the person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

It’s not a graceful dance by any stretch of the imagination. Bassian moves like a man trained for rigging and storm winds, not ribbons and waltzes. His hands are too big, his rhythm an awkward negotiation with the music, and Flora’s corset doesn’t make things easier—but she’s laughing, the bright, uncontainable kind that spills out between breaths and into the folds of the masquerade. "No, no—like this," she’s giggling, reaching up to adjust where his hands are clumsily hovering too high or too low or just somewhere. He’s stiff as a plank beneath her fingers, expression locked somewhere between sheepish devotion and barely contained panic.

Every now and then, Bassian shoots a quick, wide-eyed look toward the sidelines, as if expecting to be struck down by lightning—or worse, a dry comment—from a certain telepathic captain. But Jack doesn’t intervene, and Bassian survives the full length of the song with only minor trampling and a flourish that Flora absolutely makes up on the spot.

When the music ends, Flora grins up at him, tugging the mountain of a man down by his cloak with casual authority. She presses a glossy kiss to his cheek leaving a smudge of crimson and glitter behind. "C’mon, I’ll help you fetch drinks. You don’t have enough hands for everyone, big as they are."

Flora is tipsy enough now that the lanterns blur just a little at the edges, softening everything into a warm haze of music and colour and too many Ludos, but not so far gone that she’s unaware of where they’re heading. The Ark’s crew gathers in a loose knot near the edge of the feast, laughing and trading jabs the way they always have. Jack is there, of course, but whatever sharp edge her thoughts might’ve found is dulled by the cider. She doesn’t pause, doesn’t falter, doesn’t hesitate as she steps into the periphery of that familiar current and flashes them all a dazzling smile.

Then, because she’s already crossed one invisible threshold, Flora casually sidles in beside Jack, offering him the final cup of cider. The copper in his mask catches the lanternlight, throws warm glints across his face, and somehow—godsdamn him—it makes his eyes look even bluer. It’s infuriating, and unfair, and very on-brand. "Hey," she says, light as sugar on the rim. Casual. Sooooo casual. "Anything interesting going on?" Aka any good gossip?

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Said telepathic captain is aware of each and every step (and misstep) Bassian takes in his dancing, just as he's aware of everything else going on at the masquerade. The crew have made themselves a small base of operations around some clustered tables near a stall selling marshmallows to toast over one of the cookfires; it's against one of these tables that Jack is perched now, having been getting merrily liquored up after his initial (albeit unexpected) greetings with a few others in attendance.

His magic dances along threads of thought, flushes of emotion and sparks of increasingly drunken revelry, and it often returns, like a ship left to ebb with the current, to the sun-dappled gardens of Flora's mind - no matter how many times Jack steers it away. As such, perhaps he's also more socially lubricated than he otherwise might be, and he raises an eyebrow as the woman he's been telepathically avoiding comes right up to stand (lean?) with him, bearing gifts.

"Hey," Jack rumbles in return, accepting the cup of cider without taking a sip - he doesn't much like the stuff, in truth, but he's been occupying himself with brandy and whisky aplenty already. "Depends. Define interestin'." The smirk that curls across his lips is pure mischief. Subtly, he gestures out into the crowd. "Your Ancient friend - the one with the crows - is 'bout three wrong looks away from startin' a fight, I reckon. A few other couples are gettin' close to the creepin' off into the woods part of the night. An' I think Ludo is around." Not that he could pin down a herald's thoughts unless they wanted him to.

"All in all, though, s'pretty tame compared to some of the recent events."

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

Flora rolls her eyes, slow and fond, like she’s been putting up with this exact brand of evasion for years—which she has. "Oh come on," she murmurs, elbow nudging lightly against Jack’s side. "You know exactly what kind of interesting I’m after."

But she follows the motion of his hand out into the crowd anyway, gaze landing on the mess of black feathers and sharp teeth pacing just a little too close to the edge of self-control. Her grin flickers, teeth catching the light like a promise. "Gods, I kind of hope he does," she says under her breath, low and wicked as she bites gently at her lower lip. "Watching Asta in action is like seeing someone paint with a dagger." It was all violence and finesse, and for someone with Flora's problematic taste in men, it was a sight to behold.

The mention of couples creeping off into the woods earns a little hum of acknowledgement, but Flora’s thoughts flush a deeper shade—something rich and red and unspoken—before she's lifting her cup to hide the curl of her mouth, taking a longer sip than she probably needs. "That’s probably why the turnout’s so good," she says finally, shrugging one bare shoulder. "I mean...who doesn’t like the idea of putting on a mask, slipping into something you'd never wear in daylight, and pretending that you’re someone else?" Her eyes sweep lazily across the clearing, over velvet and lace and teeth painted in gold.

Then, without looking at him, she glances toward the trees. "Besides, getting fucked in the woods on a night like this?" she muses, voice lilting as she finishes her cider and lets the empty cup dangle from her fingertips. "Should be on everyone’s bucket list."

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

"So sorry to disappoint," Jack drawls, smirking. "If anything more interestin' than this does come up and you ain't already privy to it, I'll make a point to get your attention." How he chooses to do that is yet to be arranged, and the captain finally lifts the cider to his lips to take a small, perfunctory sip, before setting it down on the table behind him.

Resisting the urge to scoff out a laugh and say something he knows will ruffle Flora's feathers, at her remarks about Asta he merely raises his eyebrows beneath his mask and watches the two Ancients at the edge of proceedings for a moment. "Long as it ain't any of my crew, he can paint all night for all I care," he says.

He can already sense the scarlet dusting across Flora's thoughts, Jack finding the glass of whiskey he'd been nursing previously and smoothly emptying it, using the bite and burn of it to recentre himself. (Which works, but will make doing so next time ironically more difficult). "Liar," he says, grinning unashamedly and letting calloused fingers brush across the plumes arranged around her neck. "You'd wear the shit outta this in daylight, we both know it."

As she continues about bucket lists and nights like this, though, Jack cocks his head to the side. "Yeah? Go on - who you got in mind for it tonight?"

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

Flora’s lips twist, affectionate and dry, at his promise to alert her of any incoming chaos. "You better," she murmurs, her gaze flicking toward the dancers and drinkers as if searching for the next scene before it starts. It’s so easy—too easy, really—to fall back into old rhythms with Jack, to slip into the ebb and flow of banter and brushes of thought, like waves reclaiming sand that never really stopped belonging to them. And with enough liquor in her veins, she doesn’t stop herself from leaning into it. Doesn’t stop the glint of warmth that threads through her thoughts, the kind that only comes from years of this: shoulder to shoulder with someone who never stayed, but never really left either.

At the comment about her outfit, Flora glances down, running a hand along the feathered curve of her neckline. "Oh, this old thing?" she says, faux-modest as her lashes flutter up. Then she gestures toward the clearing, where Niki’s stark skeletal half-mask still glints faintly through the lantern haze. "Made it with my ghost," she says with a wink. "He did the bones, I did the drama. We're quite the team."

But it’s his next question that catches her off guard; not because it’s inappropriate (gods, since when has that ever stopped them), but because there’s no answer ready. Her mind doesn’t leap to Kaisel the way it used to, not after weeks of silence and complications and recent clusterfuck of the letters they'd sent back and forth. Instead, it blanks, then flickers—briefly, involuntarily—with the copper-orange gleam of Jack’s mask and the impossible blue of his eyes.

She shrugs, casual as the ripple of silk against her skin. "Now that you mention it," she says, her tone light, almost distracted, "I’ve done a lot more fighting in the Greatwood than anything else." The rest drifts unsaid, but it curls through her chest all the same. This was a place she'd died, where she and Jack had screamed at each other more than they'd ever done anything else, and yet somehow, for all the ways and places they'd had one another, the woods had never been one.

Out loud, all she offers is a lazy smile and a softer edge to her voice. "Alright then." Nodding out into the crowd, Flora raises a brow as she glances over her shoulder at the captain. "You pick someone for me and I'll see if I can't tempt them into the woods. If there's no drama yet, someone has to be the one to start it."

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

"Oh, yes, your ghost. Y'know, I actually saw him speakin' to other people tonight, so he might actually be real," Jack says, his smile edged with sharp amusement, as if reminded suddenly of their ongoing joke regarding Niki's existence. "Did you bring the drama for his costume as well?" he wonders, angling his gaze towards the boy and his painstakingly detailed skull makeup.

It turns out to be a wise decision, because although he'd asked the question of Flora - knowing that even sober he'd feel some type of way about it - there's no small part of his liquor-hazed mind that gets a thrill, not only in that Kaisel does not jump to the forefront of her thoughts, but that his own reflection flickers there, albeit briefly.

It's a terrible idea. There's not one good reason for it either, other than selfish want. And so Jack, naturally does it anyway.

"You ain't ever shied away from startin' it," he agrees, straightening up off the table and leaning over her shoulder, as if to scan the crowd from her vantage point to find a suitable victim. Once he's made a show of searching, Jack reaches, as if to point - only at the last second, his ringed fingers grasp Flora's wrist, as if to turn her to face him instead. "It's a great night for bad choices," he says softly, blue eyes burning behind his mask. "Go on. Tempt me."

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

Flora laughs, low and glittering. "Other people can only see Niki tonight because we’re in Ludo’s Woods," she whispers, conspiratorial as ever. "There are ghosts everywhere. Ludo probably just allowed it so that more people would dresss up like it."

She follows Jack’s gaze toward the clearing, where Niki’s bones glow pale under his cloak and candlelight and her grin sharpens. "All him. He has very clever hands." Her voice drops, the sexual implication hanging there between them like the humidity before a storm, but Jack would know better of course.

Flora feels the captain shift before he moves, the subtle stir of air as he straightens behind her, leaning in over her shoulder to scan the crowd. She doesn’t react—or at least she tries not to—but her pulse betrays her anyway, thrumming beneath her skin in a way Jack would feel as surely as if her body had spoken aloud. Her thoughts spark in gold and static, lightning tracing the edge of something dangerously familiar, all copper glint and too-blue heat.

She watches the crowd, steadying herself in the space between their breaths, waiting for him to choose someone for their game to begin. But then his fingers close around her wrist instead, turning her to face him with a movement that’s deliberate and unmistakably his. And just like that, she’s there again, suspended between the past and the possibility, her breath catching as if the memory of his mouth has stepped between the present and her pulse.

For a heartbeat, she leans in, tilting her chin up like it’s an invitation, like she’s about to kiss him, but then she smiles. Smirking, slow and wicked, she drops her voice into velvet. "That I can do," she whispers, the words brushing the space between them. Her gaze drops to his hand still on her wrist—more specifically to the mageglass there, her mind doing the mental math as her grin deepens. And then, without warning, she peels away. Slipping through his grasp with the same liquid ease she’s always had when escape was part of the performance.

There are few things that motivate Jack Barclay more than watching someone else enjoy what he’s told himself not to want, so naturally, Flora finds precisely that sort of someone. It doesn’t take long—just a glance, a smirk, a finger curled toward the dance floor—and she’s moving with a stranger now, some handsy young man with eager eyes and a mouth already carving praise into her shoulder. His hands are unpractised but enthusiastic, sliding lower with every pass, drawn to the shimmer of her skin and the curve of her hips. And while he kisses the line of her throat and whispers promises he thinks are original, Flora whispers back all the places she’d like to fuck him. Only her ideas aren't original either, as Jack would no doubt immediately recognize.

The beaches of Torchline during LongNight, firelight in the surf, with an audience watching and Flora moaning his name into the dark. The dark ice of Halo’s back sands, her breath fogging the air while his fingers—cold, demanding, perfect—left bruises down her thighs. Mother Molly’s, where he’d suspended her in a harness and made her beg for every inch, every word. Frey’s Breath, where hot water seared the tension from her spine even as his fingers left colder marks against her skin.

She paints it all in her mind while the stranger grows bolder, grinding against her like he already believes he’s earned her, pants already tented and thoughts already on fire. Behind her mask, Flora smiles, before whispering in his ear that he should take her someplace darker, somewhere farther into the woods, to which his agreement is both enthusiastic and immediate, grabbing her by the hand and all but dragging her out of the lantern light.

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

"And an even cleverer mind," Jack says of Niki, though whilst Flora's tone had been charged with unserious sexual tension, if anything the captain sounds mildly impressed. Perhaps if their conversation - and their night, with any luck - hadn't taken such a sharp turn, he'd have regaled Flora with the details of a necromancer's inner sanctum. Alas, maybe another time.

He feels the heat rolling off Flora's body like it's a fire he hasn't warmed himself beside for an age, the flames dancing to the dull thrum of her pulse, kicking up a beat as they draw inexorably closer to one another. His magic teases along the golden static of her thoughts, tasting it as a forbidden vintage - and it has been all night, truthfully, until right now.

And whilst Jack knows Flora inside and out, knows the way she'll prefer to tease and tempt and drive him to something reckless and near violent, he still can't stop the feathering of his jaw as she slips away into the crowd and out of his grip. With the ghost of her still brushing against all the places they'd touched, he settles himself back against the table, finding a glass with brandy in it and forcing himself to settle, to allow her to do what, let's be honest, she'd already succeeded in doing long before he'd challenged her.

Once again, Flora doesn't disappoint. Now, that doesn't mean she impresses, not by putting a stranger's life unmistakeably at risk when it comes to testing the patience of a man with storms in his blood, and gods, she always knows when to go too far. It's all fun and games until she's whispering the memory of their dalliances into the young man's ear, until she's leading him away into the woods, and for just a second Jack is tempted to let her go. To let her disappear into the woods and have the quick, unsatisfying fuck she's practically begged for, however much it might have all been a performance.

He doesn't, of course. But he's tempted.

As quietly furious as he is aroused, he sets the brandy back down (both glass and liquid are entirely frozen) and stalks through the crowd, slipping between people as if he's liquid night. He catches up with them just as they're a few boughs beyond the treeline, and Jack taps at the young man's shoulder. "Sorry," he says by way of greeting - and punches him square in the face with a fist made jagged along the knuckles by frost.

He crumples, too drunk and - apparently - the proud owner of a glass jaw - and its with the scent of ozone in the air that he crowds into Flora's space, roughly grabbing her chin to tilt it up towards his face. "I hate it when you do that," he says, voice roughened by desire and impatience, before he silences any response with his mouth.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

As the last of the lanternlight fades behind her and the hush of the trees swells around them, Flora wonders—just for a flicker of a moment—if she’s misjudged the distance this time. If perhaps she and Jack have drifted too far, and that whatever unspoken thread used to tug him toward her when she pushed just hard enough has finally snapped. The air is heavy with damp leaves and the memory of something more, and for a heartbeat, the only person who seems to want her is the boy at her side, panting need into her hair like it means something.

But then the woods shift, and he’s there.

Stepping out of the dark like the storm she built her spine around, all sharp edges and furious blue eyes, copper glinting like fire in the belly of a wave. The adrenaline hits before she even sees the blow—before the stranger’s body crumples into the underbrush like a dropped coat and Jack’s mouth finds hers without warning. There had been a protest forming, but it evaporates on contact. Because the last time he kissed her it had tasted like goodbye—like sea-salt and grief and a door closing slowly between them. And this time?

This time, it burns.

Flora coils her fingers into his hair, sharp nails threading through salt-touched strands, dragging him closer as her body presses flush to his. The kiss deepens with a desperation born not of doubt but of recognition, like finding her own reflection after seasons spent trying to rewrite her shape. He tastes like brandy and electricity, and she swallows it like something sacred. She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t want to, despite what a bad idea this surely is. Breathless against his mouth, she exhales something more like a moan than a sentence, the words barely spoken at all.

"Touch me, Jack." Because he hadn't been able to when last they'd seen each other. And her thoughts, already flickering at the edges, spiral into wildfire—gold gone auburn gone burning red, until there’s nothing left but heat and want and the man who’s always known exactly how to ruin her so exquisitely.

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Flora doesn't have to tell him twice. The fire of her thoughts lights a fuse in his own mind, and now that the boy - just unconscious, luckily, so the Doubletake doesn't have to live with that on her conscience - is out of the picture, she floods his telepathy entirely, crackling along every delicate strand of it until nothing else matters, not danger or secrets or common sense.

The memories of her crash and overlap across his senses, like rogue waves in an ocean already gone choppy with an impending maelstrom, and Jack's hands are greedy for the feel of her. His mouth finds hers a second time, and though he's walking them deeper still into the woods - away and out of range of any other distractions so he might focus on this and this alone - he's by no means leaving her wanting.

The guiding hand at her lower back is busy unthreading her corset, simultaneously keeping her pinned tantalisingly against him where the evidence of his arousal is already painfully apparent between them. His free hand ghosts beneath her dress to sweep along the outside of her thigh and the swell of her ass. Jack doesn't know when he decides it's far enough, only cognizant of the broad trunk of a tree that he presses her back against.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

Everywhere he touches her, thought disintegrates. Jack’s hands are not just familiar, they’re devastating, tracing over the curves of her body like he’s reclaiming something no one else ever had the right to touch. The moment his mouth finds hers again, it’s like a match struck too close to oil, and everything inside her ignites. It’s not soft—not gentle—and gods, it shouldn’t be. There’s too much hunger in her already, too much wildfire in her blood, and his kiss fans it higher until all she can taste is heat and fury and salt.

She hums against his mouth, not just in approval, but with need—pure and aching—threaded through her bones like tension drawn taut to the point of snapping. Her thoughts don’t merely spiral, they collapse entirely, scattering like petals torn from the stem such that it's impossible to even think of anyone else. There is only Jack: Only the weight of his body against hers, only the impossible way he knows where to press and where to pull, the relentless accuracy with which he steals the air from her lungs and gives her back nothing but want.

And even as he walks her deeper into the dark—his palm firm at the small of her back, his other hand already sliding under her dress like a promise about to be made—Flora’s fingers fumble for her truth-ring, slipping it free without ceremony. She finds the pocket of her skirt and lets it fall in without a second thought, her mind far too busy with the captain’s teeth and tongue and the delicious friction of his arousal against her hips to care about what’s true anymore. Truth isn’t what she’s chasing anyway.

When her spine brushes against the bark of a tree—rough and unyielding—it steals a gasp from her mouth, shivering through her lips and into his. A plume of heat coils low in her belly and bursts outward in waves, racing along her skin and right into the arch of her back as she breathes the words directly into his mouth. "Make me feel good." Her voice is ragged velvet, laced with lust and defiance, her thigh curling around his hips as if to drag him closer, to press him into her, to prove that whatever’s between them isn’t gone, and for better or worse, never has been.

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Once Jack might have raised his eyebrows as he realises the trajectory of her hands that aren't on his body, however briefly. But fuck it, he doesn't care either what's true tonight, and as Flora's thoughts crash into and drown his magic until he's choking on her need, that's all the truth he's interested in anyway. "I'll make you feel better than good," he mutters into her mouth like a vow, his fingers roughly tugging at the loosened corset just enough to get it free, to bare her breasts to the cool air and his warm touch.

His lips drift from her own now, and he'll fix whatever makeup he's smeared later, the captain nosing his way beneath her jaw to kiss and mark the smooth column of her neck. One hand glides against her outer thigh where it hooks around his hips, hitching her closer as if to seize on those waves of fire that radiate from her and claim them for his own, grinding into the heat of her. The other sweeps beneath one of her breasts, squeezing, and as he draws back Jack is left panting and near mad with lust - a perfect reflection of her internal thoughts.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he hisses into the dark, nipping at her lower lip and spending a second or two just letting the moment hang there, suspended like one of the dozens of lanterns strung through the branches overhead.

And Flora will never know that it's true.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about

The corset gives way, the black fabric slipping down to her waist in a whisper of silk and breathlessness, and Flora inhales sharply; not just at the sudden bite of cool air against her skin but at the sensation of his hands replacing it, warm and greedy and reverent in a way that makes her toes curl inside her heels. She lets her head tip back as his lips drag down her neck, unbothered by whatever makeup smears between them, unthinking except for the fire he's kindled along the length of her throat.

She doesn’t bother trying to pull the cloak from his shoulders, doesn’t care for the tangle of fabric around them except to gather it in one hand, fingers twisting high enough to find the buckle of his belt beneath. Her other hand remains tangled in his hair, holding him to her as if distance were the only thing that could break the spell they’ve cast together. There’s no finesse in her movements, only urgency, only the aching need to feel all of him against her without a single layer left in between.

His words brush against her skin like a match dragged slow and deliberate, and without the truth-ring to hold her to anything but instinct, for a moment, the words only echo in her ears, because it isn’t the declaration that wrecks her, it’s the pause. The way he lets it hang there, that single suspended second, stretched wide with something too heavy to name.

This is the man she’d wanted since she was seventeen. The one she'd once imagined marrying. And maybe it’s a terrible consolation prize after everything they’ve been through together, but gods, there's still something near joy that bubbles up in the back of her throat at the sound of it. That it—she—might still matter to him. That he might wish, even just a little, that it had gone differently.

Panting, her hands still curled into his shirt and cloak and everything else in the way, Flora breathes the words against his mouth, softer than they should be, but soaked with everything she means. "Then have me." Her thigh tightens around his hips, drawing him closer still. "Say I’m yours." And whether it’s true or not, she doesn’t care. She only wants to hear it, if only tonight. If only just once more.

some real big things I still gotta figure out

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Were this not in the woods in the middle of the night, were there not a party a few dozen feet away in full swing, were they not both arguably drunk, Jack might have made a point to worship Flora as thoroughly as he ever has done, following that familiar path down between her thighs until she's crying his name into the trees - and then having her as his own. Tonight, though, it's chaos and fire and need, and as her hand drifts towards his belt, he barely creates enough distance between them to allow her to free it from the loops.

Leaning in to claim her lips in another lusty kiss, Jack moans into her mouth as his hand slips down from her breast to finally free himself from the tight constraint of his pants. "You're mine," he whispers, clever fingers hitching her dress further so he can draw her underwear to the side. "All mine," he repeats, fingers tightening around her thigh as he surges forward, pulling her in at the same time to draw her hard onto his waiting cock.

There's no finesse, no taking their time - this is rough and messy and everything Flora's mind has created; with a broken moan against the curve of her jaw, Jack thrusts forward hard, pinning her against the bark of the tree at her back. It's enough leverage, at least, for him to encourage her to lock her legs around his waist, for him to gain a second or two to lose himself in the sweet familiarity of their joining, however much of a mistake it might be.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!