babes! hi! wondering -> can you do a subtle Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier themed collection? nothing super bold, but more dainty on the aesthetics? love you!
hi hi mare! 💖 I would love to make some bucky/winter soldier dividers! I hope these fit your vision!! sending love and thank you so much for the request!
☆ summary: isaac will stop at nothing to save his sister’s life, even if the cure lies within the object of his affections.
☆ warnings: isaac-typical manipulation, betrayal, mentions of blood/blood donation/needles, isaac being bipolar, vague outcast abilities for reader, major character death/soft murder(?), no use of y/n.
“You definitely owe me a nice date in town after we’re done, Night.”
The lighthearted tease echos through the tower as she climbs up onto the sterile table, watching Isaac methodically prepare his array of equipment. His reply comes in the form of a distracted hum, his mind seemingly preoccupied.
Not out of character, but certainly off-putting given the circumstances of their meeting.
“You do know how to do this, right?” She questions into the lingering quiet, still half-joking. “Because I’m gonna be pissed if you make me pass out.”
Something in his body language shifts, as if he’s finally reminded himself to be pleasant.
“Of course I know how to do this,” he soothes with all the confident ease she was used to, finally glancing up from the cart of tools to meet her gaze. He even offers a calm, reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It’ll be quick and simple. Nothing to worry about.”
Lies.
But the words seem to do the trick in relaxing the slight tension that had burrowed into her muscles.
“Good,” she sighs, settling back onto the cold surface and letting her arm stretch out to her side. “You know I’m happy to do this for Francoise, but just…be gentle, please. I don’t want to get all lightheaded.”
The surprisingly vulnerable request gives him pause for only a moment before he continues to prepare the procedure.
“Don’t you trust me?” he murmurs in faux-offense, carefully sliding an elastic band up her arm and tightening it just so. “I’ll be as gentle as I always am. I’ll take care of you, you know that.”
His reassurance comes out softer than he intends it to. He knows the entire ordeal is cruel, that her willing trust and his mask of tenderness is only salt in the inevitable wound.
But it needed to be done.
The reality of his plan sits unnaturally heavy while he sterilizes her arm and prepares the needle, her eyes following his every move.
“Gentle,” she reminds him pointedly. He was prone to overzealousness when he was in his element.
“Small poke,” he assures as he holds the needle up, waiting for her acknowledgment before proceeding. “Just look at me.”
There’s a slight wince and a sharp intake of breath as he holds her arm steady and slides the point beneath her skin. But he’s practiced, efficient, finding her vein with almost no resistance.
“There,” he says calmly, almost stoically, watching as the process begins. “Clench your fist. It’ll help it flow easier.”
She stares in morbid fascination as her blood slowly moves through the clear tube and into the awaiting bag he’d prepared. Her fist balls upon his instruction, the dull sting feeling odd.
“Just gotta wait, then, huh? Let me think of where I’m making you take me,” she teases with a grin, slumping back against the table in her best effort to relax as she rattles off a list of ridiculous date locations.
He watches in eerie silence as she goes on with her light-hearted attempts at banter. It felt wrong, leading her into such a false sense of security and comfort, listening to her talk as if there was going to be a later. But what choice did he have?
She would have never agreed if she knew his true intentions.
She hadn’t been a part of the plan, at first. In fact, she hadn’t even been on his radar as someone worth pursuing for his personal goals.
To Isaac, she was just another nameless face in a sea of outcast students, abilities all blurring together in a mass of mediocrity. She was nothing extraordinary by his judgement; friendly, liked well enough by their classmates, performed average in classes shared together.
Naturally, as with nearly everyone he considered beneath him, he had ignored her very existence.
But there had been a seismic shift when he came to understand what her ability might mean for him.
He’d observed her for weeks after the first inkling of suspicion, eyes sharp and body just out of sight as he listened in on conversations and watched interactions she believed to be private. He quickly learned that she wielded a rare connection to the balance of life, an ability of healing and regeneration from ailments.
One that she seemed to keep concealed from those outside her own small circle.
His mind had raced with all of the possible applications to his struggle with healing his sister of her Hyde. Had the answer been right under his nose the entire time? Could some part of this girl fix what had been broken for so long?
All he knew for certain was that her outcast ability could very well hold the key to saving Francoise, and he intended to exploit that. No matter the cost.
And so, he did what he knew how to do best. He strategized, plotted, and developed a plan.
The twisted charade began with simple flattery. Compliments in class, fleeting smiles in the halls, the gift of his attention.
She was smart enough to be wary of his new interest at first, his abandon of his typical reclusiveness setting her somewhat on edge. Isaac Night wasn’t known to be outwardly friendly by any means.
But he was persistent, determined to gain the trust that would be essential in getting the opportunity to properly test his hypothesis.
He kept up the subterfuge with proposed study dates, offers to help her with his overly thorough notes, late night library meetings.
He had even convinced her to start sitting with him at lunch, pretending to nod in interest and hold onto her every word as she gossiped about their hormonal, drama-obsessed classmates.
Perhaps he was laying it on thick, but he played the part well, and she was far too important a pawn to lose. One that would help him in his all-consuming, unrelenting mission to save his sister.
He’d begun his subtle tests once her defenses were lowered and she considered him a genuine friend. They were small, innocent requests for her to aid in his scientific experimentation, labeled as helpful contributions to his lab that seemed to fascinate her.
There were questions, simple tests where he would uncover the limits of her power, and even a small blood sample from a finger prick she’d somehow agreed to. He’d studied her chemistry obsessively, filled notebooks with his observations.
Slowly but surely, he came to the crushing realization that her power couldn’t directly save Francoise from her condition.
The Hyde gene didn’t count as a physically ailment that could be mended, nor was it some disease or illness. It was a beast all of its own, too ingrained in his sister’s DNA to be fixed so simply.
It frustrated Isaac to no end, knowing that even a rare, powerful, healing outcast ability couldn’t save Francoise from herself.
His anger and despair led him to nearly give up on the scheme altogether. What was the point of continuing with the tediousness of a fake companionship if she couldn’t actually help? But one final, last-ditch test had rapidly restored his faith in her use to him.
Her blood.
His study revealed that the single crimson droplet he’d acquired held properties that went far beyond the physical manifestations of her healing. The discovery and its possibilities excited him to no end.
His manic energy and focus renewed, he’d quickly theorized a way to manipulate the very essence of the life-giving fluid, a method to infuse the mutated platelets into Francoise’s bloodstream and permanently alter her damaged chemical makeup.
A cure.
But he would need more blood than ethically possible if he was going to test and perfect the complex transfusion. It would have to be obtained quickly, sterilely, with no risk of outside factors tainting the precious liquid. He never once stopped to consider the horror of how easily he came to the conclusion he did.
He would have to kill her cleanly.
He was mindful to keep the plan concealed from Francoise as he obsessed over the delicate details. She was easily attached to anyone who flashed a friendly smile, and the girl who’d been his unknowing lab rat had been kinder to his sister than most. They’d even become something like real friends over time.
She’d be devastated if she knew what he planned to do for the sake of saving her.
So, Isaac kept to himself as he devised the easiest way to drain his classmate of her blood.
But fondness had crept into their carefully manufactured relationship before he could stop it. Suddenly, fake pleasantries felt all too real. Smiling at her playful jabs was no longer a premeditated move, but instinct.
Her presence calmed his erratic mind, soothed the subtle ache of isolation he’d grown accustomed to ignoring.
In their closeness, her ability began to fascinate him beyond the complex science of it all. She was endlessly giving, always quick to help with something as small as a paper cut if it meant relieving him of pain. Her natural inclination to show compassion, to care for someone like him with her rare power, struck something buried deep beneath his ego.
Little by little, he found himself seeking out her presence with no ulterior motive. No goals beyond existing within her space and enjoying her company.
He knew for certain he was in too deep when he kissed her for the first time.
It had been utterly foolish, ridiculous, juvenile of him. Especially given the fact that she was meant to be a pawn. But even with a heart made of gears and metal, Isaac couldn’t resist the most basic human want of connection. And deep down, some part of him reveled in the way she so easily reciprocated his interest.
Every subsequent moment of affection they’d shared after that first time only served to weaken his will to see things through.
Tender brushes of hands in the halls, subtle, knowing glances across a room, and late night meetings in the tower that quickly devolved into heaving breaths and sweat-slick skin drove his mind mad with conflicting emotions. He was slipping deeper and deeper into the blissful distraction of their intimacy.
But Francoise only seemed to be getting worse as time wore on, and he knew that harnessing the power of her blood was the greatest chance of saving his beloved sister from a condition that was sure to one day kill her.
It was an opportunity he couldn’t risk passing up; not after years of intense dedication to the cause. His personal feelings couldn’t get in the way of a solution just within reach.
So, he’d steeled himself and talked her into it subtly.
He made every effort imaginable to get her to agree without fear or suspicion. To make things easier, make the plan something noble rather than tragic, or even sadistic.
“You would be her saving grace, my love. Can’t you see it? You would free her of this horrible curse. All you have to do is trust me to draw a little blood for a cure.”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue each time he uttered some variation of them. He didn’t have the decency to tell her the full truth of what needed to be done. How could he? He was essentially coaxing her into her own murder.
For the first time in perhaps all his life, he felt an ache of remorse for what he intended to do.
But she had naively agreed to his lie, happy to try and save her friend where her powers had failed. A devastating, unintentional seal of her fate.
Now, almost a full pint in, he carefully switches to a new blood bag as he keeps her talking, a distraction from how much she’d already lost.
“I’m getting a little dizzy…how far along is it?” Comes her concerned mumble after a while, straining to glance over at the bag before the low, subtle force of his power keeps her head in place.
“You’ll only make yourself queasy by looking at it...just relax. You’re doing perfectly.”
Her slight wooziness clouds her judgement and obscures the cold reality of what he was doing. Rendering her body still with his telekinesis was an alarming overstep of power, especially in the midst of such a vulnerable procedure, but the red flag goes undetected for the time being.
“This warrants dinner and dessert,” she grumbles, eyelids a little heavier now as she gazes up at him.
“Don’t think you can make me forget that you owe me. I’ll make us go somewhere stupid like that normie coffee shop just for those pastries you always say are too sweet.”
He isn’t sure how she’s still so upbeat as they near the end of pint two. It should’ve been devastating to hear her talk about such normal, simple things like dates and overrated pastries. But he had silenced any gnawing thoughts of regret.
There would be no turning back if he wanted to heal Francoise.
By pint three, she’s shivering slightly, her heartrate struggling to keep up with the blood loss. “Isaac…I really don’t feel good,” she murmurs shakily, sounding anxious now. “Are you sure you aren’t almost done? Or maybe we could take a break? It feels like we’ve been at this a while.”
He presses a cold hand over her chest, feeling her heart weakly fluttering under his palm. The touch doubles as another subtle move to lock her body in place and keep her from seeing how much he’d taken.
“Just a little more, darling. Your symptoms are perfectly normal for the procedure,” he gently reassures, hand sliding up to cup her cheek.
“We’ll be done soon.”
The soothing touch seems to calm her, if only a little. She trusted him implicitly now, and if he said this was fine, then she would have to accept that. He knew what he was talking about.
His thumb tenderly swipes across her cheek, watching her breaths speed up slightly to compensate for her dropping blood pressure. Her confusion only persists, the lack of oxygen in her bloodstream leaving her thoughts muddled. But her oblivious haze doesn’t last forever.
She can’t even panic properly when the puzzle pieces finally begin to click together in her dazed mind.
This was taking far longer than any normal blood donation.
The constant, subtle pressure of Isaac’s telekinesis was pinning her down, even as her body twitched and desperately fought for breath.
He was holding her hostage here. Stealing her blood and calmly thwarting any attempt of escape.
There’s a shift in her gaze, bleary obedience slowly morphing into horrified understanding. A soft, choked whimper escapes her throat, though it’s barely audible over her clipped gasps.
She can’t even speak to beg for mercy. Each attempt at communication come out as a weak gurgle, her struggle for oxygen ruining any chance to curse his name or desperately question the motive for his gut-punch of a betrayal.
She’d foolishly believed in Isaac Night’s humanity.
He shushes her frantic noises softly, thumb brushing her bottom lip before he places a finger over her mouth. Silencing her. “Shhh, it’s alright…don’t struggle. I promise, things will be okay. Just trust me.” The sickeningly sweet tone does nothing to ease her panic.
He only releases his invisible grip when he knows for certain that she’s too weak to physically protest.
After quietly adjusting the fourth bag of blood collection, now sure she’s past the point of no return, he gently begins to explain the process her body was undergoing.
Blood loss. Death.
“Your pulse is going to slow now to compensate for critical organ failure,” he murmurs against her cheek as he leans down, lips shifting to her forehead where he presses a surprisingly tender kiss. Salty tears escape her eyes with every sluggish blink, rolling down her temples in slow rivulets.
“No more hyperventilating or panic. You’ll soon slip into a state of shock, and all of that fear will fade.”
Verbalizing the natural process was his own strange attempt at comfort, as if hearing such morbid information would somehow soothe her weakening mind. But the shock would make it all relatively painless as she faded from consciousness, an intentional method to make her sacrifice gentler.
Less cruel.
He’s reverently silent as he watches the life seep from her body. It’s slow, almost poetic, watching her slip away, her expression of heartbreak and betrayal softening into something more subdued.
Perhaps it was all some twisted, tragic metaphor for what it meant to love and be loved by Isaac. Everything was a means to an end for the burdened genius. Even the softest form of connection he’d ever known was worth discarding if it offered something more.
Nothing would ever slow his unchecked ambition. Not even love.
Just as he’d said, her panic eventually ebbs completely, her gasps for breath slowing to something much calmer. Her pulse is nothing but a low thrum, her eyelids drooping as she clings to the last shred of awareness to gaze at him pleadingly.
Her power is no use to her now that her strength had been drained from her veins, leaving her vulnerable and incapable of saving herself from inevitable doom. It’s a devastating loss as she struggles to hold onto the last of her life.
“Don’t look so upset,” he coos, smoothing her hair back from her damp forehead and wiping the drying tear tracks. “You’re giving your life to cure the incurable. You’re a miracle of science.”
He thinks to the open grave that lie waiting at the skull tree, a carefully selected bouquet of her favorite flowers already resting beside the dug out earth. When it was all over, he would ensure her burial was a beautiful thing, worthy of what she meant to him. Worthy of what he was taking for the sake of Francoise’s salvation.
With one last blink of devastating resignation, her eyes slowly slip shut as he steals a final, parting kiss from her cold lips.
“You’ve done your part, my love. And for that, I’m eternally indebted to you,” he murmurs lowly against her skin, cold gaze flitting over her dying body. Then, there’s a devastating silence. Stillness.
The task was finished.
With one final check to her pulse, he stands to his full height again, frighteningly emotionless as his mind races with preparations for developing the cure that would change everything. A feat that he would achieve in bitter solitude.
“Rest now.”
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a/n: well shit! i don’t know what got into me for this one, sorry 💔 i recently rewatched the last episode of season 2 and it made me think about how quickly and easily isaac betrays one of his closest bonds (outside of francoise) to try and save her, and how awful it would be if he made that same choice with someone he might’ve even loved.
i was trying so hard to get into this freak’s mind istg. he drives me crazy. why are you murdering your girlfriend?? be normal. i’ve been staring at this for faaar too long, so i apologize for any errors i may have missed in my brief proofread.
this was definitely a much different vibe than what i usually write, so please please let me know your thoughts! thank you for reading!!🫶
I feel like luke castellan is I the type of guy to swear up and down he doesn't like anyone but sometimes he gets caught when his glances turn into stares, or when a handshake goes on for too long, or when you ask him a question he'd stare at you, not hearing what you said just in shock you're even talking to him. It gets so bad he even dreams about you.
Please charlie looks so tall like in the all black omg I CANT. Dior looking elegant and beautiful and she still snuck in the famous 🤘🏼. And finally our newly announced (it’s been like a month) cast addition daniel let’s give him a round of applause ladies and gents 👏👏👏. ANYWAY back to Charlie he looks so just UGH please I need him to reject me alr
Closest friends: the boys obvi but I think he’d be besties with Enzo and Draco
Face claim: Matteo sinet
Past: he has the usual torture past but he shoves it down. His father is an asshole who was never home and when he was all he would do was talk about how disappointed he was in Matt and how he would be so proud to have matt’s cousin as a son instead. He’d been called weak all his life by his mother who hated that she ever have birth to him. (Or something like that) he has the usual tortured past but he shoves it down and prefers to hide it because though he doesn’t care what people thinks he wants to be liked.
Now this is all hypothetical and can be changed around however but I’m high off of the lack of sleep and this sounds like an amazing idea and I can come up with more detail when I get some sleep. So again this is ALL HYPOTHETICAL and please think before you comment something offensive if you do not agreed
They all would so get along, like dean and Derek, Sam and spencer… think about it they’re basically the same person. The hot and strong older brother who gets all the girls and the nerdy puppy dog faced, boy band haired younger brother who could get way more girls if he tried to. (I know Derek and Spence aren’t related)
