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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.

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Note

Heyyyyy its 💜A Anon ✨ Its 1 am at the Moment and im depressed and do have a university lecture in about 6 hours.. I’d like to request some: fluffy comforting hatter after they nearly didnt made it out of a game. Thank youuu ✨I’m trying to sleep now 🙈 ~ 💜A

Pairing: Hatter x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 804

Summary: He's always there for you. Always there to comfort you.

Warnings: fingering

Notes: Here it is, love! Sorry for being late. Hope you enjoy it tho, it was really nice to write 🤧💕

You almost didn’t make it.

You were so close to dying. You can still feel the hot breath of the rabid dogs that had run after you, so close to shredding you to pieces. It was only luck that allowed you to get out alive. Luck, and the people that died horrible deaths right behind you.

You let out another sob, pressing yourself further against Hatter's chest. He keeps moving his hand up and down your back, lips pressed to your temple.

"It's okay, Y/N,” he whispers. "You're okay."

"But–"

"You're safe and sound and that's what matters, love." You look up at him before hugging him tighter. He was waiting for you when you arrived from the game, crying and on the brink of a panic attack. He had taken you to your shared room immediately, letting you sob on his chest until you were barely conscious from all the crying.

Some days are easier than others, and the stress of being in Borderland finally got to you. You have a chance of dying every week, and this game made that possibility way too real. You don’t want to die like that; you don’t want to leave him.

“I–I was so scared that–” you say in between sobbing spasms, “I was so scared that I would never see you again.” He kisses the top of your head, arms hugging you tightly.

“Don’t think about it anymore,” he gently wipes the tears off your face, “How about I prepare you a nice hot bath?” You nod, letting him stand up. You follow him to the bathroom, watching him as he fills the large bathtub in a corner. He’s always so good to you. You hate that you only got to meet in the Borderlands; you would love to spend the rest of your life with him in the real world.

He helps you strip out of your dirty clothes before helping you get in the bath. You sigh as the hot water involves your tired body. You needed this. But something is missing.

“Bathe with me?” you ask as Hatter moves to turn around. He smiles before stripping and joining you, sitting behind you in the large tub. You relax against him, your back against his chest. His arms go around you, pulling you closer. He makes you feel so safe.

You both say nothing as he starts washing your hair, firm but gentle hands massaging your scalp. It feels so nice that you almost doze off, comforted by his hands on you. He finishes washing your hair to wash your body, hand rubbing the sponge all over your skin. He makes you feel so good.

His hand brushes against your core, and you can’t help but gasp. You grab his wrist in an impulse, stopping him. You don’t say anything as you take the sponge off his hand and direct his fingers to your core.

You moan when his fingertips press on your clit, making you open your legs wider for better access. You feel him kiss your shoulder before his fingers start sliding up and down your slit. You grab the sides of the tub in a moan as one long finger penetrates. It’s soon followed by another, pumping in and out of you as his palm rubs your clit with just the right pressure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your ear before kissing your neck, “The most beautiful thing in this damn country.” his fingertips brush against your g-spot, making you cry out in pleasure. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Your moans get louder as you feel your orgasm approaching, your hips moving in time with his fingers. His other hand is massaging your breast, squeezing and kneading it like he knows you like it. He knows your body so well. His lips and teeth make a mess on your neck, occasionally whispering things that make you clench around his fingers. No man ever made you feel like he does.

You come around his fingers with a small scream that he muffles with a kiss. He keeps fingerfucking you slowly, making you whine in overstimulation. You moan when he finally takes his fingers out of you, panting as you try to regain your breath.

He whispers sweet things in your ear as he finishes washing you; “So beautiful.” he says, “Such a good girl.” It makes you smile; you almost forget why you were crying just half an hour ago. He helps you out of the bath, drying you with a fluffy towel before taking you bridal-style back to bed.

You sigh as he gently lays you down on the bed, kissing you before promising to bring you the best food he can find. You kiss him back and nod, heavy lids closing slowly.

He makes you feel so loved.

#alice in borderland fanfic #ima wa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland #hatter #hatter x reader #danma takeru #takeru danma #hatter imagines #💜a anon #submission #one shot

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weebsinstash · 3 years

Note

Lol sorry for the unsolicited advice but have you thought about learning to program? You'd probably only have to do a year or two of study and then you'd be well set up to get a job that pays more and has better working conditions. Just a thought :)

Yeah, I've thought about learning coding or something since those jobs are always hiring! I dont know if I would be competent at it though since I dunno, im shitty at math and sometimes my memory can be kind of poor

Though I'm going to be honest and say that for many years I have only planned on living for a temporary amount of time and I've been thinking that way since like uhhhhhhh early elementary school and. I still feel that way all these years later. so. sometimes it's like 'why are you worrying about a career? You're gonna die, bitch!"

It's kind of a comfort, really. It's hard to explain. It's easier for me to think "when things get hard i can just kill myself and be done with it forever" rather than worry about what I'm gonna do in the future, do for food, do for work. Everything is broken anyways. I was on disability and they took it away during Covid because "oh you have a job and you're working now so we feel like you've improved!" even though I would wake up sobbing about not wanting to go to work and contemplating suicide every other week and I only went because I literally had to. You have to fight to prove how sick you are so they'll reluctantly help you and the second they decide you don't deserve that help anymore, they're happy to take it away

I dunno. Maybe I'm just in a funk and I'm all gloom and doom because I'm an addict and I'm out of weed and I've been drinking. I constantly sway back and forth between "well I'm going to die anyways" to "well I guess I'll just keep on keeping on" but it's been a very very long time since I have actually wanted to be alive so. It's kind of hard to know what to do with that. My therapist doesn't really know anymore, and I don't think my new medicine is making a difference and I kind of just stopped taking it anyways

I dunno, I'm sorry to turn this into something majorly depressing. That's just how it is. We're born to work and pay bills and pay taxes and then we die. We fight like hell to try and elect people we think may make our country and our lives better and someone is always taking bribes and handouts and it's all about money. Why save the planet when Big Motor needs us to keep buying cars and oil and our entire society is built on constantly throwing away plastic and we spent a trillion dollars terrorizing the middle east and it turns out the afghan military was literally just sitting back and doing heroin while American soldiers killed thousands of civilians and the whole war was really just an excuse to feed money to the military industrial complex by buying their surplus of weapons which are now in the hands of the actual fucking taliban and even an American Supreme Court recently ruled that hey Nestlé you aren't even liable for using slave labor for your chocolate because the slavery isn't in the US and that's ok!

And it may seem like I'm just rattling off a bunch of random bullshit and I kind of am but. It's all broken. Our planet is dying. Our society is collapsing. Homelessness and poverty is increasing. Coronavirus was basically used as eugenics to kill off loads of poor and disadvantaged people and while the capitalists scoop up the ruins of the empty real estate that used to be a mom and pop store to turn them into Walmarts and Home Depots we just get told "if you're struggling, it's something YOURE doing wrong!"

I just don't want to be here anymore quite frankly. I'm just gonna sink back into my escapism and try and forget where I have my vicodin and muscle relaxants hidden

#i quit my job my mom is impulse buying a beardie i have no money there are fucking slugs in my new bioactive like #i could make a list of every manic thought and worry i have right now but im just burnt out.#tw suicide mention #hell sometimes i overshare my emotional state just in the off chancd i finally go through with it and you guys can know what happened to me

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Note

Can I request a self conscious chubby Shouto? Reader gives him kisses on his tummy and reassures him about his weight?

tw: shouto has poor body image, fluff, angsty

shouto had been hospitalized for five months.

after what was most definitely the most horrific villain attack seen on live tv against only one hero, the doctors never shut up about how he was lucky to have won, how lucky he was to be alive. it was far after the days that recovery girl had passed, and with no healing quirk having matched her ability it had been a long five months in hospice care.

he had spent one month in a coma and the next four just healing. it had been a hard four months, his body almost refusing to move, black and yellow bruises covered his body still, and the diet... the diet they had him on was one that was supposed to help him gain weight. it was to help with his healing and aid with the muscle gain he was going to need in order to be where he once was - he understood that and he appreciated the doctors doing what was best for him but he didn’t understand how he went from his strong, toned, and lithe form to one with flappy arms, pooling thighs, and a tummy so large he couldn’t see his toes without leaning forward. he never thought he would hate that he couldn’t see his jawline anymore, that he could hate that he couldn’t sit up without feeling his stomach, hate that he was so hungry all the time. he hated that he was so... he was so—

“welcome home!” you cheered merrily, guiding shouto back into the house that had been without his presence for almost half a year.

he tried to focus on you and only you, your mindless babble about how you had learned how to make cold soba noodles for him while he was in the hospital (although you made sure to insist that they weren’t that good so to not get his hopes up, but shouto was tittering on being excited and nauseous at the thought of having endless cold soba), how you had temporarily moved the master bedroom into the closest room to the front door and kitchen just in case he wasn’t ready to move that much, how you had accidentally broken the sliding door but had his brother come and fix it for you, and of course just how happy and grateful you were that he was out. shouto tried to stay engaged but he could feel the eyes scorching on his back, the nosy neighbors and paparazzi who wanted the first pictures of him since his release.

he hated this, he hated his body right now, and their judgmental gaze burned him from the inside out. for over twenty years of his life he had never been without muscle on his body and now... now he was... he was—

“watch your step, you’re been limping again, I don’t want you to trip,” came your gentle voice, your foot planted on the stair and the other on the floor as if to support him in case he fell. like you could keep him upwards if he did, he bitterly thought.

regardless, shouto gave you a gracious half smile and carried through, stepping up to the stair and flinching when he felt that skin he was still starkly unfamiliar with move. but the moment the front door closed behind the both of you, shouto felt empty.

the rest of the day was filled with shouto adjusting to the house once more. adjusting to the way the floors creaked under his feet, of how you always waited for him to enter through the doorways instead of attempting to go through them with him, of how you lingered behind him with conscious eyes and nervous fingers. he knew you were worried, it was as obvious as the sun during a summer heat wave, but it offered him no comfort... it only made him feel worse, made him graze his fingers against his... his...

“why don’t you take a shower?” you suggest, your hands grabbing the dishes on the table. you had made soup, he was still to be on a mostly liquid diet until next week. “I bet this has been exhausting, and if you shower then I can shower and we can sleep early tonight!”

shouto strained a smile again, his tongue still failing to speak. he hasn’t spoken a word in weeks, but you never seemed to grow angry at his lack of words thankfully. his eyes fluttered close when you leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his body shivering both at the familiar contact that he loved and the aching pain that continued to be suppressed.

showering nearly killed him.

feeling the way that his body now worked within the confines of the small room made his head spin. he hated that he couldn’t merely twist his body anymore, he had to completely turn around. he hated that he had to use more body wash, his hands shaking when he maneuvered around the fat that had built on his stomach, the stretched skin that fell on his thighs and arms.

stretch marks... as if the scar on his face wasn’t enough.

with a shaky sigh, he turned off the water and exited the shower.

he wasn’t feeling too bad with the warm water soaking into his skin, but he made the mistake of looking into the mirror as he made his way back to the room.

a mistake.

his eyes bore into his figure, was this really him? he could barely recognize himself. this... this had to be a mistake, there was no way this was him. his hands pressed to his side, hoping that this was all a figment of his imagination, just some twisted depression that was keeping him bound to the worst of this all.

but his hands fell on his body right where he had hoped they wouldn’t, and something snapped within him.

CRASH!

shouto didn’t even realize that he was panting like some rabid animal, his body trembling with extreme force, and the room covered with ice and burn marks. he collapsed forward, suddenly feeling weak, and with every ragged breath tears pricked at the back of his eyes, threatening to fall out but wouldn’t.

he was...

he was f--

“shouto? are you okay in there?”

he couldn’t even bother turning his head to look over at the opening door, but had he, he would’ve seen the way that your head peeked in, your eyes focused with concern, sympathy, and love. he focused on his hands, the white of his gripping knuckles, and the bulge of his veins.

“I-I’m okay,” he finally spoke, his head remaining low, horrid thoughts plaguing his head as the cold hallway air drafted into the room sending shivers down his spine - not that he reacted to it.

“that’s a lie if I ever heard one,” you sigh, not even trying to give him the satisfaction of believing his lie. but again, that was a quality he loved about you. “I won’t press because i’m sure this has been an overwhelming day for you, but... i’m here for you, shouto, you know?”

it was then that your hand pressed against his spine, and shouto felt his soul leave his body.

he didn’t want you touching him like this, he thought, storming away, trying to avoid your worried look as he pushed past you.

no not like this, his eyes clenched and his fists trembled at his side.

he was ugly, he gasped for air as he entered the room, his vision swimming.

he was... he was--!

“please don’t cry... please don’t cry without telling me why you’re upset!” your voice begged and shouto hated how distraught you sounded. “are you in pain?”

“no. well, not really.”

“is this happening too fast? were you discharged too soon?”

“no... i’m fine.”

it’s....

“was it the food? I know i’m still learning, but I didn’t think the food was that bad!”

“n-no, not that...”

it’s because...

“then what’s going on, sho?”

“it’s because i’m fat!” shouto finally spat, his body shaking with exploding emotion, steam spilling from his body as if he was fighting some evil villain.

his face was set in stone, a look of pure emotionlessness as long as you didn’t look into his eyes. as long as you didn’t know that sad glint in his eyes meant that he was emotionally beyond repair right now. he saw your mouth drop, most likely to ease any ‘untrue’ thoughts that danced on his mind. he didn’t want to hear it.

“I am, y/n, i’m fat. my clothes don’t fit and I have to wear these... throw away clothes! the doctors said im almost twice my usual weight. I-I have fat in places I didn’t even know existed, my stomach is so fucking huge i’m surprised kaminari hasn’t sent me some pregnant meme by now, and it took all my energy to just shower today. i’m fat!” shouto heaved, his forehead covered in cold sweat while glaring at the wall to the left of your head. he couldn’t look at you right now, not after that outburst.

the silence lingered thickly in the air, corroding the muscles in his throat, making his heart flutter in anxiety driven pulses while you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. he wanted to apologize to you, for what he didn’t know but he felt bad. his actions were halted by you sharp inhale, and that kind strong smile that fell on your face.

“...well, im not going to fight you on that, but i’m glad you spoke your mind,” you said softly, your hands moving to grip each other while you tried to save face in front of him. it was obvious that you hadn’t even thought that which made shouto feel even guiltier. “I’m going to shower, so please get ready for bed, yeah? we’ll talk more once we’re in bed and relaxed a bit!”

shouto’s nostrils flared, his heart squeezing at the fact that you still showed him such kind and soft love, and so he nodded his head in agreement.

“I won’t take long,” you promised about your shower, and shouto smiled even if a bit emotionlessly before your lips pressed softly against his. “be right back, get ready.”

he wasn’t sure how long it took him to get ready and for you to join him in bed, but his eyes were opened and he was staring off at your side of the bed as you climbed into bed. the gentle, warm, and cool scent of your hair wash and body wash drafted into his nose, a very welcoming smell after months of knowing only the sterile smell of bleached walls and floors.

“you ready to talk?” you asked him, and shouto blinked once, twice, his sight refocusing on your shining eyes and furrowed brow. he knew immediately that you had a lot to speak on, most likely creating some sort of script to follow.

“no,” shouto couldn’t help but say, his own worries forgotten for a moment when the natural need to tease you infiltrated his veins. “but i’m ready to hear you talk.”

your lips pursed, twitching in a way that made it obvious to him at least that you were resisting the urge to verbally attack him.

“five months ago, I thought I was going to lose you.” you began, your eyes uncharacteristically dropping from his own gaze and trailing down his body, as if in disbelief that he was even here. your hands moved to his chest, pressing softly onto the skin that he was hateful towards. “when I got the news that you had been hospitalized, and that you had gone into a coma... I wasn’t sure what to think. but you woke up before I knew it and then four months went by after you woke up, and i’ve been so... grateful that you survived that I hadn’t even bothered to think about how you must be feeling about this entire thing. I know this is a lot of change, its a lot of change, and I don’t know how to really help, but this is what I think.”

shouto felt his breathing nearly stop as your fingers trailed down the fat on his arms, his chest and his stomach. your eyes almost shyly met his and you pressed a kiss to his lips, unwilling to allow him to think for a second that this was just some staged thing.

“your weight doesn’t define you. your weight doesn’t make you less desirable. does your weight make you fat? sure, it completely does, but there’s nothing wrong with being fat. fat is not ugly, fat is not weak, fat is not less. bodies need fat, its basic biology. without fat we can’t exist, we can’t do anything, and sure right now you have more than you’ve ever had - but it’s okay, you’re still healthy and that is what matters. i mean look at fat gum! sure, he needs to be fat in order for his quirk to work, but nevertheless, he’s fat and he’s a pro hero. he’s healthy and still he’s fat. if you would rather be skinny than fat, that’s okay, you can choose what you want to be, as long as it’s done with good intentions. at the end of the day you’re still my shouto, you’re the man I know and love because fat determines none of that. I love the fat on your body as much as I loved the abs because either way it’s you.”

the words rang heavy in his ears, all thoughts and reasons he had seemingly disappeared the moment the last word was said. and tears fell from his eyes when you kissed every spot on his body that he had once been dreadfully insecure about. every kiss to his stomach sent butterflies through every cell, every soft breath spreading chills until he was gasping for breath - until you were finally back to his face and pressing kisses to his face until he wrapped you closer.

“I love you in any form you take.”

a/n: it may not be my place to share this with you, but while writing this it actually reminded me of a ted talk I had seen once. I think its a very good talk, and dismantles a lot of mainstream thoughts about self love which I at least thought was important. if you were able to make it to the bottom of this, I suggest checking it out because as this video re-taught me, fat is not a synonym for ugly, and we should stop believing that it is.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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alijaymtz · 3 years

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Its been years since ive been here, it seems like this is the only place where i feel irrelevant and disconected from the real world.

A lot has changed since I last wrote how I felt.

I moved, began college, and live with my father.

Ive said it before but there is no person I hate more than that man, he does things and then forgets the damage he caused but instead he knows how to guilt trip others.

Im currently studying psychology, and through the study of it ive been able to categorize my father with borderline personality disorder. I doubt he’ll ever know nor will i ever tell him.

I’ve learned to mask myself, my depression, my anger, my personality, when im home with him. Everything disapoints him. There are times that he forgets telling me to tell something to other people and then I am left in a negative place. “But you told me to tell them” ...”I never said that, IN MY LIFE IVE NEVER SAID THAT” ...

Its been two days since ive told him im styuduing to become a psychologist, today, while driving home from the gym, he asks me if I have some type of mental disorder in a joking way. I tell him “yeah, I am bipolar.” but according to several tests we’ve been reviewing in class. “yeah that makes sense” he says “I noticed since you left me when you were young”.

When I was a child my father used to abuse my mother, hes done several crazy and traumatizing things, he broke her ribs, punched her, kicked her on the ground, for small things like burnt food or her complaining he returned home at 2 am. Back then my mother, who I think was brave, decided it was no longer safe to live with my dad because he began beating my older brother just as much as he beat my mom.

She picked a bag, dumped in mostly my clothing and my brothers, and we headed straight to the police. Unfortunetly, they were unable to help us. So we went to the embasy, and they sent us to a shelter for women. Over the next few years I lived in shelter homes, foster homes, but safe. At one point I lived without my brother and mother but was happy, and safe.

My mother was sent by court to return to Mexico, so we packed up and came with her. My dad staying behind “as the bread winner” or whatever. We lived in a small one bedroom with no beds or other furniture but we were happy... Untill my dad came. For a while he seemed content, unbothered, but a few months later he returned to his demonic state.

He would not only hit my mother to the pulp, my brother, now he did it to me too. He began to fear we were becoming Mexican and began to teach us the muslim way. Through the dicipline in his feet, he’d kick us untill out noses bleed then a few minutes later kiss our cheeks and talk to us kindly about our mistakes. As a child, my mother spoke spanish, my father english. Now i was introduced Urdu, Arabic, and was expected to learn whole texts and prayers in minutes.

It was always like that, yell, hit, kissing cheeks. Sometimes he would break things in between.

When i turned 17, my father had left for the first time in years to his homeland in Pakistan. He was gone for 3 months and during that time my brother, mother, and I sat almost every night planning how we could disapear because no matter what we did or how we did it, he’d always find us.

My mother had gotten surgery while my dad was away, we spent a long time with her in the hospital. We had days were we wouldnt eat, sleep, or do anything other than sit. But we were happy.

One time, before he left, He cut my mother with a knife ,In my room while I saw him stab her. I didnt want that to ever happen again. Another time, my father was mad my mom brought up him bringing a nehibor lady into the house while we were in school and she was working, but somehow he flipped it into “Jelousy” because there is no other reason why a wife would say something about it...He was so mad he beat my mother after her chemo. For weeks she couldnt move, she was in my room with the lights off and bearly eating because he wouldnt let us take her any food. But we could hear her moan in pain. Another time, he beat my brother into the street, the whole neiborhood came out to see. He dragged my brother into the stone floors and picked up a rock about my brothers head size. I swore I saw him die. I was pulled into a house by a lady and her daughters tried to calm me down as I couldnt breath. I prayed he was alive.

A few hours passed and my father was looking for me, he knocked on every door. I sneaked out and returned home.

So, the point to this is the following. When my dad returned from Pakistan, i closed the doors and made no sound. He couldnt come in. He would just leave after a while. He knew we were inside. I felt my breath becoming loud. He could hear. He left.

For the next few days he would come and talk to my mom, who said “the kids don’t want you in” followed my “I brought gifts”. My mother who was still walking with a cane, felt pitty for her husband, who had been sleeping in a motel for days. So, she let him in “for a few hours”. Feeling the room shrink i sent a help messege to a cousin of mine whom told her mom. In a matter of minutes a car popped infront of the house with three aunts and one cousin, they demanded I go with them.

Without looking at my brother, I saved myself. For two months I lived with my aunt and her 4 kids. I cleaned and she would tip me in order to help me pay for psychiatic help (she also paid it). One day my mom showed up and told me she would do anything for me to return, i never asked how bad things were in those two months for them. I made a list asking her to go to therapy with me, for him to not look at me or say a word. I went back. He was calm a whole year, not one word was said to me. I didnt leave my room and I swear my skin went from olive to pale yellow skin for the time I spent in there.

So today, he said “I noticed since you left me when you were young”...”Because a normal person wouldnt do that”.

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lollytea · 3 years

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Fearless (part 1/3)

(Ty/Louie fairytale au fic. i am simply a bitch writing about my au and my oc so it is all very catered to me personally and im aware not a lot of ppl will read it. but if you DO read it, i love u so much. i guess tw for blood/serious injuries relating to teen characters. nothing too graphic but be warned. Also if you’re curious, info on the au here, here and here.)

_________________________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 6:19PM] The sky was bleeding pink and orange and Louie tried to focus on it. Didn't take much brainpower to appreciate a sunset. He clung to the sight with desperation, muttering the simplest thoughts under his breath like a mantra.

It was pretty. He liked sunsets. He liked pink. He liked orange. The distraction wasn't working. The unpleasantness that was already writhing in his stomach churned. His finger was on his temple, idly tracing delicate circles against the tightly wrapped bandage. His head hurt. The point where his shoulder met his upper arm was also dressed. The stitching still had to heal up. That hurt too. Louie was pretty stupid. Which was not something he usually thought. But it was a real kick in the confidence when someone sharp-witted did something stupid. And it was a real kick in the heart when someone who didn't wanna hurt anybody ended up hurting somebody. This was stupid. He had already tried reading as a means of distraction. Too hard. Too many words. Way too much of a strain on his mild concussion. This was so, so stupid. Sitting by his windowsill, he hoped this dumb bandage would be gone soon. His forehead felt sticky and damp with sweat. He was stupid. He wished Webby were here. If she were, she'd be in the courtyard below his window sparring with Dewey. At least then, Louie could watch and keep his mind occupied. No. No, that wasn't right. If Webby were here, she would've attached herself to Louie by now, hugging him tight until his injury healed. If it had been any other incident, Louie would let her, crumbling into her arms and whimpering about the pain as his amazing, magical sister made it all ebb away. But this wasn't any other incident. If Webby were here, he wouldn't be able to accept her hugs. The very idea rubbed him the wrong way. If anyone was entitled to healing hugs, it wasn't Louie, it was--.... His face twisted up. Webby wasn't here. She was off on some quest with Lena. Probably wouldn't be back for days. So there was no point in dwelling over hypotheticals. Louie would heal on his own. They were both gonna have to heal on their own. The sunset was fading.

It was pretty. Pink... Orange.... He couldn't do this.

Why was he doing this?! Louie always knew himself to be a coward but this was to a pathetic extent. Depraved even. He felt sick.

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Every additional second he spent hiding in his room was weighing him down. It was suffocating. But he couldn't leave. He was too scared.

Freezing up just like always. Just stop being so fucking scared! He would have to confront what he did eventually. There was no way around it. So, why couldn't he just go now? Louie had far worse things in his life to be dreading. Far worse. A ticking clock of trepidation was seated deep inside him. A predestined future he couldn't rewrite which, on all accounts, should render him paralyzed. But he wasn't. This was the sort of thing to demolish him. Apparently. Stupid. This shouldn't be overdriving his other senses. This shouldn't be flooding his mind. He shouldn't be drowning right now. This shouldn't have his hands shaking. This shouldn't have him pacing the length of his room. This shouldn't be stealing the oxygen from his lungs. His brain was pounding against his skull, protesting his rapid back-and-forth movement. He was dizzy. He shouldn't be crying. Fuck it! He was always crying, who cares about that?! Just stop panicking, just stop crying, just stop being so selfish for once and just own up. Louie's back crashed against his door, gasping for breath. Stars were blotting his vision and he couldn't breathe and it was the end of the world. Okay. Okay. He was spiraling again. That was all it was, it would be okay. It would be okay. The prince's bed chambers, alive with the choking sound of contained distress, subsided to complete silence for just a moment. Inhale. Exhale. And then all to be heard was a small, crackling voice straining to sing himself a quiet little lullaby. ___________ [OCTOBER 22ND, 10:07AM] "Your highness, don't be an idiot. You can't just---Hey! Wait up!" "H'oh boy..." Louie's eyes flicked to the high heavens. Right now he felt like he was tasked with personally escorting this goddamn boy across this goddamn forest by the goddamn ankles. He whirled around impatiently, crossing his arms with a flourish. "Pick up the pace, Tiberius. We don't have all day." "Can you maybe not be a huge pain for like... I dunno, five minutes?" Snapped Ty, his dearly devoted retainer and most notorious pain-in-the-tail. "Can you maybe loosen up? Y'know it's a real mood killer when there's a paranoid guy on my case all the time, insisting that the whole world is out to get me. Being constantly reminded of my fragile mortality? Woo, talk about fun times." Scowling, Ty stumbled his way over a protruding tree root. "You've got a bad habit of attracting danger, you know that, right? I'm pretty sure it's a Duck thing." The remark slapped the annoyed expression right off Louie's face. Ty quirked an eyebrow. "What's that look for?" Before he could further analyse, Louie sharply turned on his heel and strode on. "It's a Duck thing." He said, keeping his tone even. Both of them knew it was a Duck thing. Ty just didn't know the half of it. "Your highness," He heard Ty gripe. "You know this is a bad idea. A prince shouldn't be out in the open like this without proper protection. And I'm unprepared right now. I can't--" If Ty weren't yakking so much, Louie wouldn't know if he was still there. He wasn't wearing his armor for once so the familiar clank and clatter of metal was nonexistent. "You got your sword, right? You can do a lot of damage with that thing." "Yeah but no juice. And I need juice. See, 'cause what if we get in a tight spot and you--?" "What do you think is gonna happen, Ty?! For the love of all that is gold, It's just a party." "It's never just anything." He grumbled. Ty jogged ahead a little, matching his pace to Louie's. His footsteps alongside him were purposefully heavy So, he was stomping now. Real mature. Louie rolled his eyes. He was fully aware Ty was pissed, he didn't have to go above and beyond to make his anger known. "You really think I'm an idiot who doesn't take safety precautions? I'll have you know keeping Prince Louie alive isn't just your problem. Prince Louie is pretty serious about that too." He gestured to himself. "If you haven't noticed, I'm incognito today. I've got no crown, no mantle, no status whatsoever. And look at these ugly peasant threads," Louie pointed out, tugging at the hem of his dull green tunic. "It's actually kinda depressing how drab I look. I'm never gonna do this again actually. But! See how committed I am right now? Who's gonna recognize me? As we're all aware, I'm pretty well known for my pizzazz." "Just 'cause you stop being a prince doesn't mean danger stops existing." "No but it makes you way less of a target. Now, are you really gonna spend your whole day off bitching at me?"

The glare Ty shot him was petulant at best. "Well, I didn't wanna. But I got dragged along on this little adventure so guess I gotta." Louie pursed his beak, irritated. He did not drag Ty along anywhere.

"Come to think of it, I don't remember saying you had to follow me." Well, that came out as harsher than intended. Ty didn't seem hurt. At least, there was no sign that he was. No expression cracked his stone mask. "I've got a duty." Louie scoffed. Ty and his stupid duty. It was really starting to wear on his nerves. But not today, absolutely not today. On this fine, glorious day, Louie was intent on having fun. He would show up at this little forest shindig and he would drink and dance and schmooze and whatever else any carefree person at a party would do. He would forget about everything that was eating at him. He wasn't gonna let it consume him, he wasn't. He was gonna live. While he still could. His sixteenth birthday loomed closer. Six months left. "Sorry." Said Ty, unprompted. The shadows festering in Louie's head cleared out as he snapped back to the present. Ty had his eyes firmly downcast, a noticeable slump to his posture. "It's not like I wanna be running around killing the fun all the time. I really don't. But I gotta." Louie said nothing. His eyebrows rose in quiet astonishment as he studied Ty's side profile. He remembered when Ty first came into his life. Twelve years old, brandishing a sword too big for his body and grinning lopsidedly in an unmistakably trouble seeking sorta way. A real firecracker of a boy, loud and bright. Hungry for adventure and excited to throw himself head first into the action. He remembered one of Ty's earliest and most confident statements. When he lowered himself to bow to Louie in his uncle's throne room and declared that the prince would never fear for his life again. Because Ty would protect him and Ty was fearless. Louie believed him. Make no mistake, Ty had plenty of bite back then too. He had disliked Louie and the feeling had been mutual. But he never doubted that Ty had spoken the truth with his entire heart. Ty was fearless. When Louie was with Ty, he was safe. He believed that and he always had. Despite how they clicked as well as a dagger and a keyhole. Despite Ty being annoying. So annoying. He was still annoying. But it was different now. Louie couldn't pinpoint when that permanent glowing smile of his had dwindled and a thin frown had become Ty's default expression. His sword, something he always used to proudly haul around over his shoulder, now unceremoniously sheathed against his belt. Although Louie had noticed that his right hand never strayed too far from the hilt. Protecting royalty with your entire being was an all-consuming duty and it seemed, at some point, the reality of such an allegiance had slapped Ty across the face. He had this distinct way of holding himself now. Always stood straight and rigid, coiled up with agitation. He was prepared to fight at a moment's notice but it was clear the thrill of doing so had been long since drained out of him. He still smiled. He still laughed. But only sometimes. Ty was annoying because he was paranoid. Because he was snarky. Because he was too stiff, too protective. And man, what Louie wouldn't give to have Ty's former brand of annoying back. At least never made him feel sorry for the guy. "Can I ask you a favor?" Louie finally spoke, pushing back a drooping tree branch so they could walk below it "You can try." Ty shrugged, his gaze still fixed ahead. "What if we just turn off this whole 'Prince and Retainer' thing today. Whadd'ya think?" He turned to him blankly, complete with a slight tilt of the head that made Louie a tiny bit weak. "Wha....?" Ty was simply not computing. He looked as though Louie was throwing out algebra equations and he was supposed to solve them right on the spot. And he was not a math guy by any means. The cute clueless expression was making it a little hard to focus. Louie swallowed. "Listen." He began, his thumb dragging itself across his sweaty palm as he struggled with how to phrase this. Louie had a way with words, always had. But he had a tendency to trip over his own tongue when Ty was involved. Especially when Ty was staring at him with his soft cande-light eyes and doing that stupid adorable head tilting thing and-- "You need a break." Louie blurted out. "You're stressed like constantly and it's getting kinda insufferable and I think your Dad would sick a dragon on me if his barely fifteen year old son suddenly kicked it 'cause of a paranoia overload so I think you should just forget about being my big strong hero for today and come hang out with me at this stupid peasant party and we can just be two regular kids instead of a royal and his bodyguard do you think you could give me that Tiberius?" It was only in the following beat of silence that Louie realized how fast he spat that all out. He struggled to catch his breath. One second. Ty blinked. Two seconds. A flicker of vacant eyes and then a rush of realization. And then disbelief. And then-- Three seconds. His brow scrunched together and a snarl crinkled his muzzle. His eyes flared. Oh, he was mad.... "Are you crazy?!" Ty shouted. He was beside himself with a malfunctioning mix of fury and incredulity that had him stammering his words. "You-You can't just--.....D-do you even-- you don't...do you realize how disrespectful that is? For you to say it? For-For me to do it?! I was given this duty by the King! The fucking King! To just suddenly "turn it off" would be--....I can't--!" Maybe "mad" was an understatement. "Ty--" Louie tried. He was cutting across Louie, treading back and forth on their forest path,. Not going further, not going back. Just walking to nowhere for the sake of being too scandalized to possibly stand still. Louie was attempting to get Ty's attention by grabbing his tunic but he kept shaking him off. "I'd be a disgrace! An embarrassment! I'm trusted by the royal family to keep--...to keep you safe! I-I can't just walk around with my liege like I'm on vacation and not be on guard! You don't even get it, you--" "Ty!" Louie said loudly."You wanna maybe listen for a sec?!" Frankly, he was surprised Ty halted his tirade. His eyes were blown wide, stunned and Louie wasn't quite sure why until he followed Ty's look, snapping down. Seems in his effort to get a hold of the guy, he had instinctively reached out and snatched Ty's wrist. They stood frozen for a moment, each set of eyes boring into the touch that tied them together. Louie's fingers began to uncurl. Then he decided no. His grip on Ty tightened with a purposeful squeeze. Ty met his gaze, looking....panicked? Confused? Didn't matter. He could besottedly dissect his unreadable facial expressions later. Louie inhaled, deciding to shoulder his dignity for just a second. No safety rails of snark this time. Ty might make fun of him for being sincere later but this was important. "Don't you miss being a kid with nothing to worry about?" Louie implored. "Because if we're being real, I don't think we're ever gonna get to live like that again." Ty muttered something to himself, shaking his head a little. "But listen," Louie continued, taking a step into Ty's personal bubble. Ty took an automatic step back. But since he was still holding his hand, Louie was led a step forward. It was difficult to tell with the pink fur but he could've sworn Ty reddened. "Look I know it's weird for me to be asking but....can't we just take a risk today? It's just a party in the woods. Literally the least likely place to find any danger in the whole kingdom." "We shouldn't--" "Ty, please." Honestly, Louie was a little surprised at himself. He hadn't even planned for Ty to accompany him anyway. But in the heat of the moment, everything had shifted upside-down. Turns out there was something inside him willing to beg. Something that wanted more than anything, for Ty come along. He just wanted a simple memory of just killing time with Ty. Separated from the castle and everything that reminded him of his fate. He would like to smile without a hint of dread for once this year. So, he said just that. "I'm not just trying to make you come along 'cause I'm stuck with you. That's not it." He swallowed. "You're--....you're cool. You're fun. I wanna have you around. You know, when you're not so worked up and you're just being yourself, I like hanging out with you." He tugged Ty's hand a little. Further from his sword and closer to Louie. "I want you to come with me. And I want you to try having fun too." He may as well just tell the idiot he thought about him every time he saw a sunset. The hand he was grasping flexed its fingers. Ty abruptly broke eye contact and glanced to the side, his tongue poking out to pierce the tip of his jagged tooth. His indecisive face. "I just--.....I dunno...." He muttered. "If something happened to you--" "Nothing's gonna happen to me." Said Louie immediately. "I've got a good feeling about this. And c'mon Ty, that coming from a coward?" "You're not a coward." He said, barely a whisper. He was now staring at the ground. "I promise." "Huh?" Louie smiled tightly as Ty looked to him questionably. "I promise nothing is gonna happen. I'm gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. Now, can you do me this favor and maybe, I dunno, trust me?" The look Ty gave him was a little sad, but it was soft. And then with only a tiny twitch, it shifted into something else entirely. It was trust. Blind trust. Maybe stupid trust. A minuscule pang of guilt jabbed at Louie. Of course he wanted Ty to trust him. He needed him to if there was any hope of achieving his goal here. But objectively, he really shouldn't. Louie was hiding way too much from him. It wasn't fair. Then Ty broke the world, shattered orbit and played around with reality itself by cracking a smile and Louie forgot every coherent thought he ever possessed. He would never put on record just how long he spent pre-preparing jokes, gunning to get the corner of Ty's lips to flick upwards. Made him seem kinda desperate. Which he was not. Ty had that oh, so stereotypical "cute boy" smile. It was crooked, cocky, it was utterly obnoxious. Louie hated it. And worst of all, it was like a little spell to kick Louie's heart into high speed. Sometimes it dazed and confused him like a blinding light flash. But other times, it was warm and if he stared long enough, he'd fall asleep. Louie loved Ty's smile. Every time he tried to convince himself he didn't, he ended up dwelling on it too much and the way his mouth would quirk up would play in his mind on a maddening loop and then it would be too much to handle and the truth that he loved it would always overpower him. So, whenever that happened (like right this second.) he gave up and admitted it. To himself, anyway. He loved Ty's smile. He loved Ty. ......Wait. That last part was new, hold up. Rewind. But he didn't get the chance because Ty was talking now. Still a little dazzled, Louie didn't catch what he said but he figured it was good since he was still smiling. And then that smile broke into a huge grin, his eyes flashed with trouble and his hands were on Louie's shoulders and-- "Race ya!" Ty cried. With a light push, Louie was stumbling backwards and Ty kicked off into a sprint. For a brief moment, Louie could only gaze after him, stupefied. Love, huh? Like the real deal? That was crazy. But then he snapped out of as he recalled the audacity of this bastard. "You just pushed your liege!" He shrieked, receiving a loud "WOO!" from Ty as a response. And then Louie was grinning. He was giddy. He didn't quite know if he forgot about love in that instance or if it was the force powering him but he was tearing off after Ty, yelling about the latter's totally unfair head start. In hindsight, he should've figured it was love a long time ago. Who else would get him to run for no reason?

#ty cloudkicker #fairytale au

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miistymemorii · 3 years

Text

How compatible are Pedro Pascal character’s and I?

No one, and I mean NO ONE asked for this. But here we are :)

warning: literal proof of how lonely i am ahead

Javier Pena

- I think he would find me very annoying

I can’t, like, sit still??? so I do the “jiggling of leg thing” 24/7 and I feel like he would hate that

- but i feel like all we’d do is have *seggs* so i guess points for that

- also i am very clingy and I don’t see him as the type to want to cuddle

- i am literally so annoying in public because i don’t know how to act and i’m sure i’d annoying him like if we ever went in public

- i love criminology and jobs that deal with crime so i’d be a nosy bitch and ask him wayyyy to many questions about his job

- rating: 4/10

Maxwell Lord

- istg

- not to be a simp on main, but i would be Max’s biggest suporter, like full hype girl

- ^^ i mean, not during the events of 1984, because that was some bs, but like before, when he’s a struggling man who just wants to be a good father

- i hate wearing dresses with a burning passion, but i’d wear a dress like everyday if it made him happy

- yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning

- i feel lie Max needs a woman in his life, or at least someone to give him guidance. I’m the gal for the job.

- i feel like he would cry sometimes like in the middle of the night and i’d be there to comfort him

- but also he’d comfort me when i have panic attacks or depressive episodes

- like i know this man is soft when he’s not doing his “life is good but it could be better” persona

- my dad would hate him tho 0-0 so a loss of points there

- rating: 7/10

Ezra

- cheese and sprinkles okay

- this man

- i feel like we’d be good together

- in most fics Ezra is headcanonned as being very interested in the arts, so i can see us like going to museums and reading to each other

- idk why i just wanna hold his hand

- i feel like he’d let me be the big spoon which makes my heart go boom boom

- he is so fine istg imma cry

- also i feel like my dad would like him and that’s kinda important to me bwahwajdsd

- rating: 8/10

Mando

- okay, to me there are basically 2 tiers of Mando: before Grogu, after Grogu

- if i met him before Grogu, he would hate me.

- i would ask him loads of questions about the ship and eventually he’d be like “this isn’t gonna work” and drop me off on a planet then leave bwahwahah

- it’d be very “it’s not me, it’s you” :,)

- but if i met him during/ after Grogu

- *sighs*

- i feel like he’d be more willing to a relationship because he kinda learns that not every person is a threat

- i think he’d let me touch his face in the dark, even if he has shows his face to other people, because he’s still wary

- but when he finally lets me see his face in the light, i swear to god i would just spend hours staring at his face

- he’s baby there’s not alot more i can say

-my dad would adore him because irl he LOVES the Mandalorian and my dad loves cowboys and Mando is the best space cowboy in the galaxy

- 7/10

Frankie “catfish” Morales

- okay ya’ll

- i’ve only ever dated, like, assholes so It’d be so nice to date someone who is a nice person

- i KNOW he’s treat me right

- I feel like I would be super intimidated by him, because I get super intimidated by nice people (trust issues gang gang), so I wouldn’t be like my annoying self

- like he’d bring out the shy in me

- but also this man would never judge me and that makes me :)

- i’m not the most outdoorsy person, but i feel like i’d love going camping or hiking with him

- hell i’d let this man take me fishing (though he’d have to teach me because idk how to fish)

- also i feel like we’d do domestic things like go grocery shopping together, dance together in our livingroom, and cook diner together

- rating: 9/10

Pero Tovar

- this mf

- sorry, that was aggressive

- this man

- he would hate me

- like he would HATE me

- i can’t quite place it, it’s more of an instinct that i have? first of all, i would die at like, age 8 if i was alive during the time the movie takes place

- but like i think he’d be like “this bitch” everytime i walked into a room

- i am an annoying mf and he seems like he has 0 patience for idiocracy.

- i have literally nothing else to say bwahaha... it just wouldn’t happen

- rating: 0/10

Agent Whiskey

- okay, im from texas, but the city im from is small and all the boys here have southern accents, but they’re all so fucking annoying so for a long time i’ve been turned off by those accents

- but dear god when i watched this film for the first time i was like AOOGA

- if i dated him, i would literally ask him questions or make him like read to me just to hear his voice

- is voice kink a thing 0-0

- i wouldn’t ask him super personal questions about his job, but i’ve always wondered the kind of missions the Statesmen (and Kingsmen) go on, so i’d ask him about that

- i feel like my family would be charmed by him, so points for that

- i am a shitty dancer and i feel like he’d want to teach me to properly slow dance or do that southern dance? (dosie do? my family rejects southern culture because we hate living here lmao)

- he looks like he can cook which makes me :)))))) because i’m not a good cook

- i feel like he’s super adventurous in bed and tbh i am... inexperienced so i think that would be 0-0 awkward at first

- rating: 8/10

Oberyn Martell

- as much as i love this man, i have been in a poly relationship before and it was a living hell, so his lil orgies would make me 0-0 uncomfy 0-0

- i feel like he’s super poetic sometimes, like he likes art and literature

- tbh i skipped through the entirety of GoT and only watched Pedro’s episodes, so i know nothing about that world or time period lmao

- i’m a jealous bitch sometimes so i KNOW i’d be jealous of Ellaria

- omfg the way he LOOKS at people, I’d be a meek bitch

- my dad would hate this mf istg i cannot really describe it he just would i know it

- my dad just kinda hates all politicians/royalty/rich people teehee

- he’s definitely a good kisser tho 0-0

- i feel like behind closed doors he’s surprisingly soft? like he would just ant to cuddle sometimes and talk about anything and everything

- he’s also a charmer so i feel like he’d try to convince me that i’m beautiful and just be overall kind to me when i’m feeling insecure

-rating: 6/10

Marcus Moreno

- bye ya’ll im deceased

- he was literally in the film for like 5 mins total and yet i have *fallen in love*

- pedro in glasses makes me positively feral grr bark bark

- dashklfhsdlfj PLEASE don’t come for me but like... i feel like he’d be super into making out like for prolonged periods of time

- ANWAYS he seems like the closest in personality to Pedro? So like goofy, soft, BIG hands (jk they all have big hands and they all make me :))))))))))))

- he’d be really good at dates and want to do kinda silly stuff? like carnivals, movies, ice cream shop, the park, etc :)

- i think he would find out that i have a big phat crush on Lavagirl and would let me meet her I would simple cease to exist

- i would be so nervous to meet Missy because even though i love kids, i’m so awkward around them

- he seems like the type to give kisses in places other than my lips. Like he’d love to kiss my hands, my forehead and my cheek

- my stepmom would ADORE him

- also i feel like Marcus’ taste in music is very close to Pedro’s, and Pedro has *immaculate* taste, so my Dad would get on with Marcus because my dad lves music

9/10

#Javier Pena #maxwell lord #ezra #prospect ezra #the mandalorian #din djarin #pero tovar #agent jack whiskey daniels #oberyn martell #marcus moreno

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tsukiyamavalentine · 3 years

Text

Hi.

Still alive.

Took an overdose but it didn’t work i just felt very sleepy and threw up but im fine now. I think i just got high which…is a very me way to fail an attempt like this.

Tried to cut my throat yesterday but that also failed. I literally can’t do anything right.

It feels like the Universe is testing me. Like this whole thing is just a big test, which is why I can’t just fucking die. I guess that means it’s not my time yet, but it doesn’t rly feel like that.

I don’t wanna talk abt it. My parents won’t let me go to in-patient and all the hotlines have 48 hour waiting lists and i couldn’t wait that long.

Sorry abt all this. Currently dealing with the fact that i am a cosmic loser and I am so fucking lonely I am almost inevitably going to get abused/groomed in the future.

Also dealing with the knowledge that I will probably end up addicted to drugs bc i am fucking depressed and i get addicted to everything. And that’s probably how I’ll die if I don’t end it myself.

This whole thing started like two weeks ago and I’ve just spiraled and spiraled. But something happened recently and it just broke me, I guess.

It’s not anyone’s fault; I fucked up my life long before I came on the internet. But my life has been so fucking painful, that I’m basically a skinless fucking creature that gets hurt by literally everything.

I’m rly fucking weak, you know? And I rly hurt someone. And I don’t understand how, but I did.

And all I’ve thought about is everyone else I’ve hurt, and it just made sense to end it. Bc if I dont know why im so hurtful, and I can’t stop it, and it’s all I seem to do, then what’s the point of me being here at all?

It’s not like I have anything to lose either. I don’t have any formal education. My parents are broke, so I’m just a burden. My family hates me. I left school at 13 bc of another od and I hadn’t spoken to another person since this year, so no friends. I barely get to go outside; my whole fucking life is a lockdown. It’s like being in a hamster cage.

So yeah. I just don’t have anything. So I write stupid stories about people who I desperately need in my life.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg but basically i am trying to deal with the fact that i am on borrowed time and will die in a few years if not now bc i am a fucking loser.

Anyway.

I wasn’t going to post again today, but I dont think I can just leave for a bit with that note as my last post.

I also wanna say thanks to the people who have reached out to me. Not just to those who reached out today, but who have reached out all week.

I’m sorry I haven’t replied, but I read them all and it really means so much to me. The last one I read, I just started crying, bc like…y’all are angels, you know that?

I don’t deserve to be treated with kindness, but y’all do it anyway and I really am so grateful for all of you.

I will try and reply to them all eventually. Just when things get bad for me, the first thing I do is shut myself off. Most of the time I don’t even read any messages I get, I just sit and let myself get worse.

It’s like, I’m desperate for companionship, but whenever things get bad I just push it away.

And if I don’t push ppl away, I hurt them even more.

So yeah. That’s why I haven’t replied. But I will, eventually, even if it’s 3 fucking weeks from now, I will reply when I can.

Just, thanks. I do genuinely appreciate it. Even if I can’t show it, every message is worth millions to me.

I don’t know when things will get back to normal. Maybe tomorrow I’ll attempt again, I don’t know, but right now I just want to sleep and hope it will be a better day.

I might post passively, but I don’t want to go on another incoherent depressive episode online, so maybe it’s best to stay quiet for a bit.

I just wanna draw, write, do yoga and sit with my dog for a bit. Maybe I’ll share some of it, maybe I won’t. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

That’s it, I guess.

I really am sorry about everything. I know I’ve caused people a lot of stress and hurt, and I never ever wanted to do that. I just hope some of you can forgive me, even if I’m pretty irredeemable.

Yeah. I just. I didn’t want to leave that last post up without this one. I’ll delete that whole thing tomorrow, but rn I’m exhausted.

But I’m alive. Maybe not ok, but I’m alive. I survived today, and that’s more than I thought I’d do this morning so, I guess small steps.

Thank you, everyone, for your messages and kind words. I’m truly very sorry for how stressful things are with me at the moment.

Steph/Charlotte.

xxx

🌷🌷🌷

#tw suicide mention #tw overdose #tw self harm #tw

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Falling Apart (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Falling Apart Rating: PG Length: 1600 Warnings: Angst (allusions to post-partum depression) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in July 1997. Javier’s POV. Summary: Javier grapples with the aftermath.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @beccaplaying@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns@gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@ @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy@cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes@findhimfives@pedrosdoll@frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl@yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition@holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie@jaime1110@katlikeme

“Coffee?” Javier questioned as he rose from the kitchen table with his own coffee cup. His brows knit together as she lifted her gaze to stare back at him with visible indifference written on her face.

“Sure.” She pushed the coffee mug to the edge, before picking up the newspaper that had been sitting idle on the table and flipping through it.

He hesitated, words forming at his lips, but he didn’t have the balls to actually speak them. Instead, he snatched up the mug and headed for the coffee pot.

It felt like he was living with a stranger.

The woman sitting at his kitchen table looked like the woman he loved, but everything about her felt wrong. Sometimes he still saw her — that glimmer of mischief that was followed by cold feet finding his leg beneath the covers; that raw sense of humor that meshed with his and drove their friends crazy.

But most days it felt like she’d been replaced with a pod person who wanted nothing to do with him. She was stand-offish at best and entirely disinterested at the worst.

Maybe he had understood her correctly. Maybe she truly was done with him.

Javier was well aware of the fact that he’d been overbearing during those last few months of her pregnancy, but he hadn’t anticipated that his worry would turn into this festering wound that wouldn’t heal.

“I was thinking about taking Josie to the park,” He started gently as he sat the coffee cup down on the table in front of her.

“Newborns aren’t exactly park-friendly.” She retorted, folding the newspaper in half and sitting it aside as she reached for her mug. “I’ll just stay home.”

Javier took a sip of coffee as he sat down across from her, “I don’t mind handling Sofía—“

“You don’t mind handling her?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of watching her at home. Alone.”

He swallowed thickly, nodding his head as he glanced down at his half eaten breakfast. His stomach turned in response to the coarse tone she’d taken with him. “Right.”

Where had he gone wrong? Was it the guilt he felt that had done this relationship in? Wasn’t that what precipitated her confession that she didn’t want to do this.

Whatever it meant.

No, he knew what she meant.

And fuck if it wasn’t tearing him up inside.

The idea of having to rebuild his life without her scared the shit out of him. It had been bad enough when there had been a few hours where he thought he’d have to plan her funeral — but somehow the idea of existing in the same world with and without her didn’t seem right.

Javier rubbed at his jaw as he stared down at his coffee cup, brows drawn together as he considered how to navigate this perilous situation he found himself in. “I would really like for you to come with us. And I’m sure Josie would like to have the two of you there.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced at him briefly, “Alright.” She offered a shrug, before rising to her feet. “I’m going to take a shower, then.”

She hadn’t even touched her coffee.

He sighed heavily as he watched her walk out of the kitchen. His gaze lingered on the empty space she had occupied, before he leaned forward on his elbows and raked his fingers through his hair.

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood up to clean the table off.

He’d already called his father to try to talk through the situation — to try to figure out why this was happening. But even that hadn’t helped. It was like she was drifting away at sea and he was completely helpless and drowning too.

Steve and Connie had come to visit a few days ago and she’d seemed almost normal. But he wondered how much of that was just for show — she was good at putting up these false walls of emotion, to mask how she really felt.

It pissed him off that he had gone through four years of psychology classes two decades ago and it did fuck all now when it really counted.

And she was too damn good at performing in front of friends and family, Javier doubted Steve would believe him if he brought up the way she’d been acting around him.

“Josie,” Javier started as he walked down the hallway to her bedroom, pushing the door open. “Can you get ready to go to the park?”

“But I already am dressed, daddy!” She said as she looked up from the Hot Wheels track she was building.

“You can’t wear pajamas to the park,” Javier chuckled as he watched her adjust the tiara she had on. “Do you need help?”

Josie pursed her lips thoughtfully before nodding her head, “I want to look like a princess, like mommy.”

Javier smiled a little, “Your mommy is a princess, isn't she princesa?” He said as he pulled open the dresser drawers to find her something to wear. She had a plethora of dresses with like shorts sewn into the skirts — which were perfect for the park.

What would life look like if all of this fell apart? Would he get the girls part of the time? He hadn’t had to have these thoughts since Colombia — back when everything hung in the balance.

His father had talked him off that ledge, the last time they’d talked. Chucho was convinced that they were both stressed after everything that happened. He’d been there too, after all. He’d seen it firsthand.

But the thought of packing his life back into a joyless apartment was a sobering thought to consider.

“Hey babe,” She popped her head into Josie’s bedroom, fresh out of the shower and toweling off her wet hair, “Did you use the sunblock last? I can’t find it.”

Javier perched on the edge of Josie’s bed, “Should be in the kitchen in the junk drawer.”

“Perfect.” She smiled, like nothing was wrong and it felt like a genuine display of emotion. “Next time we go to the store, remind me that I’m out of my apricot scrub.”

“Alright,” Javier nodded, turning his attention back to Josie who was wrestling her way out of her pajama top. “I’ll put it on the list.”

“Josie, are you wearing a crown?”

Josie turned towards her mother, beaming from ear-to-ear, “I wanted to be a princess racecar dry-beaver.”

“You wanted to be a beaver?” She snorted. “Are you trying to say ‘driver,’ babydoll?”

Josie nodded her head, “A race dri-ber.”

“Close enough,” She grinned, looking towards Javier then. “How about ice cream after the park?”

“Ice cream?” Josie gasped dramatically.

“I can’t say no, now.” He smirked, his heart beating a little faster. “Whatever you want, baby.” Whatever it would take to make her feel normal again — Javier was willing to try it. He’d walk on Legos barefoot if it meant normalcy could return to their lives.

Sofía started crying in her nursery and her mother’s face fell.

“Do you want me to get her so you can get ready?” Javier offered cautiously.

“No.” She blinked slowly as she looked down the hall, “I’ve got her. Just get Josie ready.”

“Come on, JoJo. Let’s get you dressed.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and held out her dress for her.

He knew he had to be patient — she’d gone through hell too. Physically and mentally. They had both built up so many expectations for Sofia’s birth and in the end it had been a nightmare.

Javier hated to even think about what life might’ve been like if they hadn’t kept trying. If they’d given up… but how could he think that way? Sofía was the grumpiest little angel — she was perfect. And if they hadn’t had her, they wouldn’t have Monica in their lives.

Or Stevie.

Or even the house they lived in.

Even with the current situation, he wouldn’t give up the best parts of his life just because they had hit a rocky patch. A really rocky patch.

And then there was the added pressure of knowing what she’d gone through in her own childhood. The pain, the trauma, the instinctual reactions that came with her upbringing. It was why she soldiered through everything without speaking up — she’d rather suffer in silence than feel like a burden.

Was she suffering now and he was just blind to it? Outside of how it inconvenienced his life.

“Daddy, why are you sad?” Josie questioned, standing in front of him pouting. “You’ve gots to smile.” She wagged a finger at him, before poking him between the eyes. “You’ve got them wormy lines!”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, scooping Josie up and tickling her until she squealed for him to stop, her laughter an infectious sound that warmed his heart.

This was his family and he wasn’t going to lose his partner. He’d weather whatever storm he had to weather, if it meant coming out the other side. The good already outweighed the bad, he just couldn’t let him get caught up in his own melancholy.

His own guilt.

That guilt still ate him alive at night.

She’d wanted to have a second child to give him the experience he’d missed out on. Now he wished he’d missed out on this experience.

He had wanted to experience the joy of fatherhood firsthand, but instead he got to suffer the nightly fears that the love of his life was slipping through his fingers.

And maybe he should bring it up with her. Talk about it. But what if she confirmed his worst fears? What if she truly did want out? He was a fucking selfish man still, and he wanted to hold onto this until it was pried out of his hands.

He wanted to roll over at night and reach out for her and not fear that he’d feel her flinch away from him. He wanted to walk into the nursery while she was feeding Sofía and not fear that she’d bite his head off about hovering. He wanted all the things he had been blessed with when Josie was a baby and he’d taken for granted.

Javier had realized the merit in the saying — you never realize how good you have it, until it’s gone. And she already felt one foot out the door of their relationship.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader

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ihaveissuesbutthatsokay · 3 years

Text

EREMIN URBAN FANTASY (I THINK???) AU!!!

WARNING : strong language, mention of blood, of a missing person, grief and mention of depression

The forest. That's what everyone called it. But It wasn't really a forest.

Not a normal one, anyway.

There was something inside. Something sinister. Everyone could feel it the moment they entered. You could feel it the moment you entered, the air suddenly getting colder, shivers forming up your skin, and feeling a burning hole behind your head where you swore you could feel something, someone, watching your every step, your every movement, your every breath.

You were known as the boy who seeked freedom.

People tried to venture into the forest. Dreaming of exploration, dreaming to see what awaited on the other side of the forest. That's why the town folks would prepare expeditions to go outside.

After all, being trapped in a small town with nothing but a wide forest to keep you company, that's not freedom. It was almost as if the forest wanted to keep you tight, too afraid to let go, too afraid to watch you wither away. But you wanted to go away. You hated this small town, this confined space.

No one came out alive in the forest.

That's why the town stopped entering the forest altogether. It was too dangerous. Too reckless. But you were the boy who seeked freedom. You wouldn't give up.

Why do you never give up, goddamnit!

You were reckless, naive, young. You thought the world bended at your own rules. You thought you and your friends, together, would be untouchable.

I was wrong.

That's right. You were wrong.

And that's why you will always hate yourself for dragging your friends into this mess. That's why you wished you weren't the boy who seeked freedom after all.

----

Armin couldn't sleep. Not that it was something unusual. He could barely sleep these past few years, with school work piling up, finals right around the corner, and generally just life being a complete shithole of a mess.

He had three unfinished assignments due tomorrow. And it was already 3 am. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. He could feel his eyelids closing up by themselves, his hand loosening up on his pen, his head about to drop on his desk---

He sighed in defeat, and stood up from his chair more violently than it was necessary.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

He made a face,just thinking about drinking it. He hated the bitterness that crap had to offer, the sensation of his tongue being burned while he tried to chug it into one go, as he wanted to be done with it.

He hated it, but he needed it.

The caffeine kept him awake.

Mikasa would always chide him about this. At how unhealthy of a coping mechanism it was, to rely on a substance to keep him awake.

He still remembers how two years ago, exactly 4 months after the incident, how she would constantly tell him to stop drinking that burned bean water, probably very worried at the lack of sleep Armin clearly was not getting.

“You don't even like it.” She would frown.

Armin would laugh at the name Mikasa used to describe the coffee, avoiding the last statement. “Since when did you start calling it like that?”

Mikasa would frown again, knowing what he was doing. She didn't push him though. instead, she would just shake her head.

“Sleep.” She would say very seriously, while giving him a sideway glance. “You need sleep.”

Armin would look at her dead in the eyes, at the dark circles surrounding them, at the way she kept her body, the way her skin didn't have the same glow it used to have, her face hollower and emptier than it usually looked.

“So do you.” He would softly whisper in return. She would just shrug, and the conversation would always hit a dead end there. “Besides,” he would add, after a moment of silence, “I do like coffee. Now.”

“Oh.” She would say. Not convinced.

“Yeah.” He would answer. Trying to make the lie sound convincing. To whom, he didn't know. Mikasa or himself? Perhaps both.

“Okay.” She would respond. “That's good.” She would grip her red scarf thighter, a gesture Armin noticed she would always do when she was nervous, sad or upset, and from that, Armin knew that she didn't believe him at all. But neither of them commented on it. It was a comforting lie.

Now as he was standing alone in his small kitchen, still sleep deprived, not listening to Mikasa’s advice, with a cup of boiling hot coffee in his hand, moonlight reflecting on his windows, a single tear slipped down his eye. It trailed all down his cheek, slowly, until it plopped into the drink he was holding with shaky hands.

He missed him. A lot. God, he missed him so much.

He missed his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his everything. The way he would scream in excitement, the way he would always run at the high, high hill, always fist pumping into the air when he thought he won, only to get disappointed when he realized Mikasa was just letting him win on purpose.He missed the way he would get excited when his mom would bake him a new cake, the way he would always bring Armin a piece afterwards, eager to see his reactions while eating it.

“So?” He would ask, more close to a demand than a question, his tone full of youth excitement. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah!” He said, surprising himself. Not that Eren's mom was a bad cook, not at all. But the cake flavor was coffee, and he never saw the appeal to this grown ups drink. Strangely, however, he really enjoyed this one. Thinking back at it, maybe he was just forcing himself to like it, cause he wanted to see the boy smile widen. Maybe he just wanted to love everything Eren offered him. Maybe he was just a delusional kid with a crush. Who knows. It was too late to dwell on it now.

“Your mom is an awesome cook.” Armin commented, licking some frosting off his hands.

The boy gloated in pride. “She said she will help me learn how to bake if I behave.”

“I thought you weren't allowed to bake anymore,” Armin said, still chewing on the cake. “Last time we baked at your house, it was a bit of a disaster.” It wasn't as big of a disaster as they made it out to be. But they were childrens, and everything seemed a bigger deal than it was.

He huffed in response. “That wasn't my fault! It was the oven's fault…” he murmured. Armin laughed. “I dont think your mom agrees with that.”

The other boy shoved him playfully. “How was I supposed to know I can't just bake coffee beans?”

Armin sighed. “I told you it wasn't a good idea. You never listen.”

“Whatever.” He said, plopping his legs on Armin’s lap.

“Hey!” Armin yelped, the boy's dirty feets almost getting into Armins plate. “I'm still eating here.”

Eren laughed. After a bit, Armin joined in.

They laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Armin's laugh never quite sounded the same after he was gone.

Neither did Mikasa’s for that matter. Probably the others too, but he lost contact with them, so he couldn't say for sure. They still all went to the same school, sure, but it was almost as if they were complete strangers, everyone collectively ignoring each other, in a desperate attempt to forget the incident. The only person he still talked to was Mikasa. And she, too, sometimes seemed so far away, like a mirage ready to dissolve right under his fingertips.

Armin was about to take a sip from his coffee. More like chugging it down in one go, but he froze right as the cup touched his lips.

His hands started to tremble, from fear or cold, he couldn't distinguish. Despite the heat of the beverage in his hand, he suddenly felt really cold. His arms shivered, his hands turning white as he clenched to his cup as if it could give him a sense of support. By gripping it too hard, some coffee splashed onto his hands, and he let out a hiss of pain. He put the coffee on the table, careful not to spill anymore.

He started feeling feverish, his head becoming a dizzying mess. He put a hand on the counter, for support. He felt like an invisible force was pushing his lungs, pushing until he couldn't breath, until he was coughing, and coughing, he needed air, he desperately needed air, but it was as if whatever was making him feel likethis, hated air, hated it with a burning passion, and it wanted to make Armin hate air as much as it did.

Armin felt like fainting. He probably was about to faint. He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he was kneeling on the ground,

This is it. He thought miserably. I am going to die, today, alone, without even knowing if he is still alive, leaving Eren behind, leaving Mikasa behind, leaving everyone behind, because im a failure, and, and, and---

And then it stopped. His lungs could breathe again. He gasped, desperately trying to inhale as much air as possible, the burning in chest slowly fading away, even if his head still felt like someone was smashing a rock onto it.

But he could finally breathe again, and he could feel his pulse. He wasn't dead. He was alive. That's what mattered. He took another shaky breath, and used the chairs and the counter as support to stand up again. His legs were still shaking though, so instead of standing up, he opted to sit on the chair.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Those were the only thoughts going through his head, as he tried to sip his coffee again. That sensation, that feeling. There was no mistake. It was just like the incident two years ago, the same burning sensation, the same desperation to just give up, to do anything, anything, just so the pain could stop, the envy of being able to breathe---

“Ymir.”

The cup shattered on the ground, a sharp sound echoing through the empty hallways, coffee spilling everywhere. Armin didn't even notice. He was frozen in place, hand still raised, eyes still looking in front of him.

That voice. He couldn't make sense of anything. Except : That voice.

That voice. I know that voice. I would know that voice everywhere.

He turned around so quickly his chair went flying to the ground, glass splintering his bare feet from where the glass shattered. His eyes widened, tears spilling out of his ocean blue eyes like fountains.

“Eren?” He whispered. He took a step forward, hand reaching out, trying to touch him, hug him, kiss him, just feel him under his touch but---

His hands went right through him, as if...as if he wasn't real. A look of hurt and confusion shadowed Armin's face. “Ymir.” The man in front of him said again. He sounded monotone, no emotions, no feelings, no nothing. His face didn't seem like an open book anymore, his eyes not gleaming with millions' adventure.

“You have to find Ymir.”

“Eren.” That's all Armin could muster to utter, his voice shaking, his lips trembling. Was this a sick joke of his brain? The sleep deprivation finally kicking in? Making him almost pass out, and now hallucinate his missing-but-much-more-likely-his-long-lost-dead-best-friend?

“Listen to me, you have to listen to me, you need to find Ymir, or else, or else, or else.” He kept repeating the same sentence, as if he was a broken recorder. He closed his eyes, opened them again, closed them again. Armin took a step backwards. His mind was starting to creep him out.

“Eren, is that really you, please tell me I'm not hallucinating you.” He needed to ask, even if it was probably all fake, all his mind–

“Or else.” He closed his eyes again, muttered some stuff.

“Or else?” Armin whispered. “Eren, talk to me, please.”

“Ymir. Find. Ymir.”

With that, Eren started to fade again.

“Wait, no!” Armin didn't want him to leave, not right after he finally got to see him again. He didn't care this might all be his head. He didn't care this might all have to do with what happened three years ago, he didn't care, he just wanted his best friend back, he just wanted to be able to laugh and mess around, and talk about the future as if they both had a clue, he just wanted Eren back.

In his desperate attempt to reach him, Armin slipped on the spilled coffee; he could feel blood oozing from his feets, now from his hands, a stinging pain forming all around his skin. He didn't care, didn't notice. He struggled to get up again, and when he slipped again, he decided to crawl, not caring about the glass shatters on the floor, not caring about the pain, the stiffness of the floor, the red blood mixing with the brown coffee, he didn't care, he just needed to reach him, try again to touch him, maybe he imagined him fading under his touch, maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe he truly did come back, maybe, maybe, just maybe---

“Dont.” He whispered, more like a mix between a sob and a beg. “Don't go.”

“Armin–?” He sounded surprised, shocked, relieved, happy, nothing like the creepy expression and monotone voice he had before when he was muttering all those things, the same name over and over again, what was it again---he couldn't remember in the moment, the only thing in his mind was that he recognized him, he saw him and he knew who he was, and he said his name so gentle, so quietly, as if he was uttering a precious thing he didn't want to break–

“Eren.” Armin said, reaching his arms out, knowing, just knowing, he would reach his arm to, and they would hold hands, and everything would be fine again, he would have his best friend back–

But just as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared.

And Armin couldn't do anything but curl up on the ground and cry, and cry, until his mind encircled him into a deep, unwanted sleep.

#eremin #snk eren #snk armin #snk mikasa #a sprinkle of eren/armin/mikasa #Historia #christa #ymir #ymir fritz #jean #sasha blouse #connie springer #armin mikasa friendship #angst #comfort #everyone needs a hug #it will get dark #inspired by a phone game #i like to make my reader suffer IM SORRY

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duskwoodloversblog · 3 years

Text

JessyxMaleMC

I got to Duskwood just a week ago,my mission is to find Hannah and return her to her friends and family safely,I knew it wouldn't be easy but what I didn't know was that it would be this hard,and without Jake it's even harder,he gave me a lot of useful informations which I could use but now I'm totally lost the only one who's giving me strength to go on,to keep looking for Hannah is Jessy.She is the only person I can trust in the whole group.I know she didn't co-operate with me at first because normally,she was just scared but then it was like she was helping me more than anyone else.She trusted me from the start,and never ever doubted me like everyone else.

(Mike was thinking about all this while sitting on the chair and drinking coffee, it's pretty early in the morning)

I had just woken up from sleep after having a terrible nightmare,and then I checked my phone and saw Jessy's text which said,"Good morning Mike!!!❤️ text me when you wake up!!!" And this text made me forget about the nightmare,and all the negative thoughts.

I got up from bed and made a mug of coffee and started texting her.

"Hey Jessy!!Good morning 💖"

She got online immediately and replied,

"Heey!!!did you sleep well?!"

I don't want to worry her so I said,"Yes of course,I slept great,thank you for asking."

"Soooo,do you remember about our date yesterday?how did you like it?😊💞" How can I not like the time I spent with you?

"There's no way I'm ever going to forget that wonderful date😉❤️" I reply.

Jessy:Aww❤️ok I'll text you in a bit Richy is coming 😶"

"Ok ok,take care and stay safe,bye"

I feel way better after talking to her,now I'm going to look in to all the clues I have until now and try to figure out the answer to this big mystery.

Any if this doesn't make any sense, first of all why was Hannah depressed? everyone said that she was a cheerful and happy person,then was there a sad and depressed girl behind that happy face?

And secondly,who is this Jennifer? what's the connection?I don't understand any of this yet but I have to keep going.

(Mike's phone vibrates,he checks his phone and it's a text from Cleo)

Cleo:Hey,do you have any new leads?

Mike:I'm trying to find one but it seems like this man without a face guy is a professional.

Cleo:Oh...are we not going to find Hannah?

Mike:We are!!!I promise, please just hold on a little bit,we are very close to finding her ok?

Cleo:Ok,let me know if you need any kind of help.

Mike:Will do

I know I'm saying I'm going to find Hannah but how?when? Where?I don't know

(It's almost evening,Mike is still investigating on the pictures he got from Hannah's cloud, he's reading chats to get any kind of hints and trying everything in his power to find Hannah)

Mike was going through Hannah's call list and suddenly he gets a call, it's from Jessy.

He smiles and picks up the call but he wasn't prepared for what happened next.It wasn't Jessy's voice,it was a scary and dark voice and he didn't need much time to understand that it was actually the man without a face.

"I have Hannah,and now I'm taking this sweet little girlfriend too,I told you to stop interfering on other people's businesses but you didn't listen to me,you chose to still go on but your choices have consequences and now it's your time to suffer"

Oh my....no no no no,Jessy is not going to suffer because of something I did!!!I'm not going to let anything happen to her.

"If you dare to hurt her no one can spare you from me!!!" Mike says over the phone.

"Oh yes?ok let's see" say the man without a face and after like 4 seconds Mike heard a scream,he knows that voice.... It's Jessy.

"Do you still think you can threat me?" He asks Mike.

"It was me who's still trying to find Hannah not her,she has nothing to do with all of this please her her go!!!you want me right?take me but not her." Now Mike says in a request voice.He hears a malicious laugher.

"If you want to see Jessy and Hannah alive then come here" TMWF says.

"And where is here??" Mike says desperately and the phone hangs up.

No no,this can't be happening!!!I can't lose Jessy.

Mike gets a notification, it's a text from an unknown number, it's an address to who knows where? it's saying routes.

"I know this is dangerous and might be a trap but I have to do something,I can't let anything happen to Jessy or Hannah because of me" Mike says to himself.

I'm going to this address this tonight,and I'm going to save my Jessy and also Hannah from that monster.

Mike is getting ready,he wears a black jacket and jeans,takes his phone and gets out of his house and starts to do as the text says.and finally he reaches the forest.

But that's not it after reaching the forest he gets another call from another number,so he picks it up.

"I didn't think you'd come this soon,I wasn't prepared to treat another guest of mine yet,but since you're already here go straight and take right and then count 100 steps"

The call drops, Mike starts to follow the instructions again.

"I'm not going to back off now,today I'm going to end this once and for all" He reaches the place but he doesn't see anything it's just thousands of old trees and bushes.

Mike hears sounds coming from behind him,he looks behind and sees his worst nightmare,TMWF holding a gun on Jessy's head and Hannah is all tied up.

"What do you want??why are you doing this? what's your intention???" Mike asks out of anger.

"I don't think you should be the one who's supposed to be questioning right now now,am I right or am I right?" He says

Jessy:MIKE!!Are you stupid??why did you come here? he's going to kill you please run away!!NOW!!!

"Im not going to leave you here alone with him ok?I'm going to be ok and so are you and so is Hannah." Mike replies.

"Wow,I like your confidence" TMWF says.

He repeats,"let's see who wins,you or me?" He loads his gun and starts to count.

"5....4....3....2..." TMWF was about to say 1 but someone knows him down from behind with a bat. Mike says "And there goes 1,this was for trying to hurt Jessy and kidnapping Hannah"

Mike goes to Jessy and Jessy hugs him tightly immediately

"I was so scared,I thought he would kill me,and I would never be able to talk to you again" Jessy says while crying hysterically.

Mike replies,"No one can hurt you while I'm here ok?I'm not going to let anything happen to you,I promise sweetie"

"But...you were there,how did you get here?" She now looks at Mike confused.

Mike laughs and replies,"It was actually Richy,I made a mask of my face and asked Richy to join me,he was distracting TMWF and I silently came here and you saw what happened next" Mike winks at her.

They see Hannah and Richy standing a few feets away from them.

Jessy and Mike goes to Hannah and Richy.Jessy hugs Hannah,Mike says "it's great to see you Hannah, finally,but we have to take care of this Monster."

Everyone agrees so they go to him and takes down his mask turns out... it's actually Hannah's doctor, Doctor Ulric Barret.

They tie him up and hands him to the police.

From the police,they get to know that Dr.Ulric Barret was doing some illegal work and Hannah found it out and that's why he kidnapped Hannah and pretended to be the legend of Duskwood "The man without a face".

Finally the nightmare is over,Hannah is with her boyfriend, sister and friends and Mike's mission is fulfilled,Jessy is alright,what else could he ask for?

Thomas held a part in his house to celebrate,and Mike was obviously the chief guest.

Mike talked to Thomas,Cleo,and Richy and of course with Hannah,she explained that she was actually trying to send Thomas Jake's number but accidentally she sent Mike's,she apologizes because of her he had to go through so much.Then,Jessy comes and Mike immediately walks to her.

"I was waiting for you,why did you come so late?" He asks Jessy.

"Well... first of all,I was getting ready properly,how do I look?"

"Just like a goddess like always" Mike replies leaving Jessy blush like crazy.

"Hey..I wanted to say thank you for saving my life Mike.. Really." She says looking into Mike's eyes.

"I didn't save yours,I saved mine" Mike replies winking,which makes Jessy laugh.

"Sooooo,now that everything is over,are you going back to your town?far from here?" Jessy asks hesitating.

"Yes,I was planning on booking a plane ticket tonight,but then...I changed my plan a little bit"

"I seeee...so what's your plan now?" Jessy asks curioused.

"I plan on staying with you,here in Duskwood." Mike says putting Jessy's beautiful red lock of hair behind her ear.

"Really??why would you do that?" She asks with a puppy face.

"Because...." Mike pulls Jessy closer to him and kisses her.

"Because,I love you Jessy Hawkins" Mike says looking at her smiling.

Jessy hugs him and says,"I love you too!!!"

The end❤️❤️❤️

Hope you guys enjoyed reading it,I'm so sorry if there was any mistakes, please ignore them,Thank you so so so much for reading😊😊😊

@hacked-by-jake @hacker-ghost @jakefromduskwood @jakeduskwood @duskwood-fandom @duskwoodaestfan @duskwoodraven @nerdinthecorner

#fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mcxjessy #everbyte duskwood #duskwood #duskwood mc #duskwood jessy

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anakinthetrashking · 4 years

Text

How’s the Heart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871853/chapters/65565265

Somehow I made it and it is FINISHED!!!! This is my fic that I wrote for @batfam-big-bang !!!!

The biggest of shoutouts and THANK YOUUUUS to my incredible betas: Ace, Skye, and Em!!! @toomanyfandoms21, @timmydrakewings, and @geekinthecorner !!!! I’ve never actually had a beta before, but for this i had 3??? You guys were so kind and patient with me and my last minute tendencies. Thank you for all your suggestions and edits!!! [heart eyes]

and then!! ARTISTS!! you guys really put your heart and soul into the pieces you made and i just,,,, want to cry,,,,THAMKKKKK YOUUU!!!! keep being awesome! im love u: Butter, Dean and Lucy!!!!!! @heybabybird, @greenbean-riverdean, and @houser-of-stories !!!!!

Its a Tim-centric 3+1 Three times Tim is helped or comforted by his family, and one time where he's doing pretty alright. (TW: Depression, Anxiety, Suicidal thoughts, etc! full tags on ao3)

1) Here I am to Share the Fear (Tim & Damian & Dick) Bruce is back and everything seems to be going well- so of course old fears pop up again. Damian notices his absence and tries is best in his own way to offer some comfort.

2) Fly Towards the Calm (Tim & Steph & Cass) Steph notices that Tim's failing at basic self care again, so she declares Movie Night. She and Cass try to remind Tim that he needs to take the time to care for himself and not just continue pouring himself out on behalf of others.

3) Night Will Come But Not to Stay (Tim & Bruce) Turns out catching the Clench and loosing his spleen have more lasting effects than they thought. Tim tries to ignore and push past his new found limitations, Bruce notices that something is off and is there for the inevitable breakdown.

+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale (Tim & Alfred) A rare event of relaxation, the Waynes have a picnic at the manor. Alfred worries about his family, but for now, it seems like everything is alright.

Read it under the read more or on AO3 !

Here I Am To Share The Fear

Too much. Everything was too much.

Bruce was finally back, and Tim was glad that everyone was so happy - despite them all being wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG.

He shook his head and put a light smile on his face, trying to focus on the conversation in front of him, but Dick was so loud. And there were far too many people in the mansion - in the same room - Tim swallowed and grit his teeth against the feeling of his organs crawling up his throat.

There were eleven people in the room.

Ten roses in the flowered centerpiece on the buffet table.

Nine cups scattered about the room.

Eight candle flame shaped light bulbs in the chandelier.

Seven white socks (why was Dick only wearing one?)

Six voices in variating clarity.

Five… Five? Five fingers on each hand.

Four windows, none open.

Three lamps, all unlit.

Two doors.

One exit. Viable exit, at least.

Zero people looking at him. Perfect.

It was time for him to go, so he took his exit as quietly as possible, noticing the volume of the crowd drop as he walked out. No one stopped him. No one seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Good. That- that was something he could deal with.

As he fled to his room, he couldn’t help but notice how alive the manor was. So many lights were on, even in empty rooms. Little things littered the place as if people actually lived here. A book on the table here, ready to be picked up and read from where they left off. A suitcase full of clothes there, waiting to be unpacked. Doors open instead of closed and locked. Bed covers turned down, ready to welcome them home.

Tim reached his door and saw the life that had flooded there as well. Posters, pictures of family and friends covered large portions of his walls. Little trinkets given to him were lovingly placed around his desk. It was more than he could take, so he ran. He ran and ran through hallways and past open doors until the warmth of the occupied portion of the Manor turned to the chilly halls of the guest wing. Back in the furthest unused room is where he finally stopped, willing his heart rate to slow down.

The room looked like something out of a book, everything covered with sheets and layered with undisturbed dust, no signs of life. The evening light cast the room in cool tones of blues and greys, shadows soft and hazy. The attached bathroom was much the same, cold tiles sucking the heat from his feet.

Sitting down, he hugged his knees to his chest, letting the lines of the sink cabinet dig into his back. Tim stared for a while, trying not to think, and letting the clock tick a rhythm into his head.

The clock sounded so loud, and his breath seemed even louder. Nothing felt ok. Exhaustion pushed at the edges of his vision while panic seemed to well up inside of him and claw into his throat. Everything felt like it was closing in on him so he pushed back, laying on the floor and stretching his arms and legs as far as they could go. The cold seeped into him and he vaguely wondered if that’s what it felt like to die. To let your warmth bleed out into the universe. Death… was a calming thought. As humourless as that was, it forced a short laugh out of his throat.

Death would be preferable, he thought, to whatever feeling this is.

Bruce had been back for a month, and for a little while the triumph of bringing him home had been, well, satisfying. Relieving. Exhilarating.

But now, somehow, he was left feeling empty. Hollow. Carved out. His skin was pulled taut over his bones and there was nothing inside. Each day was an empty victory. A consolation prize. An uphill battle against an unseen enemy.

Eating, drinking, getting dressed, sleeping, showering, all done out of the necessity of existence. But most of the time he didn’t feel like he existed at all. Just a doll or a robot - there, but not really. Tossed aside until needed again. Some sort of empty, semi-existent thing. It felt too much like being five again and waiting by the phone for that occasional Sunday call from his parents.

A single tear slipped out, unbidden. It left a quickly cooling trail in its wake.

Everything is so stupid. Tim thought, frustrated by his own stagnancy, willing himself to just do something, instead of just lying there considering the logistics of several stupidly lethal ideas. He was working on kicking out the thoughts when he was distracted by the sound of light, purposeful footsteps. Damian. With footsteps like that it meant he was trying to be considerate. Creepy.

“What do you want?” Tim sighed.

“Drake.” Tim could feel rather than see the curt nod Damian gave him. “Pennyworth brought out those blueberry scones you seem to favor. However, you were not present. So I…” His self-assured tone faltered.

Tim turned to look at him for the first time. “You came looking for me?”

“I would hardly call it looking. You frequent a few spots and the conclusion was obvious by the number of people that are currently within the Manor.” Damian sat cross legged on the floor, pushing a scone into Tim’s hands.

“But why would you…?” Tim sat up, arching an eyebrow.

“It is only natural to know your enemy, Drake. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” Damian sniffed and waited for Tim to take a bite. Then he continued. “Then you will best know how to poison them.” A (dare Tim say it) friendly smirk showed itself on Damian’s face.

Tim snorted, and for once they seemed to have gained a sort of mutual understanding.

They lapsed into silence again. Damian shifted, obviously wanting to say something but didn’t know how. The expression on his face looked so scrunched that Tim almost wanted to laugh.

Instead he asked, “Is it still unbearably loud out there?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “With Grayson in the room? Obviously.”

Somehow Damian seemed even more frustrated. There was a good chance that any moment now he would jump up and leave, but not before throwing out an insult to cover his wounded pride at having to retreat. In his own way, he was trying to offer an olive branch, and as tired as Tim was, something in him couldn’t let that opportunity pass. He could almost hear Dick’s voice in his head, telling him that if he would just talk with Damian, have a conversation, maybe they could find common ground.

For once, he could see the clumsy effort that the brat was making, and he knew deep down, more than anything they both yearned for warmth. Not the sort of warmth that contrasted the grounding feeling of the cold tile beneath him, but the warmth of human connection. The numbness that had been growing in him twisted at that thought and he decided to take a chance.

“It’s nice to have everyone around, but…” he glanced over to try to gauge a reaction, “I can’t seem to settle into it.”

A sort of recognition, reflection, sparked in Damian’s eyes at that, and some of the tension began to leave his body. Tim continued.

“I guess it’s just that there’s always been something. If I do well enough in school, maybe my parents will take an interest in me. If I become a better Robin, maybe Batman will go back to normal. If I bring Bruce back, maybe we can all be happy again… But it never works. It’s never enough, and now- now there’s just… nothing.”

A few moments passed, and Damian’s own internal battle ended as he found the words to reach out in return.

“I, too… Mother’s time was very limited. I trained and studied hard for any extra moment of time or nod of approval she could give… and after Father denied me, it was much the same, trying to rework standards and limits for his approval. Not having something specific to work towards does indeed seem… disconcerting.” Tim searched his face and found sincerity there, though his eyes seemed to be distant as he turned away.

Damian once again found himself at a loss for words, so he thought about what Grayson would do in such a situation. A hug was… out of the question, but- he lay his hand in-between the two of them, palm open. This, he supposed, he could do. Tim took it, surprising them both. Damian’s hand felt almost unbearably warm after the cold of the tile floor.

They sat again, together, in silence. It was more companionable, though still awkward and stilted in ways neither knew how to fix.

“There’s nothing more I can do for this family. There’s nothing I can think of.” The silence stretched before them, and Tim hesitated to put his fear into words.

Finally, he whispered, “ There’s no excuse for me to stay now.”

Damian’s face whipped around to face him. “As usual, you are wrong, Drake.” He scoffed, “Don’t you know you can’t choose who your family is?” pausing, he let go of Tim’s hand and stood up, turning to leave. “You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

Quick but light footsteps sounded out in the hallway.

“Grayson!” Damian called, “Come fix Drake before Father requires his assistance again!” Nodding to Tim he left without another word.

Dick then came skidding around the corner into the bathroom, one socked foot sliding out against the tile. “Tim! Are you ok? What’s wrong? Why are you here of all places?”

Overly warm hands, distant eyes, honest feelings? Tim let out a deep sigh. “You should be more worried about the little gremlin. I think he’s got a fever.”

Dick tensed as if to sprint off again, and Tim held in a sigh of disappointment, knowing that Damian would be the priority, yet again. But instead of running off, Dick simply pulled out his phone and sent off a text, settling down into the spot on the floor that had been recently vacated.

“Bruce is on it.” He glanced out the doorway as if he could still see Damian storming past. “Did he-?” The question of his behavior went unsaid but not uncommunicated.

“No, we had a completely civil conversation. One might even call it a heart-to-heart, by our standards.”

“Therefore, he must be sick?”

“Other signs, too. But yeah.”

The buzz of an incoming message confirmed it, but Dick put his phone away instead of typing out a reply.

“A heart-to-heart, eh? I always knew you guys could get along if you just tried talking.”

“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” Tim shot a glare at Dick who was failing terribly at trying to look affronted at the very thought, “but it does seem like we are a lot more alike than I realized.”

“Who would’ve known?” Dick teased.

“Never mind, just say I told you so next time.” Tim grumbled. “Anyway, it seemed like he was really trying, and that he wanted to help in some way. I guess I just couldn’t ignore that.”

“Yeah.” Dick had his proud big brother face on. “I'm glad you guys are finally getting along. What did you talk about?”

“Oh, you know, feeling worthless without having something to focus on, questioning our places in people's lives, the usual. “

“That does seem to be a common theme in our family.”

“He called me family,” Tim murmured. “Or, well, he implied it. But for him, that’s basically saying it.”

“Tim, that’s…” Even Dick looked astounded.

“Unbelievable?”

“No, not unbelievable.” He chided. “But definitely surprising.”

“That’s one way to get me out of a bad mood, I guess. I was so surprised that it jarred me right out of my own downwards spiral.” Tim closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “Most everything still sucks, but that’s a bright spot, at least. My therapist keeps telling me to look for those. I guess I have another one to add to the list.” He turned his head to share a small smile before standing up to stretch. “That and Alfred’s blueberry scones. I sure hope there’s some left.”

Dick matched his smile with a blinding one of his own and reached over to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“You know, if you ever need to talk-“

“I know.” Tim bumped his shoulder into Dick’s. “Thanks, Dick.”

Fly Towards The Calm

“Think fast!” Stephanie’s entrance was about as subtle as a stampede. She must have been hanging out with Jason lately. As the door behind her swung closed, she tossed a tightly, carefully wrapped package at his face. He caught it with one hand as he finished reading the last paragraph of the proposal he was looking over.

“Evidently I’m the Wayne family errand boy now,” she whined as she jumped up to sit on his desk. “I drove the brat home from school and got enlisted by Alfred to deliver food to your sorry butt.”

“You could have said no.” he muttered. Peeling back the folded wax paper revealed a tuna fish sandwich, exactly how he liked it, though a bit squished from being thrown across a room.

“Refused? Alfred? Are you joking?” she asked, over dramatically taken aback. “Besides, I was rewarded with my own delicious sandwich and not one but two cupcakes.”

“Two?” his eyebrow raised.

“Well, he only gave me one, but generously allowed me to snatch a second. I didn’t eat yours because I’m nice.” She dropped the rest of his lunch on his now closed laptop.

“Indeed, I shall never be able to repay your kindness,” he said around his own mouthful of sandwich.

“You got that right. Anyway, Cass and I are gonna have a night on the town tonight, wanna come with?”

Tim hummed in agreement.

“Great! I’ll text her. You should probably get a nap first though. Come on, you can eat on the way.” She popped the last bite in her mouth and hopped off the desk.

Gathering his things, he glanced at her in amusement. “Alfred put you up to this, too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

Looping her arm in his, they headed to the door. He noticed a slight hesitation in her steps and turned to find her looking at him funny. But she just shook her head and let whatever it was, be.

Until they got in the car, of course.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she sped down the road she asked, with a tone he couldn’t quite decipher , “Did you use my dry shampoo?”

His mind ground to a halt. Of all the questions he thought she’d ask, that was not one of them, and for the life of him, he couldn’t reason out why. They constantly borrowed each others’ things without issue, and for that matter, so did the rest of their mismatched clan. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he needed that nap after all.

It had been a minute, maybe he should answer the question.

“Got my own bottle.” He said carefully, “Seemed useful.”

“Hmm.” God, now she sounded like Bruce. How many odd habits had she picked up from them?

“Tim…” she sounded soft and hesitant, as if he were fragile. He hated when they did that. “When’s the last time you took a shower? Or ate a full meal?”

He contemplated it with a hum. “Patrol,” he said finally.

Stephanie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a moment. “Has it been bad lately?”

“What? …Oh.” Oh. “Not… really? It’s just been numb. Quiet. A bit like the way everything is muffled when you’re underwater.” A bit like drowning, he left unsaid.

She nodded and made a sudden U-turn. When he looked at her in askance, she shrugged. “We’ll patrol together another night. I’ll update Cass when we get to my apartment, but go ahead and text Alfred now. We’re going to have a self-care night with movies and facemasks and whatever other dumb indulgent Pinterest crap I can think of.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue but found he was too tired to care and yawned instead. “Nap first?”

“Shower first. Then nap.”

[BREAK]

He woke the moment she opened the door and turned his head to meet her gaze as she poked her head in with a grin.

“Ca-“ he broke off in a yawn, “Cass!”

With a quick glance behind her, she continued into the room, holding out a steaming mug. Tim sat up in bed, gleefully accepting it as she sat down next to him.

“Coffee,” he sighed in delight.

“Coffee.” She agreed with a solemn nod.

The silence was comforting as they sat there, leaning against each other, Tim soaking in the rare precious moments where he wasn’t rushed, or pulled this way and that. Reaching the bottom of the mug, he set it aside, wrapping his arms around his sister instead.

“You are a blessing upon humanity,” he said, “we don’t deserve you.”

She laughed and tightened the hug. The moment felt just like flying free above the streets of Gotham, and the thought of staying in for the night felt right. Cass pulled away just enough to look at him face to face, an amused twist to her lips.

“You smell like a Steph!” Squeezing him once more, she slipped away and was halfway out the door again when she turned as if she had just remembered something. “Oh!” her smile turned sly, “Decaf!”

“Hey!” He jumped out of the bed to catch up with her, but when he rounded the hall into the living room he was stopped in his tracks.

It seemed that somewhere in between dropping him off at her apartment to take a nap while she met up with Cass and “gathered necessary supplies”, and returning with said supplies, the original objective had been lost.

“It looks like you brought back half the manor’s supply of blankets and robbed a concession stand… and is that the old DVD case? I thought I got rid of that.”

“Yeah. Me and Dick saved it! Having everything digital may be convenient, but having a physical folder of DVDs just feels right!”

Tim suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and decided to leave the debate of Digital vs. Physical for another day.

“Anyway, you’re up just in time to help us set up the blanket fort!”

An hour later found the living room unrecognizable under the piles of pillows and draped sheets. Tim and Steph stood in the kitchen sorting snacks and discussing the night’s activities.

“-and then there’s this green tea and honey one that’s really great, very soothing-“

“Steph, you don’t have to explain them all to me, you know I’ll always let you test your facial concoctions out on me,” he cut in.

“Of course I know that. I’m not rambling about them for my benefit- I’m rambling about them for yours”

A head tilt was his only reply.

“Ok, let me try to explain this in a different way.” she put down her phone to look at him. “Tonight, Cass and I are going to attempt to teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“I know-”

“Not in the way that you’ve done or that you know. Your version of taking care of yourself is to fool the cameras, the public, to fool Batman into thinking that you’re at your best.” she shoots him a look. “You’re not. You’re running on fumes and you can’t fool your family.”

“Taking care of yourself is NOT finding the lowest number of hours of sleep that you can ‘function’ on.” She makes quotes in the air with her fingers. “It is not replacing a meal with a power bar, even if the calories are the same! It’s not only taking showers when you have to leave the house, or shutting yourself in to do casework all the time!” her hands fly up in the air and she huffs.

Taking his hands in hers she looks him square in the eyes before saying more softly, “Self-care is eating full, balanced, Alfred-cooked meals as often as you can. It’s doing your laundry every week and brushing your teeth twice a day. It’s taking naps even when you would literally rather be sorting through the 5-year backup of paperwork in R&D. Or better yet, getting a full 8-10 hours of sleep regularly! It’s looking in the mirror and saying to yourself, everyday, ‘I am good enough. I am worthy of and deserve all the love me friends and family try to give me.’

And tonight! Taking care of yourself is having a spa night with Cass and I while we watch anime movies and eat copious amounts of junk food, because we all know that patrol burns an extra 2,000 calories anyway! Plus, we can look at the Affirmations board I have on Pinterest! Cass likes practicing saying them while she beats up bad guys. Says the look on their faces is priceless.”

“Funniest one, I said, ‘I aspire to be a blessing and an inspiration to others.’” Cass recites popping her head out from the mass of blankets, “Guy completely stopped! Then I punched him.”

Night Will Come But Not To Stay

“I cant- I can’t do this anymore! I won’t do this anymore!”

“Promise?”

“…What?” his tears paused for the barest moment, before overflowing again. Bruce was crouched in front of him, tear tracks staining his face.

A moment ago Bruce had been standing with his back to him, untouched by Tim’s words, or perhaps instead, disgusted?

But perhaps that conclusion was wrong. As Tim searched his face now, it looked more like he was the one in pain and exhausted beyond belief.

His lips were moving, and Tim struggled to catch up.

“What?” he repeated, softly and sniffly, a cord of self-disgust lashing out within him at the pathetic sound of it.

Not just tear tracks, it seemed. Bruce was still shedding tears as he repeated himself.

“Do you promise? That you won’t do this anymore?”

Tim’s mind felt like sludge as he tried to piece together how that request could possibly fit into the context of the last few minutes.

They had been training, not so long ago. Bruce had reached out to Tim first, this time. Offered to train together like they had in the past. Tim had jumped at the chance. He should have known better.

It had been going fine, at first. Great, even.

But his insomnia had been worse than usual this past week, and his other symptoms had been acting up, too. In response to the lack of sleep, maybe, or just the continued pattern he had observed, gradually worsening over time.

Honestly, it was probably a great big mix of things.

But he hadn’t been willing to cancel - not the first thing that he had actually been looking forward to in… too long to think about.

So, he’d shown up anyway, his body begging him to just rest.

They’d warmed up and started sparring.

Well.

It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes of sparring, and his body went from begging to outright rebellion.

He went down and couldn’t get back up.

And for some stupid reason, Bruce had decided to yell at him to get up.

So, he yelled back.

Yelled.

Screamed.

He’s not even sure what all he said, just that this last added bit of disappointment piled atop the ever-building terror of symptoms and lit the fuse that exploded within him and stole the earth from under his feet. It ripped through him and tore out his throat, multiplying as his view was constrained to the back of the man he respected most, seeming to be utterly unmoved by it all.

His obvious confusion and continued silence spurred Bruce to try to explain.

“Promise me that you’ll stop running yourself into the ground. Please.” He tilted his head to try and catch Tim’s eye. “I know you’ve been struggling, and not just lately. Alfred said you’ve seemed like you’ve been having an especially difficult time for quite a while. He said he had been meaning to bring it up to me before… and that he had tried to talk to you while I was gone, but that he couldn’t get you to stay in one place long enough to broach the subject. I know something’s going on. Tell me about it. Let me help.”

“Something’s going-? Help?” his laugh was incredulous and desperate as he dug his fingers into the mats beneath him before forcing them to relax. “No. You can’t- you can’t help me.” He scoffed. “Was this-“ he waved his hand around to try to indicate this situation that he couldn’t find words for, “this, supposed to be helpful?”

“Well,” Bruce looked a bit sheepish, “when you get stressed, I know you tend to internalize all of it. Direct it all at yourself. I thought if you had something outside yourself to direct it at instead… It had worked for-“ he cut himself off. “Well.” He said again, letting it rest a moment before continuing at a different angle. “What do you mean I can’t help you?”

“I mean, you can’t. I- I already researched it. There’s nothing- I mean, I sure had enough time. I had thought, with how tired I am, that maybe it’d help with my insomnia. You’d think so, right? But no. No. I’m still awake, but now I’m lying there, and I can’t do anything. Because I’m too tired! I’m so tired, Bruce. I thought- I thought I knew what tired was.”

“Tim, you’re not making sense. What’s going on? Why are you so tired?” he shifted to sit down and lifted his arms to give Tim a hug but stopped short, holding there, offering.

Tim fell into his arms and Bruce gathered his son as best he could.

“Turns out The Clench has permanent effects that the cure couldn’t reverse. They’re only just beginning to research it, but I’ve been tracking symptoms. Chronic fatigue and pain, nerve damage, migraines- other things they aren’t sure are connected. There isn’t a cure, and it’s gradually been getting worse. I’ve tried the suggestions though it's hardly any change: diet, exercise, rest, the basics. But it’s all just maintenance, and I can’t-“ he went limp as his eyes filled with tears again. “I can’t do the things I used to be able to. I’m barely making patrol- the rest of the day I’m in bed. I can’t do classes. I had intended- I was going to finish High School, or maybe get my GED. But I have to lay down after taking a shower. I can hardly think anymore. I have to drag myself out of bed to go to the bathroom. I used to be able to do everything, and now I can’t do anything! I can’t help you anymore! And you can’t help me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bruce pulled him closer to his chest and rested his cheek on his head, rocking them back and forth. “It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, it won’t! It’ll never be ok again! Can’t you see? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think! I can’t think, Dad! What use am I now?” his voice broke and Bruce felt his heart break with it.

“Tim,” he gathered Tim’s hands in his own from where they were clutching his shirt, and planted a kiss on his knuckles, smoothing over them with his thumb. “Son, listen to me. You were not born into this world to be useful.” He stopped him before he could interrupt. “I know you like being useful. I like being useful, too. But I need you to listen to me. You are more precious to me than all the stars in the sky. Nothing will change that. When I say, “We’ll figure it out”, I’m not talking about a cure, or some way to make sure you are, quote unquote, “useful”. I mean that we’ll figure out a way for you to live a happy life. A successful life in whatever capacity that it may mean for you. When I say “it’ll be ok”, I don’t mean that I have a fix, I just mean that no matter what, the others and I will be here for you, however you need us. I mean that no matter what happens, you have a place here. You are my son. I love you.” Bruce cradled Tim close again, and their tears mingled where their cheeks pressed together.

“It’s ok. I’m here”

(+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale

Despite still being in the middle of setting things up, the picnic mood was already in full swing. Large blankets were being weighed down by pillows and baskets of assorted snacks. Tables were being laid out to hold the main meal, soon to be a large potluck. No matter how much Alfred insisted on being the one to cook it all, each attendee persisted in bringing something to share. He faintly wondered if they would run out of table space again this time ‘round.

With the majority of the tasks already accomplished, and the remaining tasks hijacked by the ever-enthusiastic young people, Alfred found himself with nothing pressing to do. He made his way over to where Tim sat, transferring water bottles and pop cans from cartons to coolers.

“As much as I appreciate the help, I do so wish they’d stop flinging cutlery across the lawn.”

Tim looked up to watch Steph and Duke and Jason for a moment, trying to suppress his own smirk at the sight of them gleefully tossing said cutlery to each other.

“I mean, it's just plastic, right?”

Alfred sighed as he sat in a camping chair set up next to the coolers. “Yes, but that’s not quite the point. The job is getting done, though, I suppose.”

They sat a moment in pleasant silence, watching as their family milled about, more relaxed than Alfred had seen in years. He hated to break the quiet, but with the entire family around lately and as busy as ever, he had hardly had a decent conversation with any of them. He worried about all of them, of course, and their shared inability to ask for help, but Timothy was an especially quiet lad, when it came to facing problems.

“How are things?”

“Well, all the drinks are already chilled, and we have plenty of ice.”

He shrugged a little at Alfred’s pointed look. “I think they’re ok.” He fiddled a bit with the boxes and tied a fresh garbage bag to the back of a cooler. “Not great, but ok. The weight, the fog… It’s lessened, somehow?”

“Your medication is helping?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a big part of it. But more than that, the way that I think about things now, it’s- I mean, obviously, it’s taken months, and ‘better’ isn’t a word that I’d use- but there’s been progress. And for once? It’s like I can let that progress just, be? I’m not sure how to explain it, really.” He leaned back to stare at the sky. “ I’m still working on things, and putting effort into it, but I guess I’m not expecting things to be fixed completely and immediately.”

Alfred hummed in response encouraging him to continue.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s still frustrating to no end. Trying to ‘let go’ of perfectionism and the control issues… Sometimes I feel more like I’m chopping off parts of myself with the issues rather than just ‘letting them go’. But I’ve been finding new ways to define myself, and it’s been more manageable lately. I can work with manageable. And when it’s not, I have people who make it bearable.” He looked off to where Bruce was welcoming their first guests. “That’s more than enough for me.”

“Master Timothy,” Alfred waited until Tim met his sincere gaze, “I am so proud of you.”

The small smile Tim shot at him reminded him so much of the shy grins that were common when young Timothy had first entered their lives. Alfred’s heart ached for the many children whose smiles he had seen stolen over the years. The moment was cut short as Jason stormed over demanding,

“Tim, Steph is insisting that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice is better than the 1995 version. You have to tell her she’s wrong.”

Steph came bounding over with Duke. “What's wrong with you? Do you hate Kiera Knightley or something?”

Jason took a dramatic step back with his hand on his heart. “You should know better than to ask that question! But the 1995 version is still the better version. It's more faithful to the books! The delivery is stunning! The banter is unsurpassable! And it has Colin. Firth.”

Duke breaks in, “I mean, he’s got a point. They took the time necessary to keep as many details as possible from the book. Elizabeth’s take down of Darcy is unparalleled. When it comes to banter that’s definitely the one to watch. Also, the 2005 Mr. Bennet is kinda creepy, not gonna lie.”

“See? Duke here is a man of taste.”

“But the aesthetic!” Stephanie cried, “The finger twitch! Darcy looking like a sad puppy in the rain! Elizabeth kissing Darcy’s hand!!! 2005 is a masterpiece! Tim, you tell them!”

“Don’t look at me, I think they’re both great. Besides, I like Jane Eyre better.” Tim says.

The other three stop and stare.

“You know, that makes sense.” Duke said with an assessing look. “Personally, my favorite is the Count of Monte Cristo.”

Jason threw up his hands in defeat. “You guys aren’t even talking about Jane Austen anymore!” They all turned as another car came up the drive. “Oh thank god, Babs is here! She’ll take my side.”

Their conversation faded into the distance as they paraded back across the lawn, dragging Tim into their argument as they went.

Bruce watched them fondly out of the corner of his eye as he approached in turn.

“The Kent’s are here, save Clark. Lois says he tried a new recipe and wanted to run it past Martha first. Diana’s running a bit late, but for the most part it seems that everyone else will be here in an hour or so. How are things coming along?”

Alfred knew he was asking about more than just picnic preparations. “All is well, Master Bruce. For once, all is well.”

#bbb2020 #batfam big bang 2020 #batfam #batfam fic #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #Stephanie Brown #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst and fluff #holy crap i cant believe this is finished #tw depression #tw anxiety #tw suicidal thoughts #also talk of chronic illness #part three might hit a little too close to home during current events sorry #shout out to my fellow chronic illness peeps who are grieving the loss of health #i def cried while writing it #tim drake gets a hug #also everyones in therapy btw #all is well alfred says until clark shows up with that accursed sweet tea and restarts their ongoing battle over tea #please imagine the intense eye contact across the lawn as clark sets down the sweet tea at the drinks table smugly #it wouldnt fit in the fic but it fits in my heart #also u better believe that Dev is there!!!#im just too shy to write him

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