A/N: Soulmate AU where a platonic soulmate's first words are marked on your right forearm, and romantic soulmate's first words are marked over your heart. As my own take on this AU (because seriously, how many people would have "Hello" or "Nice to meet you"?), after your soulmate speaks the words, their name appears – right wrist for platonic, left forearm for romantic – along with a symbol/picture of some kind that is an identifying factor of some kind. Originally posted on AO3
Lyvia rounded the corner carefully and kept to the shadows until she was sure the room was empty. She tamped down the unexpected anger and fear that flared at the sight of the man hanging from his wrists in the middle of the room. It was her job to save him, and to a point her duty as a human to feel bad about what had happened to him, but feeling had no place in her line of work.
"Hostage in sight. Room clear. Moving in." she whispered through her comm.
"Copy." Nat's voice responded.
She sprinted to the middle of the room. When she reached the man she lifted her hand to check his pulse. He jerked awake and jerked back at her touch.
"Kiss to kill." his voice sounded so pleading that she thought her heart might break. Whatever they'd been doing to him was intensely bad if he had reached the level of desperation she heard in his voice.
Lyvia jerked back and nearly gasped at the burning sensations on her chest and forearm. She quickly forced the sensations away and reached up to jerk the man's blindfold off, so he could see that she wasn't the enemy. Warm brown eyes stared down at her. He relaxed minutely as he took her in, only to tense again as she drew a knife from her boot. She quickly sliced the bonds at his wrists, caught him as he sagged against her, and shoved the knife back into her boot. She lifted his chin gently so he was looking at her.
She raised a finger to her lips to indicate he should remain quiet. He nodded in understanding. She pointed to him and made a walking motion with her fingers, her eyes questioning.
He took a deep breath and answered quietly, "I think so."
Lyvia nodded and shifted so she was supporting him to her left, his right arm wrapped as tightly as he could manage to hold around her shoulders. She drew her .45 from its holster and held it ready at her side – she wouldn't be able to hold him up and fight her usual close-quarters style while supporting him – and started moving.
"Hostage acquired. En route to rendezvous." she spoke quietly into her comms.
"We're in position." Nat's voice came back.
The stairs were a challenge, but they made it without incident. The alarm didn't sound until they reached the roof.
"Guards are almost on you. We're not going to be able to land." Nat's voice came calmly across the comms just as Steve landed next to Lyvia on the roof, shield in one hand and two sturdy ropes in the other.
Lyvia both felt and heard the sigh of relief from the man next to her, "Good to see you, Cap."
Steve smiled, "You didn't think we'd just let them have you, did you, Sam?"
"Not for a second." Sam answered without a hint of doubt in his voice.
A hail of bullets came their way and Steve handed one of the ropes to Lyvia. Without a word Lyvia secured the rope around Sam's waist, and helped him wrap the slack above him around his forearm before stepping close to his side and wrapping her own arm around his waist. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulder. She had to bite her tongue to avoid apologizing when he cringed as she put pressure on what had to be broken ribs. Steve wrapped the other rope around his own forearm as he jumped in front of them, blocking the second hail of bullets.
"Go, Nat!" Lyvia called over the comms as she returned a few rounds, hitting one guard in the shoulder and sending the others scrambling.
Nat lifted the chopper higher and within thirty seconds, they were out of range of the guards guns. Steve shifted his shield to his back and climbed back into the chopper with ease before pulling the second rope back up and hauling Sam into the interior as gently as he could and offering a hand to Lyvia, which she accepted gratefully.
She joined Natasha in the cockpit as Steve bent to check Sam's wounds.
"You're awfully quiet." the redhead observed.
"Later." Lyvia responded curtly.
Later turned out to be very late that night when Lyvia flopped unceremoniously onto Nat's bed in her room at Stark Towers, still in her robe with a towel wrapped around her head. Nat set her book aside calmly and looked down expectantly as Lyvia laid her head just above the other woman's knees.
In response, Lyvia simply lifted the left cuff of her robe, where 'Sam' was now emblazoned on a background of steampunk looking wings across her forearm.
Nat ran her fingers gently over her friend's arm. "You didn't say anything to him." she observed quietly.
Lyvia shook her head miserably, "Honestly, I hoped I'd never meet him. No one deserves me as a soulmate."
Nat raised an eyebrow.
Lyvia watched the redheaded woman in fascination. This was the famous Black Widow. The woman who had gotten away from the Red Room... who fought for the good guys now. She was even more skilled than Lyvia herself, which was saying something; the only reason Lyvia would have an advantage if it came to a fight was thanks to her powers. The U.S. had been even more selective of candidates than the Russians with their own version of the Red Room, and many of the U.S.'s agents were mutants. Lyvia had been their strongest 'student', but she'd never fully broken, never bent to their will, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before they came for her after she broke out. She never expected the Black Widow to rescue her after they had recaptured her.
Now she focused on maintaining her helpless façade and keeping the others around her calm as they moved toward the exit and the Widow fought guard after guard. They didn't stop until Lyvia heard the Widow cry out behind her and turned to see her lurch forward and land hard on her hands and knees, barely covered by the corner they'd just rounded. Blood blossomed on her right shoulder as Lyvia pulled her into a sitting position and set her back against the wall.
She looked directly up at Lyvia, "Мне нужно оружие."
'I need a weapon.' Lyvia's brain translated. The words on her right forearm tingled and a burning sensation tore across her right wrist. Lyvia grimaced and looked down to see 'Natalia' written in a precise script over an intricate spider web, and all her doubts about the wisdom of having a platonic bond vanished. The Black Widow would not be put in any extra danger for being attached to her. Lyvia smiled, a cold light in her eyes, and her voice came out steady, "Use me."
The Widow looked up at her in momentary shock and grabbed her own wrist with a gasp before nodding in return and rattling off her observations of the guards behind them, what she expected to face ahead of them, and the exact route they needed to take.
Lyvia shook herself from her memories, "Neither of us was in any more danger together than we were on our own. He's too… good."
Nat nodded in understanding and squeezed her arm sympathetically, and it didn't come across as condescending because Lyvia knew that Natalia Romanova was likely the one person on the planet who understood exactly why she felt the way she did about soulmates.