#I don’t trust a freelancer with either weapon

[gardenofhope]

I want to play salmon run so badly but that rotation is dogshit

[halfmaul]

oc masterpost ig. I never make content but theyre in my heart and mind always. It’s long!

i am rotating these idiots in my mind, they are in situations in my head etc

The Crew

These four!! These four. They had a real DnD style meet-cute (all arrived to catch the same low-level bounty at once, shenanigans ensue they must make it out through the power of teamwork) and have been inseparable (stuck together via Circumstances (TM) ) since. They’ve been debating on what to call the group approx. a year now. No agreement in sight.

They essentially started off with a little gun of a ship and big bounty-hunting/freelance-whatever dreams and uh. Have ended up trapped on coruscant for repairs. Half of the income they make doing odd jobs goes to the docking fees for the ship while they wait for (and to afford) the parts needed. Despite the incredibly rocky and stressful start they’ve managed to grow quite close, and work well to balance each other out. They can be seen getting up to shenanigans, getting paid (usually via at least dubiously legal means) and general silly business.

One night they met a lightly stabbed Hound in the lower levels and took em to their ship to try and patch them up. After failing to steal adopt Grizzer they went for Hound, to which Hound said “you’re all fucking gremlins, i have enough insane siblings”. They might admit to a small soft spot for the idiots upon pain of death. No familial bonds here at all. Definitely not.

After this the crew do a lot of information (or rumour) gathering for the guard, and will try and source supplies where they can.

They also has matching nicknames/fake ids because  they’re just Like That.

Gunne (AKA Thor or Boom)

Gunne (She/Her) is a Devaronian with a flair for the dramatic. Big ‘grumpy medic(/nurse)’ energy. She’ll look after the misfits well but also be really vocally unhappy about it the whole time. She loves fashion and WILL refuse to wear gear if it isn’t made into A Look. Her fave sesh glasses are some of those red-tinted flame shaped things. Yes she has a collection. One of her horns is broken, and she often wears a gold prosthetic tip on it. She’s slow to trust, but once you have it she is ride or die to a fault. She has spent a lot of time as the only medical professional in remote areas, and when it comes down to it she’s tough as guts and will make do with what she can (and do a bang-up job of it).

They haven’t met BUT I think her and Wolffe would be the best of worsties. Bitches add a double letter and an e to words and be like yes this is the perfect name.

Pandora (AKA Dora, Score, Zoom)

Dora (She/Her) is a Pantoran who is sweet and adorable in the way a feral kitten is. She will deny any force-sensitivity, but will also have Moments which result in (usually disconcerting) comments on the future. Or probable futures. Either way it can be a little startling to hear a grim prophecy delivered, but doesn’t her smile and positive demeanor make up for it! She’s also a demolitions expert! Great at sourcing weapons and explosives, and even improvising them in a pinch. Loves to pull the old ‘oh I’m just naive and innocent you should help me I’m not at all a hired hunter’ ruse. She’s one of the main reasons the crew even came together in the start instead of trying to cut each other down, and isn’t above reminding the rest of them of this when feeling a little smug.

She also card counts for fun and profit. Mostly fun. She has absolutely no poker face.

Selene (aka Luna, Sweetie, Gloom)

Selene (She/Her) is a Mirialan who is a bit of a jack of all trades, and keeps the group together and alive a lot because of this. She’s the best pilot, moonlights as a sniper when needed, and can be relied upon as a level-headed voice of treason reason in a pinch. Those who don’t know her well think her stance on her companions was “long-suffering (affectionate)”. In reality she has a cutting wit and will take any opportunity to stir the pot. She’s also the best (and arguably only) person in the crew at acknowledging when help is needed, and then going ahead and asking for it. 

While she was born on Mirial, she only spent her early childhood on the planet. Her father specialised in heavy-ship repairs, and they spent most of their time living on the massive docks and stations/hamlet-towns that grow from them. After her father was injured in a workplace incident when she was in her early teens, her adolescence was spent being supported and taught by the eclectic mix that was the station community. As much as she loved her extended family, she felt like if she didn’t try and experience something new soon she’d be stuck in the same place doing the same thing her whole life, so made the (slightly impulsive) decision to hitch a ride on a cargo ship and find something new. She keeps her dad updated on the ship repairs (and costs), and he is growing increasingly despaired at their choice of transport.

Remy (Aka Gremlin, Lucky, Doom, rat bastard)

Remy (They/Them) is a member of a species from the outer rim that is little known and I definitely didn’t just make up. They’re purple. They have big ol ears. They’re maybe for sure a space eshay. They’re 130cm tall with a head like a brick. They are actually so unlikeable.

Remy loves to act like they’re nothing but the hired muscle of the group. They do a great job of putting up a front, and really embody the short, dirty-fighting, rat dog mindset. Behind the scenes Remy is also the one who is best at balancing the budget, is too smart for their own good, and has a knack for the cut-throat politics of coruscant that is mild-to-moderately disturbing. While the youngest of the group, they definitely have the most experience at hunting, though this is sometimes to their detriment. They could have easily gone down a path of more sinister organised crime. They had started to, in fact, before a particularly harrowing experience that knocked some sense into them and their worldview askew. They’re learning to lean on the others slowly, and maybe become a little bit of a better person.

Hound is of the opinion that introducing Remy and Fox will either save the galaxy or doom it. They haven’t been game enough to try. Or introduce any of the crew really. That way madness lies.

Wow! Bonus pics in The Highest Android Quality.

[datawyrms]

Half a Decade Late

Valerie was finally promoted to the main headquarters of the Guys in White. There she finally comes face to face with Phantom, who disappeared five years ago, locked in a cell. For Phic Phight 2021, @lexosaurus' prompt!

Nothing proved ’harder workers get ahead’ was only a capitalist lie than the absolute hassle getting promotions within the GIW. Of course she’d gone right to them for employment, it was the only organization large enough to actually pay people that took her resume of ghost hunting seriously. She had experience, actual knowledge and even her own gear but had still spent years getting jerked around to various small operations, basically just using her to train all their useless recruits while still just considering her a ‘fellow’ field agent. It wasn’t like she had the option to quit in protest, no one else was in the market for ghost hunters. As far as most people knew ‘ghost intelligence’ was just a joke cover story that the agents were very attached to. They didn’t want any more Amity Parks, so if she wanted to live somewhere new and still do her job...these guys were it. She’d been very clear, she wanted to be in the main office, where everything happened. That didn’t stop them from constantly assigning her literally anywhere but the actual headquarters. Maybe they finally ran out of other places, she still half expected to get stopped at the door and be told about a new field mission they absolutely needed her on immediately. It didn’t happen. Valerie Grey finally got to clock in as an Ecto Containment Officer at the main branch. Where they kept the strongest creatures, developed the new anti-ghost equipment and did more than just splattering a ghost down to nothing. Sure, she liked a good ghost obliterating, but it got boring after a while. There were only so many ways a ghost could beg for it’s useless afterlife before it became white noise. It didn’t stop any new ones from showing up, or tell her anything new. Just got rid of one pest, permanently. That wouldn’t help explain some ghosts, the powerful ones that showed up again and again. It wouldn’t explain the one that stopped showing up either. There was no way that life ruining ghost just got ‘bored’ and vanished without notice. It was still out there, plotting something. She just knew it in her bones. She had to be ready for it. There were traces of that ghost, hints of his ectosignature that she came across in the field, he was still out there. The GIW was just a means to an end, she didn’t trust them to be ready alone.

Sterile corridors and simplistic signs were expected, but even the break area was doing its best impression of a frozen tundra. Fantastic for morale? Probably not. Made the coffee pot easy to spot, at least. Even if she preferred to avoid the stuff in uniform. It stained too easily, and just made her wish for her red battle suit. She took a cup to at least have an excuse for her scoping out the place, she could pass it off to someone once she got to the containment area. A quick double check that everything was in place at the mirror before heading right back out to the winding halls. She wasn’t going to be late, she didn’t have time for that. Maybe a red tie was against protocol, but no one had been stupid enough to bother her about it yet. Judging from the deferential nods from her latest coworkers, that wouldn’t be changing. No one who worked here couldn’t know who she was. The only Ghost Hunter who got out of Amity Park without getting corrupted by the ectoplasmic monsters. It was a shame, Jack and Maddie Fenton used to be a serious force for humanity. Five years ago they suddenly flipped the script, denouncing their work and calling for peace with unreasonable fiends. Their daughter Jazz likely had something to do with it, but Valerie had her own theories. Danny, her friend and once boyfriend had gone missing around that time. Leverage to ensure the Fenton’s ‘good behaviour?’ The whole thing reeked of ghosts. To think she might have gone the same way. Back then she was actually listening to the pest, starting to really consider them a ‘good’ ghost. Like that was actually possible, when he’d just been playing to emotion and her own desire to give up in fighting a dangerous foe over and over. So much for that. That monster showed it’s true colours, sure enough. Something the GIW never bothered to look into, even as she wrote report after report about the incident, how unlikely it was for the Fentons of all people to change that drastically without constant possession. Not worth the resources, even when it was easy to see what tech was built on the foundations the couple had laid. They were throwing away so much to focus on little outbreaks of ghosts instead of making more of a lasting change. Stupid. That was what the funding was ‘meant’ to go towards, as if helping the Fentons would be less productive than making a slightly different ectogun.

She almost hoped there would be a problem, just to prove this is where she should have always been.Even if it seemed distinctly unlikely. She had to swipe to get into the lab, then yet again to actually get to the cells. Or the ‘vault’, as if the higher ups wanted to pretend the creatures in there were inert materials instead of cunning and dangerous beings. Even though they had someone posted at each door, and someone on guard inside as well, herself today. To get acquainted with the place mostly, she had more than enough training on ‘proper handling’ procedures.

“Hey, you can swap with me today, if you want.”

Valerie blinked, eyebrow already raised at the posted guard’s suggestion. “I can handle watching caged ghosts.”

They had the sense to look embarrassed, taking their hand away from the oversized ectogun to loosen their tie- which was tied rather poorly now that she got a better look at it. “I’m sure you can, it’s just, well.” They wouldn’t stop fidgeting with their tie now, eyes checking that no one was really paying attention to the guards. “H0G02 is awake today. No one likes those days.”

“Then all the more reason to get used to it early.” She didn’t give them time to sputter another excuse, swiping her card and striding past without another look. As if people should be worried about a captive ghost being awake. Maybe some of the people here never got a spine before joining up.

It wasn’t as cold as she expected it to be. Or as dark. It was actually brighter, thanks to the extra row of fluorescent lights. On some level she expected the room to reflect the monsters kept here, a shadowy icebox of a space. Of course it wasn’t. These were defeated creatures under human control, of course their cages would be bright and clean, the air warmed for human comfort. The ghosts might not like it, but why care what they wanted? It wasn’t like there were many to begin with, mostly green oversized vermin with blank red eyes. Most had the sense to cower back as she walked past, but a fair few didn’t even twitch. Calling a ghost of all things lifeless was foolish, but it was the only word coming to mind...she had to focus. She didn’t pity these things. Why so many creatures though? The real dangerous ones, the most monstrous ones were the ones that could play human, the ones that had conniving minds that only worked to cause destruction and terror. These were just feral things, annoying but hardly more impressive than a coyote when you knew what to do. Half of them she’d barely rate above ‘feral cat’. A light near the back flickered. Strange. When it flickered a second time she was already releasing her helmet to pull it on. Not nearly as easy as just willing it on, but at least she could carry it in a pocket without needing to rely on some ghost’s power. Three steps and her gun was ready, not that she expected to need it. Really, she worked on autopilot, legs still moving as she stared at the largest glass cage at the back of the room. Or more accurately, at what was in it.

“Oh, newbie. ‘Sup.” The ghost rasped out, blank green eyes watching the ghost hunter. A teenaged boy with a shock of white hair, a black jumpsuit, but the voice of a seventy year old chain smoker. Just sitting in a painfully bright cell, watching. Not exactly as she remembered him, but close enough.

“You.” The disgust was easy to voice, even as her brain struggled to catch up. He was here? Looking practically exactly as he had when she was still a soft hearted freelancer?

He only gave a sputtering laugh at the aggression. “Me? You’re not that mad about the light, are you? I’m bored, Tie.”

“What are you doing here?” That wasn’t the important question really, she should be more concerned that he apparently was able to manipulate light fixtures from his cell...but she’d been hunting after this ghost for five years. Protocol could go shove itself up the director’s ass.

“Same thing I do every day Tie, being some government property!” His laugh was wrong, not from amusement like she remembered. A desperate cackle that didn’t fool anyone. “You new enough to still have your soul in there?”

“Answer the question, Phantom.”

The smirk slid off the ghost’s face. “Wh’ad you call me? Like I’m only calling you Tie cus the red sticks out, I can call you Shooty if you don’t like it, newbie.”

The response made her insides run cold. It had to be Phantom, and the terrible sense of humour was just like him- but the ghost wasn’t quite right. What was this? It couldn’t be some copy of the ghost kid, could it? “I called you by your name, ghost.”

“Never heard of em.” The ghost crossed his legs and looked away, apparently bored of the person holding a weapon. “What day is it?”

Surely he was playing around. “What do you think your name is, then?”

He didn’t take his attention off the ceiling, looking more bored than anything.“Day first, Tie. Gotta know how much of a head start I’ve got.”

“Like you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Hm? Whatcha gonna do Tie? Let me be unconscious for a few hours? Scary. Day first.”

There was the Phantom she knew, snide and sarcastic when he really had no business being so. “I could do worse than that.”

“Doubt it. You gun grunts gotta listen to the freaks out there, remember?” His shoulders shook with a silent laughter, but it looked more like spasms. “No more mishandling the goods, yeah? Day Tie, comeonnnnnn”

Since when was he so interested in the calendar? Not to mention how weird it was how he kept referring to himself...and pretending he didn’t know his name. “It’s Monday.”

That got his attention, the casual rocking halting as he looked at her again, disturbingly still. “Monday, really?”

“Lying is your thing, not mine.”

He grinned. “I like you Tie, so you’ll probably be fired in like a week. Maybe it’s the red.” The tension left the ghost completely, she hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he’d been sitting until his spine relaxed as his elbows rested on his legs. “Pretty sure I’m H0G02. Least that’s what all your creeps call me.��

There was no way Phantom of all ghosts would call himself ‘H0G02’. He had to be a mimic of some sort, a ghost that modelled himself on the once well known Amity Park menace. “You like me because I told you it was Monday? Seriously?”

“I like the Mondays more than you, if that helps.”

“Not particularly.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” He was watching her again, more curious than anything. She shouldn’t be glad to see a spark of something in those eyes, but he was far less creepy this way.

“What’s so great about Monday? You’re a ghost.” She didn’t really care. She should be asking important questions. She was just...playing along to see if it really was Phantom. That didn’t stop her for being grateful for the helmet.

“Monday is the farthest day away from Friday.”

“Wouldn’t that be Saturday?”

“It hasn’t been Saturday or Sunday for...like four years? Those days don’t exist, I think you humans made ‘em up to prank me.” Phantom shrugged, sounding completely serious. Not even a hint of amusement or a grin. “Pretty good one, all you new guys keep it up.”

He was going to be completely useless if he kept saying nonsense. How could he be useful in finding out what happened to the Fenton’s son if he couldn’t even talk about the days of the week sensibly? “Fine, what’s so bad about Friday then.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re really new, Tie.” the ghost flopped onto his side, bored of sitting up apparently. “You know, the day they keep me around for? That day.” He wasn’t quite still, his right shoulder moving very, very carefully. Hiding something.

She didn’t have the patience for this.“What are you hiding there.”

“Tie has good eyes. Gotta remember that.” Phantom muttered, getting onto his back, a blue shard of ice melting off his arm.

“You don’t really think that some ice would help you out of there?”

“Out?” He looked mystified by the suggestion, but that could more be seeing his face upside down. “That glass doesn’t break for anything, I should know.”

Which didn’t explain why he’d been trying to hide the fact he’d made ice at all. He knew it too, but apparently playing stupid was still one of his favourite tactics. “Knock it off and just answer me.”

Phantom’s frown didn’t change, green eyes staring intently at her helmet as if hoping to see through it. “I could show you why?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. “Sure, why not. It’s gonna be a long day.” If it was? Then she’d show him that she wasn’t someone he could mess with.

Ice wrapped itself around the ghost’s lower arm alarmingly quick, a wickedly sharp blade of ice with serrated teeth jutting from the scrawny arm at an awkward angle. It was practised, something this ghost must have done often in all the time he’d been gone from her life. Yet it was so different from how Phantom usually chose to fight. That was a weapon to tear and maim, not to shock, stun or bruise. It looked wrong on him. The idea that this ghost wasn’t Phantom at all only grew more credible with that thing on his arm, even if ice powers were to be expected. His eyes flicked back to green, still fixated on her as he lifted the arm and stabbed down hard. Right into his other arm. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you doing!” She couldn’t remember the last time Phantom had ever been frightening on some primal level. This- with the disturbing snap of bone as the edges of the blade caught and tore made her hair stand on end. “Stop that, Phantom. What’s wrong with you!?”

“Cancelling Friday.” Phantom was laughing as the blade melted away into the pool of green rapidly spreading from his self inflicted wound. “I said you’d probably get fired Tie.”

“Forget Friday you idiot, cover the wound so you stop splattering everywhere!” He was just a ghost-a ghost messing with her. A ghost she’d fought with and had heard scream in pain. This...thing wasn’t him. Her heart didn’t care what her mind thought, insisting he needed help.

The ghost sat up, his left arm holding on by a shred of his suit before splattering into the puddle, but the left behind stump stopped dripping almost as quickly as he’d lost the limb. “Aw. Maybe Tie does have some soul left. You actually sound worried.”

“Of course I am! You slashed your arm off!”

“So?”

He didn’t seem to be in pain. If it wasn’t for the mess of green and the lack of a limb, she’d almost say she imagined it. Why did she care? “You wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”

“Uh. Yes I would? You just saw me do it. I’m down for an encore.”

The idea just made her feel ill. “Don’t.” Did she want this to be Phantom or not? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well I’m down an arm. So the coats are going to be very whiny about how much ectoplasm they can get out of me.”

“You must have felt that.”

“Sure. Isn’t nearly as bad as when they start ripping as much ectoplasm as they can out of you. Every single Friday.” He actually rolled his eyes, like she should just know this.

Why did they bother keeping Phantom around if they just wanted ectoplasm? He might be strong, but no ghost had limitless amounts. They’d just fall apart and stop existing. That’s why the weakest ones never even left the Ghost Zone, they couldn’t survive without constantly being around the stuff! “What makes you so special then? Not your attitude.”

“I’m just lucky enough to make my own ectoplasm. Who knew food was easier to get then high grade ectoplasm? Not me.” His remaining arm pointed to her weapon, his smile stretching. “Bet ya your weapon’s fully powered from Fridays. Yours and every other thing they use in this hellhole.”

“Ghosts can’t do that.” The lie was absurd. It went against everything they knew about ghosts, even before food entered the equation.

“Y’know, Tie. I think I knew a ghost hunter that wore red once.” the ghost’s eyes went unfocused, unmoving as he looked listlessly into space. “It’s a good colour.”

“You knew me. Quit fooling around with this not remembering crap.” Valerie threw her helmet aside, no longer caring. She had to know who this ghost really was. She had to know if everything he was blathering about was a lie. So what if it wasn’t ‘safe’.

His eyes didn’t change. “Y’know how hard it is to remake a brain? Cut me some slack Tie…”

“I mean it. Look at me Phantom. If you’re the ghost I know, you can stop pretending to be something else.”

“You lose the details. Arms and legs are easy. The brain though? Way too hard.” He kept rambling to himself, not reacting even as she put a hand to the glass to get his attention. “Y’know how many times they’ve cut it open? I don’t. I lose track after like. Eleven. Maybe. Pointy Shoe said my best was fifteen but I sure don’t remember that.”

She wanted him to just stop talking. She wanted this ghost to be some strange creature she didn’t know. To not have the only possible link to someone long lost a shattered husk. “Phantom. Do you remember the hunter in red’s name?”

He finally blinked. “I’m not this Phantom guy, Tie.”

“Okay, whatever, forget that part. The ghost hunter in red, what do you remember?” She insisted, knocking again in hopes it would keep the ghost’s focus.

“Wish I’d told em something.” he held up his gloved hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t remember what that something was, don’t ask.”

So he was Phantom? He couldn’t be. That was so non-specific it could be anything. “You never explained how you’re the only ghost that can make their own ectoplasm.”

“It’s in my name Tie! Come on. Thought you guys were smart or whatever.” He did a very awkward one armed attempt at crossing it, eyebrow raised. “The H? The feeding a ghost food thing?”

She didn’t really get the whole naming scheme they used here. The fact it mattered wasn’t making her gut unclench either. “What about the H?

“Hybrid? Might have been Human. That might have been a joke.”

Valarie’s mouth was drier than any desert when he said it that easily, that casualty while kicking his own arm aside. “You’re saying you aren’t all ghost.”

“Yup. Not yet! Trust me, I’ve tried,” the bubbly high pitched laugher clawed out of the ghost at that. “I tried so much. Guess it’s another thing I’m a failure at, eh Tie?”

Something told her not to ask. She had to know. Five years she waited, five years apparently knocked Phantom clear from reality.“Does Danny Fenton mean anything to you?”

He just laughed harder at the question. “Really Tie?”

“Yes, really.”

“That’s the name I scream at em. Don’t know why. Feels good though.”

“Is it your name?” Had he had contact with Danny? Been part of whatever made him go missing from everyone’s lives? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

“They get reallllll angry when I say it is.”

There was no way the GIW had a human captive for five years. There was no way Phantom could be the Danny she knew. The ghost was just lying. He had to be, she desperately needed him to be. “Were you fused with a human or something? Got stuck when possessing someone?”

“Nah. Been like this before I got here, pretty sure. You can check your fancy gear though. There’s some non-ghost DNA in it. Lucky lucky me,” he lay back down in the mess of ectoplasm, ignoring how it clung to his hair. “Thanks for the Friday off! I hate those.”

There was no reason to need air. Talking to a ghost she didn’t even like shouldn’t make her feel like she was being crushed under a boulder. Panting for air, outside the room would make her look pathetic and weak, but she needed the space, needed to be away from that...mockery of a ghost.

“He does that to everyone. He’ll repeat the whole thing in a week or so, but he’s a really good copy the first time you see it.” The guard gave a comforting word, apparently unsurprised by her sudden unscheduled departure.

Oh, there would be no ‘next time.’ Not if he was right about her weapon. But she nodded instead, letting her ‘coworker’ think she was just overwhelmed. Even if all she could think of was how many ways this place would burn if that ghost- that thing had been a human once. She was good at telling when ghosts lied. Phantom didn’t sound like he had. No matter how much she tried to convince herself he did.

[writerfae]

More thoughts on the spy AU (because self control? I don't know her)

okay so both Aiden and Talon are spies working for the same company

Callan is their boss and he's the one who paired them up together for this very important mission because he ships them they are his best people

Henry is like "you sure you want them to do the mission together? what if they fight and ruin it" but Callan's like "babe trust me"

in this AU they are all a bit older than in canon

Talon has been trained to be a spy by the company as a teen and is working for them since quite some time already

he worked really hard to get as far as he did. he's one of Callan's best men. probably the best

but then along comes Aiden

Aiden is rather new at the company, compared to Talon. only there about two/three years

he was trained elsewhere, most stuff he also learned from his mother, who was an undercover agent

he's some sort of natural talent at spying, people say

before he came to the company he's been very successful as a spy in another country, working for very important people. a job here, a job there, but without a set employer (some sort of freelancer spy? this probs doesn't exist but whatever)

but he kinda wanted to settle down because things were getting a bit sticky where he lived so he moved countries to start somewhere where no one knows him

and because he was kinda tired of being alone all the time he decided for the country his older brother lives in

he then gets a job at the company because he happens to be the brother of the boss' husband

or at least that's what Talon thinks why he got the job at first, though the truth is Callan also wanted Aiden to work for them because of his skill

so yeah when he starts working at the company Talon really doesn't like him

not only does he see a competitor in him because Aiden quickly worked his way up until he was one of the top agents, just like him, but also because he thinks it's all just coming to Aiden without him giving much effort, which annoys him

because of that he's not all too nice to Aiden and teases him so Aiden doesn't have much sympathy for Talon either

they bicker a lot and have some strange rivalry going on

over time though they sort of become friends, or at the very least friendly rivals

Talon sees that Aiden is actually really good and works just as hard as he does, if not more, and both start to respect and admire the other's skills

they still bicker a lot and fight tho

they often disagree on things because the two have completely different ways of working

but they also complement each other pretty well because of that

I like to think that Talon often outsmarts and/or intimidates people to get informations, while one of Aiden's favorite tactics is to flirt with them until they spill all their secrets

those are not the only tactics they use of course (but I don't want to think about this in too much detail rn)

at one point Talon develops a crush on Aiden (he doesn't quite know why or when or how it started) and he's really mad about it

he doesn't know how to deal with it so he sticks to the familiar: teasing Aiden and making witty comments

and all is well and good until he gets called in Callan's office about an important mission

he comes into the room and sees Aiden already sitting there and he's pretty much like 'shit what is happening'

Callan tells them about the mission and that it is of great importance and that they need to work together

of course the two protest but, how Callan tells them with a smile that is pretty much threatening, they have no choice

okay now a bit about the mission

the two are supposed to find out more about possible plans of a group called "the Knights" that are, quote: "suspected of pursuing criminal activities"

they're some sort of cartel/mafia I guess? doesn't matter, let's just say they are indeed very much pursuing criminal activities

many of the Knights are members of high society and they are led by Morena who's like very rich and pretty much a bad b*tch

does she want to overthrow the government or just chill in her country club, gossiping and eating some caviar? no one knows

anyway Morena, being a high society lady, likes to host events, one of them being the masquerade ball Talon and Aiden are supposed to attend because she's definitely planning something

so for the two that means getting fancy suits and then go party investigate

just imagine: classy three piece suit Talon and smart suit no tie Aiden both having a gay panic seeing the other in his outfit

Talon probably almost spilled his drink when he saw Aiden

also I imagine he got pretty jealous when he saw how other people reacted to Aiden and how he interacted with them

he sees some woman flirting with him and snatches him away to dance to "discuss their observations"

so yeah like I stated before, I just want them to dance and sip wine or something while collecting information together and try not to get distracted by the other looking stunning

poor Talon out here pining the whole time while being in strong denial and then they are eavesdropping on someone and almost get caught so Aiden kisses him and they "fake" make out to cover up and poor boy completely loses it

Aiden did it because he panicked but also cause it was a great opportunity to kiss Talon without having to live with the consequences so yeah

let's say the make out wasn't as faked as they claimed

anyway they actually find out that some deal or something is supposed to happen on the ball that night and they decide to try to stop it

cause I want my action "guys in suits and ladies in dresses wielding weapons" scene, let me have that

no I have not thought of what exactly is happening, I stopped planning at "good looking people in fancy clothes fighting" and I think that is pretty valid of me

I guess they get the person Morena was making a deal with but Morena herself escaped or idk

anyways I think Talon and Aiden go out for a drink after that and boy if Talon wasn't crushing on Aiden before he sure as hell is now and let's be honest who can blame him

🂡

general tag list: @deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @7devills @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @sleepy-night-child @charleeyy @formulatingfiction @shiishki @shattered-starrs

(I got too invested and now you all have to suffer the consequences I'm sorry for yet another au)

[hbosscreations]

Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

It’s a little later than I’d hoped for, but here is my contribution to @redvsbluesecretsanta for @artesoterica! You asked for Southalina, with a general positive mood! This fic is an AU taking place on Season 15′s Chorus moon in a universe where the Reds and Blues actually get to rest and build a life for themselves. I hope you like it.

                                   Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

 When South heard Carolina’s coded message, left in such a way that any of her former people would find it if they were looking, she…didn’t really know what to expect. She wasn’t certain it was meant for her with the way South left things, what with her and Wash trying to kill one another, but it was so damn earnest that South couldn’t ignore it.

‘Wash and I are alive, we’ve shut down the Project and made a safe space for all of us to live. If you see this, come find us. Come home.’

She wasn’t keen at first on going to find anyone, let alone other members of Project Freelancer, but Carolina was good on her word Chorus’s moon wasn’t what she thought it would be. It sounded like isolation, like hiding in a long-abandoned base or in a tiny apartment sleeping in shifts, but Carolina and her people had turned it to something else entirely. The Reds and Blues regularly communicated with the planet below, a shuttle came up more than once to drop off and pick-up soldiers for no reason South could figure out aside from play dates with weapons.

Just like this one.

A shuttle had arrived earlier that day carrying a new face along with a few others that South recognized from the deliveries every other week. The Sim Troopers had quite the fan club, and it was very normal for the shuttle to arrive and stay overnight so the troops could hang out. This time, the newcomer seemed to get all of the attention. It was such a relief to not feel the pointed stares from both the Reds and Blues and the Chorus soldiers.

South blew up her bangs and retied the bandana around her head to keep her hair out of the way while she worked on Sarge’s warthog, the perfect vantage point to observe without staring and be present without having to actually interact with anyone. The Sim Troopers weren’t as bad as South expected them to be most days, Washington’s influence excluded, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with them yet.

The strange woman who arrived in the shuttle, wearing bright yellow armor and a swagger that told everyone who saw her that she was hot shit and she knew it, immediately screamed for Grif to get his lazy butt outside and come help move her shit inside the base.

It didn’t take long for her to start chatting and then chasing the Sim Troopers around. She hooted and hollered and pelted the soldiers with paintballs from a gun that should not have been shooting paintballs in the first place, all the while crowing ‘GO BLUE!’.

Despite the fact she didn’t seem to care if she was hitting a Red or a Blue.

Judging by the yelling and giggles, they didn’t seem to mind it either.

South’s helmet was dropped next to her on the engine while she watched, contemplating if she had earned enough good will to join in considering practically everyone on the moon was playing already, and Carolina put a hand on South’s shoulder to draw her attention.

New Carolina was the day to Old Carolina’s night. More emotionally mature, more secure in herself, and more confident. The dark shadows had finally passed, but she was still the same woman South had served under.

“You should probably put that on. It would be horrible if Kai accidentally shot you in the eye; the only medical treatment you’re likely to get is CPR and orange juice.”

The hand shifted from her shoulder and brushed the back of her neck. South barely held in her shiver.

New Carolina was more tactile, taking the time to make contact outside of training. She always had time for a smile, something kind to say even if the comment was odd, and casual touching that felt out of place coming from her former leader.

South had to admit that it was nice to be appreciated, though.

“Which army is Kai from, Fed or New Republic? I don’t recognize her or the paint job.”

“She’s the youngest of our Sims, Grif’s little sister, not from Chorus.”

The Reds looked to have begun their retaliation, pulling out buckets of paint, paint balloons, and paint ball guns of their own. They ran around screaming with her instead of running from her, and South laughed a little.

“They’re like a bunch of goofy teenagers, aren’t they? I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep them all alive so long.”

She pulled her helmet on, ignoring the fact that most of her armor was on the ground. She could handle paintball welts and didn’t feel like trading the extra protection of the armor for the contact she got when Carolina watched her work. Standing just a little too close, with her hand on South’s lower back, it felt like things were actually right.

“She’s going to be staying.”

The warthog got regular work, practically daily maintenance and fine tuning, but for some reason it felt like everything South did to it was undone at the end of the day.

“Hmm.”

“She talks a lot, but you can’t be mean unless you want the Reds and Blues both mad at you. Grif is really protective of her; they all are.”

Knowing Sarge, it probably was. He probably came in as soon as she walked away and fiddled with it, bickering with Lopez as he used a wrench on the wrong pieces and broke screwdrivers inside.

“South? Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, Yellow is a wild child and I shouldn’t pick on her. The Sims don’t talk to me much, why would I bother with Grif’s little sister?”

Was Lopez doing this? Normally he fixed things, but maybe he resented her coming in and doing his job for him. It did prevent him from avoiding the rest of Red Team.

“South, will you stop for a second? Look at me?”

Shit. South must have missed a tone thing again, it happened sometimes. Between the military and being on her own for so long, South didn’t always know how to read casual conversation anymore. She preferred direct conversation any day.

“I’m worried about you.”

That flash of guilt that flared up any time Carolina wanted to take care of her was back.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m coping.”

“You’re stagnating. Soon you’re going to start tearing your hair out and alienating the guys because you’re bored and looking for stimulation. Trust me, antagonizing the Reds and Blues will only lead to problems and you do not want that. I care about you and I would hate for you to end up with mustard in your blankets or a bucket of snakes above your door. Let me introduce you to Kaikaina Grif.”

“I don’t understand what meeting her has got to do with antagonizing anybody or the strangely bizarre and specific pranks.”

“You’re bored, and Kai is definitely not boring. I think spending some time with her will be good for you.”

Carolina didn’t accept Wash and South tiptoeing around one another or South trying to sneak out in the middle of the night because of her insomnia, and she apparently wasn’t going to rest until South had made some friends, even if that meant flying friends in for her.

The hand on her neck started to massage gently, feeling the tension that had settled there. South let out a groan.

“You’re what? Assigning her to me?”

“Oh no, Kai’s been a Blue longer than you’ve been here, she outranks you. I’m assigning you to her.”

“What?”

Carolina called out to Kai and waved her in before she firmly turned South to face the Sim Trooper charging at them. The moment the woman in yellow skidded to a stop in front of them, she took a beat to look South up and down before she turned and did the same to Carolina.

“Carolina, lookin’ fine-ah! Still bangin’ as always! How are the jam sessions with the band?”

“They have yet to comment on my being tone deaf and I’m not spoiling the game, so it’s been fun. Kai, this is South, she’s an old friend of mine in need of someone to teach her how to have a good time. Can you do that?”

“Ch, yeah! I am great at fun!”

“Fantastic. Kai, from now on, South follows your orders the way she used to follow mine. She won’t like it, she’ll bitch, but she’s a great soldier and a good friend to have at your back.”

“If you want a knife put in it.”

Washington came around the warthog, a large splash of red down his left side and a steady spattering of blue on the right. He must have gotten caught in the middle of the fight.

“Hey, Kai. What’s up?”

“Hey, Cop. You still being a cop? You have to tell me, you know!”

“That’s still not a law.”

That easy amused tone shook South. He sounded so much older; more world weary. It fit him.

“Washington,” Carolina bit out, “If you’re not going to play nice, go away.”

He saluted, patted Kai on the shoulder, and moved back into the fray. The soldiers cheered as he snagged a balloon and smashed it into the side of Tucker’s head.

“Anyway, Kai, South is my gift to you. Think of her like you’ve just been given a very angry puppy and you’ll be great.”

“Carolina, you cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious; you need someone to help you transition to our way of life and Kai is the best person to do that. Kai, her job is to do what you tell her, your job is to keep her from going off the deep end. Don’t order anything I wouldn’t approve of, but other than that, go nuts.”

South scowled at the thought of a woman at least ten years younger than her, a stranger, issuing orders. She didn’t exactly have a choice but to go on with it, where else was she going to go?

“This is ridiculous.”

And it’s not like she wanted to leave anyway. Not again. Not after everything she’d gone through to get there.

Not after finally getting her chance to be with Carolina again.

“I’m not your commanding officer anymore. You could always say no, but if that’s the case I’m giving you to the Reds, and their chaos is unbridled. Think of it this way, Donut will do your nails, but Kai excels at doing hair and your purple has been missing for too long.”

South shrugged and Kai immediately dragged her toward the base.

“You’re the one with purple tips, right? I’ve seen the pics. We’re doing your hair right now. I know that you haven’t had a dye job since you got here, there’s no one here that does hair even half as good as me!”

She jabbered endlessly while she set up a chair at the big sink on the base. Her steady stream of increasingly weird stories about herself and her sex life made South laugh, and the commentary about the guys on base made South sure she never wanted to get on this girl’s bad side.

Once they were gone, Carolina wheeled a large box into the room.

“Your portable salon, madame. Don’t scare her off, ok? It took forever to bring her home.”

“Pshaw! She likes me already! Don’t you, baby?”

Both women looked at South and she shrugged.

“You’re fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to work.”

“I’ll take that as a win for now! You’ll warm up.”

With that, Kai pushed South into the chair and threw a cape around her shoulders. Kai’s hands were sturdy and soothing as they carded through South’s hair and scratched at her scalp, talking about what she thought would look best for a minute before she realized South wasn’t listening in the slightest and switched back to talking about herself again. How she’d wanted to go to beauty school when she was younger, and that she used to do everyone’s hair at the circus. South only half listened.

God, her fingers were like magic.

South melted into the chair and decided to let the woman have her way with her hair. Worst case scenario, South would shave her head and let it grow back. And it was worth it to have her hair ruined if Kai would just keep working on her hair.

“She’s funny, right?”

South made a questioning noise.

“Carolina. She shows her love weird. She’s been trying for weeks now to get me out here, telling me Grif misses me, that the team is trying to set up a training center here. Didn’t fly, cause that sounds awful, so she talked to the freaking president of Chorus and got me a training gig putting together events and festivals on the planet’s surface. Someone decided they needed events for good public relations and off world traffic, and I’m pretty good at it!”

Carolina laughed a little from where she was pointedly not hovering.

“She got you a job, huh?”

“She got me a good paying job where my brother can keep an eye on me, so he’s happy. From there, it’s like a waterfall, making him happy makes Simmons happy, which makes Donut and Sarge happy, which makes Caboose happy, which makes Tucker happy, which makes Wash happy, which makes Carolina happy. Everyone here is sooooo codependent. You, I don’t know about, but that’s ok. We’re gonna party and I’ll learn all your secrets.”

God, the thought of going to the planet’s surface to ‘party’ made South’s whole body tense up. Way too much exposure, to high a risk of being seen.

“I don’t really party these days.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll fix that. Once I get you sorted, Carolina can finally stop worrying about her little circle and relax. Anything you want in particular? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna trim you up and give you crazy purple hair, it’s gonna take some time, but it’ll look fabulous.”

“I’m in your hands, gorgeous.”

“You’re a flirt! I like that.”

South did her best to keep up the chatting, thankful that Kai held the majority of the conversation herself, and when she might have lulled, Carolina stepped in and stoked the conversation back up.

She did the whole nine yards; washed South’s hair, massaged her scalp, trimmed her up to something more akin to her preferred style, bleached her hair for coloring and mixed colors. South honestly didn’t give a shit about what Kai did, so she gleefully went to town.

Once she started putting color on, Carolina frowned.

“You’re doing her whole head?”

“I have creative license here, so yeah, I’m doing her whole head! It’s gonna be fucking badass, just you wait!”

Carolina pulled up a chair and sat across from South with a nervous smile and stretched her leg out to brush ankles with South. South smiled back and tapped Carolina with the side of her boot. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want or need to.

Kai wasn’t wrong, Carolina did show her love in weird ways. She never said it, but she showed it in a thousand different ways. South watched Carolina work with the Reds and Blues every day, watched her interact with the people from Chorus who flew up to the moon to ‘train’, how she took the time to touch and ground the people around her despite her own discomfort with the process.

How she understood that South needed help and care but was too angry and proud to ever ask for it.

“I trust you, Kai, just don’t make her look like a clown.”

“I would never! This gorgeous face can pull all kinds of looks, and I intend to make her look fucking sexy as fuck! Chill, Carolina, I’m not going to mess your other girlfriend’s look up.”

South tried to look up at Kai, confused, but Kai grabbed South’s head and held it in place.

“Don’t move, you’ll ruin my hard work.”

Carolina laughed a little and rubbed her ankle against South’s and asked Kai about her most recent exploits. South just closed her eyes and listened to the women talk.

The color was washed out, her hair blow dried and style, and with a cheeky grin, Kai shoved a mirror into South’s face.

“Well?”

It looked…good.

Her head was covered multiple tones of purples, blues, and reds, in a way that looked like it shouldn’t have worked, but it really did. Dark and bold, her hair felt soft and fell nicely. Honestly, it was too good for the life South lived. Between helmet time and working on trucks, she was sure she wouldn’t do it justice in the long run.

But Carolina looked really happy, and judging by Kai’s bright smile, she was too.

“You like it, right?”

“Don’t push her.”

South smirked.

“She can push me if she wants, you’re the one who told her to boss me around. I like it.”

“Great!” Kai crowed. “We’re gonna get our nails done tonight, no fighting, I brought Donut a new gel kit and he’s dying to use it!”

Carolina stood up and pressed a kiss to Kai’s cheek and praised her for a job well done, before she kiss to South’s cheek as well.

“I’m glad you like it. Kai’s great, you to are going to get along like a house on fire.”

“Uh, I’m not lighting anything on fire.”

South hadn’t expected anything good when she came here, came home, but everything was genuinely better than she expected. Carolina took her hand and kissed the knuckles before idly telling Kai that she hoped they’d also brought decent alcohol because Donut’s wine and cheese hour was dreadful without actual wine to drink.

She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t known how badly she wanted it, but she was so glad she’d come.

[fuckyeahharryhart]

FAN FIC: PART 7 KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

SUMMARY: A familiar face shows up at Kingsman. They discuss the possibility of a new adversary threatening the future of Kingsman.

WORD COUNT: 4800

Might be less developed as other chapters. I suck at plot.

------

A tall, decidedly handsome man pushed open the double doors of Kingsman Tailor Shop and strode in as if he owned the place. It was a possibility not to discount as he was dressed almost identically as the Kingsman agents. However, there was something quite different about this gentleman. His distinction had more to do with his bearing, the way he walked, the way he swaggered and less to do with his black leather cowboy boots and his silver flask belt buckle. Though these deviations from Kingsman’s regulation attire were noted. He seemed to take up more space, even though the shop was empty at the time. He was taller than Eggsy, but not quite reaching the heights of Harry, even with his heeled boots. And while Harry carried himself with a subtle, lean and long masculine grace, this man was robust and brawny. His build was closer to Eggsy’s, broad in the shoulders, strong and sturdy. Just taller. Bigger.

The man paused at the reception desk. Drove the pointed, business end of a Kingsman umbrella, the ferrule, onto the hardwood floor. He clutched the grip with both hands and announced his presence, while planting himself with his cowboy boots a little wider than hips width distance apart.

“Tell ‘em in the back that Agent Tequila’s here.” He hollered.

Aside from the smaller details, his voice was the identifying factor. The man announced his presence with a deep, masculine southern drawl. The accent had the formality of Received Pronunciation, but with a twist from across the pond.

He was Agent Tequila, from the United States. He arrived at Kingsman London to assist after the events of The Golden Circle depleted the Kingsman’s ranks. And because Champagne “Champ”, the head of Statesman, their U.S. counterpart, believed some time spent with the good ‘ole boys of Kingsman would add a little class and sophistication to the rough around the edges, but otherwise adept agent.

Tequila, on the other hand, regarded this stint as an opportunity, if not to corrupt the ranks of Kingsman, at the very least, shake ‘em up a bit. Loosen ‘em up. It didn’t have to be suits and ties ALL the time.

His own reflection caught his eye in one of the dressing mirrors and he gave himself a wink. He did have to admit that he carried the suit well and he did look mighty damn fine.  

Not a bad toss up for being a little less comfortable in his Levis and his snap button shirts. He did find himself missing his cowboy hat. The rounded felt hat from the London hat-makers Thomas and William Bowler, felt stuffy and small compared to his Stetson. Granted, it did have an older history in 1849, compared to 1865, but not by much. He was assured that the bowler, in conjunction with the rolled brolly, what they called an umbrella, was the look of a proper city gentleman. He still figured southerners could hold their own when you got right down to it. In the meantime, as long as they didn’t put a bur in his saddle, everything should be fine as paint. No sale on the cowboy boots and the belt buckle. Getting citified only went so far. But otherwise, he reckoned, when in Rome.

The door to one of the dressing rooms swung open and Eggsy stepped out. An odd place to be waiting, seeing that he wasn’t with a client. How the hells long as he been in there, he thought.

Tequila lifted a chin in his direction.

“Well, you got here faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking competition -”

He cut himself off when a second person followed him out of the room. Not a client, curiously, but a young woman he had never seen before. Her attire was similar to Kingsman agents, but not exactly. She was dressed in a slim skirt and suit set, a navy Prince of Wales check. Just as their suits were cut to fit a man’s shape, hers was cut to enhance the lines of a more feminine figure. Just as precise, just as exacting. Rather than a men’s dress shirt, she wore a feminine silk blouse with ruffled detailing. Rather than a tie, she had a silk scarf of the same pattern tied around the low bun holding her hair. Her black patent Mary Janes gave another several inches to her already tall height. She made really quite the fetching picture.

Well, there go my manners, Tequila thought.

Eggsy decided it was in all of their best interests if he took care of the introductions, just in case the brash southerner was about to come up with something that sounded slightly insulting. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his particular curious vernacular just yet. And Eggsy didn’t trust him enough not to say something offensive.

“Agent Tequila, I would like you to meet Gwendolyn Mycroft.” he gestured to the woman who stood next to him, “She is one of Kingsman’s newest additions.”

“Gwendolyn, this is Agent Tequila, he is part of Statesman, our equivalent agency based in the United States. I believe you are familiar with it.”

Eggsy stopped himself. He didn’t quite think it was an appropriate time or in good taste to mention she knew Statesman because she hacked into their computer’s mainframe and then watched her father die.

Gwendolyn held out her hand politely, with an inscrutable expression. It was the way she greeted all unknowns until she was able to form her opinion.

“Pleasure to meet you, Agent Tequila.” she responded properly.

Eggsy wanted to cringe when he saw Tequila take her hand and promptly kiss the back of it.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Mycroft.” He drawled. Gwendolyn began to pull her hand back a fraction before he let it go. If she was amused or offended by his gesture, she didn’t let it show.

At least it wasn’t a double air cheek kiss, Eggsy thought. He continued. “Agent Tequila is also here to help us establish the foundation of the new Kingsman.”

Tequila, in Gwendolyn’s direction. “I guess you’re here to do the same.”

Her expression still hadn’t shifted. But her eyes had yet to leave Agent Tequila’s face.

Eggsy spoke for her. “Yes, she is also helping in Field work, Strategy as well as Research and Development.”

“Well don’t you sound as smart as all get out.” Tequila said as a compliment. “Why don’t you join us while Eggsy gives me a tour of this joint?”

Eggsy noticed that Gwendolyn’s expression had not changed a single bit since she first saw the agent from the south. And with Tequila pouring on more charm than usual, he was sure it was going to make for an interesting time at Kingsman. As he invited the agent to take a tour of the shop, he was suddenly very glad that he was married.

——

With the financial support of their new Kingsman distillery and additional backing from Statesman, they were able to begin the rebuild of the shop, ancillary locations and warehouses, though it would still be years until they were able to match the previous Kingsman’s massive collection of artillery, technology, and properties. Kingsman had been steeped in history. Many objects of historical significance they had lost were irreplaceable. But its complete destruction allowed them the opportunity to separate the wheat from the chafe, the good from the bad, to let go of archaic traditions that no longer held significance or value, and prioritise where their main focus should lie.

Reconstructing the Kingsman’s front was one of those top priorities. The tailor shop was running smoothly again, fashioning first rate bespoke menswear as it had prior to the explosions. Kingsman agents were supplied with new suits with fresh bulletproof lining. A new collection of accoutrements accompanied each agent. They prioritized the shop,  as well as rebuilding their armoury and weapons cache.

As long as the agents had their Kingsman armour and the accessories that completed the look, they were mission ready. The rest would be replaced in time. Historical buildings and 100 year old scotch couldn’t protect the world from all the horrible things men did to each other. It was the knights, the brave and honourable men and women that made up the ranks of Kingsman, that would carry on the ultimate mission of their organization, to uphold peace and protect life.

The Kingsman suit didn’t make the man, but the agents definitely embodied the suits as well as every gentleman spy should.  And being a gentleman spy was a matter of being four things. They were polite. They were courteous. They were well mannered. And they had a plan to kill everyone in the room at any given time.

———-

Gwendolyn’s appearance came, by chance, at the most fortuitous moment. While a drive-by shooting was not the most elegant tactic to remove players from the board, if done properly, it was effective. Fast and fatal with little fuss.  With less chance for blowback, but common enough where the news of a drive by shooting was not likely to stir the interest of the authorities other than to increase patrol and warn residents to take precaution.  

Most likely this kind of shooting would be treated as an anomaly. An unfortunate, one-of incident. It also kept agencies such as theirs, from raising alert to a possible threat.

The modus operandi of low life thugs and gangs that did not have enough sophistication for tradecraft, drive-by shootings usually had three purposes, as a warning, to take out a rival, or an initiation of a new member. It was doubtful that Kingsman was the target of a local gang. But sometimes gangs freelanced for those with more power.

Gwendoyn mentioned that it was quite possible that whomever or whatever wanted them out of the picture had outsourced or contracted the job. It would pose even less risk for the controlling party. On the other hand, anytime an organization no longer took care of wet work “in-house” there was always the possibility for indiscretion, for leaks. There was no honor amongst thieves for these kinds of criminals. The only means to motivate them was either through money or power or the fear of losing both.

If this adversary wanted Kingsman off the board, they had power and influence that went deep. Eggsy mentioned if they were able to identify both Harry and himself, have access to their schedule and whereabouts for any given day, that meant they had the resources for hi-tech surveillance. Setting up counter-surveillance should take precedence.

Not necessarily, Gwendolyn had pointed out. Sure it was time consuming and repetitive, but she was able to surveil the same, determine the same schedule, gather the same intel just by physical reconnaissance. Even though she had been a near constant presence for two weeks, she had not raised any suspicions. She was there, expecting Harry and Eggsy, just as the vehicle was. There was no sense setting up hi- tech counter surveillance if the adversary wasn’t using high technology surveillance to begin with.

Sometimes, low-tech, low-fi, the least expected method was the one that was used BECAUSE of it’s near obsolescence.  Gwendolyn emphasized that they shouldn’t rely just on tech to determine who the enemy was. Curious since one of her main strengths was in tech, but her father had always emphasised not to let her talents and skills become a crutch. A good agent looked at all angles of a problem, not just the angle that gave her the best view.

The Golden Circle left a large void in the criminal world that needed to be filled. Luckily, for Kingsman, that meant a lot of in-house fighting and attempts to gain power. Deals and alliances were made and broken. Backs were stabbed. Retribution was had. As challenging as it was to broker a deal in legitimate business matters, it was exponentially more risky when you were dealing with individuals who robbed, lied and killed for a living.

——

On an average London afternoon, slightly cloudy and overcast, with an occasional peek of sunshine through the clouds, Kingsman debated matters of life and death.

They were all seated at the long table in the new dining room, discussing the new threat. The table consisted of Gwendolyn, Agent Tequila, Galahad Sr. and Galahad Jr. They really had to do something about those codenames. But apparently, the name had significance to both Harry and Eggsy and neither of them was ready to give up the handle.

Ever since the betrayal of long-standing agents in both organizations, Chester King, the Arthur that betrayed Harry and Kingsman, and the discovery of Agent Whiskey as a traitor in Statesman, and of course, the destruction of Kingsman and all of its agents, they were taking more care of who was on a need to know basis.  In this case, the circle was a small one. Harry and Eggsy, since they were the targets, Gwendolyn for obvious reasons, and Agent Tequila, whose fresh eyes might be able to discern nuances they had overlooked. It was just as well the group was small. The other remaining active Kingsman were all in the field on other assignments. Everyone was having to do more with less.

Gwendolyn was seated at the head of this small gathering, not that she was taking up the mantle of Arthur. Since she was present at the time of the shooting, had reconnoitred the area and had the most actionable intel so far, she was assigned monitor for this little conference.  It was one of her first times leading a meeting at Kingsman. Herding cats seemed suddenly very relatable.  She was never one to be nervous or doubt her abilities, but the presence of three alpha males, each with strong personalities and convictions, two whose lives could depend on the conversation, kept her at the top of her game.

They were discussing the possibilities when Gwendolyn surmised.

“The way I see it, we are all agreed this was not a random shooting.”

Harry nodded. With his brow drawn together in concentration,  he was listening intently. Eggsy, twiddling his pen, was still pissed that they hadn’t even had a chance to return fire at the tossers. Agent Tequila was staring at Gwendolyn, throwing her a wink every time she glanced in his direction.

She chose to ignore everyone except Harry.

She was cautious not to let her gaze rest on him too long. Despite their evening together in the lounge, Harry treated her exactly the same as he always had. Helpful and kind. Still critical in moments where he knew she could do better. Supportive when he needed to be. He didn’t distance himself in any way. He was comfortable at her side, lightly touching her shoulder, her hand, her back when it was appropriate. If anything, she was modifying her own behaviour. She was careful not to touch him first or stand too close.  If she knew he was nearby or heard his footsteps, with his stride long and purposeful, her body would tense and her heart would beat faster as he approached.

If her eyes wandered and accidentally caught his gaze, he would throw her a wink and the tiniest hint of a smile before she had the chance to look away.  This new twinkle was the only change that she noticed. She had to struggle not to blush every time she saw it. She was determined not to blush in front of these three agents. She spoke clearly and with authority.

“This was a very specific attempt to hit very specific targets. In cases where low-fi is used, it is typically implemented when the actual adversary is either extremely powerful, well known, or technologically advanced, perhaps all three and therefore, wants to avoid using their own resources so they can remain unknown.”

“What about catching the perps?” suggested Eggsy, who still wanted to deliver a job to the face to someone, at the very least.

“The chances of apprehending the actual shooters is slim, but we can still approach that angle.”

She thought for a moment, then added.

“Perhaps we can give them an incentive to inform on their employer. However, I’m sure they have been threatened in the extreme to NOT cooperate with anyone seeking their information. In any case, we may be wasting time looking at a dead end.”

Her father had always looked at the bigger picture and she concentrated on doing the same.  

“What I find most suspicious, is the lack of direct, beneficial outcome resulting in the elimination of the targets.”, she said seriously. She was searching for the improbable.

“Thanks, yeah, for putting it so warmly.” Eggsy said, vaguely amused.

She raised her eyebrows a him, shaping her face into someone that should not be interrupted.

Agent Tequila offered his view point. It wasn’t very helpful, either.

“Seems like someone just wants to get rid of Kingsman. That’s one long ass streak of bad luck.” He shook his head. “Sorry boys, it looks like ya’ll got a lot of folks who wanna see you go down.”

Gwendolyn circled the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“What I mean is, what’s the goal?”

“Eh, to kill us, obviously.” Eggsy said pointedly, looking at the others for agreement. He leaned back in his chair. He assumed that was evident.

“Of course.” Gwendolyn explained with more patience than she felt.

“That’s the action.” She added, questioning, “What is the equal and opposite reaction that they are expecting to achieve?”

She focused on Harry and Eggsy.

“The two of you are obviously integral to Kingsman, but as someone who has been part of the beating heart of these kinds of agencies, they’re going about it the wrong way.”

“How so?” asked Harry. At least he was being encouraging.

“If your goal is to disable an organization, you don’t get rid of the players in the field.” She explained.

“You take out a source of power, such as information, communications. You wipe out their computer system, or target their armoury, or drain their funds. If you are going to take someone off the board, you take out the person who controls access. Sabotage. Make them inoperable, so that no matter how many men they have, no matter how large their army, they are not able to fight. They no longer have means of support.”

At the mention of sabotoge, armoires, wiping out systems, the other two men listened to her with increasing interest.

“That leaves the adversary free to continue their illegal activities without interruption. Not having to deal with threats gives them more resources for whatever generates them money and or power.”

“Not to offend, but after the beating the agency took after V-Day and the absolute knock out from The Golden Circle, most of your efforts have been on regrouping, rebuilding, reestablishing Kingsman’s presence. Kingsman has been mostly laying low. If you were on a revenge list, or you had an enemy that wanted to destroy Kingsman for good, that would have been the most opportune time. While the agency was at its weakest.”

She paused, making sure the men were both paying attention and following her train of thought. Her mind was working on all the possibilities. Experience told her that this was not a simple case of retribution. She was narrowing in on her point.

“Taking out two random agents - “

Eggsy drew back his head and balked, “Beg your pardon. Random?”

Even Harry looked vaguely offended.

Male egos, Gwendolyn thought.

“No offence meant of course. But, ultimately, when you get to the crux of it, in the end you are both agents. Exceptional agents, without a doubt. But taking out two agents, without a focused skill that the organisation’s structure relies on, has no point.”

“Unless,” she said, “that IS the point.”

Now the three agents all had the similar look of confusion on their faces. Three sets of furrowed brows and narrowed eyes turned toward her for clarification.

“Assassination.” She arrived at her point and from here, she was thinking out loud as much as presenting them with information.

Harry was intrigued and nodded slightly to himself. Eggy looked equally surprised and thoughtful. Even Tequila stopped looking at her as if she were a county fair ride he wanted to hop on and started to look involved.

“Assassination has two main purposes. To take out a political figure, a head of state, to disrupt the flow of command. Or, to demoralise the people under their leadership. In your case, you’ve already lost your head of state twice in the past two years.”

She turned to Harry.

“Harry, you’re not even officially Arthur. In fact, Kingsman is yet to designate a permanent head of state. Eliminating that position would do little to disrupt your chain of command. That logic is flawed.”

She continued to clear her path of reasoning, sifting the crucial from the non-essential.

“What’s left?” She asked.

“To demoralise the soldiers?” She made a point of looking around at the empty chairs.

“What soldiers? Most of your agency was destroyed, the agents killed. There are only a handful of working agents who are all out in the field. Most of them are not even in contact until their mission is complete. I have the feeling that we could all be blown up again and those agents would just continue on with their daily operations.”

“That’s lovely.” murmured Eggsy.

“It’s true, though.” Harry said in support.  Most of the agents in the field, the few that they had, were more than capable of handling their missions on their own with little support from HQ.

She leaned back into her chair until they were all awaiting her to continue. Assassination, was an interesting motive, aside from the actual killing and dying aspect.

“Another reason for an assassination,” she was honing the idea in her mind as she was speaking,  “Is to show the power of the organisation behind the killing.”

Her eyes narrowed as she circled her conclusion.

“I believe this was a show.” Her voice was low, secure with her words. Not too dissimilar from a gang initiation ritual, she thought.

“I theorise that this was an attempt of an organisation who has newly arrived into power. They are solidifying their new position by making a statement and asserting dominance over their rivals.”

The men began to shift in their seats, uncomfortable at the thought of a new powerful adversary.

“Please, gentleman. Hear me out.”

At the sound of being addressed gentleman, all three agents straightened up and, with respect, gave Gwendolyn their attention. There were some benefits of being a lady in a room full of men.

“What both of you are,” she said, speaking to both of the Galahads, “is venerated in the intelligence community and feared by the network of criminals around the world.”

She turned toward the younger, brash agent by Harry’s side. “Eggsy, you almost single handedly took out Richmond Valentine and stopped V-Day from being the world catastrophe that it could have been.”

He shrugged, a rare show of modesty for him. Though Gwendolyn had an inkling that he was being facetious. The shrug was more in the lines of “Who, what? Me? Nah, it was nothin.”

Now she turned to the older of the two. Fully engaged in the subject matter, Gwendolyn did not let her eye contact falter this time.

“Harry is part of spy lore now. Let all alone all that he’s done in the course of his career. And then to have survived Valentine’s bullet to the face? Essentially cheated death and to return in time to thwart the largest global hostage situation in history? With Eggsy? Of course, all missions are covet. Classified.  But word gets around through underground channels. For those on either side of good or evil. They must be aware of your existence. They’ve heard of your missions. They might not know exactly who you are, but apparently someone does.”

Harry, in his own dignified manner, accepted the compliments as a matter of fact.

“After the collapse of the Golden Circle, what better opportunity for those in the underworld to try to make a grab for power? It was all of their infighting that allowed you the time and space to rebuild. It seems like their restructuring is in place. Now, whoever has filled the void, needs to establish the new pecking order.  What better way than to take out the two most recognisable agents from one of the oldest, most respected agencies?” She asked the men rhetorically.

Gwendolyn knew what action needed to be taken.

“We need to know who the new power players are.” She said firmly.

The timing was outstanding. “Now what is the be all and end all, of all Galas?  Where only the richest, the most famous, and the most powerful go to see and be seen. THE event that not only national governments around the world use to network, but also the leaders that work underground, through less legitimate channels?

Harry and Eggsy looked at each other. They came to the same conclusion.

“The Monarch’s Ball.” They both said.

“Exactly.” Gwendolyn said emphatically.

“Sounds like a party.” Agent Tequila added.

This time, Harry, Eggsy and Gwendolyn confirmed simultaneously.

“It is.”

----

Thanks for hanging in there! Some chapters may be better than others....

[iriswc1995]

Ash In Ordina

Chapter Two:  ‘Church’

The camera scanned the invitation, and the glass doors whisked open.  Ash tucked it back in her cloak and stepped inside the Worship Office.  Its vast main hall was nearly empty, supported by several marble pillars adorned with artificial torches, contrasting the square, clinical lighting fixtures illuminating the ceiling.  Her footsteps echoed through the hollow expanse.  She watched the shadows dance beneath the various grotesque furnishings, embellished with colorful trappings and expensive decorations.  She wrinkled her nose. The Redeemed were never doing badly for themselves.

At a desk at the end of the hall were two men wearing typical Rapturist attire who seemed to be waiting for her.  The smaller figure immediately smiled and stood up, moving around to the front of the desk with a posture of welcome.  He had a messy haircut dyed bright pink to match his large eyes.  The second man, a few feet behind him, had a darker complexion and grim countenance, towering over both of them, a large cleaver strapped to his back.  Ash met his cold gaze for a moment before the smaller one greeted her.

“Ah, you must be Ash!  Your appearance is very distinct, in a good way, miss!”

“Thanks.”

“And um, just to double-check, no last name?”

“No.  I’m curious why the Redeemed need to hire a freelancer.”

“Hehe, well…” The man scratched the back of his head before clasping his hands together.  “I doubt it’s going to be the usual sort of work you do… rather, we need you to find someone.  One of our high-ranking members has seemingly gone missing, you see.”

Ash tilted her head, but stayed silent, waiting for more details.  But then the man laughed to himself and spread his arms.

“Sorry sorry, where are my manners!  My name is Alistar Fey, Redeemed, director third-echelon, fifth mind.  And my partner here is…”

The tall man sighed, cracking his neck as he turned his head.  “Andre,” he answered coldly.

Alistar smiled and turned back to Ash.  “Politeness is what keeps the world spinning, I think.  Which is also why this is a strictly above-board, on-record job.”

“Right.  So who’s missing, and why do you need me to find them?”

Silently, Alistar took a small binder from the desk and handed it to her.  Ash’s breath caught momentarily as she opened it.  Real paper?  They’re rich enough for paper after everything they did?  Swallowing her annoyance, she skimmed through the details.  His name was Zachary Kells.  A life-long worshipper, decently wealthy thanks to his job at Skyvault as a researcher and engineer.  But it seemed he’d recently left his job to fully devote himself to the Church.  

“We’ve tried contacting him, of course,” Alistar said, scratching the back of his head.  “But no one has seen or heard from him in nearly a week.  He wasn’t involved in anything shady, to my knowledge, and was largely a homebody.  His residence is on this floor, and we sent someone to check there, but no answer again.  And since he lives in one of the Castles, well…”

Ash closed the binder.  “You need someone who’s good at getting inside places they aren’t supposed to.  And you don’t want the authorities involved, for reasons which I’m sure you won’t tell me.”

Alistar hesitated.  Ash nodded and continued.

“It’s fine.  I’ll find him... for the amount we agreed on.”

“Wonderful!  Then, that should be all for our business here.  Part of me hopes you’ll simply find him at home, but I rather doubt it, unfortunately…”

“Freelancer.”  Andre said, taking a step forward for the first time.  Ash flicked her eyes towards him and stood up straight, hands open at her sides.  He raised an eyebrow and simply folded his arms.

“Watch yourself.  Unsavory types buzz around these neighborhoods like hungry flies.  Zachary is an important man.  I trust you’ll do your best to keep him safe.”

Ash hesitated for a long moment, thoughts swimming beneath the man’s cold gaze.  Does he know something about me…? Finally, Ash simply nodded and turned to exit the office hall.

-----

Dark streets caked in rolling fog, dimly illuminated by fading streetlamps.  One could almost mistake this for outside, if not for the globes of faint light on the ceiling, nearly two-hundred feet above, staring like gray stars.  The housing here, the Castles, were essentially buildings unto themselves, like houses stacked on one another.  Security systems and relatively safe neighborhoods, on top of this, were what created the floors home to the wealthier-than-most but not nearly of the mega-rich status.

Ash walked to a street corner two blocks away from the Worship Office, where she found Cygnus waiting for her, playing a game on his phone.  He brushed his hair out of his eyes as she approached.

“So, is it about what we figured?”

She shrugged.  “No assassinations or whatever.  They're just missing one of their top guys.  I need your help getting into his place.”

Cygnus nodded, and started following behind her.  His face wore the same dark look that Ash figured she had made when she entered the Church.  Neither of them liked doing work like this, and Cygnus had even more reason than most to despise the Worship Unity and everything they did.  Their footsteps echoed along the cracked street.  No one else was milling around this late in the evening.  But then, someone made themselves known.

Harsh voices clamored from a nearby alleyway.  Scattered around the trash-filled crevice like chattering rats were several individuals of varying appearance, though the black, red-trimmed jackets wrapped around each of their waists indicated they were a group.  There were six in total, some tall, some muscular, some squatting on dumpsters, others leaning against the wall.  Almost all of them had some kind of augmentation or another - metal arms, thousand-eyes implants, studded or scaled flesh.  Their weapons were crude, but looked sharp - probably scavenged from the Bone Forest.  They turned to look at the pair as they began to pass, and Ash stopped suddenly as their gazes met.  She recognized their appearance, their vibe, and this scent.  These were Harvesters without a doubt.  Before there could be any pretense of just passing through, the group quickly filed out of the alleyway to block their path, their faces grim yet thrilled.  Ash sighed and turned to Cygnus.

“Go on ahead.  I'll handle this.”

“… you sure?”

She nodded.  Cygnus scanned the group with an analytical look before hesitantly stepping forward, whispering to Ash as he passed.

“Don't get in trouble.”

“I'll do my best.”

He walked past the Harvesters, not meeting any of their sharp looks, and while a couple of them spit in his direction, none of them made a move to attack.  The tallest one, most certainly the leader judging by her demeanor, stepped forward.  Her arms were muscular and heavily scarred, the sleeves of her jacket were ringed with iron spikes, and she wore a mask that covered the top half of her face, adorned with chaotic black and red designs.  Her wild, black-haired ponytail nearly reached her waist.  She leaned into Ash's face and laughed.

“How's it going, killer?  Where ya heading to?  Gonna chop off some more heads with that shitty sword of yours?”

Ash stared back, coldly.  Her stomach was tied in a knot, but she didn't let herself panic.  She knew this type.

“I don't see how that's your business, bitch.”

The group laughed again, and the woman smiled.  Ash knew better than to use honorifics like ‘miss’ around Harvesters.  The leader leaned back, walking around Ash as she replied.

“But it IS my business, motherfucker!  Our group here, we protect these streets from killers like you!”

She stood in front of her again, folding her arms.

“God damn, are you edgy-lookin’ or what?  I would have thought you were some gutless nobody if not for this scent… the scent of blood, so unmistakable… it clings to you like a haze~ and if I had to guess, you can smell it just like us, can’t you…?”

Ash rolled her eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Hahahaha~! So if I had to guess, you’re trying to turn over a new leaf or something?  Blood doesn’t dry that easy, kid.  A muzzled wolf is still a wolf.”

“You’re right,” Ash said, and flicked an inch of her sword from its sheathe.  Its red glow captivated the group for a moment, and several of them brandished their own weapons.  “So get out of my way or see the wolf for yourself.  I’m not better than any of you.  Except in terms of skill.”

Silence filled the street.  Strapped across the lead woman’s back was a massive saw-cleaver that made Ash’s katana look like a knife.  She sniffed a few times, then smirked.  Behind her lips, her teeth had been replaced with sharper ones modeled after a shark’s.  She stepped forward, and offered a hand.

“Name’s Tesla.  Any chance you’d wanna join us…?  We make serious dough off the rich idiots on this floor~”

Ash didn’t take her hand.

“Those days are behind me.  I hunt different prey now.”

She made sure to phrase her words correctly, sweat forming on her clenched palms.  To most gangs, you're either a threat, or nothing to worry about.  To Harvesters, you're either a threat, or a walking pay-out.  And either option makes them liable to kill you.  But mercifully, Tesla shrugged and finally backed out of her personal space.

“Fair enough, I guess… but don't go thinking you're done being a Harvester.  Everyone who's alive has to take from others to keep living.  At least the lives we take are put to good use when we sell off their lungs and heart!

“Save the preaching for the church.”

The other Harvesters laughed and playfully punched Tesla, yelling ‘she got you good!’ as Ash continued down the street, her cloak wandering in the breeze.

[kinghoranshit]

Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 1

I yanked on dark denim skinnies. Then pulled on an oversized, ugly, reindeer sweater. Tonight’s the Lowry family, white elephant Christmas. Since there were more than twenty of us, this was how we did it. 

“Nichole! People are arriving! Are you almost ready?” My mom called up the stairs. 

“Yeah!” I replied and walked out of my bedroom to look over the railing so she could see me. Then I went into the bathroom to brush out my silver, mid-length, wet hair and I did little makeup; it was just my family.  

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was immediately pulled into hugs. 

“How’s our little Nikki?” uncle Jeffy gushed. 

I laughed. “I’m doing alright. Got some of my own novels in the works. Started my new freelance editing work too.”

“Heard that’s not super stable,” someone commented. 

I turned around and rolled my eyes. “Writing is a career, Daren, and I’m quite good at it.”

His blue eyes laughed, but his lips pressed in a firm line. “Money will be tight.” 

“I know that.” I huffed. “Everyone keeps telling me that. Leo and my friend Sonnie are the only ones that haven’t. They trust my choices.”

“I think writing is a great career,” a deep, soothing voice stated. One that was completely unfamiliar, and British.

“Says the one who’s making music,” Daren, a great friend of our family, remarked and turned around to look at whoever it was. 

I peeked around his shoulder to see a guy the same height as him. He was obviously closer in age to me. His green eyes caused me to catch my breath. Holy fuck. He was attractive. I felt my cheeks burn at the realization that I am, in fact, wearing an ugly sweater. And my hair was still becoming an unruly mess as it continued to dry. I tried to not make my fingers running through my hair too obvious. 

Though, I felt better when I noticed he was wearing a somewhat ugly sweater as well. Green to match his eyes with grey snowflakes aligning across the chest. His hair was a little messy. Curls that looked the color of melted dark chocolate. His features were strong. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. 

His eyes met with mine and I couldn’t stop myself from changing my sight to Daren. I think my hands were shaking; I managed to fold them together to help stop my nerves. This always happened when anyone I found attractive remotely looked in my direction. 

“Nichole, this is my second cousin Harry Styles,” Daren introduced. “Harry, this is Mark’s daughter, Nichole Lowry. I feel like I’ve done my part.” A sneaky grin placed on his lips as he walked away and into the kitchen where everyone else had congregated to talk and eat. 

“Hi,” I breathed, my cheeks still burned. 

He had his fairly large hands in front of him, folded, and a cute smile crossed his lips. “Hi... So, you’re an author?” 

I nodded. “Yeah, sort of. I copy-edit for others right now.” 

“What do you write?” he asked, seeming naturally interested. 

An easy, big smile now replaced the nervous line I had moments ago. “Novels. All mostly YA mysteries and supernatural. I’ll basically write anything though.” 

A devious smirk replaced his smile. “Do you write, like, smut and stuff?”

I wasn’t going to question why he knew something like that. There were multiple reasons, but it wasn’t my business. 

I cleared my throat with a fake laugh. “You think you’re funny. Yes, sometimes, I do… What about you? You write music, right?” I was hoping to change the subject off of me. I’m not one to talk about myself. 

He brought a hand through his hair. I could almost guarantee that he had a popping bicep underneath that bulky sweater. He looked like a fantastic hugger by his stature and demeanor. I’d love to be wrapped up in them. I averted my eyes back to his to avoid any further (dirtier) thoughts. 

“I do. The lads and I are trying to make something of ourselves. Our working name is One Direction.” 

“I’m sure you’re great! What’s your main genre?” 

“Pop. A little mix of pop rock.” 

I slowly nodded. “Nice, my kinda thing. Maybe I could hear a song or two some time?”

His face brightened up like a little kid’s on Christmas morning. “Yeah, of course, love.”

My heart fluttered at the word ‘love’. I bet it was something that he used a lot on the daily considering he was british, but it was just so soft and sweet. I couldn’t help the butterflies that filled my internal organs.

I noticed the mass of my family coming out of the kitchen and gestured to them. “Later then… I think we’re starting soon.”

“Okay. I won’t forget.” 

I laughed. “Same. I’m gonna get a drink. Want anything?” I walked past him and headed towards the kitchen. For some reason, I just knew he’d follow. 

I grabbed a wine glass from the kitchen and poured some of the rose wine my mom had already opened. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. 

I raised a brow. “How do you not know? Either you’re thirsty or not.” It came out a little more snappy than I had intended and I shot him a sheepish look. “Sorry. Are you thirsty? We have water. I know a couple beers in the fridge. Rose wine. A bottle of white somewhere. Uhm… We also have some sparkling juice I believe.” 

He chuckled. It sent shivers down my spine. He rubbed his chin and it was now I noticed the rings he wore. God, those made the thoughts I was trying to suppress worse; I’ve only just met the guy, I needed to chill. But the fact he wanted to keep talking to me… Why?

“I think… I think I’ll have the rose.”

“You got it.” I reached back up in the cabinet on the middle shelf for another wine glass. The last one happened to be in the way back and I was having a hard time reaching. I felt something hard against my back and a hand lightly brushed mine before taking the glass. My face heated up furiously now at how close we were. 

I turned around and looked up into his intense eyes. I couldn’t help glancing at his luscious lips then back into his eyes. I noted he did the same. 

“Here you go,” he whispered, his voice a bit raspy, and handed the wine glass to me.

“Are you two coming?” Daren called. 

I groaned internally. “Yeah, Schumaker, we are.” 

Harry chuckled again. “He is quite annoying.” 

“You are right on that one,” I remarked and poured his wine. I corked the bottle before I picked up mine. “Ready for some fun?” 

He took a sip of his and tasted it thoughtfully, his eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah. How is it done?”  

I smiled and went on to explain it. We all got a number out of a hat or bowl and went in that order. There would be a couple rounds of the starter gifts, and then once round of the large gift. Items were locked down after the round was officially over. Families sort of became smaller teams when it came to getting certain items; we had the rule that items could be stolen up to three times before it was locked.

He tapped his chin. “Okay… I think I have it. Are we on a team?” 

That caught me by surprise. Usually, it was my two brothers, my mom, my dad, and I who are a team. When Daren came last year for his first Lowry christmas though, he just joined our team. 

“Yeah, sure. Our team also includes my two brothers Leo and John, mom, dad, Daren, and I,” I stated, pointing them out from where we sat on the carpet. My parents had a thing for naming us kids after famous actors. Leo was named after Leonardo DeCaprio, John after Johnny Depp, and I was after Nicholas Cage. They thought I was going to be a boy, thus they only changed a couple letters and still got their way.

“Okay… Uhm, not sure what to take so just tell me.” 

He was so freaking cute. He was both cute and sexy, he was basically a nuclear weapon. 

I giggled.“It’s not rocket science. Take whatever. Don’t be afraid to steal, we’re all friendly here.” 

He licked his lips. “You do know stealing is wrong?” 

“Not here. It’s all part of the fun. Seriously, don’t worry about it.” 

“Okay. Am I supposed to tell you what number I am?” 

I shrugged. “You can. Everyone will know eventually.” 

“Number twenty two.” 

“Hey!” I exclaimed, lightly whacking his arm. “I’m number twenty one, and you’re the last one. We can tag team.”

“Alright, everyone knows their number and is ready?” my aunt Dianna asked, who sat over by the massive pile of starter gifts. She always went overboard every year; she thrift shops a lot. 

“Yeah,” everyone chimed in on their own account. 

“Okay, let’s get this started!” She clapped her hands. 

***

I shook my right leg nervously. We were in the large gifts now; the final round of the white elephant. We had three rounds of the starter gifts. So far, no one had taken the gift I wanted to go for. An HP Envy 5525 printer. I knew which one it was because it’s one our family contributed. I didn’t know why. My mom knew I’d been needing a new one, yet she didn’t get me one for Christmas when it was one of the only things on my short list. 

This was the sucky part of being the second to last person. The anticipation. 

My cousin Jeremy was two numbers before me and my heart clenched when he went straight for it. Everyone ‘ooed’ after he’d revealed it, and it was now that I noticed other family members were interested. It wasn’t impossible for them to get it if they had the means. But Jeremy and his wife seemed to be smitten with the gift; it was a nice ass printer. 

I looked down at my hands in my lap, then looked back up when I knew it was the next person; Leo. Suddenly, I had an idea. Subtly, I texted him. He gave me a short nod and I let out a breath. We’d always been a great tag team. 

Leo stood up and walked straight over to Jeremy to grab it. Everyone ‘ooed’. And knowing he’d go for what Leo wanted, I’d steal from him when it was my turn. I watched as Jeremy went to take the FIFA games away from cousin David. Cousin David only laughed, eyeing all the presents. He decided to go for another large gift; there were only three left. It ended up being a toolset, which was up more his alley anyway.

My heartbeat quickened as I got up and went to Jeremy to take the FIFA games. There were ooo’s and laughs once again. I saw him look at Emily, his wife, and I mentally cursed. Jeremy took Emily’s gift and of course, she went to take the printer from Leo. 

Leo looked around and I internally cheered seeing my family plan the next moves. My oldest brother John and my mom had worked together so John could get the weight set and my mom could get the running gear. Leo took the toolset from my dad, and then he took the printer from Emily. 

I smiled widely, then frowned as she took, Jeremy’s mom, Nancy’s gift and in return she got the printer. Gah! It’s never ending! My dad looked at me and shrugged. I shrugged back. My dad went for one of the two last gifts. It was a movie, candy, popcorn basket; that worked for our whole family. It was two movies we already had though-- ‘We’re the Millers’ and ‘Battleship’. 

I looked over at Harry. “Your turn.” 

He looked at me thoughtfully and whispered, “You really want that printer?”

“Yeah, but you-”

Without hesitation he took it away from Nancy-- the last alliance for Jeremy’s side. 

He plooped back down beside me and presented it to me.“You said stealing was okay.”

I laughed under my breath. “Thanks, but now you didn’t get a large gift. I’ll wrestle my dad for that movie basket.”

“No worries, love. Your smile is enough.”

The heat came up my neck again and I forced myself to watch the end as a distraction. Nancy just took the final gift. It seemed like the large gift round was always equivalent in time with the amount of rounds we did for the starter gifts. 

Everyone who tag teamed switched their gifts around and all was right. Now, it was time for whatever before those who had to drive home did so. I might eat. 

“I’m gonna heat up leftovers, want anything?” I asked as I stood up and straightened out the sweater. 

He stood up as well and smirked. “I could eat, especially with you.”

It took a second for his words to click and I cocked a brow. “Did you just ask me out?” 

“I did.” He chuckled. It vibrated in my chest. 

“I’d love to.” I smiled before I headed to the kitchen.

Next: 2

[Masterlist]

[lucy-sky]

Opposites (Ezra x Reader)

Summary: Being a freelance digger you landed on The Green Moon in search for treasure, and found more than you expected. You meet Ezra - a man you used to work with in the past. You had a history, but this relationship led to nothing. Is it a good idea to team up with him again, or not? Soon you’ll find out. 

Words: 6 130

Warnings: Sexual content (quite fluffy, but still)

Note: Okay... I totally didn’t expect this movie to hit me THAT hard, but I guess it happened - I wrote a fic. And it’s rather long, omg. So... What you need to know about me is that I very seldom write about not Sam Rockwell characters, so this story is smth a bit out of my comfort zone. Also this is only the 2nd time I’m trying to write some kind of an action scene and it’s a real struggle for me to put such things into words (English is not my native language). Anyway, since I’m new to Pedro Pascal fandom and since I haven’t seen much content with this particular character (why though???), I’m very curious (and slightly anxious) about people’s opinions on this story. So, your feedback is greatly appreciated! But please be gentle :’D 

@biobiopsy​, you asked me to tag you, so here you go :)

That day was totally not the best in your carrier. After spending hours wandering over the wilds of The Green Moon, all you had in your case was a couple of gems. It was getting late and your filter was almost spent, but you still haven’t found a decent aurelac deposit.

After a short break you decided to head back to your ship. The filter wasn’t going to last long anyways. Maybe tomorrow you’d be luckier… But as you were just about to leave, something caught your eye. The ground… Was it what you thought it was? You got closer, took off your backpack and reached for the kit.

No way. No fucking way. It was a freaking goldmine!

Finally the fortune seemed to smile upon you! But now you had a problem: he deposit was large; getting the gems takes time, you knew from experience that rush is your worst enemy when it comes to this. Damn it! Why didn’t you just take a spare filter with you?

A sudden rustle from behind interrupted your thoughts. Your reaction was fast - you turned around abruptly, jerking out the thrower.

- Whoa, easy… Y/n??

You blinked in confusion. The man, standing in front of you, was someone you totally didn’t expect to meet right here and right now.

- Ezra?

Yes, it obviously was him. A man you used to work with about a year ago as a part of diggers team. He didn’t seem to change at all: same bold look in his dark brown eyes, same bright smile… You still remembered kissing those lips once - something you wished to forget, and almost succeeded in this… But life was never predictable.

- Damn, y/n, is it really you? Long time no see… It’s been a year, huh?

- Guess so, - you nodded, the weapon still pointed at him.

- Hey, come on, I came in peace, - Ezra chuckled, but you didn’t move.

- It’s my place, - you said harshly.

- Is it? Forgive me, but I don’t see any signs saying it’s exclusively yours.

- I got here first. The Green is big enough, go find your own.

- So we’ve just met and you’re already asking me to leave? That’s not very nice. Didn’t you miss me? - He smirked cockily.

- Not really.

- Shame. Cause I did. Where’s your team, y/n?

- I’m working for myself now.

- Oh. Why’s that?

- People can betray, - you snapped. - Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.

- Really? So that’s the reason you’re so mad? My so called “betrayal”?

- You stole the gems and disappeared. What else should I call it?

- Hey! Let me remind you, I didn’t take the entire harvest, just took what’s mine. I think that’s fair enough. And… Whatever you call it, you should know - it has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s all about the asshole we used to work for these days. As far as I remember, you thought he’s an asshole too, right?

- Right. You knew that. So you could at least let me know about your plans.

- I… - He stumbled, - Only didn’t want to get you in trouble. Plus you kinda pushed me away so I didn’t want to be too persistent.

- Wow, you’re such a gentleman, - you replied sarcastically. Ezra let out an annoyed sigh.

- Anyway, I’m not here to steal anything from you. I would never do such a thing. I just wanted to offer a helping hand, - he continued.

- So far, I somehow manage without you.

- And I’ve never called it in question. But hey, this deposit… it’s really impressive. There’s more than enough aurelac for both of us, and together we can harvest it way faster. I mean… you don’t want other floaters to come across it, do you?

There was something suspicious about the way he talked… You narrowed your eyes examining his face through the glass helmet.

- You need something from me, right? Apart from the gems.

- Huh?.. - It was his turn now to look confused.

- What about your team, Ezra? - You cocked an eyebrow. - Where is it?

- I uh… See, I’m not always work in a team, sometimes I run solo as well…

- Okay. What about your ship than?

- Uh…

- Let me guess. They flew away and left you here, did they?

From his expression you could already guess the answer.

- Something like that. We had a kind of a… Misunderstanding.

- Well… Guess now you see how the karma works, - you couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

- Haha. Very funny, - he grimaced. - Look, I’m really sorry about what happened… Between us, okay? Believe it or not, I don’t wanna cause you any harm. I’m actually really glad to see you… Even though you keep pointing this thing at me. I’m not an enemy. Just think of it - we can be really helpful for each other. I’ve no doubts you are prehensile enough to understand.

“Prehensile”... Only Ezra could use such kind of a word in his regular speech... Maybe that’s why he was always good at convincing. But this time it wasn’t even about benefits or something. Was he helpful or not, one thing you knew for sure: you couldn’t leave him like that.

There was also another, less noble reason to accept his suggestion: you couldn’t stay here any longer, and leaving right now meant giving him your deposit.

- Fine, - you finally put the thrower down. - My filter is very low. Could you share?

- Sure, - Ezra smiled, his posture instantly getting more relaxed. - Although mine’s not new as well… Not much for the two people… But at least we can start working. There’s still time until it gets dark.

- Deal, - you agreed.

- Hey, y/n.

- Yes?

- I’m glad you’re doing well. Really.

“Sounds like he means it”, you thought.

- Yeah… Glad you’re doing well too… Or at least you’re alive and optimistic.

- This is the way I am, sweetheart, - he winked.

- Please don’t do that.

- What?

- Don’t call me “sweetheart”. Or I’ll change my mind about giving you a ride.

- Alright, no problem, - Ezra made a serious face. - You’re the boss.

- Let’s get to it, than.

***

Darkness already blinded the sky above The Green Moon completely when you finally reached your ship.

- So this beauty is all yours, huh? Not too bad! - Ezra nodded approvingly, looking around.

- Well, I’m actually still paying for it… But yep, it’s mine. This ship is my home, so treat it respectfully, okay?

- Of course. I bet after the harvest we’re about to get you’ll be able to pay the rest easily.

- That’s why I chose working for myself. When you work for someone, it’s exhausting as fuck, and you don’t get nearly as much profit as you expect. Plus the people are sometimes assholes. But that’s not even the point. The point is - I have no idea how much time it would take me to earn enough if I kept working like I used to.

- You’re right, that’s a hell of a job. Don’t do that anymore either… Well, maybe some occasional contract gig when I’m not occupied with something else… Only I still prefer working with partners, you know… Someone who shares my views.

- Yeah, you’re apparently too talkative to stay alone for a long time.

- What can I do? - Ezra scoffed. - I’m a heart and soul of a party.

- And here’s where it took you… - You remarked. 

He just shrugged.

- Everything happens for a reason. You got something to eat?..

After an improvised dinner you spent a couple of hours revising supplies and preparing for tomorrow. When everything was ready, you took a wise decision to get some rest. Even though you covered the deposit with mud and moss as much as you possibly could before leaving, you still had to return to the dig early, or your place could be discovered by someone else.

- Hey, can I ask you something? - You said when you both were lying on the cots opposite each other.

- Shoot.

- What were you actually going to do? I mean… You’re alone here, with no ship, with the last filter left…What was your plan?

- Plan?.. Well I thought of finding some settlers and ask them. Perhaps I could bargain for something…

- Like what?

- No idea. I’d figure something out, I always do. That’s how I survive, - Ezra shrugged.

- This is crazy.

- Maybe. But you just can’t be prepared for absolutely anything.

- I’m at least trying to.

- Yeah, right. You hate asking for help, do you? Also I think you’ve got trust issues, sweetheart.

- I just choose to rely on myself, not someone else in the first place. And I don’t consider it an issue, end of story. And by the way, what did I tell you about “sweetheart”?

- Fine, fine, whatever you say, - he threw his hands up jokingly. You rolled your eyes.

- You know what? We could actually make a great team, - Ezra suddenly went after a pause.

- Seriously? - You huffed. - What makes you think so?

- Opposites attract.

- Bullshit. Go to sleep already.

With this you turned away from him. As you closed your eyes, you could hear him chuckling. What a cocky bastard. Yet you had to admit, at least to yourself - you really kind of missed him.

***

You woke up even earlier than expected. Partly due to nervous anticipation and partly because another person’s presence on your ship next to you felt a bit awkward. 

Ezra was still asleep, and you caught yourself staring at his calm and peaceful features with a subtle tender sensation deep inside your chest… What’s wrong with you, y/n? A guy you had a vaguely romantic relationship with about a year ago appears out of the blue and you’re already melting. What a shame. And yet… You couldn’t help thinking about what may have happened if you didn’t push him away, if you weren’t afraid… What exactly you were afraid of? Getting too close?.. Perhaps he was right about trust issues though… No, this relationship would most certainly lead to nothing. You’re too different in many ways…

Opposites attract.

You shook your head. There was no time for self-scrutiny at the moment. You had to concentrate on work. Once it’s done, you’d have time to figure out your feelings. And also find out if you can really trust him or not.

Decidedly, you stood up and reached out to shake his shoulder.

- Wake up, sleeping beauty. The gems are not gonna dig themselves out.

The man let out a soft grunt.

- Seriously, Ezra. I’m not gonna tell you twice.

- Alright, alright, I’m awake, - he squinted at you. - You’re not very sweet in the mornings, you know that?

- I’ll take it as a compliment.

***

It was an extremely productive day. You had to admit: working with a partner was way more effective than doing it alone. With Ezra’s help you also managed to bring and set a tent where you could have breaks and eat without returning to the ship. It saved you lots of time.

One of today’s trophies you were particularly proud of. You already sensed something special as you pulled out a cocoon way heavier than usual. The color was slightly different as well.

- Ezra, look, - you called out. He frowned, carefully examining your finding.

- Why do you think it’s like that? - You asked.

- No idea. But we have to be careful. Let’s find out, - he reached for a knife. - Hold it like that…

You both held your breath as he made a cut.

- Ha! Perfect, - he gave you a triumphant grin.

Once the meat was removed, you saw an aurelac gem you’ve never seen before. It was huge, and almost entirely golden.

- Have you ever seen something like that? - You asked, staring at the gem in awe.

- Never. Just heard something about it. I thought it’s a myth…

- Hey.

You took your eyes off the trophy and faced him.

- We’re not splitting the gems, right? We take the harvest, return to the center, sell it and then split the reward evenly. Agreed?

- Sounds fair to me, - Ezra nodded. - I’m in.

- Awesome. Let’s get back to work than?

- Yes, Ma’am! - He replied with a chuckle. - By the way, what are you gonna do with all this money, apart from paying for the ship?

- Didn’t really think about it…

- I’d go somewhere for a nice long vacation, - he said dreamily. - Kamrea maybe… I’ve heard it’s a lovely place... Care to join me for further inspection?..

- I don’t know.

- Ah, come on! Why not?

- I’m not completely sure if I can trust you yet, - you said honestly.

- Okay… - He paused, then smiled. - Anyway, since we’re stuck together, you still have plenty of time make up your mind.

***

Walking back to the ship that night you both felt tired but pretty content. It gets dark quite fast here on The Green Moon, so you had to use flashlights. Ezra was telling you one of his many funny stories as you walked, when you suddenly heard a rustle from the bushes to the left of you.

- Hey, did you hear it? - You asked, tensing immediately, your hand slowly moving to the thrower.

He nodded, ready to grab his weapon as well.

The rustle continued.

- Who’s there? - Ezra asked out loud, pointing the gun at the bushes. - Show yourself!

At first nothing happened. You looked at each other, shrugged and decided to keep going, but once you started moving again, three silhouettes stepped out of the darkness, blocking your way. And they were pointing throwers at you as well.

- What the hell… - Ezra muttered. - Hey guys! Maybe we’ll talk like civilized people first, how ‘bout that?..

The tallest person said something, but you didn’t understand a thing - apparently these people didn’t speak your language. And they didn’t sound very friendly.

- Harvest, - you finally heard. - We need harvest.

- Sorry to upset you, buddy, but I’m afraid it’s not gonna happen. Our harvest is ours, - Ezra replied boldly.

- Ours.

The following things happened really fast: the tallest guy pointed the gun at Ezra, but he was faster and managed to injure him. Dropping the tent on the ground you rushed to the right, shooting on your way. The enemies were shooting back. One of them fell. But it was just a start: there were more of them, to the right and the left, you couldn’t tell exactly how many. All you could do at the moment was run. And shoot. It was too dark already and you had no idea if you actually managed to hurt any of them or not… Good thing they didn’t have any night vision devices either. The ship wasn’t far. You could already see it. But damn! These people just didn’t let you go. They seemed to be everywhere. Whispers and rustles of the forest and darkness didn’t help you at all. But still you managed to move forward somehow.

At some point you lost Ezra and the panic immediately started rising up inside you. In this darkness you could easily hurt each other instead of the enemies. With a shaky voice, you called out his name, knowing full well that shouting is not a good idea, but you instantly felt relieved when his hand found yours.

- I’m here. C’mon!

He pulled you with him behind the nearest tree.

- Fuck! Who the hell are they?? - You whispered frantically.

- Pretty sure they ain’t no floaters. Just bastards who don’t wanna dig but prefer ravaging the others… Fucking pirates! They found the ship and set the trap.

- But we can make it, right? It’s not that far.

- We have to. Come on, let’s go.

Still holding hands tightly you proceeded moving towards the ship.

- Ezra, look out!

You saw a pirate stepping out of the bush right behind him, and you shot. When you pulled the trigger again, you realized the thrower was empty.

- Shit!

Ezra shot a couple more times, before his thrower went off, but thankfully his shots were tidy enough to fetch down the opponent. You ran a few of meters more and hid behind the tree again, catching your breath.

- Got more cassettes? - You asked him.

He searched in his pocket.

- Just one.

Damn. The situation was getting even worse.

- Okay, got an idea, - Ezra said decidedly. - Here’s what we’re gonna do. You take the case with gems and run to the ship as fast as you can. I cover you with the thrower. Get inside and start the engine. If I won't be there in… Two minutes - you take off. Clear?

The plan was risky, but what else you could do? In these circumstances you just had no other choice than to trust him.

- Y/n? Can you do that?

- Yeah… Yes, I think I can, - you nodded, breathing heavily. - Let’s do it.

- Okay.

Ezra reached his pocket and recharged his thrower with a new cassette.

- Ready? - He asked and you nodded again. - Oh, wait.

He took something off his front pocket and tucked it into yours. You thought it was probably his empty cassettes to recharge on board the ship.

- There. Now go!

- Two minutes, right?

- Two minutes, - he nodded reassuringly and squeezed your hand in his for a split second. Enough to make your heart shrink. - Go!

Without further hesitation, you took a deep breath and rushed towards the ship. Your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest; all you could hear was your heavy breathing and the shots behind you. Someone wailed in pain. You were hoping with all your heart it wasn’t Ezra.

Only a few steps were separating you from the ship when suddenly a dark figure appeared right in front of you, as if out of nowhere. You had no time to think about what you were doing. As you saw the thrower pointed at you, you had to use the only possible weapon you had - the case with gems. So you did. Before the stranger managed to pull the trigger, your case crashed against the front of his helmet. You heard the sound of cracking glass and hit again; suddenly the case popped open and about a half of its content scattered to the ground. Apparently you broke the lock somehow, but there was no time to collect the stones. Taking the advantage of your enemy being disoriented, you rushed to the door and entered the security code with shaky fingers. Whoever these pirates were, they definitely weren’t smart enough to crack this code and break inside the ship.

Taking off your helmet and gloves, you ran to the cockpit, quickly started the engines, and then recharged your thrower in case if Ezra needed help.

“Two minutes.”

The time was running out. All of a sudden you realized how you’re actually afraid of losing him.

- Come on, Ezra!.. - You muttered through clenched teeth, staring at your watch. Less than half a minute left.

“I’m not gonna take off without him.”

You stood up, grabbed the thrower, and headed back to the door. A sudden loud noise following by a low grunt made you flinch.

- Ezra? - You shouted. - Ezra, is that you?

There was no answer and you felt like sinking.

- Ezra?..

- Yes, that’s me! Take off! NOW!

You let out a deep sigh of relief and ran back to the cockpit.

“Alright than… 3… 2… 1…”

- Ezra, hold onto something!

The engines roared and the ship took off. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe evenly and compose yourself.

“It’s over. We’re safe now.”

***

In a few minutes the ship left the planet’s orbit, so you could finally switch on the automatic flight control and go check on Ezra. He still wasn’t around and you worried he might be hurt. The dust of The Green Moon made every single scratch a possible lethal danger.

You found him next to the door, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

- Ezra… Is everything alright?.. - You asked anxiously, hunkering down next to him. - Are you injured?..

He opened his eyes and looked up at you.

- I’m fine… Y/n… You won’t believe it, but… I think I twisted my ankle, - he scoffed.

For the second time tonight you didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or to cry because of relief. Unable to contain yourself, you leaned into him in a swift motion and hugged him tightly. Your reaction was so sudden it caused him jerk a little, but the next moment you felt him hugging you back.

- Hey… He whispered softly, letting his fingers run through your hair. – What did I tell you? Take off in two minutes. And how long did you wait?..

- I’ve always been stubborn, - you smirked against his shoulder.

- That’s what I always liked about you.

 ***

Later in your quarters, after you both finally got rid of the suits, you were helping Ezra to fix his ankle with a bandage.

- See, I was right, - He pointed out. - We really do make a good team. We have to think about working together in the future, huh?

- You know, I was really pissed at you, - You confessed. - When you left. I didn’t really care about the gems and stuff... But... It’s just that you simply disappeared without saying a word... As if I meant nothing for you.

You weren’t completely sure why you were telling this to him. Just a sudden desire to finally make it clear about how you felt. Ezra looked at you carefully, knitting his brow.

- I mean... I agree that it’s my fault as well, I really did pushed you away myself, so what else did I expect, but... still... - At this you stumbled, lost for words.

- Y/n, don’t. That was really shitty of me to leave like that, ‘cause it’s absolutely not true about you meaning nothing... I just... - He sighed deeply and the soft look in his brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. - I totally should have been more persistent.

Having said that, he reached out, his fingertips grazing against your cheek. A soft, barely perceptible touch, yet still so full of affection.

- I’m sorry, - he whispered, and leaned in.

The next thing you felt was his lips, warm and gentle against yours. The kiss was incredibly tender and quite chaste, but nevertheless it made you weak. Ezra pulled away a little, as if waiting for your reaction, but when you gripped onto his shoulders, he didn’t hesitate any longer. His lips crushed back on yours feverishly, his breath hot, and his tongue pushing inside your mouth decidedly, sending millions of shivers down your spine. He tasted and felt exactly the same as a year ago, but this time you both were way more desperate and needy at the sudden realization - you could have died tonight. In a way this kiss was a celebration of life, but also only now you realized very clearly how much you needed this, how long you’ve been completely on your own; and how you actually missed him, his touch and his warmth.

You gripped the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, melting against his frame with a trembling gasp as he let go of your lips only to nibble on your jawline. Your head felt light and dizzy of his closeness, sloppy kisses on your neck, tickling sensation of his facial hair against sensitive skin.

Deliriously, you let your hands wander to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath and caressing his belly. Ezra let go of you for a moment to pull the t-shirt off over his head and toss it aside. His body was firm and tanned and you marveled at the sight. Your shirt went next, and then he pulled you back in his embrace. The skin-to-skin contact almost made you shudder, almost too much for your touch starved body. Almost unbearable, but you still craved for it. Your breath quickened as his tongue traced your collarbone while his fingers struggled to undo your bra. You reached behind your back to help him and soon your breasts were exposed to his hungry eyes, darkened with lust. You bit your lip as his thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples, it was like the sparks of electricity flashing through your body. Greedily, he kissed your lips again, pulling you down on the cot with him, on top of him.

As you straddled him, you could feel how hard he already was underneath you. Unable to let go of his lips, you started slowly grinding against him to release the pressure building in your core, earning a quiet moan from him. It encouraged you to go further and trace his neck with your tongue. You could feel him shivering, tightening his grip on your hips.

He let you explore his body for a while, tracing his chest with your fingertips, peppering his collarbones with soft kisses, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it for too long. It’s been a while since someone touched him with real affection. At some point he just couldn’t contain himself any longer. Letting out a low groan, he seized your waist and flipped you onto your back. Your surprised gasp was muffled by his lips capturing yours again, before moving further down your body. The tip of his tongue just barely touched a hard peak of your nipple, but it caused you whimper out loud. Tenderly, he kissed his way between your breasts and down your belly, along the hem of your sweatpants, before tugging them down slowly.

When he pressed a soft kiss on your mound through the thin cotton of your underwear, you were about to scream. There was too much of him, to many sensations at once, and your insides were tingling and aching for release, but you couldn’t get rid of a slightly awkward feeling. You’ve never been that exposed to a man before. Emotionally and physically.

Ezra seemed to feel your tension. Frowning, he looked up at you.

- Uh, y/n… did you ever…

You felt blush creeping up your cheeks.

- Sorry, I… didn’t have much time for romance… - You mumbled.

- It’s okay, - he hushed, his deep brown eyes looking at you with such warmth and affection you couldn’t help but smile. - Just relax. You won’t regret it. Trust me.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Trust him. Yes, you did trust him.

Once your panties were gone, he positioned himself between your thighs, and his hot breath against your center made you tremble with anticipation. Then his tongue carefully slid past your folds and you almost purred at the blissful sensation. After a few long and unhurried licks he settled at your throbbing clit, sucking on it gently, and it didn’t take long before you finally exploded, writhing and moaning shamelessly, fingers entangled into his soft messy hair. He kept going through your climax, licking you clean until the overstimulation caused you flinch. You were still a panting mess when he made his way back to your parted lips.  

Slowly kissing him back, you could taste yourself on his tongue, and even though your insides still fluttered a bit in an aftermath of your climax, you still knew you needed more of him.

- You alright? - He asked quietly, stroking your cheek with his knuckles.

- Uh-huh, - you made, kissing his upper lip while reaching between your bodies to cup his bulge. He sighed, slightly bucking his hips at your touch.

- Ezra, - you whispered, your face so close to his your noses touched. – I… think you should take off your pants now…

- That makes sense, I guess, - he snickered mischievously, placing one more quick kiss on your lips before getting on his feet and tugging off his pants and underwear.

Hovering over you, Ezra pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and humming softly as your fingers trailed down his torso, through the hairs on his lower belly, to stroke along his length. The throbbing, teasing sensation was driving him crazy, yet your sweet caress, so gentle and intimate, almost made him melt. He both craved for release and wanted it to last forever. He opened his eyes, met your gaze, and kissed you again, deeply and passionately, causing you tremble beneath him.

- I need you, - you breathed out against his mouth, and he obeyed. The sensation of him filling you up was overwhelming. He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust, but soon your moans and gasps of pleasure encouraged him to pick up the pace. Clinging to him, you enjoyed every second of this intimacy. Everything felt so good: the weight of his body on top of yours, his hot breath on your skin, quiet moans and grunts escaping him… Digging your nails into his shoulders you arched your hips to meet his thrusts, urging him to go deeper. His hand slid under the bend of your knee, lifting your leg a bit to get a better angle. You whimpered desperately, jolts of pleasure flashing deep within your core as he hit that sweet spot of yours, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. A couple more thrusts and you clenched around him, a wave of pure ecstasy washing all over your body from head to toes. Ezra felt dangerously close too. He pulled out with a groan and let go. Through the haze of your post-orgasmic bliss you could feel his warm load spilling over your belly.

He collapsed on top of you, panting, and you were simply lying like that for a while, his face buried into the crook of your neck, your fingers caressing his hair. You felt warm and sated, and completely safe in his arms. Ezra lifted his head lazily to look at you. His eyes were soft and sparkling, and you felt so much tenderness for him at the moment, that you couldn’t possibly put it into words. Instead, you kissed him. You kissed the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose. You kissed that little wrinkle he had between his eyebrows and let your fingers run through his tousled hair. He had this little blond streak and you remembered asking him about it once, but he wasn’t sure himself when and how he actually got it. Anyway, you always found it adorable. Ezra took your hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

- That was… Pretty intense, huh?.. - He smiled.

- Oh yes, it was.

- You know what we need right now? A shower.

- True, - you agreed. - You can go first then. The shower cabin is too small for the two of us anyways…

- Bullshit. Pretty sure we can fit. If we get close enough, - Ezra smirked. - You’re going with me, sweetheart. End of subject.

- Yes, sir, - you laughed.

Finally you could admit - you actually liked him calling you “sweetheart”. A lot.

***

You woke up lying on Ezra’s chest instead of a pillow. His calm and even breath and the warmth of his body against you felt nice and comforting, and not awkward at all this time.

In the world you lived, there was one thing you knew for sure - you had to be tough. Showing weakness was never safe. But now, with him for the first time in ages you weren’t afraid of being opened up and vulnerable. And it didn’t even matter how different you were. Yes, you’re the quiet one and he’s talkative, he’s chaotic and you’re organized, he’s spontaneous and you always need a plan… But none of these was important. The most important thing was - deep inside you both felt loneliness. Now you weren’t lonely anymore.

You felt like you could spend a lifetime just snuggling like that, it was perfection, except one thing - you realized you were hungry as a wolf. Unable to bear with the rumbling of your stomach any longer, you carefully slipped out of the bed, put on some clothes and headed to the cockpit.

Your backpack was still lying there on the floor. You opened it and grabbed a couple of protein bars and a thermos bottle. Sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, you took a sip of warm drink. Your body was aching but it was a pleasant sensation. You glanced at the timer on the dashboard to find out you still had a few hours until landing. No rush.

The case was there too, next to the backpack. You reached out and opened it. Damn. More than a half of your harvest was lost, including that rare big golden gem. You sighed. Well, at least you were alive and well… And in fact, you found something way more valuable than gemstones.

“Everything happens for a reason. “

You heard his footsteps behind you and smiled.

- Morning… - Ezra’s voice was a little hoarse after sleep. He bent down and kissed the top of your head before sitting next to you.

- Morning. Are you hungry? - You handed him a protein bar.

- I sure am, - he chucked, leaning in and gently nibbling on your exposed shoulder.

- I didn’t mean that hunger, - you scoffed.

- Well, that too, - he took a large bite of his snack.

- Hey, what’s wrong? - He frowned, as he followed your gaze and spotted the opened case.

- Well, nothing particularly terrible. It’s just… I guess your dream vacation has to wait for a while… - You shrugged, and told him what happened on your way to the ship.

- Oh yeah, I saw that guy with a smashed helmet… Almost tripped over him actually… That’s pretty badass! - He nodded in appreciation. - Um… By the way… You didn’t check the front pocket of your suit, did you?

- Nope, - you narrowed your eyes. - Why? I thought you just gave me your empty cassettes…

- There were cassettes, yes… But… There was also something else…

Intrigued, you got on your feet. Your suit was hanging next to the door. You dove your hand into the front pocket and fished out something wrapped in a piece of cloth. Carefully you unwrapped the bundle and gasped in surprise: it was the big golden gem.

- B-but… - You stuttered, turning to Ezra and giving him a questioned look. - How?... Did you steal this gem?..

- What? No! You saw all the gems when you closed the case before heading back. How could I possibly do that? Magic powers?

- Than I’m confused.

- Don’t be. It’s not the same stone, it’s another one. Remember I told you I’ve heard of these gems? Well I also heard there are usually two of them, on the opposite sides of the dig.

- Opposites… - You murmured softly and he gave you a broad smile.

- That’s right. Just like you and me, huh?

- But why didn’t you tell me?

- Just wanted to surprise you. It’s simple as that. And it seems to me that mischief managed, - he chuckled.

- Bastard, - you laughed.

- Love you too.

- Is that… A confession? - You blurted out.

- Most likely it is, - Ezra smirked, stepping closer to you and cupping your cheek. - All I know is you are way, way more precious than any gem, sweetheart. Ugh... This actually sounds a bit cheesier than I expected…

- It’s okay, - you hushed, leaning in for a kiss. - I think I can deal with it.

***

For everyone who read until the end - thank you very much for your time and patience!

[ambistep]

Everyone’s Got A Thing

Steel rings through the night - sharp edges in moonlight. Two warriors crossing blades in pitched battle.

Julia rolls her shoulder, settling in comfortably to watch the spectacle. Beside her, a smaller figure clambers up to take a seat next to her. The marshal reaches over and pats her on the head teasingly, “You’re late.” 

Sidestep wrinkles her nose - hard to tell beneath the shroud of the costume, but Julia *can* tell. “Don’t do that, my hair gets all tangly.” She pointedly readjusts the cowl, then peers over at the show, “What are we watching?”

The marshal grins, “Corporate Espionage.” 

“Oh. Neat.” Mina tilts her head a little, legs swinging on the edge of the retaining wall. It’s cold out - for Los Diablos anyway, and she scoots in a little closer to Julia, “Who’s the guy in red?”

For her part, Charge throws an arm around her companion, casually gesturing as she explains, “Shinobi - freelancer for this type of thing. Other one is the Grey Guardsman, he’s in-house security for TaxTech. So some sort of heist thing, I guess.”

“Oh yeah, I saw him on the commercials, I thought he was just a mascot.” Sidestep tilts her head a little, watching the fighters trade blows - Shinobi throws out little shiny caltrops, but the Guardsmen casually sweeps them away with the edge of his boot.“These guys are okay,” she doesn't want to seem impressed.

“What, you don’t think they’d be a match for Sidestep?” She puts a hand to her chest, “Bless my heart, my sidekick is all grown up!” A squeezing, sarcastic little hug and another head pat for the shorter vigilante.

“Yuck, I hate that word.” Mina’s shoulders raise a little defensively, “But I totally could. ...Why do they both have swords?”

“Just looks cool, I guess.” The marshal shrugs. Mina doesn’t answer - she can’t argue. It does look cool. “Plus, Shinobi kind of went all in on the whole ninja thing.”

“I mean, his name is Shinobi.” Sidestep and Charge watch in quiet for a bit, the fight seeming to go… nowhere - neither fighter gaining much ground nor seeming eager to change the pace. “Aren’t we going to help?”

“I dunno, I was having fun just watching.” 

Mina looks down at the ground below them, then back up at the big TaxTech building. “He could get hurt,” she points out.

Julia shrugs. She cups her hands around her mouth and calls out over the corporate courtyard, “Guardsman, you need help?!”

He doesn’t even turn from his foe, parrying a quick series of swiping cuts from the ninja, calling back out, voice straining from the effort of holding back the thief’s blade, “No, marshal! Hold fast! This eve, the fight - and the honor - are all mine!”

“Guardsman says he’s good.”

Mina looks from Julia, to the fight, and back to Julia, mildly confused by the whole exchange. She whispers, “Why does he talk like that?”

Charge laughs, face bathed in the blue neon light of TaxTech’s signage, “Everyone’s got a thing.”

Mina takes this knowledge, and turns it over in her mind. She leans against Julia’s side - only because it’s cold - quietly watching the ninja’s footwork. There’s no words to exchange, little to talk about. No quips or teasing or jokes, no wry one-liners. Julia, for once, keeps her mouth shut and just lets the moment last. Julia’s fingers trace idly over the vigilante’s shoulder - a little sigh escapes Mina, muffled by the mask (she hopes).

There is a loud crunch and a shower of sparks - both women sit up, Julia’s face twisting in a cringe. Mina puts a hand to her masked mouth, “Oh, gosh, was that his -”

Julia whistles, “Oh, that’s going to be expensive.” She would know.

The Grey Guardsman’s long sword has buried it’s edge in Shinobi’s synthetic shoulder, the ninja’s prosthetic limb now dangling limp. A lasso snakes out from TaxTech custodian’s wrist, ensnaring the ninja’s feet. Without losing a step, Shinobi snips the bindings with his weapon and flips to his feet. He raises his guard and doubles a few steps back towards the edge of the pavilion. 

Mina starts to rise to her feet before Julia puts a hand on her thigh. “What? Shouldn’t we stop him? He is a villain.” 

Charge calls out again, “Hey, Shinobi, you a villain?!”

The red-garbed mercenary turns bows to the two spectating women, calling out in return, “Oh, please, marshal - I’m a professional.” There’s a flash and a plume of red smoke, and like that, the professional has gone.

The marshal looks back to her companion, who still seems skeptical. Sighing, she reaches up and smushes Mina’s cheeks through the mask - Mina doesn’t tolerate it and swats at those hands. “What do we always say?” 

Sidestep tilts her head, “The Rangers always get their man?”

Julia blanches, “Tch, not that one.”

“Label anything you put in the fridge.”

“Ay, I swear, I cannot with you sometimes.” Julia pinches the bridge of her nose. Mina beams beneath her mask, pleased as punch to be the one teasing for a change, “Life over property, short stuff. Nobody’s hurt - well, not really - and we got a free show.”

“Yeah…” Mina’s heels kick against the wall they sit on. It was pretty cool.

~~~

“...the epaulettes are maybe a bit much, I have two more designs where I’ve toned them down - I thought a burnished gold. Do you know how married your boss is to the royal purple and black, mon cher? Hello?” The good doctor waves her hand in front of her client’s face.

“Oh - what? No - I…” Yasmin taps her chin thoughtfully, looking out over the schematics and concepts, “Sorry, I was somewhere far away there - my employer can be a bit much, but gold is maybe a step too far. ...although.” A thought occurs to her, “Have you ever made a sword?” Going for imperious, aristocratic - what’s more so than a sword? The reach could be useful - another tool to keep gadgets in… That’s what she tells herself, anyway. 

Mortum squints, suddenly on guard. Yasmin wonders if she hasn’t let something slip she shouldn’t. “Did your boss ask you for a sword? Have they used a sword before?”

Yasmin bites her lip, searching for a good answer, “Well, I’m not sure… I don’t think so.”

Mortum puts her hands together and gestures begging for understanding, “I have made many swords, love, but trust me - you are either a sword person, or you are not. Whenever people just pick one up because it looks ‘cool’, it always turns into a disaster.”

“If that’s your professional opinion, doctor,” Yasmin nods, smirking, “Forget I asked.” Inwardly, it’s hard not to feel a little silly. Somewhere, Mina’s cheeks would be flushed with embarrassment. A small voice inside reassures her. It would have been cool. And if the suit works out, you can still pick up one later, maybe…

[anneapocalypse]

Do you think Maine is a Spartan-II or a Spartan-III? With how much he follows orders and is otherwise silent I’d think he’s a II, but also with how much damage and injury he’s taken I’d even consider him a Gamma Company III.

I don’t think Maine is a Spartan.

I hope no one will read this as me treading on their headcanons. If you dig Spartan Maine then you do you my friend. I have seen it done well in fanfiction. I do not ascribe to it myself. So while I’m going to argue here that I don’t think canon especially points to Maine being a Spartan, you can headcanon whatever you want, and I say none of this to disparage anyone’s headcanons, only to explain why I look at it the way I do.

Maine is big. Maine is strong. I don’t think Maine is so big or so strong that he can’t be an un-augmented human being, though. 

I don’t really like to argue from canon heights because they aren’t really consistent (the character models change from season 9 to season 10) and screenshots are often misleading due to perspective or uneven ground. That said, even if we’re just going by the Project Freelancer poster...

...he’s tall, but he’s not taller by that much. He’s only half a head taller than North. He’s barely a full head taller than Carolina, one of the smaller Freelancers (only CT and Florida appear shorter in this picture, and CT is standing in the back and looking down so it’s hard to say). If Maine is topping 7 feet as a Spartan-II would, then the Freelancers on average must be above average height, including the Director and Counselor who appear about average in this image even out of armor.

But again, canon heights really don’t exist, so grain of salt here.

Maine is definitely strong, too, and we see him performing feats pretty much unique to him and Agent Texas, but I don’t think it’s anything that can’t be explained by power armor with a strength mod. If you can make armor strong enough to hold up a several-ton shipping crate or flip a Warthog, you can probably do it with a human body inside. (Is Tex’s strength specifically an armor mod, or can she just do that? I’m not sure they ever told us. She definitely seems to lose some of it after her original body is destroyed, though. And it’s epsilon!Tex who catches the shipping crate, and god only knows what was going on with her anatomy.)

Maine takes a lot of damage without dying--absolutely. But I don’t think that particularly sets him apart in this universe, either among the Freelancers or among the characters generally. Carolina gets run over by a bus and walks away from it. Donut takes a sticky grenade to the head and shows no evidence of any lasting damage. (While I like the headcanon that Donut’s deaf in one ear, it’s never indicated in canon.) Sarge survives getting shot in the head. A lot of characters on this show survive injuries that would be fatal in real life. And Maine’s injuries, unlike the more slapstick ones in Blood Gulch, aren’t without in-universe consequences.

Maine is definitely good at following orders, though he doesn’t always do so unquestioningly. (”Too high” comes to mind.) For that matter, neither do Spartans--one of those notable early anecdotes of John-117′s training is when he refused to let any of his team members be left behind, even though the rules dictated that one person would be. So I don’t know that Maine’s willingness to follow orders is a point for or against him being a Spartan. Honestly, I’d say he only seems like outlier next to some of the more hotheaded personalities in Project Freelancer, which deliberately sowed division in its own ranks; following orders with little question isn’t exactly a noteworthy trait for a soldier in a war with these stakes. In fact it’s really the soldier who disobeys orders who is noteworthy in this situation, not the one who follows them.

As for Maine being quiet... the Spartan-IIs are many things but I wouldn’t say they’re particularly quiet. Among themselves the Spartan-IIs were plenty chatty. They were like family, after all. You can see that both in the Fall of Reach novel and in the Blue Team parts of Halo 5. You could argue that a Spartan removed from others like him might be quieter, more reserved with people they don’t know. But Maine in season 9 does not strike me as reserved or undemonstrative toward his teammates. He seems friendly with Wash, looking to him for his opinion on the Brute Shot before taking it. He fights near-seamlessly with Carolina on the freeway. There’s a rapport there. Maine is plenty expressive. He just doesn’t speak much, and that’s not particularly a Spartan trait. I’m inclined to say that’s just the way Maine is, whether due to disability or simple preference.

And that brings me to another important point about the Spartan-IIs in particular: one does not simply wash out of the Spartan-II program. The Spartan-IIs were a family. Even the ones who could no longer fight when their physical augmentations failed were given administrative and behind-the-scenes work to do for the program. Every death was deeply felt and mourned by the others. The Spartan-IIs were extremely close-knit. They were so close-knit that Ackerson had to fake Kurt’s death in order to poach him from Halsey’s program to start his own. (Incidentally: fuck Ackerson.) So for Maine to have been a Spartan-II you need a plausible explanation for how he ended up outside the program. Not to say it can’t be done! I think starkraving’s Weapon of the Times series does a particularly good job with this, and despite the fact that I’ve just spent some six paragraphs arguing against its central premise, it remains one of my favorite works of RvB fanfiction which should tell you something. 

For this reason alone I think it’s easier to make Maine work as a Spartan-III, simply because there are more of them and a lot more deaths and it’s a lot simpler to explain how one of them could have slipped out. Again, though, it can be done either way. It just takes some legwork.

And at the end of the day, if you put in the legwork you can sell me on just about any headcanon in a work of fanfiction even if I don’t ascribe to it myself.

For my own purposes, though, I think one of the big reasons I don’t see Maine as a Spartan is that I just don’t feel like he’s a character who needs that kind of backstory. To me, Maine’s story is already tragic. It’s already a story of having his agency and his relationships and his very personhood stolen from him. He doesn’t need to have been kidnapped or orphaned and turned into a child soldier for that. And that’s sort of more meaningful to me if he was just a guy--just a particularly tough Infantryman who liked hand-to-hand and heavy weapons, for whom, once, war was simple--and who got recruited into Project Freelancer for his raw skill and his natural advantages. A man who didn’t like talking but who was friendly with his teammates, ruthless in battle, and would take a bullet for his team leader. A man who had all of that stolen from him by a commander he trusted, who forgot to take a few variables into account. A man whose surviving team leader remembers him, not as a "brute” or a supersoldier or a monster with the strength of ten bears, but as a person she knew and cared about.

It’s meaningful to me, actually, if Maine was just a man.

[maebayos]

How to be a successful freelance mom

Are you torn between your career and your love for your family? It's a common, tough decision for all of the mommies out there. Whatever your choice will be, I will salute you. Because being with your family, being a full-time wife is the noblest, hardest job of all jobs that I know. And leaving you kids, crying, running after you before you go to work is heartbreaking. I know how you loved to be with them, see them grow, witness their every first, but you have to work for them.

But what if you don't need to choose either? Because you can do both? Surprise? Yes, you can! Some people want you to believe you can't be a great mom and have a great career at the same time. You can now, let me introduce to you how by the power of freelancing.

What is freelancing

Freelancers are a person who works as a writer, designer, performer, or the like, selling work or services by the hour, day, job, etc., rather than working on a regular salary basis for one employer.

The freelance industry is a place full of opportunities. There are many benefits a working mom can avail: flexibility, freedom of time, and comfort of home.

There are plenty of freelance jobs that working from home moms could opt for, which have long-term or short-term contracts, full-time and part-time hours. For example, virtual teaching, writing, graphic design, marketing, copy-writing, lead generation, customer representative and software development are emerging as popular career options for women.

How to be a successful freelancer

To start freelancing, everything should start with you. You are now your business and the employee. Don't forget your weapon first, your laptop and strong reliable internet. Freelancing requires investing knowledge and skills on yourself, then simply pitching out to clients who are in need of your service. With the help of freelancing sites, finding clients to avail of your service becomes so much easier. Freelancing sites like Upwork, OnlineJobs.ph(if you are from the Philippines) Freelancer.com, Fiverr are among those trusted sites when it comes to freelancing.

How to invest in your skills

There are many ways you can invest in your skills and succeed as a freelancer. Google and YouTube are your good to go companions. But if you really want to stand out and shine and you are all new to these, I suggest taking an online course about freelancing. If you are from the Philippines and you want to build your career from scratch to success, Filipino Virtual Assistant is the one for you.

Your one of Us

Today, a stay-at-home mom is no longer a woman whose entire life revolves around the house, the kids and non-ending chores. We can be as successful as anyone we dreamed to be from raising our children to pursuing our careers. Now that you know how it takes to become one of us, I am praying for your success in the freelancing industry mommies!

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Someone’s Playing the Pink Panther Theme, Right?

Summary: Carolina infiltrates Locus’ squad. There are some close calls.

This comes from two places: one, me joking about how Locus is oblivious and failed to notice Carolina infiltrating his squad, and the other, me pointing out that Carolina infiltrating his squad means she potentially witnessed some fucked up shit before revealing herself. I didn't go all the way with the second one, because I wanted to write something on the lighter side. Hope you guys enjoy!

Also on Ao3

Carolina’s method of stealth relies on two things:

One, a standardized system of armor so that her camouflage can do the rest of the job for her.

Two, no one to talk to her directly.

It’s not that Carolina’s bad at espionage. Or stealth. Or…

Look, she’s not bad at it, okay?

She’s not.

Shut up, Epsilon.

So she’s tripped some motion sensors in her day. So what if she can never come up with a good excuse whenever someone asks her why she’s not on patrol?

She can just fight her way out of the situation, okay? She’s fine.

She’s fine.

Really.

Look, at least she’s not Tex, okay? Tex blew up places to make sure no one ever saw her.

She’s fine, Epsilon.

Stop fussing, Epsilon.

The point is, infiltrating Locus’s squad is going to go fine. The helmet she’s wearing is one that belonged to one of the pirates, even if it’s not standard-issue. A voice-coder, one unconscious body hidden behind one of the warthogs, and the pounding sense of too-late later, she’s awkwardly standing in front of Locus for inspection, alongside a dozen other soldiers.

She’s using the old method from Freelancer to avoid attention, one that she’d seen York use a dozen times. She’d never needed it of course, and it had never been possible. The Director’s attention had never been hers to determine if she received or not. She was either hyper-visible, all her flaws exposed under his keen gaze, or completely invisible, no matter how good she was. There was no state of in-between. No amount of hiding or deflection could have concealed her when she was tired, or injured, or late.

York, however, had taught her that the best method to avoid detection was to be after the most likely to be trouble in a squad. Not directly after, he’d explained once, over a bottle of beer after a mission gone sideways in the early days, because then the CO is hyper-on-edge, looking for something to critique in the next person too, but one spot after that, or even two, if it’s been a bad mission.

<This is a bad idea, this is a terrible idea, why are they having an inspection we just got here this is the WORST idea ever oh god oh god we’re gonna get caught>

<Epsilon.>

<Right, sorry, okay, focusing.>

Sometimes, she had to wonder if Alpha had been as anxious as Epsilon.

<Rude.>

The guy she’s chosen to stand two down from is a man who failed to fasten the shoulder plate of his armor correctly. If the data she and Epsilon have gathered on Locus is correct—and Epsilon hums, annoyed in her mind, insistent that it is correct, how dare she assume otherwise, the two of them are the best at gathering intel—he won’t tolerate that. Her own armor is in perfect shape, maintained with the help of the best A.I.—Epsilon glows with pleasure at that thought, adjacent to but not interrupting her internal monologue—so she’ll be fine there.

The one danger is that Locus does know all his people, that he has read every file, or worse, that he’s read the file that Epsilon spoofed up for Carolina’s alias and realizes that something’s wrong.

Anxiety trickles down her throat, choking her for a moment before sinking down, hard and slow, like a rock into her stomach, and she can’t tell if it’s Epsilon’s or her own.

Everything depends on her succeeding here.  

Locus goes down the line, efficient and brutal in his pace. He unbraids three soldiers for miniscule problems with their armor or weapons, he dresses down another for having missed a check-in—oh shit he does pay attention to his soldiers, oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

He’s just about to get to her, and Epsilon is frantically buzzing in the back of her mind, planning escape routes, searching for ways out, and she’s barely able to breathe, just trying to stop radiating guilt and fear and anything else that could tip him off.

He’s turned that strange, eyeless helmet towards her, and she feels herself about to fall over the edge, the anxiety turning into adrenaline, flight becoming fight, when the door slams open and a man in orange armor arrives.

“Locus!” He shrieks, and she places the voice. Felix. The traitor within the New Republic.

He’s… shorter than she expected, after Locus. Locus is the largest man she’s seen since Maine, larger than Caboose or any of the other pirates. Locus is broad and wide, built for close combat but a sniper. A contradiction.

But Felix… oh, there’s no mistaking what he’s built for. Skinny but muscled, shorter than Locus but average height overall… bristling with pride and knives alike.

He’s the one to watch for. He fights dirty.

Locus’s attention skitters away from her, refocusing on something far more relevant, and she’s left on the edge, her fingers inches away from fists.

“How far out are they?” Locus demands.

“Not here yet,” Felix says, crossing his arms. “But I saw the battle plan you had drawn up, and I’ve got complaints.”

… a battle plan?

Fuck.

She hadn’t known there was an actual plan yet.

Neither had Epsilon, apparently.

“Dismissed all of you,” Locus snapped, freeing Carolina from discovery. She can’t help but breathe in relief, and smirk to herself, knowing that he’s just doomed his whole operation, letting her go like that. Locus turns his entire focus towards Felix, but doesn’t say anything, while the pirates turn and scatter.

<He doesn’t want anyone to see Mommy and Daddy fight.> Epsilon sniggers in the back of her mind

<Very professional of him.>

<Ugh, seriously? The guy’s a dick.>

<Still a professional.>

<Is that approval? You better not have a crush!>

<Don’t be stupid. Now where can we get those battle plans?>

Epsilon doesn’t know, but he’s got a few suggestions, which Carolina supposes is better than nothing.

The two of them dart through the halls, still careful about the pirates.

<Careful, camera!>

<Can’t you short-circuit it?>

<Well, yeah, it just takes a second, so stand still!>

<Getting slow, are you?>

<Hey, hey, if you were better at watching your corners, I wouldn’t have to!>

They locate a control room, which will hopefully have… something, at least. Data of some kind, if not the actual battle plans.

Battle plans for how Felix and Locus intend to murder all their friends.

The humor, the banter, the comradery within Carolina’s mind evaporates in an instant at that reminder.

Their friends are in danger. The guys are in danger.

The fact that Felix and Locus have been close for so long… Carolina doesn’t know details—communications are hard to listen into on Chorus, even with Epsilon’s wide-sweeping abilities. But Locus has been mirroring Wash’s location for a while, and there are rumors about Felix and the Simulation Troopers.

Close enough to trust, close enough to hurt, close enough to kill.

Carolina’s fingers clench into fists at the thought.

There’s an irony to her position here, an infiltrator amid the infiltrators, the double agent within the double agents, the traitor of traitors.

She finds some satisfaction within that… but not as much satisfaction as she’ll find beating Locus and Felix’s faces in for daring to plan to hurt her friends.

She remembers Wash’s shouts on the radio, his pleas for help, for rescue.

Things went wrong, so quickly, and she hadn’t even realized it at the time, thinking they were safe, or as safe as anyone could be during this civil war. Once she took down the pirates, she’d be able to secure a ship for them and get them all to safety, but she had to make sure that Freelancer’s toxic legacy wasn’t going to claim any more lives, and the pirates were the source of that, and they were keeping the ships down too, so really, she was helping them—

Her excuses putter out in her own mind, hollow.

She should have gone to them earlier, and she knows it.

She’d needed space, needed to try to make things right, to shake off her father’s ghost, she’d seen a chance, and she’d taken it, not saying goodbye and damn the consequences.

And now… here were the consequences.

She has to live with that.

Carolina reaches out to try the door, secure in the knowledge that Epsilon had unlocked it already and grins to herself.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Fuck.

A pirate turns the corner—the one she’d been planning to use as a human shield earlier, clearly on edge, his armor now in place, bristling from the reprimand.

Oh, of all the—she is so fucked.

“Huh?” She asked, trying to channel Maine’s ability to fake nonchalance. No one ever questioned Maine.

<That’s because he was eight feet tall and literally made of muscle!>

… right.

Carolina wants to take a moment to curse the unfairness of the entire situation, because honestly, she is way scarier than Maine, or at least Maine-before-Meta.

But she’ll have to do that later, because right now she’s being caught red handed.

“Isn’t this, the uh,” she says, trying to think of what Wash would do. “Ladies room?”

Carolina hadn’t known she could literally feel it when an A.I. facepalmed, but she could, apparently.

“What? No!”

“Oh, sorry,” she says, stepping away. “I—I just—”

He’s recovered from his bafflement at her excuse and is about to ask her in more detail, or even worse, ask for help, when Locus comes on the intercom. “Assemble,” he orders. “There’s been a change in plan.”

The pirate groans. “Great. I bet Felix made us scrap the landmines, so he could monologue.”

“He does like to do that,” Carolina says, trying to keep her tone light. She… she can use that. Monologuing. That gives her time. That means he has to keep them alive.

Thank God for mercenaries who like to hear himself speak and can annoy their professional partners into letting him have his way.

“You’re telling me,” the pirate mutters, stomping his feet heavily as they head back into the main room.

Carolina swallows, then follows him.

They get their orders and Carolina tastes bile.

She kills her partner, the man who’s supposed to help her murder the Federal Soldiers, and she sets off the fire alarm in the barrack she’s supposed to execute, so they run.

(She’ll learn later the second wave of pirates caught them in a crossfire before they could make it out, and she throws up until there’s nothing left.)

She’s getting mixed reports, she doesn’t know where the Reds and Blues or Wash are, and so she runs into the infirmary, because she’s heard a rumor that Wash was injured.

She doesn’t find Wash, but she does find a very angry doctor.

“Stay down!” Carolina pushes her down, her heart racing, because another squad was assigned the infirmary. “I can get you out of here, just—”

A scalpel presses against her neck. “And why should I trust you, sweetie?”

“Because otherwise, you’re dead.” She swallows. “Get out of here and find the Reds and Blues, okay?” She shows the doctor a way out through the vents, and then tries to see if she can get any other survivors out.

She doesn’t find any other survivors.

She does find a group of pirates.

Fuck.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She’s looking down the barrel of a gun, and man, she really doesn’t like that. “You’re the new girl, aren’t you?” There’s just enough of a sneer, enough of a leer, there, that Carolina doesn’t even have to hesitate before channeling South. She should draw from Connie, or York, or Florida, or really anyone else, really, but Carolina wants to knock this guy down a peg, and she’s itching for a fight, itching to put this fucker in her place.

There are dead bodies in the room behind him, because Carolina couldn’t protect them, and she can’t avenge them yet, not if she wants to save her friends, but she wants to… something. She needs to make amends, somehow.

“I saw someone run out of here,” she says, lifting her chin in the air, like she’s not scared, like she thinks they’re being stupid, like they’re beneath her. “I killed her and came in to see if you guys needed help blowing your noses or wiping your asses too.”

The gun lowers. “Bitch,” the pirate mumbles.

“Hey, do your job, so I don’t have to,” she says flippantly, even though Epsilon is screaming at her not to make fun of the murderers, they have guns, Carolina, they could kill you, Carolina.

“We just got the word from Locus,” another one says. “Get ready for the box.”

“Alright then,” Carolina says. “Let’s get this over with.”

She carefully gets herself placed right next to Locus, who looks her over one last time.

“You, soldier,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Fuck.

“Carol—Carol. Carol—” Shit fuck. “Church.” Fuck.

Epsilon is dead quiet in her brain with disbelief at how bad she fucked that up.

Locus, however, simply nods and turns his attention. “Remember to use your camouflage,” he orders them, and Carolina can’t believe she’s getting away with this.

<How are you getting away with this?>

<I don’t know.>

The two of them activate the active camouflage in sync with everyone else and walk forward towards her friends.

<Be careful you don’t trip,> Epsilon says, sulky.

<Shut up, Epsilon.>

<I’m just saying, this is why we don’t do stealth missions!>

<We did it, didn’t we?>

He has no response for a moment.

Then, as they decloak, aiming a gun at their friends, he finally speaks up again.

<I guess we did.>

Carolina grins and allows herself to stop being scared that things are going to go wrong.

She’s made it this far. Locus and Felix are going to pay.

[allthingsteenmom]

RUMOR HAS IT MTV CREW MEMBERS ARE REFUSING TO WORK WITH DAVID AND SEVERAL PEOPLE HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT

About a week ago the story broke that three or more MTV Teen Mom 2 crew members have gone to higher-ups demanding to be taken off of Jenelle’s shoots. According to sources for The Ashley, “There are a lot of crew members who work on multiple girls’ shoots - or all of the girls’ shoots - during the season. After the video incident [of David threatening to shoot trespassers; you remember] several of them said they will no longer accept shoots with Jenelle, because they are downright scared to go anywhere near her, out of fear of what David might do.” It was elaborated that “They no longer feel comfortable working on Jenelle. There are some people who no longer feel safe going down there anymore because David has made it clear that he does not like the people from MTV, and that he has a ton of weapons. There have been multiple discussions among various crew member groups about the possibility of him coming to a location where we’ve been filming and opening fire if he’s in a bad mood or something, even if its just to scare us. His videos and actions make people think he’s erratic and unpredictable. Some of the people who used to work Jenelle’s shoots don’t want to risk being anywhere near David.” 

Both of the above sources explained to that “Over the years, certain girls and certain crew members have had spats and stopped working together. A crew member can request to be taken off a girls’ shoot. That’s happened before with Farrah, Amber, etc. But I think this is the first time people are refusing to do shoots out of safety concerns. Each shoot has security guards, but that hasn’t helped anyone feel safer. It definitely puts the higher-ups in an uncomfortable spot. They can not force anyone to work with Jenelle. The producers and certain others are employees but most of the crew and other people who work on the shoots are all freelancers. They get calls asking them to cover a certain girls’ shoot at a certain  time, and lately, a lot of people are turning down the Jenelle shoots. They feel it’s not worth the risk to be there if something goes down.”

When this story broke on The Ashely, Kailyn took it upon herself to respond via Twitter:

As you can imagine, it wasn’t long before Jenelle took to Instagram with something to say:

Following her Instagram rant, Jenelle did an interview with US Weekly. You can read the full interview here: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=undefined&cd=&ved=0ahUKEwiYoLPAsPjfAhWHilQKHXcrAwAQzPwBCAM&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.usmagazine.com%2Fcelebrity-news%2Fnews%2Fjenelle-evans-you-can-never-really-trust-kailyn-lowry%2F&psig=AOvVaw394iBkdeL8phKhfzNnsaCn&ust=1547936914080800

But essentially, the interview is Jenelle saying you can’t trust Kail. Naturally, Jenelle had to follow up on Instagram, and posted this: 

So here’s the thing...Kailyn doesn’t really need to chime in on every little thing about Jenelle. That being said, Jenelle doesn’t need to respond to every little thing that has to do with Kailyn either. 

I BELIEVE THE RUMORS ABOUT DAVID ARE TRUE. DO YOU?

[rorykillmore]

aaand obligatory in case someone else doesn't get to it: what kinds of things do you want to do with villanelle? or maybe more specific... what kind of dynamics would you like to explore with her, is there anyone you really want to throw her at?

all i really want to focus on is my “villanelle becomes a vine star” plot.

no but okay i’ve already talked about some of her stuff re: GRACE in a different ask, so i won’t get into that too much here, but definitely wanna do some stuff with that!! and kinda see what she gets involved with because of it

in the meantime though i’d like to do some more freelance contract stuff with her too? like, the thing she had going with will was pretty fun... it’s hard to predict what kind of opportunities might crop up for that in the future (depends on who wants who killed,) but yeah! or if i don’t get a lot of that kind of stuff, honestly it’d be fun to have villanelle like, accidentally get involved with or hired for something that’s a little more unconventional for her, like having to tail or protect someone. or some stupid small thing that would put her in a completely different context than normal, like teaching someone a language or something like that. maybe she’ll have the opportunity for that since paris is a big denny location and not a lot of people on denny actually speak french,

i think i’ve talked a little bit about this before but it would also be fun to do some kind of... longer term plot?? where she has to maintain an alias or at least some kind of pretense to get close to someone for ~a job~. how that would end depends on who it is and what we plan but like, i’ve always wanted to do a plot like that in general tbh

or for a smaller, more casual dynamic idea: giving her like, some kind of semi-friendly rivalry with a neighbor (someone needs to fill that old lady’s shoes) or even like... a roommate if the circumstances were right. that would be complicated because villanelle’s living situation is complicated. it would either have to be like... someone who moves into her metropolis apartment for some reason and she has to Deal with that while not really actually living there OR someone living with her in paris, but that would have to be like. someone she legitimately trusted and who already knew her deal and stuff

on and off i’ve been thinking about like, some kind of temporary ship idea for her or something like that... at the very least, she seems like she’d be a terrible (and therefore wonderful,) candidate for the paris blind date hotel,

or this is just a one-off idea for a more casual rp but i like the idea of doing an rp where just, two characters meet up on the london train, and villanelle seems like she’d be fun for that kind of thing. maybe if i really wanted to add a twist to it she could have like, killed a target on the train, and then has to play it off afterwards. murder on the orient express,

i’m trying to think if there are any like... Specific dynamic types i’m interested in for her that i haven’t really touched on yet. idk. villanelle is really fun for a lot of like, rivalries or playfully antagonistic friendships, that kind of thing. and of course it would also be fun to get her mixed up with The Law in some capacity or another, or maybe to have someone get really intense about going after her although idk how many actual denny characters she’ll ever actually KILL so there might not be that many opportunities for like, revenge plots

it would definitely be really interesting to give her a few like... Important Relationships because i always find the way she deals with those to be really fascinating, but it’s always kinda unpredictable who villanelle gets close to, is the thing

also, i really like throwing her at Annoying Kids because she’s usually not like, outright dangerous around them, but their energy tends to really grate up against her and it’s GREAT to play her as more frazzled and annoyed sometimes,

and then for specific people i want to throw her at or throw her at more... obviously it goes without saying that i already love her dynamic with fox! and i’m especially interested to do more with them after fox’s encounter with oksana, because he was so gruffly... kind to her that it’s gonna be hard for villanelle to kind of wrap her head around. i’m interested to see how that affects their plot stuff going forward

i definitely wanna do some followup with the other people who met oksana too -- we’ve already talked about doing more with her and margot, and of the people oksana met margot is the only one she even mentioned anna to at all, so that’s a reason for her to be a little more careful. and there’s the whole hannibal thing to contend with too and margot’s whole feelings regarding THAT. i dunno, we still have to plot some stuff with them to see how their dynamic goes but they’ve already been interesting enough to get into a BIZARRE amount of trouble! and then there’s james, who fits the “annoying kid” type character i love to throw villanelle at to a t, and whose interactions with her have been really great so far. she’s honestly going to be like... half annoyed and half impressed when she ultimately realizes he LIED to her (/her younger self) just to keep her in the hotel with him. maybe they’ll develop some kind of weird, chaotic friendship -- villanelle’s also a candidate for potential plot stuff surrounding james’ hotel itself...

i also wanna throw her at felix some more. they’ve only met once but they like... weirdly got along really well (well, not “weirdly”, as jay has pointed out they definitely have some parallels) and i think that’s an interesting element to run alongside the obvious fact that... felix works for the mld and would obviously be at odds with an assassin, maybe even trying to catch her if the mld picks up on things

and then fate pointed out that her, shadow, and moonwatcher need to hang out more JUST for the fact that they all have really fancy names, but honestly i’d wanna throw villanelle at both of them more anyway just because shadow and villanelle have like, total opposite energies, which has so far made their banter REALLY fun. and moonwatcher is certainly not an annoying kid, but she’s so like... sweet and down to earth that it’s hard for villanelle to find reasons to be abrasive towards her, which is interesting and not much of something she’s had with anyone else

and then people i haven’t thrown her at yet... i need to throw villanelle at some ASSHOLES. actually, i can only envision her being kind of hilarious with foxfire. i also feel like she pretty much has to meet handsome jack and tomy at some point, because they’re denny’s Primary Other Criminals. actually it makes total sense for her to seek tomy out at some point; naturally she’d be interested in a weapons dealer. or like... laurel since laurel is technically a criminal too, just not an Actively Villainous one, or... oh my god definitely nyssa at some point just because of their mutual weird assassin experiences. i don’t really know what villanelle would make of nyssa. or maybe someone like phoenix because, again, he’s involved with the law, maybe she could get in trouble for something more minor at some point and he’d have to represent her... idk! basically this is getting very long so i’ll just settle to say there are a ton of characters i could throw villanelle at that could be fun tbh

[ragecndybars]

Fluff Week: Tex calling Church her boyfriend when he hasn't been sure if they're back together.

Thank you so much for the prompt! This was a blast to write honestly.

No warnings for this one.

Relationship Status

Church hadn’t been confident in his relationship status since before Jimmy died, when he could say with reasonable surety that he was single. Everything after that, from Jimmy’s untimely and improbable demise to the present, was an uncertain gray period which he could only describe as “???”.

After all, when your ex-fiancée slaughters an entire outpost of people and leaves only you alive, you start to ask questions. Questions like “Why did my ex-fiancée slaughter an entire outpost of people?” and “Why did she leave me alive?” He was pretty sure that, traditionally, exes hated each other ― and, hell, he was equally sure the rage he felt at the mere mention of his ex was mutual ― so, if anything, shouldn’t she have killed him first or in the most painful manner or something?

He hadn’t deluded himself into thinking that they were back together ― if Tex wanted to call the wedding back on, then she would’ve at least acknowledged him while she was murdering all his friends. But, from then on, there was a tiny, tingling doubt in the back of his mind; a whisper of “Is she ever gonna come back again?” and “If she does, would we be a couple again?”

Because, as pathetic as it was, and as much as he would deny it to his dying breath, there was one thing that Church could always be certain of: no matter what she’d done, no matter what he was doing, and no matter how long she’d been gone, he would always be willing to take Tex back.

(Not that he really needed to be. Church didn’t so much “take Tex back” as he did “nod meekly whenever she told him that they were together again”. And Tex didn’t so much “tell him they were together again” as she did “occasionally make out with him and then vanish for another couple months”.)

Church hadn’t been sure if he could call himself “single” or “taken” in years, but there were still moments when he knew he could lean more towards one or the other. Like when Tex hung around for longer than usual, nonchalantly slinging an arm around his shoulders and punching him in the shoulder without breaking any bones and just generally indicating, in her very violent and not particularly romantic way, that they were “a thing” again, at least for now. Or, conversely, when she beat the shit out of him and his team, dropped some snarky insults, and then left the way she’d came without sparing him a second glance, which was a pretty solid indicator to the contrary.

And then sometimes she would just show up, do nothing, and stick around for a while, leaving Church to speculate.

God, he fucking hated it when she did that. Navigating an on-again off-again relationship with a bloodthirsty Freelancer was difficult enough; the least she could do was make it clear whether or not there was a relationship, rather than leaving that part up to interpretation. Especially since Tex was pretty much impossible to interpret on the best of days. With her, the difference between a punch in the face and a slightly softer punch in the face could mean the difference between abject hatred and tender affection.

The end result was that Church spent way, way too much time agonizing over every action she took. When she roughly shouldered past him in the hallway, was she in a hurry to leave for another five months, or was that her version of a “good morning” nudge? When she split their coffee reserves down the middle, proclaiming half of it hers and half of it Blue Team’s, did that mean she was going to take her share and run off in the middle of the night, or did it mean she was planning on staying here long enough to drink it all? She had only called him a cockbite twice in the past week; did that mean she was drifting away, or was she not getting annoyed with him as often?

Tex had been staying at Blue Base for the past five (five!) months, and she hadn’t killed or even grievously injured anyone yet. Not even Tucker. Not even Caboose.

That had to mean something, right?

Right?!

Surely, Tex knew what she was doing. After all, she wasn’t dumb, and everyone else in Blood Gulch seemed to have picked up on it ― including Caboose, who never picked up anything except automatic weapons and people, and Donut, whose existence Church had completely forgotten about until now.

“Dude, you’re making this too complicated,” Tucker had said. “Just see if she’ll let you bone her or not. It’s not as hard as you think, bow chicka bow ― OW! Don’t kill the messenger, you dick!”

If not for the fact that they were both ghosts inhabiting robot vessels at the moment, and therefore completely incapable of actually fucking, Church might’ve actually taken Tucker’s advice, which just goes to show how desperate he was actually getting. Alas, though, they were restricted to first and second base; Sarge was pretty good at building androids, but not that good (which, frankly, Church was grateful for; no man should be trusted with that kind of power, least of all Sarge).

“Are you sad because Tex won’t let you be her very best friend and hold her hand and do nighttime Twister and drink milk?” was Caboose’s brilliant guess. Completely ignoring Church’s sputtered denials, he proceeded to suggest, “Maybe, if you hold her hand, she will hold your hand, and then maybe she won’t be as mean and scary anymore, and, uh, maybe she won’t be upset about the fire that Tucker started.”

True desperation, Church discovered, was actually considering Caboose’s advice for more than two seconds. Hand-holding wasn’t exactly on the list of Things That Tex Do, though ― and, even if it was, trying to initiate it would be a fast way to get his arm ripped off, especially if he was wrong and Tex hadn’t made them “a thing” again. Then the fire alarm started blaring and Church realized that he’d missed the most important part of Caboose’s suggestion, so he put the entire thing out of his mind and grabbed the fire extinguisher.

Either his definitely-not-pining was obvious enough to be spotted from the other side of the canyon, or Tucker was a fucking snitch, because even various members of Red Team swung by to offer advice or snicker at him. Simmons demanded that he either keep his girlfriend away from Red Base or else kick his ex out (as if he had any sway over Tex, girlfriend or otherwise). Grif spent a full hour mocking him loudly from across the base while he raided their kitchen (as if he and Simmons weren’t even worse). Donut broke into his room at three in the morning and absolutely refused to get the fuck out, chattering ceaselessly about emotional vulnerability and the importance of communication until Tex finally came in and physically ejected him from the premises via the window.

Even so, Tex herself showed absolutely no sign that she knew or cared about his plight. She made no attempt to clear up the confusion. If anything, she got progressively less explicit about her intentions.

And it was driving Church fucking crazy.

She was doing this on purpose, wasn’t she? It took real dedication to make your feelings so profoundly unclear; it couldn’t be an accident. She was just fucking with him. She knew that he had no fucking clue if they were an item right now, so she was milking it for all the aggravation it was worth.

So it didn’t matter, Church decided the morning after Donut’s disastrous attempt at advice. At some point, it had turned into some kind of weird game, so there was no reason to keep looking for an answer. He already had his answer ― Tex was just jerking him around for the hell of it, which meant he was just as “???” as ever.

So, naturally, that was when Tex finally showed her hand.

Immediately after Church made his realization and finally settled down to sleep, his alarm blared. His accompanying groan was so loud and so drawn out that Tucker eventually shouted a weary “Oh my God, shut up, Church,” from the next room over.

On a normal day, he would’ve just flipped the alarm off and gone the fuck to sleep, military code be damned, but, unfortunately, he was pretty damn sure Tex wouldn’t let that happen. Judging by her eventual intervention, she’d been kept up all night by Donut’s stupid blabbering, too, so there was no way she’d let him doze off; not if she had to get up.

She hadn’t realized yet that she was allowed to flip off the alarm and go back to sleep, too.

So, with another groan and a muttered string of curses toward the Red Army, Church hauled himself out of bed and staggered out into the kitchen, not bothering to put on his armor or undersuit. That could wait. Or maybe he just wouldn’t wear it today. It’s not like he ever actually needed it ― not since Tex confiscated Caboose’s guns.

He was blindly jabbing a finger at the coffee machine, too exhausted to bother actually looking at the buttons, when Tex ambled in, also armorless ― an uncommon sight, but not unprecedented. Church spared her a brief glance and an incomprehensible mumble, then immediately went back to poking the coffee machine until something happened.

“It’s out of water, dumbass,” Tex said from behind him, sounding only marginally more awake than he was, and Church let out a groan to rival his first, dropping his head onto the shitty plastic machine and wishing he were dead. He didn’t have the mental, physical, or emotional energy to get more water, but, without coffee, he was doomed. God, the Red Team wasn’t so bad, but sometimes he just wanted to fucking murder all of them, starting with Donut and his shitty four A.M. advice.

“It’s too fucking early for this,” he managed to grumble, just barely opening his mouth enough to spit the words out.

Tex rolled her eyes audibly. “It’s 0600. Don’t be a crybaby.” Suddenly, he was shoved out of the way, and she shoved her own mug under the coffee machine, snatching his and filling it up with faucet water.

“Hey! I was there first, bitch!” he snapped, foolishly reaching for his mug.

Tex effortlessly body checked him into the side of the counter, holding the mug out of his reach. “You weren’t actually using it; you were just complaining,” she responded easily, almost playfully. “Were you even gonna fill it back up, or were you just gonna sit there and whine all day?”

Church glared at her, but didn’t argue the point. “Thought so,” she said smugly, pouring the water in and snapping the lid shut. “Just wait your turn, dumbass. You’ll live.”

With an irritated huff, Church begrudgingly leaned against the counter behind him and waited, watching Tex make her own coffee with weary indifference. As they waited, Tex drummed her fingers absently; other than that, the quiet hum of the coffee machine was the only sound.

“Hey,” Tex said after a long moment, not looking away from her mug, “what the fuck was Donut doing in your room at 0400, anyway?”

Church glanced over at her, brows furrowing. “What, didn’t you hear?” he asked, voice still bitter and tired. “He wasn’t exactly keeping his voice down.”

At that, Tex shot him a dry look. “Do I look like I pay any attention to anything that pink idiot says?”

…Fair enough. “Well, whatever. It wasn’t exactly the most riveting conversation, anyway,” Church muttered, reaching up to rub his eyes. “Asshole was just trying to―” He was interrupted by a yawn― “trying to give me some stupid fucking advice or something. Like he’s qualified to be a life coach.”

For a moment, Tex didn’t reply, and Church almost believed that she would just take his answer at face value. Then her gaze flickered back to the coffee machine and she said, as casual as can be, “So you two weren’t boning?”

Church choked on air, despite the fact that he didn’t actually have lungs or a windpipe. “Wh ― what?!” he sputtered, his voice immediately rising to a glass-shattering pitch. “No! What the fuck, Tex?!”

She still didn’t turn to face him, but he could see the self-satisfied smirk cross her face, even from the side. “I’m just saying, it’s kinda suspicious. A Red hanging around in your room in the dead of night, completely armorless, making lots of noise… you got something you wanna tell me, Church? You sleeping with the enemy?”

Church absolutely refused to acknowledge any of the other indignant sounds that came out of his mouth, mostly because they were all so high that a fifteen-year-old-girl would wince. “Fuck you! Why would I ― fucking ― Donut? Fucking Donut?” Finally composing himself (somewhat), he shook his head harshly and crossed his arms against his chest, pulling his voice back down to a reasonable pitch. “Why the fuck do you care what I do, anyway?”

Shooting him a sidelong glance, Tex slowly raised one eyebrow.

“Uh, because I would prefer it if my boyfriend wasn’t sleeping with another man,” she said flatly. She looked back at the coffee machine. “Anyway, you can stop bitching; I know you aren’t boning Donut. I just wanted to see how high your voice can get while you’re still half-asleep.” She grabbed her full mug and took a sip, unbothered by the temperature. “No higher than usual. Too bad. I hoped you would break somebody’s visor.”

Church didn’t respond. He was too busy gaping at Tex like a fucking fish who just got shot in the chest and hasn’t realized it’s dead yet.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Did ― did you just say boyfriend?!”

Tex paused, her mug half-raised to her lips. After a moment, she lowered the mug, turned on her heel, and scrutinized him, her eyes squinted and her brow furrowed. He was too shocked to squirm under her gaze, so he just stared right back at her, his mouth still hanging open.

Slowly, she set down her mug on the counter.

Then she absolutely exploded into a fit of hysterical laughter the likes of which Church had never seen before.

That, at least, snapped him out of his stupor. “Hey ― what ― don’t laugh at me!” he screeched, more frantic than he was angry. “It’s not ― it’s not like ― shut up! It’s a valid question!”

Tex, for her part, only laughed all the harder. “You dumbass!” she cackled, wrapping her arms around her torso and doubling over as if she actually needed air. “Oh my God, is that why you’ve been so bitchy lately?! Because you thought we were still broke up?! That’s priceless! Oh, Jesus, you’re such a baby!”

“I am not!” Church shrieked, and, in the distance, something shattered.

“Aw, fuck, my visor!” Tucker yelped distantly.

Tex roared with laughter once again, slamming her fist against the counter and her forehead right down next to it. “Te-ex!” Church whined ― even he couldn’t deny it; he was whining, no ifs about it ― but she paid him no mind. “Tex, shut up! You’re embarrassing me!”

Finally, her laughter simmered down to something that was almost a giggle, although for his own safety Church would never call it that out loud. “God, you’re a dumbass,” she snickered (yeah, “snickered” was probably safe). “I thought I made it obvious.”

Church made a sort of choking/screaming noise that would’ve embarrassed him if he hadn’t already completely abandoned his dignity long back down the road. “Wh ― you ― obvi ― YOU DID NOT MAKE IT OBVIOUS!”

Tex raised an eyebrow, still grinning so widely that it had to hurt her cheeks. “Preeeet-ty surrrre I diii-iid,” she teased, almost sing-song.

Hissing through his nose like a cat with a sinus infection, Church crossed his arms tightly over his chest and pouted. “Did not,” he muttered, staring sullenly at the ground.

Tex snorted, but didn’t justify that with a response. There was a brief, unsure pause as Church stared down at his feet, numbly reviewing the conversation in his head. That seemed like pretty conclusive evidence that they were back “together”, but…

“Here.”

Blinking, Church glanced up. Tex was offering him his mug ― which, he just now realized, she had filled with coffee. His eyes flickered up to her face for a second, but she was just grinning toothily. “Uh, thanks,” he said uncertainly, accepting the mug―

Tex swooped forward, grabbed the back of his head with both hands, and pulled him in for a kiss. Coffee sloshed over the edge of Church’s mug.

The kiss only lasted for a second, but Tex’s hands lingered.

“Boyfriend,” she teased lightly.

Church’s face went warm immediately. Mortified, he threw up a hand to hide it, spilling more coffee in the process, but it was too late ― she’d already seen. “Tex―” he squeaked in protest as she laughed at him again.

“Jesus, if you do that every time, people are gonna think you’ve got a heart of gold underneath all the jaded, cynical asshole.” Snatching her own mug from the counter, Tex grabbed his wrist and pulled him along behind her, ignoring his yelp of protest as his coffee mug lurched and spilled a third time. “Also, you’re the one who broke it, so you’ve gotta call Command to get Tucker a new helmet.”

“What?! Bullshit,” Church groaned, then paused, considering for a second. “Wait, does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend?”

“No,” Tex said without hesitation.

“What the fuck, why not?!”

“Because I have a reputation to uphold, dumbass.”

“Wh ― so do I!”

“Church, I love you, but no the fuck you don’t.”

“Yes I fucking do ― wait. What was that?”

“…‘I tolerate you’.”

“That is not what you said―”

“Is too.”

“IS NOT―!”