#cue Muse's “The Handler”

[soulsxng]

You're a dog trainer? :o

I am! Under a cut, because...idk it's not muse related, so I don't wanna take up people's dash with it.

I've been training professionally for ten years at the end of next month, which...considering a lot of the trainers I've worked with/mentored under have been training for 30+ years? Still isn't actually considered a lot. But! I specialize in working with service/working dogs and their handlers (I worked with explosive detection canines specifically for 5 or 6 years, so I'd say scent work specifically is my favorite). I'm also certified to serve as a proctor for different tests including things like therapy, companion, CGC(A), working, etc., and am certified in canine nutrition! I also train things like agility, rally, basic obedience and show stuff, and work with aggressive/reactive dogs. So I do a little bit of everything, really.

The goal was actually to go through college to become either a certified applied animal behaviorist. Essentially that equates to...I guess a psychologist, for dogs (in my case, anyway). You're expected to not only be able to reliably work with any kind of dog, any kind of training, any kind of non-medical behavioral correction ("non-medical" in most cases. some CAABs are also veterinary behaviorists)...BUT, you also are expected to do research with them that eventually leads to publication in scientific journals.

For example, the wife of a friend of mine did a study (that I got to help with, and ended up being really interesting!) on the way dogs process and react to different pitches and frequencies of noise in different situations. She plans to make it a sort of bridge study, leading into her next study, that incorporates her findings from the first study into the more effective use of sound cues and such in an actual training setting!

But...college is expensive as hell, so like...maybe one day, but probably not. I'm happy with what I'm already able to do, and the dogs and people that I've worked with. So it's chill!

[valkblue]

i'd love to know some of your favourite romance and funny scenes from your work! 😍 and 😂 please ♡

🥰 Hi!! How are you!? I hope you have a nice day.

I don't have a lot of romantic moments in my story (sorry!! 😭) but if I have to pick one, it has to be from "Journey Into Night"… because that's where they all are for now 😅

Send me a 😍 for a random romantic scene from one of my works.

"I don’t know who leads this crew, where they’re settled now, or where they could come from, or even how many they actually are. All I know is that they suffered a huge blow not long ago, but…"

Lawrence’s gaze left hers to follow the lines of her face and Vivian felt herself blush, derailing her train of thoughts.

"It… that… it might cause them to get even m-more… vicious."

With careful fingers, Lawrence touched the bruises on Vivian’s neck and she held her breath and words. His hand rested on hers, still firmly clasped on her pendant, and it seemed to Vivian that Lawrence was wrestling with a thought, frowning with voiceless syllables on his lips.

She would have wanted to ask him what was going through his mind, what might cause him such a stir of emotions to the point that she couldn’t guess a single one of them anymore; was he remembering something, was he scared, or in pain somehow?

Yet, she didn’t say a thing, so as not to cut him short, should he finally speak. But Lawrence didn’t speak; he leaned towards her, crossing what little distance was still between them to brush her lips with his, not really a kiss, sparing the bruise and the cut at the corner of her lips.

Despite her surprise, Vivian didn’t shrink away from him. She discovered with curiosity the feeling of his skin, and its warmth, which lingered against hers in a longer kiss. And more rude kisses had been stolen from her than these ones — given more than taken, shyly.

Vivian didn’t shift either when Lawrence’s nose touched hers as he slowly pulled away to face her. She met his dazed gaze, none of them finding anything to say.

Quite frankly, Vivian never ever thought about kissing him before; it wasn’t that kind of fondness, this kind of attraction, she had felt for him…

And yet, she was now musing over the shy longing to do so again.

Her cheeks flushed, she leaned over to him a little, without even thinking about it. It was so weird, though; she was quivering like a teen sharing her first kisses!

Uncertainty vanished in Lawrence’s eyes and, to her silent cue, he leaned to her again, to meet her for a more intense kiss that Vivian shared tenderly. His gestures had nothing clumsy anymore now that he hesitated no longer and, with a brush of his palm on Vivian’s neck, he held her to him while she put her hands on his chest. Then, and with no hurry, they let go of each other, forehead against forehead.

... and for the funny one, I'll pick it from "Lost and Found", episode 1.

Send me a 🤣 for a random funny scene from one of my works.

Din pushed the lift’s button and the doors opened on a cabin lit with a harsh yellow light. With one heavy step, he entered and commanded his way up with an unnecessarily strong punch on the button. The doors closed on him and the lift went up right away.

At this point, the only thing Din was still hoping for was that no signal would waste the element of surprise upstairs. Just to be sure, he whipped his blaster out before the cabin stopped and its doors slid open on a simple but welcoming hall where two other guys, not very burly-looking, were keeping watch in front of an elegant door with geometrical patterns.

"Hey!" one of them growled, in Basic. "What are you—"

But Din was already on them, walking with purpose. He pistolwhipped one and, grabbing the other by the back of his neck, he knocked him out against the door — BLAM!

"Yeah, come in!" answered the Handler’s voice on the other side.

Din wouldn’t need to be told twice. He commanded the opening of the door and strode in, weapon in his clenched fist; the Handler was enjoying a drink in a comfortable sofa, an arm across the backrest and one leg resting on the other.

"Did you bring me the—OH DANK… FARRIK!"

He spilled his drink on his dark jacket as he fumbled to his two feet as Din was closing in on him.

"NO, NO-NO-NO!"

Din lowered the barrel on his blaster on him as the Handler was shaking his hands in a sign of reddition, walking backwards and desperately looking around for an exit. Another door, opposite the entrance, seemed to have all his attention, but Din caught him first and pinned him down on the caf table.

"OW!" the Handler howled. "Ok, ok! I-I’m sorry!"

He was waving his hands in plain view in front of him on the table as Din’s fist clenched tighter on his collar. Cheek pressed against the glass surface, the Handler groaned and struggled a little.

[kalims]

genshin impact boys as random boyfriend things (headcanons) + (bulleted).

teeth rotting fluff, established relationship. easily my favorite post.

part two.

┊𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂

lends you his coat whenever you show a single sign of being cold, in the particular season whereas winter passes through mondstadt. He keeps an extra sharp eye whenever you're around, somehow managing to balance caring for you and bartending the tavern within his tight schedule.

he sends you a bouquet of fresh roses atleast once a week, hand picked by a talented handler of flowers. You were left wondering why they first appeared at the front of your door step wrapped in expensive cloth, take it as a compensation for all the times he'd missed out on all the dates or merely a thankful gift for staying by his side. Even when the darkest of dawn's pass by.

┊𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀

he's one for affection thus a habit of pulling you into his lap when you enter his office manifested, and no. He won't let go unless he's aware that you really need to but if you just wanna take a nap or something then go take it with him, problem solved! It's a somewhat breath of fresh air to him unlike the times of loneliness stretching far and wide throughout the room before he met you.

randomly bought another eye patch because he wanted to match, totally not because he was low-key possessive and the thought of people thinking you were a matching couple got him dreaming real hard. He was just smirking at you when he attached it to your eye then proceeded to compliment you as he fights the flush threatening to rise in his cheeks.

┊𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

instead of letting a subordinate or assistant babysit teucer when the kid pays him yet another suprise visit, he instead sends his brother to you due to just seeing two important people to him passed out on the couch with several mr.cyclops figurine's sprawled across the ground makes his chest feel really warm. (cue soft smile)

shipped a bunch of stuff from other nations because it reminded him of you. on a serious note though, you're starting to get suspicious that it was an excuse to give you things because there was no way that an ancient statue from sumeru was similar to you in any way. unless he's trying to offend you.

┊𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

wakes up hours early before you and takes a few minutes to admire your face, memorizing the slight curve of your faces, the way your hair framed your face and the rays of the early sun peaking out from the curtains and over your figure casting a calming atmosphere and capturing him in an entrancing spell, luring him in to press a gentle kiss to your temple before he sets out to put up with hu tao's antics for another day.

makes an extra cup of steaming warm tea, your favorite of course while he settles for his usual. when you have spare time, both of you spend it together either sitting on your front porch. sipping the beverage while watching the sun rise or taking an early walk in the streets of liyue minus the bustling citizens who haven't woken up yet.

┊𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

there's always the feeling of a presence, not necessarily warm but it brings a certain comfort. settling your nerves in a sense of safety. you can tell it's xiao alone from the fact that you've encountered abandoned and wrecked hilichurl camps and deactivated ruin hunters on your path. ever the almighty yaksha, making sure that you don't run into danger in one of your travels.

as much as he appreciates your voice rambling about a thing that excited you, he enjoys and treasures the times where you lay your head on his stiff shoulder, yawning. he would scoff about you for 'letting your guard to easily' however the action of shifting you to make it more comfortable far contrasts his actions.

┊𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

he's a creative individual, viewing you as the main muse of his poems and songs. the flattery you would feel whenever he would sing a little song all about you is huge! how can you tell though? it isn't all that easy with him sighing blissfully while stealing glances at you from afar and then winking when he gets caught. diluc sometimes has to refrain himself from leaving the tavern from how much cheesy venti's words can go to.

takes you out every other night for a ride with his little dragon friend, dvalin. you don't question why he's been acquainted and familiar with the being that once tried to crush the city, you just couldn't when the complete feeling of freedom rushes through your body when the wind whips around while venti embraces you from behind, calm, despite the high distance from the ground.

┊𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎

immediately brings out his notebook to capture the scenario, it's not that frequent when there's a setting of beauty and euphoria casting over you. to him, the most beautiful yet interesting being he'd ever known is you. you were like a little puzzle he's having trouble figuring out but somehow he can completely understand you.

has a habit of analyzing you every day, checking if you're out of shape, perhaps sick, feeling sad. his range of knowledge about you is unbelievable. it feels like both of you have known each other for a lifetime now. anyhow, he can tell whenever you're feeling a certain emotion. he's been studying humans and and other living beings for quite a long time now after all.

┊𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

despite thinking that the blanket of stars aren't real, he spends a deal of time stargazing and even pointing out constellations late in the night. he'd play along with little delusions if it meant spending another moment with you and being the special one, the only one to see your smiles and laughs. the gaze he looks at you with is impeccably soft, and when you try to mention it the next day all you'll get is a string of denial flowing out of his mouth.

admits that sometimes wearing his hat is quite tiring, it's kinda heavy so he settles with placing it over your head telling you to 'carry it because he doesn't want to' uh-uh he totally doesn't think that you look cute in it. he'd throw himself in a hole before he'll let his fellow harbingers, tartaglia to see him and you in this moment. although being interrupted with his precious time with you annoys him to no end.

┊𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

whenever he misses you, a letter with careful handwriting inside somehow makes it's way on your window. He would do it himself if he could but he's always in an array of jobs by the captain meanwhile there also lies the vision hunt decree, so he can temporarily only use a little bird to deliver his messages to you. on some occasions, a small doodle might lay on the corners. an example being a messily drawn picture of himself holding a flower while you stand infront of him. seems like it was a drawing of him giving you flowers.

in those times where the crux fleet comes over ritou to take the materials needed for transport like yoimiya's fireworks for an upcoming festival, beidou makes sure to stall longer to 'chat' so that the samurai can reunite with his lover after days and weeks of longing, you'd be surprised after being suddenly pulled into your home before even opening the door only to be met with twinkling ruby eyes.

┊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀

can't stay serious for shit whenever when you enter a room he's in, in short he has a short attention span when you're around. he could be talking with ayaka about serious matters but then once he catches your presence his eyes are already clipped on your figure, they ain't moving until you actually leave. ayaka can only sigh in disappointment and amusement at the way he perks up at the sight of your face and visibly brightens, aaandd there he goes. smiling at particularly nothing with a giddy smile.

once choked one a piece of onigiri and happened every time you both went out for a little date, he does this to hear your giggles and smile. though he loves the part where you frantically look for a glass of water and dott on him, you always end up deadpanning when he claims that he needs kisses and cuddles to be 'cured'. and dramatically falls to the ground playing dead when you decline.

[bambimeadows]

A small reader x Adler thing I whipped up. It’s not my best work, the writing is a bit stripped back, I haven’t put too much effort into it, so it is messy and a bit simple and rushed🙃 But I haven’t posted any writing to tumblr yet, so here you are. Reader is gender neutral (tried my best but let me know of any errors) you’re basically a rookie spy at the BND 🕵️🕵️‍♂️ There is some vague, non explicit sort of smut. Have fun! 💕

Three years ago, when you were a rookie, fresh out the womb of the government’s BND training programme, you had met him while you were shadowing one of the organisations top agents.

He hadn’t even taken the liberty of addressing you directly when the three of you met in the abandoned train tunnels, but he had peered at you from behind his shades, those black, sepia tinged squares of glass and gave you a singular firm nod. It was because he knew your weakness, he could discern your current standings, he smelled it on you like tigers did prey, you might as well have been a tiny, delicate, dainty wobbly legged fawn stumbling along after your handler as if they were mama Deer.

You were a sharper blade now though, sturdier and pluckier in every sense of the word.

Adler needn’t be a source of trepidation, he was an associate and you would be liaising with him for the sake of your job and the free world. You had been trusted to do so, albeit with the less than encouraging words, “Do not embarrass us, agent. You know who he is.”

Indeed you did, in the small inner circles of the BND, the man was a legend. You were privileged just to know he existed.

And here he sat in the Heidelberg, his long limbs sprawled out and propped up leisurely on the small red arm chair. He was slotted into the corner of the joint, at a small round table, another chair sat vacant opposite him. You glance at it with wash and swirl of dread in your belly before you powered forward, penetrating the cloudy hive of collective smoke from the patrons. Adler seemed to be contributing to the smog heartily as he huffed away, letting fluid like clouds billow from his lips with artistic flair and grace.

He did not acknowledge that he had seen you initially, he merely nodded, ever so slightly, to the seat opposite him.

“You’re early,” he comments flippantly, scratching a long, thin hand across his jaw absentmindedly, a hearty earthy sound emitted when he did this due to the faded stubble adorning his visage.

He had been clean shaven last time indeed, you only remembered due to your razor sharp attention to detail, not because you had been particularly fixated on his face and the terrains and markers that pieced it together.

And if you kept telling yourself that you might start to believe it.

You had forgotten however, the exceptional depth and richness of his vocal chords, like an abyss his voice was, bottomless and profound. It sliced through the flesh of any silence with such volition and authority it made your ears flinch.

On cue you glance up at the clock on the wall behind his head and raise an eyebrow at him. “By three minutes, sir?”

“Glad you can read a clock,” he muses, before gathering himself together, sitting up straighter, a rough clear of his throat as he does. “Got what I need then?”

You shouldn’t, but you do feel demoralised by his briskness, his stinging frost. You hadn’t been sure what you had been expecting, but perhaps you should have expected that he’d be a colossal prick after all.

A man like him, why wouldn’t he be? When you’re at the top, wasn’t it the done thing to do? To lord down on people? To stroke and pamper your own ego by wiping your boots with other peoples? You wasn’t entirely certain how you’d behave and move through the world if you were him.

“Yes,” you breath, reaching down into your black leather bag and thumbing around until you find a book, some romance novel you had laying around on your coffee table for months, the documents that laid sandwiched between the pages of said book were the treasure here however, your selection of literature needn’t have mattered. You slide it across the table to him. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” he scoffs, rubbing his thumb across the cover of the paperback painstakingly slowly. “This will really come in handy for all these lonely nights.”

You search his face for a moment, your eyes straining in an effort to see through the lenses, but there is nothing to be displayed, his face is pristinely still, the glassy mask on his eyes currently impenetrable. He leisurely pulls his hand up to take another ample pull at his cigarette, you take it as your cue, you begin to stand.

“Leaving so soon?” He ponders, tongue laced with feathery and amused surprised. As you are now stood up, looking down at him, you can see the beginnings of his retinas, you could just about make out that they were a startling blue. The man must have seen the ways in which you were trying to peak, so he reaches up and pulls the damned shades down the slopping, robust bridge of his nose.

He makes eye contact with you and it takes a grasp on you you, it squeezes you, the grip firm, sweetly and tenderly painful around your heart, gratifying like the way pressing down on an aged violet bruise is. “You sure you won’t stay for a drink?”

It knocks you for six, and you can’t suppress the gulp that travels down your trachea. It’s no big dramatic gesture, you tell yourself, but your body is not convinced. You begin to buzz, your nerves combust into licks of flames.” Well… I suppose I could have just one. But I have work tomorrow.”

“So does everyone else here,” He throws his hand up, palm towards the ceiling in a disdainful gesture. “Come on, I could use the company.”

Your eyes squint in scepticism at him and he lets out something of a delicate snort and shake of his head. “God damn what are they teaching you kids these days,” you hear him mutter as soft as gently trickling water, you barely hear him. I’m buying,” he says louder, stubbing his cigarette out. “What will you have?”

You felt put on the spot, so you shake your head. “Surprise me, whatever, I don’t mind.”

“Great,” he snaps, a hard breath through his nose as he does.

It’s just as you’re sitting down again, expecting him to be well on his way to the bar by now, you feel his breath right near you ear, and then his voice enters you and it sends lightning sparks up and down your veins. “It looks sketchy,” he murmurs, laying a hand on your arm. “If you sit down, pass me some shitty book and then get back up again. What do you think this is? Amateur hour?”

You let out a breathy little chuckle, ducking you head and shaking it. “The cover is that I give you the book… and that I came here to lend it to you. No one suspects a thing.”

“No one comes to the bar to lend someone a book and then leaves again without even having a drink, without even staying to chat,” he argues back insistently, not missing a beat, there is no malice woven into the seams of his tone, but there’s something testing and almost asking, mocking, like a elegantly arrogant professor egging on and challenging his students. It’s… enticing, alluring, it awakens some dormant yet restless little demon in your ribcage, to say the least.

“So hurry up and go and get me one then, super spy,” you say the last word extremely quietly, turning to him now, and it’s a power move by anyones standards, let alone yours, by your standards you’re staring into the mouth of a tiger. He lingers for a few counts, your noses barely an inch from each other, your breath begins to mix, the smell of his cigs and his alcohol wafts up your nose and you have to give your dizziness a firm push back. Finally, his lips twists into something of a smirk and he bends upwards and walks away.

By the time he is back again, you had grown vindicated in his absence, as if the break from his charm and allure had allowed you to come to your senses. The fireball moment of excitement has faded off into something bitter and icy, because of the insinuation that you were a halfwit, because of the suggestion that you were incompetent.

The man places a pint of beer in front of you and you glance up at him, you cut your eyes at him into mean spirited shards and you know you present indignant.

“No ones paying attention to me it’s you who attracts attention. People look at you, they really look at you. You should get surgery to cover up those scars,” you bite, you feel the snow lacing your tongue as you do and wish vehemently that contrasting hot pricks weren’t travelling up to tingle your cheeks. “They are extremely distinctive.

He raises his eyebrows at you and nods as he pulls a cigarette from his pack. “I’ve considered it. But in truth it doesn’t matter if people notice you, it only matters that you fit in.”

“Well, I reckon you’re playing games with me,” you retort, passive aggressive and snarky, bringing the beer up to take a first sip, and you grimace at his selection. “Trying to size me up. I’ve heard all the stories about you.”

“Is that why you come in here looking like a rabbit caught in headlights?”

That rendered you silent, you felt your jaw set tight and you picked up your drink again, staring into the glistening amber.

“You’re still a rookie,” he has grown quieter now and he has looked away towards the bar, he’s easing up on you. “How long has it been now?”

You look up at him through tired half lidded eyes. “Three years.”

“Yeah… you’re only beginning,” he nods slowly more to himself. “Three years, might as well be three weeks in spy time.”

You glance to the side to see the pair of women, the women in which you were referring to when you mentioned him attracting attention, are still eyeing him up, paying you little mind. You turn back to him, slipping him a sly, devious little quirk of your lips. “Think you’ll be going home with one of them? Or both of them?”

“I really try to avoid it while I’m on the job,” a glimmer of amusement manifests and warms up his face, he brings the tumbler of whiskey up to his lips before slipping the entirety of it past his lips and downing it swiftly. There is no flinch from him, he just presses his lips together hard before he settles into blankness again.

“You’re a rare exception in our line of work then,” you say.

“I’m sure,” he agrees lightly. “If your colleagues were more like me they wouldn’t have to sit around telling tales and spreading rumours like a bunch of stepford wives.”

You glance up at him in momentary astonishment, before you shake your head chidingly, but you ponder briefly that he may have a point, because the way the men spoke, or gossiped, or grumbled, or gushed, about him over at BND was all rather undignified and girlish.

You down the wretched beer and then stand, pushing back the tinges of tipsiness making its way to your senses, you look him square in the face and nod. “Thanks for the drink.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you Friday. Be ready.”

As you walk out, you feel your mouth start to tug into a small grin and then it spreads across your whole face and you find yourself shaking your head again, involuntarily, as you mutter to yourself, “Asshole, what an asshole.”

-

The days leading to end of the week whizzed by you thick and fast, you anticipation seem to spurn it on, and before you knew it, it was 8pm, chilly and dark and you were making your way on top of a factory rooftop to meet him.

He smoked and peered down at the city, he wore what you wore, a snug black turtle neck, exempt he matched his with grey combat trousers, you wore blue jeans.

“Copying my style I see,” he had quipped, eyes grazing up and down your body when he registered your presence.

“More like you’re copying mine,” comes your quick witted retort, but couldn’t stop the gentle laugh that escaped your throat.

He had smiled earnestly at you, comfortably awaiting the light filled moment to pass before he turned serious, business, steely and professional in the blink of an eye, you had to whip yourself into a similar demeanour.

“There’s an East Berlin spy travelling into the city tonight, he’s been causing a lot of problems, I want him gone.”

“You don’t even want to capture him,” you side eye him warily as you wrap your hands around the icy cold railings. “He could be valu-“

“I know who’s valuable and who isn’t, agent,” he holds a hand up as he cuts in. “Can you follow instructions or not?”

You clench your jaw, your temptation to strike back is fierce and fiery, borderline uncontrollable, but you keep your wounded pride under bandaids and begin to nod slowly. “Yes of course I can, agent Adler.”

“Perfect.”

He checks over his shoulder at the ground below again before turning back to you. “He’ll have armed security. I’ll start taking them out, while I’m doing that, I want you to sneak into his suite and kill him.”

“Wait,” you perk up now, you feel your eyes grow wide and raw as you gaze up at him. “You want me to actually get the kill?”

“What’s your experience with a sniper rifle?”

“…non existent.”

“Exactly,” he replies promptly, still surveying the ground below. “And I already knew that. You’re better on the ground. I’ve heard your stealth is excellent.”

You glance at him, peaking at his side profile, the curved and sharp lines of his nose and jaw illuminated, highlighted, clarified by the murky industrial city lights. His honey wheat hair is different today, it doesn’t bounce and animate with every movement, it isn’t perfectly positioned and curated to suave insufferable perfection, instead it is slightly flatter, yet more fluid, pushed back away from his face to fall in waves and gather and end at the nape of his neck. It suits him, but it renders him quite a new variety of man, a more…more work less play sort of man.

“I get by on it,” you say finally, lowering your gaze as you begrudgingly contemplate the cumbersome and gruesome nature of your attraction, how it flutters against the walls of your stomach.

“Give yourself more credit,” he takes out a pair of binoculars and positions them towards the ground below once, you glance too and see a black car rolling in to the front of the hotel.

“There he is,” he confirms. “You ready, agent?”

You push back your shoulders and raise your chin, swallowing your nerves and doubts and pesky lingering trepidation of impending death, and nod firmly. “Yes I am.”

The man gives your shoulder a clap before turning away from you, beginning to position his sniper rifle to wreck havoc with the men from East Berlin.

Angel of death, slipped across your mind as you walked away from him. So beautiful, but what a dark creature he well and truly was. And you too, you remind yourself. You too were beautiful, and you too were wicked when it was time to be.

That’s why when you managed to more or less silently break into the man’s hotel room, up and over, through the window of the bathroom, you make him suffer.

Yes he had smashed a bottle over your face first, yes he had enraged you, but you could have just shot him with your silenced pistol, instead you take your time with this man and his gargled muffled screams were your solitary reward for it.

“It’s nothing,” Adler murmurs, you are both sat in his safehouse/apartment now. He speaks to you, his voice husky and absent minded due to him concentrating mostly on the cuts on your face, the deepest one being the nasty nick at the top of your lip, he dabs at this one with a wet cloth. You see his face now, his shades had been abandoned on his bed side table, you now get to witness his eyes squint and sharpen to coincide with the tender, effortful care he is showing, even the soft little furrow of his brow is so expressive, “Keep it moist, apply lots of cream to it, all day for the next few days, it won’t scar.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle tiredly. “Okay doctor.”

“Might as well be,” he quips, tilting his head at you and raising his eyebrows nonchalantly.

“Oh bullshit, a fucking doctor please,” you scoffed. “You really love yourself, don’t you?”

“Who else is going to?”

You let the room fall into a gentle silence after that, when he is done with attending to your face, you both sip at beers he had in the mini fridge in his room, but you soon turn to him with a deciding sigh.

“I guess you have a lot of experience with injury,” you resort to. “You must have picked up a few things.”

“My ex wife actually taught me that about the scarring. She thought it could help mine,” he points to his face then. “Bless her heart.”

You watched as his eyes glaze, a transient fleeting few seconds of reminiscing, you wanted to take advantage of the little opening, the little opening of openness.

“How’d you get them?”

“Everyone always asks,” he brings his cigarette to his lips, eyes narrowing into cool consideration. “Everyone’s always so nosy about it. I don’t get it.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t think so. I’d just put it down to bad shit happening to people and leave it at that.”

“Well we can’t all be as cool as you, Adler.”

You glanced up at his face, and you marvelled, because yes it was handsome, but there was something far more interesting than that, there was the almost immaculate duality. Like the strange and beautiful creature who lurked in the opera house, like Jekyll and Hyde, like hell’s fire and heaven’s celestial. You touched it, his face, you wanted to touch the battle torn half, you wanted to fill the diverse topography, the dents and dips and valleys, but you felt it a step too intimate, so you glided your fingers, as feather soft as you could, across the undamaged side instead.

The man doesn’t flinch, but he does slips his eyes onto you with a manner of frosty suspicion and cynicism, he searches your eyes leisurely, patiently yet intently as you continue your light caress.

You found the insinuation of confusion on his part confusing, because you had been ninety nine percent sure he had discerned your attraction to him by now, yet here he is now, coming across so precarious and untrusting, you felt like you were trying to win favour with a perpetually anti-social, precarious dog.

When you lift your hand away however, he does grab it, and not gently either, it is just outside a death grip and it hitches your breath in your throat. You refuse to look away from him, you hold firm, rooting yourself into the ground beneath you, not tearing your eyes away from his. “You’re still too green.”

“You mean… like, envious?”

“Too fresh, too trusting. I’m terrified for you,” he is muttering to account for how close your faces are. “You are…decent, but this life isn’t for you. I can always tell. Trust me, you’re either meant for this shit or you’re not. It’s not really something you can learn.”

“That’s bullshit,” you whisper back shaking your head, a sickened smile coming to your face. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I couldn’t imagine a life without this, without people like you.”

“Then you’re gonna hurt,” he tells you, his eyes have softened now, something faded and dim and quietly melancholic, like cloudy sapphires. “You’ll have to get chewed up and spat out again, and again, and again, until you’re tough and dead enough inside to be what you need to be.”

You felt your stomach drop, despite yourself, but you do not display it, simply grinning and rolling your eyes instead. “Why would you be worried about me? Spies get killed, we’re all just collateral to the top dogs like you.”

“You don’t know shit about me sweetheart,” he drawls, raising his cigarette up to his mouth.

“You’re right,” you murmur voice suitably honeyed, you lean in, a hand coming to grasp his thigh firmly to balance yourself. “I’m sorry.”

It is you who’s made the first move by doing this, the first negotiation into whatever transgression was going to transpire, but it is he who actually bites the bullet and kisses you.

A hand snakes around your waist, his thumb presses irregular shapes into your hip. The kiss is not what anyone could have anticipated from a man like him, it is substantial, but then it is also slow and delicate and feathery, his lips soft and patient and forgiving and almost somehow non intrusive against your own.

“I’d be pretty fucked off if you got killed actually,” he mumbles after he’s broken away from you, he’s talking into your ear now, before he presses a firm, deep kiss to your lobe which starts a wildfire internally and a heaviness and electricity darts straight between your legs.

“Why?” You breath as he starts to litter more kisses down your face, beneath your ear and across the bones of your jaw and flesh of your cheek, as gentle and tickling as water droplets landing and splashing onto you, when he reaches your neck you can’t stifle the little whine that travels up your throat, especially when he begins to nibble on the taunt, excruciatingly sensitive skin.

He has you. You hadn’t even realised how much he did, but he has you. You had melted into his hands, your body was subdued and limp and supple, your head was light, airy and drifting off somewhere as rapidly as a ballon set free into the skies.

You ached and throbbed for him, your heart nearly burst at the sneaking reminders that there wouldn’t be much more of this to come because he’d be long gone by morning. Tomorrow you’d lose him. It could be forever, you could very well never see him again and you’d never get to feel this ever again, you didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs after a while, hand snaking between your legs to stroke the plush flesh, albeit through your clothes. “You’re different, and you’re so beautiful. I wanted you the moment I saw you, those few years ago. I’ve often times thought about you since then. I bet you didn’t know that.”

“Bet you didn’t know it’s all mutual,” you quipped back, almost aggressive, desperate and breathy as he caresses travel up higher, with no sign of stopping.

“Oh no,” he brought his head down, you felt his hair brush your temple, he chuckled, unabashed and right into your ear again. “Don’t worry, /I/ knew. I always know.”

“Well chances are you’ll probably never see me again,” you say, catching your breath and placing your hand on his wrist to still him, to catch your breath. You look up into his eyes, through your lashes, you feel sordid and dirty yet so powerful, so powerful over such a powerful human being

. “So are you going to make the most of me this time, or not?”

With his face gradually shifting into a slow, hazy smile, he takes the glass from your hand and physically moves you up to the headboard of the bed.

He takes his time with you, really takes his time. He kisses you for what felt like hours, pulling your body so it curves and moulds into his own so securely, you click together like puzzle pieces. When he enters you it feels like what he said, it makes you muse the reality that you both knew this would have to happen eventually. Mutual lust. To be able to express and display every iota of feelings left unsaid, finally. It was ripping off the bandaid, it was releasing dangerously built up pressure.

He growls sweet praises into your ear and strokes your face and even tells you that you’re his, and with that you wonder if he is acting out his fantasies, if that is what he truly desires, someone to be well and truly his and only his. Did he mean it in a wholesome, domestic sense? Did he mean it in hedonistic manner, did he truly want to own someone? You didn’t know. You didn’t know this man, and you didn’t dare allow yourself to believe that, for whatever it was that his heart desired with every pump, it inherently involved you.

He just craves the intimacy, you decided. He craves passion and adoration, you were sure. In fact, this is what he needs, you consider as he flips you onto your stomach and you bury your face into the plushy cool, snowy pillows that smell of his woody, spiced cologne rendering them an aphrodisiac, who cared about the world that waited for you outside of this room, for now, you consider as he enters you and you moan out deeply, sweetly, this is all you both need.

And then after a couple of hours, you are both done, you lay in the amber glow of the lamplight and his vastly long arms, and this time you do touch his scars.

“It was Vietnam, they got me, pinned me down, pulled out some silly little knife,” he recounts, voice hoarse and low and deliciously thick, rumbling against your temple as you rested your head on his chest. “Luckily there was a squadron not too far behind, they saved me before they my throat got slit.”

He inhales deeply on his cigarette as his eyes pierce the wall opposite him. “It’s nothing more interesting than that.”

“Can you remember how much it hurt?”

“Every day,” he stressed, and then he pauses before chuckling easily, lazily, the sex had mellowed him out, softened and blunted his rough, razor sharp edges. “Fuck did that shit hurt. Really really fucking hurt. Those God damn bastards.”

You laugh as well, his sudden display of humbleness endearing and lovely, it was a moment that you could be likened to the rarest of gemstone.

“I like you, Adler.”

“…Yeah,” he mused, gradually contrite and melancholic as he ran a rough, jagged skinned hand down your arm. “I like you too.”

You shut your eyes, fall in tune with his smooth rise and fall. “I’ll be alright, you shouldn’t worry.”

You fall into the most blissful sleep you’ve had since your were small, and then the daylight is creeping through the curtains and nudging your body awake, and as predictable and inevitable as death, he is coldly absent and you quietly fall apart.

[direnightshade]

Flight

This is just a little something I've been working on for @han-not-solo's birthday (surprise!). Thank you for allowing me to borrow Nibbles for a little cameo. I hope you have a wonderful birthday. ❤️🦉

Word Count: 2,235 Warnings: A smidge of smut but otherwise, none.

“Look at him! He’s so cute!”

The phone that you hold in your hand suddenly materializes directly in front of him, the light of the screen illuminating his face in the darkness of the bedroom the two of you lounge in. He grumbles out a ‘holy fuck’ at the abrupt brightness that’s found its way to his field of vision. In automatic response, Adam lifts his hand to grasp your wrist, prying it back away from his face, both to ease the brightness and so he can get a better look at the screen of your phone which displays your instagram feed.

“The fuck is this? A wet rat?” Of course he knows exactly what he’s looking at. This is not the first time you’ve shown him what’s currently on your phone, not to mention he isn’t fuckin’ dumb, he recognizes an owl when he sees one - even if the tiny bird is all big-eyed and soaking wet.

You scoff in reply, tugging your arm free from his grasp, the act causing a grin to spread across his face. “It’s Murray,” you reply, your tone carrying a hint of faux offense.

“Ah. Shit. Yeah, I knew that.” He waves his hand dismissively in front of himself. “He looks so different all fuckin’ wet and shit. Really does look like a rat.”

Another scoff sounds to his left where you lie and this time he can’t help but laugh, the sound loud and nasally. Beside him the mattress shifts from your movement as you roll over onto your side to face him. The screen of your phone loses its illumination as it locks itself, plunging the room into total darkness. In turn, Sackler reaches over with his hand to tug on the pull of the lamp that sits atop the nightstand to his right. The light that washes over the bedroom is a soft warm glow, quite the contrast to the blinding light of your phone. When he looks over to where you lie, he finds you looking up at him, your head propped up on one hand.

“Whaaaaat,” he asks, elongating the word unnecessarily as he so often does.

You flash him a smile and now it is his turn to scoff.

“I’d like to visit him some day,” you muse aloud before exhaling a most dramatic sigh.

Sackler watches as you flop back down onto the mattress melodramatically, his lips barely parted before he presses them together and swallows. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, one that he’s on the verge of asking right when you speak up once more, heading him off at the pass.

“It isn’t fair, you know, you getting to fly over there for your job. Meanwhile I get left behind to babysit,” you say, pointedly eyeing a cage that sits atop the dresser at the opposite wall. As if on cue, the cage rattles with Nibbles’ movements, the sound far too loud for such a small room.

He can’t help but huff out a dry laugh, eyes rolling of their own accord when he hears your complaint. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You bought Nipples—”

“Nibbles.”

“—not me. If it were up to me, that creepy little fucker would have been evicted the day you brought it in here.” Though he says the words, he-and you as well-know that that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s come to love the little hamster even stubbornness prevents him from admitting such a fact to you, let alone anyone else. “It likes to watch while I fuck you for Christ’s sake!”

He slides further down onto the bed, feet hanging off the edge of the mattress when he stretches out along the length of it. “It likes to watch me fuck you. I mean if that doesn’t say what kind of pervert you’ve brought into this apartment then I don’t know what does,” he says, throwing up his hands in mock defense.

The sound of your laughter wafting out into the room following his declaration elicits a small chuckle from him, though he does his damndest to bite back the smile that has threatened to form. “I mean, fuckin’ look at it,” he continues, waving a hand in the direction of the cage. “It’s looking at my dick right now!”

It’s in this moment that even you have to admit that in the low light that barely manages to illuminate the room, the sight of Nibbles standing at the front of the cage, tiny paws grasping the thin white bars and beady little eyes staring intently in your direction is a bit creepy…

“Fine,” you reply, shifting to roll off of the mattress. Adam watches with rapt attention as your naked form sashays across the small room to approach the cage.

Though you are bent over, whispering sweet little words to Nibbles, Sackler is focused solely on the sight in front of him. Your cunt - still glistening from a mixture of both yours and Adam’s cum - is on full display for him. It should come as no surprise to you after you have said your goodnights to Nibbles and covered the cage with your coat that when you turn back around to face the bed it’s only to find Sackler’s hand gliding up and down the length of his cock.

“You’re just as bad as Nibbles,” you chastise, now taking steps in the direction of the bed once more.

The muscles of Adam’s chest ripple beneath skin with the movement of his arm, and he finds that he can’t decide what part of your body he wants to look at. Every inch of you is gloriously bared to him and loves every goddamn bit of it from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. “I know,” he replies, the words shaky.

The mattress dips when you kneel on the edge, leaning forward to rest your hands atop it so that you are now on all fours facing him. “You’re a pervert.”

Your voice has lowered an octave, taking on a husky edge that has Adam groaning, his cock throbbing in his hand whilst he presses his head further back into the pillow. The comment only seems to urge him to continue, and continue he does. The room fills with the obscene sound of his hand gliding up and down his cock, his fist smacking into his pelvis with each stroke downward. “Nnngh - fuck yeah I am.”

*************

There is a giddy sense of anticipation as you slide into the passenger seat of the rental car one week following your conversation with Sackler. It had taken him all of two days to find a suitable caretaker for Nibbles, and once that had been squared away, he’d surprised you with a ticket to join him on his flight overseas. But it would seem that had not been the only surprise he’d had in store for you…

Last night as the sheen of sweat coating your still-joined bodies cooled, Sackler spilled the secret he could no longer hold in any longer.

“You know that eagle you wanted to go see?” His words are muffled by the soft mound of your breast whilst he nuzzles his face against it.

“An owl,” you correct. Though your eyes roll at his remark, a fond smile still graces your face as your fingers run through the damp strands of Adam’s hair.

“Right,” he replies, giving a quick, sharp bite to your soft, supple skin. “That’s what I said.”

Huffed laughter is expelled in immediate response to his reply which in turn causes him to do the same. “Anyfuckinway, work doesn’t start for another two days, so I have all day tomorrow to do whatever we want and I thought…”

Adam trails off, biting back the smile that’s threatened to form as he takes this opportunity to nuzzle your breasts again. “You just thought what,” you ask rather impatiently, wanting to know what exactly he’s got up his sleeve.

Sackler’s shoulders shrug, the movement jostling you slightly. He takes this opportunity to lavish your breasts with more kisses and bites, marking them up to his satisfaction until you’re imploring him to continue with his earlier remark. With a groan, he lifts himself away from you briefly in order to settle down beside you, his arms reaching for you to pull you closer to him once more.

“I thought that maybe we could go see that bird—”

“Owl,” you interject.

“—owl—I thought that maybe we could go see that owl. Gary or whatever the fuck his name was.”

“Murray,” you cry out in faux exasperation.

Adam laughs in that familiar, nasally way that he does. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just giving you shit, Kid.”

His hand lifts to cup the back of your neck, drawing your lips down, down, down until they’re pressing to his. When your leg slings over his waist and you position yourself above him, exhaling a soft sigh as you sink down onto him, he knows that he’s done well—he knows that he’s made you happy.

Nearly three hours later, the sprawling urban landscape of London has given way to vivid green pastures and rolling hills littered with varying trees, and the skyscrapers and apartment buildings have been paired down to sleepy little villages. The soles of the boots that you wear sink down slightly in the grass of the sprawling weather lawn where the birds of prey preen and sun themselves. Nearby a Sea Eagle flaps its wings, displaying its rather impressive wingspan and dark brown coloration that contrasts with the bright white of its chest and head.

“Hooooly fuckin’ shit,” exclaims Sackler, edging closer to you, “look at the size of that thing!”

The sound of your laughter draws his attention away from the bird, causing him to swivel his head to look over at where you walk beside him. Suddenly, and without warning, a flutter of wings can be heard and out from the shadows of a nearby tree flies your entire reason for being here. Murray soars with the calm skies, flying just overhead, so close that it feels as if you can reach up and graze his little talons. The two of you turn in tandem to watch as the little owl flies directly to its handler to retrieve a tiny morsel of meat as a treat.

It all happens so quickly that Sackler barely has a moment to register that you’ve reached for him, now clasping his hand in your own. He shifts his hand in yours to lace your fingers together whilst Murray and his handler approach the two of you. Adam redirects his attention to where you stand beside him, fixated entirely on the small owl as it nears. You look happy, he thinks—perhaps the happiest you’ve been in quite some time and Sackler can’t help but feel the puff of pride that swells within his chest because he did this. He brought you here. He made your dream a reality. And that’s all he could ever want, to make you happy.

Your smile widens and the hand that isn’t holding onto Adam outstretches and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been so lost in his thoughts that he’s missed the entirety of the conversation unfolding before him. Delicately, you stroke your fingers through the feathers that cascade downward from Murray’s head, relishing with a small sound of delight as he tips his head back and closes his eyes as if to silently ask for more of the same.

“Can she hold him?”

Your head whips around quickly, eyes widening at Sackler’s request. “What?”

“Yeah,” he responds with a nonchalant shrug, shifting his gaze from you to the handler. “I thought, shit, we came all the way out here, you know? The least you can do is hold him.”

“Adam—” you begin in protest, only to be cut off by the handler.

“Actually, I can do you one better. “Put this on,” they say, holding up a spare gauntlet, “and then go stand about twenty meters away.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take hold of the black leather gauntlet and slip it onto your arm, finding the spaces for your fingers to be a tad too large. When you look over to Adam you find that he’s smiling warmly at you.

“You heard ‘em, Kid,” he says, the smile stretching into that of a grin.

Any hesitancy you’d experienced previously flies straight out of the proverbial window as you do as you’re instructed with your arm outstretched in anticipation of an impending Murray. With the instruction of his handler, Murray pushes himself up and off of their gauntlet and once again cuts through the air with precision and speed, landing directly onto your gauntlet. It’s a sight to behold, Adam thinks, watching as your lips part and you exhale a gasp, careful not to be too loud lest you scare Murray as he settles onto your forearm. The tiny bird blinks expectantly up at you as if waiting for a treat or a pet, or any sort of reassurance that he’s done well. In the end, you gift him the latter, your fingers once again stroking the top of his head.

As you peer down at the small owl, his eyes now closed in contentment once more, you can’t help but think that this has truly been a wonderful day.

[blutschatten]

🔪 ( &* cause why not? 🤣 )

He’d been keeping an eye out, alone. Nathaniel’s usual strategy in this new life on the run. No handler, no organization telling him what to do. Not yet anyway, he was beginning to wonder when HYDRA was going to realize they could still try to use his trigger words. So far he’d been lucky in that regard. The only time he wasn’t alone was when he chose it safe to go to a bar in one of the local towns he would find himself in. One of those towns had found him talking to a smaller blonde figure. She bought him a drink and despite how kind of a gesture that was, something told him there was something off about her. He’d played it off as to not raise any suspicions on her part, afraid she could be with HYDRA, and kept the night going as normal. Though now, alone, he couldn’t help but think back to go over some cues that could maybe indicate if his suspicions had been correct. Nothing came to mind of her possibly being HYDRA but then he felt the cool metal of a knife against his throat. 

“Fuck.” The redhead mumbled under his breath, more so upset with himself for letting his guard down for the other to sneak up on him. Then his anger would shift to the figure who stood behind him, but he remained still to see just what would become of this. There was no sound of other footsteps approaching which could only mean they were alone. “What do you want?” The former asset growled out, clearly frustrated and annoyed at the situation before turning his head as much as he could without completely cutting himself on the sharp blade. That was when he noticed out of the corner of his blue eyes the familiar face of the woman from the bar. This time he cursed again but internally. His gut had been right and now here she was with a knife to his throat. 

put a knife to my muse’s throat | Accepting | @whistlewidow​​

[nofive]

@theseancekid said: 1, 5, 7 :)

[ x - accepting ]

First, thank you for sending these in, like so much. I really had to think about some, because I have so many answers I want to give but I can’t give them all ya know. I gotta honor the meme.

1. What is the biggest headcanon deviation from the canon material that you have incorporated into the way you write your muse? Why did you come up with it?

I think my biggest headcanon deviation deals with Five’s powers ( honestly I’m not sure if this is my biggest deviation because I follow the Five’s DNA is altered stuff from the comics but knowing that Aidan utilizes that in his portrayal of Five and that Steve appreciates the actor’s thoughts on their characters when writing... well is it a deviation then? LOL, Also Five and Luther being twins but shhh this is asking for one thing/the biggest ). But I am not about to state some obvious things that I headcanon such as what Five’s limits are, can he use them in a combative way. My headcanon is actually pulled from canon but the fandom at large has accepted it as a thing and that is the effects that surround Five when he blinks. I largely fall into the category that unless you are Five you cannot hear or see the effects of his Blinks. These being the blue around his hands, and the blue that he hops into, and the sound that the Blink makes.

When his power fizzles out that is when a person who is not Five is likely to see the Blue but the actually have to be looking. Otherwise Five’s powers are not detectable to the human eye. The blue and sound we get from the show are quite simply keys for the audience to know something is happening. If they are there its gonna look like shit. It is purely for us the audience to connect the dots. I pull this from a few instances in which none of the siblings follow where Five is blinking to, they don’t physically have a sense of where he will appear til he is already there. This is notable in the dinner scene, among a few others. None of them have any indication of what Five’s powers are like they just know he disappears and reappears and its fucking annoying because Five uses it so casually.

But we also get a clue that they don’t know the extent of his powers or quite what they do or what they look like until we see the temporal anomaly that Five causes in the first episode of season 1. This is the first time the siblings visually see Five’s powers, until it happens again at the end of season 1. Whether Five can control what is visual or not is not up for debate, the more power he needs like the temporal anomalies he causes the more likely its going to be seen. The initial blinks forward in time are viewed by him as a regular Blink thus small amounts of power used.

Additionally, if Five’s powers were seen and heard he would loose all sense of surprise he has with his powers. In the bank robber scene Five shocks the robber, sure the family is laughing because Five made the guy look like an idiot and honestly this is the shit Five pulls all the time. Its funny when you aren’t the one he’s doing it to. But we see this also with Hazel and Cha Cha they can’t follow his jumps despite being familiar with time travel.

So in short, no one can really see or hear the effects of Five’s powers they are only there for Audience cues.

5. What is an aspect of your muse’s canon material or canon existence that you never had the opportunity to explore but really want to?

Honestly Old Five. And by that I mean Five while at the Commission, both pre and post DNA alteration. I would love to explore how both The Handler and AJ had a hand in that. I would like to explore how that fundamentally changed Five, and what that does to his psyche. I would also like to compare it to Luther, who gets altered before he goes to the moon, where Five gets it after his isolation. Additionally I just want to explore how Five who is well past his prime in his body still has the moves and the ability to create such a reputation. I would also like to discuss how long he is actually there how much it fucks with his sense of time which he is not okay with because of his own acute sense of time. Last but not least I want to explore potential partnerships he had, and just his relationships in general with AJ and The Handler. More, AJ because of his reaction to Five in the show, because there is some history there, but also how that goes with Five’s relationship with him in the comics. 

Smaller things that I want to explore is how Five actually was as a kid because we all know that Five was always “like that” but he also liked baseball, had an interest in space, and cars as a kid so he wasn’t an asshole all of the time, AND I really, really want to explore Five post canon. What he does, does he ditch the uniform, how does he deal with his trauma etc.

7. For movie or TV muses, what is your muse’s favorite scene? Why? Can you show a screenshot?

Alright so my first thought was either the Griddy’s Fight Scene, or the Board Assassinations. Both of these serve very similar purposes narratively despite happening at very different times in the narrative. Both are used to show us just what Five can do and who he is. Both also happen outside the presence of his siblings so they are unaware of what he can cause. However, that’s really where their similarities end. I love both scenes but its not the one that I think is my favorite.

Some runner ups to my favorite scenes are the whole interaction with Old Five and Luther on the bridge with yes the “you wish you could pull off these shorts.” I also greatly enjoy the whole scene at Meritech with Klaus for so many reasons that I wont go into here. I also absolutely adore the Bank Heist scene with my whole heart. Two other honorable mentions are “Nope no it isn’t” with the Handler because I can just hear it in Five’s voice, as well as “It’s bullshit in any language” again with the Handler.

However I think my favorite scene is from season 2, even though I have a love hate relationship with it. But this scene is honestly what I have said ( multiple times ) makes Aidan deserving of an Emmy ( among some of his other scenes but this one in particular stands out to me ), and its the scene right before he rewinds time. While I absolutely love the whole sequence, the acting on Five’s face by Aidan as he is processing the words that Reginald said, as well as summoning the strength to quite literally not bleed out is something that I cannot help but think of. It lives rent free in my mind. So here are some gifs courtesy of @elevenhargreeves​ that showcase this cause a screenshot doesn’t do it justice.

[trolltango]

👀 Chytra? :0

Send me 👀 + a name for a peek into what that muse is doing in the moment!

A shovel strikes the soft soil of the riverbank. It’s handler, Chytra, wipes the sweat off of her brow. It had rained not too long ago, making it the perfect time for clay collection.  With a grunt, she pushes the shovel in deeper, before lifting the shovel and dumping the freshly-dug clay into a wheelbarrow. 

She always preferred making her own clay as opposed to using commercial clay- it’s cheaper, lighter, easier to use, and doesn’t take too long to process. It’s not something every potter would be willing to do, but to the bronzeblood, it makes a world of difference. It does to local artisans, too. Her most frequent customer only buys her clay for their maskmaking business, and thanks her every time with fuzzy, stringed toys that resemble her lusus. They’re strange, but she appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

As if on cue, a green stringed toy falls out of the pocket of her overall and into the mud. She groans; not at the mud, but at her own forgetfulness. Why was that even in her pocket, anyways? She leans down to pick it up with a huff. Her back was killing her- it’s time to stop soon. She cleans the toy off delicately and shakes it out for good measure before putting it back in her pocket, where it will promptly be forgotten until the next time she wears these overalls. 

[augurhound-a]

🍐 : how intelligent is my muse overall? are they smarter than the average person, or less than? are they primarily self-taught, or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school? are they more street smart or book smart?

fruit (honorific) // ACCEPTING

exceedingly. 02 is a calculatory positronic genius, a braked ai that’s limited only by his download speeds and internet connectivity. his line was the first really intelligent type:full models made, and they were so smart that it scared aether into making the later lines braked and reliant on their handlers and branch chief in order to compensate (didn’t work, but they sure tried).

there are very, very few humans that can match 02′s intelligence. only fellow geniuses and other artificial intelligences are capable of keeping up; outpacing him is similarly extremely rare. he’s only met a few people that he’d definitively say are smarter than him. they also impress him greatly.

that said, he does have specialities in his intelligence, specifically in genetics, biology, and physics/engineering. most of his expertise lies there. he taught himself almost everything he knows, over the course of the several years he’s been alive through a combination of pdfs, textbooks, online databases, and a lot of wikipedia scrolling. it’s actually one of his dreams to attend a university and get a formal education, even though he honestly wouldn’t need it at this point.

he can tell you more about butterfly migration patterns and chromatids than he can about how people interact, though; sometimes he watches people just... interacting like he’s watching insects in a terrarium, but he doesn’t pick up much from this. he’s prone to missing social cues and rules because of it.

[pipermca]

Demon Lover

Ok ok ok ok I know if I don’t dump this somewhere it’s going to fester and bother me and interfere with the other stuff I’m working on so here: FIC BUNNY I AM RELEASING INTO THE WILD if you write it please let me know so I can read it.

Anyway. This is related to @doomspoon888‘s post/ask reply about Cyberverse season 2 and episode 8 and Starscream’s children and ghost writing and... You know how your brain takes a bunch of unrelated things and gloms them all together and makes connections that no sane person would ever make? Let’s just say that this post blessed me with such a connection.

All right. Let’s get down to business. First I need to talk about demon lovers. ...Then I’ll talk about Starscream and Megatron. 😈

Incubi and Succubi

From Wikipedia: an incubus is a demon in a male form, while a succubus is a demon in a female form. I’m sure everyone’s quite aware of how these demons seek out sex with humans and impregnate women with a child. (This was an explanation for how an otherwise chaste nun might suddenly “fall pregnant.”)

What I didn’t know until I was attacked by this bunny was that since demons aren’t supposed to have souls, a male demon can’t impregate a woman on its own. (Because, ya know, only men can pass on souls cue the eye rolling.) So the theory was that a succubus would have sex with a man, transfer the sperm to an incubus, and the incubus would have sex with a woman and impregnate her with the sperm. (The child was sometimes called a cambion, and exhibited symptoms of its demonic origin such as being very heavy, unable to be drowned, or malformed in some way... Or was occasionally perfect but in an unnatural way.)

But another theory was that incubi and succubi were actually the same demon. 

Plot Bunny

And here is what my muse handed me when I gave it all of those data points I just explained. Either enjoy this half outline/half fic, or feel free to expand on it yourself, or run away screaming.

I just needed to get it out of my head! XD

Setting: G1ish, prewar maybe. Before Megatron met Starscream, anyway.

Warnings: Dub-con to enthusiastic con, sleep paralysis, demonic sex, mech preg 

Plot: Megatron is a high-value gladiator, and his handlers frequently purchase buymechs for his use. Megatron doesn’t really want them, though. Usually he just ignores them and waits for them to leave. No matter how many times he insists he doesn’t want them, he will still return to his rooms after a match to find some shiny racer or aerial draped over his berth.

It’s a bother, really.

One night he returns to his rooms and there’s no one there. It’s a relief, really, because he was tired and wanted to recharge right away without having to wait for the buymech to leave. He falls asleep, but wakes a few hours later to find himself unable to move... And there’s a mech on top of him, grinding against him. All he can see is a wing at first, and then the mech’s face... It’s a Seeker, his optics glowing an unnaturally bright red, and his mouth is turned up in an impish grin... 

Primus, he’s gorgeous.

Megatron’s battle systems are trying to come online (he’s still freaked out that he can’t move and is getting molested by this strange mech) but nothing works, and the other mech’s motions finally build up enough charge so that his modesty panels slide aside on their own and his spike pressurizes, and suddenly the strange mech is on him, riding him like a wild zap pony, and it’s the best fucking sex he’s has in a while, and it’s not long before he overloads and slides into reboot.

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

He chews out his handler for sending a buymech into his rooms while he’s asleep, but his handler insists that he did nothing of the sort. He even shows Megatron the security tapes that show no one entering his rooms after Megatron goes in. There was also no evidence on him that he’d interfaced with anyone...

Maybe it was a dream.

Except a few nights later it happens again. Megatron wakes up to find the same mech on top of him, and his body remembers what it did before and it’s just a few minutes before the mech is riding him again, moaning and touching Megatron in just the right places and waggling his wings in the most alluring way, and Megatron overloads again.

Megatron manages to stay online this time, and the Seeker slides off of his spike with a low groan. His wings flutter as he reaches down at brushes his fingers against Megatron’s valve - oh hey, when did that panel open? - and Megatron can feel that he’s slick already...

And then the mech slides into him and starts pounding away. [yada yada, fill in sex details here]

Right when the Seeker overloads inside him, he leans forward and kisses Megatron in the most passionate way he’s ever been kissed. Megatron has his second overload of the night and that one sends him into reboot.

He wakes up alone again.

There’s no signs of interfacing, though. No paint transfers, no transfluid stains on the sheets, nothing in his valve...

...A dream. Yeah, definitely a dream.

This goes on and on, for weeks. It’s the same thing every night: Megatron wakes to find the Seeker on top of him. He always takes Megatron’s spike first, and then spikes Megatron in turn. It’s always in that order. There is never any sign of the strange mech in the morning, but...

A dream? Megatron decides he needs to find out.

Finally, one night, Megatron tries to stay awake. He puts himself in an attentive but meditative state (which is part of his gladiator training) - it slows his ventilations and mimics recharge - and about an hour later he senses movement in his room.

Megatron’s hand darts out, and he grabs the Seeker by the wrist before it can immobilize him.

“Who are you?” Megatron growls.

The Seeker smiles at him like he always did, and leans forward to kiss him. Megatron can feel his systems seizing, sliding into the paralysis that he’s always in when he wakes. As their lips part, the Seeker says, “My name is Starscream.” His voice sounds like glass scraping on concrete, and Megatron is sure that no mortal mech has ever sounded like that.

He wakes up alone again.

...

The next time Megatron has his maintenance check, the doctor frowns at something in the readings he’s getting. “I don’t understand this. Your inhibitor is still activated, and you shouldn’t...”

“Spit it out,” growls Megatron.

“You’re sparked,” says the doctor, turning the monitor around. It shows a clear image of Megatron’s spark with another circling it.

No wonder he’d been feeling tired.

Megatron keeps fighting until the swelling in his abdomen becomes too obvious, and the referees pull him from the ring. It’s irritating but... Megatron is more angry/worried/sad that his mystery lover has vanished. The sparkling is obviously his, but searches of records for a Seeker named ‘Starscream’ turn up nothing. 

It’s infuriating.

When the sparkling finally emerges, it’s grey and silver and blue and red, and has little wings and unnaturally red optics. When it cries, its voice sounds like glass scraping on concrete. And the sparkling is the most wonderful, adorable, precious thing that Megatron has ever seen.

But the strangest thing is after its emergence, Megatron’s handler insists on having the sparkling’s CNA tested. He’s positive that Megatron got knocked up by one of the other gladiators (since all buymechs have working inhibitors by law), and he wants to go after that other mech’s handler for his monetary losses while Megatron was sidelined.

However, when the results of the test come back, it’s the strangest thing... The little winged sparkling’s CNA is identical to Megatron’s.

That night, in his bed at the medical centre, Megatron drifts into a light recharge while feeding the little mech... But he opens his optics again when he feels a weight on the bed.

Starscream is sitting beside him, smiling at the sparkling in his arms.

[ripharm-archived]

 @ardensfides asked: ✿

send me a  ✿  and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other .

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other .

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other .

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other .

NOTES: if i’m silverash’s unofficial handler, does this make you our adopted child. -cue thinking emoji-

PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME 0.2 // always accepting

[robot-unicorn-attack]

CHAPTER 01 - NYX

Another event. How many of these was there going to be this season? Not like she didn't enjoy going out on the company's dime and making others cry; in excitement or fear she couldn't care less their why - she just wished she could head to the Demon without it being for anything other than just for fun. No ulterior motives necessary.

Over looking the bustling city, smoke flitted and weaved it's way between buildings matching in height to the one she lived in and then others kept going up. Sol was caught off guard and thrown from her internal thoughts when a member of her makeup artist and friend nudged her shoulder and winked before continuing their conversation from before Sol drifted off in her own head.

 "What's the point of ghosts? If they're not gonna fuck me, get outta my house!" Sol couldn't help but release a laugh that was very un-Nyx like, but very on brand to her actual self. The others around laughed harder at the noise.

 "Vespa, what the fuck?"

"That's what I'm sayin'! Why won't they fuck me?!" Vespa continued with a hearty laugh and Sol watched her Adam's apple bob with the motion.

 "Oh, come now,-" the brunette woman in flashy Lava World fashion chuckled from behind her hand, which happened to be intricately embellished with dark and light ink that faintly glowed like the molten debris underneath their world. 'LED tattoos are THE thing. Everyone's gonna want them' she assured Sol once before and Sol has thoroughly considered the process. Maybe something subtle? Something that meant something to her? 'A spider perhaps?' She mused, a telling smirk upon her lips.

 "Yeah, I would if I could, Asteria," Vespa cackled in that deep voice of hers. Gods, how having a drag queen was the best thing in the universe, and Sol thanked them all that she was blessed with the best of the best.

 There was a loud knock coming from the front door and without giving notice to come in a man waltzed in, hand to his left ear and a holopad in hand. "Yes, yes, Nyx will be there," he turned his gaze to the group in front of him and snapped his fingers in rapid succession. "No," he stressed more focused on Sol than anything, "She won't be late this time," the racer in question rolled her eyes, making a gagging motion with her slender finger down her throat. The other ladies around her tried to stifle their laughs, "You have my word" And with that he pressed a button in his ear, and maneuvered something around on the holopad before speaking up again, "Ladies…" a displeased grimace on his face.

 "Aw, what's the matter now, honey? You lookin' to get dicked down?" Vespa was all but devouring the LAZER agent. Sashaying around him, making damn sure to trail her fingers across his shoulders and down his chest. He was flustered, still not quite sure on how to handle being hit on by a man in drag - and good fucking drag too. So, he opted to just clearing his throat as she walked to stand back behind the racer.

 Sol rolled her molten eyes before fixing them to her agent, "Allryn, whatdaya want? Miss me already?" A flippant smile greeted him.

 He pouted and brought his free hand to his chest, "Solana you wound me. I could never stray from you too far for too long. But since you asked," immediately there was swipes and typing taking place as he quickly accessed the holopad, "The higher ups want to guarantee that you will show up at the event tonight." She just deadpanned and gestured to the people around her, makeup brushes and fashion ware in hand and lying about the room.

 "Nope. Just felt like making a mess of my home."

 "Hahaa, Sol. You're ride is going to be here within the hour, ladies is that enough time?"

"An hour? The event isn't for another 3 or so. What gives?" But Allryn brushed her questions aside as if he were dusting off his blazer. The two shared looks with one another, then to Sol, then to Allryn and back at one another all in the span of 3 seconds, "Yeah, we should be good to go."

 "Photo opportunities, Sol. The event isn't open to everyone and those who were not … fortunate enough to purchase the VIP tickets are stuck outside. You will make an appearance to them before heading inside. And please make sure to stay in character." Another eye roll and Sol swore she was seeing stars.

  "So, chop chop. Oh, and ladies," they turned to look at their boss, "Make sure she's exceptionally Nyxian tonight."

 ---

 Music blared and bass bumped, enough to shake the outer walls and sidewalk outside Neon Demon. It wasn't anything new, however Sol couldn't help but think that they were pulling out all the stops for tonight in particular. There was going to be a more diverse crowd attending tonight after all; and they wanna be on everyone's good side.

'it's just good business…' she thought. Steeling herself, she masked all emotions, turning what would be a normal smirk on her day to day basis into one that was positively twisted.

 Her handler, aka bodyguard, opened the door and offered a hand for the Villainess. Turning her gaze to him quickly she offered the slightest of nods in recognition. It wouldn't behoove her, or LAZER for that matter, if she's seen showing kindness - even to her personal entourage. He just let out a gruff noise from the back of his throat, closed the car door with a resounding thud, fixed his suit jacket and made to follow after her.

 There was already such a large throng of people outside Demon. She expected as much when Allryn mentioned fans who couldn't make it in to tonight's high end event. It was clear to see where the fandoms began and ended - agency and racer colors indicated the fans positions. And it was all too obvious that the other agencies were outnumbered by LAZERs, given that they were in their hometown.

 Making her way down the stamped and stained concreted path, Sol zeroed in on her fans specifically. The weirdest of the weird. Either extremely terrified or extremely devoted to the Villainess. Both derived some sort of sick perversions out of it all. Honestly though, Sol was pretty desensitized to it all. It hadn't always been that way, but she got over it about a few years ago when she broke that one fan's nose for being a little too … familiar with her.

 Her Aleksandar McQuinth (hehee I had to) studded and chained, front laced platform boots held a thick and powerful sound as they made contact with the damp ground beneath her. Her hips swayed and the little black dress she wore exposed her long legs in all their glory. Onyx spikes decorated the only shoulder covered as it was draped with silver chains.

 Walking towards her designated fanbase was the easy part. It was now time to play the part. The part that she was born for essentially. The part of villain - the main antagonist. Nyx! Nyx! Nyx! Nyx! Their voices chanted like a prayer, as if she were divine enough to come down and bless them. As if she would give them a second thought.

 A beautifully crafted wicked smirk fell upon her lips as she stood in a power stance. Legs, shoulder width apart, hands on her hips as she leaned most of her weight to her right side. Nyx! Nyx! Nyx! Nyx! A cackle of a laugh echoed over their heads as she spoke to them, their voices dimming to nothing short of a whisper. Hanging on to ever word she uttered and breathing it in as if it were life.

 Leni always mentioned, ever since Sol signed on to LAZER, that her followers were nothing short of masochists. And in this moment, as a vast majority of them were screaming for Nyx to step on them, to whip them, put them to shame and dominate them - she agreed wholeheartedly. Not like she ever doubted her friend before. It just … never ceases to amaze her with how many more weirdos they recruit to The Cult of Nyx or Nyxian Cult or just the Cult as they're referred to more often than not.

 ---

 The scene inside the Neon Demon was nothing short of decked out. The raised dais was coordinated in a way to incorporate the different agencies - so as not to leave anyone out. "Entitled little shits," Sol commented, eyeing the elaborate crystals and ice luge that was placed precariously in the center of Twilight's booth.

 "Heya Nyx~ Tha usual?" Sol didn't even need to acknowledge the bouncy silver haired girl behind the bar and she didn't seem too fazed at the blatant curve from one of her top customers. Instead the cheery bartender just went about her merry way making sure the bar was stocked and clean for the mass of people about to arrive. And as if on cue, there was a commotion coming from the entrance, and Sol checked the small digital clock behind the bar top. The game was about to begin and here came the pawns. "Surprise me," Sol spoke slowly, leaning backwards, head nearly touching the bar top. Razor straight hair pooling around her, illuminating her eyes even more so.

 The girl giggled and set about making a LAZER racer special, "Magma" it was called and boy, did it look it. Sol swiped it up with the grace of a shadow and sauntered her way through the crowd, effectively passing Allryn as she did so.

 He muttered a name, loud enough for her to catch it and if anyone else were to hear it they'd brush it off as him looking for said person. Her lips curved upwards into her devious trademark and slipped between the patrons filing in, mingling with one another.

 Neleus Clevoy. Head CEO of CyberTECH, one of the leading manufacturers for robot horses, supplying the RUR industry with the best of the best AI and technology to go with it. Apparently, he's been a bad boy, and Nyx has been sent to … punish him. A side of the part she plays that she doesn't care for, but won't turn down.

 It wasn't her first time. Nor was he her first. It seemed to be a recurring meet up for the two and Sol had long since wondered if it was just because he was enthralled with her and the … services she could provide. However, tonight was going to be different. She had been set on that for a long time. A new year, new Sol, err, well, Nyx.

 "Mr. Clevoy~" She practically purred in his ear as she leaned against him, molten eyes catching the lights above, illuminating them to goddess status. She slid one hand up his chest, the other to slide up to rest around his broad shoulders. His attention was caught easily enough and it was way too easy for Sol to slip something into his drink as she moved her arm around his shoulders. No one around the wiser. A lil bit of hallucinogenic liquid; Synthesia or Synth on the streets, to get him loose-y goose-y is the perfect scene causing disruption this party needs. Now all Sol had to do was wait.

 She walked away with the grace of a [panther], leaving Clevoy a little more than pissed but otherwise incapacitated. He wouldn't dare risk his marriage or image to storm after a racer - even one as villainous as Nyx. Her eyes scanned the dais looking for a new target - preferably someone from an opposing agency - whether one of the big 3 or not - the other, unknown racers were some of the best to torment - when she caught sight of the prettiest flower in the meadow.

 Downing her drink, she slinked her way between the patrons, never letting her gaze waver. The few steps it took to ascend into view was worth it to see the look on Aura's face, especially with the way she called her name.

 "Sol?" She loved hearing her name. It's one of the few things in this life of hers that she gets to claim and enjoy without anyone tarnishing it. A foolish thought at the least. It's only a matter of time before LAZER claims that too, isn't it?

 Sol hadn't seen the little Flower for awhile now, and she made mention of it, sweeping an errant lock of long, dark hair over her bare shoulder. A low wink on her part. Aura released a laugh that to Sol sounded like tinkling bells in a summer wind and she was transported back to their last encounter. She sat there and made idle small talk about how they needed to catch up - Sol definitely would love that and she said as much. Hoping to rile up the younger. It seemed to have worked for a light blush dusted her cheeks - even in that ridiculous getup of hers. But, alas, the things they're forced to do for the sake of appearances and branding.

 Allryn was frantically waving his arms attempting to catch Sol's attention. He wore a face of absolute bitterness and it almost made her laugh out loud. Almost. Instead, another eye roll before smirking at the Flower under her taloned hand, "I told him I was coming over here to try and make you cry." A shoulder shrug here and a wink there, she continued, "I'll just tell him you worked some of your fairy magic on me, and now I'm nice."

 Not long after and she was leaving the dais to her end, searching as she went about for a new target to destroy.

 ---

 Throughout the night Nyx was pulled this way and that for photo ops, marketing pitches - one in particular she adored, the potential model for Noxian; a company with their bio-metric fingers in literally everything; from music to racing tech, to clothing to energy drinks - new branding ideas and just all around Nyxian events. There was a small, minute pause in all the hustling around that Sol was able to slip away from clawing fans - that she effectively destroyed on the spot with some scathing words and a look that could melt the strongest of metals.

 Swinging by the bar, she snagged someone else's drink, not like they were going to stop her, she continued on to her target. Sidling up next to the one person she's been looking forward to running into the most at this lackluster event. Her eyes darted every which way, taking in her features. They're as beautiful and sharp as ever. She misses the days and nights where it was just the two of them. Enjoying the other's company. Laying there, limbs tangled up in one another.

 Gold tipped fingers reached out and touched her shoulder. Almost as if Sol was trying to root herself to this plain of existence. To remember that she was real. That their pasts were real. She honestly didn't want to let her go, but the look she was given nearly pushed her back, "I was wondering where you'd run off to." It wasn't a lie, but she could have delivered it a bit more … Sol like.

 The glare sent shivers up and down her spine and Sol wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. Definitely not the first time she's seen it directed at her. And it won't be the last, that's for damn sure. Leni made an offhand comment, which would have made her scoff if it weren't for the scrutinizing gazes they were surely garnishing from fans and agents alike.

 Leni finally made to turn around enough to look her in the eyes and it took everything in her to not audibly suck in a breath. Widowmaker's hard, long stare softened, if only for a moment as they locked gazes. And it was as if time ceased to ruin everything. At least, that's what she had hoped was the same feeling her long time friend and lover experienced.

 "… I'm busy," Sol caught the tail end of that one. Snapping herself outta it, she released her hold on her teammate and took the glass from her hands, bringing it to her gold painted lips to take a small sip. It's this time a physical reaction is pulled from her as she makes the most ridiculous face. "It never gets any less vile. Would it kill you to order ginger ale?" She chuckles it off, passing it back to her friend.

 "No one asked you to come over here and drink it, Nyx." There's a river of ice that flows through Sol at the sentence. It wasn't malicious or loud. But the levelness of her tone and the use of her racing name - regardless of the situation - it knocked Sol back a bit. No matter their differences, their arguments, their very different tastes in certain activities - Leni had never bit back at her like this. And honestly, Sol would have much rather preferred a shot to the gut.

 In an instant her entire demeanor changed. She slouches a tad bit more, a more relaxed stance, lithe and long. "Well," the coyness in her voice masking to others as playfulness, "if that's how we're playing it, I don’t have time for you either.” Adding a much deserved, “Widow.”

 “Precisely. You can go back to your adoring fans. Or to that Sky Worlder you like so much; I saw the two of you getting close back there.”

"Oh hoho~ Oh I see," a Cheshire grin that undoubtedly suits her cat like features spread across her face. And as if to drive the point home she spares a wink, "You don’t have to worry, Leni, I’ll always have time for you–” She even drove herself to grab onto her shoulder again and gave it a firm yet telling squeeze.

 Leni again gives her hand and then the owner a look that could burn, “Believe it or not, I have more important things to worry about than you.”

 She should have seen this coming, honestly. Sol knows exactly the points at which Leni's loyalties and ambitious lie. Sol's always known. And she's always admired that strength in her friend. But, Leni always, in the past at least, made time for Sol. They were always together in one way or another. And in the last few months - hell, the last year, things have dramatically shifted and not in Sol's favor.

 Hurt most definitely flashed through her body and she could only assume it made it's way to surface level. But she pushed it back and away. There was no way she was going to let anyone, least of all Leni, see that the mighty Nyx goddess of the night could get hurt because of some … words. So, she squared herself and her diabolical smirk takes over. Removing her hand from the shoulder of her teammate, it morphed into giving her the bird, turning on the spot and laughing as she calls out over her shoulder, "Get fucked, Widow!”

 She could have been the bigger person and just walked away, but that wasn't her. That wasn't Nyx either. People were already invested in the little rendezvous they were having at the bar, so might as well give them what they want. It's no surprise to anyone - least of all the fanbase - that Nyx would be an asshole to even her own teammates.  So, she handled it. Instead of standing tall and walking outta there with their head held high like most other worlders would most likely do, this was Sol, no. This was Nyx, and Nyx does things her way. 

Taglist: @ayzrules @bebemoon @jay-swagsby @filthysoulls @shiftyprincess @kzombi3 @now-on-elissastillstands

this has taken me FOREVER AND A DAY TO WRITE THIIIIIS T^T 

Asteria FC Vespa FC Allryn FC Eleos FC

[camomills]

Title: Pit-bottom Relationships: Lisbeth/Sinon; Lisbeth/Asuna (kinda) Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 1797 Summary: Lisbeth thinks about what love is. Different times in her life bring her to different definitions. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week 2019 - Day 5: Past, Present and Future. I’ve had so many conversations as to why I interpret Lisbeth as a victim of compulsive heterosexuality that it was only a matter of time until I wrote something that delved into it at least a tiny bit. Thanks to @thegayfromrulid​ for beta reading.

AO3 Link

-

Lisbeth was 16 years old and at pit-bottom, figuratively and literally.

“You’re alive,” the boy in black says.

That much was true.

That morning, she wondered if that day would’ve been the day she’d rack up enough Col for a second waterwheel. That seemed like a meaningless worry at that moment, as she stared upwards, the foggy canvas of the sky framed by the walls of the hole she and Kirito had fell in.

The cold was oppressive and all-enveloping down there, but it paled in comparison to the still-settling realization as the teleportation crystal ignored her commands:

She was going to die in that pit.

It was so, so unfair. She did everything right. She stuck to the middle floors. She took to the mostly-civilian lifestyle of a blacksmith and enabled those that’d fight for her liberation. She grew her modest alleyway business into a legitimate shop, and she could feel pride whenever she saw her name emblazoned on that copper sign by its entrance.

All of this was made while latching onto the hope that she’d survive this game and go back to the real world.

And now I’m going to die because I insisted in tagging along with this weirdo.

There were so many things she hadn’t done yet. She wanted to hear her name being announced during roll-call at her graduation ceremony. She wanted to see the Tokyo Skytree. She was considering coursing Engineering at college, despite the demanding entry requirements.

She wanted to kiss someone, just once.

Ah, she thought. I didn’t even get to fall in love, did I?

While they prepared their sleeping bags, she mused for a moment over whom she would fall for had she the chance to so, and wasn’t bound to waste away in icy demise. Shinichi from Class 1-B at her school was cute. Sawamura from her class was okay too, she thinks. Even then, she’d been trapped in Aincrad for over a year, so they’re probably a grade above her now. A shame, really. Rumor has it that Sawamura was a good kisser.

Asuna’s smile flashed in her mind as she catalogued boys, and something in her jolts.

Is Asuna a good kisser?

That was an odd thought. Asuna wasn’t a boy.

As panic subsided and she came to terms with her predicament (Kirito’s words, despite his stoic tone, assuaged her fears), her mind stopped wandering too far out. She was stuck down there with this boy she’d met only hours prior, and the world seemed to shrink as the hours went by: there’s nothing beyond this pit, towering walls of frost and cold floor of snow, and him, roguish charm encased in dark leather.

She hungers for warmth, for touch, for romance, for other things she didn’t get to have due to this game. For the opportunities that were stripped away from her. Her sleeping bag, these clothes, can’t keep her warm. She knows they’re nothing but strewn data, calculating code colder than the surrounding ice.

These won’t do.

It has to be someone, her mind finally registers.

He was the only thing there, other than herself, that was in any way warm.  She asked him to hold her hand, and he did. It was a sensation, real and cozy, that she’d seldom experienced in a world of uncaring numbers.

The closest she’d ever had to this feeling, she realized, came from Asuna’s embrace, casual, deliberate, and always so soothing.

As sleep overtook her and her eyes droop closed, she thought of how worried her best friend must have been for her.

*

*

*

At the following sunrise, she wasn’t dead.

In fact, Lisbeth felt very much alive.

She was sent heavenwards while in the arms of this boy, Kirito, his skin brushing against hers, adrenaline and fire rushing in her veins, inferno of emotion hurling through the sky.

She was invincible in that moment, young and unafraid. Everything about it felt so right. That endless thrill, that beautiful sunset born from the parting of clouds: all coalescing into a book-worthy moment.

That must be what love is. That burning in her chest. Lisbeth was sure of it.

With wind howling in her ears, she decided that she was just going to say it.

“Kirito! You know, I…”

“What?!”

“I love you, Kirito!”

He couldn’t hear her ecstasy-fueled confession, and a part of her was happy about that.

It would have been embarrassing. Yes, that must have been the reason she was happy about it.

It’s what makes sense, after all, when she examines herself, heart blazing in the cold and quickly pumping exhales visible in the frost.

*

*

*

Rika was 18 years old and the aroma of freshly brewed black wafted through the air in Dicey Café. Her and Asuna’s laughter blows on the steam rising from their mugs.

“So… you had a thing for me?” Asuna asked. There was no judgment in her tone.

“Yeah,” Rika said. “Took me a while to figure that one out, though. I guess I couldn’t admit to myself that I liked girls too. And then Kirito was right there, the perfect scapegoat for those feelings.”

She tried to take a first sip from her mug, but the heat bit her tongue. Still too hot.

“He had the whole Mysterious Hero thing going on back then, and we had that wild trip. It got pretty easy to convince myself that I was into him. But when you two started dating, it wasn’t you that I was jealous of…”

Rika stared at Asuna expectantly, then smirked.

“I guess I must have been pretty desperate for a love story, if I tricked myself into liking him.”

Without missing the cue, Asuna elbowed Rika.

“He’s still my boyfriend, you know!”

Rika laughs at Asuna’s indignation, and Asuna laughs at Lis laughing at her. The blacksmith’s crude laughter was nothing if not infectious.

Their shared laughter reminds her that Asuna loved her, in the same way she’s always had. And that she still loved Asuna, albeit in a different way than back in Aincrad.

Rika is unsure of what love is, but she thinks that’s a good thing. Maybe the answer isn’t meant to come easy. It’s been two years since the ice dragon incident, and if there’s one thing any SAO Survivor understands is: a couple of years can change everything.

At the very least, it’s enough for a change in perspective. It’s a boost in maturity, as small as it is, that makes her understand that love is not something you seek in desperation, blurting out mindlessly in a moment between life and death. It’s probably something softer, found in the touch of a friend, amidst inside jokes and shared moments of joy like this. And probably not at the bottom of a pit.

Asuna was her best friend, both in Aincrad and in real life. Keiko never missed a day to share recess with her. Klein would take her teasing with little to no complaint. Agil offered her a part-time job at the bar last week, when she turned eighteen.

And, despite everything she says, she has a soft spot for Kirito. He’s a good friend. She’d never say that to his face, though, in fear of his head getting too big for his body.

She doesn’t need to hunger for love, as long as she has these connections.

If the other kind of love knocks at her door, though, then all the better.

The bell by the door chimes, and Asuna and Lis both turn on her stools, sure of who’s there before their vision catches them.

Kirito stands by the entrance and greets the both of them, unaware that he was a topic in their conversation moments ago.

From his side, a bespectacled girl sheepishly waves.

**

Rika is 22 years old, and she’s late to her part-time job.

It’s not her fault, though. There’s a dog in the apartment.

“Puppy!” Rika coos.

The Japanese Akita simply stares at her, a bit too stoically for a dog, dark slits for eyes betraying nothing.

Shino, sporting her police uniform, stops Lis’s hand as she offers him a corn chip.

“He can’t eat that. He might get sick. He’s got work to do.”

Shino’s dream of becoming a police officer came true, and she’s glad she has enough of a handle on her hoplophobia to manage it. She’s surprised that she was approved into the dog handler unit in her first try, though.

“Hecate is a police official, Rika. You should show him some respect.”

Hecate ? Lis considers teasing her on the name, but concludes otherwise. Shino had her reasons.

Perhaps her face gives her thoughts away, however, because Shino justifies herself.

“Yes, Hecate. He’s my partner, after all.” She manages not to look embarrassed.

Rika giggles. She at times pondered over how come she and Shino wound up together, when she herself scorches like a furnace, hot-red emotion barely contained in her body, while Shino, comparatively, runs cold like the steel that forms the barrel of a firearm.

Rika fancied herself gunpowder.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’d look cuter if he was fat,” Rika threatens. “Big, fat boy.”

She flicks a chip from the bag she was eating into the air. Hecate, shooting up as if a bullet from the homonymous sniper rifle, springs towards the airborne target, corn and wheat meeting trained teeth in a satisfying crunch. His canine expression remains dutifully cold, even as he chews on it.

Shino tries to grimace, but it’s hard while trying to kill a laugh at the same time. She changes the topic, a pair of fingers pressed to her temple.

“Shouldn’t you be at work instead of poisoning the new dog? Agil is going to give you an earful again.”

Rika smirks smugly, and there’s a bit of Lisbeth in that smile.

“It’s okay, he loves me!” She positions a proud hand over her chest. “I’m his only company in that dingy bar.”

Despite her cheeky reply, she puts on her boots faster. Even if her parents are helping with her tuition, she still needs to pull her weight. Engineering is a course with hefty tuition fees.

After a roughly affectionate tussle to the dog’s fur and a quick peck to Shino’s cheek, she runs out the door.

Now an adult, Rika can forgive her younger, juvenile self; that old definition of love, troubadour and romantic, feels endearing in its foolishness. She has a hard time appreciating that romanticized romance now, though, as she gets to bask in what she has available to her now: the domesticity in sharing as well as the presence of her friends. Now that her hunger is sated, her vision clears to what matters.

Her connection to them, all of them, must be what love is.

[whtwidcw]

hospital

some  one  word  prompts .

hospital :   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened.

Blips come together behind her eyes as they twitch. Memory overwhelming cognitive circumstance as temple, throbbing, proves to win out as imagery disappears in place of pounding resonance. 

I’m not dead. 

Breath hitches, hissing a high pitched quiet keen of discontent and discomfort with barest of movements, shifting in bed. That’s broken. That’s bruised. That’s lucky it’s not fucking ruptured. That’s going to scar.

Oh but hacked soft laughter hurts beautifully, even if it’s in blatant satisfaction of oneself and her actions. 

I always get it done though. No matter the cost.

How those words get heavier and heavier in her chest with time is beyond reason. 

I’m in an unfamiliar place! — her mind suddenly shouts as she lurches upright, flailing, knocking off table a tray of food left by her bedside with a clatter as she shouts, then clasps her head in agony.  

“–what are you—” Her voice  breaks, wince sneaking through with an admission of excruciating pain as she looks round disoriented until he steadies her, two hands on her shoulders. 

One of them’s bandaged. She looks down at it then back up at him. A small inner shake as watery stark gaze held his. 

Lips parting. 

“ You saved me.” She didn’t mean it to sound so accusatory. Almost disappointed sounding. It made him want to laugh too.

Instead a half tired smile tugged at one side of his mouth. 

‘You kinda saved me first.’

She was there to observe not engage. Watching from an empty starbucks with a phone recording video as she sipped her tea and took in the amass of carnage outside as the avengers fought. 

She zoomed in on a man that held an M249 SAW, firing beside Captain America – cue inner blanch and eyeroll — taking on fire with his iconic shield. He sprinted off, hurling it at the off world invaders craft. It used to just be countries they all fought for. Now, it seemed, they had entire world’s to contend with. 

She’d gotten enough footage. Packing up to leave her breath hitched when she saw the building above him take fire. It was going to come down. And that idiot couldn’t see it. 

Not her problem. She told herself despite the way her gut tightened and twisted and throat closed up. Not going to make it. James….

She swallowed hard. Throwing off her coat before her mind could wrap around the implications as the platinum blond in black threw open the door and began to run. 

10….9…..8….

‘Again’ they told her. He was the only one to meet her eyes and nod at her. She could do this…she could do it…

7….6….

He pulled up on his bike to pick her up. She had a haunted look about her and he could have commented on it. As her handler he should have. Instead he started the motorcycle forward in a jerked motion and she tightened her grip around his waist. He never made her loosen up as they left the gruesome scene behind. He let her keep her helmet on until she was ready to take it off.

5…4…3…

He brushed her hair from her eyes as she clenched them shut and the procedure was finished. His gaze said he knew this pain like her. It was the last thing she saw before they put her under.

2…1… 

He wrote to congress on her behalf. They didn’t pardon her. But he tried. 

Why had he tried for her?

The impact of her body shoving his to the ground. He’s overwhelmed by the brute force as she rips his weapon from him, throwing it. Pushed him down. Covering his head, his body with hers as the building came down on them and she took the brunt of concrete, rubble, and thousands of pounds. 

Black out. 

She averts her gaze and looks down at her hands. They tremble. She clasps them into fists. 

“ That’s what happened? ” she asks. Need to be sure. Too many other images, other faces. 

He nods. 

“And you’ve been here….” A while. There’s evidence someone’s lived here. A sweater strewn over the chair, books, personal affects. A baseball cap. 

Her gaze falls on that. 

He picks it up and seems to have a thoughtful moment before walking over and putting it on her head. 

She frowns, wrinkling her nose. 

“What are you doing?”

He laughs. 

I don’t know.

[natasha-cole]

#1 Crush: Part 2

Chapter Summary: Reader is nervous about her SNS debut. It doesn’t help her anxiety when a close friend starts to make things weird between them.

Word Count: 3881

Warnings: flirting, a swear or two, stage fright

Series Masterlist

The following morning, you had joined some of your friends in the green room for breakfast. You felt more than ready for the day, having been able to catch up on sleep. It had been some time since you had felt so rested; and you knew it was because you chose to skip out on karaoke and drinks with everyone the night before.

Many of them never failed to give you shit for disappearing at the end of the first day of con so that you could slip off to your room early. But you had learned quickly that if you wanted to survive the weekends, especially Saturday nights, you had to give up your need to socialize at least one night of the weekend.

You were sipping on your coffee, grinning as you listened to Kim and Briana groan about how tired they were. Matt and Rich also seemed a bit sluggish; but you knew that they all just needed a lot of caffeine and a moment to wake up fully. No one around here ever made it noticeable that they were ever tired or in need of a break.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You pulled your focus away from your friends at the table so that you could turn toward the man that you knew had just entered the room. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“You’re here!” You exclaimed as you stood up to greet Adam.

“I am!”

You immediately threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly as you laughed.

“I’m so glad you’re at this one,” you began as you pulled away from him. “I was beginning to think we’d never see each other again.”

“Well, you know, every once in a while it works out.”

You really were thrilled to see him. While you hadn’t had many opportunities to hang out with him, you had come to enjoy his company. Rob may the one person at the conventions that you absolutely adored and had much in common with; but Adam was quickly becoming one of your closest friends.

You weren’t sure what it was about him, but the two of you always had fun when he actually had a chance to attend cons.

“How are you?” You asked, now trying to make small talk as he joined the rest of you at the table.

“I’m doing well. Just finished up a project that was keeping me away from all of this. Luckily, it wrapped up just in time. When they asked if I could make this one, I jumped at it.”

“That’s exciting.”

“It is. I’m just glad I’m able to be here though.”

“Ah, yes,” you sighed. “The convention life… so glamorous and not exhausting at all.”

“You love it though.”

“You know what? I really do.”

“Also, I’m pretty excited that I managed to make it to THE convention that a certain someone chose to make her debut at.”

He gave you a sly grin, reminding you now of what you had agreed to yesterday. Suddenly, your stomach twisted into knots when you recalled.

“Please, don’t remind me that I’m doing this,” you replied. “I wonder if it’s too late to back out.”

“You can’t back out. Why would you deprive the world of that talent?”

“It’s hardly talent,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“You underestimate yourself,” he replied.

“Well, at least I always have you to incessantly remind me that I am perfect at everything I do. It doesn’t affect my ego at all.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“So,” you began, now trying to change the subject so that you wouldn’t be paralyzed by fear over the reminders that you were singing tonight. “What’s new with you. I haven’t talked to you in a while. How are things?”

“I’ve been good. Busy, but good. And you?”

“Same,” you laughed. “Always busy.”

“Such is the life,” he mused.

“What are you doing here so early anyway?” You asked.

It was expected for the all-dayers to be here literally all day starting first thing in the morning; but those like Adam, who only had a few things scheduled later in the day, were the lucky ones who got to sleep in.

It was a bit unusual to see him in the green room this early, especially since registration hadn’t even started. The only reason you were here now was because you had to rehearse for the show.

“I came to see you,” he grinned.

“I’m hardly worth losing out on sleep over.”

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about…” Adam said suddenly. “I figured if I caught you early enough, I could just get it out of the way.”

He was still watching you; this time, biting his lip as if he meant to stop himself from what he wanted to say. He still seemed nervous, which was an odd thing from him considering that he was never nervous around you.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Now, he averted his gaze from you to glance around the room. You followed his cue, noting that others had trickled in while the two of you had been talking. You spotted Misha and the band now, and most importantly, Rob. Your nerves went on high alert as you saw him; his eyes almost immediately meeting yours. He gave you a warm smile, and you smiled back. That was the moment you remembered that you had hyped yourself for today being the day that you finally said something to him about your crush on him.

Normally, you were anything but shy, but the thought of possibly being shut down by Rob scared you.

“You know, maybe it can wait,” Adam said.

You looked back to him, realizing that you had lost yourself in thought for a moment.

“No, we can talk now. I have time. Besides, you got up extra early to find me.”

“I’d rather wait until we have a moment together. Preferably without a room full of people to listen.”

“Oh, okay,” you said in confusion. “Is it serious?”

You didn’t understand what Adam would want to talk about that was so secret he couldn’t say it to you now.

“Not serious,” he promised. “Just- I’d like for us to be able to talk a bit more privately.”

You suddenly felt as if the usually easy conversation between the two of you was getting awkward. You didn’t know why, but he was now fidgety and he seemed uneasy as the two of you caught up. You hated being in uncomfortable situations with people, especially people that you knew well. But, he was definitely making it weird and you couldn’t handle that.

It was in your nature to be outgoing and friendly. You loved to talk and hang out with people; so the moment someone made things weird, you only wanted to remove yourself from that situation.

You looked up and searched for Rob again. When you found him, he began to wave you over to him and you took it as your cue to join him. You had almost forgotten about rehearsals this morning.

“Oh look,” you began as you stood up, relieved to finally have an out now that things with Adam were weird. “I gotta go rehearse.”

“Y/N!”

You heard Rob call out to you just then. You glanced back to him and he was waving you in his direction; he and the guys already heading to the exit.

“I gotta go,” you said nervously.

“You’re going to be great,” Adam insisted.

“Well, here’s hoping,” you chuckled. “Maybe when the band hears me in rehearsal, they’ll just drop me from the set list. It’ll save everyone the embarrassment.”

“Stop it. Everyone knows you can sing. Well, everyone but you apparently.”

“Thanks. Hey, I’ll find you later. We can talk.”

“Alright. See you around Y/N.”

After a surprisingly decent rehearsal, you were ready for the rest of the day. You felt a little kick in your step after the guys, especially Rob, had praised you during your practice run. Now, your nervousness for the concert tonight had turned into excitement.

Your Saturday had been a lot busier than even you were used to. You had additional photo ops and autographs, you had your solo panel and had also joined some of the other ladies on a group panel. By the time you ran into Adam again, you had nearly forgotten that he had wanted to talk to you about something today.

You were on your way out of the green room, following your handler as she ushered you off for your meet and greet, when he did catch you.

“You know, you’re a very difficult woman to find,” he said teasingly.

“Sorry, they like to keep me busy apparently.”

“Well, it’s warranted. Everyone loves you.”

“Maybe I’ll catch you after this?” You asked.

“I’m done for the day,” he explained. “Heading out to dinner. I know you’ve probably got things to do before the concert.”

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with everyone before. The pre-concert dinner.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I will definitely see you tonight then.”

“You’re coming, right?”

“I will be there. I wouldn’t miss you sing.”

“Alright,” you smiled in return.

You noted the way your handler looked annoyed as you talked to Adam. Obviously she was in a rush to get you to where you needed to be, so you decided not to cause her any more anxiety over your lateness.

“I’ll see you later then.”

Later at SNS...

You waited backstage for your turn, listening as the band wrapped up “Rock Song” and growing more and more nervous as you realized you were up next.

Everyone else had already done their parts, and you had sat backstage, in awe as usual by the amount of talent that everyone had. You didn’t compare. But, Rob had spent a lot of time trying to talk you into singing and he seemed excited that you had finally agreed to it. Even during rehearsals, he encouraged you and praised you. You figured it was just him being a good friend, because you really didn’t think you deserved the praise.

It was his birthday after all, so of course you had given in to his request. You hoped that your sudden willingness to sing hadn’t given you away too much. If nothing else, you really did want to impress him tonight.

“You’ll be great,” Kim said suddenly.

“Thanks, I’m just a little nervous.”

“First time singing in front of an audience… I’d be nervous too.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“I mean, I’ve done it a bunch of times, and I still get nervous.”

“Still not helping.”

“You’ll kill it,” she smiled.

She put an arm around your shoulders, giving you a quick squeeze to comfort you when you heard Rob’s voice boom through the speakers. You instantly became more nervous as you realized he was talking about you.

“We’re going to invite someone new to SNS to the stage,” he began.

He waited for the audience to quiet down before he finally introduced you.

“Please, give a warm welcome to Y/N.”

You listened as the crowd cheered again, the sounds muffled as you anxiously made your way on stage. You walked to your microphone and looked at Rob.

You couldn’t believe how nervous you were. You. The outgoing one who had no problem making an idiot of herself on stage during panels. But, this was different. Now, the audience would actually hear you sing and you cringed as you remembered that you really weren’t that good and now you were subjecting fans to the torture.

Rob caught you looking at him pleadingly and he quickly moved toward you, his face inches from yours as he offered you a smile. He took your hand in his in an attempt to calm you.

“Hey,” He said, squeezing your hand. “Just like we rehearsed. You were amazing. You got this.”

He let go of you and moved back to his spot as the band went into playing the music.

Right off the bat, you missed your cue to start singing. You glanced out at the audience and closed your eyes, squeezing them shut tight as the band seamlessly moved back into the intro, giving you a chance to try again.

Eyes still closed, you hit your mark this time. For some reason, it was easier to not see what was going on around you. You imagined you were just singing in the green room, as you often did… no one but your friends present.

I would die for you

I would die for you

I've been dying just to feel you by my side

To know that you're mine

I will cry for you

I will cry for you

I will wash away your pain with all my tears

And drown your fear

You could hear Rob backing you up during the pause in the lyrics, so you wanted to look at him. When you finally did open your eyes though, you instantly regretted it.

You still sang, trying to hold back your nerves, but you couldn’t stop shaking now that you were fully aware of everyone watching you. Your voice wavered as the song continued and you internally panicked, thinking that you were definitely fucking this up.

I will pray for you

I will pray for you

I will sell my soul for something pure and true

Someone like you

See your face every place that I walk in

Hear your voice every time that I'm talking

You will believe in me

And I will never be ignored

That was when you glanced toward Rob. He had insisted that you’d be great and that he wouldn’t let you fail, but you knew that you were definitely failing right now. His eyes found yours instantly, reading the panic in your expression. He kept playing, doing backup vocals at first, still holding your gaze.

You froze then, forgetting the next verse. Your eyes widened, looking to him for help. Before there was a noticeable pause in the song, he picked up on the song, taking over the verse confidently.

I will burn for you

Feel pain for you

I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart

And tear it apart

Now, you had a moment to steady yourself. You took a deep breath and stared into his eyes. That was when he winked at you, giving you a smile and nodding; letting you know that you had this.

For some reason, this was comforting. Just knowing that he was there, ready to back you up, let you know that you most certainly would not fail up here. You began to sing again, this time a bit more confidently.

I will lie for you

Beg and steal for you

I will crawl on hands and knees until you see

You're just like me

Only now were you finally feeding off the energy of Rob, the band, and the audience. You could hear them cheering you on, so your nerves lessened almost instantly. The shakiness of your voice all but dissipated as you reached for the microphone, knowing that you had to give it your all for the last part of the song. You felt yourself finally begin to sway to the music and you smiled over at Rob now that you realized you were okay.

No one was booing you and everyone seemed to be actually enjoying your performance. Remembering that you had totally bombed on the beginning, you focused solely on making up for it as you finished the song.

Violate all the love that I'm missing

Throw away all the pain that I'm living

You will believe in me

And I could never be ignored

I would die for you

I would kill for you

I would steal for you

I'd do time for you

I would wait for you

I'd make room for you

I'd sail ships for you

To be close to you

To be part of you

'Cause I believe in you

I believe in you

I would die for you

The second the music ended, you stood there, heart racing from the high that you were now feeling. The audience cheered for you, louder than they had ever cheered for you before. You turned to smile at Rob and he instantly went to you, pulling you in for a tight embrace.

“I told you that you could do it,” he said against your ear. “You were amazing.”

You couldn’t even reply, you were breathless as you let the excitement of having just done something that terrified you course through you. You squeezed him tight and you felt him place a soft kiss to your cheek.

The show went on; and just before the final song, you and the others surprised Rob on stage with a birthday cake and a stirring rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ that left the man blushing and grinning ear to ear.

You all remained on stage and helped them wrap up the night with ‘Let Love Rule’. You watched Rob throughout the song as he excitedly bounded around the stage, nothing but a look of pure joy on his face.

That smile, those blue eyes each time his gaze found you… it was enough to make you think that there really was something there between you.

You had it in your mind that tonight had to be the night when you finally said something to him.

Back in the green room, you waited with everyone else as the band was off doing whatever it was that they did after a show. While you should have been tired given the fact that it was well after midnight and you had had a busy day, you were running on pure adrenaline from performing.

You knew that someone had to have something planned for the rest of the night, especially considering that it was Rob’s birthday.

You glanced up as the guys finally entered the room and you grinned at Rob as he approached you. Before you could say anything, he was hugging you again; this time rubbing small circles against your back as he lingered for a while.

“Thanks for saving my ass out there,” you said as he pulled away after a moment.

“Are you kidding?” He replied. “You were amazing.”

“I panicked.”

“But then you rocked it. You were perfect.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have, but I was happy to help you through it anyway.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Really, that felt really good. At the end anyway.”

“It was pretty amazing watching you go from a nervous wreck to… sexy as hell when you finished the song.”

“What?” You asked in surprise.

“I- I mean,” he began to stutter, turning red as he caught on to what he had said. “I just mean- you were really great. Seriously, by the last half of the song, you killed it.”

“Thank you?” You replied, not really sure what else to say to the fact that he had definitely called you sexy.

Almost as if it had been planned, the rest of the guys cut right in. First, they congratulated you, echoing most of Rob’s sentiments on your performance; and then they pulled Rob away. You stood there alone for a minute, still trying to process what he had said to you. Perhaps you had heard him wrong, or maybe you just heard what you wanted to hear from him. Even if he had said what you thought he said, surely he hadn’t meant it.

You had definitely gotten really into the song and the vibes from the people watching, so you knew you had started to dance a little on stage, probably too suggestively. Perhaps that was what he was talking about.

You wandered off a bit as everyone else talked excitedly among themselves, everyone coming down from the excitement of the show. You decided to take a moment to check notifications on your campaign post. In all honesty, you were becoming quite obsessed with what people were saying about it, and you really just needed a distraction right now.

There were always way too many notifications to sort through, especially when you shared a picture, so you made a habit out of stopping to read and respond to a few that caught your eye.

You replied to a couple of funny comments, liked a bunch of responses, and took some time to respond to your friends comments.

You scrolled mindlessly until you came across another comment that caught your eye. You weren’t sure why it was so noticeable, but you stopped to read it anyway.

‘If I had all the money in the world, I would spend it all on you. I do anything to support you. I hope you see me.’

You scrunched up your face, sort of weirded out by the strange response. It probably had a lot to do with the number of heart emojis used, but you felt compelled to at least respond.

‘Anything you do; regardless of whether it’s buying a shirt or even just sharing the post, it all helps. Thank you!’

You made sure to leave a heart emoji for good measure.

Just as you slipped your phone into your pocket, you glanced around to see what everyone else was up to. If you knew them, and you did, there would definitely be a party happening tonight.

You lived for the Saturday night after parties that Briana hosted. It was probably just your outgoing nature that made you love them so much, but you always wanted to spend as much time with your friends as you could.

“Hey, rockstar.”

You turned around toward the direction of the voice speaking to you, grinning as you saw Rob approaching you.

“Excuse me, but you’re the only rockstar that I see here.”

“You flatter me,” he chuckled. “You coming to SNAP?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“What can I say? I love a good party.”

“Yeah,” he mused. “I’m not sure how I manage to keep up with you.”

“Are you saying I party too much?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “You know I love parties as well. I’m just tired tonight.”

“Well, you could just go to bed. Parties aren’t a requirement.”

“I can’t do that,” he laughed. “It’s my birthday.”

“Ah, yes. A very rare SNAP birthday party. Still, if you’re that tired, we could always celebrate another time.”

“I’d miss out on something.”

“The FOMO is real,” you sighed.

“It’s definitely real,” he laughed. “Besides, tonight was your first show, we gotta celebrate.”

“The only thing we’re celebrating is the fact that you’ve just turned…” you paused, making a face as you pretended to count the years on your fingers.

“Forty-eight,” Rob reminded you as he cringed.

“Hopefully you can still keep up,” you said as you started to walk away from him.

Everyone else was trickling out of the room, and you wanted to keep up as you all made your way back to Briana’s room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I’m not calling you old,” you chuckled. “You’re the perfect age.”

You gave him a wink and turned from him, starting to jog after the rest of the group.

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[whitewolfbumble]

The Fallout - Part Nineteen (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Slow burn, language, violence, death, gore

Word Count: About 6k

A/N: Hey friends, I’m splitting up the final chapters differently than planned, so you’ll be getting a few more. Instead of twenty parts we’re looking at more like twenty-two maybe? I’ve been working that out so apologies for it being just over a week since my last update for this. And we’re getting some IW Steve vibes in here. Hope you enjoy! Please reblog, like or send me a message with what you think!!

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST // PART EIGHTEEN

Your smile grew as the struggle grew more.

The police officer had you in a headlock, your face at his hip. You had been trying to draw this out as long as you could, but figured the timing would be about right.

Your fist swung hard, connecting with a crack to his ribcage, pitching him forward slightly. As the air exited his lungs in a huff, you twisted and swung your elbow up and clocked him square in the face. The force of that alone knocked him clean out.

So the man fell, joining his dead counterparts. His body hit the stone steps you were standing on, rolling down a couple limply. You walked down slowly to him, pressing your foot against his neck and pushing down. You didn’t stop until you heard another crack and felt the life leave his body.

You stopped, hands going up to your chest, tears almost forming in your eyes. It was so contenting, so beautifully peaceful to end someone life, like a kind of velvety high. With him being the last, you took a moment to enjoy the rush of death, almost humming to yourself.

The day was beautiful and clear, and it was only going to get even better from here.

The Avengers were certainly on their way now.

You had found yourself in front of a very old little museum. Made of beige stone it was timeless, standing like a forgotten monument in this old city of Paris. Twenty or so steps wrapped all around it, with five tiny little side street spreading out from it. Beautifully architectured apartments lay right up against the road, their black shutters shut tightly. At one time this little building had been a church probably, but there was no healing or mercy found there today.

You took stock of your work in the sunshine, counting thirty-four bodies surrounding you. Some were face down or crumpled in awkward positions. All unmoving.

In the distant sirens rang out, but once those who had the bad luck to be the first on the scene had signaled back to their superiors that it was you, everyone had been undoubtedly ordered to stay away.

Leisurely you walked down a couple steps and sat down, crossing your legs and leaning against one of your victims.

The little square was completely silent, with nothing but a light breeze whistling softly through, the screaming and sounds of the fight since over.

You looked up with your eyes closed to the sun, feeling it’s warmth while the splatter of blood on your face began to dry.

Late, but fashionably so you thought, your old team members finally showed.

In the square a sudden booming clang rang out as Iron Man flew down from the sky, hitting the cobblestone streets, shining and red. Usually you liked that in the form of blood, covering people. It made your eyes shine subtly and throat constrict, bloodlust ever present and rippling just under your skin.

“Y/N, stand down,” Tony said, mask still on and hands up defensively.

You couldn’t tell what he was feeling, couldn’t guess at what he was thinking, seeing you there amid a pile of bodies and blood scattered around. It was like you were sitting back, watching a movie on the couch back at the Tower. You wondered abstractly how the vision of you in the middle of this scene made him feel. It had been a long time since you had seen the majority of the Team, though they had since seen your work.

You raised your arm, gesturing around.

“I don’t think there is anyone else to stand up too, Tony,” you remarked. “I’d be willing to try though.”

Thor then touched down right beside the Iron Man, Mjolnir swinging in his hand before looping it back to his belt. Usually in a fight the god held it securely in his hand, itching ot throw it out and take down his enemies. Looks like you were different. Even his face indicated as much, the thrill of a fight not shining in his eyes, just a strained look there.

Right on cue, the others began to creep out of the five streets that surrounded this little building, slowly coming at you in full numbers. Guns and weapons and eyes were trained on you, footsteps cautious and measured. You could feel their eyes on your skin, trying by sheer will to hold you there.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you felt the stare of one person in particular. The wind carried his scent, your ears picking up on the rhythm of his near silent steps. Slowly you turned your head to the right, knowing who you would find.

Your gaze was icy and hard as you locked eyes with Bucky, your once kidnapper, handler, torturer, and lover.

He was poised like this was any other mission, suited up like he was going to war, planting one foot in front of the other on a steady path to you, the enemy. His assault rifle was pointed at you, blocking some of him from view, but you saw enough there. 

His skin was pale and taut, dead and distant eyes were sunken behind big dark bags. His jaw was held so tight you thought it would snap. Guilt edged absolutely everything on him, stiff posture giving off waves of regret like he held his whole body in a desperate weariness. A pained frown looked permanently etched into his face. The man was probably not sleeping, not able to let you go, not able to forgive himself of doing this to you. 

But still, he was here and had come for you.

You sneered at the man, shifting your bright eyes in a second from bloodlust to one of painful disgust the moment your eyes locked to his blue ones. The last time you had seen him, he was walking out on you. Leaving you behind to the tortures of Hydra. To be let loose on a little corners of the world like you had done to this one. 

Did he feel the crushing weight of his turning you into this Siren again? The blood on his hands for the people you now killed? The pain and torture he directly inflicted on you, putting you through trials and crushing the fucking hand off your very arm?

You thought yes. Though realistically you couldn't care less what he felt or that he didn't save you. To be fair, you purposely didn't give him a choice knowing it would hurt all the more. Your only interest was rubbing it and trying to make him crumble underneath it all.

It had been four months since Bucky left you there with Hydra, and a year since The Soldier had beaten and turned you. The last months had clearly been rough on him. On them all by the afflicted looks on their faces.

And still the Avengers had been steps behind you at every turn these last months. It was just like they had been those years ago before they found you, after you escaped Hydra and were doing the vigilante thing on your own.

This time instead of saving people from the bad guys, you were the bad guy, going from city to city and igniting chaos, murdering in droves, committing appalling acts. All before ghosting away before the Avengers could catch up.

“Didn't think you would catch me so soon,” you said, eyes shifting back to Tony.

“Y/N,” said Thor, eyes imploring and voice sounding hurt. “Please come home.”

Again, you gestured to the gruesome scene at your feet. “This is as home as any to me. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”

“We can’t let you go, Y/N,” now came Steve, coming up on your left, clad in dark blue and body held stiffly at the sight of you again. A gruff beard was on his face and an ache in his eyes. “We can’t let you go back to them.”

“If I had been able to live a normal life,” you mused, ignoring them as they circled closer. “I think I would have enjoyed graveyards. The peace, the quiet, the faded memories permeating the air... Now I just make my own wherever I go. My own little slice of home.”

“This has to stop,” Tony said obviously done, stepping towards you. “This ends now, Y/N.”

Casually you looked around you, keeping your expression disinterested but body stone still. Behind your eyes you were cold and cunning. This all had to go to plan or else. It was a fucking longshot but you always came out on top. This would be no different.

“Try to take me, and you will not like the outcome.” The thinly veiled threat did not go unnoticed. “Remember, I know you. All of you.”

“Try to resist, and you’ll wish you were back at Hydra.” Tony spat. “And remember, we know you too.”

You stood slowly, hands not reaching for your weapons strapped to you. But your hands were clenched up into tight fists. You looked down to the ground, using your peripheral vision to track those moving in. You breathing increased as they swarmed you, with nothing you could do about it.

Which was exactly how you wanted this to look.

“You’re vastly outnumbered,” Natasha said, from somewhere behind you on your left, stepping out of the shadows of the building into the warm daylight. “See reason here, Y/N.”

Your eyes shot up, blazing and intense, appearing ready to start your second massacre of the day. The warm sun beat down and light breeze whispered passed you, but it looked as though nothing would shake your resolve.

You jerked back to the right, Vision practically floating up behind you. Another presence was now close on your left and snapping your head to it you saw Wanda.

“Please come peacefully, Y/N,” Vision said, voice low and calm. “No harm will come to you.”

“We don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” Wanda added.

Breath billowing out of you like a bull seeing red, you shut your eyes tightly for a moment, hand hovering over the guns strapped to your hip.

“Don’t”, Tony said with the electrical powering-up sound of his blasters started buzzing.

You were about to speak, but a whizzing then screeching sound pierced your ears as two metal blocks flew up from behind Tony, clamping down on your metal hand and flesh one. At the force of the metal coming at you and attaching to your skin, your body flew back. The telltale red metal forced your hands together tightly, before moving and expanding to overtake your whole forearm before you even hit the ground.

Vision glided forward and caught you in a moment before you smacked against the stone steps.

“My own mini Victoria?” you mused, not sure whether you should be angry or impressed. “Guess I’m just as dangerous as the Hulk now, huh?”

“The Hulk has Banner underneath,” Tony said stepping up to you, mask sliding off his face. It was hardened with anger. “Don’t flatter yourself in thinking you are anything like him. You have no conscious at all. You have nothing. ”

“Oh don’t I?” you said cryptically, as Clint and Steve stepped forward and grabbed your arms.

In a few minutes the place was buzzing again with Avengers, police, and special forces. You were chained up, watching it all in silence, cuffs on your hands and chains on your ankles as the quinjet touched down just a few metres away from you. It was like they were trying to bring in Thor, not little old you.

You let out a tight smile to Clint before your face dropped back into an angry, perturbed expression. Like through all this you were trying to keep that rage which bubbled in you under wraps.

Or at least that was how you outwardly portrayed yourself. Inwardly you were dancing, with this whole thing running as smooth as silk. This wasn’t the hard part, but it was still so exhilarating to be manipulating them like this.

As the quinjet ramp opened, a few on the Team went ahead while some were behind, talking with the officials on the scene.

All kept an eye on you, but Bucky kept two, hanging back several feet just behind you, able to see you but not directly interact with you. That just wouldn’t do.

Natasha walked out from the jet to the edge of the ramp, beckoning Bucky inside. You assumed there was some cage or way to lock you up in there, and Bucky being the resident expert on you would be the best one to check. 

You could cause a lot of damage on a jet high up in the sky with a group of your old friends...

Moments later Bucky emerged, avoiding you completely and nodding to Steve.

As Steve and Clint lead you up with Thor a step behind, you stopped still just beside Bucky, jerking the two men to a stop too.

“Hello again, love.” you breathed low to Bucky.

Your face was molded into one that was open and honest, tinged with a sadness at seeing him again.

The two men holding you seemed to try and hide a bit of surprise, maybe almost seeming a little encouraged at your words to him?

But Bucky wasn’t fooled. His shoulders dropped a bit as his face worked to move from one of thrashing pain to something more neutral.

He knew you better. His eyes danced with understanding. Bucky understood that this was all a game, and everyone was playing right into your hand.

So you stepped on the quinjet and left him to follow. 

Thus you moved towards phase two of your plan.

This compound was a lot different than the Tower had been, at least the brief bits you could see from your cell. All in all, you admired how quickly Tony got this up and running. Clearly a fire had sparked in his veins to get this done, along with his biting anger that didn't seem to be letting up.

It was a smart move, as with your intimate knowledge of the Tower, this expansive compound in the middle of forests and fields didn't give you as much of an advantage.

It made no difference to your plan really. And your end goal and current situation were still the same.

You were free. 

Well, more so than you had been before.

Your handler was gone, thanks to you. That looming presence, following and judging and reigning you in, keeping you in line with a metal fist and unwavering allegiance to Hydra. Gone. His alter-ego, Bucky, was still here but it obviously was not the same.

With him out of the way, you were that much closer to ending Gerault, your ultimate torturer and a key feature in your nightmares. Then with Gerault gone, you would be truly free to finally let loose, to kill and destroy and be a free agent, causing and living in chaos. Any next heads of Hydra that tried to reign you in would be met with a fiercer fight than they had ever witnessed if they so much as hinted at wanting you back in the fold.

No more being reigned in by Hydra. No more being judged or held back by the Avengers. You would answer to no one and chase the high of blood and tears and screams.

And, deliciously enough, the Soldier- or actually Bucky- went crawling back to the Avengers once you freed him naturally. And your mission was now to take the Avengers down. You were still programmed to complete it, so complete it you would. 

And never had you been so close to someone before. You were itching to see what torture and pain you could extract from him. From all of them.

A task that was taken on by several evil-doers and go-getters before, much to their failure. But you weren’t nervous in the least. You knew these people. Intimately. And nothing gave you a deeper thrill than the sweet pain you could draw out of them and could almost taste now.

It would take planning, antagonization, and vision. You could do that. You were doing it.

Looking out from your cell, you had carefully been studying your surroundings in silence, ignoring the subtle comments and whispers they made just down at the end of the long hallway.

You had walked down the windowless and doorless corridor, this section clearly separate and quartered off from the rest of the compound. At the end of it had been your cell. Without any resistance you walked in and stood at the far back of it quietly as they locked you up, clear glass bars now separating you from them.

It was bright all down the hall, with the cell being just a little dimmer. Smooth unbreakable white plastic, white metal, and clear glass made up this or that and was certainly more than a match for you. 

Your cell itself was basic, modern, and not wholly uncomfortable (let’s be honest, you were used to Hydra who wouldn’t trust you around anything built in this past century, so grimy rooms and outdated tech had been your standard).

A big oval was punched into the far wall to shape a bed, with a toilet and sink just on the other side of it for a modicum of privacy. Besides a bench built into the wall, there was nothing else in the room, save a book or two on the bed.

Tony and Steve with Bucky in tow had led you down in silence. As the cell doors locked you carefully picked up one of the books, running your fingertips down the worn fabric cover. Before they walked away, you whirled around, book in hand.

“Thank you,” you said, the first thing you had said since leaving those cobbled streets half a world away.

But you were looking past the two men, to Bucky who had stopped several feet behind. It was the book you had been reading, often times while with him, back at the Tower all that time ago.

It was thoughtful and sweet, and you knew it was from him.

Both Tony and Steve turned to Bucky, waiting for his reply, but none came.

“Let’s go,” he murmured to the pair after a few moments.

The Team was hanging out down at the far end of the hallway to your cell, milling around and generally feeling uneasy. After months of being a step behind you, they were suddenly able to catch up and took you in without so much as a fight. 

That didn’t sit well.

You were notorious for not giving up on a fight, usually that option being your first choice, as both a weapon of Hydra and a member of the Avengers.

But here you were, seemingly calm as anything, not a drop of blood spilled since Tony touched down in front of you. Now you were straining all your sense trying to pick up on what they were saying.

“Is this giving anyone else Loki vibes?” Natasha said, voice low and eyes darting back to you, sitting on your bed, nonchalantly reading.

Somehow an uneasy feeling settled in the air around those gathered, putting them on edge.

“What do you mean?” Bucky questioned lowly, keeping his eyes decidedly off of you.

Natasha looked back to you, voice hushed and arms crossed.

“Back on our first mission as a team,” she started with a sigh. “We locked Thor’s brother Loki up, which was exactly what he wanted. Now Y/N had eluded us for months, but today she was just waiting on the steps for us?”

“What did Loki want?”

“Well with Loki it... he almost made us tear each other apart.”

The group almost held their breath, that almost eerie feeling coating their skin.

“Buck?” Steve asked, trying to get him to weigh in on it.

“Maybe she does want to be here,” Bucky said, risking a look down to your cell. But the light glinted on your metal hand as you turned a page, and immediately he was looking back to the Team. 

“Alright,” he continued, forcing his lungs to take in the air the sight of you had forced out. “It’s reasonable to think she does want to be here, or at least has a plan in place just in case she was caught. But she wouldn’t try to get us to tear each other apart. She would want to tear us apart herself.”

“C’mon, Y/N is still in there, we all have to believe that,” Clint remarked, looking around the circle to your once friends. “There was still something there- some hope- back in Paris. Some semblance of her, you know?”

“She did mention her old life almost longingly,” Steve said, wanting desperately to believe, to make up for how terribly he had failed you. All this was on him. “So yes, I think there is hope. We just don’t know enough yet.”

“That wasn’t her,” Bucky said suddenly, voice unable to mask how sad and strained he was. As he spoke the words came out desperate, with more emotions than he had expressed to them in months. “That was what she wants us to think. The Hydra in her has a grip too strong. Don’t fall for it.”

It was like someone had been pulling his teeth his face crumpling in pain with every syllable out of his mouth. He had stayed alive, had kept going for months but clearly today was too much.

“We’re not going to take any chances,” Nat said softly. “But we’re not giving up on her either.”

With that Tony buzzed down, signaling everything checked out in the remote surveillance room. They were free to leave you to your own devices, locked securely in your cell. All felt uneasy if not safe in the knowledge that you couldn’t escape.

All except Bucky.

With the first full day came the big guns. Clearly they were preparing for you before your arrival. 

But they couldn’t predict you, and this was their first failure.

Wanda walked down the hall, Clint and Tony on either side, walking confidently. The three had a subtle mix of smells coming from them, creating an odd mix of machine grease, sweat, and clean soap wrapped into one as they blew down the hall. 

You could picture their discussion together, conspiring so as to not give anything away to you. It would be nice if they did, but you knew no one better than the Team, so little good it would do them.

The trio strode up, keeping a distance from the bars, though you gave no hints of moving closer.

“Looking to take a trip, dear?” you asked Wanda, keeping your voice quiet. You had to appear demure, unthreatening to a certain degree. They had to believe the ploy.

“I didn’t ever want to do this, but we have to, Y/N.” she responded, sounding honest but determined. “I hope you can understand that.”

You stood, strolling to the middle of your cell, arms crossed.

“This isn’t a good idea,” you pointed out. “I think you need to understand that.”

Clint’s feathers were instantly ruffled and you looked to the man rather dully as he stepped a bit closer than the others for a brief moment.

“You’re going to threaten us?” Clint asked, misunderstanding you. “When you’re locked in here? Listen honey, you aren’t calling any shots anymore.”

“Firstly, I never have called my own shots.” you stated, correctly him calmly with just the tiniest hint of exasperation. “Secondly, no not a threat. I’m trying to do her a favour here, actually. All of you, actually. You do not want to get inside my head, Wanda. That doesn’t end well for either of us.”

The two men beside her scoffed a little, impatient. But she was smarter. She hesitated a moment, weighing the risks.

It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out where they would start. How they would try to break you down and get the “real” you back. Wanda would invade your mind, suss out whatever wheedling plan you were in the process of, and see about the best way to bring you back to your right mind, even doing it herself if able.

But never had anyone a mind quite like yours. Hydra took great pride in breaking it and molding it over the centuries, and now you were both more focused and unhinged in ways. It was not going to end well for either of you if she tried.

“Step closer.” she said, making up her mind.

She held your stare, chin lifted slightly with some confidence. It looked and smelled false to you, seeming more like fear to let down the Team and you, her once friend.

You sighed, folding your arms in tighter before looking like you were giving up.

“Alright, but don’t blame this one on me,” you said grimly, looking to the leader of the pack, Tony. “I have enough blood on my hands, I don’t need hers.”

Tony’s face pulled into confusion then softened ever slightly. He thought falsely that maybe he caught a glimpse of the real you.  The one that cared for Wanda. For anything.

Sad. Nothing was further from the truth there.

Stepping up the bars, Wanda did likewise, standing face to face. Both an equal look of concentration, Wanda’s hands went up to the level of your temples, fingers contorting and swirling, a vibrant red flashing accompanied by a kind of smoking, rich smell. A second later at the same moment, both of you closed your eyes.

In a flash of heat and fire your mind opened up to her, unable to fight the intrusion, programmed to stop resisting though you rallied against it nonetheless.

In disjointed brutal flashes, images came to both your mind and hers, taking over every thought, every muscle, every perception of reality.

There was blood and agony. And body parts. Severed heads. Wailing screams. Mutilated bodies. There was drowning, and acid, and chemicals. Injected drugs, and mania, bracingly chaotics highs, and devastatingly heart-crushing lows. 

There was your body getting whipped and beaten and broken. Then you doing it to others, laughing and euphoric as the only other option was to die screaming at inflicting such horror on the innocent.

Your brain was scrambled, unrivaled in its torment and chaos, unable to cohesively form one thought above the word pain. Causing it and feeling it and being it. There was only pain there to you. Unending. Crippling. Beautiful pain.

But it was too much for Wanda, every bloody, dripping drop of it hitting her in a second and all at once.

She screamed bloody murder, falling back into Clint, who caught her stunned and concerned. You fell back too, and with no one there to catch you, you fell in a screaming heap, gasping and writhing.

Clint dragged Wanda back away from your cell, crouching by her protectively on the floor.

Shaking still you tried to breathe through it all, the sudden flashes of your subconscious mind too much for your conscious one to bear.

“Jacosta, vitals.” said Tony, a distant voice to your ears as you looked to him through watery eyes.

At that, you saw a little hologram pop up from his watch, numbers and squiggly lines on it. Clearly it was satisfactory because his attention turned mostly to Wanda.

It was then you noticed Vision suddenly there, Wanda covered with him and Clint on either side and Tony in front of her, blocking her from your view.

You pressed your sweating forehead to the cool ground, fighting to keep your breath in your lungs as you gasped out over and over.

Collecting yourself off the floor, you wrapped your arms weakly around you, trying to hold yourself together as the throbbing pain pulsed through your body and seeped from your head down into the chilly tile floor.

Through your tears- which were quite real in fact and one of the first real emotions you had actually portrayed in days- you noticed one lone standing figure, watching you.

One Bucky Barnes. He and Vision must have run out of hiding at your screaming encounter. Vision running instinctively to Wanda, and Bucky running instinctively to you to see if you were okay.

He was far more under control than you were, body leaning towards you though he held himself back, with breath now slowing and fist slowly unclenching as you regained a sense of normalcy.

You turned away from him, clutching at your temple, trying to knock out the pain threatening to explode out of your skull, throbbing evermore. Shit, you were going to have a raging migraine from this.

“I tried,” you said between deep breaths. “To warn you. To stay the fuck out. Enough people have been in there. I don’t need more.”

You tried to pick yourself up, stumbling and fumbling to the bench, curling up in the corner as tight as you could against the wall, your back to the group. In the background you could hear Wanda muttering.

“It's her... she’s there...She’s just in pain... she’s just in pain...”

Vision picked her up bridal style and bee-lined out of there fast, wanting to get as much distance between you and her. Clint was following immediately after. Tony gave a look to Bucky before he followed suit. 

Bucky himself lingered.

He watched you, and you felt his eyes burning your skin. But you kept your head against the wall, turned completely away.

“You knew that was going to end badly,” you whispered to him. “Why did you let it happen?”

He made no answer, and you didn’t expect him too. It would take longer to bring him around. Now wasn’t the time.

Eventually, you heard his light assassin’s footsteps follow his team members down the hall, without a word of apology or comfort or anything at all.

As he left, you began to smile, wider and wider until you had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing.

Because bring him around you would.

The next day was Natasha. That went about as well as your session with Wanda.

“Why come here?” she asked, sitting down on a little fold out chair she brought with her. Her voice didn’t carry down the white cool corridor, almost like she was in full control sound itself. You wouldn’t put it passed a person like her, the epitome of calculated control.

Natasha was leaning back, arms crossed loosely. Her face was that usual blank expression, emotionless but somehow also inviting, where on most it would just look like resting bitch face.

“Wow,” you said, closing your book and looking up to her from your bench. “Not even a hello, or round-about question huh? Just right to it.”

“You stated it yourself. You know us,” she shrugged, hair brushing her shoulders at the movement. “You’re not likely to open up to me, someone who extracts information from people for a living.”

“So you try and flip the script, pretending to be straightforward and appear trustworthy because of that, then work in some wheedling question to cut to the quick of this all? Is that it?”

She put a hand up briefly with a slight smile. “Just want to talk to the person holding my friend hostage, that’s all.”

You sat back, eyes shining dimly in the low light.

“If that’s your goal, you’ll be disappointed, Natasha.”

“I’ve learned to let go of disappointments, makes my life easier. But let's not start off with you disappointing me just yet, huh. Why come here?”

Time to play along with her game, you guessed. This would have its fun certainly. And you could use a break the monotony.

“Because you brought me here, the whole ragtag crew.” you sighed. “I was having a great time in Paris. I always love visiting museums.”

“No,” she said point-blank with a small shake of her head and slight curve of her lips, as though she found your lie subtly amusing. “You let us catch up to you. You were waiting for us. Why?”

“I don’t like a chase,” you said. “I stand and fight or nothing. You would’ve caught up to me eventually I suppose, this way it was on my terms.”

“I don’t believe it.” she said, eyeing you just slightly harder.

“Well,” you said, tone changing suddenly, getting darker and dripping with more anger at every word. “Believe me when I tell you this than. I may be trapped here but at some point, someone will slip up. Someone will think that the real me has come back. They’ll show me mercy and I will exploit it and break free. The first thing I will do is find you and twist that red mop straight off of your spine. Don’t think I haven’t gotten a lot of fucking practice doing it.”

She didn’t move, just stared at you a moment before speaking levelly.

“Is that what you want me to believe, or is that the truth?”

“You figure it out,” you mumbled, voice back to its usual sound, turning back to your book. “Maybe I’m just trying to give a friendly warning? Who’s to say really.”

Silence hung between you both for a moment, before a creak and scrape sounded as Natasha folded up the chair.

“Oh, give my best to Wanda,” you said pleasantly after her as she left. “Poor thing.”

And so Steve came the next day, the next in the dwindling line of people to try and get through to you.

He had his uniform on, dark and cut, just not the cowl. Vaguely you had wondered how wrecked he was at the last words you spoke to him a year ago, bloody stump of a hand and tears on your face causing the professional soldier to stutter and fall.

Just as with Bucky, hard lines of sustained grief were set into his face, only partially hidden by a dirty blonde beard.

“Y/N,” he started with a nod. 

You turned in your bed, facing him head-on with legs crossed. You leaned back, head resting against the wall.

“Steve,” you responded in kind.

“Nat said she didn’t get anywhere from talking with you, I thought I would try.”

He stated this honestly and directly, though not with not a great amount of kindness. It wasn’t how he used to talk with you. He didn’t see you as his friend anymore, but rather the person holding your friend hostage.

“Sure thing, friend.” you jabbed plesantly.

“I’m not really looking to talk to you,” he said. “I want to talk with the real Y/N.”

You puckered your lips a little, nodding your head slowly. 

“I don’t know, what makes you think I’ll let that happen? I like being in control, think it’s best for everyone.”

“You're out of options here, we can make this easy on you or not.”

Oh, this Steve clearly was quite done already. You liked this darker change in personality. Suited him.

You sighed. “Steve, take the hint here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You looked at him with knowing eyes, adding just a tingle of pity to them.

“It isn’t going to happen, and we all know why, so let’s just drop it before you get hurt.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he said more forcefully this time, clearly not here to play games.

Well if he wanted to meet force with force, he wasn’t going to like the outcome.

“She doesn’t want to talk with you,” you clarified. “Why in hell would she? Last time she did- the last time you were with her- you fucking let her get slaughtered by your best friend? The one you had made her hound down for years with you to get back! The person you had practically forced her to be with, with your constant fucking meddling too. You were her dearest friend, the only one she’s ever had even! And you were supposed to protect her, weren’t you?”

Now was when you brought down the hammer on him, getting angry and more venomous with every word.

“It was your job to look out for her! That was the only fucking goal of the entire fucking mission! The whole reason she was there in the first place. And you promised her she would be safe. Now look at what you fucking did! Do you want me to tell you what they did to her at Hydra? What they made her do? That is all fucking on you! You failed. Failed the one person and friend who fucking loved you the most.”

You looked down, breath heaving out of you at the effort of spitting those hateful words, Steve face imprinted in your mind.

With every word you twisted the knife into his soul a little deeper. Deeper than he had been twisting it himself over the past years.

Captain America didn’t lose. He didn’t fail his friends. And he had never failed you.

Steve didn’t look at you now, his own chest heaving, unable to compose the anguish in his eyes that ripped at his soul.

It was all he had been thinking for the last year no doubt. The burden of his failure crushed him, aging his face and disposition. He wasn’t a man struggling to catch up anymore, he was a man beaten down and ready to do what was needed to win the day.

You pictured everyone trying to comfort him. Trying to explain in different, better ways over and over that it wasn’t his fault. That he didn’t fail you. But the truth of what he felt hung out in the open between you now, plain as day.

He believed your words. He felt them, daily. They had been said over in his own mind in an unending stream. It had changed him.

“So, to sum up,” you said darkly, “Fuck off.”

It was some time before Steve left but not exactly on his own. 

Thor walked in after some minutes of silence between you, ignoring you in favour of his friend, prompting him in whispers to leave this place and fight this battle another day.

At the prompting, the two blonde men made their way out, leaving you without a glance.

He would have wanted to help, wanted to fight harder and be the one to get you back. To start to make up for his supposed failure.

But he couldn’t fight himself and you at once. It was a battle your words had brought up full force in him again. You didn’t leave him with much choice.

Lying back down, you smiled ever so slightly to yourself, folding your hands over your stomach and taking in the sweet air around you.

Because Bucky would be the next one to see you. 

You could feel it in your bones.

PART TWENTY

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