Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
got this idea in my head the other night – it will eventually be a number of connected shorter scenes/fics that will one day be combined into a larger work but i'm trying to take a chill approach to writing what i right when i wanna and getting to post it if/when each piece is done so gonna be posting it on here for now!
#01 (inconvenient timing)
"Boss." Fang’s voice comes through Ed's earpiece crisply, despite the intentional layer of distortion they've added.
"Yeah mate?" Ed straightens a little, tensing. This new kit means he can hear the concern in Fang's voice, and he's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing yet.
"Got company."
"Shit. Iz?" Ed turns, but Izzy's earpiece is dangling from his collar, other ear connected to the lock as he works it. Ed's fairly certain he could've sprung the thing himself just with a good look at the wear and tear and a few instinctual stabs at probability, but he couldn't be bothered with the argument, and this way's just as quick.
"Security," Ed explains, stepping into Izzy's line of sight.
"It's not, actually," Fang clarifies.
"Cops? Dickfuck. Do you know if it was an alarm trip or a tip off?" Ed's caught Izzy's eye by now, knows he's listening, but he keeps working.
"Not them either."
"What?" Ed stops short. "Who the fuck is it then? Someone leave their kid in an exhibit or something?"
"Don't know exactly who," Fangs admits, apologetically. "Got a glimpse on the feeds but they know what they're doing – I think it's competition."
"Competition," Ed repeats for Izzy's benefit, just what they fucking need. "How long? You got an ETA for us?"
"Caught them on the roof," Fang explains, "lost them once they got in. Depends on which way they go but…"
Ed can just see him, fingers running carefully over the hard copy map he'd had in front of him when they left. It means they always need to have a lighter on hand (or an acid bath or, on one occasion, a goat), the way they work, but they've gotten awful good at destroying evidence over the years and Ed's always been far more confident about a pile of ash than a trashed hard drive.
"If they go for the shiny shit you can probably be in and out without them even noticing, assuming they don't fuck it up and trip the alarms. If they're smart enough to go your way then three minutes, give or take."
Three minutes. Sure.
"See if you can't get eyes down the other end," Ed orders, "find out if they're going that way."
Far end of the museum is where the good shit is, where the new exhibition's being housed. Exceedingly valuable, high profile shit. Security on it's pretty solid, but it's nearing the end of the tour, people get sloppy, and moving in's always a mess. Tempting as fuck.
Which is exactly why Ed's crew are at the opposite end of the building, trying to get their hands on a part of the permanent collection. A piece that's well secured in and of itself, but nowhere near as flashy, and with the staff busy with the new installations there's every chance Ed'll have sold it on before they even know it's missing.
Presuming this goes right. Presuming no one else jumps in on this. Best case scenario the newcomers do a good job at the other end and security goes looking in the morning and finds everyone's handiwork (Ed's buyer's lined up already, regardless of how hot the piece is, but still). Worst case scenario, they trip the alarms and bring security down on everyone. Mid case scenario they're smart enough to try the same thing Ed's trying.
Either way, they need to be out of here. Now.
"Iz, you have a minute before I call it," Ed warns, tapping the timer on his watch into motion, "Get that fucking lock open."
Izzy grumbles something in response, but Ed's not listening, already ducking back out the door, moving as close to silently as he can, listening out for anyone coming their way, checking that both their exits and back-ups are still clear.
His watch sends a blip to the earpiece at the thirty second mark and Ed turns back, debating with himself for a second before popping an anti-inflammatory out of the strip tucked into his tool belt and swallows the capsule dry. He's hoping there won't be any more running tonight than they'd initially planned, but Ed's been in this game too long to count on it.
He makes it back a second before his timer runs out. Izzy's still sweet talking the lock, but his foot's finally stopped tapping, which means he's nearly in.
"No sign of them down the other end," Ivan's voices buzzes in.
"They've had more than long enough to get there if they're going," Fang adds, "sorry boss, looks like they're smart."
"Iz, we're out of time. Wipe it down."
"Gimme a fucking second–"
"They're on us, Iz. We're out of time."
"Like you're not rounding down," Izzy spits back, and Ed'll be having fucking words with him about that, but he'll be having them later, because the lock clicks clean open as Izzy says it, and he pushes away from the cabinet.
"Put your fuckin' earpiece back in," Ed says, in lieu of a chewing out as he steps in to take over, and carefully tugs the drawer open with his right hand as he pulls his left glove off with his teeth.
Doesn't look like much, this dull, round piece of cast metal. Detailing on it's interesting, if not intricate, but it's not shiny, or pretty, or delicate. The sort of thing you wouldn't look at twice if you weren't exceptionally interested in this niche.
Nerds, Ed's found, make for wonderful buyers.
Clean right glove removes the disk from its padded spot, tucks it into his jacket. Bare left hand, already smeared with black drags across the space left behind, leaving a thick, dark streak of the same shit that's currently surrounding Ed's eyes.
(Made up of about fifteen different eye products, crushed together and then crammed into an old lip balm tube for exactly this purpose. Just to fuck with anyone who wants to waste their time on analysing it).
Ed bumps the draw closed with his hip, and lets Izzy reset the lock.
"Minute left if we want out of here before they arrive," Ed warns, pulling his left glove back on carefully.
"What if we don't?" Izzy mutters.
"I beg your fucking pardon."
"What if we don't," Izzy says flatly, standing up and resting his hand on his gun. "Why the fuck do we care if they catch us? They're not going to call security on themselves, and last I heard there wasn't anyone in this game we couldn't wipe the floor with," he gives Ed a distasteful once over, "assuming I'm not running with a fucking coward."
"You're the one," Ed reminds him, voice carefully stripped of the emotion Izzy's trying so hard to draw out of him, "who said you'd had enough of theatrics. That means we do jobs clean. That means we don't take stupid fucking risks posturing."
"Blackbeard never–"
"Well the Kraken does."
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Izzy's head snaps up to look over Ed's shoulder, face somehow settling deeper into its scowl.
Ed doesn't need to look.
"Bonnet," Izzy snarls, and Ed turns halfway, enough to put his back more to a wall, to get a look at the two people joining them in the space, but not enough to acknowledge either of them fully.
He's brought that shorter guy with him, the bald one who'd been good enough people, if a little much the times Ed had had to deal with him directly, but who had usually been busy with his boyfriend.
He's a good ten feet behind Stede, watching their exit, and glances at Ed warily, but without malice – doesn't know then. Should make getting out of here a little easier.
"Good stuff's down the other end," Ed says, aiming for nonchalant and ending up somewhere far flatter.
"It is good, isn't it?" Stede says, "I'll have to come in next week when the exhibition's open. But given that you're here, I have to assume that this is where I'll find the best stuff."
"You're too fucking late," Izzy snaps, and Stede glances at him with surprise, like he'd not even noticed Izzy was there.
For all Izzy hates the Gentleman Robber (and yes, Ed'll keep calling him that as long as it winds Izzy up), Ed's not sure he's ever realised just how well Bonnet plays him. Ed sees his hand going for his weapon and flashes him a signal to stand down. Changed, of course, since Bonnet last knew what they meant, and this time at least, Izzy takes heed.
"Not an issue," Stede tells him, politely ignoring Izzy's attempted to be threatening. "I've actually set my sights on something much more valuable."
He turns his gaze then to Ed. "And I don't intend to steal it."
"You're in the wrong game for that," Ed reminds him, stalking forward. Not up to Stede, but past him, "no one in this game expects anything to be handed to them."
Stede steps back out of the way, just like Ed knew he would, throwing in a showy little 'after you' gesture, because he never changed, not really, and Ed actually has to brace his forearm against Izzy's chest as they walk past to stop anyone from getting slapped.
(Not that they don't deserve it, the both of them, but if anyone gets to dole that out it'll be Ed, and it won't during a petty little cat fight in the back room of a museum.)
"Nor do I," Stede says, just as the other guy – Pete? – steps back to let them pass, and Ed's footsteps falter, but he doesn't turn, "not yet, but I've been told I can be rather convincing, on occasion."
"You misheard, love," Ed tosses over his shoulder, because he'd seen what Stede's face had done, when he'd heard Ed turn that sweetness on someone else, even in play, wanted to hear it as much as Ed had wanted to say it. Word singing between his teeth with the knowledge that Stede's getting exactly what he wants in exactly the way he doesn't want it. "It's pronounced conniving."
Random spark of O8 headcanon: Debbie & Lou's wedding. It's the year Deb's going to turn 60 by the time they stop being stubborn and actually get their shit together. They plan it on her birthday because she's got a lot of bad memories and feelings associated with that date, as well as mounting tension about getting older. Ceremony is sparse, on a hill, in Autumn, very small, very close friends/"family" only. Reception has outdoor dance floor set up, lanterns and fairy lights. First dance is to Leather & Lace (with appropriate pronouns of course). They dgaf and it's always been their song anyway. They sing to each other, lost in their own little world.
