There was a girl who knew the worst pains—she knew the feeling of her heart torn to pieces, the feeling of her soul ripped apart to shreds. So she became kind—she let people break her, hurt her in so many ways, that she would slowly pick the shards and put them back again.
After all, what’s there to be scared of after dying a million times inside?
A/N: I know this is
nowhere near how ACOWAR will play out, but right now I need this and it is
- - - - - - -
Six. Six Cauldron damned days.
Dinner was as it has always been, too much food for three
people. Tamlin sitting at the head of the table, oblivious to the world around
him. Lucien sitting, but instead of his normal banter he just stared at his
High Lord. Angry with him for not allowing him to rescue his mate. Angry with
him for this bargain. Angry for the time he has sat on his ass. Tamlin looked
up to Lucien, and then returned his focus to his plate.
Nothing had changed. It only took him one day. One day to
not fulfill his empty promise to include me, that things would be different.
It took me two days to realize that he didn’t want for it to
be different. He wanted to go back in time, back to his easy banter with
Lucien, his time hunting the monsters Amarantha sent over his boarders. He
wanted that human girl who died back, so he could love and protect her.
On day three, I realized that most of his court had
abandoned him. Lucien was one of the few left and I knew that he was barely
holding on. He knew my secret, that magical eye of his knew right away. He
could see the tendrils of night rolling off of me. He about drowned on a sip of
wine when he noticed my tattoo at dinner that night.
The following day Lucien came to me. Both of us had awoken
from a nightmare, retreating to the open night sky away from the walls closing
in on us. We cried over everything we had swept for so long under a rug. We
spent the rest of the night catching up. It was then that I realized the High Lord
that we had once loved was gone. Broken.
Yesterday he had locked me in the manor while he went off to
Hybern. This time there was no need to panic, it would have taken me less than
half a thought to break the wards. I told him that I understood it was for my
protection and swallowed the bile raising in my throat as I thanked him for it.
That is when I learned that there was zero sense in spying, not only did the
King guard his secrets. Tamlin didn’t share the ones that were given to him,
not even with Lucien.
Six days. Six increasingly frustrating days and it was
taking all my being not to mist the entire manor.
“Did you paint anything today?”
Always asking if I painted, “no, I read in the library all
day, an interesting novel about a female assassin, whose is a lost heir to a
Oh, oh this was too good, he thought that I was still
illiterate. “I read a book.”
Rhys’s words came flooding back, You choose every day. Forever. I let the docile human girl mask
fall to the ground, there was nothing to gain from staying in this broken
court. It was time to go home.
I couldn’t help it, I let a little of the protagonist I was
reading seep through, “I’m going with the same way you do.”
I was met with shocked silence from Tamlin and a smirk of a
smile from Lucien. I tried and failed to stifle the smirk on my face, “did you
even notice me after the mountain?”
“Of course I did.”
“Then how did you miss the time I spent in the library
instead of painting? I almost died during the second trial because of a simple
short coming. That first week, Rhys taught me the basics and I practiced. I was
reading full novels by the second visit.”
He went to say something, but the fire in my blood was
“You LOCKED me up. Did you fail to remember that I spent
three months locked in a cell? You locked me up, after I had torn my soul into
shreds for you, for the love that I had for you. I killed three innocent fae for
you. THREE. Those stains will never fade from my mortal heart, while you sat on
your ass and did NOTHING. During the first task, Lucien shouted, Lucien helped,
while you just sat there. During my second trial you knew I could not read, you
could have helped. Instead, you just sat there!
Lucien and I could have died and you just sat there. Did you ever ask yourself
how we survived that second trial? Rhys! We survived that second trial because
“That one night, when I went unnoticed, you didn’t try to
free me. Instead you were just interested in fucking me. One last fuck before
the human girl dies. Who saved our asses that night?! Then my third trial came
and went, after I tore my soul to shreds, while she was breaking every bone in
my body, what did you do? NOTHING! You hadn’t tried to kill her, you didn’t
pick up a knife and even try.”
“Every night I awoke scared, covered in sweat that felt like
their blood. You never once reached for me, you never once got off your ass to
comfort me. You left me to break. I felt alone. I felt unworthy of you.”
“I gave my life to free you and to give your power back. I
DIED! DIED! And when we returned here, you locked me up in a beautiful cage. You
wanted me to be cloistered for your peace of mind. What would have happened if
my powers continued to manifest and I didn’t learn how to use them?”
“When you LOCKED me up, I panicked and then I turned into a
literal ball of fear, ice, and fire. He didn’t kidnap me, he rescued me! And
when I told you I was happy and safe, you ignored me. I was free to come back
here any time I wanted, all I had to do was ask. It was always my CHOICE and I
CHOSE him. I chose him because he saved me, not you. He loved me, not you!”
“I’m going home. Lucien, it is your choice if you stay or
I’m not sure I had even seen Lucien move as fast as he did
to grab my hand. I turned to Tamlin, “I loved you. I loved you and died for
you. The only reason I have not killed you is because you were once good to me.
We are over, and if you ever pull another stunt like you did with Hybern, I will kill you.”
I winnowed us to the familiar red ornate carpet. Home. I
almost wept as I wrapped my arms around my mate.
“Feyre darling, missing my wingspan that badly, you
only lasted six days?”
I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.
I guess I gotta get this out of the way, so happy birthday, asshole. I hope you’ve finished rotting and settled into some comfortable void of existence. I hope you figured it all out by now, sorted out all that manic god-complex shit or whatever. I’m glad you’re not around to see the world like it is. I’m sure you would’ve been pleased with the steady crumbling of humanity. I’m glad you died when you did. Not really with the events leading up to it, but since you died then, you couldn’t go on to reign terror on all of the central United States. If you weren’t so bright, I’m sure you would’ve bottomed out and landed somewhere dark and dirty and dead after awhile, driving slowburn, aching terror into everyone around you.
I guess this analysis of you isn’t fair; I never knew you. No one did. We like to think we did. You’re kind of a legend around here; an iconic being frozen youthful and damned in the snapshot of America. I’m sure you would’ve gloated in all the attention you’re still getting, nearly twenty years after the dust settled.
I’m grappling with two polarizing views of you. I’m clutching them both and trying to be okay with it. On one hand, you were a cold-blooded bastard son, a murderer more profound on several levels. You were a ruthless, psychotic being with empty eyes and a soul ripped to shreds. You were worthy of nothing less than eternal damnation.
On the other, I know you were a child, a teenager, a son. A friend, student, a warm supporter. People loved you, you had people you loved. You were a person. I hate knowing that. It’s so easy to just screw our eyes shut tight and chant over and over again that you were a monster, that you couldn’t be worth any affection, that you couldn’t possibly process it or show that to anyone else.Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell. We don’t let each other humanize you, as if you weren’t a human at all.
I still don’t know which perspective is right. I still don’t know which one I want to believe more.
You killed people, but you killed yourself the same way. There’s a very fine line between your mental illness and your actions and how far it can justify it all. All of us are still trying to figure you out. We won’t ever fully understand you.
I don’t know how the idea of something so unimaginable and hellish could reside in a human heart, capable of charity and honesty and love and tenderness. It shouldn’t seem possible.
In the end, Eric, I’m curious. You left the world with so much mystery in shards of glass and bullet holes. I wonder if you’ve grown at all after being dead. I wonder if by now you could’ve peeled off that toxic, malicious persona and healed. It’s been eighteen years since you last laid your eyes on us, but we haven’t stopped staring into you. I hope by rotting you learned your goddamned lesson.
I don’t think dead guys get birthday wishes. So I wish, on your behalf, that your soul somewhere has matured and understood the impact you’ve made on the world. In the end, I guess you got what you wanted. No one will ever forget you.
I AM CRYING RN IVE BEEN NOTICED BY SARAH URIE AND DALLON WEEKESIN THE SAME FUCKING WEEK. THIS WEEK HAS TAKEN MY SOUL AND RIPPED TO SHREDS EMOTIONALLY. MY QUEEN JUST TALKED TO ME AND USED CUTE EMOJIS AND SHES SO CUTE AND PERFECT OK IM JUST GONNA GO BACK TO HYPERVENTILATING NOW BYE.
A dark-haired girl saw herself on a throne of ripped papers with messy, scrawled handwriting of all her bleeding emotions no one cared to read, for she was invisible as the wind and only felt when strung along by higher thoughts and emotions.
a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence
“Get up,” an ever familiar voice snarled into her ear, a rasp that shivers racing down her spine and chills running through her arms.
Elide forced herself out of the clutches of sleep, where even peace dared not to follow. Vivid claws of death’s grip and destruction’s havoc followed her in the soundless realm, where not another soul save for already shredded one heard and swam the misery.
She was drowning, and drowning, and drowning.
A heavy presence wrapped around her neck, and Elide choked on the chains, her throat adjusting to the tightness. No scream left her as another set of shackles unclipped from the wall and dragged across the floor, her body following, limp and frail. The constant chain on her ankle yanked forward, flares of pain shooting up her shin and tendons.
Her overseer’s grubby hands held no mercy as he walked up the steps, dragging her leash. Her own ribs and bones slammed along the asphalt, old scars reopening against the unsmoothed stone’s sharp edges.
Elide Lochan squinted into the brightness as soon as the metal door flung open, the chattering of life filling her ears, the smell of rotten, decay things no longer swarming her nose.
Her senses had only been replaced by a new time of the deteriorating perishing and soon ceasing.
Elide Lochan nearly wept as she realized that the song of birds and flutter of blowing petals no longer teemed within her lands, but swarmed with broken bones and skulls, pools of red. Sickly stenches blew past her, the shouts and ringing of horrid curses draining out the elation the breaths of fresh air strung along.
The dark-eyed man slapped her harshly across the face, her cheek stinging in protest. He gripped her chin, nails digging into her peeling skin.
“Did you hear what I said?” he growled, a lecherous breath pouring over her face.
“Yes,” Elide whispered, her voice croaking. She had stopped listening when she knew what her final words would be.
“You know what you have to say?”
With a smug, satisfied smirk, her Uncle Vernon took the long collar off her neck, and she silently drew in the fresh air not a murky damp and full of the infectious exhalations of concoctions.
Except the shackle around her ankle still dragged against the forgotten land, her past of flowing crystal rivers and rising revivals almost a figment of her nostalgia.
She watched him click open the large briefcase in the other hand, and widened her eyes at the piece of drooping, white material, larger than her whole body.
Vernon looked her in the eye. “Put it on.”
So she did. Her body was almost naked anyways with Vernon’s handling and the lashes that had torn at her clothes. Only scraps that adhered to her skin from the moist summers offered a little shield of pathetic protection.
His face twitched, and then he grabbed her arm roughly, jerking her forward into his arms.
She trembled at the raw viciousness emanating from him.
“Make one wrong move and I’ll punish you.”
She nodded, her skin prickling. Too long had she endured the chains and the lock, the stinging whip, the suffocation of everything. Too long had she an eternity of silence to fill with her thoughts and gift her with the companion of pain. Too long had her soul been trapped in another’s own sick and twisted one.
Vernon looked down at her in distaste, and Elide could see the suppression of violence in those veins. Her dress was just a temporary barrier before she would be on her knees again, grovelling and pleading and bleeding.
The vicious cycle, except this one would be a momentous mark towards a true future of slavery and suffering.
“You haven’t seen pain yet,” Vernon smiled, licking his lips. “So if you think out of place just once, then think again.” He leaned in closer, calloused hands stroking her rough cheek. “I have not taken you completely yet. Remember that, Elide.”
She turned her head away. She did not have to see the triumphant smile on his face. History had been written by the victors, but to Elide, the victors were the predators.
And she was the prey.
Vernon grabbed her hand and they trudged forward, her legs tripping along the coarse ground that reeked of the forgotten and the deceased. At the fork of the path bridging into two, one crimson red, the other pure darkness, Vernon withdrew his arm.
Bruises reappeared where his hands had been, the purple and red sores marring her body. The chain drew around her ankles.
Vernon nodded at her, and jerked his chin to the red path. Slowly, he stared at her, an unfathomable look pinched onto his face.
Finally, he smirked, and said, “You know what you have to say at the end?”
Elide managed a weak nod, a faint stirring crescending within her stomach. “I do.”
Vernon disappeared within the trail of pitch-black.
The trail rose as a line of red petals drenched with lacquer, and her legs slowly wobbled as she ambled up. Her calves burned, her muscles following atrophy’s hand. The sun hung lowly, another drooping, listless figment of her fractious form.
There was no music as she walked into the clearing. There was no elation as she stared into the faces of the Ilken.
This was wrong. This was not her ceremony. This was a binding of a curse.
Elide walked up the dead trunks severed horizontally. She could see Vernon’s eyes greedily drinking her in as she steadily yet slowly came to the top of the steps. At the crest, she watched as all shadowed heads turned towards her.
Not a single face to represent who she once was.
Even the table was draped in black, the only contrast her white dress, the hem laced with dirt and the smudges of red from the tortuous walk.
The gleam of golden forged together with intricate intersections and sacred symbols blinded her momentarily. A sharp breath escaped her. Next to the crown was another one, looped together with silver metal and smooth surfaces of crystalline and onyx orbs. Together, both pieces pulsed pure power.
A family heirloom.
Ancient and powerful and symbolic.
Elide watched her Uncle Vernon greedily ravenously drink in the sign of the two ancient facets of the Lochan line.
Two crowns that rightfully were hers.
Two crowns that successfully flew from her fingertips.
Two crowns that guided her people into once peace, a mission she had failed.
She stood at her Uncle’s sign, ignoring the drumming of her heartbeat that no longer fluttered dimly like a cut hummingbird’s wings. Darkness seemed to flex around her, and she felt her insides answering the call of vengeance.
A robed figure emerged the the other side where two bent trees swooped down in arching angles. The gray and tattered material covering the frail frame came to a halt in front of the table and gradually raised his hand, where the faintest whispers of melancholy halted.
The hood fell, and Elide stared at the face of an elder whose sunken in face boasted only wrinkles.
The priest stared at the two crowns for what seemed centuries as her ankle threatened to give out under her. By the impatient look on her Uncle’s face, she could assume he felt the same way. Right when Vernon’s fists clenched, the priest cleared his throat and began his opening speech to the dark crowd.
Elide’s eyes glazed over.
This was not life.
This was death.
Silence bestowed upon them, and Elide jerked upright, and realized that all eyes were on her. Vernon stared at her with his mouth set in a grim line.
The priest placed a hand over his heart. “Do you, Elide Lochan, take Vernon as your husband, to cherish and love him until death do you part?”
Vernon’s icy stare had her rooted in place.
The practiced words, the first words she’d remembered from being imprisoned into this hellhole. The words that she’d repeated over and over again in hopes of one different alteration.
Her ankle throbbed, and Elide closed her eyes.
She didn’t see if Vernon dared to visibly sigh in relief. The priest hobbled back to the stand, and drew a curved, black blade, the hilt wavering in his feeble grip.
Vernon took the blade, and held out his wrist.
No scars, no blemishes.
He pressed the cold steel into Elide’s palms.
The priest droned, “Complete the blood oath and I declare you both joined in matrimony.”
A goblet sat on the platform, hot coals cracking within the metal. Elide and Vernon were ushered at polar sides of the ancient cup, her uncle’s steely and dark eyes triumphant. He already wore the outlines of the crown on his head, and Elide felt sorrow and shame shoot through her veins.
This should not be legacy.
She watched Vernon slash his wrist, and three drops of blood plunked into the goblet, a flare of flames and sizzling of sucking.
The priest handed the bloodied dagger and pressed the warm hilt into her palms.
Vernon exhaled loudly, licking his lips once again.
Those lips had sucked on her skin, had ruined her sense of affection, had promised to do worse.
She gripped the dagger.
But did not hold out her wrist.
The darkness expanded.
Elide Lochan lashed out and curved the dagger horizontally. Let the turbulence and chaos raging within her brewed and cultivated by her own Uncle, and allow her wrist to flick.
A clean slice, thick and heavy. Deadly.
She stared at the dissembled, and back up at the priest whose jaw had dropped open.
“He can’t punish me if he’s dead,” she said by way of explanation.
Disbelief flooded the priest’s face, and she didn’t blame him.
The need to survive and the call of freedom had been too large, and she had answered her dreams, of which Vernon’s death the first step to walk down her own path carved for and by herself.
She watched the remains of Vernon’s head loll to the side, mouth gaping and eyes struck open in an almost betrayal. The squelching noises came to a halt while Vernon’s own cold body laid perfectly still, a redemption fulfilled.
A beheading. A tipping back from the unbalanced scales.
She felt a dark pulse wrap around her, flattening against her skin. Almost a soothing.
The priest held up the queen’s crown again, discarding the king’s onto the golden table.
Elide shook her head, staring at the golden laurels that had belonged to her ancestors.
She was the rightful queen of Perranth and Morath. Yet since she was the last heir, she was the rightful king.
She was wear what was hers.
She would reclaim what had been stolen from her.
The priest shook his head. “You cannot be a king.”
Elide Lochan straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “Then you can be the king. But watch the queen conquer.”
She’d start her own vicious cycle if she could not reclaim what was hers.
“No,” a deep, male voice rasped.
The priest faltered, grasping the king’s crown in one hand, the queen’s in another.
Elide turned around.
Eyes dark as the night sky streaking without a single star, blazing an aura of will and dominance, erecting a strength of a thousand men, a towering stature of corded and roped muscle slashed Elide’s sight.
Her heart dropped.
She knew the stories those in Morath’s dungeons whispered and weeped. Listened the each word carefully as each syllable were her salvation. She knew of this male, this dangerous, feral creature. The Hunter who had been to Hell’s entrance and survived unscathed. Those who were his prey always failed the game. Those who were his prey did not live to see another day. Those who were his prey became a forgotten speck of ash in history.
The Hunter’s rage stormed the flames of Hell, with a heart impenetrable as Heaven’s gates.
The Devil’s Mind, Death’s Right Hand, the Executioner.
Elide Lochan met the onyx eyes of none other than the Lorcan Salvaterre, the Silencer.
She did not wished to be silenced today, not tomorrow. Or the next.
“He is not king,” the dark-haired male commanded, voice carrying voluminous depths. “Nor are you or I.”
Elide sucked in a breath.
The priest coughed. “Who am I crowning?”
Elide twirled around to the robed figure, and breathed out, “I am the queen and the king. I am the rightful heir denied what was mine.”
She would not stay silent.
The Hunter simultaneously growled, “The girl has killed my prey, and thus I claim her in return.”
The darkness fell around them.
Elide could not turn around to see Lorcan Salvaterre’s expression as the priest hurried forward and crowned her with the king’s emblem, and pressed the queen’s crown into her hands, tainted with the blood of the now deceased corpse.
He feels as though he is breaking, shattering, cracking at the edges. He lost the one person who has always been there. Octavia. His sister, his responsibility.
He screams, the sound ripped from his lungs as he contemplates the world without his baby sister. Without her.
He failed. He failed. He failed. He’s alone.
There’s no universe without her and he now understands Achilles’s rage. He’s never been so broken and the only way he doesn’t kill himself is the image of Echo and Roan and all the other Ice Nation, gurgling blood as they choke from his bullets. Him dragging to Echo where his sister fell, slowly killing and making it hurt. He wants her blood, he wants her screams. He wants to make her beg for mercy and then throw her off the cliff. She doesn’t deserve a good death.
Octavia, dying, breathing her last alone. No, he can’t think about that, the image is so impossible. She’s so full of life, his baby sister. Ever since the day she came wailing into the world, looking at him and keeping him tethered to this world when the burden, the loneliness became to much.
He taught her how to read, how to write, how to chart the stars, using the stories from times gone by. He cast her as the women that were powerful, that were independent, that changed the world and goddamn it she should have had that chance. She should’ve been able to alter the course of the universe just as quickly as she wormed her way into people’s hearts.
She deserves the world he could never quite give her. The one where she got to stay the girl who played with butterflies instead of the one who had his blood on his knuckles. She should’ve loved and laughed and shined brighter than anyone he ever knew.
Tears drip as he struggles to breath, remembering the first time she ever said his same. Bell-a-me she’d struggled to say, asking for a story one night while their mother was away. That was first time he’d told her the story of Augustus and Octavia and the glories of Rome.
She’d always been burned into his heart, the one point of that would always point him home. Did he even have a home? How does he get there?
There’s nothing in the world without her, the colors have dimmed, and his heart seems to be running on rage.
Her words, the last words she’d ever said to just him seem to pound against his mind as he dragged someone. To be used as a bargaining chip against the only other person he loves enough to give up everything for. His heart was always a weakness, Roan knows that and he wants to scream but his heart is ripped in half, laying bloody beside the sword back in the cell.
In her own way, she’d said she loved him, still. After he let monsters crawl in and make a home in him. After his hands were so red with blood that they stained the water. After his soul was torn to shreds.
She can’t be gone. Until he is forced to bury her himself, he won’t fully accept a world without his sister. The hope takes root and he feels himself calming down, Octavia always took whatever challenge the world threw at her like it was personal attack on her, she’d survive. She’s survived much worse.
His lips twist into a snarl, if she really is gone, when he’s finished the entire Ice Nation will be a smoking ruin and Achilles will be surpassed in the whispers and warnings of the world about how dangerous love is.
A/N:Yay! Chapter 9! Internet is driving me crazy, so I quickly want to post this before it goes out on me again. I hope you enjoy this chapter! (Sorry in advance for any grammatical errors in my stories!)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: None Word count: 2,769 Summary: Reader and Bucky doesn’t get along well after his marriage to Rosaline. Will her friendship with Bucky last or will they crumble and fade?
★ ★ ★
I balance myself on the edge of the
I watch the fallen leaves in the
water creating small ripples as the wind pushes it over on the surface. I can
see little coins at the bottom of the fountain. Whoever threw them in must’ve
thought it would grant their wishes.
Night is crawling over faster now
with autumn almost over. It is getting even colder too. Parents are calling
their children over to get home. Dogs panting as they jog with their owners
through the park. People walking side by side, enjoying the company. I pull my
jacket close into me.
“Y/N, don’t do that, you’ll fall.”
Bucky says holding onto my hand. I look at him before looking at my shoes. The
edge is wide enough for him to sit, what makes him think I’ll fall?
“I’m fine, really. No need to
worry.” I say as I continue on my little steps. He lets my hand go with a sigh.
“So, you learned your lesson?” I
ask, still my back facing him. Bucky scoffs.
“Not a great day to be strapped to
Richard, but we managed fine anyways.” He answers. I look at him before
stepping over the small crack. I kick a dried leaf away down to the ground.
“Good. Now don’t do that to each
other anymore. You’re family after all.” I say with a sigh.
Family. Come to think of it, I
haven’t called my parents for a while now. With everything that is going on, I
completely forgot about the ones I know who would fly over the second they hear
the words, “I’m a little sad”. Even if it is just over a book I couldn’t find.
I should probably ask them how they are doing tonight.
“Family. Such an odd thing.” He says
under his breath. I look at him.
“What do you mean? You wanted it
didn’t you?” I ask turning my body around to look down at him.
“I know. But it is not what I
expected, really.” He looks out into the streets. Lamp posts flickering into
life after darkness wraps around the park.
“What did you expect it to be like,
then?” I ask, curious. He looks up at me.
“I don’t know. More than what I
have, I guess.” He runs his hand through his hair. His metal hand is hidden
away in his glove. I watch him before sighing.
“Not everything is really supposed
to go as expected. That’s a part of the thrill to life. You just have to find
the beauty in it in your own way, you know?” I answer, letting half of my feet
hang on the side of fountain.
Without a warning, someone sweeps me
off my feet and takes me down from the edge. I look up at Bucky surprised. My
body tenses against his arms. Bucky stands me up on my feet before looking at
me with an irritated look.
“You’re making me nervous, Y/N. You
can fall at any second if you do that.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Why are you so worried? I’m
completely fine.” I say. He just gives me a look. I let out a sigh before
running my fingers through my hair.
“Fine, fine, Sergeant. I gotcha.” I
answer while looking at the passing cars near the entrance to the park. My
heart still racing after Bucky carried me like that.
“What about you?” He asks looking at
“What about me?” I ask while looking
back at him.
“You don’t want a family of your
own?” He asks. My body shivers from the mention of it. Or it could probably
from the cold breeze. I tuck my hands in my pocket.
“Not yet, I suppose.” I say. He
raises an eyebrow.
“Why not?” He asks curious. I look
up at him.
Because I was hoping to have it with
“Just not the right time or place.”
I brush my fingers through my hair after the breeze put it out of place.
“Maybe. You are still young. Maybe
you need to learn what it means to love someone first.” His answer felt like a
slap to my face.
“What do you mean I need to know
what it is like to love?” I ask looking at him. Curious and upset at the same
time. His brows furrowed.
“You’ve never been in love, have
you? I mean, the times we were together, you were always alone.”
Yes, because I was in love with you,
idiot. How can you not notice? But I shouldn’t be too angry. It is my fault
for not telling him anyways.
“And I suppose you know everything
about love, then?” I ask with a hint of anger in my tone. He caught that.
“More than you do.” He answers. I
feel my insides shake with anger. No you don’t. You don’t know at all.
“Right. You marrying Rosaline
doesn’t make you an expert in love, Bucky.” I say crossing my arms over my
“No, it doesn’t, but I’ve had many
“Yes, before the serum. But you
haven’t had any yourself after it didn’t you? The brainwashing wiped your
memories away of it.” I ask him straight on.
“I did remember some before and I do have some memories of it when I was Winter Soldier.
With Rosaline. I remember it. I saw them in my dreams.” He answers. Sting.
Stinging pain in my chest.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Giving me warm glass of milk and
honey to help me sleep. And the lavenders. She would put the scented beads
above my head. She held me when I cried and comforted me. But the most is
feeling her hands in mine. The way her hand holds mine to give me comfort. Is
that not love?”
The colour of my face drain away. I
felt as though it was my soul that had been ripped apart this time. He’s
talking about memories of us together. Of me doing all of that for him… Only he
mistook me for Rosaline. My head spins and I feel myself breaking down into
My heart aches as though Bucky had
betrayed me. His mind is too messed up to even remember our nights together.
The effects of brainwashing had caused for Bucky to forget all the things I had
done for him. No, he didn’t forget them. He replaced me with Rosaline in those
memories. This pain is even worse than the heartbreak… How could Bucky do this
I doubt he even remembers that night
when he came over.
“Y/N?” He looks at me a little
worried. Tears are streaming down my face. He looks at me surprised. “What’s
wrong?” He holds my arms. I look up at him, still tears in my eyes.
“What memories do you remember of
us, Bucky?” I ask him behind my shaking voice. Bucky takes a moment to look at
me. If he doesn’t even remember me in those memories, then what memories does
he hold for us?
“I… I don’t remember so much of us.
Just bits and pieces.” He says a little hesitantly. That continues to shred my
soul into smaller pieces.
“Then why do you always get so angry
at me? Always getting jealous when you see Richard together with me? Getting
angry at me when I don’t talk to you?” I ask, half yelling at him. Yes, why
does he do all of those if it’s not because of our past?
His eyes search around my face. I
seem to have made his mind spiral into an abyss. Bucky blinks before clutching
his temples. He backs down onto the edge of the fountain again to sit. I stand
there, still with tears streaming down my eyes. I’ve really hit a dead end with
“I… I don’t know. I just. For some
reason I can’t bring myself to leave you alone. I don’t like the idea of you
being away from me. And I hate the very idea of another man making you happy…
It’s just, I… I don’t know why I feel this way.” He says before resting his
hand on his chest. I glance over at him before running my fingers through my
hair to push them out of my face.
“I… I don’t think there’s a reason
for us to continue this friendship then.” I say. Whatever piece left to my
heart, I shredded it along with the others. Bucky looks up at me surprised. I
couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“What do you mean?” He asks. I laugh
softly behind my tears.
“You don’t even know why you want to
keep me around. You don’t remember anything about us. You… You don’t even
care.” I accuse him behind my laughter.
If he doesn’t remember anything
about our nights together, it shows that he never cared about them. Not in ways
that I did. He only remembers the things he cared about. Which is why his
memories with Steve never faded away.
“Y/N…” Bucky calls out to my name. I
look at him, waiting to hear what he has to say. He bites his lower lip before
opening his mouth. His phone rings in his pocket suddenly. He looks at me for a
moment before answering his phone.
“Hey, Rosy. He’s there? Yeah I’ll be
My chest tightens at the mention of
her name. I wait for him to end the call. He stares at the phone a little
before looking up at me. When I can see that he has nothing to say, I speak up.
“Just forget this, Bucky. Forget
whatever you’re feeling for me now. It must be nothing that you’d even forget
about the times we spent together, right?” Bucky gets up on his feet, grips on
my arms and look straight at me. I wince from the pain of his metal fingers
digging into my flesh through my coat. He looks rather upset at me.
“It’s not nothing! I know it’s not!
I just… I just need to sort out my mind. I just need to remember better. I know
that there’s more to us than what I can remember. I know it in my heart but I…”
I jerk my arms away from him. Enough. I don’t want to deal with this anymore.
“Just forget it! Okay?? Whatever you
have in that mind of yours is probably what you believe anyways! Stop giving
yourself a headache and believe what you want to believe in!” I shout at him
angrily. Why is he still insisting for me to stay?
“You know my mind is not normal,
Y/N! How can you say that? You’re getting angry at me when I can’t even control
my own mind! You know what I’ve been through! You know it when you were the one
giving me comfort from my nightmare—” He stops. I widen my eyes. His lips
quiver as he backs away a little.
Did he just suddenly remember of it?
Bucky runs his hands through his
hair again, looking down at the ground confused. I brush the wet tears away
from my cheeks and breathe out a sigh. Is it even worth it to keep fighting
with his mind like this?
What am I fighting for anyways? Do I
still believe that we have a chance together? Or do I just hope that we will
continue our friendship like normal? I can’t even do that without Bucky getting
jealous if I hang out with any guys other than the ones he approves of. Why is
he trying to control me like this if he doesn’t even have feelings for me?
“Go home, Bucky. Rosy is waiting for
you. We’ll talk later.” I say looking at him. As I was about to walk, Bucky’s
hand grabs onto my shoulder, turning me around and pulling me into him. He
wraps his arms around me tightly, not letting me go.
“Bucky! Let me—”
“Please don’t leave me.” His voice
shaking against my neck. We both gasped at the same time. Memory hitting us
“Please don’t leave me…”
His voice echoes in my head. The
same exact words he said one time. Bucky probably even remembers it from how
tightly he is holding me. I move my hands up to his sides to hold him back. I
don’t know what to feel right now. I never do with Bucky’s mood swings like
I’m sad, angry, confused… why does
he play with my emotions like this? I can’t even decide on what I feel or think
because Bucky couldn’t with his. Is the change in his emotions also the cause for the shift
in mine? Why can I never just stay with an emotion and go with it? Why does
mine have to change because his did?
“Y/N…” Bucky says as he loosens his
grip on me. I look up at him. The familiar sad blue eyes staring down at me. I
turn away from looking at him. I can’t. Not right now, please.
“Give me some time… I know that
there’s something more to us than what we have right now… I just… I just need
to sort my memories out. Please…” He pleads with me. I keep my eyes away from
looking at his. He lifts his metal hand to pull my face up to look at him.
My body grows a little limp. The
same sad eyes, same quivering lips, same worry lines on his forehead and same
messy hair: all still the same old Bucky. But, I know that deep down, he’s
already a changed person. A person with the love for another. I reach up to
tuck a side of his hair behind his ear.
“Okay…” I say quietly. He wraps his
arms around me again. I wrap mine around his neck gently.
Why can’t I just end this here and
now? Put a stop to this constant push and pull between us? Pack up my bags, get
on a flight and leave. Simple. That’ll be the end of it. It’s not like he’s
going to run after someone he doesn’t even remember sharing countless nights
together. It’s not like my leave would impact anyone’s life so tremendously.
But I can’t do that to Bucky. I
can’t do that to Steve, Wanda, Sam, Tony, or anyone. I shouldn’t push all of
them away again just because I can’t sort my own mind out. They are my friends after
Bucky loosens his arms around me. He
reaches down to hold both of my hands tightly. His eyes staring down at them.
He smiles a little.
“Why do I have a feeling we’ve done
this before?” He asks. I look at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Hold hands.” He says as he shifts
his gaze up to me. I force a smile.
Because we always do when you needed
a reminder that you are no longer alone.
“That is for something you to figure
out.” I say instead. I brush another of his lock away from his face before
letting out a sigh.
“I won’t leave you, okay? I’m here
for you.” I say before pulling him down to leave a soft kiss against his cheek.
“Even though my mind couldn’t
remember the reason, but in my heart, I know my whole world will shatter if
you’re no longer with me.” I gasp at his response.
He brings my cold hand up to his face,
nuzzling into my palm. He closes his eyes as though remembering the sensation
of my hand against his nose, lips and cheeks. My heart races. The curve and
edges on his face is something I already know. Something I’d never forget.
“I feel… really at peace…” He says
into my hand. His blue eyes staring right at me. My heart beats with both
happiness and pain. I pull my hand away from his face carefully.
“Go home and see your wife. We’ll
With that, I turn around and make my
way home. Inside, I was happy to relive the feeling again of his hands in mine,
but also broken that he did it. It was our very own thing. Our sweet little
secret that we share.
But it is also a painful reminder of my broken
heart when he married Rosaline.
★ ★ ★
A/N:Okay~ I love this chapter so much. Shows a little bit of Bucky’s feelings about their friendship. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think. <3 Thank you so much for reading. <3
Somewhere between this soul-shredding job that steal 85% of my waking hours but allows me to regularly eat and sleep under a roof, and the remaining 14% of my conscious time spent doing things to prevent myself from going crazy, I will find the time to resume learning game development.
The lively chatter continued in your hospital room – mostly consisting
of Jackson and Youngjae throwing ideas around of where you should all go
when you woke up and fully recovered. Jaebum listened to them and smiled to himself as he laid his head down next to yours while
he held on to your hand – intertwining both of your fingers as he softly rubbed
your knuckles with the pad of his thumb. He found himself feeling very strange. Knowing that you were
in a coma tore his soul to absolute shreds; but he felt oddly comfortable even
now in your presence – just being there with you was enough for him to feel
“You should keep your distance like your cyborg friend.” Asset 492 warned Steve in a more or less empty tone as she flicked the serrated edge of her gaze to Bucky who stood beside Rogers, unapologetically pointing a loaded Ares-16 automatic at her.
“I’m not scared of you, trust me I can handle dangerous.” Rogers brushed off with genuine abandon as he stepped closer towards her lowering his shield and outstretching his other hand towards her like he was trying to coax a wild animal to sniff his fingers.
Bucky, on the other hand, understood the woman that stood still before them the second he got a good look at her eyes. Unflinching. Unemotional. Unnatural. He knew what they were dealing with. Steve believes in the innocence of a victim’s soul, and Bucky knows for a fact that this Asset harbors no such purity. She is a killer, sure, they all were on some level, but what scares Bucky, makes his skin crawl and his heavy heart pound, is the fact that she is a murder. She felt no guilt. He’s searched the eyes of enough like her to know the difference.
“Oh I’m not dangerous,” Asset 492 disagreed gently as her head cocked to the side a tick and her eyes simmered in a blackness that boiled just in between the folds of her misleadingly bright irises. “I’m fatal.”
For the first time since 1944 Bucky feared someone else other than himself.
After dating Kylo for a year and his temper and
anger problems getting in the way of everything, (Y/N) has had enough.
His blaring voice boomed through the metallic hallways
as she stood there quietly, flinching as his red sword came down, striking the
walls. His hair’s waves rippled with every strike with screams being thrown at
her. Her heart rate was beating ridiculously fast as she could feel the organ
in her throat.
This was a typical day for the couple. Now, the
Commander always had a terrible temper, but dating the common girl caused more.
It wasn’t that he was the problem, it was a matter of managing his work with
his health with her. He loved her, yes, but he could barely control his temper
As for the girl, she used to be terrified of him. The
relationship they had was something terrifyingly beautiful. Together, alone, he
was completely head over heels for her. Kylo adored the girl with every fiber
in his being. She never expected to end up with the man, yet somehow those were
the stars’ plans. But now, after all of the fights and the meltdowns, she didn’t
feel the need to stand for this anymore.
Breathing heavily, the heaving motion of his chest
rising and falling, he slowly turning around to face his love, however rage was
still a dominant emotion in his eyes. He knew the reason they were fighting
over was simply foolish, yet there was a part of himself that felt it
completely necessary to start this.
Staring at him expressionless, she had her arms
crossed and sighed. “Are you done?” The two of them stood there, the only sound
surrounding them was his irregular breathing.
“You mean to tell me th-“
“No. Let me speak for once my damn life,” she spoke,
taking the usually dominant force of the two aback. He furrows his eyebrows in
both confusion in anger. “All you do is criticize all of my actions. Whether it’s
to your benefit or mine, you always have to pick something with me. And it is never out of love,” she accuses.
Kylo retracts his saber and flips his hair. His rage
comes to a close as his eyes soften and takes a step towards her. “You know I
don’t mean anything I say or do. It’s just that I’m really tense,” he extends
his hand out to cup your cheeks as she slaps it away.
Once again, he furrows his eyebrows as he gulps,
knowing he is in for it. “Stop it. Just because you say you don’t mean
something and you stroke my cheek, doesn’t mean that everything is going to be
fine. Because every time you apologize, you do it again and again. And I’ve had
it,” she says, shaking her head. Kylo’s eyes widen as he expects what’s coming
next, and it’s something he’s feared ever since she became his.
“Please,” he begs, grabbing her hands.
Quickly pulling them out of the touch she desires so
much, she begins, “Ever since I said I loved you, you have been nothing but
inconsiderate and selfish. You only care about work and taking over something
that doesn’t even belong to you. That goes for the galaxy and myself. You try
to scare me into being submissive to you, but I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore
She can tell his words are tearing him apart as his
brown eyes beg for mercy. His joints become weak and unable to supporting his
weight as he falls to his knees, something he never expect to do for anyone. He
holds onto her legs, tightly afraid she will slip from his fingertips with a
snap. The sobs soon part his lips as she sighs, knowing that this is hurting
him as much as it is her. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. Please let
me prove myself once more to you,” he says, his grip becoming a vice on her
The girl sucks in a breath, knowing that if she
submits, he has won. And this was a fight she wasn’t going to surrender. “I
deserve a happy life,” she bluntly states.
“Yes, I am willing to give that to you. If you’d just
let me show you that I can,” he musters up the strength to stand up and cup her
cheeks in his large, leather covered hands.
Gulping, she says, “I deserve my sanity. And you have
deprived me of that ever since you said those three words back to me.”
Kylo shakes his head vigorously, unable to accept the
truth of the situation. “No, (Y/N). I love you and I can’t let you go. I’ve let
so many blessing slip out of my own fingertips and I can’t let the best one of
them all go as well,” he pleads before crashing his desperate lips onto her.
His lips carry a sense of familiarity and warmth that her life has lacked for
years on end. Their brined tears mix in with the sweet, passionate kiss as she
attempts to pry herself off of the only man she’s truly loved. Yet with one
swift motion, he pulls her back in, forcefully making her accept the love he
spews out of only her.
Placing her hands on his chest, she pushes him away as
he staggers back. Once again, the two are left breathless, both knowing that
this was the end of the line. “I love you, but I can’t go on,” she finally says
after a beat. The tears fall down his face in a symphony of chaos. He whispers
a small profanity as he pulls at his roots, cursing himself into a state of
damnation. “This is too much for the both of us…”
“We can make it work. We made I work for a year, and
who says we can’t make it for many more to come,” he tries to compromise.
She backs away to the door. “I say we can’t. And that’s
all left that I have to say,” she gulps as his eyes fall into a pit of despair.
“But, I wanted to start a new life with you. I wanted to spend my life with you. I will never love someone the way I love you. Not for the rest of my existence,” he attempts as his words only make the poor girl sob harder.
The hallway is filled with her sobs as his occasionally sniffles. She is ever so broken up about the whole situation, never did she picture this occurring. Not this soon. Not ever. “I wanted to, too. But I can’t go on. I’m hurting from the damage that was instilled long ago. And now it’s time for me to leave,” she says.
Her words shred his soul into nothing as if it weren’t that way before he met her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as she looks up at him. “I’m sorry for breaking your beautiful soul.”
She lightly smiles. “Thank you for showing me love,” she responds as it only causes him to cry again. The sight is too much for her to bear as she makes her getaway. “Goodbye, Kylo.”
Her footsteps echo through the hallway as well as in his mind. That sound will forever haunt him.
And with that, he watched her walk away out of his
Shadow Realm facts, according to Pegasus, Yami Yugi, and Ryou Bakura:
1. There’s very little to eat there, at least for humans. 2.
Duel Monsters are real in the realm, and you can mentally summon them
up, though doing so is considerably difficult and puts a strain on your
mind. 3. Running out of energy while there will shred your soul to pieces. 4. Being trapped there increases the power of Millennium Items, and it’s implied the bearer of an Item can leech off your soul for extra power.
From this we can conclude that
5. Ryou had one heck of an offscreen adventure. He was the only one sent there after Yami Bakura lost the duel, and made it out okay. (I don’t know if he just died or what in the Japanese version, but that’s also very impressive to come back from XD)