#anyway sorry for the unrelated hot take but in my defense you did say you liked my opinions. that was merely my little Tom & Jerry moment.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

i think you are very cool and i love hearing your opinions on stuff :)

Aw thank you so much! ^_^ This is you and me now btw

[domosakis]

[TARO-222] insatiable, pure love!

★ this is inspired by a hentai that was turned into a porn LOL i pretty much just rewrote it the whole first half but then i get bored of it and made it my own story at the end so sorry if its confusing but i spent a lot of time on it so i hope you like it!! ♡

✭ words: 1.9k !! cw: extreme dubcon, borderline noncon, i can't tell who is insane in this story, toxic relationship, assault, public sex, reader is feminized, lmk if i forgot smth omg im so sorry

‘i didn’t really want to do it… at the beginning.’

at least shotaro tells himself that, whether it’s true or not. he took the train home after practice like always but you were there. you looked so cute in your uniform but he couldn’t help but notice how sensual your body made you look. plaid skirt barely reaching the top of your thighs and a thin white blouse that might as well have been made with tissue.

he was addicted as soon as he saw you. he felt the need to go home right away, thoughts of making you scream plaguing his mind. stress, deadlines, the pressure of his academy… he deserved a little happiness right?

suddenly the train stopped and shotaro took the opportunity to dramatically fall towards you, your back against his. his hand pressed against your ass, moving your skirt up showing your panties to anyone who looked your way.

his inner monologue was just a stream of excuses he made to keep touching you. so soft… and even though he knows it’s not right he doesn’t make even an attempt to stop.

‘again… another idiot.’

you wondered how far he would go today, after all you did need to get home and start preparing dinner. you didn’t resist instead letting your mind wander to your daily chores and responsibilities, you just hoped your stop came soon.

suddenly you were yanked out of your thoughts, your body carelessly being tossed into the position he wanted and his hands came to grab at your breasts. he wasn’t gentle at all in the way he handled you but at least he wasn’t being completely rude. you’d let him do what he wanted as long as he stayed quiet. he’s not really hurting me like the others so what’s the worst that could happen?

shotaro let himself get brave, after all you weren’t denying him. if anything you were making it too easy. he let his hand slip under your panties to feel your cunt directly. he only grew more confident when he felt how wet you were.

you didn’t understand why you felt this way, you could say it was your body’s natural reaction but then how did you end up with this stranger in the love hotel down the street?

strange men doing what they wanted to you wasn't what you would call a foreign experience. maybe it was because you didn’t dress all that modestly, maybe it was your body or maybe you were just an easy target. whatever it was you definitely weren’t able to defend yourself from it and you ended up in a lot of rough situations.

this felt different though. okay sure so maybe he still molested you on the train without any communication but… he looked your age, and cute, and he didn’t call you mean names or hit you, and he even took you to this nice hotel instead of taking you against the urinal in a seedy bathroom!

maybe you needed to raise your standards.

whatever. it was too late now, this man (whose name you still didn’t now) had you laid underneath him, playing with your body however he wanted and you got the slight feeling he hadn’t touched anybody else in awhile at least. he took his time massaging your tits and all you could do was writhe beneath him.

“do you feel good?” shotaro asked you once he had your top half completely bare. you didn’t answer and turned your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

“no? your nipples are so hard though…” it was true your body was responding to everything he did but you didn’t want him to know that. still, it didn’t do much to deter him and suddenly his hands reached to pin yours next to your head, his mouth attaching itself to your breast.

you couldn’t help but moan out then, your hips bucking to meet his. your body had never been played with like this before and you needed more. he complimented your body and it made your heart swell in a twisted way.

“fuck. why are you so wet?” he laughed at you but you were distracted by his fingers playing with your clothed clit.

“you’re so cute, i need to see more.” you could barely see only feeling him spread your legs apart and taking off your panties roughly leaving only your skirt bunched around your waist. and before you knew it he was fucking into you.

‘this can’t be bad right?’ shotaro thought. ‘they’re so wet they must be enjoying this’

he could barely hold himself back grabbing onto the skirt around you and using it to fuck his dick into you harder. his thrusts were fast and unrelenting and you tried to say no but nothing comprehensible came out of your mouth.

you could already feel him deep within you and you thought you would cry once he pushed your leg to your chest, taking you sideways.

“no i can’t! i can’t!” you managed to cry out but it didn’t matter anyways, if anything it felt like it made him go harder. he let himself stay deep inside you for a bit, enjoying the way your body twitched around him before flipping you onto your stomach.

he took his time teasing you, rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt until he finally listened to you begging him to stop. you were so far gone at that point only able to focus on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. it was almost painful how fast he rubbed against you but his tip was reaching inside you so well.

you almost felt yourself losing consciousness before he pulled out, cumming across your tits and letting some hit your face. your body wouldn’t stop twitching and you realized you had cum as well, the feeling of your pussy clenching around nothing making you feel outrageously empty.

you expected to open your eyes to an empty room, left alone to clean yourself up and get home. instead you were very surprised to see the same man who had fucked you to the edge on his knees, his hands together begging for forgiveness.

“i’m so sorry! please forgive me!” you could hear him mumbling to himself and you almost felt bad for him.

“i’m so terrible, and i didn’t even use a condom… if you get pregnant… i’m so sorry!”

you had quite literally never been in this situation before and you were afraid the man was about to burst into tears.

“uhm… it doesn’t matter really.” you said before looking away. now shotaro was taken aback so you kept going before he could say anything.

“well it does matter, you shouldn’t assault girls but uhm…” you had no idea how to explain this.

“truthfully it’s really easy for me to be attracted to you, and i’ve gone through a lot worse…” you started going into detail about your past experiences and shotaro was growing increasingly confused and worried about your mental state.

“anyways today felt different, like you didn’t cum inside me! that’s a first and… i even came. i felt like you were gentle.” shotaros mind started to reel at the idea of the things you would let him get away with if you thought that was gentle and even when you’re praising him for doing less then the bare minimum he could only think of worse things. truly terrible.

you kept going.

“i won’t call the police and… i felt really good today.”

shotaro thought he was going to die, he just assaulted you and you were saying these things. he could feel himself getting hard again and before he could stop it he was back on top of you.

you liked it. someone like you was actually attracted to someone like him. he couldn’t pass the chance to take you again. he was going to play with you as much as you let him.

after shotaro had once again taken you how he liked he, once again, went through the five stages of grief begging for your forgiveness. you were too fucked out to comfort him at the point and he quickly left leaving you with fare for the ride home.

he decided to leave the whole incident behind him, citing it as a life lesson learned. (even though he should’ve known that assault was bad without having to do it but, whatever.) he promised himself that he would forget about that kind of thing and focus on dance. that is until he ran into you once again.

you greeted him first, before he could run away and that action alone confused him. you looked so cute just like the first time he saw you, but this time you were in a pink tank top and short denim skirt. equally as irresistible. you guys actually made small talk at first until shotaro couldn’t hold it in.

“what happened last night… would you want to do it again? i’ll be gentle!”

you smiled weakly. “if you say so.”

you gave him a blowjob in a bathroom stall before he took you back to his dorm.

in his defense it was very gentle, he took his time with you leaving hot kisses all over your body. you didn’t know what to do with yourself you’d never had sex like that before. he was sweet and thoughtful and you found yourself wanting to hear his voice and feel him more and more.

you wanted him to feel the same way about you. you wanted him to think about you for more than your body. you wanted him to crave every part of you. you felt yourself get lost in the feelings you were developing for him. you pressed your hands against his chest when he moved to enter you.

"please… i want to make you feel good too.” shotaro just stared at you slightly confused before he responded.

“you make me feel so good baby, i think i’m addicted to you.” it’s possible he said more but that’s all you needed to hear. you reached your arms around him and pressed yourself as close to his body as you could.

at that moment you could start to forget the circumstances in which you met. shotaro was so sweet to you now and he wasn’t mean to you then. would it be too much to hope for a relationship with this man? you could imagine letting him use you whenever he wants keeping him satisfied and he would be kind to you in return.

you wanted to kiss him so bad, you were staring at his lips and he thankfully took the hint grabbing your hair to pull you impossibly closer to him. it made you so happy. having shotaro as your boyfriend so no one else could mess with you. and he makes you feel so good…

shotaro loved the look on your face. you looked absolutely obsessed with him and that’s how he wanted it. he felt so lucky that you accepted him, any guilt that he previously felt was totally gone, now he just wanted to have you near him all the time. have you as his and make sure everyone knew.

you were perfect for him. so responsive and eager to please. you loved everything he gave you and he forgot anything else mattered when he saw you.

at some point he knew this was bad. the way you met and how you got to this point. but you didn’t care so why should he? he’ll take advantage of your past to make sure that you’re thankful for everything he does to you.

[woodstockbtswriter]

Never

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warning(s): A non-graphic near-death experience.

Author’s Note: This is one of several stories inspired by these kissing story prompts. This is also probably the angstiest thing I’ve ever written, but I took a slightly different approach to “life-or-death” so things didn’t get too dark or dramatic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Prompt: Kissing Hoseok in the rain because the situation is life-or-death.

Never

It was a stupid argument. You knew it was stupid, and you knew it was stupid to be so angry. But you were. Angry and stupid. And wet.

Cold raindrops mixed with the hot teardrops on your face, making tracks down your cheeks, and no matter how many times you wiped your eyes, more rain and tears fell.

You were chilly, too. The night was dark and the air was cool and the rain was icy. And you were soaked to the skin.

It was stupid to be so angry, but it had been even stupider to think you could walk home.

In your defense, it wasn’t raining when you stormed out Hoseok’s door. But now the rain was unrelenting.

Water streamed down the sidewalk, flowing around your feet and into a storm drain in a noisy rush. Scowling and tugging your dripping coat tighter, you sought shelter in the doorway of a storefront, but it wasn’t quite deep enough. You flattened yourself against the door, but errant raindrops still reached you. 

Watching the rain continue to sheet down, the thought occurred to you to call Hoseok. He was the last person you wanted to call right now, but it was late, and you didn’t know who else you could ask for help. The streets were deserted, businesses were closed, and all your other friends were probably asleep.

You fetched your phone from your pocket and opened a rideshare app, hoping as you did that the device would prove to be waterproof as advertised. With trembling fingers, you searched for a ride, but there were no drivers anywhere nearby. By the time a car could pick you up, you could walk the rest of the way home.

The speed dial button to call Hoseok seemed to glow brighter on your phone screen as you stared at it. But you weren’t ready to admit defeat yet. Your anger was still too hot, and you didn’t want to give Hoseok the satisfaction. Besides, you were both so worked up when you left, you doubted he would answer even if you did try to call him.

With a bitter sigh, you stowed your phone, and stepped back out onto the walkway, resigned. The rain that immediately pelted you felt even more frigid than before, but you ducked your head and hugged your shoulders, left with no other option than to press on.

As you walked, the cold seemed to seep into your bones, and once again you thought about calling Hoseok. You tried holding onto your pride, recalling every little detail of your argument in an attempt to warm yourself by fanning the flames of your anger, but your temper was cooling as fast as your temperature.

The further you sloshed along, the stupider everything seemed. Your angry tears soon became sad, miserable tears, and you quickly decided you didn’t want to be mad anymore. You just wanted to be dry and warm. And home, with Hoseok.

Reaching a covered bus stop, you plopped onto the wet bench and pulled your phone out again. Mercifully, it was still working, but when you started to call Hoseok, you hesitated, your finger hovering over the dial button. You’d calmed down, but what if he hadn’t? What if he was still upset with you? You were sure walking out on him in the middle of the fight had only made him angrier.

A gust of wind blew as you sat vacillating, and you shivered. Looking up, you noticed the rainwater was starting to flood the streets, and worry and fear began to well up inside you. Your predicament wasn’t merely stupid anymore - it was rapidly growing dangerous. 

Still shivering, you lifted your phone with your mind made up. You couldn’t keep walking, and you couldn’t stay here. You had to call Hoseok. But before you could even dial his number, your boyfriend’s face lit up the screen. Relief washed over you, and you immediately accepted the call.

“Hobi!” You gasped, cupping the phone to your ear to hear him over the storm.

“Are you home?” He asked brusquely, obviously still mad.

“N-no.” You replied through chattering teeth.

There was a pause, then Hoseok’s tone changed.

“What’s all that noise? Are you - are you outside? Tell me you’re not outside in this weather.”

“I t-tried to w-w-walk home.” You shuddered, the wind picking up around you.

“You tried to what?!” Hoseok exclaimed, quickly getting worked up again. “You’re outside walking?! It’s pouring out! What were you thinking, are you trying to freeze to death?! Aish jagi, I thought you ordered a ride, if I’d known you were - You should have called me, why didn’t you call me?!”

More tears gathered in your eyes, and started spilling down your cold, wet cheeks.

“Hobi, please.” You plead, unable to stop shaking, and a sob escaped you. “I need your help.”

“Where are you?” Hoseok demanded, and you thought you heard the jingle of car keys.

“The b-bus s-stop in front of the b-b-bank.”

You could tell Hoseok was hurrying out of his apartment and towards his car.

“Listen to me, jagi, stay right where you are,” He told you, his voice firm, “I’m on my way. I’ll be right there.”

It was less than five minutes before you saw bright headlights beaming through the rain, but in those minutes you felt yourself slowly freezing, more and more by the second. Eventually, you grew so numb you didn’t even feel the cold anymore - or your fingers or toes. But you still shivered violently, your teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached. By the time you recognized Hoseok’s car approaching, you didn’t even have the strength to be relieved. 

Hoseok’s tires cut tracks through the flood waters as he pulled up to the curb in front of you, and the second he was parked, he flung open his door and began running. Splashing water with every footfall, he reached you in two heartbeats, and threw his arms around your thrashing frame.

“There you are!” He cried, crushing you against his chest, and his body heat hit you like a surging wave.

Hoseok held you tight in his strong arms, attempting to keep you still. His cheek was flush with yours as he held you, and the temperature of your skin shocked him.

“Jagi, you’re like ice!” He leaned back, taking your head in his hands. “What were you thinking?” He asked again, but this time there was absolutely no indignation in his tone as he hastily began kissing all over your slick face. “You could have hypothermia, you could have frozen to death.” He lamented, his eyes red with tears as he pressed his warm lips to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin, and between your eyes. “Do you know how scared I was?” He was growing frantic now, his voice getting louder and higher. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I was m-m-mad at you,” You answered feebly, barely above a whisper, “and y-you were mad at me.”

Hoseok paused to look you in the eye, his own eyes flashing sternly as he grasped your face.

“Jagiya, look at me.” He commanded, and you groggily met his piercing gaze. “Now listen. I will never be too mad to help you. Ever. Do you understand?”

You nodded weakly, and Hoseok gave a curt nod back. Then his expression melted, promptly returning to one of heartfelt concern. With sudden urgency, he bent to touch his lips to yours, and as he kissed you gently, your heart began to thaw.

“Now come on, we have to get you warm.” Hoseok huffed, breaking the kiss. He didn’t wait for a reply before he swept you up into his arms.

You curled into his chest as he dashed back out through the rain to his waiting car, where he deposited you in the passenger’s seat before running around to climb in behind the steering wheel. When Hoseok was settled, he cranked up the heater first thing, and blessed hot air blew forcefully through the vents.

“What do you say we get you home and out of those wet clothes? How does cuddling under a fluffy blanket with a cup of hot chocolate sound?” Hoseok asked, shifting the car into drive before finding your hand and taking it. “Maybe after a hot bath?” He added, pulling back out onto the road, his windshield wipers rapidly streaking back and forth.

You gave another small nod, and regarded Hoseok’s face, your clothes dripping steadily onto his floor mats. He sniffed as you watched him drive, his eyes never leaving the road as he wiped leftover tears from beneath them. You could tell he was trying to be brave - for you.

“Take your coat off.” Hoseok instructed you as he headed back towards his apartment. “And hold your hands out in front of the air vents.”

You did as you were told, and by the time you were parked in his garage, you’d regained feeling in your limbs. You were still soaked, but you were no longer freezing, and had finally stopped shivering.

“I’m so sorry, Hobi,” You spoke up, your voice now much steadier, “For everything. I’m sorry for arguing with you, I’m sorry for storming out and for worrying you, I’m sorry you had to come rescue me… And I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Hoseok pressed his mouth into a tight line, his dimples showing. He didn’t look at you.

“I know, jagi.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. And I never should have let you walk out the door. I should have gone after you right away.” He shook his head, sniffing again. “You could have died, jagi. You do realize that, don’t you?” 

Hoseok turned to look at you, and you felt small under his gaze. But he wasn’t glaring at you; his expression was pained.

“If something had happened to you, I could never forgive myself.” He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t lose you, jagi.”

You reached for Hoseok’s hand, and squeezed his fingers.

“Let’s never fight again.” You suggested, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of Hoseok’s mouth.

“No more fighting.” He agreed, kissing your fingers. “It’s a deal.”

“I love you, Hoseok.” You managed to give a small smile back, warm blood finally reaching your cheeks.

“I love you, jagi,” Hoseok said, “Forever and always. No matter what.”

He then looked you straight in the eye again, and the love radiating from him was a palpable heat.

“You could never do anything that would make me stop loving you.” He added, gently moving a dripping strand of hair from your face. “Never forget that.”

Feeling warmed to your core, you shook your head and promised:

“Never again.”

Bonus: Ever

[aikoeisbon]

Haunting

Levi x Reader

TW: Self Harm

Therapeutic drabble. May be triggering to some, but it's how I help myself.

The sweltering heat of a midsummer's day had convinced a large amount of the survey corps to remain inside, and as a result, the stables were void of all people. You, on the other hand, had been scheduled to care for the horses on this particular day. You had discarded your jacket, opting to wear your undershirt as you worked to muck out stalls and feed the horses. As hot as it was, you figured your steed would appreciate a nice, cool bath, so you slipped her halter on and lead her down the long pathway of the stable towards it's rear, where the buckets and water were. You rolled up your sleeves as you began to fill the buckets, throwing sponges in there and allowing them to soak prior to lathering your horse with a bit of blandly-scented soap.

"Oi." A voice startled you as you snapped your head up towards the source of the noise. Levi was approaching your mare, hand outstretched for her nose while his eyes flickered down towards you. You heaved, carrying two buckets of water to beside your horse before shifting to return for the third, only to find Levi carrying it over with ease.

"Thanks. What brings you here?"

"I was looking for you. Hanji said you were on stall duty." Levi replied as you poured water onto the mare's back. He grimaced as she shook her coat, flinging specks of water onto his face.

"Did you need something?" You inquired as he wiped the droplets off his face with his forearm.

"Erwin wanted to speak with you." He stated in answer, watching as you began to scrub the mare with a sponge.

"The Commander?... Must be important then. I'll be finished in a bit. And here I was thinking you missed me." You raised your gaze up to meet his grey orbs and shot his a humorous smirk as you hunched over a bucket, rinsing the sponge and returning back to washing the animal. She dropped her damp head down, pushing Levi with it as she raised it against him, using him as a scratching post.

"Tch, cut that shit out." His brows furrowed, irritated with his now somewhat wet uniform with pieces of black fur here and there. He pushed her head away from him, in which she had responded with a low nicker. Levi moved beside you, reaching for a sponge to help out. As he went to stand straight again, his eyes picked up a bit of color from your arms. He trained his gaze on your flesh as you scrubbed away, his expression becoming flat as he identified the dull red stripes. The more closely he paid attention, the more lines he discovered- though these were white. Living in the underground, he was not blind to the fact people did this to themselves. Though as hard as things were for them, he still somewhat struggled to understand why. He understood being angry with yourself- even to the point of hating yourself or your situation so much you were suicidal. But to worsen your pain by making it physical? He could not wrap his head around that. From what he saw in the underground, whatever you were feeling or going through must have been as dismal and extreme as it would be in the underground. It caused him great concern, but his unenthused face did not reflect that. He simply narrowed his eyes, and shot his hand out for your arm.

"What?" You said almost defensively, startled by his sudden movement. It hadn't clicked what he was doing until you followed his line of sight, only then realizing your scars were in plain sight. You furrowed your brow, attempting to pull your arm back to your chest only to find it was secure in Levi's grip.

"Why?" He muttered, snatching your other arm in his iron grip as well. His chest tightened when he saw the same type of marks on that arm as well.

"Let go." You commanded, your voice quiet and low. His grip was unrelenting, his stare stern and serious. "Levi, let go!!!" You raised your voice, throwing your hands down in another attempt to free yourself from his grasp. He released you just as quickly as he grabbed you again, this time by your upper arm rather than your forearms. "Stop it!" You complained angrily as he led you to sit down. He noticed you wince as he grabbed you, and could only imagine why.

"Tch." He frowned. "Don't move." He ordered as he left you at a bench a near distance away. You watched him quickly finish bathing your horse, the fury in his eyes not at all wavering. The pit in your stomach was creeping up your throat. Would he find you disgusting now? Would he think you were too much to handle? Crazy? A risk? A liability? The anxiety you felt over those thoughts did nothing but intensify the longer this dragged on, until finally Levi walked past with your horse in tow. "Come on." He commanded, his voice still cold. You knew him better than anyone, you've seen what love looked like in his eyes, as well as malice, but this expression in his steel blue hues... You couldn't identify it. Maybe that is what scared you the most: The fear of the unknown. Perhaps Levi shared this fear too, which is why he felt this tense uneasiness. How long had you been doing this? How could he have missed this? Was there more you were doing he did not know about? Why wouldn't you come to him? Was it something... he did to cause this? As Levi locked the horse in the stall in front of him, you felt as though you were shrinking behind his back.

"Those could get infected." Is all he said before you grabbed your jacket and followed him back to headquarters, beelining for the infirmary. Levi was relieved to see it was empty, as he had plenty of things to ask you about. "Sit." He directed, pointing at a chair.

"Please don't tell the others about this." You pleaded quietly. His eyes and their ice-cold glare finally met yours.

"I'm more concerned with why you didn't tell me." He stated flatly as you removed your jacket once more, offering your arms out to him. His eyes traced over the red lines. Most were old, having healed completely and left nothing but white lined scars. Some seemed fresher, the scars still red- almost purple- and rather thick. The ones he was most worried with, were the dark red, thick lines that seemed days old. At the very least, none were still bleeding...

"It's embarrassing. It's none of your business, anyways..." You responded meekly as Levi cleaned your arms with antiseptic. They were closed enough to where you felt very mild pain, at worst.

"If someone punched you, it'd be my business. If you went missing, it'd be my business. If you got sick? My business. What makes you think this is any different?" Levi spat, leaving you in silence. He sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. Do you know what these say to me?" He questioned earnestly, his eyes flickering up to yours. You raised your brows in subtle inquisition. "They tell me you don't trust me enough to tell me what's on your mind. That I won't or can't help you, so instead you take it out on yourself. Thing is, you won't know if I can help you or not unless you give me a shot."

"I'm sorry..." Your words shook, tears welling in your eyes.

"...Am I doing something wrong?" Levi's question earned your attention, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved with a truly broken countenance plastered on his face, his pain pooling in his eyes. You reached out to him.

"No, no, no... Levi." You quaked, pulling him against you as you came to your knees out of the chair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The guilt of doing this is half the reason why I do it. I feel so pathetic, like even if I spoke out, nobody would believe me. I didn't want anyone to think less of me, like I was crazy, or did this for attention, I-"

"You are crazy, brat." Levi muttered, raising an arm to run his fingers through your hair and keep you pressed against him as he supported himself with his other arm. You could hear in his voice he said that with a smirk. You chuckled under your breath.

"Crazy about you," you laughed. "but that's besides the point. I... wanted people to continue thinking I'm strong. Not some weirdo that succumbs to her problems like... this." You backed away from him, looking downcast at your own body. "There's so many things I wish were different about me." Levi listened intently.

"Doing this doesn't mean you aren't strong. Everyone has their own ways of coping, some are healthier than others. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you keep doing this." He watched you swallow, seemingly nervous beneath his intense gaze. "I don't know what's right or wrong when it comes to coping. I never have. But there's no way I'll stand by and watch the woman I love tear herself apart." You remained quiet, hanging to each of his words. He moved closer towards your face, sure he was making eye contact. "This is our problem now. If you feel like hurting yourself, we'll go spar. If that doesn't take your mind off it, I'll show you hurt. You need to focus when training anyways." You couldn't help but grin internally at Levi's tough-love methods of helping. "But you're done doing this. I can't believe I'm only noticing now."

"Well, there's a reason why I'll only sleep with you when the lights are out."

"...Erwin needs to see you. Remember this talk." Levi muttered as he picked himself off the floor, offering a hand out to you.

"Wouldn't forget it if I tried."

[kenzieam]

The Devil Won’t Drag Me Down - Chapter One (Bucky X Lev)

@jewels2876​​​​ @moonbeambucky​​​​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​ @iammarylastar​​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​​ @badassbaker​​​​ @pinknerdpanda​​​​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry.

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Warnings: Definitely M. Language, violence, adult situations, mentions of horrible things.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!

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So, this is my newest attempt at a series, hopefully y’all read and give me feedback because, like a lot of authors here, I’m feeling kind of invisible lately....

Anyways, YES, I was watching ‘365 Dni’ while editing this and that’s where the title comes from . BTW, if you haven’t seen that movie, you NEED to see it. Michele Morrone may be my newest crush!

***********************************************************************

Back to the series: Lev is a fugitive from HYDRA hiding in the far north when she’s surprised by the team on an unrelated mission. Her strong reaction to Bucky stumps everyone, including the former Winter Soldier himself, but Lev is reluctant to divulge their haunted past.

**********************************************************************

If she’d known last night would be her last sunset, she would have enjoyed it more.

As it was, her solar pump had finally given out for real this time and she’d scrounged and cannibalized all the parts she could from her meager scrap yard and from silent midnight pilfering of neighbour’s yards, not that they knew they were her neighbours; in the half-dozen years she’d been hiding out here, she’d not gone out of her way to introduce herself to anyone.

Consequently, she’d gone to sleep last night irritable and fighting a rising tide of panic. With all other options currently exhausted, she was going to have to risk a trip into the nearest town, something she’d done only a handful of times, and not once in the last three years.

This morning she’d woken from a scattered, restless doze immediately knowing this day was not going to end well, but also knowing she was powerless to stop it.

Her luck had finally run out.

How she was so certain, she couldn’t say; but she’d been involved with HYDRA long enough to know their reach was far and memories long.

Would they send the Winter Soldier after her again?

Even thinking of the hulking assassin made her blood run cold. While under HYDRA’s imprisonment, she’d met the monster himself three times, and did not care to repeat any of them.

The only scars her enhanced body could not fully erase, mentally and physically, from itself had come from him.

But she needed fresh water close by, the closest natural spring had become unreliable lately and she couldn’t risk regular trips to farther native wells, the chance of being spotted was too high.  

In and out, she told herself, clutching the remains of the paper money she’d fled with, a satchel of natural smoked moose meat for trade if it wasn’t enough.

As she walked; no, slunk to the nearest town, she rehearsed her words. She’d not spoken, literally or otherwise, in so long that oral language was now foreign to her, something she needed to focus and concentrate on to form properly, consider what she was trying to say before verbalizing it.

Her shoulders ached with tension by the time she was within eyesight of the town, further down in the valley and her senses were raw, on high alert, but she still missed the first signs that something was wrong.

Blinded by her own nerves, she didn’t realize anything was amiss until it was too late. Rounding a corner, through a thick copse of trees, she froze, eyes rounding and heart beginning to race. A jet was settled in the permafrost muskeg, several strangely garbed people milling around it. A man sat on the jet’s ramp; hands apparently cuffed behind his back.

Some sort of incarceration, she realized, some sort of mission.

For a breathless moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t rationalize what she saw.

These were not locals.

As she turned to flee, she caught sight of one of them jerk his head up, noticing her and cursed under her breath. Drawing on every ounce of her enhancements she ran, ducking and flying through the brush. Her augmented hearing caught the sound of movement behind her; someone equally, if not more, capable and stealthy.

HYDRA.

In that microsecond where their eyes had met, she had recognized the man, and her heart threatened to explode in her chest.

The Winter Soldier himself.

He’d not been muzzled, clad in HYDRA’s restraining tactical suit, but there was no mistaking the supernatural blue eyes, the tangled brown hair, the massive build.

Her worst nightmare had just come true.

Her breath was knocked from her in a rush as the Soldier tackled her from behind and she reacted with every ounce of training, fear and desperation she possessed.

Her elbow connected solidly with something and he grunted in mingled surprise and pain, arms loosening enough for her to twist free but then he was on her again and she let her instincts take over.

Had she not been so terrified, she would have been proud of herself. Despite more than six years away, six years without practice, her training flowed back instantly, muscle memory taking over, her body seeming to react and attack before her mind could even begin to command.

While it reached her belatedly that the Soldier did not seem to be attacking her to wound, she nonetheless was fighting for her life and felt an almost absurd shock when she spotted blood on her opponent.

That shouldn’t have surprised her, she’d seen the Winter Soldier bleed before, but she’d built him up in her mind as such an inhuman monster that, for a beat, she was stunned.

But she had no time to dwell on this, neither his ability to bleed nor his seemingly defensive, rather than offensive, opposition.

A bone cracked in his shin as she lashed out with all her strength and the man let loose a ghastly scream of agony.

That again shocked her, the Soldier never articulated pain, at least not until she was locked away again in her spartan cell, and the crackling, hissing snarl of the Memory Suppressor was providing a gruesome background noise to his screams of anguish farther down in the bunker.

He stumbled and dropped to one knee, panting and she, reaching without conscious intent, snatched a rock from the ground beside her, raised it above her head to obliterate the skull of the downed man before her.

Then something akin to God’s fist struck her and blackness took her under.

Bucky panted heavily, clutching his wounded leg.

What the hell had just happened?

The girl had run from him with startling speed and agility, looked at him like she knew him. But how? And what’s more, she’d fought with startling ability and strength, matching him move for move, dominating him for a few heartbeats until he’d overcome his shock and fought back, only to defend however, not to kill as she was apparently trying to do to him.

Thank god Steve had found them, thrown his shield at the hellion before she could brain Bucky, the rock falling from nerveless fingers as she collapsed, her temple split and oozing blood. The man was a surgeon with that piece of vibranium, knocking the girl out but not killing her.

Then the punk was there, grabbing at his arm and yelling in his ear and Bucky staggered as he regained his feet, wincing as white-hot pain shot up his leg. Slinging an arm around him to help, Steve continued to bellow.

“What the hell? Who is that?”

Nat appeared next, sharp eyes missing nothing, and cable restraints appeared from seemingly nowhere, were quickly secured around the girl’s wrists and ankles.

Steve resumed his questions, pulling at Bucky’s arm until he hissed irritably and yanked away.

“I don’t know!” He snapped. “She looked at me like she knew me, but I have idea who she is!”

The blonde’s eyes dropped to the motionless woman; his forehead furrowed. “She had you…. who the hell-”

“Later.” Nat snapped, standing from her crouch at the girl’s side. “If she was kicking Barnes’ ass then those cuffs won’t hold her forever.”

Bending down, Steve hoisted the girl over his shoulder, while Nat lent Bucky a hand to limp back to the jet.

“Y’all stop for coffee out there?” Sam snarled, left behind to watch their original captive. His eyes tracked to the girl, then Bucky and his frown mirrored Steve’s. “What the-”

“Later.” Nat barked, dropping Bucky rather unceremoniously in a seat before storming to the cockpit.

Bucky watched, wincing, from the jet seat as Sam and Steve secured both prisoners. The girl still hadn’t regained consciousness, and Sam did a quick pupil check, probing gently at her temple to make sure she was okay. Sighing at the blood, he reached for a medical kit.

“She’s going to need stitches, Cap.”

“I doubt it.” Bucky retorted, drawing both man’s attention. Beneath their feet, the jet hummed to life, preparing for takeoff. “She’s enhanced.”

“What?” Sam blinked.

“You saw her,” Bucky continued, looking up at Steve, who frowned thoughtfully. “She was kicking my ass and I had a hell of a time catching her too.”

“Not just because she surprised you?” Steve asked quietly.

“No, once I realized she was serious I started really fighting back and she still had me.”

“HYDRA?” Sam mumbled; eyes boring into the side of Steve’s head.

The blond exhaled, rubbing his hair thoughtfully, then raised a brow at Bucky, directing the question his way.

“I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, prickles of dread beginning to crawl his spine.

Consciousness returned in a crush, like black water in a bilge but she remained still, listening, trying frantically to decipher where she was. A low-level hum and vibration beneath her told her she was on the jet she’d seen the others around, and metal bit into her wrists and ankles. Easing her arms minutely in both directions informed her that she was securely shackled (at least until she really tested them) and her head throbbed. Whatever had hit her had put her out for a while.

Someone touched her, and it took all of her training to keep from reacting, to continue the illusion that she was still unconscious but, instead of the expected pain, the touch was gentle, someone dabbing dried blood carefully from her face.

“It’s closing.” They said quietly and another voice answered them.

“So… she’s had the serum, or something similar?”

“Had to… you really don’t remember anything, Bucky?”

Another superhuman effort to stay still as the monster from her dreams spoke then but, instead of the emotionless baritone she remembered, his voice was…. human, nuanced and… tired even.

“I said I didn’t.”

“But she knew you.”

“I know!” A flash of anger and her heart shivered at the sound.

“She has to be HYDRA.” The second voice spoke again.

Pure fear shot through her limbs and she could no longer control her body. Her eyes snapped open and she recoiled away, cracking her head painfully against the bulkhead. The blond leapt back from a crouch in front of her, bloodied gauze in his hand, watching her warily. The Winter Soldier stared at her from a jet seat with wide, haunted eyes while a third man looked to the blond then back at her and continued speaking, the girl recognizing him as the second voice.

“Who are you?” He asked her directly, taking a step closer. Although not as heavily muscled as the blond or the Soldier, steel nevertheless glinted in the man’s dark eyes.

Equal parts fear and obstinance held her tongue, not that she had a satisfactory answer for him anyway. Who was she, really? She’d spent the last six years running from what she was.

Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn to the Soldier again and the other men turned, tracking her gaze.

“She knows you.” The third man stated bluntly, a hint of…. teasing? In his voice.

“We’ve established that, Sam.” The blond grumbled, turning his attention back to her. “Who are you?” He repeated, his voice sharpening a bit.

She looked away, down at the jet floor. They would get nothing from her, and HYDRA training had ensured that even extreme physical pain would not sway her, they’d been hard teachers to her reluctant student.

She remained unresponsive the rest of the flight, drawing in on herself until the blond had huffed in frustration and told everyone to back off and leave her alone and, for a time, they did, but even left alone and able to covertly try, she could find no weakness in the restraints binding her and low-level anger began to eclipse her fear.

She just wanted to be left the FUCK alone.

All too soon, she recognized the sounds of the jet preparing to land and then the blond was approaching her. He studied her for a minute before asking quietly. “Can I trust you to stay calm?”

Lev nodded minutely. Whatever happened next, she would be calm while she did it and if this star-spangled buffoon were naïve enough to trust her word, that was on him. The fact that he asked was what bothered her to be honest, was this some kind of trick? Or was he just like that, willing to give chances when no one else would risk it?

Whatever, it was his funeral.

She waited quietly as he unhooked her restraints from the chain attached to the floor and helped her stand then, when the moment was right, snapped her head sharply back then forwards, hitting the man squarely in the forehead. He groaned in sudden pain and staggered back a step, but she didn’t wait to see if he fell. Going on instinct, she sprinted down the ramp, pausing to assess where she was.

New voices began to exclaim and yell and she whirled away, ready to sprint for a door but then a bright, blinding flash surrounded her, an instant of hot agony and then nothing.

Not again, her mind mumbled as it tumbled down into the Black again.

“What the almighty HELL was that?” Tony roared, stepping further into the hanger, still holding his clenched fist pointed up to the ceiling, his cuff glowing and ready to fire again.

Sam and Nat only shook their heads as they passed, glancing pointedly back towards the jet in answer, escorting the intended hostage away while Bucky limped, his leg encased in a temporary split, and Steve staggered down the ramp.

“She did that to you two?” Tony continued incredulously.

“Not at the same time.” Bucky muttered petulantly.

“We stumbled on her after we’d found our target. Bucky chased her and I caught up just in time to save him from getting his head smashed in with a rock.” Steve replied, holding his head with one hand and gingerly flexing his jaw.

“Tattletale.” Bucky grunted, limping closer to the girl, still lying unconscious on the hanger floor.

“Who the hell is she?” Tony snapped.

“We don’t know yet, she won’t talk.”

“But she’s enhanced, has to be, to take the two of you on.” Shaking his head, Tony began to tap on his phone. “I’ll get Bruce and Cho to check her over.”

“Keep her locked down.” Steve ordered. “Until we figure out who she is.” There was a pout in his voice, she lied to me.

“Duh.” Tony mumbled, crouching down to study the girl. “Looks like she’s been roughing it for a while.” He inhaled sharply and grimaced. “Smells like campfire and raw meat.”

“She’s been hiding out.” Bucky declared, the realization falling into place. He turned to look at Steve, who was busying himself rechecking the girl’s restraints. “From HYDRA, they must have had her, trained her, enhanced her.”

“Like you?” Tony replied, his rather casual tone immediately growing serious as the possibility grew in likelihood. “Shit,” he mumbled, eyeing the girl with new trepidation.

“I don’t recognize her.” Bucky growled, rapidly growing tired of repeating himself.

“Get her to Bruce.” Tony ordered.

Bruce sat back from the display, frowning while the team waited impatiently behind him. Beyond, in the holding cell visible through both cameras and one-way glass, lay the girl, motionless on the plain bed.

“She’s serum-enhanced,” he reported, scrolling down the screen. “Readings are similar to Cap and Bucky, some minor deviations, nothing noticeable. I’ve taken a DNA sample and ran it through some databases, hopefully that’ll tell us who she is.”

“What else, has she been brainwashed?” Nat asked, glancing over at Bucky, who glowered back.

“Can’t tell for sure until she wakes up, and even then, it’ll be tough to figure out unless we know the trigger words. I don’t see evidence of systematic subversion though.” He continued to scroll, eyes flitting rapidly across the text and images. “Her test results are off the charts; HYDRA must be pissed they lost her.”

“She’s awake.” Sam said suddenly, startling the team. In the time they’d been watching and listening to Bruce, the girl was awakened and silently sat up, turning to face the glass. The way her unique violet eyes bored through it told them she knew what is was, that they could see her and that she wasn’t happy about it.

“Who are you?” Tony asked, hitting the speaker button.

The girl’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, where the speakers were located before tracking slowly back to the glass; she remained silent.

“Can you speak?” He tried again.

No response, but intelligence flickered in her steady gaze. She heard him, and understood every word, but she wasn’t going to answer.

“Who are you!” Tony shouted and Steve reached over, pulling him back from the button.

“Clear the glass,” Steve said, still studying the girl. “Let’s see what happens when she can see us. She already knows we’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, caught the man’s grimace. Bucky had been racking his brains since they’d landed, and even before, trying to figure out who this girl was, and how she knew him.

The answer was obvious, she was a HYDRA captive and he was the Winter Soldier but just what had he been made to do to her? The possibilities curdled his blood. He remembered nothing but she apparently did.

With the skills she’d demonstrated as they’d fought, it was clear that this wasn’t the first time they’d met on the battlefield but the fear in her eyes told of more, something far more sinister and sickening.

What had the Soldier done to her?

Tony thumbed a control and a barely perceptible wave crossed the glass, clearing it on the girl’s side. If the sudden appearance of them startled her, she didn’t show it but her eyes quickly swept the group, lingering on Bucky the way prey eyes a predator, she seemed to sink back slightly, lean away subconsciously from him while staying seated on the bed.

Multiple displays chimed and Tony grabbed his phone, brushing at the screen. Striding to the main controls he brought up a larger screen, fingers flying over keys with blurring speed.

“Is that you?” He barked, addressing the girl. He grabbed a tablet and held it up to the glass to show her the display. “Is that you?” He demanded again.

Silence.

Confused, the team focused their attention on the nearest monitor. A set of somewhat blurry photos depicting a small group of people, a dossier of sorts beneath. What was Tony talking about?

“Are you one of them?!” He shouted.

“Tony,” Steve began, a warning tone in his voice.

“One of whom?” The girl’s voice was husky, raspy with disuse, with the hint of an accent, perhaps eastern European, and she asked the question slowly, almost over-pronouncing the consonants. She seemed almost resigned now, responding not out of curiosity but of obligation given Tony’s insistence.

“The Da Vinci’s” Tony replied, smacking the tablet against the glass.

“Who?” Steve asked, staring incredulously between Tony and the girl, who seemed to be watching them, waiting for developments.

Tony huffed. “The greatest cat burglars of the modern era. They’ve stolen more Van Gogh’s, Picassos and Monet’s than anyone else in history. Not to mention priceless gems and crown jewels. Basically, if you were rich and wanted something you couldn’t, or shouldn’t have, you’d call the Da Vinci’s.”

“But why ‘Da Vinci’?”

“Because they were ‘Masters of their Craft’.” Tony replied, a curious mix of anger and awe in his voice. He returned his attention to the girl. “Well? Are you?”

“Is that what they called us?” The girl mused, a faint smile pulling at her lips. Her blasé attitude seemed to provoke Tony again and he barked angrily at her.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

Tony looked ready to explode, so Steve stepped past him as Nat grabbed the man’s shoulders, pulling him back so she could calm him.

“What’s your name?” Steve tried.

“I don’t have one.” Her voice was edged in steel now.

“How can you not have a name?”

“A name gives you an identity. An identity can be traced.” There was a faint air of resignation in her voice, as if she’d asked this question herself as a child and had the answer drilled into her.

“So…” Steve trailed off, either unable or unwilling to continue.

“I don’t exist.” The girl replied bluntly. “At least as far as your world is concerned.”

Your world. Her words rang through Bucky’s head. Not ‘the’ or ‘our’, but ‘your’.

“Then how…” Steve trailed off uncertainly. He turned to look back at the group, puppy-like confusion on his face.

“It’s not that hard, Cap.” Tony replied, sounding almost bitter. “There’s a whole sub-level to this rock, one people rarely get to see. The Da Vinci’s live there. Or lived.”

That seemed to get the girl’s attention; she stood, moving gracefully to the mirror, laser-focused on Stark. “What do you mean, lived?”

“Oh, you can talk now?” Tony mused.

She slammed the flat of her fists to the glass, rattling it, a dangerous glint in her eyes, reminding them of her enhanced strength and Steve cleared his throat. “Tony.” He warned.

Faint guilt darkened his iris’ as he answered, his tone sombre. “They’re gone. Your DNA matches samples taken from a group of John Doe’s found in an unmarked grave a few years ago. There was speculation they were the Da Vinci’s; the family had disappeared a few months before after trouble with an unknown client. They just confirmed it a few months ago, matching trace DNA on a recovered painting known to have being taken by the family to the bones.” He paused before adding quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Then how….?” Steve began, running a hand agitatedly through his hair. “How are you here?”

The girl sighed heavily, stepping back to sit heavily on the bed again. She studied her hands for a heartbeat before answering. “The ‘unknown’ client… I don’t know details, Three handled that but, it was either HYDRA or connected to them. There was some disagreement about payment…. In retaliation they took me… I guess that wasn’t enough and they executed them too. I didn’t know they were dead; I was going to find them one day, when it was safe.” She lifted her head, glowering at them with a dark and deadly wounded anger. It was obvious she regretted revealing that, the simple hope of reuniting with her family and was suddenly and inexplicably angry with them for making her say it.

She turned suddenly and lay on the bed, her back to the mirror, curling in on herself like a child. Her voice rose, belying her apparent sorrow and chilled the air around the team.

“Leave me alone, and when you’re done trying to decide what to do with me, how about you just take me back to my home.” Hate and rage dripped from every word, the unspoken promise that, if they didn’t just let her go, she would make them all regret it hung heavy in the air.

The team was silent, waiting for Tony and Steve’s decision. Their eyes met, words flashing silently between them in the shorthand they were beginning to develop, and Bucky looked down at his hands, one flesh, the other depressingly metal and fought a rising tide of panic.

There was no doubt that this girl knew him, and she’d just confirmed that HYDRA had taken her in retaliation to her family’s apparent betrayal of a contract, but what had he done to her? He had no memories of her, which was somewhat odd because even though he’d been wiped and frozen untold times, all the lives he’d taken were nevertheless tattooed on the inside of his brain, haunting him constantly. Surely whatever interactions he’d had with this girl, that she seemed to remember all too well based on the way she watched him so mistrustingly, would also be part of the dark chasm of his guilt and shame?

Had he been made to do something unspeakable to her?

The thought chilled his blood, made him sick to his stomach.

Tony, God damn him and simultaneously love him, seemed determined to find out. “You,” he addressed the girl. “Hey!” She looked up disinterestedly, craning her neck before dropping it again to the pillow. Tony slapped the glass. “Hey!”

“What?” The girl snapped, still facing away.

“How do you know him?”

The girl went noticeably rigid, not even needing to ask who ‘he’ was. Bucky held his breath, staring at the glass, heart hammering in his chest. A strange cocktail of emotions roiled in his heart. Fear, dawning horror, shame and so many more, too many to name. A hard lesson he was still learning was to let go of other people’s feelings towards him, he was only responsible for his own mind, but for some reason, it really mattered what this strange, silent girl thought of him. Her opinion would make or break him and how the hell was that possible? Why did she matter to him when he couldn’t remember a fucking thing about her?!

The girl swallowed, seeming to collect her strength before answering. The multiple cameras around the cell showed her from all sides and so, when she answered, everyone was able to see her expression even though she still faced away and the digital screens showed her fear and trepidation all too well.

A knife stabbed into Bucky’s heart as a tear welled up in the girl’s eye and wet the pillow below.

“He’s the devil.” She whispered.

[beyondtheglasswall]

;; [hate] (3)

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“Yo~.”

       That was what they opened this up with? ‘Yo’? As if this was some friendly meet-up?

“Don’t play nice. You called me here for a fight, remember?”

       Takuya was reminded at how high the floating island was, as he felt the wind whipping past him. It was a place where the structures shifted around seemingly at random–a dysfunctional mess of a city, as though it were a mess of broken code. Just watching things change all around them made him uneasy.

“Hey now, can’t we just talk for a bit?” By contrast, ‘Prim’ seemed laidback. “I mean yeah, I did call you here for a fight, but I wanted to talk to you about some stuff, too.”

       … … … What?

“Since when do you talk?” Takuya’s hand drifted towards the PDA in his pocket, Earthes standing at the ready. He hadn’t seen anything on the way here, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have some underhanded trick. “I mean, besides nonsense.”

“C’mon, can’t you trust me a little? Show that naive side just a bit, it’s ugly to see you this cynical.”

“… I feel like I just got insulted, and no.”

       ‘Prim’ sighed, looking more and more irritated. 

“Okay, how about we start with a little introduction? I’ll go first!”

       How was he supposed to trust that?

“I’m not–”

“Arytha Tiryjha! Professional older sister and hacker~”

       … Huh?

“W-Wait, you…” It felt like she’d just thrown a lot at him, really suddenly. “’Hacker’?”

“And older sister, yes~.” That prideful grin on her face didn’t seem to lie. Only… “Ulyliyha’s, in fact.”

       Takuya suddenly felt like the wind was going to knock him backwards.

“… What?”

“You didn’t put it together?” Arytha’s smile suddenly looked even darker than before. “I mean, who else would brave the unknown–reaching throughout space, time, and the various other dimensions just to rescue an innocent young girl–but her older sister?”

“I–” Please, just, give him a second–

“Oh, right. You.” For a moment, her tone made it sound like she was sweeping up garbage. “Sorry, my bad~”

       Takuya felt like the wind was getting more and more vicious the longer this conversation went on. His legs felt weaker, and his head spun as he tried putting together the information he was given.

“You… You’re lying, aren’t you?” He tried to sound confident, assuring himself that this was a bluff of some kind. “You aren’t her older sister. Stop trying to get in my head!”

       Suddenly, the smile left her face. Replacing it was an expression Takuya had never seen on Prim’s face, which only made it all the more frightening. It was a look of pure disdain, as though Takuya had just become the single most disgusting thing she had ever seen in her life. Beneath even a bug, or even the dirt that bug crept on.

       Within the body of the small child she had possessed, he felt the eyes of Death herself staring him down.

“Say that again. I dare you.”

       A chill ran down his spine. His blood froze solid. In that instant, he felt his life ending countless times before he even had a moment to react.

“S-Sorry.” He couldn’t help but say it, though it was more out of fear than kindness.

“…” She stared at him coldly for a few moments, before the smile returned to her face once more. “Anyways! Now it’s your turn!”

       For the first time since he’d arrived in this city–no, for the first time in possibly years, Takuya felt like he had overestimated himself. He thought he would be able to handle this situation on his own; that it would be as simple as beating ‘Prim’ (now Arytha) in a fight. But the longer he spent around her, the more he felt uneasy.

       He’d always felt that uneasiness while watching her through the terminal, but it felt magnified simply by standing next to her.

“… T…” His voice caught in his throat. Was he actually going to go along with this? “… Takuya. Takuya Morihito. Computer science student.”

“Hm. Weird name.” Arytha cupped her chin in her hand, tilting her head around as she leaned towards him. “But, sounds like I’ve got my explanation on how you connected to Interdimend.”

       It was the same for Takuya. It sounded like they both had backgrounds in technology; Takuya himself figuring out how the world-crossing software worked by executing it normally, and Arytha, from what he could assume, cracking into it and making it work for her. Judging by the thoughtful nods from her, it seemed they both guessed this much.

“Okay, question time!” He had a sneaking feeling he’d never get to ask a question, himself. “What is ‘Ion’ to you?”

“Ion?” 

“You heard me. Chop chop, you’re on the clock!”

       He just couldn’t keep up with her thought process. When it seemed like she was going in a direction he could piece together, she just jumped to another train of thought entirely. What was she planning? Why was she asking him these questions in the first place? What was the point of all this? As much as he wanted to mull over these problems, he didn’t have the time. All he could do was play along.

“… Ion’s my partner.” For once, his answer didn’t sound uncertain or hesitant. “I trust her, and she trusts me–no matter what. That’s all there is to it.”

       There was silence between them. Takuya felt a slight chill from her eyes yet again.

“… Let me rephrase that.” She had an expression like she wanted to kill him right then and there. “Did you know her?”

“’Did I’… –What?”

“Did you know her.” If she had patience, he felt it straining. “Before you ran in and started playing ‘hero’?”

“I…” Where the hell was this going? “I didn’t. We were strangers when we met–what are you trying to get at?”

“Hah!” That wasn’t a mirthful laugh, like all her previous ones. “Unbelievable. Friggin’ unbelievable.”

       Where he once felt fear, Takuya now felt confusion. What was going on? He thought this was going to build into some threat against Ion’s life, or against his. Instead, he watched as the unknown woman huffed to herself, seeming incredulous at what she’d just been told. What in the world was going on inside her head?

“Hold on, please, just, stop for a second.” Takuya raised his hands submissively. “I’m not sure what it is you’re trying to get out of me, or tell me, but if you’ve got something to say, then just say it. Neither of us have the time to beat around the bush.”

“Hah.” A smirk suddenly crossed the girl’s lips, and Takuya felt like he’d spoken poorly. “‘Beat around the bush’, he says. There’s always time for that!! Especially when you’re some big-shot hero who swoops in the save the day, right?” 

       Why did she keep glaring at him like that? What was her problem?

“Again, I don’t know what you’re on about! Just speak to me like a normal person!”

       Arytha started laughing now, her head upturned to the sky, and Takuya felt that same pressure he felt before. It was the intent to kill–an unrelenting sensation that permeated throughout his body. It made him feel nauseous, like he was going to fall over.

       And yet, the fear he felt wasn’t as strong as the last time.

“Stop laughing and answer me! What’s your problem with me?!”

“My ‘PROBLEM’?” Arytha snapped from her laughter, turning to address him with a crazed look in her eyes. “I want to know where you think you got the RIGHT!”

       Suddenly, she started walking towards him. Before, the gap between them could roughly be measured at around 25 meters.

“Were you there, the first time they killed my little sister? Were you there when they used her to migrate their godsdamned people from one planet to another, and then killed her after they were done?!”

       20 meters.

“Did you have to count the years–the THOUSANDS OF YEARS–she suffered alone as a wandering soul, while you couldn’t do a thing to help her?!”

       15 meters.

“Did you FAIL regardless of the suffering you put into trying to help her?! Sitting there, realizing all the times you had to watch her die–tears streaming down her face as neither of you could do a thing to make it stop–were for nothing?!”

       10 meters.

“And then, on top of it all, were you forced to watch as some RANDOM PIECE OF FILTH, with no connection to anything going on, solves the entire thing in a couple weeks?! WHILE ALSO DERAILING YOUR OWN PLANS TO SAVE YOUR LITTLE SISTER–AND FOR WHAT?! To save the selfish bastards who killed your sister to begin with?!”

       5 meters. She came to a stop.

“I want to know who the fuck you are, Takuya Morihito. Who you are to decide ANYTHING. I want to see the blood, sweat, and tears you shed for their future, and I want to drown you in them.”

       This was the extent of her rage. 

       This was Arytha’s hatred.

“You get it now? Do you understand, now? I want to kill you. If I can’t kill the bastards who hurt my little sister, then I’ll kill the moron who ran to their defense. That. That is my ‘problem with you’.”

       For once, he was speechless. Takuya couldn’t find a single word to counter with. No witty remark, or rousing return. He merely stood, in shocked silence, as every single word and feeling from Arytha tore through him.

“I…” Any desire to fight left him. Her words cut him to the bone. He was too shocked, too disarmed to even so much as raise his arm against her. “… I…” 

       Arytha merely held her cold glare on him… 

       Before turning her gaze back over the city. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out.

“… Ugh. The bugs keep crawling in. Now it’s her, too?”

       … ‘Her?’

       Takuya’s eyes moved to where he saw Arytha looking. He couldn’t see that far. He shouldn’t have been able to.

       And yet. His ‘gaze’ stretched farther and further than any other time. It moved over to the hole in the center of the city…

       Where he saw a girl, panickedly looking around at the city in chaos all around her.

“I’ll just have to take care of her once I’m done here.”

       Takuya suddenly felt a red-hot, searing fire filling his limbs.

“–Hm?”

       It spread through his body, engulfing him up to his vision.

“–I don’t give a damn what your excuses are. Or what hell you were forced to go through.”

“Don’t you DARE lay a finger on her.”

       Suddenly, it seemed like Arytha’s gaze faltered. For just a moment, her eyes wavered against Takuya’s.

       And then, she was back.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

       It felt like the pressure between them would be enough to kill something. The structures around them began to morph and change, the very buildings around them shifting and appearing in new forms. One would form between them, cutting a dividing wall between the two.

       But before it did–

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? ‘Yumekichi’?”

       And in a single word, their battle started.

[violetwilson-old]

So I've been reading Only If You Want To for the last day and a half and I've hit the end of what's currently available and omg it's so good. On the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter now :) I love your writing style.

You are SO sweet!!!! Thank you!

I’m neck deep in the next chapter of Only If You Want To as we speak but if you’d like to, here is a little deleted scene that you can read? It happens after the garage scene in chapter 5 but before the casino scene in chapter 6. It’s from a first draft where Ren just barrels into the Scavenger after Rey text-breaks-it-off to hassle a guy who is harassing her. I cut it because it felt out of character and unhealthy, and I didn’t want to give him a big rescue moment until the climax. Anyway, you can see strains of stuff that appeared more naturally in the current  version, I think. 

They’re back in the Christmas light alley behind the bar. The sun is burning off its energy on the horizon, a dim glean that overpowers the electric lights. Rey, dressed in her usual thin sweater and jacket, rolls her shoulders back and sighs. “You okay?” he murmurs. He leans against the door, trying to give her some space.“Why did you come back here?” she says, staring off at the sunset. She looks unhappy and closed off. “Quit staring at the sun. You’ll get a sunburn on your cornea,” he murmurs, and she turns to glare at him, incredulous.

“You show up out of nowhere, hit a patron, and that’s what you’ve got to say for yourself?”Ren crosses his arms. “Corneal damage is difficult to repair.”“You know this, how?” She says, but he can feel that her anger is cooling. That’s Rey, he realizes. Her anger flares up if you pay too close attention to her, but if you walk around her edges, she’ll calm down. “My uncle is an ocular surgeon.”She blinks. “Seriously?”“Yeah. Lasik and shit.”“Huh.”“What does your uncle do for a living?” he says. He has zero expectation that she’ll answer, and she doesn’t disappoint. Rey just makes a face at him, and then she laughs a little. “You suck,” she says. “I’m sorry about the violence,” he adds. “You are?” she drawls.He considers the soft material of her sweater, the sweat in her hair, the grit under her fingernails. “No, Rey, I’m not.”They stare at each other, stuck in a mutual impasse. He’d like to pull her into his arms in a huge, sweeping kiss that takes away all her doubts and fears. Their incompatibilities. His job, her past. If he could, he would kiss her so long and sweet it would all burn away. “I shouldn't have kissed you,” she says. “I’m sorry.”Stung, he grinds out an answer. “Don’t take it back. I still want it.” “But I shouldn’t have…”“You shouldn’t have run away,” he finishes for her. “What do you really do for a living, Ren?” she says, as a bird in the distance trills a low, poignant song as if to mourn the setting sun.He shoves his hand in his pocket because fuck it, he hates this part. “Can’t you just kiss me?” he says. She raises an eyebrow, unrelenting.He kicks the gravel with his boot. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”She takes a step toward him. “You work for the mob?” There’s a fear buried in her voice that raises several new questions. But he’s relieved, too, because if that’s what she’s been worried about, then he can work with it.“No,” he says. She glares at him.“Are you telling the truth?” “I never lie to you.”She considers this, cocking her head to one side and looking him up and down. But the relief she’s feeling shows itself in the subtle release of her shoulders and the way she’s no longer facing him like he’s going to attack her. Small victories. “There’s a lot of mob stuff in Vegas,” she adds. “I know. I don’t really fuck with that. A good way to get offed, if you’re in my line of work.”“You kill people for money,” she states. Christ she’s blunt. “Very rarely does it come to that,” he says, slightly defensive.“But you have killed people.”“Rey.”“I need to know,” she says. Again, that sense of buried, desperate urgency. He can’t figure out what she’s got riding on this. He can’t figure out how he can say whatever it is that will make her feel better, because that’s really all he wants out of this. He just wants her to feel better. “Yeah, I’ve killed people,” he says, and the words ring heavy in the cooling air. He’s sure he’s done for. Rey’s as skittish as a colt and clearly been abused in some kind of way in her life. He’s half convinced she’s on the run for committing some kind of crime of vengeance. Which, if he’s honest, would be more than a little hot.

[tiny-smallest]

an inch at a time

Rating: G Characters: Sammy, Alice, mention of various characters Warnings: none really besides the usual fucked-up shenanigans of a BATIM fic? Ask to tag. Description: Healing is slow, steady work, especially after so much unrelenting trauma. Sammy Lawrence has yet to really grasp that. But there's one person who might be able to reach him...

Also on AO3!

So I uh. Got really inspired by the Sammy twitter takeover thing and wrote Over the Rainbow fluff that I only remembered was super impossible halfway through, because Sammy was not saved in human form. 

(I only just barely remembered in time that Alice was left mute in this au, which ended up working out in my favor, honestly.) 

I hope you enjoy it anyway, @upperstories. Without further ado...

Sammy Lawrence was not a man given to wearing his heart on his sleeve. A stone cold cynic, the man learned early in life to keep one’s cards close to his chest. Feelings were not for talking about, especially when they were tangled and confused 24/7 and he would frankly rather forget the large majority of what those feelings were tied to. But every once in a while, as with most tragedies, the effects were inescapable, and physical reminders forced unpleasant self-reflection.

He was, at least, a little handsome– the horrors that plagued his life and stole so many years from him, so much of himself, had not been much kinder to his memories, but he remembered that bit, at least. He vaguely remembered feeling at ease with his appearance, and that he worked diligently to be presentable. He remembered he had long-ish hair, at least considering the times, and that he kept it in a little ponytail. He could not remember the color. Was it blonde or brown? It wasn’t a question worth considering when Henry led him and the toons into the light again, because all that mattered in that moment was the light– the air, the breeze, the colors and trees and sky.

But all highs come and go, and the high that came with freedom, of course, did too. Swiftly and without mercy.

Seeing himself in a mirror again thirty years and unspeakable evils later was likely going to go down as one of the most surreal moments of his life. A stranger stared back out at him, one with so many forehead lines, and crow’s feet, and pale, sickly skin. What could barely be qualified as hair was scraggly and gray, the ink having ravaged it to near obliteration. He looked like a late term cancer patient, except the truly disturbing part was barely being able to even recognize the reflection as himself.

Was that even himself?

Who was he, anymore?

Staring at the man in the mirror as if he might move independently, Sammy backed out of the room.

Getting him to use the bathroom after that was a hassle.

Worse still was the decision that what was left of his hair had to go. It took nearly a week and many arguments before Mary could finally get the man to sit in the kitchen, clipping away at his hair while Sammy stared with a dull emptiness at the wall. The notion of going to a barber looking like this was too humiliating and so this was the compromise.

Even after all this time, he still had such little say over what happened to his own being, didn’t he?

He wished that the thought would at least inspire some sort of slow burn inside him. Being angry was much better than this numbness, even if it wasn’t loud or explosive. But things seldom went as Sammy wanted, and this time was of no exception.

An hour later found Sammy in the bathroom, the longest time he’d lingered in there since first catching sight of his reflection, staring at his bald head. Henry and Mary both promised that this was for the better, that this would encourage new hair to grow in, that this was a first step towards recovery. But all he could feel was his insides twisting, crying out that yet again, something had been taken from him.

How was he supposed to feel about this?

A hand tugged on his pants.

“Hello, my dear.” The automatic response fell from his mouth, his subconscious miles ahead of coherent thought and easily recognizing the gesture as something the mute Alice would do to get someone’s attention. Tearing his gaze from the mirror, he glanced over his shoulder and downwards at the little angel, feeling his tense body soften as if a switch had been flipped. “Can I help you?”

Her pretty little face twisted into a look of massive concentration, her hands raising and slowly moving about with the clumsiness of someone unsure if they’re doing something correctly or not. Sammy raised an eyebrow and she repeated the motion, and it was then that he realized she was attempting to use the thing called sign language that she was learning to make up for her lack of a voice.

<You look so sad. Can I help you?>

Dear little thing. Her very soul had been robbed from her when her voice was taken, and yet she was still concerned more about others than herself. His heart swelled a little with love and at the same time, withered with shame. He would never be that selfless, most likely. “No, I’m afraid not.”

<Are you sure? What are you so sad about?> She paused for a moment, frowning in frustration as she attempted to sign the next bit out but halted. Sammy watched, waiting for her to figure it out. <Mary says sometimes talking about the problem makes> Another stop. With a sigh, she produced a pad and paper. Mary says that sometimes talking about the problem makes a solution clear.

He wanted to be angry, but again, found no strength, even in his ocean of salt, to be so. “It’s a cute idea, but it doesn’t work so well in practice.”

Humor me. She tapped the pen against the sentence, a stern little frown puckering up her face.

Sammy blinked in surprise. Well then. It seemed like Alice had some of her bite back.

“It’s private.”

I know. But letting people past walls feels better.

“No, it doesn’t.” The reaction was instinct, like taking a hand away from an accidentally touched hot object.

Yes it does. She was tapping her foot now.

“How would you know?” he snapped, finally finding that ire he’d been trying to tap into and immediately regretting it as she leveled him with a glare that put his to shame.

Because it’s not like I didn’t suffer too, you know, and I see what bottling it up does to people. Bendy doesn’t like to talk any more than you do.

He winced. “… I’m sorry.” Just a few minutes ago he’d admired her selflessness and then he tried to step all over it. Why must he be a jerk at every available opportunity when he wasn’t being a sad, wet blanket?

It wasn’t like he wanted to not enjoy life. It just didn’t feel very possible at times. A lot of the time. The longer the days dragged on, the further away that feeling of light and joy from the first few moments of freedom felt. It was like he’d learned to fly for all of a day and now had cinderblocks on his feet.

I know you’re hurting. I won’t tell anyone anything you tell me. Tell. Hah. She couldn’t speak. There was an ironic joke in there somewhere-

Was… was that a bitter little smile touching the corners of her mouth? She saw it too, and…

His heart twisted. Alice didn’t deserve to feel that kind of poison in her. Bitterness was his weapon for so much of his life, that much he remembered, and he also remembered it leaving him pretty incapable of actually talking to people, shutting them out at most opportunities.

Such was the nature of walls.

That sudden thought gave him pause. Yeah. Such was the nature of walls. Did… he really want to spend the rest of his life, however long that might be, using that defense mechanism as his weapon? Keeping everyone out? He lost thirty years because Joey had a goddamn god complex. How much more time could he afford to lose?

… Did he want to look back, another thirty years from now on his deathbed, all alone, with only himself to blame for it?

“… You promise, don’t you?” It felt like such a childish thing to say, but there was no way he wanted any of this to get back to… anyone else, if he were being honest.

She nodded, her face relaxing into hope so strong it made him ache. Well, there was no backing out now.

“I hate this.” Very specific, Sammy. “I hate how… empty everything feels. I remember that day we finally left the studio and it was so- magical- it was like- like walking on air! And now…”

He gestured furiously to his reflection, scowling at it. “Now this! Look at this! I’m no more in control of anything inside or outside of me now than I was then! The things he did are still there! I remember anytime I look at myself! I hate looking at myself! I’m- old! Empty! I’m-”

Broken. Sad. Afraid.

A sudden weight at his waist nearly knocked the wind out of him and he looked down, raising his arms to find Alice clinging to his midsection. He forgot how much strength the toons could have in those noodle arms depending on their emotions- wait was she crying!?

… Had he said that aloud?

Shit.

Sammy hugged her, feeling panic build rapidly in his chest. Shit shit shit. She’s crying what does he do!?

“I’m sorry I- did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to upset you Alice dear, please don’t- please don’t cry?”

Yeah, this right here was why he was pretty sure he’d never planned on kids.

She nodded into him. Okay, so that answered his earlier question with painful clarity. Shit. Again.

Why couldn’t he be half as eloquent with words as he was with music?

“I’m sorry, little angel. I shouldn’t-” He broke off as she let go of him, scribbling on her writing pad.

No, I’m glad you told me. You needed to get that out.

“What good did it do anyone?” All it did was make Alice upset and make Sammy feel gross for dumping his stupid, upsetting thoughts on a girl already facing her own problems.

Well now that I know what hurts, I have words.

“… All right.” God knew he didn’t have a right to stop her now that they’d both just opened this festering wound. He may as well allow her to continue.

You feel helpless and scared, and you’re frustrated that things don’t feel as good as they did at first when we all got out. You’re afraid it won’t ever feel that good again, and you hate being reminded of all the bad things that happened. Everything hurts all the time and you don’t know when it’ll stop.

Yeah, that was an accurate summary. He swallowed. She tugged on him and he leaned down, stiffening in surprise when she touched his bald head.

After giving it a pat, she went on. But it will. It’ll stop. Things will get better. It’ll be slow, like something growing, but it’ll come.

“Something growing…?”

Think of it like flowers. They don’t bloom in a day. They grow slowly. Progress is measured in inches. Each day is another inch.

The tiniest smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “… Like hair?”

She smiled. Like hair.

He straightened and looked at himself in the mirror before turning back to her.

“Thank you.”

You’re welcome.

“Let’s go; the bathroom is starting to feel cramped with us just… loitering in it. I can… show you the music I was working on? Maybe you could help, if you want? I’m a little stuck. Could use a second opinion.” She beamed, flouncing out of the bathroom with a happy little hop. Sammy glanced back at the mirror.

Maybe it really would get better. Eventually. With people who cared about him, even when he dragged his heels and said stupid things.

Days would pass. He’d been through worse. The knots would loosen. The sun would put some color back into his skin. Working at Mary’s bakery might maybe improve his social skills. He’d make music. Relearn the needed muscle memory to play instruments. He’d put on weight and get used to eating and sleeping on a normal basis again. The walls might lower. His relapses would get fewer and further inbetween. His hair would grow.

He turned and left the bathroom.

I figured he probably forgets to eat and sleep since the ink and its magic basically rendered him capable of living without either.

Next on “I forgot a key element of the au” if I can figure out how to stitch the scenes together: Sammy is the only adult human at home, faced with three distressed toons at two in the morning, and isn’t good with words, what do.