#it's always a punch in the gut to realize how she was killed by doing the most human thing possible

[tqlepatiia]

words we can’t take back | b. barnes

masterlist | pt.2

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.

word count: 5.9k

The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.

In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?

“What the hell were you thinking?�� he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”

Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”

“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”

Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”

Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”

His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”

The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?

As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?

But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.

Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.

Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.

The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.

“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.

As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.

It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.

In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.

After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.

“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.

Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.

“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”

You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.

“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”

The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.

“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.

You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”

A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”

“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”

“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.

“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.

“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.

You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.

As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.

One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.

“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.

You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”

Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”

“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”

“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”

“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.

“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.

Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”

As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.

Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.

“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.

Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.

The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.

“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”

“Bucky, I—”

“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”

Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”

He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”

“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.

“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.

“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”

Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.

Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.

The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.

The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.

His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”

“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.

For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.

“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.

Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”

There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.

“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”

“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.

You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.

He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”

“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”

“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.

The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.

“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”

“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”

You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.

As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.

He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

[marril96]

A Cry in the Night

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha is the only person you can turn to after accidentally killing ten people.

You weren't a violent person, far from it, which was why, when you killed ten people in the span of five seconds and felt good about it, you freaked the fuck out and started screaming as if you were being actively murdered.

Which was what had led to you killing ten people in the first place, and was also part of what had made you freak out, alongside the act of murder itself. But, for the most part, what scared you the most about the entire ordeal was the sheer and utter joy at the realization that they were dead and you were not, and that it was all thanks to your magic doing your dirty work for you.

Deep in the forest, no one could hear you scream. No one had heard you the first time, when they'd chased you here, when they'd cornered you and pointed their weapons and hurled insults, and you'd begged for someone to come and save you.

No one did.

You were alone.

You were scared.

You snapped.

It was self defense, really. They were the ones who were going after you. But who was going to believe you? Who was going to believe that a witch was in fear of her life against ten regular, powerless human beings?

You would go to prison.

The thought made you scream louder, throat raw and dry. It hurt, but you couldn't stop.

Your life was over.

Even if you remained free, the reputation of a killer would haunt you for the rest of your life.

No one cared about the truth when it came to pointing fingers at witches.

Not even other witches.

Blood stained the ground around you, chunks of flesh and bone, big and small, strewn about like a macabre exhibition. The barks of trees were painted scarlet. How in the hell were you going to hide this? Should you hide it?

Yes. You absolutely should. No one could know about what you had done. No one could know how exhilarating it felt to take their lives just as they were about to take yours.

You'd been judged enough by the people in your life.

This needed to be taken care of.

But how?

What were you going to do?

Agatha. The name rang in your head like an echo. The first thing that came to mind. The first — and only — solution.

If anyone would understand, it was her.

She loved to kill people.

She wouldn't judge you for doing the same.

Would she?

Your phone was in your hand before your brain had time to catch up to your thoughts. As if on autopilot, you typed her number in and pressed the call button. Hers was one of the few numbers you knew by heart. She was always there when you needed company, or a pity party, or a one night stand. Always eager to entertain, to have a bit of fun.

Here was to hoping she would be just as eager to help you hide dead bodies — or what was left of them, anyway.

Agatha answered on the second ring. Clearly not in the mood to have been woken up at three am, sleep heavy in her voice, she said, "Someone better be dead."

The accuracy of her statement only made you freak out more. Reality was setting in, punching you in the face, the gut, the heart. People were dead. And they were dead because of you. They would never get to see their children grow up. They would never get to play with their grandchildren. They would never get to grow old and experience life.

Because you took it from them.

You took their lives.

"They are," you said in your weakest, tiniest voice. Then a sob that burned your throat broke out of your mouth, and you were bawling like a child. It hurt to breathe, to think, to exist. It hurt to cry, but the tears kept coming, and your lungs kept stinging, and you were shaking, and it took the last remnants of your strength to keep your phone from tumbling out of your hands.

"Y/N?" Your name was a soothing melody on Agatha's mouth. She knew this was serious, that something was wrong, and you had her full attention. "What happened, honey?"

"Agatha," you said meekly. "Help me. Please, help me."

This was beyond a mere want. You needed her.

"Gladly, but I need to know what you need help with," she said. "Are you in danger?"

Not anymore. "N-No."

"Are you hurt?"

Very. "No."

"Then what's wrong?"

Another sob. Your legs trembled, threatening to give way, to send you crashing to the ground. You gripped the closest tree for support.

"They're dead. They're all dead, and it's all my fault."

You murdered them. And you enjoyed every moment of it.

The thought made your stomach churn.

"Okay, hon, tell me where you are," Agatha said. No judgment in her tone. No accusation.

"I don't know. In a forest." You knew that much. Aside from that, crickets. "There's blood everywhere. Agatha, there's blood everywhere."

Around you. On you. Staining your clothes. Glued to your skin.

"That's okay," she assured you. "One thing at a time, okay? I will find you, and then we'll deal with the blood."

"You will find me?" You wanted her to promise you. To make good on it.

You needed her, and you needed her now, and you didn't know how much longer you could keep yourself from falling apart for you were well on your way there.

"I will find you."

Not long after you hung up the phone, a crackle of branches startled you. Jumping to your feet, you turned in the direction of the sound. Your eyes glowed in warning, sparks of magic bubbling at your fingertips, bright and vivid in the dead of night.

"Whoa there, tiger," the familiar voice said, and the building panic instantly dissipated.

Agatha.

She had found you.

Just as she had promised.

"We don't want an accident, do we?"

Because if you were to blast her, she would suck every last bit of magic from you and leave you a withered corpse on the ground. Not on purpose, of course; she couldn't control this power of hers, couldn't contain it.

That was part of the reason you trusted her with this. Her power made her kill people, even when she didn't want to, so she learned to live with it. She had to learn to deal with it. Taking a life — or two, or five, or a hundred — didn't bother her. She never would have survived for this long if it did.

She could fix this,

She could help you.

Taking in a deep, calming breath, you willed your magic back. The danger had passed, you told yourself. You were safe. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

"I-I'm sorry," you said.

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Agatha told you, and you knew she meant every word.

As soon as the last spark from your fingers faded, she was at your side, arms out, warm and welcoming. You allowed her to envelop you into a hug and melted into her. She didn't care that you were covered in blood from head to toe. She didn't care that your surroundings were littered with the remains of your victims.

All she cared about was you.

This was the side of her nobody but few select people knew was there. Her heartless bitch reputation proceeded her; nobody cared that, beneath the cold, uncaring exterior, there was a person who loved and hurt and bled just like everyone else.

She wasn't the monster that everyone had made her out to be. The facade was there for her protection.

You stood like that for a few moments. Agatha allowed you to cry, allowed you to let it all out in a safe environment. The worst had passed. Now that she was here, everything was going to be all right. She would make sure of it.

Once you had calmed down enough to stand on your own two feet without crumbling into pieces, she took a step back, gently brought her hands to your stained cheeks, and said,"What happened?"

Her eyes, usually piercing and intense, were as soft as her voice. A reminder — an exclamation — that you weren't in trouble. That she wasn't going to judge you, or mock you, or put you down. That she was here for you, first and foremost.

Judgment was all she knew about her entire life. Her own mother — the one person in the world who was supposed to cherish her, love her, protect her — had thought her evil, irredeemable from the very start. All because she happened to be born with a power no one had even attempted to understand or help her control.

She wasn't going to do that to anyone else.

She wasn't going to do that to you.

"They chased me here," you said.

You first saw them eyeing you at the bar, but you'd thought nothing of it. A big group of friends eyeing other patrons wasn't unusual; drunk people tended to do worse things. One of the girls among their group had asked you to join them. You'd politely declined; you didn't socialize with strangers.

You thought that was that, until they'd followed after you on your way out of the bar and formed a circle around you in the parking lot.

You'd flashed your magic.

They'd flashed their weapons, and they'd said you were dead. That they'd been hunting you for days.

Summoning all the power you could muster, you'd blasted them and ran. You weren't going to die at the hands of witch hunters. Not in the twenty first fucking century.

"They had weapons," you said, fresh tears spilling down your face, over Agatha's fingers. "They were everywhere, and I couldn't run anymore, and I just wanted them to go away and leave me alone."

You hadn't set out to kill anyone tonight.

They were the ones with murder on their minds.

All you wanted was to protect yourself. To save your life.

"And then it got hot, and my power just… It burst out, and there was blood everywhere."

Agatha pondered on your words. "Witch hunters."

"Yeah."

"You did good," she said. "You protected yourself. Don't you dare feel bad about that."

It was easy for her to say that. She'd spent centuries perfecting the act of not caring.

You, on the other hand, had never taken a life before.

A hard lump formed in your throat; you swallowed it, hissed as it burned your insides on the way down. "It felt good," Here it was. Now or never. "It felt really good."

It had almost felt better than your and Agatha's countless one night stands through your centuries of friendship when one of you — or both — happened to be in the mood.

Agatha quirked up an eyebrow. "What did?"

"Killing them." Your voice cracked before the second word was out. "It made me feel…" Exhilarated. High. "Alive."

She smiled. Was that pride painted over her face? "And what's wrong with that?"

Everything. Everything was wrong with that. Murder wasn't supposed to feel good. It wasn't supposed to fill you with joy, with relief that it was your victims who were dead instead of you.

Were they victims, though?

Did it matter?

"Why did it feel like that? Why wasn't I scared?"

Why weren't you horrified with your actions? Why was your first thought to defend yourself, to make excuses?

Why didn't you care about them at all?

"Because you survived," Agatha said. "You fought like hell and you survived like the witch that you are. Don't you ever feel guilty for that."

Why shouldn't you? What made your life more valuable than theirs?

"I've never killed anyone before." You'd sworn to yourself that you never would. And then this happened. Mere seconds, and your body count had gone from zero to ten.

It wasn't even a conscious decision to do it. Your magic felt that you were in danger, and it reacted. You had wanted them to die — better them than you — and then they did, and it was awesome.

The thought made you sick.

Agatha grinned. "Every witch's gotta pop their cherry someday."

Did they? Were all witches destined to be killers?

Was it written in your DNA?

"We-We're meant to kill people?"

"Kill or be killed. It's the only way to survive in this world.."

She wasn't wrong there. Every witch you knew had a story or two of needing to defend their lives, be it from hunters, or from other witches. The world was cruel to your kind.

Even your own kind was cruel to your kind, as Agatha could very well attest to. She'd been a target practically from the moment she was born, despised by her own coven. By her own mother.

"You killed. You lived," she continued. "Don't dwell on it too much."

"How can I not?" you demanded for you saw no way out of this turmoil. There was a storm inside you, destroying you bit by bit, eating at your soul like acid. No matter how many times you tried to get it to stop, to rein it in, it kept on raging. Guilt the girth of which you'd never experienced before. Regret that stung like a hornet's prick. "I feel like I'm gonna explode. It hurts so much."

Softly, gentle, as if she were comforting a child, Agatha pressed her forehead to yours. She was so warm. So strong, power radiating out of her every pore. For the first time tonight, you felt truly safe. "The first time is always the worst."

"I'm scared," you whimpered.

One of her hands reached for yours and squeezed it. "You've got nothing to be scared of. No one's gonna hurt you."

"What if someone finds out?"

"Let them. There's nothing they can do. All they've got are words, and words are nothing. You're safe."

"I don't want people to hate me."

"What's it matter if they do?"

"They hate you." And, despite her insistence that she didn't care, that she enjoyed the infamy, you knew it bothered her. It hurt her. Everyone she'd ever known had turned against her. That was bound to leave a mark on a person.

Agatha was silent for a moment. Then, softly, she said, "You don't hate me."

"I could never hate you." You knew her too well — loved her too much — to ever be able to.

"I could never hate you." She repeated your words back to you with the utmost delicacy and ease, as if she'd been waiting a long time to say them out loud. As if she'd been waiting for the appropriate moment to be honest, to speak from her heart.

That was why she was the first person you'd thought to call. Sure, she teased you at times and engaged in sarcastic exchanges with you, but she'd never — not once — judged you.

She would never make you feel bad over something you had no control over for she knew how it felt to be kicked while she was down.

"Will you help me?" you muttered.

Agatha smiled. "You don't even have to ask."

No, you didn't. You never did, yet you always asked, anyway. Because it felt good to hear a yes from her mouth.

It felt good to have Agatha Harkness in your life.

"Do me a favor, though," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Don't feel bad for protecting yourself. There is nothing wrong with finding joy in defending your life."

"I'll try," you promised.

Lucky for you, you had the best teacher by your side.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @midnight-lestrange

[comfortless]

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you. 

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention. 

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count. 

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious. 

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him. 

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

[imagionationstation]

More- more gender swap Donnie? Please? Pretty please?

(No pressure)

OKAYOKAYOKAY- SO GET THIS!

There are a lot of things that stay very, very similar to canon, but obviously some things HAVE to change to make room for big adjustments like lack of love triangles, SO I was debating a couple of episodes and how they could be altered or fixed and literally rewrote an entire episode and OOPS MY HANDS SLIPPED AND NOW I’M SHARING BC YOU ASKED NO TAKE-BACKSIES!

Baxter’s gambit: Happens exactly the same except Fishface keeps doing those weird, uncomfortable, cringe flirty comments at Donnie and at one point he gets too far into her comfort zone and Raph punches his face straight into the ground and threatens to gut him if he ever tries that again ‘cause SHE’S A TEEN DUDE BACK OFF.

Then they bond, and he reminds him of the threat, but nicer.

Needless to say, Fishface leaves Donnie alone.

Slash And Destroy: After Spike is almost blown up, Raph wants Donnie punished, but it was an honest accident, and Splinter only warns her to keep her lab door shut. In a fit of frustration, Raph nabs the mutagen and shouts that “she only gets away with stuff because she’s a GIRL!” and then slams his door to lock himself away. When Slash is bragging later, he reminds Raph of what he said while enraged and insists that he “gave her what they both knew she always deserved” and also implies that Leo’s next.

This scene haunts Raph when Donnie opens up about her insecurities down the line and he realizes that he’s partly to blame.

Showdown: Shredder tries to get under his skin by challenging the false fact that Splinter ‘replaced’ Miwa and with a shelled freak, no less. He taunts him by threatening to kill Donnie, asking if he’d get over her just as easily. Splinter hisses that he loves both his daughters, dead or alive, and the fight leads to Karai’s reveal.

The Pulverizer: The brothers ditch Timothy with Donnie and she makes a halfhearted comment under her breath about stereotypes and “women getting left with the children” as Timothy destroys several beakers in the background and she resigns to her fate.

The Invasion, Part 1: During the argument over whether to use the bot, Donnie accuses Leo of not trusting her because “she’s a girl” and Leo insists that’s not why. When she demands an explanation, all he says is that he’s “the leader.” She’s visibly dissatisfied.

The Invasion, Part 2: While April wraps her arm, Donnie admits that she thinks Leo only separated from them because she was the one who got shot. That if she had been paying attention, or if she hadn’t picked a fight, it would never have happened. She asks if April thinks that it’s her fault that he’s out there alone. Before April can answer, a tremor shakes their building and Kirby freaks out.

A Foot Too Big Disclaimer: ERASE EVERYTHING YOU KNOW.

A Foot To Big is actually about Donnie being unnecessarily nice to Leo and Leo being too distracted by his own issues to really notice. Donnie gets distressed and confides in Mikey that he must be “really mad at her” and doesn’t listen when he’s skeptical. Raph tells Donnie that she needs to give him space, does the “you know what you need? Huh? You know what you need?” bit and then drags them outside. Leo’s already out there and Donnie’s too distracted looking his way to fight well. Raph sends him and Mikey out into the forest to put some distance between the two.

There, they run into a Big Foot. Donnie notices that she’s injured so they bring her home. She’s ecstatic to meet another female mutant that’s essentially a historical endangered species. There’s no weird love thing- only Donnie being her obsessive self and diving head-first into studying Big Foot. Leo notices that change from doting to basically pretending he doesn’t exist, and mentions it to Raph. Raph tells Donnie that maybe she should talk to Leo, and she fires back that it was his advice to give Leo space. Raph argues that he didn’t mean ignore him altogether, but Donnie doesn’t listen. They get into a shouting match that ends with Donnie spotting Leo walk out of the house and her quickly stomping off into the forest.

Later, Donnie’s sulking in the shadows when Leo finds her. Or, he reveals, Big Foot led him to her, hinting that she knows the forest really well. Donnie fires at comment about ‘betrayals’ and Leo sits down next to her, meaningfully saying that he’s grateful Big Foot did. Leo tries to get Donnie to open up, but she keeps denying that anything is wrong, more and more tense as he insists that she’s been acting strange ever since he woke up.

There’s a cliche “wait, I hear something” “what?” “shhh” “you’re just trying to shut me up” moment before they hear a shout.

They move to Big Foot’s aid, only to get knocked out themselves. Upon waking up, they realize what situation they’re in and Donnie gets an idea. She pleads with Leo to follow her lead and he does without missing a beat. They escape and fight The Finger, The Finger and Big Foot have their… moment, and then Leo and Donnie exchange baffled shrugs as they leave.

The last scene has Donnie supporting Leo on their way back to the farmhouse. Leo stops her on the porch and leads her into sitting down on the stairs with him. Donnie’s anger has clearly left her by then, and she hunches in on herself as he reveals that he knows that Raph and her were arguing about him. He pleads with her to tell him what’s wrong, and eventually she breaks.

Donnie pours out all the guilt that was eating away at her- how she didn’t listen and he ended up in a coma for three months, and how she knows he has every right to hate her but she’s sorry and going to try her hardest to make it up to him- only interrupted when Leo drops his crutch and pulls her into a tight hug. She shrivels in it, burying her face in his shoulder, and he assures her that nothing was her fault. He was being just as stubborn as she was. They could have found a compromise. None of his choices were hers to bear, and if he had to choose between protecting her or himself, he’d choose her a million times over. And not just her, all of his little siblings. He ends it with a light tease of “sorry, Donnie, you’re really not that special.”

He earns a shaky laugh that makes him smile. They separate and Donnie says that she’s going to do her best not to question him in the future, and he scolds her, saying that she better not let him make dumb plans just because she feels guilty. They poke fun at one another until the tension clears, and then Leo shivers, and Donnie frantically insists that he shouldn’t be out in the cool night air.

Her amused older brother lets her lead him inside and the episode ends with her shouting for someone to grab a blanket and to start up the fire, and then a black-and-white image of the farmhouse door.

YEAH YOU BET I JUST DID THAT

The Creeping Doom: Instead of chasing Icecream Kitty across the floor, they manage to calm Donnie down by letting her play with April’s hair. It ends up being a tangled mess of bows and hair clippings that April takes out on the way to the lab to check on Mikey, but she waits ‘till Donnie gets distracted, since it’s visibly clear that she both enjoyed herself and was proud of her ‘creation’.

The Power Inside of Her: When Donnie says that she’s okay after everything, Leo interrupts to say that she’s not. When Donnie stiffens, her older brother is quick to reassure her that if any of them were in her place, they would be far from okay.

After April thinks that “at least some good came out of this,” the scene transitions to just the turtles watching tv. Donnie says that she’s sore and headed to bed, but her brothers all visibly panic. Mikey’s the one to say that maybe they “should just hang out a bit longer?” and Raph insists that they should for Mikey’s sake since “he’d just wake them up later,” implying that he commonly wakes them when he has nightmares. Leo asks Donnie to “humor them” and Donnie gives in, lightly teasing her big, bad brothers as they scoff and crowd her, but overall looking immensely relieved.

I HAVE FIVE HUNDRED BUBBLING THOUGHTS, BUT ALSO THINGS TO DO, THE STRUGGLE! GAH!

THANK YOU SM FOR THIS ASK!

[auras-moonstone]

hiiii!! i love your writing and was wondering if you could do a jack champion or ethan landry imagine based on the song, “delicate” by taylor swift? just like a cute fluff 💖 tysm!!!

delicate — ethan landry

word count: 1,645

pairing: non-gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: despite the delicate situation y/n and ethan are in because of ghostface and the group's doubts about ethan, they finally admit their feelings.

ETHAN UNDERSTOOD THE GROUP’S DOUBTS TOWARDS HIM, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less. He truly got that after being betrayed by one of their close friends, the group members were left with trust issues, but Mindy’s constant attacks and Chad, Tara and Sam’s distrustful glances felt like a punch to the gut.

It sucked. He finally managed to befriend a nice group of people, who accepted him with his shyness and quietness, and now with the Ghostface attacks, he was losing them. Y/N and Anika were the only ones that didn’t push him away, despite the former one having been present during the Woodsboro killings. He didn’t know what she saw in him that make her trust him, unlike the rest, but Ethan was grateful. Her putting distance between them would have broken his heart, because he really liked her.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/N liked him back. She trusted him with her heart, and she was sure it wasn’t her love for him deceiving her, she was positive he wasn’t the killer. She was the only one who believed him because she was the only one that really saw him, the only one who really payed him attention. Every flash of sadness that crossed his eyes whenever an accusation was thrown at him, the fear on his face when he realized the group was in danger, how he would always make sure to be the first person to enter a room to check it was clear, how he was always on hyper alert for any abnormal movement that could indicate the killer was close. Ethan Landry truly cared about them, and as a response, he received nothing but jabs and accusations and that broke Y/N’s heart.

The only good thing about the situation was that Y/N never left his side, not wanting to make him feel lonely. She was always making plans with him, trying to get his mind off things. That’s one of the things Ethan liked the most about her—her selflessness. The killer that chased her a year ago was back to haunt her, yet she was more worried about his well-being and feelings.

Right now, they were walking back to her dorm from the dive bar on the East Side. They were both a bit tipsy, giggling over the silliest of things and cuddling each other. Y/N was glued to his arm and he rested his head on top of hers.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Y/N asked as they reached her door.

“It was the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Thank you, you’re the best” his back was against the door, Y/N on the same position beside him.

“No, you are the best” she poked his chest. “I don’t like seeing you sad, Ethan. I love our friends, but they really get on my nerves when they point fingers at you.”

Ethan shrugged “There’s a killer on the loose, and they had been—metaphorically and literally—been stabbed on the back by a friend before, I get it. What I don’t get is why don’t you point your fingers at me?“

“Because I really see you. I can pin-point every little action that makes me trust you, but it would take the whole night. I just want you to know that I am certain you’re a good person, and that you would never lay a finger on anyone, much less on us.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” his voice reflected such vulnerability that Y/N couldn’t help but throw her arms around his middle.

“Stay. I don’t want you to walk alone at night” Y/N said as they broke the hug.

“Sure” he smiled.

They went up to her room, and Ethan waited nervously by the bed as Y/N changed clothes. When she got out of the bathroom, she furrowed her eyes at Ethan. He was standing still, with his arms behind his back and he didn't even take his jacket off.

Y/N was going to make a funny remark about it, but then her eyes fell on his face and she forgot how to speak. The light of the pale moonlight reflected on his boyish features and the air turned thick with tension and indecision. She wanted to get closer and drown in his chocolate brown eyes, and at the same time she wanted to stay there and admire the sight, because Ethan Landry was handsome, he was as magestic as a mansion with a view.

"W-what is wrong? Why are you looking at me?" Ethan asked insecurely.

"Because you're handsome and I like you so much."

Ethan was taken aback by her brutal honesty, but once he really processed her words, his heart threatened to escape from his chest. "You're drunk."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" he asked confused.

"You are trying to convince yourself that I don't mean it. I don't know if it is because you don't feel the same, or because you don't believe it, but don't. I have liked you for so long, I would have told you sooner but then all of the shit started happening and I... I was scared."

"I don't feel the same? I would be crazy not to like you, Y/N" he said as he closed the distance, cupping her jaw. He tilted her head up and started to close the distance slowly, giving her time to take a step back. Instead, she grabbed him from the jacket and pulled him down to get rid of the few inches that separated their lips.

With their mouths unraveling their desire, they lumbered towards the bed, as they got rid of their clothes, and ended up twisted in the bedsheets. They couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, which made them stay awake until late, leaving them completely exhausted yet ecstatic.

IN THE MORNING, Y/N WOKE UP WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE as she recalled the long night with Ethan’s hands up in her hair. The cold spot on her side made her feel a little gloom, but the feeling soon evaporated when she heard the echoes of someone's footsteps downstairs—she just knew that it was Ethan. Putting on the shirt he had discarded last night, she tip-toed to the kitchen, where she found a shirtless Ethan making breakfast.

"For a moment, I thought you had left." Y/N said, making her presence known.

The curly-haired boy set his gaze on her frame and he almost let the hot frying pan fall to the ground. Fuck pancakes, he'd rather have her for breakfast.

"Well, thank you." Y/N laughed, which made him realize he had said it out loud. "And ditto. You, with your hair disheveled and bare-chested in those killer grey sweatpants, while you cook is by far the hottest thing I've ever witnessed."

Ethan blushed, and Y/N couldn't believe he was the same boy that, just a few hours ago, made her come six times as he whispered the filthiest things on her ear. She was a lucky gal, definitely.

"Maybe we should talk about it. I mean, is it cool that I said all that? Because I know that it's delicate, you know, the situation we are going through." Y/N said, sitting on the kitchen stool.

"Of course it’s okay.” he assured her. “You said you were scared" he gave her a look, letting her know he wanted her to expand on that.

"Part of the reason I never talked to you about my feelings is because I was scared of putting your life in danger. I mean, I know that you are in our friend group, making you already a potential target, but I was afraid that if you did reciprocate those feelings, you might be in more danger. Like, becoming a definite target."

"What changed?"

"To be honest? I don't know. I guess I reached the point in where you are in my head so fucking much that I just... couldn't take it anymore. It was hard to even look you in the eyes, Eth. Being so close to you yet not having you the way I wanted... so frustrating."

"I pretended you were mine all the damn time." Ethan confessed, playing with his fingers. "Maybe it's too soon to do this yet, but... I love you, so damn much."

"I love you too" she rounded the counter and wrapped his arms around him.

"The group is so not going to approve of this." Ethan warned. He wanted her to be fully aware of the complications their relationship might bring during such a delicate time. "They might turn their backs on you. I bet Mindy will think you're my accomplice."

"I don't care, that's on them. You make me happy. This is going to be over soon and they'll come around." Y/N said confidently. "The real question is, are you sure you want this? If you weren't on the target list before, you’ll definitely be now."

"I'd die for you." he said simply. And usually, in movies and books, it could be a sweet little line, but they were actually being persecuted by a serial killer who had already taken a couple of lives. It was not the time to play Romeo Montague.

"Don't say that, Ethan." Y/N said with a knot on her throat. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"If the killer swung the knife at me or our friends, you'd step in too. Don't pretend. So, no. I can't make any promises." Ethan said. Her shoulders slumped, knowing he was right. "Let's just be positive. We'll be fine. Now, can I distract you from all this mess with kisses?"

That earned him a little smile and a nod. "I would really like that."

"I love you. God, now that it's finally out, I don't know if I'll be able to stop saying it." he laughed against her lips.

"You say it like it's a bad thing. Trust me, I won't complain" she gave him a long sweet kiss. "I love you, too."

[whomstress]

Boxer au Bunnydoll fic

So this was supposed to be shorter but got carried away but I think it's pretty good!

Boxer au belongs to @burrotello and none of this fic is cannon! The au is so great and I can't wait to see more! Go check it out and follow!

You're the Worst

Jax hated Ragatha, and she hated to say she was proud of why. It had been established early that Ragatha was much stronger than she let on. Jax himself didn’t even have to cheat to get past her rank in no time. But Ragatha fought differently when on and off stage. She’d rarely go all out in a fight, if ever on stage, but if one of her friends needed help with an upcoming match and needed a challenge, you’d think she was a completely different person. She wasn’t the quickest by a long shot, but for her main points of attack, focusing on strength, she had some serious speed. That was just her hands. If she got you with her legs, it was about as elegant as getting hit by a freight train. Not to mention she was a major strategist if she was very unmatched.

She thinks she can pinpoint the moment Jax started to hate her. It was a couple days after Jax received his champion belt again. Zooble had been his last opponent to the top, and they were a beast that day, so it was apparent the only thing that had them losing was the overbearing amount of fouls Jax pulled out that day. It was a sloppy win, even for Jax. Zooble, of course, had been beyond aggravated and needed to let some steam off with a real match tired of fighting Jax. 

Ragatha felt for her friend and decided to go all out that day just so they could properly let off steam. It wouldn’t be right not to give Zooble a fair fight when that’s all they wanted. So it was in the last 10 seconds of the third round they’d agreed to. Ragatha was parrying Zooble’s Maul. They could use it in multiple rounds, but Zooble liked to use it as a finishing move with how quick and powerful the blows were. They’d used it in their match with Jax, and it probably would’ve worked if Jax didn’t grapple and rabbit punch to get out of it. However, if you could get through the initial onslaught, there was a window of opportunity for a single second that a skilled boxer could cut through. Ragatha saw it; the opening was right in front of her, and she didn’t waste it. She pulled back her fist as far as she could, adjusting her grip, and pivoted her body to follow through and give as much force as she could. The uppercut smashed straight into Zooble’s jaw with a loud bang and sent them flying onto their backs. Leaving Ragatha standing alone when the bell rang, winning the last of the 3 rounds.

Kinger and Gangle cheered just enough for the room to hear, and Ragatha quickly went to help Zooble up. Apologizing to them even though they’d won the last 2 rounds. But instead of saying anything about that, Zooble started laughing uncontrollably and pointed somewhere off the ring, “Take some lessons, champ! That’s how a REAL fighter does it!”

Ragatha follows their finger to look directly at Jax. The last time she saw him, he was actively laughing at her getting punched in the gut. But now his face was in a hard frown, his teeth were clenched, and he was staring at her like she was a bug he just killed with his shoe. What did she do? Is what Ragatha ended up asking herself before he stormed out. It wasn’t until later that she realized it’s what she doesn’t do that makes him hate her so much. 

The fact that there's a possibility Ragatha could climb to the top on skill alone, but she chooses not to even try, pissed him off more than she’d ever known. His jokes that had always been here and there became an onslaught of insults from there on. Much crueler and more pointed than before. He had a personal vendetta against her.

She hated that about him. Every mess up she made, every slip-up, or sloppy movement didn’t go without a comment from him. God forbid he happened to stay for a match; she let someone pass her. He wouldn’t leave her alone for hours or until his match.

But all the same, she brushed him off as best she could. At times, she couldn’t stand to even look at him, but somehow she felt for him. She knows she has a bleeding heart; it’s her best and worst quality. But they were all stuck here one way or another, and despite his cockiness, she’s sure he wanted to leave just as badly. Staying on top was obviously important enough to him that he’d do anything to stay there. Ragatha knows that’s because the best bet out of here is winning this whole thing. And she may not understand in detail why it upsets him so much that she decides to stay a rookie; she knows it goes much deeper than it’s "annoying,” like he always says.

With all that being said, she still wanted to knock his teeth in some days.

Jax had been on something for the last couple days. Ragatha wasn’t sure what triggered his nonsense; this time, she felt like pulling her hair out. Everywhere she went, he was there with some stupid comment. Honestly, she thinks this is her fault. The other day, he gave her a semi-genuine compliment, if “you actually seemed like a fighter today” counted as a compliment, and she thought to herself, "Wow, maybe this is a new start!” And like a damn monkey’s paw, the universe said, 'Yeah, a start of something alright.’ She was so close to losing it that she had to take a break from training with her new friend Pomni just to blow off some steam. Pomni offered a spar, and though the offer was sweet, she was still a genuine rookie rank, and when Ragatha’s angry, well… she’ll wait a bit until she gets a bit more experience under her belt to take up that offer.

A heavy impact echoes throughout an otherwise still room. An NPC dummy arm goes flying back to slam against the wall, the training pad still attached to the hand. It falls down, broken, and Ragatha doesn’t miss a beat, swerving back to her very abused punching bag that was already spilling sand from her brace knuckles. “There she is! I knew I’d find you moping in one of these old-ass training rooms. Seriously, Doll, I get wanting to go Rocky style, but you have to choose the nastiest gym to match it?”

Ragatha does her best to ignore him, but at the sound of his voice, the next punch to the bag sends it flying farther than before. He laughs at her obvious frustration with him, and she tries to remind herself. Jax is a jerk; nothing he says means anything anyway; it's just another way to make himself feel better, knowing he wouldn’t be where he was if it weren’t for his “tricks.” 

He walks up closer to her and leans against the pole in front of her punching bag, so he’s directly in her view but just out of reach for a “stray” hit. "Damn, Dolly really did a number here, huh? You must be thinking real hard about someone.” She continues to ignore him, like he’s not there. So she doesn’t see the slight slint in his eyebrows with his shit-eating grin. "C'mon, who is it? Tell this old jack rabbit who’s bothering you. Maybe I’ll even beat 'em up for you if you ask nicely. That’s your thing, anyway. Too nice for your own good. As sweet as a ragdoll to hold at night!” He sighs like he’s swooning over her, and she hates this teasing the most, so her punches only get more aggressive.

His smile can’t get any wider, seeing how much he’s getting under her skin, only to go in for the kill. “Probably why you're as capable a fighter as one too.”

That’s it! Ragatha punches the bag, and it breaks completely in half, finally wiping that stupid grin off his face. She walks up to him and gets in his face like he so often does other’s, “You want to see how capable a fighter I am? Let’s go. Right here, right now! I know I’m a capable fighter. But as for you, I’d be surprised if you could hold your own for a single round without cheating.”

Despite the initial shock of her getting in his face for once, he smiles again, but it’s something much more bitter now. He purposely towers over her, getting inches from her face, and flicks a strand of yarn hair out of her face. ”You’re on. Lil’ Lady.” 

She doesn’t know why him saying just her stage name like that pisses her off more, but she stays in his face for a second longer than she needs to, so of course he has to add, “Take a picture, sweetheart. It’ll last longer. Maybe I’ll even sign it for you!”

Her face deapans, and she scoffs, turning fast enough that her ponytail “accidentally” slaps him in the face. She hops in the ring in the middle of the room and is very satisfied to see that his face has turned back to pure annoyance. “Hop to it, Jack Rabbit. Don’t have all day!”

If Jax's teeth weren’t sharp, he’d be grinding them right now. Even her comebacks were pathetic. “Hop to it,” she says, as if that’s not something a literal Ragdoll would say when you hug it. 

Moving into the ring, he re-wound his wraps before putting on his gloves. “Alright, what’s the game, toots?”

Ragatha crossed her arms, unimpressed, finishing setting up the timer. “Don’t call me toots.” He snickers. “1 round, 12 minutes. Basic rules. Whoever’s down more than 10 seconds or taps out by the end loses. You cheat at any time for any reason; it rounds over, and I win. Sounds good?”

He scoffs, “Don’t need to cheat to beat you, Doll.” He finishes putting on his gloves and walks over to her. “And what’s the prize?”

“Excuse me?” She raises an eyebrow.

“The prize, Dollface. C'mon, you don’t expect me to risk my reputation by fighting a little rookie without getting something out of it, do you?” 

As much as she wants to argue, she really just wants to get to rocking his shit and knows he won’t let it go. With an exasperated sigh, she says, "Okay, fine. Whatever you want, okay?”

His crocodile grin comes back bigger than ever before, and he eyes her like a hungry dog eyes a piece of meat. “Anything? Are you sure about that, Ragatha?”

She doesn’t know if it's his look or the fact that he said her actual name for the first time in forever, but she hates to say she gets actual goose bumps for a moment before catching herself, backing away from him to bring herself back to the moment. “Yeah, whatever, Jax. But if I win, you have to leave me alone! No more teasing, no more jokes, no more insults! Unless we have to be together, we’re strangers, got it?”

Something in his expression changes for a moment; his smile dulls and his eyes search hers, and in return, her face softens. Wait. Did she just hurt his feelings? Whatever her face is, it changes Jax’s into a grimace, and he practically spits at her before turning around and saying, “Got it.”

She shakes whatever that was off and gets back in the zone. Why is every conversation with him like being on a rollercoaster? Oh, she better win, or he’s actually going to drive her insane.

Without further stalling, the fight starts. Ragatha still doesn’t trust that Jax won’t cheat, even if it makes him lose, so she goes for focusing on defense. Jax is one of the fastest out of them, so it’s not a bad strategy all together, but as soon as it’s apparent she’s playing the side of caution, his drive seems to go 10 fold. “I thought you were gonna teach me a lesson or some shit?” He says this between an onslaught of rapid punches and kicks. “Weren’t you the one that was going to show me how capable of a fighter you are?” He goes for a left hook, and she barely dodges jumping back. “Seems like you're running away again, like you always do.”

Ragatha grits her teeth and finally throws a jab and then a solid right cross back, just missing his head by an inch, physically feeling a gust of air go along his sweaty chin. “There we go! That’s my girl!”

“Not!” She throws another punch, landing straight in his block, and pulls back only to punch again, “Your!” knocking him back with a much stronger force, “Girl!”

He quickly gets back up and laughs, “Jeez Rags, coulda turned me down a little nicer. Break this poor bunny’s heart, why don’t ya?” She rolls her eyes but regrets letting him distract her because he’s back in her face in a moment, getting a shot straight to her right cheek, almost knocking her down. If Ragatha had anything going for her, it was her strong legs and steady stance, so despite the hard blow, she stayed up right. "Ooooh, that’s gotta hurt. Hope you don’t get a black button.”

She hated that she actually laughed at that, specifically after he just hit her in the face, but his own shock at her laughter left him wide-eyed and open. She was able to fake a jab, causing him to be the one to start dodging her punches and kicks. He was slowly backing up into a corner, and just as he went for an escape, he accidentally moved straight into a full-speed roundhouse, not only knocking him back but also hitting the back of his head on the solid mental poll of the ring. 

“OH SHI-” is the only thing he hears other than a ringing in his head. He suddenly can’t remember why he’s fighting, but he knows he must be because his head is super sweaty. He goes to wipe it, and his hand is covered in red. He stares at it blankly for a moment and offers his hand to whoever is yelling his name right now, like a child showing a cool rock they found, and says, "Well, that’s not good.”

The last thing he hears is his name again as he knocks out.

He wakes up with a headache from hell and a towel over his eyes. Goddammit, he’s been in enough fights to know this means he's been knocked out. He tries to focus on what happened, but his brain feels foggy, and there’s a noise going on in the background that’s distracting him. He tries to ignore it, put his thoughts together, and slowly piece together what happened. He remembers getting into a fight with Ragatha and messing with her the whole time, because why else would he be there? But what else? The noise grew louder, and he realized it was a person but hoped they’d go away if he played dead. 

He made her laugh. Holy shit he made her laugh, and not in an I’m going crazy kind of way. She was smiling. At him. Hmm. 

Weird.

But of course she had to take advantage of that and knock him out just to win a bet. Oh yeah, they made that stupid bet. That he definitely lost. Ragatha’s words ring through his head, “like strangers.” Well, shit, this was...

The person blew their nose, and Jax realized they were crying and finally snapped, “Do you MIND? We’re all having a bad time here, lady; at least let me think in peace during mine.”

He heard a gasp, and the person suddenly took off his towel to look at him. Light quickly blinds his eyes, and it takes him a second to realize it’s Ragatha above him. She’s rambling so fast it’s bringing on another headache, and he takes a deep breath and says, "Ragatha, stop talking. I’m pretty sure I already have brain damage. I don't need more.”

He expects her to get mad or just roll her eyes, but instead she gets quiet and says a soft “Sorry.” He raises his eyebrow and looks at her, all the fight that was in her earlier completely drained. She won, but she looked miserable. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He says she's sitting up, and her damn mother hen instincts must’ve kicked in because she’s instantly next to him to make sure he moves slowly, holding him as he moves up. 

He looks at her hand on his chest, along with feeling the one on his back, holding him up like she just touched something dirty, and says, “I’m not thanking you. You did this. And if it weren’t for me, literally about to fall, and I might actually die if I tried. I would headbutt you for touching me right now.”

Ragatha's face deadpans. "Well, thanks for that, Jax.”

“Don’t mention it.” He says this, still looking at her hand.

“Hey. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you that hard; well, I did, but I didn’t mean to kick you straight into a poll like that.” She tapered off, obviously embarrassed.

“Uh huh,” He said, rolling his eyes and reaching back to feel the back of his head. Jeez stitches. Well, at least it was Ragatha that did it, so it’d heal right. He once let Caine do it, and the scar it left looks like a fucked-up shoelace.

“I mean it! I know we don’t get along-”

“Understatement of the year, Dollface.”

“BUT- I don’t want to really hurt you, Jax. Believe it or not, we humans only got each other here. Fighting is fun and exciting, but it also leads to things like this. And I just hate it.” Her breath hitches. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Jax's eyes widen. Oh shit it was her crying. It was one thing when he made people cry; that was funny. But when people cried for him, it was just weird. He gets it, bleeding heart, mama bear, yada yada. Whatever, just crying for him is not his thing. “If you’re gonna cry for me, can you take it somewhere else? You’re making me so uncomfortable, I’d actually kinda wish that kick would’ve killed me.”

Ragatha’s jaw actually drops. “You’re actually crazy. You know that?”

He’s about to chew her out when he reaches for his stitches to scratch them, and she grabs his hand away like a kid caught in the cookie jar. 

He glares at her, getting tired of all her "help,” and she gives him an equal glare back before a lightbulb pops in his head. She cautiously watches his expression change to excitement. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He starts laughing like an evil cartoon villain: “You cheated. I won.”

"No, I didn-” Ragatha started but then thought about it. The way she kicked him even by accident was illegal, and the fact that he got so hurt was, no matter how you look at it, a loss for her. “That’s not fair!”

"Oh, I’m sure you’d know all about fair after you cracked my head open.” His cheshire grin was back on his face.

“Hey! Listen you-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart. The rules were that if there was any cheating for any reason, it was an automatic loss. Or are you only loyal to your word when it’s about me?” Jax knew the answer to that, so when she made an ugly grimace and conceded, he wasn’t surprised in the least.

“What do you want, Jax?” 

“Hmm, let me think about it. Whatever I want is a big wish to grant. Gotta make it worthwhile.” He laughs. Eying her again like meat on a platter with a crocodile grin.

Ragatha squirms under his stare, causing him only more amusement. “You're the worst.”

“That’s my girl.”

[camlovesjace]

GHOST RIDER, modern Jacexoc!fem

SUMMARY: Jacaerys had been acting weirdly, going out many nights and coming back in the mornings, Cellys is suspecting he was cheating...but the truth was far away worst. WARNING: violence, cheating suspicion, use of bad words, murdering, graphic descriptions (also, writer is not an english native, had patience pls)

Once again, he was gone. He had slip out of the bed at midnight and didn't come back, as usual lately. Cellys was worried, freaking out was a most clear description, her friends had talk with her, saying he was probably sneaking around with some other girl and that she should dump his ass away from her before he break her heart deeper or found him red handed. That thought made her shiver, she could barely think of it without feeling the knot forming on her throat.

Jace. Her Jace. Sneaking around with other girl?

It sounded so unrealistic, but nothing else could explain his behavior. He always arrived home in the mornings, tired and exhausted. His abstinence in home was like an empty place without solace, and she didn't realized she was getting distant when he was around.

She used to look at him, she notices everything he does or don't does.

He looked disturbed, his mind anywhere else but not there.

Then she heard the door opening, his lazy steps entering in the apartment, the sun was shining with it´s first rays of golden, it was a constant reminder of the day embracing the night. She pretended to be fall asleep, covering her back with the sheets and blankets, she heard his soft gasps of tiredness, he was coming to the bedroom.

He walked in, his presence itself was relieving, but it didn´t made her felt better. The idea of him in the arms of someone else, with his hands touching other skin, his lips kissing someone else...his love being torned apart from her, it was killing her.

His weight get into the bed, he was moving quietly but his lazy movements made the mattress move up and down slightly.

"Babe..." he murmured, his voice was low and hoarse but she didn't opened her eyes, trying to look as slept as possible. She could felt his hazel gaze on her back, then his arms wrapped her waist under covers as he cling behind her, like a hurted dog.

He buried his face on the back of her neck, his nose smelling the sweet aroma of her hair, a smell that always bring him home. She could smell a strong burning smell, like the smoke of a bonfire. The way his arms felt so heavy around her showed her how tired he truly was, and once again, that knot on her throat felt tighter than ever.

She broke down, crying as his warm body held hers, her soft almost inaudible cries hitted him like a punch in the guts.

"Hey, hey...what´s wrong?" he whispered, sitting in bed and turning her to face him, his grip was firm but gentle, seeing her eyes covered in tears all of them pouring down her cheeks -like if she were holding them for so long- while her chest moved up and down quickly in a painted breathe.

A wave of protectiveness washed over him, as he pulled her into his arms deeper but she broke the hug, getting away from him in bed. Then the realization made him felt sick.

"No" he spoke, his tone sounded more hard than he would've wanted, but into his chest he only felt guilty. Guilty for making her feel like this, for making her think he was doing that to her. She the love of his life, the best thing that's ever been his and the most precious he has.

"Do not do this worse" she whispers, trying to clean her cheeks but it was useless, tears were locked in for too much weeks and now they were scapink in a tsunami of emotions that made her stomach twist in pain "Jace, i know...i know-"

"No" he interrupted her, he moved quickly over her, holding her wrist and pinning her on the bed, his eyes held a plea on them "You need to believe me, please, please, my darling" he begged, desperately.

Knowing the truth would be dangerous for her, but he knew staying by his side would be much more. He didn't wanted her to leave, to go away from him and never see her again, to never heard her laughter or to feel her warmth on the bed every time he need solace from the dark curse on his soul.

"Aren't you? Tell me you're not doing it, tell me that even if it is a lie" she says, her lips on a soft pout, her heart was sinking on her stomach. He looked down at her, still pinning her body under his, not wanting to let go.

"I'm not! Cellys, i'm fucking not" he shouted, but his own tears made his confession sound weaker, not because it wasn't true but because he knew he was being selfish. He wanted her to stay, he told himself he would be able to protect her, to not hurt her in the path...but he was doing it by lying to her "I would rather die than betray you that way, you heard me? i would rather to be a damn rotting corpse buried in the darkest place of the world and the hell before hurting you like that" his tears were pouring down his cheeks, his grip on her arms tighten but not enough to make her feel pain.

She felt completely devastated, torned by the suspicion of his cheating and his sincere voice when he said he would never, she wanted to believe him so bad. She wanted to say she choose to trust in their love, but what if she was wrong? what if he lied? once again.

What if...?

It´s been a while since they talked, Cellys was out with a female friend on Verona, for the long weekend. But he knew it was an excuse to stay away from him, from home. She didn't believed him, and he understood why, he was lying after all. But not in the way she thought he was lying, her suspicions of cheating made him felt offended, but how could he blame her? He was, in fact, being distant and having an erratic behavior.

But there he was, sitting in a dark place in the middle of nowhere. The blood slipping through his fingers, the bone still noticeable under his knuckles. His body was sore, he could feel the heat of the fire around his neck. Even if his own fire could not hurt him he still felt the wound.

The sun was still hiding, extending his course.

The man sat next to him, in the bench, his pale skin was similar to the white tone of his bones, that were covered in an orange and blue flame.

"It is done" he announced, not disappointed but neither proud. The dead body of a man behind them, his soul was lost...as well his own.

"I know it's fucking done" Jace says, his voice was lifeless and rough, like if it carried a demoniac tone with it. The sun started to rise, the golden color was heavenly, and it reminded him to Cellys. Her sweet smile, her gentle touch, how it was to feel her breath against his neck when he held her.

He was losing her...

"Be careful in the way you spoke at me, child" the man says, the rage on it was heavy but Jace was not afraid of him, he was mad too. This was ruining his entire life, he wanted to give up.

He would rather die but not let his girl to think he would cheat on her like a bastard. No when he would fight with the devil himself to protect her and her feelings.

"I don´t wanna keep doing this, i wanna go home..." he says but the man only laughs.

"You think you have an option?" he mocked, then his gaze darkener "if you don't do what i say, i guess i must start to give you reason to..."

Jacaerys felt his skin burning as the sun rises more and more, he gasped in pain when his flesh started to cover his bones back, his fingertips found his jaw when the skeleton under was being replaced by skin and muscles, the fire dying.

"What...do you mean?" he asked, breathless. The smell of smoke burned his nostrils, it was the smell of his flesh killing the fire that was around his bones. The process was painful but more bearable than the first time he was turned into this monster.

"The girl" the man says, a smile pulling of the corner of his lips "She is pretty, isn't she? An angel"

A shiver ran down his spine with that protective instinct over him he had felt so many times before, but this time was much stronger than ever.

"Touch her and you're dead" Jace threatened but it sounded like a pathetic and useless warning in the ears of the devil.

"Oh, boy, i'm already are"

dt; @nebulamorada <3

[suntiger745]

Well well, that was certainly an interesting trip... An excellent trio of episodes to finish the season. The more I see of the animated show, the more appropriate the legend part of the Legend of Vox Machina feels. Things progress generally more smoothly, storywise. We get to see things we didn't see in the campaign. Events sometimes happen in a different order. Some things are outright different. We also loose some of the depth the messiness and more time for the characters to grow that the campaign's longer timeline of events brought. Appropriate I suppose. But even so, the heart of it is always there.

Tying the earth ashari trial that we never saw to the searching and finding of Raishan was a neat combination. Also big props to Marisha Ray for the range of anger, vulnerability, panic, acceptance and confidence Keyleth went through in episodes 10 and 11. It was also great to see Raishan's plan realized, which she never managed in the campaign (also, very cool lair actions). Raishan calling Keyleth a child was a nice bit of dragon arrogance. And to be fair, Raishan is old and very smart. Perhaps with time as she learned about her new dracolich body she would have been able to withstand or repel the cursed disease that Keyleth transferred into her. But not when the body was so new and she was still getting used to it. Nature is good at breaking down flesh and sinew after all, and the death curse was targeted specifically at Raishan. Vex'ahlia and Vax'ildan going after Ripley was cool. A look into the past almost, when the twins were on their own and getting involved with the seedy underbelly of civilization. A nice nod to Vax's Clasp connection. And of course Vex'ahlia getting the final blow on Ripley.

A detail people might not think about in all the vengeance quests, demon abilities, gunfire and Ripley meeting her end is that some people survived that. And they know about firearms now. And it's a safe bet there is at least a few other stashes of guns wherever that ship has its home base. The cat is well and truly out of the bag now when it comes to guns proliferating across Exandria. Not with the same push and quality as if Ripley was still alive, but still. That's important for the world setting, even if it won't impact Vox Machina's story much (though it might yet, we'll see).

The search for Percy's soul and the way they did the resurrection ritual was very cool as well. I liked the way they showed several of the people present contribute to the ritual and Laura Bailey of course killed it again with Vex'ahlia baring her heart to Percy's spirit.

I don't think the markings on Vax's arm is the Matron's doing though. I think it's merely an effect of going through with the ritual, especially for a soul imprisoned by a demon. More likely than the Matron of Ravens punishing Vax, I think that corruption/disease in his arm is either Orthax's final spiteful "gift" to Vax'ildan for ruining his day or simply a touch of death that will mark him as he was the catalyst to bring back a soul already dead for several days.

The Matron did warn him of consequences for going through with the ritual. I also suspect Vax will still consider it worth it.

Also very interesting how they split the group, at least for a while. It's not the Bard's Lament when Scanlan leaves, but perhaps something like it will instead come this time when they ask him to return to Vox Machina to fight the new threat.

And yet another example of where the Legend is different from what we saw in the campaign. Less painful and more smooth. So far, there might be a realy gut punch coming from Scanlan yet.

Still very curious to see where the story goes with Pike as well. And maybe we'll get our first Keyteor in the next season. Speaking of, is it season 4 yet? ;)

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.130 Whoop that trick

At dawn, Sophia got up to pee, so I pulled myself out of bed to make breakfast because I knew she'd be hungry and head for the kitchen next. I felt like trying my French toast recipe again, as I hadn't perfected it yet. Cooking for Sophia had proven to be even more frustrating than cooking for Dad, because nearly everything contained dairy in some form. Scouring the internet every day for something new to try had gotten really old, so I started buying plant-based milk for my sanity. I think she appreciated it too because sometimes the temptation to eat dairy was so strong she gave in, damning the discomfort of bubble guts. How anyone could live life without cheese, I didn't know.

"Mmmmm, that smells so good," Sophia cooed.

"Thanks. I think I got it right this time."

The plant-based milk worked well for most things, but I needed to make adjustments to my custard. In my initial trials, either the bread came out too soggy, or it developed an eggy crust while it cooked. Everything looked perfect this time, so I hoped to remember what I did for next time.

"Okay, so hear me out," she started.

I had no idea what she was about to suggest, but I knew it would involve her not resting at home.

"It's Night Out on the Town tonight! We should go."

"Is that a good idea? You're due literally at any moment now."

"Okay, yeah, but this might be our last night as a child-free couple! We should spend some time together before we have to start scheduling it."

I wanted to come up with an irrefutable rebuttal, but I had none. Her logic was sound, as always. She'd been cooped up inside a lot lately, anyway. It wouldn't hurt to leave the house for a little while. It's not like we were going jogging around the lake or anything.

"Okay. But we're going to stay in town. There's a nice restaurant in Anchorpoint Wharf I've been wanting to take you to."

She clapped and did a little happy jig in her chair. I loved that woman.

Kooper and Rosie were getting old. Their coats turned gray, they slept a lot, and they walked a little slower. None of that seemed to stop them from running around the house like a pair of puppies, though. Rosie still demanded that Kooper play with her and dashed around the house and yard like she was training for a marathon. I loved that their age didn't stop them from having a good time. I was playing with Kooper when I realized something that stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Oh my Watcher," I shouted.

Sophia was behind me, asking what was the matter. I didn't mean to startle her, but it just occurred to me that Alessia might have her babies today!

"We need to get to Mama's house!"

She started to ask why, but I had already dialed Dad's number to see if he would come. Once she overheard my end of the conversation, she went upstairs immediately and got dressed. Dad said he was already on his way and would meet us there.

When we arrived, Mama wasted no time checking up on Sophia and loving on her youngest grandchild. She hammered her with a bunch of questions, like if she was getting enough rest and if she had experienced early contractions. All moms were lay doctors, I guess. Just as I had begun to think it was nice to have the whole family together again, loud forbidden words and angry screams rang out from upstairs, followed by rapid stomps heading in our direction.

"I'M GOING TO MURDER HIM," Alessia yelled.

"I'M GOING TO FIND HIM AND PUNCH IN HIS PRETTY FACE!! AND THEN I'M GOING TO CUT OFF HIS-"

"Whoa, Less," I said. "What in the world happened?"

Her face was as red as a strawberry, and her eyebrows scowled, just like an angry cartoon character. The lasers shooting from her eyes made me want to stay out of her way, but I needed to know what and who upset her so.

"JACE happened!! He's a PUNK!! Ol' llama-faced liar!!! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"

"What did he do, Less?"

"He went back to his ex! IN MT. KOMOREBI!! And he married her!! He f#@$ing MARRIED her!!! HE SAID HE LOVED ME!! Ever since we found out it was triplets he's been weird!! HE IS DEAD TO ME!!!"

Mama had previously gone to the kitchen, no doubt to be near Dad when she noticed him taking out the trash, leaving only me to diffuse the situation. Alessia's anger was palpable, like an electric current coursing through the room. I had never seen her like that before, and it both scared and fueled me. I tried balling my fists and breathing extra slow and deep to keep myself from going off, but thoughts of confronting that piece of shit and laying hands on him stirred a fire inside me. There was no kind, gentle way to deal with this, and if I ever saw that cowplant turd in the street, it would be on sight! Nobody betrayed my sister and got away with it. I should have known something was up when he bailed at the baby shower. I saw him when we arrived, but after that, he was nowhere to be found. How could he weasel his way into my sister's fortified heart, knock her up, and leave her with THREE babies??? Did he really think running away to the mountain would absolve him of fatherhood? Like, did he not know child support was a thing? And he had THREE to support?? What an idiot! COWARD!! I hoped his wife had a real job because I knew Alessia would try to milk him dry. He'll be sorry he even met her! The sheer audacity of it all made my blood boil.

I was concerned about my niece and nephews and finally got Less to sit down. She didn't exactly calm down, because how could she? But she and I had a great time plotting and scheming against ol' Jace, planning what we'd do to him the next time we saw him. True, that wasn't healthy either, but it sure was fun. Revenge wasn't really Sophia's style, and she remained quiet. She also didn't have a sibling she would take up for at any moment, so she didn't understand why I acted like that and occasionally tried to talk sense into us.

But just like when she was a kid, Less found it hard to sit still and be calm, so she jumped up and paced the room, fuming like a teakettle. Even though he would eventually find out, I hoped Dad was still outside during Alessia's initial rant. Her situation was way too close to home, and I feared it might trigger him, especially being in Mama's house with all of us. But like I said, he would eventually find out. He and Mama came out from wherever they were, asking what all the yelling was about. I guess Mama had enough of Less' pregnant mood swings to come find out immediately. Less filled them in, and I saw a quiet rage growing within my dad. He looked just like how I felt. Maybe we could take another family trip to Mt. Komorebi and murder him together, heh.

I saw Mama eyeing me, as if to silently ask what we should do as the expert on all things mind, body, and soul. But I had no answers for her. My mind was set on destroying Jace, and my body was ready for it. I felt that in my soul, ha!

"I think we all need a dip in the pool," she said. "That should relax these tense mommies, right buddy?"

I sensed both sincerity and sarcasm in her tone, as she seemed disappointed that I provoked instead of diffusing the situation. Either way, she was right. Less definitely needed to calm down, but the rest of us did too, so we got changed and hopped into the pool.

[slut4alicewu]

O Death, O Death

~ alice wu gulliver x fem!oc (Astrid)

summary: Astrid doesn't want to accept that alice is gone.

warnings: death and crappy writing.

words: 551

notes: fuck u marvel.

Alice died because of Agatha.

Alice is dead.

Alice died protecting me.

I can barely breathe as I stare at her lifeless body. The world around me feels like it's collapsing, everything turning cold and hollow. Her eyes, once filled with life and kindness, are now still. My mind refuses to process it—this can't be happening. Not her.

“Astrid…” Lilia’s voice is barely a whisper, trembling. But I can’t tear my eyes away from Alice. I can't face her, not now. All I see is Alice lying there, motionless. Her hand, which had always been warm and strong, is limp.

"She's..." Lilia’s voice cracks.

“No!” I scream, my voice raw, tearing through the silence. “She can’t be dead!” My entire body trembles with disbelief, horror washing over me. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

My gaze snaps to Agatha, whose face is now twisted with remorse. But remorse won’t bring Alice back. Agatha’s regret means nothing to me. I want to scream at her, hit her, but all I can do is stand there, paralyzed by the weight of my grief.

I collapse beside Alice, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her gently as if that might stir her awake. “Alice, Alice, wake up, please.” I beg, my voice breaking with each word. My hands tremble as I stroke her cheek, hoping for some flicker of life, but there’s nothing. “You promised me... You promised!” Tears blur my vision, falling onto her still face, and I wipe them away desperately.

The ache in my chest spreads to my throat, choking me, and my face feels like it's on fire, burning with the unbearable pain of losing her. I feel broken, shattered into pieces that will never be whole again.

“She died because of me.” I whisper hoarsely, guilt rising like a wave that crashes over me. “She died protecting me.”

I scream again, this time out of pure rage. At Agatha, at The Road, at the unfairness of it all. But no amount of anger will bring her back. Nothing will.

I clutch Alice’s hand, holding onto her like she might slip away even further. “Please.” I whisper one last time, my voice fading,

The silence presses down on me, heavy and suffocating. Her body is cold under my touch, and the realization hits me like a punch to the gut—she’s really gone.

Lilia kneels beside me, her hand trembling as she places it on my shoulder. “We need to go, Astrid.” Her voice is soft but firm, trying to pull me away from the moment, from the unbearable truth. But I can’t move. I can’t leave Alice.

“Not without her.” I whisper, shaking my head. The tears stream down my face uncontrollably now. “I’m not leaving her.”

Agatha takes a step toward us, her face pale. “We don’t have time—”

“Shut up!” I snap, my voice filled with venom. “You did this!” My hands tighten around Alice’s as I glare at Agatha. “You killed her!”

Agatha opens her mouth to speak, but the words die on her lips, and for a moment, even she looks uncertain, her mask of cold indifference cracking. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing she can say will make this right.

Alice is gone. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without her.

[yvannahaleth]

Genocider Syo, Toko fukawa, Mukuro, Miu with an S/O who faught someone and nearly knocked them out because the person picked on their S/O's height? If there are too many characters Genocider, Mukuro, Miu only is fine!

Genocider Syo, Toko Fukawa, Mukuro Ikusaba and Miu Iruma x Reader That Fought Someone

GN! Reader, Fluff, SFW

Genocider Syo:

She was so ready to slice them up the moment you started to punched them

The whole time you were fighting them, she stands behind you, cheering for you

You can definitely tell that she's fucking proud of you.

She clearly jumps and yells "YEAH GET THEIR ASS!!!"

She's too excited and made everyone else who's watching getting concerned.

You could clearly hear her asking your permission to jump onto them and finish them off

Whoops, too bad for her, people are staring and it would be a bad place to 'finish someone off'.

She was so ready to seek blood yet you pulled her away from the crowd and went to home

Gosh, she was getting excited yet you didn't let the show finished.

She was blabbering about how close it is and how she could've easily finish them off.

....

Yet, she secretly blushed as you throw the first punch on them.

She was planning to shut them up first, yet you took the first attack.

Oh, she's honored to be your girlfriend.

"Still, it was impressive of you."

Even for the next couple of months, she'll bring that up just to get a good laugh.

Toko Fukawa:

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, ARE YOU INSANE?!" She says as soon as you laid a punch on that jerk.

She was all but screaming her guts out when you were fighting them.

Dear, she knows you can be stubborn sometimes but she didn't know you're this stubborn.

A part of her was fucking terrified about how people will react to this, while the other one was proudly throwing you with lots of compliments because she was itching to not gouge their eyes.

But oh my, she's still concerned and paranoid about your reputation.

You were annoyed, so does her, but the thought of you freely expressing your anger onto someone is jaw-dropping.

Her hands quickly grabbed your own as she leads you to run away, far, far away from that jerk. So that no one could have time to react or to throw you with tomatoes.

She always hated overloading attention, especially being stared with eyes full of hatred. She knows what it feels like.

But oh, she never wants you to know what it is like.

She cares for your well-being. She definitely was calling that shithead names while they were annoying you.

God, perhaps deep down in her heart, she's relieved that you took an action.

Because if you didn't, then her list of 'people Genocider Syo needs to kill' is getting longer.

Mukuro Ikusaba:

She's the Ultimate Soldier. She's always prepared to make a move when needed. Always.

Like this mutt for example, she realized that someone in particular will get bruised after this whole thing. She already made her mind. So why exactly did you take the first move?

She was gaping her mouth the whole time. Staring at you, amused. My, this will ease the whole thing.

Though, even though she was enjoying you beating the shit out of them, she needs to be the bigger person.

As soon as she realizes that their consciousness is slowly flying away, she puts an end to the fight. Leaving that bloody jerk in the ground with you in her arms, you could tell that faint smile on her face.

"What a show, superstar."

Miu Iruma:

"OH, YOU DICKHEAD NEVER SHUT YOUR MOUTH, DO YOU? THAT'S PROBABLY WHY YOUR MOUTH SMELL LIKE A BITC-"

You accidentally interrupted her speech by kicking that dumbass to the ground. As their body bounced back, Miu's eyes were wide-awake.

She were speechless the whole time. God, she didn't even know if she likes it or not. She likes it that you're putting them in their place but she dislikes it because that guy will get seriously injured and you'll become the bad guy here.

Miu is fucking proud of you yet she couldn't dare the thought of you taking the blame in this situation. So, being the--rarely--bigger person, she grabbed you and took you away from the crowd.

You could see well what's on her face, a fucking grin.

"That's my mighty S/O"

[somber-sapphic]

I'm Always Coming Back

Haha, I'm here! I'm reposting everything that I can! If you had an ask that wasn't answered, I lost it and I'm so sorry for that. (wanda x reader)

Wanda is back after a rough mission and you need to hide just how sick you are.

---

You grumbled softly and ran a hand over your face, trying to force the stars from your vision. Logically, you knew that you had made a bad decision keeping yourself awake for so long. But the date with Wanda had been fantastic. 

She had been gone for so long, her mission had taken two extra days and Fury had been up her ass interrogating her for hours about why it had run so long. Several different governments had also been trying to talk/murder her and then she’d had to go into hiding. She’d spent another week in hiding. It was hell. 

“Y/n? You okay?” Wanda asked, settling back into her fighting stance. You forced a smile and nodded, trying to plan how exactly you were going to fight her without passing out. It wasn’t that you were unskilled in hand to hand combat, in fact it was one of your greatest strengths. The issue was the overwhelming dizziness caused by the congestion fucking with your inner ear.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.” She came at you. You dodged the first punch, but the second hit you square in the gut. You grunted and tried to sweep her leg, but she had already leapt away, clearly using her powers as an assist. Part of you wished that you had powers of your own. Then you could shove all of this down more easily and kick her ass. 

“Hun, you’re looking a little unsteady. Do you want to stop?” Yes, yes you wanted to stop. Your limbs were getting heavy and the effort of drawing air into your already beat up lungs was exhausting. Black spots had begun to dance in your vision and you could vaguely see the woman running towards you. 

“Y/n!” You tried to hit her, figuring that the two of you were still sparing. You suddenly felt like you were floating, the world sort of fuzzing out around you. The sky was bluer, making everything else seem dark in contrast. You felt yourself taking a few steps backward, but you had no control. The last thing you saw before collapsing was a terrified looking Wanda trying desperately to get to you. 

–

“You are so fucking stupid. You are an idiot. I hate you, I hate you so much. A forcefield? You put up a fucking forcefield? What did you think that I was going to crack your skull? Oh wait, you already did that!” You groaned and turned your head to the side, trying to escape the nagging voice in your head. 

“Y/n? You had better be awake. I can’t kill you if you die.” The voice said, sounding a little more clear and less in your head. A cool hand landed on your cheek and someone was pushing hair from your eyes. 

As your awareness increased, so did the pain. It felt like someone was smashing your skull with a hammer. Why were they doing that? Seemed unfair. Plus, you were too cold. Or too hot. Or maybe both? And your nose was running. You tried to lift a hand to rub your drippy appendage, but the other person beat you there. 

“Wa’na?” You mumbled, fighting to lift heavy eyelids. It felt as if someone had taped rocks to your eyes. The blurry figure smiled down at you and you swore you saw the woman pushing a tear off of her cheek. 

“D’nt cry.” You frowned, picking up one heavy arm in an attempt to touch her face. Instead, you sort of smacked her. Wanda let out a teary laugh and held your hand to the side of her face, helping you out a little. 

“Don’t scare me like that and I won’t cry.” She replied, bending down to kiss your overly warm forehead. Your lips turned up in a small smile and you nuzzled into the touch, missing the comfort that she brought. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized just how much you had missed her. She was your everything and for so long you had thought she was dead. They couldn’t update you as to her condition, they just told you to sit tight. Wait. Go about your day and hope the love of your life returns to you. 

“I don’t feel good.” You whimpered, your body heaving with quiet sobs. The tears made your head hurt worse, you just wanted to be held. Wanda being the wonderful woman that she was, shifted onto your bed and pulled you into her arms. She cradled your injured head against your chest, and stroked your hair, kissing your hair as you cried. 

“I know detka, I know. It's okay sweetheart. It's all okay. We’re going to watch movies and cuddle and I’ll get you whatever you want. We can do whatever you want until you feel better. I’ve got you, I love you, I shouldn’t have been gone so long. It's all going to be alright.” You weren’t sure if she was reading your thoughts, but you wouldn't be surprised if she was. You knew that you were projecting loudly and she could only do so much to block you out. 

“I missed you…I-I was scared you weren’t, weren’t coming back.” You said into her shirt, breathing in the comfort that she brought. Wanda ran her nails along your scalp, adding another layer of relaxation. A little moan escaped your lips and she chuckled, glad that she was calming you down. 

“I’m always coming back to you. I’ll always come home. I love you, you are my everything. Close your eyes, beautiful. I’ll wake you in a few hours to make sure you didn’t scramble your brains.” Now it was your turn to laugh. You smiled into her stomach and listened as she began to hum an old Sokovian song. Your head hurt and you felt miserable, but everything was better when you were in the arms of your witch. 

[dreadsuitsamus]

Getting Together with Tsunade Headcanons | Tsunade x Reader |

author's note: i just really love her

pairing: tsunade senju x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, alcohol, also reader realizing they're not straight, making out, heavy petting

You've been friends with Tsunade for a long time now, and when you first met her you were taken aback by how fuzzy your chest felt when you first saw her

You're introduced by a mutual friend, Jiraiya, who you had a friends with benefits situation with

Jiraiya said he needed a wingman, and since he was paying for the drinks, you obliged him and dolled yourself up for a night at the club

You warm up with a few shots, tossing back a second shot of tequila when you see her

She's speaking with Jiraiya at one of the couches, and at first you think he's already gotten his bag

The way she punches his gut, however, proves you wrong

Surprised, you rush over to check on Jiraiya, who laughs through his pain and introduces you to his assailant

"This is my longtime friend Tsunade."

Tsunade analyzes you with her warm, amber eyes. You find your throat to be dry and lick your lips, turning your head so you don't have to feel her gaze as harshly

"Hm... You're much too pretty to settle for Jiraiya's hookups."

Jiraiya makes an offended noise, but she ignores him in favor of taking your wrist. "We'll be drinking!" She tosses over her shoulder to Jiraiya, leading you back to the bar

She orders a round of shots after asking your preferred poison, smirking when you respond with tequila

"Oh, we'll be friends in no time if you keep this up."

You two get to know each other that night, and once you've fulfilled your promise to Jiraiya to get him laid, you pull out your phone to get a ride home

Tsunade takes your phone and adds her number in. "I like you. Let's do this again sometime, but without the sleeze next time."

You smile and you hope you're not outwardly showing your adoration, as your insides are warm and overjoyed that she wants to be your friend

You two are indeed fast friends, both having military experience. She on the medical side, you on the engineering side

Your personal interests overlap as well, and oftentimes you and Tsunade go out for small vacations, or new movie releases, or just about anything

Your interest in her skyrockets, and Jiraiya looks bored one night at dinner as you talk about her and your latest trip to Vegas

"So did you hook up or not." He deadpans.

"W-What?" You stop mid-story, cheeks burning with embarrassment

"Yeah, yeah, the whole 'stays in Vegas' thing, I get it."

You frown, and he perks a brow right at you. "You look awfully confused for a simple question."

"Why would I have sex with Tsuna?"

If looks could kill, you'd be Yamcha right now

"Because, I dunno, she's beautiful, sexy, you have a crush on her... I could go on but I won't for fear of her spawning out of nowhere and putting me in traction for a year."

"I..." You blink and really think about your friendship with Tsunade. And how you've always felt so fond of her, even from that very first moment you saw her. And how those feelings have lingered for a long time

"I've never loved a woman."

"You do now." Jiraiya smirks. "And what a woman to fall in love with, hm?"

"Oh my god..." You whisper to yourself. You really do love Tsunade Senju

When Jiraiya drives you home, he smiles gently at you. "For the record, I think she's gonna be a lot more receptive to your love than mine."

You look into his eyes and realize he's probably loved her his entire life, and he's still 100% supportive of you trying your luck with her because of how much he loves you too

You smile back at him and lean in for a hug, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, Jiraiya."

He laughs softly and kisses your temple, making sure you get inside safely before he drives home

You're nervous the next time you see Tsunade. It's been around a week since you went out with Jiraiya, and she's finally got some free time after the Vegas trip

She invites you over for a sleepover, and you realize just how much effort you've been putting in for her with your clothes and makeup choices as you pack a bag

You're greeted with her brightest smile and hug when you get to her place, and you rest your hands comfortably on her hips

"It's been so long." She whines softly in your ear. Her breath against your ear makes you shiver

"It's been ten days, Tsuna." You laugh softly

"Too. Long." She whispers before pulling you by your hand into her house. She's got the living room set up with snacks and saké, and lots of pillows and blankets on her sectional couch

You chat for a bit to catch up, though Tsunade's doing most of the talking

You just can't stop focusing on how beautiful she is. Her lips look so soft, her skin is flawless and her hair is perfect every time you see her

andyou'veseenherhungover

Eventually Tsuna starts pouring alcohol while you focus on putting on a movie. You settle on some rom-com and lean back into the cushions, taking the drink Tsunade's delicate hand holds to your mouth

And just like every time you two get together and drink, you both get tipsy after some time

You're watching her as she watches the movie, your chest feeling full and like it would burst with how much you want this woman

Tsunade turns her head, gazing back at you with that little smile on her lips. Her cheeks are flushed from the saké and her eyes have a mischievous glow in them

She turns her body to face you more and you swallow thickly, forcing your eyes to stay met with hers. And it's difficult because she's wearing a tank top with no bra underneath and you're lit up from the alcohol

"When are you going to kiss me?"

"Hwhat." You deadpan.

Tsunade smirks and moves to her knees, leaning forward so her lips are a hair's breadth from yours

"I'm tired of waiting for you to make a move."

You swallow and gaze into her hooded eyes. "If you want something right, do it yourself." You dare to challenge back

Tsunade never did back down from a gamble

She presses her soft mouth to yours, both of her hands coming to your head and kissing you like a pro

You've never responded to someone so viscerally like you to do Tsunade kissing you. You shiver and your body is littered in goosebumps, and you swear she's smirking against your lips

She straddles your lap without ever breaking her momentum on your lips, pressing her chest to yours and looping her arms loosely around your neck, grinding her hips lightly as she slips her tongue into your mouth

You shudder at the heat she brings, tentatively putting your hands on her thighs

Tsunade kisses you til you're almost breathless, literally

You have to pull away or you'll suffocate, though dying because Tsunade Senju is kissing you is one of the best ways to go out

She steals a few quick smooches anyway, settling the movement of her hips

You get your bearings back and look her dead in the eye. "I am in love with you."

"Good." She winks at you and reclaims your lips, murmuring between her warm, messy kisses. "Otherwise this would be awkward."

When you wake up in the morning, you can't even feel the hangover. You're on top of Tsuna, head pillowed on her chest and enveloped in the smell of her as she's got her limbs locked around you

She's asleep still, drooling and snoring with her messy hair and all, and even then you still find her to be absolutely perfect

You kiss her chest softly and settle back in, smiling to yourself

She's grumpy when she eventually wakes up, but giggles and blushes so beautifully when you silence her complaints of a headache with a kiss

Tsunade Senju really does love you

[fr-ogii]

So my idea, Izuku has a crush on y/n and is a yandere for her. He catches a guy having a crush on her and kills him. Before disposing the body, he finds y/n disposing Urarakas body and they immediately realize they are both yanderes for each other. Have a nice day

mutual affections

yandere!izuku midoriya

x fem!reader; poc friendly

masterlist

— only “his girl”, no physical descriptors

-> he only realized how bad it was when he thought about killing the first time. thinking about killing turned into actually killing. he stared at his blood stained hands for a minute or so, wondering what had led him to this point. cue a lady macbeth scene of him essentially rubbing all the skin off his hands that had already been stained with blood.

-> it won’t be long before he kills again

-> one body turns into another body turns into three more bodies. all the deaths had their reasons, of course. that first boy just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, off of his girl. the one after that, a girl a bit older than the two of you, was caught whispering with her friends about what she would do to get you to look her way. izuku appreciates the commitment, he would do the same after all, but he can’t have any competition. the next three were the stereotypical jocks of the school you went to. for how strong they were, izuku had an easy time picking them off.

-> he thought it was over. that he wouldn’t have to be pushed to kill anyone else. that they would have learned their lesson. but his hand was forced when yet another guy became smitten by you.

the kill was rough. punches were thrown, many near misses, but a few finding their mark. a solid crunch rang out when izuku’s hand hit the skull of the guy, knocking him out cold. from there, all deku had to do was dispose of the corpse.

everytime this happened, izuku would switch the location around a bit until he knew he wouldn’t get caught. he loaded the body into his car and drove as deep into a secluded area as he felt was right. midoriya always listened to his gut.

getting out of the car, izuku felt his heart drop. there was someone there. he could see their silhouette against the moonlight. there was something so eerily familiar about it. everything about it reminded him of you. was he losing his mind, was it true that all he thought about was you (a/n: izuku… you lost it a long time ago)? but what would you be doing out here? there’s no way that shadow could be you.

as he slunk forward, crouching low to the ground, his suspicions that he once thought were crazy were confirmed. it was you. a quick glance down at what lay by your feet answered his other question. it was uraraka’s body, beaten and bruised.

a branch snapped, alerting you of his presence. it was the very man you didn’t want to have see you. your darling. the very reason you felt the need to keep breathing just so you wouldn’t have to spend a moment in a world that he does not live in. your nervous splutters and apologies and excuses were ignored by the love of your life.

“is this for me?” izuku asked. he hoped it was.

unable to speak with him so close, you just nodded.

the gap between the two of you was closed as you gravitated towards each other. he took one final step forward and reached your lips.

[strawberryjamsara]

Emotion route for the ask game. You've said it's poorly written before so I wonder what you might like about it

Sorry for taking a while to answer this! I reblogged the game while wicked sick and thought maybe being stuck in bed would give me motivation to write these, but as it turns out being sick isn’t the time you feel like coming up with positivity.

That being said. I’ve started some meds so here’s what I like about emotion route.

So first, and probably most cliched, I love the Sara talks to Joe scene. Do I wish we got a final scene between Shin and Kanna? Always, but Shin using his last moments to redeem himself and give Sara peace is honestly so heartwarming, and the conversation is so so good. They pulled out all the stops, the cgi, the music, and the dialogue, as Joe expresses he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but Sara is still Sara and that’s what matters. Also parallels, I love in logic route when Sara sees the AI, she’s so broken she hardly has any reaction to the main game, and in emotion route she’s already in tears.

In addition, while I’ve expressed so many times how dirty the route does Kannas arc, I actually enjoy her lantern event more than Shins. While I like learning about Shin and Sou’s dynamic, and Sara poking around and making fun of him, I think Kanna just having a normal day at the ice cream shop is so adorable, and the context what that day really means turns it into a tragedy. I also love her scene with Kugie afterwards, and just the subtle tragedy implied in the fact that Kugie wants to reunite Kanna with a family she has no interest in, that she already loves her sister and wanted to give her a wish.

I think the Real Hinako reveal works so much better if Alice or Reko are saying it instead of Qtaro. That horrible emotional gut punch for Alice especially, as he realizes, despite the fact he’d just been shown he hadn’t killed Hiyori, he is a murderer, and of a small child even. Knowing that Hiyori most definitely did that on purpose.

I also think Ranmaru is good here. He’s still absolutely far from a mentally stable individual (I guess this goes against the point of the game but I will say it’s annoying how his suicide attempt is glossed over) but I think emotion route does a good job showing his growth into a hero as opposed to logic route and his downfall into villainy. I think that emotion route Ranmaru is sort of underrated as a kid who still struggles a lot, and sometimes does the wrong thing, but he’s just an insecure kid with a savior complex he’s trying okay.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Working out how Astarion’s act 2 confession goes in my head. I always pick the non-araj confession, the one that’s locked behind killing Yurgir now. I really like that he’s beside himself with guilt enough to approach Tav about this, and I prefer how he confesses his sexual insecurities. Also just the fact we even get two different act 2 confession scenes is crazy to me.

Under a cut for length:

Morgan didn’t really know what a vampire was when she met Astarion because of her sheltered cult upbringing. Her only reference was vampire erotica she likely read at some point after she got out, which definitely glossed over the horrifying monstrous aspects of vampirism in favor of the sexy ones.

Their early sexual encounters were fun and satisfying but she wasn’t overly impressed. It was very standard romance novel level sex with little of his own personality. But he was attentive and thorough and technically very proficient and she liked that. She gave him a lot of leeway for being so hot…he has pretty privilege for sure. She writes him off as a fuckboy, brats it up in bed to poke him for reactions because it’s funny to her. He shows his personality more when he gets pissed off and when he gets blood and that gets her attention. It impresses her, to see him acting selfishly in bed when she is able to goad him into doing so.

She’s blindsided when he confronts her. She is someone who generally knows what’s going on with most people she interacts with; gentle prodding with detect thoughts to test their mental defenses, then peeking into their surface thoughts and intentions. She’s extremely good at doing this undetected to all but those experienced in mental magic. With Astarion she can’t do that, not without brute forcing her way into his head with the tadpole, anyway. But detect thoughts doesn’t work on undead, and she didn’t think it mattered because she thought she had him figured out; he wanted sex and her blood. Easy.

She totally fell for his seductions if not his cheesy performance and was only just starting to put together that wow…he was actually a bit more fucked up by what happened to him than she realized at first. This his slavery wasn’t hyperbole and he hadn’t living an existence that allowed him to reap any benefits from his condition. That his slavery included mental, physical and sexual torture that lasted longer than her human perspective can really comprehend.

It’s very hard for her to deal with at first. The revelation leaves her feeling humiliated, panicked (how could she have read things so wrong?), anger at herself and at him for making her feel like a fool. Shame, for teasing him as a poncy fuckboy with a blood fetish.

However she is emotionally mature enough to handle those reactions appropriately and recognize the severity of him revealing this to her face and it forces her to examine her own feelings and motivations. Him admitting he wanted their fake relationship to be real, that she deserved something real, was a gut punch.

They have some similarities in that they were both controlled in their own ways by powerful men with delusions of godhood and dealing with having their own autonomy for the first time, she’s just much further along in her healing. She’s had ten years to adjust and also the benefit of therapy (the cleric that rescued her started a counseling service for adventurers in Baldur’s Gate ☺️)

She feels bad that their relationship up until this point was the best relationship he’d ever had. His only one! She wants to be nicer and be better to him. They stumble over boundaries a bit until they get it settled by act 3 when they are firmly in their ride or die phase for each other.