¦ Çᵃ ᵖⁱqᵘᵉ, ⁿ'ᵉˢᵗ⁻ᶜᵉ ᵖᵃˢ?

    special? ah, angela has done the unthinkable and underestimated the sniper’s ARROGANCE. the single shot was supposed to kill, and that is why she’s receiving an audience with the talon’s newest, most elusive master sniper. 

    so this is what AMÉLIE LACROIX has become. 

    angela has a scope of empathy famous for its sheer reach, touching those who arguably deserve none of it, but she also has a streak of impatience. impatience that makes her irritable. it smothers her long-held hope that amélie was DEAD. 

    (that would have been preferable to a monster). 

    pain has her lip curl in fury she doesn’t quite have the energy to purport, and her hand presses harder, inside the wound that is furiously trying to close around the bullet lodged between her ribs. nanobots come with their downsides. her next breaths are a long shot, but her only shot. contrary to her pain, to her anger, and to her grief the name is whispered reverently.

    “if i am so insignificant to you, then KILL ME, amélie. i am tired.” 

        ah, and yet another to request death at the sniper's hands -- but what made the woman falter in her next action? where raising her rifle and delivering to the request would've been as easy as breathing, she COULDN’T. 

       ‘ you are not insignificant. ’

       her nose scrunched in discomfort, lines forming across her temple, and amélie fought against the pressure in her chest that threatened to consume her. what she said took no thought and was spilling from her mouth before she could even think about stopping them.

      ‘ i don’t understand why--" the grip to widow's kiss was tightened, but the rifle stayed sitting against her shoulder. ‘  i can’t kill you. ’

      the sniper dared a step closer, eyes screwing, she felt an annoying sting at the edges at the mere sight of the wounded overwatch doctor (all injury that SHE caused.)

    should’a known it was too good to be true. they said that if you cut off a wolf’s head it’d still try to bite, and mccree should have known better. with his legs kicked clean out from under him, he fell to one side, and HEAVILY on his shoulder. the pain was enough to make him cry out, but that was as much in surprise (stupid, stupid surprise) as it was because the fall had hurt. he was mostly irritable by the time he was picking himself back up, brushing dust from his shoulder. 

    “why’d you have to go an’ do that?” he groaned, shoving himself back against the couch and haphazardly tossing the bottle in widowmaker’s direction. he didn’t exactly aim to hit her, but she didn’t have much opportunity to catch it. his left hand gripped at his shoulder, massaging where he suspected a bruise might form, if he was one for bruising. 

    “this is what i get for bein’ NICE, i suppose, huh?”  

    he was mostly just complaining, it hadn’t hurt THAT much but it had certainly sent the intended message. still, he had no intention of letting her free, and it’d been at least a day in equatorial heat. even a medical anomaly like HER had to need to drink, right? 

    “what d’you want, a dog bowl? or you jus’ gonna let yourself die of thirst now? you that spiteful?” 

     THAT had gone much better then she had originally planned -- and the laugh tickling her throat was an indication of that. a grin found its way across her lips, curled, and with a hint of teeth.

      and it only widened with the bottle tumbling into her foot after hitting the ground.

      ‘ did you REALLY expect me to go along? ’ she pursed her lips. ‘  and here i thought after all our time together you had learned something.  ’

    widowmaker could go without, dehydration was the least of her concerns -- actually, she had no concerns at all; really the only thing that had her mind's eye was the fact that she would need to find a way out of this predicament at some point. but there was no rush, she wasn't needed that desperately and this fool of a cowboy made it much to easy to ENJOY herself.

    so the rumours were true, then. 

    angela ziegler knew better than to think the reclamation of an old overwatch facility somewhere along the border of germany and france would be a simple task. the buildings held scars from both the omnic crisis and the fall of overwatch, but the fact that they were still standing gave testament to their value. the bullet in angela’s side gave testament to the rumours, that german military forces were not the only ones interested in taking back the technology held within. 

    she grit her teeth, bloodied hand clutching at a rail that led up a short set of stairs to a platform. uniformity in architecture was serving her well, and she fell her way into a ratty old office that she’d never been in, but looked exactly like hundreds she had seen before. there was little she could do to ensure the sniper that had caught her in her search for her team scattered by gunfire from all sides didn’t see where she went, but perhaps the medic was low enough on the priority scale that she could get away with it. 

    (no such luck.)

    despite the way her heart was drumming in her ears and the pain of fighting the nanobots from closing her flesh around the bullet stuck inside her, she could hear footsteps drawing nearer. heels, actually. the kind that would sound more appropriate on the cobbles outside a club on a friday night. angela could do nothing but wait, leaning against an old desk and the heels of her own boots digging into the floor, as though the ridges left behind in the linoleum could represent her stubborn desire to survive this. the only thing that could weaken her stance, bitter (more so at her superiors than her shooter) and determined as it was, was – as it turned out – a familiar face. one that might send her heart into her mouth. 

    oh. 

    “so the rumours were true, then.” angela ziegler said, as widowmaker and her unmistakable facial features came into view. 

                                                        @eniivrer​ your monopoly on me is showing. <3

      SO IT SEEMED.

      not that widowmaker was any more aware of these rumours then she was as to why her shot hadn't killed. watching from her perch mere minutes before as the medic was plucked from the air and headed towards the ground.

      bullet clean through the suit of her creation, and the delicate feathers of hardlight.

      she had moved long before her mind had caught up with her, still in the nest with widow's kiss tucked to her shoulder, her body had grappled from one building to the next. her destination the office mercy fell in.

      ‘ you're still alive. ’ the sniper mused, sounding humoured. but with a slight of breath -- was she RELIEVED? 

     her eyes trailed up and down the so-called angel, coming to rest on the wound that she had caused. there was a pang of... something at the sight, causing the tip of the sniper’s mouth to curl into the beginning of a sneer.

     tracer found herself taking a step forward again, this time with hands outstretched, and this time entirely consequentially. it halted too, her entire body freezing like one sudden move would make this vulnerable animal she’d backed into a corner lash out. it was geoffrey in the firing line, and lena had far, FAR too much to risk to push this any further. 

                (not reckless ENOUGH.) 

    “alright – alright. fine.” her hands tilted, palms upwards as her step coiled back in surrender, motions measured and slow. 

             “what d’you want me to do?                             —-  you got me by the short and curlies, love. i’m all yours.”

       there was a much-needed breath -- the hold of panic settling the moment control of the situation was given back to her. with all those questionings, it was claustrophobia she felt, a feeling she was certainly NOT A FAN.

       shifting the weight of the firearm in her palm, widowmaker kept it trained on the accelerator. 

        ‘ good girl. ’ she all but purred once recovered, turning a look around the speedster’s room. ‘ you’ll want to get dressed for this, chérie. ’   there was a growing grin across her lips —-   

bold - applies always. italic - applies sometimes.

* INCLINATIONS/HABITS:

is submissive  |   is dominant  |   prefers to top   |   prefers to bottom   |   likes to switch   |   identifies as heterosexual   |   identifies as homosexual   |   identifies as bisexual  |   identifies as pansexual   |   identifies as demisexual   |   identifies as asexual   |   enjoys sex with men   |   enjoys sex with women   |   enjoys sex with multiple people at one time  |  initiates   |   waits for partner to initiate  |   spits   |   swallows   |   prefers sex in the morning   |   prefers sex at night   | prefers sex any time  |   no sex drive   |   low sex drive   |  average sex drive   |   high sex drive   |   hypersexual

* BODY/APPEARANCE:

small build   |   medium build   |   athletic build   |   muscular build   |   curvy build   |   voluptuous build  |   wears boxers   |   wears lingerie   |   goes ‘commando’   |   shaves/waxes  |   doesn’t shave/wax   |   cup size a-c   |   cup size d-f   |   1-5" in length   |   6-9" in length   |   10" or over in length

* SOUNDS:

is silent / makes little to no sounds   |   is very quiet  |   is very loud   |   grows in volume over time   |   bites hand / partner / pillow to muffle themselves   |   calls out partner’s name   |  curses   |   fakes/exaggerates   |   prefers a quiet partner  |   prefers a loud partner  |   is turned on by dirty talk   |   is turned off by dirty talk

* TURN-ONS/KINKS:

having their hands pinned   |   pinning their partner’s hands  |   having their hair pulled |   pulling their partner’s hair   |   being watched (by their partner)   |   being watched (by a third party)   |   watching their partner  |   receiving oral   |   giving oral  |   calling their partner ‘daddy’   |   being called ‘daddy’   |   giving praise  |   receiving praise   |   biting / marking   |   being bitten / marked   |   spanking   |   being spanked   |   teasing   |   being teased  |  having toys used on them |  using toys on their partner |   giving anal  |   receiving anal   |   choking   |   being choked  |   dirty talk   |   being tied up   |   tying their partner up  |  being worshipped   |   worshipping their partner  |   humiliating   |   being humiliated   |   degrading   |   being degraded   |   knife play  |   blood play  |   being pegged   |   pegging

    now, jesse wasn’t a CRUEL man. his compassion for her situation was only mitigated by the fact that he knew an unshackled widowmaker would not hesitate to MURDER him to ensure her freedom. that wasn’t even counting vengeance for her dignity that – if she had any – was surely now in tatters. he wondered not for the first time just how good talon were at tracking. did they care for their little weapon enough to search for her? time would tell, and he had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

    “don’t you worry about that, darlin’“ he drawled, rising to his feet with some amount of labour. he wasn’t getting any younger, and widowmaker was heavier than she looked. or maybe it was the highly unsupportive couch, maybe if they stayed here much longer he’d need to get a doughnut cushion and REALLY show his age… 

    with a sharp breath he bent at the waist, hand shooting out and dipping into a cooler by the foot of the couch. from it, he pulled a bottle of water, prickling with condensation, good and chilled. popping the sports cap, he approached widowmaker and tilted the bottle towards her lips. but not all the way. if she wanted it, she’d have to LEAN a little. 

    “this count as winin’? we’ll get to the dinin’ after.” 

      RISING a brow, she had to wonder if he truly expected her to take the bait. to allow him so close, without any sort of bite, all for a simple taste of what remained in the bottle. water, plain if she trusted him that much to not have tampered. 

      then again, if she was wanted dead in such a situation -- she wouldn’t still be breathing. 

      another glance between the cowboy and the bottle, at such a proximity she could just feel the radiating cold. it didn’t bother her, and it was far warmer than her own temperature. how strange it would be if she was any other person, but widowmaker hardly gave it any notice.

      ‘ i wouldn’t say it necessarily COUNTS, but it is acceptable. ’  spoken too sweet for their own good as she lifted her chin towards the bottle, prideful eyes unwavering.  ‘ that is, assuming this promise of dinner will be worth my while. ’

     widowmaker was not one to come so quietly, while the cowboy had gotten the upper hand to capture her -- he should've known better. 

         DID ownership mean nothing anymore – even had widow gone through the efforts of applying her name to the few possessions she felt worth keeping around, she knew that wouldn’t make any difference to emerald.

       which was fine – THIS was fine. two could play at that game, after all. 

       rifling through what little emerald owned, what was it said? FINDERS KEEPERS.

     THERE was a smile stretched across amélie’s face. despite the exhaustion of the routine left her in, her chest lifting with each burning breath, she held herself tall beside fareeha. where the other woman played a post-game, amélie had her own version.

      when one looked at her; they would describe her as cold, like the ice she skated, but CONFIDENT. in her dance she didn’t lack any – but in mustering the courage to throw out the ideals of what others may think if she pushed forward to KISS her dance partner… well, amélie was suffering a losing streak.

   ‘ thank you, ’ she managed between breaths, turning so lips brushed against fareeha’s ear.                         ‘ you did quite well yourself. magnifique, amour. ’

     for what happened next -- many factors could take the blame. one being the adrenaline, another could be a combination of everything the pair went through in order to return to the ice and yet still – the judges rewarded them with a high score of 87.67.  

     or maybe, amélie’s losing streak had FINALLY come to an end.

     threaded hands used to pull closer, while a free curled around fareeha’s cheek. their forehead’s touched, eyes searching, but before any thought could scare away her own courage amélie leaned in to kiss her partner fully on the lips. 

                     this wasn’t the first time, and she surely hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

    HER eyes were closed. laying in the comfort of angela’s presence. it wasn’t common for either to be able to take away from their taxing occupations to cross the lines like this. TOGETHER, bare of everything, with only a sheet between them and the outside world daring to peak through closed blinds. 

   so she chose to enjoy it for as long as she could, with a hum fell from those lips. her skin tingling from where the blonde drew, and amélie thought hard on her answer.

     what she felt now was what she believed warmth was – to be at home and without any worry. but actually feeling WARM – she couldn’t say she could recall that. with her heartbeat slowed to the rate of DEATH the chill of her wake was all she knew.

      ‘ i do not — ’

       she sounded sad as she says that, a FROWN tugging at the corners of her mouth. amélie opened her eyes and took in angela’s features, taking the moment to scoot in closer.  

                            ‘  — but i imagine this is close. ’  

    she captured a regality that not many could while shackled, trapped, and absent any control over their sorry situation. jesse didn’t expect any less, of course. he knew amélie when she was alive, and it seemed that the more decadent part of her personality had survived in widowmaker. she was undeniably FRENCH, and that was the best way jesse cared to describe it. 

    “if it ain’t twinkletoes.” he drawled, snapping the book shut and tossing it on the floor along with the empty glass that might once have contained his last mouthful of whiskey. shifting on his backside, booted feet rested flat on the floor, and jesse leaned on his elbows as though squinting through the gloom to get a better look at the woman sat just a few feet from him. 

    “fancy meetin’ YOU here.” he plucked the cigar from his mouth, holding it between thumb and forefinger before licking his lips. “hope the journey didn’t wear you out. it wasn’t exactly a talon airship, but you know that old saying –” 

    he paused for dramatic effect. 

         “save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

     with more seconds ticking by, she was nearing the conclusion that a headache she once deemed the smokes’ doing was actually just a concussion. expected; the last she remembered before waking up being a bright white.

      amélie grimaced. TWINKLETOES -- why did that sound so familiar, yet still fill her taste with venom? if this was something he called her in another life, well, she would need to have a talk with her past self -- alongside her rifle.

    ‘ i would’ve preferred the horse.' rigid, and cold as ever. she fiddled with the binds around her wrists. her testing of escape coming up horrible. the cowboy had gotten the upper hand -- how surprising.

likes artificial watermelon | sleeps in what they are already wearing | eats their cereal with milk | listens to music with earbuds | hates the summer | can recite past the first four digits of pi | eats frosting out of the jar | doodles on their notebooks | can bake cookies | has a garden | has had a snowball fight  | eats pancakes without syrup |  prefers shorts to pants  | can name more than ten superheroes | has a plan for the zombie apocalypse | uses the same password for everything | can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds | watches anime | hasn’t read harry potter | can say ‘I love you’ in more than one language | prefers mechanical pencils | thinks space is cool | takes personality tests more than once to make sure | can’t tie their shoelaces | has a purse | likes salad | likes cool colours better than warm colours | knows how to braid hair | reads biographies | can ice skate | knows their mbti | reads astrology charts | prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy | plays video games |  reads the newspaper | likes chocolate ice cream best | doesn’t cuss | memorizes song lyrics | collects coupons | has a preferred order at starbucks | likes movie theater popcorn | has seen a play | owns a hoodie | would rather own cds than online copies | has written a poem | can shuffle cards | subscribes to a magazine | double dips when eating | drinks directly out of the milk container | keeps a journal

TAGGED: @gayvalry < 3

     sombra rolled her eyes. 

     ❝ ay, you and gabe are so bad at this. at least gabe has freakish regeneration, but you… ❞ 

     her finger skimmed close to amélie’s arm, enough that she could feel the stark contrast of her own warmth against hers. she stopped right before it lead to the cut, the blood pooling within the gape and strolling down amélie’s arm without a care. it left dried stains on her skin like drops of watercolor. she was bleeding for a while already. a smirk played on sombra’s lips.

     ❝ you’re kind of like a kid, ❞ sombra said. ❝ let me treat the wound, yeah? ❞

     widowmaker frowned. 

     she stubbornly refused to look, glancing in monotony at sombra's face instead, and only feeling the barest of touch against her skin. amélie was ignoring the existence of the very real injury, a shame she had become hyperaware of the blood seeping down her arm.

     still, maybe if she continued to look anywhere BUT -- the injury would miraculously vanish and she wouldn’t need to worry about it.

     amélie pulled back with a HUFF, lounging further against the cushions of the couch with her arm poised out on display, the gash spilling over with blood.

    jesse mccree wasn’t exactly used to things going smoothly. his entire life made a good petition for THAT. truth be told, he was expecting a more intense fight when it came to the actual act of kidnapping, but maybe he’d underestimated just how HUMAN widowmaker was after all. he didn’t miss the little nest in the corner of the rocks next to where she’d been sitting. her little friend had disappeared in the chaos, however. maybe she’d return here yet, and there’d be a tearful reunion. 

    not before he had some answers, though. 

    he was sat under the light by the crack in the window, where the mid afternoon sunlight still bathed one strip of the dingy cabin in light. it was just enough to see one page of his book, and shifting it side to side to keep reading as the pages turned was keeping him alert enough to note that she still hadn’t woken up yet. widowmaker was sat in a wooden chair, one that probably only just took her weight (and he should know, she was heavier than she looked) and wouldn’t take his. wrists handcuffed behind her back and head lolling forward, there’d be quite the ACHE in her neck when she did wake. 

    shifting his legs, uncrossing and recrossing them across the arm of the moth-eaten couch he lay on, jesse tapped his cigar at his side. ash fell to the floor, disturbing and mingling with the dust. (hardly the five star accommodation she was used to, he was sure.)

                                                         @eniivrer got caught in the spider’s–                                                                                         – wait a MINUTE.

        she had gotten used to waking with a CRICK in her neck -- with the nest overlooking the once great overwatch facility being just as COMFORTABLE as it was EXCITING. so enticing she had made friends with the local arachnid taking refugee in her nest, offering peace offerings of twigs to better build her web.

        they seemed to enjoy her offerings. a good thing there was never anybody around to see the twitch of a smile.

        amelie took a few moments too long for the blurry vision to become focused, her head still pointed down at her lap. once more come to, her mind registered two things almost immediately. ONE, she was tied to a chair, wrists bounded at her back -- TWO, the stench of smoke was starting to bring on a headache.

The architect remained aptly quiet, waiting for a form of communication to be given; eyes latched upon Widowmakers form and her smirk. That did not make her… any more comfortable about asking. 

“Excellent.” Satya’s tongue clicked to the roof of her mouth, seeming to toy over words to fill the silence. Within seconds she gave up and merely held out a phone. “Insert your number or email here. I will forward the details shortly.”

      amelie couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous the air turned to be -- however she took the device without much of another word. tapping in her information and handing the phone back towards the woman once she had finished.