#and she jabbed the needle into a nerve and I full on screamed in pain and sweated and shook and passed out for a couple of seconds

[jangofctts]

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy 

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.  

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn​ THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are. 

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that? 

Not much, as it so happens. 

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding— 

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail. 

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought. 

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in. 

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.            

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics. 

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…  

So you ran. 

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.    

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.  

Maker—how did everything become so tangled? 

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out. 

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift. 

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.  

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.     

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground. 

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.  

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and— 

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times. 

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving. 

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”       

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.   

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz. 

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now. 

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.      

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”  

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.  

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.  

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”   

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.   

“No more bounties.” 

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.  

“No more hunts alone—“  

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.” 

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.  

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”   

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”    

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”    

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire. 

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. 

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails. 

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”    

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.   

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.   

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.  

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.    

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble. 

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.      

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night. 

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over. 

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits. 

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.  

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.  

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.   

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.    

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you. 

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”       

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow. 

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—  

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.” 

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.  

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.       

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”  

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.        

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.   

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.   

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.     

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.   

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous. 

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”  

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh. 

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?” 

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”    

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers. 

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling. 

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal. 

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“ 

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.       

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.   

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.  

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.” 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.  

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.  

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you. 

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now. 

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"  

He continues without missing a beat. 

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck.  “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity. 

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.    

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly. 

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.   

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.   

Maker you hate this fucking planet—   

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up. 

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.           

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”    

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.      

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar— 

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.    

You were right. 

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand. 

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”     

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.   

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants. 

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought. 

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath. 

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.  

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.  

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward. 

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance. 

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.          

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.  

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs 

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips. 

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.” 

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up. 

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you. 

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.           

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips. 

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.” 

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. 

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.  

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.      

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.    

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.     

Another time for that game maybe. 

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you. 

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.” 

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.  

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.  

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works. 

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.      

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.” 

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind. 

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.  

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things. 

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim. 

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss. 

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue. 

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?” 

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.            

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent. 

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.   

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat. 

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” 

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches. 

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.         

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been. 

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst​ @blue-writes-a03​ @max--phillips​

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: The Armputation

Yeah. Yeah it’s time bitches :) you read it right we’re chopping that shit off

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: amputation (omg wow), noncon surgery/body mod, body horror, slight gore

Erebus had sensed something was off when Neteri failed to bring him dinner one night, and when the guards appeared at his door the next morning instead of her, he knew what it meant.

It was time for another procedure.

He understood why she didn’t tell him it was coming, but having hardly any time to process that something was going to be drastically different about his body within the next hour wasn’t the best feeling. Before he knew it, he was on the table again, this time with his shirt off, that silly little rat drawing on the ceiling staring down at his restrained form. Maybe he should give it a name? That was something to focus on, and it’s not like he could see what Neteri was up to at her workbench with his head strapped down. After debating a bit, he settled on Zander, after a big black dog he’d played with sometimes as a kid. He missed seeing dogs. And cats. And birds and the sky and trees and flowers-

“Morning, Erebus!” Neteri seemed far too chipper for someone who was about to…do whatever she was going to do. “How are you feeling?”

“Not...great. Because I’m here. I don’t want to be here.” Even though I deserve to be.

“Yeah that’s expected. But nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Do I get out of this if I say yes?” She laughed and stroked his face.

“You’re fine.” He felt himself grow more and more nervous with anticipation as she rubbed something cold all over his right shoulder. Right there, she was going to cut him open and, and...what was she getting from her workbench? When she came back into view and he saw what she had, he felt his stomach drop. The knife she was holding was the most horrific looking instrument he’d ever seen. It was large and curved, and the fact that she was going to use it on him made it that much worse. 

“What,” he gulped, “what are you going to do to me?”

“Well...do you promise not to freak out?”

“Uh...no. You do realize that makes me more worried, right?”

“Oh, yeah I guess so. It’ll probably be better that you know the full plan beforehand anyway. So,” she put down the knife and clasped her hands, “I’m going to be replacing your arm.”

“Replacing my...with what, exactly?” 

“Another arm, of course. This one, to be exact.” She motioned to a box on the counter. “It’s from a lust demon.”

“Wait, you’re going to cut off my arm?!” Neteri nodded matter-of-factly as Erebus’s heart rate skyrocketed. He didn’t deserve that...did he?!

“I thought that was implied in the ‘replacing’ part, but yeah. Off with your right arm, on with this one.”

“You can’t just do that! That’s-you can’t just amputate my arm!”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out.”

“Of-of course I’m freaking out! You want to cut off one of my limbs, for Drottkia’s sake!”

“I mean, yeah, but I’m going to give you a new one right away. So at the end of the day you’ll have the same number of arms you started with. It’s honestly not worth getting that worked up about.”

“Yes it is! You’re going to just-just attach someone else’s arm to my body! What in the world makes you think that’s not-” his voice cracked, and he realized there were tears streaming from his eyes. He didn’t want this, he was so, so afraid, and no matter how much he struggled and pleaded it was inevitable. 

“Shh, shh. That’s enough now, you’ll be alright,” Neteri said as she wiped away his tears. He hated the way she comforted him, as if she wasn’t the source of all his problems. She reached for something out of his line of sight, and he didn’t manage to get a good look before she shoved it in his mouth. It was just a wad of cloth, but it silenced all of his further protests. He struggled uselessly against the tight leather straps, but he could hardly move at all. There was nothing he could do as she picked up the knife again. There was nothing he could do as he felt the cold blade touch his skin. 

There was nothing he could do but wiggle the fingers of his right hand one last time while he still could. 

The knife sliced through the flesh of his arm in one swift stroke, pain exploding out from it so quickly that Erebus could hardly register it. He barely had time to scream before he felt her place another tool on the wreck of his arm. And when it started moving, he knew exactly what it was. That was a saw, that was a saw, she was sawing through his bone, the vibrations shaking him to the very core. All of a sudden, there was a quiet thud and the sawing stopped, causing a suffocating panic to descend over Erebus, threatening to crush him.

It was gone it was gone his arm was gone the arm he’d used to write and eat and draw and plant flowers and hug his mother one last time and hold his father’s hand as he died was gone and the horrific new one couldn’t replace that, not at all, not at all, but it was too late because it was gone. He heard her pick it up and take it away, leaving a gaping hole next to him on the table, a space that had always been filled before by his arm, but his arm was gone and there was nothing there, nothing at all.

But when he felt her set something else down in that empty space, and his stomach twisted. It was the arm, the one that wasn’t his, the one that was going to be attached to his body, that was going to be his. After fiddling with it a bit, she pressed it up against the stump, the cold demon flesh meeting that of a warm human. She started to stitch them together, and Erebus couldn’t help but whine at both the sting of the needle and the horror of what was happening to him. But once the stitching stopped, the healing magic started, and that was far, far more painful.

Erebus screamed into the gag as he was assaulted by waves of relentless agony, ebbing and flowing as each nerve and blood vessel was joined together. It felt like every pain sensor in the arm was lighting up all at once as the connections were forged, every imaginable anguish being played out in a single moment. And when the bones started to fuse, oh he could hardly breathe, it was like fiery splinters were stabbing up into his shoulder, as many pinpricks of agony as there were stars in the sky, and there was nothing, nothing in the world besides that stabbing pain and the hum of screams in his throat. But all at once, the intensity of the pain evaporated as Neteri’s magic ceased flowing. 

Erebus cautiously opened his eyes, looking at Zander the rat for a moment before turning his gaze to Neteri as much as the strap over his forehead would allow. He was shocked to see that she was clutching the edge of the table for support, breathing heavy as blood dripped steadily from her nose and ears. With a shaking hand, she pulled the gag from his mouth, her unfocused eyes meeting his tear-filled ones.

“Are you...okay?” she gasped between breaths. Erebus paused. He was absolutely, positively, nowhere near okay, but he knew what sort of answer she wanted.

“I’m...it still hurts, but not as much as before you, uh, started...connecting it.” Erebus replied, his voice painfully raspy from screaming. 

“Can you...can you move your fingers?” He hesitantly complied, and was relieved to feel the unfamiliar digits wiggling, even if it felt a little off. She nodded, looking between his hand and the place where she’d attached the arm. “Okay. Hang in there just a bit more.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on the wound again. Her magic sparked to life, and Erebus could see it was hurting her, too, before he was consumed by his own pain. But it wasn’t long before the magic sputtered out again. Neteri nearly collapsed on top of him, catching herself at the last moment.

“I think...it’ll be good...good enough for now. I’m sure it’s not perfect...I promise I’ll fix it later but I...I need to stop or I’ll...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry if...hurts...I know that...really painful...and you shouldn’t...more than necessary.” Opening her eyes, she pulled something out of her pocket before moving out of view. A few seconds later, the pair of guards from before came into the lab, shock flashing on their faces for a moment as they took in the bloodstained scene before them. Neteri came around the table, clutching something small and blue in one of her fists, seemingly a little more steady on her feet. She stood between Erebus and the guards, looking one of them dead in the eye.

“Take him back and give him something to take care of the attachment site, but I don’t want anyone else touching him, is that clear?” She jabbed a finger up at his face, her other hand clutching Erebus’s left arm tightly, either for support or out of possessiveness. “He is mine, and he can care for himself until I’m better.” She turned to the other guard. “I’ll probably need your help with a few things…”

Erebus let the guard take him back without a fuss after he was freed from the table. Trying to escape in this condition would just be dumb, and it’s not like there was much point in running with that spell on the brand. He was left alone in the cell with a roll of bandages and something to help fight off infection. But before he took care of the new wound, Erebus needed to wash off the blood that practically coated the right side of his body. There was so much of it on the arm...no, it was his right arm, that the skin looked completely red. 

But as the blood was washed away by the little rainstorm, Erebus realized that that really was its color. Honestly, with the bright red skin, pitch black nails, and the prominent stitches attaching it to his body, the arm made him look like some sort of...monster which is what he was inside, wasn’t he? He watched in horrified fascination as the limb he didn’t recognize as his own moved as he wanted it to. Well, for the most part. It was sort of shaky, and he couldn’t make a fist or straighten it out all the way, but that was hopefully something Neteri could fix...

And despite everything, a small part of him couldn’t help but hope that, for her sake, Neteri was okay.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump​ @unicornscotty

[kyber-crystal]

Bulletproof

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~1.7k

Summary: In which the Captain gets a little too overprotective, but you end up interpreting his words the wrong way and taking it a little too personally. 

Warnings: slight mentions of violence, angry steve, soft steve

A/N: this was so bad omg I’m so sorry.

The flight back after a mission was always quiet, whether everything had gone well or not. The team was both physically and mentally drained, falling into a comfortable silence as the Quinjet propelled itself through the sky. This mission in particular had taken a toll on all of you.

You were seated in the far corner of the jet as you glanced over at the screen of the flight details, thigh bandaged and throbbing mildly.  While you were able to extract the intel you needed, you'd thrown yourself into the crossfire to do so, being gunned down by a sniper from above. You were lucky enough for it to be just a simple graze, but Steve was treating it as if it was the end of the world.

Of course, you kind of understood where he was coming from. Despite the fact that you had over ten years of experience in the field, you were the youngest member of the team besides Pietro and Wanda, being only two years behind Steve himself. But that didn't stop you from feeling annoyed every time he seemed to act a little too overprotective no matter how many times you claimed you could take care of yourself.

"He's just worried for your safety," Natasha tried to explain when you complained about this one night. "You know how Cap is. A let's-get-down-to-business and always-follow-the-rules type of guy. I wouldn't overthink it if I were you."

You still couldn't help but think that he was overreacting a majority of the time, however. And in this one case in which he'd caught your side comment, it had erupted into a full-on argument.

"The least you could've done was call for backup," he said through gritted teeth. "You went against orders and tried to handle things on your own, and look where that got you."

"Excuse me?" You rolled your eyes. Whenever he made jabs at your decisions like this it made your blood boil with a furious anger; wanting nothing more than to explode at him. "I was successful in doing my job, was I not? And it's not like there were any better options presented to me at that moment."

"That doesn't matter. You could've gotten yourself killed!" he shouted, jaw tensed and arms crossed over his chest as you stared each other down. "How could you have been so stupid, putting your life on the line like that?"

"Stupid?" you scoffed, seething with anger at this point. "If I recall, I was the one who got the intel from the controls room and shut the system down!"

"And you got shot as you were leaving because you didn't keep a good enough lookout of your surroundings. You put the entire team into jeopardy," he told you matter-of-factly. The words stung, but you did your best to remain calm despite being unable to believe he had the nerve to say something like that. "You almost ruined this mission."

The team sat in stunned silence as they watched the screaming match unfold between you two.

"I'm sorry, but you know what, Rogers?" you spat, voice now raised several notches, "Maybe I'm sorry for pissing you off, but there's no way I'm gonna keep putting up with you constantly criticizing me for every little thing I do. We all make mistakes, so I don't get why I'm the only one who gets shit on for making a slip up every. Single. Damn. Time! I'm sick of you ordering me around like you're my boss, because you aren't."

"I'm trying to do what's best for both of us!" Steve yelled. "You just can't seem to get that through your head, can you?"

"Don't need to act like such an asshole about it."

"You know, I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday," he shot back, his harsh words feeling like a spear being thrust through your chest. "And I won't take any credit for it, because it'll be all on you."

You refused to look away, even as your lower lip trembled and your shoulders shook, unwilling to back down. Your lashes brimmed heavy with tears, hands clenched into shaking fists in a desperate last bid to keep it together.

"Okay, cut it out," Tony finally interrupted, Wanda pulling you away from Steve as the murderous look in your eyes told her you were ready to throw hands. "You need to stop bickering like a married couple all the time."

"Tell that to the self-righteous egotistical man who thinks he's always in charge," you muttered.

"To the ignorant woman who's always throwing herself into the crossfire without considering how it might affect the overall completion of the mission," Steve shot back.

"You little—"

"Y/N," Wanda placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, "stop. It's not worth arguing over."

You winced as she helped you sit down, the pain from your wound beginning to catch up to you after standing on your injured leg for too long.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence, with you and Steve refusing to look in each others' direction entirely.

...

As soon as the jet touched down back at HQs, you quickly changed and went straight to the gym. After wrapping protective tape around your palms, you went up to one of the punching bags and began attacking the hell out of it, imagining it as Steve's face making it easier and seeming to further fuel your anger.

You went at this for an hour, pushing yourself to the max, refusing to give your screaming and aching limbs a break. Your muscles contracted and your arms and legs felt like they'd fall off at any minute but you continued going nonetheless, the aching pains that feeling like a million tiny needles stabbing at every inch of your body. Training was probably the worst thing to do for your leg, but the bullet wound was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday.

You put the entire team into jeopardy.

You almost ruined this mission.

You punched the bag harder, feeling your knuckles cracking and blood running down your fingers, fresh bruises beginning to form underneath. Steve had never been this harsh towards you before, and you started wondering if he really was right about the fact that you almost ruined everything.

Yet you still didn't understand why he had to be so overprotective all the time.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't be training, or else that leg won't recover."

At the sound of his voice all his words came flooding back. Your heart began racing and your blood boiled as you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

"Leave me the hell alone."

Steve ignored your words and took several steps forward, stopping just a few feet away from where you stood.

"You're bleeding," he said in a surprisingly soft voice.

"I'm fine," you snapped. "Now go away."

"Come on, just—" he pleaded, voice sounding broken, "just let me bandage your hands up for you."

Knowing he wasn't going to leave, you slid down against the wall and let out a defeated sigh, allowing him to kneel in front of you and take your hands in his. The feeling of his rough, callused skin against yours despite the frustration coursing through your veins still sent a little spark up your fingers, and you never hated yourself more for it than you did now.

You briefly scanned over his features, taking note of his tired and red eyes and the crease between his eyebrows as he carefully disinfected your wounds.

"Y/N," he finally spoke up after several minutes of silence, as he finished bandaging up your hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"Okay." You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing you would break down the second you looked back up into his bright blue eyes.

"Y/N," his voice broke, the sound making your heart twist in your chest. "Please look at me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," you muttered. "I'm so sorry," he repeated again, "I don't think you're stupid and that you jeopardized the team. You saved us all, in fact. I really shouldn't have said any of that to begin with."

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the salty tears roll down your cheeks and into your mouth, and you choked on a sob as you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, breaking down.

"Then why did you act the way you did?"

"It was wrong of me," he exhaled, "I...look, I'm just worried about you, because if that extraction did go wrong and something happened to you, I'd feel like it was all on me. I'd feel like it was my fault, because I failed to look out for you. And I don't think I can handle being responsible for your death."

"As much as you hurt me," you said as you stood up and were pulled into his arms, voice muffled by the fabric of his T-shirt, "I could never bring myself to actually hate you."

"I just care about you too much, I can't lose you," he murmured into your hair, arms tightening their grip around your waist. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you mumbled, voice muffled by his T-shirt, "I forgive you."

"I love you," he whispered so quietly that he thought you wouldn't catch what he was saying, but you just barely managed to hear it. But honestly, he didn't care. You couldn't help the smile forming on your face at that moment. "I love you too."

"Oh my god, that tension was fucking killing me," Bucky groaned as the doors to the gym burst open, and he and Sam came inside. "I was about to explode if you guys didn't kiss and make up." "Oh uh, also, Y/N, your leg..." Sam pointed out. You and Steve both looked down to see blood seeping through the thick bandaging wrapped around your thigh.

"Well, shit," you choked out. "Oops."

"Language," Steve joked. "Come on. Let's go to Bruce so we can get that treated."

"Don't have too much fun with each other!" the two men called after you.

"Shut up!" you shouted back.

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Borderline

— Inner Demons —

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Sehun

Genre: Syndicate!au | Angst | Smut

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Mentions of murder, depiction of scenes that could be triggers

A/N: Five months later and I’ve finally finished this chapter. Sorry for the wait guys and thank you for being so patient with me!

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“I never thought we’d bag them right there… if only it had been this easy from the start…”

“Right? They’ve been putting up a fight for so long…” The over-familiar smell of alcohol roused you from your slumber. Voices surrounded you as well as the clattering of metal items, it was almost like you were in an operating room, “Should we start or give her some more time to rest?” Your eyes searched the darkness to find the voices, and the slight movement of your head gave you away.

“She’s already awake, Jisung. Go get Mark, I’m pretty sure he’ll want to see this.”

“Yes, sir.” Retreating footsteps mixed with a sigh from someone behind you put you on edge more than you already were, but the yanking of the hood that was over your head had your heart pounding in your ears. Your eyes winced at the bright fluorescent lights and tried to focus on your surroundings when you noticed sandy blond hair and gleaming silver eyes.

“Taeyong…” You hissed.

“Good morning, princess. Did you enjoy your…” He paused for a minute as he pulled on latex gloves, “... moment of sleep?”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spat while attempting to reach towards him to notice you were strapped to a standing table, “What the—”

“These restraints will keep you still as we start trials on you.” A voice came from beside you and you snapped your eyes over to it to see the one person you never expected.

“Make sure they’re tight, wouldn’t want her going full X. Got that, Chanyeol?” Taeyong lifted a syringe filled with a dark liquid before looking up at you, your eyes turning a deep crimson as you stared down Chanyeol, “Oh yeah, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Not anymore...” You growled, your voice fluctuated from its normal pitch down to something darker, almost demonic.

“Then this should be easy to do. Chanyeol, how about I give you the honor of injecting her with her first round of tonic?” Taeyong offered the syringe to him, and for a split second you could see his eyes waver, but they soon tore themselves away from your glare to eye a spot on your arm to plunge the needle into, “Get ready for the fun, Y/N. This is a perfect payback for killing me back then.”

“No—” Within seconds of Chanyeol puncturing your skin with the needle and injecting the tonic into you, you could feel every nerve in your body turn into flames. Your lungs felt like they were filling with water as it was hard to catch your breath, your vision started to blur like you were going to pass out and the only thought on your mind was Sehun.

How long had it been since he’d seen sunlight and not the turning on of the fluorescent lights? How long had it been since he’d seen you last? Seen your smile, the flick of your gaze from something in the distance to his eyes? Smelled the lavender wafting from your skin, felt the gentle touch of your fingers? Heard your quiet laugh, your whisper of ‘I love you,’ or even just your breathing… How long has it been?

Sehun was shaken awake by the blood-curdling scream that echoed outside of the darkroom. The scream was his alarm and he would hear that scream for a few hours and then it would stop for a little bit and pick right back up. The fluorescent lights that flicked on in the room caused him to wince at the sudden brightness and the sound of keys clanged outside the door, “Good morning, Sehun.” As the door opened, an old friend walked in holding a tray.

“Doyoung…” Sehun hissed.

“Now, now, no reason to be mean this early in the morning. It’s been almost four months since we’ve brought you two here and well, Y/N seems to be progressing nicely, but you on the other hand…” Setting the tray down on the floor in front of him, Doyoung sighed, “You’re always the same.”

“Fuck you—” Doyoung pulled a knife from his pocket and pointed it at Sehun as if to make a threat.

“That’s not very nice. I was even going to offer you some visit time with Y/N today if you behaved, but seeing as you’re being a pain, I guess I won’t offer it.” Doyoung always teased him with the hope of being able to see you, but every time it’s been offered, it’s right after Sehun snaps. Standing up, Doyoung slipped the knife back into his pocket and Sehun stared at the bland food that sat in front of him. It didn’t look appealing in the slightest, if anything it put his stomach in knots, “Not going to eat again today?”

“Not until you let me see her.” Tension filled the air, Sehun’s anger towards the men who kidnapped the two of you never subsided, they kept him separated from you, but the only thing they let him have of you was your screams.

“Sehun.” Doyoung huffed, “Do you think you would even recognize her?” Stooping down to Sehun’s face, he caught the smirk that was growing on Doyoung’s lips, “Why do you think she’s screaming? What do you think they’re doing to her?” Sehun lunged at him only to be held back by the chains that were confining him to the wall.

“I will fucking kill you! All of you!” He bellowed and Doyoung chuckled.

“How? You’re chained to this wall with only two feet of range. How are you going to kill us?” Yanking on the chains once more, Doyoung laughed at his efforts, “For all you know, we could’ve raped her and impregnated her with the next Lee Clan heir. We would get lucky if it was born with the X strain, then we could just kill her off—” His speech was cut off with the sound of Sehun yelling, but his voice matched that of a growling demon. If looks could kill, Sehun’s glare would have murdered Doyoung where he stood because of a flicker of orange in his dark eyes as well as the veins that ran down his neck.

“Shut your mouth before I make you shut it…” Sehun hissed and Doyoung scoffed before leaving the room with the slam of the door only to return with Taeyong in tow, them both equipped with a stun stick.

“He’s flipping.” Doyoung jabbed the prongs of the stick into Sehun’s stomach and tased him until he fell to his knees. Sneering up at them, Taeyong’s lips parted to show a toothy grin at the sight of the flames growing in his eyes.

“Looks like his blood and her strain are a match. He should’ve turned into a Z rather than an X, but here we are. Orange to match his master's red must mean he’s a physical X rather than a mental one.” Taeyong went on and on about the X traits to Doyoung, but Sehun was confused.

“How am I part of any strain? You haven’t done anything to me—”

“That is where you’re wrong there, my dear friend.” Taeyong squatted down and reached out to him, pressing the pads of his index and middle fingers to the back of his neck, just behind his ear, “When you were out the first day we brought you back, we injected Y/N’s special blood that carried the strain into your bloodstream, in hopes of turning you into a strain statistic or killing you off.”

“That’s why you were sick the first month. Your body was trying to either accept the strain or it was losing its battle to it.”

“And with that…” Taeyong gripped Sehun’s chin with a satanic smile spreading over it, “You’re now our little test pet, that means we can get rid of Y/N, and have you replace her.”

“No!” Sehun growled, yanking on the chains once more as Taeyong stood up, “You can’t!”

“We can’t? Oh, dear Sehun, we can do anything we want with her, and that means never letting you set eyes on her again, but if you’re a good boy, we’ll let you watch as we kill her.” Taeyong’s harsh words hit him hard, deep to the core, were they really going to kill you?

The quiet beep of the vitals monitor let you know that you were still alive, even if you were wishing that you were dead. The hours you spent awake were filled with agony and what made it worse was the fact that the person you used to love was inflicting it, “I see you’re awake.” Flicking your distant gaze to the left of you, Chanyeol came into view, “You were out for a long time. Had to pump you full of pharmaceuticals to keep you here.”

“You should’ve just let me die… it would’ve been better than feeling you guys pump poison into my veins…” You rasped, your throat stinging with every word. Staring at him, you could feel a pain in your chest that you couldn’t quite explain; as if he heard you whisper his name, his dark eyes darted to yours and seeing the softness in your irises confused him, “Why are you doing this…?” You asked, “We used to be so close, inseparable even, but something changed with you… what happened…?” The tremble in your voice was something he hated, hated it because it made his chest hurt, made his heart fall into his gut.

“We were never meant to be together. The head of the Lee Clan is my owner and from day one since we met, I was supposed to capture you. Break you so you would bend to my every will—that’s all this was.” He was lying about your relationship being nothing but fable to his reality, “He told me to do my job and make you mine that way when it was time to turn you in, you came willingly.” He watched as your lips pulled into a sullen smile and a quiet laugh left you.

“Even on my deathbed, you’re still painfully blunt. At least now I know one thing to be true…”

“And what’s that?” He asked, walking closer to you.

“That Sehun was always the one I should’ve been with.” He furrowed his brow hearing his ex-best friend's name, “Now I don’t feel so bad for letting him mend my broken heart and giving me more than you could offer me.” With a smile still on your face, you stared up into Chanyeol’s eyes that were growing darker the more you spoke.

“No, you’re just using him to get back at me. You’re still in love with me, Y/N. You’re still mine even if you don’t believe it.” Spouting his thoughts made you scoff with laughter.

“Is that why I feel whole with him? Is that why he makes me feel better in bed than with you? Is that why when the word ‘love’ leaves his mouth, I believe him without a second thought?” With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling and closed your eyes, relaxing into the table, “But how could you understand, you’ve never been in love. You’re only an asshole who worked like a dog for a clan who would kill him if he didn’t bring me in.” Opening your eyes, you met his gaze once more, “Isn’t that right, Chan—” Your voice cut off as the air from your lungs was cut off. Chanyeol watched as blood spilled from the slice he gifted your neck.

“Now you’re going to die. Should’ve stopped when you had the chance.” A feeling of relief settled in his chest as the sounds of you gurgling for air filled the room.

“You killed her?” Taeyong’s voice spooked him, and he approached your side to see your eyes growing dark, “You’re lucky that Sehun reacted to the X strain the way he did, otherwise I would have to murder you.”

“Well…” Chanyeol set down the scalpel from the table tray he picked it up from and grabbed a towel to wipe your blood on, “Should we let our new pet see his girlfriend for the last time?”

The silence that settled around Sehun felt odd, around this time it was usually filled with your screams, but nothing came. As he rested the back of his head against the wall, the sound of keys jingled faintly down the hall, ones that resonated a ring that became all too familiar—they already teased him enough for the day, what more could they want from him?

From the small window on the door, he could see Taeyong’s silver hair, and as if he knew Sehun was glaring at him, his eyes met him through the window. Sehun didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking; with a clang of the lock and the grinding of the rusted metal doorknob, the door opened, “Sehun—” Taeyong sang his name in the most innocent tone, “I decided that it was time for you to see Y/N.”

“What…?” He asked, his eyes widening with the thought of seeing you, “After you told me that I would never see her again…?” Suspicious he was, but then again, these men were unpredictable, like wild wolves hunting and playing with their prey.

“I mean, we can always take her back to her chamber and continue to torture her, or—”

“No!” Sehun yelled, lunging towards him, and the sly smile appeared on his lips once more.

“Haechan, bring her in.” Sehun’s heart pounded in his ears, it roared, tuning everything out until his eyes landed on the body the boy called Haechan was carrying in. Her white clothes stained with claret, her visible skin covered in scars, her neck dripping the same color as the stains on her clothes, and her eyes… there was no doubt once his eyes met the darkness that filled the irises—it was you, “She ended up choosing the wrong fight this time and lost.” Taeyong sighed as Haechan laid your body in front of him, “She was a great specimen, too. We’ll give you a few hours with her before we get rid of the body and have you fill her place.” Taeyong muttered something to the guard and disappeared. Sehun was in such a state of shock he didn’t even notice the guard came in until he was taking each of Sehun’s wrists to unshackle him from his restraints.

“My poor girl…” He choked out while reaching out to touch your cheek, “What did they do to you…?” Before he could meet your dead gaze, tears filled his vision and a strangled cry escaped him as he shook his head in denial, “This can’t be you right?” Lifting your hand, his eyes caught the red ring around your pinky, the same one that matched his own and it all became too real for him. He never got to tell you that he loved you one last time, he didn’t get to hold you close, before you slipped away. Never even got to look into your gentle eyes before you died, all that was left was a face that looked like it was in pure agony, “They didn’t even close your eyes…” Snapping out of his thoughts, he ran his hand over your eyes, shutting them.

“I’ll let you be free until they come to take her away.” The guard whispered as he began to take his leave, “I’ll let you have your time…” Even a man who worked for the Lee Clan understood that this was something that needed its own kind of privacy.

“Thank you…” He replied and the sound of the door closing only conjured more tears. With the first hour, he tore apart his sheets and wrapped your neck with the fabric, covering your wound, and he cleaned up the blood from your skin. With the second hour, he took some of the extra clothes they gave to him and replaced your bloody clothing with the clean ones; you didn’t deserve to be seen the way they brought you in, “You’re all clean now, Y/N…” He sat down in his usual spot on the floor by the wall, staring at you. A painful lump appeared in his throat the more he stared at you, and finally, he gave into his grief; pulling your body to him, he slid you into his lap and held you close, “I’m sorry…” He apologized, “We were supposed to live a long life together, but I failed you…” Running his fingers over your cheeks, tears fell onto your skin, “I love you and I’m sorry that I waited until now to tell you.” Pressing his lips to your forehead, he pulled you closer to him, and rested his chin against the top of your head, “We’ll stay like this until we can’t, okay?”

For the next few hours, he did nothing but hold you. Stroking your hair, kissing your forehead, and whispering tender ‘I love you’s’. He didn’t care about anything else going on around him, he only cared about you, “Y/N… I have a feeling they’ll come for you soon…”

No response.

“Should I just kill them when they walk in, or when they try to turn me into their test subject?”

Once again no answer.

“What am I doing…?” He asked himself as he leaned his head back against the wall, the silence in the room becoming deafening since it wasn’t filled with your screams, “I should just accept the fact that I’m going to die… at least then I’ll meet you in the afterlife… right, Y/N—” Before he could finish his question, your body jolted up from his grasp, gasping and coughing.

“Doyoung!” Taeyong yelled as he walked down the hall towards the examination room and Doyoung’s head popped out from the doorway, his black hair falling in his face as he did.

“You rang?” He asked and Taeyong crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh.

“It’s been about five hours since we took Y/N in to let Sehun have his last moments with her, go and take her from the room and get him ready once you disposed of her body.”

“Are you sure we should dispose of it? We could still extract the strain from her even if she isn’t living, right?” Taeyong huffed, his face falling with Doyoung’s question.

“The strain immediately dies once the host is no longer living, which is why we’re getting rid of her. It would’ve been nice if Chanyeol didn’t kill her off, we could have forced new strains or even had her procreate with her new pet to create more X strains, but that’s a thought that died where it started, too.” Doyoung nodded, no longer wanting to ask any more questions, and he walked past Taeyong towards the D ward hallway. Taeyong made his way to the examination room where Sehun was to be brought and Chanyeol came into his sight.

“So.” Chanyeol’s deep voice rattled Taeyong’s calm demeanor as he didn’t even look him in the eyes as he dug into the cryogenic cooler filled with vials of the X strain, “We should’ve kept her alive, huh?”

“You heard our conversation?” Taeyong asked, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on point the more he could read the wordless Chanyeol, “It would’ve been great. Just think of how many more strains we could’ve made with Sehun and Y/N. Or is it the fact I said that she and Sehun could—”

“You know how I feel about them together!” He growled, slamming the cooler shut, “She’s mine and always will be mine. Even in death, I was there with her and not him, so don’t think that she and Sehun are a thing.”

“She was just your mission, you can’t say that you actually fell in love with her. As I heard it, you treated the poor girl like shit, no wonder she went after your best friend.” Taeyong could see the anger making itself apparent on Chanyeol’s face, but there was something else hiding in his expression and he was going to see how far he could push Chanyeol before he pushed back, “You know what, I would’ve stolen her from you too if she wasn’t part of my job. I mean, aside from the fact that our children would be made with superior genes, I bet she knows how to please a man.”

“Shut up.” Chanyeol hissed, but Taeyong was having too much fun seeing him get all riled up.

“C’mon, look at that body. Her lips? Breasts? Ass? The things I’d do to her… better yet, the things I would have her do to me… I’d make her worship me—” Chanyeol kicked the chair next to him at Taeyong, and he didn’t flinch when the chair just barely missed him, if anything it made him more eager to piss him off more, “You think that you’ll scare me with those little threats? You’re not even on my level, Chanyeol.” Chanyeol knew that he was nowhere near Taeyong, not even close, but he knew a way to get where he needed to be.

“I know.” Lifting a vial of red liquid, he grabbed a syringe and unscrewed the top on the vial, “If I ever hope to be like you, I need to take this step.”

“If you do it with that pure sample, you’ll be hit—hard. There will be no period for your body to get adapted to it, you’ll feel like your whole body is on pins and needles. Like you’ve been doused in gasoline and set on fire. There’s no going back if you do that, that is if her strain decides to mesh with your body. You could die in the process and even then there’s still no going back.” Taeyong watched Chanyeol suck the red substance into the syringe before the sounds of alarms and sirens went off.

“Warning. Warning. There has been a detainment breach in D Ward. Two subjects were seen heading towards A Ward—one seems to be a woman and the other a man.” The voice that came in on the overhead line had Taeyong sighing, but not a sigh of annoyance, but one of relief. Relief because you were still alive.

“Looks like my plan will work out after all.” He hummed and Chanyeol furrowed his brow.

“A woman and a man? They only person we’re detaining right now is Sehun—”

“And Y/N.” Taeyong added, his eyes flicking a silver hue, “To think that she has regenerative powers, too…” Cracking his knuckles, he walked over to the computer and logged into the security system, “How about I lead them to the warehouse and you welcome them there?”

Sehun trailed behind you, following every movement your body made under the red flashing emergency lights. He never thought you would attack Doyoung as he walked into the cell, but you did—snapped his neck so quickly that he didn’t even see that you were even alive. This you was someone he didn’t know, but it wasn’t the right time to think about that, right now the two of you were trying to escape, “Y/N, do you know where you’re going?!” He yelled and you shook your head.

“No, but I still have to try to find a way out, right?!” You responded and he had to admit you were right, you would probably be back on the table being tested on again if you didn’t do anything, but running in random directions wasn’t getting you anywhere either. As you two were reaching a fork in the hallway, metal doors down two of the hallways slammed shut, blocking your way, leaving no other way than to go with the open hallway. After multiple blocked routes, you arrived in a place which resembled an old run-down warehouse; it was dark, cold, and practically empty besides a few crates and pallets. Sehun’s eyes panned the entire place and they stopped on a door that looked like sunlight was seeping through the cracks.

“I think that’s the way out of here…” He started to walk towards it when you grabbed his arm, stopping him, “What is it—” He looked back at you to see your eyes staring off in the distance, glowing a deep crimson.

“It’s too easy, they’re not letting us leave like this…” You could feel the presence of someone in the warehouse, but you weren’t sure who, all you knew is that your body was going into fight mode without seeing the threat, “Do you feel that…?” You asked, moving your gaze to Sehun’s eyes to see a dark orange glow in his eyes which surprised you and hurt you at the same time.

“Like there’s someone here with us?” Sehun asked, and you nodded to be rattled by a loud bang.

“Look at the two of you, Sehun, a new X member, and Y/N, alive again.” Sehun felt his skin prickle at the voice that filled the air around him, the voice that was too familiar to miss. His eyes darted around the warehouse until it fell on dark eyes that were emerging from behind a stack of pallets, it was Chanyeol for sure, but why was he here. Chanyeol eyed him, the surprised look on his face was enough to have him in a fit of laughter, “What, Sehun? Surprised to see me?”

“Why are you here…?”

“Well, I’m here to collect my darling girlfriend of course—”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Sehun interjected and Chanyeol shrugged it off.

“Why does it matter what she is to me? I’m just glad to see that she is alive after I sliced her pretty little neck.” Ripping his gaze from Chanyeol to you, he stared at your hand that was covering the fabric on your neck.

“You’re the one who did that to her?” His blood, which was already boiling, started to boil over and Chanyeol could tell. The orange that resided in his eyes turned a dark red, a spitting image of yours, “How could you?!” He bellowed, his fists balling up as he prepared himself to go after him.

“How could I?” He asked, obviously offended, “How could you is the real question. If you would’ve just let me do what I wanted with her, we wouldn’t be here right now. She would be a slave to the Lee Clan and you wouldn’t have to worry about saving her—” In a blink of his eyes, Sehun appeared in front of him and delivered a powerful blow to his face that knocked him off of his feet, and landed him a few feet away from him.

“You were supposed to be protecting her and yet you’re working with the Lee Clan to corrupt her?!” Sehun screamed at the top of his lungs, and Chanyeol chuckled, his laughter showing nothing, but defiance.

“Corrupt her?” He snorted, “She’s already an abomination to mankind, and now with all the tests we’ve run on her, it’s a miracle she’s even alive. Y/N is a corrupted gene that the Lee Clan should’ve held onto tighter when she was little. Maybe then, we could’ve ended up together and not like this…” Reaching into his pocket, Sehun’s eyes caught the sight of a syringe filled with a dark red liquid with a yellow cap covering the needle, “It wouldn’t have had to come to this…”

“What is that…” Sehun asked as Chanyeol bit off the cap and inserted the needle into his skin.

“Think of this as a power booster, so I can kill you where you stand.” With a slow push of his thumb down on the plunger, the barrel was emptied into him, “Taeyong told me to save this for when I need it, and if I’m going up against two X strains—I’m going to need this…” Flicking his eyes up from the syringe, he stared down Sehun with bright red eyes, ones that almost matched yours.

“Sehun! Get out of there!” You screamed, your pounding footsteps over the pavement, and the hammering of your heart became nonexistent as Chanyeol disappeared and reappeared behind Sehun. In a flash, Sehun crumbled down to the ground and your feet stopped moving, “Sehun!” The crack of his neck snapping set flames to a different feeling in your chest, it was more than anger, more than sorrow.

“Man, I didn’t want to kill him.” Chanyeol sighed, “I figured he would be much more of a fight, but I guess not.” He turned his gaze around to you, tears were already staining your cheeks, but he didn’t care, you deserved this, “Alright, Y/N. I can’t kill you this time since Sehun probably doesn’t carry the regeneration trait as you do, but I can beat you into submission.” The red in your eyes fell deeper, past crimson, darker than maroon—they were an eerie shade of a black like you’ve been possessed. You let loose, charging towards him, readying your fist to attack him.

Chanyeol knew you were coming to him, but his vision blurred causing him to lose his focus on you, that is until he felt your fist connect with his stomach. Your punch carried enough weight to knock him down to the pavement, it cracking under Chanyeol as his body hit the ground, “You fucking psychopath…” You growled, “You think he deserved this?!” You screamed, aiming another attack, this time to his face, “If anyone deserved to be murdered, it was you!” You began to follow through with your action, but Chanyeol caught your wrist, his own strength overpowering your own.

“Who knew you had this kind of strength…” He rasped, yanking you down to him, “Too bad that you’re not the only one in this room with the strain right now—” Chanyeol’s voice fell as he saw your expression turn dark, as dark as your eyes were, and that was his queue to take you down—now. His hands quickly found your throat as a sickeningly sweet smile appeared on your lips, and he forcefully pushed you down to the ground, tightening his grip on your neck. He could see your brows start to furrow as he applied an immense amount of pressure, “That’s right! Just fucking die!” Your eyelids flickered, giving Chanyeol hope, hope that you were finally going to meet your end. Your hands gripped at his clothes like you were trying to push him off and he couldn’t help but laugh, “Nice try! You’re not going to win this time, Y/N. You and Sehun can see each other in the afterlife—”

A smile came back to your lips, he noticed blood spilling onto your clothes just before his vision began to blur.

He didn’t see it coming.

“Your heart… is mine… Chanyeol…”

[geournies]

GEOURNIES VOL. 1: Getting the Boot. (Ft. Intellia Kaelita)

CW: VERY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, DRUGS.

The clinking of glasses and chatter of patrons was much louder than usual at Dionysus' today. It was the middle of the month, which meant it was payday for the enigmatic Intellia Kaelita. And, that meant everyone at her favorite bar was getting free drinks, her treat.

"Damn girl, it must really pay to be such a fancy shmancy fashion designer, huh?" Spoke a young, tan-skinned woman to the sugar momma of everyone in the establishment.

"You could say that!" She drunkenly quipped, ferociously licking her chapped lips for any remaining liquor.

"Money does nothing for me anyways~ It's better put to use making everyone else happy instead of using it for empty self-fulfillment. You ain't complaining though, huh? I'm an emotional college kid's dream come true, aren't I, Ravennnn~?" She snarked, jabbing Raven's side softly with her boney elbow.

"Huh? Huh?" She repeated annoyingly while continuing to nudge the other in the side, the force increasing with each one. The one called Raven did not respond, deliberately choosing to ignore her agitator and instead sipped on her drink, a smile cracking upon her lips which were desperately trying to stay straight.

"Ignoring me while drinking on my dime?! Oh, you're so cruel! You know I'll die without friendship, and yet here you are depriving me of it as we speak! I can't take it!" Said the fashionista not even a bit sarcastically, latching onto her friend while she pretended to ugly sob. Raven cackled, following it up with a roll of the eyes

"You just can't be normal for one minute, can you? I swear, you're way more of a kid than me, despite being a grown ass woman. When are you gonna grow up and start acting 24 instead of 17, you weirdo?"

The hammed-up sobbing came to an end, Intellia wiping her crocodile tears away with rotating fists. Her fake frown was eclipsed by her infamous, uncannily wide smile, and she grabbed Raven's drink from the bar and downed the remaining half of her large glass in a single large gulp. Slamming it down with enough force to shatter the glass into itty-bitty pieces sent scattering across the counter, she turned to face Raven, Intellia being greeted by a dropped jaw. Knuckles proudly pressed into her hips, the high roller let out a satisfied AH~.

"As soooooooon as the Underworld freezes over, but the only thing chilly enough to do that would be your still b-beating heart, ya monsterrrr. So I guess that'll have to wait, huh?"

She stuck her blue tongue out at the one whose drink she just savaged, a condescending hum rumbling out of her throat at the same time. Intellia swiveled in her chair to face away from the bar and got to her feet, albeit clumsily.

"Excuse me, bartender! Please get my heartbroken little friend here another gin and tonic! Before she cries, hurry!"

And with that, she drunkenly poked the nose of her college-aged friend, then proceeded to bob and weave around tables and people in an attempt to go outside to satisfy her nicotine kick.

The cyberpunk stumbled her way to the front of the bar, fishing for an unlit cigarette as well as the lighter in her jacket pockets. She raised her leg to the rightmost double door and kicked it open. Once outside, she quickly took the cig and the lighter to her curled lips, flicking it a couple times before actually getting a working flame. Fashionista inhaled the carcinogens in, then letting it roost a bit within her lungs before puffing the smoke back out, a satisfied sigh following suit.

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth~ That is this world's ultimate truuu-th!"" She sung loudly, a particular pair of lyrics she adored originating from her favorite synth-pop duo, Radiumt. She twirled about in glee, dancing to the tune of her favorite song blaring in her head. Another drag. Puff. As she continued to fuck about like a child, repeating those lyrics over and over like a jovial drone, a large HONK lit up her eardums like a flamethrower taken to jet fuel. Her body was shot catapulting a foot or two into the air, a shrill screech squeaking from her ashen lungs. After her successful landing from the expedition she was sent on, she rotated her head over the back of her shoulder, stiff like a zombie. The windows were tinted, but that had little effect on her Advanced Vision Apparatus (APA). She could see in there like a seer could see the future, but the vision within was no good fortune. The muffled screams were now registering with her bogged up brain, along with the car itself shaking about like a wild animal was let loose within. Intellia's demeanor immediately shifted. The sneer morphed into one of disgust rather than annoyance. Her body stiffened up like a predator ready to pounce. Intellia briskly strode towards the vehicle, nails sharply dug into her fleshy palms.

Wasting no time, Intellia pulled up at the window and immediately pulled her right elbow back, her hip swiveling along with her. SMASH. A sharp jab at the window, glass exploded like shrapnel. Shards propelled into the driver seat, a jolt shot up the spines of the two passengers. Irises of the driver shook, he pulled his bulky biceps down from his face, the metal of his robotic forearms reflecting red from Intellia's visor. He barked at the window smasher, his gruff voice was as low as the ground.

"You dumb bitch! I don't even have insurance to pay for this! I'm gonna drag your barely breathing body to the ATM to pay for this window!"

She ignored his comment. She chose to speak with action. Her arms latched onto his shoulders, and with a pull of her upper body she ripped the beefy other from his seat in a single motion. His bulky bod caught some air time before it landed to the ground. THUD. CRUNCH. A shrap yelp of pain exited his diaphragm, with the only noise following being the clank of steel toed boots. They rung in the ears of the downed one, and soon he felt them being pressed to his temple.

Pressure. Pressure. Oh God the pressure.  His skull was cracking between pleas for for sweet mercy, the deliverer of the boot ignoring each plea. His airtight fist pounded on the floor, he was now at a full blown scream. He wriggled like a worm. His tree-trunk limbs flailed about, all whilst his judge looked down upon him with no emotion.

"Doesn't feel too good to be at the mercy of someone stronger than ya, huh? Thought I'd just see what you and pretend to look the other way? You wish, TRASH."

She hopped off his cranium, a final crunch sounding off. He wheezed in relief, his gaze locked onto the golden boots which nearly squeezed the life out of him. They turned to face him, the sight of the steel strip at the toe burning into his retinas. The right one cocked back, the other planted itself firmly into the ground. SWING. Much like the glass window before, the mixture of blood, teeth, and nerve ending shrapnel launched right into the man's throat. The noise he made was not even reminiscent of a human. It was eldritch. A gurgle from hell. His brain short circuited, his body launched into a clueless, horrified, bloody panic. Intellia walked away, only to turn around mid-stride in order to shoot a ball of spit directly into the newly dug hole in the man's face.

"Live like filth, die in filth."

Hissed Intellia at the squirming body of the man, her attention and presence once more shifting itself back at the driver side window. She peaked inside, her heart spiking in her chest at the sight within. Hers was greeted by the bloodied gaze of another male, much lighter in stature than the one he was with. Well, it was as close to as meeting as possible, as his swollen, black, teary eyes looked in the direction of Intellia. He sobbed tiredly, the carnage having just occurred not even registering with his brain. Intellia snappily opened the car door, sliding in and placing her hands delicately on the other's cheeks.

"Fuck. Hey, you! Are ya alright?"  

No response. She gently papped her hands on his blood caked cheeks to alert him, no response. His neck began to go limp and his head dipped in her hands. Intellia's heart pounded. Sticking her blue tongue out, she swiftly reached for and withdrew a tube in the pockets of her coat. Thumb pressed down on the button at the side, and a needle shot out of the tip of the tube. She gracefully jabbed it into the side of his neck, and released the button, the serume within ejecting into his vein. Instantly, the one fighting for his life had lurched forward, as if he just resurfaced from water at the brink of drowning. His breathing was heavy and rapid, he looked at Intellia, still too shocked to speak. Until he noticed the device she just ripped out of him, its contents fully empty now. His eyes widened about as wide as they could, his jaw dropped.

"You had one of those? And... I made you use it on me? Oh my God, I'm so sorry..."

He remarked, placing his beaten face in the palms of his hand.

"Please. Don't be sorry. Your life now is waaaaaay more important than the chance of me maaaaaybe needin' one of these sometime in the future. Trust me." She spoke softly, something she rarely did. She tossed the tube out the window, directly sinking it into a garbage can located by the carcass of the bulky man. "I'm 'onna take you somewhere where they'll get ya back to being better than ever in no time, 'kay? Just hang tight, you've been through a lotta shit tonight. Plus, the more active ya are, the quicker that good juice wears off."

Intellia pressed a button on the side of the steering wheel, which prompted a black touch screen to erupt from a cache in the center of the wheel. The beaten passenger pressed his hand to the screen, a green line scanning it, then promptly flashing an approving, green hue after. The engine revved, followed by the car pulling out of the lot. She turned to the stranger next to her once more before takeoff, her arm on the headrest of the passenger seat as she looked backwards while pulling out.

"Oh yeah... Forget about him, by the way. He 'aint really a thing anymore."

And to Double Helix HQ they headed.

END.

[upsmymindwanderedagain]

Story of The Ice Wolf

PART 5

OTHER PARTS: 

PART 1    PART 2    PART 3    PART 4.1    PART 4.2    PART 6

WARNINGS: mentions of grief, torture (inflicted on reader), blood.

By the way this chapter is almost 5K.

Hey fellas! as I stated last chapter, there’s more story coming, we will see a little more of backstory of the reader and the twins. Now regarding this background, as I mentioned beforehand, in this story the twins Wanda and Pietro are not portrayed as we typically see them in other stories or even the MCU, sure they have the essence and personality (I hope) but this story is not flowers and sunshine, just have that in mind while reading. If something makes you feel uncomfortable or just something doesn’t feel right for you, send me a message and we can chat it out.

As always typos and errors are my bad, sorry.

"We will keep the details of the mission and what happened behind closed doors. The official statement is that Y/N and Bucky are on an undercover mission. We can't let the truth be known, not until we have an answer solid enough to reassure people peace of mind" Maria takes over "We will have a private ceremony..." "No" Tony interrupts Hill. "Bucky and Y/N were not that kind of believers" If you want to do one is up to you, but I'm sure that where ever they are they will laugh at us". "Stark is right, drink it off don't cry it out" Her best life counseling, even Barnes agreed on that one, May says. Everyone chuckles lightly. "Let's drink it off in their memory".

----

The pressure on your brain slowly pulls you out of the dark oblivion, your body feels trapped, something cold kisses your exposed skin, your brain begins to register the pain of your joints. A disgustingly familiar Russian voice starts to beckon you. "Ice Wolf, open your eyes asset". "Ice Wolf" There's no third call. A surge of electrical discharge shakes you to the core, making you open your eyes as you scream in agony. As your body rides the aftershocks, a hand grips forcibly your hair lifting your head. "Captain is good to have you again on our ranks" he says in Russian. You sneer a dry "Fuck you Yuri". His open hand slaps you hard and unforgivingly, making you spit blood as your face is turned to the right "That's no way of talking to your handler asset". Your voice is a gruff hiss "You are not my handler sergeant" you are quick to spit blood and drool straight to his face. You try to launch yourself at him, but you are clasped to a metal wall, the wall mounted handcuffs give you no space to move, you trash with all your strength but the burn in your veins tells you that is in vain, the flesh in your joints and neck end up raw and bleeding. He only stares blankly at your before letting out a mocking boisterous laugh "I want you to meet your new handler and team mates before we make you forget them" he calls them to come in. A tall bulky Russian man comes in followed by two girls, one has dark mist swirling around her hands her face is stern and uninterested, the second one has a smirk on her face and archangel wings (Anika?). "Captain Ice Wolf a 'honor' seeing you again" he says sarcasm heavy on his voice. "Go to hell Salarov" you voice is harsh and hateful. "Allow us to greet you properly" he lifts a syringe full of a nerve wrecking familiar dark liquid, he jabs the needle in your neck, the dark liquid starts making your veins feel even more on fire, you don't scream instead you set your jaw and groan in pain, the veins and tendons on your neck bulge under the strain. When the initial burn starts to wear off you notice the sinister smile on the men faces, Yuri hands Salarov bright almost white branding iron shaped with Hydras symbol. The dark serum is awfully painful on its own, but is meant to weaken you and make every single wound unbearable while you are able to withstand deadly wounds, making it hard for you to die still there’s a breaking point in that. The Salarov juggles with the metal branding mockingly, with no warning he jabs the metal on the old scared flesh on your chest re-doing the branding, you can’t hold back this time you scream in agony, muscles tensing up in pain. ---

Six months have passed since the day Bucky and you made the ultimate sacrifice, and Wanda still can wrap her thoughts around the fact that you are no longer there.

She is on a constant limbo of sadness, bitterness and anger, she is angry at Fury for making the call, she is angry at you for doing such a stupid thing, she is bitter because the four of you saw the clues and still walked in, and she is sad, that deep hollowing sadness that not even revenge call fill up.

She is curled up in the sofa of your shared loft, she is wearing one of your leather jackets that still smell like you, she eyes at the guitar resting on the wall that one was yours, cup of tea in her hand, she knows better than get smashed in the middle of the day.

She is not fool or naive, since the first time they saw you bloodied, beaten, tumbling into the warehouse you all used to call home after their parents were killed, they realized that death was a stalking companion. They understood how possible it was that you might not come home again or even them, the sokovian streets were a mess.

That's why after a lot shouting and fighting they convinced you to let them fight too and get involved in all the not so legal things you did to get money, sure you put rules and you were taking the worst part of the burden and responsibility, but not all anymore.

Since the day they found you bloody beaten, they took you in. Their parents knew nothing about you. You said you were seven, but you looked at least two years older, you were bigger and way stronger than the other kids. The lack of your papers and the thin financial situation of they were in resulted in you not being able to go to the school (besides you got expulsed before getting in for beating down a group of kids making fun of the twins in the school yard). Wanda can't hold back her jiggle at that memory.

Instead their mama taught you everything at home, how to read, numbers, equations, you learnt English from her and Spanish from an ex-CIA neighbor, Grace she was a hacker so she taught you how mend around technology and you avidly learnt, somedays she took you outskirts to shoot but you already knew your way around weapons, she used to call you 'lil Sokovian devil' some time later she nick named you "Sokovian Ghost" due to your hacking skills and your tendency to lurk in the shadows gathering intel.

She smiles at the good memories coming to her head. You were family even before you were her lover, always taking care of them and even helping others.

While their parents were still alive, the three were trouble always on the run, you taught them how fight to defend themselves, their parents learnt that fact when the twins got suspended for kicking their bullies asses. You were so excited and proud of them that you fist bumped them in front of the director of the school, he yelled at you for encouraging them and you simply stared at him and shrug it off. Their parents couldn't hold back their laughter at you not giving fucks about it, if something the week they got suspended you taught them grappling.

When things got rough you stayed strong, even though your adoptive parents home was available after their deaths, the three of you slept most of the time in a warehouse or in Grace's place to avoid social services, she didn't mind, those were the days that you all eat better, specially you (you avoided meals to buy them treats but they didn't knew).

Tears start gathering in her eyes, they knew the risks of their lifestyle, they spent 4 years in the streets making jobs for drug dealers and informants. Later at the age of 17 you 18 behind Hydra's back the three of you took over the Sokovian illegal affairs from weapon traffic to drug dealing that's how you meet Zemo and his unit then partnering up with him, he was the official face you three were the master minds and the ones doing the extra dirty work, the streets were less messy and now it was yours.

She misses the constant presence that you were in her life, you were fiercely protective of her you even killed on spot stupid guys cat hollering at her (mostly in your Hydra days). But you also made her feel strong and confident on her own, you never down talk her or keep her from doing things and missions.

Pietro, Wanda alongside Natasha they have become ruthless and merciless in the missions, to the point of plain slaughters, resulting in awful scolding’s from the star spangled cap and lectures from Fury, Hill is in the middle, she doesn't scold them, she is more empathic but always reminds them that they are better than that.

She plainly misses you, the hard-cold facade you built around you to show the world was that, a facade a mask. Pietro and her knew the real you, the caring person that loved cuddles a fluff ball with her, you loved sneaking out just the three of you, sometimes Loki will tag along even Zrinka and Costel when they visited, you all went outskirts to make bonfires and drink off the night while playing guitars like the small rock band trio that you were. 

She misses how at her comeback from missions you always had something prepared to make her feel at home helping her wash away the mission followed by cuddles and a glass of wine, other times if she wasn't too tired or hurt you'd take her to extravagant dinners or you'll make a homemade meal, you didn't best her at cooking but you were far, far better than Pietro, he is a lost cause, even their mama recognized that when they were little.

Sometimes when she is trying to relax at the bathtub after a mission her minds tricks her, sometimes she foolishly think that you will walk in the bathroom to lift her in your arms to take her to your shared bed. Her heart breaks again when the truth seeps back in her mind.

She misses the sex because it never was plain sex, the two of you were vanilla in that aspect of your intimacy, the tough life and the scars you both have is the testimony of you not liking kinky hardcore things. You were gentle and caring with an edge of roughness is she asked you to be, but you were a dork as much as smooth, charming talker you were you always made her laugh in glee. 

She shamelessly used her powers to spice things up though, but that was as kinky as you two went, she ghostly caressed your skin with her powers, red energy dancing on your skin, shivers of pleasure trailing along the places she touched or holding off your hands with her powers as she made you come undone under her ministrations. 

You were always teasing her of how the sweetest and most innocent looking of the trio was the kinkiest dipshit, regardless you adored her always looking at her like a lovesick puppy.

She can see how much Pietro misses you, you were his sistra in every sense of the word, for him you were that immoveable force strong, confident and caring. You helped him get a hold of his powers and break barriers, go beyond his limits just like you did with her, during this process you even end up hurt but you always brushed it off telling them how someday they might save you with their powers.

Pietro was fiercely protective of both of you, but he always respected your rank and dynamic, however in the moments you faltered or just needed a break he was there to support you, and take over the lead until you were back on your feet.

He admired you, he wished that someday he could be as strong as you. They saw you being tortured in Hydra's grasp how they piece you back together with steel with no regard of your mental state or body. They went through the training with you, however Hydra's trainers always pushed you to breaking points to make you the finest weapon. Still you swallowed your revenge feelings and worked for them, never losing the soft caring side reserved only for them.

You fulfilled your promise, you got them out of Hydra to a better life, that's the life you've been having this past five plus years. Pietro always pictured you on it, he was thinking on marrying his girlfriend Zrinka but he couldn't bear the thought of you not being there, not when even their parents wouldn't be there. Wanda was his only family left, sure Zrinka and Costel are family but the bonds and the experiences you've been through together makes it impossible that someone will fill the void that your absence has left.

Wanda was always teasing you at how now that you were Avengers it was more plausible that you two would end up in jail due to your shenanigans. Pietro being the flirty shit he is, loved going to bars and strip clubs to wreak havoc and you were always with him, even she would tag along just for the fun of it and get you worked up. 

Most of the time only you and Pietro would go to street racing, she was wishing you two would end up caught up by the police so she could witness Tony and Steve making an excuse to bail you out, you never fell in jail.

Clint now more than before has been acting like a father figure for them, he is making sure that they don't do reckless things, making sure they eat properly and trying his best to cheer them up in his Clint fashion way, but is hard because not only the twins are hurting, Nat is hurting too she is closed off and distant, even when she partners up with the twins the rest of the time she keeps to herself.

Tony and Steve are still a little uneasy on how to approach the three of them, Tony is blaming himself and his ego, Steve is just lost he puts on his strong face but behind closed doors he is not better than Pietro, Bucky was his only family left, he lost the only person that know him before all this mess, he lost a brother too. Besides he respected you, even when the two of you had a rough start, he admired you just like he admires Natasha, it breaks his heart knowing that a wrong call did this much damage.

Tony, the billionaire is trying his best he even tries to cheer up Pietro buying him a new car, but the silver haired man, politely refused telling him the story of how the first car he ever had is a Dodge Challenger RT 73, you had it restored and tuned for him, three weeks later he crashed the right side during a street race. when he told you just laugh it up telling him that you bet Wanda a week until he crashed it, and you lost the bet and regarding the car it was now his problem to have it repaired, pretty much was a 'work your ass off to pay the repairs' with a pat of his back. Tony laugh wholeheartedly at the story, you indeed were something.

--

The next days (months?) are a complete blur you can hear yourself scream, other times you hear Bucky scream in agony, that's the only way you both know you are still alive. Both are being beaten to make you comply obedience (They'll need more than that). They refused to wip you both, they now know that Wanda will be able to snap you out of it. Even though you are being beaten to unconsciousness on daily basis, you learn two things, the one with the archangel wings code name is 'Dark Angel' (so original, and is indeed Anika) she can blast you with energy spheres. The other girl is called Dark Mist she can play with your mind and hurl you round with her telekinesis like a ragdoll, both of them can knock your ass out. The next time you regain consciousness you are strapped to a metal chair, Salarov and his two companions enter the lab room, he has a spider like dispositive on his hand. "Time to obey asset" there’s other two soldats that you know well, after some wrestle they forcibly shove a mouthguard on you. You are not stupid, you know what is about to happen, the scientist fiddle with the equipment setting it up, they lower the head piece in place, you try with all your strength to scape, but is in vein, Salarov only laughs at you “Do it” the scientist turns the machine on. You can feel the electricity swimming in your head, the pressure on your brain makes your sight fill with black dots, then it becomes white, the mouthguard can’t stop the agony screams and grunts, the other soldiers stand unfaced at your suffering.

They repeat the process at least a couple of times at the end your jaw is locked close like a Rottweiler, they pry out the mouthguard leaving you panting like a wounded animal. Your head feels crushed, pain is all you can register, you can hear Russian voices around you, several heartbeats (or is just yours?) you sight is blurry, but slowly it clears out. When Salarov ugly mug comes in sight you growl at him, you don’t know how you end up there, but in the back of your mind you know that Bucky is somewhere near.

The soldiers unclasp the handcuffs, but your body feels out cold, they haul you off the seat to toss you to the cold unforgiving floor. Your body is so heavy and beaten that falls like a sack. The sergeant nods at the soldats who land hard merciless kicks at your midriff, you growl and fumble in pain. After tasting a couple of boots, they forcibly make you kneel, your body hunches to the front, a dark oblivion is tempting you to surrender. The Mist traps you in place her energy makes your skin shiver in disgust. Salarov crunches before you he makes the spider like dispositive pierce your scalp, skull and the metal plate on the right side, you feel tentacles swimming beneath your skin running down your neck, a new burn runs through your veins.

(I can only hope that Bucky is dead to avoid being through this). "Status report soldat". "FUCK YOU" you venomously grunt spatting blood at him. He forcibly wipes out the blood off his face. "Increase the poison". You hiss in pain as your voice starts to falter, sight getting even blurrier. "Status report soldat" "F-FUCK YOU" your words are slurred but not less despiteful. "More" he grunts. You can’t voice a thing, your body shakes but you refuse to comply. They up the dose more, you can feel your thoughts drifting away, mind starting to blank even the pain starts to shut off. "Status report soldat" he angrily request. You voice is cold, emotionless, void of any human trait, after all the screaming in agony your voice is husky "Ready to comply" you mind is blank you don't longer feel or think, your stare is stern cold and unforgiving. "Code name" he request the glee in his voice is clear. "Ice Wolf" a kick of a boot sole your left cheek snap your face to the right, but you are unfaced staring blankly at the unknown. "Wrong, code name: asset 1. Repeat code name soldat" "Asset 1".

---

The soldats drag you to other lab room, where the doctors patch you up, before they store you, they show you some pictures requesting you to tell the names of the people framed, in the beginning you can name them all, but after awful discharges on your head you start forgetting the man with a slug smirk and dark brown eyes, the one with blue eyes an a shield, a redhead with green eyes, the man with metal arm, the one with the patch, a stern woman with blue eyes, an Asian woman with confident stance…every single one of them get lost in a void, the last ones you forget is a grey haired man with piercing blue eyes and a brunette woman with bright green eyes, they are replaced with enemies, a group call avengers they are targets to be eliminated given the order by your handler. The last thing you register is cold, is almost like a déjà vu, cold…cold until everything shuts off.

--- It's been two plus years since that mission, the avengers have taken down a several of Hydra's bases and hideouts. But despite all this effort a new Hydra unit has appeared three soldiers and two enhanced, they've been responsible of assassinations of important politicians some ex-Hydra high ranks and even done some terrorist attacks, their moves are always deadly precise and organized, the avengers have encountered them a several times.  The only intel they have is that the leader is called the Dark Tiger, his fighting style and armor like T'achalla's of course in no way as advanced as the king’s. He is always flanked by two soldiers (suspected super soldiers) they are always acting like shields to him, the intel says that this two are new advanced versions of the Ice Wolf and Winter Soldier (mocking the fallen ones with the names). The first enhanced posse’s electricity generation and telekinesis her code name Dark Mist, the other one poses archangel wings, can create energy blasts and has teletransportation, code name Dark Angel. The last members of this team are two 4’0 tall black wolves, one of them has bionic front limbs with long sharp claws the second one has bionic back limbs and bionic front paws they are always close to the Dark Wolf and the Dark Soldier. --- [Avengers Compound]

The avengers are gathered in the kitchen and dining table, some of them eating others talking. Wanda is currently talking with Natasha. As the news are playing in the background. *Breaking news, the truth about S.H.I.E.L.D's last failure*. The avengers pay no mind, since the Hydra mew group showed up some TV hosts have taken as their mission to talking crap about them. *... Well Charles, guess what we have here, you know about the rumors of the Wolf and the Winter Soldier, the Avengers said that the 'former' Hydra soldiers are on an undercover mission. Well unless this mission involves going to hell with no ticket back..."  Everyone halted what they were doing. Steve turns up the volume. Wanda's eyes turn red in anger while Natasha schools her features. *An anonymous source has leaked footage of a carnage almost two years ago...* The video shows footage of the fight *As you all can see the almighty heroes and S.H.I.E.L.D agents had their asses busted, but hold on, the best part is coming...* All the avengers stop what they are doing to look the news, they make their way to living space. "...The Wolf and the Winter Soldier were the chosen bait, they stayed back and end up blown to pieces, the last thing you see is Thor and Vision recovering some of their weapons and their masks all the items bloodied and beaten. And we are not done yet, this anonymous source was kind enough to reveal that our ‘beloved’ Wolf was in no way a hero, she was a high ranked Hydra member, high in the command chain, Y/N was a captain known as the Ice Wolf. Responsible for this* A large file package is shown. *She did all this with no brain washing or mind control, she was a mercenary, a cold blood mons...* the sound is turn off. Nat tries to calm down Wanda who right now is livid and crying. Pietro goes to them to engulf them on a big protective hug, his voice is full of anger “I’ll be right back, I’m going to kill him”, when he tries to rush out of the door Clint halts him with a hand on his chest “Hold your horses speedster, think before you do” Pietro groans in annoyance and goes back to his twin holding her close and kissing the crown of her head. "F.R.I.D.A.Y trace the source and shut down the news broadcast, erase everything available on the red". Rushing heel clicks can be hear nearing, Pepper comes running "Tony turn off... Guys... I'm sorry". A hologram is displayed in the middle of the coffee table. *Stark we need to do damage control*. "I'm on it, F.R.I.D.A.Y is taking down everything" Tony says jaw set and voice stern. *Call a press conference, Rogers take care of that mess. Be prepared for an attack, Hydra is making a move* the dark skin man says his voice hinted in anger. --- [Hydra base] --- *Message delivered sir, the avengers are calling a press conference*. *Tiger, ready your unit, you are crashing their conference, make sure is a big play, don't kill them yet*. *Yes, sir*.

The bulky Russian man walks to the living room of the safehouse "Company we have a mis... Mist where the fuck is Angel?!".

"She is playing with her sex toys".

[Angel's room]

I can hear a female voice chatting, her voice is quite lively and lately is the only thing that's reminds me I'm alive, most of the time I just feel pain and my body moving, others I just feel an overwhelming cold, on the best days I get glimpses of what Hydra wills me to do. Never in my twelve years serving them I felt like an asset, now I'm just that, and seems that Bucky couldn't avoid this fate again.

"What ya think Bucky, should I pretend is you this time or Wolfy?" She gets close to me.

My voice is barely a broken whisper "Last time... Was Buck".

"Oh?" she tilts her head "Hey Wolfy did I lowered the poison that much?" she only jiggles.

Our bodies are slumped against the wall, handcuffs keep the arms above our heads, the ankles are shackled too, collar and chain included.

She gets close to straddle my lap and lean in to whisper in my ear "As soon as they find out about you I'll help them get you back... Now behave he is coming" she presses a button of the controller.

I feel the burn in my veins increasing, slowly my mind drifts away.

She fakes kissing your neck as the door is slammed open.

"Angel! stop fucking them, we have a mission".

She groans in annoyance "Fine" pressing another button the shackles are open.

"Soldats! Gear up" he shouts, voice full of anger. Methodically like robots, both of you get up and walk out of the room following orders.

They wip you both before heading to the mission.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, as I said buckle up and twist your undies.

I might post another chapter this week, since my holydays end this week.

PART 6