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agent-cupcake · 3 years

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fluff is good, it’s even fun sometimes. but, you know, i think i’ll always enjoy dark content the most. like, no matter how much i insist i have moved past it, my entire career began because i learned the term yandere and realized i’d found my place in the online sphere. but, really, lust and fear have a complimentary relationship. the emotions and sensations they invoke, both physically and mentally, are equally potent and stem from the same place for me. the fluttery sensation in my stomach dances indiscriminately to the tune of disquiet and arousal, excitement stirs itself up within my chest at the mention of being wanted, uncaring if the intent is sadistic or lustful. its a shared theatrical fantasy of fear, catching thrills from simulated danger as we imagine what it is to be in a situation so dire, so intense and frightening, that we cannot help but to hyperfocus on our discomfort. we practice these emotions and engage in these disastrously unhealthy relationships through emulation and the sanitized vessel of the written word, but without any of the emotional price that would be asked of us if it were real.

it’s not real.

there is nobody lurking behind your window in the gaps between the streetlamps, even if you were to turn off the lights in an attempt to get a better view, but maybe you shouldn’t anyway. there is no face to breathe fog and leave smudged fingerprints on the glass pane while they peer into the internal life you hold sacred, but you should probably keep your blinds shut. there is nobody hiding behind your shower curtain as you stumble half-blind and asleep into the bathroom at two in the morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. if you hear a sound, surely you cannot logically attribute it to a malevolent person moving unseen through the secure sanctuary of your home when they assumed you would be in bed, but you should probably take a look at your locks. if you notice that your things are not where you left them, it’s silly to assume that someone has been into your room, rifling through your things and leaving them almost as you left them. to believe that somebody genuinely and truly meant you harm in such a personal way would be to risk the foundational safety that you rely on to live with any measure of peace. and besides, memories are fallible. our senses are imperfect. our overexcited and imaginative minds can betray us. you can be infected by a nightmare you can’t quite remember, only that you woke up shaky and gasping and frightened, squinting in the darkness to make out the figure standing at the foot of your bed that you could have sworn was just there only to be reassured that it was just a bad dream. you can hurry home because you felt certain you were being watched only for the sensation to be ultimately attributed to your own paranoia. yes, the world is dangerous. but maybe not your world. these things, these dramatic scenes cut straight from an episode of the hundreds of crime dramas, don’t happen to people like you.

but

we fantasize about yanderes and dark personalities and the brutal psychological and bodily torture any character of our choice could subject us to, we imagine the most grim of situations in a light that appeals to our own desires, twisting horror to suit us in a controlled manner.

still, it is frightening, isn’t it?

it’s past midnight, maybe one or two in the morning, and you’re sitting within the four walls of your room that you no longer believe to be protection enough from the stalker that has been creeping closer and closer. you’re staring at the familiar surroundings that suddenly feel very alien and contend with the bone crushing frenzy of utter stillness in the face of animal panic, the intense crackling and wavering that you can almost see hovering above your skin and holding up little strands of hair as chills crawl in bug-like hoards across the feverish flush of your flesh. all at once you are overwhelmed and helpless against him as he invades, defiles, and dismantles each aspect of your life. there is nothing you can do, no protection from this stylized predator who who has been perfected by fantasy made real so that he no longer resembles any common stalker. in the dark, you are vulnerable. in this situation, you are isolated. shame fills your chest, sloshing around to the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat, embarrassment at the ridiculousness of your reaction. really, what are a few messages? maybe you’re misinterpreting the signs, there’s not enough evidence to prove anything. you have to use the bathroom, yet you don’t feel safe to enter the dark hallway because there might be a figure standing at the other end, and what would you do then? you want to contact somebody for comfort, but everyone you know is asleep and you don’t want to disturb them over something so trivial. you want to move and run and scream and deal with the problem, but you can’t do anything. just sit. just watch. just wait. minutes tick by, somehow. and somehow, dawn breaks over the horizon. you didn’t sleep, but maybe the sun will provide safety. maybe.

maybe not. there’s a unique kind of horror in the mundane. you don’t think about the sounds of the world around you until you begin to feel uneasy in the sunny open air, until the paranoia kicks in and suddenly it’s all you can hear because you’re hyper-focusing on trying to identify why you no longer feel safe. birds warble and call to one another. the leaves relentlessly rustle as the playful breeze shakes them about. from far away, a dog is barking. the big kind, the one that goes “boof boof,” you’ve just gotten out of your car after being out all day and you’re standing uncertainly in your driveway, looking around to try and pinpoint why you’re so anxious. you realize, with a zipping sort of shock down your spine, that there’s nobody else around. not even any evidence that they existed in the first place and it’s so stupid but you begin to think that maybe you’re the only person who has ever existed because the world around you feels so empty and barren. energy tingles in the air, but it is hollow. a void of something you can’t quite perceive. the dog stops barking. the wind dies down. do you dare go inside? your home, the place that should be your refuge, is not safe. you go inside and look at a kitchen you scarcely recognize as your own, at a bed that might as well belong to somebody else, at decor you once were so proud to put up that now seems arranged by a strangers hand. the one who is preying on you is probably human, but the threat feels supernatural in effect. omnipresent. we fear that which we don’t understand, and how can you possibly understand the motive of someone who has focused on you? dread sinks down deep as you shift from foot to foot and second guess every move you make. it smells like sun-warmed concrete and the wind-blown scent of spring greenery. just like your home itself, the smell is familiar as it is foreign. eventually, you go inside.

it’s so obscene, the way that sweat pools between your shoulder blades and slicks your skin, making you shiver with a distinctly antithetical chill to your blazing temperature. sweat is gross and uncomfortable, it makes your clothes cling to your skin and hair mat to your forehead. it’s so crude, this gouging, pinching discomfort like you need to pee making your thighs tremble as they clench together. your entire body is wound up tight as you crouch in the dark, barely allowing yourself to breathe for fear of being discovered while he looks for you. maybe he takes his time just to mess with you, maybe he doesn’t. maybe he tauntingly calls out to you in a feigned attempt to draw you out of hiding. maybe he means it when he tells you that he loves you. no matter what, there’s no escape, not anymore. it’s a foregone conclusion that you will be found. but you can’t move. fight or flight is out the window, you are frozen. you know the eventuality, yet you cling to hope out of the sheer, stubborn, and half-mad belief that this cannot possibly be real.

its so repulsive, this sickness that gathers in your gut, that invites the swollen weight of nausea to press down heavy and inescapable in your throat, that sits on your paper dry tongue. it tastes like old, rusted metal, the scent that clung to your blistered hands when you were young and tried your luck on the ancient playground monkey bars. the bloody flavor that choked you when you lost the last of your baby teeth, leaving your childhood behind and exchanging imaginary monsters for the real ones. just when the anticipation is on the precipice of killing you, you’re found. you expected it, yet you still scream. it still hurts, it’s still terrifying, you’re still clouded by the vague fog of disbelief that this could be real. you keep thinking that. it can’t be real, this can’t be real. things like this don’t happen to you.

but it is. you can’t stop it. you have no control over your life in that moment and thereafter.

and you think about everything you’ve ever read online about torture. human beings are so capable of hurting each other, it’s a dedicated art form. and you know about stalkers, the real kind, not the fun fictional yandere kind. you know the torture that human bodies are capable of withstanding before dying, the grotesque limits they can endure. limbs removed or hobbled. fingers peeled of nail and skin. teeth pulled, tongue cut out, eyes gouged, skin lashed to tatters, feet spun around so the skin stretched like rubber. not to mention sexual torture. when a human being is granted absolute dominion over another, even the best of them go rotten. do you ever think about that? in these situations, the fear of pain would get to me above all else, i think.

if you don’t immediately disassociate from the fiction, if you force yourself into the scenario as its presented with a degree of reality, the horror is really limitless. and, you may ask, why was this important? because it is six am and i cannot sleep and i’ve had this entire conceptual outline of good horror yandere fiction sitting in my docs for ages that i’ll never actually use to write character x reader so i am giving it to you raw and uncut.

#personal #yandere #uh tw for being a pretentious and sleepy idiot cooming over ye ole classic yandere tropes #sometimes i like to imagine this stuff in clear enough detail that it actually makes me uncomfortable enough to turn on the light #and rethink my life choices #because this aint it #but at the same time #at this point its sunk cost fallacy i've spent too long typing this out to discard it #sorry dear followers #stalking tw

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word-addict-lisette · 3 years

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So this was requested by one of my mutuals!

Read below the cut to check out the first chapter of my book which i recently started writing. I would love any type of feedback or Comments. You can freely point out any errors and tell me how you like and might as well give me some tips on how I can make it better! Either way If you are reading this, Thanks a lot for taking some time to go through this chapter which is inspired from something my friend experienced.

There might be a few triggered warning in this and there are mentions of bloodshed and physical injuries! Death mention!

Vess's breathing was significant as she ran through the forest, trying to make her steps light. It had rained a few minutes before, making the leaves moist that worked in her favor since they failed to crunch underneath her feet.

Vess stopped for a second behind a tree, attempting to catch her breath as she tried to listen over her adrenaline-filled veins and palpitating heart for any noise. Sweat dripped down her bruised face inflicting tiny scratches and cuts to sting. And then suddenly, out of the blue, a strangled scream erupted through the forest. It took Vess everything in her to prevent herself from letting out a cry herself as she recognized that scream to belong to one of her cabinmates. Unluckily, Vess began to possess a scare right there as she crumbled to the ground. Terror gripped her heart, and her hands started quivering uncontrollably. And, her body convulsed in sobs.

It had all happened so quickly. The school was having an innocent field trip to their nearby island, a nice little boat ride bringing them over in two groups. They planned to have easy hikes and sleep peacefully in allotted cabins for a week. But then there was screaming, so much screaming, as bullets rained the camp and students scattered into the woods.

Vess had been ready to head to the showers when she heard the cries of her peers and the panic-stricken voices of flummoxed students telling each other to run away since the assailant was making his way through the campsite.

So, Vess ran into the woods. She ran so far and so quickly, thankful for her training on the cross country team, but it was not enough. Vess could still hear the blood-curdling screams of the high-schoolers and the sound of bullets. She was not safe.

Vess's short brown hair was sweaty, flying into her face ever so often and obstructing her vision. Her jaded brown eyes visibly expressed how worn out she was. Having grown up in a well-to-do family, Vess lived in Texas and grew up as an only child, but she had never felt lonely because of her loving parents. She was often called the perfect kid, intelligent, tall, and beautiful. But she had her fair share of problems, especially her anxiety and depression disorders, though she was not aware of long she had had those problems. It seemed forever that she had been taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. Vess had learned to love herself the way she was, brunette, brown-eyed with sunkissed skin, tall, introverted, and not to mention slightly awkward

But Vess was enervated. No food, no water, and only the clothes on her back. Her shoes were just her regular sneakers because they could not hold up well against the thick forest. But, that was not what scared her, no. Vess was not scared of dying neither of malnutrition. She was afraid because she was alone. Any people that she heard were just their screams before their impending death.

It should just be a nightmare Vess thought, as she sat trembling on the ground, just a scenario out of one of her video games. But the sharp pain in her legs and her uneven breathing told her that this was her reality. So she hoped and prayed that someone would come to get her because she had no idea how she was supposed to get up by herself.

And then, she heard footsteps. She frantically tried to cover her mouth since her breathing was yet to calm down but to no avail since the thought that the killer could be close caused her breath to become sporadic and uncontrollable once again.

Her eyes went wide as someone stood in front of her, the next thing, Vess knew she was dead. She scrunched her eyes as she hoped that her death would be quick and painless, but then she felt the person kneel in front of her. So, she opened her eyes.

The sight in front of her caused tears to run down her eyes because finally, she recognized the person and he was not dead and nor was he the killer. Which meant Vess was no longer alone. The blonde boy in front of her seemed to be eyeing her with great concern. As her brown orbs flickered up to look into his hazel ones, she couldn't help but lunge at him.

"Kaiden," she gasped as she held onto his neck, almost crushing him in her arms. But Kaiden hugged her just as tightly as he patted down her hair. "Vess, we are not safe here. We have got to go quick, I think a staff member was able to call the police but we do not know long they will take to get here and if they will be able to find us in the woods in the time."

She nodded her head, wishing she could stay here in his embrace a little longer but she knew that Kaiden was right and they were not safe where they were currently.

"Let's go," he whispered.

They held each other's hands and started running.

"I'm tired.", Vess told Kaiden as she gasped for breath.

They'd been running for over forty minutes now and Vess had just been following Kaiden's lead since the forest was new to her. She hadn't even remembered which direction their cabins were in since she was so panicked when she left the campsite.

"I know, just a little more." Kaiden was breathing heavily as well. "we're almost at the lake where we can drink some water and take a break."

Vess looked to her right, where she saw the sun setting, signifying that it would soon be nighttime and they were going to have to survive in the forest without any light. They hadn't heard any noises since they started running, from where Kaiden had spotted Vess, which they weren't sure was a good thing.

Finally, they saw the lake and went up to the edge with the trees still covering them so they weren't in the open. However, the sun had gone down, making it hard to see. The air was thick with mist, and the moon appeared incandescent in the inky night sky. The wind howled unnervingly, and the trees swayed as though they were performing a peculiar dance.

"I think we are safe for now," Kaiden said as Vess cupped her hands into the lake and furiously gulped down the water. "We can rest here but do not drink the water too fast or you will throw up, Vess."

"Ok," she whispered as she sat back and drank more cautiously.

"Let us sleep here until the sun rises, then we can start going again. There is supposed to be another campsite north of the lake we will be able to get help there."

Vess simply nodded as she let her thoughts run freely. She wondered where in the world the police were and whether or not the attacker was still looking for prey. She turned to Kaiden and noticed that he had already closed his eyes and laid down in front of a tree so she laid down beside him and closed her eyes as well.

But every time she closed her eyes, she could not help but imagine that the killer was coming closer and would appear in front of her out of nowhere if she kept her eyes closed any longer.

Kaiden had noticed that Vess's breathing had not turned light just yet and twenty minutes had already passed by, so he opened his eyes to talk to her.

"Vess, you need to sleep. We need the energy to get to the other campsite tomorrow."

"I know, I just cannot.", she replied truthfully, "What if he sees while we are sleeping? We will be vulnerable."

Kaiden sighed, "Do not worry, we are safe here, alright? Plus we have not heard anything in a while."

Vess nodded but still refused to close her eyes, which Kaiden noticed.

"Hey, listen.", He opened his arms so she could lay comfortably on his chest as he talked to her soothingly. "I will watch for a while until you fall asleep so that I can make sure we are safe, okay?"

Vess curled up against Kaiden for warmth and he took that as a sign that she would finally sleep.

The other morning, Vess woke up to the sun in her eyes. She had almost forgotten about the situation at hand until her hunger-stricken stomach reminded her. But without a second thought, she reached out in her pocket and fetched out a small pouch. Opening it, she quickly took two pills out of it and swallowed them along with a gulp of water from the lake, then turning her attention towards Kaiden.

She shook him awake, "Kaiden, the sun is up."

He opened his eyes and smiled at Vess, something she would never understand how he could do, but she smiled back.

"Drink some water before we leave. I am not exactly sure where the next place that has water will be."

And then they were on their trek once again. As they made their way north, they walked at a fast pace, no longer having to run since the killer's location was unknown. For all they knew, the killer could be caught.

After walking for four hours under the heat of the burning sun, Vess gasped as she saw the tips of cabin roofs.

"Look, Kaiden.", she pointed excitedly, "I see the camp!"

Kaiden looked up with a light in his eyes was lit as they quickly made their way over. The hope and excitement that they would finally be safe filled up in their chests. But as quick as it had lit, the fire in them got snuffed out.

The whole camp was quiet. There was not a single sound, but that was not the problem. Bodies were lying all over. The cabins and ground splattered in blood. And the smell of deteriorating bodies filled the air.

"N-no.", Vess muttered as tears started obstructing her vision. Her pulse accelerated while she held her breath. Was her imagination playing tricks on her? Nevertheless, she put on a brave front and braced herself.

"The assassin was here.", Kaiden could not believe his eyes.

Vess looked around in pure horror. Never has she ever expected herself to land in a situation as such. But now that she was here, she knew she had to make it out alive.

Kaiden and Vess decided on looking for supplies that could come in handy to them during their little escapade, and with that, they made their way to the cabins.

Vess closed her eyes and relaxed her breathing to try and calm herself down from her overwrought composition. "Do you think there are any survivors?"

Kaiden was dubious of what to reply. So he decided that it would be better to look around and see for themselves than make assumptions.

Although Vess looked through cabins for supplies and stuffed them in a backpack, she did not dare search bodies as Kaiden did. By the time they had finished rummaging through the cabins, they both had one bag each. They ate some canned food they found in one of the cabin leaders' rooms, stowing the rest in their backpacks. But sadly enough, they could not find any survivors.

"Do you think anyone survived from our campsite?" Vess questioned out loud.

"Yeah, probably. For all, we know people survived from this campsite as well, they are just running like we are, " Kaiden replied optimistically.

The thought helped Vess's state of mind but she still couldn't help but think of the worst. Vess was not sure of what their next step would be, and neither was her mind in the right state to the plot of a plan. So she left that task for Kaiden.

After a few minutes of decisive thinking, they finally came up with a strategy. According to what they knew... the school trip would be over by Friday, which meant they are supposed to be back home by Friday afternoon. But, if somehow the police weren't called yesterday, they were just going to have and wait it out. Since the school or others won't send someone to check after them unless they realize that the school did not show up on Friday afternoon. This meant that they were going to have to keep going.

"We should head towards the docks. In case if someone comes, we can quickly call for help." Vess suggested.

"Yeah, true. We should have enough food and water for a little over a week but just in case, we should ration what we have because we don't know if we'll be able to find more food." They agreed.

So, off they went, on another trek North towards the island borders and its docks. Vess tried not to let her hopes up too high since they weren't a hundred percent sure they would find help. However, she did hope that they would run into more survivors. Although she was thankful she had Kaiden, she couldn't bear the idea that they were the only two that escaped.

Kaiden attempted to make small talk as he asked her about whom she had rooming. She did not elaborate much but told him she had been assigned a room with a couple of girls from her bio class. She hadn't known then well, but they had gotten along well enough. That was all she said as she thought back to their first day.

Kaiden thought that was cool and mentioned that he had gotten paired with his best pal, Theo. The two of them had been quite close for the past few years. But, Kaiden had somehow lost him since they weren't together when-... he did not complete that sentence as he grimaced at the abhorrent thought

Vess didn't know how to reply. And she did not need to because a little ahead they saw a trail of smoke in the sky.

"Do you think that fire is made by other people or by another campsite?" Vess asked hopefully.

"It could be the killer," Kaiden answered.

But Vess found it hard to believe: why would the killer need a fire? He should have left the island by now unless he had another purpose to serve here.

Kaiden could not help but agree after pondering over the thought for a while and thought it would be better to check it out since it was not a long detour from where they were heading.

Once they started going closer to smoke, Kaiden and Vess peeked over the bushes to see a campfire with backpacks and tents. But no people. Just as Vess was about to tell Kaiden that they should just keep heading to the docks, they got tackled from behind.

Vess let out a startled squeak as she toppled to the ground, her attacker placing their weight onto her. Dirt covered her vision but from what she could hear, Kaiden was in a similar predicament.

"Wait, Vess?", The person let go of Vess's arms. Vess did not waste a minute and furiously wiped at her eyes. Hope grew in her as she recognized the voice.

"Aletha! OH MY GOSH!" She exclaimed out of astonishment on sighting the dark-haired girl.

And just as quickly as Vess had gotten tackled, Aletha was brought to the ground by the sheer force of Vess's hug as she launched herself at Aletha.

Vess found it hard to express how glad she was to see that Aletha, her long-time friend, had survived as she practically started crying.

Aletha laughed at Vess before admitting she was equally glad to see Vess.

Aletha and Vess had always had a close friendship, Vess had met Aletha during her middle school, and they had both stuck around each other since they were ten. Aletha, The petite dark-haired, blue-eyed girl, had always had Vess's back. On the other hand, Vess couldn't have been more grateful to have her by her side.

Vess looked over to Kaiden who was now talking with Theo, the person who was apparently with Aletha, who was Vess's close friend. And after that, it was not long before they were all caught up in a deliberate conversation.

"Where were you guys when it all started?" Vess asked as all four of the teens walked over to the campsite to check if it was inhabited.

"I was at luncheon and found Aletha when I was going through the backdoor. She was trying to pull it open when it was a push door." Theo teased.

Theo had always been the most light-hearted of them all. His tall, gangly body and humor had always made him a favorite for most. His curly jet black was always a mess, while his soft and glassy brown eyes were always welcoming. He wasn't the smartest, but he knew enough to survive his first few months of high school until he ended up trapped in the present situation.

"HEY! I was panicking, all right?" Aletha turned to Vess, "For some reason, Theo and I were the only ones to think of going through the back door and towards the forest. The others ran right out the front to the killer."

Vess gasped as Kaiden shook his head. Kaiden revealed how he had found Vess in the woods. He added that he had been alone when he left the restroom since the others were in the recreational center.

Vess confirmed that she had been on the run from the showers. Aletha could not help herself and spoke the question that was lingering in all of their minds, "You think the assailant is still on the island?"

"I'm not sure. It would be kind of dumb for the killer to stay since we are hundreds of kids on a scheduled field trip so the cops are bound to come searching for us, but he could be if he wants to try to prove a point and wants to run into the police," Kaiden said.

Theo felt the need to point out the fact that Kaiden mentioned the killer to be a male. He wanted to know how Kaiden surmised that the killer was a male. But Vess replied, "I mean, how likely would the killer be a woman?" but Theo was not convinced.

Aletha looked up at the sky that was getting darker and questioned Kaiden about what their plan was. Kaiden gave them a summary of their plan asked them about their view.

"We were going to head towards another campsite and sadly, it was in the same state as ours. So, all we were able to do was get supplies." Theo answered solemnly.

"Oh, we ran into that campsite too after we passed the lake," Vess said. That puzzled Theo, he wondered, had they gone south instead of continuing north? He voiced his thought in hopes of getting an answer. Vess clarified that they had gone north when they ran into a campsite before continuing on their way.

Theo and Aletha shared a look before Aletha started speaking. She told them that the campsite they had run into was south of the lake, which caused Kaiden to let out a gasp.

In an epiphany, they understood that the killer had hit three camps. Since the campsite into which Kaiden and Vess ran was north of the lake.

"How many campsites are even there on this island?" Vess asked.

Everyone shrugged, not knowing the answer.

"Damn, I regret not taking one of that brochure thing with the map on it," Theo groaned.

Aletha wondered how the assassin could have attacked three camps without even one call making it to the authorities. Theo stated the obvious, "Unless there is more than one attacker. What if there was a group of attackers?"

Everyone grimaced. Everyone deeming of the same thought: this better not have anything to do with terrorists cause they are ruthless and never play around.

" Though, why would they attack us?" Vess asked.

Theo scoffed, "Why on earth do they even attack anyone?"

"Wow, we might be into some deep trouble. Dear God, tell us they are not here to prove a point and are on this island still," Aletha sighed.

"True, but I think that before we go to sleep, we should check this campsite once, it looks like people stayed here. Mostly they are still there. what do you say?" Theo suggested.

The others nodded, following behind him to the camping site. And with that, the group of fourteen-year-olds headed towards the campsite.

Reaching near, they could see that the bonfire had extinguished, and there a few tents, backpacks, and trekking supplies lying hither and tither.

They made their way to the site and decided to search through the tents. They decided to check it for any supplies while keeping an eye out for survivors and the killer.

"This area looks like it was inhabited recently. Maybe the inhabitants are somewhere nearby," Kaiden yelled out from inside a tent.

"I will not suggest going out to find them because the last thing we need is finding that this camp belongs to the assassins," Vess contradicted, "Just gather the essentials and find a place to spend the night."

The others agreed and continued gathering supplies.

Vess was packing extra necessities into her backpack when she noticed there had been piercing silence for a couple of minutes. The derelict camp stood there lifeless. She bit her lip to stop her teeth from chattering like castanets. She was experiencing anxiety. Her throat was dry, and her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth.

A terrifying thought haunted her, the feeling that the camp belonged to the killer. She feared he had gotten hold of her friends and now was coming at her. She sucked in a sharp breath and hoped that her suspicions were not true and just hallucinations.

Frozen to the spot in which she was standing, Vess would not dare move or even let out a single sound, let alone a harsh exhale. As she heard footsteps nearing, she screwed her eyes shut, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath sporadic, and with trembling hands, she prayed for a quick death.

As she stood glued to the spot, she was startled by another ominous sound. A portentous shuffling of steps and whispers made her blood run cold. Was it a trespasser? The noise was originating from outside the tent. Her palms turned cold and clammy, and her heartbeat quickened. She had a premonition of imminent danger. She was probably reading too many horror novels, she reasoned with herself. She also had a very inveterate tendency of making a mountain out of a molehill. Placating herself thus, she headed towards the opening flap of the tent, opening it warily, and peaked outside. There was nobody there. In the dark, the trees looked like behemoths that were staring at her spookily. Her intuition told her that something was not quite right here. And unsettling thoughts wormed their way into her subconscious mind.

Who made those sounds and whispers? Her friends? Survivors? or killers? That she did not know. She told herself that it was just her overthinking things as usual. And if something was wrong here, or her friends had been under attack, it was nearly impossible that they had not made a single sound.

She mentally scolded herself because she was well aware that this was something she had caused. She had always known that every time she said something, she only started something. That was a reason why she had considered saying nothing- nothing at all about the matter in hand before.

But right now, that was not what mattered. Vess was to ensure that the others in whose company Vess had come here were well and fine.

And just as she stuffed the last blanket in her backpack and was halfway out of the tent. She felt a hand forcefully pull her out of the tent and force her down to the ground. Her breath got caught in her throat, and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Cold sweat trickled down her brow. Her hands began to quiver incessantly. For sure, this was not a figment of her imagination! She pinched herself hard. That reassured her of her cognizance. A barrage of thoughts overwhelmed her mind.

Then the last thing she remembered was being knocked out after a few incoherent whispers about 'THE MARK'.

#lisette's life #just my book #id love feedback #feel free to share #tw death mention #tw depressive #my first chapter #hehe

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kykyonthemoon · 4 years

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Soul Linked

AU’s notes: This story was inspired by what happened in the Lv103 main storyline; therefore, it may contain slight spoilers. However, it doesn’t follow everything in the main story, since my MC has a different background from the one in game.

For the past dreams and promise between Chime and my MC mentioned in this story, I recommend reading Made You Up.

I was too late. When I arrived at Well of Bones, Chisei Gen had already fallen in front of his twin brother.

I rushed to the twins. Chime Gen— or Ruri Kazama paused. Under the mask, his eyes fixed on me.

I reached to Chisei on the floor. He was still breathing, yet could not move. While running towards the two, I heard Kazama shouting something, something about showing his EX skill to his brother. Then, he sang and Chisei fell. This must be it. A spell that put people to sleep; I knew it because it was similar to my own.

There was a moment when I wanted to rush to Kazama’s side. But I couldn’t. He wouldn’t recognize me anymore. I knew that. I was a thread to him, like anyone else in this world. He wanted to destroy this world.

I tried to wake Chisei up. My hand kept shaking his. If I had to use all my power to wake him up and stop Kazama, I would.

I heard the sound of fabric swept on the ground. My ears caught a melody, so gentle and heavenly, as if an angel was singing it. I could not understand a thing, but I let myself indulge in that voice, that melody. It brought me to a place where I felt safe, and at peace; where there was a golden field and a starry sky; and nothing in the world could hurt me anymore.

Yet, a voice in my head was screaming “Danger!” I turned around. Kazama was standing behind me.

He leaned down closer. His lips slightly parted but he had stopped singing. He reached a hand out to cover my eyes. Everything around me fell into darkness.

When I woke up again, I found myself still lying on the ground. But something was not right. Chisei Gen had gone, and Kazama was nowhere to be found. I tried to get up. Voices screaming in my head. It was heavy. I wished the world in front of me would just stop spinning.

Suddenly, a cold voice spoke,

“Welcome, to Hell!”

And everything went back to silence. I recognized that voice. But something else caught my attention. It was Luminous.

I ran to him, calling his name but his face was emotionless. He was in a pool of blood and he was not breathing! Next to him, it was... Caesar?

I shook Caesar too, but he was just like Luminous. I turned to the other side and caught NoNo’s body covered in blood. And there was Finger’s. There was also Johann’s... I ran to each of them and screamed their names. Nobody woke up.

But it was the moment I saw Cery’s body when I lost my mind. Her face was pale and to my horror, my worst nightmare, she was dead. Dead like everyone else that mattered to me. I screamed as if I was ripped off. My heart was torn into pieces when I reached to her, only to realise that my power was useless.

I could not heal anyone. Not Lu; not Caesar nor NoNo; not Finger; not Johann and now Cery... I held her cold body in my tremble arms. At that moment, I knew how my mother had felt when she lost her unborn child and vowed not to use her healing power ever again.

“What’s the point of healing when you have to watch the ones you love, die?”

I gazed up. Tears covered most of my sight, but I still recognized that face.

His sad eyes fixed on mine, then he walked away. I put Cery down to the ground, mumbling “I’m sorry” a thousand times in my cry. When I got up to find that person, he was waiting for me on the other side of the ruins.

I wiped away the tears. He looked... sad, as always. But he was just a boy in a plain kimono, with silver hair covering almost all of his red eyes. As I ran towards him, I realised the changed in my own self. I was a little girl in white dress.

I followed him to the hill, where the flowers were withering and the stars fell down from the sky. He was fast; I never caught up with his steps. But he stopped when we reached the top of the hill and turned to face me.

“You promised to find me.”

There was nothing in his tone. Nothing. Not anger or sorrow.

“And I have always been looking for you.”

“You’re too late.” The boy looked at me, giving me a sad smile before his body was ripped, from inside out. From where he was standing just a moment ago, it was Ruri Kazama.

He laughed. In horror.

“Whoever you’re looking for, has died a long time ago. Silly girl, aren’t you?”

I gathered all the strength just to face him again. Ruri Kazama, Chime Gen, the boy in my dreams... They had been messing with my head!

“He died.” Kazama spoke again. There was pain in his voice now. “He died that night when his brother pierced a blade through his chest. You cannot save him. You cannot save your friends. Silly girl. And now, you cannot save yourself.”

In a blink of an eye, he closed the distance between us and his hand squeezed my neck. I gasped for air but all I took in was blood blending with the soft flower scent of his; once was so familiar to me. He was not the boy I met in dreams many years ago, when my power began to awake. He was not the lost man who came to ask for help to defeat his own devil. And he was certainly not the one who held my hand so gently, just a couple of nights ago when he said he was close to remembering our past dreams.

Our dreams connected in a way neither of us could explain. Through meeting him in the past, my power was somehow awakened. Although he could not remember me when we met again in Tokyo, I knew he was the one in my dreams.

And now, he wanted to kill me.

He was always the nightmares. All this time. Was I the only one holding onto the hope that the little boy I had met a long time ago was still there?

I felt powerless. I could not save Cery or anyone. I could not save him. Like he said, what’s the point of my healing power?

I should have listened to my parents, to just stay home and be a normal girl. I had always been useless. I could not heal, nor get myself out of this nightmare. All along, I was just lying to myself. I lied that Cassell would help me be a great healer. I lied that I would use my power to help my friends and family. I lied that I would be able to meet the boy in my dreams again and pull him out of his endless nightmares.

Even after seeing him in Tokyo, all I wanted was to help him remember me, remember the person he was before.

Who was I to think that I had such power? Useless, that was me.

Maybe I should just give in. And let him win. The grip on my neck was about to take away my last breath. That moment, I saw it. A trail of golden, though very slender, was glowing as it wrapped around his wrist. It was my Golden Thread. Or half of it.

For every beautiful dreams I had had, or encountered, I weaved them into the Thread. It is the source of my powers and I wear it on my wrist.

One night, when Kazama was screaming in his sleep at Takamagahara, I cut it into half and tied one around his wrist. I said it was a protection charm; something that would help him get through the nightmares.

He did not know, that I gave him half of my soul that night.

The half on his wrist started to glow. So did the other half on mine. They connected and formed a bright ray of light, almost like a soul link that soul dancers like me use to protect our allies. But this one, it was quite special. It was brighter than anything I had seen.

Kazama was shocked to see it too. He loosened his grip and I took the chance to fill my lungs with air again. He took a few steps further away from me. His attempts to get rid of the Thread only caused the link to be stronger. His golden eyes locked mine in a second. He was scared and resentful, of how he slowly lost control over this nightmare to me.

“This... is not the end...” He spoke in a cold voice. My chin was lifted by his other hand and clutched, aggressively. “You still cannot wake up. There is a show just for you, silly girl. I will break you and I will dance to your cry. I will make you watch your friends fall into endless nightmares. You once said this world was beautiful, didn’t you? I’ll burn it down to ashes, along with everything you love. Including your little Chime Gen.”

There was bitterness in his laugh before he vanished into darkness, leaving traces of fluttering wings and a soft scent of flowers.

I dropped down on my knees. The tears were dry but the pain still lingered. If I could not stop him, this nightmare would become my reality. I only needed to remind myself that this was all a dream, and I had such power to weave it the way I wanted. Kazama was much more powerful than me. But as long as our souls were linked, I believed I still had a chance to stop him.

I picked myself up. The world in front of me began to spin again. The next time I opened my eyes, I was standing on the shore and Chisei Gen was there.

(to be continued — maybe?)

———————————

Masterlist

#omg i finally wrote this #lv103 main story but from kyky’s pov #dragon raja #chime gen #ruri kazama #kyky #moonlight and night sky #kyky x chime #fanfiction #dragon raja fanfic

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ozai-the-bonsai · 3 years

Text

Ghost In The Dark (Valtor x OC)

Link to Chapter 3:

Time Line: Chapter 4 is set two days before Tecna closes the portal between Andros and the Omega Dimension.

Rating: M

*4* Send Griffin My Regards

(Word Count: 3425)

The fabric of the dark sheets was wrinkling within Hel’s strong hold as she unconsciously held onto them for dear life. Her breaths were becoming heavier and more frequent and the sweat forming on her forehead was damping her black hair –the nightmare had wrapped its claws around her neck, which was tight enough to choke her.

Her conscious was trying its best to break free from the nightmare and help Hel return to her comfort zone; however, the claws wrapped around her throat were so strong that they’d rather break her neck than to set her free.

What saved her from the horrors suffocating her had been the sound of a familiar voice calling out her name. The moment his voice filled her ears, Hel slipped away from the grasp of the nightmare and woke up with a start. Before she could notice her surroundings, the owner of the voice pulled her naked body into his arms and began to caress her right arm with comforting movements. Slowly, the memories from the night found their missing places in Hel’s mind.

She was in Valtor’s chambers, in his bed and in his arms.

After their intense love-making had exhausted them both, Valtor had teleported them to his bedroom. Without even caring to put on their nightwear, the two of them had fallen asleep naked and all snuggled up under the dark sheets of Valtor’s bed.

The movement of Valtor’s hand on her right arm slowly disappeared as Hel steadied her breathing “What happened?” Valtor asked her with a low voice while he ran his right hand through her dark hair.

Hel gulped “It’s the dead,” she responded with a weak voice “They are trying to capture my attention by giving me nightmares,” she said and turned her head to meet Valtor’s grey eyes “About burning alive in a closed place.”

Her words brought a grimace to his face, then he slowly gathered all her hair on her right shoulder and began to run the side of his left index finger on Hel’s now exposed neck “While you’re inside my arms,” he whispered and pressed his lips on her neck. Hel buried her head into Valtor’s shoulder as his lips moved down from her neck to her shoulder “No one can cause you harm.”

I’d give so many things to be naïve enough to believe that, darling.

After making sure that Hel was free from the effects of the nightmare, Valtor pulled her onto his chest under the covers and wrapped his arms around her body tight as if he wanted to make sure no one would take Hel away from him while he was asleep.

It’s comforting to know that some things never change, Hel thought as she inhaled Valtor’s scent. Just like his possessiveness of me and the feeling of safety it brings to be inside his arms.

The rest of her sleep had been surprisingly pleasant, perhaps the presence of Valtor was having a dreamcatcher effect on her. When she woke up, her hand immediately searched for the body on the left side of the bed; however, all it could find had been cold sheets.

The dark haired woman slowly opened her eyes and straightened under the covers. While she was rubbing her eyes, the footsteps coming from the right side of the room caught her attention and as she turned her head to look at the source, a small smile formed on her lips.

I could get used to waking up to the sight of his naked body.

“Seems like someone finally had her beauty sleep.” Valtor said while he took out a neatly folded white shirt from one of his drawers. Except for the white towel which was wrapped around his waist, he was completely naked but his hair seemed dry, which meant that it had been a while since he had had his shower.

Hel stretched like a cat “You could say that,” she said with a sweet voice. Unfortunately, her stretching was interrupted as some rays of sun met her skin “Fuck,” she moaned in pain and quickly pulled the covers over her head “Valtor, close the fucking blinds!”

Damn, how could I forget about the sun? Valtor scolded himself while he closed the blinds, eventually letting darkness fall into the room although the weather outside was, surprisingly, bright and sunny “It’s done.” he said, walking towards the bed while Hel lowered the covers enough for her to take a look inside the room. Then she slowly sat down, letting her legs hang from the edge of the bed “I’m sorry, I completely forgot about your… allergy.”

The witch waved her left hand in the air lazily “Don’t worry, even I get carried away and walk naked into the sun sometimes.” she said and stood up –she was still naked “I better get going –I need to take a shower as well.” she spoke but let out a soft chuckle and shook her head upon seeing the naughty spark inside Valtor’s eyes, who was eyeing her hungrily as he stood in front of her “Nope, I know exactly what you’re thinking and the answer is no, Valtor –wasn’t last night enough for you?”

Valtor held her from her hand and pulled her against his chest “I can never get enough of you, Hel.” he whispered as he placed his free hand on the small of her back.

The edge of Hel’s lip curled upwards “I know, darling but my body is still pretty exhausted.” she said and slowly stepped out of Valtor’s arms “I doubt I’ll be able to have sex in the next twenty-four hours –plus, we both have work to do.” she was walking towards the table, on which her clothes from the previous night were placed, while she spoke but upon seeing her reflexion on the mirror, Hel stopped in her tracks. With a frown on her face, she turned her grey eyes to the mirror “What the hell?”

There were several love-marks on her body –three were on her neck, another three were on the sides of her breasts and some bruises could be seen on the back of her upper arms. Hel’s grey eyes found Valtor’s from the mirror as she raised an eyebrow at him “Care to explain why you decided to mark me last night, huh?”

The sorcerer simply snickered and began to dress himself. Hel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Shadows from all around the room gathered around her, making it seem as if there was a dark glow around her body –in fact, they were simply healing the love-marks and the bruises on her skin. With simple injuries like those, Hel was able to use her shadow powers for healing herself and others. After that she, too, put on her clothes “When will you be going to the Underworld?”

Hel turned back to look at Valtor upon hearing him speak “Later today, if nothing goes wrong.” she responded “Why?”

He shrugged “Just curious.”

***

After leaving Valtor’s bedroom, Hel disappeared inside the shadows until arriving in her own room –since the weather outside was sunny, she was not able to walk through the halls of the Cloud Tower. It seems like the nostalgia has to wait until I find a way to deal with this little, sunny problem.

The rest had been a hot shower and a quick breakfast; however, all she could think about was him and the night the two had spent together. She knew very well that she had to be mad at him for leaving her behind just because of his selfish ambitions but after feeling that his love for her was still alive somewhere within his dark heart, she just couldn’t find the strength to do so.

At first, she had feared that the only reason he still wanted her was purely sexual desires; however, his touches had been almost shouting the opposite. Hel was more than capable of telling it when Valtor’s touches involved feelings other than passion and last night there hadn’t been only passion but also yearning, compassion, hope, and love.

Yearning because he had been forced to spent sixteen long years away from her.

Compassion because he still remembered the broken and vulnerable little girl hiding within her frozen heart.

Hope because they were brought together once again, they were given a second chance.

Love because it had always been there, it was never lost –it was simply in a deep slumber and was woken up the moment he heard his name rolling off her tongue.

Still lost inside the vast ocean of thoughts in her mind, Hel wore her black, satin dress and dark red, high-heeled pumps. What brought her back to reality had been the stain of the red lipstick on the edge of her lip. The dark haired woman rolled her eyes “With him on my mind, I cannot even put my lipstick on.”

Once again, instead of walking through the corridors, Hel travelled within the shadows to avoid any further accidents with the sun –even when she was inside the headmistress’ office, she still didn’t step out of the shadows for she wasn’t quite sure whether the room was safe for her.

The three young witches were around the desk and Valtor was, once again, sitting on the chair. The edge of Hel’s crimson lips curled upwards as she recalled for which dirty purposes that very desk had been used the previous night.

“Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of the sun.” Valtor spoke while his eyes left the crystal ball and found the spot in the shadows, in which Hel was currently hiding. With an arched brow, the dark haired woman stepped out of the shadows. Valtor chuckled softly “The weather decided to be cloudy all of a sudden –go, see for yourself.”

He tempered with the weather so I could walk around without being on alert, Hel thought while she walked towards the window. The sun had indeed disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds. She turned back to Valtor with an amused look in her grey eyes “Well, I appreciate the effort,” she said “Thank you.”

Valtor simply shrugged and turned his eyes to the crystal ball as Icy asked with a confused tone “How can you feel your presence so easily?”

“When she moves within the shadows, it causes them to vibrate with a unique frequency.” Valtor explained with his usual laid-back attitude “That’s how I can tell whether she is lurking in the shadows.”

It seemed like Icy wasn’t satisfied with his answer “But aren’t there, like dozen frequencies within the shadows? You must be a detector to pick up hers!”

Valtor smirked smugly “Takes years of practice.”

As the Trix moved to the seats in front of the desk to sit, Hel leaned the cold wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest. Since her body had been tangled up with Valtor’s whole night, she had got enough from his heat, hence her skin wasn’t ice cold anymore –which meant that the coldness of the wall against her back made her shiver.

“So you two should’ve spent much time together, then.” Darcy said, trying to sound indifferent but it was quite easy to tell that she was only trying to understand the true essence of the relationship between Valtor and Hel.

Of course Hel was aware of the fact that all three of them were helplessly admiring Valtor and she knew they all were going to be deeply disappointed once they found out that Hel had already had Valtor within her grasp. Well, she couldn’t blame the girls for falling for him –after all, it was almost impossible to resist against his charms. No one knew it better than her.

“Pretty much indeed.” Hel responded and then walked towards Valtor’s sitting figure. The sound of her high-heeled shoes were echoing inside the room “What are you doing?”

Valtor showed her the crystal ball “Keeping an eye on Andros,” he said and casted a quick look at the dark haired woman “You know what awaits that planet, don’t you?”

Hel shrugged with an indifferent attitude “Not my problem anymore, I saved my own skin.” she said, causing Valtor to snicker.

Stormy whispered with such a low voice that only Icy and Darcy were able to hear her “Girls, I think our man is already taken.”

Icy rolled her eyes “Yeah, no kidding.” she muttered under her breath “So, what are you going to do?” she asked and since her question was directed at Hel, the witched raised her head from the crystal ball to look at Icy “Are you staying with us?”

Hel nodded “For a while. I have to get some little things done before going after my own revenge.” she responded and pointed at Valtor with her head “From his mothers.”

Icy’s eyes widened “From the Ancestral Witches?” she asked and casted a quick look at her best friends, who seemed as shocked as she was. Obviously, they found the idea of seeking revenge from the Ancestral Witches totally ludicrous “Well, in that case, good ridd… I mean good luck with that.”

“Hey,” Stormy spoke, changing the subject “Does Griffin know you are here?”

“Wait,” Hel said and turned her eyes at Valtor as she slowly raised an eyebrow “That treacherous snake is here?”

A wide smirk spread onto his lips “Of course,” he responded and leaned back the chair lazily “You should pay her a visit, I’m sure she has missed you.”

Hel let out a cold but attractive laughter “Oh, you have no idea, darling.” she said, after winking at Valtor, she began walking towards the door “Now, everything has become more fun. First, I’ll have a little chat with my best friend, then I better go face the chaos of the Underworld.”

“We can show you the way to Griffin’s cell,” Darcy said as she attempted to stand up from her seat but Hel gently pushed her back while she was walking right next to her.

“There’s no need, I’ve been a student here myself.” Hel explained with a confident aura around her “I still know this place like the back of my hand.”

Before the dark haired woman left the headmistress’ office, Valtor called at her “Send Griffin my regards.”

A soft chuckle escaped Hel’s crimson lips “I most certainly will.”

***

Griffin stood up from the ground upon hearing the sound of high-heeled shoes meeting the stone floors “Who’s there?” she asked while walking towards the bars. From the darkness ruling the corridor –it seemed darker than usual, probably somebody had been messing with the lights within the Cloud Tower –a dark haired woman emerged. Seeing her face after sixteen long years had a shocking effect on Griffin, causing her to take an unbalanced step back.

“Hey there, my old friend,” Hel spoke with a playful tone as she put an emphasis on the word friend “Did you miss me?” she asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Hel?” Griffin asked with an obviously horrified voice “How can you be here? That’s not possible! You should be in…”

Before her former best friend could finish her word, Hel interrupted “The Omega Dimension, yeah, I know.” she said and leaned the wall parallel to Griffin’s cell. Since she hadn’t spent the past sixteen years in ice, she had naturally aged –Hel looked much younger than Griffin “Well, it seems like you’ve not been informed about the current course of events –breaking out from there has become the new trend lately.”

Griffin took slow steps back until her back met the cold wall of her cell “This is bad... This is too bad…” she began to mutter while sliding down so that she was once again sitting on the ground “First Valtor and now you as well,”

Hel let out a cruel laughter “Don’t be afraid, Griffin, little grudges aren’t my taste.” she said and flipped her black hair “Unlike Valtor who likes to keep a score in his head with every single person to cross his path… No, I prefer going after the mother snake.”

A confused expression was visible on Griffin’s face “What is that supposed to mean?”

The dark haired woman walked in front of her cell and placed her hands around the metal bars keeping the two, old friends separated “It means that I’ll be going after the Ancestral Witches, who are to blame for the time I’ve spent in the Omega Dimension.” she said and chuckled upon seeing Griffin’s confusion turning into terror “Hey, cheer up, will you? I’ll be doing you all goodie-goodies a magnificent favour with sending those three bitches into Oblivion.”

“Going after the Ancestral Witches?” Griffin repeated Hel’s words “Hel, you’ve finally lost your damn mind –do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

Hel shrugged carelessly “I don’t give a shit about your opinion, Griffin, you’re dead to me.” she said “You should be relieved, though, you will not be facing my wrath.” A mischievous smirk spread on her crimson lips “But I cannot say the same for his,” she spoke, she was talking about Valtor. After straightening, she sent a scornful look at Griffin “Seems like you’ve already seen it, though.”

After leaving Griffin in a pitiful state in her cold cell, Hel went back to the headmistress’ office –she intended to leave for the Underworld as soon as possible; however, she couldn’t bring herself to leave without saying goodbye for she had no idea for how long she would be gone.

A relieved smile formed on her lips as she opened the door and saw that Valtor was all alone inside the office. He was, once again, sitting on the chair while holding a book in his hands. Hel had always admired his hunger for knowledge, it seemed like he could never get enough of it despite how much time he spent with reading “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he spoke while raising his grey eyes from the book “Did Griffin grow boring over the years?”

“There’s nothing more I can share with her,” Hel responded as she walked slowly at his direction “I only wanted to feel the satisfaction of seeing the horror in her eyes when she realised that another ghost from her past has returned.”

A soft chuckle escaped Valtor’s lips “You never cease to amuse me.”

Hel winked at him “I know, darling.” she said and as soon as she reached him, she swiftly took the book between his hands and placed it onto the desk. Valtor raised a questioning eyebrow at her “I’ll be leaving for the Underworld soon.” Hel spoke with a silk-like voice.

“And what does it have to do with my reading, exactly?” Valtor asked, his eyebrow still arched. With slow movements, Hel sat on his lap, straddling him. Almost immediately Valtor’s hands ended up around her hips.

With her left hand placed on Valtor’s right shoulder, Hel cupped his face with her right hand, her thumb gently caressing his cheek “I wanted to say goodbye since I cannot foresee how long it will take to resolve the chaos in the Underworld.” she spoke with a low voice as her lips were slowly closing on top of his “It could take less than a couple of hours, or a few days, perhaps weeks…”

Valtor captured her crimson lips with his “I cannot stay away from you that long,” he whispered between little kisses. Hel giggled as she slid her tongue in his mouth, which met with his halfway through.

“You might as well have to, Valtor,” Hel whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment. Promptly, Valtor’s soft lips moved down to her neck “No living can enter the Underworld except for its Queen.”

“In that case,” Valtor whispered against her skin as he moved his lips down with each kiss “Get it over with as soon as possible.”

Hel clicked her tongue and pushed Valtor gently away from her so that he was leaning the chair, his lips weren’t on her anymore “I do not take orders from anyone, darling,” she spoke with a low but dangerous tone “So I suggest you don’t push your luck.”

After leaving one last kiss on Valtor’s lips, Hel got off from his lap and began walking towards the door “One last thing,” she said, not even looking back at him “You better wipe that lipstick off your lips.”

#winx valtor #valtor #winx club #winx #valtor x oc #fate netflix #fate the winx saga #fanfiction

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turtle-paced · 5 years

Text

Revisiting Chapters: Catelyn VII, ACoK

This post is also on my wordpress.

Pssht, we’re not even up to the climax of ACoK, how important could this chapter be?

The story so far…

While Catelyn’s been doing her thing, other plots have been continuing beyond her sight. News of Robb’s campaign, Edmure’s campaign, and most of all, from Castle Cerwyn, is about to change her life.

Catelyn’s Family

The chapter begins with Catelyn and Brienne dining alone in Riverrun’s great hall, while outside everyone else is at a party. Out there, people are drinking good ale and celebrating Edmure’s victory at the fords and Robb’s victory at the Crag. Inside, Catelyn’s sitting in the shadows, drinking a vintage that “tasted thin and sour on her tongue.” Good use of filter words here, reminding us of Catelyn’s subjectivity. Is the vintage truly thin and sour? Or is Catelyn just not capable of finding any pleasure in wine right now?

I am become a sour woman, Catelyn thought. I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart once was.

Together with her thoughts of Bran and Rickon, including the thought that the people outside “never knew my sons”, it’s clear Catelyn has had news from Winterfell, and that the news was very bad indeed. But it’s not been said outright yet. Catelyn’s still processing. She tries to get Brienne to leave, to go outside and join the party, but Brienne’s not having it. With Brienne there and listening, and at last asking that one key question – did Catelyn receive news of her sons – Catelyn says it aloud.

Such a simple question that was; would that the answer could be as simple. When Catelyn tried to speak, the words caught in her throat. “I have no sons but Robb.”

This is not quite the same as ‘Bran and Rickon are dead’. While she is clearly, clearly cognisant of their deaths, she avoids saying ’my sons were killed’ even when she’s telling Brienne that her sons were killed. Instead, she tells Brienne that Bran and Rickon were “taken” at the Acorn Water, and focuses on what was done to their bodies, rather than the action of their (apparent) murder. This is because Catelyn’s having real trouble holding herself together, and those words would tip her right over into the abyss of her grief.

With her love for her younger sons seen in how deep and devastating the news is, Catelyn abruptly changes topic to her daughters, her words about them demonstrating her love for them in turn.

“Men would say [Sansa] has my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. […]

“Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart’s desire. […] I despaired of ever making a lady of her. She collected scabs as other girls collect dolls, and would say anything that came into her head. I think she must be dead too.” When she said that, it felt as though a giant hand was squeezing her chest.

Catelyn tells Brienne that she wants Theon and the Lannisters dead, and the only thing that stops her from truly embracing this desire is the knowledge that her daughters could still be saved. Maybe, in the case of Arya. Maybe. Catelyn is certain that she would take pleasure in killing Theon for what he did to her family.

Upon departing the great hall and Brienne, Catelyn goes to visit her dying father.

As she climbed to her father’s solar, she could hear them outside, shouting “Tully!” and “A cup! A cup to the brave young lord!” My father is not dead, she wanted to shout down at them. My sons are dead, but my father lives, damn you all, and he is your lord yet.

When she gets there, he’s asleep because the maester’s drugged him for his pain. Catelyn’s going to lose her father, too, and she’s having trouble accepting that as well on top of everything else. And there is a lot of everything else.

No matter how tightly I hold him, I cannot keep him here, she thought sadly. Let him go.Yet her fingers would not seem to unbend.

She reminisces about an incident from her childhood (which reminds us of the fact that she, Lysa, and Littlefinger were close, once), and talks about what she wants from life. What she wants is simple, and yet so hard to obtain. She wants her children back for her own sake, and Robb to be happy for his own sake, and their family to go on, in peace.

“I want,” she said once more, and then her words were gone.

Catelyn wants her family. Catelyn wants for her family. That’s some tragic wordplay.

The Problem of Evil

Catelyn believes in the Seven. That faith is being tested, in this chapter more than most. She’s started to feel that the gods are against her, or at least withholding their mercy from her.

If you never tell, never speak of it, will it become only a dream, less than a dream, a nightmare half-remembered? Oh, if only the gods would be so good.

This becomes more apparent as Brienne tries to comfort Catelyn, telling her that Bran and Rickon are with the gods.

“Are they?” Catelyn said sharply. “What god would let this happen? Rickon was only a baby. How could he deserve such a death? And Bran…when I left the north, he had not opened his eyes since his fall. I had to go before he woke. Now I can never return to him, or hear him laugh again.”

There are two separate injustices here that Catelyn cannot understand the grand cosmic reason for. First, the injustice to her sons, children, (seemingly) brutally murdered by a man they trusted. Second, the injustice to Catelyn herself, to lose her children. In the face of this massive horror, Catelyn finds that she can get no comfort from her faith.

“I have no one to talk to, father,” she told him. “I pray, but the gods do not answer.”

The gods don’t answer, but Jaime Lannister does. He’s got his own theological observations, which only serve to bring Catelyn’s problems of faith and justice into sharper relief.

“Your crimes will have earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just.”

“What gods are these, Lady Catelyn? The trees your husband prayed to? How well did they serve him when my sister took his head off?” Jaime gave a chuckle. “If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?”

“Because of men like you.”

This is exactly what Catelyn’s shown she’s afraid of in her private moments. Why would the gods do this to her? Why would the gods to this to Ned or Bran or Rickon? Why? They didn’t deserve it. There is no rhyme or reason to this. No justice. She cannot see the hands of the gods at work, but it’s only too clear what evil men are doing, a point developed when she asks Jaime why he threw Bran from the window.

“He was weak enough, but perhaps not so innocent. He was spying on us.”

“Bran would not spy.”

“Then blame those precious gods of yours, who brought the boy to our window and gave him a glimpse of something he was never meant to see.”

“Blame the gods?” she said, incredulous. “Yours was the hand that threw him.”

If the gods aren’t doing anything about Jaime and men like him, Catelyn’s going to have to act, and she knows where the responsibility lies.

Truth for Truth

So Catelyn goes to visit Jaime to get some answers about the clusterfuck that’s resulted in, so far as she knows, the murders of her husband and two of her sons, the disappearance and probable death of one daughter, and the captivity of her other daughter. Her first sight of him since the Whispering Woods emphasises Jaime’s bestial appearance – the narration doesn’t use the word, but between his shoulder-length hair and shaggy beard, it would seem we have a lion with a mane, here.

He also hasn’t drunk the wine Catelyn sent him, citing that while his death by poison could be covered up, it’s harder to claim his head simply fell off. Jaime’s a bit smarter than Cleos, it seems. It also seems that imprisonment, while not Jaime’s favourite occupation, has not actually broken him. He’s still got it in him to be a total asshole.

“A man chained hand and foot should keep a more courteous tongue in his mouth, ser. I did not come here to be threatened.”

“No? Then surely it was to have your pleasure of me? They say widows grow weary of their empty beds.”

Such an asshole. My god. Aside from his cruel mockery of Catelyn’s Joffrey-inflicted widowhood, Jaime also makes cracks about Robb’s courage and skill. There’s also that supremely arrogant line,

“There are no men like me. There’s only me.”

But he’s not totally unaffected by his imprisonment. When it looks like Catelyn’s about to leave, he gives in enough to say he’ll trade her, honest answer for honest answer.

“Your turnkey tells me nothing but vile lies, and he cannot even keep them straight. One day he says Cersei has been flayed, and the next it’s my father. Answer my questions and I’ll answer yours.”

Jaime is motivated by love of his family, but what looks like it should be a major redeeming feature turns out in the long run to be far more complicated. Jaime’s relationship with Cersei is ultimately demonstrated to be toxically abusive even without any questionable questions of sibling incest. His father does not love Jaime, just the image of what Jaime could be. Jaime makes reference to the lie he told Tyrion about Tysha later, too. Here and now, though, the other complication with love-as-redeeming feature is that it’s apparent with Jaime’s very first question that he only loves his family.

“Do all my kin still live?”

“Ser Stafford Lannister was slain at Oxcross, I am told.”

Jaime was unmoved. “Uncle Dolt, my sister called him. It’s Cersei and Tyrion who concern me. As well as my lord father.”

Didn’t he have, like, some kids with Cersei or something? Even if he doesn’t think of them as his children, they’re still officially his nephews and niece, and he’s spent a lot of time around them.

Catelyn, for her part, extracts confirmation from Jaime that he’s been sleeping with his sister, and is Joffrey’s biological father. More importantly, to her, she asks him how Bran came to fall from the tower window. Jaime, whatever else he might be here, honours the terms of their agreement and tells her that he threw Bran from the window. When Catelyn presses him, asking about the follow-up assassination attempt, however, Jaime denies that.

“On my honour as a Lannister.”

“Your honour as a Lannister is worth less than this.” She kicked over the waste pail.

Now and later in ASoS, we’ll see that this actually managed to get through Jaime’s emotional armour. Catelyn’s sheer contempt for Jaime’s integrity left a mark. Of more concern to Catelyn is the fact that Jaime starts ruling out other suspects –

“If you did not send the killer, your sister did.”

“If so, I’d know. Cersei keeps no secrets from me.”

“Then it was the Imp.”

“Tyrion is as innocent as your Bran.”

– and she believes him. (She shouldn’t, because Jaime’s dead wrong about his relationship with Cersei, but Catelyn’s got no way of knowing this.)

So, if it wasn’t Jaime, and it wasn’t Cersei, and it wasn’t Tyrion, who was it? Jaime recalls the dagger Catelyn describes to him, and says that yes, it changed hands, he remembers Robert showing it to him at the feast afterwards. As Catelyn can’t help but notice, this story matches what Tyrion claimed. Jaime couldn’t know what Tyrion told Catelyn and has had no chance to work out a matching story.

Petyr had sworn otherwise, Petyr who had been almost a brother, Petyr who had loved her so much he had fought a duel for her hand…and yet, if Jaime and Tyrion told the same tale, what did that mean? […] Somewhere there was a trap here.

Littlefinger’s already got lucky in ACoK that Tyrion’s got too much on his plate to handle coming after him. He should consider himself lucky that Catelyn’s staying in denial, too.

Jaime continues to ask Catelyn for news of the outside world, informing the readers that Tyrell alliances are currently up in the air. They discuss what honour’s worth, when a brother’s life is on the line. The important thing is in the background of this conversation, as Jaime drinks the wine Catelyn brought him. And at last, Jaime gets drunk enough that he truly lowers his guard and vents about his knighthood and his position in the Kingsguard.

“So many vows…they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or another.”

This too is important heading into ASoS. Jaime’s thought about the contradictory vows of knighthood, and his response was to give up on them entirely and abandon the possibility of ever being truly honourable. He continues on about Aerys, with a toast –

“To Aerys Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protectorof the Realm. And to the sword that opened his throat.”

Catelyn’s horrified. She does not realise, of course, why Jaime put such an emphasis on “protector”. “Only a man like you would be proud of such an act,” she says. This of course provokes Jaime further, upset as he is that these honourable people keep insulting his. He returns to cruelty, and exposits a large chunk of detail about just how Catelyn’s first fiance came to grief.

“No doubt Ned wished to spare you. […] Well, you wanted truth. Ask me. We made a bargain, I can deny you nothing. Ask.”

“Dead is dead.” I do not wish to know this.

Jaime tells her unsolicited. The details are ugly. When Brandon and his companions called for Rhaegar to “come out and die,” Aerys arrested them for plotting Rhaegar’s murder, then demanded that the fathers of the young men arrested come to the Red Keep. So far so much public knowledge. What Jaime knows that Catelyn didn’t was that Rickard demanded trial by combat. Aerys gave it to him, naming fire as the champion of House Targaryen. Brandon was brought in to watch, tied by the throat and his sword placed just out of his reach. It ended with Rickard Stark burned alive and Brandon Stark strangled.

With this exposed, Jaime describes killing Aerys as his finest act. Because he’s an asshole and now a drunk asshole, he continues to vent his frustration at all the people who scorned him for it.

“As for your Ned, he should have kissed the hand that slew Aerys, but he preferred to scorn the arse he found sitting on Robert’s throne. I think Ned Stark loved Robert better than he ever loved his brother or his father…or even you, my lady. He was never unfaithful to Robert, was he?”

[…]

“I’ve never lain with any woman but Cersei. In my own way, I have been truer than your Ned ever was. Poor old dead Ned. So who has shit for honour now, I ask you?”

Oh yeah, Catelyn definitely left a mark. So what’s Jaime going to do about it? That’s a question for ASoS, where Jaime has a few more truths to confront.

A Trade

The chapter ends on a cliffhanger that is not resolved until the start of ASoS. Given that Catelyn asked for a sword in those final lines, the most reasonable initial assumption is that Catelyn killed Jaime herself. Instead, as we know, Catelyn forced Jaime to swear certain oaths to her, then released him into Brienne’s custody to exchange himself for her daughters.

That Catelyn had a plan has been apparent all chapter.

She had not meant to tell Brienne. No one knew except her and Maester Vypren, and she meant to keep it that way until…until…

Catelyn links her inability to tell Brienne to her own inability to fully process the news of her sons’ deaths, and yet that “until” still shows us she’s looking forward to some future mark that involves that acceptance.

The next indication of Catelyn’s true plan is the very fact that she switches topic from Bran and Rickon to Sansa and Arya. As I mentioned above, Catelyn says she wants Jaime dead, and then adds “but my girls.” Which gives us Catelyn’s priorities. Daughters first, then revenge.

Then she changes the topic again. Once again it’s a very abrupt change of topic, that makes sense in hindsight with the knowledge of her actions, but not without it. From talking about Robb and Theon, she goes to telling Brienne that she’s sent Jaime wine.

The ploy had served her well with Cleos Frey. I hope you’re thirsty, Jaime. I hope your throat is dry and tight.

There’s forethought involved here, we can see. She also asks Brienne to come with her to visit Jaime, at midnight.

There’s another telling bit when Jaime admits that he meant to kill Bran.

The easy way he said it took her breath away for an instant. If I had a knife, I would kill him now, she thought, until she remembered the girls.

This again reminds us of Catelyn’s priorities. Furthermore, it gives us an indication that killing Jaime in his cell is not part of her plan. Yet when Jaime really gets going with the taunting and the mockery, he’s just so obnoxious that it’s entirely believeable that Catelyn snaps and asks for Brienne’s sword.

Chapter Function

Hoo boy. This is one important chapter.

In the background are two significant events: Edmure winning at the Fords, and Robb taking the Crag. Edmure’s victory sets the stage for Tywin to bail the Lannisters out at the Blackwater. Robb taking the Crag is the first step in the sequence of events that leads to his marriage to Jeyne Westerling. These things shape the political landscape of ASoS.

Then there’s our reintroduction to Jaime Lannister, now with added character complexity. His struggles with his vows and his love for his family is set up here. There’s a bit more groundwork as to why he killed Aerys as well. His chat with Catelyn also keeps in view how Littlefinger’s been involved in the political plot thus far.

Most of all, this is an important chapter for Catelyn. The blow of (apparently) losing two children, on top of the other losses she’s suffered recently, affects her profoundly. Catelyn’s series arc involves her losing everything. We see her grief and her despair and her rage, all just barely kept at bay by her hope that maybe, maybe, she can get her daughters back. But that hope also inspires her to take drastic action. Her freeing Jaime is a truly desperate step. She knows that Jaime is the only hostage that can get her daughters back; she knows that Robb will never agree to ransom Jaime. As we see in ASoS, she knows it’s a long shot. She just wants her family back, whatever she can get of it.

From Catelyn’s decision, we get another major factor shaping the ASoS political landscape, sharpening internal tensions especially with the Karstarks, and Jaime and Brienne’s arcs both become possible.

Miscellany

There’s a rather telling bit of information about Catelyn’s relationship with Jon Snow here. At one point she thinks my son has no brothers. She cannot and will not acknowledge Jon Snow as any kin to Robb. This is a place where she cannot even acknowledge Robb’s own perspective on the matter, because we all know Robb considers Jon his brother.

Jaime refers twice to the (Littlefinger-instigated) rumour that Littlefinger slept with Catelyn. In amongst all the other painful news she hears this chapter, this goes over her head.

Clothing Porn

None.

Food Porn

Trout wrapped in bacon. Salad of turnip greens, fennel, and sweetgrass. Pease, onions, and black bread. This is a good meal, but consider that there’s a party going on outside. The gaoler has pigeon pie.

Next Three Chapters

Catelyn III, AGoT – Jon VIII, ACoK – Sansa VII, ACoK

#ASoIaF #cw: violence #revisiting chapters #catelyn stark #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #a clash of kings

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cchellacat · 5 years

Text

A Little Prayer

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Twenty-Eight

Prompt: Pillow Talk

Darcy/Bucky AU

Darcy is a Guardian Angel

SHE is God.

Darciael was the youngest Angel in heaven. Compared to her brothers and sisters, she was only a baby. At a 1000 years old, she was the favourite, even grouchy old Lucifer, who’s duty was to guard the souls which had been completely corrupted by evil, adored the little Angel.

Darcy was excited, it was finally happening, she was going to be given the soul of a mortal to look after. She had asked over and over for a long time to be given the duty of a Guardian Angel. SHE had finally agreed.

“Hello Little Starlight, are you ready for today?”

Darcy nodded furiously, wings quivering with excitement. She was so nervous and happy, this was the day she had waited for her whole life.

SHE took them down, descending through the planes of the worlds until they found the mortal realm.

They hovered in the sky over a great city as SHE explained to Darcy what her duties were and about the soul whom she would be charged with protecting.

A glowing orb appeared in HER hand, it was beautiful, a warm bright light shining in the darkness. Darcy had always thought the souls of mortals to be beautiful, there was nothing else so special in all the realms.

“Now Darciael, this is very important, you must pay attention.” When SHE was sure Darcy had settled down, SHE reached forward and dropped the glowing mass into Darcy’s arms.

Oh! It was warm! The incorporeal ball of light and substance seemed to tingle, and there, drifting up through her senses, was a sound akin to music, so pretty and full of hope.

SHE smiled as HER youngest creation cradled the soul in her arms, enraptured by it’s resonance and light.

Sometimes, every so often, a new soul would come into existence that needed something more than just an ordinary Angel to watch over them, sometimes they needed a companion or a friend and once or twice that soul needed a fierce defender who would walk by their side, always. This was one such soul, it saddened her to know what awaited it, and it saddened HER even more to know what Darcy would suffer at his side.

“This is the soul of a very special mortal Darciael. Are you sure you’re ready to do this, to become guardian? Once you take a charge, you cannot give it back.”

“I’m sure, I will always watch over him.” Darcy promised.

“He will walk a lonely and hard road little one. It will be painful to follow him there. This is very important, he must be protected at all costs, you cannot waver, ever, he must never fall to evil Darcieal, his soul must stay uncorrupted. You will pay a heavy price to keep it so.”

“What price?”

“It’s hard to say, the future is not yet set in stone.”

Darcy mulls it over, when SHE warned you of something, SHE was very serious. But now that she was here and was holding this incredible soul in her hands… How could she abandon it?

Her grace sang back to the soul’s resonance, a duet and a counterpoint at once. She pulled her wings in close, surrounding the glowing light in shimmering golden white feathers.

“I won’t let go, I’ll stay with him always, I promise.”

SHE nodded and they descended closer to the city until they walked unseen down a busy street.

Eventually the found a young woman, sitting on a park bench, looking out over the water.

“I charge thee, Darciael, with the keeping of the soul of James Buchanan Barnes. Do you accept?”

“I do so accept.”

They watched as the soul slowly shrunk and zipped inside the mortal,

“One last thing, there are only three rules you must follow. Do not interfere. Do not Speak with him. Do not fall in love. Goodbye Little Starlight. I am only ever a prayer away.”

SHE touches Darciael’s grace in farewell and leaves with a heavy heart.

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Darcy watches the baby with awe. He is perfect in every way, strong and healthy and good. In the early morning he begins to fuss as he wakes, without thought, Darcy shelters him with her wings and begins to sing softly in Enochian.

The baby quiets and stares up at the golden shimmer. For a moment Darcy thinks he must almost see her, but baby eyes unfocused again and she relaxes, continuing her song. So it came to be, that each morning Darcy would sing to her charge, a healthier and happier child there never was.

By the time James is five Darcy is certain the child is aware of her, as inexplicable as it may be, she knows he hears her voice as he wakes. It’s not normal. Mortals can’t see or hear her kind, not without them showing themselves deliberately and she hasn’t. SHE did say he was special though, perhaps he will one day be a prophet or a messenger and so must be able to hear the WORD. It never crossed Darcy’s mind to stop singing to him, to stop whispering in his ear. So she continued with their little morning routine. She was always there when he woke, ready to sing him the song of morning.

When he was six he started to whisper back for a time. Asking questions, thanking her, complimenting her voice. Darcy began to feel something impossible for this tiny human. Her grace brightened with each word he gifted her, she was happy.

By the time he was eleven he had stopped talking to her. Instead he would wake and lie there, still, till she finished singing and pressed a kiss to his forehead in protection for the day ahead. Once she was done, he would rise and get ready for his day.

The years went on and Darcy never wavered from her duty. Keeping him safe and free from evil. Then darkness began to rise in the east. A great war was coming. Darcy felt the first stirring of unease within her grace as she watched from afar as people began to suffer, as evil tightened it’s grip on Earth.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, she knew it was coming for her charge. Her song of morning was replaced now with one of strength and courage. Be strong, be brave, have faith. She whispered the words again and again, needing him to understand.

Darcy understands now, what SHE meant about the road being long and lonely. Her charge was a soldier, fighting in a war, being forced to kill. Some mornings she could not bring herself to sing the words, instead she whispered words of comfort and peace hoping some small meaning would make it through. She never left his side, was there for every terror, every fight. Her grace surrounded him as best she could, keeping the demons gathered in this place from gaining a foothold in his soul. It was tiring to keep so much away, to keep them out and her charge safe.

The mortal war took a toll on them both. She felt weakened by the almost nightly assault against his soul. Eventually he was captured and the stink of decay and death and depravity clung to them both in that prison. Still, Darcy did her best to keep him safe.

Then Zola starts his experiments and Darcy panics, because she has seen what happens next, how all the other subjects broke and twisted and died. When Zola finishes with him, Darcy breaks the rule. She interferes. She can’t stand back and watch as his life is extinguished. He was important, he had a destiny, she knew it.

In a damp and murky cell, he lies in a cot. Crying out in his sleep as the faulty serum works through his veins. Darcy wills herself into corporeal form, tucking her wings into dead space to accommodate the small room. He doesn’t even know she’s there, that’s probably best. She climbs into the cot beside him and holds him close, fingers running through dirty hair. His cheeks are wet, and his tears soak her skin. She feels every moment of his pain as though it were her own and then she reaches out with her grace and heals his body as best she can, allowing the serum to work, at least a little. It costs her strength to do this, leaches away at her grace to give up part of herself to him, but she can’t let him die. She…. No… she can’t feel that, it’s forbidden. He is her charge, her duty, nothing more. Angels don’t feel love for any except HER, there were rules. Darcy pops out of existence and continues to watch over him, pushing what ever she was feeling to one side. It could never be.

His nightmares are a reflection of the very real evil trying to corrupt him. Darcy can’t watch silently anymore as he battles these demons, so she joins him in his dream, her grace protecting him from the darkness and horror. It’s very tiring to do this, but she can’t watch as he slowly looses his mind in the darkness. He belongs to her, she has to help him, he is… Everything.

Then his friend appears, the one who has been by his side almost as long as she. He has changed so much, his soul was always good and strong, but his mortal body had been weak, now it was as strong as the soul it housed. He came in the night and rescued her Bucky, Darcy followed, fretting each step that they would be injured. The platform breaks as he jumps and she reaches out, just one tiny nudge to make sure he makes it to safety. She can’t help it, she couldn’t let him fall. That’s the second time she’s interfered. If she does it again, they’ll take her away. They will know. She follows them out and stays close as they make their way back to the lines.

That night as she watches over him she prays for guidance.

“You may help him once more without consequence, choose wisely Little Starlight.”

The thought plagues her. One more chance to save his life directly, but how would she know when to do so?

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For as far back as Bucky could remember he woke up each morning to the sound of a soft voice singing to him gently. It was a woman’s voice, sweet and loving, he never understood the words, could never find the source of the voice and never told a soul about it.

When he was a child, he would think of his mother’s bed time prayers and the story she told of a guardian angel who watched over you while you slept, keeping anything evil from you while you couldn’t protect yourself. He’d believed that for most of his life.

Part of him held fast to that belief now that he was in this place. Still though, every time he came awake the voice was there, speaking comfortingly to him, the faintest whisper of a feather like kiss glancing across his brow. He clung to that voice, that feeling. It kept him sane and wanting to live even when logic told him there was nothing left to fight for. The voice that whispered in his ear seemed to say keep going, keep fighting, I’m here, I’ll keep you safe. He didn’t understand a word, but the meaning was there if you listened.

He loved the voice, treasured it. He didn’t care anymore if others would think he was crazy because the voice was the only thing standing between him and death.

Sometimes he would dream of a girl with dark coffee hair, curling around and over her shoulders, bright blue eyes and full red lips. In the dream it was always the same, the girl didn’t speak a word, just smiled at him sadly and took his hand. A tiny delicate hand, with small dainty fingers that would hold tight to him, never letting go, even when the dreams turned dark and blood was painted over his vision. She remained there in this dream, by his side, fighting monsters and keeping them in a soft glow of light no matter how dark it became.

After Azanno, when he finally slept and found her there in that word, he through caution to the wind and when she took his hand he pulled her into his arms and held her close, whispering words of thanks to her. He knew what she was, that she had watched over him his whole life and he was grateful. He never wanted her to leave him and it brought him comfort that even if he died, she would continue to be with him. Forever.

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Darcy freezes when the Soul of her charge pulls her into his arms and holds her. No one had ever held her before. It’s not something angels do. But he’s hugging her, his arms banded tightly around the form she takes in his dreamscape and then she gives in to the temptation and hugs him back, closing her eyes and feeling the love this mortal holds for her. For the first time since she held his soul before his birth she hears the resonance of his soul and her grace singing their duet. The darkness is driven back further from them as the melody grows in strength. That’s when she knows that it is far too late for her. She has broken the rule. She loves this mortal man. She loves him more than anything in all the realms. She knows she will fall for this. She will be barred from the angelic host forever. As they cling to each other, she thinks it might be worth it. An eternity of loneliness is worth it, for whatever time this mortal has left, for time with him is more precious to her than all the stars in the heavens.

When they return from the dreamscape, she knows her link to heaven is gone, her wings have been taken. No longer can she hear her brothers and sisters. Her grace, able to replenish from the connection is no longer infinite. She’ll have to be careful with it, use it sparingly. She wonders if another angel will come to guard him when she’s gone?

She waits, she waits a year and no other angel comes to relieve her of her duty. Darcy stays with him, she knows nothing else. He is stronger now than he was and when they are together in the dreamscape her grace grows stronger when he holds her. It’s the only reason she hasn’t wasted away to nothingness. She worries for him so much though, the war continues, and he runs head first into danger at his friend’s side.

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Bucky can tell the Angel is worried about something, he wishes he could understand her language, but she won’t speak English even though he’s certain she understands it. When he dreams now the first thing he does is take her in his arms, she comes willingly, holding him tightly, he feels at peace with her. He feels stronger the longer they stay wrapped in each other’s arms, he knows she saved his life in that prison. But she had been saving his sanity long before it, through each battle and fight.

He wonders sometimes what she did, he knows the other prisoners like him died from Zola’s experiments. He is much stronger than he was, and he sees things now that he hadn’t before. The glint of wings from the corner of his eyes, other angels keeping safe their mortal charges. He doesn’t react, doesn’t let it show.

He worries about her though. He feels as though he knows she once had wings, beautiful white feathers, veined with shimmering gold. He no longer sees them, he worries that something is wrong with her, she seems less substantial at times than she was. When she sings to him now, he sees her, shining brightly when he wakes. He doesn’t keep his eyes closed anymore, he doesn’t want to miss any sight of her he is gifted with. She fades out when the song ends, but he feels her presence clearly.

In the waking world he can not touch her. He curses himself for being so selfish, for wanting something so good and pure. He knows it’s wrong to see her that way, but he wants her, loves her, not as some divine being, but as the woman he sees in her. If she knows he feels that way she says nothing and doesn’t change her behaviour. He thinks Father O’Malley would have him saying a thousand hail Mary’s as penance for the impure thoughts he has regarding her. But she’s beautiful and kind and he knows there will never be another who will spark this kind of love in his heart. He resigns himself to his fate. He has fallen in love with an Angel, she is… Everything.

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“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

“Yeah, I and I threw up?”

“This isn’t payback, is it?”

“Now why would I do that?”

Darcy eyes the ravine they plan to zip line over with trepidation, it looks dangerous. Why did she end up with such a difficult charge? Did he have a death wish, volunteering for these things? She sticks close by him as always. She doesn’t like this at all, has a terrible feeling in her grace. When she still had wings, she could have glided down beside him, but now her only option is to use her grace to translocate to his destination. When the train appears, she calculates where he is likely to land and with a quick press of her lips to his cheek she jumps to the roof of the train. If he slips, she can help him from there if need be. She clings to the last action she has to save his life tightly, she will not use it unless there is no other choice.

They board safely and she follows them. When Bucky is cut off from his Captain she stays by his side. He is scared, she can feel his soul. He fights well, defending himself but he lets his guard down, only for a second. It’s enough for the enemy to take him by surprise, he picks up the shield and the guard fires. It deflects the ray which passes through Darcy, for a second she thinks nothing of it, and then she feels her whole being convulse and she’s no longer on the train. Instead she is far from the train in some jungle in South America, she feels weak and wobbly. She tries to gather her grace to make the jump, to get back to him, but she’s too weak, she doesn’t have the strength. Panic fills her, he needs her she needs to get back, she can feel him, he is so frightened, so scared…. Then there is nothing, only silence. She screams her defiance and pulls herself together, and jumps.

He’s dying. He blinks open his eyes and all he sees is snow. Please he begs, praying to God, please let me see her before I go.

As though his prayer was being answered, she is suddenly beside him. He feels peace settling in his soul. As long as she’s here, he’s safe.

“Hey Angel…”

Darcy falls beside him in the snow, reaching for him as he lies, broken and bloody from the fall.

“No… no, you can’t die. It’s not your time..”

She breaks the last rule. She speaks to him so he can understand her.

He smiles at her through bloody lips.

“I knew you were holding out on me, Doll.” He tells her weakly as tears slide down her face.

“Shhh… don’t speak… I’m going to fix this… I’m going to save you and you’ll live. But I won’t be here anymore. So I have to say goodbye.”

Fear rips through him. What does she mean she won’t be here? She’s always been here, she has never left his side, his whole life he knew she was watching over him.

“Not worth it Angel… Don’t leave me…”

“I love you… I have always, loved you… But it changed over time and one day… One day I couldn’t deny it anymore, I fell in love with you. I don’t regret it. You are going to live a good life James Barnes.”

She has just enough grace left to do it, to give him back his life. and since it’s the only chance she’ll ever get, she kisses him. She breathes the last sparks of her grace into his soul and he mends enough that he will make it out alive.

He can touch her, is the only thought that passes through his mind when her lips meet his. He feels stronger almost immediately, everything still hurt, but he’s not dying, not anymore. He brings his uninjured arm up and slides it into hair that feels softer than silk. He kisses her back with as much love and longing as he can bring and gasps as she breaks the kiss.

“I love you too, I don’t even know your name, but I will never love anyone else…” he has to tell her, she has to know that he loved her too.

He keeps his hand in her hair, holding her head to his and Darcy wants to cry at how perfect it could have been if things were different.

“My name is Darcy.”

“S’a beautiful name, Angel”

“Just rest… get your strength back, I’ll keep you warm as long as I can.”

She’ll stay with him till either he is rescued or strong enough to get out on his own, well, she’ll try, she can feel her own strength waning, her body feels heavy and leaden.

They lie in the snow together, the very last of her held together by will alone. She knows he’s tired, if he sleeps for a little while perhaps he’ll be strong enough to get up. Even with the arm, damaged as it is, he can make it, she’s sure. She packs snow around the limb, hoping the cold will slow the blood loss, it will have to be amputated, but she can’t regrow limbs as much as she wishes she could right now.

“Will you sing for me?”

“One last time then, I’ll sing and when you wake, you’ll live and you’ll go on. Promise, you’ll get out of here, promise me you’ll try?”

“I promise.”

And then she sings to him, sings to him in her language a song of hope and rest and rebirth. He falls asleep and she stays…. And then she feels herself slipping.

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

“You can’t just let her die!”

Lucifer paces angrily atop the snow, watching as his youngest sibling fades.

“She fell Lucifer, she fell and used the last of her grace before it could replenish. You know the rules, I cannot take her home.”

“You are such a mummy’s boy Raphael. This is our sister, our Little Starlight. We could still save her!”

“Lucifer, we can’t. There is nothing we can do.”

“We could make her mortal.”

Raphael rears back as though struck.

“How can you suggest such a thing?”

“Well it’s better than being unmade in the void. I can’t take her to Hell, she’d die there too, just slower and until there was nothing recognisable of her left.”

Raphael and Lucifer stare at each other, a standoff.

“She has no soul, Lucifer and we can not make one, both of us would be cast out forever for such an act.”

“I know. But her charge has a nice healthy soul, and he loves her. He could share it with her, souls replenish after all. He’d be fine.”

“He would be damaged, and without a guardian to stave off evil he could be corrupted. He is important to the future of the world. It would be folly.”

“I’ll protect him.”

Raphael gaps at his brother. Lucifer despised mortals on principal. But then he only ever saw the worst of the Mortal world, the evil that lived there, that some souls harboured and grew and cherished, relishing and enjoying the darkness of it.

“You! You would protect him?” Raphael flourishes one wing sceptically.

“I’d do it for her.”

Raphael believes him, Lucifer was oddly attached to Little Starlight. No, Darcy, he supposes, now that she has no wings.

“Once she’s mortal we can never contact her, never speak with her again…”

“No, but we can watch over her.”

“Her life will be tied to his forever.”

“I don’t think she would object… besides, this way, one day, she’ll find him again, they will share the same soul. They will enter the kingdom together or go on to another life, together. She will be happy with that.”

In agreement the two Archangels gather up their sister and Raphael carefully takes a piece of the soul of James Buchanan Barnes. Lucifer takes an impossibly white feather from his wings and lays it upon the man’s heart, slowly it sinks in. No evil will corrupt his soul, he will be left protected.

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

Darcy doesn’t understand what’s happened to her at first. There is no one to explain how she became mortal and no way to find out.

She finds her way through it all and eventually makes a life for herself as best she can. The dreams are what give her a clue. She sees him sometimes when she sleeps. He’s scared and in pain and praying for her, begging for her to come for him. As hard as she tries, she can’t find him. And she looks, she looks for decades. She finds herself back in New York the better part of a century after she left. It’s time for her to take up a new identity and start again.

Since she woke in a hospital bed in London in 1945 she’s seen the world, searching tirelessly for him year after year. Lately she sees flashes of a nightmare play over and over in Bucky’s dreams. The face of the man he kills on a never-ending loop is one she knows. Now she understands that what she sees is a memory. It’s the most tenuous clue, but she has to try, she can’t give up on him, he’s out there somewhere. Probably looking as young as she is. That’s another thing she doesn’t understand, how has she not aged?

She finds nothing in New York and decides to try college. Culver is the place she chooses, it’s a nice town and a good University. She’s happy there and then she meets Jane. Jane who desperately need someone to look after her. Darcy can’t help it, she needs this, to look after someone, it’s a comforting familiar feeling she has missed. If she can’t find him then she’ll watch over Jane.

Then the Bifrost opens and a demi god falls into their laps. He’s a hulking brute of a man, stronger than her fragile mortal friends, stronger than her. She doesn’t regret knocking him on his ass with the taser as all. She’ll always protect her friends.

Before he leaves he pulls her to one side, a question on his lips she hadn’t expected.

“Guardian, what do you do here?”

“What?”

“You are a guardian spirit are you not? One belonging to the Creation God, if I am not mistaken.”

Darcy hedges for a moment, the unexpected knowledge of what she had been jarring her.

“I fell in love with a mortal and broke the rules. Now I’m stuck here, mortal as all the humans.”

Thor blinks.

“Nay, Little Lightening Sister, you are more than mere mortal, grace still hangs around you like a cloak.”

This is the first Darcy has heard of it, she hasn’t been able to feel it or use it if it is there. She thanks Thor for the information and when he leaves, she stays with Jane. Eight months later they move into lab space at Stark Tower. Thor keeps her secret and life goes on.

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

2013

Darcy is stunned when Captain America shows up, to take Tony up on his offer of a place to stay, after his months long road trip across the states. It’s really him. It’s little Stevie Rogers, still alive and young and as strong and vital as he was the last time she saw him.

She gets to know him slowly, wanting to find a way to be his friend. He loved Bucky too. He always had. She finds some solace in that. One afternoon as they sit with coffee looking out over a wet Manhattan skyline he asks her a question.

“Darcy, I need to ask you something and I promise I won’t be mad or think your crazy, but… you seem to know things about me, things I haven’t told you before, sometimes it’s things about Bucky… so I think you might be more than what you let everyone think you are…”

He brings an old sketch book out of his bag and hands it to her. She hasn’t seen this book in seventy years. Steve Rogers wasn’t the only artist of the Howling Commandos. Bucky had taken art classes just like Steve, she remembers him drawing in it during the war. She never peeked though, she knew it was private.

She knows what she’s going to find before she even lifts the front cover. Biting back tears, she opens it. Her face stares back at her from the page. The overwhelming pang of loss that sweeps through her takes her off guard.

She tells him everything and when Thor returns, he confirms it. Now two people know her secret. That’s when she tells him about Bucky, about what happened to him and that she believes he’s still out there somewhere, in the hands of monsters.

Steve swears he’ll find him and bring him home. Darcy believes him and for the first time in years she has hope again.

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2015

Six months after the fall of Shield

Bucky felt as though he were slowly piecing himself back together. It was hard, but bit by bit he started to feel more like himself and less like the Winter Soldier. He finds solace in his dreams. There is always a pretty girl there waiting for him, ready to hug him and hold him, she never speaks but there’s this longing from her that bleeds into him, beseeching him to come home, to come back. He wished he knew where home was.

It takes months before he knows and remembers what is missing from his life. The voice of the angel when he wakes has been gone for so long, he aches to hear her, just once more. But then he remembers her telling him she’d be gone. She did something, something that meant she had to go, she did it to save him. So much for the good life she wanted him to live. He’d become a monster.

When Steve finds him, he’s going to run again, he really does plan to, but then he sees the girl get out of the car behind Steve and he thinks he’s finally gone mad.

It’s her, he would know her voice anywhere. He stops and he watches as she swings around, looking for him. Then she closes her eyes and spins slowly, till she’s facing the place where he is hidden. She opens her eyes and they meet his. She begs him to come out, to come back with them. He lets her get close, close enough to reach out and touch her. She’s there, she’s real. He is going home.

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Ever since they married, he wakes to the same song. He still doesn’t understand the words, beautiful as they sound, he can’t decipher them. Waking up to her voice is the best part of his day, knowing that when he finally looked, she would be right there beside him.

He opens his eyes and she smiles, singing still, as their heads lie side by side on the pillow together.

“How do you always know when I’m about to wake up?”

“What kind of Angel do you think I am? I can’t go around giving away all my secrets.”

Bucky reaches for her and pulls her close, enjoying the way her body curls into his.

He still feels a vague guilt in the deepest recess of his mind. She gave up everything for him long ago, to make sure he lived. She had been an Angel, something perfect. Part of him wonders why she fell in love with him, why she risked so much for one man.

“Stop that…” she admonishes him, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Stop what?

“Feeling bad again.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“I know, but… Well I think SHE must have known what would happen. I think I am right where I was always meant to be.”

“With me?”

Darcy nods at his smile and he kisses her again, he makes her feel things she didn’t know were possible. She melts into his kiss and relishes the feel of his body, pressing into hers. This is her heaven now, them together, nothing between them, becoming one.

“The Creator made me promise to keep you safe. SHE let me save you. Let whoever saved me, make me mortal. Let them take half of your soul to give it to me. You saved me too.”

“I love you. There aren’t enough words in all the world, to tell you how much you mean to me. You are everything. I would have given all of it to keep you safe.”

“You did.” She tells him, drawing him above her, pulling him into a searing kiss. He belonged to her forever, they shared a soul, nothing could ever keep them truly apart. And every morning for the rest of their lives she would tell him that, remind him that they were one soul, one perfect match.

THUS ENDS 28 DAYS OF FIC!

@randomlittleimp

@captain-rogers-beard

#love all the marvel ships #love all the marvel ships challenge #wintershock #darcy/bucky #angel au

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verratensduo · 7 years

Text

The depths of one’s guilt/drabble(one shot)

Rules of the drabble

Likes and reblogs are okay, reposts are not

Do not steal my work and claim it as you own

This is nothing personal, these rules just exist to protect my writing from thieves. Tagging people who would like to read, or I hope would enjoy it. Oh and spoiler warning for anyone who does not want spoilers.

@oilyraven @eren–gayger @likeahbraus @definitely-not-normal @sugirandom @behutend @gemma53 @amusewonderland @freckledbodtsoldier @glitchcloud @speek-the-unknown @horsefaced-demon-from-hell @unfortunxtesoldier @bisexual-nishinoya @starrysparklesandshit @raw-ravioli @flxgelderfreiheit @deimpetueux @timid-warrior @salbelni

I hope you all enjoy this.

~Drabble start~

Everyone had surrounded Armin. The blond had just eaten Bertholdt and obtained the power of, presumably, the Colossal Titan. At least so logic would stand to reason. Eren ran right to him, hugging Armin’s body near his. He couldn’t believe this had happened. His best friend in the world, had almost died. Thankfully Levi had gotten some titan serum into him, at the cost of commander Erwin Smith’s life. So many people where surrounding Armin as they waited for the blond to wake. They wanted to know exactly how it felt to become a titan shifter, and what he remembered from the events leading up to it. Would he remember anything at all?

Everyone jumped when Armin suddenly woke up all panicky. He thrashed about as if in some sort of danger. It took both Eren and Mikasa to finally calm him down and get him into a sitting position. He sat there with a look of complete and total horror on his face. As if he had witnessed a life time of atrocities within the last few minutes alone. Eren was completely and totally shocked by all of this. And he wasn’t the only one, Jean’s face grew paler by second, especially after the horrible revelation about how Marco died.

The poor boy had overheard Reiner and Bertholdt talking about how Bertholt had done a good job at kicking the wall down. They tried to pass it off as a joke, but the freckled male hadn’t bought it. They stole his three d maneuver gear and left him for dead. After hearing that, both Eren and Jean shot off in opposite directions, tears streaming down their cheeks. Neither seemed to intend to return to the group at any point.

“Eren! Jean!” Armin and Connie yelled simultaneously, preparing to shoot off after them in pursuit of their angered and sorrowed comrades. They where not about to let them be devoured by the titans in a weakened emotional state.

Levi stepped in front of them. “Enough both of you, Eren and Jean are big boys. They can take care of themselves, They need time, not pity and people telling them not to mourn or trying to keep them from being human. They both have excellent awareness, leave them be for now.” The boys didn’t protest. They knew Levi had a point. Eren and Jean had always been more independent, but nobody had seen Eren actually legitimately cry out of anything other than anger before, and those sure as hell didn’t look like angry tears.

The brunet landed on a roof, alone thankfully. He now allowed sobs to accompany those tears. He was feeling a mix of emotions. Anger, fear, hatred, sorrow, guilt, and several others he could not quite describe even if he tried.

“Damn it! If only I hadn’t lost control of my titan form, if only I had been stronger, or quicker, if only I had not been so careless I could have prevented his death! He would be safe with the MP right now!” Eren yelled pounding his fist to the roof tears rolling faster with more sobs between.

He started to get a familiar feeling in his stomach, working it’s way up to his throat. “Oh god, not now, any time but now.” He thought as he tried to hold it back.

His tears, however, had other and quite different plans for Eren, and they definitely where not what he wanted. He went to sob, but it turned into a heave. And out it came.

The vile, disgusting, offensive taste of his own vomit filled his mouth. He coughed between moments, tears still flowing hot, with some sort of emotion which he could not describe with his own limited vocabulary, darn his bad eye site and lack of time to actually study. He wished he could describe this, despite the vile taste in his mouth and the constant pain of pushing the vomit out of his system.

He was relieved when that torture finally came to an end. His tears kept rolling, an d he sobbed, the after taste was unbearable, it only made this memory worse. He was now thinking back to every one that had died because of him.

“Mom, I was to weak to move the wood piece. Thomas Wagner, Mina Carolina, Mylius Zeramuski, and Nac Tias, I led them to their deaths with my terrible leadership. Petra Ral, Eld Jinn, Gunter Schultz, and Olou Bozado, I killed them with my indecisiveness. And now I know, Marco Bodt, I killed with my lack of control.” His thoughts echoed as he continued to cry and sob, another dry heave and more vomit came out, just chemicals this time, he had nothing left in his stomach to push out.

He managed to stop again, still sobbing, and barely able to keep his body from collapsing down into his own vomit. The scene really looked quite grotesque, there where tears dropping into the vomit Eren was almost laying face first in, and there was mucus leaking out of his nose, running down his face, dripping from his chin to the roof. Almost as if he where a walking bag of contamination he was releasing every disgusting nose and mouth fluid known to man. Ironic, as he hadn’t ever gotten sick since before he joined the cadet corps, probably thanks to the effects of the titan serum on his body.

“Oh quite it Eren. That is more than enough, on top of making a mess, you look like a mess.” A familiar voice sounded behind him, causing him to freeze up. He processed the sound of the voice, it took a few moments, but he turned around, his face looked like hell, it was disgusting, eyes red from crying, mucus on it, vomit had splashed onto his cheeks. “Clean your face up while you are at it.” The person standing before him continued.

Eren wiped his face as instructed, not like his clothes had feelings, but his eyes where glued to the face standing above. “N-No....it....it isn’t possible.....y-you can’t be here......Y-You died back in Trost.” Eren thought, but was unable to speak. He looked at that face, a face that he could never get out of his memory, not that he would ever want to forget it.

“M-Marco!” Eren ran at the freckled male to hug him. Maybe this was all just a horrible nightmare, maybe he would wake up and be in his barracks, with Thomas, Armin, and Marco trying to wake him up for combat training, something which was the only thing he was the best in, but was always late for it. Then, he went right through the freckled male.

Marco sighed. “Eren, I am happy to see you too, but unfortunately you cannot hug a ghost. It is most impossible. I am not made of hard material anymore. I was bitten in half in Trost remember?”

Eren felt his eyes water again. “I know, I just got hopeful that somehow this had all been a horrible nightmare, and that it would end very soon. I guess I have no such luck.”

Marco had a hard facial expression, something that appeared almost foreign to Eren. Then the ghost spoke again. “Eren, do you have any clue why I am here? Any clue what I have to say to you?”

Eren’s knees started to knock together. Fear was evident in his eyes, and tears started to roll again. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose control Marco. I know you should be here, just like my mother, just like Thomas, Mina, Mylius, Nac, Petra, Eld, Gunter, and Olou. I’m sorry. You deserved better than what you got. You all did.” He whimpered.

“Eren, shut up.” Marco gave him a harsh look. “My death is not even a fraction of why I am here.” The freckled ghost had another purpose entirely for this little surprise visit. Which of course left Eren wondering what this blast from the past meant. It was a few moments of a silence before the void would once again be filled. “Eren, I am here because of what you said, taking the weight of those deaths, including my own on your shoulders. It isn’t healthy, it will harm you, not help you.”

Eren had only a broken, defeated look in his eyes. As if he had given up a fight on his inside a long time ago and just accepted it. “But they are my fault Marco. My mom died because that would plank, and my inability to move it. Thomas, Mina, Mylius, and Nac died because I led them right to the slaughter like lambs. You died because I could not control my titan form. Petra, Eld, Gunter, and Olou all died because of my indecisiveness, it is very much so my fault Marco.” The answer was almost....rehearsed, as if he had practiced saying this before.

“Eren that is not it at all!” Was the snappy reply from the freckled ghost. How could Eren think like this?

“It is Marco! I could have saved all of them. If I had just been stronger, smarter, faster, smarter....”

Marco could only feel frustration as Eren said this. “Eren that is only partially true, is it possible you could have saved us in that case? Yes, but you’ll never know now! Stop living in what if.”

Eren shook his head. “I would have! There is no way I wouldn’t have!”

Marco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had hoped not to take this. “Okay Eren, I will tell you what I really think, are you sure you want to hear it?”

The titan shifter’s eyes said no, but his mouth wished to tell a different story. “Yes, please Marco. I need to know.”

The ghost’s expression suddenly changed, and became dark. “I do think it is all your fault Eren. Tell me Eren, why did I have to die? Why did I have to die instead of you? Why did your squad have to die for you Eren? Why did your mom have to die for you? Why couldn’t you just give in and die? Why did so many others have to take or your place? Why couldn’t you have just stayed dead? Why did so many have to die trying to help you?”

Eren felt tears rolling faster now. So this was how Marco really felt.....at least he was being honest, even if it was brutally so.

The expression became harsher as the fallen freckled cadet continued. “I think you are the worst kind of person Eren, a coward that fakes bravery. I was one too, the difference is I didn’t let people die for me, or lead people to death senselessly. If I am being honest, I hate you Eren Yeager.”

Eren was bawling at this point. Once again he was a total mess. “Why would you say that? Marco, please, please, please, please, please don’t hate me!” He pleaded with the freckled angel? Ghost? What ever the heck he was now.

The ghost face palmed. Of course, Eren was not all that bright, he should have known that reverse psychology would never work with Eren. This was a stupid mistake that he could not afford to repeat.

“No Eren, I did not mean that. I am sorry. I was just trying to get you to see how stupid you sound. I promise I don’t hate you.” The freckled one tried to console the shifter as he started to fade.

“I don’t have much time left, I should have told you sooner, but here, this is a message, from all of us. Dwelling on the what ifs was never meant to be done, please, for all of us, especially your mother, try to stop blaming yourself for our deaths.” Marco pleaded.

“I-I will.” Eren said tears rolling down his cheeks again. He would ask for more time, or to see his mother, but that would be selfish of him. They where supposed to be resting for a reason, their time in hell was over, so now they got to sleep in the stars.

Soon the ghost was gone, as if it had never been there. All that stood on that roof now, was Eren Yeager, staring at the sky as the rain came to wash away the filth his fit had left behind, and washing away all evidence that Eren had ever been crying, or that he talked to anyone.

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imhereforbvcky · 7 years

Text

I’ll Be Good - Part 22 (End)

Masterlist - Series Masterlist - Part 21

Summary: Series - You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – Your future after the dangerous decision you made on the rooftop, and an unexpected glimpse into your past when Natasha peaks into the file she found.

Warnings: swearing, violence

Word Count: 3911 (welp I didn’t even try to keep this short... Oh well.)

Author’s Note: I cannot believe this is the end!!! Bittersweet! I’m not 100% sure how I feel about the file piece... But I’m just going to go with it. Maybe one day if inspiration strikes I’ll revisit that part in another way... teeny sequel or something, I don’t know. Anyway, hopefully this gives everyone closure and you enjoyed reading my first fic! Yay!

For the second time in the few months since you’d first run into Natasha again, you woke to a screaming pain radiating through your shoulder as you returned to consciousness. The steady beeping of the heart monitor increased as you became more aware of the pain crying out all over your body.

Your side continued to ache where the Commander had slipped his slender knife between your ribs, but now the pain radiated over your torso with every breath. A dull ache rippling beneath a pattern of deep bruising. Exhaustion held an entirely new meaning. Every muscle ached when you slowly tried testing a few of them, checking for mobility. Finding yourself mostly free you tried to will yourself to move, hoping that if you sat up more, the shrieking pain in your shoulder would subside.

As your eyes fluttered open, Nat immediately jumped up from her chair in the corner, silently stepping closer, her sharp eyes flashing over to the crumpled form beside you. You glanced down to your side to find Bucky, dead asleep, a mess of tangled dark hair covering his face and creeping over your blanket. His head rested on crossed forearms beside you on the hospital bed and you bit back a small grateful smile, knowing how exhausted he must be. It was clear from the thick scruff on his jaw and the fact that he could fall asleep in such a precarious way, that he hadn’t left your side, not for days.

Days. You’d been here for days…

“He’s been a complete nightmare,” Nat whispered with a grin, “Make him get some real sleep, would you?”

Your fingers found their way to the edges of his hair, fanning the soft pieces over the blanket. You gave a small nod and asked where you were.

“Still in Dresden,” she replied stepping toward the door. Bucky stirred at the sound of her voice. “You needed a triage unit after that stunt. You’re lucky you’re alive at all. We’ll get you on the quinjet and back to a cradle as soon as you’re cleared to fly.”

You nodded, brushing your fingers through the hair covering Bucky’s face, pushing it back as gently as you could. There was no need to wake him, he was clearly exhausted.

“Nat?” You called softly before she could slip out of the room. She hummed her acknowledgement while turning back to you, half way through the door. “Did you find… you didn’t find a file,… did you?”

Your eyes stayed locked on her, but you were so tired and the narcotics dampening the pain also dampened your senses. She frowned slightly but shook her head once, “No, I’m sorry. Just your records while you were there and the ID you came in with.”

She paused long enough to watch whether you’d accept her words as truth, satisfied with your sigh, “Must’ve had it on him then.” When your head fell back to the pillow she slid out into the hall.

The Day of the Rescue

Natasha had tucked the Shadow Project file inside a more generic manila envelope along with Y/N’s ID and a small hard drive carrying more recent digital records from the secure network as she left the location, climbing quickly into the ambulance with Y/N and Bucky.

“Medical records,” she’d lied coolly, well partial lie. At the hospital they’d rushed Y/N into surgery so quickly that they hadn’t bothered to ask about any medical history. Once the rest of the team settled into relative normalcy for the next few hours until there would be more news from the surgeons, Natasha slipped into an empty patient room and closed the door behind her. She made sure she was well hidden from view before opening the envelope and removing the file that was of most interest to her.

The heavy weight of a most bitter nostalgia washed over her as she ran her fingertips over the lettering on the cover, taking a moment to brace herself for the memories that the contents would surely conjure. Taking a quick, deep breath, she flipped the folder open.

On the left side the intake form was pinned to the cover with the essential information, a photo of Y/N as a young girl, and a brief summary. It included her name, one Natasha hadn’t heard in years, a description of her appearance at intake and a line that made Natasha pause, confused and startled.

Prisoner status: Political leverage; in custody for temporary holding. active training.

Natasha continued poring over the page, fighting the reeling thoughts that led her in every direction while trying to reconcile this record with what she remembered. All of it impossible. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted over the words until she finally made it to the “Reason for Transfer.” Y/N had never been alone and orphaned like the other “widows,” she was connected to a powerful family, presumably taken for leverage. But prisoners weren’t kept at the Red Room, agents were created.

Desperate for more information, Natasha glanced to the right half of the folder, thick with the many pages she quickly recognized as mission reports. She knew somewhere there lived a similar file with her own name, and her own stack of red ink that marked missions “complete” and their targets “deceased.”

Closing her eyes against the memories, Natasha lifted the intake form, finding beneath it an incident report that confirmed her own knowledge: girls in the Red Room were only ever made into agents or they were dispatched. Y/N’s presence as a prisoner was unprecedented and had only been meant as a temporary holding situation. It was a standard tactic to avoid hostage detection and discovery: constantly change the location of the prisoner. One minute it could be an underground bunker in Siberia, the next an experimental biomedical facility for girls, who knows what was meant to come next. Some staff there, unaware of Y/N’s status as a temporary prisoner had pushed her into a training program.

Natasha slunk into the chair in the room with the file open on her lap. She knew the rest, remembered when Y/N had been shoved into her training room looking terrified and utterly silent, but following every order to the letter. It all made sense now. Of course she followed the orders without a second thought, she had no choice. She’d probably been carted from facility to facility for weeks, with nothing but harsh orders and brutal hands. Her silence and obedience had inspired this “Shadow Project,” and the program’s patented implanted memories did the rest of the work to help Y/N forget the life she’d held onto before.

Letting the intake form drift back on top of the incident report, Nat remained stone still, only her eyes casually scanning the page as it settled back to its place. The words didn’t really sink in, she wasn’t really reading until her eyes danced across two words in particular. Зимний Cолдат. She lurched forward reading the line again and again, her mouth falling slightly open in horror.

Transferred from: Custody of the Winter Soldier by order of Vasily Karpov (HYDRA, Siberia)

With shaking hands and frantic, tearful eyes, Natasha decided quickly. She resolved to let this join the host of secrets and memories that would die with her. Y/N needed Bucky, and he wasn’t the Winter Soldier who had been programmed to follow Karpov’s orders, including this transfer order. Neither of them could see this. The guilt would eat Bucky alive and the idea that Y/N had a life she’d been torn from and a family who’d left her to this would ignite a new rage that Nat could never hope to contain.

Acting quickly, she tore the intake form and incident report from the folder before tucking the remainder of the file back into the large manilla envelope. The two reports she laid carefully in the sink before grabbing the canister of rubbing alcohol from the counter and dousing the pages. She watched the ink swirl off the pages and down the drain, dragging with it her own fear and shock. The dread she had instantly felt at reading that line was quietly replaced with a calm that she couldn’t quite call relief.

She knew intrinsically that this information needed to disappear, she wished she had never learned of it herself, and carried a heavy responsibility to make sure no one else ever learned of it either. She rinsed the pages clean of any ink before shredding them and shoving the pieces into the slot for biohazardous sharps. If some janitor saw the tarnished scraps of paper there, he or she wouldn’t dare reach for them. The rest she’d have to dispose of elsewhere, she’d been gone too long already.

Y/N’s question weighed on Natasha’s mind with a gentle sadness. She had never lied to Y/N before, and didn’t like to now, but she couldn’t go back now. The file was destroyed, and would bring nothing but torment.

“Why’d you lie about the file?”

Natasha sighed heavily, turning to Tony, who was comfortably seated in the chair just outside Y/N’s door. “You know, most people consider it rude to eavesdrop,” she murmured.

“Like I’m not going to take a chance to hear what you three could possibly have to say to each other,” he continued fidgeting with his watch. “You three are like those little Russian nesting dolls with all your secrets. Endless.”

“I like that,” Nat deflected, turning to leave, “Maybe I’ll call her Mатрёшка from now on.”

“Hey! I was talking to you!” He followed her quickly down the hall. “When are you going to tell her about that file?”

“I'm not,” she hissed, giving Tony a harsh warning look. “There is no file. Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Good?” She stopped short, turning to him with crossed arms. “Tony Stark, King Know-It-All thinks it’s ‘good' that there's something he'll never know?”

“King Know-It-All? That's what you're--?” he scoffed as she raised one teasing eyebrow. He shook his head in mild irritation. “I can’t imagine there’s anything but grief in that file. I just think some things are better left in the past, that's all. I think I would know.”

The surprised widening of Natasha’s eyes lasted only a split second before her usual calm, restrained smile returned. Apparently he’d had enough of surprises hidden in HYDRA files. She squeezed his hand softly before continuing her route down the hall, “I couldn't agree more.”

Bucky stirred at the sound of Natasha’s voice. His muscles ached from having fallen asleep leaning over Y/N’s bed. He knew he should go get cleaned up get some real sleep, but even when Natasha came to sit with her and he finally made it to his hotel room nearby, he never found a deep enough sleep. He’d wake with a start, Y/N’s voice echoing in his ears before that memory of the heavy metallic click of her pistol forced his eyes open in an instant. At least in his restless sleep he could escape the sound that followed: that thundering eruption that he’d been unable to stop or save her from.

Steve and, surprisingly, Tony had told him repeatedly over the last few days while she was in and out of surgeries or unconscious in her room or sliding into MRI machines and X-Ray rooms, that she’d done a brave thing, that he should give her the dignity of her choice, no matter what came of it in the end. But he found himself watching her with a simmering anger.

He was angry with himself for sending her to that rooftop alone. He was angry with her for making such a carelessly fatal decision. He was angry with Steve for being so ready to leave her there. He was livid with Natasha for helping her pull it all off - for confirming when the building was clear, giving Y/N the green light to self-destruct.

He was angry but he was also devastated and afraid. He wanted her back so badly, needed Y/N to open her eyes and remember him, know him. There weren’t many people who could know with a look what he was thinking or when he needed space. There weren’t many people who had been used like they had, who were trying to rebuild like they were, to recover some humanity and he craved that closeness with her.

He wanted her to open her eyes and look at him the way she only ever looked at him, with clear and honest eyes. He wanted to to feel her curled beneath his arm, or let him shield her from the hostility of those who would never really see her for who she was trying to be.

Not that she ever really let anyone stand for her when she could do it herself, he thought with a smirk, rubbing the back of his neck, head still bent down, his hair, falling like a curtain around his face. When he heard her softly whispered “Hi,” he froze for a moment. He thought he must have dreamt it, like he’d been remembering her voice for days. But in his nightmares her voice was resolute and clear. Just now it was faint and fragile.

“Hi,” he answered, rough and heavy from an too short a sleep. He shifted quickly so that he was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed beside you, before he recovered some semblance of normal thought processing. “I… Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?” he fired off quickly, realizing he should probably call for a doctor.

You nodded, tired eyes holding his gaze, the blue an icy storm tempered only with caution and fear. “Well Nat said we’re still in Dresden,” you trailed off quietly, looking down at your hands. “I don’t remember how I got here, exactly… But I remember… I remember your voice.”

Bucky reached forward, slipping his fingers over the side of your neck, thumb ghosting comforting sweeps over your cheek while he leaned toward you, resting his forehead on yours. He just needed to touch you, to hold you closer in some way, though he was cognizant enough to be gentle. You’d been lost to him for days and the doctors had warned repeatedly that there was no way to tell what or who you might remember, if there would be lasting impact from the head trauma you’d suffered.

“You sounded so… scared,” you continued as he nodded, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment.

“You were saying goodbye,” he breathed and you closed your eyes, embracing the closeness, how his breath tickled your face, how tightly he held you, how your own hand had come to rest on top of his.

“I thought it was goodbye.”

“Damn, I love you, Y/N,” he began, “But I could kill. Why didn’t you wait for me? You could have… You were this close to dying out there.”

“I know.”

“Do you?!” his face drew away from yours, though his fingers remained curled around the back of your neck, like he couldn’t stand to let go of you now, but his eyes were boring into you with so much anger, it left you speechless. “You live like you’re invincible! Are you done yet? With this… whatever this search for redemption is? Or revenge or whatever it is that keeps driving you into these reckless situations?”

You were silent, chewing on your lip, suddenly seeing the string of disastrous decisions you’d made the way Bucky must see them. Though in truth, you considered this one a success: Bucky was alive, and free, and safe, as was the rest of the team, and the Commander couldn’t claim to be a single one of those things. But seeing Bucky’s anger also let you see his pain. How you’d hurt him while trying to save him from the monsters of your own past. He needed to get this out, and you needed to listen.

“Because I can’t…” He paused and his thumb began sweeping over your cheek again. Whether the gesture was meant to comfort you or him was unclear. “I can’t sit here and watch you throw it all away again and again. I love you. God damn it, Y/N. I want to be with you, but you have to decide that being with me is more important than your vendetta. That you are more important than this vendetta!”

“This wasn’t revenge, Bucky. I did this for you,” you pleaded. “I needed to end it if there was any chance for you. For us, if I lived through it...” He didn’t seem convinced, and you couldn’t blame him. Your excuses sounded thin even on your own ears.

Your fingertips slipped over his jaw, your hands resting on either side of his face, forcing him to look you in the eye. “No more revenge. I promise. I’m here, Bucky. This is what I want.”

You let your hands slip from his face, over his neck, taking fistfuls of his shirt to pull yourself closer, as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. His arms glided over your shoulders, wrapping over your back and pressing you close as gently as he could, but the pressure made you wince at the pain of angling your newly repaired shoulder, and the ache of the bruises mapping their blue and yellow progress across your torso.

“M’sorry,” Bucky mumbled against the top of your head, releasing you slowly. You shook your head to dismiss the superfluous apology, but he stood from the bed anyway, “I should call a doctor now that you’re awake. See if we can get you home.” He leaned forward to press a soft and lingering kiss to your forehead.

Needing more of him, not wanting him to leave even for a second, your hand flew to the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to meet your lips in a slow and deep, I’ve-missed-you-so-fucking-much kiss. His lips pressed against yours, shifting as you pulled hungrily for his. The warmth that radiated across your skin was addicting, you’d missed it so desperately, missed him.

You felt him lean forward, guiding you back against your bed. He pulled away slowly, hovering over you for a moment before promising to return with a doctor. “Y/N?” he paused at the door waiting for your humming reply. “If you ever do something this “selfless” again, there will be a line of angry Avengers with a lot to say about it.”

You laughed softly at his half-serious warning, his plea to you not to go around sacrificing yourself for others. “So this is what Sergeant Barnes looks like,” you teased. “Very bossy.”

“You have no idea. And that’s an order,” he played along with your teasing.

“Yeah, well, you know me. I don’t take orders.”

As tired as he looked, you absolutely loved the slightly irritated grin that made its way across his face, starting in one corner of his mouth and creeping across his entire face. That smile that you thought you’d never see again. You’d given that smile up twice and now that you were seeing it again, you couldn’t imagine ever finding the strength to give it up again.

Months Later

“Look, Barnes,” you taunted Bucky as he lay flat on the ground, rifle pressed to his shoulder, making minuscule adjustments to his aim. “I think you’re going to have to give it up and admit that I’m the better shot.”

He exhaled a slow, steady breath, squeezing the trigger. You smiled when the shot fired and you heard the bullet sink into the paper target. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Lifting the binoculars to your eyes, you looked down the range, a long way down the range, looking for his fresh bullet hole in the target. Damn. Just barely to the left of your own.

“You’re pretty good, with your self-adjusting scopes that do all the work for you,” he teased, carrying both your weapons to the next lane, for a longer shot. “But where would you be if that thing cracked? Or the wiring was fried?”

You rolled your eyes, this was the perpetual argument between the two of you about your favorite field weapons. He refused to accept that modern technology would come through reliably in the field, and preferred his careful but slow calculations and a simple rifle. You’d been at this for half an hour already, you’d bet a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and dibs on a pristine new semi-automatic handgun for the next mission to the winner of this shooting match.

Your competition was cut short, though, when Tony called your name on his way to the helipad. “Let’s go! We’ve got a party to crash!”

You smirked at his choice of words, it was hardly a party, but you were going to crash it anyway. Bucky reached for your waist as you set your weapon down, pulling your entire body flush with his, his hands firmly holding your hips. “Be careful,” he managed between several greedy, rushed kisses. He swatted your ass as you slipped out of his grip and headed for the helicopter.

“Who won?” Sam hollered, from the other end of the yard.

“Too soon to tell!”

“Damn it, Y/N, I’ve got a free lunch riding on this!” he shouted back, “You better not lose to Regarding Henry over there!”

You shook your head laughing at Sam’s endless supply of disparaging nicknames for Bucky.

“This is serious, Y/N!” He shouted back, “That’s my lunch!”

Fully armed and seated opposite Tony in the helicopter, you peered out of the window as the craft approached the target location. You weren’t at all surprised that Tony would take a phone call seconds from the start of a mission, while the machinery around him clicked his suit into place. You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, but quickly snapped to attention when you heard his greeting.

“Secretary Ross, I’m a little busy, what do you need?”

“Cut the shit, Tony,” Ross’s voice rang through the helicopter’s speakers. You tilted your head with an amused expression at his irritated tone. “Three days ago in Morocco your team was spotted with an unknown acquisition. Who the hell is she? You know we need to be informed of any additions to the Avengers team.”

“Three days ago? Nope, sorry. I don’t know what you mean…”

“Stark, if it’s this mystery bomber from Germany, she’s wanted for questioning.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We took a vacation to see the sights after a very stressful mission in Dresden.”

“Tony, don’t--!”

“Yep, gotta go. Sorry I couldn’t help, sounds like you’re chasing a shadow.” The satisfied grin that lit up Tony’s face as he winked at you was impossible to avoid. You laughed softly, shaking your head in disbelief at Tony’s utter disregard for traditional authority. Admiring it, really.

“You ready?” He nodded toward you, pulling open the door to the helicopter for you. “No galactically stupid and rash decisions right? I really don’t want to have to call Barnes in to pick you up…”

You shoved him lightly backward into the helicopter for his insolent teasing. Before you stepped forward to dive from the helicopter, you turned back to him with an easy grin, “Don’t worry, I’ll be good.”