(20) Black Cargo

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Tuesday, 8:30pm.

"Stay still, [Y/N]."

The auburn haired woman murmured, concentrating on the delicate strokes of the makeup brush against her cheek. The air in the room buzzed with a tense anticipation. They were in a small, dimly lit bedroom of the hideout (probably a spare room), the only illumination coming from a flickering lamp on the nightstand. The room was crammed with an assortment of cosmetics, brushes, and various dresses scattered across the wooden dresser. Marco was seated on the edge of the bed, carefully applying makeup to Mikasa. His hands moved with a practiced ease, which surprised his friends, while Armin sat nearby, patiently waiting for his turn, the dim light casting shadows over his features.

"You're really good at this, Marco," the hacker remarked, trying to distract herself from the anxiety gnawing at her insides. Marco glanced up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks, [Y/N]. It's all thanks to my mom. She used to be a makeup artist. I learned a lot from watching her work." Mikasa, her face now half-transformed, gave a small nod of appreciation.

[Y/N] tried to smile, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle. The enormity of Operation Black Cargo weighed heavily on her mind. The government's insidious involvement in smuggling drugs and women to Marley was a reality too dark to fully comprehend, even after all the evidence they had found. And now, here they were, preparing to infiltrate La Belle Nuit, the very epicenter of this heinous trade, to save those who had been kidnapped and forced into this nightmarish existence.

Sasha's deft hands moved with precision, being in a deep state of concentration. "Almost done," she muttered, adding the final touches. The [E/C] eyed woman glanced at the blond boy, who was watching the process intently. His disguise as a woman was crucial to the plan, and she couldn't help but notice the way the light played off his features, highlighting his own fear and uncertainity.

"There," Sasha announced, stepping back to admire her work. "You look perfect"

"Thanks, Sash," [Y/N] said, standing up and feeling a rush of nerves. Armin's turn was next, and for some reason, the idea of doing his makeup herself seemed both daunting and... intimate.

"Sasha, can I do Armin's makeup?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

The woman in question raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure, why not? I could use a break." Armin looked up in surprise, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Uh, okay, if you don't mind."

The [H/C]-nette took a deep breath and sat down beside him, picking up a beauty blender. The proximity made her heart race, but she focused on the task at hand, trying to steady her hands. As she worked, she couldn't help but notice the details of his face up close. The curve of his jaw, the softness of his skin, and most strikingly, his beautiful eyes She paused, the brush hovering near his eye.

"What?" Armin questioned, looking at her through the mirror with a hint of nervousness.

"You have really long eyelashes, Armin," she murmured, almost to herself.

Their eyes met in the reflection, and the room seemed to hold its breath for a moment. The chemistry between them was palpable. Armin's blush deepened as she carefully applied the mascara, making his blue eyes pop. He tried to keep his gaze on the mirror, but it kept drifting towards her, drawn by the warmth she exuded.

He blinked, then chuckled lightly. "I guess that'll make the disguise easier, huh?"

[Y/N] smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "You're going to be unrecognizable," she assured him, continuing to apply the makeup with a gentle touch. Each stroke of the brush was met with a soft exhale from Armin, and she found herself getting lost in the rhythm of their interaction. The tension in the air grew thicker with every passing moment, the anticipation of the mission blending with the undeniable attraction that had been simmering between them for weeks.

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