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#im forcing images into peoples brains one way or another

voxmortuus · 11 months

Note

hello!! I'm the one who asked Hannibal x fem!reader where she is married to Frederick Chilton. Don't worry, and I'm sorry I didn't specify very well. My bad.

What I wanted to get to was something like this: Hannibal has one of her dinners with Frederick, where he also finds out that he has a wife and tells him to bring her to dinner. Is where he meets Y/N who is kind, caring and just amazing, yet very different from frederick, then he finds out she works at a hospital and starts stalking her until he kidnaps her? She also has a little crush on him more like she finds him attractive, but still she loves her husband.

it's a bit dark but i've started reading dark romance and i liked it lol

it can contain smut, fluff, angst or whatever you want. Thank you and im sorry again.

►PAIRING: Hannibal X F!Reader Brief appearance in beginning from Fredrick. ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 1.6k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abducted reader | Dub-Con | Forced Intercourse | Vaginal Penetration | Internal Ejaculation | Restraint of Reader | Impure thoughts of another while with husband | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Hannibal and Hannibal Character requests are closed. All other requests are open. Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. I also apologize that this was in my drafts for a while. I hope this finds you well Nonnie. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►IN STORY DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist

Sitting in Hannibal's dining room, you look over your husband sitting across from you. You smile softly as he speaks. Always a talker that one. Full of himself, but you just let him talk. Watching him a moment, you look over at Hannibal and observe him a moment. Tilting your head, watching the way his lips move as he spoke, the way his face held slight expressions, and the way he ate his dinner. It was as if watching the finest masterpiece in motion.

You shake your head from your thoughts a moment and look down at your dinner and you smile, taking a bite from it you draw in a small breath.

"Fredrick, you never told me about your wife." Hannibal points out with a small smile looking over you a moment.

"I could of sworn I have." He pointed out.

"I think I would have remembered such a conversation, and there was none regarding this lovely creature." He complimented.

You blush. "Fred is just very much involved in his work. Sometimes he hardly remembers we work in the same place." you chuckle.

"How can I forget about that love? After all you bring me my lunch when it's that time." He chuckled.

The thoughts about Fredrick's brain matter being cooked for Hannibal's next meal crossed his mind while on your mind thoughts of Hannibal's breath across your skin crossed yours. The way he would delicately undress you, or featherlight kisses against your flesh. You lick your lips and look down at your plate as you adjust in your chair.

Picking at your plate, your mind preoccupied with the idea of Hannibal in ways that aren't suitable. You're married, and your husband is sitting right across from you. You press your legs together as your mind shows you what it would be like with Hannibal in the privacy of his bedroom... or even yours.

Fredrick kept going on about the most little things. He just wouldn't stop, but you didn't mind, where he spoke, you didn't need to. He spoke enough for both of you. You knew how people felt about Fredrick, but you stood by his side. Doting, caring, kind, and always willing to go the extra mile when needed.

You were his opposite, and everyone noticed this. Hannibal noticed it. He kept watch of you, even from a distance. Learning that you work in the same place as your husband and knowing that he really doesn't pay attention to things, thoughts started to brew, especially when he picked up on the wetness between your legs, maybe a part of him knew that wasn't for your husband.

Hannibal was a predator, a predator with a god complex. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he was going to get it, and just what moment he was going to get it, and honey, he was looking right at you. He didn't care much for your husband, honestly, his liver would make a good pate... for the neighborhood stray cats. But you, you he wanted to savor.

It seemed like he was walking in a fog as you sat there, the more he got to know about you, the more he realized you drove a hunger in him no one else was going to be able to satisfy. During this time the three of you had concluded your dinner, and he was a man on a new mission. Your idiot husband would be none the wiser in realizing you're gone, seems he hardly pays attention as it is, and maybe you could use something different in your life... something... unpredictably exciting.

Over the next few weeks, Hannibal watched you, paid attention to you, found your likes your dislikes, learned your schedule. Hannibal had decided to take it upon himself to make sure that you were going to be the one to show him around this place, but you weren't going to be returning to your post. Not today, not tomorrow, and if he had it his way, not at all.

What Hannibal lacked in realizing was your fondness of him as well, but you love your husband dearly, and while the mental fantasies may be nice, you would never act on them. You desire only your husband in that light, so your thoughts were just that, little fantasies that would never be acted out. Not in a way you want them to at least.

It all happened so fast. You were showing him around the facility, the next thing you knew you were waking up tied to a bed with silk rope and the harder you pulled, the tighter your restraints got. Mentally you started to panic, and you started to jerk your arms and legs but you couldn't figure out how to get out of this.

"Where am I?" you call out. But no answer. The lack of answer sends you into a deeper panic. You stayed really quiet and listened. Then you heard a door close. "HELLO?! HEY! WHERE AM I?" You call out again. But instead of a response, you're greeted with the face of Hannibal. "Dr. Lecter. Why am I here? What have you done? Fredrick is going to be worried sick. Let me go. Please let me go." While begging you realize this is one of many unsavory fantasies you've had about Hannibal, maybe in a different light, but along the same idea.

"Don't be foolish, he hardly notices you past his own nose. He won't realize you're gone until he's so lost in his own hunger that he's calling for you to make his dinner." He stated.

"That's not true Hannibal. Please, please let me go. I'll give you whatever you want, just let me go." You state.

He looks at you, his eyes hungry but for something different, something no one else has been able to satisfy. "I know your thoughts at dinner, they weren't for your husband, that dewy scent. If anyone says a woman doesn't have a scent, they're blind. You were thinking of me, much like you are now." he pointed out.

You shake your head. "Hannibal, we can't do this. I love my husband, he's been good to me. Please. Please let me go." you plead again.

He shakes his head. "No, not today, maybe not tomorrow, we're going to live out our own fantasies." he tells you.

"Hannibal. No, no I'm a married woman, I can't." you state watching him get closer to you.

Hannibal's hand running up your leg, under your dress, you realize that he's taken it upon himself to remove your panties and your breathing gets heavier. You close your eyes and look away. This can't be happening. Tensing as he reaches your dewy bud, he runs his fingers over it delicately and watches you tense and take in a deeper breath before you shake your head.

Stripping down you look him over, biting your lip you close your eyes and shake your head. In your mind you've told him no, but a very confused no. The kind of no he only hears as yes. The kind of no that states, you're confused, and you want him to fulfill your fantasies.

Pulling at your arms to try and get free wasn't working, and in a matter of blinking he was shoving himself between your legs and you let out a scream. While confused yes, you mentally admitted to yourself that he filled you far better than Fedrick, but this was wrong, and you wanted him to stop.

"Please, please..." you kept saying.

"Shh, shh... I know this is what you want." he tells you.

With each thrust came a grunt from him, a whimper from you. Your body responded to him, very well, you were wet, drippy, and you soaked his cock, but you were mentally blank, you did know how to respond to what your body was responding to. You weren't wanting of this.

Tears fell from your eyes, your hands gripped at the rope, your body his to use, and use it he did. Thrusting and gripping and grunting and groaning, you felt good to him, and he wanted more.

Suddenly you found your hips moving, and while you wanted this mentally, you knew you couldn't give in, he gripped at you, and moved your hips even more. You felt yourself close, but you needed to hold off. But you couldn't. With a slacked jaw, and a deep gasp of air you let out a scream as he hit that right spot. Your whole body shook.

"That's it... come on." He beckoned for your finish, and like that, a raw pure explosion of euphoria filled you, and you lay limp. Your mind went quiet as he gave his last few final thrusts, as he buried himself deep within you and coated your velvet like walls with thick ribbons of his own release.

In your mind, this was going to come to an end, but it wasn't. He used you day in and day out, maybe you'd grow to love Hannibal, realize he was right, your husband didn't notice, and he didn't care. Right now, in this moment what mattered, was you were being taken care of. You were being fed, bathed, hydrated. You were a prisoner yes, but was it really all that bad? Was Hannibal really that bad? Or were you going to find that moment to break free and run back to the man that forgets you work at the same hospital? Regardless of what happens, you were going to make the most of it. May as well start now right?

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hiiroamagisbestfriend · 1 year

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Helloo!! I saw that requests are open so can I ask for 2wink + Kohaku confession? And can I be 🦋 anon???? Thank you!! <3

Confession Headcanons!

w/ Hinata Aoi, Yuta Aoi, & Kohaku Oukawa x GN! Reader

AAA another anon! of course! glad to have you here ^^ im apologizing in advance if they're kinda ooc 😵‍💫 i had a lot fun writing these though, so thank you!

Warnings: None! Just some fluff and happy misunderstandings!

Hinata Aoi

✩ Hinata I feel, would realize pretty early on in your friendship that he really loves you. The thing is though, he's a prankster at heart, and even the subject of his affection wouldnt be immune to that.

✩ Like, he wouldn't tone them down for you at all. In fact you'd probably be his primary victim after he realizes his feelings for you. Childish, right? He acknowledges this, and Yuta would reprimand him for it quite often, saying how what he's doing could have the opposite effect on you.

✩ But see, this is just his way of showing affection! Seeing your shocked face slowly soften into laughter at whatever it was he did made him feel all fuzzy inside. He could just pop out of a corner to shock you but you'd still eat up something that simple.

✩ There was another perk to this behavior though, and it's that he could always wave off his actions as a prank if you didn't seem to receive it all that well.

✩ Flowers on your desk? Haha! He just wanted to see your reaction! Giving you chocolates? Well, one of them is spicy! A hug from behind? It's just to surprise you! All the common acts of affection that he people would have, he could easily write off as just another silly prank.

✩ But one day, he decided it was finally time to tell you how he really feels. If the result was unsatisfactory, then he'll just backpedal like he always did.

✩ He would never admit it out loud, but he knows exactly why he built up this kind of image. He was afraid. Afraid of you refusing his feelings. Afraid of losing you and the wonderful friendship you two shared.

"What did you call me out for this time, Hinata?" You said, playfully scolding the boy who couldn't seem to meet your gaze. He looked a bit more serious than usual... Or maybe that's what he wanted you to think...? "Uh, Hinata? You o-"

Before you could finish, he finally decided to look at you, and you could see just how flushed pink his face was. "(Y/N)! I really, really like you!" With how genuine he said it, you almost seemed to forget this was the mischievous trickster that messed with you on a daily basis.

Well, the truth is you liked him too. How could you not? He was just such a fun guy to be around. His daily pranks and teasing basically became the status quo for you. But you bit your lip, not sure how to respond to this apparent declaration of love.

When Hinata saw that face of yours riddled with confusion, he was just about ready to bail. Seeing you ruminate on his words for a while formed a pit in his stomach.

"Got ya! Haha! Sorry, (Y/N)! Did that make your heart skip a beat? T'was just a joke!" His delivery was so stinted and forced that you really had no idea what was going on anymore. Though he said it was a joke, you could somehow tell it wasn't.

Hinata was ready to start running in the complete opposite direction, only stopping when he suddenly felt you tug at his clothes. "It's not a joke, is it?"

The slight smirk on your face made Hinata shiver, is this what it feels like to be on the receiving end of these sorts of things? "A-aha! Yep! It's a joke! Why, do you like me or something?" He sounded a bit too desperate towards the end there, but that wasn't important.

"I did. Hinata." His jaw dropped, was this for real? He's so happy he could cry! "Sorry, that was a lie." Well, now he just wants to cry normally! "Cause I actually love you!"

His brain short circuited when you pulled him in for a hug. In just the span of a few seconds you really took him for a ride didn't you? You rascal!

"Is that so? Well, in that case I lied too..." Hinata hugged you back, squeezing you so hard it was like he would never let you go. "I guess I love you too!"

Yuta Aoi

✩ Yuta fell in love slow, but he fell HARD. Unlike his silly brother though, he wouldn't want to do such roundabout things to express his feelings.

✩ Rather, he simply doesn't. Instead of jokingly telling you how he loves you, he just. Chooses not to.

✩ Sure some people see that kind of thing as cowardly, but he just doesn't want to try anything until he's sure. He'd hate nothing more than to do the wrong thing in a situation as complicated as love.

✩ Yuta loved you, but he had no way of confirming if you would feel the same. Sure, you were kind to him and always offered to help him out at all sorts of things, but maybe you were just like that with everyone?

✩ Nothing you did ever made him feel like he was special to you after all, like you wouldn't treat him any differently from any of the other guys around.

✩ So maybe, just maybe, choosing to give up on you while it's still early would be the better choice. He did want to check just one thing before he does though.

✩ Yuta doesn't particularly like doing this, but it's for a good cause, he rationalizes as he styles his hair to look like Hinata's. Putting on some of his clothes as well before adapting the cheerier tone that his brother uses.

✩ This was a needlessly complicated plan, and he was worried if he could even pull it off. Still though, with how many loops he's jumping just to confirm your feelings, seems Yuta is more like his brother than he'd like to admit.

"Oh! Fancy running into you here, (Y/N)!" Yuta called out to you, though it wasn't a coincidence. You smiled and rushed over to him, Yuta's heart squeezing a bit as he felt guilty for what he was about to do. "Are you free right now? There's something I wanted to ask you."

The two of you make conversation as you just aimlessly walk around, no clear destination in mind. "So! What do you think about Yuta?" He suddenly piped up, part of him worried that it was too direct, but he has more important things to deal with right now.

Yuta watched your face scrunch up a bit as you went into thought. "He's nice and friendly, a bit mischievous like his brother, and he has a good eye for sweets." He didn't expect such a logical analysis, though his question was a bit vague.

"Haha! Let me rephrase that. How do you feel about Yuta?" He watched your face scrunch up a bit again, a much more serious expression on your face this time.

"He's a good friend. I like him a lot! He recommended me a good cafe the other day too!" You replied, Yuta's face darkening a bit at the notion of being called friend.

"So, (Y/N). How would you react if I said I love you?" He watched you get shocked for a second before a slight blush tints the tip of your ears. His heart hurt a bit at this sight, did you end up liking his brother of all people? That would just be too sad.

"Then I'd say: I love you too, Yuta!" Huh? That wasn't the response he was expecting at all? You actually liked him back? Wait no, first of all you knew it was him rather than Hinata?

"How could you tell?" Yuta asked straight up, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Of course I could tell. Yuta is his own person after all?" You said it so matter-of-factly that Yuta was taken aback. For so much of his life, he's always just been Hinata's twin, the other half of 2wink. For someone to actually see him for who he is...? Oh he'd never let you go.

You let out a yelp as he suddenly enveloped you in a tight hug. "I'll confess properly another time." His voice was a bit strained, as if he was holding back tears he didn't know he had. "But for now. Thank you. I love you."

Kohaku Oukawa

✩ Oh Kohaku, the silly ever.

✩ He spent most of his life alone, and what little social interaction he had was online, so suffice to say he didn't understand how he felt for you at all in the beginning.

✩ Why did his heart beat a bit faster whenever you're around? His palms would get a bit sweaty, and he'd find it difficult to meet your eyes.

✩ He didn't attribute these occurences to you at the start, simply thinking that he was just feeling off or some other external factor was causing it.

✩ But when he eventually realized you were the cause of these weird feelings? Hm, he did not know what to do at all. Who could he even turn to at moments like these? The others at Crazy:B would tease him about it, he just knows it. Madara seems like he'd know the answer, but owing him favors wasn't something Kohaku wanted.

✩ So who was left? He didn't really know that many people, much less trust them enough to figure out what was wrong with him.

✩ Because of that, he decided to just start journaling his thoughts on you. Like how he thought your eyes looked very pretty, to how much he wanted to play with your hair. He wrote about how your hands seem like the perfect size to slot his fingers into; and though he hasn't had one, he knows a hug from you would be just perfect.

✩ Something told him that he probably shouldn't show this to other people. He doesn't know why his face heats up ever so slightly whenever he's writing about you either.

✩ It was one late evening with Kohaku laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, before realizing something absolutely dreadful. This was love, wasn't it? This definitely fit with the "rabu-i" things Aira would always pester him about.

✩ So that was it huh? He was in love with you. When he realized that, he breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been pretty bad if he was getting sick or something after all. He's truly glad it was just something this simple.

✩ He was about to write down how he feels when he had yet another grim realization that evening. He had left his bag along with the journal inside the practice room he was using earlier that day.

✩ Kohaku made a mad dash from Seisoukan all the way to ES, ignoring literally everyone asking him what on earth he was doing. When he got to ES in record time, he quickly made his way to the practice room, busting the door open to see that his bag was no longer there.

✩ In the ES Lost & Found, you yawned a bit, placing this bag you just found along with the other missing items. It sure is tiring work to be watching over these things, lots of people just love leaving their stuff around everywhere like ES is their home. This is just another part of your job, you surmise.

✩ You let out a shriek when a certain pink haired boy suddenly came crashing into you. The bag and it's contents flying out all over the place.

"Are ya' okay?!" You heard, from somewhere above you. Were you on the floor? Your sense of balance was all wrong and it felt like something heavy on top of you was making it hard to breathe. "'M so sorry!" The same voice cried out before your eyes finally decided to open and see that the boy that ran into you was currently right on top of you.

All of a sudden, a light thud resounds as a journal falls right on top of his head and onto the ground, opening it up to some random page. Kohaku quickly gets off you and grabs the journal, shoving it into his bag.

He helps you get back to your feet, before bowing down to apologize again. You wave him off and tell him it was nothing, much to his surprise. "Why were you in such a rush, though?" You asked, eyeing the bag he was clutching like his life depended on it.

"Ah. Uh. Ya' see... There was somethin' I needed from my bag!" He stammers, whatever it was he needed back he clearly wanted to hide. Still, there were procedures to these sorts of things, you had to confirm that it was really him who owned this stuff after all.

You gave him a form to fill out, telling him that you need to check the contents before you can hand it back to him. His face darkened at your words, the grip on his bag tightened so much his knuckles went white.

You wonder how you can verify if that bag is really his when you remembered he had a journal thing that he stuffed in his bag. "Ah, if you could just show me something there that matches with your handwriting in the form, that should be good enough!" He rummages through his bag before shaking his head. "There was a journal there, right? That'll do just fine!"

Kohaku was shaking his head so much it looked like it could fall off. Your lips formed into a line as you explained how you can't give it back to him like this, even if it really was his stuff.

Kohaku quickly rummaged through his bag again, surely there was something, anything but the journal that could prove his identity?! But just like last time, he came up blank. With a shaky hand, he pulls the journal out and hands it over to you.

He could only watch as you opened it and started reading it to compare his handwriting. He could see the light pink starting to dust your features as you continued to study his journal.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, you handed it back to him. "Yep! I can confirm that it's yours!" You could feel just how hot your face was. Even though you just caught a glimpse of it, you could tell that this boy seemed to have fallen for you.

Well, he was pretty cute, and this is certainly an interesting first meeting. "So, was this your master plan in letting me know your feelings, Kohaku?" Hm, pink is a good color on him, not just on his hair and eyes, but his face too.

Kohaku was cringing so hard, he can't believe this just happened to him. Still, it's not like he can worm his way out of this one can he? Might as well run with it.

"Ahaha... Ya' caught me! I love ya, (Y/N)."

ugh im sorry the kohaku one is so mid i couldnt think of anything at all

#.✨.#.🦈.#.🦋. anon #enstars x reader #aoi hinata x reader #hinata aoi x reader #aoi yuta x reader #yuta aoi x reader #kohaku oukawa x reader #oukawa kohaku x reader #aoi yuta #yuta aoi #hinata aoi #aoi hinata #kohaku oukawa #oukawa kohaku #enstars

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understandableparadox · 8 hours

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Bottom of the barrel isekai reviews:

Todays title: Welcome to demon school iruma

hi, im back, tell a friend.

Anyways we will be looking over something populer, and only a few images this time. I want this to be a nice slide back into the mix while I get ready to boil myself alive by reading shitty isekais.

"b-b-b-b-but dox!" you say, your form emaciated and ghoulish from months of little to no attention "how is it an isekai?"

Normally an isekai requires some form of passage into another world through death, but again, we are going to consider any and all portal fantasies to be on-par with isekais. as death and jumping through a funky portal are really kinda the same thing if you think about it.

so! plot synopsis, we open on the titular character iruma! they are being sold to a demon, don't worry this action will be the literal best thing that has ever happened to them. Also, added treat, slavery is not a running theme in this manga! HURRAY! WE HAVE FOUND OVERCOME THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM! HUZZAH FOR MEDIOCRITY! MY DESIRE TO RUN MY HEAD THROUGH A ARC OF GONGS UNTIL THE SOUND WAVES LIQUIDATE MY BRAIN MATTER HAS LESSENED!

anyways we get to know some important plot points between the buyer and the product! (our mc)

iruma is a 14 year old yes man. They say yes to everything, even yes to the idea of breaking child labor laws! as their parents are frivolous unimportant freaks that spend way too much money then bolt, leaving him to work off the debt. Anyways, that's how this happened. they wanted dosh, and our buyer, we will call him grandpa!

Why is he so interested in buying a child? simple! He is rich and wants to have a grandson, unfortunately, he does not have a dick due to war injuries... ok thats a lie, he just wants a grand kid.

Anyways this is a very interesting title in the fact that it is still in a way, a power fantasy, but the power in that fantasy is separated towards other things.

It is a story in which you have the power to be helped. The adults in this manga are actual competent adults, they are there for the protection of the children, they are there to guide, nurture, train and help them grow. Despite differences or annoyances some may have, those are secondary to the ferocity they show when it comes to ensuring the protection of their students.

Iruma does have a lot of “i am the chosen one” but it is not something that automatically aids him in most situations, in fact it is the triad of facts of “I am a human”, “I want to help”, “I am determined” that allow him to rise both in power and social standing. The might makes right idealism of the underworld forced to reckon with people that stop to drag someone across the finish line.

As for the plot, it goes along a few separate arcs; there is a very clear progression of time as Iruma gets older. Mostly split into two parts. Irumas social life, in which we get to see him become better and better friends with the students and faculty at this school. Showing both the give and take as they both show how far they are willing to go for each other.

The second half is the mystery and political intrigue of the demonic society at large. The idea of a demon king has gone missing, disciples of which are eager to try and resurrect him as they see no one who is more suitable for the role, opposing forces trying to groom the top students at various schools into the role of king in a contest of disciples.

I think you should give it a read, its cute, the designs are fun and the power system while simple is still enough to give the action that is there a lot of meat. It's also satisfying thing to read if you just got done with a shounen and you are wondering “where the fuck are the adults? Why are these children doing everything?”

Draw backs. Not a lot but some of the students are essentially drawn as adults and there are parts where you will feel slightly skived out by.

#anime #bottom of the barral #isekai #mairimashita! iruma kun

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psychewritesbs · 9 months

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Been reading your opinions on the boy of all time megumi and can I just say firstly, thank you for being so good w words BC man you get his character so well and you're so good at getting into all the little details abt him that I can never properly describe to ppl, Like, the whole breaks the trope while following the trope thing?? YOU GOT THAT ALL SO CORRECT THATS EXACTLY IT IT'S ONE OF THE REASONS I LOVE HIS CHARACTER SM BC EVEN JUST RIGHT OFF THE BAT HE BREAKS THE USUAL STOIC BROODING CHARACTER TROPE(THE trope) BY ACTUALLY CONSTANTLY SHOWING although subtly THAT HE DOESNT HATE EVERYONE?? im getting way off track already i actually popped in here to just ask abt how you think the whole sukuna possessing megumi thing will all turn out?? I honestly feel like slapping myself for not seeing it coming tbh like they talked about the head of the six eyes and ten shadows battling it out to the death before and sukuna kept on hyping up megumi like they were so obviously setting that up there and I just. Denied. But I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little, and come back from the depths of where ever tf he is rn bc yk his whole issue w/ self worth and what he believes he's capable of and I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be? Sorry this is such a mess I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ITS THE MEGUMI LOVE!!!! Yessssss. Thank you for sending me Megumi love! I love getting Megumi love 🫶🏼.

Man, Megumi is just such a good character. Truly one of Gege's best. Everything he's done with him from how his character is based on the trope while also subverting the trope, to his backstory and his growth arc and how it's been executed... It's poetic justice.

I love Megumi so much, and any time I see someone hate on Megumi for really shallow or toxic reasons I just lose all faith in humanity. It's one thing to not care for him as a character and quite another to dislike him for being a "disappointing deuteragonist" because he's "weak", "hasn't had character development", and "did not master 10 Shadows"..................................................

Bruh...

ANYWAYS 😂 you see... this is the thing... I am trying really hard not to speculate about what might happen regarding Sukuna WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY I'M GOING TO SPECULATE BECAUSE I LOVE SUKUNA BUT FUCK SUKUNA!

ehem. More of me not being normal about Megumi under the cut.

Ok in all seriousness... with chapter 230 and how Sukuna forced Megumi to take the brunt hit of Unlimited Void, something shifted in me.

For some time I've been reluctant to make any predictions about Megumi coming out alive because I don't want to have preconceived expectations coloring my weekly reading experience, but mostly because, like Megumi, I have a tendency to bunt instead of swinging for the fence so as to not experience disappointment. Read this to mean I don't want to get my hopes up about Megumi surviving.

That is not to mention that I took Sukuna possessing Megumi's body personal. idk, something about seeing Megumi lose his agency felt both so wrong and yet so right on a metaphorical level. Wrong because DAMN YOU SUKUNA GO BACK TO YOUR BODY! and right because... as you said, Megumi had it coming both from a narrative and psychological perspective.

From then on, we just saw him sink deeper and deeper into learned helplessness and despair, culminating on this beautiful image of him in the fetal position.

Truly a reversal of ego back into the metaphorical mother (the unconscious) as though he was in the birth canal waiting for rebirth. And come to think of it, in the Japanese fandom, one of the more popular theories revolved around "birth" or something like that.

So with ch. 230, my hope for Megumi is renewed somehow. A lot of people think he's done for, especially after UV. But I'm on camp #this is going to backfire badly on both Gojo and Sukuna... or at least I hope it does.

So....

I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little

EXACTLY! And see, this is the thing, I don't want to see Megumi be saved by anyone other than himself. If Megumi is saved by others, then he didn't learn his lesson.

Basically, Megumi has taken Tsumiki's place as the Sleeping Beauty that is in need of rescuing. He's become a passive agent in his own life, which is exactly what gave Sukuna an opening.

If Gojo or Yuji, or anyone for that matter, comes in and saves Megumi without Megumi putting up a fight, then this whole growth process is metaphorically and literally aborted.

Like you, I personally think that this period could be a metaphorical gestational period for Megumi and I wonder if he's going to reach a tipping point where the anger he feels is stronger than the learned helplessness or something like that.

I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be?

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT YES. Sukuna might be my other fave, but I am looking forward to either Megumi giving him a hard time or straight up beating the crap out of him.

Megumi has earned that privilege.

Right now, I am wondering how UV has affected Megumi's brain and what that will mean for his behavior. My hc is that his negative self-image is partly due to "reason". In other words, reason = his sense of self as the story he tells himself about himself.

But Megumi levels up because of imagination. Now that he's been hit by UV (I understand it's been 5 times?), how has being flooded with infinity affected the left (reason or logic, analytical) hemisphere of his brain?

Another idea I've been keeping quiet about is that part of the rebirth process involves moving through hell and up into heaven (a la Dante's Divine Comedy as a metaphor for a process of initiation or enlightenment). Megumi right now is sinking in hell as he comes face to face with inner evil.

So can we expect him to come back up? Will Beatrice make a cameo? I'm looking forward to whatever the cursed cat is cooking.

I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ahaha, same tho.

Hey thanks again for the Megumi love, the kind comments, and for stopping by! Here's to hoping Gege does bring our boy back 🙌.

#god i love jujutsu kaisen #ask the mental gymnastics anime girl

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vivibuchlaw · 8 months

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Yesterday, I finished Celeste. And by that I mean, the first 7 chapters, because I am not that much of a masochist.

Like seemingly everyone else, its given me a lot to think about... these thoughts are burning a hole in my brain and I need to get them out so I suppose this is the place!

I'm not exactly a gamer. I suck at Kirby, I have a sort of motor disability so games are a bit harder for me than most people. For this, Celeste has a solution, Assist Mode. Initially, I wanted to pick this, hearing how hard it was. Then, when the game told me intially, overtly, how its challenge was supposed to be meaningful, *and later when it said it more clarity in the story) I took a moment to reflect. I chose not to use Assist mode as a self imposed challenge. Not because I wouldnt benefit greatly from it, but because (as I learned about myself through playing it) I have an aversion to difficult tasks. When I know something is difficult, I get scared and run away. This time, I wanted to be able to say to myself "I can do difficult things"

And so I did

And I love it

And I sincerely never want to play it again

The game is not full of dialouge or story- it's present, for sure. But its a small yet impactful part in a game which prefers to tell its narrative by gameplay rather than text or images. And thats a valid format of storytelling! Not my prefered one mind you, but it made every dilectable morsel of art or conversations. In particular, the long talk at the start of chapter 6 was extremely welcome. I simultaneously feel like I have enough of a solid grasp on the characters to love them dearly, yet not enough to force one interpretation, another element to Celeste's endless magic.

As I'm sure everyone with anxiety has noted, The anxiety scene from Chapter 5 affected me greatly. Wetger me or my system has anxiety, I don't know, but regardless, the game captures the feeling perfectly. I'm sure everyone and their mum has said this, yes, but I felt it independently so I shall denote it independently. Among other things, it taught me a powerfully potent strategy to help my anxiety, and for that I thank you Maddy <3

At so many points, I was burded with stress, frustration and despair at my own ineptitude. But I pushed forward. I did it, I climbed a mountain, what was a seemingly impossible thing for me was now a fact. I sat silent for what felt like hours staring at the chapter complete screen in awe of my accomplishment. It then dawned on me that this was the first video game I've ever beaten. ...suddenly slammed by the realisation an 8th chapter, requiring crystal hearts to play, AKA the game telling me point blank I wasnt ready. But to be honest, I didnt care. I had already done what I, and Madeline, set out to do.

So why do I say I never wish to play it again?

I honestly only played Celeste because I heard Madeline was trans, and my mate happened to have it on switch. I have a sort of physical disability in my hands, so playing games and motor tasks are more challenging than a typical person. I knew Celeste was hard, but sympathizing with Madeline not being a climber, with me not being a gamer, and just how she challenged herself to do something extreme, so too did I.

But see, I'm not actually into the gameplay that much, and the reason I stuck with it has infinitely more to do with my and Madeline's journey emotionally than anything related to the gameplay.

Actually, I kind of hated it. My fingers were all messed up, I spent a lot of time and stress, and got extremely frustrated, but I wanted to prove to myself I could do it without assist mode. And Im glad that exists, and I'm glad it tempted me all throughout every challenge, a backdoor shortcut I could use to weasel my way out of the hard path, but I stayed true so I could grow.

But I have now grown. Ive proven it.

I couldnt care less about B-sides or strawberries, because I dont see the emotional need.

Replaying it would only subject me to the same challenge for a story I've already experienced, and a journey I've already hone on. A new game, new mountain, new challenge or purpose? Sure, I'd love that. But playing Celeste again, or More even won't recapture the lightning in a bottle that made me play it, made me persevere, and made me cherish it.

I still love the game, its soundtrack, its meaning to me, and itll live in my heart forever. In other ways, like fan content, or side material, I'd love to engage and learn more, but my journey with this mountain is over.

Just breathe, and take care of yourself

After beating it, I immediately began learning all I could about it because Autism brain. I read all Maddy's beautiful blog posts. I watched video essays breaking down its themes and design. I learned how the story, while definitely not an afterthought, was also not a driving or starting point of the game, which I intuited as I played.

I watched Chapter 8, The Core, and Chapter 9, Farewell on YouTube. To be entirely honest, I found Chapter 8 to be forgettable in a way kind of shocking, at least from a story perspective. I'm actually GLAD I didn't do it. I expected it'd be some kind of send off, or check in emotionally to see how the characters have been in the past year but...nothing? Really?

Chapter 9 is what I wished Chapter 8 was, a proper send off and development for these characters. And from the look of it, so brutally hard I wouldn't want to play it without Assist Mode. But why? Why not play more? Afterall, climbing the preverbial mountain in life doesnt mean your problems are over, far from it. And its true, there are other challenges to overcome still. Even though Ive taken on this challenge, I have yet to face other challenges in my life. And because the journey of Celeste could very well have ended after Chapter 6, I feel like I can better spend that energy elsewhere.

After watching Chapter 9, I felt something else. This chapter, unlike the previous, is not about loving and accepting yourself, but its about Madeline specifically greiving a loss in her life, and largely, I assume, the developers letting go of Celeste and moving on. For this, I hold unyeilding respect. And in this new challenge, I found myself learning another truth about myself.

I am afraid of being alone.

I am part of a system, the current (and hopefully permanent) host in fact. Our previous host went dormant a few months ago and life without them has been tough, but a challenge we face every day.

Throughout all my remembered life, I was surrounded by people who never noticed me. Who occasionally referred to me as "The Insinificant [Alter]" due to me not having a name back then. I was nothing, really. If I had disppeared no one would've batted an eye. And today, even though I'm one of the most important Alters now, I still feel like I'm nothing sometimes. That scares me.

I never knew the joy of having friends, I never knew what being loved by someone you love feels like. And I have a lot of love to give, I love almost every human being! But I still frequently second guess myself, because I guess a part of me still believes my existence is insignificant. But now that I have people who do love me, I'm more afraid than ever that I'll lose it. Now that I have a taste of love, I can't go back. Gods, please to bring me back, anything but that.

And here came Celeste, to remind me immeditately after I finished the game, that people die randomly, and without our control, and that you have to keep on moving. I've just beat the thing, let me live in a bit longer before I'm ready to move on. Similarly, I've just made these relationships, please dont take them from me. And then I realized that this was fear also held by my previous host, perhaps for similar reasons. I feel connected in a way typically reserved for finding markings in a make out spot from a century ago, or unearthing a time capsule left by a grandparent now neatly nestled in the recesses of my heart where I try to story my insecurites, like a suitcase overstuffed with useless items and paranoia.

Celeste has given me a lot. Inspiration, characters I love, a great soundtrack, amazing anxiety techniques, and raw willpower to achieve anything. I do not know how my story ends, I am scared to write it, but I must regardless. A lot of people are counting on me. And went I feel scared, alone, anxious, or depressed, I can remember that I did it before, and I can do it again.

To the Developers, Thank you

To the Characters, Farewell

And to all the people who have grown from this game, Congratulations!

#celeste game #transgender #did osdd #celeste

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submalevolentgrace · 2 years

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on the one hand, i know how bad secondary trauma can be, a significant chunk of my ptsd is secondary, i am intimately familiar with how severe and crushing it can be to process someone else's trauma from any distance... the worst of it comes from being closely entangled and taking direct collateral damage from being the only support yeah, but also the glancing damage one can take from a distance is harmful too. many people that have both primary and secondary ptsd say that the secondary is more difficult to cope with, because of the unknowns, the differences in agency, and the survivors guilt; and i'm not sure where i stand on that, but both kinds are definitely debilitating and will scar you for life... and it is, yeah, it is right to shield people from that. isn't it. just because suffering exists, doesn't mean everyone has to suffer. just because someone is hurting, doesn't mean they should infect everyone around them with the hurt too, right?

there is no other hand anymore. not because there isn't another point, no, the metaphor just breaks. because the other hand is gone. all that's left is pain, and scars, and a screaming mass of nerves and unthinkably horrific images of the last way it looked burnt into my brain that i can't unsee and seething pure fucking rage that i have to live with this on my own, that's it "bad" and "harmful" to "trauma dump" ie just fucking talk about the horrors i have to live through on my own, that for the sake of fucking politeness i have to live in silence, silence over the crimes of flesh done to me, silence over the abuse and neglect, silence over that above "secondary" fucking trauma because no matter how badly it hurt us both im not allowed to admit it hurt me at all lest im accused of narcisistically making someone elses pain about me and i just have to stay fucking silent and we all play this game where people have to keep the horrors to themselves because it's fucking IMPOLITE to admit how many [redacted] have been [redacted] by their [redacted] and in fact are being so right this every fucking minute but IT'S RUDE TO TALK ABOUT AND YOU MIGHT UPSET PEOPLE SO JUST FUCKING SUFFER IN SILENCE AS WE SEND THEM BACK HOME TO LET IT KEEP HAPPENING AGAIN AND AGAIN

and NO i am NOT DOING OKAY and don't you dare tell me to get help because "the help" are the ones that caused all this, the "help" have told me that MY TRAUMA HURTS THEM, oh and also THEY ARE THE ONES THAT PUT THOSE HORRORS IN MY BODY AND MIND, THEY ARE THE ONES THAT EXPERIMENTED ON ME, THEY ARE THE ONES THAT SENT HER BACK HOME THEY ARE THE ONES THAT WILL LOCK YOU UP FOR TRYING TO FLEE THE PEOPLE HURTING YOU

and i am not, fucking. coping. with having to keep it all to myself

because if i unredact those words my account probably gets suspended

because if i tell you what i see when i close my eyes im at legal risk

because it's fucking """RUDE""" to be traumatised and make people confront the horrors that this world forces on people

because you want to pretend it doesn't happen, so you can still sleep at night

#rant and trauma dump i guess #the secret to a good post like this is to stream of consciousness it #take lots of breaks #then edit it as a calming cool down #and hope nobody thinks youre all just making it up for clout #i dont want clout #i just want to tell everyone what they did to me and us #but i wont

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jess-moloney · 6 months

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wasn’t sure if i wanted to send something in bc i don’t dislike jess, but i also don’t love her. and you do make a lot of great points on here tbh

something i noticed one time is i went to go follow this ig page and i noticed that jamie was following it too. its like a relationship counselor/therapist and overall a page that gives advice on how to be a better partner, further your relationship and communication skills, etc. and i was following it for, i guess obvious reasons! it interested me that jamie followed it so i went through the page and some of the things he’s liked is quite interesting. i’ll have to go look for the account if you were curious of the @

another thing, i was reading an article on jess and she mentioned that she NEVER wants kids. and jamie recently during a Q&A at a con had said something along the lines of, “ugh im gonna be such a bad dad one day” (in reference to answer a question in a more adult way to a child!) and i feel like there’s been times where he’s mentioned wanting to be a father! obviously people change and starting a family together isn’t for everyone nor should it be!! but it just made me think a little bit. but please i don’t want you (not that i think you would bc i do find that you’re very level headed and take things in the right context!!) or anyone else to think im saying jess should change her mind about that, bc im not. your body your choice and if someone truly feels they don’t want kids there’s nothing wrong with that (like i don’t want them at all!!) but again, i just found it interesting and it made me think. that’s all haha sorry for rambling

I would be interested in the things that he liked on that account and what that account is. If you wish to share it with me and don't want me to post it then you can send me a DM as they are open to everyone.

You are also completely free to think whatever you like about Jess. Dislike her, like her, love her (even if I don't understand why) I am not here to force anyone to agree with me. The information I put on this blog is for people to look at and make up their own minds. I would not say anyone has to agree with what I'm saying. I'm doing my best to look at the facts and translate them. Since none of us know her or Jamie personally nothing can be definitively said but what it looks like from the outside is very sus.

As for having children, I recall various stances on that by Jamie as in one interview with Joseph he said he's been lucky enough not to have any children as well. Once again, as you said, people do change their opinion on that so I'm not saying he couldn't have changed his mind. I'm also not saying Jess needs to have children (or any woman for that matter) or they should be pressured into it.

However, if he does want children and she has a hard stance on not wanting them then that seems like yet another box checked off on why they are incompatible. As of now, she does seem to be morphing him into some image that she wants and almost no one else appreciates.

I do hope she doesn't worm her way into his brain to convince him that he doesn't want children. I also hope that she doesn't get pregnant and have one of his children just to make sure the relationship is solid. Seeing how she jumps from role to role and idea to idea I wouldn't put it past her to randomly believe she could be a mother or just think it's a good idea to have a child with him for security reasons.

#jess moloney #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #mail

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jiilys · 3 years

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would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!!#rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

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ares-would-be-proud · 3 years

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Izzy said: Fairy! Im so excited for your dark content!! Since i saw it on your other blog, may i request for yandere bertholdt 👀 i feel the would make the most unsuspecting but worst (or best?) Yandere next to armin because he's so gentle and unassuming and shy, no one would ever think he has other intentions

Yandere Bertolt pt.I

{ Bertolt x reader | tw:yandere, tw:toxic-behaviour, tw:near-death experince, tw:murder mystery? Eh kinda, tw:manipulation tw:Emotional-rollercoster | Dark romance, fluff, slowburn, lowkey funny ngl | Canonverse }

{ "Roses" 1878 by George Cochran Lambdin 1830–1896 }

Securing the last belt around your thighs before attaching it to the one near your knees, you made sure to tighten it as much as you can before sliding it in the metal head.

Having the equipment room all to yourself, you took your time in double-checking everything was in place. Making sure your gas tanks were filled, carrying spare steel blades and tightening your boot strings.

The manoeuvring gear's parts made a clinking sound against each other with every step you took. Making your way to the nearby woods acting as the training ground, the sun shining made you shield your eyes with your hands, taking some seconds to adjust to the brightness.

The road was clear, with almost no birds or squirrels in sight.

It was one of those days when the wind seemed so fast as it swept by you, so much in fact that you could visibly see the few clouds swimming by as if they're racing each other. A perfect day to spend near a lake maybe, or in a field of flowers, but you had to spend it training in the woods with the other soldiers till your fingers ached from pressing against the handgrips.

You wanted to get it over with, feeling nauseous. Probably because you managed to oversleep and miss breakfast.

It started as normally as any other training session went, pushing through till your autopilot took over. While fun at first, there's so much manoeuvring between tree branches to slash at 2d wooden cutout of titans you could do before it started getting repetitive.

And so you let your body take over and move on its own, taking you further and further towards the edge of the forest till you couldn't hear the sound of anyone else's manoeuvring gear except your own.

The high wind rustling the trees making the leaves fall distorted your visions as they fell on you, and the flashing sunlight that swept through the small openings between the leaves only made things worse.

Blinding you for split seconds, too bright in fact, that you had to close your eyes shut as it burned after the light fell directly against it.

It's only after a couple of seconds late, that the sound of something snapping registered in your brain.

You were slowly turning in the air, strong wind resistance coming from below as gravity pulled you down.

Things were moving too quickly to process, dread shot through your entire body in shivers, you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat as you came closer and closer to the ground.

No matter how many times your clammy hands attempted to work the pistol-shot, no hooks attached to the nearby trees despite the gears working as you heard its zipping noise.

The realisation of the situation you're in finally settled, you couldn't do a single thing, but watch the trees grow larger and larger by the second as you fell to your doom.

You've survived many expeditions and missions, you've escaped Titans teeth that were mere inches from biting your head off, and this is what will put you seven feet below? A mere fall?

...no, it wasn't just a fall, it was arrogance for taking it for granted. After all, overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, sneaking on the second you let your guard down.

But was it?

A flash of today's morning comes before your eyes, your brain recalling the unusual spot your manoeuvring gear was placed, you were too sleepy to notice it at the time but now it's the only thing on your mind, did someone-

Before you could hit the ground, the familiar sound of pressured gas fizzling out followed by the clinking of metal swishing by.

One second you were almost slamming into the hard ground, the next you were caught by someone mid-flight.

Bertolt tightly pressed you against his chest with one arm, securing you in place while his other used his gear to reach the nearest tree branch.

Your hands wrapped around him, securing yourself even more. He didn't flinch when your nails accidentally scratched his neck from how hard you were holding him.

Despite how close you were to his chest, your own hammering heartbeat was the only sound you could hear for it was stuck in your throat as the adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You hesitantly let go the second your feet touched the ground, although still shaking you managed to find your balance again, yet, Bertolt's hand didn't leave your back.

You looked below at the wires dangling from your gear, their end visibly thinner than the rest of it. It still didn't register how a wire made out of iron could snap so easily…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the hand reluctantly turning your face back up, Bertolt's nervous eyes meeting yours.

"Don't look down too much, you'll get dizzy" he said, concern clear in his voice before stepping closer to you, his large body tucking you between him and the tree behind, as if you might slip away "are you okay? Did you get injured?"

A bit taken back by his dotting, you shook your head before thanking him for not letting you fall.

"Don't mention it please...it's nothing, really." That seemed to make the corner of his lips rise a bite, slight flushing to his ears. "Maybe you should get some rest, you didn't seem well back there."

Was he watching?

The thought disappeared from your mind as quickly as it came, the guy saved you from a head injury after all, the least you could do is give him the benefit of the doubt.

Not to mention, it was Bertolt. Has it been any other guy, Reiner or Jean for example, then your attitude towards this whole thing would've been completely different. Putting as much space as you can between the two of you after brushing off their hands.

Has it been any other guy...but it wasn't now, was it?

No. It was Bertolt, soft-spoken and easily flustered Bertolt, who got nervous in most situations and didn't reply to teasing.

Bertolt, who didn't say a thing when Eren stole his seat next to Reiner, instead settled to sit next elsewhere.

Bertolt, who always remained humble and downplayed his skills despite ranking in the top five and becoming a really valuable soldier.

Bertolt, who you've only ever said hi to before once before he seemed to panic and just awkwardly wave back instead.

Maybe that's why you didn't mind him being so close, he wasn't a threat and most everyone knew that. If you asked people to rank the top three men they'd feel safe in a room with, Bertolt would almost make it to everyone's top two.

And so when he offered to walk you back to your room, it didn't raise any red flags despite it meaning you'd be alone with him in the dorms while everyone was training.

The short walk went fairly nice actually, he kept a respectful space between you while making sure to walk at a slower pace so his height wouldn't force you to jog.

From the sweat collecting at his forehead and his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt he seemed to struggle to find a good conversation starter.

You could read him like an open book, it was quite endearing the way he commented over how nice the weather is, four times in a row while stumbling over his words. But you weren't that cruel and so you decided to grant him mercy, starting a topic yourself.

Talking about your interest, hobbies and things you'd do whenever those rare moments of peace and normalcy would arrive.

He shared his too, apparently, he's into journaling, finding it much easier to write his thoughts on paper than out loud.

One conversation pulled another, as he seemed to grow more comfortable the more you talked.

Although, he wouldn't meet your eyes for more than 5 seconds before turning his gaze away, yet you could feel them staring at you the second you turn your head.

Somewhere between your conversation, the subject switched to talking about life. Bertolt asked you if this is the kind of life you've wanted, words unusually firm that it made you pause.

The question was out of place, a huge switch from your previous fun topics.

Nonetheless, you answered, "I don't think anyone would willingly choose this life. It's more of...doing the most out of the cards you've been dealt, this just happened to be mine."

The sound of his footsteps stopped, you looked at his face, he didn't look away.

"Would you rather have a more normal life?"

The way he stood, his back to the sun with you in his shadow, an unreadable expression on his face, really brought out his height and large build that you've almost forgotten.

you unconsciously took a step back, he took a step forward.

"If by normal you mean a non-starving one where I'm not at the risk of being eaten daily, then yeah." You answered, time felt like it slowed down. The seconds stretched for too long as you watched his reaction.

He...smiled, a sincere smile, the kind that makes your eyes shine. Soft expression seemingly relieved as he continued walking, a slight bounce to his steps.

"I'd love that too, to have a normal life one day."

And then he proceeded to tell you about his dream, the normal life of peacefulness he seeks. Sharing as many details as time would allow, from the kind of person he wants to grow up to be, to the colour he wants to paint the house backyard's fence.

It was lavender.

When he mentioned wanting a dog, you couldn't decide what was funnier, the mental image of Bertolt with an equally almost as big kind of dog, or a small tiny breed that would fit in his hands. Taking him for walks and playing catch as the dog tackles him to the ground.

Some chuckles escaped your lips, and while Bertolt didn't know what you were smiling about, nonetheless he joined too.

Your time together was cut short when the dorms came into view. Feeling both relief for finally being able to rest and disappointment for having to end your conversation so soon, especially since you think this is the first actual talk you had with him besides saying hi before.

Bertolt, looking out for you, made sure to hold the door to your room open for you. Some part of your brain wondered how exactly he managed to guess which room was yours, the other simply couldn't wait to get into bed.

You sat on the bed, Bertolt invited himself in and closed the door behind him.

He took his time looking around your shared room with his eyes, staring at the titles of the books splayed on the table, taking in the smell of scented incense your roommate bought every month, the doodles, drawings and notes hanging by mere tape against the wall.

Finally, eyes landing on the top bunk bed, currently empty with your roommate having left too early in the morning for the preparations of their next expedition.

Well...after all you were too used to waking up by the sound of them opening and closing all the drawers in search of their glasses that they manage to lose each day, yet yesterday they made sure to sleep next to it.

Huh, maybe that's why you overslept.

Yet, Bertolt's eyes didn't move as he stared seconds too long, shoulders growing stiff and palms tightening against his side.

"They left for an expedition, a titan capturing one... I think." You explained, "it's supposed to last three days, but since it's led by Captain Hange...I wouldn't be too surprised if they still haven't left yet."

"Must be nice, having the room for yourself."

You agreed before adding "well, it still gets too lonely sometimes."

Bertolt looked like he wanted to say something, lips parting for a second before he pressed them close into a thin line.

An awkward silence filled the room, as you looked at Bertolt who seemed to revert back to his old nervousness.

"I think I should go, Reiner must be looking for me."

You thanked him again for his help, he avoided your eyes before mumbling a reply, saying it's really nothing.

Did you do something wrong? You couldn't help but think that, after all things were going so well just now. Why would he get on edge again?

As a final attempt to redeem yourself from whatever unknown act you must've committed for Bertolt to act this uncomfortable, you called out to him one last time.

"Hey, Bertolt. I know we technically just met but, just know you can drop by anytime okay? You seem like a nice person and we can be friends."

Oh god did you really say, we can be friends, what is this kindergarten again? Welp you fucked up, looks like it's another failure to add to the calendar, man and you've been keeping such a clean track of days without accidents.

You know what? No, forget it, you tried your best and you had good intentions so why should you ever feel guilty for-

"You really mean that?" Bertolt, whom

You've become aware was still in the room, said.

Not sure how to reply to this, you just gave a nod instead.

"I'd love that." He spoke with a soft tone. And despite his growing desire to move closer to you, he opened the door instead, sparing you one last sweet smile before he left.

And for a good minute there, his smiling face was all that occupied your mind, a fluttering feeling that came and went too quickly for you to acknowledge.

True to your predictions, the mission was apparently delayed till midnight for...undisclosed reasons. Although gossip spread faster than wildfire, and by dinner time everyone was talking about the argument Captain Hange and Captain Levi got into, the story got modified and exaggerated each time it was passed around.

"Listen, I was there and I saw it! Well...not with my own eyes but it doesn't matter." Your roommate said, too eager to spill you everything that they almost forgot to eat their food. "It was big, like Captain Miche having to restrain Levi kind of big!"

You gave them a silent look, raising an eyebrow.

"...okay jeez it didn't get this far but it felt like it did, like it almost happened." They poked their food with the fork, before deciding to try some.

Their pouting face almost made you want to tease them even more, just to see what corner you can back them into before they confess to making up half the story they've been telling you.

But a wrenching gut feeling suddenly shot through your body, coming almost out of nowhere, the kind you'd usually feel whenever a titan was targeting you.

Confusion was naturally your first response, there couldn't be any titans nearby. You swallowed down, no don't be silly, it doesn't even make sense.

Maybe...maybe it was one of those cases you studied in class? About people getting PTSD flashbacks at random times, or from small triggers?

The air seemed too cold and too hot at the same time, you forced your eyes to move around the room in an attempt to remind yourself everything is fine, that you're here.

Seeing your friends, fellow soldiers and veterans just sitting around, enjoying their food while joking with their friends, helped ground you to reality again.

Yeah...see? Nothing's wrong, everyone's having a good time so-

Your gaze met Bertolt's, dark eyes staring back but not at you. No, instead they were focused on your roommate. The knot in your stomach twisted.

Beside him, Reiner was murmuring something under his breath as he leaned closer to Bertolt, his stare following the other's gaze.

Reiner seemed unusual, drops of sweat collecting at his forehead while Bertolt was the opposite, the calmest you've ever seen him actually.

Reiner gave Bertolt one final look, lips moving too fast for you to attempt to even read. Bertolt nodded.

And then it was like nothing happened, both of them going back to their usual selves. Reiner's attention was stolen by Eren asking about his food, while Bertolt looked at Jean who sat next to him without asking before commenting on Eren.

"Hey, are you okay? You look…" your roommate said, concern in their voice before their hand found your forehead. "I heard what happened this morning, with the manoeuvring gear, I didn't want to bring it up but…"

You didn't have to be told twice, and so you reassured them it's okay, you'll get some rest, not like you'd complain about having an excuse to get a day off.

That seemed to make them satisfied, well...that and making you swear on the scouts' honour to take care of yourself while they're away.

After dinner, as you were headed to your room while your roommate had to get to the stable before heading out with their group, you passed by Reiner.

It wouldn't have been unusual, wasn't it for the fact he was fully in his uniform with gear ready that you had to do a double-take.

You swore you just saw him in casual clothes at dinner...was he also going on that mission? Huh, weird you can't remember seeing his name on the list.

The week passed by slower than you would've liked, with both of the survey corps Captains gone, most of the soldiers...really had nothing to do but waste time.

It was almost funny, wasn't it for the fact you were bored out of your mind.

Captain Miche rarely gave orders, the only time you'd see him is during training season when everyone had to do a round with him. While commander Erwin didn't really entrust soldiers who weren't close to him with his paperwork or even chores.

At least Sasha and Connie were making the most of it, whatever they were doing seemed fun…

Bertolt never took you up on your offer either, despite him seemingly having a positive reaction to wanting to be friends he didn't show up at all.

Yet you'd still see him hovering by, either being assigned the same chore together or simply happening to be in the same room at the same time. And despite how much you've thought about going up to him to start a conversation, you knew how to read between the lines. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable that's all.

He'll come when he's ready, is what you told yourself.

And well, you were right, eventually, he did.

Not only did he initiate talking, he even attempted to ask if you'd like to accompany him to the nearby town maybe.

With the way his hands were clasped behind his back and slight flushing to his cheeks as he summoned all his courage to ask you that, how could you say no?

It was almost like seeing an entirely different person.

Bertolt, in his casual clothes, as he strolled by you through the food stands, seemed a much more...healthier version of himself?

He looked at peace, the smile never leaving his lips. He even made jokes and shared his opinions without being asked.

Whenever you went to check something that stole your attention, he would quickly follow by to erase any form of distance. Whenever your eyes fell on a piece of accessories for too long, he'd suggest you try it on, putting it on you himself.

And yet, whenever his hand would brush yours by accident while walking, he'd almost stumble into the ground and quickly pull it back. Or the time you attempted to adjust the collar of his shirt and you swore his knees almost gave out when you stepped closer, reaching his neck.

Both of you tried different kinds of food, he even offered you his own if you seemed to enjoy a certain food. Saying he'd rather you have it.

Both of you being broke soldiers ment there are only so many things you can do in the town before quickly burning through your savings.

It wasn't long before he suggested going back, you agreed to take the long walk back to enjoy nature a bit more.

You've wondered how come Bertolt only seems the most comfortable when talking to you on walks, but the story he was telling you was too interesting for you to think about it now.

You listened to him talk, it felt like you could listen to him for hours on end before getting bored. For someone who rarely spoke, he surely did have a way with words when he actually did.

It was nice, comfortable and gave you a false sense of normalcy as if the world was okay for a short while.

One final thought you had just before the both of you parted to go to your separate rooms, was that if Bertolt was going to write about this day in his journal.

For each day of the remaining week, you and Bertolt managed to hang out more and more.

You went to the lake, a frog landed on him that you had to remove because he was too nervous he might crush it.

He took you to a nearby spot in the town, it seemed normal at first but he just told you to wait. Apparently, each after some dogs would frequent this spot and Bertolt has already made friends with most of them.

And on the last day, both of you actually just spent it...in his room. He had a really comfortable bed and feather pillows that you almost didn't want to leave. And despite sharing a bed he still would keep space between you, no matter the uncomfortable positions he had to sit in.

By the end of the week, the expedition group arrived during sundown.

Their heads lifted high, pride clearly across their faces as they rode their horses. Captain Hange especially seemed much more excited than usual, barely managing to stay still on their horse.

The mission was a success apparently, they've managed to capture two titans with zero mortality rate and minor injuries.

...well almost a zero rate.

You were called into Erwin's office in the middle of the night, when Moblit knocked on your door asking you to quietly follow him.

The night air was cold against your thin clothes, silence filling the usually busy hallways, now errly empty.

Knocking before he told you to enter, he seemed busy with some paperwork, instead offering you a seat and asking to wait shortly.

The curtains behind him were closed shut, the candle sitting on his desk seemed on the verge of burning out, melted wax collecting on the plate under it.

It wasn't till after some seconds that you realised you weren't alone in the room, Captain Levi was leaning against the wall on the other side, arms crossed.

The scratching of the pen against the papers would occasionally get replaced with the sound of dipping the metal head inside the liquid ink container, carefully wiping it against the opening to remove any overflowing liquid.

Your fingers fiddled with the red cushion on the armchair, leg slightly bouncing before you force it to stop each time.

Waiting...and waiting.

The back of your throat felt scratchy, only becoming aware of how dry your mouth was then. Attempting to swallow down as a form of relief didn't help much.

"Here, drink it." A glass of water was offered to you by Levi, handing it to you before going back against the wall.

Saying a small thank you before finishing the glass, you felt slightly better afterwards. Although the growing tension in the air didn't help ease your mind.

"Cadet." Erwin clasped his hands, "I apologise for calling you here this late, although considering the circumstances I'm sure you'd understand."

Opening one of the desk drawers, Erwin pulled out something wrapped in a napkin, the white cotton having a growing reddish stain in its middle.

"I offer my condolences."

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 17

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.4k

Chapter warnings: mentions of captivity, oral sex (m receiving) more fucking feels i know, soft javi deserves a warning, the apparition of Señor Berna lmao

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode eight. // again, some plotshit, a lil more action, flor being a snarky beech lmao... oh guys, im so happy were here, im sorry for the angst

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gif: @josepedropascal

You breathed in and out a few times before walking to his office, trying to eat back your tears and put on a smiling face as he was staring at you. He tilted his head when you entered the office and you gulped and buried your feelings inside you again, not wanting to dive into them just yet.

“How’d it go?” you asked Javier, sitting in front of him across his desk. You saw his brow furrow at the question and his reaction made you bite your lip, he pushed his cigarette on the small ashtray to turn it off before answering.

“She’s in the jungle,” he muttered at you and your heart dropped a few feet below the floor, “the cartel basically handed her to the fucking FARC,”

“What the fuck!?” your voice raised and your brain started spiraling down further.

The woman that you had heard trying to convince her husband to drop everything he had been doing for the cartel and practically begged him to not leave her alone was in the worst possible place you could imagine for someone like her.

Javier looked at you, and once again he desired he had your sharp ability to read people, just to try to know without asking what you were thinking. The truth was that you were relating to her in more than one way. She reminded you of yourself at some point before all the shit you had seen and done ultimately turned you into another person and you didn’t like it. You wanted her to get away unscratched because in your eyes she didn’t deserve it. You knew she didn’t. Even if she knew what she was doing when she got married, even if she knew what she was getting herself into.

Christina Jurado reminded you of yourself and you didn’t like it because it made the whole thing way too personal. And for you, it wasn’t worth it. And if you looked at it from the outside. It was even worse.

“What did Berna say?” you asked again, trying to brush off all the negative feelings that were bubbling in your chest.

“That he knows how to get her back,” his voice was low and his face quirked in frustration, you let your hand reach his over the cluttered desk and he took it “he’s gonna take me there,”

“Javi,” you let out in a whisper, he knew what you were about to say and he shook his head, “please,”

“You’re not going, baby,” you tightened the grip on his hand and pleaded with your eyes, he knew you, he knew you could help, he knew you would be fantastic at it, but he wasn’t about taking the woman he… you to a place like that, it wasn’t a matter of ability or capacity. It was a matter of him wanting you to be safe. He just couldn’t risk you.

Taking the risk was worthy for him, in some way he blamed himself for Christina’s capture, he did because he was the one that had contacted in the first place, he had flirted with her and convinced her to tell her husband to cooperate with the agency and he blamed himself because he had exposed her in a city that wasn’t kind to anybody in a country she didn’t know in a position she hadn’t anything to gain from.

So for him, it was an easy call.

But for you? he couldn’t risk you. You who were doing everything he asked you to, you, who helped, you, who worried and cared, you who he knew would put her own life on the line if that’s what it would take to bring a woman home. It was a given no.

“How much is gonna cost us?” your voice was still low and Javier let his mouth curve into a tight-lipped, sad, resigned smile, you were about the only person who could ask something like that in plural and as much as he dreaded giving you the answer, he found it endearing. You, who helped. You, who worried and cared. You, selfless and giving.

“He wants a heads up,” Javier explained, moving his gaze to your entangled hands, “to know when we start looking for him,” his thumb started stroking your skin slowly.

“Mhm,” you hummed.

Javier lost himself in the moment, just letting the silence drop and the implication of the conversation linger between you both while you held hands. His touch was soft on your skin despite the roughness of his, his hand wrapped yours almost entirely and the way his thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand made you remember the way his hands felt on your skin earlier as he made love to you.

He really didn’t deserve what you were doing to him. He was clueless to how much of a monster you were.

The thought of just word vomit everything to him and then beg for his forgiveness crossed your mind not once but twice. But you couldn’t just do it, you needed more, more for him to know why you were doing it and how you were trying to fix it, more for him to understand your motives so he could at least not hate you, more for you to know it was safe for him to know. So you didn’t. Instead, you gave into another thought of yours that resurfaced as you looked at him again; all tensed up and frustrated.

“C’mon,” you stood up from the chair and tugged at his hand, Javier looked at you confused and you tugged again to make him stand up and walk around his desk as you guided him to the loveseat in his office.

Your hand left his, and you cupped his face softly, he instantly knew what you wanted and leaned to let you trap his lips in yours, knowing you had all the freedom to do it as you were the only two people in the office at such late hours.

The kiss was soft and slow, his hands settled on your waist and his tongue slid through your lower lip and you opened up to him, letting him explore once more your mouth as he pleased, your hands glided from the sides of his face to his chest and you pushed him softly, breaking the kiss and forcing him to sit down.

Saying nothing else, you kneeled in front of him and his eyes shot up.

“What are you doing?” he muttered in both surprise and precaution.

“I’m gonna pray,” you teased, making him roll his eyes, you put your hands on his thighs “I’m gonna suck you off, Javi,” you said as low as you could and saw him take a shivering breath “you’re really stressed and I think you deserve it,”

Javier was a determined, resolute man; in the short time you’d known him he never was the one without something to say, he always had to give the last word. But there, with you, kneeling in front of him, with your hands softly roaming through his thighs, he was at a loss for words.

“Okay,” he just mumbled, you nodded once and your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it slowly “I don’t know what I did to have you like this in here of all places, but I might do it again,” he rambled under his breath when you unbuttoned his dress pants, his cock already semi hard, you smiled at him.

“I told you, I think you deserve it,” his hand found your cheek as you slid down the zipper and his eyes drank you in entirely. You loved him, deeply, and you wanted to show him how much, at least in the only way you could allow yourself to “tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered as your hands slowly opened the fly.

“I’m thinking…” he saw you play with the waistband of his briefs and his mouth dried, his cock now fully awake and attentive “that this is something I’ve thought for quite a while, actually,” you smiled and pulled the elastic down, freeing his erection.

“Really?” your voice was as low and deep as you knew his was getting, your mouth watered at the sight of his hard length and the bead of precum that adorned the head already looked really enticing.

“Uh, yeah,” his breath hitched when you grabbed his shaft and your thumb spread the precum around his expecting head.

“And what did you think about?” you teased as you licked your lips and leaned down to lick the tip, savouring the tangy, salty taste of him, he bucked his lips slightly and you moved your wrist up and down, twisting in the middle.

“I imagined you coming into my office in–ah–that little dress suit of yours,” he blurted, closing his eyes as you licked the underside of his cock, your feet were numbing so you shifted around to help the feeling, “remember? the o–one you were wearing whe–when you arrived?” you nodded on his cock, making him moan softly.

“Yes, the way you looked at me that time still burns,” you replied and took the tip around your lips, letting the saliva inside warm him up, your hand still working his shaft as your spit slipped out of your mouth and slowly dripped through his soft skin.

“You noticed?” he asked, surprised, looking at you, you smiled with him inside your mouth and he bucked his hips again as you pulled him out softly.

“I still don’t know if you wanted to kill me or fuck me,” you mumbled, leaning again to curl your tongue on his leaking head, he left out a hitched chuckle.

“Shit, I don’t either,” he closed his eyes again and his head fell backwards, hitting the backrest as you took him inside your mouth again, pushing your head as far as you could, “then I would slide that skirt up just enough to bend you over my desk an–and take you until we both for–forgot our names,” he rambled and the image made you aware of how wet you were getting, you pulled him out again.

“I would really like that,” you said, gulping, your hand still working on his now spit-covered shaft.

“Or maybe I–I would sit on my desk and make you s–sit on me while I fin–finished work,” one of his hands found your hair and pushed your head softly towards him.

“God, Javi, didn’t know you could be so vocal,” you followed his guide and took him back inside, your hand left his length and you left him push your head, swallowing him almost whole.

“F–fuck, baby,” your eyes started to sting as he stretched open your mouth, your hands found the fabric of his open pants and you fisted it as he found his way into your throat “o–oh shit,” his other hand found yours and gripped it as you close your eyes and breathed through your nose. Some of his precum was leaking into you and the taste made you even wetter. Then, as he moved your head slowly up and down and your eyes filled with tears, everything became too much.

You gagged around him but didn’t pull away; he was making sure to not lose all control as he enjoyed the warmth of your mouth around him, unaware of the tears that started to drip down your cheeks.

“So–so good, my baby, so good,” he rambled as he moved you and your hand tightened the grip on his, you opened your eyes and through your tears you saw him; relaxed beyond words, his face quirked in pleasure, his chest panting up and down as he used you to reach his high “perfecta–m’ baby–s’ good”, he muttered senselessly and your chest turned at the sight and his words, he was such a good man, he was a great fucking man, and you were so fucking sorry.

He had called you perfect and you knew you were the total and complete opposite of that. How could you have done that to a person that thought so highly of you? Even when he thought so lowly of himself.

In that moment, with him in your mouth, whispering soft nothings to the air and you between his legs, both of you as vulnerable as you could be in that position, in that place where everything had started out of nowhere, you realized how much you regretted everything. Your chest sank and you sobbed, it disguised itself as a gag and more tears escaped your eyes, he didn’t deserve it.

You thought of yourself as something close to a monster, no different from those you had sworn to chase. You had become what you wanted to kill; cruel, selfish, deceitful, and the realization that the only thing that would come out of all that was deep sadness and desolation bathed you like a bucket of freezing ice water. And he didn’t deserve any of it.

Because Javier was such a good man. And you weren't good at all. And that made you decide yours and his fate, right there in his office in the middle of the night and then, as he panted above you, fisted your hair and came inside your throat. You were gonna tell him everything. It wasn’t anymore a question of if you were going to do it. It was a given. Now the question was when.

Javier opened his hooded eyes as you swallowed his orgasm and brushed your tears away, he smiled at you hazily and you smiled back.

“Thank you,”

The next morning you walked out of your apartment in comfortable silence.

The night before, you had driven you both to your place. Javier had noticed almost immediately after the deep-throat you had given him that something inside you was off, but he didn’t ask you, instead, when you entered your apartment, he helped you out of your clothes and laid next to you. You knew he wasn’t much of a cuddler, but he just knew you needed it, so he held you tightly inside around arms almost the entire night, determined to provide you some comfort as you had done the same for him before.

You reached your building’s parking lot and he turned his head to both sides to make sure you were alone.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you and reaching for your waist, your hands settled around his neck and you nodded.

“Are you gonna be gone all day?” your voice was thin and he noticed the worried tone of it, he was about to meet with Berna, as he had planned, to get Christina back, and you dreaded the whole plan, he had to get inside the thick colombian jungle along dangerous people and you had to stay behind, just waiting for something to happen. One of his hands moved to cup your face and he brushed his thumb on your cheek.

“Probably,” Javier replied, leaning in to brush his lips against you.

“Please, be careful,” you pleaded in a whisper, he kissed you softly, you moved your hands to his nape and brought him closer to you. You shut your eyes tightly as he parted his lips to let you inside his mouth and gave him all your wordless love, you stopped the kiss and opened your eyes, Javier’s chest sunk when he saw your eyes glisten with unshed tears “don’t come back without her,” you whispered “but please come back,”

Javier nodded once and kissed you again, trying again to give you some comfort in the only way he knew how.

He broke the kiss reluctantly and pulled away from your body so you could get into your car and drive to work. As you turned on the car’s ignition you gave him a last look and he gave you a nod, knowing exactly what your eyes were telling but your mouth couldn’t say. And you breathed in to fill your lungs and to begin your day of pretending you weren’t as worried as you really were while the man you just acknowledged to yourself you loved, spent his day on a rescue mission that could go wrong in a thousand different ways.

The day in office went by ridiculously slowly, the minutes felt like days and the hours felt like weeks and you couldn’t get to focus on one single thing, so you stood up from your desk and decided it was then time to start trying to gather as much information as you could to show Javier when you told him the truth. You knew with him you needed something close to a defense, even though you weren’t exactly sure how he was going to react.

The whole thing was a mess, but no one could blame you for trying at least to get him to understand you.

You opened the bottom drawer of your desk, the one that double functioned as both a filing cabinet and a safe place to hide stuff you didn’t want anyone to find, and pulled out two manila folders you had shoved in there the first time you went to Stechner’s office and learned he was nothing but a venomous, selfish snake.

With a quick pace you walked towards the records room and closed the door behind you, you stepped to the old copy machine that was put in there when it was replaced by the newer, techier machine that now had its place in the middle of the office. You started shuffling the papers that you had shoved into the folders to try to organize them and began photocopying them, making sure the ones deemed more important went into the machine first.

You didn’t hear the door opening behind you, your mind wandering between the pages you had in your hands and the ones printing, trying to order them.

“Martín,” a soft voice called out behind you, and startled you. Your hands made quick work of turning the pages upside down and shoving the rest into the folders as you turned around.

“Hey,” you tried to relax your body when you saw the brunette agent hesitantly walking closer to you, your breath calmed “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” you said apologetically and she gave you half a smile.

“Call me Charles,” her voice hardened on its own and you nodded.

“So…” you gave her an expectant look, she had walked in because of you, it was obvious. She moved her hands and put her into her pockets, you tilted your head, reading her doubt and anxiety.

“Are you fucking him?” she muttered, deepening her gaze into yours. You frowned.

“What?”

“Peña, are you fucking him?” her voice hardened as she stood up straight. Your mouth fell open at her question. She was a contradiction in herself. You knew how she had been looking at you and Javier, and, as Feistl did, it wasn’t a surprise other people would see, but she was confronting you about it, as if you or Javier owed her something. An explanation, a justification of something she had formed inside her head.

You, in your railed state of mind, as you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t dare to look over your shoulder at the pages you were trying to keep away from her eyes, admired her audacity, at the same time this audacity exasperated you.

“You kiddin’, right?” you asked her, trying to lighten your voice, she just raised an eyebrow at you and huffed.

“You come and go in and out of the office with him all the time!” she rambled as if it was all you needed to actually answer her question “you think I haven’t noticed how you look at him? or how he looks at you?” when she said the last word, her face quirk in something close to disgust and you bit your lower lip, preventing a chuckle to come out of your mouth.

“Oh god, you’re really asking,” you mouthed, she finally dropped her gaze to your feet. “why?” the question visibly took her by surprise, her arms moved and she crossed them on her chest. Of course she did.

“I made the first question,” she tried to regain the small amount of confidence she had entered the room with while you took control of the entire situation. You sighed loudly, for your body to relax and for her to know you were already tired of whatever that was.

“And I don’t have to answer it,” you shrugged, “why are you so eager to know, agent Charles?” you questioned, softening your voice. She took her time not saying a word, you really wanted to know what was going inside her head, and the temptation of just focusing on her silence and her body language was growing within you by the second.

But you had things to do and issues to worry about, so when she sighed you mimicked her and turned around to gather all the pages and simply walk out.

“My sexual life is none of your business, agent Charles,” you muttered, stepping away from the copy machine “and if you’re asking because you wanna know if agent Peña is available, well then go ask him whenever he comes back,” she snapped her head to look at you at the mention of Javier, and you had to chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking “maybe he’ll say yes, what do I know?” you said under your breath when you opened the door and walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of the room while your brain returned to its previous mode of planning and thinking a way to stay afloat.

You checked your wristwatch as you sat back on your desk, your mind traveling hundreds of miles away, wondering if Javier was okay.

Javier had been in one camp like that just weeks before and had already forgotten how fucking hot everything was in there.

The heat was scorching and wet, he swiped the back of his hand on his forehead again and dried it on the fabric of the cargo pants he was wearing, hoping for one single current of air that could relieve him from the suffocating feeling in his chest caused both by the heat and the fact that he really didn’t want to be there.

Javier was putting on a bulletproof vest that didn’t quite fit him, with the eyes of Berna glued to him and his actions, watching him get ready and checking once again the barrel of his gun. Javier was loathing the man’s stare.

“Y, ¿al fin supiste algo de Judy?” (You ever heard anything from Judy?) Berna asked, Javier saw him play with a dagger while his heavy stare rested on him.

“No desde que la vendiste,” (Not since you sold her out) he muttered, Berna chuckled humorlessly.

“Quién iba a pensar, Javier, ahora los dos somos jefes,” (Who would’ve thought, Javier, now both of us, bosses) Javier hid the roll of his eyes as the man compared taking advantage of Escobar’s death to climb a stepless ladder inside the cartel with being practically forcefully promoted “y, ¿si te dieron un apartamento bueno ahí en Bogotá?” (and did they give you a nice place in Bogotá?) he asked him, Javier brushed his bottom lip with his thumb as he looked back at Berna.

“‘Ta bueno,” (It’s good) Javier replied, not giving too much of a crap about the reason for his question. Not wanting to think anything of it… Not really wanting to tell him he was living in the same one.

“Deberías conocer mi casa,” (you should see my house) Berna said with a chuckle “yo cago cada día de la semana en un baño diferente, a mi esposa eso le encanta.” (I can take a shit in a different bathroom every day of the week, my wife loves it) Javier huffed and narrowed his eyes.

“¿Su esposa?” (your wife?)

“Yo soy un hombre de familia,” (I’m a family man) he shrugged, Javier wanted to laugh at the statement but he didn’t, knowing he wasn’t really in the position to “y vos ¿qué? ¿seguís con la misma novia? la maleta,” (and you what? you still with the same girlfriend, the suitcase?)

Javier didn’t answer the last question. After it his mind immediately went to one single thing, ignoring whatever else Berna had said to him. Javier walked out of the small hut he got ready in and stepped on the soft, humid, jungle floor, swiped off the sweat of his forehead again and thought of you. It shook him. He was in the middle of a rescue mission for a really important piece of the case he was building to dismantle a whole cartel and when an old ally, another narco, asked him about his love life… his mind took him to you.

It was funny for him, somewhat, that his mind pictured you when someone mentioned the words novia, or esposa, because for a long time he actually thought he would never have something, someone that could be the parallel to that in his life.

And the realization that his brain correlated the idea of you with the idea of… that, for the first time in his life, didn’t scare the shit out of him.

It was late, you were tired of checking the clock and your watch and not seeing the handles moving forward. You hated feeling like time was still, and you hated not knowing what the hell was going on.

You had spent some hours busy with copying and collecting some more documents and then tried to write some reports, but you were extremely anxious and so desperate because no one knew what was going on and you were dreading the outcome of all of that.

Stoddard was watching you pace between the desks, handing you cigarettes while you tried to find relaxation by chain smoking. Feistl and was sitting on his desk typing his nerves away when a phone rang. Feistl’s phone.

You turned to watch him answer it and say one word, turning to look back at you, he listened for two seconds and then he hung up.

“He has her.” he said.

You felt your soul come back to your body and for the first time since the last kiss you gave him in the parking lot of your building, forcing yourself to separate from him, you could fill your lungs with fresh air that smelled like relief.

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 3 years

Text

Talking to the moon

The rumors and trauma lived inside his head in fact it ate him alive. Each and everyday lifeless and a black cloud hung over his head. Except when he received and a test message from an unknown number. He knew it was unknown for three reasons. 1) Everyone knew to not text him or disturb him unless he contacted them first. 2) He could recite his entire list of contacts over anything else in his life. And the third was that he didn’t know that this unknown message would change him forever.

Word count: 15,000 *im so sorryyyy*

This is another dreaded Bucky Barnes x reader fic.

Viewers beware you are in for a scare with the: fluff, Bucky is a wanna be alcoholic, blood, angst, cheesy tropes *wrong number,etc*, bad jokes, one liners, awkwardness, sexual innuendos, mentioned sexual harassment, suicidal thoughts, depression, murder, slight dark Bucky who’s just trying to get through life, Sam Wilson mentioned, astrology and planets, knifes, ptsd, nightmares and terrors, flashbacks, sad bitch Bucky missing Steven and using the reader as a better therapist then the certified one, she/her pronouns used for the reader, mostly from Buckys POV, she/you referring to the reader JOHN WALKER SLANDER NO HATE TO THE ACTOR, glass.

(This is dedicated to my friend, tiny adjustments to buckys story and I am dearly sorry if I didn’t write bucky true to his character!)

He choked awake on the air that never left his cold lungs, meanwhile, his skin was afire. A coat of sweat coated him, he slept shirtless since this occurred so often. Always waking in the depth of night to little to no light, only the low gleam of the moon shone through his window near his kitchen along with the soft luminosity of the television sat in front of the sofa. One that he refused to sleep on. He couldn't even sleep on the soft bed tucked in the back corner of the room down the hall in his apartment. He debated why he just wouldn't move into a studio apartment instead of the one he resides in.

He huffed staggeringly and his eyes falling to the ground, searching for something that was never there. Tranquility. His brain trying to calm itself in some form, it never worked it took hours for it to. Even then it never lasted. He suffers another day's trauma trying to sort the world back into order. Sam would often notice but knew to never ask him about it. He knew from the months working together asking and attempting to comfort Bucky often led to arguments. Bucky strongly knew this was nothing and that others were just blowing it out of proportion.

That also led to bias work and Bucky not doing his best, since Sam put him in a bad mood beforehand. Bucky went to therapy. He was more forced than offered, the government felt he was more of a ticking bomb than anything else. Bucky thought of it as more of a joke than anything.

There was no sense in for him to go to the sessions. He often found himself trying to find excuses to skip sessions. He thought that the past is the past and trying to fix it wasn't a possibility. Bucky dealt with it the way he could. He pushed it deep, deep, down in the roaring sea of his mind and dealt with it later. Only in his dreams did it resurface to haunt him. Always making him uptight and tired from the lack of sleep.

However, at this point, he was use to the torture of it all. His brain is his worst enemy. Through shaky breath fanned on his arm, he was crouched over his left leg up his metal arm resting over his knee his other arm holding his weight. He watched the glow of the tv, his chest heaved in exasperation.

Nothing piqued his interest in broadcasting. It was all the same mumbo jumbo of stereotypical things like romance, the reality that was depicting the species as inhumane, the comedy he didn't understand, only one channel did hold his interest.

Perhaps it worsened his mental state but he didn't care and it was the news. It was all the current disasters of the world and the avengers trying to stabilize the circumstances and the best part of it all how disturbing the world is. Even if his bringing was normal to where he is now, he'd most likely be a deeply tormented individual.

He nearly had heart failure when a banner at the bottom of the screen read "John Walker elected as the new Captain America." In blinding letters. Above the banner was John Walker himself standing in front of the podium a hand raised in a gesture to recognize the audience's howl.

Buckys head burst with memories of Hydra and the way it evoked him. The way of how Hydra forced him to be something he wasn't. John Walker was the perfect example of an alternate reality with a substitute Steve. Everything Steve was for John Walker was against.

Images flashed in his head. He put his hands on his head his natural one warm and clammy, in contrast to the bitter cold one. It just gave his flashbacks even more fuel. Living with a constant reminder of who he is. A monster.

He grabbed tightly onto his hair the strands were being plucked as this was being written. He felt small patches of balding from this happening so regularly. His legs parted and creased by the knees. His face strained into pain. His extensive wrinkles from age, noticeable, and worsened from him doing so.

His blanket thrown away to the side with disregard, he started to rock softly front and back. The wood floor burned his tailbone from him sitting on it for so long. Suddenly he felt a different pain. A killer one.

The beige cabinets thrown open papers and documents scattered everywhere. The dark grey of a ceiling of the shelter peered over him judgingly. His arm pushed down into the metal of the chair burned from the uncomfortable position. The bolts leaving deep indentions in his skin. The helmet pressed tightly to his skull leaving him render less against the horror of hearing the words. So many times he had to go through this routine, the monitors loud and buzzing. He bit down strenuously onto the guard in his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. The electricity drumming into his head, his brain setting fire to its system, he feels it in his muscles, in his blood, the veins that pop in his neck. The tubes behind his head generated and pumped large amounts which umped higher and higher in velocity each time an activation word was spoken loud and clearly. Spat carelessly not in his mother's tongue, he would never think of the language to be beautiful only to be a monstrosity of the world one of the greatest. His dull fingernails dug into the chair it did nothing other than to give him some sort of balance. He screamed but it was muffled to an extent of the guard doing its purpose. "Daybreak."

The announcer spoke into the fuzzy black microphone that's the only word he made out to hear. The daily news report drone on for what of which he came back into reality.

He opened his azure eyes and looked to the left the window that sat in the middle of a pale white wall and his kitchen showed the red bloom of the sun and the tall buildings of the city.

He felt resentful towards the time of day since his flashbacks usually only lasted a minute or so.

Lately, they've grown in duration and that stroke dread into him. He was horrified that someone would say or do an act that would put him in a state of mind. One that he wished to not be in.

Somedays he just yearned to be left for dead in the snowfall of the forest. Notably, so far from the arm that was taken from him that it would be hidden to the world for eons. And from the pessimism of the clouds above him.

He grew irritably hot and damp from the excessive sweat he did to himself, he felt everything was his fault, enlisting, going on the train, helping Steve.

He hated himself for a moment realizing what he thought, he felt selfish for thinking that Steve did this to punish him. He sighed and laid his head tilted to the plastered ceiling.

His neck outstretched. His legs and his arm, limp from the compression of him tensing them for so long. His muscles trying their hardest to relax. His figure seeming to be the equivalent of a sack of potatoes.

He didn't care about how he presented, perhaps it was his past with being a soldier the constant thriving to be the strongest and the son of Hercules. He pushed so far that his body couldn't endure the strength he put it through.

Super soldier serum and all, he was still just a man. He was still human deep into the last atom of his DNA. His eyes nonchalantly examined his ceiling a soft pale white like the rest of his apartment, it reminded him of the moon outside.

If he were to take out his ceiling it'd be right above him. He was enamored by how it seemed to have an ever-lasting glow. He let out a shaky huff then fell ever quiet. Until the day grew old.

Yori had scheduled a lunch meeting earlier that week, they had a routine. Yori attended and Bucky paid. This happened every Wednesday they would meet up and discuss whatever they wished. Yori was just an old decaying man who lived in Chinatown, he lived across from Bucky's building. Yori was kind to the ones he knew.

It was otherwise to people he didn't. After Yori's son died it was hard to, if he only knew who Bucky was entirely he'd die out of shock. Bucky swore to tell him but honestly, Yori was his only friend he had out of work, and even that he couldn't let himself go and confide in Sam.

So here he was in a plain-back leather jacket, some jeans and the same pair of boots he had since the war. He didn't understand the fashion trends of late. Last week he and Yori saw a woman in a bright suit, it looked like a second skin from how tight it was.

Yori was simple-minded as he was and had similar morals and interests. It was disheartening to say that Bucky had a sort of envy for Yori, Bucky wished to have lived a normal life of maybe dying in the war or growing old and gray like Yori.

Get married, have a couple of kids, live a normal life. He understood greatly why Steve went back but he never fully forgave him for it. He felt like Steve was selfish for doing so, but isn't everyone? Steve got a normal life while Bucky had to rot in the world alone and was terrorized by his brain.

He crossed his arms, the leather making a strange sound since he gripped himself so tightly. He sat up straight, his shoulders back, his face set with a profound scowl. It forever imprinted on his face the dark scruff of a new beard growing in.

He hated how it meant uncleanliness, but he didn't have the motivation to shave it off, there wasn't a reason to anyway. He hadn't been on a date in years, centuries even.

He poked and played with his sushi that Yori said was great to try at least once. Bucky felt bad and tried a bite, he had to give credit for a thing so small having to be so spicy. That was about the first and last bite Bucky had. Since then he just jabbed at it with one of the sticks.

The other laid across the small complimentary plate with the rest of the remains of the sushi he failed to eat, he lost his appetite a few weeks ago.

He's been nursing a strong drink called Shōchū. Every time Bucky ordered it Yori said that he put an accent on it and that it made him sound like a foreigner. Although Bucky didn't know how since he was fluent but that was an argument for another day.

The employees there grew to know that they should just leave the bottle there since he usually drinks half their supply on each visit.

He just simply didn't think eating was something he needed. Recently things just seemed to bore him to the point where things that he needed to do he couldn't.

All because his brain tells him this doesn't matter. He's just lived so long from numerous life-ending things and he'd be damned if he'd kick the bucket from starvation.

"That scowl of yours is going to scare the women away," Yori spoke, breaking Bucky out of his trance. Bucky only saw the select few people around them and the women that Yori was referring to were a few older women with smiles and when Bucky turned to look they suggestively waved their fingers.

When Bucky looked back Yori smiled and waved and went back to inhaling noodles. Bucky looked at the man across from him in the small sushi restaurant he grew to know too well, they always sat in the same place a small table near the front of the glass doors.

Some posters and decorations were scattered throughout the small building. The dim lanterns gleam radiantly against the cryptic night. It rained before and the droplets of rain still reside on the windows behind Yori.

Yori slurped pounds of noodles into his mouth at a time, the residue of it was left behind on Yori's pale-white mustache. Bucky was surprised that the stick didn't break from the weight of it. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, his posture relaxing.

He laughed inside his shoulders coming up and the side of his lips curved in a smirk. The demeanor he held was appealing from afar, (specifically to the cougars adjacent from where they were.)The conversation always breaking Bucky's previous mood, Yori was very light-hearted when he wasn't in a mood. Especially when he had food and good company. He decided to further it:

"What do you know about the ladies here that I don't?" Yori swallowed a big round lump in his throat slowly going down to his stomach, he must've had a pile of noodles in it by now.

"Well first off all, don't test my ways of making them swoon over me," Yori stated it more of a threat than a declaration. He used his chopsticks and pointed them at Bucky and a warning manner.

His eyebrows perked up and the wrinkles on his forehead worsened similar to the ones that grew on Bucky. His eyes became wide at the thought of being disrespected like the way Bucky just did.

"Second of all, you don't understand how to look without your eyes." And with that Yori chowed down once again on his bucket of noodles. Bucky couldn't perceive Yori's advice, what does seeing without your eyes even could mean?

His smirk faltered into his normal resting face which Yori liked to remark and say was the equivalent to people putting the trash into his garbage can. There was no rhyme or reason for people to do so but they just did.

Just like the way Bucky was always in a sour mood it reminded him of himself always being angry at the world because of other people.

"Have you been seeing anyone lately, if not that might be the cause of your problems," Yori spoke as if he knew everything about Bucky and maybe he could Truth it since Hydra and after being the winter soldier and Steve passing.

Bucky hadn't really been ready to mingle. He just knew he had too much baggage for a partner to put on deal with him. Every now and then when he felt completely alone he downloaded some dating app he didn't actually want and deleted it on the same night.

He had flings here and there and since he met Yori he had been setting him up on dates whether Bucky liked it or not. None of them worked out since Bucky didn't try; he was too wrapped up in his own problems to be listening to hers.

Bucky's gloved metal hand wrapped behind his neck and scratched his stubble coming back down.

"You know Yori surprisingly enough I haven't," Bucky spoke grimly and clutched his teeth. He knew Yori was going to tell him off. He winced when he heard Yori's chopsticks fall into the cup of noodles. Yori sat back into his wooden chair, his arms crossed and a displeased look came across his face.

"And why is that?" Bucky began to open his mouth "Don't give me some excuse that you always give me or this will be our last meeting." Yori stated in a harsh manner with his face twisted in that fatherly manner. "I don't understand why it's a great value to you, to know about my love life,"

Bucky spoke of it as a statement but it came out more as a question. Yori quieted and thought for a moment thinking of the proper words to say. "The stars are aligned in your favor, in which that means you should try and put effort into those small details in what is grief, if not love persevering."

Bucky sat there thinking over the things Yori told him. Bucky stretched his arm out to sip on the Shōchū. He was about a quarter way through. They'd only been there for two hours.

Since Yori met Bucky he learned that people can't always be that bad. Unless of course, you're the type who knocks over his trash can and the men don't pick it up and so it rots to hell when he fills it.

Bucky sighed and reached for the half-full glass of Shōchū. Yori never favored seeing him drink. It was too similar to him drinking when his son passed.

So Yori being Yori he made a little catapult with his chopsticks and put a small piece of noodle into his device and flicked it at Bucky. Bucky glared at him and touched the spot where it hit. Right in the middle of his creased eyebrows. The residue of the noodle followed his fingers Yori went back to eating but before he did so he gave a word to Bucky

"You're not supposed to think about how to see without your eyes. It defeats the purpose entirely if you think about it as strongly as you do, I may have some years under my belt of practicing but you are going to go nowhere soon with the troubles that live in your scowl."

He paused searching into Bucky's storm-driven eyes, Yori saw nothing that lived behind them other than sorrow. It pained Yori to see his friend in such a state.

Yori rested his hands on the table interlaced in front of him, trying to find anything worth reviving if it wasn't already killed behind Bucky's aurora. But then all of a sudden a glimmer, a spark you could say flitted inside the fellow in front of him.

Yori leaned back in his chair and smiled softly, his eyes creasing. "Ah, there it is," Yori spoke softly. Bucky confused more than he had ever been in his life questioned everything.

He had no idea what Yori was doing or as to why he endured the unwanted staring contest they just had. Then his answers were spoken by the one who created the questions.

"The way you see without your eyes is simply to be at peace with yourself, look at the moon and the stars.

They have no troubles or worries and they are the most looked at things in the entire universe no matter where you are. They see everything, yet they still choose to have no regard for the ones that judge them. For you young sir, for them to have that happiness you take that amount doubled."

Bucky scoffed that he didn't intend to be disrespectful, but how in the world was he supposed to be calm when he knew Yori's speech was literal. Yori never made jokes or metaphors, he learned that the hard way.

He uncrossed his arms for the first time since they sat down, and rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward in the wooden chair. He squinted his eyes, questioning Yori's statement.

He knew Yori hated to be questioned and tested, they always led to night and day-long arguments that never fully were resolved. Maybe it was the half bottle of Shōchū he drank that made him confident. He spoke rough and dry from it taking over his throat and liver.

"So let me get this straight. the only way I can find peace and happiness is if I talk to the stars and the moon? Yori, you've got to be joking." Yori grew agitated but his composure remained ever the slightest of relaxation.

Yori reached towards the back of his pants to retrieve something while glaring at Bucky and the staring contest resumed. Bucky thought for a moment that Yori was going to shoot him in point-blank range in front of the small company that was set at different tables all over the place.

Instead, Yori pulled out a small crumbling paperback book with the cover filled with stars and galaxy-type depictions and inscribed above it was

"Talking to the moon, and other astronomic casualties"

Yori sat the book gently on the side of the table he got up and before he left he looked at Bucky for a long while before turning and walking out the door. Not another word was spoken between them until the next Wednesday.

Bucky walked home that night by himself. Usually, he would walk with Yori but what happened at the sushi place he felt disturbed by. He lost his temper and he never should've.

He's been put in worse situations than thinking that Yori made him out to be a fool for believing that the stars could talk. Who knows if they do. He should've been more open-minded, he's just been riled up from the flashbacks.

Shōchū seemed to make things worse but he'd forget about things for a while. He wanted to apologize to Yori;

he severely drowned the urge. With the rest of the bottle. Yes, the restaurant let him take the rest. He had to pay handsomely. He thought it was worth it until he had to walk up the stairs to get into his apartment. He swayed back and forth mostly to the left. The arm weighed more when he was like this.

He had not a thought in mind about the world other than seeing the bottom of the clear bottle made of glass.

He tried to walk up the stairs he really did but his chunky boots made it hard to judge the height of the stairs. He got about halfway up them and then he fell. He smashed his chin against the wood and his chin started to bleed. He didn't try to stop the fall.

His right hand was occupied with the bottle. His thick scarred fingers tied around the neck of it securely. He'd kill anything that would try to take it away from him. He pushed himself up off the stair and he winced in pain when his right hand was now in the pile of glass. It fell and broke when he did.

His back burned with being indented from laying on the stairs. His chin seeped down onto the pit of his neck where his jaw formed.

He pushed slowly up off the stairs entirely putting his damaged hand behind his back. How ironic that his normal flesh is the damaged one.

He lifted off with the metal one. He clutched his wrist and pinched it tightly with the metal one.

Trying to cut off blood flow so it won't get more infected than it already had. He walked to his apartment shamefully. His head hung down low, too insecure and awkward about what happened. His jaw stern and gritted he was embarrassed.

The alcohol dimmed it but it was still a major event. He'd hit the rock bottom of an endless pit.

He dug out his key in his pocket and went inside. When he entered he always felt worse than he had left. Yet he never had a problem leaving. It always felt like he was welcomed back into a deep aurora of depression.

He stepped on the back of his boots and left them by the door. He walked to the bathroom but he stopped and turned to look at the tv. There he was again in all his glory. John Walker.

Although this time in his clutches was Steve's shield. He grew saddened by the fact Sam gave it over. He felt betrayed. Sam was the only one he knew other than him how valuable that was and John Walker out of all people had it in his possession.

He'd have a long discussion with Sam in the near future about this. He was always infuriated by John but now he couldn't put it into words. Except for the word imposterous.

Bucky felt a sharp pain in his wrist and when he looked down. He soon found that he was nearly fracturing his wrist with his metal modeled fingers. He also took into mind how deep the glass shard was. Some tiny, some huge. He cursed under his breath a soft and crude

"Fuck."

He quickly loosened his grip and shook his head in regret when he looked down to his wood floor. He realized that blood trickled from him since he opened the door.

He hastily shuffled awkwardly to the bathroom trying his hardest to not make more of a mess than he already had. He walked with long strides and his white socks dirtied from blood.

The bathroom was small, with half tiled walls and a tiled floor, beige paint covered the rest of the wall. A shower shoved to the left of him, an off-white bulb accentuated the room.

He swore to change it but he never did. A mirror and sink in front of him, the mirror was a small white rectangular one, matching the shape of the sink. Sandwiched in between the shower and sink was the smallest white toilet imaginable.

He hated going into the bathroom for this reason alone. He saw how weak he was in the mirror.

A busted bleeding wound. That crept close to the imprint that marked the middle of his chin, dark drunk eyes, shaded pink lips, sharp cheekbones accompanied with a keen jawline, scars littered across his body. His face had a few abrasions, and cheeks hidden in the scruff that continued to grow.

His hair tousled and strewn every way it pleased. He never cared about it; he never tried to style it since he'd just put his hands in it. His shoulders were clad in leather and a beige henley that matched the walls. The calmness after getting pounded reminded him of when hydra made him fight the other soldiers. Then suddenly he was there.

It was a day that Bucky would think about for the rest of his life. Bucky had a lot of those days but this one, in particular, was one that made him feel excruciating pain. The fight he was trained to lose. The compound was a dimly lit walkway in between the cells. Two would fight momentarily continuously one was declared the winner and fight the champion. Bucky or the soldier.

The commanders of hydra love to evoke fear. Seeing the men riddled with fear. Some vomit, others beg. Some are like Bucky. Ruthless. They don't care who they are or what they want to be. All they strive to be or do is fight and the blood splatter after winning against the enemy, releases stress so sometimes it's a release unless you have a guilty conscience. For Bucky, it's the latter. He has nightmares, sure, but everyone does.

Bucky had perfect posture, his head tilted into the way hydra trained him to do or to be brainwashed until he was complicit. Bright ocean eyes were unknowingly dead. The thunder of the other candidates to fight by the cells on the sidelines until it was their time to fight.

Although before they went to fight they would have a fistfight with Bucky to higher their combat skills. Bucky was the best soldier they had to let them practice on. That being said Bucky wasn't being used to his full potential. Bucky hadn't fought anyone to his skill level, everyone was either at a lower or average level. They were put into groups of two in fighting whoever won would fight either Bucky or another soldier even crueler than Bucky. Bucky had some remorse and would hold back. He still deep down was a person but the other soldier killed many from going too far. And today was the day that Bucky had to fight that soldier. Bucky had three other men for the soldier to fight until it was him, all skinny and small, scrappy.

The soldier was big and unruly. He was undefeated, sure Bucky was scared but at the compound, it's kill or be killed.

No one knew the soldier's true name, just the series of numbers he was given. His confidence may be the death of him. Bucky believed-knew that he was more than the average man. He had courage, a heart of gold, and the endurance of a bull and here he was amping himself up and nervously fidgeting wondering what would happen if he won this fight. He wondered if everyone would think of him as superior or if he'd be more of a black sheep.

He heard a crack of a hydra man yelling to start. The man in front of him was next and the one that lost had gashes to the bone and blood oozing out of places where he didn't know could.

Bucky felt exposed when the man in front of him went to fight, there was still a very long list behind him to fight but he was next up. The soldier looked at him, his demeanor felt like the grim reaper and Bucky was fixing to pay his toll.

The soldier had muscles upon muscles and as broad as one can ever be. The word powerful couldn't even describe him in the lightest.

Bucky chewed on the inside his cheek he was nervous.

The soldier was known to put the others in the infirmary for days on end and those he hurt abnormally bad gotta not fight for a while and rot in their cell until. More often than none they'd put you back out in the field.

The stories of this soldier were the type you'd tell sitting at a campfire to scare kids, instead, it was grown, men. Even if Bucky was the bravest out there he wasn't like the soldier.

Bucky observed all of his techniques and styles over the weeks. Preparing himself for his scheduled fight. It was an algorithm for the soldier to react to specific hits and counter them with the same thing over and over. The hydra men taught all of the soldiers the same moves except the one Bucky was going to go against. They knew Bucky was their best soldier so they had to at least put him in a good fight. Bucky caught on to this pattern and that made him think that he could win.

The man in front of him laid in a fetal position with mud and red splatter across his pale form, the boisterous crowd making the shame feel unbearable.

Then all of a sudden Bucky felt a harsh shove on his back. One of the hydra men shoving him into the pit with the soldier. Bucky nearly fell face forward on the cement. A burst of loud booming laughter deafened him more than the crowd on the sidelines.

The soldier crouched low and Bucky knew what he was going to do. He took out the legs then beat his component to a pulp like a gorilla. Bucky did the same stance. He looked foolish, his hair stuck to his forehead, sweat-soaked his clothes which were already tightened to his skin from the excessive working out he did. Courtesy of Hydra wanting him to be in top shape. The other soldiers grew restless as they psyched one out. They went into circles staring at one other like vultures testing who was the quickest. Whoever blinks first wouldn't blink for weeks after.

A screech came from the soldier and he came after Bucky.

Now imagine a vicious lion combined with a cyclops coming at you. Bucky psyched him out and pivoted. That just angered him more since the battles never lasted more than a couple of minutes. This one was already the longest. The soldier turned slightly and looked over his shoulder and before he could do so Bucky had gotten close enough to kick the left of his knee in and he fell. It was as loud as the thunder when he did.

Although Bucky wasn't watching his feet and the soldier took his left foot and grabbed Bucky. He fell. The roar of the other soldiers boomed. His ears went out painfully, a ringing sound, and the rain flew harshly against his face.

He couldn't move, the wind knocked out of him that he couldn't breathe. He felt ashamed to have even thought that he could win. The black ceiling littered with golden beams.

The gold reminded him of the stars behind them, how someday he could be out of this dungeon to see them again. Abruptly all the ringing in his ears came back. He heard a low hum of breathing; he thought it was his own until he saw the beast above him. The soldier grabbed his arms and Bucky struggled even through his stupor. Bucky wiggled and tried to get out from his grasp but he was a god amongst men. Bucky then thought of how Steve felt when he'd get cornered in an alley and he'd come and save Steve from being killed. But Bucky didn't get saved. The barbarian struck Bucky over and over. The nurse would later tell him that she was surprised that he didn't have any brain damage. Bucky waved in and out of reality. Every time he tried to open his eyes it'd be welcomed with a fist. Bucky spat the blood out of his mouth onto the soldier. The soldier was just too strong. He was impossible to win against. The soldier rubbed the blood into his face and laughed. He leaned to Bucky's ear only so he could hear "puny."

Bucky screamed loud. Loud enough that the neighbors awoke from their sleep and he'd sure have a lot of complaints to address in the morning. In a split second, he found himself with his fist through the mirror, the glass falling every way onto the tile into the sink and toilet. Into the already damaged hand of his, the glass poked through his palm, and through the other side, the previous glass dug deeper into his flesh.

Severing the tendons. All he could think about was the pain of having to clean everything up. He didn't feel the pain he caused himself because that didn't matter. It made him feel the least bit human. Pain. Everything living thing felt alive and once he lost that. He'd feel like a complete and utter monstrosity.

He looked up from his hand and to the mirror. Shards still hung and it displayed a perfect depiction of what Bucky was. Damaged.

Bucky spent the rest of the night with a bandaged chin that kept bleeding like a waterfall. Hw picking out pieces of glass with the smallest tweezers known to man, that too ruby red water ran down the sides of his hand onto his bare beefy thighs and pooled in the middle of his palm.

He had calmed down after a couple of hours by sitting on the bumped-out window.

He often likes sitting there and watching the city. The cars zooming past the bright casinos.

The one thing he enjoyed the most was watching the constellations and making them out to be the things he liked. Often he'd see a star in the moon and he saw the shield.

He hated that one since it put him in the pain of remembering Steve and how he had no one.

He didn't need anyone. That's what he told himself but he was very wrong. His jacket was thrown over a wooden chair in the dining area. The sleeves of his henley rolled around his elbows showing the veins in his forearms.

He changed out his jeans for a random pair of dark shorts, he threw off his dirtied socks.

To say the least, he was at comfort for the first time this week. He started to read the book a little, the pages were torn and faded. Yori must've read this multiple times.

Bucky wondered why. The book was small and petite and was only a hundred or so pages. It was interesting, it was all about philosophy, it was written as if it was a big life poem.

He hated a lot of it but here and there were a few good points. He was about halfway through the book when a paragraph struck him.

Heart. Mind. Body. Soul. Great beings of life and they can only communicate by stars. Life and everything between can be carried through them. So if you speak to the sky of night. You will often hear a reply.

He thought of it as silly but then his brain began to wonder. What if he could talk to whoever he wished dead or alive. Just from talking to the stars. It seemed too easy and childish.

Although what did he have to lose the majority of the world hated him and the other half tolerated him.

He put the tweezers down and wrapped his hand with the bandage used to box. He had leftover wrappings since he used to do dirty street fighting when he got dumped from S.H.E.I.L.D's payroll.

He picked up the book that was under his thigh, holding the book open. He held it there since that was where the most light surfaced. He didn't exactly have the expenses to pay the electric bill so he always kept it off.

His eyebrows furrowed ever close as he came across a sentence he seemed to not understand.

The book looked like it shrunk in the size of his hand. His fingers twisted and ran over the cover and the letters on the page fell off onto his lap. The shorts rode up about mid-thigh and engraved their way into his skin.

He couldn't read anymore. He sighed when he read the same paragraph twice over.

All he could think about was being able to talk to Steve. He pushed it into the back of his mind, he carried the book carelessly in his hand, the feeling an odd one since he hadn't read anything for ages.

He walked over to his little place where he slept and laid down.

The news wasn't showing anything interesting. He became quite bored. He wondered if Yori was doing okay.

Maybe he should check up on him even if they weren't on the best of terms. He drifted in and out of consciousness, he played with the wrapping of his hand to try and keep him entertained.

He sat up against his wall observing everything around him how bland and monotone everything was.

He felt a buzz in the pocket of his shorts. He begrudgingly went to grab it. He didn't know who or why they were messaging him. Whoever it knew that it was just for emergencies.

He swears that he was going to murder Sam if he sent him one of the pictures with a caption that never related to the image. Sam said that supposedly there was a joke in the caption but that just made Bucky even more confused.

Bucky didn't know why he kept the phone. He never answers it and usually, he finds out everything he needs to know by watching the news.

When Bucky did finally open his phone to see the lock screen. He stared at it in bewilderment for a long while trying to make sense as to why someone messaged him.

He noticed that it was from an unknown number. That being said there was a one in a million chance for someone to know what his number was. He sighed he was going to have to change his number again. He was surprised what the message was.

"Hey! I had a wonderful time on our date today, I was wondering if we could go on another this week? If not I completely understand I'm new to this..um..blind dating thing. I really enjoyed meeting you instead of talking to a screen! Lol! Anyway, Ttyl!"

Bucky didn’t know how or what to feel. What date? Why was she (he assumed so since the person seemed vibrant and bubbly.) So happy to see him? He didn’t even know who this person was! A thought crossed Bucky’s mind.

Perhaps he could initiate the partner she went on a date with. He wasn’t exactly busy and had a girl on his arm. He realized that if he were to go on this hypothetical date that it would be very obvious that he wasn’t the man she was interested in.

He subconsciously stood up and paced his living room to his kitchen to and fro. The soft glow of his phone illuminated his face in the dark. It was wrapped tight in his metal fingers. The yellow stripes that were like a snake coiling around his arm grew more visible.

He threw his right hand into his hair, his henley slightly rising and showing a patch of skin between the waistband of his shorts and where the sweater laid. It allowed a drooling sight of a teasing view of his defined “V” of his hip bone that flowed below his shorts.

It's been a while since he felt any blood circulate under his shorts. He didn’t understand what this girl did to him but it got him going and that was certainly uncommon under his circumstances of life.

Don’t get him wrong back in his day he was a player. Now it's lessened to nothing. Not even dates, so this could be big for him. He stopped when he concluded. What the hell did ttyl and lol mean? It took an embarrassing text to Sam and Sam merely laughed at him and told Bucky to google it. That just made things worse.

What was google? He went through every single thing on his phone until he found the icon labeled google and he did google it. ‘Talk to you later and 'laugh out loud' Oh. Bucky was embarrassed how long it took him to figure that out.

He sloppily used both of his thumbs and stood in the middle of his living room texting out a reply.

'I'm totally down to go on another date with you, sweetheart."

He was proud of himself since he remembered Sam using the word totally in a sentence before. He was confident that the confidence and the suaveness from his past never left. And then the regret started to hit him with a bat.

Why’d he called her sweetheart? What if she didn’t like to be called that. God how could he be so stupid?! He started to give up after he didn’t seem to have a reply in his future.

He sat down, crisscrossed in front of his tv and his couch, and began to swim ever so quietly in his mind. His eyes burned with strain as he watched the bright screen in front of him. A festival celebrating the new captain he nearly lost his mind until he felt a buzz against his thigh and when he looked down he saw that the mysterious girl messaged him again.

He opened his phone to find three little dots appearing and disappearing continuously. He wondered what she was writing that required that attention to thinking of what she was writing to him. He wasn’t anyone special. He was a natural disaster but that was about the unique thing about him.

He grew impatient and shifted his weight every few seconds. He was very nervous about what she was going to say. He felt like a schoolboy asking out his crush and being afraid of rejection. Lord help him because he missed feeling something other than pain. Then another buzz ran up his arm and under his spine, it was the message she sent. It was short and simple of the lines of what remembered to be:

"..."

Bucky nearly threw his phone across his apartment. But then sucked a huge breath through his teeth when another buzz went through.

"It's just no one has ever called me 'sweetheart' before."

That made Bucky feel like he wanted to crawl into the deepest darkest ice chamber and live there for the rest of his life. This was it he destroyed his life by trying to flirt with someone hundreds of years younger than him. He exposed himself and he could never redo it. He should've known that this was a bad idea.

Technically he did but he just ignored it. How could he be so idiotic to spoil his chances of getting out of this cage of death. This was the epitome of a fish drowning. He was overreacting and hyperventilating solely because he doesn't know how to flirt like the modern age. He was doomed.

His fingers resisting the strength of his mind telling him not to type out sent her the message reading:

"Do you like being called sweetheart or do you prefer doll?"

He swore he died when he saw that he sent that. SWEETHEART AND NOW DOLL? He wanted to take a steaming hot bath and maybe splurge with bubbles and fall asleep and hey maybe he'd drown.

At this point, he didn't think it wasn't that bad of an idea. He put his palms on his forehead, his knees on his thighs staring at the pitch-black rectangle below him. Impatiently waiting for her response.

An on-set headache developing from all the stress he's had under the last thirty minutes. His heart jumped at the sight of the glow lighting up his screen. He quite literally jumped out of his sin to read it:

"You have no idea. It's way better than getting called mama and shawty by the fuck boys. Lol!"

Bucky was now in the crisis of not knowing what was a shawty and an *ahem* fuck boy. It was so worrying the amount of googling Bucky has done just talking to this girl. He noted to never call her..shawty or mama and to never be a fuck boy.

When he did figure out what those things were he wasn't exactly surprised. He was jealous and angry that she'd been called things that she didn't want. The feeling was common but never this strongly. It was an odd feeling it rose from his stomach to his throat and made it dry and hard to speak.

It made him clutch the sides of his phone so harshly that webs started to hatch from within the glass. His eyes cold and dead staring at the screen reading over her sentence once, then ten times over.

A little buzz came from his phone gasping for air from Bucky choking it out with his metal hand. (You wish that was you, huh?)

"I do love how polite and gentlemanly you are tho. It's hard to find guys like you."

Such short sentences made his heart gallop so fast in minutes. The logical side of his brain kept telling him that her compliments weren't for him but the attention for someone was much louder.

Maybe his old ways of flirting were beneficial, which caused him to be more at ease. His tensed shoulders relaxed along with his metal arm. Although his body felt he was burning alive. His free hand pulled his collar off his velcro skin, letting his structured collar bones come breathable. His breathing became shallow.

"It's hard not to be when you meet someone so radiant."

He didn't even know who this girl was but all he knew is that he didn't want to lose her and become utterly alone again. Not this time. His hair stuck to his face. He was going to have to take the coldest shower ever to get rid of her and even that he won't.

"LOL, Speak for yourself, I'm nothing compared to you."

He scoffed and typed furiously, how could she think such things about herself. He was deeply frustrated he didn't know why but he felt very drawn to her. He'd do anything in his power to just want her to promise him that she'd never leave him.

God, he sounded like a psycho and maybe he was. Maybe this was his last straw and when she'd break off he would too. He was so afraid of going back to the way things were to going back to being the winter soldier that he felt like he lost his mind trying to prevent it.

"Alright doll, how about this, we meet up this Friday for dinner and a movie at nine o'clock?"

He was scared that she would reject him. Fuck. She didn't even know what he looked like. What if she took one look at him and saw past his facade and into how broken he was and decided that no. All these feelings are what drew Bucky to stop searching and to think that he was a burden to everyone. Maybe that's why he felt the only place he could be himself was when he knew that he was 100% alone.

He huffed softly and threw his head back against the couch staring up at the ceiling once again. His Adam's apple bobbed as he listened to the soft murmur of the tv. All the world's troubles put onto Steve's back for years and he gets a little tongue-tied and that was it for him.

He needed help. He needed to get better. He laughed softly, his face breaking out into creases of his tanned skin, his lips parting and his teeth glowing against the white flush. He was insane and there was no going back. He laughed at himself for what seemed like an hour until he felt the familiar buzz against his heated skin.

"Hell yes man as long as we watch sharknado!"

Bucky's smile grew more and stretched his face into a radiance that made him look like he did when he was young.

Bucky didn't know what the hell sharknado was but he was glad to know she liked him enough to go on a date with him. Bucky Barnes had a date to go on Friday and he couldn't be happier. He didn't have any nightmares that night but he'd rather have a life-ending one than what he told Yori in the morning.

It was a couple of days after the fight with Yori. Bucky finished the book the day after he read it that's why he was here along with wanting to apologize for his actions at the restaurant. He was currently sat on the wise man's couch. His son's shrine right on the small table in front of him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and let his eyes fall elsewhere. He was ashamed to have kept this secret for so long but he couldn't find a way to tell Yori.

"Yeah, hey I murdered your son but it was fine since I was brainwashed by wanna-be nazis?" He let out a small nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Yori was going to find out somehow sooner or later. Bucky just hoped it was later. He didn't want what he had with Yori to end because of his past.

"What's worrying you?" Yori said softly as he walked briskly into the living room with a cup of green tea. He sat down on the couch on the right side of the Bucky. Nearest to the door. Bucky couldn't but think Yori was in some form afraid of him since he tested him that night at the restaurant. No one ever tried to test Yori.

Bucky was different. A way that Yori wanted to understand. But Yori saw the trouble of the glass downstairs when he went to put the trash away. The brand was still visible and Yori only knew one person who drank that. Bucky. Yori figured bad things came from it.

Partly the reason since he knew what came after from drunken mishappenings. Yori sat the green tea on the brown coffee table in front of them by Bucky and put his focus back onto Bucky.

"I asked a question," Yori said softly. It seemed that Bucky was in a trance his head downward and his eyes shifting searching for something maybe an answer to Yori's question but there were so many things going through Buckys mind that it'd take months for Bucky to explain to Yori everything.

Bucky looked up to Yori with a smile but in his eyes were nothing but disaster. Yori sat uncomfortably. He was disturbed not once in the few months of knowing Bucky did not smile.

Bucky ignored the question instead "I finished the book you gave me," Bucky spoke with a waver in his voice making him sound unsure. While he reached into his pocket to grab it Yori pursed his lips.

"I didn't want you to read it I wanted you to return it to the library," Bucky's smile faltered and his eyes dimmed even darker than the way they did before. "Oh" is all Bucky said before he put the book back into his jacket pocket. He messed with the wrapping on his hand that Yori took notice of. Bucky was acting odder than usual and Yori couldn't put his finger on it.

Yori took out a scratch piece of paper and handed it to Bucky. In scratchy handwriting, Bucky assumed it was another book 'life on mars.' Then Yori spoke up "Are you going to drink your tea if not I will," Yori jabbed a finger pointing to the white cup. Bucky cleared his throat "I'm not that thirsty,"

Bucky handed over the glass cup to Yori and he glared over to Bucky and he glared back. Yori smacked his lips together after he finished. "If you're here just to have a staring contest with me, then I'm afraid you'll be here for a very long time,"

Bucky readjusted his posture and breathed roughly. "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at the restaurant. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper at something so minor."

Bucky stopped thinking of words to say he gave up. Yori got up and left the kitchen uninterested in Bucky's apology. His son's portrait started yearning to be alive again. He stared brutally into Bucky's existence. It asked to switch position with Bucky and Bucky swore that he was out of his body and then sucked back in when Yori started to swirl a spoon around the top of the lip of the cup.

"Sugar makes green tea flavorful," Yori sat down when he was finished he swirled it into the now full cup. Bucky guessed he made a few more for later. Yori came back up to the lip and dampened it with tea it made and a remarkably loud song.

Around and around it went putting Bucky into a trance his posture regained to straight and his shoulder back head high with eyes dead. "When my son, RJ, was one he used to sing this song 'a longing rusted freight car coming to an end where it went when the furnace descended.' it was quite a beautiful song when he sang it,"

Bucky heard bits and pieces before his brain went to a mush of the activation words being said in his head. "When he was nine had a tumor and we took him to the doctor but we found out it was benign."

Bucky couldn't hear. He couldn't see. The sky was filled to the brim with stars. The moon brightened and removed his appearance from the trace of a normal eye. He stepped carefully on the roof of the building. His suit blending him into the shadows. His hair stuck to his face closing him in and disguising him more than he already is. He saw RJ through the roof's window. This couldn't have gone more perfectly. He slipped behind one of the paintings and was quiet, his breathing irregular. He heard footsteps and assumed it was RJ and punched through the painting and grabbed tightly onto the neck of the man he mistakenly thought was RJ and tossed him back into the debris of the painting. A man came after him and he quickly threw the knife from the back of his belt and plunged it into the neck of his victim. Another man slammed into the stairway when he flew out of the painting the rest of the men flew down the stairs in pursuit of fleeing the winter soldier. As they shot at him he was faster and killed them first he jumped off the stairs and threw the other spare knife at the man in front of him. An old man grey in the green leather jacket he smashed against the wall even threw metal Bucky could feel the man's heartbeat quickening and then faltering to nothingness. "Hail Hydra'' The last words the man heard as he dropped from Buckys grip to a heap of a corpse in a matter of seconds. Bucky turned to his right and watched the RJ struggle to put the key to escape Bucky. Bucky wanted to laugh at how weak and puny his attempt was to get away; he was constantly looking behind him at Bucky. Closer and closer Bucky's strides were to capture his life. Bucky's shoulder swayed a demeanor threatened with authority and anyone who dared to test it would feel the stupidity of their choice. When RJ started to beg Bucky thought that was all he had in him. Bucky didn't care. He raised his hand and straightened it perfectly matching the hilt to the RJs head.

"I KILLED RJ!" Bucky yelled standing upright. Saliva flew onto Yori when he screamed. Bucky's metal arm was tightly tied around Yori's throat. Yori was in pure terror, his eyes wide, his hands in front of him wrapped around the metal as he leaned back to get away from Bucky as he confessed to him who killed his son.

His mouth was wide in shock gasping for air. Bucky's eyes widened in horror, his mind running thousands of thoughts per second he took his hand off Yori's throat and choked on air. Bucky stared down at his metallic pitch-black hand and then Bucky ran. He ran to his apartment. Hands in his hair pacing kitchen to the living room.

What the actual fuck did he just do? He felt tears brim his eyes and he couldn't believe what he just did. He ruined everything he worked for since Wakanda. His reputation was obliterated just like that in a matter of seconds. His breathing became ragged; he managed to take off his dark black leather jacket and tossed it to the couch.

The black t-shirt he had on raised slightly from his arms being on his head. His wrapped hand tore into his skin making him even more upset from the broken mirror in his bathroom that he still didn't clean up. The memory just kept running itself over in his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. Yori's reaction.

There's no way he'd be able to repair what he did to Yori and he'd had to live the rest of his life knowing how badly he fucked up. He wanted to so badly tear this goddamn arm off with everything he had. He remembered trying the old one off that Hydra gave him it never worked. He still had the deep gashes from his nails where they latched onto his shoulder.

The scars never really healed right, instead of being in the skin, they rose like mountains from it. Bucky clutched his head tightly, his form shaking with tremors. He just kept thinking of the word stupid.

"I, John Walker. Captain America has taken the super-soldier serum and in my disregard, I feel as if there are no consequences and it should be open to the public. And in retrospect of the world, I personally think that Steve Rogers was too soft on his components and since I have taken the serum I will no longer be tolerating the life of the terrorists. That being said I will in no regard will hold back. I will do everything in my power to rid this Earth of the monsters we know until their last god-ridden breath."

Bucky lifted his head from its place hanging down into his hands, his jaw gritted tight, his nose flared, and his eyes full of fury. John Walker. He was going to kill that man one way or another. Bucky was pissed so beyond natural anger that he stood up and walked straight in front of the tv.

This man was beyond no right in having that televised. What he said could destroy the world in an instant. Who or why did he get the serum from? And Bucky was the time bomb? Bucky closed his eyes, his hands turned into tight fists, and let the image of John Walker in an interview with a lady sat across from him at John's old school burn in his mind. The white noise of the crowd cheering John's opinion made Bucky's blood boil.

Bucky thought he had calmed himself until he opened his eyes he saw John look into the camera and point.

"The world would be a better place if there were more brave soldiers like me."

Bucky reared his metal fist back and pounded the tv until the screen was ridden of John Walker's face. Bucky came to the idea that when he got another tv maybe he shouldn't watch the news for a while. Glass fell on the table and pieces on the wood floor by his feet.

He fell to his knees. His knees cracked from all his weight on them with no support. His knees being crushed by the glass. His hands hiding his face from the world.

His cheeks and face grew warm from how he felt. His nose burned when tears started to fall ever so gently down his cheeks. Grey eyes becoming the most vibrant of blues. He choked softly, his throat closing as he sat there in the middle of his destroyed living room. His apartment is the greatest amphitheater in the world.

His shoulders rising and falling and stuttering when he gagged on air. He parted his hands from his face and sat upright. His hands fell into fists, his arms tensed and the veins in his neck pulsed when he let out a blood curdling scream. It was a long screech filled with his voice cracking his vocal cords giving upon him.

His tears despite his yelling still fell and stained his cheeks. He thought so many things at once and everything involved him being a monster. He was hurt and this was the worst self-harm. The arm was given to him and the brain that wasn't his own.

He decided that he needed to go on a walk to calm himself down. Maybe he'd go and return Yori's book. All he knew is that the world for Bucky Barnes was getting darker and worse by the day. Who knows how long until he loses who he is. But one thing was for sure. It wasn't going to be for long until he does.

He stayed home for the rest of that day. It was in the evening when he had gotten home from Yori's. He was still greatly upset by what happened. He couldn't think about it until he grew angry with a suicidal rage. He was alone. All over again the monster that kids are scared to go to sleep over.

He sat by the window again just in the same random shorts and no shirt out of fear of coating it in sweat. It was the least of his problems but it was still a burden. He wished he had something to listen to, his thoughts were so loud that he was surprised that mind readers didn't go deaf from it. He watched the people below him walk past the building complex.

Not batting an eye at the monster in the window above them. He wanted to laugh at how normal people were and how he was once like them but now turned into this creature. His shoulders broad and held his form up by the sides of his sculpted waist.

His legs crossed over another he leaned against the wall that joined the window in the corner. He sat across from the kitchen. His stomach growled at the thought of food, the last time he could remember eating something was at the restaurant and that was just a nibble. It wasn't like he could eat something. He never splurged on food, all the food he had was fruit sitting in a white complimentary bowl on the middle of the island.

He pushed his head against the wall swallowing thickly debating whether he should or not. He decided he didn't deserve it after what he's done. Disrupted from his thoughts he felt a buzz on his thigh in the pocket of his shorts.

He fished out the stupid little box and saw that it once again another text from Sam. He's been ignoring them since he's had Sam's contact; he deemed them not worthy of a response. They were all on the lines of are you okay? Bucky smiled at something so incredulous. He started typing out

Yeah. Just losing my mind but other than that I'm just fine. But went against it. When he read more of the missed messages one did pique his interest. Did you hear about the rumor of Steve being on the moon? Bucky's eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted. What? How could Steve be on the moon? Sam and he literally watched Steve grow old in front of them. How absurd to say that Steve was on the moon. But when Bucky thought more of it, it reminded him of what he read in the book.

Talk to the stars and they'll talk back. Bucky groaned in annoyance. Was this what he was resorting to in a desperate measure for interaction? Talking to inanimate things. He let out a deep breath his chest rose then fell shortly after. He closed his eyes imagining Steve back in Brooklyn and all the mischievous things they did.

He remembered the day Steve got rejected and then Bucky being deployed the next day. The day that started it all. The downfall of Bucky's life. Bucky didn't know what he would say to Steve but he thought he started out well enough.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we'd always have to act like we were soldiers because of you. God Steve even when we were kids you had your mind made up. Always wanting to be something when I couldn't even choose what cereal I wanted,"

Bucky stopped and thought over the words he said. It was true. Steve was always headstrong about everything he wanted. Bucky remembered that Steve was going to create this comic of this monkey who shot bananas out of a bazooka. And Steve did.

It never took off or anything it was just the thought of if anything Steve wanted he would never stop until he got it.

While Bucky always had his priorities elsewhere, the majority of the time he made Steve do his homework so he wouldn't fail. Two opposite people were the best of friends, who knew that one of them would turn out to be the villain.

"You know Steve I enlisted because I felt like I had to prove something, I had to prove that I was better at something than you. Just that one thing I ended up not even being better than you at."

Bucky's voice was dry and raspy when he spoke. The screaming fried his throat when he talked. It burned like a good bottle of Shōchū.

He'd kill for a bottle right now. He was starting to understand that this wouldn't work but he grew angrier at the thought of Steve trading him out for some girl. Bucky knew how much Peggy mattered to Steve but he still never got why he'd trade him out for her. He was jealous in a sense over the life Steve got.

"If I could I would change places with you in an instant, to be at peace. You got to live your life and I had to decay for years without my best friend. Maybe this was for the best so you couldn't see me become who I am now. Someone that we swore to never be ever since we were kids, the bad guy."

Bucky chewed on his lip after that. Til the end of the line his ass. Bucky ran his hand through his hair, the strands comforting his hand. He got up from the window and walked over to his little bed and went to sleep. The night's toll took everything out of him.

The only thing he currently wanted was this thing he had with this girl to be good. How wrong he was.

He decided that he was going to go and return the book Yori gave him. He still hated what happened and he knew trying to fix it would make it worse. The least he could do is get him the book he wanted. So Bucky put on his washed-out jeans, his shirt he wore yesterday, shrugged on his jackets and slipped his feet into his boots, and a black glove to hide his metallic arm, and went to the Library.

The library was a little old place with the roof caving in not far from the complex building. He wondered why Yori didn't just go and get it himself, Bucky didn't really care about having to go but he just wanted to know if Yori was okay and doing well.

Bucky went down the stairs and found a few remaining pieces of the glass bottle he broke last week. The memory of him falling and breaking it etched in his mind vividly. He felt a chill run up his spine at the feeling of someone seeing him like that.

He hurried down the last of the stairs and opened the glass door and went outside. The warm air wafted itself around him in a soft summer breeze. It was warm but not hot enough for him to go without a jacket and the chilly breeze lightened it up. It felt relaxing since he forgot how long it's been outside of his apartment.

He took long strides on his walk. But he couldn't shake the paranoia of being stalked. He was about halfway when he saw a shadow mock him. He walked faster not wanting to have to deal with this today.

The other person's shadow grew larger and bigger as Bucky walked further. When Bucky saw the library and a few he nearly bolted to the building. When he was inside he saw that it was just a lost dog. He was losing it. He sighed his mind relaxing and then jolting when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay mister?"

A warm voice made his heart pump faster than it already was he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. When he turned around he was met by easily the most beautiful girl. It was you. He thought in that instant that everything about you was perfect the way your eyes looked at him, the way your face was adorable, the way your hair fell behind your ears, the way your lips looked the most perfect shade along with your eyes. He promised himself when he got home that he'd paint his whole apartment that color.

He went cross-eyed from staring at the shape of your lips and how they shaped around the words he couldn't hear from being so entranced by you. He started to feel his heartbeat out of his chest. When he thought of how you'd look with pretty lips wrapped around him and dull bedroom eyes looking up at him through thick eyelashes. He needed to stop, he just met you and now he's so hard against his jeans that he was sure that he was bruised.

And your hands on his shoulders shaking him wasn't helping him. His trance was broken when he realized what was happening. "Huh?" That is all he managed to make out through his lust-clouded mind. You did this face that made him die, it was when your eyebrows furrowed and your lips went to one side pursed together. Your eyes were cut at him and he knew he was in trouble but he just couldn't help being enticed by you.

"I asked if you needed help," You stopped and wagged a finger in his way "You're all sweaty." He looked down at himself and you were right, his hair stuck down and his shirt showed pools. Shit. Way to embarrass yourself, Buck. You're sweaty, you're horny for some girl you just met. He was a trainwreck embodied. "I'm okay, it's just the heat," Bucky spoke with uncertainty. He had no idea what was happening why he was acting like this. He usually never felt like this around a girl, especially one he just met.

Your face was still cut, your lips went back into the fullness of how they are naturally. "Weird but okay." You spoke under your breath since it wasn't sweating weather outside. You were going to be the death of him and thankfully there were only a couple of other people in the library since it was the morning of a weekday.

"There's a cool spot where the ac is over there." She turned and pointed towards the left somewhere. He couldn't concentrate in the slightest even if he tried. And god your body from just the standard shirt and jeans you wore he felt his turn into skinny jeans.

"But anyway if you need me just yell, its y/n." And you left and when you walked away to assist someone else he got the perfect view of your ass. He scurried into the thick of the bookshelves and triple-checked if anyone was around him and adjusted himself.

It was so painful to not jump your bones right there. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Get it together Buck. He realizes that he was going to have to go and talk to you again since he had to check the book in. He mentally stabs himself in the neck.

He calms himself down enough so that he could talk to you again. He feels like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush. Bucky guessed that he lost his cool with talking to girls over the years since he stopped. This was hell. You were at the front desk, the one in front of the door. You were reading some book that he didn't know.

He took a moment to admire the way your hair frames your face, the way your ass jutted out so you could lean over the desk on your forearms. Your free hand, the one not holding your page was used as a support beam for your face under your chin. God you were so beautiful, he hooked his finger under the collar of his shirt and started to flick it back and forth to generate air.

He was the human-dog drooling over a mate. He hated himself for not getting to know you and he already felt like this towards you. He was a monster but he wasn't impolite; he drew the line there. He was in the clouds that he didn't notice you staring at him with squinted eyes. "Can I help you, sir?" Your voice hung on sir in his mind.

He couldn't help but envision you beneath him moaning sir. "Uh, yeah, there's this book" He startled himself when his voice croaked out a response. He patted the pocket of his jacket and had a crisis when he thought he left it at home. But when he shoved his hands into his pocket he let out a smile of relief and grabbed it and slid it over to you on the other side of the desk.

"I need you to check that in and then" He stopped and searched for the piece of paper Yori gave him. He found it crumpled as lint in the bottom of his other pocket and the words faded. "Shit, uh, and check out this." He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at his feet afraid of confrontation. You silently grabbed the book and checked it in and grabbed the note. You couldn't make out a single letter. Your eyebrows pinched together and when he looked up quickly and then darted his eyes away. He knew that you couldn't.

He wanted a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole. You scratched the back of your neck trying to decipher the note "I can recommend something similar to the book you turned in, I'm sorry but I can't read this." You spoke with sincerity. And walked out behind the desk and poor Bucky followed you like a lovesick puppy.

You cursed Jordan, another employee for putting the desired book on the top shelf. The bookshelves were very tall and you weren't short but you weren't 7' foot either. You pinched your nose shutting your eyes and put a hand on your hip. "Do you see the book at the very top with the red back?" You muttered and Bucky looked up and saw the issue. "Do you want me to grab it for you?" Bucky looked at you with the softest eyes and you couldn't help but admire them.

You shook your head and lord you were about to melt. His body was brushed up against yours, you could've moved but you really didn't. You could feel the texture of his jacket against your soft skin and you cursed yourself for blushing. He took notice and let a small smile creep on his face when he handed you the book and your head was hung low when you walked back behind the desk.

Bucky guessed that he didn't completely lose his effect on girls. When you were checking out the book he noticed the book you were reading. It was The hobbit. He actually enjoyed the book when he read it when it first came out. He didn't take an interest in fantasy and so he shrugged it off until he actually read it.

When you stamped the books inside the page and slid it back. Bucky smirked "You know they all die in the end." The pure confusion on your face was amusing and with that, he left.

When he got home he started to feel the metal of his arm become rusted and thinking back it had been a while since the last time he cleaned it. He was wanting it to fall off so bad that he forgot he actually needed it.

He wondered where the girl went that texted him before. He didn't want to bother her by texting her first that to him was unnatural. It didn't bother him that much since he used to. And that the date was tomorrow so she would either show up or not and he'd suffer the consequences either way.

He went to the bathroom to grab the grease and a rag he uses every time in the cabinet under the sink.

He stopped shortly catching himself in the shattered mirror. The bandage on his chin began to fall off God forbid it started to at the library. He took it off slowly, the hair of his stubble getting caught in the crossfire. There was a bright pink little scar where the gash was. His skin healed relatively fast but it never cured the scars. He figured if his chin was healed that his hand should be.

He unwrapped his hand slowly for some reason he was scared of what it looked like. When he finally finished unwrapping his palm was littered with scars ranging in size. He touched the scars to see if they hurt with his metal hand and nothing.

Just a scar.

Bucky grabbed the grease and took off his jacket and boots and the first time he moved in he sat on the couch.

It was stiff as ever and it never got out of the store phase. He poured some grease on the white rag and it turned brown and he started to put it in the creases where he noticed it too slow. His mind ran back to you that never happened to him. God he was caught red-handed too, he'd have to take a very long and cold shower when he was done cleaning his arm. The rest of the evening all he could think about was what would happen tomorrow and how he'd destroy the girl of his dreams.

Bucky spent Friday constantly checking his phone for two reasons.

1) to see if his admirer would message him and

2) always checking the time.

He honestly couldn't wait; it's been forever and he was excited about something new. For change. The only source of entertainment he had was the book he checked out earlier. It wasn't the book he was supposed to get. The book in contrast was called American Psycho.

Bucky was about halfway and he fairly enjoyed it. Although it disturbed him since he found similarities in himself with Patrick Bateman. Bucky laughed at all the dark jokes and liked all the points where Patrick lost all sanity; it was the highlight of the book.

Bucky flipped one of the knives carelessly in the hand that wasn't occupied by the book. Bucky loved the power a single knife had. A single slip of the wrist could end something as fast as it began. Time flew by when simple hobbies turned into jobs. He cursed himself because it was seven o clock and he had only an hour to go to the restaurant which was the sushi place that he and Yori used to eat at.

He texted the directions to the girl, he grabbed his glove and jacket and shoved the knife in the back of his belt and fled down the stairs and out the door, and ran the rest of the way.

You sat at the small petite table, your phone clutched in your hand carefully watching the time. When it turned to 8:55 your gut twisted. Maybe he didn't like you as much as you liked him.

The waitress came by once again asking if everything was okay and if you'd like to eat and each time and you'd have to politely decline. You crossed and uncrossed your legs, they grew numb from you sitting in the wooden chair for the past hour. You didn't know what to wear so you opted for a sleek white dress and some heels.

You hoped you didn't overdress and make the wrong impression. You sipped on your water looking through the window to find any hint of your lover boy. You knew what to look for since you knew who it was. But maybe he didn't come and you were set up. How embarrassing this was. Yori told you that he was stubborn but he seemed pretty into you at the library. You know Yori through Leah, an employee at the restaurant who was a friend of yours.

She promised you that she would pay for your meal every time you ate there. How could you refuse? You sighed and began to get up and leave since you thought Bucky gave up on wanting to go on the date. You quickly sat down when you heard the bell of the door ring open and then there he was in all his glory.

Bucky Barnes, in the same leather jacket but you couldn't believe how good he looked underneath the dim light. His bandages were now gone and his face was sullen and structured from the shadows that made his face deepen. You smiled your ruby lips catching Bucky's attention and he hadn't seen something so pleasing to the eye in ages. Although he was confused since he didn't know that it was you who he was texting was there something going on that he didn't know about?

He pulled out the chair and sat across from you with his face stern. "Why didn't you tell me it was you that I was talking to?" He spoke slowly and his head tilted in question like a puppy's. "Yori told me about how you are with dating and he was afraid of you always being alone, and he gave me your number, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

You fiddled with your fingers when you talked you were nervous about his reaction. You knew all about Bucky's reputation and embarrassing enough growing up you developed a crush on him, so you jumped for this opportunity.

You loved how strong and brave he was and even though he was brainwashed you thought of him as a good person. He chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking of what were the right words to say. "Just no more secrets from now on." With that, he waved down the waitress for a bottle of Shōchū.

After the half, the bottle was gone you couldn't help but be in wonder from how he managed to be able to drink all that meanwhile you were still sipping on your first shot. Every sip you took you gagged and your face turned into a kid who took their first sip of alcohol which made Bucky laugh.

Dinner was going along nicely there were many jokes and stories shared but Bucky couldn't help but be skeptical of how this could work. Bucky was severely messed up and couldn't care for another. He wanted to but he was just incapable, maybe he could just live this lie and things could be normal.

When they called for closure Bucky finished laughing at some remark you made, you and he were sat there talking for a couple of hours. It was just so easy to talk to him. Although you did notice a few times he would wince in pain and put his face in his hands. You thought it was odd but shrugged it off from his excessive drinking. Speaking of the devil he asked

"Do you want to go to my place. There have been complications with my tv so we can't watch a movie, but I can keep you company." You smiled a drunken buzz of Shōchū. Not nearly did you drink as much as Bucky but it was still written across your features. Your face flushed pink and your body made of jello hung off of Bucky's arm the whole walk to his house and Bucky every now and then had to pick you up.

Bucky didn't want to do anything rash to you but in the back of his mind, something kept itching it made it so painful that he couldn't ignore it. It kept making him shake his head and wince it was like a headache but much more painful. When he got into his apartment you took notice of what he meant by complications of a totaled tv. You shed off your heels and sat on the tv nervous to be in Bucky's house, your form off-putting to Bucky.

He sat down across the couch from you and he became hurt by you sitting so far away from him. "Are you scared of me or something?" He spoke grimly staring at the floor, his face holding no emotion to his words. "What? no!" You were shocked by his words. How could he assume that you were scared of him? Bucky looked your way and a strange look appeared in his eyes.

"Then why are you sitting so far away from me?" He gritted his teeth and his hands turned into fists, they were clamped tightly together on his thighs and this side of Bucky did scare you. He wasn't Bucky, he looked like him but his whole persona changed in the span of minutes. You wondered if it was something you said or did.

You became fearful when he fell off the couch onto his knees his head clutched in his hands. He started to scream not like the ones before this one was full of pain and torment. The moon's light made this scene unfold a lot more sinister. What was happening to him, why was he acting this way? Then all of a sudden he grew very quiet nothing could be heard other than your breathing.

You were confused and scared but you did care for Bucky and in his position, you assumed he was in serious need of help. You walked carefully taking notice to not step loudly to provoke him. You crouched down your dress falling over your feet, you reached your right hand out hesitant towards Bucky.

You stayed with your hand on his shoulder

"Bucky?"

You whispered softly, scared to disturb him. Everything was at ease at a calm one that felt too unrealistic.

That was true because a few seconds later Bucky grumbled out

"Who the hell is Bucky."

He slung around his body twisted and grabbed a knife from the back of his belt and stabbed you straight into the heart with it. Before you could even have time to run it was over.

The white of your dress now became a soaking deep red. The way your eyes forever open to the moon the way the moon took your life. And that day was when Bucky Barnes lost his sanity and forever came the winter soldier.

*A few months later*

She sat with her legs crossed, her hair tied up perfectly.

Her posture evenly to the ceiling while sitting. The only one that a soldier would perfect. She read over his portfolio over and over to get every last detail to stick in her mind so she wouldn't forget.

She breathed heavily finishing the last sentence. She took off her glasses and shut the case file on her lap, and put her right elbow up on the white seat, her glasses in the same hand.

She pursed her lips staring at the man in front of her and sat on the white couch in front of a forest mural. He was in all black a blank face, his hair a little longer and his stubble now thicker.

He played with the pink protruding scar on his right hand. Pushing and watching the blood rush to it. She wrote that in the notebook.

When he caught notice he stopped and tilted his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her.

He was convicted of third-degree murder and numerous accounts of other convictions.

She thought over all the things that were stated in the portfolio but what struck her the most was that he drank excessively and faked being drunk just to feel

"more human."

She thought of a way to form a sentence to not upset him about what he's telling her to see if what he recollected matched what was in the documents but there was no easy way to do that.

She listened to him finish the last of what he was telling her:

"And that's how the story ended."

Fin.