Sam seems to get locked in something every six months. Mid season 11, he was locked in a cage; beginning of season 12 he was locked in a cellar; and now, mid season 12 he’s locked in a cell. I’m noticing a pattern…?
N.B.: Normal increase in RC-cells for the first two weeks. Kagune has started development on time. However, the subsequent increase in RC-cells was abnormally high. After RC-count reached 10,000, an RC suppressing medicine was administered to the subject. Further increase not observed. Further drug administration suspended. Writing off “A-OWL” as a failure. Experiment closed.
Kanou’s notes: Such a pity, too. Although from a theoretical value standpoint it’s great that the case’s specimen was able to become a kakuja. If he was at least able to control it, that is.
A/N: Guys. Guys! Why is this +6,000 words? I don’t know. I wrote this instead of sleeping. I think I’m starting to twitch. I don’t even know if most of this makes sense, it hasn’t been edited. I don’t even care. It’s trashy timetravel!fic. I’m so proud. It might be terrible. Please take it from me.
Kisses to the ks fam. You are all splendid and full of love. Feel free to come into my inbox and/or message me with feels and so on and so forth.
prologue. you knew since you were young that Fate was not your fan
Hatake Kakashi is run ragged from a brutal ANBU mission, all he wants to be is curled up in his own bed with his dogs and to not move for a century or two; so, of course, a man falls out of the sky and almost lands on him, not quite six kilometres out from Konoha.
“What,” he blankly demands of the Universe at large.
The man doesn’t move from where he’s crashed through several stories of branches to lay broken on the ground a few metres below the limb upon which Kakashi has slammed to a halt. The rest of his team is quick to scatter into a defensive formation, senses on high alert, ready for an attack.
“Taichou?” Itachi ventures from the rear point of their diamond.
“I don’t have a fucking clue.” He’s debating jumping down to poke at the insensate man since no attack appears to be forthcoming.
And then a second form crashes down from the heavens, except Kakashi unthinkingly snatches this one before they can hit the ground.
Kakashi looks down at the slight figure cradled in his arms, takes in her outrageous pink hair and her mask. Her unfamiliar pink hair and mask.
“What?” Hatake Kakashi demands again of the Universe, this time more forcefully.
The Universe doesn’t answer, and Tenzou’s snickers transform into giggles.
He really, really has no interest in dealing with this shit right now. Or ever.
But, because the universe hates him, apparently he’s not going to get to pour himself into bed at any point tonight.
*Announcer voice* Introducing the fic that did not want to be written or put online…
Hi there everybody! It is I, Des, and let me just tell you it took a lot for me to get this piece of work here! It is long (long, long, very long) so Tumblr absolutely hated it and shut down on me several times because of that. It has also been deleted against my will twice in one day so this is not the original and it may not be as good but I still like it and I hope you do too! Please enjoy the fruits of my labor! So! Let’s get this show on the road!
A sequel to Go Get Your Hart, a fic in which: Absolutely everybody ships Lucaya always, and Lucas Friar is a Lucas Friar of epic proportions, there is miming, there is painting, there is a Box Theory and there are signs literally everywhere Lucas looks.
WARNING: This fic is also eight thousand three hundred and eighty (8,380!) words long. I suggest that you sit down. Or maybe grab a cup of tea. You might be here a while.
I also suggest that you listen to Signs by Bloc Party as you read the end of this fic, if you are into that kind of thing, because I listened to that song repeatedly while writing this and it was epic and amazing.
Okay! Y’all ready for this! *Space Jam. Always Space Jam*
“Okay, pause.” Missy says firmly, her hand held up in a stop
motion and Lucas freezes from where he’s been pacing on her dorm floor for the
past ten minutes. “So, what’s the problem?”
“I’m in love with Maya.” Lucas says slightly breathlessly
and his fingers gravitate to his hair to pull on it because oh my god.
Missy stares at him for a long moment before arching a brow,
her lips slowly curling.
“Wait, that’s it?”
“Missy!” Lucas hisses in irritation and Missy just
starts cackling like she has never cackled before, pulling her floral patterned
cell phone out of her pajama shorts. “What are you doing?”
“Texting Billy to come over,” Missy says through chuckles,
and Lucas rolls his eyes. “Oh, this is too good.”
“Why are we friends?” Lucas bemoans frustratedly, and Missy
just shakes her head in amusement.
“Because you’re an idiot sometimes and I know pretty much
everything. Plus you can carry heavy stuff.”
“Billy can carry heavy stuff.”
“Yeah, but he always complains about it.” Missy says with a scrunch of her nose
and Lucas looks at her incredulously for a moment because sometimes he
questions if she is even real.
Warnings - Hydra!Steve, Hydra!Reader, Few Swears, Description of Violence, Mentions of Death, Nudity, Tiny Sexual Tension…?
You could never remember much about your past.
It just wasn’t there.
From what you had been told, and the tiniest memories which would inflict in your mind, during the small sleep you would have, your father had sold you off, after your mother died, and you had been trained, worked, manipulated to be ‘Hydra’s Little Monster.’
At five years old, you were almost stripped of all loved. Of course, the people of Hydra had taught you to walk, talk, and the lessons you would need. But, instead of going out with friends, you stayed at the establishment, learning how to combat with a knife.
At twelve, you were a dark, deadly assassin. Almost. of all things, you had yet to kill anybody. Of course, shooting at targets, hitting smaller objects, all came simply, but it wasn’t until the training, on your twelfth birthday, when you were given a sparkling new gun, and a crying body placed in front of you.
The man whom had trained you, stood behind you, lifting your dominant hand, where the gun was placed. A cocky grin sat on his lips. “Shoot him. Go on, do it.”
You didn’t hesitate, as a bullet flew through the air, silencing the body. You turned the man.
When you were fourteen, things began to get a little darker. You began to be sent out onto missions, using your sweet appearance to manipulate some, before lifelessly killing them. It was your meaning in life, your purpose. It was when you returned from a mission, back to the base, you saw them. An agent was leading you through the darkened corridors. You had always been told to look forward, and keep walking, but your dark eyes glanced to the two boxes behind the glass.
There were bodies, frozen in them. Two of them. One had long, dark hair, and an arm structured from metal. The other, had trimmed blonde hair, wearing a darkened suit, with a blue star centred within.
The escort had noticed you lacking, and wasn’t happy with it. “Move it.” He grunted, an angered expression on his face. You raised your hand, signalling you’d be there in a moment. Your eyes fixated on the two bodies, as the man began to walk back, looking more stern now.
“Who are they?” You ask, your voice confused. You wanted answers. They never gave them to you. Until now.
“Assasins. They were found in World War 2, and we let them out when they need to be.” He explains, his voice dark. You take a moment, lingering on the face of the blonde. Of course, with what little knowledge you had, you were never at liberty to tell if somebody was attractive or not. All you knew, was you liked his blonde hair.
“Now go.” The man ushered, pushing you forward. This time, you obliged, feeling your feet against the floor, and the man close behind you. You didn’t care how, but you would have to find out who these people truly were.
When you were eighteen. That’s when it began. By this time, you had changed, you appearance more attractive, as Hydra had made you manipulating material. You stood in your cell, a black jumper, and black jeans, completed with boots.
By now, Hydra had many more agents, but you still remained the only girl, therefore the toughest agent given. Today, you were in your darkened cell, standing by one of the brick walls. You were using your knife to carve out your initials, random patterns.
The cell buzzed, before you turned to the source of the noise, seeing a man in a black T-Shirt, blank jeans, and dark hair. He had a headpiece, and held a machine gun. You recognised this man. You thought his name was Rumlow, from what you had head.
“Let’s go.” He stated, seeing you looking towards the wall. “Drop the knife.” He motioned to the object in your hand. You did as you were told, dropping the object. After your previous retort, a few months ago, asking ‘Why should I?’ You had received a bullet in your arm, which was a lot more painful that you could of expected.
You went first, Rumlow close behind. Down the winding corridors, not knowing where you were meant to be going. Every guard you passed seemed to linger at you, before you continued walking. As you had been told since a young age, everything is a distraction. You’re to focus on the task.
“Where are you taking me?” You ask, your voice with little emotion. Of course, they had tried to stamp that out of you. Repeatedly. Rumlow scoffed, pushing you along,
“Keep moving, kid.” He explained. Kid. How you hated that. Of course, eighteen was probably the youngest official agent. They didn’t start the darker stuff until they were this age. You still didn’t know every dark secret of Hydra, and doubted you ever would.
You soon got your answer - Rumlow had lead you into a training room. It was a large grey floor, with different trainees lined up all around the edges. There was a floor which people could look down from, and there, stood several officials, grinning. But, that wasn’t what caught your eye.
No, stood at the end of the room, was a tall, broad built man, dressed in the dark suit, with a star centred in the middle. He wasn’t smiling, and still had his blonde hair, and blue eyes. The man you had seen as a frozen image all of these times. The one you thought was your definition of ‘Good Looking.’ Whatever that meant, from the few times Rumlow had said it.
Rumlow pushed you to the edge of the wall, your eyes still interlocked onto the man. When you eventually pulled away, the man whom had escorted you here began to talk, walking along the wall where each agent was placed. All men. Except you.
“Listen to me.” He said. “This, is Captain Rogers. He is the best in the business. You beat him? You’re fucking dreaming.” He smirked. His dark eyes scanned the group, settling on the largest, built man. “Come on then. Step forward.”
The man in question sniggered. You had seen him several times, though you tried to keep your distance from all of these people. Being the only girl, was a way for them to shamelessly talk to you rudely. And you didn’t need that. You were stronger than them. Shamelessly, he walked forward, which quickly broke into a run, charging at the blonde.
Rogers was quick to respond, throwing a punch, and knocking out a tooth from the agent. The few murmurs which had previously been noted suddenly died down, seeing the tooth on the floor. A growl escaped the agent’s lips, before he changed. No match for Rogers. One beat, and he was knocked out. Cold. He looked up, a snarky grin on his face.
“Anyone else?” He cockily asked.
Of course, one by one, they were up. Each coming to the same fate of being knocked out. Cold. After this, a transfer would check if they were alive. If they were, they were dragged back to their cell. If not? Well, let’s not talk about that.
Eventually, Rumlow’s eyes settled on you. “Kid. Your up.” He motioned to Captain Rogers, who now had a cut of his face, with a little blood. You sighed, standing forward, earning a laugh from Rogers, much to your disrespect.
“Her? She’s tiny. And she couldn’t do anything.” You stayed silent, letting him come closer to you. He grinned, before slapping you across the face violently. To this, he laughed again.
“Not a reaction.” He mused, taking a strand of your hair in his fingers. He pressed a kiss to the cheek he had slapped. “Pretty girl.”
That, was when your arm became a fist, knocking him straight in the nose. He roared out, feeling a bone click, before you jumped at him, pushing the man to the ground. A scream now emitted in your throat, slashing your nails against his face. He growled back, taking your wrists in his, twisting himself so he was hovering over you.
You were not having that. Using your legs, you kicked him violently in his area, seeing him squeak out. Now he was off guard, you lunged out, knocking him back. Before he could even stand out, you jumped around his middle, pulling him down, so he was locked on the floor.
What you didn’t notice, was his lack of air. Not before Rumlow shouted.
“Kid! Get off!” He took you around the waist, pulling you off, allowing Rogers to stand up. He brushed himself down, his dark eyes locked on your frame. That’s when you felt nervous. You slowly began to sink in Rumlow’s hold, For sure, he would strike you, but instead, a wicked smile appeared on his lips.
“She’s good. She can do this.” He notified, brushing his hand across his cheek, some faint blood being left on his hand. “Give her a night. I want her with me for training tomorrow.” He nods to you, before walking in the other direction, you watching his as he left.
Rumlow nodded, before taking you by the shoulders, and leading you back towards the door, and back to the cell.
Your nightmares, your past…it haunted you that night. Even after Hydra had wiped you, drugged you so many times, there were still little shards, clips of something you could never remember. A pale woman in a hospital bed, and your childish screams as you were yanked away from the arms of your father.
The worst ones were of the future; seeing yourself battered, bruised, whilst everybody laughed. Then, Rumlow would lift the the gun, and shoot you between the eyes.
You would wake up in a cold sweat, panting and gasping. Your eyes darted around the cell, seeing the small digital clock, reading it was almost 5 in the morning. Sighing, and the recognition that you would get no more sleep, you pulled yourself up, feeling the stone floor underneath your cold feet.
In the corner of the room, was the table where clothing laid. After yesterday, and the fight you had overpowered, your normal routine had been changed. Today, was slightly different. You were to go undercover as Alexander Pierce’s assistant. So, there was a miniskirt, shirt, heels and blazer awaiting. Rolling your eyes at the new attire, you await, eyes looking to the front.
A guard was near your cell, awake and alert. You didn’t stop, walking over and resting your hands on the metal bars. It only took a moment before he turned around, grinning.
“What do you want, kid?” He asked, keeping his gun dangling around his neck.
“A shower.” You retort, nodding over to the clothing. “Do you want my appearance to be good, or not?” The guard shakes his head, talking into the microphone for permission to take you to the shower room. After it’s granted, he tells you to pick up the clothing and follow him.
As always, you do. It’s only ever a short walk to the shower room, and when you’re in, you are left alone. Being a rare girl in the Hydra chain, you were to share the main shower block. There had only ever been one clash, and that was over. It didn’t mean anything.
The moment you were left alone, the hot water streamed, creating slight condensation in the room. The clothes were placed down on the bench, the sound of the shower dripping. You started stripping, removing the nightshirt, bottoms, and then underwear.
The hot water on your skin was soothing, as you let out a moan of pleasure. This was the last moment you would be able to relax for a while, before being on this mission, so, this was your time. Y/N Time. Nothing else-
“What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Your closed eyes and freedom were interrupted, as you turn to the source of the noise. There, was the blonde man from yesterday, Captain Rogers, standing, arms folded, fully naked. Taking this as an insult, you shook your head, turning your back, so your rear was now on display.
“Showering. The last relaxing moment I can have before a mission.” You retort, running your hands through your sodden hair. A scoff is heard, a lot closer than you expect.
The next thing you know, a muscular hand turns you around, pushing you back against the shower wall. His eyes darkened, a faint cut on his lip from the fight yesterday. His breath was deep, as he inched closer towards you, the fact both of you were naked not bothering him.
“You should be thanking me. Hydra would be fucking done with you-”
“What would you know?” You retort. “You’re only bought out of the ice when they need you. At least I’m doing something.”
“For Fuck’s Sake!” He shouts now, using one of his larger hands to wrap around the back of your neck. Lips are centimetres apart now, as his breath is rubbing on you, a slight mewl escaping your lips.
“Don’t ever. Ever. Say that to me.” He growls, a semi-hard on now breaching into your leg. Your mouth opens to talk, before he slams your lips on yours, forcing his tongue in. You fight it for a moment, knowing it’s bad, you could get shot. Instead, you melt, grabbing onto him as you push back, feeling his large hand rubbing against your exposed body.
When he pulls away, his eyes are almost black, his forehead resting against yours, hot water trickling over both of you.
“Are you gonna get this mission right? Stop Hydra wasting you?” Your hands move above your head, him using one of his to pin them there. To this, you nod.
“Good girl.” And he presses his lips back to yours.