#barman’s blade

[lvlyghost]

Call of Duty Headcanons: Vol II ✨

How they’d react to their civilian s/o getting hurt

Pairings: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Civilian!Reader

Tw: blood, injuries, angst. simon is mad, whiskey and shooting?, strong language & probably more 😮‍💨 lots of grammar mistakes; you name it🐸

A/N: so here’s the second part!❣️ and ofc it’s our baby ghost! Please remember that english is not my first language, corrections are appreciated 🫶🏻✨Enjoy!🌷

Vol I✨ Vol III✨ Vol IV✨

“I promise we’ll leave super soon! You won’t even notice we left the house.” You had said, smiling widely to Simon.

He scoffed but followed you inside the bar still not convinced. Why couldn’t you accept the plan of tea and bed? Rolled his eyes.

He just wanted to stay home but he could never say no to you. And of course you ordered some sweet cocktail when you both took a seat right in front of the barman.

“Whiskey.” He growled. You shoot him a glare and he just shrugged.

“So grumpy.” You teased him.

Things went sideways too fast.

If only he had been more aware of his surroundings, if only he had never let his guard down, if only he had fixed his eyes at the door… he would’ve seen the shooter coming.

But no. He was completely in awe watching you, hearing you talking about that one party with your co-workers that had gone terribly wrong.

You were laughing. And bloody fucking hell he adored your laughter. His eyes never left yours, cheeks blushing all because of the alcohol. You were never good at drinking.

And now he was rushing to your body, drenched in blood, gasping for air. Two bullet wounds, one on your shoulder blade, another one on your arm.

Simon yelled your name. You could hear the panic in his gruffy voice. “Hey! Hey sweetheart, stay with me…” he urged you. His eyes are wide in shock, horror at the sight. His girl. That was his fucking girl the man had shoot at. Simon sucked in a breath when he tried to apply some pressure on both of your wounds. “I must do it, love. Please, hang in there. Everything’s gonna be okay, I’m right here, take a deep breath for me would ya’?… atta girl.” He said, when you did. Voice soft, he was trying to make you feel calm.

God if only he could stay calm! His heart was racing, he’d feel the thrum in his ears. You were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Si-Simon?” You stuttered. “I’m cold.”

He felt it. Felt the way your body was shaking under his hands.

“I know,” a painful whine left your lips. “I know!” He nearly cried at the sound of it.

“Fuck! Call a fucking ambulance now!” He shouted, at the people who were running all over the place, scared, crying, panicking.

Simon never wanted to hear you make a sound like that ever again. He’d take your place in a heartbeat. He’d do anything for you if it meant you’d be safe.

Sell his own soul? Done

Rip his heart out? Done

When you brought one of your tiny hands and placed it on his hulking bicep he almost lost it.

He never wants to see you go through that again. This was where you were supposed to be safe. By his side. Enjoying a normal life. This wasn’t the army. Simon swore nothing like this could happen, let alone to you.

He swallowed the burning lump in his throat. And in that very moment he made a silent promise. He’d find the bloody bastard and make him pay.

Pushing a strand of hair out of your face he caressed your cheek so delicately as if somehow you’d break under his soft touch.

“I know what you’re gonna say…” you found the strength to smile. Even then and there, whatever may come… you were with the man you loved the most.

“We should’ve fucking stayed home.”

[annabelle-creart]

Ok so:

Normal triplet wave

Shockwave: I messed everything when I got those emotional supressors and I'm sorry (he means it)

Soundwave: I'm tired of fighting, I want a normal life with my sparklings, my friends and my siblings (tired papa)

Heatwave: it's okay, maybe they did a lot of bad things but they want to change (will not allow not even a Prime to got close his siblibgs, he is polite only because don't want problems)

SG! Triplet Wave

Shockwave: I will not let anyone, not even a Prime, hurt my friends and fellows! (He's such a pretty star)

Soundwave: You can call me ninja or hippie, but believe me, I'm definitely both (says that while holding a vibration blade, such a cool guy)

Heatwave: I prefer to pull my spark from my chest and swallow it rather than admit these assholes are my triplet-sparks (pretty bad relationship, you'll see, he's a great menace for himself and for society, talking psycological accurated)

Outlier! Triplet Wave

Shockwave: Have a good stay, nothing to worry! Just don't scare me (he's the most kind and caring barman of all Cybertron, except when he electrocutes you)

Soundwave: eh? Going outside? Yeah... no, I like my personal space (being introvert and social inept is a colatteral effect of not controling the reading minds)

Heatwave: Nobody. In. This. Arena. Will. Go. Out. Alive. Not. By. My. Hand (being the older brother is not easy, but being an angry gladiator that can see the future is so productive, and spectacule pays well)

[stanislawkowalski]

Nastka’s eyes, sharp and unwavering, were like twin blades fixed on Kisumi. He noted the way those fingers trembled slightly around the empty martini glass, a subtle dance of nerves that mirrored the unspoken secrets. delicious....

As Kisumi leaned in closer, his presence draping over, Nastka felt the warmth of Kisumi’s breath, a mingling of curiosity and calculation. The words, honeyed and laden with mischief, embraced the mafioso, painting the air with whispers of "spouse" and a "happier atmosphere." Nastka’s smile deepened, a secret flickering behind his eyes, as if the very essence of that raw anticipation was feeding his own dark delight.

Nastka’s fingers moved with fluid precision, a subtle signal to the barman who quickly attended to Kisumi’s empty glass. Meanwhile, Nastka sipped his own dry gin with deliberate elegance, each taste a crisp, cutting edge against his tongue. His gaze never wavered from now familiar face.

Leaning in, Nastka let his voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper, the warmth of his breath mingling with the cool night air and upbeat music. "Ah, so you’ve caught on to the little hints we’ve been dropping here and there," he murmured, his tone woven with amusement and intrigue. "A wedding, a spouse—how deliciously provocative. I do enjoy the way you’ve picked up on the subtle currents."

He drew back just enough to meet Kisumi’s eyes, his smile widening into a grin that was as tempting as it was taunting. " I believe we can certainly arrange that. After all, every celebration deserves its audience.. But do keep in mind," he continued, his voice a velvet caress, "that to truly experience the warmth we share, one must be willing to delve into the depths of both joy and risk. Are you prepared for such an adventure?"

With a final, deliberate sip of his gin, Nastka let the moment stretch, his expression a careful blend of sophistication and a slim seduction, promising untold pleasures for those daring enough to embrace the journey. // @kisumitenderly

[chysgoda]

Beginning City

A prompt fill for @voidsentprinces's countdown to Dawntrail prompts!

Art’imis sipped the tea Momodi had given her. Momodi herself had been called away to get four new adventurers signed up in her book. They looked so damn young. Even younger than her daughter who was now a seasoned soldier and adventurer herself. How many books had been filled up with names since she had put her own down? That had been…she didn’t want to think about that number. 

“And what’s gotten that expression on your face?” Momodi asked. The lalafellan woman placed her hands on her hips. 

“I think I need to Limsa up this tea,” Art’imis sighed, “with the good stuff.”

“And what brought that on?” Momondi laughed as she looked for the whiskey in the cupboards under the counter. 

“Thall’s platinum balls, they’re babies!” The paladin made a vague gesture in the direction the newly sanctioned adventurers had wandered off in. “Babies!”

“Art’imis you were that old when you came to Ul’dah.” Momondi said, her words muffled by the counter. She popped up with the whiskey bottle she’d been looking for and poured a generous amount in the tea cup. 

Art’imis wrinkled her nose as she protested. “I was in my twenties when I signed that book!”

Momondi reached up to flick the end of an ivory horn. She snorted when Art’imis made a face at the buzz it caused in her head. “You were that age when you started on the blood sands, which some people might say is worse.”

Art’imis took a long sip of her fortified tea so she could ignore Momondi’s snorted laughter at her sulk. She looked out across the tavern and back through the years. So many landmarks in her early adventuring career had happened here. So many meals were taken here when Bel was young and she’d been too dead tired to cook for them at home. For a few years it had been the only place in Ul’dah she had felt safe after the bloody banquet. 

“A gil for your thoughts?” Momondi asked.

Art’imis blinked and came back to the present, “Just remembering when I practically lived here between meals, seeing what leves there were, meeting clients.”

The Momodi started wiping down the counter in the barman’s never ending battle with smudges. “You had a bit of an advantage with clients back then, since you’d been rubbing elbows with the who’s who of the upper crust for almost a decade before Mylla kicked you down to us.”

Art’imis laughed and took another sip of tea. “Just been thinking about beginnings and new adventures.”

“And where’s your eye turning next?” Momondi leaned against the counter always ready for the latest gossip. 

“X’rhun and I will be heading to Tural sometime soon.” Art’imis turned so she was fully facing the other woman. When had those crow’s feet developed around her eyes? She took another sip of her tea. “I’m thinking of taking Gale and Zephyr, giving the shield a rest.”

“Pelhi’sae’s blades?” 

“I think I can pick up the style again without spiraling,” Art’imis looked from her tea cup up into Momodi’s face. 

Momodi frowned for a long moment and then rubbed her forehead. “Have you spoken to Mylla?”

It was easier to tell when Art’imis was irritated now, Momodi thought, the golden aether scaring glinted when her eyebrows twitched subtly. Art’imis was better at keeping that irritation from ruling her responses now too, so her voice was even. “No, I didn’t think there was a need to.”

Momodi looked out over the tables filled with adventurers and all the folk that tended to congregate around them. She turned her head to the ruby door, she could still picture Mylla practically dragging one of the highest earning stars on the sands in to sign up with the adventurer’s guild… had it really been fifteen years ago?  

Silence stretched between them and Art’imis deflated just a bit. “I was in bad straights then.”

“You’d have been a dead woman walking if you’d continued on the path you were on,” Momodi stated plainly. She’d always prided herself on being honest with her adventurers. 

The woman known as the warrior of light flinched and then rested her weight on the edge of the bar. “I guess you’ve a right to worry. You saw the worst of it, when I spiraled out after Pelhi’sae’s death.”

Momodi rested a hand on Art’imis’s arm. “He was your father in every way that counted, how you lost him would have broken anyone.”

“There’s been a lot of my stories that have ended since the final days, I’d like to finish this one too. I need to be able to look back on him without those years just after haunting me.” Art’imis looked at the wall behind Momodi. 

“You’ve got people who care enough to keep you together, now.” The matron didn’t comment on the wet sheen in her friend’s eyes. “You don’t need to ask for my blessing to do this.”

“No, but I didn’t want you to worry when you saw them on my back.” 

Momodi patted her arm, “thank you for the warning, but you’d best let Mylla know as well.” 

“I think I’ll need some more Limsan tea,” Art’imis grimaced, thinking of approaching the high strung guild mistress, “without the tea.” 

Momodi laughed and left the whiskey bottle at Art’imis’s elbow so she could attend to a patron approaching the bar. The raen woman watched her and considered the roll book that still sat on the bar. She finished her tea and indulged her wandering mind in some philosophy, just because the story was finished didn’t mean it vanished. She poured a shot into the tea cup and slammed it back before sealing the bottle. She fished a small bag of gil out of her pocket and caught Momodi’s eye. She held up the bottle and then dropped the gil pouch onto one of the many step stools behind the bar. 

Offering obtained, Art’imis stood and went to see Mylla. 

[catt-nuevenor]

Modern Setting - Anadora & Abelyn

Extrovert

When Ana/Abe said to meet at the restaurant, I wasn't entirely aware of what that would entail. Words with letter groupings I never even considered pronounceable swim before my eyes as I try to make sense of the long list of drinks. The barman leaves me the menu, and politely hides his amusement as he attends to another customer.

When Lars warned me it was a fancy place, I really should have taken him more seriously.

Whether Ana/Abe left him instructions, or whether he took it upon himself to be my personal fashion consultant, I haven't been able to work out. But ever since we got in this evening from the school run, Lars has been hovering over the details of my night with the exacting scrutiny of a sergeant major. It's thanks to him that I'm dressed as nicely as I am, that my outfit is so well co-ordinated it seems as natural as it does designed, that my entrance into the bar at the front of the restaurant turned as many heads as it did.

Now, if only he'd given me a crash course in whatever dialect or language I am currently failing to parse, I'd sign him off as the perfect guardian angel.

Long puzzling minutes pass, and I have just about managed to categorise the drinks into wines and the rest, when a pleasantly cool waft of air brushes across the back of my neck as the establishment's elegant glass door is eased open.

The barman returns, flicks invisible dust from his pristine white cuffs, and asks for my order.

Sparks of panic set in, guaranteeing that I'm going to butcher every word that comes out of my mouth. Resigning myself to the coward's choice of water, I'm just about to give in when a graceful hand lightly touches my shoulder.

"Could you give us a little more time?" Ana/Abe asks, their fingertips tracing the edge of my shoulder blade as they take the stool beside mine. "I'm afraid the selection is just too expansive to rush."

The barman nods his head, spies another customer to his left, and mercifully leaves us in peace.

"Saved by the bell," I sigh, firmly placing the menu in front of my companion. "I'll have whatever you're having."

Then I find myself forgetting about the menu entirely.

Ana/Abe is a vision.

-

Ana

Her dress is midnight blue, embroidered with pinpricks of silver along the hems. It flows around her legs like silk, effortlessly falling in perfect lines that accentuate every curve of her body. Her black curls are pinned high but loose at the back of her head, swaying with the slightest of movements. Upon her feet are simple yet stylish black heels, with rounded points, and thin black straps.

She is beautiful, as beautiful as she always is but brought into new exquisite clarity, and I find myself thanking Lars to the ends of the earth and back for the hours he took to match me half as well with the woman who sits beside me.

-

Abe

He's dressed in a two-piece suit of midnight blue, a slate grey shirt, the top two buttons undone, beneath. It is either the finest stroke of shelf luck, or tailored specifically for him. Every line of it is sharp and crisp, flowing with his body, accentuating and elaborating on lines that lead to everywhere and nowhere, and how oh badly I wish to lose myself along them. His flowing black curls are tamed and oiled, combed back but left free to sway with the slightest of motions. Upon his feet are simple black brogues, brought to an immaculate shine.

He is handsome, as handsome as he always is but brought into new exquisite clarity, and I find myself thanking Lars to the ends of the earth and back for the hours he took to match me half as well with the man who sits beside me.

-

As I have been enraptured by them, so they seem to have been equally as enchanted by me.

They drag their eyes along my form a final time, before declaring without a hint of hesitation or doubt, "Darling, you are breathtaking."

I put myself in their hands, giving Ana/Abe full reign over the meal, and it is divine from the first bite to the last. We talk, and laugh, and sometimes we simply smile at one another over the rims of our wineglasses, and taste the delights the evening brings in full surrender to one another's company.

When the meal is done, the bill paid, and the evening outside has fallen into starlight, we leave the restaurant behind, and head out into the sleepy folds of the night.

At first, I think Ana/Abe is trying to locate a taxi to take us home, but we pass several by without a backwards glance. When I ask, they press a finger to their lips, eyes bright, and asks for my indulgence, if only for a little while more.

Blossom, the heady sweetness of it, is the first thing I notice. It threads the air like music, drawing us in with an intoxicating melody so at odds with the ambience of the city. Ana/Abe leads me down a softly lit alleyway, an ancient stone arch at its end over an iron gate that whines it protest as we pass inside.

We emerge into a haven of greenery, a garden, dotted with the twinkle of a hundred fairy lights. It is sheltered by a high ring of houses, their windows dark and still, clearly cared for and enjoyed, yet we seem to be the only ones here.

"What is this place?" I ask, wandering the winding path at Ana/Abe's side.

They wind their hand around my back, and I soon follow their example. "A forgotten corner," they explain. "One we're borrowing for the night."

"How did you manage that?"

They chuckle, and the sound joins the melody of the blossom. "I called in a few favours, and gave a few in return. Come, there's a fountain over there where we can sit."

The late spring night treats us kindly, and despite the impracticality of our attire, we sit comfortably beside the trickling water.

"Did you see me outside the restaurant?" Ana/Abe asks as we rest within one another arms beneath the leafy canopy.

I frown a little. "No. I didn't walk past you when I arrived, did I?"

They shake their head. "No, no. You arrived before I did, there was a delay at work that made me a little later than I would have liked. I meant before I rescued you from the drinks' menu."

"I don't think I would have noticed anything while trying to decipher that."

Ana/Abe leans in and kisses my cheek. "I had to take a moment to compose myself when I saw you sat there at the bar. I couldn't bring myself to believe it, that I should be so wondrously blessed to be yours and for you to be mine for the night."

I turn to capture the feather-edge of their lips before they draw back entirely.

"Only for tonight?" I ask as we part.

Ana/Abe hums and traces my jaw with their fingertips. "For tonight and many more after, if you'll have me?"

---

Introvert

I shuffle out from the bathroom, and give a lack lustre twirl for my audience.

"I liked the red better," Louis/Leila says, tipping their head to one side and looking me up and down. "Works better with their eyes."

Lars tuts. "There's more to match than their eyes, use a bit of imagination. We're looking at the ensemble, not a lone instrument."

"Nice metaphor, but too broad an approach."

"Only to those with a narrow focus."

I sigh, already feeling the evening's weight, despite the sun still gilding the rooftops outside the window. "Children? A little less debate and a little more decision-making, if you would?"

The siblings squint menacingly at each other for a moment more, then turn their attention back to the matter of my apparel.

"Twirl again, if you would?"

I follow Lars' instruction, if only to speed the pair of them along to the inevitable conclusion. Go back into the bathroom and try on the next outfit. Rinse, repeat. Until either we run out of options, or the siblings come to violence, and we all spend the evening soothing bruised egos.

"It's still missing something..." Lars hums, getting to his feet and slowly circles around me. "Louis/Leila! Three outfits back, where'd that jacket/shawl/scarf you liked go?"

The younger sibling disappears beneath a mess of possible solutions, digging through every discarded idea of the last few hours until finally they bolt back to attention, the requested garment in hand.

Lars pokes and prods me into it, straightens a few elements out, adjusts a handful more, then he steps back and gives two firm nods of his head.

"Done."

I blink. "Really?"

Louis/Leila crosses their arms, sweeps me up and down, then adds a nod of their own.

"Yep."

I sag, almost collapsing with relief onto the tempting embrace of my bed.

"No slouching!" Lars orders, clasping me by the shoulders and pulling me back up. "You do not want us to interrupt the chefs for an iron, do you?"

Louis/Leila makes their excuse to check in with how Ana/Abe, and the 'chefs' are getting on, while Lars escorts me down and out into the garden.

"You're all going through a lot of fuss for this," I point out as we walk out onto the patio, the late spring evening mild and inviting.

"Seems only fair," he says, pulling out a chair for me at the beautifully arranged table. "After all, Ana/Abe spends more than enough time fussing over the rest of us."

He stays only long enough to light the candle at the centre of the table, and locate the switch for the string lights, my little one helped to hang earlier in the day, before he takes his leave.

Alone for the first time since the school run three hours ago, I take the sweet silence to breathe and enjoy the bliss of blossom from the apple tree at the bottom of the garden.

A light clang from inside a short while later rouses me from my reprieve, and I open my eyes to find a silhouette in the patio doorway.

The ware of the day melts from my shoulders.

Ana/Abe is a vision.

-

Ana

Her dress is midnight blue, embroidered with pinpricks of silver along the hems. It flows around her legs like silk, effortlessly falling in perfect lines that accentuate every curve of her body. Her black curls are pinned high but loose at the back of her head, swaying with the slightest of movements. Upon her feet are simple yet stylish black heels, with rounded points, and thin black straps.

She is beautiful, as beautiful as she always is but brought into new exquisite clarity, and I find myself thanking Lars and Louis/Leila to the ends of the earth and back for the hours they took to match me half as well with the woman who stands before me.

-

Abe

He's dressed in a two-piece suit of midnight blue, a slate grey shirt, the top two buttons undone, beneath. It is either the finest stroke of shelf luck, or tailored specifically for him. Every line of it is sharp and crisp, flowing with it body, accentuating and elaborating on lines that lead to everywhere and nowhere, and how oh badly I wish to lose myself along them. His flowing black curls are tamed and oiled, combed back but left free to sway with the slightest of motions. Upon his feet are simple black brogues, brought to an immaculate shine.

He is handsome, as handsome as he always is but brought into new exquisite clarity, and I find myself thanking Lars and Louis/Leila to the ends of the earth and back for the hours they took to match me half as well with the man who stands before me.

-

As I have been enraptured by them, so they seem to have been equally as enchanted by me.

They drag their eyes along my form a final time, before declaring without a hint of hesitation or doubt, "Darling, you are breathtaking."

The meal passes in a blur, as does the food, though I have a vague sense that everything I tasted was delightful.

Ana/Abe and I talk, and laugh, and sometimes we simply smile at one another over the rims of our wineglasses, basking in everything the evening brings in full surrender to one another's company.

When the meal is done, as previously agreed, everyone else departs the house for a sleepover come film night with our neighbours across the street. My little one comes to wish us goodnight, hugging us both and telling us we both look very 'pretty'.

Then we are alone beneath a canopy of stars.

"They did well, didn't they?" Ana/Abe observes, resting elegantly back in their chair, their features softened by the dying embers of candlelight.

"They did. How did you manage to get everyone to agree?"

Ana/Abe chuckles, and I drink in the sound like music. "What would you find easier to believe, I wonder? That I had to corral them into action, or that they volunteered?"

I sit a little straighter in my chair. "But I thought you'd at least been the one to start things off? They volunteered?!"

"Oh, I may have nudged the idea along. But yes, I was given a date and time to set aside, that is all."

Words fail me.

Ana/Abe rises to their feet, and extends their hand to me. When I take it, they guide me up and into their arms.

Their lips and breath are warm upon my cheek as their kiss tingles across my skin.

"Let's make the most of their gift," Ana/Abe whispers, their caress folding around me and drawing me closer still. "It's rare I get you all to myself for a night."

---

Image courtesy of Ella de Kross on Unsplash

[leeus-writing]

Blade

I was asked for Sephiroth + secret identity SFW as part of my TOPIC's Bingo

Blade

Sephiroth picked his way carefully through the ruined ground. He spotted a fellow SOLDIER walking slowly towards him. A helmet on their head, but not like Kunsles. Sephiroth made his way over to the fellow SOLDIER.

The person nodded in Sephiroth’s direction, putting their standard issue blade on their back, clicking it into place on the magnet. They turned to Sephiroth. Sephiroth nodded.

“Your name SOLIDER?”

“I go by Blade,” They replied.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, some second class SOLDIER’s hid their entire identities. They didn’t want people to know about them and their abilities.

“Alright… Blade, back to the war camps. There’s nothing else we can do here,” Sephiroth pointed in a direction, towards some Tents within the mists. They’d been out at war long enough for some to start calling the place home, and for trade to start popping up, but not long enough to start building permanent structures.

Sephiroth and Blade parted when they hit the first row of tents. They just nodded at the parting.

| |

Sephiroth sat at the camp bar. He was nursing the same beer all night. His mind always lagged behind, still in the fight. Hands still feeling the slight tug as blade hit flesh. He shivered. And sipped. The beer, now warm, lacked any flavour. It was made from hops fast grown by Materia.

“Mind still on the battlefield?”

Sephiroth glanced over to the person who sat down beside him. They looked like a normal worker. Sephiroth just simply grunted and drank some more. A soft sigh came from the other person.

“Have you eaten?” They asked.

“No,” Sephiroth replied.

The person muttered an instruction to the bar man who left. He returned with some potato flats, lightly salted. Sephiroth munched slowly through the food, looking up at the other person, who had a light smile on their face. They leaned slightly on the bar and thanked the barman as he passed them a drink.

Sephiroth sighed and munched some more frowning a little, “Why…”

“It’s just interesting to come across someone else who still cares about what they do on the battlefield. SO many others seemed to had lost their… humanity,” They replied tapping on the bar.

Sephiroth looked them up and down and took another potato flat and crunched. He tapped the bar thinking.

“Lets go out for some real food,” Sephiroth stated sliding from the Bar stool.

“Where?” The other replied.

Sephiroth shrugged, “Food Hall, I guess…”

“They’ve finished building a proper bar and restaurant on the other side of the war camp,” The bar tender suddenly stated.

So, they were finally putting up permanent buildings… That didn’t bode well for the war.

“Fine, we’ll go there, just let me grab some money,” The person stated, “I am Y/N by the way. No need to tell me who you are. I obviously already know.”

Sephiroth grunted again, “Fine, I’ll meet you here.”

The other nodded and left the bar tent heading back towards their barracks. The Barracks were empty as usual. The other Seconds were busy practising or getting high, drunk… Probably both. Y/N headed towards a locker which had BLADE written across the front. Checking behind them, they grabbed their bag.

[the-baschet]

#30 - Sojourn

It was warm there. It was always warm.

Glasses clinked with ice, sweating in the heat of a drinking hole in the Goblet where Mattisaux helped himself to an empty seat. Sweet smoke and liquor filled the air along with the candied perfume of a Hellsguard who swayed her hips as she walked past. Sparkling, dim lights hung low from the ceiling, highlighting just enough of a person to catch the mischief of their smile or the suggestion of their body. It was the type of place he could never enjoy idling his time away but knew how easily he would fit in.

Before settling in, he flagged down the barman for whatever whiskey available. A drink to set the mood for the rest of the night. He would need more than the one glass to sink its teeth into his shoulders and ease him into himself. He needed someone, some woman, to spend time with to cut the edge. Someone airheaded with plenty of curls in their hair, mayhap a soft tail to pull.

Lidded eyes glowed a brilliant blue when the light caught it just right as a golden pair, slitted and framed with long, fluttering lashes, locked with his.

She might be enough...

Sandy blonde hair to her hips, skin blessed by an afternoon sun, bashful lips glossing in the low light. He wanted her to be enough, especially so when she took the seat beside him. The light scent of pineapple and rose clung to the smoke around the pair as she fluttered her tail, softly grazing his leg on occasion. She helped herself to his glass, to which he had no qualms with refilling, and leaned closer as she flipped her hair out of the way, exposing the smooth nape of her neck. Whatever words spilled out of their mouths were drowned by spirits and forgotten by her lowering décolleté.

The charade could only last for so long, however; he never enjoyed a tease that overstayed its welcome. His impatience stumbled them into an inn for a reckless abandon of more harsh drinks and violent desires. He wanted her screams to haunt him for the rest of his days if he could help it. A shame the night refused to last forever.

And a slight shame how light a sleeper he was.

Gingerly, as to not wake him, she slipped her bare frame from under the sheets, plucking his arm from around her waist as they tangled together in slumber. While her eyes were mostly on him that evening, she caught the glint of his sword and the make of his armor. It was plain to see they were tailormade and with expensive quality. That such a vulgar man had that much value was beyond her grasp but she would not have to wonder overlong if she hurried.

“If you wanted to be intimate with the edge of my blade, dear, you need only ask.” Addled from drink and languid from sleep, Mattisaux’s voice growled deep, creeping a wide grin over his expression as he hopped out of bed to meet her frozen guilt. His build told her not to run and the ache between her thighs would not allow it either way. All she could muster was a pitiful whine as he grabbed her by the neck. “We will make a trade, yes?”

Without allowing her a chance to speak, he lifted her with ease, her nails flying to his arms digging in for a release. Seeing her trying to struggle out of his grip was enough to excite him all over again but, for her sake, he cut it short. Opening the door with his free hand, he tossed her out over the hard floorboard, towering in the doorframe baring his leafless pride. She curled into herself but her arms and tail could only cover so much. Golden saucers darting up and down the hall out of shame until landing on the Elezen.

“I will keep your clothes, gil, and whatever else in your purse, and you will keep your life.” Then he stooped down to her level, whispering with a possessed grin. “Retaliate and I will eat you alive.”

[barmaneyecaregurgaon007]

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[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @defectivexfragmented

The distant echo of gunshots captured the immortals attention; liquor clenched tight enough that he was alarmed that glass didn’t shatter. Ears pricked, straining to listen to the commotion, which seemed several miles away, the rest of the packed place oblivious. ( What it must be like to not possess advanced senses; to be able to go about your day, head up your arse. ) Of course sometimes, moments like this, when tranquillity was sought; sixth sense was a hindrance as well an asset, and alas - he necked back his drink, trying to ignore the disorder. Yet after several seconds; a louder detonation pierced the air, followed by the hysterical screaming of some poor witness, most likely. Ugh, fuck it. Sliding off the stool, he nodded towards the barman, and then the bouncer in charge of security, effortlessly slipping his way through the patrons entering the nightclub, the scent of blood now evident, amongst the stench of car exhaust, and more lethal fumes. ( Had someone decided to play trigger happy, and then gotten fed up of firing bullets, going for the big bang? ) Explosions, were so… messy, and for him usually a last resort. So why had they opted to release a bomb? Was their assailant more bite and less bark that they’d assumed? Street crime wasn’t uncommon, especially in this neck of the woods. Hell's Kitchen was notorious for it’s criminal underground; and that was what had lured him there in the first place.

It was truly exhausting concealing carnal nature, century after century. Sometimes he just needed to let lose and get away with murder, both figuratively and literally. What better place for him to lurk in the shadows and strike when the time was right? Who would miss a bunch of low life scum of the earth? Certainly no one who would be a match for him. ( Though he had heard the rumours of the vigilantes. Those who liked to sweep in and save the day. ) Was this one of those? Had they attracted too much attention? Tongue swiped his teeth, the amount of blood increasing and then he heard the chilling whisper of someone describing an unknown fate… leaving an individual for dead? Did that make them sleep better at night? At least, finish what you started. Cowards, he mused, removing personalized pistol from the waistband of his trousers. 

His arrival was abrupt, a masked crook almost slamming into him; the balaclava the typical kind and then they were multiple footsteps, and he felt the attempts of a blade?! thrust into his stomach. ( Had no one ever told them not to bring a knife to a gun fight? Amateurs. ) With a flex of his hand; he had broken their radius and ulna and thrown them several feet away, irritated at the rip in his suit jacket, turning his firearm and making quick work of obliterating them, until finally he rolled underneath the warehouse door they’d been fleeing from, facing the scene of an apparent massacre - several victims sprawled out; and in the middle ...What the fuck…. Daredevil - here? Well it made sense. They did say he liked to play the hero.

‘Oi, little red riding hood. Are you conscious?’

[cryptid-called-ash]

Full Dragonborn’s favour prompt list!

Currently working on the original items prompt as suggested over on my instagram.

Feel free to use these for yourselves. Tag me if you do, I love seeing your art.

I’ll do another list for RotSH later on, so stay tuned.

[windwheeler-aster]

hi! may i please order a black (kaeya) tea ("milk art" is up to you!) in a black (starry skies) tea cup with a side of flower petals (strangers to lovers)? oh, and a side of fluff, please! thank you! - 🖤

a charming stranger

summary: on one of your evenings at the angel’s share, you meet one of the tavern’s renowned storytellers. but who knew that he had such a smooth silver tongue? 

masterlist | event

customer’s order: a black tea (keaya) with milk art (one shot) in a black tea cup (starry skies) and flower petals (strangers to lovers) on the side. extra: customer would like fluff

pairing: kaeya x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them) and reader is not traveler

word count: 583 words (2 min~)

genre: romance, fluff, meet cute

format: one shot

warning: brief mentions of alcohol and drinking

a/n: a new anon joins the family, welcome welcome! you did an amazing job requesting, and i really liked writing this💖 hope you’re having a great day!

The Angel's Share always had a different atmosphere on cloudless nights.

Many patrons, although drunk out of their minds, would gather around windows. They would whisper of tales about the stars and constellations. Their conversations were more frequent than their drink’s refilling, so the tavern was quiet enough for all patrons to hear. The stories and storytellers were amusing enough, so there were no complaints from the staff. Or you, for that matter.

"Oh, thank you," one gentleman boasted on his way back to the bar, a pouch of mora in hand, "I'm glad the art of story telling hasn't gone unappreciated."

He earned himself a few chuckles from his gathered crowd, a few raising their mugs of ale in acknowledgement. The man turned himself back to the bar, sliding down into a seat a few feet away from you. But, as he began to order, his crowd soon forgot about their storyteller as one of their own rose up for the role.

"I don't think I've seen you around," he murmured to you after the barman turned away. Once your eyes fell onto his blue one, the other covered by an eyepatch, he smiled. "New around here?"

You nodded, bringing your mug to your mouth.

"Ah, thought so," he chuckled, "otherwise, I'd remember a pretty face like yours."

"That's very kind of you to say," you murmured, "and it means a lot from a handsome fellow like yourself."

He brightened up. "Oh, so they talk!"

"Indeed they do."

When the barman brought back his drink, the man thanked them. Then, he brought his attention back on you. He even turned his body towards you, swinging his legs across the bar stool.

"Y'know, I have noticed you around here," he brought his cup up, and then murmured into it, "it's pretty hard not to notice you, to be honest."

You chuckled, amused at his flattery. "Well, it's hard not to be drawn into such capitalizing stories. Especially with such a pretty storyteller behind it."

"Hey, I'm not just a pretty face," a smirk was present on his lips when he lowered his cup. "I have many great qualities, actually."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Well, master of the blade, a great storyteller— you know that already,— I'm great with kids, excellent future grandson-in-law, and so much more."

You raised your brow. "Really? Could you tell me more?"

He snickered, playfully touching your foot with his. "How about my name? I feel like there could be... other opportunities to get to know me, in the future."

You mirrored his challenging smirk. "Well then, what's your name? Or do you simply just go by 'handsome' these days?"

"Oh my, you're going to make me blush." He covered his face in his hands, making you laugh he separated two fingers to peak out. A grin escaped him at your laugh, finding victory in making you laugh.

"What's your name then, stranger?"

"Kaeya. Kaeya Alberich."

You smiled. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Kaeya."

Kaeya reached for your hand, then glanced to you. He mouthed a gentle "may I?" He only continued when you gave him a gentle nod.

He brought your hand to his lips and smirked. "The pleasure is all mine."

taglist:

@x-zho 

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[loreculus]

my atlantis, we fall

he'll never take back the things he said, all the birds have fled.

familial kaeluc + angst (aka the ragbros need to talk through their feelings to make me be okay again <3). inspired by the song, "atlantis," by seafret :) if i and others enjoy this enough i'll continue the story! (yes, i have plans for several chapters).

cw: slight swearing, mentions of alcohol+blood, mature themes(?).

--- PAVO OCELLUS :: chapter one

and from the flames came smoke; a beautiful scene for a barbarous ending. the city was now reminiscent of hell, perhaps it always was. when did it start, exactly? when did we begin our descent into purgatory, falling infinitely towards sin? maybe when i confessed, our blades clashing in grandeur. maybe when we conciled, our hands, dripping with blood, clasped together in promise. maybe that was it.

the wine poured down my throat slowly, warmly, like a sultry hug. the feeling of two tepid arms wrapped around your flushed body was the best way to forget the fatigue of the workday, and a couple tall glasses of death after noon provided just that. but after sensing those arms leaving my body, i knew i was coming down from my mild, alcohol-induced high. i raised my cup, tilting it towards the barman scrubbing down the carefully handcrafted, wooden counter.

"care to pour me another?" i flashed him my cheekiest smile.

he paused his movements for a moment at my request, shifting his attention from the bartop to me. "yes, i do care. you have work in the morning, alberich." with that, he continued cleaning his work station, obviously rejecting my attempt for more wine.

hmph, seemed someone needed another round of wine. someone that wasn't me.

i sighed. to stay in a place where wine touches your nose but not your mouth is practically torture. i propped my feathery coat on my shoulder, being sure to place the bartender's due payment on the bartop as i walked towards the door. maybe he could use the money to finance getting the stick he shoved up his ass surgically removed.

the door was aged, heavy; like it was hard to open but easy to shut. it's handle creaked under my hand, as if it wanted to tell me something before i went.

now alone in the moon-bathed streets of mondstadt, i stood with my hands in my pockets, arms curved slightly, eyes pointed up at the heavens. birds flying overhead drowned in the darkness of night; clouds faintly blanketed the stars that otherwise littered the sky. ah, the stars. they said there is a star for everyone; that our fates are hidden within; that for two stars to meet is nothing short of a miracle. i don't know how long i stood here like that, my necked craned back like my constellation, but it was long enough to make my neck hurt.

pulling myself from my reverie, i fished my left wrist from it's home in my pocket, my eyes glancing down to the watch resting there. i suppose i should get moving now, i can't be late to my own meeting now can i?

a playful walk carried me from the moon city's gates to the province's former capital. dull bumps and ridges pressed against the soles of my shoes, the rocks of the surrounding mountains sheltered my rendevouz location in a protective way, locking the secrets of tonight away. as a blurry mess slowly cleared into stormterror's lair, the dark silhouette of a certain someone also came into view.

"i'm glad you could make it, 'luc."

"you don't get to call me that." his voice was sharp, his body still. but his eyes betrayed him. his eyes held a look so intense it tore a seam in my soul. ouch.

he turned his head, whispering almost inaudibly, "not anymore."

i raised my hands in mock apology, "okay, okay. i'm glad you could make it, diluc."

"i can't not follow what a mysterious, unsigned note with directions to a mysterious, unauthorized location says, now can i?" diluc scoffed. "and what if another barman handled your 'payment' before i did, eh? would you accept seeing charles here instead of me?"

"but charles didn't get it!" i flicked a coin between my fingers, my mouth contorting into a familiar grin. "i knew you would get it, we've played this game for a long time."

that much was true. diluc and i, as isolated from each other as we are as adults, were inseperable best friends as children. we had different modes of communicating with each other, one being secretly passing notes under the guise of giving something necessary. for instance, one time i faked crying so diluc could pass me a "tissue' which just so happened to let me know to meet him and jean for cake and cards under the tree at windrise.

ignoring my last comment, the redhead questioned, "what are we even doing here, kaeya?"

my smile fell, seriousness regaining control over my expression. "the abyss order, they've been getting bolder as of late. have you noticed?"

i stepped forwards before continuing. "our knights, they don't know how to handle this escalation. honestly, i don't expect them to. afterall, most of them are ordinary people that just want to go home to their families a the end of the day." i let out a small, humorless chuckle, "you're right about the knights being inefficient, them being ordinary is the reason for that."

raising my head, my eyes bore into his own. "but us? there was never anything ordinary about either of us. there is no family for us to come home to at the end of the day."

he remained still, prompting me to continue.

"i already have a plan. it's under the table, dangerous, and risky as hell," i held my hand to my chest. "but, c'mon. one last time, let's draw our blades -- with each other this time -- and protect mondstadt, in both light and dark, once more."

"and how can i trust you? i've come to learn that doing so doesn't end well."

ouch, again. "listen, you don't have to trust me. afterall, i'll never take back the things i said that night," i gulped down the bile in my throat. "maybe i lied to you as kaeya, but i never lied to mond as a knight."

unfolding his arms, diluc sighed, and flipped out an anlace from the inside of his sleeve, raising it slightly.

i raised my hands in retreat. "woah, bud. don't stab me already. at least consider my proposal," i leaned into my hand melodramitcally, like a dissapointed bride.

he scowled, "i'm cutting my hand to make a blood pact, you idiot." his blade sliced quickly, in one effortless line; his blood trickling down from there. "if it's a plan that might kill us, we better swear to take it to our graves should we make it out alive."

straightening, my face's mock chagrin morphed into soft understanding. i took out a dagger of my own. it's golden hilt had a pommel made of azurite and a grip of worn brown leather. the blade was composed of a stunning silver, with an intricate etching of feathers and snow. similar to diluc, i pressed the weapon's point into my palm, applying just enough pressure to draw blood. my body's claret dripped from it's source down my forearm.

we raised our bloodied hands, meeting them mid-air.

it was a twisted beginning to a twisted ending. the start of an aliance made in hell; our hands, dripping in blood, clasped together in promise. a promise to mondstadt, to innocents, to evils, to ourselves.

[ironandglass]

Silco got a new outfit and is feeling himself. He goes down to the bar to pick up someone.

Title: A Formidable Marinade

Characters featured = Silco + Sevika + Original Female Character.

Please be advised of the following content warnings = Evil Silco, Alcohol, Harassment, weapons, threats, knives/blades, drug use, Predatory behaviour, Creepy behaviour, power imbalance, going incognito, hidden threats, discussion of murder, allusion to domestic violence.

Please proceed below to enjoy your custom original Ironandglass generated fic.

A Formidable Marinade

Silco stares distantly out of the ornate circular window from his imposing high backed chair. The cool green light spilling out licks along the edge of his features while Sevika tries to discuss some supply issue along one of their trade lines. He always worried about his ward when she was working away, it strained at his sense of control and pulled at his insecurities. Jinx was away with a shipment through the hextech portals and without her he was always just that little bit more on edge. A bad migraine had been plaguing him all day till Sevika finally had enough of his filthy mood.

“For fucks sake, I’ll do it, you need your treatment.” She insists, her annoyed tone cutting through his daydream ripping him back into the present moment.

He swivels the chair around to face her for a moment, brows furrowed, but doesn’t argue. Instead he exhales through his nose as he reaches into a drawer to retrieve the little brass plunger mechanism loading it with a vial of shimmer. He hands it to Sevika but doesn’t let go immediately when she reaches to take it.

“Give me double” He says suddenly.

“Alright” Sevika says holding his gaze as he relinquishes the syringe to her at last.

She walks around to the side of his chair to carefully administer his dose with the violent little piece.

“It’s gonna be one of those nights then.” She says mostly to her self as she presses the plunger. Quickly stepping back out of the way while he seizes and writhes in agony. She waits till he goes still before placing the plunger over his eye again.

“You sure?” She double checks.

“Yes!” He hisses through gritted teeth, panting and exhaling. There’s a badly stifled grunt of pain as the syringe delves deep into his pupil, carving a hot line of pain that rips down his spine and curls him in on himself. The agony skitters through his bones and webs across his muscles.

As the spasms ease, he begins to feel… fantastic.

He feels amazing, he stands up, pulling out a fine embroidered handkerchief to dab at the excess that spilled from his eyes.

“If you need me, I’ll be at the bar.” He announces suddenly, striding swiftly off to his room.

Sevika sits back on the lounge and cradles her head in her hands with elbows on her knees. Mumbling to herself.

“Yep, one of those nights.”

~~~

Silco strides out into the bar through a side entrance, rather than his usual hallway. Tonight he wears a fine embellished suit of silver and black. The silver embroidered detail at his cuff accenting his look perfectly. He would need to send a tip to the tailor for his fine craftsmanship he thinks as he secures the final carved pearl button at his wrist.

He also wears a lovely black and silver gilded respirator, one eye lens clear glass, the other a mirror lense to hide his red eye from unsuspecting prey. Undercover tonight among his people, he can exist in a playful state of exploration and indulgence.

He strolls through the VIP bar, but nothing in particular catches his eye or draws him to investigate, so he sweeps slowly down the stairs to the main bar, scanning the pulsing crowd as he goes.

There, a gorgeous, proud looking woman seated at the bar. Her clothes are simple but her posture and the light in her eyes is forged in regal fire.

He strides through the crowd to take a place on a bar stool at her side.

“Whisky” he throws down a generous tip and the barman obliges enthusiastically. As he waits for his drink to be prepared he carefully unzips the mouthpiece to his respirator so that he may drink without removing it. Thanking the barman once the drink is slid across the bartop into his hand.

He sips it, not turning towards her yet, just drinking her in. Trying to get a read on the strange creature that has drawn his wicked interest for the evening.

She cradles a glass of ale in one hand while she absently rolls he tip of her index finger across her lip with the other. Clearly deep in serious thought.

“You look like you’d rather be elsewhere” Silco throws the line like bait out towards her finally.

She turns to him with unimpressed disapproval.

“What are you meant to be? Some Pilty tourist that couldn’t get into the VIP lounge?”

Silco raises his eyebrows.

“It’s quite dull up there I’ll have you know.”

“In Piltover?” She sips her ale smirking at him tauntingly. She was very quick witted, this will be interesting.

Silco concedes a small dark smile back.

“In the VIP lounge I mean.” He adds pointedly.

“Your accent gives you away topsider, go to the sumps if you want an experience.” She says turning away from him.

She feels him move closer to her and she freezes as a small knife is suddenly pressed to her ribs.

“Is this very Pilty of me?” He whispers close to her ear so that only she can hear. It was the height of offence in Zaun to be accused of being a Pilty.

“Okay, okay, cool your horses daddy’o” She raises her hands backing down, sounding somewhat annoyed now.

“I’m waiting for my wife” He announces and she watches him slip the little blade back up into his sleeve.

“Oh thank the gods, I thought you were hitting on me!” She laughs placing a hand on his upper arm.

“I wouldn’t dream of it little dove. Are you waiting for someone yourself?”

“I’m waiting for my husband…” her words trail off into soft muttering.

“What was that?” Silco enquires taking a sip of his whiskey.

“I’m waiting for my husband, I said.” She repeats clearly this time.

“Hrmm” says Silco, swirling the single large ice cube around in his glass.

“So what’s your gig? Slingin‘ purp?” She says eyeing his lavish clothing pointedly before meeting his eyes.

Silco feigns offence at her very accurate accusation.

“I am the proud owner of a breathing station if you must know my dear” He proclaims voice tinged with well contrived offence. He enjoys the thrill of not having overtly lied to her once, one of his little games that he liked to play. It kept things interesting.

She sighs “I’m sorry I’m a little-”

Her words are cut short when a young messenger child comes and whispers in Silco’s ear. He nods once tipping the child as he stands and tucks his chair in.

“I’m terribly sorry miss…?” He offers his hand towards her in a polite goodbye.

“Ren” she said reaching up to shake his hand but once it’s within reach he deftly flips it in his and quickly presses a kiss to the top.

“I must go Miss Ren, my wife is waiting for me. Have yourself a lovely evening.” He says letting her hand go.

“Sure, No problem.” Ren says to his back as he strolls away.

She deflates as she sighs into her drink, of all the nights she could attract crazies of course it had to be tonight.

Another large figure takes the seat next to her and she insistently looks forward not catching their eye.

“That guy bothering you?” Comes the voice of Sevika, though she is not familiar to Ren.

“Nah, just some old kook” Ren replies taking a deep swig of her beer.

“You know who that was right?” Sevika chances out of curiosity.

“He owns a breathing station, some rich Pilty wannabe.” Ren waves her hand dismissively, as if to brush the topic away.

Sevika smirks broadly and lights a cigarette.

~~~

After a few hours, the small business matter had been resolved with next to no bloodshed and Silco quickly changes back into his black and silver garb to see if the enticing creature at the bar was still available to play.

He’s delighted to see her still in the same place as he makes his way down the VIP stairs towards the lower bar, it looks as if she is a little tipsy now, having relaxed with the help of a few more glasses of beer to soothe her rattled nerves.

“Ah Miss Ren, you’re still here?” Silco takes back his seat, the waiter quickly delivering him another Whiskey.

“Where is your wife?” She eyes him grumpily.

“Where is your husband” He shoots back conspiratorially.

“Hopefully dead by now.” She says coldly while taking a deep gulp of her beer.

“Ah” Said Silco, this woman was deliciously intriguing.

“Do you even have a wife?” She asks suddenly flicking him a side eye to see his response.

“No, of course not.” He replies, not missing a beat.

Ren sniffs out a laugh and rolls her eyes.

“I’ll give it to ya, you’re persistent!” She laughs out wearily.

“I just know the steps to the dance.” He states confidently, in a way that almost sounds like a threat.

“God you’re insufferable. You know that? Entitled, rude, pushy.” Ren snaps at him, reaching the end of her tether.

Silco waits patiently for her to finish her little frustrated outburst, secretly delighted by her fire.

“I just need to be here so I have a solid alibi while I wait for some goons to murder my husband, okay? I don’t need this!” Ren gestures at Silco emphatically.

“Ah that is most unfortunate.” Silco admits, as if they were discussing a mild weather forecast.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it Mr.Fresh Air?” Ren asks more than a little annoyed by his cool response.

“Nothing, I’m sure you have your reasons.” Silco says plainly, taking another unbothered sip of his whiskey.

“Then why is it unfortunate?” Ren demands.

“Unfortunate for your husband of course.” He says obviously.

She’s silent for a beat before taking a long drink of her ale.

“He deserves it.” Ren says softly but firmly, standing to grab her coat off the back of her chair. “I’m doing what needs to be done.” She adds pulling her coat on.

Silco reaches out and gently grabs her upper arm, standing up to face her, to look into her eyes once more before she can leave. Under his touch she winces away slightly and looks up at his visible ice blue eye with defiant fury.

“What’s your damage creep?” She asks through gritted teeth, looking furiously up at him.

Silco laughs in delight.

“I don’t think we have the time to explore that right now.” He confesses.

“This is me, leaving” she says, pulling out of his grip and stepping away from him. As she strides away she turns around still walking backwards to call out. “Stay the HELL away from me.” She hisses venomously before turning away again and disappearing into the crowd.

Sevika, who had been watching the whole thing from her nearby booth strolls over to stand by Silco’s side.

“Well that went well.” She says, looking with Silco at the empty space in the crowd where Ren had been mere moments earlier.

“She is captivating” Silco whispers.

—-

✨ Thank you for reading. ✨

[zemodaddy]

Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

[ygraine]

fuckin shards of Narsil my ass man absolutely tore that barman a new one no blade needed