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beskarberry · 4 years ago

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Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

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

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

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

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

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I lose them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

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

That got his attention fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He has that effect on people.”

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

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

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

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

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

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

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

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

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“OUCH!”

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

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

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

Sinker.

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

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

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

"You looked like you were handling it."

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

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

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

"No what?"

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

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

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

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

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

“Again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then make love to me instead.”

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

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

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

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our?”

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

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?”

“All of it.”

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

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

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

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

Nevarro, here we come.

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years ago

Text

Out of Time [2]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 5766

Warnings: Major character injury, triaging a wound, blood, stitches, gets a bit feelsy at the end

“Whoa! Hang on!” He doesn’t quite have the strength to keep you standing. But he follows you down as you collapse to make sure you don’t hurt yourself even more. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body into a frame much smaller than you’re used to.

The gun in your hand clatters to the floor and you then press that hand into your throbbing side.

Steve blanches when he sees the weapon. “Is that yours?” he questions.

You shake your head weakly. “No. It was one of theirs.”

His brows raise in surprise. He knows that dames carrying weapons were more likely to have them taken by their assailants, not the other way around.

You look down at the hand clutched to your side, peeling your palm back to see that it’s completely covered in red. “Shit,” you curse, gritting your teeth. You close your eyes tight and tilt your head back against the brick wall, attempting to will the pain away, so it’s not completely clouding your senses.

Steve follows your line of sight and pales when he sees your blood. “Oh my God… I need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Your eyes snap open and you grip the collar of his shirt. “No hospitals,” You urge. You can’t be tied down to a hospital bed and potentially miss your window of opportunity. “I just,” you huff, your head dizzy now from the rapid movement. “Need to get someplace safe.”

“Miss… You’ve been shot. If we don’t get you-”

Your groan of pain cuts him off as you push yourself into a more upright position. “Is there blood on my back?” you question breathlessly.

“Wha-” Steve gapes for a second, before leaning over your body to check. “Yes…” he confirms. “A lot.” He leans back once more the look of concern returning to his eyes tenfold.

“That’s actually a good thing.” You tell him. “Means it’s a clean shot. Through and through. A hospital’s not going to be able to do anything that I can’t do myself with a bit of first aid.”

Steve finds himself only wanting to ask more questions, but he knows if you don’t start applying that first aid quickly, then you really will need a hospital. “My apartment is just around the corner,” he offers without thought.

More likely to run straight into trouble rather than think things through, it doesn’t even cross Steve’s mind that maybe he shouldn’t get mixed up in whatever this is. He grabs the gun, knowing that it wouldn’t be a good idea to just leave it behind. He looks around the alley to make sure there aren’t any other witnesses.

“Do you think you can stand?” he asks, almost wishing Bucky was around to carry you, but he knows Barnes would have his head over this.

You nod once, shifting one arm around his shoulders while removing the one from your side to grip the brick wall for purchase. You mentally count to three before pushing yourself up, Steve trying to do what he can to help. You release a guttural cry of pain with the movement and your vision goes black for a second. You hold still, keeping your grip on Steve and on the wall while you huff for breath.

You wait for your vision to clear and for your head to stop spinning before you give Steve a nod. “Okay. Let’s go.” You bite your lip to keep your whimpers in while you limp along with Steve holding you up.

It’s slow progress to make it down the alley and into a small courtyard area surrounded by apartment buildings. “I’m on the second floor,” Steve gives you an apologetic look when you reach the base of a set of metal stairs.

You release a long breath and grit your teeth before taking them on. Each step feels like an icepick getting jammed into your side. You nearly pass out after reaching the top but managed to keep it together a few more steps to reach his front door.

Steve is immensely grateful that he remembered his key this morning and doesn’t need to fumble around looking for it. The door opens with a push and he quickly shuffles you inside. He helps to lower your body onto the modest brown couch in his living room that Bucky got from him at a yard sale. The cushions are a little stained, no matter how he’s tried to clean them, the pillows are mismatched, and there’s a soft floral perfume scent permanently attached to the thing from the previous owner.

You give yourself a second to catch your breath before you begin pulling your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your skirt and start undoing the buttons. Steve’s eyes widen and his ears turn pink when you completely remove your top. You catch the way that he stares and would laugh if you weren’t in so much pain. You mentally pat yourself on the back for getting the vintage lingerie set for Steve’s birthday a few years ago. It certainly came in handy to keep your whole outfit authentic.

“Do you have clean linen and hot water?” you ask, needing to give him something to do for a quick moment.

He snaps out of it and nods. “Yeah,” he confirms before disappearing deeper into the apartment.

You wait for a second to make sure he’s really gone before hiking up your skirt to unclip the small pouch you have attached to your thigh holster. Opening the pouch, you turn it over to dump the contents onto the couch cushion next to you. A slim metal case, about the size and shape of a smartphone, falls out first, followed by what may appear to be a series of Barbie doll accessories. There’s a tiny red bag with a white cross that you pick out from the items.

Everything else goes back into the pouch before you open the metal case and reveal the series of discs inside. The ones on the left have red in their center, while the ones on the right have blue. You take a blue disc and throw it at the miniature first aid bag, allowing it to grow back to normal size.

“Thank you, Scott Lang,” you mutter under your breath, closing the metal case and returning it to the pouch. You clip the pouch back to your thigh holster and pull your skirt back down.

You have the first aid bag open and are rifling through the various compartments when Steve comes back into the room. He stops short and looks at you with confusion. “…Where did you get that?”

You turn to see him standing in the doorway, a few hand towels draped over his shoulder while he carries a large ceramic bowl. “Oh, that’s perfect.” You indicate for him to bring the items over. Ignoring his question.

Pulling a packet of painkillers from your kit, you rip open the foil and take them dry. You follow that up with a drop of hand sanitizer into your palm and work the liquid gel over your hands and between your fingers. Steve places the bowl of water at your feet and kneels down next to it. You then hand him the bottle of sanitizer.

“What is this?” he questions.

“Isopropyl alcohol mixed with aloe gel. It will disinfect your hands. You just need a small drop.”

“Okay…” he looks a little unsure, but follows your lead and drops some into his palm. He hands the bottle back and mimics your earlier movement to spread the gel. He then drops a towel into the bowl, letting it soak up the water before he wrings it out and folds it into a neat square.

You thank him softly when he hands it to you and you then press it to the wound on your front. “Can you get the exit wound?” you ask.

He nods once, wringing out a second towel and then presses it firmly to your back. He tries his best to keep his focus on the task at hand, despite having your breasts, pretty much at eye level. Before this, the closest he’s ever been to seeing a woman dressed in only a brasserie is the mannequins at Macy’s. What in the world would Bucky think, if he found out there was a half-naked woman in Steve’s apartment right now? The bastard would probably congratulate him, honestly.

“That should be good enough.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Just clear the dried blood from around the wound.” You’ve gone back to rifling in your kit and pull out a small aerosol canister. The cap comes off with a pop and you quickly aim and spray directly onto the wound at your front. The substance inside comes out as a sort of gel spray, but soon begins to froth and bubble where it makes contact with the wound. “Here,” you give the can to Steve.

He takes it hesitantly. “That looks like it hurts.”

You laugh dryly. “It’s a gunshot wound. It already hurts.”

Can’t argue with that. Steve aims the canister and sprays the mystery substance onto your back wound. You take the canister back, cap it, and put it away. You can already feel the gel beginning to work its magic. Given to you by Shuri during one of your visits with Steve to Wakanda, the gel was a coagulant to stop bleeding, but also could promote cell regeneration to expedite the healing process, and even worked as a numbing agent to dull the pain. It certainly helps when getting to this next part.

“How are you with needles?” you ask, pulling out a curved needle and some stitching thread next.

He gulps audibly before he slowly nods. He and Bucky have had to stitch each other up, more than a few times, but neither of them were surgeons by any means.

Seeing the worry on his face, you try to ease his fears. “It doesn’t need to be perfect, just enough to keep the wound closed. The gel will be able to take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” he agrees, taking the needle and thread from you.

With the gel and the painkillers beginning to take over, you finally have a clear enough head to actually be able to take him in. It’s a little strange seeing him like this in person. You’d seen the photo that gets taken at Camp Lehigh and your Steve had eventually opened up enough to paint his own picture of what his life had been like pre-serum. But you never thought you’d see it with your own eyes.

His clothes hang loose around his frame, nearly engulfing him. The air of stoic confidence you’d grown used to is nowhere to be seen. His shoulders are rigid, back tense, and he almost looks a little uncomfortable to be so close to you. That’s certainly different. The Steve you knew had always been comfortable around you, even from the day you met.

You had been working at the SHIELD Headquarters in New York when Steve’s body was found in the Arctic. You didn’t actually get a chance to meet him at the point, and after the Battle of New York, you were relocated to the other side of the country. Then, after SHIELD fell, you ended up moving overseas. It wasn’t until after the whole Ultron fiasco that you were recruited by Natasha to check out the Avenger’s compound in upstate New York.

You’ll never forget the look on his face when Nat stepped out of the way to introduce you. His eyes had lit up like the sun peeking out behind a cloud and when he smiled your heart had stopped. You’re also pretty sure you may have swooned a little. He shook your hand and held it tight. You remember how he had looked deeply into your eyes like he was seeing into your very soul, and then his gaze flickered all over your face like he was painting your picture in his mind. He then welcomed you to the Avengers, without even giving you an initiation test.

You try to find hints of that Steve in this one. The more you look, the easier they are to find. The eyes are obvious. Highly expressive that he has a hard time concealing his emotions. His brows still furrow the same when he’s trying to concentrate. His ears are still red, which is a good sign. This means he’s not completely unaffected by you.

“My name’s Vic, by the way,” you introduce yourself just as he’s finishing up the stitching on your front wound.

His gaze lifts up to meet yours. “Steve. Though, somehow you already seem to know that.”

You give him a look of confusion, trying to understand what he means, but then you recall saying his name when he first reached you in the alley. You quickly try to come up with an excuse. “I didn’t, actually. You look like someone I know. His name is also Steve,” you try to play off. Badly.

“Huh. Small world.” The corner of his mouth tilts up into the barest hint of a smirk. It’s still enough to make your heart race.

Even 95 pounds soaking wet, you’ve still got it bad for this man.

You hand him a pair of small surgical scissors to cut the thread. While he gets to work on stitching up your exit wound, you grab the supplies you need to finish triaging the front wound. You apply a small amount of disinfectant cream over the stitches before packing it with sterile gauze and taping the gauze to your skin. Steve helps you do the same on your back once he’s finished with the stitches there. After that, you take a long strip of self-adherent bandage tape to completely wrap your torso.

“That should do it. Thanks, Steve,” you send him a smile as you begin to pack up and close your first aid kit.

“Is that standard-issue?” Steve askes, nodding to your kit.

You breathe out a soft laugh. “Not quite,” you respond cryptically. “But a girl’s gotta be prepared.”

He raises a brow. “Do you often find yourself running into men with guns in back alleys?”

You mimic his look. “Do you often find yourself running toward the sound of gunfire rather than away?”

He blinks once, then shrugs, his shoulders relaxing a little. “More often than I should, if Bucky had anything to say about it.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing outright. “This Bucky sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Maybe you should listen to him more often.”

He scoffs. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Trust me when I tell you that getting shot really isn’t high on the list of things I’d consider fun,” you tell him with a grimace.

That sobers him. “No, I imagine it wouldn’t.” He drops his gaze and busies himself by rinsing your blood off his hands with the water in the bowl that has started to turn pink. “So, what does ‘Lady V’ mean?” he asks, the curiosity getting to him.

He looks up and catches the confusion in your eyes before his gaze drops to your chest. You realize he’s talking about the tattoo written in a curling script below your right collar bone, the letters framed on either side by a pair of small wings. Your Steve had actually been the one to design it for you.

“It stands for Lady Victory,” you explain. “It’s my code name.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re an agent?” he questions like he can’t believe it. His cheeks then flush as he attempts to backtrack. “I mean- not that you couldn’t be. It’s just you’re so beautiful, you could have been anything. And not that there’s anything wrong with being an agent, it’s just-”

“Steve…” You say his name gently, trying to get him to breathe, while a smile of amusement creeps onto your face.

“Sorry,” he mutters, dropping his gaze once more and releases a long breath. “Just, why go for something that’s so high risk?”

You take a moment to compose your thoughts, trying to figure out how best to answer his question. “We all have things that call to us. Be it duty or a sense of purpose… I don’t know. It just always felt like the right path for me. And believe it or not, looking like just another pretty face can actually be advantageous in this line of work. People will often underestimate you.”

Steve releases a long sigh. “The underestimating part I could handle. Been dealing with that my whole life. But I can’t even get enlisted. They take one look at my medical record and write me off before even giving me a chance. How did you do it?”

You realize where he’s trying to steer the conversation. At this point, he would have already tried to enlist and thus been rejected, four times. “Just because it’s the right path doesn’t mean it’s the easiest. Keep trying. Keep moving forward and eventually, you’ll end up where you’re meant to be.”

He shoots you a wry smile. “You make it sound so simple.”

You huff out a laugh. “Oh, it’s definitely not. But if it were, it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying when you finally succeed.”

He releases a low hum, letting your words sink in. “So, Lady Victory…” he says like he’s tasting the words in his mouth. “Is that where ‘Vic’ comes from?”

“It is,” you confirm.

He nods like he’s pondering over something else. “A guy takes you in off the street, then helps you patch up a bullet wound, and you don’t even give him your real name?”

You can’t help but grin at his cheekiness.

“I mean, Bucky probably won’t even believe the story to begin with.”

That promptly wipes the grin from your face. “Steve, you can’t tell anyone that I was here. Not even Bucky,” you urge desperately. You’re already terrified that there are going to be ramifications from this interaction, you have to try to prevent it from rippling out even further. “I… I should go.”

“Go?” he repeats, startled.

You turn to grab the first aid kit and your blood-soaked shirt, wincing when the movement tugs at your wound. “I’ve already put you in enough danger as is.”

“Do you think those men will come back?”

You shake your head, feeding your arm through the sleeve of the shirt on your injured side, and pull it up onto your shoulder with your good arm. “I don’t know. They might.”

You feel Steve’s hand settle over yours, stopping your movements. You pause and meet his gaze. “Well then, all the more reason you should stay. They won’t find you here and I can’t send you back out there injured and into the night.”

“Steve…” You know you shouldn’t. The longer you stay, the more you’ll risk messing up the timeline. But looking into his eyes, you can’t find the strength to pull away. The image of your Steve laying in the hospital bed looking steps away from death’s door pops into your head. Comparing that to the one in front of you; alive, breathing, vibrant… It makes you want to grab onto him with both hands and never let go.

“Stay,” he repeats once more.

“Okay,” you find yourself breathing the word out without thought.

His eyes soften and his hand gently squeezes yours before he pulls back. “And I promise not to tell anyone about you as long as you give me your real name.”

You huff out a laugh, dropping your head and shoulders. “You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that much.” Lifting your gaze back to his, you tell him your full name.

He grins victoriously and you can feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. He holds his hand out for you to shake. “Steve Rogers.”

You find yourself matching his grin as you place your hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Your hands shake once before he pulls back and moves to stand on his feet. “Now, how about I get you something to wear that’s not covered in blood and bullet holes?”

You look down at the shirt you only have half on, your cheeks flushing with heat. “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

He moves deeper into the apartment once more, leaving you alone. You pull your shirt back off and lift it up to take in the damage. It’s pretty bad. Even if you could get the bloodstains out, the two bullet holes didn’t really help matters. Huffing, you toss it into the bowl of water and do the same with the two damp towels, also covered in your blood.

You grunt quietly as you attempt to push yourself up and off the couch. The pain killers may have dulled a majority of the pain, but movement causes a sharp sting to push through. You kneel onto the floor and try to keep your torso as straight as possible as you lift the bowl into your arms and straighten back up. The movement is a bit awkward, but you manage successfully without pulling your stitches.

You follow Steve’s direction to head deeper into the apartment in search of the kitchen. It’s not difficult to find, as the apartment is fairly small. A short hallway separates the living room from the remainder of the apartment, with the hall opening into the kitchen on the left and with the bedroom and bathroom doors on either side to the right. There is light pouring out of the open bedroom door and the sound of Steve rifling through various drawers and his closet.

You turn into the kitchen and set the bowl down into the sink. Tipping out the bloody water, you open the tap from the faucet to fill the bowl once more. There’s a bar of soap on the edge of the sink next to the faucet, which you grab and start rubbing into one of the towels to work up a lather.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to see him standing there, some folded, striped pajamas in his hands. “I didn’t want to stain your towels,” you tell him.

He moves in next to you. “I’ll take care of that. You just worry about healing your injury.”

You set down the soap and towel, rinsing your hands clean. There’s a fresh hand towel by the sink, which you use to dry your hands before taking the offered clothing. “Thank you, Steve,” you tell him, holding the clothes to your chest. He nods once, dipping his head to avoid your gaze. He never was any good at accepting gratitude. “Really.” You insist. “I don’t know many people that would take in a complete stranger and help them the way you’ve helped me.”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Bucky is always telling me that I’m reckless in my pursuit of doing what I think is right.”

Isn’t that the damn truth…

“Besides,” he continues. “You’re also pretty trusting of a complete stranger that offered to take you in.”

Your sweet laughter reminds him of springtime. “I’m a pretty good judge of character,” you tell him, smiling brightly. It lightens your heart to see him relax just a bit more around you. Your fingers fiddle with the fabric of the clothes in your arms. “Well, I should probably go get changed. Thank you, again, for these.”

“Oh, sure,” he sweeps his arm to the side, gesturing for you to walk past. “They’re actually Bucky’s, so I hope they fit okay. I figured my clothes might be too small…”

You catch the slight shift in his demeanor when he brings up one of his biggest insecurities, pre-serum.

Reaching out, you gently touch a curled finger to the underside of his chin. You guide his face back up until he meets your eyes once more. “Chin up, Rogers. You’re looking far too glum for a man that’s got a half-naked woman walking around his apartment.”

You grin teasingly when his whole face goes red. “Oh, I-I didn’t look!” Almost instinctively, his eyes dip down the length of your body, before they widen in horror when he realizes what he’s just done.

You giggle girlishly. “Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” You then turn and step out of the kitchen to head for the bathroom.

With the door firmly shut and locked behind you, a long breath slips past your lips. “Girl, what are you doing?” you whisper to yourself.

Stepping over to the sink, you muster the courage to look at yourself in the mirror. You look a little worse for wear, but that certainly comes with the territory of getting shot. Your lipstick is smudged and your hair is a mess. You can’t do much about a shower right now with your freshly tended to wound, but hopefully, by the morning, the healing gel will have had enough time to make at least that possible.

Removing your thigh holster, you open the pouch again and use another particle disc to bring your toiletry bag back to size. You run through your night routine as quickly, yet carefully as possible, feeling the tension of the day beginning to weigh on you, and now all you want to do is sleep. With makeup removed and teeth brushed, you manage to track down and extract all the hairpins from your hair. From there, you move on to shedding the remainder of your rumpled uniform, including your stockings and heels. The sight of blood down the back of your skirt makes you grimace when you realize it’s probably gotten onto Steve’s couch, too.

Unhooking the back of your bra is a bit difficult to manage while injured, but eventually, you get it. You slide the garment off, letting it pool to the floor. Checking in the mirror, you find that your undies didn’t make it unscathed either from all the bloodshed. With a sigh, you push them off your hips and down your legs.

You dig through the cupboards and drawers under the sink until you find a clean washcloth. After soaking it and wringing it out, you use the damp cloth to remove the last bit of dried blood from your skin before sliding into the pajamas. God, they’re so vintage. Baby blue and white vertical stripes with a pocket square on the left breast. You make the adjustments you need to feel a little more comfortable in them; rolling the cuffs and pants, and tying the drawstring.

You run both your undies and skirt under the tap, rinsing as much blood as you can out of them, but anything more than that will need to be dealt with in the morning. You fold the skirt in on itself, leaving the dry side out and the damp side in, with your undies tucked inside as well.

You then find a place to hide your toiletries, not wanting to use a particle disc just yet, since you’ll need them in the morning, along with your first aid kit. Gathering your clothes and holster into your arms, you venture out of the bathroom. You can look into Steve’s room from across the hall and find him standing next to his closet, buttoning up the shirt of his own pajamas.

Like a moth to a flame, you find yourself entering the space. His scent hits you and it brings tears to your eyes because he still smells the same. Walking into his room here smells exactly like walking into his room at the compound. It smells like coming home.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, noting the slightly distressed look on your face.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and force a smile. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you should lie down, then.” He indicates to the full-sized bed, with a corner of the covers pulled back already.

You move toward it, setting your clothes on the bedside table next to a small lamp and reach out to finger the covers. You turn and take a seat on the mattress. It’s a bit lumpy, but the fatigue is really starting to settle in, so you’re sure it won’t matter.

Steve watches you for a moment before turning to leave the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you ask.

He stops, turning to you in surprise. “I was going to sleep in the living room,” he states like it’s obvious.

The distressed look comes back to your face. “Will you stay?” you ask, your vulnerability cracking through. Last night, while he lay dying in the infirmary on the other side of the compound, you’d struggled to sleep by yourself in a room that smelled like him. No matter how exhausted you felt, you know you won’t be able to sleep comfortably if you had to do that again.

He looks a little conflicted. “Are you sure?” he questions.

You hold his gaze when you nod.

“Okay…” he relents, though he still sounds unsure.

As he begins to head over, you turn to push the covers back and shuffle toward the other side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he questions, stopping his movement as he was preparing to walk to the side you’re currently settling into.

“Moving, so you don’t have to sleep by the window,” you respond automatically as you settle under the covers. It’s one of his weird quirks that you’ve grown used to. He’d explained once that before the serum, sleeping near the window would make his asthma worse if there was a slight draft. After the serum though, he still didn’t like it, because he’d grown more sensitive to lights and sound. So, you always took the window side wherever you both slept together.

You pat the empty space of the mattress and grin, “Come on, Steve. I don’t bite. I promise.”

He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp before he slowly lowers himself down onto the mattress, legs tucking under the blanket. He looks like he’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice as he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling. You lay on your side, so you won’t irritate the stitches on your front and back while you sleep. You tuck your hands under your pillow and close your eyes.

A few moments of silence pass. “Steve, you’re never going to fall asleep if you keep your muscles tense like that,” you whisper in the dark.

You feel his body shift around slightly beneath the covers. “Sorry… I’ve never done this before,” he admits.

You want to laugh because he’s freaking adorable, but you hold it in. “Turn on your side,” you encourage. He hesitates a moment before complying and turning onto his side to face you. “Close your eyes.” There’s just enough street light coming in from the window to be able to see him. He holds your gaze for a second before his eyes close and he releases a long breath.

You untuck one of your hands and reach up to gently run your fingers through his hair. He tenses up even more with the first touch, but your nails scratch at his scalp in a way that makes him shiver. Your hand slips down the back of his head and curls underneath his ear before you move back up to his forehead and do it again.

The longer you keep doing that, the more the tension eases from his body, until he’s completely relaxed. Just a few more passes of your fingers through his hair and soon his breath evens out as he falls asleep. Your hand curls around the bottom of his ear one more time before your palm settles on the edge of his jaw.

He looks the same when he sleeps here as he does in your time. His features soften, that pinch no longer between his brow and the stern tilt of his mouth eases up. He gains an air of innocence and loses the weight of the world that he carries on his shoulders.

You watch over him for a minute. Memorizing his features before you shift closer. You dip your head down, tucking it beneath his chin to bury your face into his chest and you gently wrap an arm around his waist. He stirs a little but doesn’t awaken.

He feels different, but you’re still able to draw comfort from his closeness. A huge portion of the weight he normally carries has now fallen to your shoulders, and God, are you feeling it. If you fail in getting a sample of the formula, or if you take too long and the components break down before you’re able to get it to Dr. Banner, then these may very well be the last moments you’ll get to share with Steve.

If there’s any hope of salvaging the timeline, you’ll disappear by morning and be nothing but a dream to him. If you forsake the timeline and stay, not only could you mess up your chances of getting the serum, but there will also be the potential for a domino effect to spiral out and shift the entire course of Steve’s future. Could you really risk that just for a few more days of basking in his presence?

On the flip side, do you really have the strength to walk away? Sure, you’re terrified of failing the mission, but you’re even more terrified of losing out on your last few moments together, should you fail. And what if, by some tiny miracle, you could have your cake and eat it too? What if you could succeed and still spend time with him.

If there’s one thing you know for certain… you’re not ready to let him go.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, Steve’s arm curls around your waist, pinning your body against his.

Taking that as a sign, you push all remaining thoughts out and settle comfortably against his chest. You’ll stay till morning and then see how the rest pans out. For now, you’re safe in his arms and you’re going to cherish this as much as possible. With eyes closed and legs tangled, it doesn’t take long for you to join Steve in the realm of sleep.

Part 3

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #skinny steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader #out of time

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lunarsaga · 4 years ago

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Me: I'm not gonna write a fanfic, I'll just do this in snippets My "Snippets": *full fanfic chapter length and only getting longer* Me: ......uh.......

This Episode:

The Band Of Seven, Resurrected

Finally catching sight of their friends again was a bit of a relief for both Luna and Ai. It had been a long couple of days, going all the way home and coming back. Part of Luna hoped they’d get just a little bit of rest before whatever shit hit the fan next, but another part knew the odds on that were pretty low. Still, it was nice to be back.

Kagome was the first to spot them as they flew in. “It’s Luna!”

“Luna’s back!” Shippo proclaimed joyfully.

“Hey, y’all,” Luna greeted as Ai touched down. She hopped off the demon’s back as her friends offered their greetings. “What’d I miss?” She asked.

Miroku was the one to answer. “Quite a lot. It seems that we may encounter a new enemy: the local villagers recently informed us of a group of mercenaries called the Band of Seven. The villagers believe these ruthless killers may have been brought back from the dead.”

With a grin on her face, Luna shrugged at the idea. “Undead mercs, huh? Nothin’ we can’t handle.” She held up her fist for her sister to bump it, and as Ai changed back to her human form, Luna noticed their little group was smaller than it should’ve been. “Where’s Sango?”

Kagome bumped fists with her sister, smiling at Luna’s nonchalant comment. “She went off with Kilala. I sensed a Jewel Shard nearby earlier… so I think she may have gone to look for Kohaku.”

Luna didn’t have time to respond. Off in the distance, she heard the distinctive echo of a sound she was all too familiar with.

“What on Earth was that?” Ai asked, her hand on Luna’s arm.

Kagome glanced at her sister nervously. “Was that…?”

“Gunfire. Definitely.” Luna’s eyes were locked on the trees in the direction the sound had come from. Mere seconds after they heard the shots, there was an overwhelming tang of copper in the air.

“And the smell of human blood…” Miroku said, gravely.

Inuyasha hopped up onto a tree limb, hoping to get a look at what was happening. He couldn’t see it, but he sure as hell could smell it. “And it ain’t from just a handful of people, either.”

So much for a second to rest, Luna chuckled to herself as she tightened the straps on her backpack and immediately kicked into gear. “What’re we waiting for, then?”

And off they were, charging headlong into danger as always. Luna could sense something was up; more so than usual. The stench of blood was never a good sign in the first place, but there was something else setting off warning bells. Something she couldn’t put a finger on.

The smell got stronger and stronger, until… they reached its source. Despite the amount of nasty shit she’d seen in her ten years of hunting supernatural monsters, there were some things that still turned her stomach, and seeing a single human being standing in a veritable ring of blood and gore was definitely one of them. His black hair was pulled into a twist; his lips were painted red, he had blue tattoos like tear tracks under each eye, and one side of his kimono was tucked up under his belt. The dude was just squatting in the middle of the carnage, eyeballing the barrel of a matchlock gun like it was his first time seeing one (which, hell, it might be, she thought to herself; in this time, they would’ve only recently been invented). He seemed completely unbothered by the dozen and a half bodies of freshly murdered warriors and their horses surrounding him.

Inuyasha was the one to get to the scene just ahead of the others, calling back over his shoulder: “Stay back! Don’t come over here!”

Instinctively, Luna remained in front of her sister, her arm out to try and block her view. Her stomach was churning, and her hand was poised to pull her gun if needed. No way this guy could be human… right?

“Did… that one person do all this?” Kagome’s voice was a shocked whisper.

It was then that the guy in the middle noticed them. He stood, his sword over his shoulder and his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Are you the one I’ve been looking for?” He asked, a grin on his face as he shielded his eyes from the sun. “Are you Inuyasha?!”

“Got a bad feeling about this.” Luna mumbled, “That guy isn't a demon, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” Kagome uttered back to her, “I don’t sense a demonic aura….”

“How’d you know my name?!” Inuyasha demanded.

He got no answer out of the guy with the sword. Instead, the guy squealed: “You’re adorable!”

A dumbfounded silence fell over the group. Luna glanced around at the others to make sure she didn’t just lose her mind—but no, the general consensus among her friends was along the lines of ‘what the actual fuck?’

“I especially love those fuzzy ears of yours!” The guy continued, licking his lips. “I want them~”

Alright, so this guy was nuts. Luna had had enough of ignoring the bad vibe she was picking up from him. She dropped her bag next to Kagome’s bike and readied herself for a fight: detached the ammo bag and shotgun holster from her pack and slung them over her shoulder, slipped her short sword through one of the belt loops on her jeans, and pulled her shotgun to make sure it was in hand and loaded. She kept her eyes moving back and forth between Inuyasha and the dude with the sword during the next exchange:

“Who are you?” Inuyasha demanded, “What are you after? You don’t smell like a living person, you reek like corpses and graveyard soil!”

No answer.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku said in realization: “Could he be—?”

“Yep,” Inuyasha confirmed, before calling out to the guy with the sword again: “Some villagers were talking! They said some disgusting specter rose up from the grave. That’d be you, I presume!”

Right, zombies, Luna thought to herself; if he really is undead, the Sacred Salt won’t do as much as it would a demon… It’d sting, but what I really need is-… She smirked and holstered her gun again, grabbing a different weapon from the bottom of her bag.

“Are you one of the Band of Seven?!” Miroku asked of the specter as Luna was tuning back in. “Answer me!”

After a long pause as the specter seemed to size the monk up, his response was even worse than before. “Inuyasha really is good looking, but you’re pretty sexy yourself~”

Luna snorted so hard she thought she was gonna eject her brain through her nose. Ai whacked her in the arm as a warning.

“No one minds if I suck him up, do they?” Miroku grumbled.

“No.” Inuyasha said, flatly.

“Hold on!” Kagome said, “He’s got a Sacred Jewel Shard! He must’ve been revived with the power of the Shard!”

“So that was what I was sensing,” Luna mumbled, “but why does it feel off...?”

“Where’d you get the Jewel Shard?!” Inuyasha once again attempted to pose a question to their opponent, only to once again receive a weird, adoring response:

“You know, you’re cute when you’re angry~!”

“Shut up!” Inuyasha shouted, jumping forward and drawing his sword. “Alright, dead man, you’d better start talking to me, and I want real answers!”

The expression on the specter’s face shifted from one of reverence to one more sadistic as he regarded Tetsusaiga. “That’s an interesting sword you have there… let’s see whose is stronger.” He lifted his own sword, making an odd motion around his head and shoulders with it as if he were gearing up for something. “Yours or mine?!”

When he brought his arm down, something that looked almost like a bolt of silver lightning shot from his blade. Inuyasha barely had the chance to block it as it cut an arc through the air toward him.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome called out in surprise.

“Stay back!” Miroku threw his arm out in an attempt to shield the others. “It’s some kind of trick sword!”

“That’s my cue!” Ai shifted into full demon form, jerking her head at the sisters and the little fox. “All aboard!”

Kagome climbed on no issue, but Luna glanced at Miroku, who made no move to follow them. “You coming?”

“I’ll be alright, you keep them safe.” Miroku said, resolute. Not about to argue, Luna climbed on the demon’s back and Ai leapt into the air above the fight.

“You gonna be okay holding all of us after that long flight?” Luna asked her friend.

“I’m fine, it’s the same weight as you with your pack on.” Ai sassed back.

“Yeah well, fuck me for being prepared,” Luna laughed, starting to prep the other weapon she’d brought.

Kagome managed to tear her eyes from the confrontation below to try and see what her sister was doing. “What did you bring, Luna?”

Luna grinned as she clicked the last accessory into place, then turned back to show her sister. “This? This is my baby.” She held up her favorite weapon: it was a fully-customized folding compound crossbow as long as Luna’s arm. She pressed a release on the side, and the arms shot into place, making both Shippo and Kagome jump.

“Whoa!” The fox demon exclaimed, “What kind of a weapon is that?!”

“It’s a crossbow, Shippo,” Kagome explained, “It’s kind of like my bow, but the arrows are smaller and it’s easier to fire.”

“Self-loading, too,” Luna smirked as she strung it up, “The ‘arrows’ are called bolts. This thing can shoot way faster than a longbow, and since we’re dealing with Zombie Harley Quinn down there—” She grabbed a bolt from her ammo bag to show it to them, “—we’re gonna need these. They’re tipped with pure silver. Great for dealing with Vampires, Werewolves, The Undead, and The Unholy.”

Shippo reached out to touch it, but Kagome stopped him, shaking her head rapidly. “It’s safe to assume you shouldn’t touch anything Luna has in her bag, Shippo.”

The kid swallowed nervously. “G-got it...”

Below them, the fight continued. Inuyasha could barely avoid each strike of the snakelike sword, and his opponent only seemed to be having more and more fun.

“What do you think of Jakotsu of the Band of Seven, huh?!” He shouted as he swung the sword once more.

“Not too much!” Inuyasha came back at him with Tetsusaiga, but to no avail.

Kagome gasped. “He needs help!”

“That’s what this baby’s for,” Luna grinned, patting her crossbow. “Ai, can you stay out of reach of the sword but get me close enough to shoot?!”

“It’ll take a miracle!”

“Better start praying, then,” Luna lined up the shot, finger still as stone on the trigger. There was a familiar voice in the back of her head; she could hear her father saying: “Aim for where they’re gonna be, not where they are.”

I know, dad. She tried not to sigh audibly as she managed to get Jakotsu’s head in her crosshairs and pulled the trigger, quick as a viper.

And… almost missed him.

The consecrated silver bolt seemed to burn through the air as it shot just centimeters shy of the specter’s nose and grazing his arm, burning a hole in his kimono. He whipped his attention to the woman who shot it.

“How dare you interfere?!” He snarled, rearing his arm back and whipping his blade toward them.

Luna felt her stomach drop. “Motherf—”

“You idiot!” Ai snapped at her, trying to fly out of range of the sword as Kagome and Shippo both clung, screaming, to Luna’s back. Just as the sword arched toward them, there was a familiar cry of:

“HIRAIKOTSU!”

And Jakotsu’s blade was then tangled around the aforementioned boomerang. All three riding on Ai’s back sighed in relief when they saw Sango swoop in on Kilala. Ai touched down just as Kilala did, transforming into her human form and unceremoniously dumping the sisters on their asses.

“Are you all okay?” Sango called over to them.

“We’re fine!” Shippo answered.

“Perfect timing, Sango!” Kagome said.

“Some weapon, Luna!” Ai huffed in the Hunter’s direction. Luna just stuck her tongue at her.

Jakotsu was practically red in the face, shrieking in frustration: “What is with all you vile women?! Can’t you see I’m trying to battle Inuyasha?!” In the same breath, he whipped his sword again, toward Sango this time. The movement freed the Hiraikotsu, and ended up leaving a small slice on Sango’s arm as Jakotsu pulled it back.

“Stay out of this!” He continued, “None of you will interfere!”

But their “interference” had served Inuyasha well enough: it gave him just the opportunity he needed to rear back and punch the specter in the face.

“Shut up! I’m tired of listening to your pointless babble!” Inuyasha growled.

Jakotsu grunted as he tumbled back, then rubbed his cheek and pouted like a kicked puppy. “That was cruel…”

“Oh, get over it!” Inuyasha snapped, “Now tell me who gave you the Sacred Jewel Shard before I have to seriously hurt you!”

Kagome and Miroku rushed to see if Sango was okay, but she assured them that it was just a graze; she was fine. Her attention was more on the subject at hand.

“I have a feeling that the shard came from Naraku,” She said, somberly. She looked at Kagome. “When you sensed a Jewel Shard earlier… it was Kohaku. I saw the Saimiyosho around him as well.”

“That means that your brother is still under Naraku’s control…” Miroku said. Sango nodded.

Luna had set her weapon down next to her backpack, and came back with a bandage for Sango’s arm. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how the hell they were gonna handle this—first an undead band of Ronin, now they have something to do with Naraku. What was Naraku playing at...?

“Gotta wonder what the hell is next…” Luna mumbled sarcastically. Seconds later, she would regret asking. A cloud of black smoke poured over the cliffside, drifting right toward them.

Like he knew what was happening, Jakotsu got up and collected his sword. “Inuyasha! You should get out of here while you can! Bye!” And with that, he was just… gone.

“What the hell—” Inuyasha broke off with a startled yell when the cloud reached him. “Its poison!”

“But where’s it coming from?!” Miroku wondered.

“We need to move.” Luna reassembled her bag in less than thirty seconds—side effect of doing it so often. “We can figure out what the fuck is going on when we’re safely away from here!”

Why do I feel like we stepped into something huge here? Luna thought to herself as the group of friends moved away from the cloud of gas.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha oc #inuyasha au #oc #my art #my ocs #the lunar saga #holy fuck I guess I should just fuckin' write this fanfic #kagome higurashi #sango #miroku #shippo #kilala #fanfic

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years ago

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Resource Management, pt14

Word Count: 3001 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

I would be lying completely if I said I wasn’t dragging my sad, sorry ass out for my morning running date with Lex. I slowly made my way to our meeting place. Lex was waiting for me, looking far too pleased to be awake. I stifled a yawn and tried to smile.

“You look exhausted, Anna.” Lex had the concern of a doctor.

“It was one helluva weekend,” I admitted.

“You’re sure that’s all? You’re so pale.” She stepped closer. I waved her off.

“Really, I’m just tired,” I excused. “I’m going to be pathetic, but I’m here.”

“Okay. I’ll push the same as I did on Saturday, but just walk if you’re really dying,” Lex said. We stretched and then headed out. I figured if Lex was going to treat me like it was any other day, I should probably act as though it was, and I tried to shake off the exhaustion. I truly tried. About 15 minutes into the run, I felt the fatigue drop off, almost like I was shedding a weight. My legs felt good, my muscles felt loose, and I felt awake. And energetic. I picked up my pace, and kept up with the intervals when Lex pushed. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she’d noticed because our pace increased just a little. I pushed through to the end of the run and felt amazing when we finally slowed down. I was hot, and sweaty, and tired, but it was a different tired than when I’d arrived at the park.

“You broke your wall,” Lex commented as we stretched.

“Yeah, I feel good.”

“Endorphins are a powerful thing,” she laughed. “Seriously. Good for stress, increased energy. You’ll probably have a great day.”

“Well, I am in the process of rebuilding a destroyed department. Might not be the best day ever, but I certainly feel better for it right now. Thanks, Lex. I’ll see you Wednesday.” I headed home to get ready for work. Before I headed out the door, I packed up my gym bag for my hand-to-hand training, strapped on my sidearm, and pocketed my badge. I had a total James Bond moment as I walked down to my car. I was certainly dressed to kill, taking my new role as director to heart. I had dug out my nicest blazer and pencil skirt, and matched it with a pair of patent heels. I’d wrapped my hair in a bun, and slipped my glasses in the front of my blouse. Combined with all the new ‘accessories’, I really felt like I was an international woman of mystery. Not that I would give someone like Romanoff a run for her money, but I’d decided to own the sexy librarian comparison Rick had made. I almost wished I had Lola just so I could complete the utter badassery of my image. The self-satisfied smirk I wore was probably enough though.

I strode into the office, feeling confident, and surprisingly, there was nothing to bring me down. I almost expected something. I locked my purse in my desk and went to fill my coffee cup. Erin was leaning against the counter in the kitchenette, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. She was holding a ridiculous sea life pirate mug in her hand that I recalled her having at her place. It had a school of fish with pirate bandanas and an octopus with a peg-tentacle and tricorn hat on it. It was ridiculous, and silly and brought exactly the kind of levity we needed into the office.

“Settling in then?” I nodded at the mug.

“When I close my eyes, I see the eagle burned into my eyelids. It’s on everything. I just needed something to make me feel like I am still me,” she sighed. The coffeemaker beeped and she pulled it off the burning to pour for both of us.

“Thanks. Have you checked email this morning?” I asked.

“I have two or three urgent emails from Fury.” The way she said urgent made me think she was not going to be answering them any time soon. She sighed and sipped at her coffee.

“Has he spoken to you about your new responsibilities?” I asked, trying not to give away what I knew to be Fury’s expectations.

“If he thinks for one minute that I’m going to become a field agent, he’s out of his goddamn mind. I joined SHIELD to use my HR degree, to put money into a 401K and not ever have to think about a different job somewhere else. I’m not about to go from safe and secure in my office to carrying a sidearm and a stupid goddamn badge,” she rolled her eyes. My shoulder holster felt heavy. I wondered if my blazer was hanging funny.

“Erin, it’s not really any different than taking a self-defense class. It’s just paid.” My coffee was still too hot to drink, and I could feel my endorphin high starting to fade. I started back toward our offices.

“Well, if you want to jump through Fury’s hoops, you go right ahead. I, however, am polishing up my resume.” It was unlike Erin to be quite so snarky, but truth be told, I knew where she was coming from. She really wasn’t well suited to the operations side of working at SHIELD. She liked a set schedule, uninterrupted vacation time, and the finer things in life. Had she discovered someone hacking encrypted data on a Saturday night, she certainly wouldn’t have run into the office to find out what was going on. I had no response for her. I accepted everything that came at me in this job, usually without question. In the end, I guess I was more of a company person than she was.

My inbox was filled with angry demands for reinstatement of security clearance. I had anticipated that, and already had a form letter ready for posting in response. I selected each message and attached the letter to it before sending it. That cleared about half of my inbox. There were a few inquiries regarding death benefits, and a cryptic message from Stark that I didn’t understand at all. I finally lit on the last unread message. It was from Kate’s grandmother. I stood and closed my office door before opening the message.

It was short, and sad, and broke my heart. Despite only knowing Kate for the week at the academy, I’d liked her very much. And her grandmother was grieving. I picked up the phone and dialed the number that I’d pulled from Kate’s personnel file. When Kate’s grandmother answered, I quickly identified myself.

“Katie spoke of you after you were away at that conference. She said she was glad to have made a new friend at work.”

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Banks.” I was at a loss for words. “I just wanted to let you know I received your email, and I have flagged Kate’s file. Your survivor benefit should be fast-tracked.” My voice cracked as I spoke.

“Oh dearheart, that’s not why I wanted you to phone me. I just wanted to tell you about something that happened to me years ago. I found a hornet’s nest in the tree in my backyard. And hornets are horrible pests. They destroy everything around them, and their venom can be quite lethal. I needed to get rid of that nest. I smoked them out, dearest. I waited until they were out of the nest, and calm because of the smoke, and then I dropped a bug bomb right at the nest and killed them all. When there was no more activity, I took down the nest, and I burned it. I’ve never had an issue with hornets since,” she explained. I pinched the bridge of my nose in confusion. Kate’s granny was dotty. I didn’t recall seeing a dementia diagnosis in Kate’s file, but I’d been so emotional I couldn’t see straight.

“That was very brave. Hornets and wasps terrify me,” I allowed.

“Well dear, sometimes we need to face the things we fear the most in order to make our homes safe. Thank you for calling me.” The line went dead. I called up Kate’s personnel file to make a note in it that her next of kin contact was not of sound mind. When I clicked into the cell to access Mrs. Banks’ information and add the note, a deactivated personnel file opened. Cecelia Banks, retired from duty in 1983. Kate’s grandmother had been a field agent. I skimmed the file quickly and saw that she had specialized in encrypted messages. I grabbed my cell and texted Phil quickly.

Do hornets and wasps have any significant meaning in coded messages?

Why?

I just had a weird conversation with someone about how to kill hornets. I think it was a coded message.

Try to remember everything you can about it. We’ll talk over dinner. XO

I slipped my phone into my lap as Erin knocked and entered my office. I closed Cecelia and Kate’s files as Erin flopped into the chair across from me.

“Fury says until I complete my training, my clearance is pulled. This beautiful stack of folders is now all yours.” She dropped a thick stack of files on the edge of my desk. I rolled my eyes. Of course it was.

“And that would be?” I prompted.

“Every outstanding Stark, and Hulk-Smash in the organization. There’s about 85 there,” she winked and patted the pile. I let my head drop and hit the desk.

“Thank you so much,” I groaned. Erin looked far too satisfied as she left my office, annoyingly pert pirate octopus coffee mug in tow. As she breezed out, Natasha Romanoff stepped in. My stomach tightened, and I unlocked the drawer where I kept my purse and dropped the files in before locking it again.

“Agent Ellis.” She offered her hand.

“It’s Ms. or Director, Agent Romanoff. I’m not an agent,” I corrected her and shook her hand.

“But you are. You have your badge now.” Her smile was knowing. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“There’s a training facility a few blocks from here. Did you bring something to change into? You’ll stand out dressed like that.” She was in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt herself.

“I’ll just go get changed now then.” I grabbed my gym bag and headed to the washroom.

I landed on my back, hard. I could feel the eyes of the other agents training on us. Romanoff’s knee was across my throat in seconds, and we were both breathing hard. I kicked out, arching my back and rolling us both over until I’d pinned her. Before I could properly pin her arm, she tucked it between us and used it as leverage to push me back. I scrambled away, and regained my footing, sweat dripping into my eyes. Romanoff’s chest heaved as she circled around me. I sidestepped to keep an even distance between us, keeping my eye on her. She faked a punch to my left and as I dodged, swept my legs from under me. I was done. She pinned me on my stomach and I tapped out, raising both my hands from the mat in surrender.

She stepped off me, and offered me a hand up, patting my shoulder once we were face to face. I had at least an inch or two on her, and probably weighed thirty pounds more than her, although I think most of that weight would have been in my boobs. We probably wouldn’t have been in the same weight division in a tournament, is what I’m trying to say. She was incredibly fast, strong and agile. I felt like a lumbering drunken moose beside her.

“You’re better than the report read,” she commented as she grabbed her water bottle. I pulled my own from my bag and took a long drink.

“You certainly live up to the legend, Romanoff,” I complimented.

“Well, I was raised for this. What exactly is your story?” She asked.

“I grew boobs when I was 11. My dad thought I should know how to defend myself. One thing led to another,” I shrugged.

“You’re good. You telegraph your punches on the right,” she commented.

“I do?”

“No one has ever mentioned that?” She seemed surprised.

“I don’t know that anyone has ever noticed before.” I had a few DVDs of tournament footage at home, I was going to have to look at it and see what she was talking about.

“Well, it’s worth working on. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m going to teach you now. We’ll discuss it over lunch.” We headed toward the change rooms.

Lunch with Romanoff was interesting. Once we were seated at the café, she insisted I call her Natasha, and dropped all the formality I had noticed in the gym. She was a genuinely pleasant person. It took me off-guard, but I wasn’t stupid enough to comment on it. Instead, we enjoyed lunch, and getting to know one another better. We were equally guarded in what we shared. I was careful because we were still trying to keep Phil’s continued pulse quiet. Her reserve came from years of training. She had little tells though, that made her more human. She wore a necklace with an arrow charm on it. After New York, everyone had speculated that she and Barton were close. The charm was very telling.

“I like your necklace,” I commented. She smirked, not the least bit deceived by my ruse.

“I hear that a lot these days.” She looked me in the eye. “It’s just an arrow, Anna.” There was a finality to the way she said it that warned me it wasn’t something she was going to talk about. I raised an eyebrow and smiled back. It was fair. We barely knew each other. I would be disturbed if she started volunteering personal information that we both knew wasn’t in a personnel file.

“Your training. I’ve never actually had a reason to read your personnel file, so I’m not sure about it. You said you were raised for this?” I asked, moving back to what I hoped was a less invasive topic.

“I was orphaned, and the government put me in a program as a young child to train me as an assassin. In Russia, although I think you probably knew that part.” It was an abrupt answer. Fair enough. I would probably be uncomfortable talking about that kind of history as well.

“I’m sorry if that was too personal a question.”

“You have clearance to read my file. It’s nothing you couldn’t have already seen,” she shrugged.

“Dr. Richmond thinks very highly of you.” I was floundering. I felt out of place and awkward and really uncomfortable, despite how easy and pleasant things felt. Almost as though the pleasantry was a façade. She finally broke a genuine smile.

“Lex is a remarkable woman. I wasn’t aware you were friends.” She leaned in a little.

“I would like to say we are, but we’re still acquaintances, mostly. She’s helping me out with the running and fitness portion of my training,” I admitted.

“If anyone can teach you to run, it’s Lex. If she’s not already working on your strength training with you, you should ask her about that too. It’s not really her area, but she’s pretty damn strong.” Natasha looked thoughtful. “You could probably help her with her hand-to-hand in exchange. She’s not as terrible as she used to be, but she’s nowhere near your ability. I work with her on occasion, but not often enough to be able to be consistent.”

“I’ll mention it on Wednesday. Thanks, Natasha.” I’d heard that Romanoff was the most cerebral of the Initiative, and that one little off-hand comment put that into perspective. Her brain obviously never turned off. We collected our things for the short walk back to the office

“I heard you’ve had a couple run-ins with Stark?” She changed the subject with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t really say run-ins. Well, yeah, I guess. He was in my seminar during the attack on the Triskelion, and then he basically saved my life. And then he bugged my phone and my office,” I laughed.

“I’d call those run-ins. Tony is worth having as an ally, Anna.”

“I’ve already discovered that, and am currently overlooking what I find to be faults,” I laughed. Natasha joined me, nodding.

“We all do.” We were standing outside the building my office was in. I looked up and sighed.

“So, anything you want me to work before Wednesday?” I asked.

“Your shooting. Clint says you’re terrible. And this is going to come easy to you, so don’t sweat it.”

“God, I feel like I’m the current Avengers Initiative assignment,” I laughed.

“Listen, if anything feels weird or off to you, contact one of us. You’ve got contacts now for Clint, Tony, and me. And Lex can get Steve for you in a heartbeat. If anything at all bugs you, trust your gut and track one of us down,” she leaned in and spoke quietly.

“What?” I breathed. I felt the air rush out of my lungs like I’d taken a punch in the solar plexus.

“We both know that attack was an inside job. And whoever did it intended you to die in it. Fury says he’s got one of his best agents keeping an eye on you, but he won’t say who, so I don’t know if he can be trusted. But this isn’t over, Anna, not by a long shot. So if you think you are in the least bit of danger, you let us know,” she kept her voice low. “And don’t forget, stop telegraphing that right,” she raised her voice, and slapped my shoulder as a couple of people came out of the building.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC #Phil Coulson x OFC

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un-enfant-immature · 6 years ago

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The Timbuk2 Never Check sold me on the importance of a good travel backpack

For some who travels a lot, I can be downright reckless when it comes to packing sometimes. I’ve found myself hurling clothes, toiletries and assorted cables into bags on more early mornings than I care to mention.

That haphazard approach naturally extends to the bags I’m throwing my things into. I’ve always just relayed on my everyday backpack as a carry on. I mean, why not, right? It does the trick day to day, so there’s no reason it wouldn’t work on the road. Writing this piece backstage at the TC Tokyo event, however, I finally recognize the error of my ways.

Two weeks traveling around Asia for various work things was as good an excuse as any to get my stuff together when it comes to packing, and this gift guide was a good way to light a fire under my ass to actually do it. The whole thing started as a list of accessories — battery packs, plugs, cables and the like, but at a certain point it dawned on me that I would, you know, need a place to put them.

After a few hours of online research, I finally landed on the Never Check backpack. It’s right there in the name, really — and Timbuk2 makes a good bag. This much we know for certain.

A good travel backpack has to walk a delicate line — it needs to be small enough to be stashed in under the seat in front of you and expansive enough to fit all of the crap you need for a one-day trip: laptop, toiletries, clothes, running shoes. It’s a big ask for a little bag.

The Never Check performs the task better than any backpack I’ve owned to this point, courtesy, in part, of a zipper expandable main compartment. Unzip it and you give yourself an extra two inches of storage space. It’s a clever touch, similar to the compression packing cubes I also picked up for the trip.

The bag’s dimensions aren’t small, but they’re not overwhelming either. I could certainly see defaulting to it as an every day bag. It’s got deep backs and accessory holsters to spare, along with nice touches throughout, including a secret laptop pock and wax-covered zippers to keep out the rain.

The looks are nothing to write home about, really. It’s boxy and black, with bright blue lining inside — more utilitarian than flashy. It’s also more than I’ve traditionally paid for a backpack at $200. But it’s been a reliable companion for those 20 mile a day walks around Tokyo this week.

#TechCrunch

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ebsenbaxter3-blog · 6 years ago

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The Growing Popularity Of Miniature types In British Homes

Beard Energizer Gentlemans Beard Club Once a person receive all the supplies, you are now ready for seeding. However, on the question of tips on how to grow grape vines, extended consideration would be to pick a proper location in which there is enough room for sunlight. It's very advantageous inside your plant to get enough space, but it is not anymore regarded as a complete necessity today. Anybody can now even plant grapes in a container.

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Most men believe that regular shaving can help them grow the beard about their dreams. Unfortunately, this idea is just just an extensive misconception. Shaving does not contribute to fast regarding your hair on your face and it does not it helps it be thicker beard. So, if in order to right preparing to go on a vacation, it's high in order to start growing your beard. Do not hurry to shape or trim because soon as bristle appears even if perhaps to be rather itchy. Today will soon be over and went right forget concerning with sexual pleasure. I live in Minnesota so my plant spent the cold winter months inside. The warm weather has finally arrived and I would to move it outside, a transition that must be made slowly but surely. "Move it into full sun outdoors and provide some protection until features healthy beard hardened off," advises Coast. When cared for properly, your Bay Laurel may last 10-12 as well as grow within a handsome bonsai tree. SB: Coming from a itchy grow out, being coarse and complaints from his girlfriend about the feel against her very own skin- we thought there in order to be a thing that help you to soften the hair, cause it to more manageable and enjoyable for each person. Best badger is the following grade down from silvertip hair. Best badger locks are firm through the skin but still supple. Look at less water holding potential than silvertip hair ladies then the next grade downward. Many shavers find that best badger retains an ideal amount of water; few much, less than little. Best badger is less expensive and doesn't overload the brush with good water. KF: Somehow, despite having a fairly sizable beard myself, I'd never heard of beard oil until, by random chance, I crossed paths with PBC. Is actually beard oil, and what does it use? Sarge claimed two with the other bags, in accessory for the pile of rifles. Sarge had brought two revolvers, equipment gun, and another weapon that Thomas didn't recognize. It looked more advanced than any weapon Thomas had seen and bigger too. Sarge holstered the two revolvers. Like Karok's blades, the other two guns were along with straps. Handy gun hung off of Sarge's shoulder while one other unknown weapon hung behind the soldier's back.

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pauldeckerus · 6 years ago

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MY ANNUAL HOLIDAY GEAR GUIDE IS HERE!

Welcome to my “13th annual Holiday Gear Guide.”

To be listed here, the gifts have to be: (1) products that I use myself, and that I absolutely love, and now can’t live without (well, I could live without them, but I just wouldn’t want to); and (2) if a product makes the guide, it has to be one I’d recommend to a close friend without hesitation, especially if my friend was loose with money.

Also, to make things easy, we added direct links to all the products I picked so you don’t have to wonder if you’re getting the exact right one. (Note: Depending on the product, clicking on the links below will take you to the manufacturer’s website; if the product is available at B&H Photo or Amazon, then clicking on the link will take you to those websites.)

As is my sacred Gonzo tradition for more than a tenth of a century, I’m breaking things into three distinct categories:

Stocking Stuffers: But you can use these as actual holiday gifts if you’re not that crazy about the person.

Great Value Gear: Stuff that’s a really good deal for the money, and even though it’s not a lot of money, they’ll still totally dig it.

Cha-ching: Stuff you buy for the Berkshire CEO or Russian oligarch on your holiday gift list. This is the stuff that makes them burst into spontaneous tears of joy. Well, at least I would.

So, without further ado, I present to you my “13th Annual Gonzo Holiday Gift Guide of Love (of love?).”

STOCKING STUFFERS

Powerextra Dual Battery Charger for Canon, Nikon, and Sony DSLR Cameras

Erik Kuna turned me on to this puppy, and I have to say it’s awesome and has worked like a charm. It charges two regular-sized Canon, Nikon, or Sony camera batteries simultaneously; it connects to USB; it’s super small (since it charges the batteries upright rather than on their side) so it takes up less room in your camera bag; and it’s very lightweight. And not only that, each charger comes with two Powerextra replacement batteries (for the camera brands listed above and more)! I’ve used these batteries extensively, and I can’t tell one bit of difference between the brand name ones that cost 5x as much. The person you give this to will think you spent a bunch, so extra love points for you.

Price: It’s a ridiculous deal starting at around $27

Canon: $26.99 (link)

Nikon: $31.99 (link)

Sony: $55.99 (link)

New Think Tank Photo Emergency Rain Covers

These brand-new, very compact, lightweight rain covers are an amazing deal for the money. They fit easily in your camera bag but can be a lifesaver if you get caught out in the elements (or the photographer on your holiday list sometimes wants to shoot in inclement weather). They’ll super dig these new easy-to-use, quick-to-deploy covers from the same people who make the Hydrophobia line of professional-level rain covers.

Price: They come in two sizes

Medium (fits up to a 70–200mm lens): $39.75 (link)

Small (fits up to a 24–70mm lens): $34.75 (link)

Awesome Custom Business Cards for Photographers from MOO

Okay, there are two ways you can go on this one (gift card or Plan B), but MOO cards are a favorite with photographers around the world, mainly because they’ll let you print a different image on every card (or you can have the same image on all the cards, five images that repeat in a stack of 50—you get the idea). Anyway, if you can get hold of, say, 10 of their images at high-res, you could get them a set of 50 cards with their images on one side (you’d get 10 cards each of each image), and their contact info and stuff on the other side. You’ll be a superstar for getting either the gift card, or being sneaky and doing the work yourself. This is a can’t-miss stocking stuffer.

Price: 50 cards starting at $19.99 (link)

Rick Sammon’s Wonderful Book, The Route 66 Photo Road Trip: How to Eat, Stay, Play, and Shoot Like a Pro

This isn’t a tutorial book (though Rick does have a few tutorials in there); it’s a really fun road trip book where you can enjoy the images, Rick’s great stories, road trip tips, and the experience of getting your kicks on Route 66. It’s just a really awesome read and would make a wonderful stocking stuffer.

Price: $13.36 at Amazon (link)

Indigo Marble Protective Camera Wrap

I use one of these when I don’t want to take a camera bag with me, or I want to take a small camera bag just big enough for a lens or two. I fold it around my camera body and put it in my carry-on luggage. It comes in two sizes: 15″ and 19″ (I use the larger one).

Price: Starting at $50.78 (link)

Spider Camera Holster SpiderPro Hand Strap

I’ve never been a big fan of camera hand straps—until now. The SpiderPro Hand strap has a great design, is very secure, and most importantly—a comfortable feel in your hand. Plus, an extra five points because it just looks cool when you’re holding your camera with it on. The photographer on your list will dig it.

Price: $65 (link)

Haida 10-Stop Slim PRO II Screw-On MC Neutral Density (ND) 3.0 Filter

I’ve been using Haida’s filter holder system for about two years now, and for the quality and price, I don’t think you can beat ’em, but if you’re an on-the-go travel photographer, you’ll probably find it more convenient to use a simple screw-on ND filter than using their bracket system. For my recent trip to Austria and Germany, I bought this Slim PROII (77mm to fit my lenses), and I was tickled at how well it works. Best thing about the Haida ND filters? They don’t mess with your image’s color. It’s a killer deal for $62.10, well, for the 77mm size. Your price may be lower for smaller-sized lenses, or higher for bigger lenses (but 77mm is probably as big a lens as the photographer on your list will have).

Price: $62.10 for the 77mm (link)

Platypod Ultra

This is the Platypod Ultra’s second year on the list, and while this thing was blowing up last year, this year it’s vying for the hottest photography accessory on the planet. It’s a tripod replacement (that doesn’t need legs), it’s super-lightweight (3.2 oz.), and fits in your pocket. You screw a small ballhead onto it, and it holds your camera steady as a rock so you can place it where tripods either aren’t allowed (which sadly is pretty much everywhere these days) or where they can’t fit. Everybody wants a Platypod Ultra.

Price: $59; Splurge a little and get them the bundle with the Multi Accessory Kit for $79 (it’s awesome) (link)

GREAT VALUE GEAR

Think Tank Photo Airport Roller Derby

I love this camera bag on a level that’s, well, unhealthy (let’s just leave it at that). Yes, it holds a ridiculous amount of stuff; there’s a pocket for everything (including your laptop and your iPad); a built-in cable lock so it doesn’t wander off; a tripod holder; and I could go on and on, but what’s ridiculously awesome is simply its four wheels. I can literally roll it through the airport using nothing but my pinky. If I push too hard, it rolls ahead of me. If the photographer on your gift list is tired of dragging a heavy rolling bag behind them, this one will glide right beside them. Get them this one; they’ll be your friend for life.

Price: $399.75 (link)

B&H Gift Card

This is always the perfect gift because B&H Photo is the greatest camera store in the world, and whatever the photographer on your gift list wants, B&H will have it in stock and ready to ship. They’re the magical unicorn of camera stores. Get your photographer a gift card from here, and they’ll follow you anywhere.

Price: Starting at $25 (link)

Westcott Rapid Box Switch Octa-L 48″ Softbox (Large)

If your giftee uses both flash and strobes, or they use different brands of strobes, they don’t have to keep switching softboxes every time they change lights. Westcott made a new set of softboxes that let you use the same softbox for flash or strobes, or different brands of strobes, by just changing the adapter at the end of the softbox. It’s really pretty brilliant (can’t believe somebody didn’t think of this before); but what makes this really awesome are the Rapid Boxes themselves. I love, love, love them (they’re so fast and easy to set up—like 60 seconds from start to finish), and I’ve been hooked on them since the first time I used one. This new “Switch” makes ’em that much better, and the price for such a nice big octa is hard to beat.

Price: $289.90 (link)

Gravity Backdrops

These beautifully hand-painted backdrops are turning the industry on its ear because they’re priced so far below their competitors, and their quality is spot-on. I have four of these now, and I’m using them so often, I don’t want to shoot on anything else. These are giving photographers access to a level of backdrops that were once out of reach for so many people; you can now buy these backdrops at around the same price we used to rent them just for the weekend. They’ll even custom-make whatever you want, without the crazy price. Can’t recommend these enough (and you’ll be a hero to the photographer on your gift list).

Price: Based on size, but figure around $350 or so (link)

WD 250GB My Passport Wireless SSD External Portable Drive with Built-In Wi-Fi

This one is for backing up your images on the road when you don’t have your laptop with you. You just plug your SD card right into the unit itself (it has its own built-in card reader) and it uploads your images (it does a smart upload, only uploading new photos that aren’t already on the drive). What’s nice is that once your images are on the drive, you can transfer ones you want to edit right to your phone or tablet using its built-in Wi-Fi (you don’t need an internet connection—it makes its own private network). It’s surprisingly easy to use, and a great solution for photographers who want a mobile editing and backup strategy for their DSLR or mirrorless images. I used mine on my last trip, and now it’s part of my workflow.

Price: $191.99 for 250GB (link)

Note: There are 500GB, 1TB, and 2TB options but they’re priced too high—stick with this one.

A Fine Art or Xpozer Print from Bay Photo

Go with either Bay Photo’s Xpozer system (the same system we use in The Gallery at KelbyOne) or go ahead and get a Fine Art, mounted print. Either way, if you get a gift card for the photographer on your list, make the amount so they can get one of their images printed large, or if you’re giving one of your own prints as a gift, go large—you can’t go wrong. Prints have a real value, well beyond their cost, and the impact they have is remarkable. Want to give somebody a really memorable gift that’s more than just a product? This is it (and you can do it without breaking the bank).

Price:

24×36″ Print with Xpozer System: $99 (link)

24×36″ Fine Art Print w/Gatorfoam: $153.20 (link)

CHA-CHING

Tamron SP 15–30mm f/2.8 Di VC USD G2 Lens

I took this ultra-wide lens with me on my last trip and I was super impressed. It’s a killer lens at a killer price. Sharp, crisp, great Vibration Compensation (VC), and a big improvement over its already popular predecessor. Give this to someone you love (or somebody you want to love).

Price: $1,299

For Canon (link)

For Nikon (link)

DJI Mavic Air Fly More Combo

It’s so small, so portable, so easy to fly, and takes such great photos and videos. They’ll lose their mind when they unwrap this one. Everybody wants a drone, and this one is probably the best deal, dollar for dollar, feature for feature, and while there are other drone makers out there, everybody wants a DJI. After giving this as a gift, you won’t be able to get rid of them.

Price: $899.99 for the Fly More Combo (it’s what you want to get them); $699.99 for the DJI Mavic Air by itself (link)

The weekender Camera Bag from compagnon

This is an absolutely beautifully crafted all-leather camera bag from Germany, and it’s really something to behold. It just screams luxury, and while it’s not inexpensive, it looks like it would cost a lot more than it does. What I love about it is that it’s large enough that you can use it for a weekend trip where your clothes and your camera are in the same bag. Very well designed; it’ll fit in the overhead, and the leather is just so luscious! Give it to somebody you really want to impress. Note: There’s a smaller version called “the little weekender” that’s small and less expensive, too.

Price: $675 (link)

Canon EOS R Mirrorless Camera Body

I had this camera for a full month, and really put it through its paces—from the American West to Rome to Hawaii to Austria—and I fell in love with it. When I had to return it to Canon, it broke my heart (and now I’m trying to get Canon to sell me that loaner). I don’t know what DSLR your Canon-shooting gift-lister has, but they’ll sure love this one (and there’s a lot to love!).

Price: $2,299 (link)

TACS Automatic Vintage Lens II Camera-Inspired Watch

This one is a little pricier, but it’s actually a great value for what you’re getting (and for the right person, it will be priceless). This camera-inspired watch is just brilliant. My daughter saw the beautiful wooden box the watch comes in sitting on my desk and couldn’t resist opening it. She saw the watch and said, “Oh my gosh, it looks like a camera.” The beautifully crafted timepiece is more gorgeous in real life than it appears in the pictures, and the back of the watch is almost as stunning as the front. Beautifully designed from top to bottom. It will put the biggest smile on your photographer’s face, and the presentation in the wooden box, coupled with the craftsmanship of the watch itself will make them think you spent a fortune.

Price: $550 (link)

Profoto B1 X 500 AirTTL Portable Off-Camera Flash

This is the latest version of a strobe that created its own genre of portable studio lights. It’s a battery-powered strobe without the power pack (the battery is built right in to the unit itself). The quality of Profoto lights is legendary, and once I started using Profoto gear, I totally got what all the fuss is about and why all the top pros are using their gear. If you give somebody this gift, they’ll follow you around like a puppy for the rest of your life, so be very choosy to whom you give this.

Price: $2,095 (link)

STUFF FROM US

My Latest Lightroom Books

I have two different books for two different levels of Lightroom users. If the photographers on your wish list are fairly new to Lightroom and want to learn it from the ground up, then get them my The Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic CC Book for Digital Photographers. It’s the bestselling Lightroom book ever. If they’ve been using Lightroom for a while now and they want a reference they can go to quickly to find out how to do whatever it is they’re trying to do right now, then get them my How Do I Do That In Lightroom Classic? book. The first edition was reprinted seven times, and this is the latest edition based on the new version of Lightroom, so they’ll find it really helpful.

Price:

The Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic CC Book for Digital Photographers: $33.99 (link)

How Do I Do That In Lightroom Classic?: $13.99 (link)

Photoshop World Conference 2019 Gift Certificate

Want to blow their minds and give them an experience they’ll be talking about for years? Give the photographer on your gift list a Full Conference Pass to the three-day Photoshop World Conference 2019, early next summer in Orlando, Florida, or late summer in Las Vegas at the Mirage in Las Vegas. Get the pass now and get the Early-Bird special, and they’ll save an extra $100 if they’re a KelbyOne Pro member. You’ll make a true friend for life—maybe longer.

Price: Early-Bird KelbyOne Pro Member: $599 (link)

A One-Year KelbyOne Pro Membership

You’ve heard again and again (or maybe you’re already a member and you know firsthand) about all the incredible online courses, the magazines, the online community, the Webcasts, and the discounts, and now you can share all that with a photographer you super dig. It’s only $199 for a full year, with full access to everything! They’ll devote the rest of their natural life to letting you know how thoughtful, caring, and generous you were to change their life in such a meaningful way. Okay, that’s perhaps a best-case scenario, but I will tell you that I think they’ll love you (and so will I).

Price: $199 (link)

A One-Year KelbyOne Plus Membership

If they love online training, we have a special membership level that just focuses on the online classes themselves, and it goes for just $9.99 a month. Give ’em a 12-month membership and they’ll love you all year.

Price: $9.99/month (link)

Well, there ya have it folks. Remember, it’s not how many gifts you get. It’s about how many gifts you get me! ;-)

Happy Holidays!

-Scott

The post MY ANNUAL HOLIDAY GEAR GUIDE IS HERE! appeared first on Scott Kelby's Photoshop Insider.

from Photography News https://scottkelby.com/my-annual-holiday-gear-guide-is-here/

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fmservers · 6 years ago

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The Timbuk2 Never Check sold me on the importance of a good travel backpack

After a few hours of online research, I finally landed on the Never Check backpack. It’s right there in the name, really — and Timbuk2 makes a good bag. This much we know for certain.

Via Brian Heater https://techcrunch.com

#TechCrunch

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geekade · 7 years ago

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Geeky DIY Halloween Costumes: 2017 Edition

There are so many things to love about Halloween, but the thing that warms my geeky little heart is the costumes. It’s the one time of year that cosplay is acceptable in more mainstream environments. If you’re a fellow costume enthusiast, you’ll likely fall into one of two camps. The first contains those who plan and work on their costumes year-round, devoting all their spare time and energy into it. God bless you, you passionate lunatics, I envy your skill, creativity, and free time. The latter are more like me; we love costumes but don’t have much in the way of time, money, talent, or all three. If you fall in this camp, you might think it’s too late for you. Well, as my favorite Lex Luthor ever once said…

In general, the best Halloween costumes are easily recognizable for what they are and specific to the year you wear them in. Of course, there are time-honored classics, but if you’re going to do it, I say make it count. The best costumes for people like us are easy to make and affordable. And even though it’s October already and the costume shops are likely all sold out of the “good” options, there’s still plenty of time to make something cool yourself.

Closet Cosplay: Snag yourself a WW logo tee (available at Kohls, Walmart, and Amazon) and pair it with navy leggings or jeggings. Slap your most ass-kicking calf-high boots and as many gold/bronze bangles as you can find. Complete the look with a take-no-shit expression.

Upgrades:

If your leggings are expendable, do some white stars up the sides with fabric paint.

Or swap out leggings for a No-sew tutu, search pinterest and take your pick of tutu-orials. (wear over short-shorts, these tutus usually don’t provide modesty)

Take a cue from fellow Geekader Sam Ahearn, who custom-made a tiara and wrist gauntlets for my daughter using felt, hot glue, glitter, elastic, and velcro. This would also work for a belt.

If you’re feeling really ambitious, boot covers really add something special to your look and aren’t too hard to make.

Closet Cosplay: This long sleeve fitness shirt is a decent approximation of the Spidey’s look in this year’s cinematic offering. If you’re feeling too bashful for tights, go with blue workout pants. A red gloves and ski mask combo can finish off this one, especially if you’re willing to use a little black marker to add detail.

Upgrades:

Have the confidence? Wear the tights, my good man, and more power to you

Boot covers aren’t just for ladies, some red ones will work for this look too.

If you’re into building things, check out tutorials to make your own wrist web shooter, like this one.

Closet Cosplay: Both characters have a lot of costumes in this year's Breath of the Wild, but the simplest to recreate is the basic look. For either, start with a long sleeve shirt and pants in white, tan, or brown. For Link, top with an oversized teal tee shirt and a brown belt over the shirt at your waist. For Zelda, go with a more feminine cut top. Add a white tank over top of it and tuck the straps and upper third under to mimic a corset and complete with the widest brown belt you can find. Finish off either look with brown boots and some DIY cardboard weapons. Bonus points if you do this as a couples costume.

Upgrades:

Strap it up. Do a google image search, these costumes actually involve a bunch of straps crossing the body, so if you can find some extra belts or scraps of brown fabric, all the better.

Elf ears from a Halloween store will give you that subtle Hylean look that sets you apart from Peter Pan.

Use some white fabric paint on your blue layer to recreate details from the in-game looks.

Closet Cosplay: This is one is especially great for kids, but works for any age. The inklings in the game all tend to dress in fairly casual, slightly oversized skater gear or athletic wear. With a parent's permission, have fun with some funky spray-on hair color and some wacky styling. If you have one, use your biggest most ridiculous water gun as a prop. If not, check if any stores near you have any summer toys on clearance.

Upgrades:

A neon colored wig from a Halloween store can really bump up this look.

DIY an ink tank like this one to wear on your back and hold extra candy in.

Grab some pals, color coordinate your outfits and weaponry, and show up as a team!

Closet Cosplay: Not only has Hulu’s adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s classic has been a huge hit, but the costumes have been widely seen in public, as some have taken to wearing them as a form of political protest. Therefore, this is definitely a highly recognizable and very current costume and it’s also ridiculously easy to pull off. The basics are a drapey red garment that covers the whole body and a white bonnet. The former can be achieved by making a cape from any large red piece of fabric you can get your hands on or by wearing a long sleeved modest top and long skirt, both in red. Check your closet or your local thrift shop. Create the latter by attaching some white posterboard (the bigger the better) to a white painters cap, available for cheap at most craft and hardware stores. Complete with a dour facial expression.

Upgrades:

DIY your bonnet for a more authentic look using a pattern like this one

Halloween stores everywhere mean you can find a proper red cloak pretty easily this time of year.

Add a plain canvas bag. Stitching up a totebag is one of the easiest sewing projects there is.

Closet Cosplay: Once GoT’s costumer revealed her source for the Night’s Watch furry capes, it became an instant meme and a DIYer’s dream. The key to taking the black is, unsurprisingly, wearing lots of black. Black pants, black shirt, black belt, black cape, black gloves. (No hat though. Anybody else notice that? People in the north rarely cover their heads. WTF is up with that?) You don’t have to use the officially sanctioned IKEA product, use any shaggy rug you can find, spray it black if need be, and throw it around your shoulders. This look goes best with five o’clock shadow and a surly expression.

Upgrades:

If you’re willing to make the investment, here are IKEA’s official instructions on making the furry cape.

As with the Link/Zelda costume, the more straps, the better.

As Adult Halloween is mostly about costumes and drinking, make sure to get yourself a fun tankard or drinking horn to carry around/clip to your belt.

Closet Cosplay: If the Season 7 malarkey surrounding the death of SPOILER didn’t put you off watching the show, this one may be for you. It’s easy to put together from existing pieces in your wardrobe but iconic enough to be reconizable. Jeans, leather jacket, and a red scarf (or even a bandana) around the neck are the key pieces. Don’t forget Lucille! DIY some barbed wire using dark yarn and this tutorial and wrap it around any old baseball bat you have.

Upgrades:

If you’re not going to need the bat again, might as well bloody it up with some fake blood from a Halloween store.

This is one where a group costume can work well. If your friends are into it, check out images from Season 7 to have your friends find their lookalikes in the cast. Bonus points if anyone can pull off a Glenn or Abraham look.

Closet Cosplay: Season 5, which aired this summer, definitely went outside the norm for this show and the costumes ran the gamut, so there are lots of options to choose from. Start with the basic khaki look (you can a set of khaki scrubs anywhere pretty cheap) and make your own ID badge, or go without. Accessorize with a gray or white undershirt (long or short sleeve) or gray hoodie. This is really one of the easiest, comfiest costumes out there.

Upgrades:

Modify the look based on any of the character’s variations on the uniform. For sexy, try Flaca & Maritza’s schoolgirl looks. Add glasses and go for Alex’s sleeveless Rosie the Riveter version. Crazy short hair and thrift store glasses on a chain can turn you into Red. The possibilities are endless.

For another variation, use black pants, a blue button down shirt, and your own accessories to make a modified C.O.’s uniform like Cindy or Allison.

Closet Cosplay: It couldn’t be easier to recreate the look from Rick & Morty’s most popular season 3 episode. All you need are green clothes, green face paint, a green ski cap, and a bad attitude. For true authenticity, you’ll have to lay on the ground and only move by rolling around, so it’s a great choice if you just wanna be lazy.

Upgrades:

You can go as nuts as you want with the mods on this one and they’ll all work, since Pickle Rick’s existence went through multiple stages. Try Halloween stores for fake bones and blood to dress up your costume. Various crafting scraps can help with the look of his repurposed vermin limbs. Use gray/pink socks and gloves for the hands and feet.

Don’t forget his accessories. You’ll need a brown belt with a couple of holsters containing giant batteries and his shoulder mounted laser cannon. Use your imagination and a lot of cardboard and spray paint.

Extra bonus points if you get a teenage kid to follow you around wearing a yellow shirt and jeans.

Whatever you choose to go as, have fun this Halloween. I’d love to see what you dress up as, so tweet me pics!

#Cosplay #Closet Cosplay #TV #Movies #Comic Books #Video Games #articles

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thecoroutfitters · 8 years ago

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Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

When we embark on the road of preparedness, whether we aim small or plan to survive a nuclear holocaust, there are a million and five things to learn, build, do, and buy. It can be overwhelming at every stage. In fact, it can almost be more overwhelming at some of the intermediate stages than early on. You have great piles of stuff, but then you start thinking longer-term, sustainability, self-sufficiency, and the needs/wants just balloon all over. In some cases, the financial aspect alone is such a burden that people fall out and let go of the preparedness bug.

One thing that can help is to simplify the shopping list. In some case it’s about paring it down. In other cases, it’s about finding multi-purpose items.

The major benefit of the latter is that it can simplify things for beginners and old hands alike. When we pick something that can do multiple jobs right now, it gives us the ability to later expand to more specialized items as we’re ready. I’ll mostly focus on those items. I’ll also touch on some items I commonly see stocked deep that can get reduced or eliminated.

Pine Cleaner & Dish Detergent

Pine Sol is proof of a higher being or Mother Nature that loves us. Pine cleaner can be just about all things. It’s a disinfectant, and it doesn’t create color changes in fabric or wood. As such, pine cleaner can be used for:

Floors (tile, linoleum, hardwood, carpet)

Laundry (electric HE washers to hand-scrubbing)

Toilets & bathrooms

Kitchen and butcher area surfaces

Vehicles

Dusting surfaces with rags

Bedding

Happily, it also comes in a whole variety of scents for those of us who don’t actually like lemon or pine scented cleaners.

Pine cleaner also has a major case for being the be-all number-one cleaning product because it can be had in super condensed forms that you dilute as much as 10:1 and 25:1 by purpose.

Dish detergent is another one that can do a lot of jobs. As a pet owner and cook, little breaks the grease around the stove hood or sickness stains in carpets the way dish detergent will – and usually, especially with hot water and a decent scrubby sponge or brush, with the least amount of elbow grease of anything else I’ve purchased.

This is the stuff we count on to kill the raw chicken germs on our cutting boards and knives, and to prep jars for another year of canning – it’s fine as a surface cleaner for nurseries, kitchens, and sick rooms.

Dawn gets counted on to work pants from whatever my father and I picked up through the day. The incredible oil breaking compounds also save critters after oil spills. While it will upset the microbe communities, Dawn is safe to use for potted plants and garden beds, which lets us reuse the water we’ve pulled for cleaning and laundry.

Bleach

Bleach has its place in the cleaning world and in preparedness, but usually in limited quantity. Plain, unscented bleach gets used 5-8 drops per gallon to help clean water for drinking – a single bottle will do hundreds or thousands of gallons of water.

However, that bleach has a shelf life, and the more unstable the temperatures, the faster it breaks down and loses its abilities.

Bonus fact: When you use bleach in hot water, you’re nullifying its purification abilities. It’ll brighten whites, but it’s the hot water killing germs in those cases.

Since you can wash anything in Pine Sol that you could in bleach, and get it sanitized to the same degree, consider keeping a little around for water supplies and cool-water post-wash dips for food service or sick room supplies, but you don’t really need a gallon a week or even a gallon a month.

Vinegar & Windex

Instead of stocking up on both window cleaners and vinegar, consider just going with vinegar. And if you’re not yet, give your windows and bathroom bright-work a scrub-down using sheets of newspaper or phone book pages instead of paper towels next time around.

Vinegar can be used full strength if needed, or diluted and combined in various ways for doing windows and mirrors. It can also be used to unclog shower heads, remove water spots, kill ants, deodorize drains (or, change the smell coming from them, anyway), and act as a fabric softener in laundry water.

And, of course, there’s the fact that we can use white vinegar for canning and cooking, something we’d never do with a window cleaner.

Windshield Glass Cleaner

If you do want to have and stockpile a separate, specific window cleaner, consider getting the tabs and concentrate packets that fuel stations use for restocking their squeegee buckets such as Kwik Blue, 303, or Bug Blitzer . They dissolve in even cool water, then can be transferred to a spray bottle for cleaning. They can cost pennies per gallon while storing very compactly.

Baking Soda & Epsom Salts

Baking soda had its own article as a prepper must-have item. Both were also mentioned in some of the barter articles. Between them, they do a lot of jobs in and on the body, in and around the home, out in the yard and garden, and on the road.

I could hardly write an article about do-it-all shopping and not include them, but they truly deserve 6-12 articles all their own.

Standard & Common Ammo/Firearms

As much as possible, I try to standardize at least ammunition if not actual firearms. I also try to pick up long-production-run and common firearms. Doing so means increased aftermarket parts and accessories at (more) affordable rates.

That allows us to use a step-up program.

I can buy a basic firearm, then a different/extra barrel or stock. I can upgrade as I’m able, using the reviews that abound for the more-common firearms, accessories and gear.

Being a freak, I also tend to take both magazine cost into account, as well as the variety of pouches and holsters with and without a rail/light system and-or the sling systems available for the firearms.

And then sometimes I pick a firearm because it has a wide range of magazines it will accept, as opposed to one that only takes its specific model, or the H&K AR model that is ever so slightly different and is thus restricted to H&K mags made just for it.

The same applies to ammo.

Rimfires like the 10/22 that aren’t picky about what type of ammo they get fed are also more likely to come home with me.

By sticking with common calibers, I can readily find an affordable round that shoots just like my preferred self- and home-defense ammo for practice. In some cases, it means I have a wider array of hunting, defense, and special-purpose rounds and-or bullets ready and waiting for me on the shelf.

Having commonly-used calibers also means that there’s a better chance even if somebody can’t use my magazine or stripper clip, they can reload theirs from mine if need be.

Bedding & Clothes

Cheat on your bed linens. If there’s a queen and a full bed, just buy queen sheets for both. You might have to tuck the sheets in further and tighter and more often for the full, but they mix and match. That means when a set or two rip, it’s no big deal. I have used king blankets and comforters on queens and full beds half my life. It works.

Fun fact about that king comforter: It folds up to fit either a full or a twin bed as a mattress pad just fine, and you can tuck it under queen bedding if needed as well most of the time.

That means that as age starts wearing mattresses, we can extend their lives. It also means that should somebody be sick or potty training, we can throw some garbage bags between the mattress and the comforter, and the bags won’t shift as much (and annoy the sleeper). Should somebody sneeze or giggle and dribble a little, we’re washing and drying a big blanket and sheets, not trying to clean, then cover a mattress, and inviting mold and mildew right into bed with us while it dries much slower.

Clothing can also be simplified with some regularity.

Shoes are pretty specific and socks need to fit a well, although with kids we can skip sizes and plan for 2-3 pairs of socks. Most other clothing has some leeway. If we make sure there are drawstrings and belt loops, we can tighten, add suspenders, pin up, and roll clothing.

Also, a hair elastic makes a hand sleeve garter for washing hands and dishes, or any other time rolled-up sleeves might try to un-roll or slide down.

As somebody who now gets her nephews’ hand-me-downs instead of us passing things to them, I can tell you that some oversized clothing is hazardous because it will catch and snag, but a M-L and a L-XL soul can share a lot of outerwear if it’s purchased in the larger size.

Storage Containers

As we start seriously accumulating things, we need somewhere to put it.

Tip #1: Avoid the “I’ll sort it later” trap of a junk drawer, junk shelf, “Misc.” box, and a catchall laundry basket.

If you truly go through weekly and put things in their place, that’s cool. Most of us toss, say we’ll get it later, don’t, toss, repeat, toss, repeat, and a 5-15 minute job of sorting turns into an hour+ that we then really start dodging.

There are lots of options for holding our goodies, any of which let us sort things as they come home.

Laundry baskets of varying sizes are cheap, and pretty durable. Lined with a sheet, towel or garbage bag, the holes don’t matter. If at some point we need to, they allow us to re-line or remove the liner and plant in them. They can be doubled up into fish traps or holders, large baskets can be turned into cribs (lined! lined well!) or puppy crates, we can use them harvesting larger produce, and then we can sponge them with pine cleaner and turn them into something else all over again.

Accounting or banker’s file boxes with the separate lids aren’t as durable as storage totes, but most of mine actually keep their lids better than the storage totes. They readily fit on shelves and they’re a size that’s reasonable to carry whether they’re packed with papers, books, or (oops) canned goods. They stack well and uniformly across manufacturers.

It’s easy to pop up a lid instead of re-taping or doing the four-corners tucks, which will also help us keep our storage supplies fairly neat.

The downside to them, of course, is that they’re not water- or bug proof. We can line them with trash bags, and-or wet-pack our supplies in gallon and two-gallon Ziploc, but it still leaves the potential that at some point, the cardboard will dissolve into sodden mess. Still, apples to apples with standard cardboard boxes, they hold their own.

They’re less expensive than most moving boxes, but if there’s a liquor store, go with the free boxes there instead – those will be nice and sturdy, too.

Then there are the things like kitty litter buckets we might get for free or buy instead of a smaller container of litter.

While not appropriate for everything, they, too, hold a ton of weight, and multi-function when needed. Today they might be canned goods, medical stuff, or actual litter for winter weight and traction. Tomorrow they might be a water catchment system, a stacked vertical tower for the garden, or sub-irrigated gardening containers. Given another year, they might start holding bulk seeds or garden tool heads.

Like the file boxes, square buckets have an advantage in being a nice, standard size (which simplifies shelving) and not wasting as much space as a rounded and deeply V-ed storage tote or bucket would.

Defunct coolers are another that can make for nice storage containers. The downside to those is the space lost to insulating, but wheels, sturdy handles, and a flip-top lid can definitely be handy sometimes.

Simplified Shopping Lists

Hopefully these few examples were enough to start the brain churning for experienced preppers and beginners alike. From things like pasta that we can use to make a dozen different distinct dishes to having two firearm calibers, from what we stock for cleaning to the lawn-and-garden supplies, there are a million ways we can simplify our shopping and thus simplify our lives. Working off lists of multi-use items can be an affordable way to get started, or to fill in gaps we’ve started noticing after a trial run.

In some cases, we can buy one thing and cross eight others off our lists as a result. Other times, we might choose to hold off on some of the diversity we want to add.

By simplifying lists, we can also eliminate a little of the pressure on our storage spaces, and we may be able to identify and rectify gaps in our supplies when we sit down to compare what we have to what we use normally. It might also let us make a switch in our daily life that will save money in the long run, opening up the budget for extra seeds, Sevin dust, shoes, sugar and storage racks.

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