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no-droids · 5 years

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A Show of Good Faith

Part Six of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.1k what i fuckin tell yall

Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie, canon-typical violence, slight description of blood/injury

***

Isn’t it weird that nobody really ever talks about what happens immediately after you have a dead body in front of you?

It’s the part leading up to it that’s usually the most crucial, obviously. The adrenaline of the actual moment is overwhelming—you react without thinking, danger pumping through your veins alongside your blood and sharpening your survival instincts until they’re deadly. You do what you have to do to stay alive, nothing more. So it’s not really until you have a still moment with the evidence of your actions right there in front of you, glassy-eyed and staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, that you suddenly don’t know what to do.

Shocking is a word.

Debilitating is another.

Things… things come in flashes. You have blood on your hands; it’s thick and cold and electric blue in color, not dark or warm or crimson. One of them is vibrating violently, clutched around something heavy and clunky and unfamiliar, something with a handle made to fit a six-fingered grip. The kid is passed out in your other arm after expelling all his energy helping you take down the brutal assailant, choking him with… with some unknown baby shaman toad powers and holding him in place so you could grab this knife and you could… and you could…

The body of the man you just stabbed lays in a bloody pile on the floor in front of you. It was self-defense, but the reasoning behind it doesn’t take anything away from the gore, the blank state of shock rendering you motionless for Maker knows how long.

Corellia is a fucking shithole, you knew that coming in. If it was a sewer even with the Empire’s shipbuilding industry boosting the economy, it’s even worse after its collapse. To circumvent any unnecessary danger or attention, you chose to land the ship in one of the dense forest areas on the outskirts of the tracking fob’s radius. But unluckily for you, rats like forests just as much as they like sewers, and one of them apparently crawled his way onto the vessel a few minutes ago.

You drop the vibroblade to the floor with a clatter and slide down the hull wall, clutching the baby to your chest and trying to calm your breathing. There could be more of his friends close by. What you should do is climb into the cockpit and find somewhere else to lay low, send Mando a coded message with word of your new location.

But there’s a dead body in front of you.

And it’s… it’s dead.

Strangely, you default to something you’ve never actually done before. Something you probably shouldn’t ever do, in case your companion is in stealth mode or trying to hide from something, because it’ll immediately give away his position. You could theoretically get him killed, but you’re not thinking straight.

Your wrist trembles as you hold it in front of your lips. “Uh… M-Man-Mando?”

The sound of blaster fire and grunting crackles through your emergency comm link, before you hear a quick, breathless, “What’s wrong?” come through the speaker.

“It, uh—” you stare down at the oddly-colored blood on your fingers, wondering how you voice is able to come out so calmly, “it s-sounds like you’re busy, I’ll—I’ll just—”

More grunting. A thud. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re at a loss for words. You take a second to look down at the dead body, before lifting your wrist back up to your mouth. “I’m o-okay now, but I… but someone followed me into the Crest and he tried to… I-I mean he’s—he’s dead now, but—”

“Are you hurt?” He suddenly sounds urgent. It’s ridiculous that he didn’t actually sound urgent until now. “Is the kid hurt?”

“We’re—we’re both fine, but…” You look down at the child in your arms. “But the baby did something I—I c-can’t explain—and now he’s… I-I think he's asleep…”

“Good,” he replies shortly. You can hear him running now, pounding footsteps and heavy, quick breaths. Another blaster shot. “We need to get out of here. Rendezvous Sector-15, soon as you can. You’ll see me.”

“Do I…” Maker, you sound like an absolute idiot. “Do I just… just leave the body here, or…?”

“I’ll take care of it when you get here.” He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, but for some reason you feel incredibly frustrated with yourself. You should be able to pull yourself together, but your hands are all tingly and you can’t actually feel your fingers unless you really work for it. Stars, when’s the last time you actually blinked? “Can you fly?”

You don’t respond. You don’t even feel like you can stand up right now. The blaster shots scream through the crackling comm link for a second, and then you jump when he barks your name even louder than the gunfire.

“—Listen to me,” he urges, and you blink rapidly, the seriousness of his low growl hitting you right in the chest. “You can fly. Understand? Get the kid, get in the cockpit, put your seatbelt on. Fly out to me, right now. We’re leaving.”

His voice doesn’t call for argument. It’s abrasive and rough and unquestionable enough to get through to you. Of course you can fly, you can fly with your fucking eyes closed. Coming that firmly and doubtlessly from him, it’s a universal truth.

“Copy. Sec-Sector-15.” You say, adrenaline beginning to pump blood through your veins again. Just. Just don’t look at the body, okay? Don’t look at the body, you can do this if you don’t look at the body. “I’ll see you?”

“You’ll see me,” he repeats. And then the noise cuts off with a click.

You struggle up to your feet, heart pounding. You can do this. You can totally do this. You can walk, because you can fly. Duh. Mando said so.

You admittedly almost fall a couple steps down the latter while trying to climb up it one-handed, the baby held tightly to your chest, but you’re eventually able to get the both of you into the cockpit. The kid is carefully buckled into his little booster seat before you’re collapsing shakily into the pilot’s chair and swiveling forward.

Okay. Flight check. Now. To your left, flip down these few switches here—one two three four five—okay, good. To your right, press those two buttons sitting just above the nav console. Yep, got it. Up top now, those two red ones overhead. Good. Good, you can do this. Type coordinates into the nav comp. Sector-15, locked. Easy. This is easy. That big, knobless lever to your right—yes, the one with the exposed threading at the end, push that long metal stick forward and set thrusters to full. Okay. Left thruster, looks good. Right looks good, too. Okay. Seatbelt… seatbelt is… Seatbelt: on. Hatch: sealed. Shields: engaged. Flight check complete. Now all you have to do is take off.

Now all you have to do is take off.

All you have to do… is…

You stare down at the joystick in front of you blankly.

And then you shake your head back and forth frantically, hoping the rapid movement will jar some sense into you. Maker, get it the fuck together. What did Mando hire you for? You told him you were useful, didn’t you? This is what you do. You fly. So fucking fly, yeah?

You lift the ship off the ground and immediately take her around southeast, taking deep breaths and feeling the powerful rumble beneath your chair. Yeah, you can do this. Don’t think about the blood on your hands, the dark streaks of sickly purple now smudged all over the controls. Don’t think about the dead body in the hull. Don’t think about how you’re the reason it’s dead. Just fly the ship. This is something you can do.

You coast over the thick treetops and into the industrial sector, carefully scanning the gritty streets below. You don’t know what he meant when he said you’ll see him—until you suddenly see him. Smack in the middle of the airspace, rising phoenix strapped to his back and hovering a few hundred feet above absolute chaos wreaking havoc in the slums below. Blaster flares light up the night sky, though the sparks and flash grenades illuminating the dirty Corellian streets have nothing on the beauty of seeing those small twin jets in the darkness, the ones beginning to fly towards the ship.

“Got eyes,” his voice says through the comm link. Relief pounds through you. Stars, relief shouldn’t feel like this much of a struggle for your cardiovascular system, should it?

“Beginning deceleration,” you confirm breathlessly, slowing down and pressing a few buttons to open the hatch with your free hand. You bring both of them back down to swing her around until he’s got a clear path, feeling the ship dip just slightly with the sudden weight of him dropping in.

“Landed,” he grunts. “Set course for Nevarro.”

You floor it and elevate the Crest up through Corellia’s smoggy atmosphere, punching in coordinates in the meantime. The ship dips just a touch once more while the computer takes a few seconds to calculate a hyperspace path, and your eyebrows narrow before it quickly pulls back up again. It’s not until you see the manual hatch override indicator light blink next to the nav console that you realize he must’ve dumped the body before closing the door himself.

Well, that’s one way to handle that, you suppose.

The computer beeps quietly when it��s finished. “Standby for jump,” you tell your wrist.

“Copy.”

You triple-check the positive seal integrity readings before your hand is reaching for the double-reinforced hyperjump control, still trembling slightly. You lean all your weight forward into it, trying to keep your arm from buckling as the stars slowly shift across the observation shield for a split second, before you’re being hurled into the interdimensional wormhole.

Quiet. Hyperspace is fucking quiet. You forget, sometimes. Not how quiet it is—but how loud everything else is, not until you’re hurtling through the closest thing to purgatory you’ll ever experience in life. It looks… indescribable, even after the thousandth time. Empty space collapsing in front of you and expanding behind you simultaneously. Starlight streaking across the windows, space-time curving around the ship faster than the ship itself is moving through it. You take a moment to consider it as you unbuckle yourself shakily, before standing up and checking the seat behind you.

The kid is still knocked out cold, but you press the button to close the shield to his crib just in case, setting an alarm protocol to Mando’s remote arm brace should it open.

And then you slowly make your way around bulky cockpit chairs and down into the hull, shakily climbing down the ladder one step at a time. As soon as you turn around, there’s a caped wall of beskar rummaging through something with his back to you.

“Did you…” You announce yourself while looking around, trying not to sound as small as you feel. This is a such stupid question, you already know what he did with the body. But you… you should make sure, right? “You already took care of… of the…”

“Yeah.” Mando spins around and pulls out the cot from the wall at the same time, and you jump when the bed rattles loudly on its track and ricochets a few inches backwards after reaching its full extension. He quickly makes his way around it and over to you. “It’s gone. Come here, you’re hurt.”

“I’m f-fine,” you insist, feeling your hands shake when he abruptly grabs the left one and turns it over, pulling your wrist out towards him and up to the light so you both can see. “What about the qua—oh.”

There’s a long, ragged slice decorating the inside of your forearm, dried blood staining the ripped fabric along your sleeve. You blink down at it, not able to recognize its pain even with the evidence of the injury in front of you. It doesn’t look deep, but its edges are a little nasty and it’s still bleeding. Why can’t you feel it? Shouldn’t you be able to feel that?

He makes a noise through his helmet—something you can’t quite figure it out. Something between a short growl and a low huff of breath, before he’s grabbing your hips and steering you over towards the bed, lifting you up and setting you on its suspended platform when you’re close enough.

“Didn’t find the quarry,” the Mandalorian says quietly, turning around and looking through the first aid kit once more.

“You didn’t find the…” You blink down at your injury. He didn’t even find the quarry? But then what was all that ruckus about? And why are you going back to Nevarro to collect payment? Shouldn’t you be turning around and… and…?

He’s suddenly in front of you again, and this time he’s got a… a syringe in his hands? An E-bacta shot, you realize with an uncomfortable jolt. He pulls the cap off and sets it down on the bed next to you before holding out his gloved hand for you, waiting patiently but expectantly.

“No,” you immediately tell him, heart beginning to pump faster as you bring your arm up and hug it to your chest. You didn’t even know those things were street legal—they heal incredibly quickly but people have been known to abuse them because… well, because they’re supposed to give you a wicked fucking high. Bacta isn’t addictive and there’s no possibility of overdose, but this shit is concentrated. You can’t imagine how expensive it was. “Don’t b-be ridiculous, Mando—you—you almost bled out from a knife wound and we didn’t use one of those.”

“What do you think that is?” He looks down at your arm.

“It’s a scratch!” You exclaim, starting to feel a bit hysterical now from the adrenaline comedown. Maker, that needle is big. You knew bacta injections were thick but holy fucking stars. “It doesn’t even h-hurt! I could’ve… I could’ve done this to myself on accident for all I—”

“This has boosted antibiotics, too,” he cuts you off, quickly losing his patience and grabbing your wrist when you still don’t hand it over to him. He levers your forearm down, holding it parallel to the floor on your lap. “We don’t have any bacta kits left, I looked. This’ll work fast and it won’t scar. Hold still.”

“No—” you try to pull your hand away, hating the way your voice jumps when you’re aiming for calm and reasonable. “—I’ll be fine, w-we shouldn’t waste th—”

He tightens his grip. “Listen. This isn’t a scratch. It’s a torn laceration from a dirty Corellian vibroblade. Now I’m giving you at least a quarter dose, so hold,” he tugs your wrist forward, “still.”

You see the large needle heading towards your arm with determination and you’re instantly going rigid with panic, whipping your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as you suck in a terrified breath.

You wait like a statue for the pain, frozen in anticipation and fright, but it never comes. Slowly peeking one eye open, you look back to find a chrome visor staring intently at you, unmoving.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” you eventually gasp when he doesn’t say anything, and Maker, are your eyes actually starting to water? “I-I’m sorry, I’m just—that’s a b-big needle and—and I actually just k-k-killed someone and it’s just—” oh stars, here come the sniffles, “—I’m s-so sorry, I’m trying t-to keep it—keep it togeth—”

He carefully places the syringe down on the bed next to you as you turn your head away from him and try to stifle your short, panicked breaths with the back of your hand. But then you’re being caught and pulled forward, hauled into an iron chest without a single word.

It should be uncomfortable, you think. You should want to take the armor off and feel the muscles of his arms wrap themselves tight around you instead of cold metal, but for some reason, you don’t. He feels… right like this. Like the beskar is a natural extension of his body, like it holds just as much comfort as his bare chest does.

The Mandalorian stands there between your knees and silently embraces you, holding stoic and steady for you, tilting his head so you can calm your breathing into the crook of his neck. It’s covered in fabric but it smells like him, warm and soft and damp with sweat. You breathe him in, clutching him tight with your uninjured arm and feeling your heartbeat gradually begin to slow as it’s pressed against cool metal.

“E-bacta has calming properties,” he says quietly after a moment. “It’ll help more than this.”

“Shut up.” You mutter against his throat, doing everything you can to drown yourself in him. Maker, he smells good. He just got finished bringing down an entire Corellian sector, why the fuck does he smell so good? “I'm not—not letting you stick that thing in me.”

“Yeah?” He returns softly, dragging a hand up your back. “Bet I can make you want it.”

“Not happening,” you grunt, tightening your hold on him. “You’ll put regular bandages on my arm until we can resupply on Nevarro and save that torture device for another poor soul who needs it.”

“This isn’t over,” he eventually warns you, gently pulling away. He turns around and starts picking out gauze and tape from the first aid kit regardless. “I was just blindsided. Tears don’t work on me, but. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

You relax, smiley and dopey-eyed and happily sticking your arm out for him for whenever he comes back, so fucking glad he gave in. You’ll get bacta on Nevarro, that sounds perfect. “So… so all that fuss and you didn’t actually find the quarry?”

“Someone tried to take off my helmet,” Mando replies shortly, starting to rip open a few packets of sterile gauze strips without looking at you. And then he doesn’t say anything more, like that should be explanation enough.

“Ah.” You remark after a second, thinking about how many blaster fires you saw. Maker. “I see.”

What a pair you two make. Someone who went into shock from hurting another person in defense of your life, and someone who brought an entire block down because another person tried to take his helmet off.

Something he’s done with you twice now. Without ever being prompted.

Stars, you’re both so different, aren’t you? Such massively different problems, different ways of life. You’re suddenly struck with how much you could learn from him, if he was ever willing to share. How much the both of you could probably learn from each other. His assertiveness; your humanity. His decisiveness; your consideration. His secrets; your honesty. None of them are true opposites, not in the way people normally think. They’re not polarizing, they’re… complimentary. Filling in the gaps neither one of you can fill in yourself.

“Does that scare you?” He finally asks, when you’ve been quiet for too long.

“No,” you tell him blankly, watching his hands work. “Just… no. Not really. I mean. It makes sense. Was just thinking about how different life must be for you.” You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Showing my face, telling people my name. Things I take for granted, I think.”

Maker, maybe you’re getting a little too honest here.

“Is that why you never ask about those things?” He’s quiet. You both stare purposefully down at your arm as he begins laying down the strips of white cotton over your cut. “Because you recognize what it means to give them up?”

“What—like your name?”

“Anything,” he says, and though he keeps working, his hands start to slow down. “You never ask me about anything. My name, my past… why I don’t take the helmet off. Everyone always asks, but. You never have.”

You shrug a shoulder. “Figured you get tired of telling people no, don’t you?”

His fingers still, hovering over your injury. He doesn’t move, so you elaborate.

“I mean… yeah, I’ve thought about those things, but…” you speak slowly, choosing your words very carefully. Your eyes narrow with the effort, trying to pinpoint and voice your exact opinion without making assumptions. “But I respect you. And your creed. I call you Mando because that’s what you told me to call you. And if you don’t take the helmet off, then you don’t take it off.” You shrug once more. “Some things don’t need explanations. They just are, and I’m okay with that.”

It’s a while before he goes back to dressing your wound, and even longer before he speaks again. When he does, he’s almost completely finished securing the bandages and it’s barely above a murmur. “Nobody usually thinks that simply about it.”

“Well. Fuck ‘em.” You blurt. “I think it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy. You should be the one who gets to decide who you are and what’s important to you, right? No one else.”

He stops again, this time tilting his visor up to look you in your eyes. You blink up at your own warped reflection.

“I think that shit is yours. Fundamentally. Doesn’t matter if you want to share it, change it, hide it, or burn it away forever. It’s your decision, and you’ll tell people what you want them to know. So fuck ‘em if they don’t respect that,” you tell him bluntly. “They obviously don’t know anything about you at all. Else they wouldn’t be asking.”

He doesn’t move. He just stares silently at you for a few seconds, and Maker, for some reason you wish now more than ever you could see his face. Even though it contradicts everything you just said, you wish you could see his face. What color are his eyes? You bet they’re brown. You bet they’re a warm, deep brown—expressive and soft and lovely behind such hard, unforgiving steel. His features are probably just as warm as the rest of him. Dark hair, wavy hair. Plush, gentle lips.

His hand comes up slowly. Gives you ample time to pull away before he’s softly cupping your cheek, tilting his helmet to the side as he studies you.

“Would you.” He’s quiet for a moment. And then he clears his throat through the modulator, before he tries again. “Would you like to know my name?”

You go shock-still, blinking at him and barely breathing. Why? Why is he asking this? He wants to give you his name? Immediately after you just told him why you don’t need it?

Your throat is a desert. “Only… only if you want to give it to me.”

He tilts his head the other way and takes a moment to consider you, gently trailing the leather of his thumb along your bottom lip. Your eyes dip down the length of his body, heat suddenly filling you when you realize how close and well he’s positioned right now, how his hips are at the perfect height standing right between your legs like this.

Mando slowly lowers his helmet to look down at your parted thighs, too. And then he’s shifting the visor to the side just a bit, eyes catching on something on the bed next to you. “Want to give you a few things,” he says lowly.

You probably would’ve melted into a puddle if he didn’t immediately hold up the E-bacta shot in front of you in both hands.

Your heart starts pounding though, all the same. “No—”

“Listen to me,” he tells you calmly, as if you could do much of anything else right now with how much space he’s taking up in front of you. His size and proximity gave you a thrill just a second ago, but now he’s nothing more than a giant fucking metal wall armed with a needle and blocking your escape. “I want to give you a few things, but only if you say yes to all of them. Are you going to listen?”

Maker, your heart is racing, rapid calculations going off in your head as your eyes flick between the syringe and his visor. Where the fuck is he going with this? “Y-yes. I’ll—I’ll listen.”

He holds the shot up between the two of you, as if you didn’t see it the first fifty fucking times. “First. I’ll give you a quarter dose of this. I’ll be gentle and I’ll give it to you somewhere where it won’t hurt, where you won’t even be able to see it, and it’ll make you feel better. Even good. Okay?”

You narrow your eyebrows at him. “You’re not doing a great job at selling me h—”

“Second. I’ll give you my name.”

Your breath catches. He continues on casually with the terms of the deal, as if he didn’t just set your whole world on fire with five words.

“You can’t ever use it around other people,” he tells you. “Only here. With me, on this ship. In front of the kid is fine. But if anyone else ever asks, you don’t know it. Okay?”

“Okay…” you whisper after a second, your chest filling with flames.

“Third.” He slowly catches your uninjured wrist in a gentle grip and begins to guide it forward. “If you… if you want, I’ll… I’ll give you this,” he murmurs, bringing it down to cup his cock. “I… won’t be gentle. But I will make you feel good.”

Maker, he’s already rock hard under your palm, throbbing and swollen for you. Almost as quickly as the urge first came on, you suddenly don’t want to escape anymore. Instead, maybe you can just… appeal.

“What if we…” You carefully reach down into his pants, holding his hips still between your knees and beginning to caress his cock. His skin is like silk under your hand, as hard as the beskar he straps to his body but so warm, and pulsing with life. “What if we reverse the order, maybe?”

“No,” he grunts immediately. “You’ll take the shot first, it’ll be a—” his breath catches when you give him a good, rough squeeze. “—a-a show of—of good faith.”

“That’s literally the only thing I don’t want from this all-or-nothing deal,” you reason, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. He acquiesces cautiously, slowly moving forward. “I’d be an idiot to give it up first. Ideally it should go second if there are three terms.”

“I know what you’re d-doing,” he tells you flat out, though he makes no attempt to stop it at all. He just growls low in his throat when he’s close enough for you to lean up and bite down onto his neck, one of his hands landing on your thigh and locking down onto it tight. “It won’t… won’t work. You’re—you’re t-taking the shot first, that’s the deal.”

“I could try crying again,” you proposition breathlessly, squeezing his cock once more and feeling him shudder.

“Ngh—meant it when I—” he gasps when you brush your thumb over his head, dampening the fabric covering his neck with your hot breaths. “When I-I said that you—you need to w-work on your… your negoti—tiating—”

“What if I just ask you really, really nicely?” You whisper, slowly starting to jerk him off. Your grip is tight and strong, and he practically sags and grabs the metal bedframe on either side of you. “Will it work if I ask you to please fuck me? Please? And then I’ll take your shot?” But then you’re struck by a sudden thought, and maneuver your head away just enough to look up at where his eyes should be. “But we don’t… we don’t actually have to… y’know, do the other thing, though, if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

Mando abruptly pulls back, pinning you with a blank chrome stare. “W-what?”

“If you…” You want to find some way to word this to get the correct sentiment across, but it’s difficult with him looking at you so hard. The last thing you want to do is sound ungrateful. Your hands stop moving, carefully letting him go and resting on his hips instead, so he knows this isn’t you just trying to find some way out of this. “You don’t have to tell me your name, y’know. It’s okay, I’ll—I’ll take the shot, it’s fine. We don’t need to… to turn something like that into a. A deal, or anything. You can still tell me if you want, of course, I just… I don’t want it to be part of like, some sort of… agreement between us, or something.” You tap a thumb over his hipbone, tilting your head. “So I’m taking it off the table. Even if you were the one who put it on there. No pressure. I’ll take the shot. And then you can tell me whatever it is you want to tell me after that. Apart from that. A… a show of good faith.”

Mando holds still as a fucking statue in front of you. If you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin under your hands, you’d say he looks like a droid in sleep mode almost. He stays like that for so long, you actually start to worry a little bit. Was that a thankless, bitchy thing to say to him after he offered to reveal such a big secret about himself? Should you have just kept your mouth shut?

You suppose he was right, your negotiation skills could use a bit more work. You did technically just… willingly give up something incredibly valuable in exchange for absolutely nothing in return, didn’t you? Actually not absolutely nothing, you just agreed to have an actual fucking needle shoved into your body just so he wouldn’t feel any sort of obligation to reveal himself to you whatsoever. That’s like… rule number one of what not to do when negotiating, isn’t it? Fuck, what have you done? Is it too late to take half of that shit back? Can you start this whole thing over real quick? How much pressure do you think that glass syringe can handle? You know you can’t outrun or overpower him, but do you think you’d be able to smash it with your foot before he can stop you? No. No fucking way, you would. Don’t be stupid, don’t be fucking stupid.

And Maker, he’s… he’s still not moving. You actually start to squirm a little bit under his unreadable gaze, before he eventually brings both hands up to your face and gently cradles your jaw in his gloved palms, bringing you to a still.

“Unbelievable,” the Mandalorian says softly, tilting his helmet at you and carefully brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones. He doesn’t sound upset. He sounds truly mystified by you. Stumped. Reverent.

You blink at him. “What?”

“Nobody w-would… but you’re…” He seems like he’s trying to find the words to describe what he’s thinking, but he can’t. “You can’t—you… t—? Not just. But be—because of. On—on… pr-prin…”

“I… I do still want you to fuck me, though,” you eventually whisper when he never finishes his sentence. He’s not the best with words, but that’s okay. You’re perfectly willing to entertain other mediums. “First. Even if it is part of a deal, I don’t give a shit.”

You bring your hand back to wrap tight around him, beginning to pull up and down in strong, steady strokes once more. The tips of his fingers tighten just slightly on your jaw.

“Please,” you whisper, turning your head to kiss one of his palms. “Just show me, it’s okay.”

He stays like that for just a split second more.

And then he’s suddenly whipping one of his hands down to grab your wrist. The other wraps itself more fully around your jaw in its absence and firmly holds your head in place in front of him.

“I won’t be gentle,” he tells you once more, voice coming out hoarse and shaky. “I—I c-can’t—”

You nod in affirmation as much as you can with his iron grip wrapped tight over your chin like this. “Th—”

You can’t even get a single word out before Mando shoots both hands down to grab your hips, abruptly yanking your ass off the bed. Your legs have just enough time to buckle once they hit the ground, but then he’s spinning you around and practically shoving you right back on top of the metal platform, facedown with half your upper-body and both arms hanging over the edge.

Your pants are being snatched over your ass and down your legs as you still work to adjust yourself to the chaotic shift in position. Holy fuck, he wasn’t ki—

Something blunt presses up against the apex of your thighs, pushes forward, and oh, holy fu—

—oh—holy fuck—

You’re surprised you have enough breath to shout as loud as you do when he slams full-force into you, rattling the bed as he sheathes himself in your slick warmth to the hilt, fully armored behind you and pressing cold beskar tight up against your ass and thighs. You claw your fingers over the smooth metal surface under the cot and try to brace yourself on something, but there’s nothing to hold onto. Fuck, he’s so fucking thick. Forcing you to yield to his hardness, tightening his grip on your hips and keeping you locked in position.

And then he pulls out and then slams back in—starts pounding into you, using your body as a counterweight to thrust himself into and Maker, you would probably be screaming if you could even breathe right. The inability to inhale just means you can hear him groan through the modulator, shuffle up closer to you and start to drill into you harder.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, and fuck, you would think he was suffocating you if it weren’t for both of his hands being anchored to your hips. It blazes through you like wildfire, burning your lungs and setting your body alight with flames. He leans over you and clamps a hand down over your shoulder, and your eyes roll back when he moves up and adjusts his angle just the slightest bit, pounding down into you instead of just into you, and—

“Maker, h-how did I deserve this?” He whispers quietly to himself, delirious and tight as stars explode behind your vision. His helmet rests on your shoulder blade, the beskar as heavy and unyielding as his thrusts are as he pummels into that one blinding, heavenly spot, over and over and over again. “What did I d—where were you when I was—when I was—?”

You finally gasp a ragged, desperate breath in like you’ve been underwater for the last minute instead of under him, taking his cock the way he needs to give it to you. And then you’re writhing, grinding your body back against his as much as you can, choking on the burning air and trying to put your needs together into a coherent sentence.

“T-take your helmet off,” you finally manage to lift your head up and beg, “please—please, I-I won’t—I won’t look, I sw-swea—” and then your cunt clamps down hard when he shoots up from you and practically rips the thing off his shoulders without another word, the sound of steel clanging loudly on the floor by your feet.

His hand comes around your throat and yanks you to the side before his teeth are sinking into your neck, not a single break in his hard, pounding rhythm.

He probably gets about ten good thrusts in like that before you’re going rigid under him and cumming—hard.

Everything below your waist locks down tighter around him than a fucking vice, and then you explode wet and hot around his cock with a hoarse shout, squeezing him and spasming through each rough, steady thrust as it launches you higher, and higher—

“Fuck—” he snarls into your neck, and then he suddenly kicks up from the rapid slapslapslapslap that got you over the edge to a surging, brutal bam—bam—bam that wrings a sharp, ragged cries from your throat. Your face screws up and you try not to scream at the sensation, wondering how it was possible that he could make the bliss even more debilitating. “Fuck, th—your cunt gets… s-so fucking tight when you cum—”

You just whimper for him helplessly, listening to the vulgar sounds of him fucking into you, the loud squelching as he keeps rocking mercilessly deep.

“You hear that?” He murmurs next to your ear, and the slick sound of it echoes obscenely through the silent hull. His voice is soft, contrasting blindingly with the way he’s holding you down and fucking you so strong and steady through the aftershocks. “Fuck—you get fucking wet after you cum, too, don’t you?”

You try to move, try to adjust yourself just slightly, but he locks down around you and holds fast to his rhythm. Fuck, it feels like he’s fucking the air out of you faster than you can breathe it in, grip like iron and tightening the more you struggle.

“‘M never leaving this,” he slurs, dropping his head to rest between your shoulder blades. “Never. Fuck, I’m—you’re—you’re never getting rid of me, sweet girl, I’m—I’m never—never f-fucking leaving—”

“Fuck, I’m—” you gasp, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the spark of a feeling deep inside you. “Stars, I think I-I might—”

And then Mando licks a slow, warm line up the curve of your spine and a second orgasm is suddenly burning a fucking hole through you, tearing another broken wail from your throat. You spasm and arch under him, bearing down on his thick cock and trying not to sob.

“Fuck, there we g-go—” he grits against your skin, picking up his speed and fucking hammering into you, completely deaf to your hoarse squeal at the change in tempo. “Good. Ngh, fuck—you—y-you want me to cum now?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please cum, p-please—”

“Where?” His voice is tight, breathless and shaky. “Tell me where—quick—”

“Fuck—inside,” you moan, eyes rolling back at the thought of taking his load deep inside you.

Mando’s hips stutter. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, they jerk back in before they could fully extend all the way out, and your abused lower muscles start to squeeze him in anticipation.

“I can’t—” he rasps, “—I’ve—I-I’ve never—and y-you’ll—”

“Safe,” you wheeze, because you don’t have enough air in your lungs or composure in your thoughts to tell him you have an implant contraceptive. All you can manage is a shameless, breathless, “Cum deep,” half-tossed over your shoulder.

Your hair is gathered and locked in a tight fist behind your head and if you thought he was fucking you full force, you soon realize he was only at about an eight. He flattens you against the bed and yanks your head up, arm coming around to brace across your chest and starting to just fucking wreck you from behind.

The change in angle forces his cock to spear up against something that blinds you, something so raw and impairing that you can’t speak anymore, even if you could find the air to.

“Fuck—m’gonna cum,” the Mandalorian grits, the bed rattling on its tracks as his head drops to your shoulder, “f-fuck, s’too fucking good, sweet girl—m’gonna f-fucking cum, I—”

He plows his hips into you just like that once, twice, three—

You lock down and everything goes blurs and goes out of focus, white hot pleasure ripping you apart from the inside as you do scream this time, clamping down and straightening your spine and convulsing in ecstasy.

He snarls and bites down on your neck, grrriiinndding his cock as deep inside you as it’ll go and shuddering above you. You can feel him pulsing, throbbing as he growls his way through it, breathing heavy and giving you his load just how you asked.

Mando pulls out of you much quicker than you want him to and stumbles backwards, suddenly dropping to his knees on the floor behind you with a metallic clang. He doesn’t do anything more than that, though; he just stares at your fluttering hole as you slowly start to leak his cum, one of his hands coming up to brace itself on the back of your thigh as he catches his breath and watches.

Fuck, you’re spent. Panting and exhausted in the same position he left you. You try to move, but you can’t. You just sprawl there on your tummy and slowly wait for the feeling to return to your body.

But then he says something. It’s too quiet—a soft, one syllable word you can’t quite make out.

“Wh—?” Your muscles feel like lead. “I couldn’t hear y—”

Gloved hands trail gently over your ass. And then you feel a small, sharp little prick on the swell of one of your cheeks, but it’s gone after a split second.

And then… fucking bliss.

You sag into the metal bed, feeling the room begin to spin. Fuck. He gave you the shot. The fucker just gave you the shot. How dare he? Before you could even work yourself up to the point of tears again? While you’re still… still fucking dripping with cum right in front of his face?

Until—

“Din,” he says softly. “It’s Din.”

Din.

How perfectly appropriate, you think.

Short, simple, and to the point. No flourishes. A quick, one-syllable punch of air. One singular, closed I vowel sitting quietly between two consonants, guarded on all sides. Hard at first, but then tapering off to a soft sound if you let it. Din.

“Din,” you whisper, fighting the overwhelming high with every last fiber of your gradually depleting consciousness, wanting so desperately to hear the word out loud with your own voice before you’re pulled under, trying to make sure it’s real. It comes out sounding that way, too; weak and quiet and straining for these last few precious moments with him.

Both of his hands wrap around the back of your knees and you feel his plush lips press gently against your upper-thigh, just below the curve of your ass. He opens his mouth and licks hot and warm along your damp skin, pulls both your knees apart just slightly and then starts to drag his tongue to the side a bit, and then—

And then everything goes dark.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #fanfic #no-droids #smut

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Note

HEYYYY IF YOU HAVE THE TIME can I get some hc of ghiaccio pining over a (fem) teammate which ends in some sweet fluff 😌

Ghiaccio in Love

Ghiaccio x Reader, Romantic, SFW

The Pining

The first question to be asked is how this attraction came about. Ghiaccio was certainly not sweet to you when you first arrived. In fact, those first few weeks saw nothing but mistrust and criticism thrown your way by the prickly assassin.

Due to his nature, Ghiaccio tends to have a period of hatred for all new members who join his team, but it usually ends in a few weeks. But with you, every word was met with cynicism and every action with anger, and it only seemed to worsen with time. For La Squadra, and especially Risotto, this was beginning to become a problem, since your ability to work well together on a mission could someday prove crucial to your survival.

Risotto’s solution was to observe more directly and discover exactly what it was deterring Ghiaccio from liking you. He arranged for the three of you to carry out a mission together, telling neither of you his true intentions. As expected, Ghiaccio bemoaned, questioned and belittled every word you said for the whole way there, but what caught Risotto’s attention was the way Ghiaccio looked at you when he wasn’t in the process of yelling. A less intelligent man may mistake such a gaze for scowering for an error to call you out on. But Risotto knew the look of yearning when he saw it.

His train of thought was disrupted when the target burst onto the scene, wielding his terrifying stand. As you were frozen in consternation, a hundred blades tentacles shot for your neck. Ghiaccio shot into action, throwing you to the ground and freezing the abhorrent creature until it and its user shattered into a million pieces. When it was over, Ghiaccio did not yell like Risotto expected. He simply helped you to your feet and clenched your hands, trembling. That’s how Risotto became certain that Ghiaccio did not truly dislike you.

Following the mission, Ghiaccio’s behaviour returned to usual, but you could not help but feel shaken by what had happened. You swore that in Ghiaccio’s eyes you saw fear at almost losing you, and to see the return of his normal treatment has you perplexed, and saddened. One day Risotto pulls you aside with some advice. Do not shrink away when Ghiaccio becomes angered at you. You ask fearfully if this will only rile him up more, but Risotto is certain this will not be the case. You trust his word.

And so, you make an effort to interact with Ghiaccio more frequently. And to your shock, you find he seems to enjoy your company. Sometimes, you catch him looking at you a certain way. It’s uncharacteristically soft, like a longing. It makes you feel warm inside. Sometimes he even smiles at you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ghiaccio has loved you for a long time. He admired you to begin with, a picture of sweetness and compassion, even if you couldn’t see it in yourself. Then he came to yearn for you, though deep in his heart, he could not believe that you would ever desire to be with him too. That was where the anger came from, and he hated himself for it.

One night you were up later than the rest of the squad, or so you thought. Appearing in the dim light of the hallway, Ghiaccio beckoned you over. He apologised, for everything. He told you he knew he was an ass and felt truly rotten about it, because you deserved much better. He thought you were pretty neat, actually.

One thing led to another and soon a confession of love slipped from Ghiaccio’s mouth. As his face went red from fear and embarrassment, you gasped, and told him you liked him too. Ghiaccio had never felt such happiness in his life.

The relationship

Though Ghiaccio is no more restrained with showing anger in your presence about external things that bother him, he would never, ever yell at you directly now your feelings are known. He will do what it takes to better him to the point he can hold to that standard.

Ghiaccio has a long repressed desire for softness that takes a lot of trust to show. He craves praise, and is happy to return it as well. He talks a lot, though has just as much to say about things that being him joy as those that make him angry. He’s a very passionate person.

When he’s in one of his rare quiet moods, Ghiaccio likes to rest his head against your shoulder and hold you, be it in bed, on the sofa or even standing. It makes him feel safe.

He still regrets the shitty way he behaved to you early on, as he still tells you occasionally, but getting with you has taught him a lot as a person. Though he’ll always be the angry little gremlin you met, he’s happier, brighter, and more at ease with his emotions now he knows there’s someone who loves him, and who he loves back.

#ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader

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soenchantingly · 3 years

Text

Collision.

BELLAMY BLAKE X READER fic.

“You’re Captain [Surname]’s daughter, right? I’m Bellamy,” he introduced himself.

You studied him for a moment, considering your options, but you were so hungry and you were not really in the mood to talk to the king of arrogance, Bellamy Blake. “I don’t care.”

____

Alternatively: your first official meeting with Bellamy Blake leaves a strong impression on him.

NOTES:

Hello! You have stumbled about a story with an overarching plot following one of the 100 that was sent to the ground. It will start in season one of the 100 and likely continue until I decide it's enough. It is a Bellamy Blake/Reader fanfic. The reader is female, sorry. I am basically just inserting myself into the fandom. Comments and constructive criticism are very much welcome! This is part of a series called Stellate that I am also posting on Archive of our Own (which you’ll find here).

The characters and the plotline of the books are not mine and belong to their respective owners. The story is mine, however, as is the character of 'the reader'. Please do not publish this story elsewhere without asking for my permission.

If you like the story, please leave a heart and feel free to reblog :)

You had always loved astronomy. Something about the stars and how they formed the galaxy fascinated you. Even in the darkest of nights the stars always shine brightly and proudly, that was what your mother had always said. She encouraged your love of the galaxy with various books on astronomy, astrology, cosmology – anything to do with what was going on outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. Of course, she snuck some earth skills into there as well, as that was her forte. Your mother was a doctor, though she taught earth skills from time to time. It was her passion. Your father never really understood her passion for the Earth, or your passion the sky, but he humored the both of you. After all, he spent most of his time figuring out ways to better the cadet training program. He was more dedicated than any of the other head trainees before him and you and your mother liked to tease him for it.

Despite being the Ark’s biggest astronomy nerd, you ended up in medical training. Your parents were so proud. You did not want to be a doctor, but you were theoretically wired and managed to excel at the knowledge part that came with the training. The practical part was not really your thing, but you were good enough to stay in the program. You were not allowed to become a cadet like your father (apparently, you weren’t “built right” for the program, but you blamed it on misogyny) and there was no job that required someone with a vast knowledge of the universe, so you decided to just go with it. Your parents were happy, so you were happy.

And then you landed in a cell, waiting to get reviewed when you turned eighteen only to get shipped to the earth to die a week before you turned eighteen. How did that happen?

It probably started when your mother died. Things were never the same after that. You knew the rules. You knew that in order to survive, it was crucial not to go over the number of rations allocated to each individual. Still, you never understood why they could not give your mother the medicine she needed to live. You had wanted to sacrifice your own rations for her, but the regulations would not allow for it. It was unfair and - quite frankly – incredibly stupid. Her death was not the only injustice you faced while working in med station. Countless people faced the reality that although they had certain illnesses they would not get the required medicine to treat them. Your mother raised you to be companionate. Your mother raised you to help others in any way that you could. She probably did not mean help by stealing medicine, though.

Alas, you were chucked into a dropship and sent to your death, along with one hundred other prisoners. It was a good thing that you were okay in tiny spaces because you probably would not have fared well with the tiny ship full of panicked teenagers. All that travel through the air vents to distribute the stolen medicine to the needy paid off.

The first steps on the ground were exhilarating but it all kind of went downhill from there. Octavia Blake was bitten by some lake creature, Jasper Jordan was speared by aggressive ground men, and the camp was in total chaos, with Bellamy Blake proclaiming that everyone was allowed to do “whatever the hell they want”.

You weren’t too sure what you thought about Bellamy Blake. You did not agree with his methods, though, that was for sure. Then again, he did help get Jasper back and he brought food with him as well. Something about the way he took command irked you. The fact that he was even on the ship irked you. You could understand that he did it for Octavia, but how he did it seemed to be a bit strange.

The thing about Bellamy was that you had met him before on the Ark. With your dad being in charge of the cadet training program and Bellamy being a cadet, you had crossed paths before – even going so far as to meet him. Still, the Bellamy who was boldly positioning himself as leader of the delinquents was not the Bellamy you remembered from the Ark.

The spirits were high. Everyone was happy that they were able to have some proper food. Jasper was in a relatively stable condition. You had stayed with Clarke to tend to him as your knowledge of medical producers was handy, but you didn’t have as steady a hand as Clarke and the two of you did not finish your training so she had sent you off to get something to eat. There was nothing you could do anyways.

Following doctor’s orders, you walked to the fire, where a large jaguar was mounted on a stick, roasted just good enough to eat. You were hungry and you were on a mission. Unfortunately, Bellamy Blake was on a mission too.

In fact, Bellamy Blake was on his way to introduce himself to you. He remembered exactly who you were. He remembered that he had bumped into him at the masquerade party and told him that he should smile more because he had a cute smile. He remembered that you were captain [Surname]’s daughter and the first girl to flirt with him on the Ark. He also remembered hearing the story of the captain’s daughter who had been caught distributing stolen medicine through the air vents like a regular robin hood. He was intrigued by you. Besides, for some reason, he felt like he owed it to Captain [Surname] to keep an eye on you. He remembered how the captain had kept an eye on him during the cadet training program. He also remembered that Captain [Surname] had argued against demoting Bellamy to janitor because of the potential he had seen in Aurora Blake's son. He felt like the least he could do was introduce himself. He had never gotten to thank your father, so perhaps this was the way.

You had not noticed that he was headed towards you until his few blocked the food just before you could grab yourself a piece. You looked up at Bellamy as he towered over you, your eyebrows raised as if to say what the hell do you want?

“You’re Captain [Surname]’s daughter, right? I’m Bellamy,” he introduced himself.

You studied him for a moment, considering your options, but you were so hungry and you were not really in the mood to talk to the king of arrogance, Bellamy Blake. “I don’t care.”

You reached forward to grab a piece of meat, but Bellamy grabbed your wrist before you could do so, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said, nodding to your wristband, “Wristband in trade for food. It’s the rules.”

You glared at him defiantly, snatching your wrist back, “Rules? What rules?"

Bellamy seemed a bit impatient. He probably did not like the way you had talked to him, "If you want food, you're going to have to take off that wristband."

"According to who? I don't see chancellor Jaha here," you replied coolly. There was no way that you were going to take off your wristband. You wanted your father to know you were alive. He was the only family you had left up in space (especially since you did not consider your step-mother family, at all) and you knew he had lost a lot. Maybe he had already thought that you were dead. Still, you had hope. If what Clarke was saying was correct, the wristband was meant as a way to tell the Ark is earth was still survivable. If that was true, you wanted your father to come down here and survive.

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at you, "According to me."

That answer made you raise an eyebrow before a laugh escaped your lips, "In that case, sorry chancellor Blake, my sincerest apologies." You were purposely mocking him. It was his fault for standing in the way of you and food. The lack of proper substance had made you incredibly irritable.

"That's cute." Bellamy was starting to lose his patience.

"Probably not cute enough to get me some food," you asked him, though you already knew the answer. You decided to take another try at grabbing something to eat, but Bellamy Blake was not budging.

Bellamy's irritated expression turned into an amused one. "Definitely not. If I let you get away with breaking the rules, other people will want to try that as well and I can't have that."

Realizing that there was no way to get around Bellamy Blake and get your food, you decided to retreat. "So much for whatever the hell we want, huh?” you asked, though you did not expect an answer. Instead, you turned around, walking away from Bellamy with a frown on your face and a growling stomach.

Luckily, you spotted Finn not too far from you, holding a rather large piece of meat. “Please let me have some of that,” you asked, eyes pleading as you looked at the spacewalker.

He chuckled, eyes landing on the wristband and towards the fire, where Bellamy still stood, frowning in your general direction, not that you had noticed, of course, “Couldn’t get your own?”

“Bellamy Blake is a jackass,” you scoffed in return.

Finn raised his eyebrows, “He apparently like you though. Can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.”

You turned around in disbelief, but Bellamy looked away, turning to say something to Murphy. “You’re crazy.” You shook your head, “Now can I please have some food?”

A grin appeared on your lips as Finn handed you a share of his food. You were not going to give Bellamy Blake any more of your time. Little did you know that you had gotten on his nerves and he had trouble not thinking about you for the rest of the evening.

Timeline: Season One - Episode 02 “Earth Skills”

Part one of Stellate.

credit for the pictures goes to lulu.

#stellate #my writing #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #the 100 #slow-brun #fanfiction #short stories #reader-insert

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elylandon · 4 years

Text

Part 1 - Chapter 16.1: Camping and Scars

Summary: You’re running for your life when you cross paths with an ex-bounty hunter and his small, green companion. You never thought you’d find someone throughout the whole galaxy who was as lost as you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,085

Rating/Warnings: M for mature content. Swearing, smut, unbelievable softness.

Chapter 16 | Chapter 16.2

Note: (Slight AU) And we’re back!! I hope you all enjoyed the start of the new season! I can’t wait to start Part 2 of this story, but I figured while I wait a few weeks to outline my plans with the events of season 2, I’ll drop a couple epilogue chapters to get us caught up with what Din and Reader have been up to! I really hope you guys enjoy this addition, and thanks for still supporting this story! 💜🤍

---

Three months. It had been a little over three months since Nevarro. And in that time, Din quickly realized that he had no idea how to take a proper vacation. When he’d suggested taking a break, you said that you would follow him. But in the end, he wound up following you.

Every place the three of you visited in that time had been a suggestion on your part. Suggestions of things you’d wanted to do on Earth growing up, while Din interpreted those things and found what he knew to be similar. Grand waterfalls, deep canyons, towering cities, sporting events, pod races, museums, libraries, menageries- the works. It was as if you saw the many wonders of the galaxy on a platter and you wanted to sample all of them.

But as the two of you agreed, this break would have to come to an end soon. Your birthday happened to be two weeks away, so you had a couple more ideas as a sort of celebration before getting back to reality, and finally setting out on Din’s quest with the child, and your quest to find Zekir.

Your first idea was recreational camping.

“Camping for… fun?” Din had asked, bemused. The way he was raised with the Mandalorians, camping was for survival, and nothing more. He tried to imagine the drills he’d been put through to survive several days on his own, only using the resources around him, as fun.

“Yes! It was something my parents liked to do every summer. We’d go to the same campsite every time, a forest on a mountain, and set up our camp next to a river. My dad would fish while my mom and I would hunt for crawdads and trap chipmunks. We’d cook our meals over a campfire and find constellations at night. It was probably one of my favorite things we did as a family.”

Din didn’t think he could say no to you after hearing that, even if he wanted to. There was a light in your eyes as you told him about it. Excitement, and longing for something you’d cherished in your past. He could understand that, the desire to relive something from a time when you were so happy, so carefree about the dangers of the galaxy.

So he agreed, and the two of you made plans. First, preparation.

Din escorted you to his usual trading spot and set you loose. It was like that first time the two of you had been there, all those months ago, where you followed him to each stall as he knew exactly where to go and who to talk to in order to pawn off all the things you’d looted from Thasar’s ships. This time, though, it was him following after you, watching you haggle for things he’d never seen a necessity for, but were apparently crucial to recreational camping.

You were a fast learner. He’d been teaching you other popular languages spoken throughout the galaxy, and you were using a lot of those new skills now, speaking as if you had been fluent in these languages your whole life. With each passing day, it made more and more sense how you’d learned so quickly under Zekir’s teachings and Thasar’s tutors. Despite that, though, it also became painfully apparent the absolute waste of your potential over the last decade while you were isolated to Thasar’s whims. Din could tell you regretted that lost time, that lost education. But you didn’t waste it now.

You were almost as much of an expert on the Razor Crest as he was. You were well versed in his armor too, in case you ever found yourself in a situation where he was incapacitated and you could benefit from having access to something like the Whistling Birds. You’d improved on your marksmanship and your close combat fighting, with and without weaponry. You’d also become partial to using an ornate dagger you’d spotted on your travels, sheathing in your boot, just in case you lost the use of your blaster holstered against your thigh.

All of this was to say that, taking a break for Din meant helping you grow, watching you take advantage of your freedom, and enjoying your whims, because he didn’t really have any. Of course, you also encouraged him to enjoy things that he might have missed out on at certain points in his life, just as you were doing. However, he wasn’t really sure what he’d missed, until he was doing it with you.

Once you were done shopping, you finished prepping by packing the newly acquired camping equipment into bins down in the hull. While you did that, Din took on the task of finding a place to camp. He remembered how you had explained your camping trips from your childhood. A river in a forest on a mountain. A place that made you think of home, of Earth.

He knew the perfect place.

Before long, Din was dropping into the atmosphere of a lush, green planet. Feeling the descent, you came up to join him in the cockpit and looked around, eyes glowing, mesmerized.

“It looks… just like I remember it. I mean, I know it’s not Earth, but it looks the same.”

“I had a job here once. This planet has a large caving system. I had to walk in circles down there for three days before I finally found the guy. Once I got topside again, I thought I wouldn’t mind coming back to a place like this. If I had to walk away from the Creed, or got too old and slow for the job, this was the kind of place I’d want to retire to.”

“You’re a cabin in the woods kind of guy, huh?” you teased. He only shrugged.

Din quickly found a small clearing to land in, and you eagerly waited at the back ramp as it slowly lowered. As soon as it touched the ground, you took off into the trees, the child happily bouncing against your hip in his satchel. You followed the sound of streaming water. After a hundred or so yards, you came up to a slow moving river. Just before the bank was a small circle of clear forest floor, big enough for both a campfire and a tent. And off to the right of that was a large outcropping of rock, forming a short cliff and overhang, below it a small pool branching off of the river.

You turned as Din came up behind you, having found your trail and followed you through the trees. You beamed up at him.

“This is the perfect spot.”

You proceed to set up camp. Din moved the camping bins from the Crest to the campsite while you and the child started pitching the tent. Once that was done, you went around gathering rocks, creating a circle away from the tent to form a firepit. Then you collected firewood. Din eventually joined you, unwittingly volunteering to be the firewood carrier as you and the child slowly added to the load in his arms.

You let the child play in the empty tent while you unloaded the equipment from the bins. One was stuffed with blankets and pillows, and you used them to create a huge nest in the tent. You followed that by tossing your pack to one side and Din’s to the other, then tucked a lantern into one of the corners closer to the opening, and finished prepping the tent for basic hibernation.

Once the camp was put together, the three of you spent the rest of the day doing the activities you remembered doing with your parents. Din fished, but with a handmade spear instead of a fishing pole like you remembered your dad using. He stationed himself in the river, only out far enough for the water to run around his calves. He’d rolled his pants up, and stashed his armor away in the tent. The only thing remaining of the “Mandalorian” was his helmet. But even while he was now more flesh than beskar, he still had a way of keeping himself absolutely still as he waited for his quarry to be daring enough to swim within his reach.

As he did that, you and the child played in the pool. Or rather, you collected some more rocks and formed a small circle in the most shallow part of the pool, just a few feet off the bank, and he splashed around in that while you swam. At one point, he’d used his powers to push the water, splashing at you. You gasped in mock betrayal and swore vengeance. Several minutes later, Din came over, a basket of fish in hand, only to find you two soaking wet and a mess of giggles.

As it started to cool down in the late afternoon, you and child migrated away from the river and into the trees. You set up small traps for rodents on the forest floor, laying out a few tiny boxes, and propping one of their sides up with sticks. You both hunkered down behind some brush and waited, watching for little critters to come and snatch the bait you’d left under each box. After cleaning the fish for dinner, Din joined you, shaking his head as you and the child took turns using your power to knock out the sticks from under the boxes, so that they would fall over your unsuspecting prey. Of course, you’d let them go as soon as you caught them, and the poor rodents would dash away as soon as they were free. But they kept returning, as if the circumstances of their potential capture had changed. Needless to say, it created a couple hours of harmless entertainment.

As night fell, the three of you roasted Din’s catch over a roaring fire and feasted. Afterwards, bellies full, you all laid out beside the fire, relaxed and content after the busy day. Din pointed out several constellations as the stars started popping up in the night sky, remembering what you had told him about your parents doing the same. And it wasn’t long after that the child fell asleep against your chest to the sound of Din’s low, modulated voice.

As much as you loved this kid, there were times when you were eager for him to fall asleep, and hopefully a deep sleep at that. Between the child, the armor, and the exact parameters required for such an occasion, intimate moments with Din were hard to come by. You loved spending time where the three of you were together, but you also relished the moments you could spend alone with Din.

Said man went to grab some more firewood while you made your way up the short hill to the Razor Crest. Over the last few months, you’d managed to jury-rig a connection between the Crest’s intercom system and a long range coms device. Voila! Instant baby monitor. You snatched it up from it’s charging port on the supply shelf and tucked the child in on Din’s cot. He’d be a lot warmer on the ship, and if he woke in the night, you’d hear him.

When you made it back to the fire you found Din kneeling in front of it, stoking the wood to keep it burning. You dropped down beside him, savoring the toasty warmth of the flames with a sigh. You criss-crossed your legs, your knee brushing against Din’s calf, and glanced around the camp.

At first, your eyes went to the tent, and you contemplated how many more seconds you would last before you started dragging Din into it behind you. A wry smile played at your lips, but then your brain threw up another idea.

Slowly, your gaze swung towards the pool you and the child were playing in earlier that day.

“Now what are you scheming,” Din asked, noticing the look on your face.

You tossed him a mischievous smile.

“I think I want to go skinny-dipping.”

Din was still and silent for a full thirty seconds as he assessed you. Then he shifted in an almost resigned fashion.

“What is that?” he asked, tone suggesting that he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

Your grin became devilish and you stood. As you turned away from him, you tugged the hem of your shirt-- his shirt, the one he had given you the first day you’d met him-- out of your trousers, then over your head. You were already a few steps away, tossing your shirt aside when Din processed your actions enough to jump up and follow after you.

“Y/N,” he called, a question in his voice, confused. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling, then shed the band covering your chest.

The closer you got to the pool, the more clothing you lost, leaving a trail for Din to follow. He was still puzzled by your actions, the sound of your name becoming more and more clipped as that legendary patience of his frayed. You glanced back at him once, and saw that he was picking up after you, your clothes and boots a bundle in his arms. Grinning so much that your cheeks hurt, you finally reached the bank of the river and the edge of the rocky cliff face that formed an overlook above the pool.

While you were swimming with the child earlier, you’d checked the depth of the water, wondering if it would be safe for cliff jumping. The cliff itself wasn’t too high. In fact, you could compare it to jumping off the high dive at a public pool back home. And the pool was deep. Not deep enough for diving, but jumping in would be fine.

You started to climb, and that sharpened Din’s tone.

“Y/N, what the hell are you-”

You ignored him, scrambling up to the top of the cliff rather quickly. Yes, it was exactly like the high dive. Looking up at it from down below, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. But being up there, knowing what you were about to do…

Don’t think, just do it.

You stripped off the last piece of your clothing, tossing your panties down for Din to add to the pile of your clothing. You knew his gaze was incredulous and reproachful as you met it, but you winked at him anyway, then shot forward, and jumped.

As much as this reckless decision was to mess with Din-- give him a little strip tease and then a heart attack as you jumped off a cliff-- it was about you too. Earlier that day, you’d looked at the rocks and thought that it would be crazy, and adventurous, and fun to jump from them, naked, into a wild pool at night. You wanted to do it. You could do it.

So you did.

That quick fall, the feeling of your heart dropping into your stomach, a gleeful shout bubbling up from your throat- this was freedom. No shitty foster family. No Thasar. No Zekir. Just you, and the freedom to do whatever the hell you wanted, even something as crazy as this.

You hit the water, and that feeling propelled you forward, swimming out a few more feet just to feel nothing but calm, silent water around you. No pressure. No anxiety. Just serenity, and lightheartedness.

When you broke the surface, you were laughing. Laughing so hard, so unreserved that you almost took in a mouthful of water. Through your peels of laughter you shouted, “Fuck! It’s freezing!” as the cold finally started to penetrate your bliss.

You pushed your hair from your face, treading the water, and turned back to the shore. Din was standing there, arms full of your clothes, body language suggesting he was so done with your antics. Not in a serious way, but in a I-can’t-believe-you-just-did-that-and-yet-I’m-not-even-surprised kind of way.

“You’re a madwoman,” he muttered, then louder he said, “Get out of there before you freeze to death.”

“No way,” you called over, shaking your head. “Now it’s your turn.”

Again, Din was comically still for half a minute.

“No.”

You snorted a laugh at his very Din-like answer. So deadpan. So serious.

“Well then I’m just gonna hang out here.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not leaving until you join me.”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“I guess you’ll just have to live with the consequences of your actions.”

“My actions-” Din cut himself off, realizing that you were poking at him and he was biting. He turned away, like he was going to start walking back to camp.

“I’m s-starting to turn as b-blue as a Mythrol out here,” you stammered as your teeth started chattering. He just shook his head, so you sighed and tried a more serious tone.

“Din, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But trust me, all you have to do is let go. Let it all go and just… be free. Just for this moment.”

Another pause, and then Din sighed. Not his heavy, impatient sigh. Just a slightly resigned one. Then, he dropped your clothes on the bank, and reached down to tug off his boots. You continued to tread in the water, elated at the thought that he was about to jump into the pool with you, but also pleased to take advantage of your own little strip show.

Din pulled his thick shirt over his helmeted head. While it was still dark as hell out here, the moon gave you just enough light to see more of Din than you ever had before. You never would have imagined how beautiful his skin was. For a warrior, you pictured… well you weren't at all sure what you pictured. All you knew was the feel of him. Seeing him now, it was no wonder why he always felt so warm, despite appearing cold in all that armor.

His skin was a tawny color, his chest smooth, inviting. The armor made him appear bigger, but there was nothing lacking in his toned arms, broad shoulders, and thick neck. You were too far away, and it was too dark to see them, but you knew there were scars peppering his skin too, like yours. You’d felt a few of them before, while exploring his skin. But considering how you felt about your own scars, you never asked him about his.

As Din reached for the waistband of his pants, he glanced up and noticed you watching. He cocked his head to the side, disapproving.

“You’ll still have to turn around, Y/N.”

“Oh, I know. But you’ve only ever expressed that your Creed forbids you from showing your face. You’ve never said anything about the rest of you. I think I’d like to enjoy the show as long as I can.”

As if just to spite you, Din reached for his helmet first, not his pants.

You scoffed, turning around. “Spoil sport.”

You heard the rustling of him removing the rest of his clothes, and setting them in a pile on the ground, most likely next to your own. You stared up at the sky, listening to Din’s slight, unmodulated grunting as he pulled himself up onto the rock. After a few more seconds, you wondered if he’d need some more coaxing, but as you opened your mouth, a raucous splashing erupted behind you. The waves he created rippled around you, and you sighed in slight disappointment. You didn’t often find yourself wishing you could see more of Din than usual. But in that moment, you kind of did. You would have liked to watch him make the jump.

Alas, you kept your back to him as he surfaced, laughing some more as he released his own string of curses about the chill of the water.

“Amazing right?” you called back to him. He muttered under his breath as he moved closer to you, stubbornly avoiding agreeing with you about how incredible it felt to jump off the cliff.

You glanced over towards the adjacent river. “Maybe now we should try floating the river. It doesn’t look too fast.”

“No. No- Y/N!” Din caught up your bicep as you teasingly floated in that direction, pulling you back to the shore. You laughed again, just as carefree as before.

“Kidding! I was totally kidding.”

“Alright. You’ve had your fun. You even got me in the water. Time to get back to land and warm up.”

“I know a few ways you can warm me up without getting out of the water.”

Ew, did I really just say that? You’d always hated it when men said slimy things like that to you in the past.

“I know a few things you can do with that mouth.”

You shuddered, and opened your mouth to backpedal that statement. But what came out insead was a small yelp as Din yanked you back, spinning you as he did so. You squeezed your eyes shut, as he must have known you would have to keep from seeing him, and then-

And then his lips were on yours. Cold, but soft, unwavering. You sighed, immediately wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer, seeking his warmth.

It was totally a ploy. You could tell that as he tried to discreetly move you back towards the bank, kissing you as a distraction. But you were both very naked, and you had a few distractions of your own.

Din liked to be touched. Correction. Din liked to be touched by you. You slid one hand up along the back of his neck, fingers threading through his curls. Your other hand traced over his shoulder and down his arm. Those arms were wrapped around you, his hands splayed against your lower back, never going any higher than that. As you moved against him, your breasts brushing against his chest, his fingers flexed, and he drew your hips closer, almost involuntarily, like he momentarily lost focus.

He hummed softly against your lips.

I know what you’re doing, he seemed to say.

Your retort was the tightening of your fingers in his hair. Is it working?

The brush of sand and smooth rocks against your toes said not quite. He was determined to get you out of the water, and had managed to push you back enough to be swallowed up by the cliff's shadow, solid ground teasing you, just an inch or so out of reach.

Alright, time for some more drastic measures.

Your next kiss came a little harder, tongue flicking out to tease his, to taste him. Your fingers against his arm crept down along his side, then ghosted over his stomach, lower, and lower, until-

Din’s teeth caught your bottom lip, nipping you sharply as he flinched back, hissing. You stroked the length of him once again and he seemed to hold his breath in response, anticipating, already growing hard despite the frigid temperature. When you wrapped your fingers around him completely, he breathed out a soft curse, the word not one of the basic language.

Mando’a, you’d come to find out over the last few months. When he swore or muttered under his breath in a different language, he was speaking Mando’a. He’d taught you a few words, but he’d also been teaching you many other languages, so sometimes you had to pick through the different files in your brain to decipher what he was saying.

Back to the matter at hand-- so to speak-- you brushed your lips against his strained neck as he tried and failed to regain his focus, and slowly, oh-so-painfully slow, you slid your grip over him. Long, steady strokes that made his fingers dig deeper into the skin at your waist, restraining with all his might from bucking his hips against your hand.

The thing about Din was that he was such a deliberate, controlled man. Every move he made was calculated, every reaction thought out. He didn’t rush things, or at least didn’t like to. When he lost control of a situation, he’d try to think five steps ahead, and if he couldn’t, he would at least execute his next step as efficiently as possible and move from there. It was how he overcame fighters or adversaries that were better than him, and how he kept a level head in tense situations.

So attempting to undo this man was a battle. One you’d been winning more and more over the last few months. And when you did win, when Din finally snapped and let go of all that control-- like jumping off a cliff with you-- that victory was so delicious, so intoxicating-

Just thinking about it sent a burning jolt of desire through you, and you squeezed him, just a little bit tighter, the rhythm of your strokes wavering, just slightly, and that did it. That unraveled him.

He growled, and his fingers dug so hard into your hips that you gasped. His superior height must have given him the extra length needed for steady footing on the sandy floor, for he straightened, hoisting you up without more than a slight grunt of effort. You wrapped your legs around him in response. No teetering or sinking, except he did move forward. You hadn’t realized how close you’d been to the cliff face until your back was brushing against it, rough, but not enough to cause any real pain. Din supported you with a hand gripping the back of your thigh, and the other positioned on the rock behind you.

He kissed you again, hard, lips bruising. You returned it in kind, thighs squeezing his sides, hands on either side of his face, sighing, and gasping- and then moaning as he pushed into you. You were taken aback by how rough it was, the water tricking you into thinking it would have been smoother, easier. But it was the opposite, and you threw your head back, crying out as he thrust into you again.

Oh gods!

Din groaned, dropping his forehead against your collar bone as he moved against you. Water sloshed with each thrust, but it was no longer cold. Nothing was cold. This- this was wildfire, and hard, and blinding. Din wasn’t even sure he remembered where he was, just that he was with you, and that every inch of his skin that was touching yours was coursing with electricity, his senses in overdrive.

You brushed your fingers against his cheek, and he lifted his face to meet your lips once again. In that kiss he felt the desire to be closer, push deeper. He slid his hand over your thigh, tracing the skin down to your knee, then hooked his arm under your leg, giving him a slightly different angle, allowing him to drive further into you. You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers digging into his shoulders, clinging to him as if he was your lifeline. It wasn’t long before you were trembling beneath him, your walls constricting around him so tightly that he saw stars. Your climax came on a broken gasp, and Din helped you ride that as long as possible. And then all it took for him was your hand, laid tenderly against his cheek, your forehead against his, your noses brushing as you breathed his name, the sound so quiet, it was almost carried away by the river.

The two of you hung there, as if suspended in a brief pause of time as the euphoria faded into something softer. Din kissed you again, his movements slow and tender. You tried to smoothly extricate yourself from him, and when he didn’t have to support you anymore, his hands moved up to cup either side of your face, savoring the sweetly lethargic kiss.

Seemingly every time, why was it the sound of his name one your lips that did it, that pushed him over the edge? You somehow always managed to put so much in just that one syllable, it was maddening. You said his name like it meant something, like you cherished it, like a prayer, and that would forever be his undoing.

And then the cold started to seep in.

“Will you get out of the water now?” Din asked.

You scoffed.

“You did not just do that to get me out of the water.”

When he merely shrugged, you swatted his arm and turned towards the bank, eyes opening now to navigate your way.

“If that was the play, all you had to say was that we’d do it in the tent.”

“Who’s saying that we won’t still?”

You quickly scrambled out of the pool and Din laughed. You closed your eyes and turned, waiting for him and smiling at the sound.

“Here,” Din said as he caught up to you. Your clothes found their way into your arms, and you were sure Din was grabbing his own as he said, “Lead, so you can see where you’re going. I’ll follow.”

You did as you were told. You turning your back to him, as you had done earlier while stripping and making your way to the pool, was a testament to how far the two of you had come together. Six months ago, you would have argued, falling back to be the follower. For one thing, you hadn’t trusted him yet, and for another, you used to go out of your way to hide your scars from him.

However, as the two of you grew closer, you slowly got used to it; letting him see that part of you, just as he was getting used to being around you without his armor. Din saw those scars now, your back a maze of them. They criss-crossed over each other in a mess of ruined flesh. Lashings. He knew they’d come from lashings. He’d almost witnessed new ones about to be made the day you’d finally killed your tormentor. Having initially seen your scars that day as Meck and Gurn ripped your shirt open, watching Rhet prepare to add to them, hearing the words Thasar used to crush you, and seeing the absolute emptiness in your eyes, he’d been only a breath away from vaporizing every last one of them.

Din tucked his clothes under one arm, then caught you around the middle with the other. He bent down, and kissed one of the bigger scars, starting just at the base of your neck. You jumped, gasping in surprise, more from the gesture than the touch of his lips on your back. But you didn’t tense. Another landmark, to show just how far you’d come.

“Sorry,” Din murmured, stepping back. “Couldn’t resist.”

You hovered there for a moment, dazed, unable to put to words what that had just felt like. When Din gave your hip a gentle push, you scampered forward, back towards the camp.

Still slightly disoriented, you muttered the only thing that your brain could register, and that was, “Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold.” You quickly stepped up to the fire that was barely smoldering now and said, “Fire?”

“Tent.”

“R-right. Tent.”

You unzipped the flap and clambered inside the nearly pitch black tent. Din followed as you scuttled over to your pack, dropping your clothes and digging through it to find a towel. Din did the same on his side, turning on the lamp as he did so.

“Careful,” he said, referring to the light in case you happened to turn in his direction. You hummed an affirmation and quickly dried yourself, shivering as the cold sank into your skin. After a moment, another towel landed on your head, covering your eyes.

“Come here,” Din sighed, though his tone hinted at a smile on his lips. You turned towards him, repressing shudders as he worked the towel through your hair. You couldn’t quite manage to silence your chattering teeth, though.

“That’s what you get for jumping into a river at night.”

“It was so worth it,” you countered, smirking. You could just imagine him shaking his head, but really, his eyes were skimming over your still naked form as he thought, Okay, it was a little worth it.

When Din finished drying your hair as best he could, he reached for the lamp, extinguishing it. You were both still so cold, so you quickly burrowed into the nest of blankets. You blindly searched until you found Din’s hand, and he pulled you close, tucking your head under his chin as you buried your cold nose against his neck. He shuddered, arms wrapping around you, legs tangling with yours.

You grew drowsy as you started to warm up, and you were just starting to doze when you felt Din’s thumb slowly glide up and down your right arm, tracing the scar there. The one Xi’an had given you. As if he could sense your attention on it, he stopped.

“Is this alright?” he asked, relaying an unspoken question. You understood his sudden hesitation and nodded.

“It’s fine. It’s not as bad as the other ones.”

You thought back to before, though, when he’d kissed one of those other scars, and you hadn’t arched away from his touch. You wondered why he’d done that, and why you sort of wished he’d do it again.

“Xi’an got me too, one time,” Din said quietly.

“What?” you blanched, almost jumping up to look at him.

His fingers trailed back up your arm, running along the scar, before reaching your hand, cupping the back of it in his. Slowly, he dragged your right hand over to the skin between his shoulder and collar, and your fingers ghosted over a small section of puckered skin.

“One of her knives found this spot here, right where my chestplate ends.”

You were silent, letting him tell you the story of his scar. Though, the thought of Xi’an and one of her knives being that close to his heart sent your insides roiling, that familiar rage bubbling up. Sensing the change in you, Din pushed on, this time guiding your hand up to his chin.

“This was pre-helmet. Took a pretty bad hit during training and landed on my face. Split my chin open and broke my nose.”

You’d guessed that his nose had been broken at one point in his life. Considering this, while you’d always respected his Creed, you found that you were actually feeling grateful for his ever present helmet now, especially considering how many hits you’ve seen him take in the last six months alone.

Din continued to guide your hand, taking you on a tour of his scars, and there was something just so intimate about it. So vulnerable.

I know your scars make you feel exposed, a physical reminder of the pain they had all caused you, inside and out. So let me show you mine.

There were a few on his arms, one on his collar bone, and a couple from narrow misses around his abdomen. When he slid your hand over one on his left side, your fingers grazing over what must have once been a large gash just under his pectoral, you sucked in a breath with a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation.

“I have one there too.” This time, you took his hand, and led him to your left side, letting him feel the raised skin just below your breast. He carefully traced the length of it, finding that it wrapped around your side, blending into the scars on your back.

When Din paused, not wanting to push you, you whispered, “It’s okay.”

However, he didn’t continue along your back, but simply brought his thumb back along the scar on your side. After a measured pause, he gently pushed you back into the nest of blankets, then lowered his head, and pressed his lips against the scar.

Your heart skipped and your exhale was a shuddering sigh as you watched, unable to see more than the outline of Din’s curly hair. He kissed it again, this time brushing his knuckles along the side of your breast. You didn’t dare speak as he finished, his lips trailing upward along the hill of sensitive skin before catching your taut nipple between his teeth.

This time, it was your turn to snap. You shoved against him, rolling. Din chuckled as you crawled on top of him, but the sound died away as you leaned down and kissed him. And then, you took your time kissing his scars.

---

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x y/n #baby yoda

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Retaliation Invasion.”

Alright guys, hope you are excited about the continuation. Just a warning on this one,

WARNING Adam’s part requires him to cause physical injury to himself for certain purposes. If you have an issue with that sort of thing, don’t read that part. I don’t think it’s too bad, but I still wanted to warn you.

Sunny stood at the helm of her little ship, just behind the captain’s chair, one hand resting on it’s back. Her new pilot Lt. McCaster sat solemnly in the chair, hands tight around the controls of the ship. McCaster was an alright pilot, but he wasn’t Adam. She tried to shake that thought off watching the young man’s hands go white around the controls.

She could imagine Adam now, relaxed, his hands light on the controls, his body relaxed. Even before a mission like this, Adam had always been relaxed when at the helm of a ship, but now he was gone, and she had to force herself to remember that. In partial anger she turned away from the helm and stalked back into the depths of the ship.

She could hear whispering, not like that wasn’t commonplace. The ship was rather small, and there was always an echo.

It was almost time, but she couldn’t stand just waiting around, she had to do something with her hands to make her forget how she was feeling, forget all of this nonsense.

“So were the two of them, together?”

Sunny drew to a halt in the center of the hallway tilting her head slightly to one side. The inner depth of the ship were mostly shadow,, and the steel doors to the crew quarters and the tiny kitchen were closed, but still she could hear voices. At first she felt her heart raise in her chest, as the voice that came to her sounded familiar, only to be reminded that, Adam’s brother Thomas sounded a lot like him from a distance.

She paused in the shadows knowing she shouldn’t listen in, but not caring enough to actually pull back and give them privacy in their conversation.

“We…. think?” The voice belonged to Ramirez this time, and she frowned leaning in a little closer to listen.

“I would wager to say yes, though if they were, they didn’t advertise it.” Cannon now

She pressed her ear against the door, listening with an ever increasing frown as she heard them talking.

“Sounds like Adam, he was always sort of weird about that kind of stuff.”

There was a sigh, “Yeah, he was, wasn’t he. Do you know what that was all about…. Or….?”

“Not really mom always said he was just shy about that sort of thing, but I think it had something to do with what happened to him at school.”

“Something happened?”

“Yeah, you know how kids are. When you’re the weird kid, they like to come in and make fun of you. There was a group of girls that did that hey pst my friend has a crush on you thing. Of course, Adam fell for it he was always a little gullible, and when he showed up there was a whole group of people there who made mercilus fun of him.” He paused, “Now that I think about it, Adam doesn’t exactly have a track record of good experiences with women. The guys usually just ignored him mostly, sort of just dealt with him, but the girls were pretty brutal. I wonder if that’s what made him the way he is.”

There was a quiet pause, “I’m sorry to hear that, he, never said anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t, what do you expect him to walk up and say, hello everyone my name is Adam and I have a crippling fear of women and intimacy because all of my prior experiences have been painful and humiliating?”

“Alright alright, I get your point.”

Another pause before-

“Either way, I am glad he had someone before he….”

Thomas’s voice trailed off lamely. In anger, Sunny bared her teeth and turned away from the door stalking back into the darkness of the ship. Why did everyone have to keep talking about him, it was over, and done with. He was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. When she stepped into her little room she tried distracting herself with something but ended up pacing around in anger and hopeless frustration.

Thomas was wrong.

He hadn’t had anyone before he died, not really, and that was the worst part.

And the fact that he had never told her about that meant they weren’t nearly as close as she thought they were.

The very idea of it had her practically spinning in a rage and grief stricken circle.

“All personnel to their stations, we warp in five.”

Relieved Sunny jogged from the back room and back onto the bridge where McCaster was preparing the ship for its journey. IN the space around them, above the human homeworld, hundreds of GA and UNSC ships were gathering for the final push winking and glittering in the diffused light of space, light reflecting up from the glassy planet below.

There was a clattering behind her as the rest of the crew filtered onto the bridge.

“Everyone to your stations.” Sunny ordered quietly, and without a word they moved to do as she asked.

Sunny turned her head back to the open window hand gripping tightly around her spear.

This was it.

***

IT wasn’t the entire GA fleet that showed up above the burg planet, but it was enough to look like it. The burg didn’t bother answering their call to surrender, and deployed their entire fleet in response to the sudden arrival of the GA armada.

IT was their panic that allowed for that crucial mistake, and that is when the second half of the GA appeared behind them, heming the burg in a large circle just in firing range for the Celex command ship. It only took a single blast of energy to turn most of their ships to dust, though many of their more clever commanders managed to survive by outmaneuvering the blast.

In the first few minutes of the conflict, 12 burg ships had been destroyed along with three GA ships.

The battle continued, the large portion of the GA fleet keeping the burg occupied as the RUndi Imperial cruiser and it’s deadly cargo dropped into low orbit above the planet. When they did pods detached from either side of the ship and dropped quickly into atmosphere.

Inside the pods careening towards the ground thousands of human shock troopers were cheering, praying, or mentally preparing themselves for battle. They had only one mission, to take down the burg capital city. Each of them had four weapons at their disposal trained on them by their commanders long before this conflict arrived, and one technically trained on them since childhood. They had a compact carbine for working in the caves of the planet and electronic hearing protection from the blast. They each had a sidearm, they each had a large knife, and --as their commanders had reminded them -- the burg don’t do well with human spit, so there is always another close rang option: spit in their faces.

The attack happened so quickly, that the burg were still scrambling to respond as the shock troopers were ejected from the pods at low altitude parachutes opening just long enough to catch their fall before hitting the ground.

Some weren’t so lucky and broke their legs on impact, but the vast majority of them landed safely and threw their gear off, some turning to tend to the few wounded while the others pushed on, concealing themselves quickly behind rocks and patches of low hanging vines.

The burg themselves watched in hopeless surprise, some only alerted by the sound of the descending engines and the thundering voices of the shock troopers as they landed overhead. They had no time to react as flash grenades were tossed downwards into their caves to devastating effect.

Humans filtered in from above clambering down the walls like spiders, or, sometimes, dropping in only to catch and roll on the ground coming up with just enough time to take out anyone who dared cause problems.

Delta units were deployed along their flanks, the mobile machine guns mowing down any heavy attempt for the burg to dig in. Smaller mobile units -- humans carrying a Celzex. Slipped through tight opening in the rocks and into the Burg breeding nests. Those that had been left to guard the bulbus saccules that contained their larvae were ordered to surrender or were taken out with great prejudice.

One Burg had a shock trooper pinned to the floor with its many legs, but the shock trooper didn’t waste a moment and spat violently into the creature’’s face. It wheeled away screaming and clawing at its eyes the human scrambled to their feet and continued the push forward.

WIthin all of this commotion, a small ship managed to slip unnoticed through the chaos, landing further into the burg city than any of the other shock troopers had dared. There, in a shallow gully behind a pile of rock and a coating of vines, a quiet group of Drev/human insurgents slipped into a nearby hole leading them down into the burg nest, their weapons out and ready.

Death was coming, and today she wore blue.

***

I sat at the center of the enclosure, legs folded under myself, hands resting on knees. I was waiting. The clear glass opening in front of me shimmered in the morning sun, and I cracked my neck and knuckles lightly as I stared back at my warped reflection.

I wasn’t looking so bad.

Probably a little like I had on Anin. My beard was growing back and my hair was beginning to tickle at the tops of my ears. My feet had grown hard from not wearing shoes, and the wounds on my chest from the blue space raptor had healed over mostly, leaving me with three livid red scars across the left side of my chest.

IT would be a pretty badass battle scar when all was said and done.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been here, at least a month since the crash maybe, and that meant thirty days of people assuming that I was dead. They would be wrong, however, as I was now a prisoner to the masses, nothing more than an animal in a zoo to be stared at and ogled at all hours of the day.

I shifted slightly, watching as a family of these strange aliens paused in front of the window, pressing their eyes up against the glass to get a better look at me. Once this was all over, and I got back to earth, I was never going to a zoo ever again. I glanced up towards the top of the cage watching as other aliens walked past on the high walkways, looking down at me from above and pointing.

What did I know about this place?

Not as little as you would think.

Judging from the amount of people I saw every day, and form the little bit I could see out the small viewing window, there were quite a few people, making me assume that the zoo was a relatively big one. Off in the distance I could often hera the call of large animals, their voices so deep that it rocked the sand underneath my feet. THere was no way something could make a noise like that without being absolutely massive.

Wherever they were they were also very advanced and well funded.

Mechanical drones came in every three or so days to clean up after me.

However when it came to feeding time, I was fed mostly by hand through the back bars on my enclosure. Every day they would move the food closer and closer to themselves as if to get me used to them, as if they were trying to socialize me.

I played along with their game knowing that it would only help me in the end. They hadn’t bothered to try and remove the Iron eye suit, and I was counting on it being my one saving grace.

The iron eye suit could increase my strength by a factor of five, and it was going to be what got me out of here if anything did.

For the last few days, I had been working on determining just how much of an eye they kept on me.

It tested them at all hours of the day and night, deciding when their reaction time was the slowest, and when the cameras were not trained on me. I didn’t cause all that much of a problem, nothing that they oculdn’t handle, and I certainly didn’t keep the behavior up for very long.

I just wanted their response time.

At first it had been hard to come up with a situation in where I wouldn’t seem threatening, but would also call in a response from them. Sometimes, I had to make difficult decisions. Running around and acting insane just pleased the guests, and trying to climb the outer cage would just have given away my true intentions, no, I kept it all on the ground.

How did I get their attention?

Well, that was easy.

I ruined their property. Unfortunately, that meant me.

It had been hard the first time, to hurt myself in order to get them to come running, but I knew that this was going to be my only way out. The first few times, I really went for it, probably giving myself some of the worst scars I was ever going to have. The stone tip of my made up arrow heads were pretty useful, and surprisingly sharp that the first time I tried it, I sliced myself open pretty horrifically.

You know how there are some wounds where you just look at them and then shrug and move on, but there are others where you look at them and you begin to shake because you realize that this may be more serious than you intended. Well yeah,the first time it happened, I watched as blood began spilling down my arm and dripping off my elbow.

IT was pretty gruesome, staining the sand below my feet red.

A part of me wondered if they would even notice, and in a half panic I walked to the viewing window and put my hands to the glass. Someone was bound to notice.

And I was right.

Their response time on that first go round was probably three minutes, though I had difficulty counting.

The worst part of all that was getting tranquilized and waking up later in my little leaf nest stitched back together.

I would have to do that several more times, though my first time had spooked someone enough that, I didn’t have to get nearly so drastic the second or third time around. I just had to pretend, and they would usually come running.

I switched it up most days, trying to make the self destructive behavior look bad enough to get them calling.

I had learned that their best response time was during open hours, middle of the day around noon.

They responded very well at what I would have guessed were eleven in the morning and three in the evening. Following that was nine and seven. Their worst response time so far had been late at night around two in the morning.

It had taken them almost ten minutes to notice and get around to me.

Ever since my behavior had started up, I had come to notice new things appearing in my enclosure. It was mostly puzzles of some sort, fun ways to get food. They probably thought my self-destructive behavior had to do with boredom like a Border Collie or a German Shepherd left alone for too long.

I didn’t give them the satisfaction of playing their games.

Just one or two more times, and I could be done with this.

I stood slowly and walked forward towards the viewing window. The aliens behind it shifted and pointed and pressed themselves up against the glass as I moved forward. I pressed my hands to the cold material, looking in at the strange figure behind the glass.

I rested my forehead against the window and closed my eyes.

I sighed.

I missed Sunny. If I imagined hard enough, I could almost imagine the gold glass against my face was the cold blue of her carapace, but even my imagination only goes so far, and after a minute I opened my eyes and stepped back from the window.

I looked down at my hand, where the skin on my knuckles had peeled back to leave a weeping pink soar from where I had punch the walls so many times to get the attention of the zoo staff.

I was going to do it again. The skin around those soars were blue and black and fading yellow with the bruises.

I drew my fist back, making sure not to engage the Iron eye armor for fear of actually breaking something.

An escape wouldn't do here if it was in broad daylight.

I knew I would only have one shot.

I slammed my knuckles against the glass sending a jarring pain up through my arm.

IT hurt so bad as my already sore hand throbbed, but I kept going. I knew from experience it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound, and I was right, one or two punches, and blood was already trickling down my hand and staining the glass.

I began my countdown begging that they would hurry up.

IT was around 1 in the afternoon, and they came at about four minutes.

I heard the drone before I saw it, turning on a dime just as the small dart shot into my chest.

Here we go again.

My vision went immediately sideways.

MY legs went weak like jelly, and I hit the ground, collapsing as the paralytic took effect.

It didn’t completely knock me out but it stopped me from moving, and it must have had some sort of calming agent in there, because the paralysis didn’t bother me as much as it honestly should have.

I lay on the ground as the keepers hurried into the pen.

A drone was already cleaning the window as I was picked up and moved back towards the nest.

My uninjured hand trailed in the sand before they lay me down on the pile of leaves, gently taking my other hand to fix it. I was numbed from the fingers down to my elbow.

I closed my eyes as they worked imagining that it might be krill there instead of these strange alien species.

I imagined the voices of my friends.

My family.

My dog.

They left me there alone to recover from the drugging.

Phase one was complete, tomorrow would mark the beginning of phase two, and I was ready.

287 notes · View notes

96thdayofrage · 3 years

Text

On February 11, 2020, public health and infectious disease experts gathered by the hundreds at the World Health Organization’s Geneva mothership. The official pronouncement of a pandemic was still a month out, but the agency’s international brain trust knew enough to be worried. Burdened by a sense of borrowed time, they spent two days furiously sketching an “R&D Blueprint” in preparation for a world upended by the virus then known as 2019-nCoV.

The resulting document summarized the state of coronavirus research and proposed ways to accelerate the development of diagnostics, treatments, and vaccines. The underlying premise was that the world would unite against the virus. The global research community would maintain broad and open channels of communication, since collaboration and information-sharing minimize duplication and accelerate discovery. The group also drew up plans for global comparative trials overseen by the WHO, to assess the merits of treatments and vaccines.

One issue not mentioned in the paper: intellectual property. If the worst came to pass, the experts and researchers assumed cooperation would define the global response, with the WHO playing a central role. That pharmaceutical companies and their allied governments would allow intellectual property concerns to slow things down—from research and development to manufacturing scale-up—does not seem to have occurred to them.

They were wrong, but they weren’t alone. Battle-scarred veterans of the medicines-access and open-science movements hoped the immensity of the pandemic would override a global drug system based on proprietary science and market monopolies. By March, strange but welcome melodies could be heard from unexpected quarters. Anxious governments spoke of shared interests and global public goods; drug companies pledged “precompetitive” and “no-profit” approaches to development and pricing. The early days featured tantalizing glimpses of an open-science, cooperative pandemic response. In January and February 2020, a consortium led by the National Institutes of Health and the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases collaborated to produce atomic-level maps of the key viral proteins in record time. “Work that would normally have taken months—or possibly even years—has been completed in weeks,” noted the editors of Nature.

When the Financial Times editorialized on March 27 that “the world has an overwhelming interest in ensuring [Covid-19 drugs and vaccines] will be universally and cheaply available,” the paper expressed what felt like a hardening conventional wisdom. This sense of possibility emboldened forces working to extend the cooperative model. Grounding their efforts was a plan, started in early March, to create a voluntary intellectual property pool inside the WHO. Instead of putting up proprietary walls around research and organizing it as a “race,” public and private actors would collect research and associated intellectual property in a global knowledge fund for the duration of the pandemic. The idea became real in late May with the launch of the WHO Covid-19 Technology Access Pool, or C-TAP.

By then, however, the optimism and sense of possibility that defined the early days were long gone. Advocates for pooling and open science, who seemed ascendant and even unstoppable that winter, confronted the possibility they’d been outmatched and outmaneuvered by the most powerful man in global public health.

In April, Bill Gates launched a bold bid to manage the world’s scientific response to the pandemic. Gates’s Covid-19 ACT-Accelerator expressed a status quo vision for organizing the research, development, manufacture, and distribution of treatments and vaccines. Like other Gates-funded institutions in the public health arena, the Accelerator was a public-private partnership based on charity and industry enticements. Crucially, and in contrast to the C-TAP, the Accelerator enshrined Gates’s long-standing commitment to respecting exclusive intellectual property claims. Its implicit arguments—that intellectual property rights won’t present problems for meeting global demand or ensuring equitable access, and that they must be protected, even during a pandemic—carried the enormous weight of Gates’s reputation as a wise, beneficent, and prophetic leader.

How he’s developed and wielded this influence over two decades is one of the more consequential and underappreciated shapers of the failed global response to the Covid-19 pandemic. Entering year two, this response has been defined by a zero-sum vaccination battle that has left much of the world on the losing side.

Gates’s marquee Covid-19 initiative started relatively small. Two days before the WHO declared a pandemic on March 11, 2020, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation announced something called the Therapeutics Accelerator, a joint initiative with Mastercard and the charity group the Wellcome Trust to identify and develop potential treatments for the novel coronavirus. Doubling as a social branding exercise for a giant of global finance, the Accelerator reflected Gates’s familiar formula of corporate philanthropy, which he has applied to everything from malaria to malnutrition. In retrospect, it was a strong indicator that Gates’s dedication to monopoly medicine would survive the pandemic, even before he and his foundation’s officers began to say so publicly.

Advocates for pooling and open science, who seemed ascendant and even unstoppable early in the crisis, have been outmatched and outmaneuvered by the most powerful man in global public health.

This was confirmed when a bigger version of the Accelerator was unveiled the following month at the WHO. The Access to Covid-19 Tools Accelerator, or ACT-Accelerator, was Gates’s bid to organize the development and distribution of everything from therapeutics to testing. The biggest and most consequential arm, COVAX, proposed to subsidize vaccine deals with poor countries through donations by, and sales to, richer ones. The goal was always limited: It aimed to provide vaccines for up to 20 percent of the population in low-to-middle-income countries. After that, governments would largely have to compete on the global market like everyone else. It was a partial demand-side solution to what the movement coalescing around a call for a “people’s vaccine” warned would be a dual crisis of supply and access, with intellectual property at the center of both.

Gates not only dismissed these warnings but actively sought to undermine all challenges to his authority and the Accelerator’s intellectual property–based charity agenda.

“Early on, there was space for Gates to have a major impact in favor of open models,” says Manuel Martin, a policy adviser to the Médecins Sans Frontières Access Campaign. “But senior people in the Gates organization very clearly sent out the message: Pooling was unnecessary and counterproductive. They dampened early enthusiasm by saying that I.P. is not an access barrier in vaccines. That’s just demonstratively false.”

Few have observed Bill Gates’s devotion to monopoly medicine more closely than James Love, founder and director of Knowledge Ecology International, a Washington, D.C.–based group that studies the broad nexus of federal policy, the pharmaceutical industry, and intellectual property. Love entered the world of global public health policy around the same time Gates did, and for two decades has watched him scale its heights while reinforcing the system responsible for the very problems he claims to be trying to solve. The through-line for Gates has been his unwavering commitment to drug companies’ right to exclusive control over medical science and the markets for its products.

“Things could have gone either way,” says Love, “but Gates wanted exclusive rights maintained. He acted fast to stop the push for sharing the knowledge needed to make the products—the know-how, the data, the cell lines, the tech transfer, the transparency that is critically important in a dozen ways. The pooling approach represented by C-TAP included all of that. Instead of backing those early discussions, he raced ahead and signaled support for business-as-usual on intellectual property by announcing the ACT-Accelerator in March.”

One year later, the ACT-Accelerator has failed to meet its goal of providing discounted vaccines to the “priority fifth” of low-income populations. The drug companies and rich nations that had so much praise for the initiative a year ago have retreated into bilateral deals that leave little for anybody else. “The low- and middle-income countries are pretty much on their own, and there’s just not much out there,” said Peter Hotez, dean of the National School of Tropical Medicine in Houston. “Despite their best efforts, the Gates model and its institutions are still industry-dependent.”

As of this writing in early April, fewer than 600 million vaccine doses have been administered around the world; three-quarters of those in just 10 mostly high-income countries. Close to 130 countries containing 2.5 billion people have yet to administer a single dose. The timeline for supplying poor and middle-income countries with enough vaccines to achieve herd immunity, meanwhile, has been pushed into 2024. These numbers represent more than the “catastrophic moral failure” the director general of the WHO warned about this January. It is a stark reminder than any policy that obstructs or inhibits vaccine production risks being self-defeating for the rich countries defending exclusive rights and gobbling up the lion’s share of available vaccine supplies. The truth repeated so often throughout the pandemic—no one is safe until everyone is safe—remains in force.

This easily anticipated market failure—together with the C-TAP’s failure to launch—led developing countries to open a new front against intellectual property barriers in the World Trade Organization. Since October, the WTO’s Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights Council has been center ring in a dramatic north-south standoff over rights to control vaccine knowledge, technology, and markets. More than 100 low- and middle-income countries support a call by India and South Africa to waive certain provisions related to Covid-19 intellectual property for the duration of the pandemic. Although Gates and his organization do not have an official position on the debate roiling the WTO, Gates and his deputies have left little doubt about their opposition to the waiver proposal. Just as he did following the rollout of the WHO’s C-TAP, Gates has chosen to stand with the drug companies and their government patrons.

Technically housed within the WHO, the ACT-Accelerator is a Gates operation, top to bottom. It is designed, managed, and staffed largely by Gates organization employees. It embodies Gates’s philanthropic approach to widely anticipated problems posed by intellectual property–hoarding companies able to constrain global production by prioritizing rich countries and inhibiting licensing. Companies partnering with COVAX are allowed to set their own tiered prices. They are subject to almost no transparency requirements and to toothless contractual nods to “equitable access” that have never been enforced. Crucially, the companies retain exclusive rights to their intellectual property. If they stray from the Gates Foundation line on exclusive rights, they are quickly brought to heel. When the director of Oxford’s Jenner Institute had funny ideas about placing the rights to its COVAX-supported vaccine candidate in the public domain, Gates intervened. As reported by Kaiser Health News, “A few weeks later, Oxford—urged on by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation—reversed course [and] signed an exclusive vaccine deal with AstraZeneca that gave the pharmaceutical giant sole rights and no guarantee of low prices.”

Considering the alternatives being discussed, it is no surprise that drug companies have been the most enthusiastic boosters of the ACT-Accelerator and COVAX. The speakers at the ACT-Accelerator launch ceremony in March 2020 included Thomas Cueni, director general of the International Federation of Pharmaceutical Manufacturers and Associations, who hailed the initiative as a “landmark global partnership.” Since vaccines started coming online, the IFPMA’s member companies have lost interest in the Accelerator, preferring bilateral deals with rich countries. But they continue to benefit from the halo effect of their association with Gates, which has proved priceless throughout the pandemic, especially at a crucial juncture in its first year.

On May 29, Donald Trump announced U.S. withdrawal from the WHO. This was in response, he said, to China’s “total control” of the agency. The drug industry, meanwhile, was displeased with the WHO for entirely different reasons. The same day, the WHO director general had unveiled the C-TAP with a “Solidarity Call to Action” for governments and companies to share all intellectual property related to Covid-19 treatments and vaccines. The pharmaceutical companies didn’t attack the initiative directly. Instead, their global trade association, the IFPMA, preempted the announcement with a livestreamed media event on the evening of May 28. The event featured the heads of AstraZeneca, GlaxoSmithKline, Johnson & Johnson, and Pfizer, and Thomas Cueni.

The evening’s sixth participant was the specter of Bill Gates.

As anticipated, the questions submitted by journalists touched repeatedly on the much-anticipated launch of C-TAP the following morning, as well as related issues of intellectual property, vaccine access and equity, and debates over the extent and ways intellectual property posed barriers to ramping up production. Mostly, the executives evinced ignorance and surprise over the imminent launch of C-TAP; only Pfizer CEO Albert Bourla openly denounced the pooling of intellectual property as “dangerous” and “nonsense.”

All of the executives, however, shared a playbook in which they quickly pivoted to affirmations of their support for Bill Gates and the ACT-Accelerator. The association with Gates was submitted as evidence of industry commitment to equity and access—as well as proof of the complete lack of need for overlapping or competing initiatives, such as the “dangerous” C-TAP.

“We already have platforms,” Cueni said during the May 28 event. “The industry is already doing all the right things.”

As the questions about C-TAP and intellectual property piled up, the industry’s Gates rap started to sound less like a shared P.R. script than a broken record. Confronted for the second time about intellectual property, GlaxoSmithKline CEO Emma Walmsley emitted an undigested stream of Gatesian word salad. “We are absolutely committed to this question of access,” she stammered, “and deeply welcome the formation of ACT, which is this multilateral organization that is going to be a mechanism with multiple stakeholders, whether it’s heads of state or organizations like [the Gates-funded] CEPI or the Gates and [the Gates-funded] Gavi and others and the WHO, of course, where we actually look at these principles of, uh, access and so clearly, we’re engaged in that as well.”

Without the Gates and COVAX associations to lean on, the stammering would have been much worse. Pfizer’s Albert Bourla seemed to recognize this, at one point interrupting himself to express his industry’s gratitude and admiration. “I want to take the opportunity to emphasize the role that Bill Gates is playing,” he said. He went on to call him “an inspiration for all.”

Gates can hardly disguise his contempt for the growing interest in intellectual property barriers. In recent months, as the debate has shifted from the WHO to the WTO, reporters have drawn testy responses from Gates that harken back to his prickly performances before congressional antitrust hearings a quarter-century ago. When a Fast Company reporter raised the issue in February, she described Gates “raising his voice slightly and laughing in frustration,” before snapping, “It’s irritating that this issue comes up here. This isn’t about IP.”

In interview after interview, Gates has dismissed his critics on the issue—who represent the poor majority of the global population—as spoiled children demanding ice cream before dinner. “It’s the classic situation in global health, where the advocates all of a sudden want [the vaccine] for zero dollars and right away,” he told Reuters in late January. Gates has larded the insults with comments that equate state-protected and publicly funded monopolies with the “free market.” “North Korea doesn’t have that many vaccines, as far as we can tell,” he told The New York Times in November. (It is curious that he chose North Korea as an example and not Cuba, a socialist country with an innovative and world-class vaccine development program with multiple Covid-19 vaccine candidates in various stages of testing.)

The closest Gates has come to conceding that vaccine monopolies inhibit production came during a January interview with South Africa’s Mail & Guardian. Asked about the growing intellectual property debate, he responded, “At this point, changing the rules wouldn’t make any additional vaccines available.”

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guardianofjunmyeon · 4 years

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 1)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: Hiiii long time no see lmaoo...I started a pirate story and I felt like i should upload it here on tumblr bc i think it’s fun and i have a few chapters written already so ...here you go!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean.

The heart of the ocean.

Atlantis was created by the Gods. Created by the God of the ocean, Poseidon, himself. He created a land, a city, in the middle of the ocean among the humans in order to be closer to humanity. He went on to fill his new city with his many half God, half human children; he allowed others who felt the pull of the ocean deep within their souls to populate his city and call it their home. Their Atlantis.

The people of Atlantis were a rich people, culturally, morally, financially. Their advances far beyond our own. They lived in peace, in harmony and kept the sea happy, kept her calm and teaming with life. Poseidon’s children ruled the city with kindness, with understanding and neutrality for hundreds of years. They protected the city and the oceans for many, many years even after Poseidon himself returned to live amongst the other Gods.

One day, a thousand years in the past, the people of Atlantis decided that they wanted more. They were the keepers of the sea, they were the people of Poseidon. They wanted more money, more attention from their creator, more reverence from the humans and animals that they watched over. They wanted to be worshiped. They created waves large enough to drown continents, monsters big enough to destroy ships, and storms scary enough to keep the faint of heart far from the ocean, and even farther from their city.

And so they were bestowed with destruction for their greed.

The city was destroyed with volcanic eruptions, lightning storms, and ultimately a tsunami large enough to bury the city miles below the ocean’s surface.

The city was lost beneath the waves of the ocean to never be found or seen by humanity again, but it’s believed to still exist. It is believed to still thrive, to have adapted, and reverted to its original task of protecting the ocean without greed or desire for repayment. For the seas have been kind again after the disappearance of Atlantis.

Until 20 years ago.

It was said that each of Poseidon’s children were born with a destiny that they were meant to fulfill. A destiny that was crucial to the survival of the seas. To the survival of marine life. To the survival of humans.

Rumors that one of Poseidon’s children had run away to live amongst the humans began to spread across the lands like a wildfire as the ocean began to act restlessly, and monsters were starting to reappear in places they’d long vanished.

For the return of this child, for the rediscovery of Atlantis, you would be rewarded with riches beyond your wildest dreams.

Humans had tried to find Atlantis since its disappearance and none had gotten close to uncovering her secret location, so humans began to look for its lost child instead.

The key to the ocean is Atlantis. And the key to Atlantis is its missing child. The power one would hold would be nearly matched to that of Poseidon himself.

Thus, the hunt began.

-Anonymous

~~~

“Are we ready to leave port?”

“Yes Captain. All members are present and accounted for.”

“Good. Our heading is east, let’s make haste. I want to get this bounty and be back before the month’s end.”

“Ay, Captain.”

Leaving port is always as gratifying as it is stress inducing. There’s nothing that can quite match the rush you feel when you see your fellow crewman rushing around your ship, bringing her to life again, after weeks at rest. Raising the sails and cleaning down her surfaces before taking her back out home on the open sea, that rush is what excites you most in this world. The entire vessel buzzes with energy as your men call out to each other across the ship ensuring that she’s prepped and safe to take out on the water.

You always feel your chest swell with pride as they do their jobs with a confidence and energy that you hoped you played a part in inspiring. You’ve recruited each of them personally, and watched them grow under your guidance from nervously getting their sea legs to being some of the fiercest pirates known to man. Your first mate, Junmyeon has been by your side the longest, and is your most loyal second in command. Kim Junmyeon knows the ocean and the workings of the ship with nothing but innate talent. You would consider him just as respected and in charge of the ship as the captain himself.

Your quartermaster, Zhang Yixing has been with your ship for slightly less time than your first mate, but he is just as important. If Junmyeon is your right hand, then Yixing is your left. Yixing understands the workings of the ship and handles moral and makes every voice on the ship heard when issues among the crew arise.

You have a few sailing masters, those who handle navigation and piloting the ship. They are the keepers of the charts. Kim Yeri, your head sailing master is the smartest woman you’ve ever had the pleasure of taking aboard your crew. No one can read a map, chart a course, and follow the stars quite like her. Lee Taemin is your best pilot. He can guide your ship like it’s an extension of his own body, no matter the weather, no matter the conditions. Although Yeri and Taemin handle mostly navigation, they work hard at easing the burdens of your other crewmen as well.

You have 2 head gunners, Kim Minseok and Kang Seulgi. They lead two separate groups of men who are in charge of the ship’s artillery. Minseok and Seulgi are the fiercest fighters on the ship, well trained at aiming the heavy cannons and teaching their men how to work them safely. Minseok takes on the role as master gunner, the one in charge of all 8 men in the artillery.

Your cook, Qian Kun, doubles as the ship doctor. Both he and Yixing have been trained to attend to any kind of injury your crewmen may face.

You have 6 boatswains, or deckhands –those who handle all other activities on the ship. Whether it be anchoring, handling naval provisions, raising and lowering the sails, or just keeping the ship running smoothly. They all report directly to you, Junmyeon, or Yixing. They may be on the lowest rung of the ship, but they are just important to the ship as you are.

The crew of Storm Chaser have built a relationship based on trust and respect. All men are important, all men are heard, and all men are expected to put their life on the line for his fellow crewman. If you are unable to follow this general understanding of how the crew works, then…well, you as captain would make sure that anyone who misbehaves is handled.

You’ve captained the Storm Chaser for seven years now. She’s a decent sided ship, black as night with dark blue sails. She’s not huge, but she’s faster than the winds. She’s your pride and joy. She’s your home, and she’s home to the 20 odd other people who work her with you.

You bought her with your first big bounty, back when you were but a powder monkey on some brute’s ship, dealing with the ammunition and cannons with other dispensable suckers.

He was a shit captain and an even shittier person, but he’d allowed you to work on his ship in the lowest position possible because he saw the drive in you. He gave you a chance, and you’ll forever be grateful for him.

Even if you ended up being the one to poison his food and bring his dead body to the admiral who’d wanted him dead or alive.

He’d underestimated you. That was his mistake. You should always watch your own back and build up relationships with others who you can trust. He was a bully and a hot-heated asshole. No one liked him, he didn’t respect those beneath him, and he was careless just because you seemed young and naive. So now he’s dead and you cashed out on his life.

That's the way of the pirates after all.

The award you were given, for leading that unnamed admiral back to the brothel room where you’d left your dead ex-captain, was a hefty chunk of change. You bought your first ship in cash at the ripe age of 19.

You became a Captain at only 19.

You began to slowly build up a crew of trustworthy men and women who would lay down their life for you and for each other. You promised them safety in return for the building of trust aboard your ship. You’d seen captains who would do nothing but boss around their crew, take half of any reward for themselves, and would turn on any man on their ship at the drop of a dime.

That wasn’t the kind of captain you aspired to be. A good captain works with his men, is on the frontline of every fight, and acts as mediator when the ship is split on crucial decisions. A good captain works with their ship, not against it.

You’ve wanted to be captain of your own ship for as long as you can remember. The ocean has called out to you since you were big enough to have memories.

You grew up on a small port on the easternmost part of Xiao Shitou, a large island known for its dealing with pirates. It was easy to do business on the island and get away with things that other islands would arrest you for. Things other islands would hang you for in the middle of its largest city. You grew up watching ships come into town with people of all kinds of looks, backgrounds, stories. You watched them with wide eyes and an ache in your chest that you could never quite explain.

You just knew that where ever they were going after they left your port, that’s where you belonged.

Your mother owned a bar right in the heart of the seaside town. Storm Breaker. You can remember playing around with the regulars as your mom served them ale and smiles and would listen to their stories. You can also remember hiding in the back room among the bags of flour and crates of unopened beer whenever people your mother didn’t trust would enter her bar. Pirates and hooligans visiting for the first time. People who did nothing but cause problems when they visit.

She was a fighter, your mother. A scary woman that everyone in town respected, and a loving woman who did everything she could to protect you. You looked up to her, you admired her, but still you knew that you couldn’t do what she did. You couldn’t grow up working a bar and seeing the same people and doing the same tasks every day. You didn't belong trapped in a small town so close to the ocean, but never actually on it.

At 8 years old you watched you mother get shot right in the chest in the middle of your living room. One bullet to the heart by some ruffian she’d threatened with her own gun when he was harassing women in her bar days before.

You managed to escape him by throwing the pot of boiling water that was still burning on your stove straight at his face, and then running straight out the door that he’d kicked down. You’d left your mother there and ran away just as she’d always instructed you to.

That was just how life in pirate port cities worked.

You dragged your mother’s body out of the house a week later with the help of a man who frequented your mother’s bar often enough to basically live there. You both gave her to the ocean. He stood at your side, patted your head and told you that you would be okay.

You never saw him again after that.

The next years you lived alone on the streets, stealing food, earning money for little odd jobs around the town when you could. Some people recognized you and would help you out when they could, but they had their own struggles and issues, so you continued to live on your own the best way you could. You got into fights, got chased by people who caught you picking their pockets or filling your cheeks with their food. It wasn’t easy, but life could have been worse.

You kept your eye out for the man who murdered your mother. He made Xiao Shitou his home not long after that night. He ended up taking over your mothers bar, changed the name to Slut Cavern, and ran it into the ground a year later because he didn’t know how to fucking run a business.

When you were 11 you were able to find real work as a blacksmith’s apprentice. A woman with kind eyes and rough hands who taught you self defense and how to make and use the artillery she was selling.

Everyone just called her Victoria.

She’d known your mother, had gone to Storm Breaker a few times. She never had her own children, too busy working and owning her business on her own to bother with the excuses for men who frequented Xiao Shitou, so she took you under her wing as her own.

Her business wasn’t clean. She often sold blades, gun parts, and bullets to the worst kinds of men. To pirates, looters, murders, slave owners, anything of the like.

She did what she could to make money. Your mother did the same with her bar.

Victoria would take you along when she would deliver her swords. You would watch her threaten men who dared try to steal from her, and kill those who would try to take advantage of her. You learned quickly how to surprise people with your brutality and quickness with a blade under her guidance.

By 13 you’d killed your first man. A dirty older man who bought a knife and wasn’t going to pay you since you’d come to collect the money on your own. This wasn’t the first collection you’d gone on without Victoria, but it was the first time it hadn’t gone smoothly. He’d planned on assaulting you on top of robbing you. He’d pulled out his blade and advanced on you, but you were faster; you evaded his first swipe and slit his neck in one go with the thin but sharp sword on your hip.

You took off with his personal sword, the sword you were meant to sell to him, and all the valuables on his person. He lay there dead in an alley and you walked away with a smile on your face.

At 14 you cornered the man who killed your mother. He was stumbling drunk out of the bar your mother once owned and he hadn’t recognized you. You figured he’d forgotten all about the kid that slipped away from him. The kid who fucked up his face. He’d made disgusting advances that evening; uttered despicable words that you knew were meant to get you in his bed. You walked up to him and watched his lip curl up in a smile and he started to unbuckle his pants. You shoved your sword right in his chest, just as his hand reached into his pants to pull out his cock.

You watched the shock fill his expression; he choked out an agonized moan. You twisted the blade and pushed it as far as it could go through his heart. When you pulled it out and felt your hand wet with his warm blood, he slid down to the ground. You crouched down and looked in his eyes, watery with drunkenness and pain.

“I hope you rot in the hottest part of hell,” you’d said evenly. You drove your blade into the middle of his throat and watched the last of his life drain from his eyes, head lolling to the side and body going still. You went back to Victoria’s and she helped you wash away the blood without question.

At 16 you and Victoria parted ways. You wanted to go off and make your own money working aboard ships. Staying on the island wasn't the life for you. You watched the people who spent their whole lives on land. Watched them live the same daily routine over and over until they died. Watched them eat and shit and fuck the same people in the same place over and over again.

And you watched the pirates who would come for short periods of time, never staying put for too long. Living life on the unpredictable sea, following no one’s rules, taking what they wanted out of life and doing something new and exciting every day.

You wanted to be like them. That was where you belonged.

You had the swordsmanship. You didn’t have any ties Xiao Shitou outside of it being the place you were raised. Victoria would live on with or without you around. And you found that you had no fear of death.

You found your first captain, Captain Lee, inside of a bar that people tended to frequent when they were looking for work or for men to complete jobs. He was signing on crewmen that night and you joined a line of big, mean looking guys trying to make yourself fit in as much as you could. He laughed right in your face when you walked up to the table and demanded he let you on his crew.

“And how old are you sweetheart? Isn’t it a bit late at night for you to be at a place as dangerous as this?”

“Don’t worry about how late it is; I know how to handle myself. I want to join your crew. I don’t care what job it is, I just want to be on the sea.” You stood confidently.

He laughed at you again and waved you away with a roll of his eyes. The man behind you pushed you out of the way to take your place at the front. “I wasn’t done you brick-headed fucker!” You yelled. He’d looked over his shoulder, given you a once over and scoffed.

You took the gun out of your holster and shot a single shot directly into the air. The bar quieted. You finally had the attention you wanted.

You looked directly at Captain Lee. “I said, I want to be on your crew and-”

The man in front of you turned around fully with a scowl set on his face and a step in your direction. “Listen here little wench-” You cocked your gun and pointed it at the man who interrupted you.

“If you put your hands on me, I will kill you right here,” you challenged.

You watched the captain stand up with his hands folded across his chest and an amused smile on his face. “You going to let a little girl threaten you sailor?” He teased.

The man went red in the face at the challenge from the captain and the audacity of you to embarrass him in front of all the patrons in the bar. He lunged at you with all force and no coordination. You slipped under his reaching arms, lifted your gun to his head and fired a bullet directly into his skull.

He fell to the ground with a thud that shook the ground, and shocked everyone watching in silence. You lowered the smoking barrel and looked at Captain Lee in exasperation. Have I made my point?

With an impressed nod, he pushed forward the signing papers and the bar erupted back into normal business.

Here you are 10 years later with the ship you bought for killing him in turn. Life is a fickle thing.

Your first mate Junmyeon comes up to your side as you’re manning the helm, getting your ship farther away from the random port you’d all spent the last few weeks at. Weeks getting drunk, having fun, resupplying the ship.

“I’ve put the bounty papers on the table in your quarters. From what I’ve gathered, the guy we’re after has been going around destroying random port cities in the south east. Pillaging, raping, setting fire to homes, and then leaving with anything him and his men can find worth value,” Junmyeon tells you evenly.

You sigh and nod. “Dead or alive?” you ask with a look in his direction.

“Either. 50,000 dollars for him, and another 5 for each member of his crew,” he replies.

“That's a shit ton of money…”

“It’s enough to set us all for at least 3 years,” he agrees. “I can call Taemin to guide the ship while we discuss the logistics in your quarters.”

You nod again, and watch as Junmyeon walks off to search among your men for the purple haired pilot.

The sun begins to set as you all set out for the next weeks at sea. The sky blooms in shades of pink, purple, and blues. You don’t think that you could ever get tired of this sight.

“Captain, I can take over from here,” Taemin chirps from your side. He beams and leans an elbow on your shoulder.

“All yours.” You hand the ship over and scan the deck quickly for any sight of your first mate. His shiny black hair blows in the wind as he leans against the mast. Even doing nothing, he manages to look just as unreal as the day that you met him. You walk up to him with a smile and put your arm around his shoulder.

He laughs and wraps his arm around your waist. “So tell me more about the son of a bitch that we’re gonna go kill.” You guide him to your room with a lift to your voice. The excitement of going on another bounty hunt after days of relaxing make your hands itch to use your blade again.

You both enter your quarters and he takes a seat first at your large table covered in documents. You close the door while he settles in, chin in his hand and fingers tapping against the newest addition to the pile of papers. “You really need to clean this up,” he throws out lightly.

You shrug. “I like having them all, for sentimental value.” You keep the wanted posters of yourself, of your crewmen, of the people you hunt, and anything else that goes to show just how much of a name you’ve earned. How many accomplishments you’ve achieved.

“Hoarder,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, my junk doesn’t matter. As my first mate it’s your job to keep me in order. You could clean it up if you wanted.” You flick him in the temple. He winces. “I wouldn’t be able to function without you.”

“You or the rest of the crew,” he scoffs. “I’m here to help you keep the ship moving, not to literally put your old paperwork in order.” You sit across from him and lean over the table to scan the papers splayed in front of you both. “Speaking of keeping the ship moving, let’s talk about our latest mission.”

“Of course!” Your skin thrums with excitement. “Has Yeri managed to get a handle on where our elusive man might be headed?”

He puckers his lips in thought and taps a map marked in red circles with his finger. “She looked at his previous hits and has been working to predict his course, but because he seems to be rather…unpredictable she’s reported difficulty pinpointing an exact location.” He looks up from the map. “We have a general idea of his location based on the last place that was reported hit and the direction of major currents that they may be following.”

“A general idea is better than nothing…I trust Yeri’s navigation and mapping skills. I’ll have her update when she finds changes. For now I think we should continue the course we’d set following you and her suggestion.”

“I’ll make sure-”

“CAPTAIN!” Junmyeon’s mouth closes immediately as you both train your eyes on the person who stormed in on your meeting. “Captain,” he says again out of breath.

“What is it Johnny?” you ask, standing up from the table. Your full attention sets on him.

“There’s a stowaway on board.”

“Fuck,” you curse.

“Where are they now?” Junmyeon asks the boatswain.

Johnny jerks his thumb behind him. “We’ve got him in irons and dragged him above deck. He was hiding in the food storage. We only found him when we were taking stock of food supplies.”

“Good job, I’ll be right out. Gather the rest of the crew. I want everyone on deck,” you command.

Johnny rushes out and you and Junmyeon share a look. This doesn't bode well and you both can feel it.

When you emerge from your quarters, you take note of your crew still gathering and the stowaway on his knees in the middle of the growing crowd.

He’s objectively handsome, you note. Dark hair, strands fall messily across this forehead and ears. Strong jaw, a well built face. He looks to be in his mid twenties. He’s wearing a beige blouse with leather pants and boots that tell a story of self care, of money. He looks like someone who spends a lot of time in the sun if the color on his face and hair tell you anything. He’s no dirtier than any of your men.

Not a beggar. Not by the looks of him.

You don’t have the time to deal with him at the moment. Not in the middle of a bounty hunt. You’ll send someone to question him later. “Throw him in the brig,” you call out to no one in particular.

“Wait…” you watch as your quartermaster pushes through your other men. His eyes widen at the man on the ground in front of him. “Jongin?” he asks in disbelief.

The stowaway looks up at the sound of his name and catches the eye of your crewman. “Yixing,” he sighs out in happiness, in relief. He sags a bit in his chains at the familiar face. You look between the two men in confusion.

“You know him?” You ask Yixing simply.

He nods vigorously. “Friends from childhood,” he says. “Almost like a brother.”

“Good. Then you take him to the brig and question him.” Yixing nods at your words and is quick to get the stowaway on his feet. He looks alarmed at the fact that he’s still being taken to the brig, but Yixing understands your position on stowaways hopping aboard your ship. It’s not something to take lightly.

You look around at the rest of your men. “As for everyone else, I want all eyes searching the ship immediately. Stop whatever you were doing and start looking around. From top to bottom, from bow to stern. Look in every fucking crack. I fear we may have more than one stowaway on board. Find them and throw them in the brig. Find me or Junmyeon afterwards to deal with them.” At your words everyone disperses to frantically search the ship.

Yixing drags Jongin below deck by his chains. Junmyeon places and hand on your shoulder with a concerned frown.

“I know,” you say.

This can be no coincidence. No one would dare just hop aboard your ship without any devious ulterior motive. Your ship is known for its ruthlessness and its ability to complete jobs quickly and cleanly. You’ve heard the stories in pubs.

“No one who has ever seen the captain has ever lived to tell the tale,” they say. Your ship is feared. You are feared despite keeping your identity as captain of the Storm Chaser on a need-to-know basis. You’ve built relationships with all of your crewmen, and you all thrive on the fact that the captain’s identity is kept secret. No one will mess with anyone on the crew in fear of them being the deadly Captain.

It works out for you all.

And this fear is what keeps lesser ships from fucking with you. You’ve had…dealings in the past with individuals you’d rather forget existed, but you and your ship are always able to get away with minimal damage. You, along with pirates around the globe, know that this is not a ship you can just fuck with and get away with it.

You take it upon yourself to keep somewhat on course while the rest of the crew are looking for any extra bodies on the ship.

It’s hours later when a deckhand, Taeil, finds you at the wheel. “Captain we found one other stowaway. You won’t believe who it is…” he says with wide eyes.

“Are they in the brig already?” He nods. “Find Junmyeon and Yixing and tell them to man the ship while I go talk to the prisoners.” He runs off and you tell any other crewman on your way to the brig to go back to manning their normal positions.

The lamps in the brig have been lit at the new addition of prisoners. It’s been nearly half a year since you all had to use your brig like this. Most of the bodies you all bring back are dead and thrown in a body box you all keep deep below deck with other nonessential items.

Your ship has two decently sized cells (enough to hold 20 men in dire, cramped situations). In the first cell is the first stowaway, Jongin. He’s huddled in on himself in the far right corner of his prison with his head against his knees. He looks up at the sound of you coming down the stairs. You see the sadness and fear in his eyes before he hides his face once again against his knees. In the second cell you catch sight of hands languidly relaxing outside of the bars.

Hands adorned with various rings. You know those hands, it’s hard to forget them with the various encounters you've had with them.

“Ah…if it isn’t the fearsome Captain of the Storm Chaser,” he drawls amusedly.

The sneer that finds its way onto your face comes instantaneously at the sound of his voice. You step closer and take your second prisoner in. His flashy jewelry, the cloth wrapped around his forehead to soak up sweat, the stupid ass eye patch that he wears, and that grin that brings you nothing but fucking trouble.

“What the hell are you doing on my ship Byun?”

#whoop whoop #here we go!! i'll upload the next chapter as well!!!#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic #exo #exo imagine #exo stories #exo fanfic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun pirate au #exo pirate au

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

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Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 8: Yakuza AU

On FF.net//On AO3

(Directly inspired by THIS PROMPT! Thank you, anon who brought it to mind... writing this was a blast :DDD)

The soft whirring of the machine stopped, and the teenager who had been flinching on the tattooing chair now gazed at him with tearful, hopeful eyes.

"I-is it done now?"

"It's done," the tattoo artist replied, setting down his implements. "You're a whole new man, eh?"

"W-will girls think I'm cool now?"

"Oh, please. Tattoos are a mark of greatness! You should know this!" the artist laughed, shaking his head. "The worthwhile girls, yes, will love a good tattoo on a cool man, I guarantee it."

He was only eighteen, so he was old enough to make wild decisions he might regret in the future. He had graduated from high school recently, and wanted to impress girls once he started college, apparently. If only a tattoo were a guarantee of a shift in personality and confidence… but for most common people, it was but a placebo they forgot about soon enough. Tattoos didn't mean the same to them as they meant to a certain, select group of people…

That select group didn't request for machine tattoos, or vivid, sometimes even fickle designs that held simple meanings. But irezumi, or tebori, were a true sign of strength, a rite of passage he had branded onto his own skin successfully many times now… a sign that revealed the difficult, disciplined way of life he'd abided by for his adult years, even if he still worked with machine tattooing system on the side, too.

He left the teenager to recover for a few minutes, and then guided him to the parlor's door: a new arrival held it open just as the boy was slithering out, and the innocent young man shrank in his frame upon glimpsing the tall, intimidating man who stood outside the parlor. With so many tattoos across his body, he appeared to be a most dangerous threat to a young man who only wanted to visit the parlor for a simple snake tattoo upon his forearm – it hadn't even been bigger than three inches.

"E-excuse me!" the teenager squeaked, rushing out as fast as he could. From inside the store, Sokka smirked as he watched him go.

"Definitely not of our type of people, eh?" he said, glancing at the older man by the door.

The same smirk appeared on his counterpart's face, and the man even let out a hearty laugh before reaching to clasp his shoulder with his strong hand.

"Seems like business is doing well, son?" he asked. Sokka grinned and nodded.

"So far, so good!" he said, ushering Hakoda inside the parlor. "I know Master Piandao thought I shouldn't practice both traditional and modern tattoos… but hey, it pays. Casual kids these days don't think our lifestyle's worth emulating, but they sure believe tattoos make them more interesting…"

"A good belief to have," Hakoda declared. Sokka chuckled as he collected two cans of soda from a small fridge behind his desk, offering one to his father quickly. "Though… as it is, our clan could do with more than tattoos to move forward, Sokka."

"Uh… what's that supposed to mean?" he said, blinking blankly as Hakoda accepted his offer of a drink.

"It means… well, you know just the type of work I've been trying to get into," Hakoda said, his voice lowering into a growl. His business voice, Sokka had learned as much since childhood. "But it's been a problem, you see? Those damn Homura…"

"Are they fighting our people again?" Sokka groaned, shaking his head. "They keep sneaking into our territory and then pretend we're the ones at fault…"

"They surely think we are. The Homura, as you well remember, have been around since the Edo period," Hakoda sighed. "We're too new to earn their respect. But that's precisely why I'm here today."

"Because… you have a plan on how to earn it? Or you have a plan to get rid of the Homura, fancy ancestral clan it is?" Sokka asked, crooking an eyebrow before sipping his drink. Hakoda smirked.

"I have a plan to get rid of the problem they pose, yes," he said. "And I think you, my wonderful heir, are the most suitable person to fulfill it."

"I… what?" Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "Uh, that's a little much, isn't it? You sure, dad? Why me?"

"Well, for one thing, this is crucial for our clan's survival," said Hakoda. "Can't entrust such a delicate operation to anyone I can't fully rely on…"

"And I'm the best choice for it?" Sokka asked, puzzled. "I thought I was supposed to focus on the tattoo-side of things…"

"You are, of course," Hakoda continued, with a shrug. "But a young man as talented and intelligent as you… surely you can take care of both things at the same time?"

"That's a lot of trust you're putting on me," Sokka chuckled. "But I guess I'll have to hear you out first, huh? What's your plan, dad?"

Unwelcome news weren't too surprising in any yakuza clans. That being said, it wasn't every day the uncontested crime bosses of Kobe would find themselves troubled by the behavior of any of their competition… for there was no sense in there being any competition in the first place. They already had control of the area, they'd held it for years, and they had no intentions of yielding it, only of cementing it further.

Methods to achieve such a feat were more complicated than other clans might have believed: they didn't merely deal in common crime, but also in crime at the very heights of society. It wasn't merely a matter of extorting the right, connected people, but of commanding enough respect from them to obtain exactly the results they were looking for. Ozai Homura saw this as an art, and it was one he was more than pleased to teach his son, despite he appeared to not have much of a knack for economics and numbers.

That was when two of his closest associates had arrived, however, with that day's puzzling news:

"Takase, that madman supplier, has reached out to us," Zhao said, releasing a heavy breath. "It seems he wishes to serve the Homura clan, despite his many claims in the past that he only wished to work with smaller clans."

Ozai's heart beat fast underneath his old chest burn, the one with which he had proven himself the true heir of Azulon Homura. His own father had chosen to brand him, once Iroh, his older brother, had turned his back on the clan and abandoned the yakuza life. Ozai had been more than ready to inherit the role, no matter how nervous he was about the prospect when it first presented itself. Now, his own son had a burn on his face, one that proved his resilience and strength to their clan. That his eye could still function, despite his face had been burned directly, had been yet another source of pride for his father. He had feared Zuko might not be strong enough for his fated role… but all in all, two potential heirs were better than one.

"What brought about this change of mind?" Ozai said, scowling. "Such a sudden switch must have happened for a reason."

"I thought the same thing," spoke the second newcomer: Ozai turned his attention towards his daughter as she spoke. "I believe it's a play by the Kawakami clan, as a matter of fact. What its ultimate purpose may be remains to be seen, but I advise against trusting this sudden offer of generosity blindly."

It was only natural that she'd have unique, special insight to offer, and yet Ozai's heart surged with pride when Azula intervened: he knew that, when problems emerged, she was ready to resolve them. Wherever his daughter involved herself, everything simply turned out for the Homura clan's favor.

"The Kawakami clan?" Zuko repeated. "They're meaningless though, aren't they?"

"For the time being, they appeared to be," Zhao agreed. "But if they're acting boldly in this manner, perhaps they're seeking to strengthen their position somehow…"

"By losing their suppliers?" Zuko asked. "Don't you think maybe they're just weak, Father? Too weak to even hold onto their providers?"

"I'm afraid we're in no position to make assumptions," Ozai said, frowning. "Leaving lesser clans unchecked can result in dangerous problems in the long run. They may mean no harm, they may be dissolving, but it isn't befitting of the Homura clan to jump at every opportunity for profit all the same."

"It's not how we've carried ourselves over the last five hundred years," Zhao agreed.

"And that we've retained our standards has brought us this far," said Ozai, strongly. "This supplier of arms may not be reliable. He could even serve as an inside source for the Kawakami…"

"I thought of that as well," Azula interjected. "While it could be a fool's move, I can't claim the Kawakami clan's leadership is completely sound of judgment. They might want Takase to serve as an inside source on what's happening within our clan, what movements we've been making. And while a supplier is far from the most reliable source of information, that's precisely why it'd be a useful one: they're counting on us to lower our guard and take for granted they wouldn't be quite so stupid as to spy on us through a weapons' supplier."

"A Trojan horse," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "Fortunately, we are not quite as gullible as that old civilization was. You shall take point on this, Azula."

"Should she…?" Zuko asked. Ozai raised an eyebrow before turning towards him. "It's only, well…"

"You know what your sister's duty is," Ozai declared. "One day, she will clear the way for you to be a successful clan leader, allowing you to focus your attention on the bigger picture while she removes the competition. She serves as your shield, and your first line of defense. This is no duty for the heir of the Homura clan to perform, but the perfect duty for the Homura clan's enforcer to deal with."

Azula smirked proudly at those words, staring at her brother pointedly. He shrank in his frame, shooting a light glare in her direction: he would have expected his duty as the heir of the Homura family to involve far more action than he'd seen so far. He bore the mark of the heir across his face, no less, making such a painful sacrifice to prove just how worthy he could be… and now he was stuck with what amounted to a desk job, while his sister, with her impeccable face and no burn marks to her name, dealt with the real threats herself.

It wasn't what he would have expected from the yakuza lifestyle, but he couldn't bring himself to protest, not when he knew his father would be cross and displeased if he failed to understand his place in the clan. But watching Azula walk away with that satisfied smirk only brought Zuko to frown further, to wish he could have a different life, one where no one would cast him snide glares, no doubt questioning whether he or his sister were better suited to inherit the great Homura clan…

"Back to your work, Zuko," Ozai said, once he finished speaking with Zhao about any other pending subjects.

Zuko turned again towards the screen, towards the stocks. Towards his studies… away from the complicated, strange times that would soon be brought about by two clans, set into collision by the wishes of their leaders, and by the actions of their respective chosen children…

The Kawakami headquarters appeared to be a perfectly simple building on the outside – true, with a few burly men standing guard by the doors –, that concealed nothing out of the ordinary behind its walls. It was where Sokka had been raised, and thus, his second home ever since he had moved out and into his master's home, six years ago. Nowadays, he lived in the upper floor of his tattoo parlor, where he spent most his time unless the clan required him for one reason or another. Today, of course, he would keep the parlor closed, despite he longed to return to working with his needles. Priorities were priorities, and no doubt his father would be cross if he disregarded his duties only to continue tattooing green teenagers with no true understanding of what a serious tattoo stood for.

He had been skimming through files in the headquarters' main computer when he heard a ruckus outside. Assuming his sister would handle it, Sokka decided to continue focusing on which other suppliers he could afford to send off to the Homura clan, when suddenly the door to the room was thrown open: Katara marched in, with Kattan beside her.

"Uh… something the matter?" Sokka asked, grimacing preemptively – there was no doubt something had gone wrong, especially going by Kattan's horrified face.

"Sokka, I was… I was on my way to Kuinase, to collect our tax?" he said, swallowing hard. "Two… two huge Homura henchmen were at the doors. I couldn't believe it, Sokka! I ran away before they could see me, but they were definitely Homura! I saw it, you know? That ugly-ass flame tattoo on their necks…"

"You just said… in Kuinase?!" Sokka gasped, jumping to his feet.

"Those bastards are messing with our territory," Katara snarled, looking at her brother intensely. "What are we going to do about it?"

"I…" Sokka gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

Oh, so much for the damn Homura honor. Was this really how things worked with them? No wonder they were so successful: even offerings in good faith went nowhere with these people. Any clan that so much as attempted to reach out to them would be doomed to be destroyed, for they'd likely, deliberately, interpret such displays as weaknesses rather than as the olive branches they were meant to be. They accepted no competition, was it? No one could go toe-to-toe against them…?

Well, they were in for quite the surprise. He had no intentions of yielding, and if this was how they wanted to play things, he'd step up to their level, for sure.

"I have a plan," Sokka leveled his cold, blue eyes at his sister and Kattan.

Deep in the heart of Kobe, the Homura headquarters stood inconspicuously as a tall, beautiful skyscraper, masqueraded as a perfectly upstanding company like those that were hosted in the neighboring modern buildings, with glass panels reflecting the sunlight and blinding all passersby during the day. It was a beautiful building, manned by countless elegantly dressed people who wouldn't be out of place in an actual company.

One of them was, of course, Azula Homura. On her casual days, she'd wear a black leather ensemble. Otherwise, her attire was comprised by a perfectly form-fitting pantsuit, with lapels as sharp as the bangs that framed her face, or the eyeliner she applied flawlessly every morning. She was beautiful and daunting: few dared approach her, for few knew what to make of someone as intimidating as her. She seemed to know every member of the clan thoroughly, had been able to sniff out spies within their ranks since her teenage years, and was rumored to have a secret database with all relevant information about their members and their enemies. It sounded like a fantasy, however: how could someone possibly keep track of the largest yakuza clan in the nation so effectively, let alone keep track of other clans, on top of theirs? And of politicians, and of businessmen, too…?

Whoever thought it was a fantasy, however, was severely mistaken: she had eyes and allies everywhere, and she smirked as she sat at her office, a massive room within the tallest floors of the Homura headquarters. She had customized it for her personal use, with a massive screen that displayed the view of many cameras all across Kobe's area. One day, she expected, she might acquire access to more than just the ones from Kobe… but for now, it was enough for her purposes.

For just this had helped her track down a rather curious man on a motorbike, who had just parked outside Hiranuma Shoten. It would have appeared an utterly irrelevant happenstance… if only his very bearing hadn't given away that he, just like herself, was part of a yakuza clan. Only, he had to be from a lesser clan, not only because few clans could afford to be as luxurious as the Homura… but his clothes, his bearing, even his motorbike, revealed he retained a certain humility, despite everything.

She had connected quickly with Hiranuma's internal camera afterwards: she kept an eye on the new arrival, amused by his initial attempts to purchase some food… and then he leaned close to the old man selling meat. Before long, the two were laughing. And then the butcher wasn't laughing anymore.

It was all an intimidation act, masqueraded by captivating the defenseless with promises and honeyed words… an intimidation tactic she herself had stooped to in the past, a tactic she had asked some of her top-trusted advisors to perform recently in the Akashi area, too. But this man… he had a way with it, no doubt. And while Hiranuma's cameras weren't highly defined – she'd have to convince her father to finance better surveillance systems for those under their protection, it would only help in the long run – she had the distinct feeling she knew who this yakuza stranger was…

She bit her lip before inputting her first guess in her database, on the next computer. And while the database was at it…

She dialed a number expertly, without even looking at her phone, before raising it to her ear with her left hand while deftly navigating her resources with her right. Within instants, the man she was calling picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hiranuma Shoten's owner is being extorted by a Kawakami, I believe. Perhaps even the heir, if my guess is accurate," Azula said, shifting through files quickly.

"We'll be there soon," the man on the other side spoke.

"I'll follow him too. You won't lose track of him," Azula promised.

"That would help us very much. We are ever at your service."

She smirked as she hung up the call, and just then, she happened upon the file she had been navigating through. She only had a picture of his face, which was exactly what the camera wouldn't allow her to see… but curses, she had updated this resource and hadn't so much as looked at the Kawakami heir's file so far, had she? Otherwise, she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that damn handsome visage…

"Guess you grew up just fine, did you?" Azula mused, allowing herself a small smirk.

His strong cheekbones, his manly, perfectly defined jawline, that dark skin, typical of the Kawakami's main branch… where so many in Japan preferred light skin, Azula found herself inevitably drawn to the opposite. A whim, she thought, the first times it had happened… but this damn Kawakami was likely to convince her of the opposite.

Though his most striking feature were his eyes: coldly, sharply, beautifully blue. Those were the eyes of a man who, if pushed, could commit a murder without blinking… and where that thought might have daunted anyone else, a yakuza princess, as she was often referred to, could only find that haunted darkness underneath the Kawakami's eyes to be a fascinating thing. If only his clan hadn't been founded over the last hundred years, he'd be under Homura protection instead, and…

… And she wouldn't finish that stupid, pointless thought. Fine, he was attractive, but she wasn't here to daydream over the enemy. Fool that she was.

Her eyes switched to the camera's screen again just when he was saying his goodbyes to a most grateful butcher. Azula snapped her tongue, making a mental note to send word to the man as soon as she had sorted out the Kawakami heir, if it truly was him. She really did hope it was him…

He had to be the one behind the generous giveaway of Takase, just as well. This was, she knew, retaliation for her own retaliation – she had sent henchmen to Akashi, to spread word that the Kawakami were weakened and couldn't afford to protect them anymore, losing suppliers as they were. No doubt that move didn't sit well with her rival, but she couldn't care less: he was playing a game he couldn't afford to win, and she would gladly teach him as much with each of her responses.

She swapped back to the street's camera and watched him climb aboard his motorbike, setting his helmet in place – he was responsible, of course, but he was also a man of style, wearing a helmet worthy of racers rather than a simple, casual, cheap one. It was, perhaps, the least humble element in his apparel. Azula smirked as she switched from camera to camera while following him across the streets: she jotted down the motorbike's plate, and was unsurprised when she found no identifiable bike under those numbers in the Japanese government's databases of legal vehicles. She couldn't help but smile as she continued to follow him, riding along with him, without his awareness.

He finally made a new stop: a yakiniku restaurant, Miyabi. Azula released a breath before redialing, once she confirmed he had entered the restaurant in question.

"He's in Miyabi now. How far away are you?"

"Oh, a change in location? Not to worry. We can be there within the next three minutes."

"Make haste, then. I can follow him as much as necessary, but this is for the community's good, isn't it?" Azula said, sardonically.

"Of course it is," replied the serious man on the other side. She smirked.

"You're never any fun," she said.

"I'm not paid to be fun," was his reply again.

"Not sure you could be, even if you were," she said, releasing a breath. "I'm counting on you, Renkai."

"As you wish."

Again, the communication was interrupted, and again, Azula was free to watch the Kawakami heir, now through Miyabi's better cameras. Yes, this was him, no doubt. His haircut was different nowadays, with that manly shaved undercut, as well as that perfect ponytail – was it called that, in his case? She sported one of her own, though his was shorter than hers – that only enhanced his intimidating factor. He appeared as a modern samurai, Azula guessed… perhaps that was what he fashioned himself as. The idea should sound ridiculous rather than appealing, and yet…

"How you've grown, Sokka," she whispered, biting her lip.

She had met him only on occasion, during yakuza clan meetings, whether those held to solve disputes between other clans, or to strike temporary alliances to destroy those who weren't playing by the rules. He always stuck to his father, just as Azula always stuck to hers. They had met each other's gaze a few times, as they were amongst the only young people in the room, even when they were teenagers… but that had been all. She wasn't sure they had ever exchanged any words, and if they had, she sure had forgotten them. They had only been children back then… now they were fully grown, actual players in this game, ready to make their mark across Hyogo prefecture by any means necessary. He was surely just as ambitious as she was… and that thought was thrilling to her.

Though she wondered if she was giving him too much credit: how would he react, once the inevitable happened? Once the men she had sent after him broke through Miyabi's door, in less than a minute now…

Azula couldn't contain a grin as she saw him growing nervous: was he hearing the sounds of doom? Was he truly so foolish as to assume it wasn't meant for him? He wasn't doing anything harmful, no, of course not, he was innocent… she could see it all in his face, and it was more than laughable. Oh, perhaps she really had been giving him too much credit: the Kawakami could be as attractive as they wished, but they were no match for the full forces of the Homura clan.

The door was thrown open before Sokka had any chance to react: he raised his hands bitterly as the police stepped up, with their blunt weapons at the ready in case he did anything dangerous. Miyabi's owner, an elderly woman, appeared utterly horrified by whatever was happening, but she deflected all blame and pointed to Sokka constantly… that was, of course, the natural behavior of anyone who owed their safety and wellbeing to a yakuza clan. She couldn't be caught dealing with someone from another clan, absolutely not…

Azula laughed and sighed, watching as Renkai, clad in his immaculate, white uniform, dragged Sokka through the doors after shackling his hands. Well, that had been fun, even if her contact within the city police hadn't intended to amuse her…

Yet the stubborn, angry yakuza shot a glare at the nearest camera in the streets, taking her by surprise for it. Had he known he was being followed remotely? Had he noticed, perhaps? Surely not… surely he believed it was just the police's doing. He might not have known the Homura had infiltrated their organization for almost two hundred years… and yet, even through that low-resolution camera, she could sense his bitterness, and she relished in it. A soft chuckle left her lips as she raised an eyebrow defiantly towards his image:

"Well, then… what shall be your next move, Sokka Kawakami?"

Katara and Kya didn't hold back the judgmental stares once Sokka's fine was fully paid, and he was a free man once again. He scoffed as they walked together, as the sunset ominously promised they'd be in hostile territory by nightfall, but surely they'd be able to find a car to take them to Akashi before long…

"You really are an idiot, picking fights with the Homura like this…" Katara said. Sokka huffed.

"I'm not picking fights! I was trying to be friendly, they gave me the finger figuratively, so I retaliated!" he said. "But they're just… Ugh! How shitty can they be, setting the police on me? That's bad form! That's like… tattling on your sibling when you're a child!"

"Hey! Are you really bringing up our childhood now? You're the one who landed himself in this mess!" Katara scolded him, but Sokka rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Kya groaned and wrapped an arm around each of her children's shoulders, pulling them together and against her body. Even then, Sokka and Katara wouldn't stop scowling at each other.

"What matters most is you're safe now, Sokka. Safe, and soon outside Homura territory," Kya said, smiling at her son. "I know you must be frustrated, dear, but take it easy. Whatever mission your father gave you, surely there's other ways to fulfill it…"

"I wonder about that," Sokka grumbled. "As far as I can tell, I'm simply…"

A light tremor, underneath their feet, stopped Sokka halfway through his rambling. Katara gasped, despite quakes were perfectly common in Japan… for the vibrations were growing stronger, worrisomely so.

"Mom, Katara!" Sokka shouted, wrapping his arms protectively around them as he ran them away from the tallest buildings.

They were lucky to be out in open spaces, but panic flared inside all their chests as the earth's movements continued to shake them to the bone. People were screaming – glass shattered, and even cracks on the floor appeared to spread as the telluric movements continued for what felt like an eternity. Sokka continued to shield both his mother and sister with his body, in case any glass from the buildings around them came crashing down, but they managed to reach a park safely, without any such projectiles falling upon them.

That being said… the vibrations continued, and loud, explosive sounds could be heard across the city. Sokka still held onto both Katara and Kya, who seemed to cower from the rustling earthquake in his chest. He'd protect them… but earthquakes of this magnitude were seldom harmless, and the sounds they could hear in the distance weren't promising. Even before the shaking dwindled, he knew the whole prefecture had sustained a lot of damage… and he knew he wanted to be there to fix as much of it as he could, no matter how difficult it might be.

It wasn't the worst of all earthquakes, and yet a 7.7 quake was still powerful enough to shake down the foundations of the weakest buildings in Kobe. The damage was difficult to assess at the earliest stages, but the wounded numbered around the hundreds, and the confirmed death toll wouldn't be much lesser than that. News outlets reported on the disaster, as relief efforts seemed to flood the city area, aiding those who had been left homeless, those who had lost everything.

The Homura clan had been safe, for their perfectly modern building hadn't sustained even a single crack to its foundations. The evacuation was quite nerve-wrecking, for many people couldn't possibly stay calm in the face of catastrophes, and their anxiety could prove contagious to those who, under other circumstances, might have handled themselves better. Even Zuko had appeared close to a nervous breakdown for a time, and Azula wished she could stop from being affected by other people's actions or reactions… once she was safely outside, and most the evacuation efforts were finished, she turned to her father, who stood at their building's entrance, surrounded by bodyguards, a stern scowl on his face.

"What… what shall we do?" she asked. Ozai scoffed.

"This will be an economic disaster. Again," he growled. "I'll let you know if I need your assistance."

Azula swallowed hard but lowered her gaze. Well, at least she'd done her job before this tragedy took place. The Kawakami clan would certainly not be much of a problem, though she did wonder quietly, despite her better judgment, if the heir had been released from jail before the earthquake started…

Why did she feel the need to check on that? Maybe she had been enjoying the strange entertainment he provided her with… maybe that was it. But it was no reason to focus on him now, for sure. She didn't know the guy, not truly, and however handsome he might be, his wellbeing was his clan's business, not hers. That's how life worked. That's how it had to be. Yakuza looked after their own, and that was that.

Yet as days passed, and relief efforts became the sole focus of the bulk of the population, unsettling news reached Azula by word of mouth: it seemed a yakuza clan had taken to offering relief, personally, to the victims of the disaster. She received pictures soon, of those men in what in her eyes was outdated yakuza apparel, covered in tattoos, helping hoist debris off buildings. There were even women, also bearing similar tattoos, offering relief in the form of food and shelter to many who were left with none.

And then the helicopter: they had a helicopter. They were scouring the city from above, searching for survivors, sending their people to dig through the worst rubble until they saved as many lives as they possibly could.

She could tell it was them, even before seeing a picture where he, of all people, was featured. A picture of him climbing out of a fallen building, carrying two battered children in his arms, an exhausted expression across his handsome, haggard face. A symbol of hope, of hard work, of strength… all of it, carried across those richly tattooed arms. If she hadn't been floored by the impact of their actions and rescue efforts, her loins might have just taken the wheel to focus, as unnecessarily as ever, on what a powerful man the Kawakami heir had turned out to be.

But there was something far more important than that to worry about. For her father would need to hear about this. And once he did…

"Curse them! Curse those bastards!" growled Ozai, slamming the tablet on his office's marble floors. Azula flinched when the device shattered by her father's violent gesture: Zuko as well recoiled, watching his father warily, in fear of how far his temper would take him this time.

Ozai shook his head as he paced through the room, the shattered tablet forgotten now. Zuko swallowed hard and raised his voice, no matter how daunting his father's wrath might be.

"We should be out there too. If we help…!"

"Silence! I won't even hear of it!" Ozai snapped, turning quickly to shoot a deadly glare at his son. Zuko shrank in place, daunted immediately. "We won't imitate lesser clans! We will find another way to put an end to their ambitions. They've certainly bitten off more than they can chew if they expect they'll ever be allowed to take our clan's place!"

"If I may…" Azula chimed in, and this time Ozai did appear inclined to listen. Yet another blow to Zuko's ego, although this time it didn't seem Azula was about to rejoice for it. "A yakuza clan looks after their own. That is our founding creed."

"What of it?" Ozai said, and his temper appeared poised to rear its ugly visage again.

"I believe we should look after our own, yes," Azula said, swallowing hard, intimidated as well… despite she was certain her plan would appear far more agreeable to her father than her brother's words had been. "You know I keep tabs on all our associated businesses. I suggest we offer monetary relief to those associated with us. While it may not garner our clan the same renown and media attention the Kawakami might attain…"

"It will ascertain they know we haven't forsaken them," Ozai finished. Azula nodded. "And it will prevent them from turning their backs on us, at least."

"I hope so," Azula said. "We do have the funds, don't we?"

"Yes… yes we do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "Well, then. Perhaps it is time we remind the common folk of how valuable it is to stay on the Homura's good side."

Zuko frowned, glancing at his sister uneasily as they both were dismissed from Ozai's office. With curt bows, the two siblings left together, and Zuko barely waited for the door to be closed before scowling at Azula.

"Why did you suggest that? We're not loan sharks, are we?" Zuko said. "We can't let the Kawakami upstage us…"

"They already have," Azula hissed back. Zuko froze in place. "The Homura family doesn't follow the examples set by others, Zuko. You should know better than to even suggest we do. We're the trailblazers, not them. And if we simply fall in line, right behind a lesser clan, our reputation will be far more damaged than it is already."

"But… those are actual people, in danger, suffering," Zuko told her, as they walked together towards the nearby, modern elevator. Azula scoffed, but Zuko didn't relent. "We can't just toss a check at them and expect it'll all turn out for the better!"

"We'll make wire transfers, much faster and more effective than checks…"

"That's not my point!"

"I know it's not, but I wish it were," Azula hissed, glaring at him. Zuko froze in place. "Keep talking like this, and it won't be long before father decides you're not worthy of your burn mark. You sound like Uncle Iroh."

Zuko gritted his teeth as Azula stepped into the elevator. She didn't wait for him to enter it too before tapping her floor, and Zuko made no efforts to join her as the doors closed. Well, waiting for another elevator ride should give him some time to think, at least.

Truthfully, they had never involved themselves with these disasters beyond looking after their own people. At least, not as far as Azula remembered. She had memorized the clan's history since childhood… and it was impossible to think of any other situation where they had barged into the scene the way the Kawakami had just now, because the Homura simply didn't do that sort of thing. If they ever had, they would've beaten the Kawakami to it already.

Azula sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. What she'd offered Ozai was but damage control… a manner of retaining some power, before the media and the relief efforts of the Kawakami clan stole it all from them. And yet why, even as she made her way to her hi-tech office, was it the only thing she could evoke in her mind was that image of the strong, tall Sokka Kawakami, helping children to safety…?

"You're not serious, are you? Money? That's what they're doing?" Sokka asked, aghast, staring at Hakoda in chagrin.

And yet Hakoda smiled proudly, patting his strong son's shoulder gently. The whole family was gathered for lunch at one of the relief centers, where they had aided in distributing food to countless homeless people who now looked to them as saviors. They'd need as much help as they could get… but most the ones who had businesses, whether still functioning or not, had already stopped appearing at the Kawakami clan's relief centers. Their absence had bothered Sokka at first… and now it unnerved him, despite it seemed his father was perfectly comfortable with the situation.

"The Homura have offered monetary relief to the people, yes," Hakoda nodded. "And yet not all have taken it. Beyond that, many new faces have turned to us for help: not the Homura, not the government, us. While we have certainly taken a blow to our finances… it's safe to say we're on a good path at the moment, Sokka. You needn't panic, alright?"

"I… I know that, it's just… ugh," Sokka growled, shaking his head. "Every new thing I know about the Homura makes them more despicable. They're so… distant, even with those they're supposed to be protecting. And giving people money when they've lost everything… as if that'd be any good."

"It helps in its own way," Kya acknowledged, sipping her plastic cup's drink slowly. "But it's not the honorable way to proceed, no."

"That's the thing with the Homura. It always has been," Hakoda said. "Honor… it's an important concept for some yakuza: not them, though, no matter if they claim otherwise. Profit drives them, profit and success. And while I did ask you to figure out how to strike an alliance with them, you should never forget that truth, Sokka. Even if they decide to join forces with us, the Homura aren't going to do anything against their interests. They'll always look for profit and advancements. It's not how we should ever conduct ourselves, for sure."

"We won't," Sokka said, stubbornly.

"Why ally ourselves with them anyway?" Katara asked, with a grimace. "Our great-grandfather really should've set up his clan elsewhere. Having the Homura for neighbors is dreadful."

"They could be worse," Hakoda smiled, awkwardly. "But I only want an alliance for the sake of our clan. I don't want them to continue phasing us out. Other clans have joined forces elsewhere in the country, you know? Mainly to hold the fort against other up and coming clans. We could do the same thing with the Homura, and it'd certainly be the strongest alliance in the nation…"

"Now it is. Considering how big we've gotten," said Katara, grinning. "We have a lot of new recruits, begging to join the clan."

"See? It all comes together," said Hakoda, beaming at Sokka. "Don't despair, my boy! Hope is in the horizon!"

Was it, though? Sokka bit his lip but nodded, in surrender.

He didn't return to headquarters with the rest of his family after the food operative was finished. Instead, he took to doing what he'd done since the earthquake: walking across the streets, assessing the damage, pondering how many efforts and resources were needed to fix it. His parlor had been safe, he had checked on the day after the earthquake, but the nearby houses, especially the traditional ones, had sustained plenty of damage, some even torn down completely by the shockwaves. He had helped as best he could in his area, and then proceeded to offer support everywhere his father told him to go, as he organized the relief efforts to the best of the Kawakami clan's ability.

But Hakoda's words about the Homura returned to mind. Sokka sighed as he made his way through the sidewalk across Matsugaoka Park, pondering just how complicated this whole matter of an alliance would be. They didn't share the same values, nor did they work for the same purposes. Ozai Homura had always been known to be a merciless clan boss… meanwhile, Hakoda was the most spirited, good-natured of them all, as far as Sokka could tell. If the Homura were truly this dishonorable, though… was it even worth it to strike a bargain with them?

It could allow them to help more people, Sokka reasoned. The Homura, if they ever let loose with their money, at least just a little, could fund immense community programs of the sorts the Kawakami had never been able to handle themselves. It was a valuable alliance… and not having to fear the Homura henchmen would fight their own on sight was quite a good idea. Not being sent to jail because he was trying to poach their people would be nice, too…

How had they even pulled that off, for starters? He had heard the Homura kept an eye everywhere, on everything… he frowned, blinking at a contraption not far from where he walked: traffic cameras. There had been one near Miyabi, too. While those surely were connected with the government, there were far more cameras on this street's surveilance contraption than the strictly necessary, weren't there? He scowled, hands on his hips, as he stopped to stare at them: some were aimed towards the sidewalks, not exclusively the street. It wasn't that the government was too cheap to do this… but six cameras in the same place? Excessive… and perhaps meaningful.

Was this what the Homura did? They surveilled the whole city through an immense camera circuit? Were they setting up their own devices, or were they working covertly with the government and the police…? Both possibilities were there. But he guessed, as he stared at the camera aimed at him, that he could send a message to the Homura all the same: an alliance should be struck, as Hakoda had asked of him. An alliance that should prove favorable to both clans, an offering of something the Homura lacked… the Homura, who had everything in the world, as far as everyone know.

Everything but one thing, come to think of it. Sokka stroked his chin, pondering Kattan's words, and his own knowledge of Homura henchmen, before making up his mind about what the next move should be.

He returned to headquarters quickly, rather than heading home: the one man he had to find, the one he was looking for, happened to be there, waiting to meet with him.

"I was rejected!" Takase declared, throwing his hands in the air. "Sorry, but you can't get rid of me that easily. That's just how it is."

"I see," Sokka chuckled. "Well, it's good to have you back. Though I'm surprised they rejected you so boldly, huh? One would think they'd know better than to toss away a great asset like yourself."

"And quite the asset I am, too, but if they don't know my worth, it ain't my business," declared Takase.

"Good, though… can I ask, who did you meet while they deliberated on whether to work with you or not?" Sokka said. "Was it goons, or were there any higher-ups in there…?"

"Eh? Two higher-ups, actually. They can't have goons deciding on hiring a bigshot like me, eh?" said Takase. "The first one… he had those ear whiskers, you know? Them bug fuzzy hair right past the ears…"

"Mutton chops? Sideburns?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile.

"There, there! That's the thing!"

"Then Zhao Homura," Sokka hissed. "And the other?"

"Eh, some girl. Probably a little younger than you… your sister's age, maybe? But it looked like she was the boss instead. I didn't catch her name, but it felt like… like she was a razor, somehow? You know? I thought to offer to design a razor for her, but then she cut me down, so I thought – does she even need one? Heck no!"

"Was she… dark-haired?" Sokka asked. "Fair skin? Maybe gold eyes?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, all that," said Takase, nodding. "She was dressed all fancy too. You know… maybe she's the Homura daughter! Ha! I hadn't even thought of it, but it's got to be her…"

"It's got to be her, alright," Sokka smiled slowly, the gears turning gradually in his mind.

It did make perfect sense… she was, after all, rumored to be the true strength that held the Homura together. She was seldom seen unless it was necessary, and her private life was, in all likelihood, as private as it could get. Sokka couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her in person… surely they had still been as good as children. But that was then, and this was now: he needed to contact her, and to settle their dispute in the smoothest way possible.

The best means through which to achieve that, however, was none other than his top-of-the-line, networking sister: Katara was happy to see him, as ever… and utterly confused when he voiced his request.

"You want me to tell you everything I know about Azula Homura?" she repeated. "Well… damn, not much. She keeps to herself? Some people say she's obsessed with her work, and the whole reason the Homura clan is even succeeding despite the massive loss of members they had after the previous heir abandoned? You remember that story, right?"

"Right, the heir who defected and ran away to Korea?" Sokka said, nodding. "His son was killed or something, wasn't that it?"

"I think so," Katara answered. "No idea if Azula Homura has an heir burn, if that's what you wanted to know…"

"I doubt it," Sokka said, with an awkward grin. "But… do you think you know people who know her?"

"I think I could reach her, if you need me to?" Katara said, eyeing him warily. "Why? If you want an arranged marriage you could ask for something a little less outlandish…?"

"I wasn't going to ask for… hey. Hey, now, that's not the worst idea," Sokka reasoned, smirking as he prodded his stubble with his thumb. Katara huffed, rolling her eyes.

"I bet this is all over dad's request to help him ally with the Homura… well, whatever!" she said. "I'll see what I can do, I'll try to get her a message. But just so you know…"

"I owe you, big time, yep," Sokka grinned. "I'll design a great tattoo for you!"

"You'd better," Katara huffed, smiling at her brother: she wasn't quite as covered in tattoos as he was, but she already sported a few of her brother's creations on her arms. Maybe one on her ankle wouldn't be a bad idea…

Sokka returned shortly afterwards with the message he needed to convey. And Katara took to unraveling the network through which she'd bring it to the Homura princess, a far more complicated feat than she expected it to be.

The key to the plan was a perfectly discreet locale, a classy bar behind a beautiful brown door, in a small building. Shiori had often been a location suited for casual encounters between low-ranked clan members of any yakuza family, and as it happened, the most common visitors were the henchmen of the Homura clan. Katara found the right person to whom she could ask to slip the note to any Homura who appeared capable enough to act on it: the karaoke room within the building was where the exchange took place, where a young man of the Kawakami took to any and all extremes to convince a mature Homura woman to see to it that Sokka's message was conveyed successfully.

The message was then passed from Homura hand to Homura hand, until finally it reached the destination it sought, when a tall Homura goon had knocked on Azula's door, gesturing at a small leaflet in his hand.

"Seems like you've got a message. Nothing harmful in it, I checked, but… might useful, I dunno," said the goon, handing the message to the heir's daughter. Her eyes narrowed as she snagged the paper from his hand… and her heart, so tempered and evenly paced, suddenly raced upon reading the contents of the message.

Got a business proposal for you. Check your logs, Meimai Central, 12/6: Matsugaoka Park on 15/6, at 7. I'll make it worth your while.

Her chest tightened as she read those words. Someone had unraveled the rather obvious truth – that she could see through the cameras all across the city. And that person had a business proposal for her: even before dismissing the goon, and searching through her camera logs, she knew who she'd find in the video registry… and her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw him, staring directly into the camera, waving, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive and definitely inappropriate manner.

A business proposal… well, she could hear him out. She should, if anything: if she found any weaknesses worth exploiting, she'd tear the Kawakami down and protect the interests of the Homura. That was what she'd do, what she'd always been meant to do…

Though, if she took a light detour before getting there, in case the Kawakami heir was interested, she wouldn't complain one bit.

Sokka breathed out slowly as he stepped off the sidewalk. The street was fortunately empty… or perhaps not quite that fortunately, really. Surely the Homura princess had set up some sort of forcible detour for cars to ensure the encounter between them would have perfect privacy… and perfect surveillance by her people. He released a breath as he entered Matsugaoka park's premises, sensing a thousand eyes upon himself… knowing there might as well be a thousand. There was no way she would attend this meeting without the thickest, sturdiest security detail ever.

He breathed out as he paced inside the park, searching with his gaze until his eyes finally landed upon a human silhouette, standing amidst the trees, under a lamppost with unsteady, blinking brightness.

He started on his way towards her as quietly as possible, assessing the enemy – or the ally-to-be, if all went well – as thoroughly as he dared. And there was plenty to assess, too: she had decided to wear a leather ensemble for this encounter, apparel worthy of a biker, Sokka thought to himself, but where it could have looked ridiculous in anyone else, it was breathtaking in a woman of her figure. Her long, dark, flowing hair played in the breeze, held up in a long ponytail that exposed her nape frequently, if the wind blew her strands in the right direction.

Even now, when looking at her from behind – and enjoying thoroughly the sight of her rear's curves, goodness, how dared she dress in leather when she already had a killer body? – his whole system jolted with anticipation. Chances to interact with other clans were sparse, and they never ever sent anyone who looked remotely as good as Azula Homura did… though Sokka hoped, despite he knew it was stupid, that her face wouldn't be all that pretty. If it was, he'd be a goner, so if just that…

"That's far enough," spoke a strong, feminine voice: her voice. His body shivered involuntarily, as he halted on his spot, obeying her immediately.

She turned then, and all his hopes shattered altogether: she was gorgeous. Everything about her was impossibly appealing, to the point his damn body appeared to be reacting to the Homura's presence as it pleased. No, there was no reason to be aroused, not when she would only be here with very strict purposes in mind…

"You're awfully relaxed, aren't you?" Azula Homura asked. Sokka swallowed hard but smirked.

"If your sharpshooters take me down now… well, can't say I'd ever hoped to get a better view than this, in my final moments," he said.

"How terribly corny," said Azula, rolling her eyes. "Does that sort of line work with all the girls you meet?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I don't usually attempt to meet up with girls who have hundreds of sharpshooters aiming at me, would you?" he said. To his delight, she smiled.

"Your dating life must be boring, if so," she said. He smirked.

"Has been, so far. Are you feeling bad for me, all of sudden?" he inquired, casually. Azula scoffed, though she still smiled.

"Not quite. I'm amused, if anything," she said. "But I'd assume you didn't ask me to come here just because you wanted to swap our dating histories, did you? I could've simply sent you a summary of mine if you'd asked…"

"Right. And I'm sure you've already looked through mine?" he said, smirking. "Seems like you know everything going on in this city."

"And I thought the Kawakami were relegated to southern Akashi, hence, not in this city," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. "Or is it that you're here to sell Kawakami territory to us? Want me to keep watch over your city, too?"

"Want to keep watch over it?" Sokka asked, raising his eyebrows. Azula's amusement receded. "Look… you're smart. Smarter than anyone else in the Homura clan. Surely the thought has occurred to you, right? We Kawakami are a pointless, boring rock in your fancy Homura shoe. We get in the way of your business, whether intentionally or not, because we took office way too close to your domains. And where you guys probably think the best solution is to snuff us out… I think there's a much more peaceful solution we can consider."

"And what's that?" Azula asked, with a sardonic smile.

"An alliance," Sokka said. Unsurprisingly, Azula scoffed.

"What do we have to gain by allying with you? What would the Kawakami offer the Homura that we lack? This is what you and your father have been after? The reason you gave us Takase, the reason you started to defy us by attempting to steal our people…"

"Hey, now, you started it!" Sokka pouted. Azula, despite herself, smiled.

"You're childish. And only a childish man would make a suggestion as outlandish as this one," she said, simply. "I should have the sharpshooters shoot you indeed for all this nonsense…"

"Don't know if you should do that," Sokka said, smiling. "Your defenses are within the park, aren't they? Well… I may have posed a few friends in the nearby buildings just as well. I made an educated guess regarding where you'd position yours, offered my own sharpshooters the possible locations for your henchmen…"

"So you're saying, if mine shoot you, yours will shoot them… you'd die, then my henchmen die, then I make myself scarce and I survive while you don't?" she said, smirking. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"You can't be sure you'll get away so easily," he said.

"Oh, what makes you think that?" she asked, amused again. "You expect I won't know these territories as thoroughly as I please, Kawakami?"

"I expect, rather, that you'd be amenable to discussing business instead of jumping for the kill right away," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I know you've been watching me for a while, hell knows just how far your reach goes. You know I didn't come alone either, much like you didn't. So… how about we have our perfectly normal business exchange, and if you think my idea is worthless, you let me know, and we'll go our separate ways without causing any deaths that might result in a massive clan war?"

"Hmm… wouldn't be massive. The Homura outnumber your clan by tenfold, at least," said Azula, with a sardonic grin. Sokka rolled his eyes but smiled.

"My point still stands. You don't want to cause more trouble for the Homura by killing me when I'm only here for business," he said, raising his hands.

"Indeed, the business of an alliance that doesn't appear to offer much in the way of benefits to the Homura clan," said Azula, haughtily. "Why do I need to ally with you, Sokka Kawakami?"

"You don't need to, that's the truth. Neither do we need to be allied with you," he conceded. "But the Kyoshi clan down south was faltering, and after striking an alliance with the Tsuchiya clan, they've both thrived and resurged as leading clans. I'm not saying the Homura need an alliance to stay solid in their position as the biggest clan in the nation… but surely you guys don't want the others to catch up to you, right?"

"Surely," Azula repeated, tapping her arm with a finger. "All that being said… the Homura clan doesn't quite need to associate with a lesser clan to rise in prominence. There's parts of Asia that outright don't know what the word "yakuza" stands for, but tremble in fear upon hearing the family name "Homura". There have been movies about us, documentaries, we have contacts that the rest of the clans wish they could attain… and you think your clan would be our most favorable alliance possible? Why?"

"I suppose the geopolitical angle doesn't interest you much?" Sokka said. "Having freedom to go in and out of Akashi… I'd argue, of course, that the terms of the alliance should make it so we retain jurisdiction in our cities and territories, but the other clan has freedom of passage and occasional operations – with previously granted permission – in the area. We could even settle on a fee of a sort, a percentage of money gained from operations that we'd offer you, you could do the same for us…"

"Sounds counterproductive," said Azula. Sokka chuckled.

"Right, right, it's easier to kill off the Kawakami, isn't it? But see, there is one thing our clan can offer yours, one thing you really could use…" he smirked, stepping closer to her. "Something you have been missing for, well, I don't know how many years? Something I guess you guys disregarded as irrelevant, going by how your people are always dressed in fancy, full-body suits, these days…"

"What… are you getting at?" Azula said, despite her better sense already suspected what his point would be. Sokka smirked.

"You don't have a proper tebori artist anymore, do you?" he said. She couldn't hide the irritation that crossed her face. "Haven't had one for a very long time. Your people? If they have any tattoos, it's some ridiculous-looking little flame, probably made with western technique…"

"The fools who have tattooed themselves with that thing have been reprimanded, and others discouraged from following their example," Azula snapped. Sokka's grin only gained further mischief. "That being said, how exactly does the Kawakami clan wind up obtaining a rare, tebori artist where the Homura clan couldn't find any to replace the old master we lost about twenty years ago?"

"Why… we have our secrets, you have yours," Sokka shrugged. Azula scoffed.

"I question your words. Perhaps you don't have one at all, and you're pulling my hair," she said. Sokka snorted.

"Alright… this won't look good, but please, don't order your men to shoot me for it," he said, raising his hands defensively… before pulling open his jacket.

The t-shirt he wore underneath it wrapped around his muscular body, despite it wasn't meant to be tight. His chest appeared large, even while hidden beneath another layer of fabric… and his arms were rather thick, with tense muscles that shifted in an entrancing way as Sokka set down his jacket and made to remove his t-shirt next.

Azula's jaw threatened to drop, but she ensured not to show how badly this particular, shameless display of her opponent was affecting her. Oh, that body… the more he exposed it, the more she feared she'd make a fool of herself, jumping to devour him in the eyes of all the sharpshooters they both had brought with them to this park. Ugh, she was a fool for wishing she had taken no precautions, but the gradually exposed body before her, each tense muscle, each ridge of his abs and pectorals, were tugging through all her many layers of powerful self-control, urging her to act on her impulses for once instead of holding back for appearances' sake…

She had forgotten the purpose of his disrobing once the t-shirt was fully removed, but he hadn't: he gestured at the shapes over his shoulders, spreading into his bare chest.

"You can tell, can't you? They're actual tebori," he said. "I applied these myself."

"You… what?" Azula gasped, staring at him in genuine astonishment. Sokka grinned.

"Let it be known that I have the self-control and pain-threshold to pull off art on my own body without mucking it up," he smirked. "I've been tattooing many of the Kawakami ever since my master decided I was ready. Most prefer koi tattoos in our clan, but I… I liked the wolf. It's fierce, and it protects the pack. I like to think of myself as one, obnoxious as it sounds…"

Well, a man with that body had every right to be as obnoxious as he pleased, as far as Azula was concerned. Twin wolves stood at each of his shoulders, their jaws open threateningly, claws and fangs beared, and they lunged downwards into Sokka's pectorals, right above his nipples. It wasn't all though: waves appeared to spread across underneath the wolves, across his abdomen, perhaps even over his back…

"And you expect me to think… you tattooed your own back?" she asked, skeptical. Sokka chuckled.

"Yeah, that one I couldn't do myself. My old master actually started the back tattoo for me," Sokka explained, turning around and gesturing at the design: Azula nearly gasped, for the pattern of the sea merged into yet another wolf shape, one that appeared ready to pounce, right across his spine. "I told him what I had in mind, he started from there, told me I'd only be allowed to start tattooing my clansmen if I succeeded at tattooing myself. And I did."

"You… did. I suppose. Though… I don't know if I believe you yet," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "You claim you can do tebori, but you alone have tattooed all the Kawakami? Just one man wouldn't suffice for our clan."

"I'm not the only one, no," Sokka smiled. "Though I'm one of the best, for sure. My master might agree to tattoo a few of your people, as long as you all ask nicely. There's about three more of his apprentices within our ranks, the third is still pretty green but the others are good enough. Of course, it'll take a while… but your clan can go right back to bearing amazing tattoos that will instill fear in the hearts of the enemy, eh? Instead of inspiring laughter, like that silly flame does…"

"Be that as it may, we haven't needed tattoos for that purpose for a while" Azula said… though her tone suggested she saw actual value in this proposal, if nothing else.

"Not like they'd hurt, eh? Well, figuratively anyway," said Sokka, smiling as he pulled his shirt on again, and while Azula didn't quite want to stop watching his bare body, even the visual of him dressing up proved a most stimulating. "It's a big tradition for yakuza, always has been. Surely your dad will want to hear of this offer, at least? If he says no, fine, I'll accept my defeat. If he says yes…"

"He won't say either no or yes until I've decided your offer and your apparent skills are trustworthy," Azula declared, stubbornly. Sokka blinked blankly. "By which I mean… if you agree to tattoo one member of our clan as an example of what you can do, and you prove successful, I'll discuss your alliance proposal and possibilities with my father. If I can interest him in this arrangement, you may meet directly with him – though I suppose it'd be more agreeable if your father were the one to meet him and settle the alliance. Still… first of all, I'll have to be sure you're not pulling our hair."

"Heh. Seems fair," Sokka nodded. "Alright, then. I guess I'll give you the location of my parlor, in a show of good faith… send your clan member tomorrow? If it's a full-body tattoo, though, this could take a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. "Pardon my ignorance, but I haven't really had to worry about the logistics of tebori tattoos for as long as I've been working actively in the Homura clan."

"Well, depends on the difficulty. But sessions could even span months, if it's too tricky," Sokka admitted. Azula scowled.

"How do you plan on tattooing all our people if it takes months?" she asked.

"It doesn't always take that long, but I'd think you'd know better than to expect this for all your people?" Sokka laughed. "I'd think the bigger fish are the ones who ought to have the tebori, if they want them, of course. You could even make it a matter of a reward: if they do their jobs well, they'll be eligible for tattoos with us. See?"

"I see," said Azula, raising her eyebrows. "Well, then… I'll contact you for the address tomorrow."

"I guess you can get my number, just like that?" Sokka asked, amused.

"Buy yourself a burner phone, if you don't trust me," she said, smiling too. "There's a store nearby, you can find one there. I'll get the number out of the owner, and contact you through a burner of my own."

"Seems fair," Sokka smiled. "Well, then… we're in temporary business, for now?"

"Making it a permanent deal shall hinge on your skills, above all else," Azula raised her head haughtily. "For the time being, I'll expect your people to stay in their lane, and I'll make sure mine stay in ours, without causing any problems for either clan until this matter of a potential alliance is either confirmed or completely dismissed."

"Seems a great idea to me," Sokka said, nodding.

"Good to know you agree to these terms," Azula replied. "Continue this way, and your pet project might have a better chance at succeeding. Anyway, feel free to take your leave first."

"As you'd have it," he said.

She didn't ignore that he started walking backwards… while allowing his eyes to take in her body shape in a rather careless, lecherous manner. Her blood burned underneath her skin… and not quite because of outrage. She knew those looks… she hoped he knew them too, for she had been casting them in his direction from the moment she had seen him. Was he merely taking her in as best he could right now, in fear they might never meet again? If so…

When he turned, her eyes strayed towards his rear, settling there, admiring their perfect curves until the shroud of darkness hid his whole body away from her own, lascivious gaze. Azula smiled, despite herself, once he was gone, and once she suspected the many weapons aimed towards the location of their conversation had been withdrawn and put aside. His business proposal had been slightly more interesting than she had expected, and suddenly she wasn't quite so determined to take down the Kawakami completely as she had been before… but she would test his resolve further soon. Just how far was he willing to go to score this alliance with the Homura clan…?

"You truly believe this is worth pursuing?" Ozai asked, frowning, once Azula met with him in private on the next morning. "An alliance, with the Kawakami clan?"

"For the sake of the tebori, it may be," said Azula, breathing out slowly. "I understand your reluctance, but it is true that allying with a clan, however lesser it may be, could bring advantages in the long run. We could, presumably, manipulate the Kawakami freely if this alliance is arranged. They'll expect to gain a rise in power, by joining forces with us…"

"Not knowing we're the ones assimilating them, without their awareness?" Ozai finished. Azula shrugged.

"It's a possibility. Though Hakoda Kawakami might be wiser than we expected," Azula conceded. "He might not make it easy for the alliance to be corrupted for our benefit, but it's probably safer to have the Kawakami close by if we intend to ensure their growth doesn't go out of control after the events following the earthquake."

"It's a dangerous game… and unfortunately, we cannot simply poach the tebori artist from them, considering it's the heir," said Ozai, rolling his eyes. "The others might be fair game, but I question he would ever betray his people."

"He likened himself with a wolf," Azula said, hoping the blood wouldn't rush to her cheeks as she remembered the impossibly alluring tattoos decorating that man's powerful body. "Said he protected his pack. So… yes, corrupting him may not be easy."

"You might as well try," Ozai said. "Every man has a price, as far as I'm aware. If we can plant discord within their ranks, it'll serve for our benefit too. So… perhaps the alliance isn't the worst idea. Though you'll have to assess if the risks outweigh the possible benefits, Azula: in this case, we've lived fine without tattoos for the last years. If the potential improvements for our circumstances aren't considerable, I wouldn't go forth with this venture."

"I agree, completely," Azula said, nodding curtly. "I shall let you know what the test's results are."

"Very well," Ozai nodded, dismissing Azula.

Her next step was simple enough to perform, once she returned to her office: she searched through her database quickly, tracking down the cellphone store where Sokka had bought his burner. After a quick call, she had the number, and had ordered a phone of her own. It might be awfully inconvenient, she couldn't deny it, having a single phone to communicate with a single person… but once the messenger she sent to retrieve the package had returned with her new device, her heart was racing with excitement.

Sokka didn't think it was a good idea to sit at his parlor all day, waiting for a message to arrive, and yet that was exactly what he did. Business was slow now – who would prioritize getting a tattoo after the earthquake's devastation, really? – but he left the open sign on the door, despite knowing he'd have to turn it around as soon as Azula's chosen Homura arrived. Sokka had gone through his designs carefully, making sure to evoke the images he'd need to keep in mind, the technique, the patience… he was ready. He could do this, especially when the rise of his clan might as well depend on his performance now.

The phone rang with its new, custom beat – he had been bored enough to scour through the libraries of the device until he found one that suited him. He opened the message quickly, and smiled upon reading Azula's curt, blunt message: Send the address now.

He decided to save the number immediately, though he hesitated at which name to give the contact. Obviously, using her real name was beside the question… he smirked upon jotting down 'My Flame', and he wondered if she'd approve of it. He thought she'd liked what she'd seen yesterday… perhaps he should try to flirt some more and see if that would get them somewhere. If the alliance failed, well… sleeping with the enemy could make this whole ordeal worthwhile, regardless.

He answered the message just as directly, hoping to appear professional despite his previous, shameless attitude while picking her contact name. He wondered, briefly, if she had given him a nickname of her own… would it be an embarrassing one? Or also a teasing, flirty one? He'd love it if it were the latter…

After around fifteen minutes, the sound of a motorbike alerted him that someone was approaching. The area had been quite silent lately, but it wouldn't stay that way forever. Still, it was an extra layer of privacy that would enable him to tattoo a Homura without worrying about prying eyes, misunderstandings or rushed judgments…

The bike stopped right at before the parlor, and the rider climbed off. Sokka could see the person's silhouette through the darkened glass panels of his parlor… and he frowned lightly upon noticing the outfit wrapped around an undoubtably female body appeared to be of leather. Much like Azula's chosen attire from the previous night.

His heart nearly stopped before she pushed the door open while removing the bike's helmet: his jaw dropped, for she had come alone. She hadn't brought anyone. Which meant…

"W-wait…" he chortled, jumping off the chair he'd been sitting at. Azula slid a hand over her hair, taming it again after the previous bike ride.

"Do you have other customers? Why do I have to wait?" she asked, with a light grin.

He couldn't seem to snap out of his disbelieving amazement. He swallowed hard and stood up straight, puzzled, utterly confused… here he had been, pondering how to coax her into a new date, and she had come to him of her own volition?

"I… I'm a bit surprised, is all. You want me to tattoo you?" he asked.

"Is it the Kawakami don't tattoo their women?" Azula asked. Sokka swallowed.

"The Kawakami do a lot of things different from the Homura. I mean… my mom and my sister are part of the group, but they're not really part of the operations? Not the big ones? If that makes sense, though I've tattooed my sister's arms because she asked a few months ago… b-but that's not it!" Sokka said, looking at her with uncertainty. "You're sure you want to do this? I thought you didn't trust me."

"And why would I trust you to tattoo one of my men without making sure, personally, that you can handle the job?" Azula smirked, stepping closer. "Are you afraid of something?"

"I… no, not at all. Just… I really expected to tattoo a guy," Sokka smiled, biting his lip. "Not complaining, though, not complaining. But… well, you do realize, like I told you, this will be a long process, depending on what you want? You might have to come back a few times to get the whole thing finished, unless you wanted something small…?"

"Do I look like someone who would have a small venture in mind?" Azula asked, amused. Sokka swallowed hard but grinned. "I have an idea in mind, yes: a dragon, naturally. In a field of flames."

"Oh. Heh, well, that can be done, for sure," Sokka said, nodding positively. "How big? A sleeve, or…?"

"Hmm…" Azula tapped her chin, in deep thought as Sokka stepped towards the door: he spun the "Open" sign upon itself, and Azula smirked for it. She had him for herself now, then… all his attention would be on her body. Whatever the result might be, she couldn't quite help but rejoice in that awareness. "I think I want something quite dynamic, actually."

"Just how dynamic?" Sokka asked, curious, as he turned towards her again.

"I want this dragon across my back… shifting across it, as it may?" Azula said. Sokka raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he made his way to his desk.

"Let's see…" he said, quickly drawing the outline of a female body on a free sheet of paper.

Azula watched with curiosity as he jotted down lines expertly. She rested her body weight against the desk, and Sokka continued to sketch while keenly aware of her closeness, as well as her gaze upon him.

"How's this?" he asked. Azula hummed as she studied the design.

"Not enough, actually," she said. Sokka bit his lip. "Not that it's wrong, just… I'm looking for something slightly more complicated. Like… ah, how about if the dragon's tail starts at the base of my nake, but the body… wraps around mine? I mean, if it hugs my flank, then goes across my front…?"

"U-uh… wow," Sokka blinked blankly, but he attempted another sketch… this time of the front of her body. He hesitated at drawing her breasts, at which Azula smirked knowingly. "Well, um… sorry to be bold, but how big exactly are they?"

"Need that much information for a full design?" she asked. He grinned guiltily.

"Alright, let's just say… the dragon's body goes over your ribcage, on either side?" he said. "And below your breasts…?"

"Hmm. I guess tattooing them could be tricky," Azula reasoned, with a voice that attempted to convey an innocence she clearly lacked. Sokka bit his lip but smirked.

"I'll be blunt: I've never done that before," he laughed softly. "I figured it'd be more comfortable if it's just… around them? But you're the boss right now. You tell me."

"Hmm? So Kawakami women don't get tebori that often?" Azula asked, smirking.

"Not quite?" Sokka grinned awkwardly. "I'm not too popular yet anyways, I've only tattooed my sister with a few small designs, and… well, it is Japan, tattoos are usually frowned upon. Most my latest customers have been teenage nerds trying to look intimidating before starting college?"

"Such upstanding customers for the Kawakami heir," Azula said mockingly. Sokka snorted and laughed, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle as he lowered his head. Strangely bashful, and just so, incredibly charming…

"See why I want to tattoo your goons now?" he said. "Though… got to say, I'm not sure any of my next customers will be much to write home about after you."

"Intended to write about me, did you?" Azula smirked. "Would your family appreciate hearing about the outlandish challenges I keep forcing upon you?"

"Eh… my dad would laugh a lot," Sokka chuckled, as he continued to doodle across his new sketches. "Though you'd better be careful, eh? Don't be too impressive, or he'll start pondering other ways to establish an alliance between our clans…"

"Other ways? Such as?" Azula asked, deliberately playing dumb. Sokka stopped sketching, snorting before shooting her a meaningful stare. "What?"

"You're way too smart not to know what," he said, simply. She smirked.

"Can't say my father would agree with that notion," she said.

"Exactly. So… you know, better for us not to get any hopes up, right?" he said, with a nonchalant shrug as he returned to his design.

"Hopes? You'd actually hope for it? How ambitious of you…" Azula said, shaking her head reproachfully.

"Might not be a matter of ambition, Homura Princess…" he whispered. She shivered upon hearing him speak that nickname. "There's other reasons to marry someone besides social advancement…"

"Hmm? And what other reason could you possibly have to marry me?" she asked. Sokka smiled slowly and tapped his sketch.

"How's this one?" he asked.

Azula clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shooting him a long, meaningful, stare before turning to the paper.

"Cowardice doesn't befit you…" she said, though she froze upon glimpsing the new design: the dragon's body would slither across her collarbone and shoulders, dipping down the valley of her breasts, hugging the outline of the right before dipping down to her belly and rising again to hug the left before scurrying towards the back.

"I'm thinking… do you want claws?" he said. "Could be I could fit them… over here? Above your breasts…?"

Azula shivered at the suggestion, as he drew the lines to depict what he meant. Well, curses, she had thought he was evading the question, but he might have just intended to answer it with his artwork instead…

"It'll loop across your abdomen a couple more times, I think? And then it goes to the back," Sokka said, gesturing at the initial artwork. "Menacing snarling dragon, right? Any guy who gets you naked will think twice before doing anything out of bounds this way…"

"Sounds like a plan," Azula smirked. "You'll be the first victim of the dragon, if so, because you'll be drawing it. You'll have to tell me if it's truly that daunting."

"I'll make it as scary as I can," Sokka smiled. "So… is this good? Or do you want another attempt?"

"I… think I'd like to see the idea in a much more solid way before pushing through with this design," Azula said, biting her lip. "Do you make stencils? Or…"

"Not quite stencils, I usually draw an outline on the body," Sokka explained. "The initial outline, then I go forward with the inking of the outline, but… it's true it's probably better if you have an initial glimpse of what I've got in mind. You, uh… are comfortable with letting me doodle a mean dragon over your naked body?"

"Comfortable?" Azula repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Why… not quite. Not while we're in plain view of the street, despite those darkened glass panes of yours…"

"I wouldn't have worked with you up here," Sokka laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. Step into my basement, why don't you?"

"You'd better not have a full regiment of nasty Kawakami goons down there, ready to eviscerate me…" Azula said, raising her head haughtily as she followed Sokka to the stairs.

He laughed again at her words as he opened the door that led to the basement, and she found she was growing quite fond of that sound… at least, her stirring lower belly was. Surely there wouldn't be a regiment of Kawakami down there, but she certainly hoped the only Kawakami within the area would be willing to do something other than just tattooing, once they were in private…

It wasn't every day she found herself so attracted by a man, let alone was it every day that she felt the urge to act upon it, let alone so boldly. Her plans for the design were a most deliberate, reckless attempt to seduce him… and she sure hoped it worked. So far, it looked like it would, but she couldn't take anything for granted…

The study downstairs was rather orderly, once Sokka flipped the light switch and revealed it before Azula's gaze. The shelves, the tattooing implements sitting in their right cases, the already-mixed inks, as well as the ingredients to mix new ones… all of it appeared angled towards the modern tattoo chair, out of place among so many traditional tools. Azula finally reached the last step, taking in the location in full, but her gaze inevitably fell upon the chair: leather, adjustable, hopefully comfortable and stable. Good.

"Alright, then… we won't be working with the proper needles yet. A painless process to begin with… then comes the true challenge," Sokka said, smiling at her. "So… mind disrobing for me, Homura Princess?"

That he dared wink at her should have been outrageous… but her whole body felt like melting chocolate because of it. Her heart skipped a beat most delightfully, and she smiled before loosening her jacket first. Sokka smiled at her, making his way to his shelves to collect the tools with which he'd start the sketches of the outline, but he dared glance at Azula again as she clasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head with one smooth movement: her pelvis tucked in lightly over the movement, her ribcage highlighted, as well as her abdomen's lean muscles. She got plenty of exercise, he realized, despite she kept such tight surveillance of the whole city… She was a true wonder, Sokka thought, snatching three different skin markers from his collection, and he didn't tear his eyes off her… not even when she tugged her belt loose and pushed down her trousers.

"W-woah…" he said, unable to hold back his smile. Azula blinked blankly in his direction. "Not that I don't appreciate those fine legs of yours… but I didn't sketch for anything in your lower body"

"You mentioned claws…" Azula said, casually. "I thought, curiously, that you probably could have the dragon's front paws over… here?"

She turned, deliberately squeezing her ass cheeks together while trailing her hands suggestively over them. Sokka's eyes damn near bulged, and he swallowed dryly as Azula gazed at him inquisitively.

"Y-you… have amazing ideas," he finally decided. Azula's knowing grin spread widely over her face.

"Thought you might appreciate that one," she said, reaching up her back to tug loose her bra.

Sokka damn near cursed himself as he tore his gaze away from her back: fool. He couldn't just tell her to turn so he could see her better. No matter if the Homura Princess had come here for many purposes beyond just getting a tattoo, he couldn't succumb to such stupid impulses. He had to play by her rules, and even if he did, he might wind up landing himself in a world of trouble. If he dared touch her, even if with her consent, she could easily turn things around and use that to her advantage to destroy the alliance before it was even formed… ugh, he kind of wanted to do it despite that risk, but he knew he needed to be cautious, to think things through. And wanting to see her breasts wasn't at all the cautious way to proceed…

But he'd see them anyway, he knew, as he heard her walking towards the chair. She snapped her tongue somewhat dismissively, and Sokka released a breath before turning to find her back to him again… she was fully naked now. No underwear, no socks, nothing. Only her ponytail remained in place, though after she had disrobed, it appeared to be falling loose: she noticed, and undid it quickly. Her hair fell in an elegant curtain across the back he'd soon tattoo, just before she pulled it together again and redid the ponytail. With her arms raised, he could see the outline of her breasts and… dammit! He had to stop!

Though it was already far too late to reel back the erection that had been growing inevitably, ever since she had first climbed off that bike. It wasn't like she was the first woman he'd seen driving one, but curses, she was sensual even in that sense. It was as though everything he had ever found desirable in a woman had been thrown together in one, extraordinary package, and now she was naked before him. Naked, and flaunting her body, as per the light slant of her hips…

"How many sweaty, disgusting fools have climbed atop this chair?" Azula asked, glancing at him over her shoulder once she had finished composing her ponytail.

"N-not that many…" Sokka said, swallowing hard. "But… I clean it every time! I do! Want me to clean it again? Because I can do it, if you're uncomfortable…"

"You'd better do it. I am uncomfortable," Azula smirked, stepping away from the chair… and again, deliberately doing so by keeping her back towards him. Sokka chewed on his cheeks as he tried to control himself: she really was going to drive him mad, at this rate.

He found his cleaning supplies, the strongest of them, and got to work. Azula was enjoying a thorough inspection of his wares in the mean time, walking barefooted – if she was so concerned with hygiene, it seemed odd she would do that when she, for one thing, didn't even need to loosen up her shoes for a tattoo that would only reach her rear… – as she waited for him to finish cleaning the chair from any lingering residues of any kind.

"Alright… I think you can do it now," Sokka smiled, climbing off the chair as he shifted the adjustable settings: it became a perfect bed, better for their purposes, he hoped.

Of course, Azula would only climb it once he was putting away his cleaning implements, and he didn't even let his damn groin protest over that: he focused on his task, giving Azula enough time to relax on the bed… before turning towards her, collecting his markers again.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess Homura… but you'll need to turn over many times while we do this," he said, his professional voice blatantly insincere.

"Oh, dear. I guess I shall have no choice," Azula said, dramatically. He smirked.

"Shall we, then?" he said, pulling his own chair close so he could start the design.

Azula nodded awkwardly, facedown as she was.

"Go ahead," she whispered, and Sokka raised his first marker.

She had decided the tail should begin at her nape, so he began there: he'd go slowly, gradually, sketching lines of the dragon's contour and body until he reached the head, which would occupy her middle-to-lower back, much like his own tattooed wolf did – he couldn't help but think she hoped to mirror his design with her own, and it was quite a flattering gesture. He dragged the marker along expertly for the first curves of the dragon's shape, tracing it all the way until it reached Azula's right armpit, and then he returned to the beginning, depicting the spikes that should accompany the dragon's body. Then he returned one more time, to draw each scale perfectly carefully, and wherever it should be visible, the dragon's underbelly, with another marker.

And with that, it was time for her to turn around. Sokka released a breath before speaking his thoughts:

"I'll be going over the front now."

"Ah… right," Azula said, smiling as she obeyed, impossibly slowly.

Sokka swallowed dryly, and she could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did, a rather masculine, sensual gesture she was entranced by… but she supposed he was far more taken with her own, fully bare body, once she was lying on her back, arms raised so he could patch the dragon outline with the new share of art he'd decorate her body with.

"Is this okay?" she asked, innocently. Sokka jumped, as though he had been about to fall off his chair… his eyes, of course, most unprofessionally focused on her bare breasts. "Or would you rather I take up some other position?"

"N-no, no, this is… this is good," he said, with a nervous grin, as he raised his marker again. Azula, though, clicked her tongue teasingly.

"You sure? You look… uncomfortable," she said. He snorted and laughed, touching her skin with the marker's tip again.

"I… am not uncomfortable. Not in a bad sense anyway," he said. "If anything… I'm probably enjoying the view way more than any tattoo artist has any right to. Excuse me for that, if you would, Princess Homura…"

"Should I truly excuse you… Prince Kawakami?" she teased him back. He laughed, though he continued to drag the marker over her collarbone.

Azula smiled, inevitably, delighted by his reactions… by his unwillingness to back down, too. He rose up to every challenge, and seemed quite willing to acknowledge the wild thoughts that were coursing through his mind. She wondered just how long it'd take before he bit the bait… she hoped he'd do it soon, too. She wasn't sure it was advisable for anyone to have wild sex after taking several needles to the skin at a rapid pace, anyway.

Because, yes, they were going to have wild sex, one way or another. She had no intentions of leaving this parlor today without a taste of the man she was being touched and intimately studied by.

He dragged her arms down when he needed them in another position, and then doodled a quick loop over her arm… only to ask her to turn again. Azula sighed but relented, feeling him dragging the marker over her back, relaxing under that soft, wet, localized sensation… and again, she had to turn, once he was drawing the dragon's body over her other arm. Azula complied, lying on her side now, watching him intently while not subtly squeezing her breasts together in this position. His eyes traveled there on occasion, and his cheeks would heat up whenever they did: she smiled each time, but he only continued to work… until it was time for the front again, and he asked her to lie down as he brought the dragon's body down through the valley between her breasts.

"I… may need to touch them," he said. Azula gasped in feigned astonishment, and he smirked. "Just thought I'd warn you, if you needed me to…"

"Oh, my. A man, touching my chest… unfathomable," she said, teasingly. Sokka laughed and shook his head as he started on the first curve that would hug the outline of Azula's breast.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, but more than that, the knowledge that he was absolutely looking forward to touching her. She waited, impatiently, her heart drumming in her chest…

And then it happened: fingers, catching her breast's underside, raising it gently as the marker trailed below it. She wasn't imagining the way those fingers felt her skin, certainly… he was fondling her lightly, and she was starting to think she'd leave quite the wet spot on his adjustable chair after today. This simply couldn't be so exciting…

"How's it feel?" he asked, teasingly. Azula hummed.

"Wet… and cold," she replied. Sokka snorted.

"The marker?" he asked.

"What else would you have meant to ask me about?" she said, closing her eyes carelessly.

He bit back another laugh: but curses, she was beautiful. Her eyelashes, the perfect makeup applied across them, her straight nose, her full lips, her feminine, yet strong chin… He damn near distracted himself with the urge of covering her with kisses, rather than with a tattoo's initial design. He had to find a more productive way to do this, he thought to himself, and yet…

She had to turn again, as the dragon's body would loop around her back, and then return to her front. Sokka erased the unnecessary portions by dabbing alcohol on a cotton ball and wiping off the marker's previous lines. The cold liquid made Azula shiver… or she took advantage of it to deliberately shift sensually against the chair, Sokka didn't know which it was. She had hiked up her rear unnecessarily this time, and his eyes kept escaping southwards to gaze at those perfectly circular mounds, barely resisting the urge to fondle them…

But he could lightly fondle her next breast now, and so he did, once she turned again. Azula was the picture of helplessness, arms raised over her head, eyes closed, soft purrs slipping from her throat…

Oh. Oh hell, she was moments away from moaning, and he sure as heck wanted to hear that.

In a most bold, careless manner, he brushed her nipple with his thumb: Azula moaned indeed, and Sokka's pulsating erection begged for him to cut it out. If he was going to do filthy things to her, he'd better stop playing around already… but no, he couldn't. He had to finish this. The claws now, the claws…

"I'm going to have to touch them again…" he said. She bit her lip.

"M-must you…?" she asked, her voice suggestive and playful. He smiled.

"The claws will be right here… I need a proper view of the skin," he said, tapping her upper breast. Azula hummed.

"That high…?" she asked. "I thought it'd be… more over here?"

She led his fingers lower… and they brushed her nipple again. Another moan, and she opened her eyes to gaze at him wantonly as he smiled knowingly.

"It… might not be anatomically correct," he said. She bit her lip.

"What a conundrum, isn't it?" she whispered.

"And it… could hurt," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Azula smiled.

"You think a Homura doesn't know how to handle pain?" she asked. "We literally burn our bodies to prove our worth, when need be…"

"You haven't burned yours, I see," Sokka whispered, carelessly dragging his hand down her flank. Azula moaned again. "Unless… it's somewhere else?"

"I thought you'd have seen me… completely by now," Azula smiled, moaning suggestively again once his hand trailed over her thigh.

"Not completely, I admit…" Sokka whispered, leaning closer to her… just as his fingers slipped between her legs.

Azula's moan was no longer intentionally erotic: she gasped and clenched up, and Sokka hummed as his fingers dipped into her hot wetness. Her chest started to heave, and he smirked for it, guiding his marker over the rising and falling breasts to decorate them with the outline of the dragon's claws.

"Hmm… doesn't feel burned, no. If anything… quite the opposite," he smiled. Azula whimpered, lightly thrusting her body towards him. "Hmm? Oh, is this too invasive?"

"Y-yes… it is…" she smiled, closing her eyes as she thrusted again. "That's… Homura territory, you shameless Kawakami…"

"Oh, no… I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?" he said, smirking as he finished the details of the first claw, and moved to mark the second one. "I suppose I'll have to do extra work here now, won't I? Otherwise, you'll never forgive my transgression… and there'll be no alliance."

"That's… that's right," Azula moaned: his fingers were dabbing into her opening, the thumb rubbing her clit in the sweetest manner. "Do good… and… and you'll be free to enter Homura territory at will…"

"Hmm… sounds like the best deal ever," Sokka whispered, finishing the fourth claw, and moving to depicting scales now – it was, admittedly, quite difficult to focus on the art when most his body was focusing on his hand's actions upon Azula's lower body instead.

"T-then… do right by me… oh, do right by me, Sokka…" she moaned, thrusting harder, her chest still heaving terribly sensually: he wanted to see those breasts bouncing as she rode his shaft, they were more than large enough for that…

Oh, he was being so unprofessional, his master would have his hide if only he knew… and yet the woman underneath him was hotter than her last name, than everything her fire clan stood for. He couldn't be above his damn base desires… not when they were hidden away from the world in this basement, safely alone, free to be intimate, to desecrate his sacred working place… he wanted to. He absolutely wanted to.

"Alright… alright, then," he said, smirking as his face hovered right above hers.

Azula's lips parted, and she seemed to be about to catch his lips with her own… but he pulled away, to her chagrin. Where the hell did he think he was going…?

She got the answer upon sensing a sudden, wet, warm pressure around her nipple: his breath brushed against it just before he sucked for the first time, and Azula didn't hold back her loud cries of passion. Oh, he was the worst, the absolute worst, and she just loved it. She was perfectly used to seducing men whenever she felt like it, to being the object of someone's desire, for she had been that for many of her father's henchmen over the years… but she always had the urge to enforce her authority, her strength, her control and superiority. This time… oh, this time she didn't even want to. Not with a man who was fingering her most recklessly, sucking on her breast persistently before switching to the other.

"T-the… t-the marker's ink won't… c-come off, will it…?" Azula moaned, as Sokka's strong body loomed closer to hers.

"No… and if it does, I'll do it again," he smiled, speaking between loud suctions of her nipple. He was a shameless bastard, truly… and she wanted more of that. So much more of that…

"Will you… wind up devouring my breasts again… if that happens?" Azula asked.

"Would you like that…?" he moaned against her chest.

He was covering her breasts in light nibbling as he pointedly avoided the places he had traced with his marker. Oh, he would've loved to cover her chest with kisses, but at risk of intaking chemicals he shouldn't, he'd have to hold back until her full set was done… ah, by then, once she was fully rested and recovered, she would be even more sensual than she already was, with her soul's dragon bearing its fangs, threatening any and all unwanted menaces… but he had wolves that could fight the dragon, just as well. They would clash and collide, and sleep together as many times as she allowed it… he sure hoped it'd be about a thousand times. Just this much was as exciting as could be…

"Yes… yes I would, I… don't stop… don't stop…" Azula moaned, thrusting lightly against his hand. "Ah! D-don't, please, don't…!"

Her urgency compelled him to drill into her with his fingers, going harder than before: his other hand held her wrists, which she had helpfully raised over her head. She was completely at his mercy, and the powerlessness appeared to turn her on so badly she couldn't stand it. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hand, and that thumb ever prodding and exploring her sensitive clit, Azula came undone with loud cries. Sokka smirked as he returned to kissing and sucking her nipple, chuckling maliciously as he continued driving into her, harder, rougher, without any restraint. Azula trembled on the chair, her voice failing her when the second peak arrived soon after the first, tearing through her violently, so much her body seemed to shatter… and yet it didn't. And perhaps because it didn't, her wicked lover had decided to keep going, bringing her to the brink one more time as she screamed, completely losing control while writhing under his hand.

Sokka slowed at the third peak, laughing deviously as his lips hovered over her left breast. She was sweating now, and even that was exciting as hell. Nothing about her could be unappealing, as far as he could tell…

He raised his head slowly, his mischievous smirk found by her misty gaze as she shivered violently still, her legs spread, her lips parted.

"Y-you… y-you just…" she said, and he raised an eyebrow cockily.

"Want me to do that again?" he asked. "Got a few more tricks up my sleeve, but if you want more…"

"You're… mad," she said, furthering his amusement. "Doing this… to your tattoo customer…"

"It's a first for me, if you really want to know," he chuckled. "Like I said… most my customers aren't exactly my type."

"And I am?" Azula smiled, despite the heat of the situation was still overwhelming for her.

"You? I think you've completely torn down every standard I thought I had… and rewritten them all on your own," Sokka whispered, rising until his face was level with hers. "If this makes our alliance impossible… well, woops. I'll have to tell my dad I mucked it up. But damn, I… I really want to have sex with you."

"Y-you… you perverted man," Azula smiled, closing her eyes in obvious delight. Sokka snickered.

"Don't like perverts much, do you…?" he asked, prodding her nose with his own.

"Not usually, no," she said. "But… you're on a league of your own, looks like."

"I'm worse than the others?" Sokka smirked.

"Yeah… because you're good at this, they aren't," Azula smiled. Sokka laughed, pressing his brow to hers just before diving for a kiss…

But her hand darted to his chest and clasped it hard, just as his upper lip touched hers, and she forced him to climb the chair by flipping them around: it was him below her suddenly, and she was the one above, chest still heaving, face still flushed, hair falling out of that ponytail again… but this time she didn't seem to mind that much.

"Az-…" he said, but her fingers landed on his lips.

"I… will return the favor," she smiled, dragging her fingers down to his shirt – he was wearing a perfectly casual outfit today, though the long sleeves prevented her from seeing the beautiful tattoos he sported over his arms.

She dragged herself down his body, pushing his shirt off in an urgent hurry – Sokka intended to help her tug it off but it was no use when Azula stopped once the shirt was at his neck's level: his chest and abdomen were fully exposed, and she needed to devour them at haste.

Sokka snorted, laughing as he struggled to pull off the shirt in the awkward situation she had left him in, with his elbows awkwardly stuck while only his lower jaw had slid under the shirt's neck.

"You… you're into bondage, are you?" he laughed. Azula, busy lavishing his strong chest with long, sucking kisses, only moaned in response. "Oh, hell, that's good…"

Her hands didn't help him with his upper body's struggle: instead they were undoing his belt, shoving off his trousers forcefully, and as her teeth nibbled teasingly down his defined abs – they were just as delightful as she had thought yesterday, damn him – she continued to move south until she reached his underwear-clad groin. Sokka gasped when her lips pressed a kiss over the fabric at first, and he groaned once she cupped his testicles with one hand, the other massaging his manhood while her lips continued to teasingly unravel his full girth: she wore lipstick, didn't she? She was going to stain his underwear with it? Oh, that should be a completely ridiculous thought and yet his very hard cock seemed more erect because of it.

"Y-you sure love… to tease a man," Sokka growled, finally tossing his shirt aside, and Azula snickered as she tugged the hem of his boxers.

"Be… rough," Azula advised him. Sokka smirked. "Not to the point of killing me, of course, but… use my mouth as you please. Alright?"

"You don't know restraint of any sort, do you…?" he asked, and Azula's smile reflected his own.

"We're yakuza, aren't we? We don't play nice and sweet," she said, teasingly, as she tugged the garment down, enough to expose his large erection. She licked her lips. "My, my, someone's enjoying himself…"

"Mind you… this is the best tattoo session I've ever had, so yes, I am," Sokka chuckled. Azula smirked and winked at him.

"It's about to get better," she said.

She leaned down, engulfing his cock with her mouth in one quick motion: Sokka cried out, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair's headrest, for Azula had taken him in deeply enough for his tip to press against the roof of her mouth. She didn't ease up in the least, bobbing her head back and forth while seeking his hand… placing it on her hair. She had asked for it rough, hadn't she? Sokka gritted his teeth and hoped she wouldn't change her mind.

His fingers dug into her hair as he started thrusting upwards: to his surprise, his thrusting compelled her to moan, in time with his own groans: one of her hands toyed with his ball sack, the other snaked upwards, touching all those strong, tense muscles that had charmed her since that day in the park. She wanted him to break her if he wished, to show her just how strong he was, how much pleasure he could provide a woman… and he sure had showed her plenty before, but she was greedy enough to want more. She sucked him eagerly, thoroughly, basking in every perfect ridge of his body, whether related to his pulsating manhood or his strong abs… and then he grew more savage, thrusting harder, faster, and she focused exclusively on the cock inside her mouth, doing her best not to choke, to continue breathing through her mouth, to enjoy his powerful thrusting as his hands messed her hair and kept her in place…

"I'm… I'm close… I'm close, hell, I'm gonna…!" he gasped, thrusting harder, more urgently: Azula helped by sucking in a quick, violent rhythm, and suddenly a hot liquid sprayed the back of her throat.

Oh, it tasted terribly and yet she relished in receiving it. She laughed as she sucked some more, aiding the still-thrusting Sokka to find his ultimate release, and that he did: he soon flopped on the chair, breathing heavily, his arms falling to the side as his eyes rolled closed.

"You… are something else, Princess Homura…" he whispered.

"Hmm, you are wild when you want to be… I like that, Prince Kawakami," Azula announced, smirking as she pressed soft kisses to the side of his manhood. Sokka chuckled and sighed in bliss, relishing in the continuous oral pleasure she offered him.

"I… want to return the favor too," he said, smiling. "I bet you taste amazing…"

"Hmm, you gross pervert… wanting to taste and smell my privates, what has the world come to?" she said, before taking a deep breath and licking his flaccid cock thoroughly, enough for it to twitch gently as she smirked. "Oh, wait a second…"

Sokka laughed, sitting up to reach for her and tug her towards him. Azula relented despite herself, sighing upon being taken away from the most delightful cock she had ever been acquainted with. His hands fell right to her rear, cupping each cheek, and Azula hummed before grinding her bare body against his.

"Want something?" she asked, casually.

"You," he said, and his hand reached up to fist her hair before he pressed a powerful, open-mouthed kiss to her lips.

Azula moaned, surrendering to the kiss quickly: his invasive tongue danced and twirled around hers, and her heart raced faster and faster as it did. It felt so good to kiss him, just as good as she had hoped it would, as she allowed him to claim her thoroughly for himself… and no doubt, it had to feel good for him too, considering he couldn't seem to stop – he only let her catch her breath for a second before nibbling on her lower lip, or trailing his tongue across her mouth, a smooth battering ram demanding access it was granted instantly: she really liked this overwhelming feeling, as his hands fondled her every curve, at first her ass, slowly her waist, then her breasts again…

"I'm going to eat you," he whispered. She moaned against his lips.

"Thought you already were…" she said. Sokka snickered before slipping off the chair, only to flip their positions anew.

It was he who sat at the edge of the chair now, balancing himself skillfully while Azula, boldly, knowingly and shamelessly, wrapped her legs around his neck and urged him to dive into her perfectly waxed core: with the same skill as with his hands before, Sokka toyed with her clit and unraveled, quite quickly, the places she needed his touch most in, by the urgency of her moans, to the point of near becoming screams. She wouldn't stop urging him onwards, spurring him to continue, whispering many surprisingly dirty phrases in the process. Sokka couldn't contain occasional laughs upon hearing those, and when he gazed up to look at his delightful lover, she'd meet his eyes just the same, her lips parted as though waiting for his to claim them anew…

Oh, he was in real trouble if he kept on in this path. No doubt he wasn't supposed to be having sex with Ozai Homura's prized golden daughter… but more than that, he had a feeling he wouldn't have enough with a single outing. And damn, he hoped neither would she.

He needed to make sure she wouldn't have enough, of course: and as her not-so-dormant excitement rose anew, while Sokka's tongue traveled mischievously across her wet folds, a new peak neared and Azula had half a mind to give herself to it completely…

"Y-you should… ah – you should come here, and… and go for it. S-Sokka… Sokka…"

Ah, she wanted him to go inside her already? He was hard enough to try… but he wanted her to ask again. He wanted her to beg, for some twisted, ridiculous reason…

"Please…? Sokka, I can't hold it… I-I'm going to…!" she said: the words surprised him, for he hadn't expected she'd be so close.

But as irresponsible as it might be to disregard her prior request, he refused to let her lose a perfectly good orgasm if he eased up now. So he didn't slow down, and instead devoured her even more ravenously… and he was rewarded by an onslaught of sex juices that he could develop an addiction for, from that day forward. He groaned happily, caressing her thighs erotically, and Azula whimpered in a sensual way as she flopped, helpless, on the chair.

"You… you kept going… when I told you to fuck me…" she said. He had still been face-first up her core, but he pulled away to glance at her somewhat apologetically.

"I wanted to tease you for a bit," he admitted. "B-but I just didn't think you were that close. When I realized you were, well… I didn't want your orgasm to be unfulfilling."

"You…" Azula whispered… and then a smile spread over her face. "You're good. Better than good."

"You think?" he smiled awkwardly.

"What kind of man… doesn't jump at the chance of putting his cock inside me as soon as I offer the chance?" Azula laughed. "But you… you'd rather make sure I have all the pleasure I can have. Do you realize what a rarity you are…?"

"Eh, I did suspect I was one of a kind," Sokka smirked, winking at Azula before leaning close to kiss her abdomen. "Glad I didn't fuck up, I thought I might have…"

"You were amazing," Azula decided, releasing him from her grip.

"You're even more amazing," he whispered as he kissed his way up to her collarbone, avoiding the lines his marker had trailed over her body. Azula moaned and caressed his back.

"How do you want… to do this?" she asked.

"Four orgasms… and you still want more," Sokka smirked. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. That's why I want more," Azula smiled. "Well? Any special requests…?"

"Ride me," he asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Azula groaned and kissed him harder, urging him to switch with her again on the chair.

"You want me to like you more and more… don't you? Surrendering control to me…" Azula smiled, nibbling on his lip as she pressed him down on the chair while straddling his hips. "And the weirdest part is… I don't mind it much, when you're in control. Most other men are just…"

"No good?" Sokka smirked arrogantly. Azula huffed.

"More than a little full of themselves," she declared. Sokka snickered. "They assume they're good even before they've brought me to the brink the first time… it makes no sense, does it? Pretending you're good at sex without any basis…"

"Might be they're just no good for you…" Sokka suggested, kissing her jawline softly. "Might be, and this is just a wild guess… that you're better off with someone who takes his time to figure out where you want your clit to be prodded?"

"Hmm… yes," Azula moaned, pressing her chest to his. Sokka snickered. "Someone who likes to do naughty things when he's supposed to be a very professional tattoo artist…"

"Well, excuse me for my shamelessness," Sokka whispered, clamping his hands at either of her ass cheeks. Azula moaned again for it. "I'm a work in progress, clearly…"

"Shame on you…" Azula said, swaying her body against him. "Whatever shall I do? Will all our sessions turn out like this, I wonder?"

"Would that be so bad?" Sokka smiled. Azula bit her lip and grinned too.

"No. Definitely not," she laughed, kissing him and sliding into position.

With as many orgasms as she had enjoyed so far, it was only natural that Azula would fit Sokka's sizeable manhood without so much as flinching: he stretched her sensitive walls in a marvelous way, and she arched her body forward over the pleasure. Sokka grinned lecherously, playfully toying with her nipples, and Azula's moans only grew louder and more lustful because of it. She wanted everything he could give her, without holding back…

"You feel… so damn good," he laughed, with that charming smile she had been taken by from the moment she had first seen it. Azula purred again, thrusting forward and causing him to gasp. "A-Azula…"

"You feel good… inside me, too," she smirked, her long nails scraping his shoulders as she braced herself for thrusting again.

She took to a steady rhythm, one Sokka followed fit with: his eyes remained utterly entranced by the bouncing breasts before him, which enticed him to grope and fondle them before long. Azula's string of moans continued as she thrusted harder, recklessly chasing further excitement as Sokka's caresses only aided her in that particular pursuit: she would sway her body sensually, grinding her pelvis into him, her clit brushing delightfully against his skin and prompting her to moan further.

He filled her so well, to the hilt, and she wanted nothing but to keep him there forever. All this sex was probably not the best preamble for a tattoo, considering her skin would be extra sensitive because of it… but she thrived in the feeling of that cock tearing her walls down, smashing through her powerfully, threatening to wrestle control she found herself wanting to relinquish to him. If she couldn't keep going, she sure hoped he'd continue for her…

Sokka's hands had stayed on Azula's breasts, his palms almost tickled by the nipples that brushed against them. By now, though, his impulsive greedy lust overcame him: he sat up on the chair, tugging the controls expertly to recline the backrest. Comfortably sitting now, Sokka tugged her closer, making her spread her legs as far as she could while he penetrated her powerfully, covering her lips with eager kisses.

He had made his move at the right time, of course: Azula could barely hold herself back now, trembling as she felt a new peak looming closer. She was sure she hadn't ever reached so many climaxes in her life, and she absolutely relished in it, diving into Sokka's mouth with her tongue as her needy moans conveyed that she was at her limit. Yet again, Sokka only moved faster, harder, thrusting almost frantically inside her until Azula's long nails dug into his skin as she came with the strongest burst of pleasure yet. Oh, she couldn't even feel herself anymore, she was nothing but a huge blanket of aroused bliss, and he still wouldn't stop thrusting, still he kept going, rubbing his cock powerfully against the walls that tried to milk it. And milk it they would, but not until he was ready to relinquish his conquest: he had incredible self-restraint, capable of going forth with the wild tryst without losing himself to the swarms of pleasure. He'd give in eventually, yes he would, but he would last as long as he could, he would give her as many orgasms in a row as he could muster… and by her erotic moans against his mouth, their wild kissing interrupted as she struggled to catch her breath, he was probably close to getting her another one already.

Azula nearly screamed when the second peak came, and Sokka relished in her exposed neck, only to then move lower, to her chest anew. His voracious, lascivious kisses made it more than clear that he wanted her, all of her, and he'd stop at nothing to show it… yet, again, when Azula's third peak loomed closer – and she was seeing shapes dancing in her eyesight now, her whole body appeared to be both lighter than ever and heavier, somehow – Sokka couldn't hold back any longer: he released himself inside her just before her climax was triggered, and the shuddering inner walls around his cock squeezed him marvelously as he gave himself to her wildly, roughly, thrusting hard as his flesh slapped against hers, their sweaty bodies making magic wherever they might be joined.

He only stopped once her walls stopped shuddering too, and even then they lightly rocked together, grinding their bodies, kissing each other long, deep and slow, now that the surging passion had peaked. Azula clung to embracing him, comfortable by pressing her chest into his… and clearly Sokka wasn't about to complain for the delightful sensation of her nipples brushing his skin. His hands clasped her rear, keeping her in place, teasing her with light squeezes.

"That's… how a Kawakami tattoos his customers, then?" Azula asked between kisses, smiling teasingly. He snickered.

"Only the ones hotter than the earth's core, I'd say," he whispered, pressing his lips across her jawline.

"Hmm… so I got the premium package, did I?" Azula asked, fingers sliding into his hair. He chuckled again as he kissed his way up to her cheek.

"You're the sexiest woman that ever lived," he said, thrusting teasingly – despite he was flaccid now, they had remained in the same position, and the friction between their bodies still made Azula moan suggestively. "Say… we do need to work on the tattoo, don't we?"

"Mmm… maybe…" she moaned, sighing as she melted into his very physical teasing.

"You think you could, maybe… tell your people I'm a very devoted artist, and I've asked that we pull as many all-nighters as necessary to get the full tattoo done?" he said, smiling teasingly.

"Ah? You're asking me to stay with you?" Azula asked, amused. "For how long?"

"Until the job's done?" he said, stroking her hair. "I literally live on the second floor. We can just…"

"Go up there to rest. Have some more sex, then head back down here, work, have more sex on your fancy chair…?" Azula proposed, smirking. Sokka laughed. "You'd better do an amazing job with the tattoo, you know? Otherwise they'll all know I'm just sleeping with you."

"I'll do my best," he promised, kissing her lips softly again. "So? You'll… stay?"

"Oh, I don't know. What will I wear?" she asked, teasingly.

"On the most part… nothing," he smirked. "But if you really want to… I can lend you my things."

"Can you… at least tattoo me while shirtless?" she asked, biting her lip. "I'm sure having some really good eye-candy will make this whole process way smoother and much more enjoyable for me…"

"I wouldn't say no to anything that pleases an upstanding lady like yourself…" he replied, caressing her thigh suggestively. Azula smiled and kissed him again.

"This is quite the promising start for the Homura-Kawakami alliance," she said. Sokka snickered, stealing another kiss from her lips.

"I knew you could be persuaded to join us. With the right leverage," Sokka smirked. "Alright… I think I should order something for lunch now. We can keep going after, if you want? For now…"

"Keep going with what? Sex or tattoos?" Azula asked. Sokka snickered.

"With you, I'm not sure what's the difference," he said, and she smirked while biting her lip, a most sensual gesture he topped off with a kiss. "You're so beautiful…"

"You're as handsome as can be too, if you must know…" she smiled, resting her head upon his shoulder. "And such a handsome man will kidnap me for days… It's probably the most exciting thing that ever happened to me, and I don't even live a boring life."

"It's about to get even less boring," Sokka smiled, kissing her fiercely. "I can promise you that."

And while she usually didn't trust people, Azula believed him. She trusted him when he offered to take pictures of her body to document the whole process – she even posed suggestively for him, making him laugh and sending pleasant shivers through his groin. They ate together, once the food Sokka ordered arrived – noodles, hers were extra spicy, and she attempted to kiss him after, but he knew better than to let her, knowing it was a dangerous trap. It proved a helpful tool, for only this way could Sokka pull off the full outline of the tattoo without distracting himself… or rather, distracting himself too much.

Only the outline was done by the evening, and as Azula's spicy meal was no longer a cause for concern, Sokka picked up his new lover and carried her up to his room, in the upper floor. And there he had raunchy sex with her anew, seeking, as ever, to make her climax as many times as possible. They both fell asleep while wrapped together, limbs interlocked, lips breathing mere inches from the other.

And that was how their whole week proceeded: they would work in the mornings, take a break before lunch, work again afterwards, then stop for the day and do anything they wished with each other. And as strange as it was to basically live together for a week, by the time the finishing touches were done, Sokka was almost sorry to finish Azula's luxurious tattoo.

It was exactly as she had wanted it, with the dark, black dragon as good as watching her back, while hugging her body sensually. Flames burst around the creature's body, and where it could have been a threat, Sokka thought it was but a sign of how intensely hot his lover was. She sat on his chair, fully naked, as he tapped in more ink at her lower belly, and Azula sighed as she wished this could have lasted a little longer…

"You can always get another set of tattoos, if you want them," Sokka suggested, stealing a kiss from her lips. "I'll love to close up shop and not talk to anyone but you for a week again…"

"Hmm, don't tempt me," Azula smiled, pressing her brow to his. "Is it done now?"

"Just… one more thing," Sokka said. "Where should I put my signature?"

"Ah? You'll sign my body, will you? And here I thought this whole art piece was a way of saying you own me…" she smirked. Sokka laughed and shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure no one can ever claim they own you, fierce Homura Princess," he said, cupping her cheeks to kiss her lips softly. "Though, if you do see this whole tattoo as a way to brand you as mine, well…"

"I think it's sensual to see it that way," Azula whispered, kissing his cheek. "One day… you'll have to teach me. And then… I can tattoo you somewhere, and add my signature so everyone knows that you're branded as mine, too."

"Sounds perfect," Sokka smirked. "Tattoo marriage, of a sort?"

"It's fine by me," she laughed.

Sokka smiled and kissed her, before nudging her to lie down again. Where to set the signature…? The question had pestered him for at least two days, but he guessed Azula herself would be the one to decide the location…

"Should be on the back, right?" Azula said, biting her lip teasingly. "I guess… here?"

She tapped her coccyx, and Sokka smiled before rolling his eyes and getting to work. Azula laughed, knowing that, if anyone saw the suggestive signature, the nature of her relationship with the Kawakami heir would be more than obvious… oh, but why bother hiding it? As it was, they were clearly going to do this again, and again, and many more times…

She had been startled by the pain despite being prepared, the first time he had used the actual needles. By now it was almost familiar, the initial sting, the liquid sensation as the ink settled, the light swelling that settled across her skin. She was going to emerge from this tattoo parlor a whole different person, she knew, and once Sokka finished setting his signature, he covered the rest of her back with soft kisses, reaching all the way to her nape.

"You know… it's pretty late," he whispered, reaching her face. Azula smiled as he kissed the very curvature of her mouth's corner. "Maybe… you can stay one more night?"

"If you hadn't asked, I would've likely demanded to stay anyway," she smiled. Sokka chuckled. "I hope I look extra appealing to you now, lover…"

"I want to ravish you immediately even though the ink's not fully settled," Sokka laughed, kissing the side of her head. "You're something, you know? Most people take it easy after being tattooed… you basically just determined which position we'd fuck in depending on what I'd inked each day, eh?"

"You can call it what it is: genuine wisdom," Azula smiled, and Sokka laughed again. "Ah, but I really will miss this… miss you."

"You don't have to," Sokka said, stroking her hair. "We'll have an alliance soon, right?"

"Oh, yes," Azula smiled. Sokka chuckled.

"Then, see? We'll see each other again. For work, maybe? But then again, this was supposed to be work, so…"

"I guess," Azula said, reaching up to cup his face. "Didn't think this weird ordeal would land me a lover, but… I'm glad it did."

"I'm glad it landed me one, too," Sokka said, kissing her wrist softly. "Here I thought I'd have to give up my dreams of dating the hottest woman in the world one day, but heh, turns out they came true anyway…"

"Well, I sure can't complain either," Azula smiled as she eyed his body hungrily. "My lover is god-like, as far as I can tell…"

Sokka chuckled, kissing her again as he continued to offer her gentle affections: the final stroke was done now, and with it, all the implications of their shared bond, their mischievous crime. They'd have to keep the relationship quiet, for Ozai surely wouldn't approve… but Azula wasn't scared, for some reason. Perhaps life outside the Homura clan had appeared unfathomable, for a time… but now she had lived life with the Kawakami heir, no less, if just for a week. And perhaps such unfathomable possibilities were no longer so difficult to envision…

Sokka returned to the Kawakami headquarters to many questions that turned into loud applause when he announced the tattooing process had been a total success. Azula, of course, had returned to find the Homura clan was bordering on chaos without her active, constant surveillance, for as hard as he had tried to fill in for her, Zuko hardly knew how to handle the many cameras deftly. She had been welcomed gladly… though Ozai had been astonished when she had suggested he pulled through with the alliance suggestion.

"I know it sounds mad, but… his strokes and technique are truly quality work," Azula assured Ozai. "We could benefit from this alliance. We haven't had an tebori artist for a long time, so…"

"So, I take it the Kawakami boy is a seasoned professional ink artist?" Ozai asked, unamused. Azula nodded enthusiastically, though the word 'professional' certainly wasn't one her father would use if only he knew they'd indulged in so much wild, hot and relentless sex… "If you're impressed, then I suppose everyone will be. That being said, I need to know their full terms. Are you still in touch with the boy?"

"I can reach out, yes," Azula confirmed – no, she hadn't scheduled to meet him that night at his parlor to celebrate the likely success of their endeavor, of course not… "Shall I organize a meeting, then?"

"Please, do," Ozai said, releasing a breath. "An alliance with the Kawakami clan… well, I suppose we could do worse than that."

Azula deeply hoped he'd stick to that mentality, though there was no telling if he would, let alone if he found out she was doing her tattoo artist… but for now, it was a victory. One she'd be quick to tell her 'ink prince', as she had named his contact on her phone, as soon as she had a chance to.

A week later, a silent, elegant meeting took place at a predilect bar of Ozai's. He and Hakoda sat together at the head of their table's long room, discussing the minutiae of the alliance, while many of their closest associates watched: Zuko was there, tense, constantly eyeing the Kawakami as though he feared they might try to kill him. Katara, of course, kept shooting glares at him for his distrustful attitude, which resulted in just extra anxiety for the Homura heir. No matter how many times Kya asked Katara to cut it out, her daughter wouldn't budge.

And Azula and Sokka shot each other stern, serious glares whenever anyone else caught sight of them… and traded light smiles, occasional touches, whenever no one noticed. After half an hour, Sokka had excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to pace to stretch his legs. He approached the spot Azula stood at… and slipped a hand, most imperceptibly, towards the spot his signature had been branded at. Azula remained most impassive, until some discussion over taxes bored her enough to glance at Sokka with a teasing smile as well.

"Want me to order you a drink?" he asked. "For old times' sake, my first Homura customer?"

"Should be me ordering you one, you set this whole mess in motion," Azula assessed. Sokka chuckled.

"Guess that's one way to look at it," he grinned. "About, well, tonight–…"

"Whatever happens now… I'll go once I can give everyone the slip," Azula interrupted him, eagerness plain on her face. Sokka grinned back.

"Then I'll be waiting," he said. "Seems we keep having things worth celebrating, eh?"

"That we do," Azula smiled…

And her hand slipped to Sokka's tailbone just the same, prompting him to laugh quietly as they both indulged in their mischievous, private moment despite standing in public view. They had no doubts their wild, raunchy, tumultuous, dangerous affair was only just beginning… and as much as they knew strife, chaos, and much darkness could loom in the horizon, a moment as bright as this one, of an alliance cemented between clans, was meant to be cherished, just as another bond strengthened between two driven, talented, likeminded lovers, who couldn't wait to discover what their newly entwined destinies might just have in store…

#sokkla saturdays #sokklasaturday #sokkla #sokka #azula #with a few Gladiator cameos because #sometimes you need bg characters #and Renkai's name sounded more Japanese than Rui Shi that's literally why it's him #:'D #this is another wild ride of smut #because I couldn't help it #they be the horniest #and I love it #no stops pulled in that tattoo parlor ohohohoho

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urlocalbunny · 4 years

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getting to know aaron.

let's talk about things you could notice in Aaron. That was a request made by a follower and I'm excited to work on it! The things I’m taking in consideration DO NOT come from headcanons of mine. They’re based on my perceptions of the canon content.

First things first, he doesn't do many unnecessary things or things that don't make sense to him. He's very simple to understand in every single action that he takes, and I like to think that because of his upbringing and story, that's what he's known and likes to do. He is kind of a brute to people but to me he’s pretty much soft, people are just too weak or think everyone should be the perfect LI, maybe bc i am kind of rough myself???

Aaron isn't the type of person to want something quiet like Vlad and Raph do, but neither is the life of the party like Bel and Ethan. He said it himself, he likes bars, some beer, something in the chill side, more intimate. Just chilling, ya feel me?

He's not really the type to understand some jokes with a lot of depth or sarcasm bc well, he doesn't really need to use them, he's the bluntest man in the manor and he doesn't need to hide things or say them in different ways to get than the shortest, more effective way.

He's the kind of person to enjoy nature and the natural course of things, the wilderness and life without too much changes from the natural, maybe because of the way he lived for 15 years in the pack. He doesn't need anything too fancy to feel nice.

He enjoys poetry though, as you can check in chapter 7. To me it translated that he can understand certain complexities in feelings very accurately, but doesn't understand why one would try to make the way they act or talk less simple on a day to day basis.

In terms of style he is the simple up to date. Probably changes with time just to make sure it stays easy and comfortable to dress but is always the clothes that people seem as "simple" and "functional, but not classy" bc that's just not him. He likes things simple.

He is very pack-oriented and takes care of the people he knows and lives with. He doesn't think twice about sacrifices and he has some sick hero complex. He didn't hesitate to save Eloise even if his life was on the line in more than one occasion (the two main one are the ones where he dies, Vlad 10 bad ending and Aaron 10 bad ending) and he didn't mind making Constance his chalice when Ivan was dying to have her paying for life, even if he had to feed from her and take her wherever he went.

While he has the best intentions and he's really smart as I let you know before, Aaron is kind of dumb when it comes to keeping his cool and managing his emotions. He's kind of aggressive sometimes, but he can be violent on his actions when it comes to the people he protects and this is a problem, because he can't keep his cool when it counts. That might cause some... Altercations (cough cough he broke Ethan's head on Ivan bad ending and say he should die.) that are very uncalled for.

While he is very old, he's not some problematic bogus like some other people in the series Ethan and he pretty much knows that it's important to praise, teach and try many times with a lover. Even when he fights with Eloise, he never really forgets how important it is to talk things out and come back to her after each and every error in the relationship. Which is something the op likes ;)

He really think if himself as some sort of crazy freak because damn, he doesn't want to let anybody in is life even when he knows the circumstances made most of the crucial moments on his life be full of violence and he was just a victim of society's evolution and issues for hundreds of years. (Ofc op doesn't think everything he did was right, but it was to survive and they still have stories where they were subjects of their society just like evryone is, as it's said a few times by Eloise and other people that talk about vampirism such as vlad.)

He is very sorrowful and thinks life is as it is, no running, no changing. That's why sometimes he gives some kind of blunt advice to Elo in many routes! (All of them honestly, we stan a good gossip with a trustable, hot and wise friend) and she's like "damn, he didn't have to say it like that but he's right...”

What i actually like about him is that even if he’s mostly serious, he’s very cute and easygoing, he’s sociable too and very chill, he’s not an introvert like vlad or not too much of a social butterfly either. To op that’s super attractive lol

Even if he doesn’t undermine people for any sexist, racist or just dumb reasons, he believes that you need to know how to fight or be strong enough if you want to have your opinions taken into consideration, which is stupid in my opinion. (see his training lessons and the meeting at chapter 6, the option to leave the manor when he says “stay put” makes him say that he understands that Eloise wants to help, but it’s useless bc the murderer is too powerful, yet, she proves him wrong!) Eloise proves to him that she’s strong and reliable, and more brave than himself so.. kissy kissy hehe

is really patient and takes consent seriously from day ONE. he’s also very sincere and appreciates being told the truth just how ppl feel it. Eloise put a finger on his face in vlad’s route and he asked to be informal bc they were friends so... boy likes the truth hehe

pretty much your big gentle-not-so-gentle giant friend that gives u neck breaking hugs and likes to walk in the nature and jog with you.

OP THINKS THAT SOMETIMES PEOPLE IN BEEMOOV PURPOSEFULLY ANTAGONIZE AARON BC THEY REALLY LIKE THE BIG BAD WOLF TROPE AND THAT’S UTTER BULLSHIT. EVERYONE FIGHTS AARON AT SOME POINT AND THAT’S STUPID. GO TO HELL you bunch of #@$#%$# and $#$%$ and &*¨@$%@$! ppl that automatically antagonize or KILL the big mean brown dude for everything thanks.

i might edit this with more info as time goes by.

#moonlight lovers #ml aaron #moonlight lovers aaron #swfbunny

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Guilty Gear: 15 Most Powerful Characters

https://ift.tt/31c9Nc1

Guilty Gear has one of the more ridiculous storylines in fighting games. A beautiful-looking series with a fantastic cast of heroes and villains, the sci-fi anime aesthetic lends itself to some wacky concepts.

The broad strokes of the series aren’t all that bizarre, as it tells a pretty basic story overall. In a world where magic was discovered, three scientists accidentally unleashed a new type of species that led to a lengthy war between these creatures (Gears) and humanity. One scientist became a genocidal monster, one a grizzled anti-hero, and another a mysterious wildcard watching over everything. Eventually, the war ended and peace reigned, but the possibility of the war reigniting is a constant threat.

That’s not too out there on its own. Except the story also features a large vigilante doctor who wears a paper bag to hide his identity as a crazed serial killer. There’s a ninja who gets elected President of the United States, only to later figure out it would be easier to just start his own country. There’s a comatose boy in a weaponized bed whose personality is a mix between Freddy Krueger and Mandark from Dexter’s Lab. There’s a yoyo-wielding bounty hunter, a time-traveling Axl Rose knockoff, a dandy vampire, an assassin who uses reality-bending billiards as a fighting style, and so on.

Shit gets weird.

With Guilty Gear Strive finally out on store shelves, giving us the long-awaited final battle between Sol Badguy and That Man, it’s time to take a look at the most powerful beings in the Guilty Gear universe. One character I’m leaving off the list is Leopaldon from Guilty Gear Isuka. Not only is the game not canon, but even WHAT Leopaldon is (a dog and a wizard piloting a yeti?) isn’t well-explained. But if you want Leopaldon, he’s definitely on our official ranking of all the characters in the series.

Anyway, here the most powerful characters in Guilty Gear:

15. IZUNA

Izuna, a hero introduced in Guilty Gear 2, is a bit on the mysterious side, but there’s enough information to make it apparent that he’s someone to take serious. Not only is he over 500 years old, but he resides in the Backyard, an environment so uninhabitable that most others would be crushed by its magical atmosphere. He’s skilled as a swordsman, and his teleportation abilities are said to be equal to the strength of several hundred mages combined.

It’s presumed that Izuna didn’t show up in Guilty Gear Xrd because Ariels saw him as such a threat to her plans that she sealed him away and kept him out of play before her schemes could really kick into gear. That’s quite the compliment, in a roundabout way.

14. RAVEN

Raven is all about experience and durability. He simply can’t die, can contort himself, and is unable to feel pain. Even his Instant Kill sees him summon energy that engulf him and his opponent, which turns his enemy to dust while he simply lives to fight another day. He also has control over spatial magic in a way that makes Faust look like a novice. He’s absolutely a force to be reckoned with no matter what character he’s up against.

Still, resilience can only get you so far. When you get down to it, he’s comparable to someone like Deadpool or Wolverine, albeit with an even stronger healing factor and some magic bells and whistles. He may live to fight again, but he can still be overwhelmed and defeated with the right strategy. Guys like Slayer and Dizzy might not be able to completely annihilate him, but they can presumably contain him.

13. THE VALENTINE SERIES

The initial Valentine was the final boss in Guilty Gear 2 and Ramlethal Valentine was the boss in Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign-. They, along with Elphelt Valentine and Jack-O Valentine, are treated as crucial parts of the series.

Yet, they just…never really do anything that justifies ranking them higher on this list. Plus I have to lump them together because it’s hard to really compare them when they can apparently shut off each other’s powers.

Then again, I guess the original Valentine is the alpha of the group as she could upgrade her form a couple times over for the sake of final boss battles. Not that it did her any good.

12. I-NO

I-No is a tough one to figure out. Guilty Gear XX introduces her as a major threat, and a mysterious one at that. Her origin isn’t explored at first, and by the time the series explains what the hell she is (some kind of being the universe created out of everyone’s wishes for a better tomorrow?), it doesn’t really give her much context as a combatant. That said, “Manipulating probability” is one of her powers, making her pretty damn formidable when combined with her almost unlimited battle experience and toughness.

Games

Guilty Gear: Ranking All the Characters

By Gavin Jasper

Games

Mortal Kombat: 15 Most Powerful Characters

By Gavin Jasper

Even though she’s treated as the boss character in Guilty Gear XX and spends the story messing with everyone, Guilty Gear XX Accent Core lets the rest of the cast catch up to her. Most of her endings involve her being defeated and even killed by those she just beat in-game. For instance, I-No defeats Baiken in-game but then Baiken just gets back up and murders her.

11. BAIKEN AND ANJI MITO

These two are so intertwined and comparable that they’ll have to share a spot. As I already mentioned, they both own I-No no matter who wins the in-game battle, which I’m going to take as a sign that they’re simply superior to her on the battlefield. Both are part of the series’ interesting subplot where people of Japanese descent are both incredibly rare, but also teeming with energy. Unlike May, these two have actually tapped into their genetic potential.

But it has its limits. Baiken has been demolished by Justice in the past, and her attempts to get revenge on That Man only ended in frustration when she couldn’t land a single hit. And he wasn’t even fighting back!

10. KLIFF UNDERSN

Poor Kliff is one of those old school fighting game characters who dies in his own ending, therefore dying in canon. Not that it’s surprising, considering he’s entering a fighting tournament in his late 80s. Still, Kliff is a legend and made a name for himself during much of the war against Justice. Sure, he was taken off the board before we could see how well he’d measure up to some of the younger warriors, but according to canon, Kliff survived at least 16 encounters with Justice.

He couldn’t seal the deal, but surviving against Justice that many times is too impressive not to give him a spot on this list. It’s not like Justice is the kind to spare a defeated foe out of respect. Kliff had to earn his survival time and time again.

9. KY KISKE

Ky Kiske has spent the entire series getting the short straw when compared to his rival and co-protagonist Sol. As Sol’s power keep creeping upwards and making him more and more OP with each new installment, Ky is just off to the side, feeling sorry for himself. He is still more than capable, but on paper, he just can’t hang with the likes of Sol and the other heavy hitters.

The epilogue for Guilty Gear Xrd suddenly shone a new light on Ky, though. Sol fought alongside Ky during the Crusades and saw what he was capable of. It looked nothing like the man he dueled with on multiple occasions across their adventures. Ky then admitted the truth: he had been holding back all this time because, while he may want to defeat Sol, he doesn’t want to kill him and those are two very different fighting strategies for him. Ky may not be some kind of nuclear option in battle, but if he truly wanted to, he could kill you 10 times before you hit the ground.

8. SLAYER

From his first appearance, Slayer made his mark as the retired assassin who was simply too strong for this shit. He’s more of an interested onlooker than a major player and usually only gets involved for the sake of his own amusement. With his otherworldly biology and centuries of experience, Slayer is rarely shown to be in any real peril. Even in defeat, he lies awake and bored, suggesting that he lost only because he allowed it.

It takes a while, but we do eventually get to see some measure of his potential. He’s casual about danger, but there are threats out there that could at the very least make him break a sweat. That’s basically the rest of this list.

7. BEDMAN

Bedman spends the first half of Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- making his way through the rest of the roster. Depicted as an enigmatic being who fights his enemies both physically and mentally (and is near unstoppable on both fronts), Bedman not only overpowers series regulars, but is able to take on multiple opponents at once while still making them look like the underdogs.

The moment that truly shows how dangerous Bedman is when he comes across Slayer. At first, we get the idea that it’s a stalemate and that Slayer may be up against someone worthy of his effort. Then, sometime later, we see Bedman standing triumphantly over Slayer, Millia, and Venom, who all lie at his feet. And after that, he still keeps going, taking out Faust and Chipp while forcing Johnny to escape. Dude is scary.

6. PRESIDENT GABRIEL

Gabriel showed up in Potemkin’s ending, and since then Arc System Works has been playing up how incredible he is while never, ever putting him in a game! It’s outright maddening. Make him a DLC character or something. We’ve been waiting decades!

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He’s a man Potemkin looks up to and confides in by the end of the first game. Then they introduce Slayer and tease tease this nigh-unbeatable immortal is Gabriel’s rival. It isn’t until Guilty Gear Xrd that it really becomes apparent how tough this guy is. After the story spent all this time building up Bedman, Gabriel completely clowns him like nobody’s business.

That’s what you get for killing that dog, you comatose asshole.

5. SOL BADGUY

Every now and then, fiction gives us a character so powerful that even trying to make them cease to exist does nothing. Blow up Darkseid with anti-matter, use magic to erase the Sentry, go back in time and destroy the MacGuffin that makes Apocalypse immortal, etc. They somehow just exist in spite of that. Sol is on that level. I-No once sent him back in time, had him kill his younger self, and Sol simply shrugged off the paradox. The dude is ridiculous.

Sol grows more powerful in each game and even then we’re told that he’s holding back. By the time the dust settles, he’ll probably be worthy of #1 post on the list, but right now, he’s just a high-ranking, angry fellow who’s important enough to be what the series’ bizarre title is named after.

4. JUSTICE

Despite being killed off in the first game, Justice is the constant source of dread in Guilty Gear’s story. Many of the games have revolved around the threat of Justice’s return, whether it’s getting her daughter to follow in her footsteps, cloning, or even resurrection. And yes, Justice is bad news because when she was active, she led a war against mankind that lasted 101 years. She only lost because she was sealed away.

After being released from her prison, Justice was eventually done in by Sol Badguy, the only Gear to predate her creation. It could be said that Sol took her out when she was weakened, but it could also be said that Sol was holding back.

Regardless, I’m going to rank Justice higher because of of her mental control over the entire Gear race, Sol excluded. Yeah, that’s a pretty major weapon to have in your back pocket, even if it doesn’t really come into play in a one-on-one fighting game. Sol was lucky to be in a situation where he could take her out before she could call in the reserves.

3. DIZZY

Dizzy makes me think of when someone is writing a Justice League story and has to come up with a reason for Superman to not be around, like he’s busy in space or off in another dimension. Dizzy isn’t the protagonist of Guilty Gear, but she is the daughter of two of the most powerful characters, and is mainly held back by plot contrivance and her attempts at pacifism. If she wanted to, she could wipe the floor with practically anyone, and there’s even an alternate reality (one where Ky died during the Crusades) that shows her embracing her potential and leading the Gears to victory against humanity.

Her so-called “Instant Kill” in Guilty Gear Xrd paints the best picture. Dizzy reluctantly fires a projectile that misses its mark, but leaves a horrifying mushroom cloud in the distance. Her freaked out opponents can only survey the damage, slowly turn to her, and surrender. Again, that’s what she’s capable of when holding back.

2. ASUKA R. KREUZ/THAT MAN

I can’t think of a more ambitious concept for a fighting game character than That Man. He’s alluded to in Sol Badguy’s ending in the first Guilty Gear game, making you imagine he’ll be the final boss of the next game or maybe the one after that. Instead, he makes mysterious appearances in the Guilty Gear X games. We never get a good look at him, but we see that he’s capable of easily slapping aside anyone who gets in his way. Then he pops up in Guilty Gear 2, including in a boss battle where Dragon Install Sol Badguy can’t even dent him. The Guilty Gear Xrd series gives him a little more dimension, finally revealing his true face and name.

Now it’s time for Guilty Gear Strive where maybe, just maybe, That Man will be DLC down the line. Maybe. Since the beginning, the series has been building to a climactic battle between Sol Badguy and Asuka R. Kreuz. As it is right now, That Man has proved to be higher on the food chain than his old scientist colleague, but that kind of uphill battle is expected.

1. ARIELS

Guilty Gear 2 and Guilty Gear Xrd -Sign- built up “Mother,” the force behind the Valentines and the one signing Bedman’s checks. At the end of -Sign-, we found out that the big mastermind is…a lady Pope possessed by a divine force. Sure, why not. Then in the next game, we got to see her go from putting on a professional and benevolent face for the public to going on a killing spree, painting her face like a juggalo, and ranting about how humanity is redundant and needs to be done away with.

Once again, Ariels would have made for a kickass final boss in Guilty Gear Xrd Revelator, but she remained part of story mode only. She was eventually taken down, but it took Sol Badguy, Ky Kiske, Sin Kiske, and That Man teaming up to do it. But as revealed in Guilty Gear Strive, she’s still alive!

What is your ranking of the most powerful Guilty Gear fighters? Let us know in the comments!

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Text

Calluna

Link: Read on AO3

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Here! | AO3

Chapter Three

“Pay attention.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I was distracted for a moment, my queen.”

Her lips were set into a line, and it showed her clear displeasure in his words. Ray sat up straight and kept his head facing forward without any hesitation. He knew better than to look away or lose himself when the queen had offered her time to him when she had many more things to take care of. She had an entire kingdom to run.

Ray knew better than this. He did, he knew that he did. It was just that he was so caught up in what happened two days prior that he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never been able to talk to another person that didn’t work for the castle, and this person treated him like a normal person for the most part, and that was new.

Oftentimes, people would bow their heads right away and treat him like the sickly prince that they thought him to be with pity in their eyes but nothing but loyalty to their queen and kingdom. It was hard to have people do that, hard to have people treat him like glass, and as though he was a child and not a grown man.

He had only been what one would consider an adult for two years now, but his thin frame and tired eyes seemed to indicate that he was younger to most people. He couldn’t get you out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. Ray had been surprised by how quickly you took something that was so well guarded, and yet—

You looked nothing of the dark and rogue villains in the night that he had heard his queen speak of to him over and over like a bedtime story. No, you seemed brighter, much more akin to the sunshine like he enjoyed whenever he could get a moment to see it. After he had helped you escape from the ground, he had been ushered back into the castle because they hadn’t been able to find their thief.

Ray was curious, to be honest, why would someone that seemed as interesting and kind as you be a thief of all things? You had been so willing to bow your head and return the items when you thought he had caught you, and your use of manners and smiles seemed so coy and otherworldly.

It reminded him of the storybook characters that he had long read about in his youth.

You held mystery and freedom in your hands.

His curiosity was eating away at him, and the fact that you promised you would return to speak with him in due time made him antsy. When would you come back? When would he see you again? Or is it that you weren’t going to come back? Maybe you thought it was a trap, or maybe you thought he was going to turn you at the moment you arrived.

It made sense, at least, in that regard to thinking that a thief would be wary of the prince that they stole from in the first place.

But, Ray wouldn’t do that to you. There had to be a reason and he wanted to know your reason and more about you in general, because your laugh was etched into his memory and it made him want, no, crave more of it. However, it was starting to affect his studies with his queen and she had taken notice that he was not quite there.

She frowned, letting out a sigh and shaking her head. “Ray, you don’t want to disappoint me, do you? I hope you know how important this is going to be for both of us. It’s an alliance, one in which we require at the moment if we want our prosperity to grow to our neighboring lands. You want to be able to show our allies that you are the pinnacle of strength.”

Ray swallowed and nodded his head. “Yes, my queen. My apologies. I don’t wish to make you feel as though you are wasting your time on me. I know how much this means to our kingdom and our people. After all, even if I cannot remember the first few years of my life, I know that they must have been blessed since you cared for me.”

Rika leaned forward towards him. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, dipping him so he had to look back at her right then. “Yes, my dearest son. The accident is still on my mind always, as I am grateful to not have lost as we lost the rest of our family.”

The tone in the room grew somber at that mention.

When the prince had been a very young boy, there had been a grave accident that took the life of the kingdom and injured him greatly. He was lucky that he had survived at all, and the only thing he lost was his memory. According to the queen’s explanation to him, as he recovered, the king had shielded him with his body and that was the only reason he was around today.

It pained him that he apparently couldn’t remember his father, not even his name, nor his face, but the man had given himself up for the sake of his life, rather than his own. Ray thought highly of the man for that reason but he never brought him up, he knew that it was far too painful for the queen to think about after she lost somebody so dear to her heart.

She spent such a long time helping him craft his memory and learn to do everything again from scratch and although he had his failings and often messed up, he did his best to make her proud, to make their people proud. After all, he thought the kingdom thought highly of their family and what they dd to help them ensure prosperity.

King Jihyun had been a kind, gentle soul. He cared greatly for his people, and he wanted to ensure that every single member of their nation was taken care of. It was a land that wasn’t ravaged by war, though there were still criminals and wandering thieves, that happened anywhere, though. He did everything for the people, even forgoing their own needs to ensure that people got to eat.

However, after the accident, the queen withdrew from public life, but as far as he knew, she stayed true to the king’s orders to always take care of the people; She just had a really hard time facing all of them, Ray thought. It was hard to lead the country when you were grieving, no, when they were all grieving for that loss.

That had been seven years ago.

Even though the queen stayed in the castle with him when she could, but, she would often have to leave home and take care of important matters on her own with her guard. She was continuing to make their alliances and treaties with other lands to ensure that peace could come to everyone.

That was the king’s deepest wish and she intended to keep it.

That being said, even though Ray was bound to these walls, the queen said that it was no fault of his own that he was cursed. A jealous young wizard had bound him to these walls forever for he was too blessed and privileged compared to the fae. He hated that he was trapped here, forever bound to stay within the walls. No matter what his mother did, he was always stuck.

He could see nothing beyond the walls of the castle as the forest was thick and dense.

He knew nothing of the world except for the books that he had in his possession. They had drawings of what it was like, however, Ray knew that it had to be better when one was able to see it and feel it with their body rather than gaze upon it in their mind’s eye. It always taunted him whenever he felt like he was getting closer to it.

Only to be pulled back in before he could make his escape.

Ray did his best to shake those thoughts from his mind as he focused on his lessons. After all, even if he had daydreams of a never-possible tomorrow, he needed to keep doing his work or the people in need of him. “I promise I will do better, mother,” he said, quietly. “I know how much work rests upon your shoulders. I wish to lighten your burden.”

Her fingers curled against the top of his head as she patted down his white locks. “I know you do, you are a very good son, aren’t you? Now, let’s start over from the top, shall we? I was telling you about our chief exports with the Han kingdom and how crucial it is for us to keep them as our allies given the climate of…”

—

The evening had come far too slowly. He sat in his lessons for hours as he repeated his words over and over until the queen was satisfied with what he did. It wasn’t perfect until they did it a hundred times and she saw fit.

He knew that she was only doing what she felt was right, and he had a lot to make up for after losing many years of his youth where the formative lessons had been held. Compared to the princes of other kingdoms, he was hardly up to par with them.

Sometimes, it felt like his curse was a good thing because it meant that people didn’t realize how horrible he was… the people wanted to believe that he was as good as the king, he knew that they were determined to see him become as good as that man, or as good as the queen was after she took his spot in leading the country.

But, Ray didn’t think that he would ever be good enough to be either one of them.

It was a sad reality, but one that he was trying to swallow down and bury deep in his heart.

A prince did not show fear, nor did he allow himself to reveal his fears to others. You were the first person to ever see what his curse did firsthand. You knew what the kingdom didn’t… that he wasn’t a sickly boy trying to fill the shoes of someone he couldn’t remember in the slightest.

You knew that he was trapped here.

So, the real question was… would you come back to see him now that you saw something that no one else had, or would you believe him to be a prince that prided himself on power? He fiddled with the end of his sleeve, sucking in a nervous breath as he sat down in the grass with his back pressed against the cool stone wall that lay behind him.

Ray had waited every evening to see if you would return, but he had seen no hint of you since the day that he let you go. A part of him wondered if you had merely been a figment of his imagination but he knew that wasn’t the case.

He had heard the queen mention that the guard should be on the lookout for the thief in the towns. Whatever you had taken had angered her quite a bit, but Ray didn’t know why they needed to hoard any treasures such as jewels. What was the point in keeping things if it couldn’t be used for the benefit of the people? They weren’t the dragons who kept all their prizes, were they?

If you had managed to break into the castle to get what you wanted, then you rightly earned the keep that you took. He imagined that you needed something to pay someone in need of it, or perhaps you needed it to make sure that someone had enough food to eat.

Whatever the reason was, it meant that it was going somewhere to use, and not laying around in some box where nobody even paid it any mind at all. Ray sucked in a breath and blew it out right afterward. It may be a long night ahead, but he was determined to see if you were a person of honor who kept the promises they made to someone.

Heroes in his books would pride themselves on code, on a state of being or an idea, and yours seemed to be your word. He imagined that that didn’t mean much in the way of things in a world that seemed to be defined by money and family power, however, it was respectable to be bound by your code rather than anything else. You promised that you would return, so he was going to hold you to your promise to him.

After all, you owed him a name.

The only thing that he could remember about you was the cloak that hung over your shoulders and the hood that covered a great deal of your face. There had been only memorable about your outfit was the small etching of a sparrow on your deep brown coat. That was interesting, you were as free as a bird in comparison to him, huh?

“...Huh?”

Suddenly, Ray felt something hit his head, and then twice, and then thrice. Looking at the ground beside him, he noted that it had been a couple of acorns. He cocked his head at the sight. That was odd given that no trees were hanging over the edge of the wall. He looked up and realized that it had come from someone rather than something.

“It’s me,” you said, the hood falling from your head and onto your shoulders. You smirked, “Dear Prince Ray, don’t tell me you’ve been waiting here all this time.”

Ray couldn’t believe that you had kept to your word. It seemed like a surprise, but he wanted to have faith in you and you gave it to him. Skidding down from the top down to the grass where he was, you offered him your hand. “I sincerely hope not. That would have been silly of you. I would have returned sooner but I had work to take care of.”

He stared at your hand for the longest moment. Nobody had ever dared to do such a thing. The prince was often thought of as untouchable, someone that was far above the worth of anyone that didn’t have royal blood in their veins. The queen would scold him for doing this, but she would scold him for even letting the thief getaway in the first place.

Ray was putting himself out on a limb because you were the first person that had ever caught his attention like this.

Against what his brain told him, he took your hand and stood up. You seemed not at all bothered by being near royalty. Perhaps it was the fact that you often found yourself in peril that you had learned how to mask any fear or unease underneath a smile. Your hand was soft and warm in his own, even though it was gloved.

“It is nice to see you again,” he found himself saying.

“Likewise,” you smiled.

He knew that this part of the castle was left alone for the most part, so he was happy to show you the areas that felt like home to him. He led you away from the thicker brush into the thicket of the maze with a nervous look on his face. Even though he barely knew anything about you, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind.

What was your life like?

What did you do outside these walls?

What made you feel liberated?

There were so many things that he wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure how to ask them of you. He just knew that he so many things that it surely wouldn’t fit into one evening alone. Ray focused on the path of flowers in front of you.

“Your business went well, then?” he inquired, first.

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks to you, Prince Ray. I made it just in time for my meeting so you saved me a lot of grief, honestly.”

Ray knew that it likely had to do with the jewels that you had taken. A thief was a thief, and they often had their eyes out for another prize that could get them what they wanted. You likely had many deals and goals for what you took. He couldn’t say that he had any idea out those things worked on the back end markets.

He hadn’t thought you to be much a thief, but then again, all of the villains that he had seen were often big and burly men that wanted power from the gold and silver they could get their grubby hands-on as soon as possible. It didn’t seem like it was that way for you, but maybe he was projecting his thoughts upon you.

“I didn’t realize that this castle had so much space. I didn’t even set foot in this garden when I got in the last time,” you mused to yourself, breaking him from his train of thoughts. “Then again, you did say that nobody comes to this area anymore.”

Ray stopped his stride. You had reached the center area where the pavilion was and he took a seat on one of the steps as you took a good look around the place. You seemed interested in all of the flowers there. He was proud of them himself, honestly. This area had been the favorite spot of the king but the queen couldn’t bear to come here anymore.

So, Ray did, and he tended to the care with one of the gardeners.

“Not after what happened,” he said, softly.

You stood still as if the thought occurred to you why this place may be so barren. “Oh, then this place is…”

“Yeah,” Ray answered with a nod of his head. “It was the king’s favorite spot in all of the castle, but since his passing, it brings back such bittersweet memories for many of the staff. They keep the place alive in his honor but apart from that, nobody comes here anymore except for me.”

“The king was a great man,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him with something unreadable in your eyes. “I am sorry for your loss. I know that feeling… well.”

Ray was surprised to hear that. If you knew that pain, then that meant that you had suffered great loss in your life as well. You knew what he felt, but what he couldn’t remember. He wondered if his grief would be worse or greater if he could remember what the king looked like, or his childhood with his so-called father.

“I am sorry to hear that you too, know such pain,” he said, automatically. He sighed. Ray looked down at his lap. “I’m afraid I can’t remember much about him. So, I try to come to this place to get a better understanding of him. That may seem rather odd, I realize.”

Your silence was telling. He knew that you had to know that he had been involved in that accident as well; Everyone knew that he was the miracle prince that had managed to be protected from harm but that was all they knew. Nobody knew that he had lost his memory. It was for the better that they didn’t know that fact, that’s what the queen said.

“I don’t think it is,” your voice came from his side where you had sat next to him. “People want to be close to their loved one, no matter how far they’ve gone from us. It’s not at all strange to go to a place that meant a lot to that person or meant something to you in their relationship you had. Not many people have a place like that, so you’re lucky, Prince Ray.”

Ray… lucky?

He wasn’t sure that he was lucky. He was cursed to these walls and all of his memory had been taken from him. He spent hours trying to prove that he could be the prince that he was always meant to be but he never seemed to be able to prove himself. How was that lucky? Still, hearing that from someone felt strange.

“Do you have something like that?” he asked you, unable to hide his curiosity.

It was your turn to grow silent. Though, after a short pause, rather than giving him the answer that he wanted, you merely changed the topic.

“Oh, that reminds me…” you paused, dipping into your bag for a second to find something before you tugged it out and pressed it into his hands. “You mentioned that you wanted to see the water… I mean, the ocean. I know it’s not the same thing, but I brought you this shell. My mother used to tell me if you press it to your ear, you can hear the song of the sea.”

You placed a shell in his hands. It was big enough to fill both of them. The color was white, or perhaps cream. It had the faintest etching of pink on the raised tips and grooves near the swirl at the top. It was like nothing that he had seen before. Upon your urging, he raised the item to his head and waited for a sound.

It seemed rather childish to do so, but you went out of your way to bring something to someone that already had everything you could have wanted.

“Shut your eyes,” your voice broke the silence. “Just give it a moment.”

He wanted to humor this.

There was the faintest hum of something that sounded odd to him. It was like the wisp of the wind and something more, but he couldn’t place that memory. Was this magic of some sort? Was it a small secret everyone knew of except for him? After all, his queen said that magic could be found anywhere one was looking, but only if they were willing to see it.

“Do you hear it?” you whispered. “The breeze on the coast is very pleasant and it invades all of your senses. The smell of salt is the first thing you notice, and something more, it’s the warmth of the sun on your body reflected from the sand as you step closer to the water’s edge. The water comes in waves that splash against the bank of the sand that gives way to the seas. The water is cool to the touch when you reach the end of the shore, and if you look down, you’ll see shells and little fish that have been pulled in by the tides.”

Ray tried to imagine it for himself. He had seen an illustration before but you made it come to life in his mind’s eyes. If he listened close enough, he could almost imagine what it would feel like to see the endless stream of the tide rolling into the bank just close enough to bite at his heels. It was almost as if he were there.

You laughed at the expression on his face… rather pleased to have gotten such a reaction from the prince himself. “I take it that you were able to see it then, my prince? So, what’s it like over there by the sea?”

“Wow…” he breathed, finally opening his eyes to look back in your direction. “This is… amazing… I do not know what to say. Thank you for this. Is this magic?”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t give him a straight answer for it. “It's nothing, my prince. I thought you would enjoy it. I wouldn’t know. It’s a story that parents often tell their children. I wouldn’t have believed in magic until I saw it for myself, so perhaps it is a kind of magic given life by the stories that people tell?”

Ray would have to think about that. He gazed down at the gift in his hands. He had never received something like this in his life. People would give him gifts but it would never be from the heart, it would come from the idea that they wanted to give him something suiting a royal life… more gold, larger, more expensive, and more powerful.

Even if you had only done this to help with your debt to him, he knew he would treasure this gift to him.

“You know,” Ray didn’t look at you directly. “You still haven’t given me your name, and I think it would be impolite to call you, little thief.”

You snorted at his attempt at a joke, “I’ve been called many things, to be honest with you. Many people assume my name or call me whatever they please. Thief, Sparrow, Ruffian, Misfit, and unwanted. I’m afraid my name is of no importance.”

“...It is to me,” he said, softly.

Your silence returned.

“I would like to know it if you want to share it with me,” Ray continued. This time he shot a look in your direction. “There is much in a name and a lot in a title. That is to say, you’ve called me nothing but Prince Ray since we met, but you never thought to ask me if that was the name that I liked to be called.”

“My apologies,” your lips were still in a weak smile. “Is that so? Then, what is it that you like to be called by others?”

He gave you his answer without hesitation. “Ray. I wish to be known simply by my name and not the title given to me at birth.”

Standing from your spot, you hopped up onto the cobblestone and your feet made a little thunk as you did so. You faced away from him and gazed up at the moon that colored the night sky in light that gave the people the smallest hint of how big the universe was that they lived in, and how they weren’t the only people out there.

Countless stars hung overhead as a humbling reminder that humanity was small in the scheme of things but nobody ever paid that mind.

“Well,” you said. It seemed as if you were weighing the cost of sharing your name with him. “ If it truly means that much to you, then I see no harm in my giving you my name. Then, I will call you Ray… and in return, I will let you know my name but all I ask of you is that you never speak it to anyone but your own heart.”

A thief… giving him something that no one else held.

“I swear to keep it to myself,” he replied, truthfully.

“I thank you, Ray.”

You spun around from your spot and leaned in close to his face, whispering the softest word that he almost didn’t hear but he heard it. It was a secret, something that you hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time, as far as he knew. It made his heart skip a beat. He mouthed the name to himself as if giving it to his memory. His wide green eyes were trained on you, unable to make up his mind on how he felt about this mysterious thief. You seemed to be thinking something along the same lines since there was the faintest trace of heat across your skin that made him more curious.

You pulled away from Ray and slung your bag back over your shoulder.

Was your heart beating as fast as his?

“I’m afraid I must take my leave, Ray,” you said.

“So soon?” he asked.

You seemed resolute about it. “Unfortunately, yes. I will try to come and see you again very soon. I have some work to take care of and my employer will be upset if I don’t show him results. But… this was fun, you’re assuredly the kindest prince that I’ve ever met.”

His heart quivered.

“Well, you’re the only prince that I’ve ever met but… that’s still a pretty good track record, is it not? See you soon, Ray. Hahaha.”

That laughter of yours infected his heart like a poison and as dangerous as it was for him to get close to a thief, he was more than happy to follow this road ahead of him because you had given him something that no one else ever had, and that was the feeling of hope and wonder inside of his chest. Was it wrong for him to want you to stay longer?

Yet, he still watched as you climbed the wall and left him behind, watching in the willows.

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