#widowmxkcr

He would admit, this was the first time he was in such a high-class environment. At least, without his departed brother. And it was certainly the first time he was in a suit...and with such an odd partner. He was not even certain how he got in this situation to begin with. He was simply following the path of life when he was pulled out of a train only to be pushed into another one and asked to change into a suit. 

It did take him a few moments to realise who it was under the rather well-done concealment of make-up and long clothes almost designed to hide all her skin, given the blue tint would probably give her away. Yes: he did soon understand that it was the somewhat infamous sniper travelling in secret.

So here he was, having dinner with the woman who killed his brother...not the most favourable travel partner. However, something tells him that if he broke her cover, it would not end too well for him. It would be wiser to keep up the act for now if only to keep a secure environment where he could actually talk to her. 

The man doesn’t show any of the surprise he was feeling. He genuinely assumed she had vanished like she always had by daybreak. She must have been in the bathroom or merely walked out for a moment.

Other than a slight tension in his muscles he straightens easily, his eyes trailing to her, one of his black nylon shirts spooled on his wrists as he was about to throw it over his head. 

Attraction Meme

Back Kiss

Jack moves into the hotel--the place much nicer than what he usually deals with. It was hard to wrestle owners for ritzy places to not record information. He drops his normal bag on the floor, hearing the TV hum with news about growing tension. He peels off his jacket, throwing it on the sofa and slowly cracking the bones in his neck. 

Kicking off his boots he carefully settles on the top the form already resting in the bed. He idly lifts up her shirt, the fabric smooth on his scarred fingers. He presses his lips along her spine, his hands grazing up the sides of her waist carefully.

“Mmm.” Widow hums, setting down her book and twisting her head over to him, “Rough day?”

The old soldier lifts his head, humming back and leaning back against her, a hand still lingering and hiking up her shirt, “What makes you say that?”

“You’re always more frisky when you’re frustrated,” She points out, turning around the face him, making him retract himself and readjust. The woman eyes him with her familiar hawk like gaze, “You can continue with your hands.”

Send me “三“ And I’ll try to name 3 facts about the muse & mun that are the same, as well as 3 facts that make them different!

The Same:

Our taste in black attire

Our love/HATE relationship with Morrison/76 because fuck that guy, ugh stupid sexy Morrison

Our snark and cynical sarcasm

The Different:

He’s a terrorist.  I’m not.  Seriously, I’m not.  I’m just mean

He’s American.  I’m Canadian, eh?

Kisses that Want to Give

Gills and Tails

He didn’t need any new people here. 

The creature watches from the tank after hours, seeing a slender woman being shown around the place. Maybe they won’t tell her to stay away from the edge of the tank and he can drag her in. It wouldn’t get him anywhere but a syringe in the back of his neck. But it would at least be funny for a couple seconds.

Finding Your Muse Wearing Their Clothes

“It’s special material.” Jack stretches his hands back, his fingers wrapping around the back of his head watching with some light of amusement, “Don’t know what it is but its reliable.

Widow turns slowly in his iconic jacket, the fabric looking strange on her from the colors to the size of it hanging on her slender form, “Can it take sniper bullets?”

“If it can take explosions it can take sniper bullets.” He sits up in the bed, “Looks silly on you though.”

“Really? I think I pull it off better than you.” She climbs over to sits bluntly on his lap, showing him a scarred part of the fabric on the back of it, “If its invincible what is this?”

“You know where that came from.” He said, pulling her closer, “That was from a shotgun.”

“Oh.” She huffs, “He is rude to even fabric.”

“I would consider his sneak attack more than just ‘rude’.” he leans back, gently running his fingers over her thigh, looking at the fabric of the sleeves, “...you know it could work on you if it was a couple sizes smaller.”