends. Nobody that will miss you.” Shroud pulls back her veil. Skin deathly pale and sunken, sallow features. Something like a walking corpse with a death’s head grin. “Nobody will avenge you.”

“Still not lying.” An impossible level of conviction in those words. Ace’s wrists are bleeding now, plastic cutting into skin. But there’s no getting away. No escaping. “Do your worst sucker, but that will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I’ve heard it all before.” Shroud says, bored, as she flexes her hand now. Too thin, too bony. “Now… let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me.” Her hand grasps Ace’s face and Ace  screams, and you can’t, can’t keep watching. Jane hides her face against Mortum’s side. Don’t look until the screaming stops.

Ace sits in the chair, breathing but limp. Sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, looking awfully like she did when you found Jane in the hospital. Shroud, in contrast looks radically different. Less a corpse and more a woman carved from marble. A wide grin across her face, making a show of licking her lips. “Boosts were always my favorite.”

“What did you learn?” The voice comes from off camera.

“Lone operator.” Shroud puts a finger to her head, eyes closed in a too familiar motion. Her sleeve falls back against gravity, not enough to reveal anything definitive but are those shapes hints of tattoos? Geometric. Someone else far too familiar. “Could see the numbers before the ball landed. Same with the cards.” Shroud shrugs, then smirks towards the camera. “Cute trick. Tell him that he doesn’t have to worry, she’s not one of Hollow Ground’s crew. Just someone who miscalculated. Badly.”

And it’s too much. Jane staggers to her feet. “I–I–I– I have to– I need a walk. I need to get a hold of myself. I need–”

The off-screen voice snickers. “Guess her luck finally ran out. What should we do with the body?”

Shroud flexes her exposed hand, slowly tugging her glove back on. “Sell her for parts, let her recoup some of the cost that way.”

Nausea riles up and Jane collapses to the floor, hands on the tiles, retches, then vomits. Did you just watch yourself– watch Jane, die?

“Mon amie?” Dr. Mortum hovers by your side, hands outstretched but not quite touching.

“I’m f–f–f–fine.” You insist. Tears falling from your eyes into the pool of ejected wine and bile on the floor, more running out your nose. Can feel your body shaking, arms struggling to hold yourself off the floor.

“Come on, mon amie, let me help you up.” There’s a brief pause and then arms reach around your shoulders, pulling you back to your feet, holding you steady even as you continue to shake. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

“S–s–sorry. I–I’m sorry.”

Mortum leads you out into the adjoining bathroom, “I’ll clean it up. You just take a moment, okay?” A light touch to your back makes you jump, and Mortum hesitates, clearly at a loss for what to do. 

So are you.

Stare at your face in the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes red, a mess. Everything’s a mess. This face that’s yours but not yours, Jane’s face. Or Ace’s face? Hold yourself up with your hands bracing against the bathroom sink.

What do you do?

Clean up. Clean yourself up. Clean Jane up. Get it together. Get a hold on yourself. Jane sucks in air until her lungs hurt, then slowly lets it all out. Does it again. Third time. Mortum leaves to clean the mess on the floor.

Never felt more like a puppeteer as you do now, putting Jane through the motions. Blow the nose, water on the face. Wash off the tears, snot, vomit, ruined make-up. Hyper-aware of the differences between your face and hers. Smaller nose, rounder face, no freckles, softer eyes. Just fooling yourself this whole time – some sort of sick fantasy on your part. Letting yourself getting lured in by a shared hair and eye color, a similar inability to tan. 

Sometimes, in these more emotional moments it gets difficult to remember Jane is an act you’re playing, a mask you’re wearing. Not that you’ve ever been good at separating your feelings. The fiasco with Julia can attest to that.

Can’t say you were prepared for ‘interrogation by a Farm-trained telepath’ to be another point of blurred boundaries between the two of you. Grab a wash cloth off the hook, take a deep breath then bury your face in the fabric to muffle your scream. When Jane runs out of breath, she finishes drying off her face, adjusts her dress before walking back into the lab.

Mortum gives Jane a sheepish wave as she spots her, “Do you need a drink?”

“I’m going to need something harder than wine this time.” Jane replies, rubbing her hands over her face.

“I was thinking similarly.” She’s already back by the kitchenette. Jane slumps into the nearest chair, listening to the sound of glasses being poured. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I should have given more warning. I just…”

“I don’t think there’s a warning adequate enough for something like that.” Jane suppresses a shudder, only looking up to take the –very large– glass of whiskey offered to her. “So that was really her… death-touch deal?”

Mortum nods, nursing her own large glass. “Yes. It was passed along to me as an example of Shroud in action. But I wouldn’t have bothered putting you through that except for–”

Jane cuts her off, “who the the victim was.”

“Mm.” Dr. Mortum watches Jane carefully over the rim of her glasses.

“How old is the video?”

Don’t say three years, don’t say three years, don’t say three years.

“About three years.” Mortum answers.

“Fuck.”

“Mon amie?”

“Goddamnit.” Jane laughs, high-pitched and frantic. “So then that person on the video, Ace, that was…”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well.” Jane takes a long drink, gasping for air when she puts the glass down on the table. “I get why you wanted to just show me the video.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

That gets another, more bitter laugh. “We kind of have to, don’t we?”

“Mon amie…” Dr. Mortum’s voice is low, face furrowed in worry. “How far back can you remember?”

“I…” Jane hesitates, then clenches her fists. “About three years. Woke up in the hospital. Everything hurt. My boss got me out.” What would have happened if you had waited to come back the next day? Or snuck in a day earlier? It had been… sheer luck you had been able to steal away Jane’s body when you had.

Had it been luck?

Jane exhales, a long shaking breath. “I don’t remember anything before that.”

“Saving someone’s life is certainly one way to ensure loyalty.” Dr. Mortum’s voice is soft, low. When did her hand find Jane’s? How long has she been holding it?

“I don’t– I’m not sure that she did.”

“Did what?”

“Save my life.”

“You’ll be free of her one day.” She squeezes Jane’s hand.

Jane only flinches, pulls her hand back. “That’s– that’s not what I mean. I… oh god. I don’t know how to say this.” Never mind how to say it. What to say is the more pressing issue. 

“I’m not sure I’m following, mon amie.”

“Of course not.” Jane snaps back. “You don’t exactly have the full picture – I mean, neither do I but I’ve got more of the – the goddamn puzzle pieces, fuck.” Another long drink ending in a gasp for breath. Try not to think too much about worried concern on Mortum’s face.  This is stupid. What are you doing. Shut up Ariadne. 

Dr. Mortum says nothing, confound her. No well-meaning advice, no comforting words. Just a worried look.

“Look I – I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“Well, that’s hardly a surprise, considering our respective businesses.”

“Just… let me finish. I don’t – I don’t really know how to sell this. You aren’t going to believe me.” Jane’s smile is brittle, hands hugging her sides.

Mortum shakes her head, “Try me.”

“Okay. Well.” Jane fiddles with the hem of her dress, fingers worrying the fringe. “I’ve told you I can’t just… quit my job with Adrestia.”

She nods.

“And I knew Adrestia…. had saved my life, I just… had no idea to what extent.” Jane pauses, chewing furiously at the inside of her cheek. “I don’t think she knew either. But. Okay. So. Three years ago, Adrestia springs me out of the hospital…. who knows, maybe days, maybe hours, before I was due to get carved up for organ replacements. Following me?”

“I’m following.”

“And– and I was weak. I was real weak. It took me months just to get well enough to get out of bed again, to walk, a whole year before I could even begin to start doing the simplest jobs for her. But– but there’s still…”

“The question of how you survived Shroud at all.” Mortum finishes and Jane nods.

“Except, that’s the thing. I didn’t. I didn’t survive. I’m not some special exception.”

Mortum’s hand finds Jane’s again, a light touch, a chance to pull back. When Jane doesn’t, she holds tighter.

“My… boss is a telepath, right? A very powerful one.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well… She can… Adrestia can possess people.”

That gets a quizzical look, Mortum’s eyebrows furrowing together. “Possess people?” She echoes back.

“It’s– It’s the next step up, I guess, from just tweaking someone’s thoughts.” Jane winces as Mortum’s grip on her hand tightens. “Only… most people, you know, there’s someone already home. It makes possession difficult. And the longer you do it, the harder it gets.” Jane’s voice drops, “And it’s… it’s horrific for the victim. Watching their body move without their say so. Trapped in your own mind.”

“Jane…” Mortum’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Jane tenses up, eyes wet as she laughs. “You really shouldn’t be. Shroud… evicted the previous tenant, and I? I moved in. Made myself at home.”

“What? Mon amie, I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to get doc?” More nervous laughter. “I’m the man behind the curtain. I am my boss.”

Mortum lets go of Jane’s hand, the absence hurts worse the pressure she’d been applying before. “I don’t understand. You’re not telepathically sensitive.”

“Jane isn’t my body. Adrestia is. Possessing her. Me? I’m… not so sure anymore.”

“What? Use your words.”

“Shroud.” You spit the name out, feeling the bile in the back of your throat. “Killed Ace. We both saw it,” Jane gestures at the monitor. “And then, I came along. I needed… I needed a face. I couldn’t risk being seen. Being recognized. And– and here w–w–was this body. This empty body, just waiting.”

“A puppet.”

“Yes. I stole her. Me?” You stare down at Jane’s hands. “I didn’t even know who she was.”

Dr. Mortum’s face has gone cold. A careful blank mask. Unreadable as she stares you down. “So.” Her voice is even, controlled. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“I’m– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for– for lying to you this whole time.”

“But… why would you do that?” Her voice strains, cracks against the pressure to keep an even tone.

Jane looks down, stares at the floor, hands helpless in her lap. “This… whatever this is, wasn’t supposed to happen. I just needed someone to build my armor. You weren’t supposed to be…” Jane makes a face and you wonder if she looks as helpless as you feel right now. “…nice.”

“Nice? Nice?”

“I liked you, okay?” You response comes back quick, defensive. “You could be funny. And you’re smart, didn’t pry much but you also cared. I wasn’t ready for that. I had been… alone. For so long. And I didn’t want to let it go. I was afraid to let it go. Even though I knew I should have.” Jane’s voice drops, “I should have told you months ago. But I… I liked how I was around you. I was afraid of how things would change.”

Mortum pushes up her glasses to rub at her eyes. “And that’s different from how you normally are, I take it?”

“It… it reminded me of how I could be, before I died.”

“Before you… died?”

“I mean, before Adrestia died, not Jane. Ugh, different disaster. Even longer back.”

“I’m afraid I’ve lost the plot on this one.” It almost sounds like a joke, but Mortum doesn’t smile.

“At heart… I’m kind of a coward.”

“Lying, hiding behind other people’s bodies… I can’t say I’m inclined to disagree right now.” Mortum pushes her glasses back up her nose, eyes boring holes through you behind orange-tinted lenses. “I can’t say I appreciate being made fun of much, either.”

That one hurts. “It wasn’t like that!” You clench your fists, can feel the tension in Jane’s shoulders. “I meant everything I said.”

“Even about your boss?”

“Is it really a surprise that I don’t like myself?”

Mortum doesn’t respond, beyond a “Hmm.”

“And then you said you were going to stop working for Adrestia. That you wanted me to quit with you. And I– I tried to tell you. I couldn’t. I literally couldn’t quit. I literally can’t stop being Adrestia. No matter how much I want to. So… when you said you had a plan, in case she – In case I did something against you and me – Jane, I needed to know what it was to-to-to defend myself.”

“Hence stealing my teleportation gun from me.”

“What? No!” You wave your hands, desperate for her to believe you. “That was an accident. I w–w–was serious about returning it. I– I wanted to try and fix things but I… I don’t know how.”

“Sometimes, Jane, the only way to fix an experiment is to trash the whole thing and try something else.”

“I…” Your voice falters. “I don’t know how to interpret that.”

The silence that stretches out between the two of you is physically painful. Finally, Dr. Mortum breaks the tension, rapping her fingers on the worktable. “So.”

“I’m sorry.” “Why not just approach me as yourself? Why this farce?”

“I couldn’t!” You hold your head in your hands, pulling at your hair. “Too many people know who I was before. I couldn’t be sure I could trust you. That I could trust anyone. And by the time I thought I could…”

“I had already decided that I couldn’t trust Adrestia.”

“Yeah.” You shift in your seat. “I just… you let me feel real, at least for a little while. That I could have friends.”

“Friends.” Her voice is flat.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Your smile fades, “Were friends, I guess. Even if you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, you have to believe me on that. Please. I just… I know it’s selfish but I just wanted to be happy for once.”

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” There’s a desperate edge in Mortum’s voice now. You can’t bring yourself to lift Jane’s head to see the other woman’s face.

Jane shrinks back in her seat. It’s weird. You keep expecting your usual panic symptoms whenever things start to skirt too close to the truth. “I don’t know what else I can say… when we first met, I didn’t even think of myself as human, never mind a woman.”

“Human? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“Fuck, I– I guess I better.”

“Stalling.”

“This isn’t easy, shit!” Jane chews her cheek, hugging her arms tight against herself. “Okay… um…” You glance at the image on the monitor, still frozen. “Scroll back, like thirty seconds on the video?”

“Still stalling.”

Jane groans, a pleading look on her face. “Please, just… humor me on this, okay? I’m going somewhere with this.”

Dr. Mortum sighs. With a gesture the keyboard reappears beneath her hand and the video snaps back, frame by frame.

“There!”

Mortum stops the rewind. “Alright, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Look at Shroud’s sleeve. Where it falls back, and right before the skinsuit starts on her arm. Do you see anything?”

You don’t look at the screen, instead watching Dr. Mortum’s face as she scrutinizes the grainy image. “I don’t…”

“Those designs, just poking out the top there?”

“Okay…”

“Re-gene tattoos.”

Sharp in-take of breath. “Truly?”

“I’d recognize them anywhere.”

“I see them now…” A tight frown settles onto the doctor’s face. “Do you think Lord Ember is aware he has a regene in his employ? An escapee or…?” She stops, shakes her head. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m the s–s–same as– the same as Shroud.” Jane clenches her hands. “The– the other me, I mean.”

“…A re-gene?” What does that look on Mortum’s face mean?

Jane nods, then shakes her head. “Do you know what a cuckoo is?”

She narrows her eyes at Jane. “I… might be aware that they exist.” If anyone knew what a cuckoo was, trust it to be Dr. Mortum. Yet another reason you couldn’t have trusted her with the truth at first.

Jane spreads her arms wide, you choke back a sob. “Well, you’re– you’re looking at one right now. I couldn’t– I couldn’t let them find me. My other body is… I mean, my real body is just…”

“Mon dieu, how long have you been on the run?”

“A few years… before, uh…” You swallow back the bile in your throat. Might as well go all in. If she’s going to fire a gun at you, better make sure it’s a headshot. “Before Sidestep.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dr. Mortum groans, rubbing her nose. “No. Of course. All the pieces fall into place. Merde!”

“I g–g–got caught once, already. I can’t go back. Not again. So… stay out of sight. Use a go-between.”

“I understand that, mon amie, but I wish you would have trusted me.” Dr. Mortum groans. “For both our sakes.”

“I know.” You run your hands over your face, avoiding the doctor’s gaze. “Look… if you– if you want revenge, I’d rather you just… shoot me then tip them off. I’ll die before I go back.”

“Did you seriously think I could ever hurt…” The doctor hesitates, “her?” 

“Yes.” You whisper, unable to raise you voice any louder. “I’m… afraid. Always. All the time. But– but I’m telling you now. You deserve the truth.”

“Even if it ends up killing you?”

“I wouldn’t argue that I don’t deserve it.”

“Okay…” Dr. Mortum scrunches her face up. Deep in thought. “You were planning to meet me tonight. In your own body.”

“That’s right.”

“Were you planning to tell me then?”

“If I didn’t chicken out again. Neutral ground. It was– It was supposed to be safer.”

“Safer. For you maybe.” The disdain is plain in her voice. “This is a lot to process.”

“I know.”

“I need–” The doctor’s voice cracks as she struggles to keep her composure. Furious at you, to be sure. Can’t blame her. “I need some time. Mon dieu, I need some fucking time.”

“I… understand.”

“I will keep your secret. And I will do you the favor of pretending you don’t know how to get into my lab.” Dr. Mortum raises a pointed finger at you. “But I need some time. To… think things over. To figure out how I feel about this whole… disaster.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you sorry for lying to me or sorry you got caught?”

Jane pulls back, frowning. “I didn’t– I didn’t have to tell you any of this. I chose to…”

“Shoot yourself in the face.”

“I guess.”

“Right. I’m trying to keep that in mind.” Mortum gets up, turns her back on you. “Just. Go. Get out of here. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to talk.

“Do you know whe–”

“I don’t know, Adrestia! It could be a week, it could be years! It could be never! Let me think!”

“Okay.” Jane pulls herself to her feet. You feel hollow, empty. “You… know how to reach me.”

“Just go.”

“I’m sorry.”

You manage to hold yourself together long enough to get Jane back home. Don’t even bother undressing before collapsing face first into the bed. The best you can hope for is that Dr. Mortum doesn’t sell you out. But there’s no recovering that relationship. Christ. If this is how it goes with Mortum, how will Julia take the truth?

Julia deserves to know.

Her knowing will kill you.

You roll over onto your back, close your eyes as you slowly untether yourself from Jane’s body.

Would dying really be so bad? Compared to this?

[trouble2381]

Bird Song and Scum

This is the first chapter of a story that I'm writing for/with a friend. I thought that it might not be the worst thing to put up here first.

Chapter 1

"You can't tell me it's not a good idea,"

"No, I can't, but it's not going to happen,"

"And why not! It lines up perfectly with what they've done with the series so far,"

"True but I don't think that's what they're going for,"

"You don't know that,"

"No. No, I don't. But I do know Hollywood and they don't really go for things like that,"

"You two do realize you've been hot miccing this entire time, right?" Came a third voice over the radio. The car suddenly filled with alarmed screams at the sudden voice.

"Shit. Raven we're sorry," Said driver suddenly embarrassed as spouting her movie theories to not just her passenger but also the entire crew.

"It's fine Finch," Said Raven calmly "Besides, I agree with you on some of those points. Crane you gotta remember that Hollywood is under a lot of pressure to diversify now making a lead character gay would give them a lot of good publicity,"

"Hah," Finch all but spat at Crane, making sure to turn their microphone off first.

"But I do have to say that it was really unprofessional. Especially when I've got the new kid beside me,"

In Ravens car the "new kid" looked down nervously at his new mask. It was shaped like a bird and coloured a jet black with feathers stuck on as well to really help with the bird motif. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Raven leaned back into his seat, finger lifting from the mic's broadcast button. His face was hidden behind a mask of his own. It was similarly black but his eye lenses were coloured a deep scarlet.

"You'll have to put that on eventually kid," He said, not turning in his direction. His attention seemingly glued to the highway before them, waiting for the mark.

"I know. It's just... I don't know how to word it," he replied, his voice trailing off as he trying to find the correct words.

"You feel as though when you put it on you won't be able to take it off."

"Uh... Yeah, I guess,"

"I know that feeling. Though not from personal experience. The other members of the crew most of them felt the same. Look," He said turning his head and lifting the mask up exposing his dark-skinned face. It looked kinder than the mask but the new kid assumed that was the point. "It comes off easy enough," He smiled and lowered it back down, adjusting the straps at the back as he did.

Taking a deep breath as he turned back the mask in his hands, he raised it up to his face and put his on. The first thing he noticed was how comfortable it was, sure a part jabbed him here and there but given that it hadn't been fitted for his he was surprised. The second thing was how well he found he could see.

"There we go. Just like your name now. Welcome to the team, Crow."

Crow, as he had been christened, nodded his acknowledgement before reaching down and pulling up a laptop that has been sitting at his feet. He opened it up and, once it was fully loaded, prepared to infiltrate the IP address of their target.

"Shouldn't be long now," Spoke Raven, now holding the microphone to his mouth. "Remember, the target is an armoured van transporting a piece of equipment that shouldn't be too missed but will provide us with a decent amount of funds at the end. If we're lucky there should be a small police presence,"

"You mean unlucky," Came a new voice, gruff and female.

"Calm it now Vulture. The last thing we need is the police on our backs," Raven said calmly. "When we do acquire what we're here for lose whatever tail you might have gain and meet back at base."

"You mean the Nest," Came Finch's voice.

"We are not calling it that," Said Crane, in a tone that suggested that this hadn't been the first time this had been suggested. If they argued longer about its Crow didn't hear it as they must have learned from, they're past experience with being accidentally live.

Crow suppressed a small giggle hidden more by his mask. He let out a small breath before his screen suddenly lit up.

"Raven," he said, pointing at the screen. Raven must have known what he meant as a second later he heard Raven speak again.

"Target it in wireless range," In front of them the road lit up with flashing red and blue as the small police escort drove past them followed by the target and then two more small police vehicles. "Visual on target. Moving to pursue," Raven put the mic down and slowly started to pull the car out onto the highway a couple of Kilometres behind the convoy. Squinting, Crow could see another car pull out in front of the van. He prepared himself for what he knew was about to come next. "Now!" Raven shouted down the radio.

A few moments later a large armoured truck barrelled down the hill and slammed into the vans side, instantly flipping it over. The police around them instantly slammed their breaks, one of them colliding with the side of the attacking truck.

Crow quickly suppressed the alarms on his laptop, cutting off their radio connections as well as their silent alarms. He nodded at Raven who nodded back, leaving the car while pulling out his assault rifle from its holster beside the door. As much as Crow tried to focus on the laptop his attention kept being stolen by the loud sound of gunfire outside. He looked up to see cops taking cover behind their doors as Raven fired shots into them.

He could also see Vulture, wearing the appropriate mask, prying open the doors into the back of the van which had landed on its side. Behind the carnage he saw the other two police vehicles being pinned down by fire from two other masked assailants that Crow knew was Finch and Crane. He quickly stroked a few more keys on his keyboard, grabbing a few things as he watched Vulture leave the van carrying a large electrical looking device.

Crows attention was grabbed by the sight of a large man wearing a bird mask running in his direction, he tried not to laugh at the absurdity that he was witness to. Raven threw open his door, threw his gun in the back seat and slammed the car into reverse and turning them around in one smooth motion. As he sped away Crow glanced behind them to see the armoured truck following close behind before it turned into a slip road that Crow hadn't noticed.

"We still silent?" Raven asked, his head turning to look in the mirrors.

"Yeah. I still have connec- never mind. We still have a couple of minutes before they can call out."

"Good, standard procedure is to blow out the tires so we should be long gone before they even know to start looking for us. Hiring you might have been the best idea I've had,"

"I could have told you that," Said Crow jokingly. In more of an experimental way. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Raven chuckle.

"You can relax. I ain't gonna throw out for a couple of jokes. I can hear the stress in your voice. Just think. We pissed them off today. Be glad about that."

And Crow did. He thought about how good that felt as he looked out over the

[stanskzseungmin]

Operation Miroh | Stray Kids Mafia! AU ~ Chapter 2

Warnings: None

It was dark when you woke up. The only light source was from the many screens illuminating the room.

The pain you felt from the night before had faded. In fact, you felt no pain at all, not even a crick in the neck or a sore back from laying down in your uncomfortable cot. You lifted your arm into your view rotating it and looking at it front and back, up and down. You were no longer bandaged. Your arm looked as supple and smooth as the day you were born. No scars. No blemishes. No evidence of any injuries from the incident.

Your gaze fell on the figure that was leaning against your cot.

Hwang Hyunjin, the gang’s main medic and engineer.

You smiled at the sight. He kept his promise. You stared at his side profile. His figure was illuminated by the many screens. He looked angelic. His honey brown hair was styled nicely albeit the messy strands from running his fingers through his hair. He wears a brilliant white outfit. It is skin tight with black accents. A masterful design by Hwang Hyunjin himself. Specifically engineered to improve aerodynamics. At the center of his back on either side of his spine resting snuggly under his shoulder blades are two carefully engineered mechanical wings that allows Hyunjin to glide and cover more distance quickly. Hyunjin can retract and extend them at will. It is connected directly into his nervous system via very fine needles. Because of this, Hyunjin still had full control of his wings as such as his arms or legs.

You remember the day he first put them on vividly. The sounds of his pained screams echoing through your base, his face contorted by pain, the tears forcing through his clenched eyes as the needles pierce his skin directly penetrating his nerves.

He was in so much pain. The pain mirrored the first every time he removes them and puts them back on, so he leaves them on as a permanent extension of his body. (Seungmin does the repairs directly on his body whenever needed.)

You can’t really see his face clearly, but you can already envision it from seeing it many times. His eyes were glued to his many screens. His eyes would squint and his nose would occasionally crinkle from concentration. A pair of glasses rested neatly on the bridge of his nose- glasses meticulously crafted with specialized lens to prevent and limit eye strain from staring at his many screens for hours at a time.

Hyunjin has 11 screens, one main larger screen in the center with 5 smaller ones on either side. The 10 other screens each depicted the heart rate, breathing rate, blood pressure, etc of each of the Stray Kids members. One for each starting from the eldest to the youngest, then you at the bottom right screen.

Hyunjin’s left hand was tightly gripping the side of your cot. You rested your hand over his intertwining your fingers with his. He squeezed your much smaller fingers with his larger ones in acknowledgement without turning to look at you. He let out a soft huff. You understood what he wanted from you. You detach your hand from his as he walks towards the collection of screens. You let sleep take over your form.

Some time later, you stirred in your sleep. Hyunjin was still stood stiff in front of his screens.

You felt arms securely wrapped around you and a leg draping over yours. You turned carefully to face the figure.

Lee Felix, the gang’s hitman. It’s mind blowing how effective he is. He is extremely masterful in close quarter fighting and his ability to use a gun is unmatched (with the exception of Changbin.)

He was sound asleep. His blond hair was messy and freckles littered his face like stars in the night sky. Felix was still fully geared. Looks like he just returned from a mission as evident by the dark circles under his eyes. No rest for the wicked. Memories of last night flooded your mind. Felix’s pained screams as he was caught aflamed and him crashing through the window. Hyunjin did a spectacular job tending to his wounds. Felix was apparently well enough to embark on another mission practically hours after being set ablaze.

You carefully got out of his grasp letting the Aussie sleep. You walked towards Hyunjin patting his shoulder signifying you were leaving. You didn’t dare speak to him. You knew better than to interrupt. He has 10 lives on his hands 25/8.

You quietly closed the door behind you as you entered the long hallway littered by closed doors. You began heading down the hallway to report back to your leader.

Along the way, you see Changbin heading your direction.

Seo Changbin, the gang’s weapons dealer. He was donning a black skin tight short sleeved shirt that perfectly showcases his muscles and toned chest. He wore black fingerless leather gloves and loose black pants with black combat boots to finish it off. He had several straps and harnesses attached to his body holding all his gun holsters. Gun magazines decorated his torso. An AK was slung over a shoulder held up with a sling and a sniper rifle secured to his back. He smiled at you fondly relief washing over his stern face. You smiled back remembering the scare you gave him last night. He ruffles your hair gently, his fingers ghosted down the side of your face, your cheek, your jaw before caressing your chin gently wiping his thumb over the soft skin. He walked past you continuing down his path.

You smiled widely as you continued down the hallway giving each door you pass a singular knock. Each room’s occupants briskly opened the door and sticking their heads out, each relieved to see you alive and well.

The first, Han Jisung, the group’s main hustler for money and info. The squirrel like little shit however, didn’t open the door in response to your knock. Instead, he responded with a loud kick on the other side that shook the door slightly.

The second, Yang Jeongin, the group’s youngest and unbelievable sniper. He has never missed a shot. He doubles as a secondary weapons dealer, often accompanying Changbin and even going by himself if Changbin is preoccupied. His head stuck out his door; his red hair was messy with bed head. His eyes were little slits tired from sleep. His eyes open slightly seeing you alive and well. He smiled brightly. You gently pecked his cheek; a slight blush dusted his cheeks. He retreated back into his room returning to sleep. 

The third, Kim Seungmin, the group’s demolitionist. Explosives were his specialty. He does have the knowledge of an engineer and mechanic to lighten Hyunjin’s load. (Although Hyunjin will kill Seungmin if he touches or interferes with any of Hyunjin’s engineering experiments).

Like Jeongin, he only stuck his head out. However, unlike Jeongin, he had a scowl on his face from being rudely interrupted. The scowl didn’t leave his face upon seeing you though. His clenched teeth eased into firmly pressed straight lips. His nose scrunches up slightly prior to giving you a split second peck to your cheek and proceeding to slams the door in your face.

You laughed lightly to yourself shaking your head lightly. You turn to continue but you see Lee Know stumbling out of his room, a gas mask present on his face and a fog of smoke coming out of his open door. Lee Minho, or Lee Know, is the group’s decoy and toxin expert. Smokes and poison gas are his thing. He hand makes every single concoction.

Minho glances at you noticing your presence. He quickly waved at you and smiled. You couldn’t see his face other than his eyes, but from how his eyes crinkled, you knew he smiled at you. Minho then walked through the smoke into his room and left his door open. You peered into his room, but the smoke was so thick and dense you can not even see through it, just a solid color of ashy gray.

You turned the corner still facing the smoke. Minho flooding his room with smoke was not a rare occurrence. You laughed at the thought.

Without realizing, your back collided with a very firm chest. You whipped around to see Woojin.

Kim Woojin, the gang’s main bargainer. Like Jisung, Woojin’s job is to get money and info. Unlike Jisung who practically blackmails the other party, Woojin can sweet talk and let the money speak for him. (Even though Jisung uses violence to get what he wants, the little shit can’t fight to save his life unlike Woojin who can take down 5 guys single handedly.)

Woojin was dressed in a black long sleeved turtleneck and a white faux leather jacket over it. He has several accessories, mainly chains, decorating his body. His lower body was less visually loud. He has simple tight black jeans and black high tops. 

He smiles at you, giving you one of his signature bear hugs and kissing the top of your head. He pulled away from you and stood to the side with an arm outstretched allowing you to pass.

You made your way to Chan’s room. Technically it’s his office, but he holes up there 25/8 it’s practically his room.

Bang Chan, the gang’s leader and hacker. His IQ is through the roof making genius Woojin appearing to have a pea sized brain. 

Bang Chan’s office (room) was dark. The lights were almost always off. The only light was coming from his large monitor. He was slouched over his laptop, the sounds of his fingers dancing over his keyboard can be heard throughout the room.

He notices your presence and spins around on his chair. He showcases his famous dimple smile.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Chan asked, voice thick with an Australian accent.

You smiled and nodded slightly to him.

Chan knew you should rest, but he also knows that his knee will get capped again if he’s forcing you to sit around. You hate sitting around doing nothing when you could go out and be useful.

“So,” he started. “When do you want to start?”

~

Mission Briefing

Location: Civilized Countryside

Weather: Clear Time of Day: Late Day/Evening

Objective: Gather info

Date: 20XX

Partner: ???

~

Authors note: Since this is the first round of voting, I am providing you with the condensed mission briefing. I will not be stating this explicitly in later chapters. Every mission briefing will follow this same format. It will be your job to gather that info yourself. The full briefing will be posted before every chapter so you can check if you gathered all the correct info.

Here I have given you a mission briefing and you, the readers, will vote for which member you want to bring with you. 

Remember your decisions will have consequences. 

So refer back to their character profiles and stats when casting your vote.

Happy voting!

(Please refer to the Voting Rules before casting your vote.)

Crosses fingers that I get more than 3 votes and it’s not a tie.

Voting ends Tuesday, September 17 12PM PST or Friday, September 13 12PM PST if I get a good amount of votes.

I absolutely hate asking for reblogs, but please reblog if you enjoy the fanfiction, I really don’t want it to flop especially on the first voting stage T^T

Author Note 2 (I’m sorry)

So I will most likely write member scenarios prior to voting stages beginning so I have some back long, but that means for the members that don’t make it scenarios will be tossed. So... how do y’allsters feel if I do like a little contest thing during the votes? Like first few people who can accurately pinpoint the best possible member with a brief explanation why can have a choice to read one of these extra scenarios? (Note: Best possible member does not necessarily mean the member that wins the votes.) PLEASE give me feedback on this. 

~Masterlist~

[scottielambchop]

Pitch Please: Pt. 1

The game is simple. I reach out to my friends and ask them to give me a product and a demographic. I take 30 minutes to research the product and demographic and come up with an overlaying concept. I then flesh out each concept into a full campaign.

Here goes:

Head and Shoulders for Goths

Hide the Light - When you’re a goth, your image is everything. You set yourself apart with the unique juxtaposition of dark clothes and lack of Vitamin D. But you don’t want those colors to mesh (e.g. dandruff). Head & Shoulders will keep your darks dark and your dandruff absent. We could produce full-blown print pieces focusing on the pristine shoulders of goth kids’ black shirts. Maybe use quotes from famous bands (e.g. Friday I’m in Love, etc), or lines like “Stand Out for Other Reasons.” We could change the bottle color from the traditional white and blue to all black with a red streak, especially since the bottle top and icon already somewhat resemble a face with goth/emo hair. We could also create H&S listening rooms in places like Hot Topic, Spencer’s, or malls in general. These would be self-contained kiosks with decorated in all black and dark red. Popular goth bands could play through the area and you could get your hair washed with Head & Shoulders by a professional hairstylist.

What’s This? - What does a quirky goth love more than the combination of bondage pants and tank tops? The Nightmare Before Christmas. For this TV-driven campaign, we could license the characters of the Tim Burton classic—but with a little twist. We could use the famous scenes from the movie, but without snow. And at the end, we could overlay the H&S logo over the screen. For print, we could use stills from Christmastown and Jack in the Santa costume, edit out the snow, and use copy like, “No Flakes” with the H&S logo. We could put statues of the characters of the movie in warm environments, such as Atlanta, Austin, Santa Fe (especially), and San Diego, with the H&S logo. To further drive this point, we could put these statues in snowy areas with a heating mechanism around the area so any snow in the area would melt. Thus creating an even more unique look with snow everywhere else, except around these statues of Nightmare Before Christmas characters.

Something Different - The goth look is very important. It’s more than a fashion. Goths want to do their own thing, they don’t care about what the general public has to say. Often times you’ll see them proudly wearing full garb in the middle of summer. And they like it that way. This campaign will highlight their individuality in the face of the status quo, by focusing on their unique hairstyles and colors. Most people know H&S prevents dandruff, but they don’t realize that it’s also just a really good shampoo. The print spots will feature cropped images of unique goths from the forehead up with wild hairstyles and colors with taglines like “Head & Shoulders. Above & Beyond,” “Do(o) Your Own Thing,” and “Define Your Own Look” This could also transfer well into disruptive billboards. Same style; same tags, but the hairstyles could extend outside the traditional shape of the billboards. We could also further promote individuality by creating a new line of design-inspired bottles. All breaking the traditional H&S style guide and just going all out with colors and/or bottle shapes.

Famous Monsters - This is a pretty short and sweet concept. Goths love old monster movies and TV shows. So we bring em back. Our print campaign could use characters from shows like The Addams Family and The Munsters, etc. (famous characters with black clothing) and superimpose dandruff on their shoulders. We could use taglines like, “They Were Scary for a Different Reason” For the TV spots, we could use scenes from old, Paramount monster movies and Hitchcock films. We could use “tense” scenes where characters are screaming, but instead of screaming at the actual monster or murderer, they would be afraid of dandruff on their shoulders. (This would work especially well with the scene from Psycho) For the out of home spots, we could dress up bus stops like the famous shower from Psycho and place a bottle of H&S in there. We could line subways with Munster family photos (dandruff and all) and have the logo in the corner. We could even have H&S sponsored movie nights where they play old monster movies and episodes of the Munsters and Addams Family. We could even encourage them to dress up (similar to a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show).

H&S Pop - Maybe this is more of a personal experience, but a lot of the goths I’ve ever met have an odd affinity towards Asian culture, especially Korean Pop music, or K-Pop. So, we full-on K-Pop with this campaign. Get the elaborate pop stars, go for the crazy, epilepsy-inducing visuals, and straight-up Korean-style print spots. It would be wild, it would be different, and I’m pretty sure the goths would love it.

Gum for NRA Members

That Pop Pop Pop - When playing connect-the-dots between this product and that demographic, the first things that come to mind are the sounds. That satisfying pop that comes with both blowing a bubble and pulling the trigger. So we make an audio-centered campaign. The TV spots could be set in intense battles throughout history (Civil War, World Wars, etc.). Using Saving Private Ryan-esque cinematography, we could have the visuals go through battles (on land or by air), but before any rounds are fired, it would focus on the soldier or pilot blowing up and popping a gum bubble. Followed with a tagline like, “Lock and Load,” or “Certain Sounds Echo Through Eternity,” or something like that. Print and outdoor could also have similar images of gritty soldiers or pilots throughout history. Most of the images could be in black and white or dark coloring, but have the bubble coming out of his or her mouth a bright white, pink, or whatever the color of the gum. With the same taglines and the logo in the corner. Terrestrial/online radio would clearly be in use. Paint the same picture over audio and follow them up with the chewing gum pop. This is kind of a very loosely described campaign, but it’s the first thing I could think of.

Calm - Another thing I thought of was the raw emotion of having to use a gun. Though most situations would be high pressure, the person using the gun would also have to remain calm and collected. What does gum do? It takes the edge off to a certain extent. So why not focus on that? This campaign could go a lot of ways, but the most innocent and non-blatant way to go about it would be having it set in hunting scenarios. The TV spots would put you in the shoes of a hunter. Use the time to show the patience needed to hunt. The boring parts. The parts involving walking to different spots and tree stands. The parts where the hunter is just waiting. All while you can see the hunter is chewing on something. Suddenly a certified trophy comes across. The camera cuts to the face of the hunter. Wide-eyed, visibly shaken as he brings his rifle to his face. There’s a noise. The trophy deer or whatever gets spooked and starts running. The hunter is now sweating with the scope in his eye, the camera pans down to the hunter’s mouth as he slowly bites down on his gum to calm himself as he pulls the trigger. The hunter quietly smiles. The words “Keep Calm” comes across the screen with the name of the gum. Our radio spots could feature similar scenarios of high intensity calmed down by chewing gum. Whether it be hunting, playing sports, watching sports, protecting your family, or whatever. All ending with “Keep Calm.” The gum packaging could also come with little zen tips. Every time you take out a stick, there could be a little tip to keep calm printed on the inside of the foil.

Protect Yourself - Most people buy guns for the satisfaction of protection. They want to know, when shit goes south, they’re capable of protecting themselves and/or their families. So, what do we do? We take this same mindset and attribute it to protecting your teeth or bad breath. We can use rhetoric like “The Best Offense is a Good Defense” and “It’s Better to be Protected and Not Need it Than Need it and Not Have it.” You know, the same kind of stuff most 2A disciples spout off as a need for keeping their guns. The imagery can be a juxtaposition of grittiness with clean smiles. Sort of like the Orbit “Dirty Mouth” campaign, but with less humor. Video spots can focus on American heroes (cops, firefighters, members of the military, etc.) doing the dangerous jobs they do, with hints of clean teeth shining through. At the end of the spots, we use the tag “Keep Protected” and then talk about how the gum fights tooth decay, whitens teeth and fights bad breath. The print spots can use the exact same imagery, but be more of a focus on individual American heroes. This can be long-copy pieces profiling the heroic actions of specific individuals. In the end, we can talk about how, though it pales in comparison to these brave actions, is protecting our protectors.

Hero/Come Packing - Who doesn’t want to be a hero? Well, with this gum, you can. The campaign can make a hero out of anyone. This could be a fun, tongue-in-cheek campaign putting people in dire situations where they desperately need a stick of gum (first dates, family gatherings, etc.) and have a well prepared war-hero-type guy cut into the situation and provide a stick of gum. This could be a spokesperson-type character or we could have a different well-prepared individual come in each time. Regardless, the tagline would be “Come Packing” Print pieces could be longer, copy-driven spots focusing in great detail about the horrible situation and how this gum saved their skins. We could put up kiosks outside popular dates spots (movie theaters, romantic overlooks, bowling alleys, barcades, or wherever the hell kids go to smooch) and hand out free gum to whoever may need it. Though it may seem like this is geared towards kids and people looking for an intimate connection, I feel gun nuts would resonate with the hero character and the “Come Packing” tag.

[exordiumnoctis]

Subtraction I

Lore Entry 916 Words Mirin’s lives measured in times his hair’s been cut. 

It happened first on the Yang Liwei, the room smelling of dried blood and cytogel. They didn’t speak, didn’t address the importance of the moment with more than shaking hands and a pair of shears against his scalp. Each piece that dropped felt like a shackle removed, falling to the ground with the finality of freedom and he couldn’t explain the swell in his chest when Uldwyn started humming softly behind him.

The second time they are reborn, ageless and free in a paradise they created. It seemed right now, minor adjustments to help the boy become a man. It was something for them, something personal and beautiful and honest. Uldwyn saw his rawness in these moments, and perhaps Mirin saw his tenderness.

The Breakaway separates them, ship from Reef, soul from body. He doesn’t remember fear quite like that night, not even when the Warlord drags him by barely-grown ponytail, not even when he’s facing down the barrel of the gun and hears the sure drag of the chamber loading.

Death had never frightened him.

When cast in Light he cuts it himself with a dulled knife, errant and messy, scoops it onto the top of his head and covers it with a helmet. He learns, through time and frustration and a few nicks here and there, how to shape it into something agreeable; it never looks *right*. He can feel something missing deep in his chest, though if he focuses on the dull ache too long his head threatens to collapse, and he sits dissatisfied with choppy strand and broken skin for a decade.

This time when he dies, he’s nearly hairless.

Study and sport and war leave him negligent in his new resurrection. Dragons to slay and Vaults to open occupy his mind more than what he can’t remember, maybe as a way to distract from it. He almost welcomes hands, lips, promises but every time something stops him, a defense mechanism for a broken boy clinging to things he can’t even visualize anymore. He dreams of sunset eyes and a smile full of teeth. Osiris encourages him to seek the truth. The Tower loses Osiris, and the Ghost loses the boy to Time and Fury.

Another death, unforgiving and brutal, brings another life-- each subtraction a gain in its own way, a rung in a ladder taking him home. He does not tell this Ghost of the lost feeling, of the vacant throb at his core. He has no words, no memories (a part of him thinks this is punishment for daring to love the sun, Pre-Golden Age myths of Icarus ricocheting in his brain like some lost truth) and no way to vocalize so instead he doesn’t speak.

He keeps his hair tied in a knot underneath his helmet, until it is too long to manage easily. He finds ways to suffer it, braids and beads and staying in the wilds to avoid removing his armor until something drags him away from the planetary swell and beyond the shadow of his former life, the one before Light stole him away.

A Queen, a Crow with sun-bright eyes and a boy banging on the walls of his own mind, begging for things he doesn’t know he’s lost.

More than the Tower this place becomes his home. He stops straying, stops finding danger to soothe the war inside himself and when he finds the backbone he follows the Blackbird and swears himself on bent knee. *In spite of the Light,* he says to a smile full of teeth, *for the price of one million deaths.*

The Crow-master whispers, *You remind me of him.*

Sword Logic and arcane fury tear this away in a single blast of brilliant brightness. The Queen’s fleet is decimated, no word of the Royals or their most trusted. Mirin is in the Cosmodrome when it happens, stride for stride with an old/new/old friend in search of a lupine Baroness. His comm crackles in time with her cloaking tech, and grief tatters her with the edge of a blade.

After, he seeks revenge, or maybe a way to die that doesn’t feel so empty. Instead he finds power.

Lasairian tells him he should cut his hair on the eve of the Tower’s fall. In retrospect he should have listened. It is past his waist when the Light finds him again, growth stunted by Ascendancy and visceral nanites. Sometimes he imagines a crown, black and wiry, about his own head.

Now, he remembers. Now, he knows.

To call him cousin is an insult. Mimmo and Elan are the only reason the Wrath doesn’t die then and there, at the feet of the Spider and his minions. He demands to know the truth, and like always she chokes around her loyalty.

Elan forces him away, forces him to breathe. Mirin tells him how wrong this feels, and Elan understands-- Awoken and *knowing* but still asleep somehow, still chasing shadows.

They find the Blackbird atop the Watchtower, and Mirin puts himself between the Wrath and the Crow, and the King with a blade cannot be stopped this time.

He wears it cropped short, longer on top and the tips still curl like they used to when he was a boy on a Colony ship with broken bones and an aching heart, but he’s recovered what was missing and pulled it back from the edge.

Uldren pulls the blade through his hair, and neither of them mention how their hands still shake.