#everything i did in this lab will be seeped in anger and pain

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bcbdrums]

Remember Me

AO3 | FFn

A Soul Eater story. Short missing scene from episode 40.

Inspired by this amazing fanart.

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Remember Me

"Will you remember me, after I'm gone?"

"What?"

Stein listens to the familiar way the response is voiced. Timbre high, breathy, with the final consonant punctuated just enough to add weight to the question. He can read the weapon's thoughts in that single word.

What does he mean by 'gone'? Why will he be gone? What will be the cause? And the meaning that grounds Stein to the moment the most—don't go.

"I think..." Stein continues, not answering the spoken nor the implied questions, "I would like to be remembered."

"Stein you're... It's... You're stronger than this. I know you are."

"Hmm," is the slightly sighing, slightly scoffing response Stein gives.

He begins to turn his head up from where it's set back against the wall, and the pain the movement causes brings him a greater awareness of the environment.

He is in the very back of his lab-home, in a small room little used except recently by Marie. Someone has drawn back the curtains that keep the world from getting inside, allowing sunlight to break through and illuminate the destruction his madness has wrought. Furniture overturned, objects torn apart, everything scattered across the floor as if a robber had broken in and a fight had ensued. And there is blood staining everything, because there is always blood.

Stein wonders what injuries will be revealed when he finally does try to move.

The skittering creatures and dark hands that threaten to squeeze the life from his throat have gone. So has the rain of blood that was nothing like the real thing now that he can see it before him. He's aware of a slight chill and realizes one shoulder of his coat has fallen down his arm, but he makes no motion to correct it. His glasses are gone too.

He wonders what brought him back this time, can't remember any specific word or action that did it. Only that the pressure, the madness, retreated suddenly. And then he became aware of a familiar, welcome soul at his side.

In his periphery, less than two feet distant on his right, he can see the dark trouser leg of the weapon standing next to him. He's not leaning against the wall but facing it instead, and Stein painfully tilts his head up just enough to see that Spirit has his left arm folded high on said wall and his forehead is rested against it. His eyes are closed and his face is twisted in anxiety.

Stein licks his lips, tastes drying blood. He stares.

If this is to be his last true moment of sanity, he wants to memorize every detail. He wants to recall the way Spirit's brows pinch together as they always do when he's stressed. The way the skin of his cheeks have paled indicating it's not anger that has his mouth twisted into a snarl. The way his hair just brushes his shoulders, and how that one longer strand falls across his face and yet never seems to bother him.

That hair. It's always been better, somehow, than the blood that Stein can feel seeping out of him in undiscovered wounds. Better than the trails of it he can see on the floor, than the dark stains of it on Spirit's cuff. Somehow Spirit's hair has had more life to it than blood ever can. Perhaps because it doesn't control life, the way blood does, so can never herald death. Or perhaps simply because it's so near his expressive eyes.

Stein suddenly blinks out of his study. Blood. On Spirit's cuff. He reaches out unthinkingly and touches it, so lightly that the weapon doesn't notice.

"Did I hurt you?"

Spirit opens his eyes, and Stein forgets where he is as clear teal eyes fix upon his face.

"No," Spirit replies with a slight shake of his head, and Stein believes him.

Spirit is staring down at him. Despite how expressive his eyes are, and despite how Stein spent the better part of five years simply staring at them, learning to the read them and know his weapon's thoughts... He doesn't know what Spirit is thinking.

"Will you...remember? Me?" Stein voices again, the words heavy with their years of memories, and he knows the look that enters the older man's eyes then.

Pain. Fear. Words he wants to say but holds back with his breath.

Spirit's lips part in silence, and when he does glance away he bites his lower lip and gives an uneasy sigh. Stein slowly sets his head back against the wall and lets his gaze drift over the room, to a panel of sunlight on the bloodstained floor.

It occurs to him then... This is the only time since Lord Death brought them back together that they've really been able to be alone, to talk as just themselves. Not as duty-bound meister and weapon, not as teachers at the academy, not as doctor and death scythe... But just them. He wonders if Spirit knows it too.

Of course, he thinks ironically, he has to barely have a hold on sanity for the conversation.

"If...if I say yes..." Spirit begins hesitantly, and Stein can't help the slight warmth that curls through him. Spirit could never deny him anything. "Will you promise me, Stein..."

Stein shifts slightly, focuses his gaze on Spirit's bright, unblinking eyes.

"Will you promise me you won't give up?"

For a moment all is still. And then the corners of Stein's mouth make an almost imperceptible turn upward.

As much as he has learned to read the weapon, likewise the older man knows exactly how to read him and follow the trail of his thoughts to every possible conclusion. And Spirit isn't wrong in what he is thinking.

A bitter ache settles over Stein's chest, because he knows now that that path is closed to him.

"I promise."

The choking darkness begins to lift, and the resolve in his own voice surprises him. But it shouldn't, really. After all, Stein could never deny Spirit anything.

Spirit doesn't turn, but he does reach down to where Stein is seated, his fingers lightly curled and hovering near the meister's shoulder. When Stein reaches up he's surprised to see blood on his knuckles, but then a vague memory of striking out at the creatures and the groping hands reminds him of the source of the small wounds. He wonders how the other more serious ones he can feel occurred while he was lost to the madness.

The touch, slight though it is, is like electricity. Warm and life-giving and making him believe he can at least try to follow through on the promise. He allows Spirit to help him to his feet, takes a moment to let the dizziness pass as he presses his hand to a wound at his hip, the act of standing causing it to re-open. He takes a slow breath through his nostrils and doesn't say anything.

"Let's ah...let's go back to the lab," Spirit says a little uncertainly, starting slowly for the corridor. He makes no move to release Stein's fingers, and the meister follows obediently. "Where's Marie?"

"She's..." Stein trails off as his brow furrows. Where is his other weapon?

In the doorway Spirit pauses, turns to look at him as he puzzles over the question. Stein listens to his sigh and doesn't need to look up to know disappointment will have joined the other emotions in the teal eyes.

"Have a seat," Spirit says, finally releasing the slight hold on Stein's fingers to gesture to the eyesore of a couch that Marie had placed in the great room of his office.

Stein swallows and slowly steps past Spirit, releasing the pressure on the wound in his side. He straightens his coat before sitting, hoping the weapon won't notice the more serious wound, and then tips his head to rest on the back of the couch and closes his eyes against the spinning of the room.

A multi-colored, multi-legged creature flickers through the blackness in his vision, and Stein opens his eyes again.

"I'm supposed to be reporting to Lord Death. I'll...see if I can find someone to clean up that room for you. All right?" Spirit says and starts to turn for the door.

"Spirit."

The meister is relieved to see his weapon stop immediately, turn on his heel and the muddle of emotions in his eyes melt away into nothing but concern. But the words Stein had been about to say have left him, his mind falling blank under the kind gaze from clear, teal eyes.

Apparently words aren't necessary as Spirit approaches the couch and kneels in front of him. A hand settles on his shoulder and Stein again feels the electricity, the warmth. Not a true resonance, because he doesn't dare expose Spirit to his mind the way it is, but just enough of a connection that he feels he can actually make good on his promise.

"Please." Again, the timbre of the weapon's voice rises. The word comes out on an exhale, and the end of the word is precise.

Stein simply stares, again memorizing as much as he can while his mind is his own. The crystalline intensity of teal that seems to stare straight into his soul. The feathery halo of red that perfectly frames gentle cheekbones and a strong jaw.

It's almost enough to banish the dancing of technicolor creatures that are beginning to swarm the edges of his vision again. Almost. But he ignores them if only for one last moment of clarity. One last look at his weapon.

"I..."

"Please, Stein. Don't give up! Try to fight it!"

Stein's voice is lost again, lost somewhere between the dark forest of hands that waver behind the protective shield that surrounds him with his weapon's presence, and behind the sincere care of a friend.

"I have to go... Just try. I'll come back."

Spirit's hand leaves his shoulder, taking the warmth with it. The creatures skitter closer and the dark hands eagerly surround the weapon as he retreats, moving past him and snaking slowly toward Stein. He draws his elbows up to the back of the couch as if readying to flee, but the rest of his body is as lead. Too weak to fight anymore. Except...

"I'll try," he echoes, and Spirit stops at the door and looks back at him one last time. Stein's gaze pierces beyond the eel-like arms coming closer and the bright things hovering near his feet to look at the grim set of the weapon's jaw. But his eyes rise higher, to a pair of narrowed, giant yellow eyes above the door and a forked tongue that flicks toward him suddenly.

His throat tightens, and he lowers his eyes anxiously to the weapon.

"I'll come back."

It's on that promise that Stein sets his hope as everything closes in. Spirit vanishes through the door, taking his radiance and sound mind with him, and then the whole of the lab wall seems to disappear to be replaced by three massive, ominous eyes arranged like rosebuds, red and twitching and bleeding evil that sings toward Stein with dark purpose.

The strange, dazzling creatures skitter upon the sofa toward his knees. The eyes blink and a static begins filling his ears, getting louder and louder until he can hear nothing but noise and the fearful hammering of blood in his ears. The forked tongue darts out of the swarm of arms to lick his face as the black hands get closer, only inches away now.

Stein closes his eyes to all of it. Pictures teal eyes and red hair, clings to the image. And as he feels the creatures attack and the hands close around his throat, before the madness can steal his breath fully, he parts his lips one last time.

"Remember me."

[morvaris-archive]

crave + aleksandr 👀

; NO PRINCE, NO KING, NO GOD

characters: aleksandr (oc), candy (oc)

word count: 6522 🤡

warnings: oof mentions of blood, death, also of burning and scientific experiments (all of this is described but not overly explicit), negative self-talk, a lot of negative thoughts in general, thoughts of self-harm, but he doesn't harm himself physically in any way. please, let me know if i missed anything.

also note: some lines (a few) are in russian, because sasha's first language is russian, and so is the person's speaking to him. the translation is under the fic, and i know it might ruin the experience, but it's more real for him this way.

He is in a trap he could never escape– it threatens to close on him, but it never really snaps shut, and the anticipation, the fear of it finally doing so when he least expects it is so much worse than the sharp pain shooting through his body; the concrete walls are closing in on him, the smell of chemicals in the air is so strong he can taste it on his tongue. 

Sasha’s sitting in the pool of his own blood; the edges of his lab coat are torn, the pieces of it are drowning in the red liquid that covers not only the floor, but the walls as well. It seeps through the cracks, clinging to his back, his legs, his face.

The green of his eyes is lifeless, dull. He grips a scalpel in his hand without realising that the blade is digging into his hand, breaking skin, tearing him. Open and raw. The blood from the newly made wound drips down, and he paints the whole place red one more time. 

Sasha has no one to blame for ending up like this other than himself. The thought causes him to swallow a lump in his throat, and it feels like he’s chewing on glass. Failure after failure, and the progress has gone nowhere since day one, but there's no resentment, no anger and sadness as strong as it was in his early days. Instead, he feels dreadfully empty.

Empty and rotting on the inside, the living corpse with the single purpose in his life that he can't achieve, can’t even grasp. It would be a funny joke, if it would’ve been about anyone else. He's nothing, and he will always be nothing, even in death. 

And why did he think death would change everything? After all, it’s not the turning point everyone thinks it is– it’s bleak, and it feels like falling and freezing mid air, never reaching the ground. Being stuck is just another kind of torture.

He wants to fall finally, to see the ground getting closer and closer, to feel his breath stutter as he nears the end. To feel something change. But he is stagnating, has been for over fifty years now, and it became a struggle to pretend otherwise, for putting up an act gets old at some point even in one’s long, long life. It’s not a routine if it makes him terrified of what he’ll see next time he looks in the mirror. 

Something clatters on the ground as he tries to stand up, but his foot slips on the blood, his and the dead man's on the operating table, and he falls down again. Collapsing onto the many tools that were supposed to help him reach his success, to achieve something he craved for so long, but now they lay on the dirty floor with him. The lab that once felt like haven, now reeks of failure. 

Defeated, all Sasha can do is watch and be watched and judged by his many, many mistakes in the face of the vampire laying in front of him. His legs are still strapped, but one of the hands hangs free, claws glinting, covered in Sasha’s vitae. His mouth is open, teeth bared in a silent threat even after the final death has taken him, but it’s not what has Sasha’s attention. It’s his eyes. 

Open wide, staring, full of hatred. 

There was a fire in him, and as Aleksandr was planning to use him as his playground, the man managed to strike, to catch him off guard because he got too cocky. It has never been a problem before. They've never put up a real fight for he could bend their minds however he wanted. But it seems that he fell victim to his own delusions– his own mind deceived itself, twisting the reality to fit Sasha’s desires. And now he paid the price, but it’s not the physical way that matters. 

The wounds will heal as soon as he gets some blood in his system. He doesn't feel pain, however, he feels nothing, and he lets out a helpless snort. It echoes in the hollow room, bouncing from one wall to another. The snort quickly turns into a quiet broken laugh, which erupts into a fit of laughter as the void expands within him, consuming his still heart. 

He laughs and he laughs until his vision is clouded by tears, and he feels his cheeks getting wet. Sasha can’t help it– the irony isn’t lost on him. The man, who thought himself a king, has fallen to his knees in front of those he considered were lesser than him. He's no king, he’s no Prince, he’s just dirt under someone's shoe. Nothing has changed, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

Ты просто трус, Саша.*

What?

The voice strikes him like an electric shock, and the pain he wasn’t feeling before hits him in a sudden crashing wave. His muscles and sinews tense, the lab becomes a mix of red and white with black clouding the edges of his vision. Maybe it’s his delusions, or frenzy creeping in, but he can hear a frantic heartbeat in his ears. The pang of fear makes his hands shake, he needs to get away, away, away. 

“Я не..” His protest is weak, voice laced with terror, and Sasha isn’t even sure if he really said it out loud, but it doesn’t matter, because it does nothing to soothe his mind– it only makes his attempts to calm down fail, makes everything much more real. 

Ты был готов бежать, как только он вырвался.** 

Gritting his teeth, he throws his head back, banging it against a wall hard. In an attempt to wish everything away, Sasha raises his hands to his face to rub his eyes until he sees white spots behind his eyelids, but he halts his movement mid way once he sees the blood on them. His blood, when it was supposed to be other's. He wasn't supposed to bleed anymore, he has the power in his hands to make sure of it.

Or so he thought. Foolishly. 

Ты был готов бежать, когда твоя попытка убить Кэнди провалилась.***

Candy.

He snaps his eyes away from his hands, pulls his mind away from falling into a trap as he hears their name. It’s familiar, and he uses this familiarity as an anchor to snap out of the paralysing fear. Sasha grips on to their name, trying to claw his way out as the remainder of his consciousness clings into it, frantically. 

He needs them near, needs to hear their voice, grounding him, bringing him back to reality, assuring him that the last six years were real, and he didn’t make it all up to hide from his past. Patting the pockets of the lab coat weakly, he ends up with yet another disappointment as he finds nothing. 

With his throat tight, he lifts his eyes, trying to locate the phone, but the hiss slips past his lips when he is blinded by the bright lights of the lab. They force him to keep his head low and bowed, suppressing the fight that ignites in his system. 

Sasha slumps further, shielding himself from the main source of irritation. He tries again, just barely raising his head to look over the room again, ignoring the broken glass and the dead kindred. It’s hard to find a single thing, when everything spirals so fast, but he manages to spy it laying on the other side of the room. 

Encouraged by the barely there hope, Sasha jolts upright too fast, causing his head to spin and almost falling again in the process. His legs are wobbly, and his knuckles are pale as his grip on the table he used to get up tightens. Slowly, moving one feet in front of another, he stumbles towards his destination.

Ты умер трусом - трусом и остался.**** 

But once he stood up, he quickly realised his mistake. His condition becomes so much worse; the dull headache erupts, and his head is just about ready to explode– the buzz in his ears, the dull ache where the vein in his temple throbs almost makes him scream, and maybe he does yelp for mercy, but it gets stuck in his throat as he chokes on his own blood. 

The hunger overwhelms him completely, and for a moment Sasha is convinced everything is lost, and the Beast will take over when the black in his eyes turns red. He is starving, and it’s spreading through his body like an infection, making his veins itch. Getting under his skin, twisting his guts, brutal shocks rattle his brain to scratch it away, to hurt, to open his skin wide until it’s all gone. 

Forcing these thoughts away becomes harder and harder by the second, but he drags his weak body forward, to the only lifeline he has at the moment. Sasha tries to reason with himself to not give up– Candy will help him, they won’t leave him like this. Right? 

When he finally reaches the table, his body has become so heavy that his limbs feel like useless blocks of ice, and he must’ve bitten his tongue at some point, because the taste on it is strong and coppery. Sasha can barely fight the hunger as his mind surrenders piece by piece.

He grips the phone tight, vision going dark as he barely manages to dial Candy’s number from memory. The ringing echoes in his ears loudly like klaxons wailing in his skull, and it’s downright agonising– the sharpness of it sets every nerve in his body on fire, makes his skin crawl, and he is half-prompted to hang up just to stop this, but his thoughts are pleading.

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

Then, finally. “Who the fu–” 

“Candy.” Sasha’s voice is broken, choked in his throat. It’s nothing more than a pitiful croak in the thunderstorm that is taking place in his head, and he has never felt so small, so weak. Pathetic. But he doesn’t care how he sounds to them right now– there’s not a second of silence in his head, and it’s like sirens going off and off. One after another.

Sasha hears them moving on the other end of the line, Candy’s tone quickly changes from one of annoyance to one of urgency. It’s sharp, heavy with concern and concealed emotion. “Sasha? What happened? Are you hurt?” 

“I–” Sasha stops mid-word, hypnotised by the splatter of scarlett on the surface of the table. There’s blood, and it’s not his. The hunger roars, screaming at him to take, to have that blood on his tongue, to lick it away with all the dirt and glass. To swallow it, and hurt and hurt and hurt. It pains him physically to draw his focus away, gritting his teeth with so much force they might shatter. “I am at the hospital. Can–”

They don’t let him finish, and he thinks he can make out the sound of them putting their jacket on. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Sasha can’t understand half of the words they are saying as all of them blur together, but he still focuses on the sound of their voice, firm and secure with a slight edge of anxiety to it. He lets it pull him in, and it’s gentler than the other sounds, not as deafening. He wants to say something to urge them to keep them talking, but they beat him to it. “Do you need me to stay on the phone while I’m on my way?”

“Yes,” Sasha breathes the single word out even before Candy finishes their sentence. The weight drops from his body as Candy doesn’t mention how pleading his own voice is, almost on the verge of begging, how vulnerable. They simply continue to talk, bringing him to the current and keeping him there as best as they can. 

“Yeah, okay.” Candy doesn’t wait too long to say something else, probably sensing how easy it is for Sasha to lose the fragile control he has. He’s pushing everything back even if it threatens to send him spiralling again, even if surrender would be so much easier. “Just stay where you are, I’m already in the car.” 

He doesn’t know if he replies when everything goes fuzzy again. Sasha hears them at the edges of his consciousness, talking about something– nothing and everything. They call out his name occasionally, to ground him by saying something familiar, something fundamentally his. 

The world around him sways, – or maybe it’s him sinking to the floor again – his knees hit something sharp, causing his teeth to close on his lip, tearing the skin. The feeling makes him wince and take a sharp intake of air, which burns through his lungs. 

But why is he even breathing? He doesn’t need to, but the shallow breaths he lets out only prove that fact that he doesn’t want to admit to himself– he is scared. So, so scared. He presses the hand on to his chest hard, almost feeling the bone shift and crack, but he doesn’t care. He needs to stop breathing– he shouldn’t be scared anymore. 

Blood trickles down his face and neck, under his collar, on the floor, and with each breath he takes it gets into his nose and mouth. Sasha feels like he’s about to collapse completely, face down on the floor, and it takes all of his remaining willpower to stay somewhat upright on his knees. 

As he waits for the Beast to take him, all he can do is wrap his arms around himself. Everything around him goes dark; Candy’s voice is drowned by the cacophony in his head.

He isn’t scared, no.

He is terrified.

He doesn’t remember much from there. Which is petrifying on its own– feeling the control sleep between his fingers, trying to latch onto it, but failing again and again and again. Sasha can only sit still as he’s losing the only thing he was sure of before with calm acceptance. 

The lab was clouded by the fog of pain and exhaustion, the strong metallic taste in the air keeps his mind afloat even when he wants to succumb to sweet nothingness. Cruelly keeping him half-awake, half-unconscious, it repeated the events of the day like a movie for him to watch until he’s sick of it. And he is, but it still doesn’t stop. It never does. 

At some point it got too tiring to fight for control over his mind. Desperately clawing on to the whatever is left of his humanity with bleeding fingers and broken nails became too much too soon. As he let go, his vision that was hazy around the edges was now completely black; the sounds that had been tortuously loud for so long seemed to dim after another minute passed. 

Surrender didn’t feel as harrowing as he thought it would, instead, it felt like he was floating in the endless freezing space. No stars around, no light– only cold and darkness. Falling into the arms of the beast was mind-numbing: he couldn’t think, he couldn’t stop. Sasha was ready to be eaten alive by his own mind, but – fortunately or unfortunately – it never happened. 

He was taken by the collar and pulled back to reality, cruelly and fast, too fast, please leave me be, please, when Candy entered the lab like a tempest. The veil over his eyes lifted, and he saw them reaching out without sparing the dead vampire a single glance. They put themself between him and the embodiment of his failure, blocking his view completely. Candy was saying something to him – or was it him who was talking? – but he was still submerged in the nightmare that was way too palpable; he wanted to listen, but he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Next spark of consciousness rattled his brain when he felt the insipid blood breaching his lips; he opened his mouth for it at first like a man starved, but as soon as he swallowed the first drop of it, the nausea overtook him– it tasted like cardboard and chalk. Bile burned in the back of his throat, and he almost spat it all out, but Candy persisted. They brought the blood pack to his lips again, forcing him to drink it no matter how much he wanted to kick and push it away. 

Sasha heard Candy’s reassuring but commanding voice, there was no anger in it, no malice or censure, but it was an order, and in the end he obeyed. As he always did, he was beaten into obedience long before they came into his life. Gripping their wrist tight, he drank and drank until the pack was empty. 

After the blood made it through his body, everything became sharp again. The cold bite of metal, the excruciating feeling of his bones getting in place, the itch from his flesh knitting itself back slowly; wound after wound, his skin healed. His mind, however, was still slippery; the supernova of sounds and thoughts made him press the heels of his palms to his ears in hopes of everything finally being quiet. 

The storm died down slightly as Candy’s fingers ran across his jaw, down to his arms, checking for any remaining injuries. It was the only truly solid thing he remembers. Their hold was supportive, secure as they threw one of his arms across their shoulders, helping him stand and keeping him upright.

The ride home was a hurricane of blue and orange lights, and it almost made another wave of long forgotten memories to surface– the deep destructive orange of flames, the blue of the sky that was painted grey by the suffocating smoke. The heat, the scars, the grinding bones and burning flesh would make him tople in anxiety if not for his body feeling so heavy, so numb. 

In search of an anchor, Sasha found the blue of Candy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, their eyes were bright, too bright, too blue, but it wasn’t the same deep cobalt that made his fight or flight instinct act up again. Rather the light colour of the sky after a summer rain, cool and refreshing. 

He watched the lights dance across their eyes, closing his own peacefully.

When Sasha awakens fully it’s to someone else’s hands on him, leading him somewhere. It makes his wake less than gentle– it’s as if a bucket of freezing cold water is dumped on him. The million questions invade his brain; where is he? With whom? And where are they taking him? 

He’s like a panicked animal, ready to fight and claw, scrape the walls to get away, to escape, to run. Sasha knows there’s no other way to do so other than engaging in a fight, physical one. The powers of his blood are worthless at the moment, and using them will leave him in a worse state than his opponent. With that in mind, the muscles in his body tense as he readies himself to strike, and if he manages to attack at the right time, to catch them off guard– 

“If you punch me now, we’ll both fall down the stairs, and I won’t drag your ass up them again.” The person’s voice is unimpressed, and when Sasha lifts his head he’s met with the glare Candy’s throwing his way. They raise an eyebrow at him, and despite the hardness in their eyes, he instantly feels better. Though he doubts he knows what better feels like at the moment. “One time is more than enough.”  

With a groan, Sasha tiredly moves his legs along with theirs as they support him, but they at least listen to him now, and he can take a step without falling like a ragdoll. Even if it was the case, Candy’s arm around his waist is strong, and they would catch him if he stumbles. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s too dry, and all that he can manage is a coughing fit. Patiently, Candy stops to let him find his footing again. When speaking doesn’t feel like a challenge anymore, he wets his lips before trying again, completely ignoring the way Candy’s thumb is stroking soothing circles through his clothes. “You know, laying down anywhere sounds pretty good right now.” 

Candy snorts at that, and Sasha looks away with a small tired smile. He tilts his head to the side, and it gives him the chance to finally look around. His previous panic was pointless as it turns out, because he actually knows this place– they are near his apartment door. Sasha immediately relaxes, the feeling of familiarity eases the nerves. They are home, he is safe. Or as safe as he can be at least. 

When they reach the door, Candy rests him against a wall carefully, hovering their hands over him for a second more, just to make sure he won’t fall again. Sasha scowls, jaw set stubbornly. 

He hates this helplessness and the ache of despair that makes his stomach twist. He loathes how pitiful he must look right now. He despises how he still longs for them to support him, to take him in his arms. Their embrace is lighter than the one of the Beast inside him. 

When he glances at them, he sees no pity, only the furrow of their brow– are they concerned? Or as confused as he is? Sasha isn’t sure.

Candy banishes the expression of their face as quickly as it came, and they distract themself by looking around for the keys. Their movements are slow, methodical, like they always are– they know for sure where the keys are and which one opens the lock. Once they get them out, Candy spares him one last look before they open the door in a smooth motion. 

Once it’s done, they make sure he sees them approaching him, outstretching their arms to wrap them around his lean body again. He just nods absentmindedly; the uncertainty ties a knot in his stomach, he doesn’t know how to feel about how careful they are with him– they are never this deliberate, but they also don’t treat him like he’s fragile.

The apartment is silent, the air is cool against Sasha’s damp skin. It’s dark inside, the dimmed light that is coming from the kitchen does nothing to illuminate the room. Because of that, both of them almost trip on the shoes that are tossed around near the entrance. 

Sasha’s lips quirk up as he realises they were in a hurry to reach him. He knew they would.

“Home, sweet home.” He croaks, trying his best to appear flippant as if he wasn’t curled in a ball on the dirty floor just an hour ago. He knows they see right through him – it’s not hard to do so right now with how emotionless his voice is – but they still chuckle as they kneel in front of him to take his shoes off. 

“Just don’t get blood everywhere again.” Candy bites back as they always do, and it’s not entirely mean-spirited– there’s a spark of amusement in their eyes, but their muscles are tense, movements rigid. 

He barks out a quiet laugh at that, but it’s different from the fit of laughter that took hold of him earlier, when he was in the clutches of his own mind– it’s gentler, more genuine, and it helps to keep him in the moment. This talk brings a sense of normality, and he revels in it, throwing his head back, exposing his throat. “Wow, Candy, what a way to greet someone home.”

“Well excuse me for not professing my undying love for you the second I dragged you here all bloodied.” Candy retorts without missing a beat. Both of them know this game, and right now Sasha is grateful that they are here with him for he can almost pretend that the previous accident has never happened. “I'll do better next time.”

“You better.” He agrees with a grin, earning a light smack on the leg. 

Candy stands up, helping Sasha to his feet. He leans into them harder than necessary, but they don’t complain, so he stays like that. When they guide him to the bathroom, Sasha avoids his reflection in the mirror; the sharp, pale colours of the room help him with that as they sear his eyes. He doesn’t want to see a ghostly look in his eyes, the ashy skin. 

He’s grateful when Candy ushers him to sit on a bathtub edge, interrupting his trail of thoughts. They gently reach to his neck to take off the jewellery that sits around it– a small silver feather on a thin chain. Sasha doesn't protest when they do; in a way it feels like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Everything around him holds some sort of connection to his past, and he just wants to be in a vacuum with nothing else around. 

Candy’s hand on his arm brings him back. As they pass a critical once-over his roughed up figure, their mouth turns downwards. Sasha’s not injured anymore, but he looks like hell– all bloodied with clothes torn. 

After another moment of silent examination passes, they finally speak. “Take your clothes off.”

Now, he could just silently obey, and do as they asked, but it wouldn’t really be him, would it? Sasha might be beat up, but he didn’t have a personality switch; he absolutely can’t let the opportunity like this slide; so he glances at them, his lips twitching. “You just want to see me naked, don’t you?”

“Relax, pretty boy. You can barely stand.” Candy rolls their eyes, the slightest smirk graces their lips, but they don’t linger on it too long. Always moving, always fidgeting when nervous, they settle on drawing him a bath. 

“Yeah well,” Sasha shrugs, grinning sharply. This close, their shoulders are brushing slightly, and they don’t move as he chases them some more; they just glance at him out of the corner of their eyes, gaze strangely unreadable. “I don’t need to stand to show you a good time.” 

Candy actually laughs at that. A short, harsh and rasping sound from low in their throat. Whatever heavy thoughts were plaguing them before, seem to have gone away. “If your definition of a good time doesn’t involve you taking a shower any time soon then I’ll pass.” 

“You are breaking my heart, I’ll have you know.” 

“You’ll live.”

The banter dies down as they shut the water off; eerie silence settles over the room with single droplets of water interrupting it occasionally, but it’s anything but silent in his brain. Loud, running thoughts are bouncing off the walls of his skull, and they haven’t stopped ever since he brought the man down to the basement. 

Weighted down by his thoughts, Sasha doesn’t notice when Candy starts to remove his shirt. He goes to help them, but his fingers are so numb it’s hard to undo even a single button, but he still persists, gritting his teeth. At some point he wants to just take it off over his head, but Candy insists they unbutton it, saying something along the lines of you’ll whine about that shirt being ruined tomorrow, you and I both know it. 

When the clothes are taken care of, Sasha gets into the bathtub with the water just about reaching his waist. It's pleasantly warm, but to his freezing body it seems hot, suffocatingly so. The heat makes his chest raise rapidly, and he makes a mistake of glancing down. 

The water turns pale red – more pink than scarlett – from the blood. It bubbles to the surface, small waves carry around the streamers of blood. The light overhead flickers, and for a moment he is in the lab again, staring in the black abyss of the man’s dead endless eyes.  

Sasha tenses, curling forward into himself, trying to run away from it all. Instead, it all comes rushing down onto him again– the dimly lit space with more than two shadows around, the shattered glass and dreams, the large sharp claws tearing his skin, the feeling of him taking deep gurgling breath, feeling his own blood going down his throat. 

“...okay?” 

There’s a voice echoing around him, and Sasha raises his head violently, looking like a deer in the headlights, pupils blown and gaze slightly manic. For a moment he sees the dead body on a stretcher, but now it’s him who’s lying there. Lifeless, rotting. 

The words - or is it a scream? A shout? - get strangled in his throat, and all that leaves his lips is a choked cry. He blinks the vision away, and he sees Candy with a washcloth in their hand. 

Their eyes are warry, with a spark of urgency to them, but they make no attempt to get closer. They sit back on their heels, simply watching him, a faint furrow between their brows as they lower their hands slowly as if afraid to spook him. 

He wonders what they see. How does he look to them now? Weak? Pathetic? Unable to take a beating? 

When Candy speaks next, their voice is soft, but they still keep their distance, and he’s more than grateful even if he curses himself for reacting in such a way. Sasha doesn’t know what he would do if they touched him now without any warning. “Are you okay?” 

He doesn’t know. “Yes. Fuck, I–”

There’s something pleading in his voice, and he isn’t even sure what he wanted to say– maybe an apology or maybe an excuse. But his eyes express everything his mouth can’t; he seeks, begs for understanding, and Candy is merciful for they grant it to him.

They lift a hand in the air, signalling him that he doesn’t need to explain himself. “Don’t. Just– Can I touch you? I want to wash the blood away.” 

Sasha nods slowly, letting out a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. Candy makes a low approving sound in the back of their throat as they get closer again. Their movements are slow so he would be aware of everything they are doing, but he doesn’t feel alarmed. Not this time. 

Gently, Candy brings the washcloth to his skin. He still flinches at first, but soon after his body starts to melt under their touch. Taking a shaky breath, he relaxes, the tension in his limbs slowly leaves, vanishing into the dark, scarlett water. 

As their fingers trace over his body, they leave a trail of comfort, solace. Sasha lets himself close his eyes, lets himself simply be in the moment, focusing on the feeling of soft fabric of the washcloth, on their smooth skin against his. 

He’s weightless when they take his hands in theirs to clean the dried blood and skin behind his nails; it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s unfamiliar– they’ve been close before, they’ve seen each other’s naked bodies, but this is the intimacy they have never shared earlier. 

And how much he enjoys it is even more unexpected.

He cracks his eyes open when he hears the shower being turned on; his hair getting heavier when Candy wets it carefully. The water lingers on his eyelashes, slowly falling and trickling down his cheeks. They take some shampoo in their hands and massage his scalp, untangling the knots in his hair, wary of pulling on it too harshly. 

The sheer gentleness of their touch, their smell, their presence make him finally feel secure. It’s a dangerous feeling for he has taught himself to be ready for an attack, for a knife in his back, so he would always have an advantage. 

He doesn’t want them to let go, but all good things end eventually no matter how much he wishes otherwise. As they rinse the remaining shampoo and clean his body one final time, Sasha can feel them leaving his side. He wants to stop them, but he just slamps back, twisting his hands together.

As Candy gets up, they silently offer him a helping hand. He accepts just as silently, gripping their hand and using it to stand up. They can handle his weight easily enough, and the world is momentarily spinning when Candy hauls him to his feet. 

The floor is icy against his feet, a puddle of water forming underneath him. Candy turns to take some fresh towels, placing one over his shoulders. Another one they use for drying his hair. Sasha leans into their touch, tilting his head forward and clasping the towel in his hands tightly.

They step back, passing an examining look over him. Satisfied with what they see, they nod, mostly to themself, as they say. “I’ll go get some clothes for you. Dry yourself off a bit.”

The peaceful silence that covered him like a comforter evaporates the second Candy exits the bathroom. The blood comes rushing in his ears, thoughts cloud his mind like a swarm of deadly insects, stinging him again and again. Sasha grasps the bathroom edge so hard it might crack under pressure. 

He looks down, shaking his head with a tight-lipped smile crossing his face. It wasn’t just a delusion in the clutches of the Beast, it wasn’t the strike of adrenaline in the face of a threat of hunger overtaking him. Sasha truly was scared. He still is.   

Frozen in place, Sasha remembers the voice that was speaking to him through the veil of frenzy. He tears his gaze off the floor and turns to find his reflection. The mirror is slightly foggy when he looks in it, his shape is distorted, shadowy almost, but he can still see his eyes glistening in the bright room, and for just a second he stares in the eyes that are not his own.

Taunting, cruel eyes stare at him across the pyre, screaming at him a single word– coward.

No. Sasha's not a coward anymore, he's not the person he was, not the person he had to be before to survive. He fought, he killed to earn the place he has now, and he will have much more. And he will burn everyone who stands in his way, watching their flesh peel off their bones, slowly and agonisingly.

He did so once, he could easily do so again. 

He might not be a Prince, but he has never wanted to be one. He might now have the power of a King, but it doesn’t matter– Sasha doesn’t need it, he’ll have so much more with time. Why settle for something so insignificant, when he'll be able to achieve the might that will rival the Gods’. 

He won’t be at the feet of those at power again, never again. His sire has paid the price and so will the Camarilla– he will make them all bow to him, every single one of them; his face will be the last thing they see before they die at his hands. Before they see what he has become.

Submerged deep in his thought, Sasha doesn’t hear Candy enter the room at first; he sees their silhouette in the mirror next to his, tall and dark, they stand there and they fit. The puzzle in his head clicks. 

He can share his future triumph– he’s not that selfish after all, but not with everyone, no; he’s worked too hard to just throw it to the world. But Sasha will offer it to Candy, and if they agree to work with him, then it will be their victory. Both of them went through enough, and existing only to survive won’t be their final point, they will feast and feast and then they’ll thrive.

Greed is something that can be shared. 

The pile of clothes in their hands reminds Sasha that he didn’t dry himself as they asked, but they don’t question it, simply laying the clothes on the washing machine near him. Giving him some privacy, Candy turns to clean the bathtub from the red still sitting at the bottom, clinging to the white of the room. As they clean it up, it feels like the events of the night are being washed away as well. 

Clothes are more than uncomfortable when Sasha finally puts them on. The remaining water on his body makes the fabric cling to him, making him purse his lips. It’s like he’s caged again with how constructive it is. His fingers dig into both the clothing and his skin, his grip is threatening to rip it apart, fibre by fibre. Sasha’s almost set on doing so just to drive away that feeling, when Candy’s hand on his wrist interrupts him, tugging it away. 

They are gentle, painfully so– there’s no usual force to their touch, no biting words and taunting jokes as they reprimand him, no harshness in their eyes as they look over him to make sure they’ve cleaned all of the blood from his exhausted and fragile body, to make sure he is alright and safe. 

Sasha blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat and looking away the second Candy meets his eyes. There’s something in the way they are looking at him, in the softness of their hand as they lay it on his cheek like they are trying to reassure themself that he is real and he is here, with them. Like they were scared for him. 

Candy’s fingers trace the outline of his lip, delicately removing a droplet of water, and Sasha’s grip eases as he leans into their touch eagerly, chasingly. His body relaxes, mind calms; the storm is gone and now they are here to see the sunrise. 

Sasha reaches for their waist, hands wrapping around Candy tightly, bringing them to him, needing them as close as possible– under his very skin, into his ribcage, making his dead heart beat. He feels himself drowning in them as he grazes his lips against their pulse point, and he doesn’t want to emerge to take a breath, instead he wants to sink to the bottom of their embrace and stay like this– together. 

His world is zero focused on them now, on how they stand in front of him, shielding him. Protecting him. Sasha’s mind is set, clear for the first time tonight– he’ll ask them tomorrow, he will show them everything he’s been doing, they won’t turn on him, he’s sure of it. 

Candy reaches for his hair, softly running their fingers through it, tracing the skin on his neck, prompting him to close his eyes and all but stumble into them. They let him fall, but they’ll be there to catch him. Pressing their lips to his temple, they whisper softly without breaking the moment. “I am here, you are safe now.”

Sasha’s nose is cold against them as he nuzzles the skin of their neck, and he tilts his head some more, tucking himself under their chin. He presses into Candy almost desperately, nails digging into them; Don’t leave glows against their skin. 

“Thank you.” Whispered in the dark. 

TRANSLATION:

*You’re just a coward, Sasha. 

**You were ready to run as soon as he broke free. 

***You were ready to run when your attempt to kill Candy failed. 

****You died a coward, and you remain a coward. 

[byunmyeon]

Philophobia

↳ pairing: lee suho x reader

↳ synopsis: in a world where a red string connects soulmates, everyone knows who they belong with. except you, who hasn’t been able to see your string since you were a kid.

↳ warnings: language (like one word), a copious amount of angst and heartbreak

— note: there’s a serious lack of suho fics out there so I decided to write my own. lmk if you guys want me to write a second part!

There was something inexplicably eerie about being the new girl in a school that was twice the size of your old one. Not because it was an unfamiliar setting, nor was it because you were painfully shy and terrible at making friends. It wasn’t even your disparaging insecurities that had you feeling so shook. No, it was something you couldn’t put your finger on, something you couldn’t begin to name. A discomfort you could feel all the way down to your bones.

Your inordinate unease swelled into full blown panic with every step you took toward your new classroom. Somewhere in your unorganized mind, you could hear your mom’s reassuring voice. Everything will be okay. You didn’t know if her words held any truth, but you really, really, really hoped she was right. You were being stupid, honestly. There was nothing to fear, but you couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling from your stature. Despite all the undesirable emotions you felt, your breathing was normal and your heartbeat was steady.

It took you a minute to gather yourself. You could do this.

After a very ineffectual pep talk, you finally got your feet to move. Your eyes were cast down as you entered the classroom. The rowdy classroom went silent once your presence became known. You swallowed the nerves and chanced a glance at your new classmates. The reactions were a mixture of curiosity and disinterest.

When your teacher introduced you to the class, you decided to really look at your new classmates. Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, one stuck out. An unnaturally attractive face belonging to an unfamiliar boy. His stare was strange. It was full of an intensity you couldn’t comprehend. You kept staring, in spite of yourself. Fuck. Was it possible for someone to be so attractive?

The clapping of your classmates pulled you back into reality. You were quick to look elsewhere, unable to understand the sudden lurch of your heart.

Suho couldn’t take his eyes off the new girl, more specifically, the string neatly wrapped around her index finger. He watched her carefully. The shy smile she wore was annoyingly adorable, and it made a foreign warmth spread across his chest and along his entire body. The new girl didn’t spare him another glance as she took her seat next to Jugyeong.

Lim Jugyeong.

He wasn’t her soulmate and she wasn’t his, but she was the girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart. That wasn’t about to change because some stranger who he was supposedly meant to be with came into his life with no warning.

Suho looked back to the front of the classroom without looking at the new girl again.

The first time it happened, you wrote it off as fatigue. After all, you had just started middle school and trying to keep up with your new workload as well as your budding social life was exhausting. That day, the color of your string had faded a bit, but it was still visible. By the time you were on your way home it disappeared for a mere second before regaining its color. Days later, it was completely gone.

When your mom first found out you could no longer see your string, she became extremely distraught. It had affected her more than it did you, honestly. She wasted no time in taking you to see countless specialists and psychologists. Anything to keep you from becoming a freak that didn’t know who they were meant to be with. She unknowingly made you feel exactly like that.

Apparently, you were a rare case because every person you went to for help wanted to conduct a study on you and your condition. Fortunately for you, your mom didn’t want you becoming a lab rat and decided to stop seeking out help from strangers. Left with no other option, you went to one person who she believed could help you. An old friend of hers.

He wasn’t a specialist, just a regular doctor who came to the conclusion that a deep, scarring trauma had caused you to no longer see your string. You could remember the heartbreak on your mom’s face because you both knew what that trauma was.

Your mom did her best to help you. Spending more time together and countless hours of therapy did nothing for your condition. Nothing worked. You became convinced that trying to see your string again was futile.

And you were right.

As time went on, you grew used to the unease that had latched itself onto you on that first day. The feeling in your bones settled in like an unwelcome guest who refused to leave. No matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Eventually, you gave up trying.

However, something shifted when you crossed paths with Lee Suho.

You two had been put in the same group for a science lab. His attention had been solely on Lim Jugyeong, but there were times when your eyes would meet. Those milliseconds were just that, but to you they felt like an eternity. He rarely addressed you, but when he did, you could feel the pressure weighing on your bones fade bit by bit. That familiar feeling soon shifted into a more comfortable presence that you yearned to feel forever.

It was subtle, but at some point, Suho’s emotionless face changed. The change would last for no more than a second, but it always did when he looked at you. That change had your entire stature seeping with warmth. You vaguely recognized the feeling as something akin to infatuation.

It scared you.

Of course, the possibility that he might be your soulmate crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed that thought.

Too many times had you gotten in trouble for insisting someone was your soulmate when they really weren’t. Any special bond or feelings that grew between you and someone else couldn’t always be interpreted as the ones between soulmates. You learned that the hard way.

Besides, your soulmate would make it clear to name themselves as such even if you couldn’t see the string.

At least, you hoped they would.

Philophobia.

Before you went into high school, your mom insisted you see one last psychologist with the promise that the one she found was different. Reluctantly, you went to see this woman who diagnosed you with this absurd illness. You felt like it was made up, but your mother was adamant that you did have it.

You knew she only thought that because you had told her you no longer had any interest in finding your soulmate. Her panic was unrivaled after hearing those words come out of your mouth. You wrote off her panic because your disinterest in soulmates was only natural. How could it not when—at the time—it was all your friends could talk about? Talk about being the odd man out.

Okay, and maybe you also weren’t keen on meeting new people because of the fear that they could easily ignore the string you couldn’t see. There was also the fear that if you ever did meet someone you wanted to spend your life with, they could end up not being your soulmate and vice versa.

But those feelings would all fade with time, you were sure.

Hanging out near the back of the school where no one ever went became a regular thing for you. It was the one spot where you didn’t have to worry about your soulmate or anything related to that—a safe place. Until it wasn’t.

“You can’t just ignore the bond you have with her.”

The angry voice was one you vaguely recognized. You peeked around the corner, eyes widening when you saw Han Seojun and Lee Suho in the middle of what appeared to be an argument.

“Why are you bringing that up?” Suho’s eyes narrowed. “Do you still like Jugyeong?”

Seojun’s gaze hardened. “It’s not about that.”

It was wrong to listen on what was clearly meant to be a private conversation, but your feet wouldn’t move. You could see Suho’s anger and irritation from your hiding place, and for some reason seeing him that way made a blistering discomfort latch itself onto your chest.

“You’re being unfair to Jugyeong and Y/N.”

The mention of your name had your insides twisting into an uncomfortable knot. You didn’t understand why or how you had anything to do with the discussion, but you had a feeling the reason wasn’t anything good.

“Just because she’s my soulmate doesn’t mean I owe her anything.”

There was a sharp pain in your chest, one that grew into a searing pain as the seconds ticked by. You might’ve cried out in pain had it not been for the shock that consumed you. In a sudden instant, your vision became blurred with tears as you staggered back. His words were the worst form of torture, like a piece of barbed wire that wrapped itself around your heart.

Your fate was a cruel one, forever bound to someone who refused to acknowledge the bond between you two. Lee Suho was your soulmate, but he didn’t want to be.

It was a cruel reality to have your worst nightmare come to life.

“Is it true?”

Suho raised an eyebrow at you. His gaze didn’t soften like it once did. Now it just remained impassive, almost annoyed. The cold look he was giving you was making you regret even coming to him in the first place.

“Are you really my soulmate?”

“Why are you acting like you don’t know?” Suho’s unaffected stare unsettled you. “You’ve known since the first time we saw each other.”

But you hadn’t known. This entire time you had been driving yourself crazy thinking you were only imagining the connection between you two like you had done countless times after you first lost the sight of your string. Despite wanting to tell him that, you settled for a question.

“What about Jugyeong? Don’t you think she—?”

“Are you going to tell her?” He interrupted you.

You could literally hear your heart crack. Of course that’s all he cared about. He didn’t care whether or not you were hurt and upset, hell, he probably thought you had no interest in your soulmate. But he was wrong, so very wrong.

“Why?” He demanded. “You don’t want me as your soulmate either. You’ve been ignoring the bond, too.”

I can’t see my string! You nearly yelled. The words were clawing at your throat, eager to be released. But you found yourself unable to tell him the truth.

“My soul chose yours,” you said, close to tears. “And a soul just doesn’t forget that.”

For a moment, one that was so quick you thought you imagined it, Suho looked remorseful. Stupidly, it made you hope that he would accept you and the bond that bounded you together.

“Don’t tell her.” His voice didn’t sound like a plea, but you knew what he was asking you to do was clearly important to him. “I can’t loose her.”

And so, you agreed. Even if it meant that your own heart would be left in tatters.

[amazingmaeve]

atelophobia

atelophobia is the fear of imperfection. the fear of never being good enough

request - hello !! i've been wanting to see more sam wilson fics so do you mind if i request a soulmate au one and y/n and sam are frenemies of somesort? 🥺

summary:

y/n and sam haven’t been the best of friends. he always annoyed her and she annoyed him. he hates how snippy she is, she hates how sarcastic he is. however some jokes of his make her crack a rare smile and sometimes he catches that. two people made for each other.

warnings - angst, fluff

word count - 3.2k

a/n - its an au so no endgame/infinity war stuff happened. also no thanos. it’s my first time writing for marvel so go easy on me! also a happy late birthday to sam as well!

marvel masterlist // sam wilson masterlist

“Why did you assign me with Wilson,” Y/N seethed out questioning the man in front of her. Her arms are crossed on her chest with anger burning in her eyes.

The man before her, Steve Rogers, raises an eyebrow at her sudden outburst. Sure the meeting was already done but he didn’t expect her to be this angry about it. Steve thought that Y/N and Sam were getting along better now and this could help them get along even better. But apparently he was wrong.

“I thought you two were okay,” Steve asked, confused in his voice as she rolled her eyes.

She didn’t hate Sam. No one could really hate Sam. But sometimes he got on her nerves and she has a short temper and the conversation usually ends up in an argument with both of them stomping away. Y/N was always serious about the work so no one would get hurt.

So it irked her when Sam would be casually joking while on a rescue mission or a mission in general. While Sam hated how Y/N would never have any fun, yes Sam did take his work very seriously but he wanted to make the time more bearable for everyone.

So when Y/N snaps at him whenever he makes a joke or just laughs in general he gets kinda pissed off about it. She’s just so unbearable sometimes that it increased his anger even more.

For the past few months everything was fine between them. Of course not finding her soulmate was bad. She hated feeling alone while couples scattered across the Avengers tower. Y/N would roll her eyes everytime Wanda asked if she ever wanted a soulmate and she would respond no. She thought that all the time ‘I don’t need anybody’ but deep down she wanted to have someone to love her and to love someone.

At least there were some Avengers who haven’t found the one.

Sam this last month has been growing on Y/N. He’s been more nice and actually funny in her eyes. He would crack jokes at the right time which would make her let a little laugh out much to Sam’s confusion. It was common that Y/N didn’t smile often. But then everything changed.

One mission which was a rescue mission ended up real bad. It was a mission that only her and Sam attended since everyone thought it would be easy. But Y/N turned the corner and had a fist to the face, she attempted to grab the gun she dropped but the guy shot her in her stomach making her lay down on the floor, holding the wound. Blood was seeping out of it fast and she could feel her vision get real blurry.

Y/N thought she would die there on the floor and she was fine with it as long as Sam got the hostages home safe and him safe as well.

But when she felt herself almost get lulled into unconsciousness a figure appeared before her and soon she realized it was Sam. He looked down both halls to make sure no one was coming before kneeling down before her worriedness in his eyes.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sam reassured, putting pressure on the wound. His words sounded like he was talking far away. Tears quickly blurred her vision as soon she realized he wasn’t going to get the hostages.

“You-you have to…..” Y/N began to say but flinched when Sam put even more pressure on the oozing wound.

“Don’t talk you can’t waste your energy,” Sam interrupted her and then picked her up bridal style and began to walk her out of the building. Y/N flinched and looked back to see if she saw the hostages anywhere but her vision was getting blurred again.

“The-the hostages,” Y/N stuttered though pain and biting into her lip from screaming out in pain.

“There fine I got everyone in there handled,” Sam reassured as they reached out doors and then lifted himself up and flew across the sky towards the Quinjet that got them there. Y/N closed her eyes and hid her face in his neck as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her heart was pounding as pain pulsed through her body. God she hoped the people were safe.

Then out of nowhere Y/N and Sam heard an explosion and Sam turned around to see the building that was just standing there was up in flames and smoke. Before Y/N could do anything she passed out in his arms as the pain began to get too much for her.

When Y/N woke up Steve was there with Natasha and he explained to her that the hostages unfortunately passed because there was the explosion.

Y/N felt tears fill her eyes as she sat up on the hospital bed. Steve and Natasha left to give her some space as she wondered where Sam could’ve gone. If she would’ve been more aware of her surroundings she wouldn’t have gotten shot and they would've got everyone out safe and fine. She failed them. And she failed her whole team.

Of course she was angry with Sam after this, he should’ve left her there so more people could’ve lived. But she was more angry at herself. She couldn’t face Sam or anyone for a few days. Y/N was awkward around Sam and had anger radiating off her while she talked to anyone. So people avoided her.

That’s why she didn’t want to be paired with Sam. She didn’t want to have history repeat itself.

“I’m sorry Y/L/N but you’re going to have to face him someday,” Steve apologized. He saw how affected she was about this and maybe Sam could help her get over it since he was there with her when it happened.

“Fine,” Y/N scoffed, bumping into his shoulder as she walked off to her room to get ready for this mission.

Her heart was beating as she started to get more and more nervous about this whole thing. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of her. She didn’t want anyone to die. So she wouldn’t be having Sam’s jokes or his snide remarks this day, she needs to be on point.

Y/N got all of her weapons ready before walking out of her room and finally reaching the Quinjet where Sam was sitting down cleaning his guns out. Once he heard her enter the room a smirk graced his lips.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sam laughs, turning around to look at her but only finding her face clenching in anger. His brow furrowed in confusion not knowing what was going on with her.

“Let’s get this over with,” Y/N grumbled, taking a seat and getting all of her weapons in place. Sam snickered at her attitude with confusion all over his face.

Of course he knew that Y/N was upset but Sam thought she was over it by now, but he hasn’t seen her this past few weeks but he heard from Bucky that she was in a horrible mood. Sam sighed before going to sit next her which made her huff out of annoyance.

“Okay what’s your problem,” Sam snapped, turning to face Y/N who had shock written all over her face.

“Nothing,” Y/N lied straight through her teeth, not meeting Sam’s gaze which was burning a hole into the side of her head. She didn’t want to tell him that the reason she’s all broody is because of her own failure.

“I know you’re lying so just tell me the truth so we can at least tolerate each other,” Sam says frustration running through his veins as he rubs his forehead.

When Y/N didn’t respond Sam scoffed.

“Fine let’s just get through this and I’ll talk to Steve about us never going on a mission again,” Sam retorted then standing up and sitting on the other side of the Quinjet.

Y/N looked at him in shock, even though she showed signs that she didn’t like working with him, he was really fun. Now because of her own insecurities and failures she’s going to lose an incredible friend or enemy depends on how you see it. Of course Y/N knew it wasn’t his fault, it was her own. Y/N had to prove that she isn’t this failure that Sam or Steve sees in her.

She saw it in Steve's eyes when she was in the hospital and she believes that she just saw it in Sam’s eyes just now. Deep down she knows she’s a failure and it cuts to her deep to the core to even think about admitting it. The mission she failed just proves it to herself and everyone else even more. God she can’t even do her own job right.

Ever since Y/N was young she was all about being perfect. The perfect grades, the attitude, and eventually to try to be the perfect fighter. Imperfection haunted her as the people in her life, she believed were better than her and sometimes didn’t even like her. Steve usually didn’t talk to her unless it’s work, same with Natasha. Bucky never talks to her, Tony’s too busy in the lab, same as Bruce. Wanda was very sympathetic towards her though since she’s looked through Y/N’s mind. Wanda and Y/N are friends and Wanda is her only friend. Vision was more of an acquaintance.

Sam was different though. She felt the need to prove herself to him. Y/N didn’t know why she felt this since she never felt this towards anyone on the team so why should it matter what he thinks. Sam was an enigma to her, he was an amazing fighter and had this charming personality that made her want to smile but she was too stubborn to do so.

This fear of imperfection ruins things in her life sometimes.

The mission was a success and Y/N gave it her all as she got everyone out okay and the bad guys were all on the way to prison. But it filled that whole in her heart, it didn’t prove anything to her or to anyone.

So whenever she feels frustrated she goes to the gym and let’s all of her frustration on the boxing bag. Y/N is usually here often. She likes to stay fit and it acts as some sort of therapy to her. While she was too busy punching the bag someone entered the room and she didn’t even hear it.

“Damn what did that punching bag ever do to you,” Sam’s voice rang through her ears and she dropped her arms to her side and let out a long sigh before turning to face him. He was in his usual work out gear with a smirk spreading across his lips.

“It broke my heart and dumped a year ago,” Y/N responded, a sarcastic tone in her face as her arms crossed around her chest. Sam let out a laugh at her monotone voice and clearly didn’t seem amused.

“That is the first time I’ve ever heard a joke,” Sam chuckled.

“What are you talking about? I'm a very amusing person,” Y/N let out a tiny smile on her lips.

“Who told you that lie,” Sams’ eyes narrow in confusion.

“Piss off Wilson,” Y/N grumbled wondering why she was joking around with the man. But that conversation caused some butterflies in her stomach. She turned around and bent over to grab her stuff.

When she turned around it showed the soul mark that has been there ever since she turned 18. To Sam’s dismay and his eyes widened in shock as the soul mark matched the same to his on his shoulder. Before he could even mutter a word Y/N left the gym giving him a sarcastic smile.

Sam just stood there in shock. His soulmate has been there all along and he didn’t even notice it. He didn’t know how to feel about it, of course he found Y/N attractive and her attitude was sometimes tolerable. But she made it very clear she was all work and no play. Deep down he knew he felt something for her even before he found out about the soul mate crap.

“Sam you okay,” Steve waved a hand in front of his face trying to get his attention. Sam blinked, rubbing his eyes and nodded at Steve's question.

“Pair me with Y/N for the next mission please,” Sam bluntly asked and shock was written all over the captain's face.

“But you told me last night-,” Steve began to say as he looked at him confused.

“Just please do it and don’t tell her she’ll just get all pissy about it,” Sam asked with a pleading look on his face. Sam narrowed his eyes but nodded anyway.

“Your secrets are safe with me,” Steve promised.

Over the next few days Sam has been trying to talk to Y/N but she always seemed to be in her room and it was clear she didn’t want anyone in there. He needed to talk to her about this, he’s been looking for his soulmate for years and he has to do something about it. Sam’s sure that she has no idea about it since she probably would be more awkward around her.

For her next mission Y/N wasn’t sure who her team mate for this one would be. She was hooping it would be Wanda since she was more comfortable around her than anyone else. Though she wanted to resolve this situation with Sam but was too stubborn to do it.

As she walked to the Quinjet she felt her heart drop as she thought she knew that Sam was going to be there. Even though it was tough to admit she liked Sam’s jokes and his whole persona. He wasn’t even that annoying to her but she has built up so much walls to protect her heart from anyone so she wouldn’t get hurt.

“I thought you didn’t want to work with me anymore,” Y/N stated as she entered the Quinjet and saw Sam sitting there with his leg jittering. He jumped not knowing that she entered the room and relaxed when he saw it was her.

Y/N didn’t blame Sam that he didn’t want to work with her.

“I need to talk to you before we go to this mission okay,” Sam firmly stated, making her eyes furrow as she had no idea what he wanted to talk to her about.

“Okay,” Y/N stated she tried to shake the shock off of her body. She sat next to him since he needed to talk about something. “What do you need to talk about,” She asked fiddling with her thumbs.

“About your soul mark,” Sam softly said resting one of his hands on top of hers making sparks flow through her whole body. It felt weird and she didn’t know. She didn't even know why he wanted to know about her soul mark.

“What about it,” Y/N asked curious as the pad of his thumb rubbed comforting circles on the top of her hand.

“I have the same one,” Sam whispers looking directly in her eyes and at first Y/N thinks this is one of his jokes so she let’s a little giggle out at it. But when he wasn’t laughing with her she looked at him with an un comprehensive look on her face.

“What,” Y/N says as she tries to remove her hand from his but he caught and gave it a squeeze. With a sigh he released her hand and lifted up his shirt to show his shoulder that the soul mark was placed. He bent over the seat he was in a bit to let her get a good look at it.

She was shocked as she stared at his back. Her soulmate was Sam Wilson and man she thought she despised and despised her. Her fingers trailed across the skin and kept staring at the mark. It was identical to hers. Goosebumps fluttered across Sam’s skin as she caressed his skin.

“How,” Y/N whispered as she removed her hand and he sat up straight pulling his shirt down.

“Well everyone’s got a soul mark when they’re born-,” Sam smirked as he started to respond to her question.

“Not like that,” Y/N smacked his arm.

“You’ve been working out haven’t you,” Sam grabbed his shoulder faking a wince. “Okay okay I’ll be more serious,” He put his hands up in defense. “I just can’t believe that my soulmate has been here all this time,” He says in disbelief.

“You don’t want me,” Y/N blurted out as she stood up and walked to the middle of the room as Sam stayed sitting down for the moment. His shoulders slumped as his face was contorted into disbelief.

“And how do you know what I want,” Sam fired back, crossing his arms.

“I just do and you won’t want somebody like me,” Y/N snapped, used her hand and pointed to herself and rested her hand on her heart which was racing.

“Why are you so closed off,” Sam fumed, standing up walking in front of her, his stance matching hers. “Why won’t you let anyone in,” He snapped, glaring at her. He hated the way he was talking to his soulmate but he needed some reasons.

“Because I’m a failure,” Y/N shouted as tears brimmed her eyes. “I couldn’t help those hostages. I don’t even know why I’m an Avenger, I suck so bad,” She ran her hands through her hand and tugged on the roots.

Sam stood there flabbergasted as Y/N turned around and cupped her mouth to keep the sobs in. She knew this was gonna happen, this has been building in her for a long time and it was about time that the volcano exploded.

“You’re not a failure,” Sam says still in disbelief that she would think this about herself. He walked so that he was standing in front of her and cupped her cheeks in his hands. He wiped the tears that fell from her eyes. But she had them closed not wanting to give into him. “You’re one of the most badass women that I know. And even though you can have a snippy attitude I know that you want to help people,” Sam softly says pressing his lips to her forehead making her shiver from the electricity.

“How can you think that I’ve been horrible to you,” Y/N says her voice hoarse from crying.

“I also know how dedicated to work you are and that I can disturb that sometimes,” Sam smiles, removing his hands from her cheeks.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Y/N nervously chuckles looking up at him as she feels heat crawl all over her body.

“How bout this you make it up to me by buying me a coffee,” Sam bargains a smile plastered on his face.

“Are you asking me out,” Y/N asks, feeling a bit of giddy in her.

“Depends on the answer,” Sam shrugs. She gives him a smile before leaning up and pressing her lips to his and putting her hand on his neck. His hands go to her hips as they stand there and kiss.

The Quinjet flying off breaks the two apart with smiles on their faces. The tears that were once there have been dried away and her heart was feeling better.

“I’m guessing that was a yes.”

[captainamericasbeard]

Empathy Ch. 5

Pairing: Bucky x Empath!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None really

Summary: Y/N is an empath tasked with helping the Avengers but healing only comes if you want it.

A/N: Sorry this chapter took me so long to get out. Let me know what you all think and send me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Empathy MASTERLIST ll MASTERLIST

But Bucky didn’t come back after a few days and your sadness covered the compound. Everyone keeps telling you it’s only a matter of time but the days turned into weeks and even Steve didn’t sound convincing anymore. And your mood was affecting everyone who worked or lived in the compound.

The sadness was like a warm blanket, it kept you cocooned in bed unwilling or unable to move. It ate a black hole into your heart that you were slowly falling into. It wasn’t just sadness at Bucky’s departure. But your failure to help him seemed to bring to a point every sad failure of your life. You’d had successes, yes. Escaping your father, putting yourself through school, rising through the ranks at Shield, they had all been enormous wins. But the fact that your father was still out there, that Hydra was still feeding him innocent lives to experiment on, that fact weighed you down in places you usually didn’t think about. And now that you had failed Bucky, it was all coming to the surface.

One night about two weeks into Bucky’s disappearance you snuck out of your room to find food only to find Steve, Sam, and Nat waiting for you in the common space. Nat was dressed in her tactical gear, knives and guns strapped to her thighs and hips and her hair braided down the middle of her back. Your body sagged with relief at the sight and you dropped on the couch next to Steve.

“You’re going after him?” Nat gave you a sharp glare as she adjusted her weapons.

“I am.” was her only response.

“Nat is going after Bucky but we need to talk to you.” Steve gave nat a short nod and she was gone from the room in a moment. Steve turned his piercing blue eyes on you and you were keenly aware of the question he was asking you. You felt the hurt building in your chest and fought to damn it up, to protect these people that you had come to love from the flood that was threatening to burst. Sam sat on the coffee table at your side. Steve moved closer to you and moved to hold your hand but stopped when you flinched.

“You can’t touch me right now,” you said, “it would break you.”

“What about you,” Steve asked, “you’re the one who’s breaking.” Something inside of you cracked at Steve’s words and you let out a howl of pain that reverberated through the room. Your body tensed and the furniture shook at the force of you holding your pain in. You were desperate not to harm your friends. You felt the air go from the room and the whole compound go still. You collapsed into sobs on the couch and the men beside you let out a whoosh of air you hadn’t realized they’d been holding.

“Damn girl, you must really love him,” Sam said. You shook your head and steadied your breathing.

“It's not Bucky. I love him, I do. But I’ve been a fool. I’ve lived my life as a fool. I thought escaping was enough. But I left people behind. We have to find my father. We have to stop him." Steve glanced at Sam with a knowing look. You pushed yourself up off the couch looking between them.

“What,” you demanded.

“We’ve actually been tracking your father since you told us abut him,” Steve said. He had the good sense to look bashful.

“You did what?” You weren’t sure how to feel. Scared and angry were the top contenders but there was something else. Comfort, that you wouldn’t have to face this alone.

“Where is he,” you asked.

“Oh he’s everywhere. Siberia, South Africa, South America. It seems he’s been promoted to the head of Hydra’s human experimentation efforts. They want super soldiers and empaths and anything they can think up." Sam answered. You looked to Steve who confirmed everything with a nod of his head. Your own head swam with information and an ebbing anger flowed underneath it all. You wiped the tears from your face.

“What do we do."

_______________________________

Nat checked all the local haunts first. A few hotels Bucky would go to that didn’t ask any questions, his secret apartment. But they were cold and empty, the air still and undisturbed. She flew to Bucharest and checked his old apartment building. The girl downstairs hadn’t seen him in years, the market ladies remembered him fondly but nothing more. So she went to where she knew he wasn’t, just to be sure. The Siberian cold stung her cheeks and seeped into her bones as she cursed herself for coming so far.

So she boarded the jet and headed south like she knew she should have in the first place. She flew till the land grew hot and wild and then dropped to 2600 and set her heading to 0-3-0 in blind faith. The trees loomed ever closer before they flickered and vanished to reveal a vibrant metropolis. Wakanda’s capitol city sprawled out beneath the jet welcoming Nat in. She landed and got off the plane to be greeted a troop of Dora Milaj lead by Okoye.

“He’s not ready to see you,” Okoye said in her lilting accent.

“Well he better get ready. It’s time for him to come home.” Okoye was unmoved.

“Please. He left someone behind.” A long surveying look and then a short nod and Nat was being led deep into the bowels of the palace where Shuri’s lab was based. Lit by cool blue lights and covered in graffiti, the lab was the last place you’d expect to find Bucky Barnes, sitting on a table with his shirt off and electrodes stuck here and there on his chest.

“I told her not to follow me.” Bucky said in greeting.

“She didn’t. I did. Last I left her she was in her room sobbing her eyes out and making the whole compound feel depressed as hell." Nat replied.

“Did she tell you why I left. Did she tell you who she really is? Fury’s spy? Just like you said all along.” Nat softened her piercing glare and came to sit next to Bucky on the table.

“Who she really is would take a lifetime to understand, one you might have a shot at if you come back now and apologize for being such an insufferable ass. You know she’s not Fury’s spy. You know she only wants to help us, to help you, whatever Fury might have intended for her when he sent her in.” Bucky had nothing to say to that. “She loves you you know.” Bucky nodded.

“And I care about her. I do. But I don’t fully trust her yet.” Bucky said.

“That’s going to take time. You have to be there and at least try. Why did you come here anyway?” Nat asked even though she was sure she knew the answer.

“I can’t keep hurting her. Suri’s looking for a way to heal my mind.” Bucky said.

“Though we may not succeed,” said the young Wakandan princess as she came around the corner, focusing on the tablet in her hands. Bucky’s shoulders slumped next to Nat. “Your nightmares are the same as everyone else’s Bucky, the result of past trauma. There’s little I can do to ease their impact. Y/N may be your best bet based on what you’ve described to me.” Bucky cast a sidelong glance at Nat.

“It’s time to come home,” Nat said gently placing a hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky nodded and hopped off the table, pulling on his shirt.

“Thank you Suri, for trying.”

“If she can help you, Sargent, let her.” Bucky nodded curtly and led Nat out of the lab down a maze of hallways and doors to the small room he’d been staying in.

“Where did you look?” He asked.

“The usual.” Bucky nodded, grabbing his few belongings and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Nat led the way back out to the jet and within minutes they were airborne and headed back home. Bucky was a tumble of emotions in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d acted so poorly when he left you, did you even want to see him again. Could you really help him and could he even bring himself to let you. Mostly he just wanted to see you again, see your smile and hear your voice, feel your soft skin under his fingertips and make you laugh.

The jet flew through the night and Bucky dozed fitfully the image of your tear stained face playing across his dreams. Finally the sun cleared the horizon and glinted on the approaching compound.

“You ready?” Nat asked.

“No. But it’s time to face everything, isn’t it.” Bucky replied.

“I think so, Bucky.”

TAGLIST @pspice639​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @starlightcrystalline​ @sirenphrynne​ @emmabarnes​ @saiyanprincessswanie​

[firefly-in-darkness]

Misconceptions - 3/12

Characters: Y/N, the Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have… and now he regrets his reaction...

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, injuries

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: Just imagine that Infinity War & Endgame didn’t result in deaths, people have settled their differences and are living their best lives at the Avenger’s Compound.... here's part 3 - I'm over the moon at everyone's lovely feedback on this story, I'm still not sure how many parts this series will have but hope you stick with me and enjoy it ✌️

Catch up with the series here: Misconceptions Series List

Return to Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Previously: The piercing sound of metal clanging brought her attention back to the door as a tall shadowy finger entered the room, unable to make out who they were. Y/N screwed an eye shut, turning her head to the side to try and make out their features, only able to make out a man in a dark suit, the light too bright to allow her to see their face.

She caught sight of the Hydra pin on the lapel then felt a blow to her head. 

Everything went dark.

“FRIDAY, access the CCTV from the hotel. Starting from when Y/N entered the party, stay on her at all times.” Stark crossed his arm across his chest, a hand stroking at his chin at one end of the conference table.

Tony’s eyes darkened as he watched the screen flickering through the different cameras in and around the hotel area. The moment Sam had entered the lab earlier, he knew. He knew, something had happened to Y/N and that it would have been the Soldier’s fault. He focused on the CCTV, trying to dampen down the panic in his chest.

Steve stood next to Tony, leaning forward with his hands on the table, a neutral expression as the hologram whizzed through the footage. Sam was at the other end, pacing back and forth, head whipping back and forth as he waited to see Y/N’s face on the screen.

“When did you last see her? Do you know what time she left?” Sam ranted with each step.

 Bucky sat away from the table, elbows leaning on his knees, head hung low, “She was in the suite when I got back. I don’t know when she left.”

 Wanda closed the door with a click, the noise brought Bucky’s attention to her. Wanda didn’t even look in his direction, just sitting down with the rest of the team.

 Natasha walked in with Clint and Bruce, all taking a seat around the table. The tension rife in the air as they all watched the CCTV and avoided the heated discussion at the other side of the room. Bucky glanced up to Nat, her face neutral. He had hoped she would have shown a flicker of emotion, but she was cold. He knew he had fucked up, but now he really knew it. Fuck, I should have been with her, that was my mission. 

 Bucky’s groan brought Sam’s attention back to him, as if he knew exactly what he had been thinking.

 “You were there to back her up and you-” Sam shook his head, “You just wanted to get your dick wet.” His hands on his hips and glaring at Bucky. 

 Bucky didn’t respond.

 “I wish I had gone on that mission instead; she was right.” Sam muttered to himself.

 Steve walked over, putting a hand on Sam’s chest, “Calm down. We will find her. Bucky knows what he’s done. Arguing with each other isn’t going to help.”

 Bucky heard Sam’s words. He knew it, they were together. He held his head in his hands, unsure of how he missed their relationship developing from that of teammates and friends to something more. Do they love each other? His thoughts filled with all the moments that he had shared with Y/N and how she had laughed at his poor jokes, blushed at the way he called her Doll or Sweetheart. How could he have been so blind to not see what he had with her, only for it to be taken from him by his friend. His friend that was now hurting because of him.

 “Bingo.” Tony’s clap had them all looking in his direction.

 All eyes on the hologram, holding their breath as they watched Y/N enter the elevator. Sam glanced at the timestamp - 2:40am - anger boiling at the lateness of her departure. At how long she had endured Bucky’s inconsiderate behaviour. 

 Bucky watched the footage, unblinking as he watched Y/N - even in the poor quality, he can see hurt in her features, the way she wrapped her arms around herself. Did she just wipe away tears? His brows furrowed as he watched her enter the lobby and leave the hotel.

 The view changed again, Y/N headed to the parking lot, approaching her motorbike. She stopped nearby, searching her bag for the keys when her head snapped up to something unseen by the cameras. She walked towards it, disappearing out of sight, only to return moments later. 

 Wanda clamped her hand over her mouth as a large figure walked out from the shadows, hitting Y/N over the head with a baton. She crumpled to the floor, the figure dragging her along the ground by her ankles, out of shot. 

 The room was silent, and they all turned to Bucky as he growled out, nobody moved. All watching him stand up and punch the wall. Vibranium fist winning over the drywall and scattering plaster over his boots and the floor.

 Tony checked his watch. “It’s been six hours since Y/N went missing.” 

 Steve’s voice commanded everyone’s attention. “Bruce, you stick with Tony and find out whatever you can about Davenport, anything that we don’t already know. Everybody else, suit up.”

 The team began to make their way out of the room when FRIDAY’s voice filled it, “Avenger Compromised - I have a location for Miss Y/L/N. Her alias was searched for by a mobile device 60 kilometres away.”

 “Meet you on the jet in five.” Steve ordered, the team sprinting down the corridors.

 Y/N awoke, head pounding more than ever. The metal cuffs cut into her wrists and ankles, her body ached as she was stretched apart like the Vitruvian Man. The damp stone wall dug into the skin at the back of her legs, straining forward as she checked herself over; She could hardly see out of her left eye thanks to the beatings she had endured. They’d removed her clothing apart from a tank top and underwear. 

 Bile rose in her throat as she thought of them undressing her whilst she was unconscious. She coughed it down, tears stinging her eyes whilst she recalled how she received each bruise and cut along her body, the men that had punched her face beyond counting, the slices made across her arms and legs with a sharp point. A pocketknife or scalpel, maybe? 

 A sharp pain ached along her neck as she turned to look around, remembering how she had been dragged by her hair down a corridor to a different room. Thrown through the doorway, the fall winding her and keeping her on the ground. And then the kicks to her ribs taking even more breath from her lungs. The way she curled into a ball, head protected by her arms whilst blunt objects and fists rained down at her before the darkness consumed her once more.

 A man walked out from the shadows, the same dark suit and the Hydra pin with a menacing glint as it hit the light. A large hand gripped Y/N’s chin, pushing her cheeks in, teeth grazing against the insides. Her captor was forcing her to look in his direction, yet she was unfazed to see Patrick Davenport in front of her. 

 “You will tell me everything you know.” Davenport gritted his teeth, spit landing on her cheek, “Why were you snooping around my penthouse?”

 Y/N yanked her head away from him, hitting her head against the wall. A hiss left her lips, but she didn’t say a word. She kept her expression neutral; she used her training to hide behind the mask but her mind still raced with fear as she realised that nobody would know where she was.  

 She grimaced at herself. Should have stayed with Bucky.

 “I will bring the bigger guy back in if you don’t start talking.”

 If she had been paying attention, then she would have been prepared for the next blow. His hand slapped across her face, the sound reverberating around the walls. She bit the inside of her cheek, blood pouring into her mouth. Y/N spat it out to the floor and glared at Davenport.

 “Okay, I know who you are.” He pulled out a purse and driver’s licence, turning it over in his hand. “Mrs Eve C Goodman from Rhode Island.”

 Y/N’s eyes widened but she didn’t respond.

 Davenport smirked at her, “We searched your name, and guess what? Your record is squeaky clean. Nothing in police databases, not even a library fine. So that means, either it’s an alias and you’re either FBI or CIA, or you’re just plain stupid.”

 Laughter burst through Y/N’s lips, once she started, she couldn’t stop, regardless of the pain and aching of her ribs and lungs from the lack of air. She was silenced with a punch to her stomach, her face grabbed to look up at him.

 “What’s so funny little girl?” Davenport shouted.

 “Oh, you really fucked up.” She snarled. “The moment you searched my name, you fucked up.”

 Davenport’s eyebrows twitched together, and his grip loosened around her face. Y/N lurched forward, head smashing into his nose. He stumbled backwards, bent at the waist holding onto his face.

“You fucking bitch!” He straightened up, pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. 

 The blood seeped through the material, a satisfied smirk on Y/N’s face had him lunging forward until an explosion rippled through the building, stopping him from hitting her again. Gunfire and shouting echoed in the distance.

 “Told you, you fucked up.”

Continue Here...

Taglist: @supraveng / @iheartsebastianstan / @jessyballet / @likeit-or-leaveit / @inspocollective-blog / @ladifrickinda / @wintersoldierissucharide / @michelehansel / @danietoww04 / @booboobella01 / @thefandomimagines / @justreadingfics / @socalgem1124 / @a--1--1--3 / @notyourtypicalrose / @winterboobear11 / @justlovelifeblog / @polireader / @hailmary-yramliah / @rainbowkisses31 / @gooddaykate / @moonybarnes 

[bro-ken-spoon]

Finished Commission!

Hey guys! I did a commission for @maximum-ride featuring their OC's, which I'm posting here! If you like this and you'd like to commission me yourself, you can message me here or on Discord! I've been low on money while trying to find a second job, so I'd really appreciate it if you would consider commissioning me if you like this work! You can find my rates here! Even if you can't commission, taking the time to let me know you liked this or any of my works is so appreciated!

This was really fun to write, Avi and Lee my favorite of Marki's OC's, so I'm so happy they gave me the chance to write for them! Content Warning for medical whump, blood and gore, and implied death.

(Read the full story under the cut!)

Avi sort of recognized the figure that was appearing out of the haze before her. It was a figure she hadn’t seen in years, a familiar and comforting presence she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in...well, years.

Her mom. Then, behind her mom, taking shape as Avi’s eyes focused, her dad and brother followed. A feeling of excitement burst through Avi, better than she’d felt in a long time. She didn’t think she’d ever see her family again, and now they were right in front of her.

Avi reveled in that joy for a minute before her brain caught up with her. Why would her family be here now? Had they even looked for her when she’d been missing for years? She missed them, but even if they wanted her, she’d be a danger to them, wouldn’t she?

As soon as she had that thought, all three of them fell limp, blood seeping from matching holes in their foreheads.

Avi took off running. As she ran, the lab corridor took shape around her. The bodies of her family littered the ground around her. She could feel the hot tears on her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop running. She had to get out of the lab, she had to be free. She couldn’t take another second of it. Sounds and screams filled her head, but she didn’t focus on them. She burst through the door at the end of the hallway and-

She fell right onto an examination table. That wasn’t possible, how did the door lead there? She turned to look behind her, but she couldn’t move her head. It was strapped to the table, as were her arms and legs.

She didn’t recognize the faces of the people in lab coats. They seemed to blur as she looked at them. The only thing she could make out with utter clarity were their smiles, far too wide for their faces as they cut into her body. She tried to scream, but she knew it was futile. She hadn’t been able to scream in so long, but her muscles still remembered the movements for it. If she wasn’t in so much pain, she would have thought about the way her muscles remembered what her brain no longer let her.

But she was in pain. She watched as her intestines were outside of her body again. The amount of times her insides had seen the light of day amounted to a number higher than the amount of years Avi had lived a normal life.

She squinted her eyes, letting the remaining tears hit her cheeks. When she opened them again, she was alone. She didn’t really recognize her surroundings. Maybe she would have, but she couldn’t focus on them for long.

A familiar sound filled her ears. It was the loudest noise she’d ever heard. A bell. That bell. It continued to ring in her ears long after the initial sound, and she could feel every muscle in her body tense up. Sisko towered over her, dangling the bell over her head. It was bigger than Avi’s entire body. With a second, ear-splitting ring, Avi not only tensed up, but she felt the pain coursing through her entire body. It was emanating from her ribs, but it reverberated up and down her spine, leaving her unsteady on her feet. She collapsed.

Or, she should have collapsed, except the floor caved in beneath her, and she was just falling, falling, falling. Her stomach rose up to her chest and she gulped it back down. She tried to open her wings, but as she did, the feathers were falling from it. It started slowly, just one or two feathers floating above her, but then it was hundreds, flying up above her as she rapidly approached the ground. She started to panic, shaking her wings more and more until they finally fully opened, saving her just seconds before she hit the ground.

She flew right up to the edge of a cage. She turned around, frantically looking for a way out, when she came face-to-face with Verr.

Anger boiled through her. The betrayal she’d faced was still fresh in Avi’s mind, and Verr was just about the last person she wanted to see. Verr didn’t seem to care. She didn’t say anything, just reached into Avi’s chest (Avi hadn’t even realized her chest was open) and pulled out her heart, crushing it right in front of Avi’s eyes.

Everything went black.

------------

Avi woke up. She sat bolt upright in bed, panting heavily. The light of dawn was coming in slivers through the curtain in the bedroom. She looked over to find Lee, asleep on his side of the room. She was a little glad she couldn’t scream. It wouldn’t wake him up that way.

She dragged herself to the kitchen. Her hands were shaking badly, but it helped to see the outside world, to know she wasn’t trapped anymore. She tried to put on a pot of coffee, but she couldn’t move very well. Instead, she plopped down on the floor of the kitchen, letting her head droop down in front of her.

She didn’t know how long she was there before Lee stumbled his way into the kitchen.

“Avi?” he asked, the fear evident in his voice. Avi looked up quickly. She didn’t want him to be too concerned. “Are you alright?” She wondered why he was asking that, but quickly realized there were tears streaming from her eyes.

Her hands were shaking too badly for her signs to be legible, so she reached to the table and pulled down a notebook instead.

Nightmare

Her handwriting wasn’t the worst it had ever been, but it was barely legible. Thankfully, Lee could read it.

“Bad one, huh? I get those, too, sometimes.” He sympathized. He sat on the floor next to her and leaned against her. It was more comforting than Avi was expecting.

Fun fact about me: I can feel pain in dreams, apparently.

“Really? I haven’t had one that bad,” Lee said, and Avi could hear the worry in his voice, “Do you want to walk me through it? Would that help?”

Avi thought for a minute. Images from the dream flashed through her mind, but they were already fading. It was the memories she really had to worry about. She shook her head.

I just need to forget

Lee was silent for a moment. For a second, Avi thought she had hurt him somehow, but he took a deep breath instead.

“I wish I could forget, too. I sometimes wonder who I’d be if...y’know.”

Avi felt a pang in her chest. Hearing Lee say exactly what she was thinking really got to her. She didn’t want to live with this constant pain anymore. She didn’t want to never be able to speak again. She didn’t want to have nightmares every night that left her hands shaking and her chest tight.

“But I can’t dwell on that. And neither can you. Where would that get us, huh?”

Avi took a deep breath. She’d rarely heard Lee speak with such sincerity.

Lee, I shouldn’t be alive. I should’ve been one of the kids who didn’t make it. I should’ve

Lee, who was reading over her shoulder, stopped her before she could keep writing.

“And leave me all alone? You survived because we need each other, Avi. It’s never again going to be like it was when we were kids, but the only way we’re going to get through this and be okay again is if we stick together.”

How can I do that if I can’t even tell what’s real and what’s fake?

“You’ve got me for that. And when I need it, I’ve got you.” Lee said.

He paused as Avi looked at him, trying to search his eyes for any sign that he was lying or going to betray her. She didn’t find one. There was silence for a second.

Avi barely remembered what it felt like to be a kid. She wondered how her brother was doing and if he still liked to play video games late at night when he should be sleeping. She wondered if he ever found a new person to play with, or if her controllers were still stacked up in her room, untouched. She wondered if she and Lee would have been friends if they’d gone to the same elementary school, or if Will would have sat with them at lunch. If they’d been allowed to be kids, what kind of trouble would they have gotten into?

“Right now,” Lee said after a moment, “I can tell you that all of this is real. Our apartment, our stupid cat posters on the wall. I can tell you that I’m here for you. I can tell you that it’s 5:24 am, and that you and I are going to go grocery shopping tonight with no way the lab can catch up to us. I can tell you that at the grocery store, we can buy some nerf guns and a board game and act like kids as much as we want to tonight. And you know why I can tell you that?” Avi shook her head, “Because it’s all true. I don’t know what the future holds, Avi, but it’s not going to be like the past. The lab may have stolen our childhoods, but it doesn’t get to take our lives, too.”

Those last few words reverberated through Avi’s head. Lee was right. That kind of talk, the survivor’s guilt kind where she wished for her own death, wouldn’t get her anywhere. With that kind of talk, she was as good as dead.

Thanks, she signed after a moment, though her hands still shook slightly, I really needed that.

“No problem. I know you’ll do it for me, too.” Lee smiled at her, and it was a more genuine smile than she’d seen in years, on anyone. And Lee was right again. She would do it for him.

Could I get some help making some coffee? I don’t think I’ll be getting back to sleep. Avi asked after another pause. Lee nodded, standing up. He held out his hand to help up Avi as well. She took it, letting him pull her in a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said again, and Avi could feel tears forming in her eyes again, so she just nodded and took a deep breath, shaking the morning’s events from her head.

Avi tried to help out with the coffee, but she wasn’t helping much with her shaking hands. After a minute, Lee instructed her to sit down and he’d bring it to her. She didn’t need much convincing.

She sat down in the living room and began watching some TV. She didn’t pay attention to much of it. None of them had had access to a television in years, so they really didn’t know what was going on with any of it or who any of the stars were. Still, it was comforting to watch with the volume turned low, like a friend was in the room. If you don’t think you’re alone, you can’t flashback to being alone in a room with a dead person, Avi had figured out rather quickly. She spread a blanket over her and felt more relaxed than she had in a long time.

She was asleep before Lee brought the coffee back to her.

Lee sat the coffee on the side table next to her. The plain black coffee would be cold by the time she woke up, but Lee figured it was better to just let her sleep. He sat down next to her, hoping to offer her comfort for a minute before going back to bed, but before he knew it a wing wrapped around him sleepily, pulling him in for a tight hug. He was thoroughly stuck there.

Avi shifted slightly, opening her eyes just a bit.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Are any of us?

“No, but we will be.” Lee said, though Avi wasn’t awake to hear it, “We will be.”

It was the best sleep either of them had had in years.

[i-okamie]

How Did I End up Here ?

It’s dark when Lena reaches her place.As usual when you come home to an empty apartment. Of course it’s not empty, Lena has furnitures : a giant Tv screen that she never turns on, a leather couch that’s almost starting to collect dust since no one sits there, shelves running along the wall to hold books and nicks nacks, a coffee table with neatly stacked piles of paper and a laptop, and so on. But to Lena the silence and clinical tidiness of the place is unnerving tonight. The day has been a succession of problems in the labs, and board meetings full of arrogant men trying to tell her how to handle her very own company. As if she didn’t know the results and numbers better than them.Lena discards her heels and coat while walking toward the table, she’ll pick them up later. She adds another file to the neat and dreadfully high piles of papers, before drawing a shuddering breath. She isn’t ignoring the cracked picture frame on the table, she doesn’t think about how the aventurine geode she used as paperweight has been compared to the green shade of her eyes, she doesn’t look for a sticky note with kind words scribbled on it, and she certainly doesn’t glances at her phone every now and then hoping to see a text from someone. Anyone. Lena rubs her temples before venturing toward the kitchen. The headache that she felt building all day long is finally striking her full force, and a stiff drink is the only thing that will relieve some of it. Before all that mess, maybe she would have made tea, set up two cups, along with an unhealthy among of sugar because Kara ... « Stop it !» she snaps at herself. She is Lena Luthor for god sake. She won’t break because of a headache and some idiots trying to lie to her face to gain some leverage or whatever at L-corp. She knows better than that. Lena goes for a second drink. She knows she shouldn’t. It’s ungodly late, and she has a meeting tomorrow at 10am, so a hangover is really not what she needs while negotiating a contract with a brand new partner. But it’s not what she is aiming for. What the young woman is searching is the quiet buzz that only alcohol can bring her. The kind that makes the whole world spin on itself and soften its edges. So when she ends up walking toward the couch with the scotch bottle half empty in hand, all she does is snort. How did she end up like this ? She worked hard to prove the world that, conversely to her brother she can be a good Luthor and not a scorpion. She rebranded the company, created medical technology and made it affordable so more lives could be saved, she makes donations, participate to galas for charities, and when she bought CatCo she saved hundred of jobs... she saved Kara’s job in a heartbeat. At the time she justified it as « diversifying my company activities », which must have come off as lame because the blond woman laughed fondly at her when she heard that. But for once she hadn’t mind the mockery, because she knew her friend meant no harm. « And what a friend she was ... » Lena mumbles bitterly, before taking another gulp of the alcohol. Her phone buzz, startling her out of her downward spiral of memories. Swaying ever so slightly from alcohol and exhaustion, Lena sits straight on the couch where laid to glance at the coffee table where she left her phone to see who it could be. Absolutely ready to roast alive whoever is asking something from her this late. But on the screen there is a single text from Kara « I know I have no rights to ask anything or worry, but I hope that you are doing good ». Attached to it, there is a picture of a golden retriever looking at the camera with big eyes. Kara must have seen the dog today and couldn’t resist taking a picture.It’s ridiculous. It’s just the picture of a dog sent by her traitorous friend. If anything she should be angry. How dare she pretend she cares ? She didn’t care so much when Lena told her that betrayal was her kryptonite and yet lied to her face. She she didn’t care when she called her a villain. And she certainly didn’t care when she broke her heart, proving that Lex was right all along, that she had been foolish, and that no one would ever see past the name Luthor. That people would just use Lena for personal gain or keep tabs on her out of distrust. At the thought of her brother, snickering and taunting her, the young woman throws the scotch bottle toward the shelves with a cry of anger. Everything to not hear his voice telling her over and over that she is unworthy of love and stupid to ever though she was. The bottle explodes in shards with the impact and takes down some books with it, which are now laying in a puddle of scotch.Rubbing her temples once again, Lena sights at the mess she’s done. She had been stupid to believe that for once things would end differently. But hope has this way of seeping through the tiniest crack of an armor and the CEO had found herself in love with the kryptonian before she knew it.When her phone vibrates again to indicate a new text she doesn’t bother looking at it, leaving it on the table. She decides to grab the books to avoid more damage, but after a few steps toward the shelves to pick them up the world spins violently around Lena and black spots creep at the edge of her vision. She barely think of the glass shards when she collides with the ground and a sharp pain shots through her forearms. All that cross her mind is her brother venomous words and Kara’s smile. That damn fake smile which she loves so fondly and that could brighten any day. She could swear that she hears Kara calling her name from afar, her name called out in anguish. But that’s just a trick from her mind because why her former friend would be here ? Lena is on her own and that’s her fault. She doesn’t call back before everything blacks out.

AO3

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

The link to the story in AO3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

Chapter Five

The sweet taste of victory lingered on her lips.

With all the pain, suffering and anguish; it was a very rare moment for Eden to feel anything but miserable. 

A soft sigh escaped through her lips as her horse galloped in sync with the rest of the Squad’s horses. They all seemed so intimidating. Except Petra; the only other female on the team. She had greeted Eden with wide, bright eyes and a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. The younger girl could only smile meekly in return. She thought back to how she didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to Armin and Mikasa; catching their blank, puzzled stares as Captain Levi shoved her towards her horse.

The horses ambled deeper into the woods, until the view of a huge, abandoned fortress lay in sight. Eden twisted her head to look back at Eren; but met Levi’s disinterested stare boring back at her instead. Her eyes narrowed as he maintained eye contact; very well aware of the fact that she looked a second away from snapping at him. 

It was as though he was testing her.

She turned back towards their destination, pulling on the reins gently; urging her horse to slowly cease his quick trot. 

“These are our headquarters for the time being. I expect the entire place to be spotless by sundown,” Levi commanded in a dull tone as he mounted off his horse; running his fingers across his own horse’s muzzle. 

Eden didn’t hear him; eyes trained on her own horse as she stared into its jeweled eyes. She stroked his mane, unable to believe that she was now responsible for this creature. She had never ridden a horse before today. Knowing very well she was being scrutinized by her new captain; she chose to deny him of that fact. Surprisingly, she was a natural. Her team would have probably assumed that she’s ridden horses for a hobby. 

“Oi. Are you deaf or something?” She leaped at the heavy hand that ripped her out of her own thoughts. Eden glanced back at the Captain as he glared at her through tired, narrow eyes. 

“No sir, I’m sorry.” She replied, staring back at him defiantly, unmoved. 

The tension in the air could have been sliced with a blade as Levi’s face twitched imperceptibly. 

He raised a brow, eyes darkening as he tipped his head to the side. “Want me to write the instructions down for you? Move.” 

Eden nodded, looking down as adrenaline rushed through her body at an immensely quick speed. She grabbed onto her horse’s reins and proceeded towards the stable. 

That’s until she heard the familiar scoff.

“Actually, since you’re already on your way to the stables; why don’t you tidy it all up for our horses? After all, they should be treated with respect too,” Levi announced, eyes glued to the back of Eden’s head. She could feel his stare burning through her skull, which made the hot feeling of anger spread through her entire body like wildfire. 

“Yes, sir,” She said through gritted teeth as she walked back towards him; passing him by a bear few inches as she snatched his own reins. His eyes narrowed but apart from that, stayed quiet. 

It was way after sundown when Eden had finished cleaning the horses and the stables. The place certainly screamed ‘abandoned.’ The stench was horrible and she gagged as soon as she walked through the wooded entrance. 

But after taking the time to open all the windows, scrub the floor and replace the water and hay; the odor had definitely lessened. 

“What did you do? Use yourself as a mop to clean the entire stables? You look filthy,” Levi’s voice leered from the entrance of the barrack. Eden picked herself up and frowned into the darkness, barely visualizing her Captain’s silhouette with the lack of moonlight. 

“Are you going to keep treating me like trash the entire time? I get it, your first impression of me isn’t exactly perfect but are you going to keep reminding me of it?” Eden called out when she didn’t hear Levi’s advancing footsteps. 

Then, that same pause shifted between them. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but it ridiculed Eden; mentally kicking her as she thought back to what she had just said to him. 

“If you can’t handle simple cleaning instructions, then what the hell are you doing in my squad?” He replied in a darker voice that made Eden’s jaw clench in annoyance. “Obviously Erwin saw some kind of potential in you to personally invite you in the Scout Regiment. But, don’t assume that just because that happened, I’ll be feeding you with a silver spoon. Now get yourself cleaned up and meet the rest of the group in the dining hall.” The sound of his boots grew fainter as he strode off. 

 Eden took a deep breath as she calmed her nerves, wiping the grime off her cheek with her sleeve. 

Thankfully, she met Petra upon entering the headquarters. The older woman nervously looked around them as Eden stepped in with her muddy boots. 

“Captain said your room is up the stairs; the second room to the right. I’m in the opposite hallway,” She said, her voice sweet and gentle. Her eyes kept flickering to Eden’s boots which finally called the younger girl to voice her thoughts. 

“Is there a problem?” 

Petra looked back at her, rubbing her back of her neck awkwardly. “Captain Levi is very strict when it comes to cleaning; if you haven’t noticed already. He made Eren clean the top floor three times because he kept finding dust under the desk and bookshelves. Not that I’m one to gossip, but with a childhood like his, I can understand his need to keep everything in immaculate condition.” 

“What do you mean by...-” the raven-haired girl began, only to have her words lose their trail in her mouth once she heard the sounds of the other team members echoing closer. 

Petra gave her a wary smile and ushered her towards the staircase. “Go on now. Rookies make mistakes. I’ll deal with this.” She looked down at the dirt footprints marking the stone floor as she pushed her strawberry locks behind her ears. 

Eden easily found her room. It was small, dark and incredibly cold. She shivered, eyes settling on the neatly folded uniform resting atop the bed. 

Her teeth grinded as she suppressed a cry once her naked body was met with the frosty water seeping out of her shower. She made sure to scrub all the filth she had gained after spending her first afternoon with Levi’s Squad cleaning the stables. 

The young soldier quickly dried herself and jumped into the uniform, tightening the straps on her boots and pulling her hair into a tight bun. She stared at herself in the mirror; surprised at the woman who stared back. 

With her hair slicked back, her cheekbones stood more defined against her porcelain skin. Her large, almond-shaped eyes framed by thick lashes and the arch of her brows symmetrical. She looked down at her uniform, gnawing on her lip as her palm glided over the soft material. 

She was a Scout and no matter how hard Levi would push her; she would prove how she was the best choice for his squad. 

“Fresh meat, you’re late,” the much older, blond man with defined wrinkles voiced once Eden made her way into the dining hall. Oluo Bozado, his name was. 

At the head of the table sat the captain, uniform crisp and clean; his tired eyes peaking through the longer strands of his hair concealing the top part of his face. He silently watched Eden over the brim of his tea cup as she soundlessly made her way to sit beside Petra. 

Eren looked at her from the other side of the table; his gray-blue eyes glimmering awkwardly. 

Petra offered Eden a cup simmering with tea, but Eden scrunched up her nose and shook her head slightly. Petra laughed softly. 

“You’re not a tea-drinker?” 

“Not at all. I prefer coffee,” Eden replied in a low voice, but it seemed to be loud enough for Levi to hear because he continued sipping on his own tea with a very disapproving look. 

She had heard about the captain’s love for tea. This was just another one of the many reasons that kept reminding her how much they clash.

Levi placed his cup back on the table and rapped his fingers on the wooden table. 

“For the next few days we will reside here and train. Hange is on her way to meet Eren. You’ll be spending your time with her, you lab rat,” Levi muttered, shooting Eren a glare as he looked down at his own cup of tea. 

Eden sat quietly listening to her fellow teammates conversate. She soon found out the rest of the men’s names; Eld Jinn who was second in command and Gunther Schultz. 

Oluo turned his pompous stare towards the quiet, small girl and snorted. “What made such a fragile girl like you join the military? Tired playing with dolls all day?” He grunted as Petra kicked him under the table angrily. 

“I’m not fragile,” Eden replied in a calm manner albeit the white knuckles she hid under the table. “As a matter of fact, I plan on showing you exactly how fragile I am tomorrow during sparring.” 

Oluo raised a brow and let out another humorless snort. “Please. I’ll be done with you before you can wipe the snot from your nose.” 

“That’s enough,” Levi spoke, his stern glare focused nowhere in particular. He turned his eyes to Eden, who had bitten her lip to the point where she could taste the specks of her own blood. 

“Our goal is to find out exactly what the hell is going on with Yeager. Can you tell us more about your new talent?” 

Eren swallowed hard, his mouth parting as he began to speak.

“I’m terribly sorry I’m late! Please excuse me, Captain!” A loud, piercing voice interrupted the young boy. 

A tall, older woman barged through the doors with a lopsided grin carved onto her face. She had her messy hair pulled up in a ponytail; wide eyes concealed behind the glasses wrapped around her head. She winked at the captain, who in turn completely disregarded her, choosing to focus on his empty cup of tea. 

She stopped, eyes jumping from Eren to Eden. 

“My name is Hange Zoë, leader of Squad Four. Eren and...Eden, right?” 

Both cadets nodded tightly. 

“The pleasure is all mine. Tell me, how does it feel to know your friend over here possesses such capabilities?” She walked over to the raven-head; leaning over the top of her chair. 

Eden swallowed thickly as she stared into Eren’s eyes. “I think he’s the key to saving humanity.” 

Her quipped response earning another grunt from Oluo as Petra sat beside her silently. Hange squealed in response. 

“I can only imagine what answers lie in that pretty head of yours!” She hopped around the table, patting Eren on the head. He frowned deeply. 

“Nevertheless, I can fill you in on what research I’ve gathered so far on this topic. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure it could light a bulb in your brain,” she continued, pulling the seat beside Eren hungrily. 

The rest of the team stood up abruptly, muttering incoherent excuses about why they want to be dismissed. 

Levi gave a stiff nod and the crew dispersed; leaving himself, Eden, Hange and her new experiment sitting around the wide table. 

Facts, stories and drabbles spewed out of Hange’s mouth as she begin uncovering a whole line of events that led them to believe Titans hide much more in those thick heads of theirs. 

Eden was interested at first, but as the stories continued expanding, she felt her eyes slowly droop until someone kicked the leg of her chair. 

She yelped, jumping out of her seat and against Levi’s solid chest. The girl stepped back, jaw clenching as he sent her a wary glare.

“Go to bed, brat. Tomorrow, I plan on checking just how good you are at sparring personally. If you fail because you preferred lingering around listening to Four-eyes’ fairytales; that’s on you.” He turned and walked out of the dining room. 

Eden pinched the bridge of her nose, letting go of an exasperated breath before heading back towards her room. 

She was gone before her head had hit the stiff pillow. 

[k-writer1998]

The Glitch

Prompt fic: cyborg! jisung x handler! reader

angst

w.c: 1.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/n?”

      The broker? This can’t be good, he knows not to call when I’m on the job and there was only one thing I’ve specified as urgent.

“Can’t talk, I’m already inside and approaching targets. Speak quickly.”

“A Minho called for you. Said Jisung’s system relapsed and you needed to find him.”

      Hanging up, I cursed at myself for turning off my comms for this job. I need to find him, NOW. My system mapped out the fastest way to Jisung’s location and luckily the fastest exit was through the front door. Cocking my gun I charged in and took out the targets, haphazardly throwing down the message the client wanted to leave on one of the bodies, before bolting. These were the times I was thankful for being a cyborg, most days I hate the fact especially what that change has done to the people I love.

      A “glitch” they called it. It was more like a virus if you ask me. The glitch affected our cores and disrupted our memory processors, forcing a system relapse at random. Five of ten were found to be glitched in the lab during assimilation training. The company couldn’t afford the risk so they were going to scrap us but we escaped. From then on we relied on each other to survive and we learned what that system relapse meant. Sometimes their memories are reset to when they first became cyborgs, other times only their emotions are reset and that is when it’s the most dangerous. Humans don’t like things that are different, it is a fact that cyborgs are taught to understand and accept. The reset meant that training didn’t exist anymore. The anger fueled by the ostracization from society and the strength from our biotic parts made us a threat that humans wouldn’t hesitate to kill because we were nothing more than machines to them. We learned this when the first glitched. From then those of us who weren’t glitched became handlers of those who were, aside from Minho who had taken on the responsibility to cover our tracks. Chan with Felix, Seungmin with Hyunjin, Changbin to Jeongin, and me to Jisung. 

      As I ran my system scanned the surrounding areas' police scanners, praying Jisung wasn’t on them. Luckily the coast was clear and he seemed sedentary in his current position. Not knowing how long that would last or how bad the relapse was this time, I continued to push my human parts past its limits. Red warning lights flashed in my mind at my depleting oxygen levels but I was almost to him so I couldn’t slow down. When I arrived at the outskirts of town my body gasped for breath but my eyes searched around for Jisung. When he did come into view he was too still amongst the rubble of whatever city stood here before the war, too quiet for the Han Jisung I knew so well. I treaded carefully, not wanting to be too loud or move to quick and spook him.

“Jisung…”

“That was a lot faster than I predicted y/n.”

      He turned to look at me with a smile but it was hollow. He remembers me so that meant it was the worst case scenario. Emotion reset. Jisung has been getting these more often than the others who were blessed enough to forget the glitch. To have to remember everything yet still feel as scared as a newborn chick… The weakness seeped into his voice as he asked the question he asked every time he reset and I sadly gave him the same answer I always give him.

“Why do I have to be like this?”

“I don’t know Jisung,” I softly answered.

“Do you ever regret saving me?”

“Never.”

“Even after all the times you’ve had to replace your parts… and when you end up in the hospi-”

“Not even once,” I cut him off.

      Because I love you… the words sat on the tip of my tongue and once again I had to bite them back. Things wouldn’t have ended well if they did escape me, I’ve learned the hard way and that was the one and only time I was thankful for the glitch. His heart is too big, he doesn’t dare accept love. Not when he has deemed himself as “broken,” if only he understood the importance he holds in my life but instead he just feels guilt. It’s in his eyes, lurking there even after the relapse has long passed. I’ve told him countless times that I am willingly by his side, a desperate attempt at getting him to understand that being “broken” doesn’t mean he had to be alone. It falls on deaf ears though, how can he believe in himself when he has no control over it? That’s the part he hates the most and there is nothing I can do other than let the weight of my words sink in, hoping one day he’ll see there’s more to him than the glitch like I do. I silently looked over the ruins to let the turmoil of Jisung’s mind play through until he was ready to break the silence.

“Why can’t this be fixed like all our other mechanical problems?”

“It’s too close to the core, it would cause permanent damage to your humanity.”

“Humanity?” He scoffs, “Why do I even need that when I’m no longer considered a human?”

“Because that’s a part of you that makes you the person you are.”

      And no matter how much you hate it right now, you would never want to give it up. I promised you on that clear starry night I wouldn’t let you destroy the only thing you love about yourself, but it’s the anger and fear talking right now. The emotions are building up out of his control and soon they’ll start to spill out.

“The glitch too?”

“Jisung you know the glitch isn’t who you are, it’s a fluke.”

“Then why does it have to be me that has that fluke?! It hurts y/n. It hurts to feel so angry at the world and feel so scared to be different… but why is it that I keep remembering? Why can’t I just forget like the others? I hate this constant war in my head and I hate having to feel this over and over again.” 

      In these situations I couldn’t say anything, I never could. By then I was beside Jisung and although I wanted to grab his hand, my own along with my head started to twitch out of my control. I’ve overheated my systems getting here and now that my human parts have stabilized now the mechanical ones needed to. He cast a sideways glance and noticed, a dry chuckle falling from his lips in response. Although his next words were said nonchalantly, I didn’t miss the unmistakable tremble in his voice.

"We're already screwed up. Why can't we at least have fun?"

      As he turned to fully look at me now, his smile grew and his robotic eye glowed a faint blue as tears streamed down his face. Even though I didn’t know the pain of glitching, my heart breaks every time I see that empty look in his eyes. The look of him just giving up. I wish there existed a God or some higher being who could answer this desperate prayer, please just take the glitch from Jisung and give it to me… but alas there are no miracles so what’s the point? We will continue to live as we have, repeating the cycle and feeling our own pain from this ill-fated relationship. Fun… I knew what that meant but I also knew better that to stop him, once his mind is set he’ll do it. With or without me. A sad smile that mirrored his own pulled across my lips, if you can’t beat them join them.

“Sure… let’s have some fun.”

      I knew where this would lead us, it happens every time he remembers. Jisung was about to go on a quest to destroy himself and I’m going to stop him, whatever the cost, because love makes people do stupid things. Too bad love can’t fix everything like in the fairy tales, maybe the we could’ve been happier.

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #2

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s favorite torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con.

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“Choose,” Sauron demands coldly, and Maitimo knows better than to disobey.

He’s tried a couple of times, in the beginning, when he was still in possession of his dignity, his clothes, his anger and spite, his hair. It never ended well.

The first time he said no when Sauron ordered him to play along in one of the dark maia’s sick experiments, the enemy crushed his throat by standing on it

seeing as you don’t know how to speak, you don’t need your vocal cords, do you

until Maitimo choked on his own blood and passed out; his voice still doesn’t sound the same. The second time, a considerable length of a Balrog’s whip was shoved up his unprepared behind

if you can’t figure out how to kneel properly, we’ll have to keep you from sitting down, won’t we

and then yanked back out with such force that a lot of charred, stretched flesh came with it. Sauron needed a week to put all of his intestines back where they belong, and Maitimo has been awake for most of the procedure.

The third time when he said no, he had to watch another Balrog spear the restrained body of an elf that Maitimo had known since birth, on the enormous, glowing length of his inhuman cock, inch by painstaking inch, until the screeching screams of agony had turned to bloody gargles.

what kind of leader are you who won’t even suffer to protect his own people

The beast then proceeded to fuck the dying body for another 20 minutes straight, right before Maitimo’s eyes before light of life finally left that poor soldier.

These days, Maitimo knows better than to disobey Sauron.

So he points, dully - with his chin as that is the only part he can move at least half an inch right now - to the middle one of the three spacious jars waiting on the table next to his usual spot on Sauron’s examination stretcher, though he really couldn’t care less. The plain metal vessels all look the same, and none of them will contain anything good.

The movement has his throat tenses up, and Maitimo tries his best not to gag around the thick tube threaded through his ring gag and shoved deeply in his mouth, just far enough to make sure everything coming through it will make it down to his stomach, not far enough to spare him the taste of whatever his tormentor will choose to fill him up with this time.

Maitimo hasn’t eaten in more than two weeks and he should probably be grateful that he will be at least rid of the clenching knot of emptiness that his stomach has become for a few minutes. But he knows Sauron well enough to know, the price for that little moment of comfort will be far too high.

“A smart choice, pet. You are starting to learn.”

Sauron absently pats his belly, then gives a firmer smack to the slightly bulging skin below, and Maitimo groans when his inner muscles clench around the other, much thicker tube deeply lodged in his rectum.

It doesn’t hurt, not like the variety of spiked phalluses and cocks he’s been raped with since being taken prisoner. But it sits far enough inside of him to ensure that whatever Sauron will choose to empty into that funnel at the end of that second tube, will go deeply into his body and not come out anytime soon.

Maitimo could live with that too, he supposes; after almost a year in the misery that is his life now, he’s no stranger to the humiliation of enemas anymore. And as painful as burns from too hot liquid are, as revolting as it is when one of his abusers chooses to fill his abused ass with all the piss they have in them that day, sometimes until Maitimo can taste it on his tongue ... That kind of traces usually go away and heal quickly.

It’s the sound he’s afraid of tonight. Almost as thick as a finger, stretching his limp cock open to its limits, and Sauron hasn’t bothered to lube up that third hollow tube before thrusting it all the way in until it’s bottomed out in Maitimo’s dehydrated bladder. His urethra throbs and stings, and he knows he’s bleeding but that’s not what worries him. Bleedings stop.

It’s the additional sheer helplessness of knowing he’s about to be filled up from several sides at once, and that there’s nothing he can do to control or stop it, that has him shivering in cold sweat and yank in vain on the straps and shackles that tie him down on the table. That keep his scraggy legs up and spread widely, all of his most sensitive parts on obscene, vulnerable display for his captor’s too hot, dainty hand.

Though Maitimo’s struggling is achieving nothing but more sore muscles and a little quiet rattling, of course, Sauron feigns exhausted disappointment. “Now, now, don’t ruin that good impression with fidgeting, pet. You’ve been doing so nicely the last few weeks. You’re on a good way to become my favorite test subject. But you really ...“

The maia’s lithe, tall shape bends down over Maitimo’s bare crotch, the unnatural white of his skin that shows under the low, pointed cut of his black tunic, flushing with just the hint of pulsating red as he stretches out his long forked tongue. With a purr, he licks over the sturdy shining metal protruding from Maitimo’s tortured orifices.

“... need to learn how to keep still.”

Sauron presses down on Maitimo ‘s lower body again, intentionally and harder this time, while Maitimo thrashes against his bonds once more, wailing into his gag when the metal inside his ass and cock heats up within seconds, blistering highly sensitive tissue, eating away at muscle that won’t be working as it should for days. Weeks maybe, depending on when Sauron decides to sing his body back together this time.

“Oh, pet. What did I just say? Looks like I have chosen a good time to help you work on your discipline.”

Sauron feigns another bored sigh, betrayed by the considerable bulge under his tight pants, when he reaches for the pot that Maitimo has chosen earlier. With the handle fastened to one of the many hooks in the frame of this hated, dreadful table that Maitimo has spent most of his last months on, Sauron angles the vessel right above the first of those three funnels that promise another few hours of greater pain than Maitimo has ever known it in his whole life.

“Now be a good little pet and have your dinner. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you for choking on your own tongue again.”

Maitimo does wince and retch when the first taste of filth and salt and ash hits his tongue, because if the smell hadn’t given it away yet, now he knows exactly what this is. He’s been force-fed by one of the cocks violating him frequently too often not to. But this will go down his throat whether he actively helps it or not, so it won’t make a difference. And he’s really not interested in snorting Balrog piss from his nose, so he obeys, because what else is there to do?

An unpleasant but still a lot more bearable warmth than the one before spreads in his stomach, and for a moment he thinks, he can do this, he will be okay.

Then Sauron places the second of the bowls over the funnel hanging over his reddened, swollen hole, and Maitimo’s guts are being set on fire. He’s not exactly sure what it is or how he even still makes it to scream between swallowing the too quickly, relentlessly dripping liquid.

But somehow, some way, he still can take it, he still can stay awake and lucid, and that’s all that counts. Because when he blacks out, Sauron always gets angry enough to make his ordeal even worse, and Maitimo doesn’t think it actually can be right now.

That is before Sauron opens the lid of the last vessel and the smell of vinegar hits Maitimo’s senses.

His eyes go wide enough to almost pop from their sockets. Somehow, without ever wanting it, he croaks out a plea between the metal confinements stretching his jaw painfully open, and then he almost does choke because he forgets to swallow and he can talk no more.

Not that it matters. Sauron doesn’t even comment on his little moment of verbal weakness. With the hand not busy hanging up the third bowl, he’s languidly, almost disinterestedly rubbing his raging erection through the leather fabric of his clothes while he sets the third and last vessel and tips it into position.

A sensation of liquid lava travels through the already too-hot metal in Maitimo’s cock, hitting his insides like that hot-red poker that Sauron raped him once with in the very beginning, when he dared to say no to riding his cock in front of his fellow prisoners. He screams and screams, spluttering snot and bile and piss through mouth and nose, wheezing and coughing between the desperate, unintelligible pleas for mercy from his throat that he knows he will not be granted. Blood is seeping from the wounds of his restraints on his wrists and ankles, his hips and shoulders. He can hear the bones in his neck crack dangerously from his useless strain against the straps on his jaw and forehead tying his head down, and he knows, he won’t be able to turn his head for weeks to come once this is over.

Which it won’t be before he’s ripped open and poisoned from the inside out by body fluids and acid whatever other shit he’s being fed; he doesn’t need to hear Sauron’s next words to know.

Visibly satisfied with his work, Sauron gives him another absent pat on his stomach that is slowly but certainly bulging with too much liquid pouring into him from three sides.

“Much better. Now let’s see how much we can put into you before you start tearing, shall we? It’s really for your own good, pet. We don’t want a mess like last time when you next provide some well-deserved entertainment for our hard-working soldiers. Learn how to be grateful how well I’m looking out for my favorite subjects, and you can make your life in these halls so much easier.”

He bends over Maitimo’s head to press a humiliating kiss to the top of his sweat-drenched head before walking back to his desk to pick up his usual parchment roles for his notes on their little experiment, the half-hard erection between his legs already forgotten. He seldom wastes time fucking Maitimo himself these days. There’s so much more entertaining techniques for him to use on that broken shell of an elf that was once a High King.

Maitimo is left alone hurting, bleeding, desperate and losing another fragment of his soul to ever-lasting hopelessness.

[ohwriteiforgot]

What do you say we bring on the FEELS? Clintasha + in the rain + confessing feelings, please ☔😍

Thank you, Lily, for the wonderful prompt again 😍 I was planning on this being semi-canon compliant, picking up in Tokyo at the beginning of Endgame. Then I thought... that one deserves its own fic. It deserves to be longer than I intend to make these prompt fills. So I’ll write it too, some day. For now, though, maybe something lighter 🤗 I hope you like it 💖 (W H Y did this become so angsty so quickly???????)

Kissing prompt list

The soft pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the car was the only sound filling the silence. During the entire ride from the Triskelion, the two of them hadn’t said a thing, too riled up to even look at each other.

To say that the mission hadn’t gone according to plan would be putting it mildly. It had been a disaster.

Neither of them had expected there to be children in that lab. It had brought up bad memories, chilled them to the bones. It had thrown the entire mission off balance. It had thrown them off balance. The explosives had gone off too early. They’d barely had enough time to get all the kids out. They’d barely made it out alive. Natasha’s ears still rang with every bump on the road.

She’d only let Clint drive because of the mild concussion. She was out of the car before he’d even killed the engine.

“Nat,” he called out before he followed her, barely a step behind. He knew everything going through her head, knew how all-consuming it could be. He couldn’t let her succumb to it. He was so tired of seeing her suffer, of watching her come apart every once in a while by a more severe mission. “Nat,” he said again, more insistently this time, and reached for her hand.

“How many,” she hissed as she spun, ripping her arm away, already soaked to her bones. “How many were there that we didn’t get to in time? How many did we kill?”

“This is not your fault.”

“No, it’s both of ours. We did this, Clint.”

He stared into her eyes, into the pain and desperation, into the anger, the sorrow, the conflict raging there. He understood her perfectly. He hated it too. But she knew as well as he did that that was the way things worked. Sometimes there were casualties. She looked at him pleadingly, as if reading his mind.

“Children.” He nodded as rain fell into their eyes. They blinked away the water. Rain or something else – what did it matter? Natasha shook her head. “We should have split up.”

Clint looked at her like she was crazy. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“We could have covered more ground, we could have saved more –“

“No,” he snapped. “We would have died too. And I will never let that happen, as long as it’s up to me.”

“Why do you think you have a say in wether I live or die,” she growled as she got into his personal space, clothes sticking to her skin, hair dark in the greyness of the sky.

“I don’t,” he shrugged,” but I have a say in wether or not I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And if I fail, well… let’s hope that never happens.”

“Why does it matter so much? They’ll just assign you a new partner, and you’ll forget about me in no time.”

Pain lingered in between them, crashed around them like the rain seeping from above. He took her hands in his again.

“I can’t explain to you how messed everything you just said was,” he breathed. “But I don’t want another partner. I don’t want to forget about you. I never want to forget about you.” He too a step toward her, shortening the distance between their bodies. “I can’t imagine a world without you, Nat. I love you.”

She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. “I love you too, Clint. You’re my best friend, but –“

“No,” he interrupted her again, voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

He felt the second her breath hitched. He felt the tension in her shoulders, the beat of her heart. He’d been holding in that truth for a long time. Might as well be out with it. There was no time like the present, especially in their line of work. They could die any day. And he was done waiting for a sign that she felt the –

He’d closed his eyes, unable to watch the rejection in hers. He didn’t see her go up on the tips of her toes. He didn’t see her lean in.

The kiss was soft, surprising, barely more than a brush of their lips. It was… different than anything either of them had experienced before, different than the hard passion or the senseless obligation of the cover.

It meant something.

It meant everything.

Natasha put a palm to Clint’s cheek and smiled gently, though the sadness still lingered.

“I love you too,” she repeated, eyes boring into his. He breathed out a deep sigh, heavy with relief. Then he leaned in again.