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tomriddleslove · 2 months

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Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x you

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yennasun · 2 years

Note

A prompt where the creator haunts MT subconscious every time MT is either about to go to sleep or is asleep, You can also add Rooney there too :D

This concept will actually make its way into the main storyline.

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

It'd been a long day.

A loooong hard day of labor, red needed help with farmwork, yellow needed help with her Redstone which eventually led to him and second having to go out and mine for some.

"We should head to bed." Second said once they came back, MT nodded in agreement.

His arms, legs and upper back were all sore; most likely augmented by the fact that he hadn't slept in the past 2 nights.

I still got some steam left in me...I can do more.

He'd tell himself as he got ready for more labor, at least none of the others pried as to why their iron, gold, wood and food reserves had basically doubled.

But tonight was the night he'd break the cycle and get himself some much needed rest.

At least he thought as much.

Like usual, everytime he closed his eyes he was met with a flash from the past, despite how brief it was it was enough for MT to recognize when and where it was from.

He tossed and turned for hours, grimacing while he forced his eyes to stay shut and witnessing every terrible deed inflicted on him as beads of sweat formed on his face.

These sights began to have sounds associated with them, chains rattling, metallic squealing, even a scream here and there. It was overpowering.

It all jumbled and intertwined in a spiral of sensible nonsense, he could scarcely hear his surroundings and he wanted to scream to drown it all out.

After hour-long minutes, it all just suddenly stopped and was replaced by a quiet white noise.

Then a voice more loud and clear than the others spoke.

"Get up."

He knew the voice anywhere, and got up from bed out of pure fear.

"Hands up."

But..wh-

"Don't talk back, do it."

He put his hands and legs in their familiar, but unwanted positions.

"Your stance is far too open and your guard is sloppy, like an amatuer. Did you learn nothing from us? Outside, now!"

Why a-

"Outside, now."

Leaving in a trance like state, without even getting his proper clothes on he went out and into the woods.

The cold night air made his skin crawl and achey joint even moreso.

He was instructed over to a tree.

"Hook, straight."

He let the lunches fly without question.

"Slip, straight, uppercut"

He continued to take instruction, striking the tree until his hands were bloody and broken.

"Slip, hook, straight, uppercut, duck, hook"

Please, my hands th-they-

"You don't have time to feel pain, only to fight. Do it."

He did as instructed, it's all he was good for wasn't it?

He yelled in pain as striking with his broken hands sent icy spikes of agony up his arms.

"Again."

No mo-more...please, I think my hands a-

"You THINK?! Since when did ANYTHING good come from YOU thinking?"

MT thought about it and found he was right, whenever he thought of anything someone got hurt...he obeyed.

He did it more and more until the pain drove him to his knees.

"Pathetic...what happened, we almost had you perfect? And now you're reduced."

But I h-have a new life, I have friends...I don't have to fight anym-more

He heard a sick laugh echo through his head before he looked up to see him, a face he hadn't been wanting to see ever again.

"You think you can just run away a get a clean slate? No little one, your purpose will follow you around wherever you go. You can't run or hide from what you're made for, you are a destroyer."

Those words broke MT completely, as he said it every single act of violence he ever committed flashed through his mind and they were many.

No matter weather it was for good or evil, an act of violence is still a violent act and the many flashes he had only cemented creators words.

He knelt there motionless as creator paced around him.

"Now that you've learned your place, you have to cut all ties to this fake life you've been living and then you have to come home."

"What are you ta-" he said outloud

"Kill them. Kill them all, and then come home"

MTs eyes widened at the words.

"...what..."

"You heard me, now go do it!"

"No..." MT said Coldly

Creator drew close to him with a sneer.

"What did you just say?"

He said in a threatening tone.

"I said no." MT responded

"You think I won't hurt you? I can show you pain you couldn't possibly imagine...and it'll start with your "friends""

"No, I'm not gonna hurt them! I won't!" He yelled

"But you have to, you will anyways weather you like it or not."

Creator smiled sickly.

"No...NO!" He sent a blast at creator and caused an explosion so great that it leveled the area and sent dust and dirt up along with smoke.

Once it cleared, creator was gone.

After he surveyed the damage he'd done, he heard creators laugh in his head once again.

"You are, and always will be, a destroyer."

The night gell silent, the only audible things being the rustling trees and chirping crickets with raw occasional falling pebble from the explosion.

His hands throbbed painfully and the cold began to burrow into his bare chest as he was in as much pain as he'd ever been in within the past 2 years.

He stumbled home in tears at the pain, both physical and mental.

He bore the pain and grabbed the door handle to make his way inside only to be greeted by more silence.

Good...I can't let anyone know how fucked up I am...

He limped down the hall and once again bit down once the pain of grabbing the doorknob hit his hands.

He dropped down as the pain wrapped around his whole body like a snake, constricting him till he couldn't breath.

He lie motionless, afraid that by moving he'd only worsen it.

He thought through what happened and felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and despair, the more he thought the more he realized creator was right in everything he said.

Maybe he was right all along...maybe that was his way of keeping me in line

He began to peice together events that never even happened and he only felt worse, now instead of flashes of prior events it was flashes of things that never happened.

Or maybe things that will happen...

The things he saw now were much more distressing than before, because instead of him being hurt it was the others...it was purple.

He never cared about pain, if it ever came down to it he'd go back to creator to spare the others without so much as a second thought...no doubt in his mind about that.

But it wasn't even creator causing them harm in these flashes...it was him.

He put his hands over his head and wept quietly until the exertion of each sob began to tire him out and his wet eyelids grew heavy.

Before he went under, he heard a soothing, welcome and familiar voice comforting him.

"Get some sleep kid, you've earned it."

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This one's a short because I didn't have to add too many layers to it, I also tried my hand at symbolism. See if you can spot it :)

#alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm #animator vs animation #avm king orange #ava #au #avm mt #avm mango #usfc

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seacottons · 4 years

Text

sir kiss me ; — c. san x reader

pairing: choi san x reader

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: if only you knew how much of a monster your soulmate was, you would've never went out of your way to look for him.

notes: circus!au, soulmate!au, magician!san, supernatural beings, violence, drugging, kidnapping, brief unconsented touching.

Nobody knows why or how, but everyone is born with an intangible red string tied around one of their fingers. It's said that the string is connected to one's heart, a figurative extension of the aorta. No one can see any other thread but their own.

It stretches for a few yards and suddenly cuts off, fading away into nothingness.

On the other end of every string is a person's soulmate, and only when the two meet, the other half of the red thread becomes visible.

The red string symbolizes the unification of two intertwined destinies; it is a force so powerful that no one can comprehend the mechanisms of it.

Every one in this world will meet their soulmate eventually, and when they do, their string becomes as taut as guitar strings, and they have a longing tug in their hearts towards their partner.

You've noticed lately that your red string doesn't dangle in the air as much as it used to before, nor does it pool into a mess when you sit idle. It's become a bit stiff, and you have no idea why.

You've been living alone in this fairly large town for years, and never has your string come this close to being taut and rigid.

Not much has changed. Life took its usual mundane path.

The wind undressed all the trees of their gold and red leaves. Wagons in the town's markets were filled with heavy goards and pumpkins, and the scent of fresh bread and roasting chestnuts continued to fill the air.

For that reason, you had a small assumption that maybe it had to do with the sudden, traveling circus appearing in town. Their steam train was parked behind the eastern part of town, the colorful logo of Circus Wonderland standing out amongst the earthy terrain. Advertisements were plastered onto the town's stucco buildings, and no one could miss the the immensely large chapiteau the workers have been setting up for days now.

You were quick to snag a pass, knowing they'd run out quick with how much the townsfolk craved amusement and entertainment. The opening night was flocked with a large and impressive crowd, but thankfully, you arrived in time to have a seat right up front.

With the influx of people around and lack of breeze, you felt yourself heating up quite uncomfortably. A whisper of autumn's breeze danced your way with every flap of the tent's curtains as new spectators walked in.

Swallowing nervously, you peered down to your lap, gaze trained on the taut, red string tied around your finger. Your instincts had been right after all. A sudden feeling of uneasiness washed over you.

You hadn't mentally prepared yourself to meet your soulmate. What will you tell them? Will they like you? What if they end up not wanting to be with you? What if you end up not even finding your soulmate in the first place?

A round of applause and cheers filling the arena ripped you from your thoughts. You perked up to see a young ringmaster welcoming the crowd with a charming smile and sweet words, a few strands of blue hair framing his face.

His voice blared over the microphone in his hand, introducing himself and announcing the next few acts to come, the very first being equestrian demonstrations.

A wave of gasps rushed from the spectators as a sudden herd of horses rushed in from the back of large big top, their braided and bejeweled manes bouncing in the process. Colorful headdresses, bridles, and feather plumes adorned each horse as they all trotted in a uniformed circle around the ring curb with such precision, it left everyone in awe.

The equestrian master, Mingi- if you recalled the ringmaster's words, stepped onto the center of the ring, beaming quite proudly at all of the horses who bowed their heads to the crowds. He tipped his leather hat at the band in the back to signal the start of his performance, and the dozens of horses instantly snapped into motion. Some galloped with the beat of the drums, while others performed tricks and posed for the starstruck spectators.

The performance came to an end too quickly for your liking, and you subconsciously found yourself clapping enthusiastically at the bowing master and his horses, your jaw slack with wonder and amusement.

Uniformists rushed out to clear the ring of the props and prepare for the next act. You quite enjoyed the ringmaster's charming ways of exciting the crowd. Despite his small stature and pretty face, you can practically feel the waves of authority he exuded. One sharp look to the band and they cease their music instantly. One snap of his fingers and the uniformists quicken their pace even more so.

The circus was filled with amazing entertainers and performers. Clowns and elephants were a light-hearted, comedic act, but the ventriloquests, jugglers, escape artists, and contortionists were just as entertaining. A few performers that stood out were the death-defying, trio acrobats who went by the name YunWooSang.

The white safety netting proved useless as the three seemed to fly in the air as they jumped excitedly onto the trampolines and swung from trapeze to trapeze. One of them even daringly made it across the tightrope whilst blindfolded.

The red haired man with inhumane strength was also one of the highlights of the show. Metal, wood, and cement bent to his will and strength. For comedic relief, the ringmaster gave the unamused man a sack of freshly waxed apples, whispering in his ear and gesturing to the crowd. The other merely rolled his eyes and nodded, turning his attention to the red fruit. The crowd cheered as the ringmaster bought the microphone to the man's stoic face as he belted out graceful notes, all the while snapping the defenseless fruit in half and throwing the pieces into the frenzied audience.

The tall, black haired tiger tamer bowed to the applauding crowd before exiting the arena after others quickly moved the three large felines to the back. The crowd grew deafly silent as the white suit-tailed ringmaster made his way towards the illuminated center. With just a shot of his hand in the air, the music ceased abruptly. Even through the dark, you can make out the uniformists rushing to settle new props around the ring's perimeter.

"Did you all enjoy Seonghwa's act?" He threw a smirk to the restless crowd, shaking his head in amusement at the wave of enthusiastic cries, "Alright, then. We saved our best and biggest act for last," a roaring drum roll suddenly erupted from the band in the back, and the lights dimmed considerably, "For the grand finale tonight, ladies and gentlemen- please give a warm welcome to our very own illusionist and magician, San!"

Within an instant, after the lights above illuminated the entire arena, your breath caught into your throat. The deafening applause now suddenly seemed miles away and underwater, your own heartbeat dominating every audible sound around you.

The past performances were so entertaining, that you completely forgot about the initial reason you came here in the first place.

Raising your hand up ever so slightly, your eyes trained onto the taut string tied to your finger. It had become as stiff as a guitar's and no longer sagged like power lines. Your eyes roamed from past the metal bars, onto the arena, and finally stopping to the man in all red attire standing proudly in the center ring. He raised his hand in greeting, the string between the two of your forms rising with every movement of his hands. Behind him stood several of his assistants.

You suddenly shrunk into your seat, stuffing your hand into your coat's pockets and holding your breath. You couldn't even decipher the words escaping his mouth, the gears in your mind suddenly reeling to a halt. All you knew was that he had the smoothest voice you've ever heard, and your stomach flipped just as much as the acrobats did.

If he noticed the completed string stretching into the crowd, he didn't show it, instead going on with the show. He performed several jaw-dropping acts with the help of his assistants.

You were too mesmerized by the acts that you failed to notice the magician's red eyes lingering on your form.

The crowd laughed light-heartedly when the magician gave one spectator a scare with one of his tricks. He smiled and tipped his head down apologetically.

"For the next act, I'd like to have one of the spectators come down and volunteer," San's rich voice boomed within the arena. Several hands shot out in excitement, the majority wanting to jump at the opportunity to witness the illusionist's tricks first hand.

San's eyes flickered onto numerous spectators, before his traveling eyes stop at your form. Your heart rate spikes instantly, breath ceasing in your throat at the smile he shoots you. A red gloved hand reaches out to point at you, and you notice it's the same finger with your string tied onto it. The excited shouts slowly come to a dying halt, and San waits patiently for the crowd to cease their talking.

"You," he drawls out, making you sink a little further in your seat. Was it possible he was pointing to the person behind you?

"The one with the red string," his words only affirmed your suspicions, "Please come down here."

The people shuffle in their seats, hushed murmurs traveling like waves within the crowd. Many wide eyes ogle at your form, while a few people from the crowd congratulated you in regards to your completed red string.

You gulped thickly, quickly shaking your head at the magician, who in turn rolled his eyes at your meek reaction. With a snap of his fingers, you're engulfed in a puff of smoke before finding yourself standing in front of him in the center arena. Your stomach lurched at the sudden change of gravity, knees wobbling and arms desperately reaching out to grab at the man's velvet coat to stop yourself from falling. You swallowed down the sensation of wanting to vomit your innards and took a deep breath before the magician helped stabilize your form upright with a light-hearted laugh, "I apologize for that, my dear."

"How did you do that?" you ask weakly. He gives you a look of amusement.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," he murmurs as he gazes down at you speculatively, brow quirking up as he takes ahold of your hand, where the string barely stretched an inch between the two of you now. He was so much more handsome up close. You felt the tips of your ears warm at the sudden realization of the close proximity between your frames. A feeling of self-consciousness washed over you, and you could only wish such a moment like this occurred without hundreds of eyes watching you, "If I had known I were to meet my soulmate today, I would've put on a much better show for you."

He spoke into his microphone headpiece, voice echoing within the arena. You hadn't noticed the way the ringmaster's gaze darkened from the back of the arena, eyes suddenly watching your form quizzically. A few heads popped from the back curtain, and hasty whispers were exchanged between the other performers and the ringmaster. The scattered applause around you startled you, and you smiled in embarrassment at the magician, who in return brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Your name, beautiful?"

"Y/n," you shoot him a small smile, eyeing the red and black triangles painted onto his eyelids.

He grips your wrist, pulling your arm upwards before announcing to the crowd that you'll be a part of the final act of the show. He maneuvers the microphone from his face to lean down and whisper into your ear, "How well do you do with heights?"

You drew in a fortifying breath in an attempt to calm your erratic heartbeat, "Not so well, actu-"

He brings a cup to your lips, and you wonder where on earth he had managed to obtain it seemingly out of the blue, "Here. This'll help with the nausea in case." You eye the liquid contents warily, and he notices with a simple quirk of his brow, "Don't worry. It's just some of our liquid magic. A befitting name, right? Nothing harmful."

You down the liquid and wince at the burning sensation in your throat, and you assume that it's only some type of alcohol. You listen intently to the magician's instructions, eyes trained onto his red eyes that shined like rubies. You feel his breath ghost your face as he points up towards the thin tightrope up above. You hardly concentrate on his words, too preoccupied with dazing at his chiseled face. He was absolutely breathtaking with wide shoulders and black tresses framing his face.

"Is there a word I can say if things get too overwhelming?"

He casts you a look of amusement, lips quirking up, "A word?"

He gives it some thought, before snapping his fingers, "I've got it. Three words actually. Say them anytime, and I'll stop the act," a glint of mischief flashes within his eyes as he faintly brushes the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, "The magic words are: Sir Kiss Me."

You want to smile at the play on words, but your nerve-wrecking thoughts left no room for humor.

He gives a simple nod to the band and they begin playing.

Two of the three acrobats suddenly joined the two of you, the men running into the arena with nothing but tight fitting trapeze pants, their broad shoulders and chiseled muscles on full display. One of them eyes your form up and down with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"San, you're one lucky bastard if that's your soulmate," the raven haired male shoots you a flirtatious wink, ignoring the daggers the other shot at him.

"Shut up and get to it, Woo," San ushered one of the acrobats to begin performing their previous act. The black haired trapeze artist ran a hand through his long, inky locks, throwing the magician a mischievous grin. While jumping from the trampoline up to the trapeze, the sound of a loud bang startled you and the spectators. A puff of smoke erupted around the acrobat, and when it cleared, he was nowhere to be seen.

The magician snapped his red leathered fingers once more, another bang following afterwards. The lights suddenly directed towards the back, where the very same artist waved enthusiastically to the crowd.

The crowd grew silent when another bang sounded from up above. The drums and suspenseful music filled the arena as a puff of smoke caught everyone's attention, and from it emerged the third acrobat standing gracefully still on the tightrope above. Your eyes widened considerably. The male literally appeared out of thin air. San's head suddenly snapped to peer at you, and before you had the chance to blink, you were suddenly engulfed in another plume of smoke, before finding yourself in the arms of the blonde acrobat meters above the ground.

Your frame tensed considerably, arms hastily wrapping around the male's neck with a loud cry of fear. You didn't dare look down, your eyes scrunching shut in fear. Laughing at your frightened expression, he clicked his tongue in dismay, arms reaching to unwrap your limbs from his frame before tipping you down the tightrope, "Don't give me that look. You're in good hands."

Before your frame succumbed to gravity, you felt your heart drop almost immediately. A silent scream caught into your throat as you plummeted down to the safety net. Just before you reached it, two hands shot out and grabbed at your frame, gripping your frightened form with so much precision and care. You were met with the sight of the tallest of the three acrobats swinging onto the trapeze with the back of knees. Your trembling pupils took in the sight of his lips quirking up mischievously as he suddenly threw your frame like a rag doll towards the raven haired man, who in return held you in his arms whilst standing as still as a statue on the swinging trapeze bar. Within the entirety of it, your eyes had remained squeezed shut tightly.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," he cooed mockingly, lips outstretched into a coy smile, "Wooyoung's got ya."

The fast paced performance left no room or time for anyone to observe exactly how it was done, and even the most rational spectator experienced a moment of doubt when watching the act.

With a wave of the magician's hands, four more bangs and puffs of smoke followed suit, and the three acrobats found themselves standing in front of San, their hands intertwined as they bowed gracefully to the cheering crowd. You jolted upon realizing you were held in the magician's awaiting arms, your frame scrambling to stand. San placed a hand onto the small of your back, urging you to bow along with him towards the cheering crowd.

"You never did say the words, hm? I knew you could do it." Regardless of the many eyes watching you attentively, he turns to you, hand cupping the side of your face whilst thumbing the apple of your cheek with a small smile, "Stay after the show. We have a lot to talk about."

You can only nod faintly, head light from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. A man came to escort you back to your seat, and your turned back to glance at San's retreating figure. You hasten your pace as a wolf-whistle and degrading comment thrown your way reached your ears, and you gave the spectator a quick glare before making yourself to your seat.

A few minutes tick by, and you notice your vision grows a tad bit blurry. The blue haired ringmaster enters the center once more, large grin plastered onto his face. He tips his head in gratitude at the cheering audience, before raising the mic to his face, "Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Circus Wonderland, we want to thank you all for your splendid patronage and love you've given us tonight. We hope we've scared the life out of you."

You noticed his eyes flash in your direction momentarily, but you dismiss the thought.

"Unforeseen circumstances beyond my control have taken place tonight. Unfortunately, we will not be able to give you another night of performances."

His words seemed to blend together, and you furrowed your brows, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your head. Just what did that magician really have in that concoction to make you this dazed?

A sudden wicked smile taking over his features made your heart stop for a second. The ringmaster's dark orbs illuminated a bright red as he chuckled at the confused spectators, "You will all go back home and forget the events of today," a gloved hand reached up to point a finger at you and ruby eyes trained on your confused expression, "except you."

You watched in bewilderment as the crowd quietly made themselves down the platform and out of the tent. The spectators all shared the same empty, mindless gaze as they trudged robotically back home. Blue wisps of light swayed around their bodies like halos and stretched into the ringmaster's waiting palm, and the overhead lights began flickering repeatedly.

"Inform the others that I want everything loaded into the train this instant," the man snapped to an assistant to his right, "Leave no sign we were here, or I will personally tie you to the train tracks."

Voices from the back sounded out, and you noticed the abandoned tickets on the floor burned, the ashes dancing into the air as nothing more than dust. Your head snapped back to give the ringmaster a wary look, body instinctively jolting up to blend in with the crowd. A sudden wave of dizziness hit you like a tidal wave, and your knees wobbled whilst you attempted to regain your footing.

"Where do you think you're going?" an amused chuckle rang from the blue haired male as he suddenly vanished from the center arena and beside you. Before you had the chance to jump from his prying hands, he leaned in close, eyes glowing like rubies in sunlight, "It's a shame we can't have your life-source like everyone else here. After all, you've cost us a whole 'nother night of regaining our energy from you humans."

Fear yelled at you to escape, hide, run away; hell, to even fight back, but your drugged state made it impossible for your body to cooperate properly. You didn't want anything to do with your soulmate anymore. You made a pathetic attempt to crawl away, only to have the ringmaster grip you by the back of your coat. You clawed at his arm harshly, desperately wanting to escape his claws.

"Shouldn't you be in the back making sure everyone's packing," a familiar voice called from thin air. The blue-haired male's annoyed face vanished as a puff of smoke enshrouded your figure. You found yourself on the dirt ground behind the curtains of the arena, stomach flipping at the shift in gravity.

Peering up dazedly, you give the magician a confused glance, your figure stumbling to stand up to walk away. The sound of a few thuds caught your attention, and your breath suddenly came to a halt upon noticing the very same man from the crowd tied onto the wooden frame the knife thrower previously used. A thick ribbon gagged his mouth, and his wild, tear-filled eyes shot at you desperately for help when another knife was flung carelessly above his head, lodging into the wood. Splinters flew out upon impact, and the man quivered in fright, tears streaming down his face. The harsh winds of autumn nipped at your face, and you shrunk into yourself to find some warmth. Your surroundings spun and you began seeing double.

"Ah, Y/n. Nice of you to join us back here," San drawled simply, ignoring the rushing uniformists and other artists in the back, "Care to help me gut this man like the animal he is?"

This man was a monster.

The set of gleaming knives floated dangerously above his head, their sharp tips pointing into the direction of the constricted male. You shook your head as quickly as you could, instantly regretting it as you felt the onslaught of a mind-splitting headache. You desperately attempted to form words, wanting to ask what was going on, what he was, and to let the traumatized man go, but everything felt too heavy, and you couldn't properly think or hold your weight upright. No, you didn't care about any of that. You only wanted to flee from this nightmare.

"No worries, sweetheart," his sweet voice chimed like bells, juxtaposed by the ravenous, menacing look in his dark eyes, "I wouldn't want to soil you with this filth's blood anyway."

You turn your head away, a voice in your mind telling you the next scenes will plague your thoughts far beyond many sleepless nights.

To San, there was something so oddly satisfying about seeing the man's limbs outstretched and cuffed, awaiting the knives threatening to rip him into shreds. With a shrug of his shoulders and a flick of his finger, the knives surged forward, lodging into the man's chest and joints. He cried out in anguish, veins on his neck prominent as he struggled in his confines, desperate to flee the monster in front of him, "Oh, don't worry. You'll have the privilege of forgetting this night like the others," his brows shot up as a condescending smile crossed his features, "and you're also going to forget how it feels to speak as well."

Without an ounce of hesitation or empathy, San ripped the scarf from the man's mouth, and watched in amusement as one of the floating knives reached down harshly to rip past the seam of the man's lips, only to carve out his tongue. The muscle dangled limply by a thread of tissue, and San drank in the sounds of the man's clear cries of agony, his frame convulsing in pain.

"Mm, I guess our bloodsuckers can clean this mess up," he hummed lowly to himself, eyes watching as streams of blood dripped down the man's chin, patches of blood blooming on his other wounds as well, "Jongho! Seonghwa, he's all yours now. I think I might've killed him."

He peered down at your slumped figure onto the floor, chuckling to himself at your blown pupils and unfocused, dazed look overtaking your features, "Go to sleep now, y/n. It's going to be a long ride."

His mouth moved to form more words, but it was as if the audio somehow became distorted and disconnected from reality. A dark mist fogged your vision, the glowing red of his eyes and satisfied smile blurring and melting with all of the other colors around you, and you felt as light as a feather. You were aware of the sensation of falling.

You were falling.

And then, nothing.

You awoke in a progression of steps that seemed to take an onslaught of hours. It felt like you had awoken from a drunken stupor. Your arms and legs felt much heavier than usual, and you had no energy to lift your head up, as if your neck could hardly sustain the weight. Disoriented thoughts filled your mind to the brim. A strange taste lingered at the back of your throat, and your mind drew blank as you attempted to process the events of last night. Was it last night? You had trouble recalling the sense of time.

As the thick fog of sleep slowly seeped away, you realize there's an odd, cold sensation around your wrists, and upon shifting them slightly, you realize they're bound with metal. A feeling of dread and fear overtook your expression. Despite the racing thoughts plaguing your mind, your body just felt too heavy and disconnected from your mind.

Lolling your head to the side, you make out a small bedroom and a few windows. Trees and greenery rushed past the windows, the moon shining brightly in the night sky. You listen to the sound of a train moving steadily on railway tracks. Slowly, you come to the realization the events you thought were a dream were indeed reality, and this must've been one of the sleeping cars of the steam train.

Panic struck you like lightning, and you struggled to rip your confined wrists from the metallic headboard. The clanging of metal caught the other person's attention, and a chill travelled down your spine at sound of footsteps, before catching the sight of the magician looming over your frame with a smile playing on his lips.

The moonlight casts a silver glow around his dark silhouette, and his ruby eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as you gave him a wary and confused look, body stiffening in fear. You attempted to scoot away when the mattress dipped as the man settled beside you, hand reaching forward to cup your face. From your peripheral vision, you can see the crimson thread tying the two of you together. Your head snapped away from his touch with a soft whimper of fear, making him chuckle to himself.

"Where are you taking me?" you slurred, thrashing when he made another attempt to touch you. Unshed tears pooled like diamonds in your eyes, and among the melting colors of your vision, you still could clearly make out the glowing red of his orbs. You wanted to ask a million more questions, but your tongue felt too heavy and mind too slow.

"Wherever I'm going, my dear. You're mine whether you like it or not. You're going to spend the rest of your life with me, whether you want to or not, " his eyes glinted red as he leaned in to nuzzle the junction of your jaw, hand gripping a fistful of your hair to keep you in place as his lips pressed tender kisses against the column of your neck, "Welcome to Circus Wonderland."

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

Text

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply, brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

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